Within two years

Two years ago today my stresses were completely different from what they are today. I didn't worry about how I was doing in school, or what classes I would be taking next semester. I didn't even know where I was going to school. I didn't think about who I was dating, who I would marry, or when I would marry. I had no thoughts about an income earning job, few thoughts on my career and hardly any thoughts about pop culture and society. Two years ago today my concerns included who were we teaching, what would I study in the morning, who could we invite to church, if we would find new people to teach. My concerns aren't the only thing that was different about that time. Two years ago today my life was filled with God's spirit. I had hardships, but I could face them. Although I have seasonal depression and lived in a country with three hours of daylight max in the winter, I could handle it. I served others all day, which made me happy. I talked and laughed with my fellow missionaries about all the little things we did. I was a happy individual. But then I came home, and somewhere in that transition I lost my ability to cope with the hardships. I easily slipped out of habits formed on my mission such as reading my scriptures daily and even praying. Life was 'back to normal' I thought. 

But it wasn't. Once you know the feeling of happiness, you can't pretend that you don't know what it is. Once you know that a lemon is sour, you can't pretend that it is sweet. As I went about my 'back to normal' life, I felt unsatisfied. There was simply something missing, and I couldn't explain what it was. Even though Provo offers hours more sunlight than Reykjavík ever will, my seasonal depression took vengeance on me. I felt like I would hit brick walls in my study and in my life in general. And for some reason, I just couldn't figure out what it was that I was missing. Even after two years of having joy with me almost all the time, I couldn't remember what it was that had given me that joy. 

This semester I was offered a job as an Icelandic teacher at the Missionary Training Center, or MTC. I have wanted to work at the MTC as a teacher for a while, but since missionaries come very rarely for Icelandic, the opportunities are few and far between. When the job was offered, I applied and was accepted. For the past week I have been meeting with the missionaries as someone who did not know anything about the Mormon church. It was a blast for me to experience what it is like to be taught by our missionaries. It was also a great time for me to feel God's spirit.

Today I went in, as myself, to teach. The missionaries now know me as 'Steini', the Icelander who wanted to learn more about the church, but today they met Brother Schofield, their teacher. It was such a great experience! We went over some language skills and we talked about stress and missionary work. But there was one thing that I noticed today that is helping me to remember what Öldungur Schofield had that I have been putting to the side. God's spirit is so prevalent in that classroom. These elders, only 18-year-olds, talk about how they can help each other when stressed. They talk about the ability that we have to communicate with God through prayer and the strength we can receive as we pray. They have helped me remember what was so unique about my two-year experience in Iceland. I was never alone there, and I don't mean that I was always with another missionary. I always had God's spirit with me. I had someone there to strengthen me and to guide me. 

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto you souls.

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

                                                                                            -Matthew 11:28-30

As I spent my two years serving others, I was given rest unto my soul. I was given the chance to see how I could find peace in a life that will never stop moving and changing. I was given a chance to see how I could have God's spirit to guide me, to strengthen me, and to be with me. After coming home I put this knowledge to the side, but after this week? I see what it is that I have lost, and what I need to do to find it again. And I will find it again, because I could use that spirit in my life again. 

Temples to dot my life!

It all started a long time ago, when I was just a child and my parents worried about how to raise there kids in a good way. Coming from an LDS family (commonly known as Mormon) my parents made a decision. Just like King Mosiah, a prophet in the Book of Mormon, they asked us to turn ourselves towards the temple. Temples are places of learning, where we can go to our Heavenly Father and ask for his help with our problems or just go to feel His spirit. They're incredibly beautiful and full of inspiration. So, what better option for my parents than to point their children to the temple? 

Jordan River Temple

South Jordan, Utah

As a child, my parents gave each of us pictures of a temple. They decorated our rooms for many years, but were eventually lost or just set aside. But that didn't stop us. By this point we were old enough to enter the temple and do baptisms for our ancestors. Our parents obviously stressed that, in line with them pointing us to the temples. I can remember days where my father would take off work just so he could drive the youth of our congregation down to Oklahoma City to attend the temple. When we went on road trips we would make a point to stop at temples if they were nearby, including Denver, CO; Nauvoo, IL; Reno, NV; St. Louis, MO; and Albuquerque, NM. This brought about a new game in the family: the temple game. Game rules are super simple, whoever has attended and done work in the most temples is in first place and it goes down from there. Dad will probably be in the lead for many many years to come. He has those extra years, ya know. Meanwhile, us kids are battling it out for a second to Dad. 

This was my motivation for a while to go to new temples. It certainly made it a thrill when I had the opportunity to go through the temple in Copenhagen, Denmark.  But I was still a ways behind. When I came out to Utah for school my dad made it a point to go to some of the temples out here to "up my list" so to say. The void quickly set in. If that was my only reason for going, then why was I going? Was there any point really? No, to be honest it sucked out all the joys of the temple. 

