:Naiahdot

“The dot,” as I tend to refer to my blog when I speak about it, has felt a little like a voice crying in the wilderness lately. Of course it’s no great herald of glad tidings of great joy and all, but still, since readers started dropping like flies once I mentioned that I’d gone back to church, my site felt more and more like I was just sitting around talking to myself, which, y’know, just isn’t that fun. I literally had to make myself post. It’s hard to feel like you have something to say when there’s nobody to listen. As I tend to say, blogging is more fun with readers!

I got a very exciting steal-my-breath-away email this morning from Geoff J, stating that, at long and gleeful last, my request to get my little ol’ isle of the sea charted has been heard. Aaaw yeah, ladies and gentlemen, check out box #6. All the scufuffle about T&S moving to box #3…I don’t know what they’re worried about, it’s just getting them closer to the action–’cause we all know box 6 is where it’s at!

And that’s not all. A few weeks ago, David Sundwall added me to his comprehensive listing, even when I was only a few posts in after coming back to the church. My next big surprise was a FMH sideblog link from fmhLisa when I had emailed her asking for her input on an entry of mine. (Like I said, blogging is way more fun with readers.)

Thanks to the vodoo magic that is Technorati, I see that I’m also in the Notes from all over sidebar on T&S, and, as if that were not enough, in a recent round-up of interesting women’s reading over at ExponentII. Wow!

So, yeah, I’m finally finding a place for myself in the ‘nacle. When I find myself snarked, I’ll know I’ve really arrived. My apologies on the brazenly shameless, utterly vulgar metapost, but I had to throw a party somewhere…

Update: Ain’t that the way it goes…The dot’s been down most of the morning due to some SQL server issues (compounded by mild incompetance on my part). It’s all fixed now. Sorry to those who tried to come by and check it out. Reposting now. RSS errors should abate now, as well. Can I just say, yet again, that DreamHost rocks. Hardcore, yo. You know it. I have the best webhost on the planet. Virtual kisses blown out to whoever at DH hammered out the database server problem for me…

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I’ve been talking a lot lately with people about the idea of acting according to one’s overarching feelings, as opposed to a momentary mood. My overarching arc says that my life is sweet and lovely, that I have great friends, a supportive ward family, an ever-deepening marriage, and thriving children. It also says that I have a great many pursuits which provide me with a great level of personal enrichment and fulfillment. Right now, though, I am tired. I was up late with Bobbie, and now I want to whine. In the scope of our whole life (as in all three acts, of which we’re only in #2, if you catch my meaning) a mood is not even significiant enough to merit the metaphor of a flash. Even a grain of sand on the beach of our life is too massive. It is a geometric point. No length, no width, no depth. One point. Definable in its position, but of infintely small consequence if one were able to toss it into a pond.

So, with such strong overarching arcs that form the backbone of many of our lives, why are we so willing to act out based on a mere deviant point? All too often, we act in ways that we only mean for a moment. One of the hardest lessons in life is the idea that actions have consequences. Words do, too, as choosing to and then saying them is an action. Every ripple we send out into the pond has ramifications. How are we all not more mindful of this? How can we not do our best to be aware, every minute, of what is driving us, what we are allowing to shape those ripples we send out? Whether we like to or not, we are faced with the consequences of our ripples. As my husband read to me the other day from Duties and Blessings 2, we are free to choose our actions, but we are not free to choose their consequences. Again, we are not free to choose their consequences.

Every choice, no matter how trivial, caries consequences. As a result of this, I find myself striving to be certain of my motivations, of what is driving me in any moment. Am I acting from a place of charity? Am I being Christ-ian? I, for one, would rather deal with the consequences of Christlike behavior than, well, than any other. Even that, though is a selfish motivator–mitigating the consequences. I’ve joked before that we’re all hedonists in the end, that even when being selfless we’re doing what feels ‘right’ to us, and therefore it is the satisfaction of doing right that selfishly motivates us, but that is a circular argument for another day.

I was reading the Sermon on the Mount yesterday, and, the idea of losing my life to find it has stuck with me. Truly getting myself and my satisfaction, righteouness, and desires out of the way, and making an offering of my life–could I do it? The vehicle is there for it to be done. It is the Atonement. It can be a powerful force for change in ourselves if we let it–to become one with Christ, to allow what would be His motivations to become ours. It is a type of enlightenment, for sure. It would be liberating beyond anything we can conceive, to find oneself free from all the various and sundry tugs and pulls of this life–insecurities, desires, wants, needs. I can imagine no greater bliss than that–to be truly and thoroughly good, acting only as the Lord’s hands in this life. What an arc that would be.

