Tonight I will draw from Ray Bradbury, PBS, "Friends" and my own life to make my point. My thoughts are here and there tonight, but will come together if you read through to termination.
I'll just start off by referencing a story called "The Fire Balloons" by Ray Bradbury. It is a short story about a missionary expedition to Mars. The fathers have no luck in coaxing the Martians from their hills to worship their cruicifixes or participate in communion. One astute father decides that since they are on Mars, maybe the Martians cannot relate to a humanoid representation of Christ or do not feel comfortable worshipping in a chapel with walls and pews. He sets out to the hills to set up a place of worship in nature, and constructs a globe of glowing blue fire, for that is what he hears the ancient Martians look like. He takes this placeholder fire balloon and calls it Christ. He encounters the Martians and they teach him much more than he could have taught them. I will refer to this story again at the end.
Next: I just finished watching "Get Up Stand Up" on KUED/PBS about music and politics, and it is making my mind reel. I tuned in after scanning the channels because I saw George Harrison singing "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." I didn't know that it was a shot from his benefit concert to aid Bangladesh. That was two hours ago, and I watched the entire program.
Sir Bob Geldof (of Live Aid fame and 2006 Nobel Peace Prize nominee) was a focal point, as was Bono of U2 (2006 Nobel Peace Prize nominee), and the entire rap music genre. So many political and economic opinions were flying all around representing so many different ideas. Some overlapped and were harmonious while others clashed. The clashing points were along the lines of how to resolve the issues of the world. The agreements were on the issues: AIDS, Tibet, African debt, apartheid, racism, war, the caste system alive and well in the USA, and on and on. Geldof said "Bono loves the world, and I hate it. He just wants to give it a big hug, and I want to punch its lights out!" Opposite extremes of the idealist and the pragmatist. But they are very good friends and often found working together to do what they can to give aid to the many many different relief efforts in which they are involved. Reraphrasing Geldof again, he said he called it "Band Aid" because that's all it was: a band aid, a temporary fix and patch-job. It will not solve the problem.
This made me think: a while ago I was in therapy. My psychologist suggested that perhaps my temper and other bad habits were not the problem, but rather symptoms of a deeper problem, a deeper sickness. That sickness was self-loathing. I did not love myself, and therefore acted out in certain ways. I did my best to control my temper, but eventually I would slip up and act out. Why? Because I still did not love myself. As I have been studying myself and the gospel and realizing that I am loveable, loving and wonderful, I must say that those symptoms have waned and waned.
Echoing Geldof's sentiments, raising money to feed the starving African children or to pay off the mortgages of midwest farmers' property does not solve the problem. It will help a minute fragment of those aching for aid, but the real purpose of the concerts was not to raise money--it was to raise awareness. There will always be starving children, AIDS is rampant in Africa as well, black America, despite their humanity (reason, intellect, compassion, etc.), struggle to break out of their economic tier because they are raised to fulfill stereotypes. Sociality precludes or pervades the idealistic humanity and the goodness in us all. We let it trump our souls with false and fleeting joys that should be associated with being alive.
To draw on the insightful moment I had while watching "Friends" (of all shows): Phoebe was dating a psychiatrist who alienated the rest of the group by accurately analyzing their faults and idiosynchracies and drawing their insecurities out in front of everyone. When told that he was disliked by Phoebe's friends, he broke almost into soliloquy about them, saying something like "this doesn't suprise me--their egos are so fragile, they don't know who they are. 'Define me! define me!' As if they need each other to feel special."
"Define me." What am I to whom? I am a son, a brother, an uncle, a friend. I am a child of God. This is what helped me to love myself and change my attitude: that I am special not because I drive what I do or because of some other superficial or temporal device. I fit somewhere in the universe as a needed and special piece. Others need me, and I need them.
This example from my life illustrates how the gospel of Jesus Christ gave me the aid that I need. Going back to Bob and Bono, applying dollars and cents is a rather futile means and yields no end. It is an external wisp of aid (though much good has been done). No, I proclaim that we as children of God need to recognize that within ourselves lies the ability to change the world as we band together. I believe that the gospel of Jesus Christ can save the world.
Agnostics, don't stop reading. This ends up where we began, with the Nazarene as a blue phosphorescent globe. You see, the point isn't that we change one another to worship the olive-skinned Jesus. It isn't the man which drives humanity. Siddhartha Gautama, Zarathustra, Socrates, Roseanne Barr, Frodo Baggins or soylent green aren't the point. The point is what they represent. My fire balloon is Jesus Christ, happiness, joy, morality, faith and all of that. Another's fire balloon may be existential philosophy, while yet another might represent Allah. We take our fire balloons and give them a name (which is fine), but then we impose upon others to take the same stance as we do. No, we should be inviting others to partake of the ideals to which we adhere, and then accept the invitation to peer into their balloon and add to our own wholesomeness. We have only our innate, primal goodness to offer one another, but when we throw up labels and start defining ourselves as Mormons, atheists, lesbians, Japanese, etc., we forget that we are all humans.
So we know who I believe my fire balloon to be. I am obviously Christian, and of the Mormon "division" at that. What is in yours? Who is in yours? What do you believe? Do you believe in love? Do you believe in peace and brotherhood? Do you believe in charity? Me too. So let's take Gandhi's advice and start a revolution. Let US be the change in the world and fill it with communal love. Let's invite others to find the commonalities we learn from our balloons (they are most certainly there) and move forward shoulder-to-shoulder. Let our revolution be peaceful, like through song, expressive and stimulating to others. We all have bruised souls, we do not need to exacerbate the situation by crusading about with a Bible and a gun. Let our label read "humanity" as we care for one and all; e pluribus unum, indeed. I am doing what I can to be the change I wish to see in the world.
Sep 17, 2005
Matthew 25:40
Friends:
I have been criticized, supported, shunned and embraced for my recent choices in forfeiting a plausible career occupation for a mere three-week period during which I will be staying in and helping with a shelter in the South for the American Red Cross.
Perhaps the following goings-on of my mind chronologically laid out for you will help those who would like to understand my motives. Perhaps it may quell the naysayers, perhaps it will incite more opposition. Regardless, these are my experiences and my decisions. This is what makes me me, as yours make you you. I take criticism and feedback (though not always graciously, at first) and appreciate any comments. An experience you have had may well help me to grow. And hopefully my life can help you as well.
If you are a reader of my blog, you are already aware that I am a Utah-bred member of the LDS church, served a full-time youth mission, and since returning home have faced some adversity, causing me to dig deep into my beliefs and purpose (or sense of purpose). Even considering rerouting my lifestyle entirely, these last couple of years during which I battled depression amongst other things, the results are in: I have decided to rewire my beliefs based more upon principles taught in my faith, rather than upon rules and regulations, the dos and don'ts. I have reprogrammed my code and hopefully left enough room for future change; I plan on leaving my interpretations of doctrine open to future change and recoding. I would like to be dynamic and flexible within my beliefs, but have decided that I will not change them from pure Mormon doctrine.
I have made poor decisions which have landed me outside of the boundaries required for temple attendance. Okay, here is where the point of today's 'blog comes in: why am I leaving my job to help strangers?
In working with my bishop and as he has helped me to understand the relationship between Jesus and me, I have done a lot of studying: reading from scripture and the endless commentary on such; studying of myself...and on and on. I think a lot, and in my pursuit to find truth (or perceived truth), these activities have led me to the light offered by the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Or rather, it helped me to stop ignoring his influence and actually seemed to amplify it. And this is what I feel from him.
I know that as noble and good as my life has been at times, there also exist deeds and practices which go against the will of God. With these irreversible blemishes present, I cannot fulfill my purpose of gaining substantial happiness. So we have been given a Jesus figure to give us aid in reconciling the wrongs we have done, and he therefore deserves our worship.
Yes, worship. This term is appropriate. I have thought a lot about how I could pay him back, because at times of prayer I have felt so intensely feelings of gratitude and love, I have wanted to shout "how can I pay you back!" Yes, how can we pay him back? Um...not possible. In studying theology, I have concluded that we cannot do it. If we are capable of repaying him, man repaying Deity, we should also be capable of making ourselves square with God sans Jesus Christ, and this is not the case.
So I say that we should worship him as a form of payback, as best as mortals can. He offers us ways that we can worship him, and I have discovered something vitalizing within Matthew 25:40. How many times have I read this verse? But this time I read it with a stronger motivation to fulfill it.