But don't give up hope there, I had already begun to think differently about attending temples. While on my mission I met a man who had lived in America and I think was in the military as well. He had a giant map in his garage with push pins in every city he had been to; and let me tell you, his map was packed!! Around that time I began to think of all the temples that "dot the Earth". What if my new challenge was not to go to more temples than my brothers and sisters, but instead just to attend the many various temples? What if I had a giant map, and on it I had a picture of every temple that I had attended? I latched onto this idea, and after that day I have pushed myself to attend different temples just as a personal goal. Something just for me. 

This year I have set the goal to attend all of the temples in Utah. As of today, when I attended Jordan River, I am officially half way to that goal. My lifetime goal is quite a bit bigger. I have a goal to attend every LDS temple. I know, it sounds absurd and it's a massive goal being as there are dozens of temples outside of America and more being built all the time. But it's what I want, I want the temple to dot my life!

Changing the World

Another day, another rant from me. Again, this one involves being an art major and questions raised by this. Now for the context: English, Writing about the Arts and Humanities. We began discussing our research papers today and we were asked why we do research? Is it really necessary? In case you're wondering, this is not the question I seek to answer. I think we can all agree that there are good points to doing research and we will all do some research at some point in our lives. But the answer we had in class was that it was necessary because we all have an obligation to better the world. Now, I could go off on obligation for hours because I'm not a fan of the view we took on that in class. But, what is it that we do that betters the world? Is it research? Is research the only way? No, obviously not. But the way our discussion went seemed to point more that way and towards majors that use research way more than an art major. And here I begin. 

So, take a seat in my shoes. You're an art major. You want nothing more than to have gallery shows, for people to applaud your name because your name stands behind art that inspires and uplifts. You don't want an office job, you want a studio. You want paint to riddle your clothes; you want ideas to fill every inch of paper you own. But you don't want research. The very thought is repulsive and you cast it as far away from you as possible. If you can call studying art research, than that is the research you will do. The only things you truly enjoy studying are colors and patterns. Now, ask yourself. What do you do that improves the world for good?

What did you come up with? Anything? You didn't find a cure to cancer. You're not a CEO of a company, and you certainly didn't found a company. You don't run a city. In the eyes of too many, you've done nothing. 

But if you're like me, you came up with a whole list of things that you did that were good for the world. You captured a moment of peace in the mountains, just as the sun was setting and the world was slowly covered in a haze of cool colors. Maybe you're a photographer and you've created a memory that won't fade over time, one that carries on past the lives of those involved. Graphic Design? You're the reason people associate certain colors and shapes with the business you worked for. Sculpture? You decorate the houses of thousands. No matter which art form you used, you made a lasting difference on someone's life. On some of my hardest days I am lifted out of the darkness after seeing a piece of art that is truly inspirational. 

So, did you do something to affect the world for the better? Yeah, you did. And what you did inspired someone, changed them for the better. Changing the world isn't something that can only be achieved through the sciences or business. Changing the world is about you being you and doing what you love. The things you do will have an effect, they will change others. And maybe that is done through the sciences. Awesome! You've done what I couldn't. But let me return the favor by doing what you can't, and let me live my dream in the art world. We can both change the world, but we have to do it our own way. Be you, and love you. Enough of the comparisons. I'm truly sick of hearing about all the great things I could be doing if I was doing something else. Trust me, I've thought about all of those options. What I want to do is be an artist, and that's the road I travel. 

Stereotype Smasher!

   I've always hated stereotypes. They seem to dominate our culture though, looming over each individual reminding us of the "flaws" and "imperfections" we have. However, those "flaws" and "imperfections" are not necessarily actual flaws, just ways that we differentiate from others. As I stated, I have always hated stereotypes. Why, you ask? Well, I am not a stereotype. I don't live up to any of them. Ready for me to show you? First things first, I'm male. However, I don't really like sports but I do love shopping. I have no desire to be an engineer or a doctor, no, I want to be an artist. I have a higher pitched voice and I scream like a girl, seriously. I talk a lot. I like things to be super organized. I actually do enjoy cleaning. I love to cook, and not on a grill, just your every day kitchen cooking. Baking? Heck yes!! So, as you can see, I'm not the stereotypical guy. And I learned that quick because everyone in middle school and high school felt the need to point it out. And it led to me literally hating myself. I hated to hear my voice. I hated to see myself in the mirror. I'm not the guy every said I should be, and so I hated myself. But why?

   Luckily for me, I had a truly great group of friends and I have an outstanding family. My friends kept the stereotypical comments to a low, although occasionally even they would throw out a reminder of the things I hated. My family has been the same way, but they are much better at keeping my mind off of the stereotypes. My mom has been one of the biggest helps for me. I've talked to her for hours about the things that I hate. She always knows what to say and how to help. I guess it helped that she had been through some similar experiences when she was younger. Over time my friends and family helped me to learn that it was okay to be me. It didn't matter that I wasn't the stereotype, it was okay for me to be my unique self. It's been a rough road, and I'm still traveling that road. There are still days when I hate myself, but they are growing fewer and less common. But this isn't about me, this is about the stereotypes of society.

