In the Bleak Midwinter

Sometimes life, like a subway, plummets down into the earth from once-lit skies into the deepest abyss. But the car is moving and it is moving fast. The inside is warm and bright, while there may only be walls and darkness looking out the window.

Such is the gospel of Jesus Christ. It brightens and enriches the way through this mortal journey, albeit daunting and frightening at times.

"There seems to be a superstition among many thousands of our young who hold hands and smooch in the drive-ins that marriage is a cottage surrounded by perpetual hollyhocks, to which a perpetually young and handsome husband comes home to a perpetually young and ravishing wife. When the hollyhocks wither and boredom and bills appear, the divorce courts are jammed.

Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just ordinary people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. . . .

Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride."  

--Jenkin Lloyd Jones

I've given up and given in more to whatever the Lord has planned for my life again. If my life is full of vistas and thrilling bursts of speed, then great. If my life is full of delays, sidetracks, and smoke, then fine. If life is derailed and throws me for an unexpected loop de loop, weeee! I signed up for the full package. I'm here for the whole ride. I've had tickets to ride different trains, but frankly, "Bring me my chariots of fire." --William Blake

Giving up and giving in isn't nearly as painful as I thought that it would be. But it's not a one-time event. It's nice to feel like I don't have to rush and I don't have to try so hard. Something about submission to the dark and the cold makes it easier to bear. If it's going to be dark and cold, I might as well put on my jacket and stand by a street lamp while I wait for the bus to come and pick me up.

In the bleak midwinter there is a stillness. (Christina G. Rossetti)

The wind rustles the leaves, snow falls upon the trees, and then--all is quiet. There is no life to be seen. No movement. No distraction. Only quiet.

Is life dead, or does it only sleep? Certainly sidetracks and smoke and cinders and jolts would be more exciting than the dead of winter. How boring. How monotonous. How mundane.

Or is there an inner quietness, an inner knowing...that spring will come and flowers will bloom and picnics will be taken and pool parties will be thrown and slip and slides will be slipped and ice cream will be eaten and beach trips will be planned and pumpkins will be carved and turkeys will be stuffed and--at last--family will reunite again around the dinner table with buttered rolls and ham, singing around the piano, decorating the Christmas tree in celebration of the Savior of the world, once again.

In the bleak midwinter, is there, a time to pause? A time to reflect and remember. And to learn. Perhaps the adrenaline drained and calloused knees are welcome friends to a wearied checkbook, a marriage gone sour, a loss ungrieved, a love unrequited, a trauma unprocessed, a mystery unsolved, a habit unbroken.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."

--Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

To me, winter is a season of opportunity and restoration. I will always enjoy the summer effortlessly and thoughtlessly, so there is little opportunity to grow in summer. Only in winter can I really make the changes necessary to be able to enjoy all of the other seasons of the year. Like sleep restores my body overnight for the following day, winter restores my soul for the entire year. Hibernation is the way of nature's restoration of life, and so it is with human souls.

Nice is Different Than Good

There is something that atheists understand about agency that I just don't quite understand yet. Sometimes I wonder if I truly am free while they seem to know that they are free.

Others have told me about truly feeling free when they have left the Church. I have never really understood that feeling, but I caught a glimpse of what they might mean recently when I chose to watch a "bad" movie. I felt like something cracked open inside of me. I felt like I had given myself permission for the first time in a very long time to exercise my freedom.

For many years, I have felt imprisoned by God's will for my life. I have been afflicted with trials and unable to escape by either fulfilling or avoiding his will. I have felt burdened and overwhelmed by "shoulds" and "should nots". This feeling has been accompanied with an ever-present feeling of God's love for me and a clear knowledge that his gospel is the plan of happiness. This creates a seemingly irreconcilable problem for me. 

But perhaps I've discovered a clue that may be a puzzle piece in my 'theory of everything'.

Recently I watched the movie Into the Woods, which has always been one of my favorite musicals. I was blown away. I left the theater totally buzzed and I thought about the movie for days after, learning more and more as I pondered upon the symbols, archetypes, and words of the songs. I have only ever felt that way after a movie a few times in my life. I felt invigorated, uplifted, enthused, enlightened. Some lyrics from "I Know Things Now" come to my mind:

"And I know things now,
Many valuable things,
That I hadn't known before:
Do not put your faith
In a cape and a hood,
They will not protect you
The way that they should.
And take extra care with strangers,
Even flowers have their dangers.
And though scary is exciting,
Nice is different than good."

"Do not put your faith in a cape and a hood." 

The irony is that even though I felt happy and free to make a choice that was uniquely my own when I chose to watch a "bad" movie, I felt bored, empty, yucky, and fearful of my senses being offended. The sharp contrast between my experience watching Into the Woods and watching this particular movie was blatantly apparent.

Yet sometimes I think I am superstitious about how God offers protection with obedience to the commandments. As a member of my church, we believe that the garment protects us while we journey here in mortality. But if my car goes up in flames, do I really believe that I will only be burned outside of my garment line? I have a friend that died in a car accident on his mission. Why did his garments not protect him? Why did his promises and commitments to God not protect him? How is this any different than believing that there is a cross somewhere in Mexico that tilts a little more every year and that when it lies on its side, we will know that it's the end of the world?

Am I putting my faith in a cape and a hood? Shouldn't I be putting my faith in God? What is the difference?

What is it that offers real, true protection from that bored, empty, yucky feeling that comes from what many religious people coin as 'sin'? What is it that offers that real, true fulfillment and joy that I experienced watching Into the Woods? The factors seem to produce unpredictable outcomes, but scientifically speaking it only stands to reason that there must be a formula that produces happiness and fulfillment consistently over time.

