When I began the college application process, BYU was far off my radar of where I wanted to attend college. My main goal was to go to San Diego State University and a few other California colleges. If all of those options had fallen through, I would have been just as content to go to the local junior college. As u can tell I did NOT want to be associated with BYU in any way shape or form. Until one day my oh so wonderful Bishop came up to me and said “I’m not accepting any college EXCEPT BYU.” Since the bishop of my ward is like a father to me, I knew it was BYU or bust. Next came my mom asking if I had filled out an application for BYU yet. Then came my aunt and a few other stragglers that I knew asking the same. So what did I do? I did what any teenager does when they are annoyed and want everyone off of their back. I went to www.BYU.edu and began the application process. Of course, I still had ZERO intent on going to BYU if I got accepted. I just did not want to do the “Mormon thing” and go to and LDS School. Especially attend a school that is in the Mormon capital of the world (no offense to any of you that live in Utah). As soon as I thought I was free from the attacks, my mom comes asking if I had applied for BYU scholarships and all that jazz that would help me get situated when I got to BYU. Long story short, I was talked into attending BYU, and I am very grateful for those pushed me in the right direction. I know this is the school that I needed to be attending.
A.LeGrand Richards reminds us that the curriculum for an education is in the scriptures. Doctrine and Covenants section 88 tells us that we need to understand all things that pertain unto the kingdom of God. We need to learn “of the things in heaven and in the earth…things which have been, things which are, things which must shortly come to pass…” (D&C 88:79) We need to learn these things to be prepared for when the Lord will send us our calling and our mission. Richards says that we need to focus on both our mission (family) and our careers. This is because in the end it’s not what our profession is that counts, it’s how we upheld our end of the bargain in raising a family. President David O.McKay said “The paramount ideal permeating all education in the grades, the high school, through college and the university, should be more spiritual than economic.” In fact, BYU’s mission is to assist individuals in their quest for perfection and eternal life. I can guarantee you guys that SDSU’s mission statement is non-comparable to that of BYU’s. Especially since SDSU is one of the top party school in the nation. (yes I do enjoy partying SAFELY!) Richards states that we should “…learn to grow where you are planted. In fact, learn to look for places where you can make a difference.”
I believe that BYU is the right place for ANY student to gain an education. Here at BYU, what we students can do for the college is not nearly as important as what we can do for our fellow brothers and sisters. The environment here at BYU is just uplifting. Many people walk around with smiles on their face and you can easily bet that they share the same beliefs. It just makes the transition into the “real world” that much easier. Since I have been here at BYU (wooohooo a whopping four weeks!) I have built a better base for me to stand upon. Back home I was constantly surrounded by drugs, sex, alcohol, and immorality. I still found a way to have a strong base, but it has been a much easier task here at the Y. I suggest that we all need to take full advantage of being at this wonderful establishment and make the best of it. Not only make it happen for ourselves but also for those around us. I know I am going to strive to be the best child of God that I can be. President McKay reminds us that “no success in life can compensate for failure in the home.”
My fellow cougars and cougarettes, let us “roll in the dough.” We hit the jackpot of all educations.
GO COUGARS!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Chelsey's response to "Mother Eve"
Strong woman. Feminist. “You are such a girl.” Why do these words and phrases have such a negative connotation in today’s society? Are woman really weak and less intelligent than men? Of course not. So why are we still treated as such? Sure, we have more “rights” than we did in the past, but according to a 2008 poll conducted by Penn, Schoen & Berland Associates, sixty-three percent of women in the United States felt that the media is biased against women, sixty-eight percent reported sexual discrimination in the workplace, and seventy-two percent believe that women are treated unfairly in politics. This is appalling to me, and has always made me wonder what ever happened to give females such a bad rep. According to Beverly Campbell, it all comes down to the very first woman herself, Eve.
It’s true that in mainstream society Eve is known as the weak, disgraced, disobedient, subordinate of Adam. Most people you ask will say that they feel that we are now paying the price for her blatant lack of obedience. I’m even ashamed to admit that I’ve felt this way at one point myself. So it was very comforting to know after reading Campbell’s analysis of Eve to discoverer that, contrary to popular belief, Eve was in fact a woman of honor, dignity, intelligence, and good judgment.
The main points of Campbell’s that I felt most applied to me and women everywhere were the following:
1) Eve’s role to Adam was as “a power equal to.” Sorta changes the whole way people think about women, huh? The men are not our “masters;” instead, they are our “ equal partners” in everything we do.
2) Eve was deceived by the identity of the messenger, not the message. Campbell reiterates throughout the passage that Eve knew all along that she eventually had to disobey God’s commandment so that she could eventually multiply and populate the earth. She was not deceived by Satan’s message; rather, she was deceived by Satan’s identity, an entirely different thing. Eve knew her role in the plan of salvation, and she carefully considered the consequences before partaking of the fruit.
3) Satan is a key architect in the “battle of the sexes.” This one’s for you, boys. Whenever you find yourself comparing yourself to the opposite gender, remember: it’s Satan that wants you to feel this way. Women are meant to be respected and valued rather than demeaned and controlled.
Eve is a huge role model for all women today and for me especially. It is our duty to make clear to the rest of the world Eve’s true nature, so that sexism and inferiority are no longer an issue. We should all be able to stand up for ourselves, and exclaim loud and proud:
“I am a daughter of Eve!”
