Unwinding

The last couple of nights, I've had trouble reacting badly to stress. Tonight, after a fairly stressful most of the day, I decided that unwinding was a better decision than pushing myself to try to complete a project tonight. I don't know how I'll feel about that decision tomorrow morning as I try to complete the project, but as of this moment, I stand by it. Completing the project tonight was not as important as trying to retain my ability to be a decent person. How we act is far more important than what we accomplish. I will need to complete this project within the next few days, and I'll try to complete it tomorrow, but I'm going to try very hard not to stress out about it. I don't like who I become when I'm stressed out. So, while I continue to work on this project, my other homework, and the other work I have to do, I'm going to try to take it easy, take breaks, breathe deeply, and unwind. Sure, it's important to get my work done, but in the grand scheme of things, it's more important to retain my ability to be a decent person.

What We Think They Thought

I'm about to start work in my Humanities class. Of course, we already had our first week, just going over what "The Humanities" actually are, but now we're about to look at ancient art and architecture to learn about their beliefs and cultures. I wonder what we'll find and whether or not it'll come anywhere close to resembling the truth.

It's strange that people can look at the same evidence and yet come to wildly different conclusions. People's interpretations of other cultures and the universe can be shockingly different from each other, and yet, there is only one objective reality. There either is a God, or there isn't one. There is either one God or some other number of Gods. Either we are God's children, or we aren't. There are objective answers to those questions, so it's almost strange that there are so many different answers and interpretations to those questions.

Thing is, everyone who really cares will search for the truth, but that doesn't mean they're all going to find it, and they're almost certainly not going to find all of it. People could only pick up bits and pieces of inspiration as they went, at least until the best pieces of inspiration were compiled with other stories into the scriptures. Now we have more truth than ever, and our interpretations are probably pretty close to the truth, but earlier on, After the children of Adam forgot what Adam had taught them, humanity was pretty blind.

It'll be interesting to see what the ancient people thought of God (or "the Gods"), or at least what modern archaeologists think they thought. I hope this class will be as interesting as it seems. At least, I hope it'll be interesting enough to be worth the workload. This class has potential. I'm looking forward to learning more about what people think people thought about God.

Randomly-Selected Inspiration

This afternoon, during the prelude (and, admittedly, maybe a few of the talks), I rolled some digital dice to choose random numbers between 1 and 341. I did this to choose random hymns to look at and find inspiration in. And it worked. I found some good inspiration in the hymns I read an hummed to myself this morning. I've done something similar with The Book of Mormon, rolling digital dice to choose a semi-random chapter to look at, and I often find something inspiring when I do.

Granted, I don't know whether that's because God has a hand in deciding where the digital dice land or whether there are so many good messages in the hymns and scriptures that you can probably find one on just about any randomly-selected page. Either way, it works, and I'm glad it works. I'm grateful for the messages I've found in the hymns and scriptures, no matter whether I was led to them or whether I stumbled upon them truly at random.

Looking For and Fostering the Good in the World and Ourselves.

Yesterday, I had an experience that's a little difficult to explain. I stumbled into a conversation, guessed from context clues that I was being asked for help, immediately agreed to help, and then had a good laugh when I learned what the conversation was actually about. Walking away from the experience, I thought about life as a game, with myself as the character I control, and I said "I love this game! I love my character." In that moment, I saw aspects of life and of myself that I really appreciate. I saw good in myself and in life, and I just took a moment to appreciate those things. That was a really nice moment, and I'd like to have more of them. Thankfully, I'm pretty sure I know how: by focusing on and fostering the good.

Life is good. There are many good things in life, mixed in with the parts that aren't so good. If we want to have a happy life, we can focus on the good aspects of life and look for the good in all other aspects, like finding humor in an otherwise embarrassing miscommunication. If we choose to find the good and focus on it, we will have a much more positive relationship with life.

We can do the same with ourselves, adding a single, important step. We can look for and appreciate the good in ourselves, just as we can with anyone or anything else, but we can also nurture and develop the good things we see (or would like to see) in ourselves. Yesterday, I appreciate my willingness to serve, a trait that I have developed fairly well, but I can think of other traits that I'd like to develop and improve. The more we nurture the good in ourselves, the more good there will be to see in ourselves, and the more there'll be to love.

I love life, and I love myself. Still, I could stand to love both more. I would like to look harder and see more good in the world, and I would like to work harder to develop more good in myself. It's a wonderful thing to love life and oneself, and I think I've learned a way to grow to love both more. Look for the good, both in the world and in yourself, and, when possible, increase it.

Can Vacuum Cleaners Get Jealous?

Can vacuum cleaners get jealous? This is almost a serious question. People who have spent time out in nature sometimes get the impression that the elements are alive, and I, personally, don't know all there is to know about the nature of matter. It is possible that, when God created the Earth and the other planets, He did so by speaking, and the matter obeyed. If matter has enough intelligence to obey the will of God, then perhaps it has enough intelligence to feel. And perhaps that intelligence isn't completely lost when the matter changes form, from natural resources to raw materials, and from raw materials into vacuum cleaners.

