Sunday, November 30, 2008

Stepping Into Liquid



I attended a baptism tonight. I'd originally planned on going straight home after Linger Longer clean up (Linger Longer = snacks after church). Instead, I drove myself straight to the baptism and thoroughly enjoyed it.

A young man baptized his girlfriend of two years. I watched as they entered the water together, both dressed in white. I thought about the commandments they were living in order to be worthy of participating in that ordinance.

While millions of teenagers in the world are caught up in themselves, partying, drugs, sex...the list goes on- here are two young people who care deeply for the Lord. They are committed to Him and to living His teachings.

I am so grateful I ignored what I wanted to do and chose instead to be a part of an uplifting evening. The Lord's way is always the better way.

Monday, November 24, 2008

What Choo Talkin Bout?!



As I reviewed Our Hearts Knit As One by Elder Eyring yesterday, the immortal words of the "Different Strokes" theme song came into my mind-

Everybody finds a way to shine,
It don't matter if you haven't got a lot
They'll have theirs, You'll have yours, and I'll have mine.
And together we'll be fine....
Because it takes, Diff'rent Strokes to move the world.
Yes it does.

What this song says to me is, there is abundance in the world and I have a little piece of it. Each of us carries a person-sized portion. This is why we must work together to combine our parts to make a whole. Each of us has a unique gift to contribute. Knitting our hearts together as One.


Two of the stand-out thoughts from Elder Eyring's talk were:

1. The Great Truths of the Gospel are more important than our differences.

2. Differences can help bring you what you lack and help you serve God better.

I sometimes feel intimidated by qualities in others that make them different from me. Fear exists because the Unknown exists. We fear things only because we feel there's a possibility they can hurt us...

I now know that differences in others are encouragements for us to become better and stretch a little further.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Prevent the Madness



Just when you thought there was nothing left to burn...California is on fire... again. This time it started in Santa Barbara County Thursday night.

Since Thursday evening, the wildfires in Southern California have destroyed an estimated 800 mobile homes, houses, apartments and other buildings and blackened an estimated 67 square kilometers of land. Street signs are melting like milkshakes.
Add to this, the infamous Santa Ana winds, scorching temperatures (which were predicted earlier in the week), low humidity levels, and you've got a recipe for disaster.

Fire erupted in both Orange and Riverside counties last night.

Capt. Leonard Grill, a 20-year veteran of the Riverside County Fire Department,has been quoted as saying, "It's gotten worse and worse every year. I can't keep track of them anymore. These used to be the out-of-the-ordinary fires, once-in-a-career kind of fires. Now they're every year."

On a local level, a blanket of smoke that came from the North stretching towards the sea, choked all the blue from the sky. Buckets of ash were falling in flurries to the ground- California's version of a "winter" storm?

Employees at Costco were wearing masks to prevent extreme exposure to the carcinogenic dust. The afternoon took on a bit of an Apocalyptic feel... This mornings air quality is incredibly poor. It's really difficult the breathe right now. *cough* *cough*

Interesting that these fires are raging on the weekend of the planned nation wide protest against Prop 8. Could this be God's way of saying, "Protesters stay home."
It's very possible.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

The Garden



Today I attended a pot luck lunch at the Wild Oats Organic Garden in Long Beach upon invitation from my co-worker Charlene. If I could give Charlene a nickname, it would be Mother Earth...She is One with the soil, rooted deep in concern for the environment. I like her. She's always smiling and her pockets are filled with inner peace.

The idea of a Community Garden fascinates and intrigues me. It appeals to me in every way! People come together, practicing principles of self-sufficiency, organic sustainable living, hard work, and getting back to the basics. It's a remarkable way to connect with your neighbors and the serenity of creation!

A note about the pot luck lunch- (they have work days from 9-12 every 1st and 3rd Saturday which ends with lunch at 12ish- let me just say, the chicken dogs, homemade lemon hummus, fresh salads, and the thick sweetness of the raw smoothies were divine!) Come give service and then enjoy the food!

What I learned:

Spinach doesn't like to grow in heat.

There is a variation of mint that tastes like lime called, of all things, lime mint.

Cauliflower comes in purple.

The director of the garden, Heidi, is brilliant and she says non-profit work is SO much harder than being an Executive Program Developer...she wants to create a quilt of gardens throughout the city.

If you eat a pot belly pig, it will trigger a virus in your body that goes straight to your brain and makes you wacko.

I ate with a potato fork. (Forks can be made out of potato!!!) AND I've drank from a biodegradable cup made from corn!

Sorrel is a baby green that tastes like lemon!

LBCC has a spring sale with all sorts of seeds and starters for sale!

Quote for the day: A poochie poochie girl in a gucci gucci world.

West Coast Rendering Company off of 4105 Bandini Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90058 has a subdivision, which I believe is called Baking Commodities, who are part of the animal food production process. They add all sorts of evils to pet food, such as cancerous cow tumors, and euthanized animals from the pound... dogs weren't meant to eat other dogs were they? Combine this with the soy and wheat that go into most major brands of pet food and wuh-la! You've got pets with cancer, allergies, asthma...

I met Johnny the urban missionary, who was tending his plot. He plans to embark on a missionary trip around the world in 2010 through a program called TheWorldRace.org

I took a hulking amount of photos- maybe I'll post some on Facebook...

I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the Wild Oats Garden.

Friday, November 07, 2008

Just the Beginning


The elections were three days ago, and proved historic is so many ways. On a personal note, it was my first time getting involved in a campaign, one which was not just political, but moral too. I am so thankful I was able to participate in the overwhelming task of fighting for freedom of religion and the sanctity of marriage within one of the most liberal states of the Union. Sweat, disappointment, and blessings flowed, as the LDS community, in a small way, helped Proposition 8 to pass. We were a small cog in a BIG wheel.

I spoke with a gay father several weeks ago, and his words now return to my mind. "No matter which side "wins", you think that will be the end? This is just the beginning!" Is it really the beginning though? It seems to me, an extension of the war that has been waging since the beginning of the earth.

I watched the 11 o'clock news last night. They had air-cam shots of the L.A. temple. No on 8 protesters swarmed the grounds, flooding the streets. The boiling point was reached when some of our Pacific Islander brothers and sisters began tearing down hateful signs that had been posted on the temple gates, and telling protesters to take their anger and energy somewhere else. They were among the few brave enough to face the rioting masses.

Threats were made regarding the temple, fire and destruction were promised- Thankfully the temple was reopened today and serenity has maintained. The Lord is protecting us.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Yes Means No


I've had a wonderful afternoon doing something I LOVE; Interviewing a bunch of people while holding a video camera. The first was my potential documentary subject, (a.k.a. homework.) Afterward, I met up with David Land-o-Lakes to distribute yard signs for Proper 8. 1st street, one bumper sticker, 2nd street, one sign and 2 bumper stickers, and as we were shrouding the metal post with it's plastic sign cover, 2 neighbors began their ascent upon us. Here it comes Dave-o. They want to scrap. The first guy says,"I want one of your signs. How can I get one?" "Uh, I've got a trunk full. I'll give you one." The guy next to him says, "Give me one too. In fact give me three." Then his neighbor comes driving down the street. He stops him in the center of the road. "Hey! Yes means No! You voting Yes on 8?! Give him a sign too." Then this same guy calls to this lady whose just emerged from a 3rd house. "You want a Prop 8 sign for your yard?" he calls to her. She says yes! Are you keeping count with me, cause I'm not. :) The man who instigates this all, disappears into his garage, brings back a 20 ft. ladder and leans it against a towering tree in his front yard, shimmies up, and lassos two sign around the highest point of the trunk! Talk about the right place at the right time! And I caught a bunch of it on video!