It’s true that in mainstream society Eve is known as the weak, disgraced, disobedient, subordinate of Adam. Most people you ask will say that they feel that we are now paying the price for her blatant lack of obedience. I’m even ashamed to admit that I’ve felt this way at one point myself. So it was very comforting to know after reading Campbell’s analysis of Eve to discoverer that, contrary to popular belief, Eve was in fact a woman of honor, dignity, intelligence, and good judgment.
The main points of Campbell’s that I felt most applied to me and women everywhere were the following:
1) Eve’s role to Adam was as “a power equal to.” Sorta changes the whole way people think about women, huh? The men are not our “masters;” instead, they are our “ equal partners” in everything we do.
2) Eve was deceived by the identity of the messenger, not the message. Campbell reiterates throughout the passage that Eve knew all along that she eventually had to disobey God’s commandment so that she could eventually multiply and populate the earth. She was not deceived by Satan’s message; rather, she was deceived by Satan’s identity, an entirely different thing. Eve knew her role in the plan of salvation, and she carefully considered the consequences before partaking of the fruit.
3) Satan is a key architect in the “battle of the sexes.” This one’s for you, boys. Whenever you find yourself comparing yourself to the opposite gender, remember: it’s Satan that wants you to feel this way. Women are meant to be respected and valued rather than demeaned and controlled.
Eve is a huge role model for all women today and for me especially. It is our duty to make clear to the rest of the world Eve’s true nature, so that sexism and inferiority are no longer an issue. We should all be able to stand up for ourselves, and exclaim loud and proud:
“I am a daughter of Eve!”
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Lyse's response to "A Rose for Emily"
I've been on a bit of a “modern classic literature” binge lately. And by lately, I mean this month. First, there was this hour long discussion about The Catcher in the Rye that ended with me putting it on hold to re-read. I ended up letting my boyfriend, Zach, read it as I did my econ homework in the laundry mat and he kept laughing at Holden’s incessant whining and sarcasm. Second, I re-read The Great Gatsby and felt inspired to read more F. Scott Fitzgerald. This urge created an hour-long wild goose chase through the Harold B. Lee Library to find Six Tales of the Jazz Age. Zach and I ended up being followed by 1920s era posters and soft jazz music throughout our entire search. When we finally got to the row of Fitzgerald books it was not even there; we were about to leave when my eye caught the gold lettering on a red spine. The search itself ended up being like a Fitzgerald story—nothing actually happened, but that wasn’t the point. There was more significance in the search along the way than in the discovery in the end.
A Rose for Emily by William Falkner is like this. It is basically a short story about an average southern town and a bizarre woman who lives there. Part mystery, part “postage stamp” portrait of rural America, A Rose for Emily explores a single character, Miss Emily. Miss Emily came from a proud family, and was haughty herself. She made me sad though; she lives this sad life, totally lost in her memory on her one love, Homer Brown. She killed him to try to preserve his love and loyalty. She died, old, shut-up, in the bottom story of her house, “her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight” (378). She never lived. She was either consumed in her arrogance or her memory.
Living completely in the past terrifies me, as does living in the future. Miss Emily did both; she never lived her life for the lessons, never lived for present. There’s something wrong with always looking forward, something wrong with watching a sunset and thinking only “One day, I want to come back here!” instead of thinking how lovely it is right now. Miss Emily also scares me because of her pathetic loneliness, her inability to love completely. Not just love in the conventional “sweep-me-off-my-feet” sense, I mean love in the “growing-old-together-your-habits-disgust-me-but-I-still-want-to-be-with-you” way. When I love someone, I share so easily; I laugh while helping them clean, I smile while sitting quietly doing homework. My best friend Stella and I were like this last year. A lot of times, we didn’t do anything special, we just spent a lot of time together, talking and cooking and watching Friends. We got in a fight in June and I haven’t talked to her since. I really miss her.
I don’t want to live my life burning bridges, living in nostalgia, decaying and disappearing with nothing and no one to remember me by. I want to hold hands with Zach; happy that we are just together now, not thinking about what happens in a year, in six months, in four, in one. I don’t want Stella to hate me; I don’t want to hate her either.
I don’t want to decay like Miss Emily, nothing but the foul smell of her dead lover to sustain her. I don’t want the ending of my story to be the only point of it.
I just sent Stella a message.
A Rose for Emily by William Falkner is like this. It is basically a short story about an average southern town and a bizarre woman who lives there. Part mystery, part “postage stamp” portrait of rural America, A Rose for Emily explores a single character, Miss Emily. Miss Emily came from a proud family, and was haughty herself. She made me sad though; she lives this sad life, totally lost in her memory on her one love, Homer Brown. She killed him to try to preserve his love and loyalty. She died, old, shut-up, in the bottom story of her house, “her gray head propped on a pillow yellow and moldy with age and lack of sunlight” (378). She never lived. She was either consumed in her arrogance or her memory.
Living completely in the past terrifies me, as does living in the future. Miss Emily did both; she never lived her life for the lessons, never lived for present. There’s something wrong with always looking forward, something wrong with watching a sunset and thinking only “One day, I want to come back here!” instead of thinking how lovely it is right now. Miss Emily also scares me because of her pathetic loneliness, her inability to love completely. Not just love in the conventional “sweep-me-off-my-feet” sense, I mean love in the “growing-old-together-your-habits-disgust-me-but-I-still-want-to-be-with-you” way. When I love someone, I share so easily; I laugh while helping them clean, I smile while sitting quietly doing homework. My best friend Stella and I were like this last year. A lot of times, we didn’t do anything special, we just spent a lot of time together, talking and cooking and watching Friends. We got in a fight in June and I haven’t talked to her since. I really miss her.