The reason I ask this hopefully not entirely ridiculous question is that, several weeks back, I blogged about My Favorite Vacuum, but since I wrote that blog post, my preference has changed. "My Favorite Vacuum" is no longer my favorite vacuum. So I ask, can vacuum cleaners get jealous? Did my change of preference, or even establishing a preference at all, cause any hurt feelings among those vacuum cleaners?

Of course, this is a ridiculous question. Even if the elements did have emotions (which, to be fair, I'm not sure whether they do or don't), they would have to learn to manage those emotions, just as we all do. We all have to cope with being chosen or not chosen, and so do they. Naturally, one should try not to be unkind, even to "unfeeling" inanimate objects, but perhaps we shouldn't go far out of our way to spare the hurt feelings of vacuum cleaners. It's not always practical. Life's not always fair, not even to things that aren't actually alive (in the way that we understand "life"), and they have to live with the unfairness of life in the same way we do, by reducing that unfairness if and when we can, and by relying on God to eliminate that unfairness through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

In the meantime, it seems to me that the best course of action is to practice kindness at all times, at least within the limits of practicality. Those who are in charge of hiring must employ the best applicant for the job. The same harsh reality also applies to vacuum cleaners. Cleaners should select the best available vacuum for the given job. If that means that one vacuum or another ends up being a clear favorite, so be it. And if that favorite changes because circumstances have changed, the job has changed, or, in my case, a knew technique is developed, then, again, so be it.

I don't know if vacuum No. Two got jealous when I started using The Pig more, and I don't know if vacuum No. One was ever jealous that I had always preferred vacuum No. Two. And now there are new vacuums to consider, to say nothing of the rarely-used Bull. I could drive myself crazy trying to manage the presently unknown and perhaps nonexistent emotional states of these vacuum cleaners.

Besides, handling those vacuums isn't my job anymore anyway. Not for the next few months, at least.

I didn't even tell them goodbye.

I believe that, as a general practice, it is good to be kind, compassionate, and considerate. Of course, it is possible to take any of those virtues too far. My concern for the jealousy of vacuum cleaners will never prevent me from selecting what I judge to be the best tool for the current job. I have a new favorite vacuum cleaner, and I would continue to use it to do most of my vacuuming, even at the risk of making the other vacuum cleaners jealous.

Vacuum cleaners may or may not be capable of getting jealous, but inasmuch as we are capable, we should always try to exercise as much kindness as the limits of practicality allow.

The Spirit of the Temple

As is somewhat habitual for me on Thursdays, I spent part of the day at the Temple. Even when the Temple is closed for cleaning or Covid-related reasons, I like to visit the Temple, if only to connect with the Spirit there. I feel the Spirit more strongly at the Temple than anywhere else, and it's nice to know that, even when I struggle to feel the Spirit at other times or in other places, I can often feel the Spirit there.

The Temple is a special, sacred place, and one doesn't need to be able to go inside the Temple to feel that. The Spirit of the Temple extends far outside the building and can extend into our hearts, if we let it. I am thankful that I am blessed when I visit the Temple, and I am glad that I chose to connect with the Spirit there and bring it home with me in my heart today.

If You Act Like One, You'll Be Treated Like One

I recently considered the saying "if you act like one, you'll be treated like one," and while it doesn't hold true 100% of the time, I think it stands as a good rule of thumb in a surprisingly high number of cases. For example, if you act like a decent person, you'll be treated like a decent person, at least by other decent people, whereas if you act like a jerk, you'll be treated like a jerk, at least by those who have a backbone and little to lose. If you want to be treated a certain way, you should act that way, and then other people will be more likely to respond in kind.

I suppose, in a sense, this rule of thumb is a variation of the golden rule. The golden rule says that we should treat others the way we would like to be treated, and this rule of thumb says that people are likely to treat us the way we treat them. It's the same principle, but from a different angle. Personally, this reminds me to try to be a decent person, partly because I simply want to be a decent person, and partly because I would like to be treated like one.

The Challenge of Turning a Knob

Some video games (and real-life pursuits, probably) have the philosophy that the more a person struggles to obtain or accomplish something, the more they will cherish that thing. For example, games like Hollow Knight and Cuphead have some ridiculously difficult bosses and challenges, probably with the intention of making the players feel skilled and powerful when they overcome those challenges. Granted, I wouldn't know. I've never played either of those games. However, this afternoon, I had an experience that probably comes close to mimicking those experience.

My friend's aunt needed help with a handful of projects around her house, including a plumbing project, and the first step in that project (after assessing the needs of the project and acquiring all the necessary parts and materials) was shutting off the water line so we could get to work. And I couldn't do it. I was shown the water line, identified the correct knob to turn, killed all the bugs in my way, and used all my strength against the knob, but it wouldn't turn. I had a monkey wrench that would have made turn the knob a breeze, but I couldn't get a grip or the right leverage, and the knob was way too tough to turn by hand. Thankfully, I was lucky enough to have an opportunity to talk to some experts, and with the help of their expert advice and some borrowed tools, I was finally able to turn the knob, and finally getting that knob to turn felt pretty dang good.

Long story short, I turned a knob. But if it had been easy to turn that knob, it wouldn't have been such an experience. It wouldn't have taught me the importance of seeking good advice and using proper tools because I wouldn't have needed them. Because the task was difficult, I got to have the experience of facing obstacles and overcoming them, only to admit my own limitations and walk away having accomplished nothing, only to return with the knowledge and tools I needed to succeed, and ultimately succeeding. Without that difficulty, I would have just turned the knob and gotten on with the rest of the project, having experienced nothing.