I turned my attention to how I could be a contributer to my community, other communities, individuals, whomever. I tried to volunteer to help with the Church's need of bodies in the Perpetual Education Fund, but currently they only need bilingual English/Spanish speakers, and I was turned down. At every chance I had to sign up for a service project, I would. I started stopping to help distressed motorists on the highway every time. I tried to make a conscious effort to seek out the needs in others, but although the young ladies with the flat tire were grateful, I still didn't feel like I was doing enough.
Then I looked at myself. I own four bicycles: road bike, $1,000; mountain bike hard-tail, $3,000; mountain bike soft-tail, $5,000; commuter bike, $700. Friends, I only have two legs and one butt, so who needs all of those bikes? Upstairs I have a home theater that I never use. I have meals everyday, I sleep in a bed, I enjoy movies and pizza and leisure.
Without the news media, I would never have known about Katrina. I thought of people young and old who may not know where their family members are, relocated to a new locale, their lives washed away by nature's gale. They probably don't even have a picture of their families, and I am sitting here with four bikes--and the debt accumulated in building them. This most certainly does not sit right with me. As I went to a pre-volunteer orientation presented by the American Red Cross, it became so clear that this is an ideal channel for me to give of myself. I am weary of being a Christian grandstander, voicing strong approval of service and charity and love and compassion yet not having the courage to step outside of myself and my comfort zone to do something. When asked if I would be willing to relocate and offer aid in manning the Red Cross shelters in the South, I replied affirmatively.
This meant that I would have to request leave from my employer, WorkingRx. I was not only denied leave but was told that if I choose to depart for three weeks that my position would be filled, as my duties are somewhat specialized and I am the only person who carries them out. In all honesty, I foresaw this. What I did not expect was their complacency to the entire situation. In essence, I was forced to resign. I posed the option of reassigning me somewhere within the company infrastructure, as it is a growing company and I would require much less training than an outside hire. They asked me to reapply as an outside hire. Now, replacing me in my position was an expected sound business decision. Yet asking me to reapply sounds more like spite or pettiness or some other cheap tactic, which has really smothered my desire to be further affiliated with WorkingRx. I asked human resources if they are involved in any community- or education-minded charity or any humanitarian cause--they said no. I requested of the HR Director (Joel Deaton) and the CEO (Bob McCaffrey) that they discuss it with the Board, and was outright ignored.
So, they left it up to me: stay in my position after being completely turned off by the company and have job security, or volunteer for something I believe in and resign with a possibility of coming back if I reapplied. Honestly, my reaction was silent and remained in my head, but I really wanted to tell them to do a four-letter word to themselves. If I have to reapply without the consideration of my hard work and job experience with the same company, then I would rather seek my fortune elsewhere.
A few months ago, I was approached by founder, former CEO, current board member and employee of Samaritan Technologies, Joseph Wecker, with the possibility of becoming part of their work force. It excited me then and it excites me now, and I will tell you why.
You can begin by looking at the name of their company; it is not hard to decipher its etymology. It is a software company that writes database software, in essence, to track volunteers and volunteer opportunites within the various programs and organizations. These organizations become not only more effective in rendering volunteer services by efficiently tracking pertinent information with the software, but it creates man hours for more volunteer service to be done.
Samaritan also mandates volunteerism from its employees, quoting from their Web site without permission, "At Samaritan we are very committed to volunteerism. Each of our full-time permanent employees volunteers four hours per month in his or her community."
This is the kind of organization with which I seek to be affiliated. I realize the importance of being self-reliant and earning a livelihood not only for myself but for my family and loved ones. I need an income to survive in this moneymongering society, but do I have to earn that income from a moneymongering employer couched in apathy?
So be it with Samaritan, the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts or whatever company I land in, I would be happy knowing that my employment comes from a company that is good for 1) its community; 2) its employees; and 3) for promoting humanitarian attitudes in everybody.
In the meantime, I am selling all of my things to pay my bills while I am out of work for at least the next six weeks. Contact me for a list of items for sale and their prices, or if you would just like to donate.
God bless you all.
love, Mike
801-554-8792
genkibrady@gmail.com
I have been criticized, supported, shunned and embraced for my recent choices in forfeiting a plausible career occupation for a mere three-week period during which I will be staying in and helping with a shelter in the South for the American Red Cross.
Perhaps the following goings-on of my mind chronologically laid out for you will help those who would like to understand my motives. Perhaps it may quell the naysayers, perhaps it will incite more opposition. Regardless, these are my experiences and my decisions. This is what makes me me, as yours make you you. I take criticism and feedback (though not always graciously, at first) and appreciate any comments. An experience you have had may well help me to grow. And hopefully my life can help you as well.
If you are a reader of my blog, you are already aware that I am a Utah-bred member of the LDS church, served a full-time youth mission, and since returning home have faced some adversity, causing me to dig deep into my beliefs and purpose (or sense of purpose). Even considering rerouting my lifestyle entirely, these last couple of years during which I battled depression amongst other things, the results are in: I have decided to rewire my beliefs based more upon principles taught in my faith, rather than upon rules and regulations, the dos and don'ts. I have reprogrammed my code and hopefully left enough room for future change; I plan on leaving my interpretations of doctrine open to future change and recoding. I would like to be dynamic and flexible within my beliefs, but have decided that I will not change them from pure Mormon doctrine.
I have made poor decisions which have landed me outside of the boundaries required for temple attendance. Okay, here is where the point of today's 'blog comes in: why am I leaving my job to help strangers?
In working with my bishop and as he has helped me to understand the relationship between Jesus and me, I have done a lot of studying: reading from scripture and the endless commentary on such; studying of myself...and on and on. I think a lot, and in my pursuit to find truth (or perceived truth), these activities have led me to the light offered by the Gift of the Holy Ghost. Or rather, it helped me to stop ignoring his influence and actually seemed to amplify it. And this is what I feel from him.
I know that as noble and good as my life has been at times, there also exist deeds and practices which go against the will of God. With these irreversible blemishes present, I cannot fulfill my purpose of gaining substantial happiness. So we have been given a Jesus figure to give us aid in reconciling the wrongs we have done, and he therefore deserves our worship.
Yes, worship. This term is appropriate. I have thought a lot about how I could pay him back, because at times of prayer I have felt so intensely feelings of gratitude and love, I have wanted to shout "how can I pay you back!" Yes, how can we pay him back? Um...not possible. In studying theology, I have concluded that we cannot do it. If we are capable of repaying him, man repaying Deity, we should also be capable of making ourselves square with God sans Jesus Christ, and this is not the case.
So I say that we should worship him as a form of payback, as best as mortals can. He offers us ways that we can worship him, and I have discovered something vitalizing within Matthew 25:40. How many times have I read this verse? But this time I read it with a stronger motivation to fulfill it.
I turned my attention to how I could be a contributer to my community, other communities, individuals, whomever. I tried to volunteer to help with the Church's need of bodies in the Perpetual Education Fund, but currently they only need bilingual English/Spanish speakers, and I was turned down. At every chance I had to sign up for a service project, I would. I started stopping to help distressed motorists on the highway every time. I tried to make a conscious effort to seek out the needs in others, but although the young ladies with the flat tire were grateful, I still didn't feel like I was doing enough.
Then I looked at myself. I own four bicycles: road bike, $1,000; mountain bike hard-tail, $3,000; mountain bike soft-tail, $5,000; commuter bike, $700. Friends, I only have two legs and one butt, so who needs all of those bikes? Upstairs I have a home theater that I never use. I have meals everyday, I sleep in a bed, I enjoy movies and pizza and leisure.
Without the news media, I would never have known about Katrina. I thought of people young and old who may not know where their family members are, relocated to a new locale, their lives washed away by nature's gale. They probably don't even have a picture of their families, and I am sitting here with four bikes--and the debt accumulated in building them. This most certainly does not sit right with me. As I went to a pre-volunteer orientation presented by the American Red Cross, it became so clear that this is an ideal channel for me to give of myself. I am weary of being a Christian grandstander, voicing strong approval of service and charity and love and compassion yet not having the courage to step outside of myself and my comfort zone to do something. When asked if I would be willing to relocate and offer aid in manning the Red Cross shelters in the South, I replied affirmatively.
