Doctor Who: Be There

“Don’t blink. Don’t even blink! Blink and you die… Don’t turn your back—don’t look away—and DON’T BLINK! Good luck.”

                                                    -Doctor Who, Steven Moffat

        "Life moves pretty fast-. If you don't stop and look around once and a while, you could miss it." In the episode, Doctor Who says this to Sally Sparrow as a warning against creatures that would kill her. The creatures can only move when they are not being looked at, so his words—Don’t blink—are dire and absolutely necessary for her to follow in order to save not only her and her friend, but also the Doctor and his friend as well. No pressure…

        But these words spoke to me on another level. “Don’t even blink! You blink and you die…” Or in the words of Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast-. If you don't stop and look around once and a while, you could miss it." So now I look at my life and I think, “How did I get to be 26?!... When did Scarlett grow into such a beautiful, tender-hearted three year old?... And Liv is crawling??...” Don’t blink is right.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8cPJJdOt2k

        This year has been rough for me and my girls (and my husband too—let’s not forget him.) With both my husband and myself in school full-time and us refusing to do outside childcare, we have been busy for sure. And sometimes it feels like school has been my whole life!

That’s when the guilt sets in. I know that I have had free time. I know that I have had times for my girls. But selfishly, this year, I have spent most of that time on myself, recuperating from my insane schedule. So Olivia is now 8 months old and I look at her and I feel like I missed her tiny baby time—you know, when all they do is sleep and snuggle? And now she’s roaming around the floor like she owns the place! And Scarlett has been so understanding! She rally misses all the time I used to spend with her—I know she does. But rarely have I even heard her request to “Play with me!!” She’s been such a trooper. But it really hasn’t been fair to them to have two parents that really can’t give them the attention they deserve. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying they’ve been neglected and that CPS should be called, but I am saying that I wish I had been more present mentally…emotionally…

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/765575928/How-to-miss-a-childhood.html?pg=all

So, today, I am taking my life back! And I am going to be part of my children’s! This may seem convenient because I am done with school on Friday, but I am not waiting until Friday. I am starting today. I put my life on hold no more.  And I challenge anyone feeling the guilt of absentee-parent-ism to do the same.

And don’t miss a thing! Because suddenly you’re counting the candles on your birthday cake and there are twice as many as last year—I swear! And suddenly your baby’s outrunning you on the playground. And before you know it, it’s all over. So don’t blink—don’t even blink. Blink and you die. Don’t turn your back—don’t look away—and don’t blink.

An Orchid: The Essence of Womanhood

                                    -An Orchid, Georgia O’Keefe

       To some, a painting simply of a flower, zoomed in, so as not to show it in its entirety, but only a flower nonetheless. But this painting speaks to me of something much deeper. To me, the painting’s simplicity of subject makes it all the more intriguing.

Orchids are exotic. When someone says “flower” what typically springs to mind is a daisy or a pansy or the like—not an orchid. There is something mysterious and intoxicating about orchids—from their strange shape (they look a bit like a lion with an under-bite to me) to the vivid colors on their petals (violets and yellows and sapphire blues), to the graceful way they droop and hang on their stems (like an old man nodding off to sleep) . And orchids have a natural juxtaposition of the sharp points of their rostellum right next to the softness of their petals. It is curious how such an opposition can exact such temptation out of the viewer.

Yes, I would say that given all these alluring qualities, orchids know something of seduction—they show you just enough to pull you in, without giving too much away. They make themselves irresistible.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXhyGANMvkw

But that is what we see from the outside. It is not until we look deeper—as O’Keefe has done here—that we really see what makes an orchid. And through her lens, we are able to see such complexity! There is much more to it than one might have supposed by only looking at it from the outside. There is an organic, natural beauty even within the parts that help the flower to survive. The functions they perform are beautiful—and that speaks to me as a woman: inside me are organs that are intrinsically different than there are inside of a man. And those organs perform a beautiful function—giving life! This painting describes to me the essence of womanhood. It’s an understated beauty that cannot be expressed in words, nor can it be understood fully with the logical mind. It can only be felt. For me this is the epitome of the real. It is so beautiful that I do not want to use my language to symbolize it. I want only to bask in its wonder.

