#how many times can my entire worldview change in 24 hours

[boldly-ho]

Another Life - Chapter 10

Fandom: What We  Do in the Shadows 

Pairing: Vladislav x Reader

Series Rating: M

Word Count: 1838

Chapter Summary: You clear the air with all four flatmates.

A/N: As always, cross posted to AO3.

Warning: Brief mentions of suicidal ideation.

You entered the lounge in your pajamas, your face already washed, and your hair messy. You collapsed onto the couch and started scrolling through your phone, making excellent progress on spending the evening in a near vegetative state.

“You’re not going out tonight?” Dawn asked.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “No. It’s been weeks. That guy’s not coming back; I scared him off for good. So I figured I might as well stay home until my depressive state killed me, quite possibly by my own hand,” you deadpanned.

“Y/N. That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.”

Changing the subject from your macabre exaggeration, Dawn suggested, “Let’s go out tonight.”

You threw her a look.

“No, really. Like actually out. Not just you sitting alone and sad at bar waiting for someone you may or may not have known to show up. Let’s go out, you and me, for a girl’s night. We’ll go out for drinks and dancing. Not Boogie Wonderland. You need a break from that place. Some other club.”

“Rain check?” You didn’t feel like going out. You didn’t feel like having fun. You felt like lying on the couch until you wasted away.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m really worried about you.”

You brushed off her comment, but you were getting sort of worried about yourself, as well. You’d stopped going to see your psychologist. Earlier in the day you found yourself wishing you would go to sleep and just not wake up. You were constantly miserable, surviving but not living.

“Well if you really don’t want to go out, why don’t we stay in and have a movie night? I’ll rent something online and then order a pizza, my treat, okay?”

You didn’t really feel like doing anything, but you recognized that Dawn was trying her best, and you appreciated it. And watching a movie and binging on pizza in your pjs seemed much more manageable that getting dressed up to go out and party.

You nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

~

The kitchen table was much too small for all five of you. Your elbows bumped either Vladislav on your left or Petyr on your right every time you shifted. Petyr sort of gave you the heebie jeebies, so you found yourself leaning slightly away from him, putting you uncomfortably close to Vladislav. You suggested relocating to the dining room, but were told that it was currently covered in blood and had a corpse laying on the table. You weren’t sure what was more unsettling, the fact that that was the state of the dining room, or that that news was delivered to you so nonchalantly. Nevertheless, the dining room was to an option, so you were all squeezed around the tiny kitchen table.

Viago cleared his throat before beginning. “We are here to clear the air about our being vampires and discuss our living situation with Y/N. It might be helpful if we reintroduced ourselves, properly, this time. I’ll go first.” He turned to address you directly. I am Viago Von Dorna Schmarten Scheden Heimburg.”

You stared blankly.

“Oh, and I’m 379 years old,” he added as an afterthought.

You tried to do the mental math in your head, but quickly gave up and decided to figure it out later.

“Deacon Brucke. I’m 183 years old.”

“Vladislav the Poker.  862 years old.”

He might not have been kidding about the Middle Ages last night, after all. You turned to Petyr, anticipating his introduction.

“Petyr,” he rasped, his voice as cold and creepy as the rest of him.

You waited for his age, but he stared blankly at you with his pale eyes, not volunteering any further information.

“We don’t know how old Petyr is,” Viago explained. “He lost track. Over 8,000, though.”

Your jaw dropped. “For real?”

Your turned back to Petyr and he nodded once. Shit. Okay, then.

Viago continued, “Y/N, do have any questions about vampires in general or specifically about any of us?”

You figured a general ‘Tell me about vampires.’ was too open-ended, and you tried to think of a more specific question. You had a lot of questions, though, and you didn’t know where to start. You also had some vague ideas and assumptions about vampires, but you didn’t know which, if any, were true. “How about I just tell you what I’ve heard about vampires, and you guys can correct me where I’m wrong and fill in the gaps. Does that work?”

The four looked to one another before nodding.

“So, you-“ You realized you didn’t quite feel comfortable referring to them as vampires, so you restarted, more generally. “So, vampires need to consume human blood. They sleep in coffins, during the day. Sunlight, garlic, silver, and crosses are all bad for them.” You looked around to see that all four were still nodding along, so you continued, rattling things off a bit faster. “Not showing up in mirrors, turning into bats, flying, having to be invited in, wooden stakes, hypnosis, and whatever Deacon did with that guy’s backpack.”

“Teleportation,” Deacon clarified.

You nodded, but tried not to give it too much thought. Watching him crawl out of that backpack was easily the most horrifying thing you’d ever encountered, and you felt the ball of fear and anxiety in your stomach return just remembering it.

“Vampires also have quicker and superior healing ability than humans.”

“And it’s not just bats,” Deacon added. “Cats and dogs, too. But with practice it can be any animal. Vladislav is known for his transformation abilities.”

Vladislav smiled proudly. “That’s not practice, though, that’s skill.”

“Ja, some vampires have certain abilities that other vampires don’t. I once met a vampire who could become invisible,” Viago explained.

“It isn’t just crucifixes, either.” Vladislav glanced quickly to your chest where he knew your necklace hung. “It’s any religious icons or words.”

“Really? Words? Like even if I just say ‘god’-“

You were cut off by wincing and hissing from around the table.

“Don’t do that!” Deacon scolded you.

“Shit. Sorry.” As frightening as vampires inherently were, it made you feel better that they had their weaknesses. “So is it just vampires? That are real, I mean? Or is every mythological creature real? Do I need to be on the lookout for, like, ghosts?”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Deacon scoffed.

“Of course ghosts are real,” Viago argued.

“Oh really? Have you ever seen a ghost?”

“Not technically. But the house I grew up in was haunted! There was a spirit who lived in the walls.”

“There was not. It was probably a rat.”

“You think I would confuse a rat for a ghost?”

“So, there’s no reason for me to change my thoughts on ghosts?” you interrupted.

“Ghosts are real,” Vladislav answered. You took it with a grain of salt, though. “Werewolves are real, too.” The rest of the group nodded. “I wouldn’t go out on full moons, if I were you. There is a pack that roams in Te Aro.”

That thought chilled you. You were sure you’d gone out in Te Aro on a full moon before. Then again, you’d gone out many times before unaware that there were vampires, including your current flatmates, out and about.

“Zombies and witches, too.”

“We’re not sure what all exists,” Viago told you. “Lots of myths are true, and lots aren’t. Some Maori myths are based on real creatures.”

“Oh! Petyr, remember the taniwha that attacked our ship when we came to New Zealand?”

Petyr nodded solemnly.

Vampires, werewolves, assorted creatures. Your entire worldview was being forcibly changed over these past 24 hours, but you just nodded. What else could you do?

“I’m safe, right?” you asked suddenly. “From you guys? I mean, there’s literally a dead body in the other room.” You were afraid it sounded more accusatory than you meant it, but you felt it was a fair question, all in all.

“We can control ourselves,” Deacon said, somewhat indignantly.

“You’re our flatmate and our friend. You don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks.” You thought it was odd to thank someone for not killing you, but you didn’t know what else to say. “Is there anything you guys need from me? As a human flatmate? Other than not slamming the doors and being quiet during daylight hours?”

“Don’t tell anyone we’re vampires,” Vladislav said sternly. “Not anyone. Not ever. Vampire hunters are also real and when word gets out that you are a vampire, you tend not to be around soon after.” He, as well as the other three, looked deadly serious.

You nodded quickly to reassure them. “I won’t tell anyone.” You looked around the table. Everyone was still seated, though it felt like the natural conclusion to the flat meeting. “About the dining room…?”

“Jackie will be here to clean it up later tonight,” Deacon said.

“Is she a vampire, too?”

“No. She is my familiar.”

“Familiar?” To you, the word conjured images of black kittens following cartoon witches on broomsticks. You weren’t sure how the term applied to the woman you’d once met.

“Slave,” Vladislav clarified.

You looked at him in shock, and he returned your gaze, shameless and undisturbed. It wasn’t the first time something that had appalled you had entirely unaffected him. You wondered if that was a result of his being a vampire, his living for over 800 years, his being from the Middle Ages, or if it was just how he was as a person.  

Undoubtedly sensing your discomfort, Viago clarified, “A familiar serves a vampire for a while in exchange for being turned into a vampire after service.”

You calmed a bit. That sounded better than ‘slave.’ “So you’re going to turn her into a vampire?”

“No,” Deacon snorted.

“What? Why not?”

“Familiars don’t get turned into vampires.”

“Well, sometimes, probably, they do,” Viago argued. “I’ve never actually heard of it happening, though.”

“You’ve lost me,” you told them honestly.

Vladislav sighed. “Familiars exchange their service for the promise of becoming a vampire. Then they serve their masters until they die of old age or are killed.”

You exclaimed in disgust. “That’s horrible.”

Vladislav shrugged, his sleeve brushing your bare arm. These guys all ate actual, live people to survive. You supposed their moral compasses would have to be a bit more skewed than yours was.

However, despite your clear distaste for it all, you felt relieved to know they were vampires. It was one thing to kill because you could, or because you wanted to, as you thought had been the case before last night. It was another to kill because you had to. Yes, innocent people still died, and yes, your flatmates seemed to enjoy it. Deacon’s manic laughter as he chased that man out of your room was sure to haunt you for a while to come. But no matter how awful it was for the victims, or or how little guilt they felt about it, they had to do it to survive. And that fact alone made you feel better, if only a bit.

[equalityfalsegod]

Spiritual Spoiled Brats

Bible study time! Just try and follow along this morning if you can. Good luck with this one. I've been trying to render my observations out into this status out over the last several hours. Still unsure if I managed to articulate it properly. LOL

First starting with what I was reading here: 

https://www.wildbranch.org/teachings/hebrew-greek-mind/lesson8.html

The above link is very good read, as is the entire series by Brad Scott.  You can find the 13 part series at his Wildbranch Ministries website (wildbranch.org), under the heading "Teachings" and the subheading titled "Hebrew vs Greek Mind". It is a very deep dive study into how the origins of the words and meanings as they would have been originally spoken, versus how the Greek way of thinking has, over time, altered the meaning of language through an entirely different way of perceiving meanings of words. (Greek ≠ Abstract / Hebrew ≠Tangible). I would recommend it for anyone who might be interested in seeing how the Greeks/Romans of the time, were able to dominate Hebrew/Judaic culture, along with many, many other cultures in ancient times and conquer them in a way that was ultimately more effective than warfare; which was to change/alter their language, and change the meaning of words to fit their Greek mindset and worldview.  The pen is truly mightier than the sword.

