Good

I've pondered two questions for years, long before I ever questioned my faith:

1. What makes a "good person"?
2. What makes a "good Mormon"?

Pirates of the Caribbean brought up the first one, yea so many years ago.  Is he a pirate?  Is he a good man?  Wait, he's BOTH!  (...What?)

Good men wear good hats, Disney says.  

What exactly makes a person good?  What makes Jack Sparrow "good" (besides being wickedly funny and brilliant and mad and mostly loyal to those that are mostly loyal to him)?  Robbery, lying, cheating, sword fights, chases, escapes, murder, revenge, impersonation of a cleric of the Church of England...  I heart Jack Sparrow, but not necessarily because he's any version of "good".  So what is it?  At what point does a person stop being good?  After a dire mistake?  An intentional breach of integrity or contract?  Dishonesty?  Infidelity?  Money laundering for the mob?  Stealing aid money and sticking it in your own pocket?  Leading an expedition that resulted in the enslavement and genocide of thousands (pick a favorite historical example, there's plenty)?  Cheating in high school?

Likewise, when does a Mormon stop being "good"?  When he runs for President and can't seem to say the same thing twice in a row and favors policies that alienate half of humanity and/or his aspired constituents?  (I'm lookin' at you, Mittens.  I personally think you are a sucky Mormon and a sucky human being.  So there.)  After the first sip of alcohol/tea/coffee?  After the first act of pre/extramarital sex?  After not going to church for three months?  After not wearing garments for a week straight?  After stealing?  After not comforting someone in need of comfort?  After being involved in romantic relationships with multiple women at the same time who don't know about each other while you're telling the world you're going to the temple?  After questioning a policy or practice, either out of rebellion or feelings of discord with personal values?  Rebellion itself?

I don't have the answers to these questions.  I don't know where the lines are drawn in the sand, though I suspect they would be perceived differently by everyone that looks at them regardless of where they were.  People are complex.  Life is complex.  Politics are complex.  There is always a mixture of good and bad, an opposition in all things.  Given that, it seems prudent to follow the admonition of our Lord, and judge not, lest we be judged.

Malala Yousufzai is of good report and praiseworthy

Like another 14 year-old dear to many of my readers, Malala said a lot of things that people around her hated and disagreed with but that she unequivocally believed to be true and in need of being said.  She, too, was shot for her words and actions.  The difference is that Malala spoke out against the Taliban.  And today she's an inspiration to me.

May she and her family and her readers be blessed.

*SPAZSPAZSPAZSPAZSPAZ*

*flaps arms and hands, runs around in crazy circles*

I'M GOING TO THE CLASS IN NEW HAMPSHIRE!!! "HAMPSHIRE" IS A HARD WORD TO KEEP TYPING AS I SPAZ ACROSS THE INTERWEBS!  AHHHHHHHHH!!!!

*faints!*

So excited!!!!!

Finding passion again

I went to Arizona with mixed emotions.  I was glad for an opportunity to advance my knowledge. I was grateful to Providence for dropping the means of coming into my lap by way of a new client buying a package for the exact amount I needed. I was happy to be taking a class I'd been wanting to attend for several years. This was a great thing.

I also came with some feelings of intimidation and trepidation. I've done a lot of things I "wanted to do for years" in recent times, paid for Providentially, followed my old dreams and plans to try to make them work, only to find Beijing would change when I returned home. I'd find some roadblock to stop me, and I felt stagnant and bored and directionless. I felt obliged, though, to take the class since it was paid for with an additional promise of referred clients.  This was all compounded by the fact that this was only a prerequisite course; it was only Self Care and would not allow me to practice on or teach anyone else.  The course required for that was sparsely available and would cost over $2000 to take, plus travel expenses.  For a woman feeling like she was forever destined to poverty unless she pulled off a Lizzie Bennet or Marianne Dashwood, that felt like a nearly insurmountable bit of trouble that may or may not prove to be worthwhile to her professional career.

Something changed that first day of class, though. My flesh caught on fire from the inside out. I felt the Calling in my bones, in my muscles and nerves and skin and hair.  My blood raced and I thought I shone like a candle. It seared away my stagnation. I received purpose and passion again. It was as though I could firewalk out of my skin and up to the doors of Heaven, there to be received and instructed by the hands of God Herself in this healing art.

The drive never left faded, only settled deeper, dampening into my bones, becoming one with my flesh.  I needed to know everything afresh, review material I’d known for years, soak up information I had never before received.  I wanted to dance, I wanted to sing, I needed to soar, the step off the dark cliff into the chasm and feel the air rush past my wings.  But how?  How could I possibly manage it?  Already deep in debt, and the next class thousands of dollars...  The next step truly would be one into the dark, into the deep.

I stepped, and found a ledge: a virtual stranger I’ve met once in my life was willing to loan me the money.  Somehow, miraculously, the money was available.  I gave thanks for her kindness and spent a week in contemplation.  Would the feeling go away?  Was this foolish?  It was a lot of money and I don’t have much of my own.  Debt can be dangerous and I don’t have a safety net.  I’m struggling to pay off my credit cards!  This is insane.  That doesn’t change the fact that I need to do it, though, and a way has been provided.

I did back off a little on the loan request, though, opting instead to seek donations from friends and family to help make up the difference.  That will make repayment more manageable for me as I work this new therapy into my spa offerings and coordinate with other care providers for referrals. This should make life a bit more manageable over the coming months. So far, I've been thrilled by the response, and I hope people will keep up the support.  Whatever it takes, though, I will be following this dream, following this path, following this new-kindled passion.

Mother Fast is still going

I've been very lax about posting on the subject of the Fast lately.  Sorry about that, folks!  Anyway, tomorrow is another Fast day--I think this month is on fast forward, no pun intended--and it's the one immediately preceding General Conference.  I've heard murmurs that I find encouraging, rumors that the welfare and place and role of women is of special concern and priority among the highest echelons of Church authority, even higher than LGBTQ issues.  These are second or third-hand rumors, so I can't substantiate them at all, but I can hope that it's true and that perhaps Mother is making Herself known among the Twelve and First Presidency.
So, by way of reminder, let us concentrate our hopes, thoughts, desires, devotions, prayers, and fasting toward  "Something official from the Quorum of the Twelve and/or the First Presidency giving clear, concise, revealed knowledge about the role, powers, duties, nature, and attributes of Goddess, in the form of a declaration, proclamation, or inspired Conference talk(s)."

Happy fasting. :)

Consecrated oil: Not just for men!

Moon tree, red thread from a blessingway, and my new oil vial

I'm not sure why I didn't record it in this post because that's the date recorded on the bottle of oil, but my ward gave a bottle of consecrated oil to every woman in the Relief Society.  That way everyone has their own supply, just in case, and none of the women are dependent on the men having their stuff together if a blessing is needed.

Ah, if only that way of thinking was fully extended.

For now, though, I'm rockin' this awesome little Tree of Life vial.  Thumbs up!  My ward is Of Good Report and Praiseworthy!  (I have said this for ages.)

Every act of defiance against the violence of patriarchy (rape, assault, devaluation, misogeny, etc.) is an act of the Wild Woman.