The night closed with FHE dinner and Luau and an interview with Wayne, a guy I'd met with Johnathan last Saturday when we walked for Prop 8. Lets just say Wayne is absolutely hilarious! I hope to have his video posted on You Tube by Thursday.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

The Four Agreements


I have a screen writing class on Wednesday nights. My prof is a former lawyer turned Hollywood writer. He possesses the vernacular of a genius yet, thanks to 20 years in all boys schools and years in a profession where swearing is almost prerequisite, managed to pick up a sailor's tongue. The man wreaks of brilliance and I knew he could do so much better than the protruding prolificness of his four-letter-word vocabulary!

So it happened one night- towards the end of September. Class ended and I was gathering my belongings, seriously considering dropping the class. The thought came to my mind, if not now, when? If not you, who? (a reiteration from Sunday's meeting regarding Prop 8). How awkward to approach the professor about his word choices.

It was the first class meeting I had made a vocal presence, overcoming my shut-down defense mode. I had made an impression on the professor- he'd even asked my name. This helped me in initiating the conversation. He started with, "So how are you liking the course?" "Well, I like parts of it..." "Oh no just parts?" "Yah I can explain it to you once everyone has left." It's just the two of us now:

"This is really hard for me to say..." I trailed off.

"Did I do something wrong?" his voice was worried, sincerely. "Not intentionally or maliciously," I replied, trying to ease his mind. "It's just that it's hard for me to listen to swearing." He took a step back and raised his hand to his mouth.
"I am so sorry. I had no idea..." He continued, "I needed to hear this. I need to push the envelope of literacy. Do me a favor. If I slip, will you raise your hand? You don't have to say anything, just raise your hand and I'll know what you mean. We can even keep a tally going on the board. Should we involve the class?"
"If you want to..." "Let's see how we feel come next week."

His reaction was above and beyond anything I could have hoped for. I choked back tears of joy as I walked to my car that night.

The next Wednesday not only marked the start of October, but a renewal of all that is beautiful regarding this class. Not a single swear word left his lips! NOT ONE! It was wonderful. I was able to let down my guard and soak in the class content unconstrained. My trust, respect, and appreciation blossomed for this man.

Where's the Candy?



Breakfasting with pops:

I stayed home from work today, a climactic finish to the build-up of Monday's attack of evil-throat. Presently, to formulate any kind of audible speech is pure exasperation!

We laughed over runny eggs and and homemade wheat toast, Pops doing most of the talking and joking, as my voice is on hiatus. It went a little bit like this: "You know, McCain has seen the face of evil! I didn't know Cheney was at the Convention." (A Jay Leno joke.) My dad joked about Maureen (my Australian Mom) coming for a visit next year, accompanied for the first time by her husband Zeller. They were married in 2005. :) They'll pull up in the army jeep. Mo will emerge wearing camouflage, and call out, "Zeller! Front and center!" His scenario was too silly, considering Maureen is relatively soft spoken. Then he included me in his fun.

A bit of background:

My dad was born and raised in Washington Heights NYC. I've visited twice. The first time I went with my Aunt Wendy. We found and met Aunt Lucy, my father's mother's sister. She was living out the end of her days in a Bronx nursing home. She knew exactly who I was when I started talking about my father Richard. "You're the preemie!" she exclaimed.

My second trip to NYC was with Maureen (Mo). The two of us have done quite a bit of traveling together. During this trip, Mo supported me in a second endeavor to connect with Lucy. Just as we exited the subway in the Bronx it starting to rain. We jogged parallel to Van Cortlandt Park and sought respite under a drug store's awning. This is when my pops corrected me. "They're called candy stores in New York...We don't have drug stores. Although, most candy stores were simply fronts for drug dealers."

As Mo and I are standing under this awning, we're wondering why we're still getting wet. A man to our right, who is managing to stay dry, gives us the answer. "Hey lady. You're standing under a hole." We look up. So we are. Daddy loves to recall this, and other personal past chagrins.

He recalled a favorite childhood purchase, an emerald colored fountain drink, the Green Rickey. A sweet lime-ish concoction.

I love my green Rickey.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Give Me Back My Phone!



Part II of previous entry:

While in the shuttle, walking to our seats at the Bowl, and thereafter, I would periodically fish around my handbag, then the shoulder bag it was sitting in, grasping for any object that remotely felt like my cell phone. I was sure I had brought my phone with me.

Upon returning home, I poured all contents of both bags onto my bedroom floor... No Phone! How could this be??? Wait a minute. Retrieving seating arrangements from mental compartment: Johnathan, me, my bags, strange man stuffing face with greasy popcorn and guzzling beer. Hmmm. He left his seat mid performance and NEVER CAME BACK! Dun Dun Dun! Could it be that I was robbed?! My heart began to pound as I thought of all the potential lost phone numbers and the inconvenience of procuring a new phone!

I'm just sure I had it in my purse! (You know how the mind begins to fog in moments of anxiety?) Maybe I was completely off. Maybe my phone was somewhere in the house. I ran to the kitchen phone, dialed my number, and then proceeded to listen VERY carefully for the whispered buzz it would emit upon connection. Nothing! But the phone was ringing. My voice mail clicked on, but where was my pre-recorded message?? Simultaneously, the caller ID flashed my phone number. How strange! *BEEP* I began leaving a message for the perpetrator holding my phone captive! (My voice was a raspy desperate whisper):

"Hello. You have my phone. Give me back my phone. I need my phone. Give it back! Good Byyyyyyyyyyyyyye...."

I hung up. The number was still flashing on the caller ID. I read it one last time...562...805...wait a minute! That's not my number! I'd switched two of the numbers around!

Some poor unsuspecting person woke up that morning, saw they missed a call at 1:50 a.m., then listened as some creepy whispering weirdo was going on about their phone; a non-stolen stolen phone!!!

Sunday, September 21, 2008

A Chair of Bowlies



It was a Saturday August 30th, 2008. I had walked for Prop 8 in the morning with Miss Cassidy. We had a few truly unexpected encounters. The first two doors we knocked on were answered by felons...why were they on our list of registered voters? Then there was the ribbiting motion detector frog. Cat asked the couple, "If the frog were to vote today..." Cat came with me to Costco- we had lunch, bought and loaded 7 watermelons into my car, then I drove to church where I met Johnathan.

I mentioned to him a group was going to the Hollywood Bowl that night. John Williams was to conduct the L.A. Phil while they played various film scores he has composed spanning half a century. J said lets go!

We found free parking by the Kodak Theater and proceeded to scout out a foodish venue. While in the midst of a crowd waiting to cross the street, my and Johnathan's gaze were pulled in opposite directions as we stepped off the curb. There to my left, was a greasy middle aged man, cradling a digital camera, which he was aiming straight at the women's butts in front of him! As he began snapping away, I uttered, "Sicko!" But he continued on. Johnathan on the other hand was busy being baffled by a second man clad in cowboy boots and black underwear. (I thought that was strictly a Times Square phenomenon...) When we hit the opposite curb we both turned to each other and exclaimed, "Did you see that?!"

This was Johnathan's first concert of any kind. What a beauty it was. Projected on gigantic flat screens were various film clips and medleys which coincided with the live music. My favorite part was the army of light sabers sprouting up as the opening strains of the Star Wars theme song began. Stems of red, green, and blue bounced to the beat of the symphonic swells. It put a HUGE smile on my face.

After the show we opted to walk back to the car, bypassing the hour long shuttle line and rows of cars piled bumper to bumper for miles.

This brings me to one of L.A.'s little treasures. The only street food L.A. can really claim it's own: the famed "heart-attack dogs". Passing by a string of carritos, the smell of bacon coiled hot dogs, onions, peppers, and poblano chilies crackling and spitting on an open grill captured our full attention. (Swirl a bit of mayonnaise on top and your mouth will be caught up in the rapture.)