Frankly, this whole knob-turning experience seems like it could be a sort of microcosm of a personal challenge I've been struggling with. Perhaps those video games and other experiences aim to accomplish something similar. They present us with several, small, difficult tasks, perhaps in an attempt to teach perseverance, planning, determination, and ultimately confidence. These miniature challenges teach us that we can defeat our challenges, and they sometimes give us ideas how. I now have some idea how to proceed with my personal challenge, in part because of the lessons I've learned while facing the challenge of turning a knob.

So, I'm glad that turning that knob was a challenge this afternoon. I feel like I've gained something by overcoming it.

No Rest for the "Wicked"

There is a song titled "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked" by a band called Cage The Elephant, and while I don't normally listen to that genre of music, I was given pause for thought as I considered the sociological implications of the lyrics. In the song, the singer is propositioned by a prostitute and then mugged a few minutes later. In both cases, the singer asked why they were doing what they were doing, specifically asking "Why d'you do this to yourself?" and "What made you want to live this kind of life?", respectively. The prostitute and the mugger both gave him the same response, the chorus:

"Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked

Money don't grow on trees

I got bills to pay

I got mouths to feed

There ain't nothing in this world for free

I know I can't slow down

I can't hold back

Though you know

I wish I could

Oh, no there ain't no rest for the wicked

Until we close our eyes for good"

I have a lot of strong feelings and opinions about these situations and how they're described, and I'm really not sure which ones to blog about. I suppose I could blog about how poverty leads to sin (and the related importance of charity work and charitable donations), but I don't want to demonize those who are down on their luck and short on good options. I'd like to think that I wouldn't be so quick to label people as "wicked" for being so short on resources that they're willing to commit sin to get them. These unfortunate people need sympathy and assistance, not condemnation.

That said, I must admit that what they do in order to survive or escape their poverty is, in a vacuum, sinful. It is morally wrong to steal from people and to engage in extramarital physical intimacy. Of course, they have compelling reasons to do it, but those actions are still morally wrong.

But where does that leave them? Are they sinners for engaging in sinful behavior in order to survive, or are they justified by their circumstances and by having few, if any, other viable options? I think they are technically sinners, but so are we. Sure, we may not be committing sins of that nature, but we all have sins that we need to repent of, sins we need to have forgiven. If we call muggers and prostitutes "wicked" for doing what it takes to survive, we should also admit that, in our own ways, we are wicked, too.

No one is above needing the Lord's forgiveness, and no one is below getting it. No matter whom we may categorize as "righteous" or "wicked," we all need Jesus, and no one, no matter what they've done or why they've done it, is beyond the reach of God's love.

More Holiness - Joy in His Service

One of the lines of Hymn 131, More Holiness Give Me, speaks of "Joy in [the Savior's] service." I am fortunate to be able to partake of this joy frequently and to actually take joy in it. I enjoy serving the Lord by serving others, and I enjoy serving others on His behalf. I'm lucky enough to be able-bodied and moderately skilled at making minor home repairs, and on most days, I have a decent amount of time and energy I can spare. I am capable of helping others, and I'm glad that my friends and family know that. A lot of the time, I am genuinely happy to help.

Granted, I don't always feel joy when I'm called upon to serve others. There are times when service seems tedious, thankless, or ineffectual. I vacuum the church building every week, and every Sunday, I find patches of carpet that need to be vacuumed again. It's almost disheartening. But thankfully, I also enjoy vacuuming. It's satisfying to see a mess and suck it up into a vacuum. The cleanliness may not last, but the act of cleaning is kinda fun.

I'm grateful that, even though there are times when I don't enjoy doing service, there are also times when I do. I'm grateful to have learned how to find fun and satisfaction in acts of service. Of course, I will never turn down an offer for more joy, but I'm glad that service is something that I already enjoy.

Forgotten Pain

 A while back, I had a tube shoved down my throat. Okay, maybe "shoved" isn't quite the right word for it. I'm sure the doctors were as gentle as possible. But the procedure needed doing, and they did it, and I'm grateful for that. But what really weirds me out about the situation is that I'm pretty sure I remember them telling me I was conscious the whole time, but if I was, I don't remember it. I currently don't remember any part of the procedure, even though I'm pretty sure I was conscious at the time.

I had a similar experience when I was a kid. I was playing tag, and I accidentally stepped on a ground hornets' nest. Naturally, they swarmed me, and they probably bit me dozens of times, but I say "probably" because, again, I don't really remember. Shortly after the incident, I got a Priesthood blessing, and possibly because that blessing, I do not remember having ever felt the pain of those hornet bites.

Those two experiences have something in common. They must have been painful, or at least uncomfortable at the time, but now, looking back at them, I don't remember the pain at all. I assume the doctors were gentle, because they seem like the kind of people who would be kind, but they could have tortured me, for all I know. I literally don't remember.

I can't say for certain, but I can certainly hope that these two experiences are analogous to our mortal lives. We know that God can take our memories away. After all, He temporarily took away our memories of our premortal lives. Maybe He'll apply that power, at least selectively, to our mortal lives as well. Life can be painful now, but maybe He will help us forget that the pain ever happened.