Perhaps not all seeds become trees, perhaps not all children become celestial material. Does that mean that there isn't a specific process--a defined growth pattern that leads to ultimate fulfillment and maturity?

When it seems like that process is off-course, off the charts, way behind, or way ahead, does that mean that the process does not work? Given a longitudinal study, say a lifetime--or eternity--would that process, in the end, yield the desired result?

An irony that I have still not quite reconciled in my mind is that some of my atheist friends are the best and happiest people that I know. Perhaps this is the case because they choose to do and be good, not because of a religious obligation, but because they, themselves, choose to do and be good because those choices are what make them happy. In their understanding of agency, do they understand 'the gospel' or the 'plan of happiness' better than I do?

I have a lot of questions that I cannot answer definitively. But I can see that "nice is different than good". 

I've done a lot of 'nice' things in my life that have left me feeling 'okay' and sort of content, kind of happy. Kind of like watching that movie.

When I really think about and meditate upon my truer desires, I realize that they aren't watching movies, but instead they are wanting to feel invigorated, uplifted, enthused, and enlightened. The times that I have been "free" to feel that way have been when I sought experiences that would make me feel that way and avoided experiences that would make me feel less than that way.

I also see how my voluntary decision to do things that make me happy is precisely the key to unlocking happiness. Otherwise, all is wasted and I am forever imprisoned, still never fully able to exercise my freedom in a way that would bring happiness. I don't have to 'sin' in order to experience the feeling of freedom to choose. I simply have to get in touch with what it is that I really want and do that thing. Sin is so alluring because it is a direct expression of the right to choose, whereas obedience to God's commandments may or may not be an expression of the right to choose. But that doesn't mean sin leads to happiness.

"Wickedness never was happiness." Alma 41:3, Book of Mormon

When I really think about and meditate upon my truer desires, I realize that I do want to do the things that happen to be the same things as keeping the commandments of God. I want to do these things because either they directly make me happy,  because they protect me from the things that cause unhappiness, or because I know that the formula will lead to happiness in the future, in this life and the next. If that formula stands true, certainly that means that sin only leads to death and exponential unhappiness through eternity.

"And moreover, I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual; and if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness. O remember, remember that these things are true; for the Lord God hath spoken it." 

--Mosiah 2:41, Book of Mormon

Ring Out, Wild Bells

When does death occur and life begin? If we are all one eternal round, why is there a distinction between the old and the new?

What is it about the holidays, and particularly New Year's, that makes me question all of my beliefs about what makes me happy and what could make me happy in the future? Do I really want to continue on the path that I set out to take? Is it because that is when everyone is gone and it is finally quiet enough to reflect upon the essence of my life experience? Do I really want to keep dating that guy that I was dating in the fall? Do I really actually like my job--my career? Do I want to stay where I am or do I want to seek greener pastures somewhere else or with someone else or doing something else? Is there more to life than what I experienced thus far? What is family? Why is it important? Who am I??

There is a certain stench when a place gets too old, when faces get too familiar. Something in the air that wreaks of stagnancy, festering bacteria just below the surface. There is a cleansing process that takes place when I move to a new area. Perhaps I am freed from others' misconceptions about who I am. Perhaps I am allowed to scratch old ideas without shame. I don't have to explain to anyone why I have changed. I can immediately incorporate everything I have learned without resistance.

What is it about the past that is so necessary for growth? Roots deep into ancestry that transcend death. Why is it necessary to forever be bound to the that which has been passed down from father to father, mother to mother? I have tried to cut myself off from the past in an attempt to sever the pain--the infected limb--that seems to infect the rest of my soul. And yet the phantom pain is far more excruciating than gangrene would have ever been. Perhaps there is no severance and what I perceive as severance is a denial of the everlasting bonds that are there between man and every act, every word, every human, every everything ever experienced and that is written in the fleshy tablets of every soul. Are they also the bonds that make us free? (C. Terry Warner, Bonds That Make Us Free)

If denial and severance are only illusory, then how can true renewal be possible? Does death really have to be the answer? Is it possible that a Phoenix can rise and live from the very ashes of its own decay? Is it possible that the bad can be good and the remains are the very substance of life itself? Then why sever--why isolate the good from the bad when they are never truly isolated, nor can they ever be?

I have a transitory nature and that simply is. I never stay in one place, with one purpose, or with one person for very long. I have lived in denial of myself and my very nature for most of my adult life because I didn't used to be this way. When did this begin? I wasn't a military brat and I never traveled much growing up. I believe that at some point moving away to college introduced me to the dying and rebirthing process. I learned that I could let go of relationships and start new ones. I learned that I could gather all of my things and relocate them to a new area without flinching. I learned that I could give up all of my hopes and dreams and create new ones. At some point, I learned how to fail and then how to succeed. I learned that I am a survivor. At some point, I learned how to die and to be reborn.

Ironically, my greatest temptation is to wonder whether things will ever change. Yet intellectually and experientially I understand that change is the only constant, whether it comes or whether I create it myself. Inertia is not my path regardless of whether I choose good or evil.

New Year's can be a time of reflection--a time of renewal--a time of rebirth. Like the breath of life itself, in with the good, out with the bad. Like bottles of wine that have broken out of storage after decades, toast to the sweetness of life, the freshness of a new start, new goals, new relationships, and new adventures. Bring on death and ring out, wild bells!

Ring Out, Wild Bells

"Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out thy mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be."

Alfred, Lord Tennyson