We had parked behind Crossroads of the World, hailed as America's first modern shopping mall. Located on Sunset Boulevard and Las Palmas, the mall features a central building designed to resemble an ocean liner surrounded by a small village of cottage-style bungalows, complete with a working lighthouse! Once a busy outdoor shopping center, the Crossroads now hosts private offices. It has been used for location shooting in many films such as L.A. Confidential.

It was here that J and I tried to cut through the parking lot to Sunset. Bad move! Two monstrous thugs quickly came into view. They began yelling and ascending upon us as we drove past them. We didn't dare slow down for fear that they might thrash us with heavy chains. Our bypassing them only led us to a fenced off parking lot- Oh No! What now?! J said, "I'm gonna turn around and mow them over if I have to!" Thankfully we were able to maneuver past them. It felt like we tore out of that lot at 65 mph!

The last incident of the night had to do with my phone, but I'll save that for the next entry. :)

Monday, August 18, 2008

The State of Our Unions.



A button that will certainly sizzle when touched, is the controversially charged Proposition 8. It will be voted on by the people November 4th. If passed, it will amend to our State's Constitution to read, only marriage between a man and a woman is recognized or valid in the state of California.

There is a growing friction between "Tradition" and "Tolerance".
I wrestle with both words. I feel traditions are mainly people-perpetuated-practices.

Prop 8 reinforces something more powerful than a conventional or orthodox custom. Marriage is an eternal law and a commandment tailored by God. He created boundaries for this alliance. His direction for a man and woman to leave their families and partner in marriage remains unchanged.

The very fact that the perpetuation of our race depends on this type of union should be proof enough that God's instruction is inherent, real, and necessary. This speaks nothing to the ends of morality or the potential loss of civil rights associated with this Proposition.

We live in a confusing world. A cornucopia of lifestyles have come into practice, and subtly and slowly, have become permissible. If tolerance means turning a blind eye or numbing the heart in the name of Acceptance, then I can not accept.

I wonder how many of us truly understand the significance and ramifications of this legislation (Prop 8), or even care.

A "Yes" vote will preserve God's definition of marriage. A "No" vote will allowed the recent decision of the California Supreme Court's 4-3 vote to remain intact; legalization of same-sex marriage.

I will be voting Yes on 8.

For more info on Prop 8 visit:

http://protectmarriage.com

Saturday, August 09, 2008

They Might Be Giants



I could say many wonderful things about Family Camp at Lake Sequoia- (I just returned.) My aunt Wendy started attending Central Valley YMCA Family Camp 4 years ago, fell in love with it the first year, and has extended an indefinite invitation to me for the years thereafter- I have since completed 3 successful stints, returning to the same wonderful place, the 2nd week in August, each year.

What I thoroughly enjoy about Family Camp:

Oscar a fellow camper turned friend, leading us through swathes of tall grass, wild rose, and Indian Paintbrush. Hovering close to the towering Redwood Sequoias, stooping down to scoop up one of it's pine cones, and marvel at how an entity so considerable in size, precipitated from beginnings so small. The constant smell of earth and pine. Recurring reminders of Creation. Lake hikes. Campfire in all it's silliness and glory. (Families take turns performing skits, songs, etc. each night at sundown-).

Above all, my favorite event is "family camp rules" volleyball! The camaraderie and sheer joy of it all! My love for the sport was born 5000 feet above Fresno, 3 years ago, and has since shown me likable aspects of my personality I wasn't aware existed before. An unexpected blessing.

You shall know a tree by it's fruits, and Sequoia Family Camp is irrefutably, terrific timber.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

The Dawntrix Rebuffed.



I am feeling utterly rebuffed. Three! Count them, three times I've been abruptly refused passage into my latest facebook obsession: Pieces of Flair. Mind you, I've only been a subscriber to this application for 5 days, but it's latched hold of my brain, and is threatening to take hostages!

The snubbery started this morning when I dragged myself to the computer at 5am because I couldn't sleep. Power on, Internet...not connecting- Weak signal. I tried engaging the signal at least 92 times- without success. Then, when at the computer lab this afternoon, I told myself I would only check my email to get a ph # I'd emailed to myself. My hand maneuvered the mouse in such a way, that I found myself trying to log onto Pieces of Flair! I swear officer- It wasn't me!!! And then, for a third time I was not allowed access! This time it was due to kinks in the app. Moral of this story: do not put your trust in the applications of man.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

This Sure is Quality Popcorn


On Wednesday night I tagged along with Autumn and Erin to see a movie at the beach- the cinematic classic Casablanca, with a surging soundtrack of the sea behind it. (One of the many reasons I love L.B.).

The best part of the night was riding bikes to and from Autumn's place- like cowgirls tackling the West, we rode into the sunset. Literally. We were drenched in golden luster.

Before the film began, levity ensnared us-

It started over the quality of the free popcorn being handed out in WWII-style rationings. Erin was mortified that it was bagged rather than freshly popped. She reminisced about the days when she used to buy cheese flavored popcorn from an elementary school, far superior to the homogenized yellow puffs we were now munching on. Her solemnity and conviction spurred us on.

"This stuff isn't even popped in America!"

"Do you smell that? Smells like... lead!"

"How can you keep eating at a time like this!"

"These kernels probably date back to the 80's before they started turning corn into fuel- No wonder it's so crappy! It's vintage!"

There we were, three little burritos, wrapped snuggly in our blankets and hoodies, laughing hysterically into the night.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Silly Martian, Tricks are for Kids.



While studying for my summer class final,(Music for Early Childhood Ed.), I was allowed a single note card to miraculously cram 6 weeks worth of copious notes onto- a teacher-approved cheat sheet... Because it was early morning and only hours till the exam, words began spilling out my pen all rushed and googily... For example:

Instead of writing the song title, Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes, I began with, "Heads...". This version of the song was arranged with Martian-children in mind. After all, the goal is all-inclusive classrooms, right?

Still on Tuesday of this week: To give you an idea of how little "the little things in (my) life..." can be, let's just say that 3 weeks ago I enthusiastically planned my schedule around donating blood on Wednesday in order to claim a coupon for a free Subway sandwich- (Food... a legitimate and persuasive bait!)

Anyway- to my surprise, I saw what looked like the Blood Donor Trailer, parked in it's usual spot, a day early! Beads of drool starting forming prematurely at the sides of my mouth...

I marched over to the trailer, cleared my throat and said, "Excuse me. I'd like to donate." The woman with her back to me, wearing scrubs and fishing for something inside a drawer, turned around and paused.

Then, with a mix of confusion and curiosity she asked, "Donate what?"

"Ummm, blood?"

"Honey, we're doing free Pap and STD testing."

OK Dawn, just like we practiced; Smile, nod your head, and slowly back away from the vehicle.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

What Drink Are You?



Just one of the millions of applications (I'm sure), that you can add to your facebook page- I saw it on a friend's profile today. She's a Cosmopolitan: Girly, Stylish, Classy. I could chose to think nothing of this little app, but I often tend to careen about in an ocean of scrutiny...so...here's what I came up with: External entities defining our very selves. Another cloud-like haze to cover our eyes while here on earth.

I spent many formative years concocting an outward image, how I wanted people to interpret me as an individual, based on style and personal interests. Sure, style and interests are great, I guess it's the motive that bothers me.

What measures do we use to define ourselves?

Advertisers want us to believe it's trendy brands, fast cars, what you've got on your ipod...that will morph us into chic, attractive, fashionable peeps. We will increase our surplus population of friends if we shop the isles of this world carefully.