Now, naturally, we can't forget all of our mortal lives, or we would forget the lessons, too, but I know from personal experience that God has the power to be that carefully selective. I forgot the pain of the hornet bites, but remember the importance of avoiding hornets. Perhaps God can help us forget the pain of mortal existence, but remember the importance of avoiding sin.

Perhaps I'm being too hopeful. Perhaps we'll have to cope with the pain and move forward, just as we have to do in our mortal lives. But I don't think God would force us to hold on to our pain any longer than would be good for us. Once we've thoroughly learned the lesson, further pain would serve no purpose, and I believe it would be forgotten. I may be wrong in my hope here, but I look forward to looking back on my life on Earth with only happy memories, having finally forgotten all the pain.

The Life of a Fire, a Strange Moral Dilemma

So, I made a D&D character who believed that the natural elements (air, earth, water, fire) were sacred and not to be controlled, manipulated, or weaponized. But then she had to fight a troll. Trolls have a regeneration ability that allows them to recover from any injury, unless they're harmed by acid or fire. And my D&D character didn't have any access to acid. Basically, she was put between her principles and her survival. To survive the fight, she had to use fire as a weapon, which went against her beliefs. And it got me thinking about whether or not it's important to stick to one's principles and under what circumstances.

Naturally, the immediate response is that one should always live (and, if necessary, die) by their principles. But this D&D character had an ally who had been knocked out and who would also die if my character didn't use fire. Sure, one should be willing to sacrifice their own life for their beliefs, but what about the lives of others? How many innocent people should a person be willing to sacrifice before sacrificing their principles?

And does it matter at all that this character's principles are, frankly, a bit insane? Does it really make any sense to treat the classic, primal elements with that kind of respect? I understand respecting plants and animals, but elements like fire aren't actually alive. Using fire as a weapon is not akin to practicing slavery, as my character falsely believed. Yet, beliefs vary. Some believe that abortion is harmless; others believe that it's murder. Some believe that it's fine and often important to extinguish fires; at least one fictional person believes it to be similar to murder. Should my D&D character have been pressured to abandon her principles, just because others think that her beliefs are strange and wrong? Should a person stand by their principles, even when their principles don't make any sense, at least not to others?

In the end, she decided to use fire to save her life and the life of her friend. And when the battle was over, she let the fire burn freely until it burned itself out, and she mourned the short, sad life of the fire she created. And I'm still weirdly conflicted by this. Did she make the right moral choice? By her own morals, maybe not. By my morals, human lives matter infinitely more than fire's "enslavement," so yes, she made the right choice. But she went against her principles. To save her life and the life of a friend, she did something that she felt was morally wrong. Was it wrong of her to do that? It's fine for me to say that human lives a more valuable than the freedom of non-living chemical reactions, but she might argue that the primal elements of nature are owed far more respect than any mortal creatures.

In the end, I think I think she should have stuck to her principles, even if it meant her death and the death of her friend. I asked myself, "Is it okay for someone to do something that is normally okay, but that they think is evil?" and I would have to say "No." People shouldn't do things that they believe is wrong. This D&D character believed that it was wrong to manipulate the elements, so she shouldn't have done it, even though I think it's perfectly fine to light a fire, use it, and even snuff it out. But still, it's a puzzling moral question. I'd love to hear what you think about it.

More Holiness - Pride in His Glory

One of my recently rediscovered favorite hymns is Hymn 131: More Holiness Give Me. There are many good and profound lines in that hymn, and I may eventually blog about them, but for tonight, I want to focus on one that gave me pause the other day: "More Pride in His Glory."

Naturally, my first thought was "Isn't Pride a bad thing?" But then I remembered that it's possible to take pride in something without being proud about it. So I wonder, how can we take pride in the Lord's glory?

Normally, when I think of being proud of something, the concept usually means being proud of an accomplishment, but the Lord's glory isn't any accomplishment of ours.

However, we can also be proud of other people. Maybe we can be proud of God in a similar way that we can be proud of our parents, children, siblings, or friends. We may not have contributed to their accomplishments, but we can be proud of them for having achieved them. I'm not certain if that's the kind of pride we should have, but it's the best guess I've got.

I'm not completely sure what "pride in His Glory" means or why we should have more of it, and it's probably something I should ponder and study until I figure more of it out. I just thought I should bring the question to you as well, so you can also ponder the phrase and it meaning.Maybe we'll figure it out together, or maybe each of us will figure out a piece of it and share that insight with everyone.

I'm confident that, given time, we can figure out why we should have "More Pride in His Glory," but I'm afraid that I'm not going to figure it out by myself tonight.

Great Blessings from Not-So-Great Situations

At the admittedly slim risk of anyone in my D&D group reading this blog post, I'd kind of like to blog about how the Big Bad Evil Guy behind the scenes in my current D&D campaign isn't actually all that bad. Sure, he kidnaps people and has them fight against dangerous monsters, but he also makes sure that these fights are winnable, that there are contingency plans if any of the kidnappees lose, and that the fights don't cause any permanent harm. He gives the kidnappees treasure, uncluding rare, unique magic items, and he gives them opportunities to gain experience and level up. When the kinappees leave the dungeon called Dungeon Deep (and the "BBEG" has every intention of eventually letting them leave), they will be much better off than they were when they were (admitted) forced to enter.

