Gratitude: Contentment in the Midst of Conflict (Alma 34: 38, The Book of Mormon; John 8: 3-12, Holy Bible)

Tomorrow I will be speaking during the church service at the county jail, which I'm very excited about.  The topic is gratitude.  Here is the talk I wrote out in preparation, which I do so that I have done my part.  It is not the talk I will be giving.  I don't use notes.  When speaking in church, I think it's important to leave space for the spirit to speak to those that need it most (usually myself.)  An overly planned talk can get in the way of that.  But I record it here for my children and grandchildren.  Enjoy.

“Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer. 

And let faith be the bridge you build to overcome evil and welcome good.” 

― Maya Angelou, Celebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer

This is the second talk I've been asked to give on gratitude, and I'm not asked to speak often, so, clearly there is something I am to learn here that I'm not getting.   Consistency, would be my guess.  I am plenty grateful when everything is going my way, but tend to, like so many, throw tantrums (sometimes internally, sometimes externally), when an obstacle is tossed in the way. True gratitude is not based on circumstance.  It is a reverence for the entire experience of being, trials and all.

We all have obstacles.  God gave us life as an obstacle course.  Or maybe he just gave us life, and we perceive it as an obstacle course.   Either way, everyone in this life is on a separate journey.  Other than the love of God, nothing is equal.  Some are born into wealth; some are born into poverty. Some are born to good families; some are victims of abuse.  Some have good health; others live life in pain.  Some are born into democracies; others live under political oppression.  Some have good fortune; others endure one tragedy after another. Sometimes pain comes as a natural consequence; other times not.

So, who am I to speak on gratitude?  Who is anyone?  It's easy to preach an open heart when life is blossoming before you; it's not so easy listen when being devoured by strife.

However, it seems to me that gratitude that will not endure conflict is not gratitude at all.  It's simply the ego enjoying momentary false evidence that the ground beneath us is stable.  True happiness then cannot be built on circumstance.  Its foundation must sink into bedrock more substantial than the material world, which is always in flux.

But how do we find gratitude in the midst of pain or despair?  I've dealt with a lot of physical pain over the past year, and I'd be lying, if I said I was always grateful.  So, this is something I'm working on.  But, I've found a scripture that I think, if we follow it, will drive the pilings down into the bedrock and anchor us to something that isn't temporary.

That ye contend no more against the Holy Ghost, but that ye receive it, and take upon you the name of Christ; that ye humble yourselves even to the dust, and worship God, in whatever place ye may be in, in spirit and in truth; and that ye live in thanksgiving daily, for the many mercies and blessings which he doth bestow upon you (Alma 34: 38, The Book of Mormon).

When two of my boys were to be baptized, I was asked to say either the opening or closing prayer at the meeting (I don't remember which), but I didn't feel worthy, so I prayed about it before hand.  I received what to me felt like a clear answer, not so much a voice, but a thought planted in my head that was not my own.  In my mind, I heard these actual words:  "You are not worthy, but say the prayer anyway."

The impression was strong enough that I felt comfortable saying the prayer.  During that prayer, I had a feeling come back to me that I had long forgotten, a feeling that had slipped away so slowly that I hadn't even noticed it was gone.  I'd simply learned to accept a numb feeling, a void, a constant unhappiness even at what should be the most joyful moments in my life.  I'd completely forgotten that as a child I was generally happy.  It rushed in with great force, and I just had this inner awareness--I am happy.  It was so strong, I was on cloud nine for a couple of weeks until I became use to it.  It felt like when you first fall in love without all the worries of "Does she really like me?"  I knew my Heavenly Father loved me profoundly.  With the return of the Holy Ghost, there was no question about that.

Over the years, I had contended against the Holy Ghost by not following the commandants and over time had lost my connection to the joy the Holy Ghost brings.  For me, it is pretty hard to have gratitude on a daily basis without the assistance of the Holy Ghost.  If I'm not living my religion to the best of my ability, small troubles become big issues in a hurry.  I'm irritable, critical and cynical.  Whereas, when I am living right, troubles seem like inconveniences, and I'm usually able to maintain inner peace even if I don't like what I have to deal with.