This got me thinking about the differences between modern day Christianity and how they generally view scripture, versus how those of us who have drifted away from that mindset view it, and how those differences shape our individual spiritual convictions. 

In particular, this quote from the link above by Mr. Brad Scott, in my opinion, gives a good example of one of the differences:

"To the scripturally spiritual man the other world is the reward, not the goal." 

So that makes me ask, "okay, is that a Biblical principle? What does he mean by "scripturally spiritual man"? Does the Bible say how we are rewarded and/or what our "goal" is?  If so, then why/how would one be rewarded according to the scriptures?  What is the difference between having a goal, and getting a reward? Are we all rewarded, and are there different rewards? What do Christians say our reward is (not individual Christians, more, those who are Christian leaders/denominations)? 

After answering those questions for myself through searching the scriptures, it brought me first to this general observation.  Just my opinion, not directed toward any particular person, denomination, etc... 

Conservatives in this country in general roundly object to when children are given rewards without earning it (winning), just because they happened to be present; many consider children who get rewarded without being found worthy of reward as being spoiled.  Yet at the same time, the prevalently accepted spiritual belief system in Christianity does exactly that.  It claims that you only need to have "belief" of worthiness (ie: accepting Christ in your heart, aka, "grace through faith") in order to reap the rewards. And while, I agree, that those who perhaps have become martyrs and died as a result of professing that belief will certainly be rewarded for that devotion, that in itself is "action/works + faith": ie: "proof" of their belief. Works + Faith.  Being slaughtered by someone because you would rather die than denounce your love for Yeshua (Jesus) would be the ultimate "work". However, at least as of now, the majority of Western Christians (not all, but many) have not had their devotion tested to the point of actual martyrdom, and even then, I suspect, many would still be found "lukewarm", based upon their unwillingness to sacrifice personal comforts in order to live according to the "how", the actual instructions that the Scriptures inform us that God himself commanded us to live.  Ultimately, God knows our hearts, yes. But are you willing to take the chance that your own heart has been tempted astray by false teachings that might incur His wrath when judgement comes? I know I am not.  And I refuse to entrust my own salvation to any pastor, preacher, teacher, organization, institution, religion, tradition, interpretation, culture, practice, or society which thinks it is free to add to or take away a single word of the Scriptures in order to accommodate and excuse their own personal preferences, philosophies, or traditions.  God was pretty clear on what he thought of those who preferred traditions of men over the instructions he sat down for us. 

Consider our "Participation Trophy" culture of entitlement.  Christianity itself is a "Participation Trophy" Religion.  "You don't have to "do" anything--- EVERYONE gets salvation!" Suddenly "Jesus" turns into "Oprah", handing out salvation to anyone who simply happens to be in the room at the time, cheering for their own selfish desire, without any other stipulations.

Is that what the Bible actually says though? 

I find it ironic that on one hand, Conservatives roundly condemn Liberal thinking based on how all that matters is intention, while at the same time, using the same logic to explain how they are saved based strictly upon grace through faith alone, and entirely leaving out the fruit of the spirit and the works that the FRUIT produces. 

But first, let's study out the word "FRUIT" so we can find out what the original intended meaning of what "Fruit" is according to how the ancient Hebrew authors of the Bible, and those who lived at the time it was written would have understood it to mean and what that applied to, so we can better understand how that would have been relevant then, and why I believe it is relevant even until now. The English word "fruit" in Hebrew is spelled "פרי", which is "pry" in modern Hebrew (transliterated), and pronounced "per-ee/pr-ee" in English. (Keep in mind, Hebrew is read from Right to Left, which can be confusing to English readers.) The origin of the modern Hebrew letters, " פרי " starting from the first symbol from right to left, if we break it down into their ancient pictographic Hebrew meanings would be: פ (pey) meaning "mouth", "word", or "speak",  ר  (resh) means "head of", "beginning of/heart of" and  י  (yod/yud) means "arm/hand", or "work".  So fruit, means what you say and what you do, according to your head (heart). 

John 14:15- "If you love me you will obey my commandments". What commandments? How do you obey them if you do not know what they are? Would you be considered obedient to Yah's commandments if you only confess things with words without actions that prove it? In conclusion, I realize this is going to be a very unpopular opinion, nonetheless, I will be totally blunt: Our modern day Judeo/Christian culture has turned us into spiritual spoiled brats. 

I myself, have lived most of my life as a spoiled brat, and in many ways am still a spoiled brat.  But that is in part, why I am so convicted to pursue righteousness.

Proverbs 21:21 

"He who pursues righteousness and loving-commitment Finds life, righteousness and esteem."

Mattithyahu (Matthew) 16:24, 27

24 "Then יהושע said to His taught ones, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his stake, and follow Me."

27 "For the Son of Aḏam is going to come in the esteem of His Father with His messengers, and then He shall reward each according to his works."

Shabbat Shalom, Ya'll!

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations MIA! You’ve been accepted as HYDRA.

Mia, let me just say WOW. Reading your app for Hydra left me speechless in the best way possible. The depth you gave to Nana was showed just how many layers there are to someone with the ability to control knowledge. “Nana is the Oracle of Delphi creating self-fulfilling prophecies that heroes try in vain to avoid, only to fall prey to them because of the knowledge Nana whispered in their ears.” I mean, do I need to say more after this sentence? I think I speak for all of us when I say we can’t wait to have them on the dash! 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

NAME/ALIAS: Mia

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 21

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST. I’m currently finishing up my semester so will be busy for the next week, but I couldn’t resist applying. After the week is through I will be much more free since I will be on break, but once next semester starts, I’d put my activity at a 7. I am taking a full load of classes and will be likewise working, but have time in the mornings and evenings for replies

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Hydra

GENDER/PRONOUNS: genderfluid, they/them or she/her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: Siddhartha Guatama was a prince, he lived in a palace with peacocks, and he had only been exposed to that which was beautiful and wholesome. That was the reality he lived in and the reality he believed in. One day he left and looked upon a dying woman, and with that one small piece of knowledge his entire reality was shattered. Neve used to have a family in Benjamin, then she glanced at a manila folder and learned more and thus her former reality was forever gone. In this way, reality is constructed, it is fabricated, and it is impermanent. Every person constructs their own reality, but these realities are fragile creations and sometimes the smallest piece of information can fundamentally reshape them. Nana is that piece of information, the one which changes everything. They are not god, they do not create truth (if there even is such a thing), rather, they create cages and distractions that people trap themselves in. Nana is the Oracle of Delphi creating self-fulfilling prophecies that heroes try in vain to avoid, only to fall prey to them because of the knowledge Nana whispered in their ears. Nana is not immune to their own words though. While their mutation may not be involved, their preconceived notions trap them in their own constructed reality.

Nana understands the fragility of an individual’s sense of reality, the strings that are woven together to create it, and the threads that need to be pulled to unwind it. To them, knowledge is not stagnant, it is a forever moving a shifting field which they to some extent can control. There is no such thing as a fact on a page, merely one person’s opinion that may be changed if new or different information is presented.

Beyond their ability, to me, Nana used to be a creature of ambition who had nothing to lose, but this has started to change. They joined the King’s Collective out a combination of desire and necessity, and was willing to risk almost anything to make themselves non-disposable. Winning and competition was already ingrained in them, and their insecurities belayed into confidence and pride the longer they moved away from their parents. This drive pushed them into the high ranks of the King’s Collective. While in many ways they are still this creature, Neve is the pieces of information slowly changing Nana’s worldview. They have a family in Neve, they have a something still unspeakable in Ilie, and they have position. Once upon a time the idea of having a true family and other close bonds was beyond the realm of conception, but now it is within grasp and Nana will be hard pressed to give it up even if it means sacrificing things they would have previously deemed more important.

BIO: (TW: Emotional Abuse)

Nana grew up in an apartment full of ghosts. The items left scattered around the three rooms that made up their home indicated other people lived with Nana––a tube of wine red lipstick standing at attention near the bathroom sink, a pair of tattered shoes far too large for a small child like them––but there were no warm bodies willing to be hugged. Nana wasn’t an orphan, Nana had seen two adults walking in and out of the small apartment, but at the same time the two people who lived with them were hardly their parents. The woman had birthed them, the man would bring food for them, but neither was a parent. Rather, the two of them were systems of measurement through which Nana could understand their progress in life. They were echoes of fully realized people who critiqued and criticized.

The ghosts in Nana’s home were not simply restless spirts looking for a little amusement before moving on to the beyond, but instead were vengeful, erratic, and loud specters that would howl and shriek one night and be silent for weeks as if to say you are not even worth haunting. Then the two would materialize again and speak to Nana briefly, letting them know what they thought of Nana’s progress, before fading back into spirits which Nana could only faintly make out when looking closely. The ghosts didn’t need to touch Nana for them to feel the ghost’s hands around their neck and in their head, tugging at their hair all while whispering demands for perfection in their ear.

In its own twisted way this relationship dynamic somehow made sense to Nana because in the same way those two adults were not parents, Nana was not a child. Nana was a legacy. By this logic it made sense that Nana was not treated like their classmates––as something precious to be coddled and cared for––because their classmates were just kids. While Nana reasoned that legacies and children were not so dissimilar, as both had to be nurtured and cultivated, the way success was measured was vastly different. A legacy must succeed at all things to be considered a worthwhile endeavor: they must be always be the best, they must never be frightened by trivial things, and affection was granted only as a fleeting reward. On the other hand, children had high and low-points, they were hugged when they were scared, and they were loved unconditionally. Children were allowed to fail, but legacies were not. Children were raised to be cherished; Nana was raised to be admired.

Admired they were. Much like a swan swimming, all people saw was the graceful glide of a beautiful child who exceed in all they tried. They seldom saw the work, the agony, that Nana put themself through to present such an image of ease, of simple elegance. Success was met with fleeting affection by their parents––a small smile or a light shoulder pat––but it would leave Nana glowing for days. Failure would leave them verbally thrashed, followed by long periods of silence where their parents completely ignored them, isolating them. During these enforced interludes of solitude, Nana would pour over texts, comparing different accounts of the same battle to see the discrepancies between them all while laughing as both claimed to be the sole authority on what happened. Likewise, their mother’s old Buddhist texts brought over when she moved from Japan became a source of fascination. They sparked ideas of fabrication, impermanence, and constructed realities.