But, of course, the kidnapping victims don't see it that way, and, yes, they have every right to seek justice and punish (perhaps capitally) their kidnapper. Perhaps they're even right to do so. Who am I to judge? But I can't help but notice some weird similarities between the BBEG and God.

God sent us to Earth under somewhat dubious circumstances, and life on Earth isn't exactly a picnic. There's suffering here. Every day is a struggle against evils of all kinds. Yet, there's a point to all this conflict. Through our struggles, we gain experience and wisdom. We practice various abilities and talents, which we get to take with us. Ultimately, our lives on Earth are meant to help us become better people, and if all goes according to plan, we will return heavenly home much better off than we were when we left it.

Spending time on Earth is a good thing. Spending time in Dungeon Deep will be, for the characters currently trapped there, a good thing. The struggles, both real and fictional, will all be worth it in the end. Progress will be made and will carry over into the future. And in the meantime, despite the struggles, it's still possible to have some fun.

If my players want to kill the BBEG, who am I to stop them? Fighting the Big Boss at the end of a dungeon or campaign (or both) is basically an expected and well-established fantasy trope. But maybe, before they kill the BBEG, they ought to thank him for all the good he has done for them by bringing them to Dungeon Deep.

On Not Honking

This afternoon, I had a conversation with a family member, and that family member was telling me how sometimes when she's driving, when she has to stop or slow down in the middle of the street, the people behind her would get impatient and honk at her. Thinking back about it, she just had to laugh, saying that if they knew what she could see, they wouldn't be honking for her to move.

I wonder how frequently this situation plays out with us and God. God often does things that we may not like or understand, and He often doesn't do things that we wish He would do. But He has His reasons for doing (or not doing) what He does (or doesn't do). It's just that we can see the factors that figure into His reasoning because we don't have His perspective. If we did, we might understand the situation well enough to not complain about it.

Life can be difficult, and we don't always understand the reasons why life is difficult, but I'm confident that so long as God is as good and as powerful as the scriptures say He is, He wouldn't let life be so difficult for so many people without having some really good reasons. I trust that God has good reasons for what He does and doesn't to. So, when God moves or doesn't move in ways that I don't necessarily appreciate, I will try to be patient, to trust His judgement, and to resist the urge to honk at Him.

Working Together

One thing I love about adventuring parties in D&D and other RPGs is that they encourage people to work together, using their individual strengths to supplement each other's abilities and cover each other's weaknesses. The Fighter doesn't usually have magic, so the Cleric and Wizard cover that. The Wizard usually can't heal themselves or others, so the Cleric takes care of that. The Fighter covers the physical fighting, to defend the casters. And the Bard, Ranger, or Rogue help the party by applying their skills toward dealing with other people and/or the world around them. When they all work together, they can form a powerfully cohesive team.

We can do something similar. Our abilities may not be as obvious or as strictly defined, but we all have our own talents, strengths, and capabilities, and we all have something we can offer to those around us. When we work together, we can each apply our individual talents towards blessing the rest of the group. As an introvert, I hate to admit this, but we're often better off working together than we are working separately. At the very least, we can help carry each other's burdens and become collectively stronger by lifting them together.

Each individual is unique, and each of us have different strengths and abilities. When we work together, we can use our strengths more effectively, bringing out the best in each member of the party. Sure, we can sometimes work well enough on our own, but we are often best off using our varied strengths to work together.

What We Don't Own and What We Do

Something I wondered about during the powwow I went to last night was the idea of ownership, particularly regarding the Earth. God gave us this Earth to live on, but He didn't give us the Earth to keep. We don't own the land. No one does. The Earth belongs to God, and someday, He will take it back, renovate it, and give it (or perhaps lend it?) only to those who are worthy, regardless of who "owns" the land at the time when Jesus returns. But this, perhaps, has interesting implications that go far beyond real estate.

Since we don't own the land, we also don't own the fruit of the land, including plants, fuel, and precious metals. Arguably, we don't own animals, either, whether because they count as "fruit of the land" or because "you are what you eat," and they eat the fruit of the land.

But if that's true, then that means that we also don't own ourselves. Our bodies are made of earthly elements. If we don't own the earthly elements, we don't own our bodies, either. To me, this almost seems like a step too far. Of course we own ourselves. God gave us our bodies as a gift. We get to keep them. But that's not quite right. It's not so much that we keep our bodies, but that we get them back. And even then, it's not so much that we get our bodies back, but that we get new ones. Perhaps these bodies are only rentals, ours to use during the rental period, but destined to "return to the earth" after the rental period is over. God will give us bodies we can keep, but these bodies probably aren't them.

All this, taken together, means that we don't even own the fruits of our own hands. Whatever we make, we own neither the raw materials from which they were made nor the tools we used to make them. We own next to nothing.

I say "next to nothing" because I can think of one thing we own. We own our own minds. We may not own the brains that house our intelligence, but we own the intelligence housed therein. We own our spirits because our spirits are what we are. We are our spirits, and we own ourselves. We may not own our bodies, but we own whatever else makes us us. We own our thoughts, our memories, our ideas, and our personality traits. We own all the intangible things that make us who we are.