It's not the ruby blush of a Cosmopolitan that defines us, but the inner fire of our souls, burning white with divinity. The spirit's inhabiting our bodily frames are what make us each unique, courageous, and lovable.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Mind, Tummy, and Soul


I've just experienced one of the best evenings of my life! Driving home, I felt like I was wrapped in a soft fuzzy blanket, plucked straight from the dryer! We had Enrichment Night (dinner club) @ Jamie C's tonight. We laughed, lounged, and savored ethnic cuisine in her top floor apartment by the beach. Candle light danced in the cool salty breeze. Talk about a glorious comfort food concoction! The main course was a chicken potato rice dish that catapulted us all into Nirvana! Our Columbian dinner was complemented by the fried plantains and fresh frothy watermelon juice. YUM!

Meaningful faith-building conversation intertwined with random silliness; Jamie busted out an airbrush makeup kit, then proceeded to give impromptu makeovers- high tech glamor at it's finest...I left feeling (and looking) a million times better than when I arrived- what a gift! One last highlight: Tamara and I dished out some love to the burgeoning hydrangea plant at the bottom of the stairs. We laughed till we were red in the face. Happiness abounds.

It is true- life is SO much better when you have wonderful people to share it with.

Sunday, June 01, 2008

My family is...


The oxygen in my tank.

Today is my dad's birthday. He's pushing 60 and I'm in denial... how has life slipped by so quickly? Today was wonderful. It started with Stake Conference (a special quarterly church meeting where several congregations meet together.) The take home message (for me) was: look for the good in everyone and everything. I recommitted myself to this personal goal while in the conference session, then proceeded to break said commitment only half a day later while on an evening walk with pops- I took it upon myself to critique a newfangled landscaping fad that's sweeping my neighborhood. To go into details here would only further violate my new personal code- Take home point: What we look for becomes all we can see.

Justin and I drove out to Harbor 2nd Ward post conference. The ward building is nestled below the Palos Verde Hills with the Pacific just beyond the rolling green. I took a moment while walking across the courtyard, to stop and watch the clouds pour over the roof's edge- the misty clumps swirling and crashing into each other, then slowly pulling apart like feverish taffy fresh off the stove. I was filled with gratitude for the gospel and all the wonders that testify of God.

Before the evening walk, I studied my dad's face in the moonlight and flashed back to a time when I was 10. My dad used to take each Altier child on a "date night" once a month. My most vivid recollection of this practice is when he and I walked to the now non-existent drive-thru dairy a few blocks away from our home, where he let me choose any item I wished on his dime. We walked back home as I shoved mini powdered donuts into my mouth, one after another, developing a coating of sugary dust on my face and shirt- my childhood memories are sweet. Thank you parental units, and thanks be to God.
Happy birthday Daddy. xoxoxo

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Route 66


"I no can believe it!" But at the same time, I can!!! As of today it's official! I took my very last psychology final for my bachelors degree, fulfilling all requirements for graduation. Can I get an "Amen"?! I was sweating bullets as I walked the long, dark corridors of the Psych building post-test. I was trailing my professor to the Psych office, where "the machine" would gobble up our scantrons, spitting out our resultant fates. I needed a 65% or better on the test to pass the class. (aka to have at least a "C" average for all tests taken during the semester)... I sat pensively, at the edge of my chair- Dr. D walked through the doorway, stopped and smiled when she saw my troubled brow, then said that blessed number, "66". "You're serious?!" I was shrill with glee! I jumped up, threw my arms around her and shook her like a willow tree on a gusty summer's day. Of course, graduation will hit next May as I am doing a minor in Fall and Spring- but technically if I needed to, I could go (graduate) at any time now!

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Reason to Smile.


I'm studying for my Physiology of Behavior final. I wanted to share the results of a study conducted by Zajonc, Murphy, & Inglehart (1989) who proposed that smiling precedes the experience of emotion. They found muscular contractions that produce smiling cause blood to drain from the face into the cavernous sinus, which lowers the temperature of the brain, producing positive emotion. On the flip side, frowning causes the blood supply to pool in the face, increasing the temperature of the brain, which produces negative emotion. All the more reason to turn our frowns upside down, and smile our cares away. :)

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Lucy!!!


I was listening to NPR on my morning drive to worky. They did this intriguing piece on sound waves/signals and the metamorphosis they've undergone thanks to advancements in technology. (The most interesting point made, in my opinion, was the attesting of a collegiate researcher to life on other planets- other planets analogous to our own!) Once again, secular findings fall into line with the gospel.

In the 50's, the golden era of television, Lucy's voice (electromagnetic waves) were poorly contained, bouncing off receivers and soaring past the stars of our solar system at light speed- taking approximately 5 hours to do so- From east coast to Chicago, micro-seconds…to the moon, 1.5 seconds, to Mars in minutes- You get the idea. Lucy's voice has traveled for 57 years and continues on into the hum of the universe. (57 light years is about 200 trillion miles.)

Today, thanks to sputnik and it's successors, electromagnetic wave are now compressed into fiber optic waves readied for point to point transmission via satellite, cutting our solar noise pollution down to a mere peep.

If a bit of silicon and wiry mesh can send a signal (sound wave) powerful enough to maneuver the far reaches of our universe, is there any wonder then, that our thoughts and heartfelt prayers can find their way to the ears of the One who created it all- Sound waves and the means of their conduction may change, but one thing (Being) stays the same. He understands physical and eternal laws far better than any Harvard or Nasa engineer could.

Regardless of our point and place in the universe, each of us are listened to and loved.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Babes in Yogurtland



There's no doubt yogurt is making a comeback in a BIG way! This "healthy indulgence" has become so popular that Pinkberry's and their nemeses are popping up everywhere! What an oxymoron: low-fat yogurt. (Only if it's sugary-free, but then you have all the added chemicals to contend with). Oh well. In Yogurtland's behalf, let me say it's darned yummaliscious!

Eric and I investigated the Long Beach location tonight. It's almost overwhelming when you first enter. It's set up like a buffet, offering trough size cups and even bigger trough sized cups- take your pick- and don't be fooled- Despite unavoidable air pockets between layers, 30 cents an ounce multiplies quickly once all the delectable flavor choices are starring you in the face! A little of this and a little of that...oh that looks good. YES, thank you! I can fit 12 flavors into my trough quite comfortably! The tart blueberry, and taro flavored yoges are my personal fave.

Toppings- say no more- syrupy strawberries, mini squares of creamy cheesecake, crumbles of Oreo cookie- Some of you in currently colder regions may shiver at the thought of frozen treats in the month of April, but for us Californians it was a steamy 83 degrees today! I will definitely be finding my way back here soonish.

You can check out Yogurtland for yourself @:

http://www.yogurt-land.com/

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Hasta Borrego, Baby!



Exercising gentle persuasion, a friend convinced me to accompany her on a camping- adventure-extravaganza to Anza-Borrego this past weekend. Being that she is an expert in AB terrain and the ways of camping, I figured the trip would prove to be smooth sailing- What actually played out was just short of comical-fiasco.

We left Friday morning at 6:30 and flew down the 405. First stop: Julian, a sleepy little historic town where over-priced antique and souvenir shops reign supreme. We sank into doughy red leather (*yellow leather*) booth seating at Buffalo Bills just in time to appease our gurgling tummy-protests. Let the sacrifice of french toast and scrambled eggs begin!

Warning: It's risky business filling up on greasy breakfast food just before hitting a crooked mountain highway!

P.S. AB is a monstrous stretch of arid wilderness! It would require several weeks to travel and absorb its numerous and diverse landscapes.

Arriving at our camp site, we set up our tent and inspected the vaulted toilet situation- surprisingly clean! I spied (*with my little eye*) a fascinating spider, feeling it's way around the cement foundation... yellow and silver- polka-dotted go-go gadget legs! We'll come back to this later.

It was onto the wind caves, which kick started a chain of unfortunate events.