This meant that I would have to request leave from my employer, WorkingRx. I was not only denied leave but was told that if I choose to depart for three weeks that my position would be filled, as my duties are somewhat specialized and I am the only person who carries them out. In all honesty, I foresaw this. What I did not expect was their complacency to the entire situation. In essence, I was forced to resign. I posed the option of reassigning me somewhere within the company infrastructure, as it is a growing company and I would require much less training than an outside hire. They asked me to reapply as an outside hire. Now, replacing me in my position was an expected sound business decision. Yet asking me to reapply sounds more like spite or pettiness or some other cheap tactic, which has really smothered my desire to be further affiliated with WorkingRx. I asked human resources if they are involved in any community- or education-minded charity or any humanitarian cause--they said no. I requested of the HR Director (Joel Deaton) and the CEO (Bob McCaffrey) that they discuss it with the Board, and was outright ignored.
So, they left it up to me: stay in my position after being completely turned off by the company and have job security, or volunteer for something I believe in and resign with a possibility of coming back if I reapplied. Honestly, my reaction was silent and remained in my head, but I really wanted to tell them to do a four-letter word to themselves. If I have to reapply without the consideration of my hard work and job experience with the same company, then I would rather seek my fortune elsewhere.
A few months ago, I was approached by founder, former CEO, current board member and employee of Samaritan Technologies, Joseph Wecker, with the possibility of becoming part of their work force. It excited me then and it excites me now, and I will tell you why.
You can begin by looking at the name of their company; it is not hard to decipher its etymology. It is a software company that writes database software, in essence, to track volunteers and volunteer opportunites within the various programs and organizations. These organizations become not only more effective in rendering volunteer services by efficiently tracking pertinent information with the software, but it creates man hours for more volunteer service to be done.
Samaritan also mandates volunteerism from its employees, quoting from their Web site without permission, "At Samaritan we are very committed to volunteerism. Each of our full-time permanent employees volunteers four hours per month in his or her community."
This is the kind of organization with which I seek to be affiliated. I realize the importance of being self-reliant and earning a livelihood not only for myself but for my family and loved ones. I need an income to survive in this moneymongering society, but do I have to earn that income from a moneymongering employer couched in apathy?
So be it with Samaritan, the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts or whatever company I land in, I would be happy knowing that my employment comes from a company that is good for 1) its community; 2) its employees; and 3) for promoting humanitarian attitudes in everybody.
In the meantime, I am selling all of my things to pay my bills while I am out of work for at least the next six weeks. Contact me for a list of items for sale and their prices, or if you would just like to donate.
God bless you all.
love, Mike
801-554-8792
genkibrady@gmail.com
Sep 6, 2005
Revelation
No, I will NOT pardon myself for what I put in my last 'blog. I am who I am. Many of you liked it because of my juxtaposing style, many of you dismissed my real points because you could not see past the language (some liked the f-word usage, while others hated it), and a few of you just listened. You just plain listened. Thank you.
And what madcap, hyper-tangential and torrential word vomit adventures are we all in for today? you may query. Well, throw your presuppositions aside. Or let my past postings affect your way of thinking--do whatever you would like to do. Just be yourselves, but remember to introspect as you go.
Today I would like to expand that idea of the surreality of this existence. I touched on it once already, but here is a bit more inside my head as to why my mind sees our world as fleeting.
I learned this from a physics book: the elemental building blocks of which our bodies (and all matter) are composed are the result of either the birth or the death of a star. Only one or the other of those two events could create enough heat and pressure to combine atoms and molecules together in such a manner that existence could come to be. Chemicals pumping around in my thyroid, my fingernails, that photograph of your cat, were all created in a cosmic explosion millions of years ago, at least.
Our bodies are a medium, nothing more. A mere mortal housing for our intelligences. It is the tangible stuff, yes, the kind of stuff which will eventually wear out and DIE, within which our supremely wonderful and marvelous true beings are kept and restricted. Yes, restricted, by the paramaters of "natural" laws. I cannot defy gravity. You can't apparate. At least, we do not understand how to, but I believe that we can. My rods and cones interpret physical information and fail to see the metaphysical. My right hemisphere seems to almost battle my left for understanding of this garden universe, with seeds of knowledge and discovery floating around and waiting for a fertile mind in which they can bud and blossom. If we can see past the obvious, we can learn to do anything. Even fly.
I feel heat and cold, I smell aroma and odour, I see mauve and heliotrope. Yes, our senses. Not much gets past these ol' boys, do they now! Bullshit, I say. So, explain disappointment, desire, rage, love, camaraderie, and melancholy. Aha, a corpus callosum between our five senses and something beyond, something we understand, expressed by the word 'emotion,' but... do we really understand? What causes one person to love another? Crunch the numbers, gague the interactions, factor in the histories of the involved parties, and you will have a calculation for love. Again: BS!
Case in point, Kimi Maruji: Japanese-American, returned missionary from Japan, sweet, polite, fun and funny, intelligent, beautiful. My dream girl. I dated her once. Once. No chemistry. By every account, I should have fallen into twitterpation with this woman straight out of the chute... but, meh, no. And this is no discredit to her, because she really is all of those wonderful things, and more. So, beyond our apathetic five senses, there must be some kind of something which links our physicality to our emotions, and beyond. Emotion is a placeholder word to bundle feelings we experience, a description, but not an explanation.
Let us follow our emotions and our primal innateness. Let's explore a little bit as to why we feel disdain for one thing and complacency for another, yet lust for something else which is nearly identical. You all love somebody. Why? and how? A showing of love is some sort of act, a rite, which we perfom to communicate that feeling. "Wife, I love you, and will therefore place the toilet seat down." You are showing me a resultant action of love, but show me the physical STUFF! None of my five senses can detect the actual stuff love, but still I declare that I have experienced it.
I can see this world. Here I sit at my laptop in my basement plugging away, content with my life and happy, while beyond my walls, maybe next door perhaps, sits a forlorn young woman, bitter and depressed, hopeless and aching for a friend. type type type.
Down the street in a similar bedroom, two lovers are holding one another. type type type.
A man heaves a bluesy breath into his saxophone, he inhales cigarette smoke, and belts out his soul. And here I still sit, type type type. Spinning throughout this cosmic expanse, mindful only of finishing my thoughts before midnight, so I can get a good night's rest.
Pain is happening now. So is love, so is sleep, so is the David Letterman show. And already, 36 New York minutes have happened since I began....type type type.
What is all of this physical stuff? What is my body? What is my spirit? What am I doing just sitting here in my line of life, my own world, while so many other things are happening with every last one of us alive? These people have souls and feelings and are trying so hard to connect, to get involved in some sort of an emotional communication, where they are given a response to their call, and hoping it is a positive one.
Loved ones, this physical stuff, this is not real! This is not the real world! Why am I here? To become a good insurance salesman, buy a table tennis set for my kids, travel to Europe off my 401(k) and then die?
Who cares what I do for a 'career,' so long as I practice honesty? And where did this principle of honesty come from? Who defined it? That's right, the same Creator who caused the stars to ignite, who implanted a spirit into a beautiful body, and then told us to be fair one with another. If you believe in right and wrong, you believe in God. Right and wrong might be a creation of man, sure, but why is right right and wrong wrong? Feel free to argue with me on this.
No, when the concept of this world only slips away and virtues and integrity become more the focus of our desires and aspirations, we can see that this experience is oh-so surreal. This, my friends, is a great chance for us to see how we can learn from ourselves and others, with divine mandates of prescribed behavior, to be true to those primal urges of valor and charity. Can we see past the rat race, the statistics, the moneymongering, and decide that being a catalyst for love is far more important than any of this? I want to learn to love.
Yes, I said 'learn to love.' I am terrible at it! And I am glad that I know this, and equally glad that I have practically infinite chances to step up to the plate and deliver. I am a dick! But not all of the time. Sometimes I am blessed with the chance to shed my habitual dickheadedness and help a soul out. Everybody grows. I hope I can do that all of the time, but I probably won't. I am stuck in some pretty bad habits.
And that is okay! How would I ever be able to see how I have changed, if I didn't start somewhere? You cannot improve upon perfection and don't be so haughty as to say that you are perfect. We can all improve, and most of us have a little dickhead in us, and most of us have named him "Tagus Finbogadotter," after the Scandinavian explorer. Don't deny this fact. Anyway, this life is OJT, my friends: on the job training. Here we have ample schooltime to use this world laboratory, full of dicks like myself, as a place to hone our goodness, as defined by God, to see if we can learn to see past the excessive ruthless competitions in which people are used and hurt. Once we can see our existence for what it really is, we will be glad that we didn't waste our fleeting time on the frivolous things of a dead life. But love, ah, love. Yes, we can carry that across dimensions.