Nana has never been a flashy person, rather one who projected smooth dignity and grace, and it was not surprising that their ability would mirror this. There were no sparks, no loud claps of thunder, no tremors echoing through the earth when they discovered it. No, there was just a tone of conviction carried on steady words leaving no room for doubt. I was in class today, how could you forget? These were not words of honey; they were words of steel. They did not seduce or charm, they described and informed. The teacher nodded, fully convinced. Nana smiled politely and excused themselves, a new trick added to a rapidly expanding repertoire.

During the evenings they would leave the house, sneaking out of the window with the assurance their parents never checked on them in the night. They went into the streets, seeking out the type of knowledge that only the cover of night provides access to. It was on such a night they first observed the King’s Collective. Almost immediately they were entranced by the group of individuals that to them looked like freedom. No walls that entrapped or silence which suffocated. It took little time before they approached the group, meek only in comparison to who they are now. They joined shortly afterwards.

With a taste of life away from their household, things rapidly deteriorated within the family. The King’s Collective made Nana daring and defiant. Their accomplishments grew beyond just being something for their parents, but rather a creature of their own making. With this change resentment started to burn bright in their ribs, heart hardening in anger rather than fear at their mother and father’s harsh words. For once when screamed words echoed like a bell inside their head, they screamed back, escalating the situation into previously unexplored heights. Like knives the words were snarled out, poison lacing each one: I was never your daughter, you don’t even know me. They were meant symbolically, to illustrate a point, but they became oh so literal when their mother looked at them and asked who Nana was.

In that moment, it amazed Nana how much a person can both love and hate someone. How long had they longed to be free of their parents and yet, now that they effectively were, it felt like they couldn’t breathe. They were about the take it back, to reinsert the information they stole back into their parents’ heads, but Nana couldn’t. They didn’t know what they had erased, they didn’t know how their parents had looked at them, all they would be able to create was a upside down projection of a past that they might have imagined up. Some information was too unique and too individual to ever truly know. In a moment they had taken everything and created nothing out of it with no form of recourse.

The King’s Collective became a home of sorts, a shambled together support system if nothing else. It helped Nana go to University of Chicago and study law. This was not out of pure altruism, but rather it increased her use within the King’s Collective. For them, knowledge was power and thus the more they could acquire the more use they could be. They were a tool to be used: first as a symbol of success for their family, and now as a weapon in the King’s Collective. Once they would have been angry about this, now though, they were resigned. Love and care had always been transactional and the only way to receive it was to make yourself worth receiving it. This was Nana’s reality. With this mindset they crafted themself into the perfect weapon, eyes alert and undistracted.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Neve Kaplan: Neve is the original wrench in Nana’s plans. While Nana is fully disillusioned with the idea of unconditional love, Neve provides it in the form of a familial bond, something they have never truly had. This is likely beginning to alter Nana’s rather cynical world view, but habit is a difficult thing to unlearn. Nana’s sister is, in many ways, the thing they hope to protect the most in the world. Perhaps it makes them weak and perhaps their normally impeccable logic becomes flawed, but they do not care. Learning of Benjamin’s history with Neve was only distressing to Nana because of the obvious pain and hurt it brought Neve. For a second, Nana almost wanted to take it away; they wanted to strike Neve’s newfound knowledge from her mind and let things continue as they were, but love had made them weak. Nana loved too hard and too much to be selfish in this moment. They listened to Neve’s plans, heart palpitating with each word. Her plans would destroy the fragile life that Nana had built for themself, and yet they could not bring themself to do anything about it. Instead they took a step back, refusing to directly involve themselves for the moment in favor of playing the large shadow looming behind Neve, ready to strike vengeance upon those who would dare hurt her.

They would destroy Benjamin if need be to protect their sister––the consequences be damned. That type of passion is born of love, something Nana has received a desperately small amount of in their life, and it terrifies them. At the same time though, they refuse to let it go, choosing instead to be willing to sacrifice what they once thought so important in favor of their sister.

Ilie Lacey: Ilie was a subconscious indulgence that desperately burned them if they thought about it too much. Ilie was a mistake, of this there was no doubt, but Ilie was a mistake that Nana may make again and again just to feel something for somebody else. Ilie invades their mind regularly, slipping through the cracks of carefully constructed walls Nana prided themselves on. It wasn’t love, it couldn’t be, but that hope of maybe it could be one day was enough to both make Nana want to never speak of it again and to desperately want a repeat performance. Never one to be weak to whims, they could tend towards the former opinion, carefully moving forward as if nothing had happened.

Abigail Imani: The two had a contentious relationship since their first meeting. Nana was already young, desperate to prove themselves in any way, and had a competitive streak a mile wide. This made them incredibly prickly towards anything that could be perceived as competition and Abigail was competition. Part of them felt a thrill at the challenge, there were few people who could go toe-to-toe with Nana, but another part felt threatened. It was rare somebody could challenge Nana, and for somebody trying to assert themself for the first time it was difficult to face. Now that Nana had effectively won, this need to champion has settled somewhat, but Abigail has a way of reminding Nana of youthful insecurities better left in the past.

ANYTHING ELSE: Nothing

[nerdygaymormon]

David Simmons

David Simmons is a professor of Film Studies and Humanities at Northwest Florida State College (NWFSC) in Niceville, FL. That’s a very small town about half-way between Pensacola & Tallahassee in the Florida panhandle which is “the reddest of the red part of Florida.” 

He attended BYU for both his Bachelor’s and Master’s degree, and taught at the Missionary Training Center during that time. While at BYU he performed in several operas and plays, and was in Concert Choir and BYU Singers. He earned his Ph.D. from Florida State University. 

He makes a big impact in his north Florida community. He organized an on-campus Film Club, and a Gay-Straight Alliance (GSA). As faculty advisor to the GSA, he’s helped them organize the area’s first LGBTQ Masquerade ball, which was open to the public. He also organized the city of Niceville’s very first Pride Walk. 

He attends his local ward where he’s the choir director. “It’s difficult being gay and being a member of the church. It shouldn’t have to be. The Gospel is for everyone. But sadly, some members don’t think that.” He describes his ward as “a very conservative, military ward” (there’s an air force base nearby). 

Can you imagine being a queer kid in this conservative little town of 12,000 and all of a sudden, there’s someone openly gay who is making safe spaces and raising the profile of the queer community? 

This past week he was invited by his bishop to speak on ministering to LGBTQ members during a joint 3rd-hour meeting (5th Sunday). He says “There was a lot of pushback after I finished the talk, but that’s OK. I want to help church to be more loving for those who come after me.” 

—————————————————————

“By This Shall All Men Know Ye Are My Disciples”  Dr. David C. Simmons  Sep. 30, 2018 

On the last night of his mortal life, Jesus invited Judas to leave so that He could give a special message to his remaining 11 apostles (John 13:27-31). In Jesus’ Final Sermon, He gave them a sign, a way to tell who are Jesus’ true followers and who are not: “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35). 

In other words, Jesus knew there would be some who would claim to be His followers, but are not. We can recognize them, both in and out of the Church, because instead of loving those who are different than they are, they put them down in a self-righteous way. 

Jesus went to the outsiders of his local community: the sinners, the poor, the lame, the blind, the lepers. He was teaching His true followers, in both word and deed, how to develop the capacity to love like He does. 

In our day, some of the ones who have been treated the harshest by Christian churches are members of the LGBTQ community. A few supposed-Christians use passages of scripture, or proclamations, or words from bygone leaders as weapons to harm the very natures of these children of God. 

I work with LGBTQ students at the College. I’ve listened to their stories. I’ve heard time and time again how they have been rejected by their families, their churches, and their communities, just for being who they are.(1) 

Many of their “Christian” parents, thinking they were “doing God service” (John 16:2), threw them out of their homes and families. Now these teenagers are homeless. LGBTQ youth are 120% more likely to experience homelessness than their peers.(2) 

LGBTQ youth are also 5 times more likely to commit suicide than their peers.(3) Nearly half of all LGBTQ youth have attempted suicide more than once.(4) And rates are even worse among LGBTQ youth who are members of the Church. Teen suicide rates in Utah have doubled since 2011, while the rest of the country did not see an increase.(5) 

Why is this? 

I want you to imagine that you were born as a member of the LGBTQ community. You grew up in Primary singing, “I Am a Child of God.” But then, at some point you were told by those who are closest to you, by those whom you love and trust to tell you the truth, that God doesn’t love you—that He has no place for you in the plan of salvation. 

What are your options at that point? It seems that none of them are very good: 

1) You can remain in the Church and live a lonely, pain-filled existence.(6) While everyone around you is boasting about the joy of marriage and being part of a family, you are constantly reminded that that is not for you. 

2) You can leave the Church and find love and a family. But then you are left without the great spiritual helps the Gospel of Jesus Christ can offer. 

3) You can marry someone of the opposite sex and may not be fulfilled. The Church does not encourage this anymore(7) because divorce rates in mixed-orientation marriages are far higher—80%(8)—and then often involve children.(9) 

Can you feel that none of these options are fulfilling? Perhaps this is why so many LGBTQ members of the Church lose all hope and purpose and then may choose to end their lives.(10)  

The Church is concerned about this. Just last month, on August 9, 2018, ward councils all over the world received a document called “Preventing Suicide and Responding after a Loss.” It begins with: “Members of the Church everywhere are invited to take an active role within their communities to minister to those who have thoughts of suicide or who are grieving a loss.”(11)  

The Church is changing considerably how it ministers with love to its LGBTQ members.(12)  

When Dan Reynolds, the lead singer of Imagine Dragons, organized an Aug. 2017 concert in Provo called LoveLoud, to let LGBTQ members know they are loved,(13) the Church put out an official statement endorsing that event: “We applaud the LoveLoud Festival for LGBT youth’s aim to bring people together to address teen safety and to express respect and love for all of God’s children. We join our voice with all who come together to foster a community of inclusion in which no one is mistreated because of who they are or what they believe. We share common beliefs, among them the pricelessness of our youth and the value of families. We earnestly hope this festival and other related efforts can build respectful communication, better understanding and civility as we all learn from each other.”(14) 

Just two weeks ago, on Sep. 17, 2018, the Church called Elizabeth Jane Darger, a longtime LGBTQ advocate,(15) to be on the General Young Women’s Board.(16) What a powerful voice to have advocating for LGBTQ youth in the Young Women’s program! 