Minutes after leaving the campgrounds, we managed to get our 4 wheel-drive pick-up stuck in a sandy portion of the road- Luckily, a family who'd stopped behind us several 100 feet back took pity on my futile efforts to dig out the back tire: let me skim the surface layer of sand- smoothing it out will cause some sort of improvement to our situation, just watch! With their help, our vehicle was pushed to safety. We would meet up with them again at the wind caves and return the favor by giving them a ride back to their vehicle.

Up one steep hill to the caves. It was a hot afternoon. Resting in the shadows of the caves we decided to bust out our dehydrated Mexican Rice and Chicken- alas, our Jet Boil refused to ignite- thus leaving us lunchless. On the way back down, the rocks under-foot gave way and I brushed the side of a fully loaded bramble bush- Youch! Go on without me guys...I've gotta take care of something.

The Slot is an AB must see, this carefully carved canyon was next on our list- We hiked The Slot with our rescuers and had a great time discussing the oddities of Minnesota- where the son spent the first 4 years post graduation working. Have you heard of the biggest ball of twine? It's 4 meters (13 ft) in diameter and weighs 7,900 kg (17,400 lbs). Francis A. Johnson's obsession started in March, 1950 and stole four hours of every day for 23 weeks. It is currently housed in a specially made gazebo across from the town park on Main Street in Darwin, Minnesota, and the town celebrates "Twine Ball Day" the second Saturday in August every year. http://www.darwintwineball.com.

When we emerged from the canyon, we'd unknowingly exited just past our parking spot and kept walking in the opposite direction. It took us a good 20 minutes to figure out what'd happened to our vehicles as herculean gust of wind endeavored to knock us to the canyon floor.

The horizon line blushed in the gleaming pink of sunset. Worn by the day's excursion, we felt ready for a quick dinner, campfire, then bed! My friend finally figured out the jet boil dilemma. She poured in the suggested 2 cups of water and then some (this time pad-thai), while I drank 2 quarts of water, perpetuating a trip to the loo.

They say the desert comes alive at night- apparently they're not joking.

While we'd been out and about, that lowly singular spider exploring the bathroom, decided to invite all his cousins to our campsite for a reunion-the ground was crawling! One had burgeoned into 100's- "Better to carry you off to our webby lair! (Insert diabolical laugh here).

My friend is deathly afraid of spiders- after karate kicking one off her shirt, stomping a dozen to their deaths, flicking one off our tent, it became clear, we weren't going to sleep here tonight! My friend started hopping up and down, in this sort of frantic rain dance fashion. She, bellowed, "Get the tent! Shake it off! Put it in the car!" But, the tent is fully assembled... "I don't care we'll make it fit!...we can have dinner in the car..." ps- our jet boil masqueraded as a miniature geyser, just before discovering the non-habitability of our location.

We picked up our fully made tent erratically shaking it off, then contorted and shoved it in the back of my friend's truck. Our firewood drenched in propane, still begging to be lit as we peeled out of the vicinity, snagging a pint-sized boulder along the way. The whole time fellow campers, evidently undisturbed by the eight-legged batallion, had been watching us with amusement...I'd wondered what they called out, when I'd hopped out of the car momentarily to re-shut my door... It must've been something to the effect of, "there's a big rock under your car!" It clicked in my head on the crash down.

Due to intense stuff-shuffling and crammed careless rearranging, our door ajar light had come on- this proved to be a problem after parking at a hotel to inquire about room availability- the 3 cabin lights were extremely bright and red hot. After shutting and re-shutting all the doors and rear hatch and jabbing and twisting every possible control switch, desperation took hold- What's causing the light's repudiation?! If we stay here and camp with this light on all night the truck's battery will surely drain by morning-

We concluded it would be best to leave the park and tackle the cabin light quandary once back to civilization again- we took a different highway out- by the light of the moon, over jackknifed uphill terrain, what could've taken an hour, took 3. We literally drove in a huge circle once back in Julian- the road seemed to stretch on FOREVER! I felt like crying the moment a certain green glowing abode came into view a second time- 25 minutes full circle-not cool!

A bakery employee who'd given us directions to B. Bills that morning, told us, while parked atop a barstool, the way to Oceanside at about 11:45 that night- Let's just say we pulled into the Ramada Limited at a quarter to 3- beat, cranky, confused. Turns out a pocket knife was jammed in the door-

Thank goodness my friend discovered it because we were having issues disconnecting the negative cable from the battery- Thank goodness for friends- Specifically Joe in this instance for booking us a room and then refusing our cashola when we met up with him for lunch 8 hours later in S.D. And most importantly, thank goodness for prayer; I think we set a record for ourselves yesterday.

What a trip- I can't say I'll never go camping again, but maybe the next time will occur in the distant future as opposed to near.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Happiness is...



Happiness is a bovine made of plastic parts, straddling the crown of your head with the help of a 5 year old who's consumed in blissful unbridled play; a friend gushing about her brave unexpected journey from One to Love; the forgotten CD in your car's player saying hello again, serenading you with one of your favorite songs; gentle pellets of rain dancing across your windshield on the drive home; chips and homemade guacamole for dinner when the avacados are a gift from a friend's neighboring tree.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Palm Readers of the World Unite!



Last night I'd planned to briefly stop by a friend's house party. I haven't seen Angela or Stacey in years! Angela was co-hosting a "Mardi Gras Mitzvah". As Justin and I rounded the Lemon St. walkway and onto the front porch, a guy climbing through the darkened front bedroom window, stopped midway, turned to us and with assurance called out, "Don't worry! I'm one of the guests. I'm not trying to break in!" Yah yah. That's what they always say. Next thing you know your mother's pearls are missing.

Juxtaposed the front door sat a table, cash box, and Stacey! She started to welcome us and when she realized it was me whispered, "Nooo way!" We threw our arms around each other and squealed like gradeschoolers. It was great seeing both of them again!

Out back was a huge stage, tikki bar, and converted garage/dance floor. The band was setting up and profanity was flying.

I believe Angela was one of the soul decorators: the place looked hot. Tucked away in a dark corner of the side yard was an old rusted van alive with glowing red lights and all the psychic trimmings- a gypsy's dream. Pillows of every shape and color, swathes of material draped over the front and back seats, strands of silkiness dripping from the windows laced with rows and rows of plastic beads and coins... a table sat centerfold, a candle flickering on top... Madame Vultervonius? (a.k.a. Melody) was ready to serve: a Zen card master. Justin, then I, stepped inside and 10 minutes turned into an hour.

Monday, February 11, 2008

A Long Way Gone

Forum on International Human Rights, CSULB. February 11-13.

Amid a churning sea of faces, I was but one in a frothy thousand to pass Ishmael Beah's table as he sat poised in his author's chair, glowing smile, looking all official. He was signing copies of his memoir, A Long Way Gone. I was to conduct a quick and informal interview with this former child soldier for Cb TV. His message cliche, although coming from him, honorable: The power to heal and be healed is within us all.

The day closed with the screening of a documentary, I Have Never Forgotten You: The Life & Legacy of Simon Wiesenthal (2007). He lived the atrocities of the Holucaust. He was a Jew. Despite all he'd seen and been subjected to, he chose to carry the pain of 6 million people and consequently, heal equivocal anguished hearts. He demanded justice for the victims and survivors of Hitler's genocide. His exuded passion, a love for his family and people, and maintained a miraculous sense of humor.
Amazing.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

I Was Holding the Stone.



A conversation ensued today, the eye opening, lump in your throat kind- I was steered towards a wonderful and wise woman, Patty, who shared an amazing story related to the Atonement. It pierced my heart. I cried. It was such a cleansing experience, as I have recently experienced one of the toughest emotional moments of my life.