So, it's not quite true that we don't own anything, but we own less than we think. Most of the things we think we own are things that we are merely borrowing or being stewards over. It may be possible to exchange stewardships of particular things, which seems to be what happens when we "buy" or "sell" things that we don't actually own, but ultimately, all those things belong to God, and He'll eventually want them back.

Eventually, we'll have bodies that we own and, if we're faithful, entire universes that we own, but in the meantime, we own our minds, and that's about it.

Worried about Nothing

Tonight, I attended a powwow, and it seemed pretty nice. Before going, I had been nervous about it, but it turned out to be a pleasant and enjoyable evening. As it turned out, I needn't have worried.

It may be true that worrying is often a waste of time and energy. Worrying isn't really helpful, and it sometimes isn't even warranted. If you're worried about something, it would make sense to do something about it, to prepare for it, or to try to avoid it. Beyond that, I'm not sure what purpose worrying serves.

Worrying doesn't change future experiences; it just predicts that future situations will be bad, and it prompts you to feel as though the situation had already happened. Worrying causes distress in the present, caused by events that may or may not take place in the future.

So, I'm going to try to worry less in the future, not because I don't think the worrying events will happen, but because worrying about them won't do me any good.

A Shot in the Arm

Getting a shot can sting a little. At the very least, it can be uncomfortable. But before long, the pain fades, and the benefit of the injection remains, perhaps permanently.

I think life may be like that. It's often painful, or at least uncomfortable, but it's temporary. On an eternal timescale, it's barely the blink of an eye. But the blessings we receive from life can be eternal. Life is a brief, uncomfortable experience with long-lasting benefits, just like a shot in the arm.

I don't think God enjoys watching people suffer any more than doctors do, but there are times when a (relatively) small amount of (relatively) short-lived pain is necessary to bring about the best possible result. Immunity to a crippling and/or life-threatening disease is worth a little jab in the arm, and the blessings of eternity are worth a brief moment of mortality.

Sure, it seems long and painful from a mortal perspective, but from an eternal perspective, it's no worse than a shot in the arm.

A Comforting Presence

Today, the missionaries helped me clean the church building, just not directly. They didn't do any vacuuming or any cleaning of bathrooms, though I'm sure that, time permitting, they would have helped me, had I asked. Instead, they helped me just by being there.

You see, I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, but I sometimes feel my courage lapse when I'm in the church building alone. There are many people who have access to the church building, and there are many classrooms in which a person could hide. It can be dark in there, when the lights are off, and I am sometimes afraid of being alone in there, and not actually being sure that I am alone.

But today, I'm glad I wasn't alone. I knew there were missionaries in the building, and their presence in the building gave me comfort.

I should seek to gain that kind of comfort from God. He doesn't always help me directly, at least not in any overt way, but His presence, even His mere existence, can give me some measure of comfort. It's like someone holding your hand. That doesn't do much to help you, and in fact, when you need both your hands, too much hand-holding can be an impediment, but it feels comforting all the same. God may not want to give me as much direct help as I want Him to, but He can at least give me the comfort of knowing that He's there, and that can be enough.

So, yes, when I'm in the church building, or when I'm trying to get through life, it can be frightening to feel alone, but it's comforting to know that, as long as I have faith in God, I never have to feel fully alone.

Awesome Patches

I don't suppose you've heard of Dove's Beauty Patches. If you haven't, you can look them up on YouTube yourself. Along the same lines, I've picked up a set of Awesome Patches, and I told my friend about them, and he was kind enough to tell me that I'm awesome enough without them. And I must admit, he's kinda right about that.

People are awesome, or at least, we have the capacity to be. We can do awesome things, if we set our minds to it. I can be awesome, with or without the patches, if I make up my mind to be. That's partly why I play D&D, to get into the practice of being someone awesome. That's why I wear the patches, partly because they help me be awesome, and partly because they remind me that I can be awesome.

I will admit, patches like these are something of a crutch. They're like training wheels. They're something you use until you don't need to use them anymore. But I find them helpful. I'd like to be more awesome than I sometimes feel like being, and these Awesome Patches of mine are helping me become the kind of person I want to be.

Good in Evil-Doers

As it turns out, people are complex. Fictional characters who act villainously in some contexts can act heroically in others. The change may be explained in a shift of priorities or an application of higher priorities, or perhaps even a change of heart, but I'm not really sure that that's necessary. No one is all good or all bad. People who do bad things may yet be persuaded to do good instead. That's part of why I believe in forgiveness and second chances. We're all human. We all have both good and bad inside of us. We all have the capacity for good and evil. So, while we should always fight evil, I hope that doesn't mean destroying those who do evil, not while there's still a chance that we can draw out the good in them.

Too Easy

A D&D character in a game I run for myself successfully defeated a shadow dragon today. In fact, my character was almost too successful. He won the fight, but he did it so quickly, the battle seemed anti-climactic. But, since I was running the game for myself, I tweaked the game to make the battle harder for my character, which made the victory a bit more satisfying.

In our real lives, we rarely have to worry about our challenges being "too easy," possibly because God takes care of that problem for us. God sets up challenges for us to overcome. If those challenges prove too challenging, He strengthens us. If those challenges aren't challenging enough, I suspect God makes them tougher until they are.