The Church also has an official website, Mormon and Gay (mormonandgay.lds.org). It features the stories of many LGBTQ members, which are helpful for putting yourself in their shoes, so you can grow in understanding.(17) 

 This Church website also teaches several important principles: 

1) “God loves all of us. He loves those of different faiths and those without any faith. He loves those who suffer. He loves the rich and poor alike. He loves people of every race and culture, the married or single, and those who. . . identify as gay, lesbian, or bisexual. And God expects us to follow his example.”(18) 

2) “No true follower of Christ is justified in withholding love because you decide to identify [as a member of the LGBTQ community].”(19)  

3) “God’s plan is perfect, even if our current understanding of His plan is not.”(20)  

We don’t see the whole picture right now. As Paul taught: “For we know in part, and we prophesy in part” (1 Corinthians 13:9-13). Since we only “see through a glass, darkly” in relation to many eternal things, instead of pretending that we fully understand God’s will in all ways, shouldn’t we act on what He has called us to do: love? That was the Savior’s prime commission to His followers. Indeed, it’s how they would be identified by others as His true disciples. 

The problem may lie in our understanding of our LGBTQ brothers and sisters. Some members may look at them as having a physical impairment that needs fixing. Both Elder Holland, in General Conference,(21) and the Church’s official website explain that this is not true(22). LGBTQ members are not choosing a “lifestyle”; it is how they are. 

If we could learn to see our LGBTQ brothers and sisters like the Savior sees them, it would change our entire worldview and behavior. We would never make jokes about the LGBTQ community in our daily interactions. We would never express disgust at someone whose gender or sexuality was different than ours. We would never teach a child to turn off the TV when an LGBTQ person talks about their life.(23) Such actions not only contain unknowing bias and privilege, but are also doing untold harm to the lived lives of our brothers and sisters. 

Statistically, at least 5% of the population is a member of the LGBTQ community,(24) with some recent surveys having this percentage far higher.(25) Even if we take the lower figure, that means that in a ward of 500 people, there may be at least 25 LGBTQ members. That so many of them are now less active is telling. 

You and I both know multiple members, including young men and young women, who have passed through our ward, and been told they were “others,” or “less than,” or “outsiders” because of their gender or their sexuality. They sat through well-meaning but uninformed talks and lessons where a statement or teaching was weaponized against them. They were made to feel as though there was no place for them in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Today, many of them have left the embracing arms of the Savior, His atonement, and His restored gospel. What a breathtaking, unbelievable loss for us, for them, and for God. 

We still love them. But wouldn’t it better if they had these things to bless their lives too? Aren’t they better off inside the Church, rather than being forced away because of the unkind words and deeds of those who should be followers of Jesus Christ? Isn’t that what true ministering is all about? Reaching out with love to people no matter where they are on their spiritual journey? 

Last month, speaking in a BYU Devotional, Eric D. Huntsman, a Professor of Ancient Scripture, explained our need to minister with love to our LGBTQ brothers and sisters: “We should never fear that we are compromising when we make the choice to love. . . . Accepting others. . .means simply that we allow the realities of their lives to be different than our own. Whether those realities mean that they look, act, feel, or experience life differently than we do, the unchanging fact is that they are children of loving heavenly parents, and the same Jesus suffered and died for them, as for us. Not just for LGBTQ+ sisters and brothers but for many people, the choice to love can literally make the difference between life and death.”(26) 

Undoubtedly, there are those in this room who will have children, other family members, or friends who will come out to you. It will be one of the most painfully vulnerable moments of their life. Decide right now, that you will respond immediately with overwhelming love and kindness. That’s all you have to do. Just put your arms around them and say, “Thank you for telling me. I love you just like you are.” 

Think to yourself, “How would the Savior reach out with love?” Then love like that. It may take having to unlearn some of the things your local culture has taught you in order to walk the higher way of the Law of the Gospel (loving like Jesus loved). 

Seek out LGBTQ people in your circles of influence. Get to know them and their stories. Instead of correcting and instructing, just listen, feel, and love them for who they are. Become a powerful friend and ally. 

If you don’t have the strength to do this yet, cry out to your God for strength, for courage, and for the ability to develop the capacity to love as He loves. 

If you are a member of the LGBTQ community, try this experiment. Go home tonight and pray in secret: “Dear Heavenly Father, do you love me?” Feel God’s immense peace and love wash over you as He confirms this with certainty. You are His child and He loves you. The Gospel is for you too. 

 Conclusion The Holy Ghost bears record to our souls that God loves all of his children, not just his straight children. He loves his gay children, his lesbian children, his bi children, his trans children, and those who are still trying to understand the divine way he made them. The atonement of Jesus Christ is for everyone. 

Nephi taught this sublime, eternal truth: “[The Savior] inviteth all to come unto him and partake of his goodness.” What does “all” mean? It means “all.” 

“And he denieth none that come unto him.” What does “none” mean? It’s means “none.” 

“Black and white, bond and free, male and female; and he remembereth the heathen [that means non-member]; and all are alike unto God” (2 Nephi 26:33, emphasis added). 

It’s my testimony that the Savior’s atonement is for everyone. He wants us to establish Zion right here and right now. But that can only be done by partaking of the atonement, and allowing our natures to be changed so that we are filled with love for everyone, especially those whom our local culture deems as “outsiders.” Then we can’t wait to go forth, becoming the Savior’s hands to lift, to minister, and to love others. 

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen. 

[If you need someone to talk with about the ideas presented here, please email me (David Simmons): filmteach@me.com] 

Appendix 1: Scriptures, Quotes, and Resources for Further Study 

“Mormon LGBT Questions.” Bryce Cook, March 17, 2017. This is the most profound resource on how the Church’s view on LGBTQ members has changed over time. I think every member of the Church should read it. If it’s too long, read a summary here: 

“LGBT Questions: An Essay.” By Common Consent, March 19, 2017. This is a summary of Bryce Cook’s landmark “Mormon LGBT Questions” document. 

Mormon and Gay. This is the Church’s official website. They recently changed the name from mormonsandgays to mormonandgay to acknowledge the many members who are both. 

“Hard Sayings and Safe Spaces: Making Room for Struggle as Well as Faith.” Eric D. Huntsman. Aug. 7, 2018, BYU Speeches. A masterful talk given last month at a BYU Devotional about our need to love each other wherever we are on our spiritual journey. 

“A Mission President’s Beautiful Response When a Missionary Came Out to Him as Gay.” LDS Living, Aug. 27, 2018. Cal Burke’s inspiring story about coming out to his mission president and being received with love. 

“Mormon and/or Gay?” By Common Consent, Aug. 20, 2018. How we often unknowingly use “othering” language in our discourse about our LGBTQ brothers and sisters. 

“To Mourn with Gay Friends That Mourn.” By Common Consent, Oct. 4, 2017. Why we often correct and instruct rather than listen and feel when we talk with our LGBTQ brothers and sisters. 

“An Open Letter to Latter-Day Saints: When a Gay Person Shows Up at Church.” By Common Consent, Nov. 8, 2015. A discussion of the unbearable choice given to LGBTQ members. 

That We May Be One: A Gay Mormon’s Perspective on Faith and Family. Tom Christofferson. SLC: Deseret Book: Sep. 2017. An apostle’s gay brother tells his experience of being unconditionally loved and supported by his family and bishopric after coming out to them. You can purchase it here. 

President M. Russell Ballard  • “I want anyone who is a member of the Church who is gay or lesbian to know I believe you have a place in the kingdom and I recognize that sometimes it may be difficult for you to see where you fit in the Lord’s Church, but you do. We need to listen to and understand what our LGBT brothers and sisters are feeling and experiencing. Certainly, we must do better than we have done in the past so that all members feel they have a spiritual home.”(27)  

Elder Quentin L. Cook  • “As a church, nobody should be more loving and compassionate. Let us be at the forefront in terms of expressing love, compassion, and outreach. Let’s not have families exclude or be disrespectful of those who choose a different lifestyle as a result of their feelings about their own gender.”(28) 

Matthew 9: Loving Outsiders is More Important than Church Ritual  • Matthew 9:10-11 “And it came to pass, as Jesus sat at meat in the house, behold, many publicans and sinners came and sat down with him and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw it, they said unto his disciples, Why eateth your Master with publicans and sinners?” Here, church leaders and members are rebuking Jesus for being with tax collectors (a hated segment of society, that were often excommunicated from the synagogues) and sinners • Matthew 9:12-13 “But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. But go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy [Greek: eleos, “love” or “compassion”] and not sacrifice.” Jesus is here quoting Hosea 6:6, where He once told the prophet: “I want you to show love, not offer sacrifices” (N.L.T. Hosea 6:6). In other words, showing love to the outcasts of society is more important than church rituals. It’s more important than partaking of the sacrament. It’s more important than going to the temple. If you don’t love others (especially the outsiders, like Jesus did) than none of the rituals  • N.L.T. Matthew 9:13 “For I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners.” Jesus is very clear with these church leaders and members who think they are following all the rules, but yet are looking on the outcasts of society, that they are in a far worse position than those they look down on. They are the greater sinners. 

Humble Outsiders Will Go Into the Kingdom of God before SelfRighteous Members  • Matthew 21:31 During His mortal ministry, the Savior had some of his harshest words to say to members of the Church who were afflicted by self-righteous-itis. They thought they were better than females, or the poor, or those outside certain family lines. To them, He said: “The publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you.”  • Matthew 22:1-14 Jesus also told the parable of the marriage of the king’s son, where those who were bidden to the marriage dinner “would not come,” so the king tells his servants to go out to the highways and gather as many of those the world deemed as outsiders, to come partake of the feast. He said to do this because “many are called [baptized members of the Church], but few are chosen [to live the way the Savior lives].”  • The Savior Himself went to the poor, the lame, the leprous, the blind, to those whom society deemed outsiders. If we want to be like Him, we shouldn’t align ourselves with the self-righteous in our day and put down the vulnerable and the outsiders. We should instead follow His example and seek out those who may have been labeled “outsiders.” 

