My tribute

I imagine it happened something like this:

After a round of chemo, the normally vibrant old man was tired. He was at home, a grandchild sitting next to him, in her chair. He looks at the chair, and longing is in his eyes. Then he looks at his grand child, and smiles, soon he asks for a moment so that he can pray before retiring. In his prayer he asks simply if his work is done for he longs to go home. The sweet assurance that he has come to love enters his mind and he slips peacefully into sleep.

The next day he calls his family together, to say goodbye. And like Lehi of old he give his advice to each. And then, he slips peacefully into another kind of sleep. Where his master and the woman of his life and dreams were waiting.

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Eyes to see, but no hands to heal.

I don't suppose I have much to say. I have a pseudo date with the girl that I went to the concert with on Friday. That should be entertaining. I just had a discussion with my non-LDS roommates about well... sex. In such a graphic manner as I have never before discussed the subject.

And then I talked to a dear friend of mine and they told me about getting drunk. I don't really consider myself an emotional person... but my upbringing has made me very indisposed to certain things. Like sex and substance abuse. I am sure that I have a myriad of sins and vices that eat away at my soul just as quickly... but when presented with a doobie I don't have to think. The answer is no.

But hearing about him drinking... I felt a wounded. I firmly believe that there is a path to happiness. The individual steps of that path are many but the concepts behind them are the same. There is an ultimate truth, this may be why I am so resistant to drugs that affect my mood (make me happy) because you must find happiness inside yourself. You can't rely on some external stimulus to make you happy. You have to be happy despite the external stimulus.

I don't know how to help my friend. They have some challenges that I don't know how to climb. Some challenges which I will never personally be asked to defeat. How do I let him see what I see? I see so much pain in the world but have no hands to mend. I hope God knows how to heal the hurts I see. I have to have faith that he does, I do have faith that he does. I just can't stand to see such dear friends pierced by so many wounds.

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Shucking the Soul

Have you ever had one of those moments where... all the disgusting clinging leaves and corn silk/corn hair suddenly fall free of your body and you--the part of you that is you and nothing else--are able to float in some sort of strange ethereal jelly? Divulged of all the trappings of mortality you exist in a plane of consciousness that allows you simply to be?

I had one of those moments today. I went to a piano concert at BYU where the splendidly talented gentleman played Fredrick Chopin's Piano Sonata 2 (The funeral march) although his version was much better (probably because it was in person and not by some crappy video camera...)

It was amazing. And when I came back to earth... I felt lighter.

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Something I've been thinking about for a while...

I just can't think of a good way to do this because the written form is more different than the verbal form.

[her-oh-in]


























Which were you thinking:

n. A white, odorless, bitter crystalline compound, C17H17NO(C2H3O2)2, that is derived from morphine and is a highly addictive narcotic. Also called diacetylmorphine.
n.

1. A woman noted for courage and daring action.
2. A woman noted for special achievement in a particular field.
3. The principal female character in a novel, poem, or dramatic presentation. See Usage Note at hero.

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