I don’t want to live my life burning bridges, living in nostalgia, decaying and disappearing with nothing and no one to remember me by. I want to hold hands with Zach; happy that we are just together now, not thinking about what happens in a year, in six months, in four, in one. I don’t want Stella to hate me; I don’t want to hate her either.
I don’t want to decay like Miss Emily, nothing but the foul smell of her dead lover to sustain her. I don’t want the ending of my story to be the only point of it.
I just sent Stella a message.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Marie's response to "Homecoming"
I feel somewhat unqualified to write about the article/essay “Homecoming” because I am not old enough to know where my “other” home is, my true home. I can take a guess, and that is here in Provo, because this is where I grew up. My parents lives 3 miles away from my dorm. So what do I know about homecoming? Maybe something. Maybe nothing. However, May Mansoor Munn knows quite a bit about the bittersweet nature of the event, so I’ll talk about her for a while.
This is my favorite passage in the essay: “Once, in this place of memory, shops opened mornings and afternoons, stone walls and buildings were free of politics, and instead of gunfire, the honking of cars disrupted equilibrium in the streets.”
There’s the interesting feeling of comparing what she remembers and how things are now, but it’s all still a place of memory. She can’t seem to shake that. No matter how many years pass, it will always be compared to the home she remembers, and it will always be her home. The city is full of destruction, but it is still welcoming her home.
How long does it take for home to be a place of memory? At what point does it freeze? I think it depends on the circumstance, but for me, my home is freezing right now—when I go home, it is still frozen in my mind, though just a little bit, because as I mentioned before, I grew up in Utah County, and my parents live very close. I see them fairly often. Seeing them isn’t the problem, but going to my house—even when I’ve only been gone for a few weeks—is disconcerting. I feel like things should stay the same, and every little change makes me uncomfortable. A week ago, I was talking to my mom and she casually mentions that the glass on our outdoor table shattered in the storm. I went into my room—or my old room, I guess—to find my sister sleeping in my bed. With every ‘homecoming’ (I use the term in the loosest sense) reminds me how things are moving on without me. Small routines have changed, and I want to protest them, but I can’t. That would be silly and selfish, and besides, it’s out of my power.
My home is not war-torn and far away. I’m not really trying to compare myself to the author, but more relate to the sense of homecoming she feels. I can’t feel it completely, but I am sure that someday I will, though I hope in a less extreme way. I think reading this was good for me, because it is not easy to relate to, but if I stretch I can get there and figure some stuff out about my situations in life.
This is my favorite passage in the essay: “Once, in this place of memory, shops opened mornings and afternoons, stone walls and buildings were free of politics, and instead of gunfire, the honking of cars disrupted equilibrium in the streets.”
There’s the interesting feeling of comparing what she remembers and how things are now, but it’s all still a place of memory. She can’t seem to shake that. No matter how many years pass, it will always be compared to the home she remembers, and it will always be her home. The city is full of destruction, but it is still welcoming her home.
How long does it take for home to be a place of memory? At what point does it freeze? I think it depends on the circumstance, but for me, my home is freezing right now—when I go home, it is still frozen in my mind, though just a little bit, because as I mentioned before, I grew up in Utah County, and my parents live very close. I see them fairly often. Seeing them isn’t the problem, but going to my house—even when I’ve only been gone for a few weeks—is disconcerting. I feel like things should stay the same, and every little change makes me uncomfortable. A week ago, I was talking to my mom and she casually mentions that the glass on our outdoor table shattered in the storm. I went into my room—or my old room, I guess—to find my sister sleeping in my bed. With every ‘homecoming’ (I use the term in the loosest sense) reminds me how things are moving on without me. Small routines have changed, and I want to protest them, but I can’t. That would be silly and selfish, and besides, it’s out of my power.
My home is not war-torn and far away. I’m not really trying to compare myself to the author, but more relate to the sense of homecoming she feels. I can’t feel it completely, but I am sure that someday I will, though I hope in a less extreme way. I think reading this was good for me, because it is not easy to relate to, but if I stretch I can get there and figure some stuff out about my situations in life.
David's response to "Aims of a BYU education"
The basic premise for "Aims of a BYU Education" is that we can gain wisdom by applying knowledge, and then build our character, which consistently wise action. Then, by taking the covenants and applying the atonement, we can gain eternal life. Thus we have the first sentence of the earlier BYU mission statement: "The mission of Brigham Young University--founded, supported, and guided by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints--is to assist individuals in their quest for perfection and eternal life." An education is supposed to prepare us for life. Necessarily, for our education to be of use to us in this way, it must model our life to come.
If I read something like this in the mission statement of any other university, I would argue that college best prepares someone who wishes to continue intensive learning, if not those future academes who will live and teach there. Nevertheless, we find that many college graduates are not interested in engaging themselves daily in this way. Only a couple of hours ago, I heard someone tell a testing-center story:
One of my friends was taking a history final last year. When he was about one half-hour into his exam, he saw a young lady stand up and yell:
"Why I am I even taking this test? I only came here to get married!"
She then walked out, her test half-completed.
How perceptive of her.
