Because I need to feel again

Today a coworker and I got to talking about our first loves, and what we remember about those moments the conversation evolved...

I don't feel any more.

I wander this world on as a shell, drifting from impulse to impulse searching for meaning, searching for something to care about, an empty shell without a hope, without a dream. I am drawn to movies where the lead uses force of will to overcome great odds, because I hope somehow, that I'll find that somewhere, at least a little bit.

Fact is, I'm weak and lazy. My penchant for mystery is only a defense, because if people were to discover the me that lies underneath they wouldn't stick around much longer.

Scrambled

The following messages has been contorted beyond ability to read, you probably shouldn't try. This is the message I should tell the world, but am too afraid of to ever let leave the confines of my own walnut of a kingdom.

And this is the fact that these actions. But more important is that the crown Daisies means nothing if it is consumers who are not good pieces. I think the response time of the market all ... I still see that the integrity of the game, or because he is an alien or refusal of pain. I am a liar, I'm not bad people, I know that some people are really honest, I hate it, but I think my boss. I do not think anyone can see in life. How the devil to hide in life, it is true that in the first half of the ideas, even if the funds are not part of me Oh, and the appropriate length of the historical part to play ... Hiking, environment, health and lose weight effortlessly, I realized that I do not know. Rooms superpower and is not harmful, and the genocide of the spirit flow. "But he said it is still possible .. How can I control Is it possible?" When you die, and eventually died as a result of death and life in a false light. I hope this site because I can not change. Going. .. I can assure myself that this is an excellent .. I can not find?

Hidden Messages

What is it about writing a message that is possible to be read, but is highly unlikely that makes me feel so relieved. I do this ALL the time. A thousand "as you wish moments" when in my head I'm thinking: "Read: I love you." I've done it all my life, at least as long as I can remember. The ability to send the message into the void, to say: "Give it up, you're only going to be disappointed again." In a way that no one else can read gives me comfort.

Yes, I want someone to read it, but I want them to pay for that information. That's not entirely fair I suppose. So... sorry Sarah (since you're the only person who reads this) this is going to be a list of the secret messages I post and what they mean.

The first one:
$3 79 81 *2 *2 60 79 47 (4 93 *2 (4 81 *e 79 04 $3 15 *2 79 93 *2 79 36 (4 79 36 *2 04 04 79 93 *2 79 $3 36 79 14 $3 04 04 79 82 *2 79 &1 04 58 $3 48 37 36.

I need someone like me to tell me everything is alright. (Someone who sees pain.)

The second one:
92 (4 @5 58 79 &1 58 *2 79 26 @5 47 36 79 47 *2 36 36 $3 81 46 79 92 (4 @5 58 47 *2 04 59 79 @5 70 79 59 (4 58 &1 81 (4 36 37 *2 58 79 60 $i 47 &1 70 70 (4 $3 81 36 93 *2 81 36.
Your just going to be disappointed again, stop trying. (not an exact translation)

And the third one, which I'm only posting here.
Why do I always do this to myself, I pick the girl I can't have. I'm sorry Taryn I don't really want you, I just know you're safe to like because of your age, attachment and because I didn't feel alone that night, and I have felt alone for so long.

Fear

"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7


So, earlier today I was talking to a beautiful young woman about numerous (I always hate that numerous doesn't have a b in it) things. If you know me well, I've probably told you about how I can feel pain, other people's pain that is. It is, I think, my greatest challenge in life, learning to deal with this ability. But... that is a post for another day, today I would like to talk about fear.

I knew I needed to talk to her about something, but I had no idea what it is, which is often the case. I have some incredible insight sometimes... but I usually don't realize it until I'm in the fire, so to speak. Anyway, as we were talking the subject shifted towards fear and I made a statement that got me thinking for the past... well, quite a while.

Fear is a temptation.

Perhaps it's not as cut and dry as that, fear itself isn't a temptation, but rather a symptom of a temptation. At this point I'd like to state that caution and fear are different things--although they are sometimes hard to differentiate. Fear is the result of Satan attempting to get us to do something we know we ought to do but whose results might not be favorable to us. Breaking up with the girlfriend, asking the girl out, sharing bad news, telling the truth. All of these things could have unpleasant results, but... we know we should do them.

There are some times when caution and fear overlap, pressing an attack under enemy fire, probing too deeply into another persons feelings or moving to a far away place. Anyway, I'm rambling and it's late... I guess I just realized that I've let fear take far too large a hold in my life and it's time to man up.

Heaven and Hell

I follow postsecret almost religiously. I've never sent off a secret, but this is the one I would send. I'll post it here instead.

I'm not suicidal, sometimes I just wish I could be.

First things matter.

sitting in the darkness, the stillness
i can
sense the pain. down
the corridor sits a
girl--she writes
the things my
soul cannot yet
ache for. above the stars
taunting me in their lofty prisons,
of homes,
spaces, wandering further apart, further
together. alone
i ponder they
need to join and in
the joining chase away the darkness that seems to smother, to cover.
hope of a yesterday forgotten
that light which gives alone
someday must turn dark, empty
i refuse to believe, but useless it
won't stop the pain
be that dream-ed end come and finally I am
alone.