   So, where does that tie in? Well, I'm a major music junkie. Major. I will listen to just about anything and then instantly love it. And recently I've noticed a change in our music. We're now just singing about how much we love sex and partying anymore. And we're also getting over the sappy or depressing love stories. No, we're moving into something new, and it's something that I believe is breaking the walls of our stereotypes. Two songs in particular have really hit me recently. One is by Meghan Trainor (that's right, All About that Bass) and the other is by Taylor Swift (Shake it Off). Both songs have been simultaneously loved and hated by the general population. The people who love these songs hear the message that I hear. The haters? Well, as Taylor tells us, "haters gonna hate". The message that I get from both of these songs is to just be you, and forget about the stereotypes! Meghan specifically focuses on the weight of women, saying that it's okay to not be a "stick-figure, silicone barbie-doll". Taylor just encourages people to "shake it off", referring to the judgments of other people.

   As one who has struggled with self-esteem because of the taunts of the stereotypes we project, I can't help but love these songs. They move mountains in my mind. It's fine to be you! It's okay to be the stereotype-smashing kid who doesn't want to live in the shackles we've created. Just be you, and rock it! A coworker asked me last night if every one in my family was as 'odd' (she couldn't think of a better word at the time) as I am. I laughed a little and said "Nope, not really. I'm the clown of my family." And that's the truth. I am an individual. I'm not just like everyone else in my family, and I certainly do think of myself as quite unique in that setting. My name is James. I love to joke around, even with the most serious of topics. I love art. I love music. And I'm not a stereotypical person. No, I'm a stereotype smasher. They can't exist where I am, and I love it that way!

The Perks of Being an Art Major

So today was an adventure for me, one that made me question the future I have planned for myself. What was this adventure? Going to Utrecht Art Materials in Salt Lake to buy the materials I need for my Painting class. Have you ever looked at the prices of paints and other art supplies? If not, here's a quick rundown: 

37 ml. oil paint: $11.99 - $42.75

1 gallon of artist grade Gesso: $83.99

Assorted Hog Hair Paint Brushes: $6.80- $21.25

150 ml. oil paint: $42.99

32 oz. Turpenoid: $18.99

and the list could go on forever...

I assume that at this point I'm not the only one who is questioning my major. It's kinda pricey, in fact it's ridiculously pricey! And I completely skipped on buying watercolors today. Even still I spent close to $300 dollars on these supplies. (All the above prices are without the sale, which cut my bill in half!) So why do I stay in such a ridiculous major? There is no guarantee that I will make it big as an artist and most people think that being an art major is like throwing your future at the wall. So why stay? Why push yourself into the darkness, from which you may never emerge into light again? Well, this is the conclusion I came to. 

The reason we art majors are art majors is because we share a similar dream. What is that dream? That someday one of our very own pieces will hang in your home, in your office, on your lawn, in a renowned gallery. Maybe it's a far-stretched dream, but it is our dream. We share a love to create, a desire to express the inner being on an outer surface. Whether we work in clay or paint or chalk, we all want to be known as someone who creates beauty and inspires others to look at the world in a new light. 

Now let's think of some other majors. Finance, Economics, Biology, Chemistry, Nursing, again the list goes on forever. However, when a finance major finishes some big financial record, it's not something you want to hang on your wall as a memorandum of what they accomplished. When you have a new biological find you'll get praise and maybe you'll be in the books, but your find won't be found on the walls of the average citizen's home. As a nurse? Thanks for saving lives, but I'm not going to record your name all over my office because you helped my child when he was sick. 

But then there are the art majors. They've created a painting, maybe it's an abstract rendition of the community you grew up in or maybe it's a detailed painting of the scenic prairie. Where does that painting end up? In your home, in your office, but perhaps most importantly it engraves itself on your heart and in your mind. It becomes a symbol of you, although expressed by someone else. It comes to represent some part of your inner being, and is cherished by many for years to come. So when I'm not 'rolling in the dough' and I'm not 'making bank', that's okay. The perks of being an art major is that we are willing to drop our wallets on the counter and spend a fortune on supplies, all for the legacy we will leave for the future generations. The legacy that hangs in the home, in the office, in the heart. The legacy that is the perk of being an art major. 