What other purpose could college serve than to prepare scholars? College has some place to train for jobs, but many job skills are necessarily gained on-the-job because the workplace is dynamic.
Because this article was approved by BYU's board of trustees (the prophet), it should be considered scripture. Because it is so straightforward, it can even be hard to probe it for answers to significant questions. We are led to infer that BYU has escaped the plague, and that BYU is suited not only to prepare academes, but all trained professionals to which it offers degrees. Do colleges have this problem? How has BYU escaped it?
If I read something like this in the mission statement of any other university, I would argue that college best prepares someone who wishes to continue intensive learning, if not those future academes who will live and teach there. Nevertheless, we find that many college graduates are not interested in engaging themselves daily in this way. Only a couple of hours ago, I heard someone tell a testing-center story:
One of my friends was taking a history final last year. When he was about one half-hour into his exam, he saw a young lady stand up and yell:
"Why I am I even taking this test? I only came here to get married!"
She then walked out, her test half-completed.
How perceptive of her.
What other purpose could college serve than to prepare scholars? College has some place to train for jobs, but many job skills are necessarily gained on-the-job because the workplace is dynamic.
Because this article was approved by BYU's board of trustees (the prophet), it should be considered scripture. Because it is so straightforward, it can even be hard to probe it for answers to significant questions. We are led to infer that BYU has escaped the plague, and that BYU is suited not only to prepare academes, but all trained professionals to which it offers degrees. Do colleges have this problem? How has BYU escaped it?
Mckenna's Response to "Getting Launched"
Having a stake in it. That is how he puts it. You have to actually care about the subject you are writing about. Otherwise it ends up flat and boring. If you don’t care, why should your readers? This has happened to me a lot. The essays I completely hate writing, (and finish as fast as possible to get them over with), usually aren’t that good. In fact they are terrible. At least to me, and probably to other people too. I don’t like them, I don’t really care about them, and I expect to get a bad grade on it anyways. But the essays I’m passionate about? I get excited, enjoy myself, and even spend extra time on them. And I am proud of my work! That is really important, when I do my best, even if I didn’t get as good of a grade, or there are things I can improve, I know that I worked at it. And that’s worth it. I think that is what makes the difference. The emotion just has to be there, just like Trimble says, even if it’s a subject you hate. At least you care about your writing. There is an example of a scathing review that he cites as very emotion-filled, passionate writing. The author hated the movie, but she cared. I also liked how
Trimble suggested to find a “new take on an old subject” if you aren’t excited about it. Just finding some way to be engaged in the paper makes it better.
There were a lot of good suggestions of how to write in this article. I liked the idea of just jotting things down and free writing. The author describes writing blocks as self-criticism getting in the way. I agree with that to some extent. I do think there are times when it just feels like nothing you write is good, which is where the self-criticism comes in. But there are also times when you just need to take a break, go think about something else for a while, until the frustration wears off. The advice about letting go of the self-criticism for the first draft is valid. There is something about just writing whatever comes to your head that is therapeutic. I think that’s why I like to have a journal. There is always time to come back and revise. I am one of those perfectionists who likes to revise every sentence. But it is nice to just get the ideas down, and then go back and correct later—it cuts down on the stress level. I also like the idea of “stockpiling data.” I find that this really helps my writing. If I look up things and write down what comes to mind, when I actually sit down to write the paper it is much easier to start.
My favorite part about this article was the very beginning, the section about how everyone has their own unique style. I definitely agree with that. I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to write, just however it works for you. For example I hate outlines. Let me correct that, I hate outlines for papers that aren’t a research paper. Research papers are an exception in my opinion, because they are so long and involved that there is no way I could even start one without planning it first. For other papers though, I would rather just sit down, write, and then come back and revise. I always hated it in school where we had to turn in our rough drafts. I always felt they were horrible and should never see the light of day. I’d rather just correct as I go and end up with a good finished product. And there’s nothing wrong with that as long as it works. To each his (or her) own.
Trimble suggested to find a “new take on an old subject” if you aren’t excited about it. Just finding some way to be engaged in the paper makes it better.
There were a lot of good suggestions of how to write in this article. I liked the idea of just jotting things down and free writing. The author describes writing blocks as self-criticism getting in the way. I agree with that to some extent. I do think there are times when it just feels like nothing you write is good, which is where the self-criticism comes in. But there are also times when you just need to take a break, go think about something else for a while, until the frustration wears off. The advice about letting go of the self-criticism for the first draft is valid. There is something about just writing whatever comes to your head that is therapeutic. I think that’s why I like to have a journal. There is always time to come back and revise. I am one of those perfectionists who likes to revise every sentence. But it is nice to just get the ideas down, and then go back and correct later—it cuts down on the stress level. I also like the idea of “stockpiling data.” I find that this really helps my writing. If I look up things and write down what comes to mind, when I actually sit down to write the paper it is much easier to start.
My favorite part about this article was the very beginning, the section about how everyone has their own unique style. I definitely agree with that. I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to write, just however it works for you. For example I hate outlines. Let me correct that, I hate outlines for papers that aren’t a research paper. Research papers are an exception in my opinion, because they are so long and involved that there is no way I could even start one without planning it first. For other papers though, I would rather just sit down, write, and then come back and revise. I always hated it in school where we had to turn in our rough drafts. I always felt they were horrible and should never see the light of day. I’d rather just correct as I go and end up with a good finished product. And there’s nothing wrong with that as long as it works. To each his (or her) own.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Morgan's Response to "Lightning out of Heaven"
“Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of man in this world, than any other man that ever lived on it” (D&C 135:3). The prophet taught the saints many things during his relatively short time as the prophet. Brother Givens mentions many of them, but my favorite is one that Joseph taught purely through his example: the value of relationships. There are three types of relationships that Brother Givens discusses. They are relationships with friends, relationships with family members, and relationships with God.