Love.
Let me tell you about two men I respect: Jesus Christ, Hugh Nibley. As wise as Brother Nibley was, and as much as I love his mind, the Nazarene trumps him in a most supreme way. So one day I was driving up 89 on my way to date a girl named Melanie. I was listening to a Nibley lecture on tape, in which he said (and this was later reiterated by Robert Kirby) that men are here for only two reasons: 1) to learn to repent, and 2) to learn to forgive. He said that these are the two most important things that we could observe and acclimate to.
Scratch scratch. Mikey thought about this one, oh, yessiree. But, didn't Jesus tell me that the top two were to 1) love God, and 2) to love my neighbor? Confusion: another emotion that goes undetectable by the five.
And then in a real moment, my mind was aided and things meshed. To repent is an exhibition of our Godly love. To forgive is the same for our dickhead neighbors.
My dear people, I love you. Existence does not shut off when we go on the 28-gram weight loss program. We do not cease to be! We move on to secondary school and eventually college. Finally we graduate and put what we have learned to practical use. Yes, and the fundamentals of these righteous principles of love and charity and benevolence can, and should be, born in our souls in this elementary school of life, while we cannot sense our lives for what they really are. Apply the scientific method to hope, my friends. Shift your paradigm, look for the brush of the God who is trying to paint our numbers and let your emotions, that obscure corpus callosum, link you to something more grand. See with your emotions, act with your body, be the personification of virtue in this shabby lifetime, and know that, as Proximo said in the movie "Gladiator," that what we do here and now "echoes in eternity."
Surreal now. The real world awaits. type type type.
love, Mike
And what madcap, hyper-tangential and torrential word vomit adventures are we all in for today? you may query. Well, throw your presuppositions aside. Or let my past postings affect your way of thinking--do whatever you would like to do. Just be yourselves, but remember to introspect as you go.
Today I would like to expand that idea of the surreality of this existence. I touched on it once already, but here is a bit more inside my head as to why my mind sees our world as fleeting.
I learned this from a physics book: the elemental building blocks of which our bodies (and all matter) are composed are the result of either the birth or the death of a star. Only one or the other of those two events could create enough heat and pressure to combine atoms and molecules together in such a manner that existence could come to be. Chemicals pumping around in my thyroid, my fingernails, that photograph of your cat, were all created in a cosmic explosion millions of years ago, at least.
Our bodies are a medium, nothing more. A mere mortal housing for our intelligences. It is the tangible stuff, yes, the kind of stuff which will eventually wear out and DIE, within which our supremely wonderful and marvelous true beings are kept and restricted. Yes, restricted, by the paramaters of "natural" laws. I cannot defy gravity. You can't apparate. At least, we do not understand how to, but I believe that we can. My rods and cones interpret physical information and fail to see the metaphysical. My right hemisphere seems to almost battle my left for understanding of this garden universe, with seeds of knowledge and discovery floating around and waiting for a fertile mind in which they can bud and blossom. If we can see past the obvious, we can learn to do anything. Even fly.
I feel heat and cold, I smell aroma and odour, I see mauve and heliotrope. Yes, our senses. Not much gets past these ol' boys, do they now! Bullshit, I say. So, explain disappointment, desire, rage, love, camaraderie, and melancholy. Aha, a corpus callosum between our five senses and something beyond, something we understand, expressed by the word 'emotion,' but... do we really understand? What causes one person to love another? Crunch the numbers, gague the interactions, factor in the histories of the involved parties, and you will have a calculation for love. Again: BS!
Case in point, Kimi Maruji: Japanese-American, returned missionary from Japan, sweet, polite, fun and funny, intelligent, beautiful. My dream girl. I dated her once. Once. No chemistry. By every account, I should have fallen into twitterpation with this woman straight out of the chute... but, meh, no. And this is no discredit to her, because she really is all of those wonderful things, and more. So, beyond our apathetic five senses, there must be some kind of something which links our physicality to our emotions, and beyond. Emotion is a placeholder word to bundle feelings we experience, a description, but not an explanation.
Let us follow our emotions and our primal innateness. Let's explore a little bit as to why we feel disdain for one thing and complacency for another, yet lust for something else which is nearly identical. You all love somebody. Why? and how? A showing of love is some sort of act, a rite, which we perfom to communicate that feeling. "Wife, I love you, and will therefore place the toilet seat down." You are showing me a resultant action of love, but show me the physical STUFF! None of my five senses can detect the actual stuff love, but still I declare that I have experienced it.
I can see this world. Here I sit at my laptop in my basement plugging away, content with my life and happy, while beyond my walls, maybe next door perhaps, sits a forlorn young woman, bitter and depressed, hopeless and aching for a friend. type type type.
Down the street in a similar bedroom, two lovers are holding one another. type type type.
A man heaves a bluesy breath into his saxophone, he inhales cigarette smoke, and belts out his soul. And here I still sit, type type type. Spinning throughout this cosmic expanse, mindful only of finishing my thoughts before midnight, so I can get a good night's rest.
Pain is happening now. So is love, so is sleep, so is the David Letterman show. And already, 36 New York minutes have happened since I began....type type type.
What is all of this physical stuff? What is my body? What is my spirit? What am I doing just sitting here in my line of life, my own world, while so many other things are happening with every last one of us alive? These people have souls and feelings and are trying so hard to connect, to get involved in some sort of an emotional communication, where they are given a response to their call, and hoping it is a positive one.
Loved ones, this physical stuff, this is not real! This is not the real world! Why am I here? To become a good insurance salesman, buy a table tennis set for my kids, travel to Europe off my 401(k) and then die?
Who cares what I do for a 'career,' so long as I practice honesty? And where did this principle of honesty come from? Who defined it? That's right, the same Creator who caused the stars to ignite, who implanted a spirit into a beautiful body, and then told us to be fair one with another. If you believe in right and wrong, you believe in God. Right and wrong might be a creation of man, sure, but why is right right and wrong wrong? Feel free to argue with me on this.
No, when the concept of this world only slips away and virtues and integrity become more the focus of our desires and aspirations, we can see that this experience is oh-so surreal. This, my friends, is a great chance for us to see how we can learn from ourselves and others, with divine mandates of prescribed behavior, to be true to those primal urges of valor and charity. Can we see past the rat race, the statistics, the moneymongering, and decide that being a catalyst for love is far more important than any of this? I want to learn to love.
Yes, I said 'learn to love.' I am terrible at it! And I am glad that I know this, and equally glad that I have practically infinite chances to step up to the plate and deliver. I am a dick! But not all of the time. Sometimes I am blessed with the chance to shed my habitual dickheadedness and help a soul out. Everybody grows. I hope I can do that all of the time, but I probably won't. I am stuck in some pretty bad habits.
And that is okay! How would I ever be able to see how I have changed, if I didn't start somewhere? You cannot improve upon perfection and don't be so haughty as to say that you are perfect. We can all improve, and most of us have a little dickhead in us, and most of us have named him "Tagus Finbogadotter," after the Scandinavian explorer. Don't deny this fact. Anyway, this life is OJT, my friends: on the job training. Here we have ample schooltime to use this world laboratory, full of dicks like myself, as a place to hone our goodness, as defined by God, to see if we can learn to see past the excessive ruthless competitions in which people are used and hurt. Once we can see our existence for what it really is, we will be glad that we didn't waste our fleeting time on the frivolous things of a dead life. But love, ah, love. Yes, we can carry that across dimensions.
Love.
Let me tell you about two men I respect: Jesus Christ, Hugh Nibley. As wise as Brother Nibley was, and as much as I love his mind, the Nazarene trumps him in a most supreme way. So one day I was driving up 89 on my way to date a girl named Melanie. I was listening to a Nibley lecture on tape, in which he said (and this was later reiterated by Robert Kirby) that men are here for only two reasons: 1) to learn to repent, and 2) to learn to forgive. He said that these are the two most important things that we could observe and acclimate to.
Scratch scratch. Mikey thought about this one, oh, yessiree. But, didn't Jesus tell me that the top two were to 1) love God, and 2) to love my neighbor? Confusion: another emotion that goes undetectable by the five.
And then in a real moment, my mind was aided and things meshed. To repent is an exhibition of our Godly love. To forgive is the same for our dickhead neighbors.
