Nancy's Musings

Today's Relief Society lesson was about Baptism, and through all the stories, and all the wishful reminiscences, this idea spoke to me: Don't underestimate your children. I was baptized when I was eight years old. I knew exactly what I was doing, committing to follow Jesus. We don't have to see the future to know what that means. I remember sincerely wanting to do good. I knew that through all the expectations I was not so helpless as to have no other options. That is to say, I knew my own will, and I chose baptism. I was asked "yes" or "no" and I knew that "yes" would mean a lifetime of care and effort, of struggling to do the right thing, and perhaps being mocked. I also knew without even pausing that it was possible, and that I would not be alone. I knew that "no" would mean a struggle with myself. I knew that it would mean wandering lost, and accepting ignorance with knowledge so close. I knew that it would mean being alone, w...

Last night I attended a party at the city pool. After the crowds had thinned a bit, I found an empty corner and started floating on my back, watching the black sky, and I wondered where all the stars had gone. I've read some articles about light pollution, and I understand the compromises for safety, but it was a little surreal to be watching the air and thinking "when I was small, I am sure there were more of them."

While I was at lunch today, my co-worker wrapped my chair in a black lawn'n'leaf bag, tied it tightly with white rope, and then taped it down with packing tape (I guess it could have been worse. It could have been filament strapping tape). I had a good laugh, and then plopped on the ground behind the desk to free my poor sitting device. We all had a good laugh. We took pictures and texted them to our families. We grinned and shot rubber bands at each-other. What a lovely workplace? Right. Now is the time for revenge, but I'm afraid neither my heart nor my imagination are truly in it, so I need your help. What, dear friends, shall I do for vengeance? How shall my poor posterior be avenged? Something with paperclips and rubber bands - something that Alan won't notice? HELP!

I know so very little about feminism and feminist movements, but I have noticed social trends in Relief Society. We women gather and discuss ourselves, and the fact that we are not allowed to hold or exercise the Priesthood like the men. The feminists among us have several reactions to choose from - they can freak out and apostatize, or they can decide that they're better than men anyway and don't need it. They can petition the church to change its policy and/or doctrine. They can repress and subordinate themselves. In our women's meeting on Sunday we discussed the Priesthood, and several women (everyone who spoke up, actually) seemed determined to assert the power of womanhood, rather than discuss the actual topic. I support this discussion only theoretically; in practice, it sounded wrong. Only a fool would pretend that women don't have power or influence on every level of society, overtly and covertly. Why did these women feel the need to vocalize it? One woman p...

I pondered briefly as I tried to sleep last night that although I rail about stupidity, and the frustrating people I meet who don't seem to use what little intelligence they may have, my true attraction factor - the thing about people I notice most quickly and am most attracted to - is not intelligence, but rather the ability to think for oneself, even if said thinking isn't of the highest caliber. I have lived among the academe. I have conversed with genius. I have argued with everyone, and the people about whom I find myself spouting encomium are not always those with a spark of genius, but those with a spark of weird. I like people who think differently, even if they don't think well. Truly, I prefer a mixture of both, but if I had to choose between a genius conformist and an eccentric imbecile, I believe I'd choose the imbecile. At least the thoughts expressed would be individual. Little good conversation has come from the Polonii of the world who spout platitud...

They talk about square pegs and round holes. They talk about oddballs and eccentrics. They ogle, patronize, and ostracize. That's them. What about us?  " There must have been a moment at the beginning, where we could have said no. Somehow we missed it. Well, we'll know better next time ," said Guildenstern reincarnated. Next time, eh? There's the rub. But Guildenstern says what I mean. Somewhere in my developmental years I must have decided, I must have moved in this direction. Sometime I must have been young enough to say, "Life would be easier if I could just pretend to be like them." If I'm a square peg trying to fit board after board of round holes, who carved me? I'm inclined to take responsibility for my own character, which means that when someone told me to be creative, to make myself be what I wanted to be, they didn't tell me the whole story. Someone somewhere forgot to tell me that even if I make myself correctly, if I do it ...

In "Measure for Measure," Shakespeare, as he did with Polonius, put profound words in the mouth of a fool. Lucio begs the soon-to-be-nun Isabella to try to save her brother from beheading. He must convince her, it seems sometimes, simply to open her mouth in behalf of a sinner. Seen from another perspective, he asks her to leave her home, her safety, and her vows, essentially to betray herself and help her brother escape punishment for something she truly believes is wrong. Shakespeare makes this situation, as many others, too complex for simple answers. Lucio, merely another complexity, utters the words: "Our doubts are traitors and makes [sic] us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt." The thought is simplicity amid complexity. Our doubts are traitors; they work against the whole, against the greater good of the person. We waffle briefly, and lose time. Doubts undermine our honorable purposes. We never leave the ground when we could be flying. T...