My take on Success

Today I began my third semester here at BYU. This semester begins the series of semesters that will be filled with classes for my major, the classes I should enjoy the most. I began today with a technically-art-geared class that has more of a business ring to it. The class is called Creative and Critical Thinking and the focus of the class is to 'open our eyes' to the endless possibilities that lie ahead of us and to see the things we can do as an art major besides living in a cardboard box at the end of a dark alley. It was an awesome first day, but our teacher brought up an interesting question that gained a lot of diverse answers. What does success mean to you? (By this he meant when we will feel successful). As he read the responses of our class, I was truly shocked at how many people had written something about being famous or rich or having galleries all over the world. Is that what success means to you? Can you truly not be happy with yourself until you reach that goal? Because that is a lofty goal that, to be honest, may never be reached by most of us. Does that truly make us unsuccessful?

Let me tell you what my response was, or at least something like it. "Success for me is knowing that I am pleased with what I have done. There will always be someone who doesn't like your work, but if you like it then what else really matters?" You may now be thinking "Wow, James. That's good to say and all, but do you really believe it?" The answer to that is a simple yes. Now let me tell you why. 

I've loved art for a long time and as we all know good and well, art is subjective. Art isn't like math where there truly is only one right answer to an equation. It's not like science where you work to make one result. It's more like reading a book or watching a movie. While I love horror films, many people don't. While lots of people in the Mid-West like country music, I tend to despise the very name of country music. It's the same way with art. Not everyone loves surrealism or abstract. And when you are the creator of the work, you have to be tough in order to think about what people say, but also stand behind the work you have done. A weak artist simply cannot be pleased with what they do because there will always be someone who doesn't like it. For example: 

This is one of my favorite pieces that I have ever done. However, last year when I was displaying some art to my church ward, one of my best friends informed me that it was her least favorite and she didn't actually like it. At first I was a little hurt, but I still loved the piece. I knew the time and effort that I had put into this piece and I wasn't going to let one person's different opinion change how I felt about my work. In all the art classes I have taken thus far, we have had in-class critiques. There again you will listen to some people say they like the piece, others think you could add a little here of there, and then there will be those who honestly just hate your work. And that's okay! Because in the end, who are you trying to please? Who are you trying to voice through your work? If you've answered anyone other than yourself, I personally think you're missing the point. Art is about you expressing yourself. It's about your feelings, your desires, your personality. It's about the way you see the world. And so when you are pleased with your work, don't let others break you down by saying they don't like it. Let them have their opinions, and stand by your own. You and only you can create your work. 

In a later class (Art History actually), we discussed what art is and the professor displayed some quotes about art. I wanted to share a few of the ones that I loved, so here they are.

"Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known."

Oscar Wilde

"Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time."

Thomas Merton

"All art is autobiographical; the pearl is the oyster's autobiography."

Frederico Fellini

And here I add my take on success and art: If you are pleased with what you've done, then what else truly matters?

Being in the Balcony

For the longest time I have had an awful problem with my self-esteem. I've never really felt like there was anything really special about me. However, I also feel like there is a purpose for everything that happens in life. I don't think God sent us here for no reason, and I do believe that God puts people in our life for a reason. So, your probably wondering now how or why these two things are coming up together and at this time. You'll have to read to the end to get that answer. 

So, I'm going to start with my low self-esteem. I don't really know what started it, but it probably had to do with the fact that I was pretty thoroughly bullied growing up. It wasn't like I was pushed into lockers or anything, but I know what people said about me in school, and it wasn't the greatest. And I was never the cool kid or the one with lots of friends, just me and my close friends and then everyone else with the rumors. Another factor was probably my seasonal depression that I didn't really know much about. I just lived with the fact that one day I was fine and the next day there was a storm of emotions in me that I didn't understand. So this is where I choose to start this story. 

It then takes a turn to a time of my life that was very hard. I had to decide whether I was going to go on a mission and continue my church life, or fall to the unknown future and let whatever came come. Around that time my parents encouraged me to get my patriarchal blessing. For those who don't know what that is, it is a blessing that tells you some of your gifts from God. A patriarchal blessing can include encouragement, warnings, and many other insights to life. I followed my parents encouragement and received my patriarchal blessing, but then spent many months (sometimes ongoing months) confused at what I was supposed to learn from it. I read it again last night and looked over it this morning and I think finally something has come out of it.  In my blessing there is a lot of talk about the influence I can have on other people. I've always read this as something for me to think about, you know, asking myself how I am affecting others. However, this never helped me to change the look I have about myself. And that is what the true story is here. God sending people into my path to remind me that I'm not just the person in the rumors. I have a purpose, and I do influence others for the better. 