My dear people, I love you. Existence does not shut off when we go on the 28-gram weight loss program. We do not cease to be! We move on to secondary school and eventually college. Finally we graduate and put what we have learned to practical use. Yes, and the fundamentals of these righteous principles of love and charity and benevolence can, and should be, born in our souls in this elementary school of life, while we cannot sense our lives for what they really are. Apply the scientific method to hope, my friends. Shift your paradigm, look for the brush of the God who is trying to paint our numbers and let your emotions, that obscure corpus callosum, link you to something more grand. See with your emotions, act with your body, be the personification of virtue in this shabby lifetime, and know that, as Proximo said in the movie "Gladiator," that what we do here and now "echoes in eternity."
Surreal now. The real world awaits. type type type.
love, Mike
Jun 20, 2005
Dream in Full
I initially sent this text in an email to an Armenian friend of mine, Lilit Karapetyan. It describes a dream that I had:
Um, I may have already told you this stuff, but it not only makes good copy but it is imperative to understanding a little of the heaviness of what He said to me.
Each time I would pray or ponder about marrying Sarah, I would always get the feeling "NOT YET," which went ignored. In the temple, the answer I received was "it's reasonable, but NOT YET." Reasonable is a key word in the interaction.
Okay, so I was not able to sleep. Larry and Mama were both out of town, so I was down on the couch just looking out into the dark. Eventually my body just turned off and lo and behold, I was sleeping.
The next thing that I remember was being on my hands and knees with my eyes closed. I opened them and I saw two feet; I knew whose they were. Yes, it's one of those "kiss Jesus' feet" dreams. Suddenly I was filled with two very strong and very polar emotions. First was joy: joy for not being consumed while in his presence. Then I felt an acute feeling of pain and sorrow, because I knew that the reason I could be with him is because he had taken my sins and made me worthy. So there I was feeling all of this joy and all of this bitter pain, and I began to weep and caress his feet with my cheek, and tenderly kissing them.
Then he spoke: "Michael."
"Yes, Lord?" (these were the only two words I said during the entire dream)
"You are kissing my feet."
"Yes, Lord."
"When you are blessed with a wife, you must kiss her and treat her as tenderly and as lovingly as you are kissing me now."
"Yes, Lord."
"Michael."
"Yes, Lord."
"Come here."
"Yes, Lord."
And he lifted me into his arms. My feet weren't even touching the ground, but I didn't have strength to stand anyway. He just held me in so tight and so close, and I felt so warm and so loved. Then that feeling of pain and sorrow was snuffed out like a flame, and in it's stead the feeling of joy grew and expanded, and I wept there in his arms for the intense love that I felt.
"Michael."
"Yes, Lord."
"Do you feel how much I love you?"
"Yes, Lord."
"We are of the same parentage. We are the same creation, the same creature. You need to learn to love yourself the same way that I love you. When you can love yourself this way, you will be blessed with a wife, but not yet; it is not yet reasonable."
I woke up at this point, in tears of course, and with no recollection whatsoever of my dream. The hallway light was on, my guitar was on the floor over there, and there was a dim light slowly moving around the computer room from the dull screen saver. And I was happy! I was sooo full of joy and peace and comfort, and I couldn't even remember why! But it was wonderful. Then just like before but in reverse, the joy I felt came back down as evenly as a feeling of sorrow came up within me, until they were both even. Back to reality, Mike: I still have to repent. I still have to face my misdeeds and do my part before I can fully experience that joy.
I was able to fall asleep again, and when I awoke a few more hours later I had a very vidid recollection of the entire experience.
Um, I may have already told you this stuff, but it not only makes good copy but it is imperative to understanding a little of the heaviness of what He said to me.
Each time I would pray or ponder about marrying Sarah, I would always get the feeling "NOT YET," which went ignored. In the temple, the answer I received was "it's reasonable, but NOT YET." Reasonable is a key word in the interaction.
Okay, so I was not able to sleep. Larry and Mama were both out of town, so I was down on the couch just looking out into the dark. Eventually my body just turned off and lo and behold, I was sleeping.
The next thing that I remember was being on my hands and knees with my eyes closed. I opened them and I saw two feet; I knew whose they were. Yes, it's one of those "kiss Jesus' feet" dreams. Suddenly I was filled with two very strong and very polar emotions. First was joy: joy for not being consumed while in his presence. Then I felt an acute feeling of pain and sorrow, because I knew that the reason I could be with him is because he had taken my sins and made me worthy. So there I was feeling all of this joy and all of this bitter pain, and I began to weep and caress his feet with my cheek, and tenderly kissing them.
Then he spoke: "Michael."
"Yes, Lord?" (these were the only two words I said during the entire dream)
"You are kissing my feet."
"Yes, Lord."
"When you are blessed with a wife, you must kiss her and treat her as tenderly and as lovingly as you are kissing me now."
"Yes, Lord."
"Michael."
"Yes, Lord."
"Come here."
"Yes, Lord."
And he lifted me into his arms. My feet weren't even touching the ground, but I didn't have strength to stand anyway. He just held me in so tight and so close, and I felt so warm and so loved. Then that feeling of pain and sorrow was snuffed out like a flame, and in it's stead the feeling of joy grew and expanded, and I wept there in his arms for the intense love that I felt.
"Michael."
"Yes, Lord."
"Do you feel how much I love you?"
"Yes, Lord."
"We are of the same parentage. We are the same creation, the same creature. You need to learn to love yourself the same way that I love you. When you can love yourself this way, you will be blessed with a wife, but not yet; it is not yet reasonable."
I woke up at this point, in tears of course, and with no recollection whatsoever of my dream. The hallway light was on, my guitar was on the floor over there, and there was a dim light slowly moving around the computer room from the dull screen saver. And I was happy! I was sooo full of joy and peace and comfort, and I couldn't even remember why! But it was wonderful. Then just like before but in reverse, the joy I felt came back down as evenly as a feeling of sorrow came up within me, until they were both even. Back to reality, Mike: I still have to repent. I still have to face my misdeeds and do my part before I can fully experience that joy.
I was able to fall asleep again, and when I awoke a few more hours later I had a very vidid recollection of the entire experience.
Apr 25, 2005
"Versus" Yields Balance
"Versus" Yields Balance
by Michael Brady
I want to be in love with reality, but who says what is real?
I see things with both eyes and mind; both hands and heart can feel.
To find a balance between body and soul and all the things concealed
Who ordained this quantum realm; whom should I ask to reveal?
Does my mind create the outward world, with sights and smells and touch?
Then I invented masochism, and love my pain too much.
To find a balance between body and soul that both can grasp and clutch
Rely on 'science'? Lean on 'religion'? Are neither, or both, the crutch?
I want to be in love with reality, so how can I know for sure?
Am I a victim to what's outside, or within me is the cure?
To find a balance between body and soul, what can I do more?
Unadulterated truth I seek, for knowledge clean and pure.
I am satisfied with who I am, with all my grief and joy,
My mind and hands, my love and hate--each sense I will employ
To find a balance between body and soul and all the things concealed.
I want to be in love with reality; I acknowledge that *I* am real.
by Michael Brady
I want to be in love with reality, but who says what is real?
I see things with both eyes and mind; both hands and heart can feel.
To find a balance between body and soul and all the things concealed
Who ordained this quantum realm; whom should I ask to reveal?
Does my mind create the outward world, with sights and smells and touch?
Then I invented masochism, and love my pain too much.
To find a balance between body and soul that both can grasp and clutch
Rely on 'science'? Lean on 'religion'? Are neither, or both, the crutch?
I want to be in love with reality, so how can I know for sure?
Am I a victim to what's outside, or within me is the cure?
To find a balance between body and soul, what can I do more?
Unadulterated truth I seek, for knowledge clean and pure.
I am satisfied with who I am, with all my grief and joy,
My mind and hands, my love and hate--each sense I will employ
To find a balance between body and soul and all the things concealed.
I want to be in love with reality; I acknowledge that *I* am real.
Apr 6, 2005
Pain In Love
Pain In Love
by Mike Brady
I used to not care, but now I do
About all those people laughing with you
And when they're done, what will be left?
Nothing between us but this widening rift
I used to believe in fidelity
But now all those people are laughing at me
And my misery
The words are caught inside my mind
Between what's ahead and what's behind
My childish notions just weren't enough
Experience has taught me there's pain in love
Pain in love
The years have gone by, now I'm a man
I have my life, I have my plan
With eyes wide open, I clearly see
That love has brought me misery
Yet as I lie down next to my wife
I know love has also brought joy to my life
Joy to my life
The words are caught inside my mind
Between what's ahead and what's behind
My childish notions just weren't enough
Experience has taught me there's pain in love
Pain in love
The pain you brought into my life
Has helped me appreciate my wife
All the memories come from you
Add meaning when I tell her "I love you,
I love you"
by Mike Brady
I used to not care, but now I do
About all those people laughing with you
And when they're done, what will be left?