“And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2: 16-19). 

                    

Floyd and Lucille Burroughs on Porch: The Will to Survive

    -Floyd and Lucille Burroughs on Porch, Walker Evans, 1936

       Walker Evans’ photograph of a Depression ravaged father and daughter sitting on their porch instills in me a sense of complex emotional paradoxes. And while I am fairly certain he was only trying to capture the true reality of the Great Depression’s effect on those living through it, I find myself struck by this image in particular.

       In this photo, I see such truth in the stoicism found on their faces. Barefooted and threadbare, their clothing tells a tale of chronic desperation. And the dirt on their feet implies a long road ahead. They sit in closed-off positions, suggesting a defensiveness— likely brought on by the losing battle they’ve been fighting. And the way she stares directly into the camera! There is a startling lack of childhood innocence—describing to me her journey, explaining that she had to grow up very quickly.

And yet, her father’s face tells a different story. I see determination in his gaze. His closed mouth speaks of quiet strength…fortitude. He has dug in for the war he fights, his trenches stocked with little more than his own physical strength and his sheer desire to survive.

In this photograph I see the powers of the human will. He will continue to fight, if only because he knows should he give up, he dies. And if he dies, what chance does his daughter have? And while no emotional closeness is shown here, the fact that they are together—she in the chair, and he on the ground— evokes a sense of their familial bond. They seem to say, “We’ll stick together until the end—be it your end or mine, or the end of the struggle.”

       This calls to mind The Old Woman in Volatire’s Candide. She knew such sadness, such tragedy, such tribulation that she considered taking her own life to be done with it all. The shame of illegitimacy, rape, slavery… And still, her will to live survives:

“A hundred times I wanted to kill myself, but always I loved life more. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our worst instincts; is anything more stupid than choosing to carry a burden that really one wants to cast on the ground? to hold existence in horror, and yet to cling to it? to fondle the serpent which devours us till it has eaten out our heart? —In the countries through which I have been forced to wander, in the taverns where I have had to work, I have seen a vast number of people who hated their existence; but I never saw more than a dozen who deliberately put an end to their own misery.”

       Countless songs speak to this theme, but one I wish to highlight today is JoDee Messina’s Bring on the Rain.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vn6F2TP-JiM

       And I concur: When times get hard, I will push through it. Things are not always easy, but I will never give up. So bring on the rain!

Modern Times: Paradise

“It’s paradise!”

      -Modern Times, Charlie Chaplin

      According to the Beatles, “All You Need is Love.” 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9siyJtoWRAU

And having just started out having nothing a short five years ago (and quite honestly, still having very little), I would tend to agree. We didn’t need a big house…. or a fancy car… or a nice TV… or the newest phones to make us happy (In fact, until about a week ago I was using a phone that was literally seven years old.). We were happy because we had each other (still are, I might add). Heck, we didn’t even need electricity!! (About three and a half years into our marriage, we were without power for three days in a freak snowstorm at his parent’s house for the holidays. And we seriously had a blast!)

      So, when A Factory Worker (Charlie Chaplin) and an orphan Gamine girl start out together in a ramshackle little shed on the beach where everything is either broken or breaking, and Charlie’s character exclaims: “It’s paradise!” I am one to believe he truly meant it. Because I have lived it—and it truly is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_UCo4xvbhU

As a side-note to this post: Chaplin dedicated his life’s work to making people laugh in a time when laughs were as hard to come by as a spare penny, and by that I mean to say that in the Great Depression, not only were pockets poor, but spirits also. His work gave people a lift when they needed it most. And there is tremendous beauty in that. I admire his fortitude and his ability to continue to be happy in the hard times. And as we stand here in another time of trial and hardship (I refer to the current depression we find ourselves in, and not the tragic Colorado shooting), I hope we can go back and resurrect Chaplin’s work and find the simple joys in life once more. And Smile (which happens to be one of my most favorite songs of all time).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9ZHxNa50bY

Stranger than Fiction: Heroes

Ana Pascal : [to cast-covered Harold] So what happened? 
Harold Crick : I stepped in front of a bus. 
Ana Pascal : What? Why? 
Harold Crick : There was a boy I had to pull out of the way? Ana Pascal : What? 
Harold Crick : There was this boy, I had to... Ana Pascal : You stepped in front of a bus to save a boy? Harold Crick : I had to. I didn't have a choice.