The next part of the scripture says, "that ye humble yourselves even to the dust, and worship God, in whatever place ye may be in."  That could refer to physical location, but I think it means more.  It means, as long as we are humble enough to let Christ enter our hearts, and worship God, he accepts us "in whatever place" we are in, spiritually speaking.  Humility, rather than a sin-free life, is the phone connection with God.  Once we know God's love, we must forsake our sins or we no longer have the humility to listen to Him. But Christ does not mandate a level of worthiness to enter the road to happiness.  We may enter the strait and narrow path to eternal salvation at any point we become sick of the darkness of sin.

 My personal experience is that He will listen to us and provide us help even if we are throwing a temper tantrum, so long as we are at that place where we are willing to let in His light.  There was one night in the mid-nineties when I staggered down Mesa Street in El Paso cursing God and screaming, "I want to die" at passing cars. I was serious.  The dull void in my life had grown so big, I saw no reason to live.  I would have ended my life that night if I hadn't been scared. The next morning, I just felt a calm presence say, "Go home, start over."  There was no judgement, just love and empathy.  "Go home, start over."  

I testify to you that there is nothing you could have ever done in your past that would make you unworthy of God's love now.  That is the power of Christ, of grace, of the atonement.  His love is immediate:

3 And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst,

 4 They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act.

 5 Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?

 6 This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.

 7 So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.

 8 And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground.

 9 And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest,even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst.

 10 When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee?

 11 She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.

 12 ¶Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.  (John 8: 3-12)

The world might require restitution; the world might require justice; the world might require punishment.  For some sins, even the church requires penance, not as punishment, but as a means of assistance, of healing, of restoration of the spirit, but Christ requires nothing more than a commitment to get up, dust yourself off, walk out of the darkness, and enter the light. Grace is not earned; it is given; and therefore it is immediate.  That doesn't mean one doesn't have to right wrongs before being fully worthy of the gospel again, but it does mean one has the right to receive the help of the Holy Ghost as soon as one's heart is open for assistance.

The next part of the scripture states, "that ye live in thanksgiving daily, for the many mercies and blessings which he doth bestow upon you."  In order to remain teachable, we must honestly evaluate where we are, and as we all fall very short of perfection, we must know that we truly are saved by the mercy of Christ, that we are blessed by the atonement, and that everything we have is a result of His love.  When we are in that place of true gratitude, consistently walking the strait and narrow path takes care of itself.  It is only when our ego creeps in, when we denounce our short comings, when we complain about our lot, that we are in danger again of wandering off into the darkness.

I pray that we may always listen to the Holy Ghost; that we take the name of Christ upon us; that we humble ourselves and worship Him to the best of our ability; and that we show Him gratitude daily.  For this is the foundation of true happiness and everlasting joy.  

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen

  

   

A Small Backyard Pond Sustains a Community of Dragonflies and Other Insects

The small reflecting pond that has brought the dragonflies.

I'm looking out my front window into the late afternoon.   Light glistens off the wings of dragonflies--a wonder we never had on our property until I decided to put a small pond at the back of the house.  I never imagined that one little act would forever change the environment of our property, but it has.

I've loved dragonflies since I was a child.  I spent my summers with my dad, who lived in Reno, and we often went camping at Eagle Lake in northern California.  My siblings and I would spend hours out on the lake drifting around in a big, orange inflatable canoe.  Close in to the swampy, grassy shores, bright blue dragonflies buzzed brilliantly metallic in the sun.  I loved just lying on my back in the boat and looking up into the eternal blue, waiting for a flash of color to zip by.

I have seen a couple metallic blue dragonflies here, as well as orange and green ones; overall they're not as flashy as at Eagle Lake, but they are still amazing.

Dragonflies, which evolved over 300 million years ago, were one of the first winged insects.  Their two sets of wings move independently, allowing them to maneuver with ease.  They also have huge eyes that allow them to see in every direction except behind them.

I've wondered why I haven't had many mosquito problems this year.  I do have one goldfish in my pond to eat the larvae, but as we are near two creeks and and three irrigation ponds, that really didn't explain things.