Nothing between us but this widening rift
I used to believe in fidelity
But now all those people are laughing at me
And my misery
The words are caught inside my mind
Between what's ahead and what's behind
My childish notions just weren't enough
Experience has taught me there's pain in love
Pain in love
The years have gone by, now I'm a man
I have my life, I have my plan
With eyes wide open, I clearly see
That love has brought me misery
Yet as I lie down next to my wife
I know love has also brought joy to my life
Joy to my life
The words are caught inside my mind
Between what's ahead and what's behind
My childish notions just weren't enough
Experience has taught me there's pain in love
Pain in love
The pain you brought into my life
Has helped me appreciate my wife
All the memories come from you
Add meaning when I tell her "I love you,
I love you"
Feb 27, 2005
Yet Untitled Song
Hey folks. Have you ever written a song in a dream, and it was FREAKING AWESOME!?!? Well, I have. "Awesome" is relative. Well, this morning in a hypnopompic state, I wrote the following song. Realizing that I liked it a really lot, I willed myself awake and wrote down as much as I could remember. I lost a bit in the waking, but I filled it out and here is the current draft:
As I amble though the back roads of the place inside my mind
Hauling 'round the carcass of the boy I left behind
Enjoying, loathing lonely freedom, not expecting what to find
I'm stuck within this synapse, on a frozen beam of time
Is it God or Christ
Is it sin or vice
Which will make this dead boy live?
To find within
This aching skin
The will and strength to forgive?
My eyes look ever downward and I kick a single stone
I'm surrounded by the masses, yet choose to be alone
The bitterness of exile infects my very bones
Resplendent joy has waned away; this is why I roam
I long to resurrect the splendid boy who once was me
To lift my head from being dead, to look with eyes that see
The locusts died from famine as they spread their wings to fly
My first-born son, my inner-child, was passed and did not die
But a requiem inside of him will soar toward the sky
Shall he die in truth an honest youth, or give life to a lie?
Is it me or them
Who stand condemned
Or can we hope for all?
O hear me now
The words of my mouth
And save us from the Fall
My fractured spine is re-aligned, my bones are filled with marrow
Yet within mere faith is still a place and a need for sorrow
This strengthened sinew and health-filled navel finds hope beyond the morrow
Yet within mere faith is still a place and a need for sorrow
As I amble though the back roads of the place inside my mind
Hauling 'round the carcass of the boy I left behind
Enjoying, loathing lonely freedom, not expecting what to find
I'm stuck within this synapse, on a frozen beam of time
Is it God or Christ
Is it sin or vice
Which will make this dead boy live?
To find within
This aching skin
The will and strength to forgive?
My eyes look ever downward and I kick a single stone
I'm surrounded by the masses, yet choose to be alone
The bitterness of exile infects my very bones
Resplendent joy has waned away; this is why I roam
I long to resurrect the splendid boy who once was me
To lift my head from being dead, to look with eyes that see
The locusts died from famine as they spread their wings to fly
My first-born son, my inner-child, was passed and did not die
But a requiem inside of him will soar toward the sky
Shall he die in truth an honest youth, or give life to a lie?
Is it me or them
Who stand condemned
Or can we hope for all?
O hear me now
The words of my mouth
And save us from the Fall
My fractured spine is re-aligned, my bones are filled with marrow
Yet within mere faith is still a place and a need for sorrow
This strengthened sinew and health-filled navel finds hope beyond the morrow
Yet within mere faith is still a place and a need for sorrow
Feb 21, 2005
With a Little Help from My Friends...
Okay genkibrady blog readers, here is an email describing what has been placed in my mind about 18 hours ago. I think that those of you who are cheering for me to return to full fellowship are in for a treat. Even those of you who are where I have been/am/will be as far as the why's of the church, I hope that you can appreciate the conclusions which are congealing in my head. Although the Spirit has told certain things to me, I do not expect any of you to come to the same realizations that I have. I am me; you are you. Do what is best for you and allow me to do the same. God bless you all, and here is the email:
Robert:
I was invited to church with a friend on Sunday up at the U Institute, so I went. I figured that while I was in the area, I'd stop by my sister's place just to, you know, chill with the fam and my niece to be (due in 2 mos--how are Lisa and Grace?!). Well, they had their home teachers over, which was nice. The message was out of this month's Ensign, obviously, the one by President Monson called "To Truly See."
Now I think you know that I do not excuse myself for my behavior, but the other day when we were online, I was pretty forlorn and upset when I wondered to you "Did you ever imagine that I would be here on the outside looking in? What happened to my life?"
Now we've spoken before of childhood circumstances and so forth, yours versus mine versus Clayton's, and the like. I have often postulated as to why I have the family I do, as well as gazing on the seemingly better circumstances of others. I can't say that I have NEVER been envious, but I can say that it is not an attitude which I have adopted. I don't want other peoples' families, but what I DO want is an explanation. I know that this is in opposition to the principle of faith, but with my hypersensitive emotions and my temperament, an explanation would certainly go a long way for me.
Last night I got that explanation. Quoted by President Monson in his message:
"Long ago and at a place far distant, as Jesus passed by He saw a man who was blind from birth. His disciples questioned the Master as to why this person was blind. Had he sinned or had his parents sinned, causing him to have this affliction?
"'Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. . . .
"'As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.
"'When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay,
"'And said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam. . . . He went his way therefore, and washed, and came seeing.'"
Okay, it's one of those "I've read that one a zillion times" deals, right? Okay, not being able to perfectly arrogate this example to my own life, I can still extract the doctrine placed in my mind by the spirit, and lay it out before you.
God didn't make my parents get married when perhaps they should not have, and he certainly didn't make them fight or divorce. It's neither my parents' fault nor mine that my emotions are such as they are, or that my endocrine system is shorting me on certain chemicals. My life is the way that it is simply because. That's just it-- and here comes the explanation: " but that the works of God should be made manifest in him ..."
This goes along with one of my favorite, and thus oft-quoted passages, found in Mosiah 24. This is where Alma and his folks have escaped into the wilderness and have settled in the valley of Helam. These are a righteous people truly striving to recant their wicked pasts by faith in the Christ, and could be examples to us all. Amulon, Alma's former partner-in-crime, happens upon their sovereign colony, with some Lamanites and they begin to place the heavy burdens on their backs, yadda yadda, you know, the standard oppression story from the scriptures.
So why do bad things happen to good people? Had they sinned or had their parents sinned, causing them to have this affliction?
13
And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.
14
And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions .
I have been given such a tremendous opportunity to allow the works of God to be made manifest in me . Okay, I can mope around and bitch about my crappy circumstances, or I can excercise a little bit of faith, use the Atonement, and have the power of Christ change my very nature. I'm tired of all this. Right now I am riding the crest of a wave. Next week I may be back in the trough. Who knows? But what is on my mind right now is: how do I approach the Lord? What kind of entreaties can I offer that would be worthy of his mercy? How do I get him to administer that proverbial spittle-clay into my eyes, and where is my pool of Siloam?
I have been issued a letter from the bishopric that disfellowshipped me, and outlined in it are the steps I need to take. That is the administration. I don't need to plead to Christ at all to be granted mercy, as he is already the catalyst of that most sublime virtue. I need to make the journey to the pool and wash myself in it.
I can already stand as his witness , and will be empowered to stand taller and with increased resolve in being that man described in my patriarchal blessing. I will again become the "Genki Brady" from the mission, but with wisdom and first-hand experience.
I pray now for consistency in my efforts, and would ask that if I cross your mind during your prayers that a similar plea be offered from you on my behalf. I am yet too weak to get my ass to church on my own. I need invitations from friends (sheesh, as if Christ isn't my friend, and as if his invitation isn't valid!). I need a support system. The gospel is again appearing resplendent and inviting to me.
Rob (and others, whom I am cc'ing), I love you all and have been blessed by your friendship. I have divine friends in all of you, in that I can be honest with my shortcomings and not be looked down upon.
God will continue to bless you all,
Mike
Robert:
I was invited to church with a friend on Sunday up at the U Institute, so I went. I figured that while I was in the area, I'd stop by my sister's place just to, you know, chill with the fam and my niece to be (due in 2 mos--how are Lisa and Grace?!). Well, they had their home teachers over, which was nice. The message was out of this month's Ensign, obviously, the one by President Monson called "To Truly See."