Joseph had a burning testimony of the great value of having strong and true relationships. He felt that it was a fundamental principle of church doctrine. He cherished the friendships he had with the brethren of the church. The story Givens told of the Prophet and Dr. Willard Richards in the Carthage Jail is a powerful example of the great love that was present in Joseph’s friendships. Their friendship was so strong that Joseph did not hesitate to ask whether he would go to jail, nor did he inch his way around the question or try to coax. He was straightforward and honest, and in return Dr. Richards was willing to go. He knew the full extent of what he was getting into, yet he had such a great love for the Prophet that he was willing to go with him to the end.
The Prophet’s eternal perspective on the family led to his pure testimony of eternal families. While prophet, he made it possible for families to be together forever. He had temples built so the sacred sealing ordinance could be performed and husband and wife could be bound for time and all eternity. Joseph saw such value in the sealing ceremony that the saints built the Nauvoo temple even as they were being driven from their home. They had learned from their prophet the blessing of being sealed in the temple. Brother Givens says, “The privileged status of personal relationships was not just incidental to the Restoration; it was a primary focus.”
The third relationship the Prophet Joseph taught through his great example was the relationship between man and God. Of the three relationships, I believe Joseph was the most advanced in his relationship with God. At the tender age of just 14, he saw God. He understood the indescribable value of having a personal relationship with God. He knew that without God, man is nothing. The Prophet Joseph had a testimony of the reality of the Godhead. “This is the testimony, last of all, that we give of him: that he lives! For we saw him, even on the right hand of God” (D&C 76:22-23). Even through much persecution, Joseph held fast to his testimony of the Godhead. He had such a strong relationship with God that he could not deny his testimony, and for that he was killed.
The Prophet Joseph Smith was and is a great example to the saints of the church of how we should value our relationships. We as a church have the unique privilege of having the full perspective. With this great blessing, we are expected to take full advantage of our opportunities for lasting relationships and not take them for granted. “For of him unto whom much is given much is required” (D&C 82:3).
Reading Brother Givens’s article has given me a new perspective on relationships. I am going to strive not to take the many blessings I have been given for granted. I want to live life to its fullest and strengthen and create new, lasting and valuable relationship with my friends, my family, and most importantly, my God.
Joseph had a burning testimony of the great value of having strong and true relationships. He felt that it was a fundamental principle of church doctrine. He cherished the friendships he had with the brethren of the church. The story Givens told of the Prophet and Dr. Willard Richards in the Carthage Jail is a powerful example of the great love that was present in Joseph’s friendships. Their friendship was so strong that Joseph did not hesitate to ask whether he would go to jail, nor did he inch his way around the question or try to coax. He was straightforward and honest, and in return Dr. Richards was willing to go. He knew the full extent of what he was getting into, yet he had such a great love for the Prophet that he was willing to go with him to the end.
The Prophet’s eternal perspective on the family led to his pure testimony of eternal families. While prophet, he made it possible for families to be together forever. He had temples built so the sacred sealing ordinance could be performed and husband and wife could be bound for time and all eternity. Joseph saw such value in the sealing ceremony that the saints built the Nauvoo temple even as they were being driven from their home. They had learned from their prophet the blessing of being sealed in the temple. Brother Givens says, “The privileged status of personal relationships was not just incidental to the Restoration; it was a primary focus.”
The third relationship the Prophet Joseph taught through his great example was the relationship between man and God. Of the three relationships, I believe Joseph was the most advanced in his relationship with God. At the tender age of just 14, he saw God. He understood the indescribable value of having a personal relationship with God. He knew that without God, man is nothing. The Prophet Joseph had a testimony of the reality of the Godhead. “This is the testimony, last of all, that we give of him: that he lives! For we saw him, even on the right hand of God” (D&C 76:22-23). Even through much persecution, Joseph held fast to his testimony of the Godhead. He had such a strong relationship with God that he could not deny his testimony, and for that he was killed.
The Prophet Joseph Smith was and is a great example to the saints of the church of how we should value our relationships. We as a church have the unique privilege of having the full perspective. With this great blessing, we are expected to take full advantage of our opportunities for lasting relationships and not take them for granted. “For of him unto whom much is given much is required” (D&C 82:3).
Reading Brother Givens’s article has given me a new perspective on relationships. I am going to strive not to take the many blessings I have been given for granted. I want to live life to its fullest and strengthen and create new, lasting and valuable relationship with my friends, my family, and most importantly, my God.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Kaylee's response to Louise Plummer's "5 minutes a day journal"
I still remember my first journal. It had a tiny lock and key (which every movie I’d ever seen had advocated, so as to protect the very private thoughts contained inside). On the front was a drawing of Mickey Mouse, and inside was a sheet of Disney character stickers, all with different emotions (very handy, I figured, in showing how I was feeling when I wrote each entry). In my first entry, appropriately illustrated with a sticker of Goofy holding an umbrella and looking glum, I described how it had rained that day so my mom made us cookies. The following entries were similar in content. But after three or four days, the excitement over my new journal began to wear off, and my writing became sporadic – maybe an entry every month or two.