                                    —Stranger than Fiction, Zach Helm

            Harold Crick knew when he stepped in front of that bus that he risked his life. And still, he could not do otherwise. He had to. That’s grounds for Superhero status if you ask me.

Heroes don’t always have superpowers or costumes. Sometimes heroes are simply the guy that lends a helping hand when your arm are full of groceries (or boxes—thanks again, Chase! ;) ). Or the woman that tends to a crying child’s scraped knee and hugs all the hurt away. Or a friend that offers a hug and a shoulder to cry on for your broken heart…

On the subject of powers: I firmly believe that everyone has the capacity to be somebody’s hero—and I know for a fact that my sweet, ordinary husband is one of them. No one is more fun than he. And for our three-year old daughter, that is plenty of grounds for Superhero-dom. And no one is better at fixing things than he, and for me, his ever-clumsy wife, that is grounds for Superhero-dom. No one is more withholding of judgment or more forgiving than he, and for his recovering drug-addict and borderline personality disorder sister, that is surely grounds for Superhero-dom. My husband is all of our hero, and each for a unique reason. Which reaffirms my conviction that everyone can be a hero. He may not even realize that he is our hero, but he is.

And on costumes: One very prominent hero in my mind wore only the guise of a construction worker. New York, January 2007, one man fell onto the subway tracks, seizing. Another man, waiting for his train with his two daughters saw the oncoming train and jumped onto the tracks, pushing the other man between the rails and ultimately saving his life. Wesley Autrey—surely the hero of the man who fell—said: “I don’t feel like I did something spectacular; I just saw someone who needed help. I did what I felt was right.”

 And my biggest hero—Jesus Christ—who literally saved my (eternal) life—wore carpenter’s clothes and preached bearing one another’s burdens. And He saved all of us.

So what are we doing with the life He saved for us? Are we paying it forward? Are we strengthening that legacy? I said before we all have the capacity for Superhero-ism—let us develop that capacity and become heroes to those around us, following Christ’s footsteps, that we may one day be like Him—the perfect hero.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbxkHA1gnSE

The Entombment of Atala: Death, Dying, and Living Again

     

    -The Entombment of Atala, Anne Loius Girodet-Trioson

“I have passed like a flower. I have dried like the falling grass.” Words carved in the walls of a humble tomb, where two men bury their lost loved one.

Today, I have a particular sympathy for this painting, as the son of a dear family friend lies motionless in a hospital bed, on life support. I feel the depth of emotion the artist expresses. As I see the figures she painted—a priest, there to help Atala’s salvation in the afterlife, not unlike Jackson’s doctors doing all they can to save him, and Atala’s Indian lover holding her for the last time, embracing the last remnants of the love they shared, just as Jackson’s mother is holding fast to what may be the last of him, embracing what she can of the life he may have for little longer.

Atala is draped in white, suggesting something angelic and pure— even Christ-like about her; I see that linen as the white bed sheet currently covering my friend’s son. Atala’s lover is dressed only in a red loin cloth, suggesting the atoning blood of the Savior; I see it as the blood lovingly spilled from Jackson’s mother on the day of his birth some 16 years ago.

And as their family solicits prayers, and family and friends gather in spirit to fast, I look at the crosses in the picture, and I beg the Lord to give them peace—true peace— peace that reaches into the depths of your soul to embrace you with its warmth—peace that I know only comes from Christ. And, though sadness envelops me heart for his family right now, I know that, should Jackson die today, all will still be well because of Christ’s infinite and eternal sacrifice for us. Christ died and was resurrected the third day, that we may conquer death as He did—that we may rise from death full of life, and that we might gain eternal life. I see that life in the flowers growing just outside Atala’s tomb. It looks as if, in time, these flowers will overtake the tomb, encompassing it in the life they possess.

