Meditation

I am doing better at getting daily exercise.  I'm far from perfect, but I'm doing better!  I'm alternating aerobic and weight training, particularly focusing on the Physical Therapy exercises I was given.

I've also started a meditation at the end of the exercise.  I should do it whether I take the time for exercise or not. . .

I start in a neutral position (see below in blue), and then circle my arms down and around, wide, imagining gathering in all the world and the life experiences of the people in it.  Hands meet above my head and come down to the beginning position. I ponder on the atonement, on Christ's knowledge of our sorrows, sins, grief, hurt, etc.  I consider the sorrows I know--Isaac's initial desperate attempts to breath, Gram's heart break to discover Mary taken away, Mom's grief over Dad, Margaret and Dave's anxiety for Olin, my sisters' in law's burden of pregnancy out of wedlock, our great,great, great grandmother, Elizabeth Sheely, left with 12 children and a newborn when her husband died on Christmas day.  I consider the sorrows I am aware of: the grief of mothers and wives whose husbands and sons are killed in war, the pain of the wounded soldier, dying slowly on the battlefield, neglected orphans, hoping always for someone to love them, parents of kidnapped children, women and children abused, raped, abandoned,  men and women engulfed in the darkness of sin--adultery, abuse, pornography, dishonesty, greed, pride, hatred, vengeance. There is so much pain in this world that meditating on it, and on Christ's taking it all on himself, bearing and experiencing it all is overwhelming.  My heart hurts with the exquisite sorrow of it.  But that is only half the meditation.

Before I feel utterly weighed down by the darkness of this world, I reverse my direction. I lift my hands and arms and imagine shooting upwards, piercing the atmosphere and emerging as I bring my arms down in a wide circle.  I imagine the clouds trailing behind me, glorious as I rise above the pain of the world and into the perfect beauty of space.  All around me, and into the distance, too, others are rising, free of the world and the sorrows they bore, shooting like arrows of light, trailing clouds of glory.  The weight and sorrow are gone, and through the atonement, we have become beings of light: perfect, pure, whole.  My heart fills with exquisite joy. (Alma 36:21)  We are  healed!  Everyone who has suffered so acutely in this life is burdened no more.  The bonds are broken.  The captive are free.  We are together again, surrounded with love, beauty, light and peace. The suffering was but a moment after all, and here is eternity before us.  God awaits, magnificent and perfect beyond description, His works surround him and we are the crowning jewels, His children.  Gratitude and praise are insufficient, again I am overwhelmed.

I'm afraid it all sounds hokey, in words.  The feeling of the meditation is powerful, and reflecting on these things gives me perspective and peace.  

Obedience and Sacrifice

"Obedience is better than sacrifice."

Obedience is the first law of heaven--before sacrifice.  I pondered/wrote about sacrifice, and I was left with questions, still.  When should we sacrifice, when not, when do we know if our sacrifice is really going to get us what we want most, and when are we actually sacrificing things that would lead us towards what we want most?

Maybe my inquiry would have been answered if I'd started with a better foundation--obedience.  In the context of obedience, sacrifice seems to make more sense.  If we are determined to be obedient, sacrifices will inevitably come up as we go through life.  We can't keep the commandments and have every temporary (illusory) pleasure.  In fact, we will have to give up many of them.

Trouble seems to come when we try to "sacrifice" obedience.  For example, when I "sacrificed" taking care of my body, mind, spirit and relationships in order to take care of Isaac and try to avoid any further illnesses, I was "sacrificing" obedience.  We are commanded to take care of ourselves, to see to our temporal, spiritual and eternal needs, and I wasn't.

A story was told in Sacrament meeting yesterday about a time on the gentleman's mission when he "sacrificed" obedience.   He broke several important mission rules in order to teach a family who was interested in the gospel but was outside of his area.  The results were not positive, and he was taught "obedience is better than sacrifice" by his mission president.

"Sacrificing" obedience is very tempting.  We see what we suppose to be the most important thing, and the commandments that keep us from it seem unimportant.  We feel justified in breaking them because we are making a "sacrifice."  Often, it is for someone else's good, or a "greater" good than our own.  But I my experience has shown that this is an illusion.  God knows what is most important, and what will bring us the greatest joy (even better than we do, often) and he gave us commandments to keep us on the path towards those goals.  Supposing that leaving the path will get us to the goals faster or better is misguided and prideful.  "Sacrificing" obedience is like leaving the strait and narrow path to take a "short cut" to our goal through unknown territory. It means that we think that really, we know better than God, or whoever made the path/rule, and that our leaving the path won't really impact us negatively.