The Outsiders Will Go Into Heaven Before Complacent Members  • Luke 14:15 “And when one of them that sat at meat with him heard these things, he said unto him, Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of God.” Since this teaching may not be absolutely clear, Jesus gives a parable to explain it—the Parable of the Great Supper.  • Luke 14:16-17 “Then said he unto him, A certain man made a great supper, and bade many: and sent his servant at supper time to say to them that were bidden, Come; for all things are now ready.” What’s the supper? Feasting on the Gospel of Jesus Christ. This is such a beautiful image. When we take it inside of us, it becomes part of who we are (Schaelling, C.E.S. Institute Lecture, “Great Supper”).  • How do we accept the invitation to the Supper? Through baptism (Schaelling, C.E.S. Institute Lecture, “Great Supper”).  • Luke 14:18-20 “And they all with one consent began to make excuse. The first said unto him, I have bought a piece of ground, and I must needs go and see it: I pray thee have me excused. And another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them: I pray thee, have me excused. And another said, I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.” What excuses do people make not to come to the feast? New ground, new oxen, new wife. There are many reasons that people can give for not putting the Gospel of Jesus Christ first in their lives. Do we ever put possessions, or even family members, before the Savior? What does Jesus say about this in verse 26? “If any man come to me and [Greek “doesn’t love less”] his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also; or in other words, is afraid to lay down his life for my sake; he cannot be my disciple” (J.S.T. Luke 14:26). This is tough. What do you do if your wife wants you to stay home instead of doing your home teaching? What do you do if your parents tell you they will disown you if you get baptized into the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ? When I was on my mission in Texas, there was an 18-year-old non-member girl named Letti who went to seminary with some of her friends, felt the Spirit of God tell her it was true, and knew she needed to join. But her parents told her that if she did, she would no longer be considered one of their family. What a tough choice for anyone to have to make. Yet, she went through with her decision to be baptized anyway, for she could not put other things—even family—before the Savior. Letti was being a true disciple of Jesus Christ. She put him first above all things, even her own family  • Luke 14:21-24 “So that servant came, and shewed his lord these things. Then the master of the house being angry said to his servant, Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city and bring in hither the poor, and the maimed, and the halt, and the blind. And the servant said, Lord it is done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room. And the lord said unto the servant, Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled. For I say unto you, That none of those men which were bidden shall taste of my supper.” What does this mean?  • 1) Since the Jews, the Lord’s covenant people, were rejecting the supper, that great feast of the Gospel was just about to go to the spiritually poor, maimed, halt, and blind: in other words, the Gentiles, beginning at the time of Paul (Schaelling, C.E.S. Institute Lecture, “Great Supper”).  • 2) For me, individually, it means I need to come and partake of the Savior, and his Gospel, and have this mighty value change in my life where I realize that earthly things are only here to be turned into eternal things by using them to help other people, so that my place at the eternal feast doesn’t go to someone else who is more giving, more loving, and more compassionate than I am. I need tobe like the Savior. 

Matthew 19:30 The First Shall Be Last and the Last Shall Be First  • Jesus said: “But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first.”  • As Dr. Fatimah Sellah recently said: “I’ve long believed of the marginalized of this church and the world, that if the first shall be last and the last shall be first: I’d be careful if I were first right now. I’d be careful if I were the ones at the pulpits and held the power. God is a God of disruption and flips things on its head.”(29) 

Ephesians 2:19 There Are No Outsiders in God’s Church  • “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.” 

President Brigham Young  • “The least, the most inferior person now upon the earth . . . is worth worlds” (Journal of Discourses 9:124). 

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf  • “Sometimes we confuse differences in personality with sin. We can even make the mistake of thinking that because someone is different from us, it must mean they are not pleasing to God. This line of thinking leads some to believe that the Church wants to create every member from a single mold—that each one should look, feel, think, and behave like every other. This would contradict the genius of God, who created every man different from his brother, every son different from his father. . . . As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are united in our testimony of the restored gospel and our commitment to keep God’s commandments. But we are diverse in our cultural, social, and political preferences. The Church thrives when we take advantage of this diversity and encourage each other to develop and use our talents to lift and strengthen our fellow disciples” (“Four Titles.” Ensign. May 2013). 

Bishop Gerald Causse, First Counselor in the Presiding Bishopric  • “During His earthly ministry, Jesus was an example of one who went far beyond the simple obligation of hospitality and tolerance. Those who were excluded from society, those who were rejected and considered to be impure by the self-righteous, were given His compassion and respect. They received an equal part of His teachings and ministry.  • “For example, the Savior went against the established customs of His time to address the woman of Samaria, asking her for some water. He sat down to eat with publicans and tax collectors. He didn’t hesitate to approach the leper, to touch him and heal him. Admiring the faith of the Roman centurion, He said to the crowd, “Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel” (Matthew 8:10; see also 8:2-3; Mark 1:40-42; 2:15; John 4:7-9).  • “In this Church there are no strangers and no outcasts. There are only brothers and sisters. The knowledge that we have of an Eternal Father helps us be more sensitive to the brotherhood and sisterhood that should exist among all men and women upon the earth.  • “A passage from the novel Les Misérables illustrates how priesthood holders can treat those individuals viewed as strangers. Jean Valjean had just been released as a prisoner. Exhausted by a long voyage and dying of hunger and thirst, he arrives in a small town seeking a place to find food and shelter for the night. When the news of his arrival spreads, one by one all the inhabitants close their doors to him. Not the hotel, not the inn, not even the prison would invite him in. He is rejected, driven away, banished. Finally, with no strength left, he collapses at the front door of the town’s bishop. The good clergyman is entirely aware of Valjean’s background, but he invites the vagabond into his home with these compassionate words: “‘This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. … What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me [your name], you had one which I knew.’ “[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment. “‘Really? You knew what I was called?’ “‘Yes,’ replied the Bishop, ‘you are called my brother.’” (Les Miserables 1:73).  • “In this Church our wards and our quorums do not belong to us. They belong to Jesus Christ. Whoever enters our meetinghouses should feel at home.  • “It is very likely that the next person converted to the gospel in your ward will be someone who does not come from your usual circle of friends and acquaintances. You may note this by his or her appearance, language, manner of dress, or color of skin. This person may have grown up in another religion, with a different background or a different lifestyle.  • “We all need to work together to build spiritual unity within our wards and branches. An example of perfect unity existed among the people of God after Christ visited the Americas. The record observes that there were no “Lamanites, nor any manner of -ites; but they were in one, the children of Christ, and heirs to the kingdom of God.” (4 Nephi 1:17).  • “Unity is not achieved by ignoring and isolating members who seem to be different or weaker and only associating with people who are like us. On the contrary, unity is gained by welcoming and serving those who are new and who have particular needs. These members are a blessing for the Church and provide us with opportunities to serve our neighbors and thus purify our own hearts.  • “Reach out to anyone who appears at the doors of your Church buildings. Welcome them with gratitude and without prejudice. If people you do not know walk into one of your meetings, greet them warmly and invite them to sit with you. Please make the first move to help them feel welcome and loved, rather than waiting for them to come to you.  • “After your initial welcome, consider ways you can continue to minister to them. I once heard of a ward where, after the baptism of two deaf sisters, two marvelous Relief Society sisters decided to learn sign language so they could better communicate with these new converts. What a wonderful example of love for fellow brothers and sisters in the gospel!  • “I bear witness that no one is a stranger to our Heavenly Father. There is no one whose soul is not precious to Him.  • “I pray that when the Lord gathers His sheep at the last day, He may say to each one of us, “I was a stranger, and ye took me in.” Then we will say to Him, “When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in?” And He will answer us, “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:35-40). In the name of Jesus Christ, amen” (“Ye Are No More Strangers,” General Conference, October 2013). 

  ENDNOTES  —————————— 

(1) McKeon, Jennie. “NWFSC Students Hosting Inaugural Gay Ball.” WUWF. Sep. 20, 2018. http://www.wuwf.org/post/nwfsc-students-hostinginaugural-gay-ball 

(2) Silva, Christina. “LGBT Youth are 120% More Likely to Be Homeless Than Straight People, Study Shows.” Newsweek. Nov. 30, 2017. https://www.newsweek.com/lgbt-youth-homeless-study-727595 

(3) “Facts About Suicide.” The Trevor Project. https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/preventing-suicide/factsabout-suicide/#sm.001r5tfiv1doccqtqy6168cjea5zn 

(4) http://www.speakforthem.org/facts.html 

(5) Utah Department of Health, https://ibis.health.utah.gov/pdf/opha/publication/hsu/SE04_SuicideE piAid.pdf  See also: Hatch, Heidi. “Is Utah’s Youth Suicide Rate Linked to Utah’s Culture Surrounding LGBT?” https://kutv.com/news/local/isutahs-youth-suicide-rate-linked-to-utahs-culture-surrounding-lgbt  See also the Church’s official page on LGBTQ suicide: https://mormonandgay.lds.org/articles/depression-andsuicide?lang=eng 

(6)  “My Life at BYU-I as a Gay Mormon.” https://zelphontheshelf.com/mylife-at-byu-i-as-a-gay-mormon/ 

(7) “President Hinckley. . .made this statement: ‘Marriage should not be viewed as a therapeutic step to solve problems such as homosexual inclinations or practices.’” https://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/interview-oaks-wickmansame-gender-attraction 

(8) Kort, Joe. “Mixed-Orientation Marriages.” GLBTQ. 2015. http://www.glbtqarchive.com/ssh/mixed_orientation_marriages_S.pdf 

(9) Carol Kuruvilla, “Gay Mormon Who Became Famous for Mixed Orientation Marriage Is Divorcing His Wife.” Huffington Post. Jan. 29, 2018. https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/gay-mormon-josh-weeddivorce_us_5a6f331be4b06e253269d34a 

(10) Lang, Nico. “‘I See My Son In Every One of Them’: With a Spike in Suicides, Parents of Utah’s Queer Youth Fear the Worst.” Vox. March 20, 2017.  https://www.vox.com/identities/2017/3/20/14938950/mormonutah-lgbtq-youth 

(11) This document outlines the warning signs for suicide:  • Looking for a way to kill themselves  • Talking about feeling hopeless or having no reason to live  • Talking about feeling trapped or in unbearable pain  • Talking about being a burden to others  • Acting anxious or agitated or behaving recklessly  • Withdrawing or isolating themselves  • Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge  • Displaying extreme mood swings When you many of these there are three things to remember: Ask, Care, Tell. 

1) Ask. Ask the person directly if they are thinking about suicide. If they say yes, ask: “Do you have a plan to hurt yourself.” If the answer is yes, call a crisis helpline. (The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255.) If the answer is no, move to step 2:  2) Care. Show that you care by listening to what they say. Give them time to explain how they are feeling. Respect their feelings by saying something like: “I’m sorry you are in so much pain. I didn’t realize how hard things are for you right now.” You might offer to help them make a Suicide-Prevention Safety Plan that helps people identify their personal strengths, positive relationships and healthy coping skills.  3) Tell. Encourage the person to tell someone who can offer more support. If they will not seek help, you may need to tell someone for them. You may want to say something like: “I care about you and want you to be safe. I’m going to tell someone who can offer you the help you need.” Respect them by letting them pick the resource, such as a someone on the free crisis helpline. 