Now I think you know that I do not excuse myself for my behavior, but the other day when we were online, I was pretty forlorn and upset when I wondered to you "Did you ever imagine that I would be here on the outside looking in? What happened to my life?"
Now we've spoken before of childhood circumstances and so forth, yours versus mine versus Clayton's, and the like. I have often postulated as to why I have the family I do, as well as gazing on the seemingly better circumstances of others. I can't say that I have NEVER been envious, but I can say that it is not an attitude which I have adopted. I don't want other peoples' families, but what I DO want is an explanation. I know that this is in opposition to the principle of faith, but with my hypersensitive emotions and my temperament, an explanation would certainly go a long way for me.
Last night I got that explanation. Quoted by President Monson in his message:
"Long ago and at a place far distant, as Jesus passed by He saw a man who was blind from birth. His disciples questioned the Master as to why this person was blind. Had he sinned or had his parents sinned, causing him to have this affliction?
"'Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. . . .
"'As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.
"'When he had thus spoken, he spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay,
"'And said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam. . . . He went his way therefore, and washed, and came seeing.'"
Okay, it's one of those "I've read that one a zillion times" deals, right? Okay, not being able to perfectly arrogate this example to my own life, I can still extract the doctrine placed in my mind by the spirit, and lay it out before you.
God didn't make my parents get married when perhaps they should not have, and he certainly didn't make them fight or divorce. It's neither my parents' fault nor mine that my emotions are such as they are, or that my endocrine system is shorting me on certain chemicals. My life is the way that it is simply because. That's just it-- and here comes the explanation: " but that the works of God should be made manifest in him ..."
This goes along with one of my favorite, and thus oft-quoted passages, found in Mosiah 24. This is where Alma and his folks have escaped into the wilderness and have settled in the valley of Helam. These are a righteous people truly striving to recant their wicked pasts by faith in the Christ, and could be examples to us all. Amulon, Alma's former partner-in-crime, happens upon their sovereign colony, with some Lamanites and they begin to place the heavy burdens on their backs, yadda yadda, you know, the standard oppression story from the scriptures.
So why do bad things happen to good people? Had they sinned or had their parents sinned, causing them to have this affliction?
13
And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.
14
And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions .
I have been given such a tremendous opportunity to allow the works of God to be made manifest in me . Okay, I can mope around and bitch about my crappy circumstances, or I can excercise a little bit of faith, use the Atonement, and have the power of Christ change my very nature. I'm tired of all this. Right now I am riding the crest of a wave. Next week I may be back in the trough. Who knows? But what is on my mind right now is: how do I approach the Lord? What kind of entreaties can I offer that would be worthy of his mercy? How do I get him to administer that proverbial spittle-clay into my eyes, and where is my pool of Siloam?
I have been issued a letter from the bishopric that disfellowshipped me, and outlined in it are the steps I need to take. That is the administration. I don't need to plead to Christ at all to be granted mercy, as he is already the catalyst of that most sublime virtue. I need to make the journey to the pool and wash myself in it.
I can already stand as his witness , and will be empowered to stand taller and with increased resolve in being that man described in my patriarchal blessing. I will again become the "Genki Brady" from the mission, but with wisdom and first-hand experience.
I pray now for consistency in my efforts, and would ask that if I cross your mind during your prayers that a similar plea be offered from you on my behalf. I am yet too weak to get my ass to church on my own. I need invitations from friends (sheesh, as if Christ isn't my friend, and as if his invitation isn't valid!). I need a support system. The gospel is again appearing resplendent and inviting to me.
Rob (and others, whom I am cc'ing), I love you all and have been blessed by your friendship. I have divine friends in all of you, in that I can be honest with my shortcomings and not be looked down upon.
God will continue to bless you all,
Mike
Feb 14, 2005
Melancholy Milieu: An Unholy Sacrament
Taken quite sick, my queasy amber guts
take on some food--and why? For life's sake.
Feeding that which causes the pain of every day,
is it hunger or eating which causes this frame to quake?
Assimilating bread and dead flesh into my own,
I ponder silently on what might someday consume me.
Gnashing my teeth to break down the substance,
I see that I only contribute to endless entropy.
The flavor of spice is lost in my tongue; a waste.
I swallow that which was raised to be eaten, without taste.
Disdain of my species, I mix it with wine
to inebriate what optimism still suffers inside me,
and hate the feeling of being a human, loathing
the loathsome beings that we refer to as "family."
Their rage feeds my rage. Can we not love? Jesus said...
but to see my family spread filth and foul deeds, I weep.
Dissociation from these, whom I love and despise
I wish to heal them, which fights my wish to simply sleep.
Food and drink wash through my bowels, along with the air that I breathe.
I cannot be alive, I cannot be dead, and endlessly I gnash my teeth.
take on some food--and why? For life's sake.
Feeding that which causes the pain of every day,
is it hunger or eating which causes this frame to quake?
Assimilating bread and dead flesh into my own,
I ponder silently on what might someday consume me.
Gnashing my teeth to break down the substance,
I see that I only contribute to endless entropy.
The flavor of spice is lost in my tongue; a waste.
I swallow that which was raised to be eaten, without taste.
Disdain of my species, I mix it with wine
to inebriate what optimism still suffers inside me,
and hate the feeling of being a human, loathing
the loathsome beings that we refer to as "family."
Their rage feeds my rage. Can we not love? Jesus said...
but to see my family spread filth and foul deeds, I weep.
Dissociation from these, whom I love and despise
I wish to heal them, which fights my wish to simply sleep.
Food and drink wash through my bowels, along with the air that I breathe.
I cannot be alive, I cannot be dead, and endlessly I gnash my teeth.
A Horizon in Turmoil
Take the bloody organ couched within my breast,
and remove it with the passionless act of forceful rape.
Take my heart and grate it, grind it, squeeze and stretch it.
Inject it with poison, lucid and potent
until my extremeties are pulsating with the savory juice,
and my body is a walking shroud of self-deprecation and loathing.
A hearty sailor with a love for salt-filled air, I was often invited in
to the captain's quarters. There we conversed, laughed, philosophized,
and cared with a love deep as the bowels of the sea upon which we lived.
The captain is my friend still, but where am I now?
I cling to a solitary buoy, which is my testimony.
Alone, circumscribed within the horizon of the sea.
Adrift.
The flashing beacon mounted atop the welded steel girters flashes,
fades,
flickers,
and is left sparkless.
My waning soul conjures sweat and tears,
the salt of which mixes with the frothy ebbing waves
as they lap up into my frayed garment.
Mingling the outside sodium poison solution
with that which I have released from within,
the osmosis of death waxes within and without.
A passing ship offers to take me in tow,
but extends no fellowship to bring me aboard.
Not even as cargo.
Captain, where am I? High Priest of Good Things to COME,
and yet here I am, ragged and scorched by the sun and my mind,
wanting a drop from Lazarus' fingertip to moisten my lips
for even a moment, with saltless water.
My captain, my friend, I deserted post and swam in unsafe waters.
But am I beyond deliverance? Where is thy ship!
With sextant and Polaris, once I could command any vessel,
tame the harsh waves of life and Satan himself!
The vessel of my life, it was, navigated by me,
but captained by my friend; that captain.
That beating heart still beats for you, and my loyalty,
well...where is that loyalty?
I pledged it to you and wandered away.
"Prone to wander."
This lifeless shroud waits. The fruitlessness of longing and waiting!
Yet my fortitude is sapped by despair.
Despair be damned! The captain of my chosen vessel,
the object of my desires,
is the Lord of the seas! Give me the energy to move the currents,
direct my testimony,
and though my sun-baked body is naked and weak,
dying,
let my beacon flicker with light once again.
Save me, my captain savior. Find me,
take back my mind and heal it.
Lazarus, a ship-mate in days passed,
extend your finger, that the water of life may invigorate me,
that resilience may preface my rescue,
that effort and hope will tighten the sinew of my neck,
that my eyes may peer heavenward again,
to see my friend captain and his majestic ship.
A drop of salt-free water?
Just a drop, I implore you.
and remove it with the passionless act of forceful rape.
Take my heart and grate it, grind it, squeeze and stretch it.
Inject it with poison, lucid and potent
until my extremeties are pulsating with the savory juice,
and my body is a walking shroud of self-deprecation and loathing.
