An answer to a question

A friend of mine, who has a tendency to be controversial, invited a conversation about a blog he stumbled across written by a member of the LDS faith who has very serious concerns about the practice, policies, and basic doctrines of the Church.  This friend invites many of these conversations, and every issue is a bit different. However, I have found my reaction to all of them is very much the same.

My heart aches for their anger, pain and frustration.

I can't say I have all the answers. In fact, the culture of my chosen faith leaves me struggling--particularly within my chosen fields of study. The humanities in general are not necessarily spiritual, but they are instinctually human, prone to every good characteristic as much as the bad. And with the increasing ability to share everything with everyone, what is best and needful and of utmost delicate nature is not as promoted as something that would sell well. But what I can say is I see your troubled heart and I raise you a testimony.

At the end of the day, your relationship with God is your relationship with God. He is your Father, who knows you. No matter what your family, neighbors, bishop or prophet say or think, no one will know that relationship better than you. God knows when you disagree with a message at General Conference, just as much as He knows your favorite food. And since that is the case, if said "you" has a problem with the way women are treated by the administration of the LDS faith, it is logical to say He knows that as well. And He still loves you.

I'm all for questions, and I'm all for answers...and while I'm not all for blind faith, I do recognize the merit in basic testimonies offered as a place-filler until something more substantial appears.

Once upon a time I did have doubts. I was angry about the culture of my faith. But eventually, I just got tired of it. Not only that, but I found it was easier to enjoy and appreciate smaller things which did not offend me than to wage war on...well, a blanket everything. I'm not 100% solid on everything, like polygamy or church involvement in politics, and I don't have a desire to be. But at this current time, those things are not impeding the decisions I make everyday to maintain peace, balance and order within my spiritual (and thereby everything else included) life. I suppose when they do, I may pick a side and begin to wage war, or I may not. I currently feel that my war-mongering days are behind me. But Mormon felt that way too and it didn't last for him either.

To any of my non-Mormon readers, I appologize if you found this post rather exclusive. While the original discussion is directed to those within the faith, it certainly can be applied to anyone.

To close, a Bloch for good measure.

The first day of my new life

There was a time when I never had any time for anything. Or maybe it's better to say I never had time for everything. I was always running from class to class, zipping through books, putting words on papers, taking them off, putting them back on, clocking in, clocking out, "did you want fries with that?" Pay this bill. There's a meeting at 8:30--the grocery store closes when?? How about next Thursday?

Breathe.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a city girl who loves city life. I like being busy. But I like being busy on my own terms.

There are 24 hours in a day. And somewhere I realized that everyone had the same 24 hours. So when I quit US Airways, I made a promise to myself: this is my time.

I'm not stupid, though I have been accused of being something crazy. Let's be honest for a moment. I did give up the easiest job in the world with the best benefits to come live in the middle-of-nowhere and work at a Cracker Barrel in a town called Springville and paint with a guy who is poorer and crazier than I am.

But as long as we're being honest I may as well add that while I miss my sisters and brother and best friend, and I miss fast trains and crowded sidewalks and gourmet food, doing without them for a year or so will never be something I regret doing. There's no where i'd rather be than right here, right now, living my life, doing the things I want to be doing.

How can I regret choosing to be free?

It began with a question...

As I begin yet another move, I find myself pondering about how this all came about.

Many have heard me speak about the incredibly strange artist named Wulf Barsch and his bizarre teaching methods. It is a moment I have referenced many times. He is a great believer in the Aristocratic method of teaching and begins every class with "so, do we have any questions?"

Obviously there are many questions asked in those dimly lit classrooms, but the one that stands out came as an answer to a question I have since forgotten to a student whose name and face I simply can't recall. The question was: do you think God does things arbitrarily?

It's a simple answer, because it's a simple question, but because of the resounding truthfulness of that answer, I can't ever leave that moment behind.

No. I don't believe God does anything arbitrarily. (This is also the moment I stopped believing in coincidences.) Because of that, EVERYTHING has meaning. Every word, every line, every space, every pause, every tear. Nothing is overlooked or forgotten or even considered insignificant.  It is simply the nature of God.

I'm going to Utah on Wednesday to learn to be a master painter because I learned the answer to that question. And for the record, I don't particularly classify myself as a religious artist, even though I am an artist who is heavily influenced by religion. My subject and center of discussion is humanity. I paint life, past and present.

A painting by Wulf Barsch, I believe titled Pliedes. Nibley wrote in his Temple and Cosmos: Was there ever an artist less inclined to show off than Wulf Barsch? He does not hesitate to try again and again to get through to us, not seeking novelty, but fighting for expression and perfectly willing to stay with a problem. It is that, I suppose, that gives his work the sense of deep sincerity that demands to be taken seriously. (552)