Mist

through the darken'd night i dreamed
of all the things in life i had forgotten.
and in the morning, i had naught to show
for in the mountain mist the world
disappeared

the wind whipped the frozen flakes
and choked me by the cloying closeness
fighting for breath in a world without air
lost in dreary paths, obscured from
light

upon the life i glimpsed in brighter
shadows across the confinement
of my freedom the reflections of a sun
i cannot bear to dream of lest by fantasy
lose

these hands which had wrought so
little by their very industry creating
a million twaddling homunculi
that fill the days but leave empty
souls

Sakura - Hanami

Today, I miss the cherry blossom (sakura from hence forth). In Japan, the act of viewing the Sakura is called Hanami and is a national past time. People have picnics with their families and they sakura front (where the trees are blooming) is announced on the weather stations.

The sakura is a symbol of mortality, of the transience of life, the falling blossoms were made into the symbol of youthful sacrifice during WWII. But to me, they are a reminder of hope, and beauty. In the film "The Last Samurai" they make a reference to trying to find a perfect sakura and how by doing so you would be able to die happy, however in the end of the movie it is revealed that all of the sakura are perfect and that is the secret that has eluded the man for so long.

I miss sakura.

Full

Today I had one of the best sacrament meetings of my life. I arrived about fifteen minutes prior to the start, and sat there contemplating as the girl played hymns on the piano. No one came up and tried to talk to me, and so I was given time to think and prepare to partake of the sacrament.

Then, we sang the spirit of god. There are stories of the Kirtland temple dedication, and how when the song was being sung, the roof appeared to burn with fire--I felt like this was one of those moments. I could feel the song coming true in my life and I knew that angels were in attendance. The feeling was so full that I wasn't able to finish the song, as my throat closed tight on me.

Next, the passing of the sacrament itself, which was extended longer than normal by the need to bless additional water. Although I cannot honestly say I was thinking much upon it, as my mind was caught up other thoughts. Two hymns (Hymn #29, and then #134) were the focus of my thoughts as I pondered upon the latter I thought about it's author's last General Conference address given in the second year of my life.

As I sat and thought about these I had the impression that I was full, filled too far already and could not easily accept any further truth or knowledge. Then a young woman from Slovakia got up and spoke. Very rarely have I heard such eloquent teaching in a student ward sacrament meeting, and her stories and doctrine were relevant and sound. Honestly, I was blown away by the spirit she emanated.

After that there was a musical number, "Consider the Lilys" which I am told was rather excellent, although I didn't pay much attention to it, and then a high councilman spoke. I'm not normally impressed by high council speakers, and he was a pale orator compared to the girl he followed but again, it was sound doctrine, and I learned much from it, including several realizations of things I need to improve.

And then the meeting was closed and I sat there, amazed.

I'm not much of a cryer, yeah... I cry during movies, but rarely and few people see that, so it's a little disconcerting to be caught in the middle of 200 people crying, but how can you not after a spiritual high like that?

I pondered this as I read the words of the talk I mentioned earlier his raspy voice audible in my head as I recalled them:

In speaking of these wondrous things I will use my own words. Though you might think these are the words of scripture, words spoken by other Apostles and Prophets, true it is that they were first proclaimed by others, but they are now mine. For the Holy Spirit of God has born witness to me that they are true and it is now as though the Lord has revealed them to me in the first instance. I have thereby heard his voice and know his word.
...
And now as pertaining to this perfect Atonement, I testify that it took place at Gethsemane and at Golgotha. And as pertaining to Jesus Christ, I testify that he is the Son of the Living God who was crucified for the sins of the world. He is our Lord, our God, and our King. This I know of myself independent of any other person. I am one of his Witnesses. And in the coming day I will feel the nail marks in his hands and in his feet and shall wet his feet with my tears. But I shall not know any better then than I know now that he is God's almighty Son and he is our Savior and Redeemer and that Salvation comes in and through his atoning blood and in no other way.

I realized that I had never sought after a fullness before, always being content with satiated, and there was more that I needed to ask about, more that I needed to know, that I might say I have heard his voice, and know his word. That it might be revealed to me first.

Wind

This is a filler post, until I can find yet another errant charger. Enjoy. And while you are enjoying, try out: this, this, and this.

Home

Home is a concept that I've been thinking about a lot of late. When people ask me where I am from, I honestly have no idea what to answer them. To answer the truthful, "cîvis mundî sum" seems somehow wrong. I am from somewhere, I have an origin, but I have trouble limiting it to a geographical location. Who I am stems not from one nation of origin or one school of thought, but from the path I have traveled from that summer morning half a century ago.

Home is England, the magical forest, the mysterious golf course with strange adults and constricting ivy that marked the dead wood. The stranger looking in, on a culture not his own, distinct, separate but a part of the whole. From England I gained a love of vinegar, of moody summer evenings, jack frost, and a sense of the magical world as glimpsed from a small boy's eyes in those forests so teeming with the supernatural.