But the explosion of dragonflies that has occurred because of my pond may.  Dragonflies eat mosquitoes and other small insects.

Unfortunately, any dragonfly eggs laid in the pond will not survive as dragonflies must have a permanent water source for reproduction.  I assume they are coming from the county irrigation pond, which is just across the field.  If that is the case, the draw of my little pond is probably not doing too much harm to the natural population, and dragonflies are not only beautiful, but they are a natural insecticide for mosquitoes.

My pond also attracts great black wasps (digger wasps), butterflies, and toads, as well as larger animals, such as wild turkey, deer and coyotes.

But, it is the dragonflies, which I never saw on our property as a child, that are a new wonder that can be counted on daily throughout the summer--and not just around the pond.  Their flying range is such that they have livened up at least an acre of our land.

The below demonstration pond is not very attractive, but the steps are clear, and it really is as easy as it looks.  The abundance of new wildlife the pond will bring into your yard will make the small cost and labor so worth while.

I do have a fountain on my pond for show, but as long as you have a goldfish or two to eat mosquito larvae,
a pump and fountain is not necessary.   Last year, I only ran the pump a couple of times.

The Soundtrack of One Life out of 108 Billion: Entry 3: "Monkberry Moon Delight" by Paul McCartney (Nonsense Poetry, Writing and the Creative Process)

It's nineteen-seventy-something.  I'm in second grade, and I've ditched Lynn, my girlfriend, somewhere over by the POD, an octagonal lunchroom separate from the school.  We're playing kissing tag, and it's not that I'm so stupid that I don't know that the purpose of kissing tag is to get caught, it's that her cousin, Lucinda, is more into pinching, and she's very good at it.  So, I've split the scene.

It's warm and snow melting off the comparatively hot pavement creates steam that rises in thin clouds about waste high, and they are golden glorious in the noontime sun.  I've got spring fever and am feeling freaking high. I bellow out Paul McCartney's "Monkberry Moon Delight."  I don't have a clue what it's about, but I love the feel of the words on the end of my tongue:

So I sat in the attic, a piano up my nose,
And the wind played a dreadful cantata.
Sore was I from a crack of an enemy's hose
And the horrible sound of tomato.

Ketchup,
Soup and puree,
Don't get left behind.
Ketchup,
Soup and puree,
Don't get left behind.

I never did figure out the exact meaning of the song.  As I grew older, it seemed to me it might have been inspired by B-grade monster movies, but it also seemed a finger to expectations--artistic, social, political and otherwise, Paul McCartney saying I'll be who I please and do what I please.  It felt very revolutionary to me, and I loved its pure celebration of the sound of language.

Whenever, I'd get upset in high school or early years of college, I'd just fling words down on the page and play with them, make slightly irreverent, irrelevant nonsense out of them, like this:

 More Talk

... Instead I gnarl on a bark stick,
pour on the cats
and say,
"Gee this is very good,
this is very meaty for a stick of wood."

The termites tingle as they slide down my throat.
What would I do for a feast on fat goat?
I'd slit my mother's own throat!

I definitely had nothing against my mom.  I just had something against propriety.  I still do.  I just fight the impulse more.  I'm not so sure that's good.  I think real reverence comes about when you're at least a little open to irreverence.  Paul McCartney could write "Let It Be" and be sincere because he could also write "Monkberry Moon Delight."  If he sat around always trying to write lofty songs, they'd have the impact of Hallmark Cards or the music of Air Supply.

So, to quote Paul--sort of--if you want to write well, leave your cats to Billy Budapest and let your piano be boldly outspoken.

A Grand Dog Has Passed Away: The Majesty of an Abandoned Rez Mutt

Darth at Dry Creek, 2015

A grand dog passed away Friday, July 10, 2015.  A mutt.  A rez dog.  She showed up one cold winter when we lived at 6800 feet above sea level on the high, forested Fort Defiance plateau of the Navajo Nation.  I went out one snowy morning to feed our dog, Scooby, and found this straggly white dog with dalmatian spots shivering under our old Datsun Maxima wagon which was out of commission. That was probably 2005. She would have nothing to do with me and cowered back further when I attempted to place food under the car, but she ate once I went back inside.