To add to my lack of diligence in writing, I don’t think I really understood the point of keeping a journal. I still remember proclaiming my love for Ryan Gregerson in my journal in third grade. In fourth, when my undying love (infatuation?) had faded – it turned out that Ryan would rather play kickball then spend every single recess with me – I went back and crossed out every entry that mentioned him. What if, by some horrifying twist of fate, my diary was published one day? After all, it had happened to Anne Frank. And if it happened to me too, which, to my nine-year-old mind, seemed dangerously likely, the whole world would know my embarrassing secret. Good thing my posterity likely won’t be interested in my elementary school romances. (Or lack thereof).
To this day, I remain a truly unimpressive journal writer. I don’t write every day (or even every week or every month), and when I finally decide that I should, so much time has passed that I have to pen a small novel just to summarize the events that occurred since my last entry. Clearly, I am hardly the person that should be writing about the 5 Minute a Day Journal. But Louise Plummer had several suggestions that actually motivated me to start writing again, and that’s quite an accomplishment on her part. I decided to share what in my opinion were the top four:
1. Descriptive writing. This one is fairly self-explanatory. Describe your day in detail. Plummer also suggests describing yourself once a decade, mostly for the sake of your grandchildren, great-grandchildren, etc., who might never know what you were like when you were young. I haven’t even attained two decades yet, so for once I’m not too behind.
2. Make a list. This is possibly my favorite suggestion, because it’s so easy and still tells a lot about you.
3. Write down your dreams. If I ever remember mine when I wake up, I’ll be sure to do this.
4. Write letters you never intend to send. They can be to someone you’re angry with, someone you admire, someone who died before you had the chance to meet them. (I suggest reading the letter by Dessie Thomas contained near the end of the “5-Minute a Day Journal” article).
I probably won’t become an impressive journal writer solely as a result of reading this article. But it did contain many suggestions that could help me improve. I think I’ll start tonight; I’m feeling inspired. Hopefully my grandchildren will someday appreciate finding a list in my journal entitled “25 Reasons Top Ramen Should Not Be Eaten For Every Meal, No Matter How Inexpensive It Is.” If that doesn’t give them a glimpse of what my life was like as a nineteen-year-old college student at BYU, I don’t know what will.
To add to my lack of diligence in writing, I don’t think I really understood the point of keeping a journal. I still remember proclaiming my love for Ryan Gregerson in my journal in third grade. In fourth, when my undying love (infatuation?) had faded – it turned out that Ryan would rather play kickball then spend every single recess with me – I went back and crossed out every entry that mentioned him. What if, by some horrifying twist of fate, my diary was published one day? After all, it had happened to Anne Frank. And if it happened to me too, which, to my nine-year-old mind, seemed dangerously likely, the whole world would know my embarrassing secret. Good thing my posterity likely won’t be interested in my elementary school romances. (Or lack thereof).
To this day, I remain a truly unimpressive journal writer. I don’t write every day (or even every week or every month), and when I finally decide that I should, so much time has passed that I have to pen a small novel just to summarize the events that occurred since my last entry. Clearly, I am hardly the person that should be writing about the 5 Minute a Day Journal. But Louise Plummer had several suggestions that actually motivated me to start writing again, and that’s quite an accomplishment on her part. I decided to share what in my opinion were the top four:
1. Descriptive writing. This one is fairly self-explanatory. Describe your day in detail. Plummer also suggests describing yourself once a decade, mostly for the sake of your grandchildren, great-grandchildren, etc., who might never know what you were like when you were young. I haven’t even attained two decades yet, so for once I’m not too behind.
2. Make a list. This is possibly my favorite suggestion, because it’s so easy and still tells a lot about you.
3. Write down your dreams. If I ever remember mine when I wake up, I’ll be sure to do this.
4. Write letters you never intend to send. They can be to someone you’re angry with, someone you admire, someone who died before you had the chance to meet them. (I suggest reading the letter by Dessie Thomas contained near the end of the “5-Minute a Day Journal” article).
I probably won’t become an impressive journal writer solely as a result of reading this article. But it did contain many suggestions that could help me improve. I think I’ll start tonight; I’m feeling inspired. Hopefully my grandchildren will someday appreciate finding a list in my journal entitled “25 Reasons Top Ramen Should Not Be Eaten For Every Meal, No Matter How Inexpensive It Is.” If that doesn’t give them a glimpse of what my life was like as a nineteen-year-old college student at BYU, I don’t know what will.
Brittney's response to "If Hitler Asked You..."
We, Americans, live in a society where all cultures, ethnicities, and races are accepted—from personal experience, racism is still a problem in some places of the promised land…the “we still wana be the Confederate” South. So, naturally, we taboo Hitler, Nazis, concentration camps, communism, etc. When we initially answer the question posed in the title of this reading, we say, “Heck no, I would not do something for Hitler. I have a heart, thank you!” However, would we do something possibly inhumane for the sake of obedience to a “master,” if you will, or would we apply our standard of morality and disobey? Milgram’s intent of the experiment sought to differentiate obedience levels in Americans and Germans; yet, I believe this to be an intriguing question for the individual within ourselves whether it be electrocution or a less severe means of which we are ordered to obey.