All my earthly happiness, and all its overarching arcs of contentment don’t even compare. Even now, with all so right in my world, I find myself mired in my heart in a moody mood, an inconsequential point that has such power to pull my mind from what I can and should be doing and thinking at this time. As strong as my arcs are, as clear as they are able to keep my perspective, I long for that truly enlightened, at-oned arc. That is one that no point of mood could ever sway me from. I am not there yet, and I would not even say that I know yet at all how far from it I am, but I know that it is there, and I know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

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From the sideblog on FMH I clicked over to M* where there turned out to be a pretty fascinating discussion on whether one can or should have a testimony of Relief Society (the women’s organization in the church, for those non-LDS out there; the counterpart to the men’s Priesthood). It stemmed from a question about gender and how we relate to our respective organizations, but the last paragraph of the post seems to have stolen the spotlight:

“I recently heard one sister at church say that another sister “did not have a testimony of Relief Society.” I’ve been pondering that phrase ever since. Does a woman who is a member of the Church need to have a testimony of Relief Society?

I would have liked to address the gender issues aspect of the question, but, not being one who attends priesthood meeting and all I, I figured I wouldn’t have much to say. The idea of a testimony of Relief Society, though, that really sparked something. Fact is, I have never just plain been asked, “Do you have a testimony of Relief Society?” I was alittle surprised at my own comment as I wrote it. Fact is, apparently, I *do* have a testimony of Relief Society. I also realize that I did not always have such a testimony. In fact, RS as it was in my past ward played a pretty significant role in my leaving the church for a time. I’ll tell more of the story when I get to that point in my Adventures in Mormonism series.

Here’s my comment from M*:

“90 For years in the church I just didn’t *get* Relief Society. I mean, the name threw me and everything. “It’s just a class,” I would think. It was probably just a product of the wards that I’d been in up to that point. When I read “Women of Covenant” (which is by: Jill Mulvay Derr, Janath Russell Cannon, and Maureen Ursenbach Beecher, to settle the author question), I was hit with a whole new perspective, and I *did* cultivate a new appreciation for the purpose of RS, which has been more evident and active in subsequent wards in which I have lived.

I suppose I do have a testimony of RS, though I do agree (with Sue M) that it is a grossly underutilized resource in the church. As for the cutesie handouts and widespread (over-)emotional breakdowns, I try to look past that. Everyone is at their own point in their eternal progression, and I just accept that that is where that sister is at. Also, I think it’s important to remember that one of the most intense longings carried by people today is to just feel heard. Listening through all that is, actually, an act of compassion and service. Ok, so sometimes you can totally tell that the sister up front is working herself up, but even then take it for what it is, she needs to feel noticed. It’s all too easy to get mired in insignificance.

I also have seen how damaging a RS can be, which, in a somewhat inside out kind of way, also served to further my testimony of RS as an organization. (ie. if the RS were not so vital, then it could not have caused so much damage to so many sisters in this case). The case was a RS pres who was, unfortunately a bit of a self-cannonized martyr (whoa, Naiah, any bitter feeling here???), and her weekly self-aggrandizement up front in RS drove several sisters in my last ward (before I went inactive) out of the church. It wasn’t just her words, though, it was how her words affected the other sisters and how they subsequently interacted with each other. It became a pinprick of poison every week. Though it was months after it was somewhat ‘too late’ for me, the Bishop finally did get a clear picture of what was going on, and that sister was released.

It took three years, but I found my way back, and I learned a valuable lesson in the process. I learned not to hold God accountable for the mistakes of men, which was something that was really hard for me, but I did learn it. (Not to mention married a husband about as far outside the church as one could find, who has since come along with me as I’ve come back and gotten himself baptized in the process.) So, bitter, sore memories aside, there was a happy ending, and, yeah, it did serve to further my testimony of Relief Society, in a way. What really did it, though, was reading that book, and taking on that “Charity Never Faileth” attitude myself, even in the context of tritely pseudo-spiritual classes with kitchy souvenier handouts. The RS attitude is up to me, and if I take my membership in such an organization seriously, then I live it and it becomes real and vibrant to me and builds my testimony of the intent back in Nauvoo.
~ Naiah Earhart | 01/23/06 10:46 “

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Yesterday (when I should have been bloggin here on my own site…) I revisited another interesting discussion at FMH, and ended up writing some pretty interesting stuff. You can read the original entry and my first comment here. Here’s my comment copied over:

Just now checked back on this one. Sorry it took so long to get back to you EmilyS.

