My life makes me happy. And I like to document it, so I can reflect on it now and enjoy it later. One of the happy things is this family. They invited me on the family ward camp, and we … Continue reading
Throughout conference, I felt a gentle pull towards being more humble, and because it hasn’t been a smackdown about my pride, I have let myself be more open this week. I have noticed myself being more teachable, and therefore noticing more connections and messages. Something I really want to keep up.
We had a good week, and I was afraid it was an anomaly, and now I can’t tell if that was a self-fulfilling prophesy. (I’m not over it). (But it’s been easier to be patient, lately, and trust that the future holds what is best for me).
I have too many ideas for a Halloween costume, and I don’t love any of them.
Apparently, “cons” is short for “considerations”. That makes sense.
New pyjamas are on the way! After the hole on my derrière grew to a 6-inch diameter, I thought it was probably time to buy a new set. Old Navy came to the rescue with navy pants sporting pink birds, and a pink t-shirt.
“[R]esearch has shown that anxiety disrupts people’s ability to notice the unexpected”
“My research revealed that lucky people generate good fortune via four basic principles. They are skilled at creating and noticing chance opportunities, make lucky decisions by listening to their intuition, create self-fulfilling prophesies via positive expectations, and adopt a resilient attitude that transforms bad luck into good.”
“It’s not just a writing or cinematic platitude. It works great for your real life too.”
“Not long ago I was introduced to an audience as an “intellectual.” This was a well-meaning choice of word, and a flattering one, but it was slightly off. An intellectual is a person who is mainly interested in ideas. I am an aesthete—a person who is mainly interested in beauty.”
“… if you love the world, you will find in art a way of magnifying (in the religious sense of the word) its beauties.”
“[M]aking reality over into art, while it necessarily entails a measure of simplification, also demands that the artist simultaneously acknowledge the proliferating complexity of human nature and experience.”
Speaking to the local community college about their Beginner Watercolours class, and when I was put on hold, they were playing (a completely terrible version of) my favourite Mozart piece, Rondo Alla Turca. A sign? In which case, is the difficulty of processing the payment (which necessitated the hold) a counter-sign? Anyway, I start the class on Friday. Exciting.
Having spiritually demanding conversations makes me feel rejuvenated. It reminds me that it’s okay to have questions without answers, and that wanting greater light and knowledge is righteous (and that desire will ultimately be fulfilled).
I often have referred to myself as an introvert lately, but this feeling that I get, when I know that I am loved – that other people feel their life is blessed because of me – I need to feel that. It makes me happy. When I don’t feel that, a gaping hole opens deep inside me, and sucks all the happiness far away to where I can’t touch it.
I might have a date tomorrow night. I’m not sure how to tell. If you’ve got tips, I’ve got ears for you.
Back to school time is sort of great (miss First Grade really missed spending all day with peers) but the days start so much earlier than summer days.
My new phone will be announced tomorrow! Let’s hope it’s pretty, and within my budget.
Speaking of iPhones: how have I literally never noticed that the clock icon is an actual functioning analogue clock face, right down to the seconds hand?
And, on the subject of time, blackberry season is almost gone. After all the waiting and sour too-early berries, to now see them shrivelling is sad. We scour the bushes for the last few juicy ones, the slow or late bloomers, already missing the blackberries until next year.
All those weeks ago, my second in the US, we jumped into the car and drove (and drove, and drove) to Idaho Falls, as did all of the kids’ cousins on their dad’s side. Their grandma and grandpa were delighted to … Continue reading
The four-year-old asked where Heavenly Mother lives. It makes me sad that this is such an obvious question, but that we don’t really know.
I have a hole in the right bum cheek area of my pyjama pants. How does that even happen?
I was so worried I wouldn’t remember how to make friends, that everybody would have their own established groups, that it was just pure chance I ended up not being a social outcast in London. Of course, everyone has been so welcoming, and I’m already developing little crushes and finding kindred spirits.
Listening to music on the way to and from activities, I realised it’s been a long, long time since I’ve listened to music very much – and even longer since I went looking for new music. Sad songs don’t make my heart hurt like they used to, and I’m simultaneously relieved and disappointed. I guess I’m not over being over it. When I stop being surprised that I’m over it, I guess it’ll be okay. Maybe it’s because it’s my birthday in a few weeks, and I’m waiting to see what happens.
I think I never got around to posting the photos from the road trip. It took so long to upload them all to Facebook, I didn’t even attempt Wordpress.
My favourite dress is beyond repair.
One of the bust seams has come apart, and because I’ve put on weight over the last couple of months with all this stress, I feel guilty. Even though I could do the zip up, I shouldn’t have worn it. And then there’s the whole complicated relationship with my body. It took me a really long time to stop worrying about how my body looked. And when I did, I lost weight. I felt healthy. I felt thin.
I need to put a stop to these feelings before the stress and guilt lead to a downward spiral.
My daily writing practice really helped – I have no experience with meditation, but I can hold a pen to paper, no worries. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s express myself with no filters. So, I do. I write, and write. I usually set a timer (5 minutes at first, then 10, then 20. I’d like to work up to an hour). Sometimes I pick a word limit (three pages, or 750 words). And then I get comfortable, pick up my pen, arrange my journal, and disappear. My thoughts come straight through my pen, and I am a conduit, not really a person. In the most hippy-dippy way possible, I become one with the universe, and attuned to all of creation.
And then I feel better. In losing myself, I become more connected with myself.