So, now you're wondering what happened. Well, this past week one of my last mission companions came home. I went to a homecoming party for him and his sister, who also came home from a mission last week. Well, at this party we were talking with some of the other guests, and someone mentioned that this companion had some really good influences over the course of his mission. A few people looked to me. I had been this companions trainer. I was the first missionary he worked with while in Iceland, and from what I was told yesterday, I had a lasting impact on how he served his mission. I think back to my days in Iceland and I feel like nothing really special happened while we served together. I helped him get on his feet and get going, but besides that we just became good friends. However, I was told multiple times yesterday that he thinks highly of me as a missionary and as a friend. This was the final straw that helped me see what God has been trying to tell me for a while. I had a friend a while back ask me to be his best man at his wedding, and then when they got married earlier than expected I was one of the few people invited to that wedding. I have another friend who told me that I was, and still am, one of his best friends and one of a few people that he feels he can trust with anything. I've had many friends over the years who have trusted me with some of their biggest struggles. And I've always been there for them, but never looked at what I was doing or thought of why they came to me. And this weekend it hit me. We heard a talk in church about the influence that we can have on others. It was at that moment that I chose to express this saga of my life. It's kinda funny that it took this long to realize this. 

So to conclude my story, this week I tackled a question I have been fighting for a long time. What is so special about me? And I've realized that there is something special about me. God does have a purpose for me. I have a strong influence on others. But just like people say: You may never know the impact that you will have on other people. And so today I'd like to remind everyone that you do have an impact on others. And maybe it's not expressed right away, or maybe it never is expressed, but the influence has been felt by someone. And that someone will forever hold their memory of you in a special place. An art teacher encouraged me to "work for the balcony people. The people who come to the show because they love you, not just the show." Everyone has their balcony people, and I am beginning to realize that I have taken a seat in some of those balconies. So when life gets you down, remember that there is a seat saved just for you in someone's balcony. Live to be that balcony person. 

Where I want to be...

     I have a dream. My dream is much different from the one Martin Luther King Jr. coined this phrase from though. My dream is that one day I will get over whatever it is that causes me to concave into a depressive stage of life. I don't know what the kicker is; stress, lack of sleep, being inside to much ...whatever it is I want it out! I really hate this feeling of outright hating myself for what seems to be no reason. I don't know what threw me off today, but something sure did. And I want today to be the last day that this happens to me. People generally see me as a happy person, content with life and carefree. But what people don't see is my pain. It comes and goes. Sometimes I just can't stand myself. I can't stand the idea of who I am and where I want to go. Maybe it's what everyone says to me about how I act and what I want to do. The way people cast their judgement down on me. I don't know, but every now and then something hits me like a ton of bricks and I go down. And I mean down, real low. I start to reap up all the different things I've done wrong, the things I'm not proud of. Along with that comes up all the things that have hurt me over the years. I've got quite a list there, believe me! And like fiery darts they stab into me and tear me apart. My dream is that one day I won't see those darts coming toward me. Instead I can live the happy-go-lucky life that every sees in me. One day I'll reach my dreams and won't be stuck in this limbo of good days and bad days. That is where I want to be. 

One Day at a Time

This morning I taught myself a valuable lesson. One I'm sure I've learned before, set on a shelf in my mind and let slowly disappear until I have completely forgotten it. The lesson I retaught myself is to take life one day at a time.
I have a tendency to try to take on fifty things at once, and then when things aren't falling into place perfectly I wonder why my life is such a mess. The obvious answer? Probably because you are not allowing yourself to focus on any one thing. By now you're probably wondering what it is that had my mind circling. Schedules. I love to feel like I know what is going on and when. I still love the spontaneity of the moment, but I want to know that spontaneity is possible, requiring me to know when my free time is. So when BYU put up the schedules for fall semester classes, I jumped on it to figure out my schedule. However, I've been trying to decide what I really want to do with my life, where I want to go and what I want to study. You can only imagine what that did to my head as I pretended to know what I wanted to take in terms of classes.
But instead of taking a moment to thing through one thing at a time, I jumped on all of my thoughts and sent my mind on a wild goose chase. My mind on a wild goose chase is potentially the worst thing that can happen. I completely shut down and begin to hate everything. I couldn't think straight, and it looked like my schedule would just be a big mess, making me even angrier. My job has specific hours, and my schedule would be running over all of them. So, I left it alone and told myself to not even think about it until later. I still sat in my room completely shut down from this experience. (Lame, I know).
Last night I talked to my mom about my lack of plan and she gave me some advice as to what she thought would be best. I then talked to a friend about what religion class we were going to take, and after that I felt like I had a plan. I knew at least one thing, and I could plan the rest of my schedule from that one point. So, I left it until morning and then got to work.
This morning was marvelous in comparison to last night's train wreck. I looked at my schedule and chose when I wanted time open and when I willing to have classes. Literally it all fell into place. And that was when I realized that all I needed to do was step back a little, and let my mind go just one step at a time. I know I've learned this a million times before, but it always surprises me how quickly I forget what I've learned. So with it fresh in my mind, I'll try to remember this lesson. One moment at a time, one step at a time, one day at a time.

Chasing My Dreams

So, I really don't like to complain, but I'm really good at it. Maybe a little too good at it. So, in case you're wondering, this post is me complaining. I think it's a good rant though, and I think everyone should learn from the things that I've written.