This is the story she shared:

She used to work for a big company in CA, (that manufactures airplanes), cough, cough. They got into some kind of trouble, thus initiating a 4 year review from the government. During this time she was assigned to a special committee along with a woman she couldn't stand. This woman had a gorgeous body which she exploited. The guys on Patty's team stared out the window every time she'd walk past- she slept around with a lot of the guys including one of the directors of their committee.

This woman, we'll call Leila, constantly sought Patty out to complain, complain, complain. She wasn't a happy chappy. Leila was a divorced mother of 2 and would gripe about not wanting to pick her kids up, waiting till the last minute possible Sunday night-till she HAD to get them...Patty, copacetic ("so she thought"), would begrudgingly ignore the constant bellyaching, rather than tell Leila to just, "shut up!"

Upon returning from a business trip to Georgia, Leila sat down at Patty's desk as usual, but this time she looked nervous. She confided in Patty; her leg had swollen up while she'd been away on business and it concerned her big time. Patty said matter of factly, "It's hot as sin in the South right now. It was probably just the heat." "No", Leila replied. "This isn't normal. I've had cancer in this leg before and I'm worried it's come back." She revealed a portion of her swollen leg where Patty could see a major section of flesh had been removed and skin grafts had been performed." (Everybody has their hidden flaws).

She went to the doctors and found out the cancer was back in full swing. It had spread throughout her body. She started chemo. The regiment wasted her. Her once exquisite strawberry blond curls were replaced by ornate scarves...her director boyfriend turned cold, which meant her bills weren't getting paid. A former boyfriend, lower on the company totem pole, stepped up to help her through this dark time. He said he'd always loved her and her kids...

Eventually Leila's health did not allow her to work. She was admitted to a hospital and wouldn't live much longer. A message came to Patty saying, "Leila wants to see you. Can you come today?" Patty declined due to a small cold she was nursing- not wanting to pass that on to Leila and have it knock her out. The next day a second message came, "At this point, what difference does it make if I catch a cold?! Please come." Patty conceded. The floor where Leila 's room was located was silent and bleak, the kind of place people go to die. When Patty entered Leila's room she stopped. Hundreds of white specks were fluttering about. Leila's family had hung tiny white angels and pictures of her kids from every surface imaginable.

Patty still wasn't feeling charitable towards this woman! Even as she looked at her ravaged reduced state. Her hair was nothing more than an oily clump of string sitting atop her head. (From all the lotion the nurses had applied attempting to make her scalp as comfortable as possible).

Leila was sleeping. Patty felt relieved. She thought, "I'll just quickly leave a note to let her know I stopped by." But before she could slip out, Leila opened her eyes. "I know someone's here, I just can't see who it is. Please, come closer." Patty walked to the bedside and upon identifying herself Leila burst into tears.

She begged Patty to crawl into the bed with her and hold her. Patty complied. This woman then told Patty how her father had passed away when Leila was 9 and her mother committed suicide when she was 15. Patty was the "mother" Leila had since longed for. Leila said she would stare at the family photos that lined Patty's office walls and ask herself, "why can't my family be like this?" It was at this moment that Patty realized she was the one holding the stone. All this time she'd thought she was being so cordial, so good, so polite...she too was a sinner. The Atonement was just as much for her as it was for Leila.

We cannot judge others. We have no idea what consumes their time, occupies their thoughts, or dictates their actions.

We don't know the hearts of anyone else but our own. Leaving the telepathy of the heart to The Master is a continual lesson I am learning.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

I Choose Life! Juno?


I just returned from seeing
the highly acclaimed, academy
nomiated film Juno. I can
say it was refreshing to see
pro-life advocacy and Diablo's
biting wit on the silver screen.





(Painting by Francisco Núñez.)

It never ceases to amaze me; Regardless of
our circumstances and place in life, we work
with indistinguishable emotional palettes.
Most of us, if not all, have felt alone in a crowd.
Whether we choose to admit it or not, we need
each other. I need to allow myself to be more
vulnerable.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Trips in the Field

Growing up in Southern California, I can’t help but be subjected to its freeway system. Most people who live in and around L.A. can’t avoid the 101. Sadly, I fall into this category as well, which sets me up nicely for my first “religious fieldtrip.” There have been many occasions when I’ve driven past the Church of Scientology Celebrity Centre International and thought to myself, “Hmmm. That’s very odd to me that a church would draw such a discriminating line between its patrons, let alone advertise it in neon lights on the side of a major freeway. I wonder if Tom Cruise is in there right now!” I met a woman in Australia while serving my mission who had made it to L.A., to this very building and as she was studying, Tom Cruise walked in! And now, Katie would be a possibilty too. I called up my friend Dave on a Friday and we drove to the Church of Scientology Los Angeles Center (unintentionally.) This building is off L. Ron Hubbard Way, a short fancily bricked street lines one side of this huge powder blue edifice. Interesting color choice if you ask me. I note that a big celebration will be taking place that weekend. They had a red carpet rolled out, minions of rented palm trees, and a white tented dinning area. (IAS anniversary.) We entered the building.

We walked straight into a book store filled with all sorts of Hubbard paraphernalia, Dianetics being the most abundant item for sale. Three girls were behind the counter, looking very professional. I believe we had to approach them for directions to more information, which struck me as odd because most times as a visitor to a new church, members go out of their way to welcome a newcomer.

We asked if they gave tours of the building. They quickly ushered us down several long hallways, all of which were similar in interior style to that of Disney’s Toontown. (A lot of bright yellows, blues, and reds, funky cartoonish furniture- it all added to the experiences of the place.)

The first thing we did was take a test, the Oxford Capacity Analysis Test. But before we could be tested we had to fill out a little personal information card. Before entering the building Dave has warned me, “Whatever you do, DON’T give them anything, no real name, address, nothing! If you do, they never leave you alone. I ended up using my real first name, but all else was incognito. Dave’s alias was Sam, Sam from San Francisco.

We were then escorted to a miniature classroom complete with chair-desks and all. “You have come to the right place…you are pre-clear, you can become clear.” The quiz we were administered had 200 questions on it! I repeat 200 questions! Here I was expecting 25, maybe 30 questions…needless to say this we poured over those questions for quite a while. Several of the questions are as follows: 39. Do you have only a few people of whom you are really fond of? 41. Do you circulate around at a social gathering? If you were invading another country, (because this kind of opportunity presents itself often to me) would you feel sympathetic towards conscientious objectors in this country? Would you use corporal punishment on a child age ten if it refused to obey you?” 124. Do you often make tactless blunders? 127. Can you get quite enthusiastic over some simple little thing? 132. Do some noises set your teeth on edge? (Yes, all three of them.) Do you go to bed when you want to or by the clock? (Interesting question, what kind of application could this have upon daily life?) 146. Do you have a tendency to tidy up the disorder of someone else’s household? (My favorite) 173. Do you cope with everyday problems of living quite well? (Ambiguous.)

Next we watched a movie. The opening music was SO scary! It was Halloween 5 meets the L.A. Philharmonic. The Orientation to Scientology…avail yourself of it. “And incidentally, he was the very first to publicly disclose what has since become known as the infamous Mind Control Program inspiring 100’s of exposés and congressional hearings, a very bold move. And the government never forgave him. They spent decades and millions to hound and harass him and prevent his work from spreading. Anyone else would gone under in such a vicious internal campaign…that’s one of the reasons people love him.” At the very end of the video viewers are given an ultimatum, “It’s your future. You can have it, or you can deprive yourself of it. The choice is yours. When you walk out these doors, you can choose Scientology OR, you can choose to shoot your brains out, or jump off a bridge.” I kid you not! These were the concluding words of the video’s orator! And he spoke them in a stern, almost angry tone.