Home is the room in Orem where I hid food, the books which transported me back to that magical place so far away. The outcast, who never quiet understood how to fit in, how to belong. It made me distrustful, it made me afraid, afraid that what was inside of me would never be good enough, that I would never belong.

Home is my old '93 explorer, forest green and solid. It took me on my first dates, my first heart aches, it gave me freedom and a realization that there was something, over there, some place where life is complete.

Home is where my friends are, the ones who stand beside me and understood me. The ones who accepted me.

Home is the ocean, the turbulent, ever changing sea. Whose depths contain such mystery, such delight, the raging wind wiping harsh across my skin, and hair. The glaring sun on my neck, the gentle fog which brings my grey peace.

How can I say: "This is home." When all of these are a part of home, but none of them are the answer alone. I still wonder if there will ever be a place called home, or if I will forever float along the surface of this life, never going deeper than the foam. The feeling that I have, is that home will never be a place, will never be a dot on a map--but rather the smile on the girl's face when I enter, the shouts of joy from children's voices as 'daddy comes home' and reading books to my little girl on a hammock.

And above all, the closet where my Savior sees my tears.

Names

I've always been fascinated with names, with what they mean. A name gives power, it gives definition. Christens take upon them the name of their deity when they are baptized, in the Book of Mormon this becomes even more clear, as we read in Second Nephi Chapter Thirty One, verse Thirteen; which reads:

"I know that if ye shall follow the Son, with full purpose of heart, acting no hypocrisy and no deception before God, but with real intent, repenting of your sins, witnessing unto the Father that ye are willing to take upon you the name of Christ by baptism..."

Additionally, when Abram covenanted with the Lord, he was given a new name and became Abraham. So too, in the Lord's house are his servants clothed in power and glory, and given a new name as a sign of the covenant they make therein.

It's a long winded way of saying it but I suppose that is my way of backing up my belief that names have power, and my belief that is held true in the Heavens above as well as on Terra below. Thus, I explain my numerous name changes, not that I have changed my name, but that I introduce myself as someone else. Shedding the new man and becoming newly minted Xan.  My roommates found out that Xan was not my first name, or even my complete middle name and they asked why I had gone to such efforts. I shrugged. I didn't know how explain to them the feelings that arose within me as I contemplated and enacted a name change.

How do you explain that sometimes you must reenter the womb, and be born again? To give up the things you had, the things that you were and to take up the mantle of some new persona, not in name only but to step away from the clinging mass of a dying life and arise clean again. It marks a moment, clear, distinctive and separate a point when you can look back and say, that was then, this is now.

Perhaps for someone who makes fewer mistakes it would be acceptable, but I am not that person. My life is riddled with regrets and remorse, and a clean slate appeals to me more than I think it ought. But regardless, I am new and changed, and the name should reflect that.

Zen

Zen is a school of Mahāyāna Buddhism, translated from the Chinese word 禅 Chán to Japanese. This word is in turn derived from the Sanskrit dhyāna, which means "meditation."

So, in essence, these posts will be my meditations. I have other blogs for other purposes, this is for things I think about.

Today I was reading in the Third book of Nephi Seventeenth chapter, fourth verse. Which reads:

"But now I go unto the Father, and also to show myself unto the lost tribes of Israel, for they are not lost unto the father, for he knoweth wither he hath taken them." (Emphasis Added)

 I believe that every human soul feels lost at times, the thought is so prevalent in poetry and prose that it would be impossible to think otherwise. My favorite example of this comes from the Hymn, "Brightly Beams our Father's Mercy" in which the singers are challenged to act as aids to the Lord in bringing home sailors lost in the tempest. I have often felt lost, and yet the Father has not lost me. In all my wanderings (and I am prone to wander) never have I been far from the thoughts and intents of his heart. I have felt his attention on me, and I have balked from the presence of the Lord as Jonah of old.

It is also comforting to know that in all those wanderings, the hand of the Lord can be seen. For he has planned the routes I took, and made smooth or rough the trail. He has done this not out of spite, or in a fit of fancy, but because he knowing his son's predilections prepared the way for me to return to him, to be visited by the presence of his Son, and then to be healed.

Later, in the eighth verse of that same chapter we read:

"...for I see that your faith is sufficent that I should heal you."

 The savior of the world, man's great intercessor was compelled by our faith to heal these lost and bewildered souls. Having just gone through earthquakes and fire, tempests and tsunami, darkness and despair, I am sure many of them needed healing. But in our own lives there is something we can choose, that will compel the Lord, (by virtue of his nature, and love for us) to heal us. To make us whole once more. He heals their blind, their sick, the lame, dumb and afflicted. We can understand that healing, we can see the results, but more importantly is the prayer he utters afterward.

The savior kneels down and speaks words that no man can utter, no man can write, and their hearts cannot conceive. I have often wondered what it is he prayed for, I hope someday I will discover the answer, but if not, then I have this record that it happened, and the hope, the belief that I will be with him some day and he may tell me, he may show such love, not for the gathered masses, not for prophet or righteous. But for me, his wandering son, and for you.


We are not lost, we are not alone, and we are not forgotten.