(12) For the best, most-thorough examination of the how the Church’s position regarding LGBTQ members has changed since the days of President Kimball, see: Cook, Bryce. “Mormon LGBT Questions.” March 17, 2017. I think every member of the Church should read this.   https://mormonlgbtquestions.com/2017/03/17/what-do-we-know-ofgods-will-for-his-lgbt-children-an-examination-of-the-lds-churchsposition-on-homosexuality/ 

(13) A documentary called Believer (2018) tells the fascinating, dramatic story of the lead-up to this concert: https://www.hbo.com/content/hboweb/en/documentaries/believer/a bout.html Here’s how you can watch it: https://heavy.com/entertainment/2018/06/watch-believerdocumentary-online/ 

(14) Official Church Statement, August 16, 2017, https://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/church-statement-loveloud-festival 

(15) Cynthia L. “New YW and RS Boards Include Two Black Women, ‘Common Ground’ LGBT Inclusion Advocate.” Sep. 18, 2018. https://bycommonconsent.com/2018/09/18/new-yw-and-rs-boardsinclude-two-black-women-common-ground-lgbt-inclusionadvocate/#more-106875 

(16) https://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/new-latter-day-saintgeneral-board-members-named 

(17) https://mormonandgay.lds.org/stories?lang=eng 

(18) https://mormonandgay.lds.org/articles/church-teachings?lang=eng 

(19) https://mormonandgay.lds.org/articles/who-am-i?lang=eng 

(20) https://mormonandgay.lds.org/articles/gods-plan?lang=eng 

(21) “I must say, this son’s sexual orientation did not somehow miraculously change—no one assumed it would.” Holland, Jeffrey R. “Behold Thy Mother.” Oct. 2015 General Conference. https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2015/10/behold-thymother?lang=eng 

(22) “A change in attraction should not be expected or demanded as an outcome by parents or leaders.” https://mormonandgay.lds.org/articles/frequently-askedquestions?lang=eng 

(23) Nick Einbender, Post on “Mormons Building Bridges,” Sep. 18, 2018. https://www.facebook.com/groups/mormonsbuildingbridges/permali nk/1513907792043410/ 

(24) Steinmetz, Katy. “How Many Americans Are Gay?” Time. May 16, 2016.   http://time.com/lgbt-stats/ 

(25) It is likely a much larger percentage. In another study, 20% of Millennials (ages 18-34) self-identified as LGBTQ; 12% of Generation X (ages 35-53); 7% of the Baby Boomers (ages 52-71). The discrepancy likely arises from an increase in acceptance and safety in the culture the Millennials are growing up in. This makes them more likely to come out as LGBTQ. There are probably equal numbers throughout history, but it wasn’t as safe for older generations to come out for fear of violence, rejection, loss of job security, and loss of standing in the community. See Gonella, Catalina. NBC News. March 31, 2017.   https://www.nbcnews.com/feature/nbc-out/survey-20-percentmillennials-identify-lgbtq-n740791 

(26) Eric D. Huntsman, “Hard Sayings and Safe Spaces: Making Room for Struggle as Well as Faith,” Aug. 7, 2018, BYU Speeches, https://speeches.byu.edu/talks/eric-d-huntsman_hard-sayings-andsafe-spaces-making-room-for-both-struggle-and-faith/ 

(27) “Questions and Answers.” BYU Speeches, Nov. 14, 2017. https://speeches.byu.edu/talks/m-russell-ballard_questions-andanswers/ 

(28) https://mormonandgay.lds.org/articles/love-one-another-adiscussion-on-same-sex-attraction 

(29) Dr. Fatimah S. Salleh, Affirmation Conference, July 22, 2018.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyoXa9z76v0 

[lakegrimstonerpg]

The Government is pleased to announce that they have secured CRYSTAL COHEN, that possess the power of LIGHT MANIPULATION. There is no doubt that Lake Grimstone will offer CRYSTAL the necessary help they need to learn to master their power.

Welcome to Lake Grimstone, PATSY! Anyone who so much as glances at your app can tell you put a lot of thought into Crystal and her development as a character! It’s clear that you are a wonderful writer and we look forward to having you on the dash! Your FC change is accepted. Now that you’ve been accepted, take a look at OUR MEMBER CHECKLIST. Please send in the account within 24 hours!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME / PRONOUNS:

patsy (but goddess of death is also acceptable) / she/her

AGE / TIMEZONE:

22 and i’m in pst !!

ACTIVITY LEVEL:

in all truth, my activity will vary - that is mostly because i currently work from home which might sound nice in theory but leaves me a little all over the place. that being said, i can gaurantee 4-5 days a week of activity, although i expect it’ll be much more than that! i’m currently a working writer so so long as i keep up with my deadlines, i’d like to spend the rest of my time doing writing i actually enjoy, so!

IN CHARACTER:

DESIRED CHARACTER:

Crystal Cohen

SECOND CHOICE:

despite the fact that crystal does not have any other apps, i’ll give this an answer just in case - rhea yates, although if it came down to the second choice i’d like to write a new app for her, if that’s alright!

WHY WOULD YOU LIKE THIS CHARACTER?:

when i was reading through all of your characters’ bios, i was falling in love with so many, and i really kind of started to freak out because i had opened up at least six bios in another tab to consider applying for. when i got to crystal’s i felt like i was being delivered curveball after curveball and that was so exciting.

one of my favorite qualities about crys is her honesty, and where it probably comes from. i imagine she’s always been this way, but i feel as though it likely increased tenfold after being turned in by her father - i think this really effected her ability to trust others around her and as a result she blurts out the truth. she says exactly what she’s thinking, i think in the hopes of getting some semblance of honesty in return. i think that this blunt honesty, though sometimes maybe too blunt, really goes to show that she’s trustworthy as a friend. you can’t expect the world to stop lying to you if you don’t stop lying to them, right?

i’m also interested in the really important detail of her being so observant. i think that this really opens the door to crystal being able to really empathize with others - which was probably also effected by the fact that her mother was a psychiatrist. i think that, in general, she loves human beings. humanity, maybe not, certain people, certainly not - but when someone observes people as much as she does, it’s almost inevitable.

which brings me to the absolute heartbreak of her mother’s death, and its result on crystal life. i think crys has a natural desire and inclination to help people, like her mother did - but one of the people her mother was trying to help murdered her, and i think an act of such violence from someone who shouldn’t have a reason to commit it would shake crystal’s entire worldview. it’s not surprising at all that she stopped writing - how could it be when something like that would almost halt her concept of people around her? to write is to understand people and after something like that, she probably doesn’t think she understands people at all like she used to.

now all of this combined brings me to her relationships with daniel and courtney. i think her relationship with courtney exhibits all of that caring and that empathy and, most importantly, her overwhelming desire to help people, even when they don’t ask for it. i just love that about her. her relationship with danny is more complicate dand i think it hurt her more than she’s willing to let on - after struggling so much with trust already, after her father and her mother’s patient, having her trust hurt on a smaller and personal scale, too, would have probably had a profoudly negative effect on her. i imagine that’s why she ended up back with danny at all - because she’s trying to mend her trust in people - but to have it broken again would be like breaking all over again, and it’s getting harder and harder to put herself back together.

so, i think that’s where she’s at right now. she’s trying to re-configure her understanding of the world and put together the pieces of who she used to be. i think she has to come to terms with the fact that she is a different person, though, and that she can never be the old crystal (why? cause she’s dead!) again. if she can adapt to this i think she can find what makes her happy again and start to trust people again - albeit much more carefully than before.

[lindaeatmon-jones-blog]

Things Boomers and Gen X Can Learn From the Millennials

The mass-stereotyping of an entire generation has distracted us from the new direction the Millennials (Gen Y) are leading us towards. A Gen X says, "Our baby boomer parents spent 30+ years in a job they hated. Then when they finally got out, they said, 'Man, I wish I had done that 10 years ago.' " Millennials watched their parents and grandparents work long hours at jobs they didn't care about. "Work hard and climb the corporate ladder so you can enjoy retirement," the Gen X and Boomers told their kids/grandkids. Millennials think Boomers got caught climbing the corporate ladder and hated every rung. Gen Y heard "You can't have all what you want, so settle. For the first time in history, your generation will not do better than the previous ones." They want nothing to do with this thinking. Their response is, "Mom, Dad, and grandparents, we appreciate all you've done, but we have a better vision for the world." They're clear on their vision and they are living it. Many studies and research have been done and they all seem to converge on a similar shared vision for the world. They truly believe the Boomers and Gen X can learn from their new perspective. Studies reveal the following seven salient beliefs of the Millennials. 1. Embrace Technology. This is the obvious one. Technology is here to stay and you have to embrace it. Older people stand to benefit the most - they can keep in touch through email, Skype, and so forth. Also, older people can learn a lot about health conditions, advancements in medicine and medications, environmental and safety concerns, aging, and physical health on the Internet. 2. Give back. What you do should make the world better. Millennials want to make money and live comfortably but also want to give back to causes they care about. They're eager to use their social networks to share what they learn quickly so many people can benefit. Whether it’s crowdfunding or go-fund-me pages to raise funds or change.org campaigns to raise awareness and influence social policies; their social conscious outlook has more of a worldview than a local one. 3. Do What You Want. Doing something just because it pays well or there's demand for the skill won't make you happy. Millennials believe you should figure out what you want to do and do it. They believe you should be fulfilled by what you do. A 24-year-old says, "I never want to look back and say 'Gee, I really wish I had tried to make my dreams happen.' " 4. Don't Separate Work and Life. If you're doing something you are passionate about, there's no need for work-life balance. They see it all as "living." Move seamlessly from work to play, mix the two and enjoy them both. Buddy Hobart, baby boomer, and Gen Y expert say, "Work-life balance is a myth and you do not have a "work life" and a "personal life," you simply have a life." 5. Learn Fast. Our rapidly evolving world requires a new skill: learning quickly. Conditions change too fast to learn one skill and spend years developing it in the workplace. Develop the skill of learning and adapting quickly so you can do many different things. Gen Y business owners say, "When I get resumes, I look for a diversity of experiences, a wide social network, and a track record of success in varying situations." 6. Be Open-minded about the Future. Many opportunities will come along in life, and if you are stuck in a preconceived idea of what the future should look like, you'll miss the exciting things that come along; they may be better than you ever thought possible. Life is a process of discovery. Be open to discovering things and seeing change as a constant thing in life. 7. Take Risks. Taking risks is a necessary part of achievement and Gen Y gets that. They also appreciate that their Boomer parents let them move back home occasionally when they stumble, as successful people inevitably do. Taking the safe path guarantees your life will be mediocre. Taking risks means there will be a failure, but millennials are more interested in the infinite possibilities that risk-taking brings. A 27-year-old entrepreneur says, "Any failure I meet will be the greatest teacher of all and I'm willing to learn." Millennials aren't bitter and they aren't lazy. Boomers and Gen X see them as “entitled." If an unwillingness to settle for a life of mediocrity is entitled, then they say the answer is yes. They see it as being committed. They know their parents/grandparents worked hard and did the best they could with what they had. However, the research shows, Gen Y is following that example by doing the best they can with what they have: more technology, more connectivity, and the benefit of their elders' experiences. Millennials understand the value of age and experience and want us all to work together on this new future. A 25-year-old entrepreneur says, "There is such an abundance of information today, but a shocking shortage of wisdom. Boomers and Gen X, We Need You!" However, what is pretty silent in their responses to research and studies are their thoughts about education, spirituality, family, and geopolitical aspects of the world they embrace. Perhaps these are areas that the “wisdom” they are requesting from the Boomers and Gen X can be of value. Layering accumulated knowledge and experiences from generation to generation is how we evolve. It's how we improve the experience of being human. Let's partner up with these young people and create a better world together. We can all learn from one another. Have you read my article about Easter Symbols: Religious and Non-Religious - Any Connection? Read the full article

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Calling someone a “hipster” is a license to spew all kinds of demented hate. Since the term carries connotations of slackers and trust funds, the image of “hipsters on food stamps” is designed to provoke the conclusion that someone is lazily taking advantage of the system. Certainly that was how things played at the blogof the libertarian Reason magazine, which mocked the notion that someone might both deserve economic assistance and make art and wear odd clothes.