Since no one else knows your thoughts, let’s be real right now. Say you and the roomy went to the basement of your dorm to do laundry, and your roommate saw a dollar on the floor under an ironing board. He/she tells you to grab it real quick so you both can buy yourselves a reward for being cleanly. You know that’s not your dollar, but you start thinking of the Skittles in the vending machine upstairs, and your mouth starts watering—you know the kind that hurts because you can almost taste the colors of the rainbow?—and you really, really want that dollar which has never been in your possession. Then you’re thinking what to do…and, shoot, the Honor Code song from orientation just popped into your head. But dang, your salivary glands are going crazy! So what do you do? Your roommate tells you to make like James Bond and stealthily somersault to the desired specimen. (If you’re having a hard time imagining this, watch Casino Royale, take a little stroll down to the laundry room, and look for a dollar.)
So again, my friends, I ask you, what would you do? Obey the command of the “master” or follow the promptings of the Honor Code song? Of course, we all naturally say the “right” answer which is to leave the dollar under the ironing board, but really think about this. Put yourself in the situation. Imagine I didn’t set the stage, and it’s real life. I mean, come on, your taste buds are practically jumping out of your mouth right about now. Take it or leave it? That is the question. You need no justification because your roommate already told you to take it…
Although Meyer’s article regarding Milgram’s experiment was not as trivial as the situation described above, it poses an interesting question. These tests made him question even himself. Why are humans obedient to peers, strangers, whomever even when the command does not fall under a normal action for the individual? Is obeying a cruel command a justification of underlying wickedness? Is it done in order to please the “master”? Is it simply blind obedience with no thought? We can speculate what we would do in certain circumstances, but can we trust ourselves? Hmm…?
Since no one else knows your thoughts, let’s be real right now. Say you and the roomy went to the basement of your dorm to do laundry, and your roommate saw a dollar on the floor under an ironing board. He/she tells you to grab it real quick so you both can buy yourselves a reward for being cleanly. You know that’s not your dollar, but you start thinking of the Skittles in the vending machine upstairs, and your mouth starts watering—you know the kind that hurts because you can almost taste the colors of the rainbow?—and you really, really want that dollar which has never been in your possession. Then you’re thinking what to do…and, shoot, the Honor Code song from orientation just popped into your head. But dang, your salivary glands are going crazy! So what do you do? Your roommate tells you to make like James Bond and stealthily somersault to the desired specimen. (If you’re having a hard time imagining this, watch Casino Royale, take a little stroll down to the laundry room, and look for a dollar.)
So again, my friends, I ask you, what would you do? Obey the command of the “master” or follow the promptings of the Honor Code song? Of course, we all naturally say the “right” answer which is to leave the dollar under the ironing board, but really think about this. Put yourself in the situation. Imagine I didn’t set the stage, and it’s real life. I mean, come on, your taste buds are practically jumping out of your mouth right about now. Take it or leave it? That is the question. You need no justification because your roommate already told you to take it…
Although Meyer’s article regarding Milgram’s experiment was not as trivial as the situation described above, it poses an interesting question. These tests made him question even himself. Why are humans obedient to peers, strangers, whomever even when the command does not fall under a normal action for the individual? Is obeying a cruel command a justification of underlying wickedness? Is it done in order to please the “master”? Is it simply blind obedience with no thought? We can speculate what we would do in certain circumstances, but can we trust ourselves? Hmm…?
Sadie's response to "A World Not Neatly Divided" (read articles before posts)
Yes. I am a Mormon.
But that’s not what people hear when I reveal my religion. They hear words like “polygamist,” “cult,” and even “this-girl-has-horns-on-her-head-hidden-beneath-her-hair.”
Growing up in South Carolina, a primarily Baptist community, I heard all kinds of interesting outlooks that surprised me. But the one fact that never escaped me was that, upon introduction, I was immediately judged and catagorized by my religion.
I am not only Mormon.
I am also a female. I am a writer, capturing the world on paper and displaying it through my own choice of words. I am an artist, displaying the inner caverns of my mind for all to see. I am American, and under our red, white, and blue flag I stand proudly. I am Sadie, with many facets of my identity that are all a part of “Sadie,” not just my religion.
Although this is an example on an individual level, this happens around the world to entire civilizations. It is unfair, and Amartya Sen agrees, to rob people of their plural identities and define them by religion alone. “The Islamic World” is a term that brushes away any individuality of the people, squeezing them under one catagory that dismisses any true understanding of those people.
Trying to fit anyone under just one label is a practice that will eventually dehumanize our world.
We are not just Christians or Americans or males.
We are people.
But that’s not what people hear when I reveal my religion. They hear words like “polygamist,” “cult,” and even “this-girl-has-horns-on-her-head-hidden-beneath-her-hair.”
Growing up in South Carolina, a primarily Baptist community, I heard all kinds of interesting outlooks that surprised me. But the one fact that never escaped me was that, upon introduction, I was immediately judged and catagorized by my religion.
I am not only Mormon.
I am also a female. I am a writer, capturing the world on paper and displaying it through my own choice of words. I am an artist, displaying the inner caverns of my mind for all to see. I am American, and under our red, white, and blue flag I stand proudly. I am Sadie, with many facets of my identity that are all a part of “Sadie,” not just my religion.
Although this is an example on an individual level, this happens around the world to entire civilizations. It is unfair, and Amartya Sen agrees, to rob people of their plural identities and define them by religion alone. “The Islamic World” is a term that brushes away any individuality of the people, squeezing them under one catagory that dismisses any true understanding of those people.