Her life under the Maxima continued for another four months much the same, except over time, she started to meet us at the end of the driveway when we walked home from the school where Marci and I worked. She still would have nothing to with us, but she would wave repeatedly with her left paw and wag her tail. Then, as we were almost close enough to pet her, she would run off to the safety of the car again.

At some point, we named her.  Everest named her.  She had breathing difficulties and sounded like Darth Vader.  Nobody else wanted to name her that as she was, well, a she.  But Everest was little and said Darth really cute, so he got his way.

Darth still looking as wild as when she showed up, although now in much better health.

One June, we were getting ready to come to Dry Creek for the Summer.  We planned on bringing our other dog, a puppy named Freckles that we got from a neighbor when Scooby died.  However, Darth still would not let us approach her.  She was still as wild as she looked, so we planned on leaving her and having a neighbor feed her.  At the last moment, right when the van was packed, I decided to try and get her in.  I don't remember how--but somehow I did it.  The family wasn't all for it as she was still pretty sick looking and had breathing difficulties.  None the less she was in.  She quickly adjusted during the eight hour ride, and by our first restroom stop, she was tame enough that she'd hop back in the van by herself.

Even after she'd been tamed, her coat remained wild.  She also had respiratory problems for another three years. 

After that summer, she was clearly ours.  She remained an outside dog, so we purchased a dog house for her for the winter.  But, she traveled with us on our frequent trips between our winter home and Dry Creek, and went camping with us several times as well.

Still an outside dog, she became a part of the family.

Over time, she worked her way into becoming an inside dog, which is when her health began to improve drastically.  The breathing difficulties she was named for disappeared and her coat became soft and smooth.

Once inside, she quickly learned to love the luxuries of domesticated life.
Her health improved drastically and her breathing disorder went away.

I learned over time, that although I couldn't train her by scolding or yelling at her (I think she had been abused, and she'd just freak out and go into some weird, submissive panic), she responded very quickly to praise.  Using praise, I could quickly train her to do things that even went against her wild instincts.  For example, what we love best about Dry Creek is viewing the wildlife.  You would think having a wolf-like dog would make that difficult, but she didn't.  I easily trained her not to chase turkey or deer.  Although we regularly have mother wild turkeys crossing in front of our house trailed by eight to twelve babies, she only went after the chicks twice.  Occasionally, she would want to chase the deer, but all I had to do was look at her, and she'd come to my side and calmly watch, wagging her tail.

I know without question, she would have given her life to save us had it ever been necessary.  She truly was an amazing dog.

Darth on a family outing the day after Thanksgiving

We have buried her at Dry Creek and planted a Colorado Spruce.  May it someday be as noble as the Rez mutt it memorializes.  No pure bread could ever be so grand.

Garden Jounal: Moments Seep In During Simple Tasks

Blue flax, gaillardia, California poppy and irises by the pond.

For the past year, it seems I’m always waiting to heal, and doing what I can in the meantime.  It’s no way to garden, but I’ve had enough good days that I’ve been able to do a little weeding and some minor planting.  My brother Lloyd has been a big help, mowing fields and trimming trees—the heavy work that I can’t do.  Marci has helped out with watering when I couldn’t.  It’s not the garden I dreamed of by now, but there are patches of color and wildlife abounds.  Dragon flies hover over my pond; mother wild turkeys wander across the field, a trail of tiny babies behind; the chickens rush out of their coop, anxiously fanning out, greedily pecking at grasshoppers that scurry before them.

We too carry on: the daily watering, cutting flowers for the house, collecting chicken eggs, tinkering with pumps on the fountains, transplanting seedlings, shooing a momma turkey and her babies out of a new flower bed, cutting fresh mint for the rabbit... These are the moments of simple tasks when a fleck of sunlight, a jeweled hummingbird, or the sound of dripping water seep into the soul.



California poppies

The chickens head out hunting grasshoppers.



Marci heads back to the house with flowers from the cutting garden.

Sunlit two-tier fountain on my wall of flower buckets.