One wouldn’t expect any better from libertarians, who have built an entire ideology around the worldview of twelve-year-old boys. But they aren’t the only people who react to stories like this with rage or contempt rather than empathy. Consider the following comment, left under my friend’s response to the article about him:

I’m sorry but you are a selfish, whiny leach. I can say this because I a middle-aged woman and have been trying to find work for two years without success though I have a masters degree in a fairly desirable field. I have dwindling savings and two kids. Because I stayed home with them for a few years I don’t qualify for unemployment and that has also damaged my marketability in the job world. Despite all of this I have never resorted to public assistance and will not. In addition, I have a back problem that surgery did not correct so I am in physical pain 24 hrs a day. Still I have taken temp jobs and we have cut back in many ways. I am proud of my fortitude and resourcefulness, because we will make it through this time and my kids will learn valuable lessons from me about self-reliance.

Here we have a person who has been marginally employed for two years and suffers physical pain twenty-four hours a day — and rather than demanding something better for herself, she demands that other people suffer more!

Vicious and unhinged discourse is widespread on the Internet, but this example is worth noting because the sentiment it expresses is by no means unique. This attitude — a petty and mean-spirited resentment — is depressingly common even among the working class. It sometimes seems to amount to no more than the sentiment that justice consists in everyone else being at least as miserable as you are. At one level, it’s an attitude that reflects diminished expectations, and can be partly blamed on the weakness of the Left and the defeat of its historical project: when you don’t believe any positive social change is possible, there’s little left to fall back on but bitterness and resentment.

This resentment is also at the heart of a lot of hating on “hipsters.” People see others whom they perceive to have lives that are easier, cooler, or more fun than theirs, and instead of questioning the society that gave them their lot, they demand conformity and misery out of others.

But why? The false (but not without a grain of truth!) intimation that hipsters are all white kids who are subsidized by their rich parents legitimizes this position, but even if it were accurate it wouldn’t make the attitude of contempt any more sensible. For even if creative and enjoyable lives are only accessible to the privileged, that’s not a damning fact about them so much as it is an indictment of a society that has so much wealth and yet only allows a select few to take advantage of it, while others are forced to waste their lives chained to their useless jobs and bloated mortgages.

The rage directed at the figure of “a hipster on food stamps” is only intelligible in terms of the rotted ideological foundation that supports it: an ideology that simultaneously glorifies the suffering of the exploited and vilifies those among the dispossessed who are deemed to be insufficiently hardworking or self-reliant. It treats some activities (making art) as worthless and parasitic, and others (working temp jobs) as totems of “resourcefulness” and “self-reliance,” without any apparent justification.

This is what we have learned to call the work ethic; but the vociferousness with which it is expressed masks its increasing hollowness. For just who counts as a hard worker, or a worker at all?

The work ethic is a foundational element of modern capitalism: it assures the overall legitimacy of the system, and within the individual workplace it motivates workers to be both economically productive and politically quiescent. But the love of work does not come easily to the proletariat, and its construction over centuries was a monumental achievement for the capitalist class.

After years of struggle, discipline was imposed on pre-capitalist people who rejected regimented “clock time” and were prone to take a holiday on “Saint Monday’s day” whenever they had been too drunk the Sunday before. In America, a Protestant ethic equating work, salvation, and moral virtue arose in an economy full of artisans and small farmers, and was maintained only with great difficulty through the transition to more grueling and alienated forms of industrial labor.

In the twentieth century, perpetual war and labor’s Fordist compromise with capital provided a moral and material justification for the work ethic: during wartime (hot or cold), work could be equated with the patriotic struggle for national preservation, while the postwar golden age rested on an understanding that if workers submitted to capitalist work discipline, they would be rewarded with a share in the resulting productivity increases in the form of rising wages.

Today, the work ethic still serves as a guiding value from one end of the political spectrum to the other. The Right, including its latest Tea Party iteration, presents itself as the defender of the hardworking many against the slothful and indolent. To take just one recent example, a Republican candidate for governor of South Carolina has proposed mandatory drug testing for recipients of unemployment insurance, echoing an early proposal from Utah Sen. Orrin Hatch.

On the Left, the rhetoric of “working people” and “working families” is ubiquitous; indeed, in the wake of Clinton’s assaults on the welfare state, it seems that the poor can only justify their existence and their access to benefits and transfers if they can somehow be portrayed as “working.” So New York State’s social democratic quasi–third party calls itself the “Working Families Party,” and the union-led One Nation march in Washington promotes the slogan “Putting America Back to Work.”

Such appeals to the moral superiority of work and workers are often rooted in producerism: the notion that the fruits of society’s wealth and labor should return to those who directly perform productive labor. Producerism is hostile both to parasitic elites at the top of society and to the allegedly unproductive indigents at the bottom, hence its relationship to the political left and right is ambiguous.

But in post-industrial capitalist society, “work” has come to be disconnected from any conception of directly producing something or contributing work with any specific content. Work is increasingly defined formally: as whatever people do in return for wages.

With this elision, the material foundation of the work ethic is gradually undermined, and today the absurdity of the work ideology becomes readily apparent. For while it has never been the case that labor was rewarded in proportion to its contribution, it is now quite obvious that wage work is not identical to productive activity, and that the rewards to labor have lost any connection to the social value or desirability of the work performed.

Indeed, it sometimes seems that the distribution of wages is, to a first approximation, the exact inverse of the social utility of work. Thus the workers closest to our most fundamental needs — food and shelter — are non-unionized residential construction workers and migrant fruit pickers, lucky to even earn the minimum wage. At the same time, bankers are given millions for the invention and trade of sophisticated credit derivatives, even though most of their work is equivalent to — and as we’ve now discovered, quite a bit more destructive than — betting on the outcome of the Super Bowl.

This perverse reversal of values has a fractal quality, as well, so that even within individual occupations the same inverse relationship between wages and social value seems to hold. Plastic surgeons have easier jobs and vastly greater earnings than pediatricians, and being a celebrity pet groomer is more lucrative than working in an animal shelter.

Whether his art is any good or not, my artist friend on food stamps contributes more to society than the traders at Lehman brothers, by simply not wrecking the global financial system. He may well have contributed more than our anonymous commenter in her temp jobs, if they were anything like some of the temp assignments I’ve had: entering rejected applications for health insurance into the insurance company’s computer, for example, a tiny step in an inhumane decision made by an industry that should not even exist.

Note, moreover, that the commenter’s defense of her worth was based on her temp jobs and refusal of public assistance, and not on one of the few activities that is widely agreed to be valuable and necessary human labor — raising children.

In this context, it seems impossible to speak of the value of hard work without questioning both the equation of useful work with wage labor, and of high wages with high social value. But the ideology of the work ethic is nonetheless powerful, because it reassures people that their lives are meaningful and valuable, so long as they participate in waged work.

And ideologies can stumble along in zombie form for a remarkably long time, even when the historical conditions that gave rise to them have completely disappeared. The work ethic, in all its morbid forms, may have already degenerated from tragedy to farce, but that alone will not be enough to abolish it. We need an alternative to erect in its place.

The threads of a different ethic are all around us, if we begin to think of all the subtle ways in which our activities contribute to social wealth outside of paid labor.

Feminists were the pioneers, showing how all of capitalism, and all of human history, was predicated on a vast and invisible structure of reproductive labor performed mostly by women, mostly not for wages. The rise of new ideologies of communal production, like Open Source and Creative Commons, have revealed how much is possible without the wage incentive. Even the great new robber barons of the digital age, Google and Facebook, are instructive. Their value rests, on the most basic level, on the work of millions of users who provide content and information for free.

If it is increasingly impossible to disentangle the productive and unproductive parts of human activity, then we can reconstruct the old producerist dogma in a new way: everyone deserves to be provided with the means to live a decent life, because we are all already contributing to the production and reproduction of society itself.

The kind of social policy that follows from this position would be very different from the narrow, targeted, programs like food stamps, whose very narrowness make it easy to demonize one group in society as parasitic — whether the demonized group is welfare queens in the nineties or hipsters on food stamps today.

Rather than the “deserving” or “working” poor, with its connotations of moral judgment and authoritarian social control, it is time to begin speaking the language of economic and social rights. For instance, the right to a Universal Basic Income, a means of living at a basic level that would be provided to everyone, no questions asked.” - Peter Frase, “Resenting Hipsters.” Jacobin, January 1, 2011. 

[firstumcschenectady]

“Mountaintop Views” based on  Exodus 24:12-18 and Matthew 17:1-9

When I was 13 I read the Chronicles of Narnia.  They were good, not my favorites, but easily kept my attention to finish all the books. However, it was not until MANY years later that I learned that the books were written as intentional Christian metaphors, and I was floored.  Nothing, at all, in the books had felt like Christianity to me.  I didn't go back to reread them, but I did get peer pressured into seeing some of the movies, at which point I was able to see both: 1. How the story could have been written and understood as Christian and – at the same time – 2. How I entirely missed it.

(The key really being that I was raised in a Christianity that centered on “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me” while those narratives are inherently violent.)

