My Articles of Faith

*I stole the idea for this from the essayist Brian Doyle, who is one of the most beautiful authors I have read (and I read a lot). The essay I patterned this after is called "I Believe," from Doyle's book Leaping. 

The Mormon prophet Joseph Smith wrote the thirteen Articles of Faith to explain succinctly what his people believed. As a practicing Mormon, I also believe in these Articles of Faith, but as I have grown older I have discovered that there is more to what I believe than just thirteen paragraphs of doctrine.

I believe in families, in the love and warmth that can permeate a home on the coldest of winter nights, in laughter and hugs and unconditional love, on the way a parent’s or sibling’s love can steady uncertainty even when far away.

I believe that no one is perfect, but that we are all still worthy of love, that we have a Heavenly Father and a Savior who love us all perfectly no matter what, and that despite our imperfections it is still worth it to get up and try again, that we can try again and become better and more loving and pure, and that above all we need to love each other and ourselves, even when things happen that make us angry or hurt or confused or sad, and maybe especially then.

I believe that bad things happen to everyone, often for no reason that we can see, and even looking back sometimes we don’t understand how we made it out of that hard time alive, but God is always there, watching over us, and if we turn to him he will always help us, although often in ways we can’t see.

I believe in seasons, that sometimes life is cold and dark and wintery and we are like a tree bereft of leaves, standing naked and shivering in the wind and snow, but that also sometimes it is summer and we stand, warm branches raised, drinking in the sun as our leaves grow stronger and greener than they did before the storm.

I believe in love, that it can heal the deepest wounds, that it has healed – is healing – my deepest wounds, that it can be found in the words of the scriptures and the feeling of comfort after a heartfelt prayer, in the arms and empathetic tears of a friend, a sibling, a roommate, a mom, a dad, a passing stranger sensitive to the sorrows of others.

I believe that nature is necessary for a happy life, that getting away from everyone helps us to better connect with them upon our return, that the most peaceful activity in the world is swimming in the waters of a cold mountain lake.

I believe in laughing, long and hard, over inside jokes and stupid comments, laughing so hard you can’t breathe and tears stream down your face.

I believe that there is humor in everything, in missed busses and lost money and people teasing you for silly things, that when you know that you are loved and worthy of that love that even the rudest of people will find it hard to bring you down.

I believe in the endurance of the human spirit, that inside every soul lives something intangibly strong that says “Keep going” when everything outside the body is telling us to quit. I believe, as well, that it is worth it to keep going, that there is purpose to this life, however difficult it may be to see the purpose of skinned knees and crushed hearts, that if we turn to God we will find comfort and growth and he will make of our pain a purpose.

Specifically, I believe in the endurance of my spirit, that when things get dark, I keep on going and will continue to keep on going. I believe that my stubbornness is a gift, not a curse, and is one of the reasons I do keep on going no matter what, the other reason being God’s love for me, and even on the darkest nights when I can’t feel that love, he shows it to me in ways I don’t recognize until later, through thoughts and truths and knowledge, and that is why I am still here to fight another day.

I believe that love is what makes this vale of tears worth it.

Solitary

These are some of my favorite memories:

An evening spent paddling a canoe on a solitary mountain lake, the water clear and motionless beneath me, the setting sun making the trees seem dark and casting shadows on the mountain peaks, the only sound that of the water as I draw my paddle past it.

Mornings spent riding my bike along the dirt road next to the Elk Refuge, the sun peeking over the mountains and warming my wind-cooled skin.

Evening hikes to Leigh Lake, the dirt hard beneath my bare feet, the conversation with the people I’m with relaxed and comfortable, the water invitingly cold.

Riding in the back of a truck on a dirt road, my best friend next to me, lakes and pine trees passing by in the valley beneath us, cool wind blowing through my hair, thinking, “What more is there to life?”

None of these memories are recent. All of them belong to a world that is no longer mine. And yet I have no memories of which I am fonder.

What happened in the year between then and now? Yes, I went from small town in the middle of nowhere (by which I mean the middle of everything worthwhile) to a university town crowded with people and buildings, but I was always taught that our happiness is not dependent on our environment.

But somehow, my emotions, at least in part, seem to be inextricably connected to my surroundings. Wide open spaces and endless areas to explore make me feel alive and free. Being able to get away from people and buildings and everything that stresses me out makes me feel whole. Unpolluted air and long bike rides next to clear-running streams with mountains in the background make me feel alive.

Lots of buildings and lots of people make me feel cooped up. I can’t get away; I have no room to be myself. I am contained, with no room for my soul to soar. It is harder for me to find that peace, that wholeness, when there is no place for me to be alone in nature.

One day last summer I rode my bike along the Provo River Parkway Trail. Thirty minutes into my ride, I saw a dirt trail heading off the main path. I pulled up along it and followed it down to the river. I sat down and realized I had found my solitary place. I stayed there for a while, doing nothing in particular, content to merely be. I rode home feeling more relaxed than I had in a long time.

This is what solitary places surrounded by nothing but nature do to me: help me relax, help me reconnect with myself and what I want from life. Without them I get cranky. I get insecure. I worry that I’m not doing enough, that I’m not good enough, that I don’t measure up to what everyone else expects of me. With them I realize that it doesn’t matter what everyone else wants of me. What matters is if I’m getting what I want from life. These places help me put my life and my priorities in perspective.

A couple of weeks ago, while riding my bike as I am wont to do, I came across a park filled with trees and – miraculously enough – free of people. I dropped my bike beside a tree, made sure I was as out of sight of the relatively unused road as possible, pulled out my journal and began to write.

Suddenly I felt alive.

            

Hands Off

*I debated for a long time about posting this because part of me feels that it is just me overreacting. Which it is. But writing it helped me to get over my tendency to overreact, at least to an extent, and I'm sure that there are girls out there who feel the same way for some deep-rooted reason, whatever it may be, and so I am posting it. Also because I think that it's beautiful and forceful and emotional and that is how I wish I always wrote. And because a part of me will always be very non touchy-feely, so in a way I still relate to this piece.

This is what I did during my Introduction to the English Language class today while the TA, who is engaging, taught us about phonetics, which is interesting, and I felt bad for not listening but my mind and my heart had something they wanted to say, so they did, and here it is.

Why I Freak Out At Touch

I can’t focus because the thoughts are flowing around in my brain, a lake filling up with words words words until they have no choice but to burst through the dam that is my mind and as they channel down through my pen the water channels out through my eyes and I am crying, great splotches that blot my words as they appear on the page, and my teardrops merge with my words and they are one, just as my emotions merge with my mental abilities merge with my spirituality merges with my physical body and they all swirl together and are one.

And to the man who wants only part of me, who wants my body but not my soul, know that you cannot connect with my body without also yanking on my emotions, my mind, my relationship with my God, and if you try to pull me apart like that you will not leave me whole.

So I am sorry I will not cuddle with you, I am sorry that I freak out when you press your hand against my back and leave it there a moment too long, but my body is mine and I will not give even the tiniest bit away without you promising me in return the tiniest bit of your heart.

And when you have given me that sliver of your heart, when I have come to trust that you will not pull mine apart (at least not without tears and even then only if you think it is for the best for the both of us) then we can cuddle and hold hands and yes, maybe even we can kiss.

But until then? Hands. Off.