It would have helped me to put it in those terms as I was struggling with taking care of myself vs. taking care of Isaac.  As I was "sacrificing" obedience, I wasn't consciously thumbing my nose at God's ways and wisdom.  I wanted God's help and was asking for it, I knew he was my source of strength, and yet I wasn't feeling it.  Blessings are predicated on obeying laws, and taking care of yourself seems to be a requirement for feeling good in the long run, and being a capable care giver.  I had set up a false situation in my mind, in thinking that I needed to "sacrifice" the commandment and wisdom given to me to take care of myself in order to care for Isaac.  I was trying to take a "short cut."  It turned out it greatly limited my ability to care for him.  My "sacrifice" did not bring me what I wanted most.

Baptism and Resurrection

Last night I was pondering on what I would like to teach my children about life, themselves, and happiness.  As a perfectionist, it has been important for me to learn that being imperfect doesn't mean I am failing in this life.  In fact, my imperfections are a necessary part of this life.  I thought again about Sue's words: I  fight weakness, anger, discouragement, depression . . . I feel that those things don’t mean I am failing. I am allowed the time and lastingness to be instructed a little deeper in ways of holiness.  I often felt, when depressed, angry, impatient, and seeing the world darkly, that it was as though a skin of darkness had overshrouded me.  Who I was inside hated feeling, seeing, acting in those ways, but felt powerless to overcome it.  I tried, and there were moments of break-through, but it became very clear that I couldn't escape it with my own power alone.  I thought of the scene in Voyage of the Dawn Treader (I'm looking forward to that movie!) where Eustace becomes a dragon.  Aslan comes to him, and tells him to take off the dragon skin, and he thinks he can--he tries repeatedly, but what he can get off are only token layers.  Aslan alone has the power to extract him from the skin, and with a horrible rip from a huge claw, he does, and washes Eustace in a clear pool and clothes him in white.

I've always thought of that as baptism imagery, and of the dragon skin as being the physical symbol of Eustace's sins.  Only Christ can take away our sins.  However, baptism is a symbol of more than being washed and made clean from sins.  It is a symbol of our death and resurrection.  It is the burial of the natural man and the birth of our "saintly" selves.  As I pondered, I felt that it can also symbolize (as can CS Lewis's imagery) the death of our mortal, fallen physical bodies and the taking up of our perfect, celestial physical bodies.  I think there really is sin in this flesh, somehow.  We were given a body we couldn't make perfect, no matter how hard we try.

Nephi said: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities. I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.


The fallen body is part of the plan, though.  There is a need for opposition in all things, and we need to learn to trust in God.  And there is great power in the flesh.  We know that beings with bodies have power over beings without bodies--flesh is powerful!  It makes our spirits very, very strong to have to wrestle with our natural man, to bring our body into submission.  Maybe that is why I like fasting so much--it gives my spirit a rest, a chance to be still and commune with God.

Alzheimers is interesting in this context, too.  Truly, it puts on display the power of the body, when that power is gone.  The workings of our spirit can't make up for the failings of our bodies.  It makes me think of cell phones and sim cards.  If the cell phone doesn't work, having all your contacts saved on the sim card (as well as the phone) still doesn't help.   You'd have to put the sim card in another cell phone, or computer, to access its memory.  Dad's spirit will have to wait for another body to be able to express itself fully again, and regain its full functionality and purpose.  Just as with technology, we come to rely on what is imperfect and bound to fail at some point or another, for some reason or another.  We can be grateful for the times when it works the way we want it to, but can't really be surprised when it doesn't.  Alzheimers is only one example of how our bodies "fail" us, but there are innumerable ways, really, and they are utterly unavoidable.  Everything from lack of sleep and hunger to depression, mental illnesses, autism and brain damage, physical illnesses like cancer,  epilepsy, arthritis, heart conditions, bowl conditions, multiple sclerosis, Neurofibromatosis (there is a new one for our family), etc, etc, etc.  Having a body that is imperfect is a part of human existence.  