God wants us to succeed in life, but He also wants us to have opportunities to learn and grow while we're here. That's why He custom-makes each challenge for each of us, to make sure that we're up to each challenge we face and that no challenge meant to challenge us ends up being too easy.

Interconnected Through The Spirit

Something that's becoming apparent to me about the Gospel and about emotional well-being in general is how interconnected everything is. Everything we can do, say, feel, or think either draws us closer to the Spirit or pushes the Spirit away. And the Spirit, in turn, helps with almost everything that's good, creating a positive feedback loop that works in either direction. 

Anything we do that detracts from the Spirit pushes the Spirit away from us, making it harder to make good choices and maintain good thoughts and feelings, pushing the Spirit even further away. In contrast, doing anything good can attract the Spirit, making it easier to do good and keep the Spirit with us. 

Since the presence of the Spirit is affected by practically everything, and practically everything is affected by the presence (or absence) of the Spirit, just about everything is directly or indirectly connected to just about anything else. Any amount of good or evil, positivity or negativity, contributes to a feedback loop that fosters more of itself. That's why it's important to increase spirituality in any way we can and avoid evil in any of its myriad forms. It's all interconnected through the presence or absence of the Spirit.

As Ready As I'll Ever Be

Preparation is good. It's wise to prepare. But eventually, you hit a point where further preparation is impossible or impractical. Sometimes, we hit our deadlines, and we have no more time to prepare, so the time of preparation ends. At other times, our preparation hits the law of diminishing returns and/or ventures into the world of speculative preparation, where we try to prepare for future situations by trying to predict them. Naturally, there's a certain amount of folly in this. It doesn't make sense to spend time or energy making "preparations" that don't actually make you better prepared. Instead, it's sometimes wise to realize that you're about as prepared as you can reasonably be expected to be, and that further preparations would be a mismanagement of time and energy. Sometimes, once you've prepared as much as is reasonable, the best course of action is to proceed with confidence, relying on prior preparation.

In regards to a certain project of mine, I think I'm about as ready as I'll ever be. Now, rather than continuing to try to make further preparations, it would probably make more sense to move forward and put into practice the preparations I've already made.

The Law of Faith

One insight I had yesterday is that God's powers are extremely limited, at least in my case, perhaps because of a theoretical, theological law that I call The Law of Faith. Some time ago, I blogged about this Law of Faith in response to President Nelson's recent talk about faith, In that talk, he said, among other things, that our faith unlocks the power of God in our lives (implying that the power of God would be locked without our faith) and that our unbelief could keep God from blessing us with miracles. He reminded us of something Moroni said, that God " worketh by power, according to the faith of the children of men." Perhaps that's not a coincidence, but a prerequisite. Perhaps God can only act in our lives insofar as we have faith that He can and will.

Some may say that it's heretical to believe that there's some grand, cosmic law that supposedly limits the power of God, but we already know of one such law: the Law of Justice. I believe it was Alma who taught us that [even God's] mercy cannot rob justice, or God would cease to be God. Perhaps, just as God cannot rob justice, perhaps He can hardly do anything for or through us unless we have faith.

Perhaps that's why I've struggled so much these last few months. I have heard that God is omnipotent, that He could, theoretically, show me a sign convincing enough to persuade me to have faith in Him. I have heard that He can work miracles, even the miracle of helping me overcome my personal challenges. I had grown tired of trying to take the first step of exercising faith, and I wanted Him to take the first step this time and bless me, despite my lack of faith. I thought that He, being omnipotent, could do that, but perhaps He, being bound by this theoretical Law of Faith, couldn't.

Our unbelief keeps God from blessing us. My unbelief kept God from blessing me. I've prayed for miracles to help me increase my faith in God, but now I think that God can only bless us with miracles if we already have faith.

I Choose Faith

I basically have two choices. I can choose the light of faith, which will (hopefully) lead me to the Celestial Kingdom or some other relatively good afterlife, or I can choose the darkness of doubt, which leads who-knows-where. As foolish as it sometimes seems to put blind faith in anyone or anything, I think it makes more sense to choose faith, because with faith, there is hope, but with doubt, there is uncertainty. I would rather have faith and hope than doubt and uncertainty. Therefore, I choose faith.

Rock-Solid Backup Plans

One factor that helps make Evan's battle plan so solid is the fact that, if things get to hairy, he can get help. During his first few levels of adventuring, he did a huge favor for an angel, who now owes Evan a solid. If Evan's epic battle plan goes south, he can call in a favor (a divine favor, if you will), and get all the help he needs.

Similarly, we can call upon divine aid when our need is desperate. We may not be owed an major favors, but God is still interested in getting us the help we need, when we need it. God has a perfect battle plan for each of us, but those plans may require miracles to succeed. But when miracles are needed, they will come. As we follow God's plan for us, God will send us His Spirit, His angels, or whatever other help we need in order to be able to follow that plan.

Part of Evan's plan is to call on the aid of an angel, if he needs to. As we serve God, if we need help, we can call on divine aid as well.

Rock-Solid Battle Plans

I am currently playing a part of D&D that I don't get to play very often - Planning. Of course, as a DM, I prepare obstacles and enemies for the players' characters to overcome, but that's not the kind of planning I'm talking about here. The kind of planning that I'm doing in my personal D&D game that I run for myself is strategic planning.