A hearty sailor with a love for salt-filled air, I was often invited in
to the captain's quarters. There we conversed, laughed, philosophized,
and cared with a love deep as the bowels of the sea upon which we lived.
The captain is my friend still, but where am I now?
I cling to a solitary buoy, which is my testimony.
Alone, circumscribed within the horizon of the sea.
Adrift.
The flashing beacon mounted atop the welded steel girters flashes,
fades,
flickers,
and is left sparkless.
My waning soul conjures sweat and tears,
the salt of which mixes with the frothy ebbing waves
as they lap up into my frayed garment.
Mingling the outside sodium poison solution
with that which I have released from within,
the osmosis of death waxes within and without.
A passing ship offers to take me in tow,
but extends no fellowship to bring me aboard.
Not even as cargo.
Captain, where am I? High Priest of Good Things to COME,
and yet here I am, ragged and scorched by the sun and my mind,
wanting a drop from Lazarus' fingertip to moisten my lips
for even a moment, with saltless water.
My captain, my friend, I deserted post and swam in unsafe waters.
But am I beyond deliverance? Where is thy ship!
With sextant and Polaris, once I could command any vessel,
tame the harsh waves of life and Satan himself!
The vessel of my life, it was, navigated by me,
but captained by my friend; that captain.
That beating heart still beats for you, and my loyalty,
well...where is that loyalty?
I pledged it to you and wandered away.
"Prone to wander."
This lifeless shroud waits. The fruitlessness of longing and waiting!
Yet my fortitude is sapped by despair.
Despair be damned! The captain of my chosen vessel,
the object of my desires,
is the Lord of the seas! Give me the energy to move the currents,
direct my testimony,
and though my sun-baked body is naked and weak,
dying,
let my beacon flicker with light once again.
Save me, my captain savior. Find me,
take back my mind and heal it.
Lazarus, a ship-mate in days passed,
extend your finger, that the water of life may invigorate me,
that resilience may preface my rescue,
that effort and hope will tighten the sinew of my neck,
that my eyes may peer heavenward again,
to see my friend captain and his majestic ship.
A drop of salt-free water?
Just a drop, I implore you.
Feb 6, 2005
Initial entry
So yes, I am starting a Weblog. This seems a good way of not only getting things out, but of letting others in. This, I hope, will help make me see things more subjectively, and make me a more accepting person.
Let me tell you who I am. My name is Michael Kiyoshi Brady. I was born in Kamagaya, Chiba, Japan on 13 June 1979. My parents are both members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; my father is of Mormon pioneer stock and my mother is a Japanese native who converted to the religion in the mid 70's. This, by default, makes me, too, a Mormon, right?
Wrong. I was raised in an LDS home where I read LDS scriptures and prayed in the manner taught to me. I was raised to believe that alcohol and drugs are bad for you and that sexual intercourse is something to participate in after marriage. This is how I was raised, but I am not a Mormon.
Let me explain myself: I am making a distinction between being a Mormon (culture) and being a Latter-day Saint (religion). Being raised in a bigoted society where "tolerance" is merely a buzzword, I have defined myself by my religion for far too long--because I was raised to think this way. I seek enlightenment.
I believe in Jesus Christ and that he is the savior of my soul, and of yours. I believe that Joseph Smith experienced his theophany just as he said he did. As of this moment, I believe that Gordon B. Hinckley is a man leading a church which was founded by God. But why am I a Mormon? "Wait!" you might be crying out, "You just said that you aren't a Mormon, didn't you?" There is a multi-dimensional gradient between what I am appropriating to the terms "Mormon" and "Latter-day Saint." I was raised as a Mormon, and I still cling fast to many of the cultural attributes. Why? Because it is the old, familiar coat which has kept me warm for these 25-plus years. I would love to expand and become that "Saint." But rather than affiliate myself with a religion, I would like to be able to claim that I am a disciple of Christ--which I am--but allow my actions to demonstrate my sincerity.
"I am a Mormon, and will therefore go to Heaven." I believe it was the esteemed Reverend Lovejoy who said "I'll see you in Hell!...from Heaven." If Christ wants me to be a Latter-day Saint, then as his proclaimed disciple, I will do it. If he feels that the parameters of the LDS Church are what I need, then this is the direction he will lead me, in accordance with my personal beliefs. And you can feel free to disagree! This is what makes humanity marvelously wonderful, but equally despicable: that we can disagree. Peace and love, people. And yet, if he deems that my salvation would better be hinged on some Zoroastrian philosophy, or a mixture of Judaic and Shinto thought with a vein of Tao in there too, then so be it. But as a Christian who believes that he truly is "the way, the truth and the life," the Old and New Testaments will be my bread and my butter. Mormons don't go to heaven by mere virtue of a baptismal certificate signed by their LDS bishop. It requires much more, and demands that the individual facet his or her soul to the tenets of Christian faith, or at least do their damnedest and let the Savior save them from the faults that come with being human and mortal.
You can be Moslem, LDS, agnostic, Zulu, atheist or whomever you want to be. I will try not to judge you, but please know that I am Mormon and it is in my nature. The goal is to become a non-judgmental Christian. Let's bee friends.
My thoughts were everywhere tonight, and so I will let your weary eyes rest. There is a lot about me and my thoughts to put out in this, my initial blog. I will retire for the evening.
At least I was able to quote somebody from "The Simpsons." My goal will to include something from this wonderful television series in at least every-other blog.
Let me tell you who I am. My name is Michael Kiyoshi Brady. I was born in Kamagaya, Chiba, Japan on 13 June 1979. My parents are both members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; my father is of Mormon pioneer stock and my mother is a Japanese native who converted to the religion in the mid 70's. This, by default, makes me, too, a Mormon, right?
Wrong. I was raised in an LDS home where I read LDS scriptures and prayed in the manner taught to me. I was raised to believe that alcohol and drugs are bad for you and that sexual intercourse is something to participate in after marriage. This is how I was raised, but I am not a Mormon.
Let me explain myself: I am making a distinction between being a Mormon (culture) and being a Latter-day Saint (religion). Being raised in a bigoted society where "tolerance" is merely a buzzword, I have defined myself by my religion for far too long--because I was raised to think this way. I seek enlightenment.
I believe in Jesus Christ and that he is the savior of my soul, and of yours. I believe that Joseph Smith experienced his theophany just as he said he did. As of this moment, I believe that Gordon B. Hinckley is a man leading a church which was founded by God. But why am I a Mormon? "Wait!" you might be crying out, "You just said that you aren't a Mormon, didn't you?" There is a multi-dimensional gradient between what I am appropriating to the terms "Mormon" and "Latter-day Saint." I was raised as a Mormon, and I still cling fast to many of the cultural attributes. Why? Because it is the old, familiar coat which has kept me warm for these 25-plus years. I would love to expand and become that "Saint." But rather than affiliate myself with a religion, I would like to be able to claim that I am a disciple of Christ--which I am--but allow my actions to demonstrate my sincerity.
"I am a Mormon, and will therefore go to Heaven." I believe it was the esteemed Reverend Lovejoy who said "I'll see you in Hell!...from Heaven." If Christ wants me to be a Latter-day Saint, then as his proclaimed disciple, I will do it. If he feels that the parameters of the LDS Church are what I need, then this is the direction he will lead me, in accordance with my personal beliefs. And you can feel free to disagree! This is what makes humanity marvelously wonderful, but equally despicable: that we can disagree. Peace and love, people. And yet, if he deems that my salvation would better be hinged on some Zoroastrian philosophy, or a mixture of Judaic and Shinto thought with a vein of Tao in there too, then so be it. But as a Christian who believes that he truly is "the way, the truth and the life," the Old and New Testaments will be my bread and my butter. Mormons don't go to heaven by mere virtue of a baptismal certificate signed by their LDS bishop. It requires much more, and demands that the individual facet his or her soul to the tenets of Christian faith, or at least do their damnedest and let the Savior save them from the faults that come with being human and mortal.
You can be Moslem, LDS, agnostic, Zulu, atheist or whomever you want to be. I will try not to judge you, but please know that I am Mormon and it is in my nature. The goal is to become a non-judgmental Christian. Let's bee friends.
My thoughts were everywhere tonight, and so I will let your weary eyes rest. There is a lot about me and my thoughts to put out in this, my initial blog. I will retire for the evening.
At least I was able to quote somebody from "The Simpsons." My goal will to include something from this wonderful television series in at least every-other blog.
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