So, this story goes back a long way actually. Back to my younger years, when nobody really knew what they wanted to do yet everyone had a dream. At that time nobody said engineering or teaching, people wanted to be acrobats, clowns, and comedians. Well, in those days I too had a simple dream. Art. I loved it, and I wanted it so bad. My older sister also did a lot with art, so I imagined myself being good like her and being in all the great art classes, respected by everyone else. I held onto my art dream for a while, but when "career finding" in middle school, being anything in regards to art is not an option. Be a doctor! Be a teacher! Just don't throw your life away into art.

Unfortunately this impacted me. So through high school I walked the academic road. I was going for scholarships and finding what I was good at. Well, I found what I was good at: not studying, not wanting to learn any of these academic things, and wanting to go back to my simple dream. I listened as friends began to say what they wanted in their lives, and so I had to settle on something too. It was rough for me, I didn't want any of the things they wanted, or even what others said I would be good at. But after having a great history teacher, I decided I would try that. And so I went to college as a history major. In case you're wondering, that generally is considered just the same as saying you're undecided.

But there was one thing I did in high school to regain my desires. Senior year I took a photography class, an upper level art class, and reignited my love of art. So, I went to college as a history major, but enrolled in a drawing class. My confined love for art was sent flying! I couldn't bring it back anymore so I changed majors. I was going to be an art major. I talked with my drawing professor about career ideas. With a Masters in art I can teach anywhere I want, literally. If I add some psychology I can be an art therapist. I could go the route of graphic design. In the end what came out of this was that being an art major is not the equivalent of throwing your life into a garbage can.

So now is where the rant enters. We'll begin on the positive side of it. I have great parents, and they said "James, if you want to be an art major, be the best art major there is" (or something along those lines). What I didn't know at the time is that I had relatives telling my parents that I was throwing my life away. I had members of my church ward telling them and me that I need to find something else. Since I basically aced the ACT math and science sections, a lot of the suggestions where in the math/science fields. That is beyond not where I wanted to go! I started to look into art therapy. It's a mix of two great things: art and psychology. I was content, and that is what mattered to me.

On my mission there wasn't too much talk of college and majors, so I was relieved for a time from this anchor people tried to drown me with. But then upon my return and my entrance to BYU it all came back, and with a vengeance. The first question people have for me is "What are you going to do with that?" Better yet is when people tell me that I need to think about how I'm going to support a family with this degree. And here's a real kicker, I displayed some of my art for a ward activity once and talked about my art and my love of art. Afterward, while most of the college kids were admiring my work and saying how good it was I had a ward leader come up and tell me "This is all great, but you should find something that can support a family." Wow. Thanks for the encouragement. But really, that is a typical response when you announce that you are an art major. I'm tempted to tell people that my plan is to just be a hobo. Sounds totally fun, right?

So, now for what really blew my top yesterday. I went with the BYU Scandinavian Club cross country skiing yesterday evening. I got a ride up to Aspen Grove with a friend of mine and two of his friends. Of course his friends asked some info about me and when I mentioned being an art major they sounded really excited, saying that it was cool and continued asking questions. Then came their kicker. "So, I don't want to sound rude or anything, but what do your parents think of that?" ...ummm... How does one even respond to that? I think I handled it pretty well but really? Oh, my parents totally disowned me because I have a dream that I'm following, how bout you? Chemistry major? I bet your parents hate you too. Really? Who asks that kind of question?! The audacity in asking me about what my parents thought of my major honestly shocked me. That is one blow I have not received yet. So, now I'm here ranting to all of you about the things that knock me off my rocker.

So, yes, I am a Studio Arts major. No, I don't plan on changing my major. Yes, I have thought about my future and what I need to do in order to support a family. No, my parents don't hate my decision and everything about what I'm doing. Yes, I do love what I'm doing and plan on catching the dream I had as a young child. Some people throw dreams by the wayside, but I just can't let go. So, the next time you see me or any other art major, instead of throwing out demeaning comments about how dumb we are or how we have no future, maybe you should congratulate us on chasing our dreams. After all, I don't trash talk your major and question your future. Let's not kill off all the dreamers left in the world.