My character, Evan, is currently facing off against an unbeatable opponent. Evan is currently level 8(ish. I'm using a unique system for character creation), and he's facing off against a creature with a Challenge Rating of 15, meaning that it's a good match for a full team of adventurers nearly double Evan's level. And Evan's going to fight this incredible threat alone.

The cool thing is that he's got a decent chance at winning. Over the course of his adventure, Evan has collected several magic items that will be of great use to him, and he has learn several powerful magical spells. But what really gives Evan the edge here is that a good deal of thought is being put into his battle strategy. I'm carefully weighing his options. Which magic sword should he wield? Which spell should he concentrate on? How can he make the best use of his Spell Points? I'm crunching numbers, calculating averages, comparing probabilities, and factoring them all into the most comprehensive plan I've ever made.

Evan is going to win because, by the time the battle starts, he is going to have a rock-solid battle plan.

And so can we.

It is unfortunate that I can't invest the same kind of tactical energy into my battle against Satan. The trouble is, I don't know Satan's stats, or my own stats, or the stats of any of my celestial allies. I don't know what our options are. I don't know how many actions we can choose from and what their effects will be. I can't make myself a rock-solid, anti-Satan battle plan because I don't know the rules of life as well as I know the rules of D&D. There's no Player's Handbook I can read to find out how the game of life is played. There's no Monster Manual describing Satan and his abilities so I can know what I'm up against. The best I've got are the scriptures, giving records of how other people's fights have gone, what they tried, and how it worked out for them. I can try to copy what they did, but that doesn't get me any closer to finding out why it worked for them, how the strategy worked in their circumstances, or how I should adapt their strategy to work better for me and my abilities and circumstances. I can try to copy the strategies of other players, but we're playing different characters on different battlefields. What worked for them might not work as well for me.

Fortunately, I don't need to know the rules of how the world works in order to have a rock-solid, perfectly personalized battle strategy. I don't need to know Satan's stats or abilities in order to know how to defeat him. I don't even need to know my own stats or abilities. I don't need to know what I can and can't do in order to know what I should and shouldn't do.

Because God knows.

God knows who I am and what I'm capable of. He knows my abilities, my strengths and my weaknesses, and He knows Satan's abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. God is my master tactician, just as I am Evan's. Evan doesn't know exactly how much damage his magic swords do well enough to accurately compare them. He doesn't know which healing spells would, on average, make the most efficient use of his Spell Points. Heck, he doesn't even know how to calculate his own Armor Class. But he doesn't need to. As long as I make the right decisions for Evan, and Evan follows the directions I give him (which he will, because he's my fictional character, and he does whatever I write him doing), he's going to be okay. He doesn't need to know the rules of D&D; I do. I don't need to know the rules of life; God does.

Sure, I'd love to figure out how the Priesthood works, which commandments lead to which blessings and why, how I can maximize my ability to counter my specific weaknesses, and how I can play the best game of life I could possibly play. But frankly, I'm probably not smart enough to master a game this complicated. The only reason I can play D&D tactically is because it's simplified with abstractions and the math never gets any more complex than basic algebra, which I also enjoy. I couldn't form a rock-solid battle plan of life, even if I had all the rules in front of me and all the time in the world to plan and strategize. God's better at this game than I am. I should follow His lead.

I'm having fun creating a rock-solid battle plan for Evan, but I'll have better success following God's rock-solid battle plan for me.

Eternity, One Step at a Time

One of the best and worst things about life is that we can only do one thing at a time. That's bad news because it limits how much we can get done, but it's also good news because trying to do more than one thing at once can be overwhelming. Since we know we can only do one thing at a time, we know that we need to take our projects and goals one step at a time, since that's all we can do anyway. Naturally, we can start with the goal in mind, but at any given moment, the only step we really need to focus on is the next one.

Long-term projects and goals, including eternal goals, can seem overwhelming when taken as a whole, but to paraphrase a famous saying, a journey of a thousand miles is made of countless individual steps. Each step, on its own, is manageable. If we take eternity one step at a time, and spend eternity taking those tiny, individual baby steps, we'll eventually make it.

I can't walk a thousand miles in one go, but I can walk a few miles at a time, taking only a single step at a time, until I've walked a thousand miles and more.

Distance

This evening, I had a nice visit with my family. But the thing is, I wasn't with my family the whole time. I am an introvert. I find social situations draining, particularly those that involve long, loud conversations. Over time, I feel my patience wear thin, and then I generally withdraw from the family gathering into a quieter room, where I just sit in peace for a while. The same thing happens at church. Church is filled with friendly, social people whom I endeavor to avoid. Today, I felt a deeper connection to God by sitting a moderate distance away from others and largely ignoring what everyone else was discussing. I've found it helpful, in many circumstances, to maintain my distance and keep my cool.

Personally, I'm glad that I know this about myself. I know what sorts of situations are difficult for me, and I know how to deal with them. It may be considered rude or anti-social, but for me, it's important for me to be able to remove myself from situations before I make them worse. There have been times when I've forced myself to stay in a situation longer than I should have, and I tend to get heated in those situations. Personally, I think it's much better to keep calm and maintain a comfortable distance.