The light’s and screen went dark, and Dave and I are just sitting there in shock. “Dave, are you feeling good right now?” “Ah, no.” “Me neither.” Nervous laughter ensued. We let ourselves out of the theater and found Shanab who would review our test results with us. (I forgot to call Dave by his code name. The whole time we were sitting with Shanab, our certified Thetan, I kept calling Dave by his real name when his test had Sam printed at the top. In retrospect it was quite funny.)

Shanab took our test results very seriously. He asked if we wanted to go over them one on one because they are very personal. Dave and I stuck together. I was told that I have huge issues with myself, the way I treat life and others. At the end of our session Shanab asked if we’d like to proceed with further courses. Although I obviously needed a lot of help according to Shanab, I declined, which was followed by, “I’m not surprised. You gave us fake names and addresses….” I also had a tape recorder with me, capturing mental notes etc. which led to questioning. Almost in a law-enforcement style Shanab asked, “Are you a reporter? What paper do you work for?!” I told him I was there for a school project, which was quickly followed by additional questioning. What an experience! Dave and I made it out alive, and managed to nip inside the Church of Scientology Celebrity Centre International on our way to the Spaghetti Factory. I found out the Celebrity Center is not just for celebrities, but for all the artistically inclined members. A band was rehearsing in the covered patio/mini concert hall, a murder mystery dinner was about to unfold, there were masking tape body outlines plastered throughout the courtyards. It looked like it was going to be a fun evening. Still I find it interesting that no one really made an effort to help us feel welcome at either location.

The Crystal Cathedral, on the other hand, was a completely different experience altogether. This is another place I’ve heard a lot about and have wanted to visit. My first visit resulted in a time and service mix up. I gotten there an hour early (thinking I was on time) for a service I though would be held in the Cathedral, but it was being held in a different chapel. The Glory of Christmas was going on in the Cathedral. The music permeating the grounds. I walked up to the 80 foot Christmas tree in the center of the courtyard. Approaching it’s boughs intertwined with 100’s of 1000’s of lights all swaying softly in the breeze made me feel like a hippie on a acid trip. It was very intoxicating and almost dizzying. The tree looked like it would overtake me at any moment and then the trance was broken by a clippidy clip clop of animal’s hoofs. I turned to my left and there passing by were two wise men leading their camels, and trailing behind them, a single Roman soldier. This was a very spiritual moment for me. Time stopped, just for a second before swirling backwards to birth of the Common Era, or as I still like to call it anno Domini. The story of Christ’s birth and crucifixion came to life right before my eyes. I tried to stay with that moment as long as possible. That alone could have sealed my experience as being a positive one. However, I went back on the following Friday for the tour of the C.C. Once again I was with Dave.

When I told a friend in Australia last week that I was going to visit the C.C. he started going on about The Hour of Power. I had no idea how big this ministry is. A pamphlet I picked up at their “Welcoming Center” told me all about it. Dr. Robert H. Schuller, the worlds first walk-in/drive-in church, the abundance of books he wrote, which is, I found out, how he makes his living.

Dave and I walked into the C.C, first. The Glory set was standing there in all it’s glory (pun intended.) An usher greeted us, and corrected Dave when he told me this was a nondenominational church. It’s really Dutch Reformed, with teachings close to that of the Methodists. Our tour guide took us through all the major church structures. We passed by The Tower of Hope, the 10 story cross perched on top…The light “never goes out on the 8th floor…An eye that never shuts. An ear that never closes. A heart that never grows cold.” Our guide told us that 100’s of lives are saved each year through their 24 hour telephone crisis and suicide prevention hot-line. This was impressive to me.

The Tower is surrounded by water and almost as if it were floating, a bronze sculpture of Christ walking on water comes into view. The work is entitled, “Peace Be Still.” Which leads me to the thought of aspect touched me the most during this visit. The gardens and art work were amazing! One of their pamphlets boasts of the grounds bringing the Bible to life and I didn’t read this caption until after the experience I had on Sunday night, and after my visit on Friday.

I especially loved “Coming Home: The Prodigal Son.” Being an artist myself, my eye caught all the intricate detail of this piece. How the metals were treated with different chemicals to produce a slight color variation, and all the time it must have taken to etch every stitch of bronze cloth, the tears that ran down the faces of the father and his son. This is a favorite scriptural account of many, and I find it to be one of my favorites too.

The two last experiences I’d like to close with are the chapel at the base of the Bell Tower and the Ladies restroom next to the Prodigal Son. Before I write about them I want to comment on how inclusive this campus is. They have an art gallery, café, a cemetery, several different chapels tucked away in obscure places; it felt like a surprise around every corner, like this place kept on going, and going….

We get to the Bell Tower, which I actually thought, in my ignorance, was the C.C. when I’d see this structure from the freeway. We entered the small circular chapel which presented a ring of marble columns, lining that ring, benches to sit on, and in the center a prayer altar with a rotating acrylic sculpture of Christ. The sculpture looked like crystal encasing a 3-D laser cut image of Christ. The only appendage extending from the acrylic cube was his forearm and hand, symbolizing that although Christ was surrounded by the things of this world, He was reaching for something higher.

Instinctively I had knelt at the altar. I was starring at the rotating cube. Our guide’s words faded to a hum in the background. It was just me and the Lord, which is another interesting thought. People who I meet in life who have the ability to make me feel like I’m the only one in the room possess a gift. Not just because they make me feel special, but because usually they treat every person they come in contact with the same focused respect and attention. I drew a parallel between the way I was feeling that moment in the chapel and the way Christ must have made everyone feel in His presence while on the earth.

The ladies were strongly encouraged to check out the women’s bathroom on the way out. I ran towards it not knowing what to expect. What could possibly be so great about a church restroom? What waited on the other side was an extraordinary maze of black porcelain and gold. I can’t officially tell you what the building materials used were, but this bathroom belonged in the Ritz Carlton! Christian R&B was bumpin out the speakers, dark colored carefully carved wood made the arched doorways and the stalls and the frames of the multiple vanity mirrors. This bathroom had lobbies at either entrance! I made Dave come in and peek. I passed a small plaque which said the anonymous financial contributor of this facility wanted the women of this church to know that just like this bathroom; they were beautiful, elegant, and enduring.

As stated in the beginning of this account, I consider these experiences to be two of the most memorable school related ventures of my entire college career. I won’t forget either of them.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

God Is a DJ

This was a practice in editing:

https://www.csulb.edu/~daltier/GODISADJWEB.mov

Eye of a Tiger? No. A Needle.

The "eye of a needle" refers to a small gate
within the larger gate at the entrance to a city
(in this case Jerusalem.) It was common to build an
ordinary door in the huge gate so that common folks
could come and go without leaving the large
city gate wide open. Here's the catch:
For a camel to enter, he would have to be stripped
of the cumbersone load on his back, kneel down
and crawl through the door. Jesus compared a rich
young ruler's many possessions to the camel's
burgeoning bundle because the man was giving
to his treasure more importance than service to God.
Money had become the object of his trust.

Some attempt to disprove this passage of scripture
by arguing there never was such a gate, even though
I've seen a picture of one online...I don't know
what city it belonged to...some say if you
change one letter of one word, the translation
veers from camel to rope- and that the needle is
in fact a sewing needle...therefore a
rope trying to fit through the eye of a sewing
needle- quite a feat any way you look at it.

It all boils down to the fact it was an analogy,
the point being that having lots of material
possessions can make it easier to lose an
eternal perspective on life.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Me Autobio Matey!

Autobiography

My directional choice for this autobiography was effortless; Religion all the way. How has religion influenced my life?
My answer to that question is a resounding, “every move I make, every breathe I take.” (Thanks Sting.)