You Never Know

  It's been a long time since I've talked to most of my high school and pre-mission friends. It's not that I don't want to talk to them, but after graduation we all went our separate ways, and then about two years later I left for another country where I lived for two more years. It seems to me that during that time my existence faded away into the dark corners of memory for them. I never expected that to happen. Best friends are always there for you, right? Yet somehow upon arriving home from Iceland I was in the predicament that my friends had all moved on. Being home was one of the hardest things for me, I wanted to go back to Iceland where I knew people and where I had friends. It didn't help that I had people from Iceland tell me how much they missed me and wanted to see me again. Summer was an awkward reconstruction of myself and my friend circle. It involved making new friends, and desperately trying to get back in touch with the old ones. Yet they didn't come.
  Then, once again, I left my native Kansas and headed out to Utah, where I am attending BYU. Once again I had to rebuild a friend group and try to find where I belonged. I think I could honestly count on my two hands all the people I knew at BYU. To make things worse, I have a lot of family out here, and no disrepect to you all, but I don't know them that well. Kansas is kinda far away, and to be honest I had shut the door on family before my mission. I was convinced that I was set out there in Kansas. But now the tables turned.
  However, making new friends out here in Utah proved much easier than I had thought. I quickly got to know some of my neighbors in Wyview and met up with mission buds. Work proved to be a source of great friends too. But deep down I still yearned for the friendships I had had before my mission. I just wanted to talk, just once, maybe twice. And I've waited patiently for that day to come.
  One of the first was my friend Patrick. I had meant to meet up with him this summer, but I allowed myself to get "too busy" and put it off. It had been a while since we had talked, and things had changed in my two years abroad. But nonetheless he was willing to reach out to talk to me, and we've enjoyed some small talk over the past few months. But what really got me was when we were talking about him and his girlfriend, now fiance. He told me at that time that he wanted me to be his best man at his wedding. I was taken aback. After two or three years our friendship was still just as strong, even though we still haven't seen each other in ages! It meant so much to me when he told me that this is what he had always wanted. I don't know if Patrick realizes how much this means to me. Some things you just never know.
  But the story doesn't end there. Just the other day while chilling on Facebook my friend Matt started chatting with me. It has literally been ages since I have talked with Matt. But when he reached out to talk to me I realized something. It may have been two+ years, but I've still got my friends. Matt, you'll never know how much it meant to me to talk to you after the past few years. These two guys were two of my closest friends, and it hurt so bad to be torn apart when I left and then to feel as though we had stayed apart when I returned. But now I see things differently. We're not torn apart, but there is a right time to reconnect. And I have thoroughly enjoyed reconnecting with my good old friends!
  One thing that I learned while I was away for two years is that you really don't ever know the impact you can have on someone else's life. I've seen incredible changes in the people I taught on my mission, and also just the people I knew over there. I've also gradually learned about some of the people who I influenced while I was gone, some of them people who my parents talked to about my experiences, times when I reached them only through others. You really never know when something you say will touch the heart of someone else. You never know when you will lift a fallen hand, a troubled soul, an old friend. I'm so thankful for all of you who have sent me messages when I needed them most, and I'm thankful that at times I can do they same. The best part? I'll never know the impact I've had. :)

Be Near Me...

It wasn't too long ago that I was in the same place I am now. Mourning the loss of a family member and wishing I had more time to spend with them. Last time it was my grandfather, and I hadn't even talked to him in a few years and was an ocean away from all of the family. This time it is my cousin, Mark, one of my many cousins who I don't know so well. But this time I'm literally a few blocks away. Same emotions though. An onslaught of questions. Why them? Why now? Why couldn't I have said good-bye? Or I love you, just one more time? These questions fill my mind, and while partially answered they remain partially open, waiting for a more concrete answer to fill the blank pages of my mind. 

The day I heard about my grandpa's death was Christmas Eve. We all knew he wasn't doing well, but I had a vain hope that he would somehow pull out of this health spell and I would be able to see him upon my homecoming from Iceland. Such was not the case. Instead, on Christmas Eve my heart was wrenched from me and I was left feeling confused and lost. Even with all of my family sending e-mails of comfort, and reassuring me that he was in a better place, I just didn't want to accept it. It wasn't his time. Mostly though, it was more that I wasn't ready for that. I wanted more than anything to have had the chance to say good-bye to him. 

Today I received the news that my cousin Mark had passed away. Although I really didn't know Mark, the exact same feelings came over me. Why? I hadn't even been able to get acquainted with him. I had briefly met his family when his daughter was baptized, but beyond that I don't know him or them. Yet there was still a heart wrenching feeling, and I wanted answers to my freshly written onslaught of questions. So, I turned on some hymns, crawled onto my bed to cry and began to search for answers. I don't know why really, but for some reason I wanted to read my patriarchal blessing and my grandfathers. So I pulled them out and cried while I read them. My grandfathers specifically mentioned fulfilling the mission that God had for him on this earth. While I thought on that, some of my question were answered. Mark too was given a mission on earth, and he has completed his mission. While none of us want him to be gone, it was time. We never know when our time will be so we must be ready at anytime. While I sat thinking on this a certain hymn came on that I want to end on. The hymn is "I Need Thee Every Hour", but I'd like to put the lyrics up in Icelandic, and I'll explain why after. 

Ver hjá mér hverja stund, þú hjartkær Drottinn minn. 

þín rödd mér fögnuð fær og friðarboðskapinn.

Ver hjá mér, ó, ver hjá mér; ver hér hverja stund. 

Ó, kærleiksríki Kristur ég kem á þinn fund.