Happily, thanks to the gospel, we know that it is temporary, and that the work we need to do on earth can be done even when our bodies fail us.  And having a body that fails us doesn't mean that we are failing, only that we are human.  I don't even think it means that we are failing the people around us, when we can't do what we want to do because of Alzheimers or cancer or lack of sleep or whatever.  We all carry each other's burdens (particularly the burden of humanity, and imperfection) and get stronger individually and collectively that way.  I think our imperfections are part of the plan for others as well as for ourselves.  Not fun, not "ideal," but not cause for despair, either.  Of course, the reason that we can be irreconcilably imperfect and not be failing ourselves and others every moment is because of the atonement of Jesus Christ.  He reconciles us where we are totally unable to.  He can deliver us from the dragon skin, and draw us, whole, perfect and pure, unto him.  He can heal the wounds and bind up the broken hearts that we leave in the wake of our imperfect, failing bodies.  All can be made right, and this time is given to us not to fail, but to try, to work, to prepare, to become, to draw strength from Him and come unto Him.  Ah!  What a relief!


That said, I do, of course, think it is possible to sin, and to "fail" ourselves if we refuse to try, work, become, etc, and instead embrace what is fallen and evil, or allow ourselves to wallow in the misery of an imperfect body.  That isn't usually my issue, though.

Isaac

Isaac is a trooper.  He has taken some very tough situations in his buoyant stride, and still the comment I get from most of the people who take care of him is "he is a happy baby!"  It is true.  He is.  Thank goodness for that!  His having a happy disposition has oiled the machinery of his life.

Last night we had a little bumpiness in the road as my sweet (uncircumcised) boy has suffered from the hygienic issues caused by not being able to truly bathe in months.  He has gotten an infection in a very tender location, and as I tried to clean it last night and put on medicine, he was in agony.  Probably because of that discomfort, he was up repeatedly last night--every 1/2 hour, it felt like, from 12-3, and then after a solid 3 hours of sleep, he was up for the morning at 6am.  Since I'd gotten to sleep only a short while before he started waking, he had to deal with the double discomfort of the infection and an irritable mom.

He was happy to be awake, though, and his first, bubbly request was for a "ba[ll]!" Isaac LOVES balls, and apparently woke up in happy anticipation of playing with that masterpiece of human invention.  I rounded up the balls for him and let him have at it while I tried to get some more shut-eye (yeah, right.) Isaac loves to play toss, and will play it with or without a partner, (chasing balls is almost as fun as throwing them.) He has developed an impressive arm, too, (for a 14 month old), and when playing with a partner he is amazingly accurate in  his throwing.

So, with the happy image of Isaac throwing balls around the bedroom at 6 am, while tired, grumpy mommy grumbles sleepily, here are some pictures of the little one:

A whole tub full of BALLS!  (At the Magic House in St. Louis.)

Looking forward to a ride in the bike trailer with Dora and Dad.

Another one of Isaac's favorite pass times is playing the piano.  He is fascinated by it and plucks away, sometimes with one finger, sometimes with a fist and sometimes with his whole upper body.

Trying to get Isaac to eat sometimes feels like the bane of my existence.  He will happily throw food, paint with food, spit food, wash his face and hair with food and even share his food with others.  He doesn't eat it, though.

Much to all of our delight, Isaac is also a snuggler.  He loves to snuggle.  When I pick him up, he first gives me a big (real!) hug, which often includes some pats on the back, too.  Then he pulls in his arms and snuggles down into my chest.  It is so, so dear.

On Prosperity

The theme "if you obey my commandments, you will prosper in the land," jumps out at me quite a bit in the Book of Mormon.  I think it is in there about a hundred times or more.  Today as I was reading the last chapters of Alma and the first of Helaman, I thought about what the Lord means when he promises we will "prosper" for our obedience.

He promised Nephi he would prosper before even getting to the promised land. (2 Ne 2:20) Yet Nephi was continuously threatened, beaten up and condemned by his brothers, he almost starved, along with is wife, children and family, and he certainly wasn't getting ahead in terms of wealth or possessions.