The faith of the agnostic is actually a bit of an oxymoron, as it puts in the place of faith a comfort with the unknown, or, at least, a willingness to settle for not believing one way or the other. Agnostic means litterally “a-” without “-gnostic” knowing (from “gnosis,” knowledge).

I see the place of one’s faith (meaning belief in a certain body of knowledge–not necessarily LDS, or even of God at all) as a defining characteristic of their view on the world, coloring one’s very perception. Faith is a belief in the way things are, and for one to decide that they do not know what to believe about the way things are is, in a sense, a faith as well. Well, for me at least, being agnostic was a faith in itself.

The function of faith, whether of a Latter-day Saint or an agnostic (or anyone else), is to give a sense of order to one’s experiences, to provide a framework in which this chaotic existence makes sense. It provides polarity of good and bad and individually callibrates one’s assessments of such based on their own body of faith and experience.

What is comfort but the sense of something familiar? Faith is comforting because it is the very essence of the famailiar. Our faith shapes our perception of the world, and, therefore, anything that echoes that faith echoes our very view of the world and therefore is comforting. There can be nothing more indiviually universally comforting than something that echoes the window with which one views *everything* in life. Something reminiscent of one’s mother can be comforting, but even then, that familiarity is limited to the body of experience involving their mother. Something remiscent of one’s faith resonates with every and all their life experience, as an individual’s faith shapes everything. (Remember, faith is not just limited to belief in God here; it is their sense of ‘how things are’–a large part of which correlates to their belief in God, but not all)

Whoa, sorry for all the esotericism this morning. I hope you’re still with me…

Inviting the Spirit in, is not a function of faith, but a predecessor to having faith in the gospel. I’m sorry if it seemed I felt the other way. In order to acquire a belief in the aspects of God and the way things are as outlined in LDS doctrine, one must invite the Spirit in, with full humility and willingness to believe it ‘might be’ real, to give it the benefit of the doubt, so to speak. I have a great testminoy of the effectiveness of this approach, as witnessed in my husband’s conversion. I first offered him Book of Mormon, over 10 years ago, and he asked me if I’d lost my mind. Robert is a brilliant man, very logical. He’s a computer programmer by trade and by personality. In November, he finally came to a place where he simply opened himself to the possibility that it might be true, and he listened to the missionaries from that standpoint, instead of his usual intellectual batting around, and he decided that very night to be baptized. One has to invite the faith (in the gospel) in; it can’t come unbidden.

Also, I apologize for my usage of “heart hardened in this trickiest of ways.” My meaning was ill-communicated. I sincerely meant hardened in the way that the soil of a houseplant becomes crusty for want of water, and not at all hardened in the consciously fortified and angered sense. I do not see anger or “hard heartedness” in your friend’s actions, at all. I simply meant that I believe sincerely that if he can bring himself to a place of openness similar to that spoken of by Alma (willingness to plant the seed) or that experienced by my husband, that he could experience a refreshment to his soul not unlike water to a long-neglectred houseplant. (Forgive the domestic metaphor, I’m a whole lot of the H in FMH, if you know what I mean )

As for agnostics and the fence. It is fence-sitting, you see. On one side is belief and the on the other unbelief. When it comes time to act, they have to step off of the fence in order to have a sense of “how things are” from which to base their decisions. Most agnostics in my experience come down on what I termed the “natural man” side of the fence, and act in accordance with their own desire and best interest (as that is all that can be real to them, not knowing whether there is more or not), or with their own ‘will.’ An agnostic such as your friend is the most admirable, if you ask me, coming down off the fence when it’s time to act on the side of, or from the basis of a world construct in accordance with, faith in God. From what you say here, he lives charitable actions, even without the surety of a promise of eternity. He is not ready to sign on fully through his heart he maintains, but he does not shut it out entirely.

Perhaps he is living Alma’s experiment in his own way. Or, perhaps, he is going through the motions for lack of a better idea. I don’t and can’t know. I always say, it’s a dangerous passtime, getting inside other people’s heads. I pray, with sincerity and admiration, that he comes to a point where all the good that he has done and does opens his heart, and he finds that one moment (that’s all it takes) wherein he can offer that invitation and let the Spirit come on in and do the rest.