In this painting, I see the fragility of life. No one thinks they will die young, but, as Atala’s vibrant beauty suggests, all too often there are those that do. May we remember how quickly our time on this earth comes to a close. And may we cherish what little time we do have.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_YntXGKOzc&feature=fvwrel

“What can you see on the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea, a pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home…”

-Into the West, Annie Lennox




For updates on Jackson and his family, please go to 

http://wakingupjackson.blogspot.com/

La Triviata: True Love

"Alfredo, how should you understand all the love that’s in my heart. How should you know that I’ve proved it even at the price of your contempt? But the time will come when you’ll know. And you’ll admit how much I loved you. God save you then from all remorse. Even after death I’ll still love you."

                                                                                   -La Triviata, Verdi, 1:31: 30

        Love hurts. Or at least it can. And still, true love continues to love even whilst the loved one hurts the lover. Verdi has shown this throughout his opera La Triviata. Violetta is beautiful and wealthy, and she lives a life of parties and glamour, searching only for the next great “pleasure” in her life. Until Alfredo comes along, confessing his undying love to her, after which, she begins to fall in love with him. But, hesitating, she at first refuses him, indeed causing him great pain. After a time, however, she gives in to her true feelings for him, and they run away together for three months. At the end of these three months, however, Alfredo’s father shows up and tells Violetta that she must leave Alfredo, and that they can no longer be together. Violetta is heartbroken, but agrees, because she believes it to be in Alfredo’s best interests. After she does so, Alfredo finds her and causes her great harm out of jealousy and rage. And while she lies there, broken of heart and of body, she sings these words. She tells Alfredo that she did this all out of love, and that she not only forgives him of what he’s done, but she will love him until she dies, and beyond.

        It’s Moulin Rouge. Or, I suppose more accurately, Moulin Rouge is La Triviata…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvJpJl04cAI

It’s the same—down to the singing—and it is a beautiful story both ways.

        But, let’s be honest, this same kind of story has been told a thousand times.

In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth first refuses and spurns her love, but later, she repents and receives Mr. Darcy.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwrel&NR=1&v=DNZ5NXKtdxs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqidX_5ZsLg

Or in The Notebook, Ali comes from a wealthy family, and her parents don’t think Noah a suitable match, so they take her away, where she falls for another man, only returning to Noah when she realizes how deeply he still loves her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3G3fILPQAU 

        So why is this story so pervasive? What is it about this tale that is so universal? I suggest that it is because Violetta is a type of Christ.  She came from wealth—Christ from Heavenly Royalty. Violetta sacrificed everything and ultimately died because of what her beloved had done to her. Christ “suffered these things [the Atonement] for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent” (D&C 19:16), and, by His own people, was hung on a cross to die for sins He never committed. Violetta even begins to convalesce for a short time in the opera, where I saw a strong connection to Christ’s resurrection on the third day. Surely, Verdi did not do this by accident or coincidence. Surely, he meant Violetta to symbolize Christ’s charity for each of us.

        As imperfect beings, we hurt each other, and it seems most especially the ones we love. But if we are to become one with Christ and live as He did, truly we must LOVE as He did, being willing to sacrifice all for those we love—our families and friends, our neighbors, strangers on the street—even our enemies. For me, a strong example of this love is every person that serves in the military. They willingly and dutifully risk their lives to protect everyone in the nation—those they love, and those they despise, so that we may have the freedoms we enjoy today. I am so grateful, so blessed by their service to me… I feel forever indebted, with no way of ever repaying them. And so I send this out into the universe: Thank you, all of you that serve and have served in the military, for the sacrifices you have made on my behalf. They are not forgotten, nor are they wasted. You exemplify charity in your willingness to serve.

       In summary: true love is not selfish and, even when it hurts the giver, true love does not end.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfRyBE6KYqQ

(Fittingly enough, it’s in Italian—sorry, I couldn’t find it in English.)

Translation: Odette: Will you love me, Derek? –Until the day I die?

Derek: No, Odette, much longer. Much longer.