As you know, I am Mormon. I got my early start in Utah. I say early because I was super-preemie! Dun da da dah!!! Dawn was born 3 months early because she didn’t know what to do with her bad self in the “pre-existence.” Upon arrival on the hospital table, the nurses and doctors quickly rushed me away from my parents to wire me up like a Russian spy. I’d clocked in at 2 lbs. and began dropping in bodyweight. At this point every tenth of an ounce was crucial, and when I hit 1 lb 10 ounces the staff began to tell my parents it was fruitless to make any homecoming plans in my behalf (besides the very possible eternal one.)

My dad being a convert to the church at age 19, is like a spiritual rock, and loves telling the story that follows. I was about a week old. My condition was not improving. My dad scooped my doll-sized body into one hand, anointed the crown of my head with “consecrated oil” with the other, and proceeded to give me the “priesthood blessing” that saved my life. The days that followed this blessing were filled with positive change in my condition, and as you can guess I survived. I became known as the “miracle baby.” I owe my beginnings to God.

Three months later I was given a name and a blessing during my first weeks at church. I’m sure my father, who gave the blessing, asked for faithfulness and strength to serve me well throughout my life and keep me close to the faith. I grew up singing primary songs about Jesus, learning about his life and how I could emulate Him.

At age 8 I was baptized. It was a day my primary teachers and parents had prepared me for several years in advance. This day was huge for me (mainly because at that age it meant having an after party with friends and family.) My father baptized me. One of his most prized possessions to this day is a frame sheltering 4 pictures, one of each of his children and he dressed in white on our baptism days. I remember after my baptism, my long hair, still wet and sticking to the back of my dress. My dad, bishop and a few other men from my “ward” surrounded me as I sat in front of the group of attendee’s, placed their right hands gently on my head resting their left hands on the shoulder of the brother to his left and my father offered up a conformational-prayer inviting the Holy Ghost to be a constant guide and companion throughout my life. I do remember in that moment, forgetting briefly the visions of cake and presents that were incessantly prancing through my head, and instead of anticipation, a feeling of warmth filled my little soul. I felt good about the decision I had made to be baptized.
In addition to this, family prayer, family scripture study, and family home evenings are a staple of life in my household. Ever since I can remember, these activities have been woven into my home-life becoming as commonplace as brushing my teeth and sleep. My mom taught me how to read using the scriptures. To this day, we have scripture study bright and early every morning at 7am. The only exception to this rule was during high school, when for 4 years I attended early-morning seminary at my local church building, studying from the “standard works” (New Testament, Old Testament, Book of Mormon, and Doctrine and Covenants) one each year.
Throughout my life my mom would occasionally tell me she had a strong impression I would serve a mission. (For girls this opportunity comes at age 21.) I had had my religion spoon fed to me my whole life without truly searching it out and asking important questions such as, “Do I really believe the same stuff my parents do?” At some point I began to feel a bit rebellious.

I went through a period of time between the ages of 17 to 20 where I stopped caring about church. Even though I continued to go on Sundays my heart wasn’t in it. I got into clubbing with some friends from work, picked up a couple bad habits, thank goodness illegal drugs wasn’t one of them. I remember being at a party and most of the people there were doing tabs. An acquaintance of mine said she’d split one with me and I am SO glad I didn’t do it. If I hadn’t had a sense of eternity instilled in me at birth I might be tripping on a flashback right now.

When I hit 20 I had a huge revelation. Simply put: I was not happy. I had let myself slip into spiritual bareness. I was distant towards my family and had a lot of anger inside. It was time for reform.

One morning I was having trouble sleeping. I took my blanket and pillow with me to the living room and sat down by the floor heater. It was particularly quiet that morning. I watched the wind rustled the leaves outside creating a kaleidoscope of shadows against our wall through the lace curtains. My head was clear and that’s when I was given a very clear message. It was like written text sailing past me as if secured to the back of an invisible jet plane. The words read, “You are going on a mission.” No! I exclaimed inwardly. That would make my parents way happier than I’m comfortable with. But the message was loud and clear. I knew that morning my mom’s wish was going to come true and she would be the last to know.
I began to make changes in my lifestyle. I started putting my heart into church, reading my scriptures, praying, weeding out my CD collection (kissed Sublime goodbye.L) I went to talk to my bishop and told him about my decision to go on a mission. There’s a lot of paperwork that needs filling before a person can receive a mission call from whoever the current prophet is at the time. I had to get a physical, have my wisdom teeth pulled, fill out a bunch of paperwork, etc. After all this was done I sent the completed packet off to Salt Lake. Weeks later a great white envelope arrived at my door. It was my mission call. I was called to serve in the Adelaide Australia Mission.

Before a person leaves for the mission field they go to the temple and receive what is called an “Endowment” or gift of knowledge pertaining to the journey back to God. In the temple we make several promises to live our lives according to the gospel guidelines- really it’s just an extension of the promises we make when we’re baptized, to follow Christ, and an extension of how we’re already supposed to be living our lives before we enter the temple.

I left on my mission in June of 1999, with a return date of December 2000, which was extended to January 2001 upon approval of my request. What transpired between those two dates altered my life completely. My mission was a humbling experience, cubed. I felt like an insect that had been freshly stepped on and somehow had managed to survive the incredible impact.

Coming home presented me with another huge struggle. I had forgotten how to be a civilian. I had completely lost myself. I was eating, breathing, and sleeping missionary work, and now that I wasn’t a missionary anymore I had a problem figuring out how to Be. I guess it could be comparable to Empty Nest Syndrome. One becomes so consumed by a certain way of life and when that way stops, restructuring needs to take place. Since, I have become obsessed with reaching balance in my life.

This brings us to my current state.

I have a rich foundation lain by faithful parents. I have come to many conclusions in the first quarter of my life. As I see it, life presents us with two choices. We can choose to gratify ourself and/or help those outside ourselves find happiness and satisfaction, thereby increasing our own satisfaction. I believe God would have us become selfless. The gospel teachings point towards selflessness. The words I speak the actions I take, the way I dress, everything I do… Not a day goes by that I am not strongly influenced by my convictions.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

In reply to: OD'd on LSD...

Although some of that site's contents are
doctrinally correct, much of it's information
has been taken out of context, and like my
comment now, is extremely subjective.
I would recommend talking to several different
people who are actually living the LDS religion or
any religion for that matter, to get a firsthand
idea of what the religion is about-
ask them why they practice it.

Jesus is My Pool Man?

Possible for our human eyes to mistake
the pool man for Jesus? It's possible.

Just for clarification's sake;) about
remember/recognizing the face of the Lord...
upon further pondering I realize my statement
was out of context being that I was referring to
post-mortal life...and you were referring to
the earthly realm...but let's take your angle
a little further-

I'm sure you've met people who've given off
incredible spritual vibes, yes? I just met a
couple last week at Trader Joes shopping with
their two sons, and they were practically glowing
in my opinion. This vibe was so prominant to me
that I commented to them about it- I don't set out
each morning in search of these kind of experiences.
So, I'm gonna rule out the possibility of me willing
myself to envision heavenly vibes(so to speak.)

So if a fellow Trader Joes shopper can have that
air about them, then how much stronger would
that feeling be in the midst of a perfected being?
I don't know but I imagine it has to be something
close to what the two traverlers felt on the road
to Emmaus after havign walked with Christ-
although they like Mary Magdala did not recognize
Him initially, they caught on towards the end-
when "their eyes were opened...Did not our hearts
burn within us while He talked..."

How long could we be in the presence of the Lord
and not know it? Mary Mary was too incredibly
caught up in depression thereby her eyes were
not yet opened...

I guess the critical factor lies in whether or not
we are preparing for that moment...are we excersing
faith in Him etc. etc.? and now I digress.

ps- I understand that the statements and questions
you raise in class are from an objective standpoint-
but what exactly is your subjective stance?