I've personally known lots of righteous people in this land who are continually getting the short end of the stick in terms of health, wealth and social standing.  If "prosper" means to be "successful or fortunate; to thrive; flourish" what in their lives meets that criteria? 

Of course, the Lord must be talking about eternal things.  When we are obedient, the blessings we get help us thrive in ways that are often unseen, except to us.  Nephi praised God for his goodness to them through the trials of the wilderness and saw His hand prospering them because of their obedience to him.  (1 Nephi 17:1-3) Interestingly, his brothers, who walked the same trail with Nephi, were so miserable they claimed they would have been better off dead.  Perhaps part of the promised prosperity is the ability to see the eternal in the temporal--to understand the workings of God and therefore be able to walk in gratitude and peace even when times are hard.

Sue Cragun, mother of a close friend of mine, passed away a couple of months ago after an 8 year long struggle with breast cancer.  She has long been an example to me of faith, perseverance and raising a righteous posterity.  Her son, David, who is my good friend, has always seemed to me like one of the Sons of Helaman--strong in faith and purity and goodness.

Sue was a writer, and some of her thoughts were included in her funeral, including the following:

Sept. 3, 2009


 I’ve just realized that I could never have been exalted without my suffering. I needed these illnesses and some other adversities in order to learn of my total dependence on God and my inability to save myself. I have always believed that I can do it, whatever it is, if I just think, plan, and try hard enough. I have always been prideful about being strong and in control of my circumstances. But I see that
I cannot save myself. I cannot make myself perfect simply by willing it and doing it. Because I will make another mistake. And another.


Without my physical illnesses I am strong and capable. With them I am pretty worthless. Many
days (and nights), I cannot get through by myself. I simply have to pray continuously to be
carried by my Savior. And I am. HE has the power. I do not. When I pray I simply turn it all
over to Him, letting Him know of my dependence and total weakness. Letting Him know I can’t
do it and it’s up to Him. Letting go and trusting that He will do with me whatever is best. And
accepting the resulting response without kicking.


Without these experiences my heart would not have gotten broken and contrite. Because pride
hardens my heart so I will be “tough” and capable on my own. I guess before these last few
years I never really found anything I felt I couldn’t do on my own. Raising seven little kids on a
budget and with their Dad not home much was a snap, comparatively. It would probably be the
other way around for some people. But for me, the last dozen years of emotional struggle and
physical suffering have rubbed through my hard heart and worn out my pride. Gradually I’m
learning of the essential partaking of My Father’s power. Gratitude for being carried so much
has increased my appreciation for the invitation to “Come into Me…”


 I see that it has been a gift of God’s grace, a tender mercy of a loving Father, to
allow me these sufferings and then to journey close beside me, supporting me through them so I
have the time to learn. To be cracked open and allow the softening, cleansing agent of the Holy
Ghost to flood my heart and fill it with humility. So I can be a partner with Jesus Christ and
receive His merciful gift of newness.


 I fight weakness, anger, discouragement, depression. And then as I study and pray and ponder and cling to my husband’s strength, I feel that those things don’t mean I am failing. I am allowed the time and lastingness to be instructed a little deeper in ways of holiness. I find my will painfully being eroded away and all my hope attaching to my Savior.


I am completely grateful for Father in Heaven’s generous mercy in allowing me these tailored trials for my profit. Without them I might never have come into His presence. It must be very hard for Him to watch me suffer, as He loves me so much. In fact, He loves me sufficiently that He sees my potential and so is willing to walk with me through the necessary experiences that I require to learn to give my whole heart and trust to Him. And He has allowed his Other Dear Son to provide my way home to Him after I’ve learned and done what I can do.


I cannot express my gratitude. How blessed I am!


With appreciation, Sue Cragun


I believe Sue prospered.  She lived on a tight budget, and was not among the social or academic elite.  Her health was not "fortunate," yet she prospered in the Lord.  She felt herself flourishing even when her physical body was failing her.  Is there any greater success than to overcome the world?  To be able to stand, buffeted by the telestiality of this life, and not be moved?  I cannot think of a success I would rather have.