Ver hjá mér hverja stund, með hjálparmáttinn þinn,

þá freisting frá mér snýr, er faðminn þinn ég finn.

Ver hjá mér hverja stund, í hjartans gleði og sorg, 

því annars er mér líf, sem auð og lokuð borg.

Ver hjá mér hverja stund, vor helgur frelsarinn,

þinn alltaf vera vil, ó veit það Drottinn minn. 

The reason I chose to use the Icelandic is for a few differences in the wording. Instead of "I need thee every hour" it says "Be near me every moment". This hymn meant a lot to me during my struggles while on my mission, and it has grown to be one of my favorite hymns, especially if said "be near me". It is times like this that I truly cry out to my Saviour, "be near me". I know that my cousin Mark is now near our Saviour, every hour and every moment. We truly miss you. 

Icelandic "I Need Thee Every Hour" translated:

Be near me every moment, my beloved Saviour.

Your voice gives me joy and a message of peace.

Be near me, o, be near me; be near every moment.

O, loving Christ I come to meet thee. 

Be near me every moment, with your helping power, 

direct me away from temptation, into your embrace.

Be near me every moment, in my hearts joy and sorrow,

otherwise my life is as a desolate and closed city.

Be near me every moment, our holy Saviour, 

I want to be thine, o grant me this my Saviour. 

My light

If you're reading this, there are a few things you should know about me first. Neither of these things are well known because I hardly ever talk about either of them. The first, I have seasonal depression. This makes winters hard on me, especially when the days are short and night creeps up earlier and earlier every day.  The other little known secret about myself is that I really don't have that high of a self-esteem. Little things bother me all the time and I am constantly putting myself down and then picking myself up again. Sometimes when these two collide I don't know what to do with myself. It seems that I cannot find a light in my life. 

So, what does that have to do with this blog? Well, as I stated in my last blog I think New Year's resolutions are a failed attempt at changing oneself. So, I decided to go on a self-discovery journey. My original January thought was to look at what makes me unique and/or special. Well, the past few weeks have been more of a roller coaster of being down on myself than a "self-discovery journey". With that said, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I'm doing. As it says in one of the church building rooms, "Why am I doing this?" Today was one of those downer days. Funny because it was going great until I came home from a friends house, but that was when I took a downward spin. I sat at my desk thinking of the homework I needed to do, the dreaded 9-7 school day, and all sorts of other things. It all began to bog me down and I could feel myself slipping into my up and down depression. At this point I decided it was time to turn for comfort from a dear friend. This part will need some explaining though. 

When I left for my mission in Iceland my sister Jess gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. It meant the world to me when I read the note she had written in the inside cover to me. I decided then that I would only use this copy on the hard days, and always in a certain way. When I read from this copy of the scriptures, I always say a prayer before I read, explaining to my Father in Heaven what it is that is troubling me and asking Him to guide me to a chapter that will help me. I then open the book to a random page and read the chapter that I open to. While this may sound crazy to some of you, it has worked for me every single time. It has softened an angry heart, instructed, and today lifted a downtrodden spirit. 

I read today from Mosiah chapter 2. When I opened to this page I laughed a little to myself. This has been a long time favorite scripture for me, and I was slightly confused as to what I could get from this chapter today. But as I began I saw a pattern. The beginning of the chapter is all about turning ourselves to the temple to hear the words of God. Later it talks about continually serving our God. One of my goals upon arrival in Utah was to attend the temple as often as possible since I was so close. This semester I have set a goal to go twice a week, an unfathomable goal back home, but a goal easily accomplished living so near to the temple. It was comforting to read this and to think of my own goals of drawing nearer to my Saviour. However, then a real kicker came in. I decided to read the note my sister wrote me in the front, and I'd like to share part of it with you. "[God] loves you so much, James, and is aware of you...Beware of self-doubt. Satan will try to convince you that you're not good enough. Don't let him! God has chosen you because He knows the strength within you." As I read those words I though about the situation I was in at the time. Downtrodden, unsure of myself, confused. My family knows me, but more importantly, my God knows me. My Father in Heaven knows me. He knows every time I begin to beat up on myself, and He knows what can help me get through. In Sunday School today we discussed the hard things we go through on this Earth. Why would anyone want to come here and go through all these trials?! Our teachers insight was that for everything we have that is hard or painful, there is an equal, or I'd dare say greater, blessing. Something that can lift the hearts of the downtrodden, to erase the pain of our world. Something that can be a light for all to see. That thing is the gospel. 

Occasionally we all lose of footing. We all go through days when we just don't know how much we can take. We question why we are here, what we are going to do to get through, how we can overcome our personal struggles. But there is an answer. The gospel of Jesus Christ is, as He said, a light upon a hill that cannot be hid. It is where I turn when I critique myself to the point of hating everything. It is where I turn when seasonal depression kicks up. It is where I find my light in life.