Trying to fit anyone under just one label is a practice that will eventually dehumanize our world.
We are not just Christians or Americans or males.
We are people.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Professor SWILUA's Response to Anne Lamott's "Short Assignments."
So, it’s Friday night and my house is a mess. And when I say mess, I mean apocalyptic. (There’s a reason we call our kids F-4 and F-5.)
There’s a baby bottle of was-milk-now-cheese under the couch, a shredded pile of what I think was a book, ground toothpaste in the carpet, a few (used?) pull-ups, wrappers from... something, some dirty laundry, a few DVD cases without DVDs, a couple of unopened cartons of yogurt, broken toys (quantity: 47), and oh my lanta I could go on.
I call the kids to me.
“Sam,” I say. “Lily. Look. What do you see.”
Sam (F-4): “It’s a mess.”
Lily (F-5): “A really BIG mess.”
Me: “And this is just the living room.”
Moment of silence.
Then, an epiphany. Well, more of just a remembering followed by a maternal sigh.
“We’re going to have to do this bird by bird,” I say.
Sam: “There’s a dead bird, too?!”
Me: “Maybe. That’s not the point.”
Lily: “You KILLED A BIRD?”
Me: “No. Close your eyes.”
Sam: "Can we get a bird?"
Me: "No. Close your eyes."
Sam: “Why?”
Me: “Just do it.”
Lily: “I don’t want to close my eyes.”
“Obey me the first time I tell you to do something.” (Too bad it’s already like the fourth, right?)
F-4 and F-5 close their eyes.
“Now,” I say. “Point.”
They point. (Miracles happen.)
“Okay. Open your eyes. What are you pointing to?”
Sam: “I’m pointing to a wad of gum.”
Lily: “I’m pointing to a ninja tutu.”
Me: “Okay. Don’t think about this whole big mess. Don’t think about how it’s so overwhelming. Just pick up that one thing.”
They stare at me.
“Sam, if you don’t hurry, Lily’s going to beat you.”
They scramble. Fast. (There might be some fingernails driven into kidneys.)(My kidneys, of course. Never mind the laws of physics, the one who gets hurt is always me.)
321 birds later, I get out my Roomba and I watch him circle.
Annie Lamott may have some seriously non-Honor-Code approved blonde dreadlocks, but she also has some serious sense.
We could have sat in my apocalyptic living room for days, staring at the massive mounds of crap everywhere, but then it would be days later and I’d—-let’s be honest, the kids would have ditched me by then—-still be sitting there all panicked and freaked out about the fact that my.life.has.come.to.this.
The problem with big projects is that they’re always so... BIG. They make the panic part of our brain go into overdrive and we get so freaked out that we just end up finding excuses to procrastinate. Which only makes the project BIGGER.
Save yourself a headache: go bird by bird.
(Not dead birds.)
(Gross.)
There’s a baby bottle of was-milk-now-cheese under the couch, a shredded pile of what I think was a book, ground toothpaste in the carpet, a few (used?) pull-ups, wrappers from... something, some dirty laundry, a few DVD cases without DVDs, a couple of unopened cartons of yogurt, broken toys (quantity: 47), and oh my lanta I could go on.
I call the kids to me.
“Sam,” I say. “Lily. Look. What do you see.”
Sam (F-4): “It’s a mess.”
Lily (F-5): “A really BIG mess.”
Me: “And this is just the living room.”
Moment of silence.
Then, an epiphany. Well, more of just a remembering followed by a maternal sigh.
“We’re going to have to do this bird by bird,” I say.
Sam: “There’s a dead bird, too?!”
Me: “Maybe. That’s not the point.”
Lily: “You KILLED A BIRD?”
Me: “No. Close your eyes.”
Sam: "Can we get a bird?"
Me: "No. Close your eyes."
Sam: “Why?”
Me: “Just do it.”
Lily: “I don’t want to close my eyes.”
“Obey me the first time I tell you to do something.” (Too bad it’s already like the fourth, right?)
F-4 and F-5 close their eyes.
“Now,” I say. “Point.”
They point. (Miracles happen.)
“Okay. Open your eyes. What are you pointing to?”
Sam: “I’m pointing to a wad of gum.”
Lily: “I’m pointing to a ninja tutu.”
Me: “Okay. Don’t think about this whole big mess. Don’t think about how it’s so overwhelming. Just pick up that one thing.”
They stare at me.
“Sam, if you don’t hurry, Lily’s going to beat you.”
They scramble. Fast. (There might be some fingernails driven into kidneys.)(My kidneys, of course. Never mind the laws of physics, the one who gets hurt is always me.)
321 birds later, I get out my Roomba and I watch him circle.
Annie Lamott may have some seriously non-Honor-Code approved blonde dreadlocks, but she also has some serious sense.
We could have sat in my apocalyptic living room for days, staring at the massive mounds of crap everywhere, but then it would be days later and I’d—-let’s be honest, the kids would have ditched me by then—-still be sitting there all panicked and freaked out about the fact that my.life.has.come.to.this.
The problem with big projects is that they’re always so... BIG. They make the panic part of our brain go into overdrive and we get so freaked out that we just end up finding excuses to procrastinate. Which only makes the project BIGGER.
Save yourself a headache: go bird by bird.
(Not dead birds.)
(Gross.)
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