Comment by Naiah Earhart — January 23, 2006 @ 1:10 pm

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(Inspired by FARMS’s question of the week)

It is my current personal understanding through study and prayer that God’s grace is what saves us, in providing the atonement of Jesus, but in accepting that gracious gift we accept to become one with Christ. If we are truly one with Christ, then our actions can not help but be good, as we live by His desires which are, plainly and manifestly, good–He being the source of all good (Omni 1:25, Alma 5:40, Moroni 7:24)

He suffered a sinner’s death, and for that price paid to be applied to redeeming each of us, we must become one with him, thus the term atonement. When we become one with Him, we become one not just with that act of dying on the cross, we become one with all of Him; we become Christ-like creatures ourselves.

It is by the grace of God that the Atonement is there for us, and therefore it is by grace that we are saved. We show poor thanks for that grace, if our works do not reflect and project the changes within ourselves that such a gift engenders.

If our faith in the grace is true, then the good works will natuarlly follow. A lack of works itself is not what precludes one’s salvation, it is the lack of faith in or undertsanding of the atonement, of which such a lack of good works is a symptom.

Heavenly Father’s grace provided the way. In accepting that way, we accept all that goes along with it. We become one with Christ, and therefore we come to think and feel and want what Christ would want, and how could He, and therefore we, want aught but good works?

Mosiah 4: 6-7
I say unto you, if ye have come to a knowledge of the goodness of God, and his matchless power, and his wisdom, and his patience, and his long-suffering towards the children of men; and also, the atonement which has been prepared from the foundation of the world, that thereby salvation might come to him that should put his trust in the Lord, and should be diligent in keeping his commandments, and continue in the faith even unto the end of his life, I mean the life of the mortal body—I say, that this is the man who receiveth salvation, through the atonement which was prepared from the foundation of the world for all mankind, which ever were since the fall of Adam, or who are, or who ever shall be, even unto the end of the world.

Of course, this perfect state of atonement is something to always strive for, as none of us can be perfect in this life as He was, but we can strive to do our best, and repent (with every implication of change that word carries) when we fall short. I sincerely invite comments and questions on this as I continue to ponder it and grow in my understanding. So, feel free, should the Spirit move you thus.

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I am drowning in my own wake. I work so hard, and sometimes the momentum I build is enough to pull me above it all, but most of the time I’m just dragging myself along, gasping for air. A breath. A real breath. Deep and sweet and nourishing. Bracing and invigorating. What I wouldn’t give for one right now. I keep gasping and sputtering as I can. I suppose that’s good enough for now. I have to breathe soon, though, or I’m going to have to give up. Just give up. Let go. At least then I could be still. Still. I could rest… What? No. That’s not rest. I need to find my feet. Stay strong, but not rigid so I don’t get knocked off my feet and land on my face again. Not again. Please, not again. I can’t take another failure. What am I doing, though? I’d hardly call this a success. A breath. A real breath. What would it be like? I’m not sure that I know, but I’ll find out, or die trying. Don’t worry; I’ll get there.

I suppose I ought to pray when I feel like this, but I suppose that I’m afraid of one more Witness to all I can not do. I’m growing my capacity. I know I am, but it is such a slow process. I hate change, and still, when it has to happen I am so impatient with it. I want this goal met so that I can get on to the next and the next. Hmm, that sounds a lot like a violation of a promise I made to myself ages ago¹–never to wish away another day of my life. I did way too much of that back then.

I’m here. Here is further than there. Of course I’ve a ways to go, but I’m moving. I’ll get on top. I will. I just wish I were there already. I suppose that means it’s a worthy goal, if I find myself pining away for it. Longing, aching. There’s no way to it, but to soldier on. I have to be careful that, in the name of my goal, I don’t find myself devaluing where I am. This is me, today, and I am who I am. In one sense, all any of us have is today, and so I’d best enjoy what of it I can. It’s so hard sometimes, when I fall so short of who and what all I want to be. I’m growing. Growing is slow business, if you want it to be real. It’s all got to take root and settle in and find a permanent place. Anything else is playacting.

I want it to be real. So, there’s no shortcuts. This part here, today is so hard, though, and some days I just don’t have it in me. I know that it’ll be easier in time, but, really, sometimes that doesn’t make it any easier to take in the now. Someday. It’s hollow comfort sometimes. I’m so thoroughly tired. I want to let go. I suppose someday is the only thing keeping me hanging on here and now. I have to be really and truly present in today to live for what will someday be. Is that a paradox? It might be. That could explain the headache.

A truly deep, healthy, satisfied breath. I can think of nothing more decadent in this moment.

¹ – Ok, ok, so it was only 11 years ago.

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