What matters now vs. what matters most

I've been listening to Becoming Enlightened, by the Dalai Lama as we drive in the car (Ethan wondered why, and we had an interesting discussion about finding truth in many places).  I recently reflected on a passage in which he describes how what is now and what seems pleasurable in the moment are illusions.  He defines "illusion" as something that we believe to be real and lasting, but is, in fact, only transitory and part of a much bigger picture.  The "pleasures" that we frequently take pleasure in--sitting down after a long day on our feet, eating after being hungry, etc.--are illusions, because their pleasant nature cannot last.  If you sit down for long enough, or eat for long enough, it is no longer pleasant.  (I'm not sure I completely agree with their being "illusions," though.  Of course something is lost in the translation, but I think it is good to recognize and be grateful for the chance to sit down, and to eat, and that it is a real pleasure, even if it only lasts for a short while, but anyway, I actually do agree with what he goes on to explain.)

The Dalai Lama then explains that until we progress beyond desiring what is illusory, we cannot achieve enlightenment.  If we recognize, however, what is an illusion, versus what is real (inner peace, harmony with the universe, respect and charity for all sentient beings), then we will desire and work toward what brings lasting pleasure and peace.  Jesus taught the same when he said: "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." and "I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst."  (I love the symbolism in that--Christ takes what we know we need and what we spend our time thinking about/desiring (bread and water) and "eternalizes" it--uses it to represent what is real and lasting rather than only what is "illusory/temporal." We cannot be truly satisfied with what is a temporary pleasure, but we can be wholly satisfied when we desire and partake of what is eternal.)


Sarah used to have a quote on her mirror that said "Don't give up what you want most for what you want now" or something to that effect.  I think that is a great way of summing up the idea both Buddha and Christ tried to teach.  Our momentary desires (for another piece of chocolate, or staying up to watch a banal movie, or whatever our temptations are) keep us from having what we want most, and which will bring lasting joy (a fit body, a mild temper, inner peace /harmony with the universe/success in our relationships.)

As Sam and I were discussing our individual goals a couple of days ago, we talked about how hard it is to get the "supremely fit" bodies we want, because the momentary pleasure of whatever (relaxing instead of exercising, eating cookies for breakfast, etc.) looks so good.  I recalled the learning I related above to him and we decided that it is acceptable (even if it is not very fun) to sacrifice what we want now for what we want most.  Maybe we'll put that up on our mirror, too.

Afterwards, there were still two issues I was left to ponder: 1) How do we know when a sacrifice is getting us to what we want most?  When I was sacrificing sleep and personal time and social activities and everything to keep Isaac safe, was that wise?  I think not, now.  I think surely there must have been a way to protect him without ignoring all my needs. How could I re-frame my thinking to make the decision about what to sacrifice and what not to sacrifice more obvious? 2) How do we know when it is okay to enjoy what we want now?  (Maybe this is the same question.)  For example, if what I want now is a chocolate bar, maybe that is more obviously not going to get what I want most (a trim body) than if what I want now is, say, a shower.  Both are temporary pleasures, but I think the latter actually may get me closer to my desires for lasting happiness, in some way.  It is good to engage in self care.  It is good to enjoy life.  But it is sometimes hard to differentiate between the temporary pleasures that are part of the eternal whole and the temporary pleasures that are mirages, and will really bring unhappiness.  And it is often easy to justify.  Is it really wrong to enjoy a dessert? I do have to eat, and it is nice to enjoy what I eat, but when does that interfere with my long-term goal?  Is it a matter of correctly identifying needs vs. wants?  You can never get enough of what you don't need, but you can get enough of what you do. . .

Apparently I am not fully enlightened yet.

Reading With Carol

Carol is re-dedicating herself to read the Book of Mormon before she gets baptized.  It will be a stretch, but we'll see how we can do on it.  Today, she was supposed to read 1 Nephi 21.  It is an Isaiah chapter, and though she sweetly answered that it was about "how Jesus will never forget us" when asked, I could tell she hadn't really understood (does anyone?).  We have a Book of Mormon for Families, and that was one of the section headings, I guess.  Anyway, we sat down together, and verse by verse, I helped her understand what it was about.  She loved it, and told me her visions of what I was describing.  (The gathered Children of Israel were ornaments on a Christmas tree, with a string under their arms, waiting to be picked.)

I love Isaiah and have loved explaining it to my children.  I don't know how much they understand, but they seem to feel the Spirit of it, and that is the best part!