It is a little bit embarrassing though, to have missed the entire point. However, I just didn't see it.  I couldn't.  There is a deep truth to the fact that we can't see things that we don't have the context to make sense of.  The Chronicles of Narnia didn't look to me the way Christianity looked.  Now, there are 2.3 Billion Christians in the world, and I don't think it is reasonable to assume we all understand our faith in the same way.  Sometimes it is a little bit startling to realize just how wide Christianity is and how often it contains its own opposites.  

At the same time, that's sort of the beauty of it all.  People from an incredibly wide range of worldviews, life experiences, and backgrounds are all able to find meaning in our tradition because it is quite adaptable to variation.

The scriptures this week have led me to thinking a lot about perspective, as they both have to do with changing perspectives.  Mountaintops themselves are places where people see things differently.  Some part of that has to do with the effort expended to get to the top, and another part has to do with seeing things from a different angle. From the top of the mountain, it is easier to see the forest than the individual trees.  It is also easier to understand how various parts of the landscape related to each other.

Additionally, both of these stories have transformational experiences occur at the tops of those mountains.  Moses has been called up the mountain by God, and leaves behind the people he is leading in order to follow God's instructions.  As Moses ascends, a cloud descends.  For the people left behind, that may have created a sense of mystery or distance from Moses on the mountain, or perhaps anxiety for his well being.

But for Moses, alone on the mountain in the midst of a dense fog, for 6 days without further instruction, that was likely INTENSE, like a 6 day silent retreat with visual sensory deprivation.  When I had a 6 hour drive home from college in the days before cell phones, the time alone with myself was enough to be disconcerting and clarifying.  6 days alone on a mountain in deep fog would be plenty of time for reflection – to say the least.  There are many people who can't handle 30 seconds of silence – for good reason.  Probably most people in our society get squirmy well before 30 awake minutes without distractions.  But 6 days!!!  Yet, the people I know  who have gone 6 days or more away from distractions all describe it as holy and perspective changing, although not usually easy.

The six days are a passing note in the story, but my goodness I think they matter.  On the seventh day, God calls Moses and the cloud dissipates to reveal the “glory of God” which was so intense the people at the bottom of the mountain could see it.  After 6 days of dense fog, that also must have been a new and different sort of intense.  AND THEN, Moses enters the cloud WITH God and they spend 40 days and 40 nights together.    

This is one of the stories of Moses receiving the 10 Commandments, and it seems to emphasize the holiness and uniqueness of the experience. Moses got A LOT of time with the Divine – way more than his preparatory 6 days.  

This story is cleaned up to fit into a good, faithful telling, but there is an incredible core to it.  As Addison Wright once pointed out, the faith traditions in the Ancient Near East at this time were all god and goddess centric.  That is, people sacrificed at Temples or engaged in behaviors meant to please the gods, with the goal of gaining favors from the gods.  Favors like fertility for people and and flocks, rain for the fields, etc.  Thus faith, worship, and offerings were largely transactional.  Wright believes that something entirely new emerged in the Sinai desert, and that something new is the core of this story.  

That something new was the concept of a God who cared how people treated EACH OTHER rather than simply being interested in self-aggrandizement.  That is, the faith traditions of the area really saw gods and goddesses as being like powerful people – selfish, greedy, and needing to be manipulated into helping out.  But somehow, a small group of desert wanderers came to understand a God (possibly singular, more likely this started as a primary or tribal god for them) whose PRIMARY CONCERN was moral behavior.  And that's the story of the rest of the Bible, right?  The people try to claim that they're all about God and God keeps on responding, “then take care of the vulnerable among you and build a just society.  THAT is what I want.”

This new idea of a God interested in moral human behavior and a just society is the core message lurking under this cleaned up version about Moses, a mountain, a fog, a fire, and a lot of waiting.  It is impossible to tell where the original story lies and where it has been adapted, but the core is powerful and the current version is powerful and they're both worthy of consideration.

The mountaintop experience being such a powerful part of the Jewish story, it makes a lot of sense that the Gospel writer Matthew tells the Transfiguration story as another mountaintop story.  In this case, rather than a dense fog, it is as if a fog has been lifted and the disciples are finally able to see clearly.

From the Gospel writer's perspective, people were confused into thinking that Jesus was just another teacher/healer, but on the mountaintop they saw just how holy and special he really was.  The experience of being close to God on the mountaintop is repeated, with God's own voice speaking.   “This is my child, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” It doesn't get much better than that!  Yet those are the words that whisper through the ages, being shared time and time again, because those are the words that God speaks to each of us. “This is my child, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Imagining being on mountaintop seeing God's delight in Jesus reminds us of why we continue to work in the world as the Body of Christ.  

The perspective change on the mountaintop is interesting.  In these stories, new insights are gleaned, ones that change lives.  I've been thinking about when those perspective shifts can happen for the rest of us.  Climbing mountains remains a good option ;) but what are others?  Some of the most common in the church are mission trips, or participating in new-to-you ministries of the church.  Anytime we meet and engage with people who are different from us, we gain valuable perspective.  And, the more we listen to people, the more we learn.  Sometimes I think perspective shifts are just direct gifts from God.  Other times they come after long term spiritual practice or prayer.  Some require those 6 days of silence in dense fog (or variations thereof).  Julia Cameron in “The Artists Way” says the way not to get stuck is to write 3 pages of longhand every day and have a date with yourself to do something new every week.  Her particular goal is to keep creative juices flowing, but it turns out those are related, aren't they?

One other intersecting piece comes to mind.  When our anxiety is UP, we tend to see the world more in black and white.  So, rather than developing increasing capacities to see many perspectives in the world, we will tend to pick one and STICK WITH IT AT ALL COSTS.  The challenge is, that for most of us today, anxiety is high.  Of course, the  current power structure (of any time and place) benefits from the increased anxiety that leads people to either/or thinking and doubling down into opposing camps.  It maintains the status quo.  The status quo is generally the compromise between two opposing camps, right?  But what is really great for people are win-win situations, which require creative thinking, the capacity to see multiple perspectives, and openness to new ideas.

Now, it turns out we can't spend our whole lives on mountaintops, and we all exist within some parameters of perspective that we can't just will our ways out of.  Furthermore, we LITERALLY can't see things we aren't expecting to see, which makes it SUPER hard to break out of our perspective when it is... in fact.... wrong.

My favorite idea from John Wesley is this, “Sometimes each of us are wrong.  Clearly, if we knew when we are wrong, we would correct ourselves and not be wrong.  So, sometimes when others disagree with us, it is actually a sign that we are currently wrong.  Since we don't know which times those are, we should approach all disagreements with humility.”  

What would have happened if Moses came back down the mountain with a new conception of the Divine and people said, “naw, that doesn't sound right?”  Where would we be today?  Where would the world be?

Transfiguration Sunday is the final Sunday before Lent.  It foreshadows for us the perspective shift of Easter, and by giving us a foretaste of it, gives us the motivation to engage in reflection for Lent to prepare ourselves for Easter.  It turns out that Lent is also meant to give us a perspective change.  It slows us down, offers us time to think, and reflect, and consider.  

There are a lot of ways to expand our worldviews, to glean a better understanding of what is going on all around us.  None of them are perfect, and our capacities to see and understand will be limited, but thanks be to God, we can grow and become.  May we take the view from the mountaintop and let it change us from the inside out.  Amen

--

Rev. Sara E. Baron First United Methodist Church of Schenectady 603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305 Pronouns: she/her/hers http://fumcschenectady.org/ 
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

February 23, 2020

[weightlossfitness2]

The Real Reason You Should Fast for the Holidays

“It is easier to act yourself into a new way of thinking than it is to think yourself into a new way of acting.”

– Millard Fuller

  Fasting is all the fashion proper now. Depending on who you hearken to it’s both an over-hyped waste of time or the fountain of youth, able to reworking your physique and activating latent spidey-senses. Those within the pro-fasting camp cite a myriad of advantages—weight reduction, elevated insulin sensitivity, development of stem cells, illness prevention, and world peace.

    As a lot as I’d wish to provide the definitive fasting interpretation, the perfect I can supply is that it might need well being advantages. And whereas I can’t let you know with authority that fasting will do X or Y, I can attest to how invaluable fasting has been in my very own private growth. In this age of mass consumption, willingly doing the other is transformative.

  Fasting modifications your relationship with meals. This has been my very own expertise in addition to the recurring opinion of the chums, kin, and colleagues I’ve talked to over time. But what does it imply to have your relationship with meals change?

  It isn’t like anybody is altering their relationship standing to: It’s Complicated-with Food. What is the connection with meals within the first place? The finest method to clarify that is with my very own expertise.

  The Diary Of Hungry Kid

For most of my life, I used to be praised for my urge for food. I appreciated practically each meals and I had a voracious urge for food. This was pleasing to my mother and father, who appreciated that I wasn’t a choosy eater like my older brother, and to most grownup male figures.

  Anytime I’d go to associates or kin I’d be lauded for the spectacular quantity of meals I may eat. This turned some extent of pleasure that went hand in hand with my different main supply of significance—pure power.

  When I obtained to highschool and have become dedicated to getting stronger for athletics, I used to be offered the assumption that each one I needed to do was carry exhausting and “eat everything that isn’t nailed down.” Eating extra turned a testomony to my dedication and I had no motive to imagine there was any drawback with this easy worldview. Blessed with a speedy metabolism, I broke high-school lifting information whereas sustaining pace and athleticism.

  After sports activities, I channeled my want for competitors and significance into muscle-building. If I wasn’t going to be often called Shane the soccer participant, I’d be Shane the strongest trying dude within the room.

  This led me to a number of supersets, mirror-staring, protein shakes, and meals. I dedicated to consuming each three hours and would develop anxious for my subsequent feeding by the two-hour mark. I purchased into all of the get-swole adages, ensuring that I entered the gymnasium with meals in my system and that I ate a big, carb-heavy meal inside 30-minutes of leaving.

  I turned satisfied that if I had been to go greater than 5 – 6 waking hours with out meals my blood sugar would crash and I’d be bodily incapacitated. A way of panic crept in across the four-hour mark and I’d develop into an plain jerk. These patterns took form close to the time of my challenges with OCD and it’s clear upon reflection that I used to be utilizing consuming as an try to pacify my anxiousness.

    As I started my grownup life, I constructed clear consuming habits however continued to eat a ton. I started exercising twice per day so I may eat extra. I turned obsessive about my have to refill. Anywhere I went, I’d have a bag of snacks on me to forestall a meltdown. To my reminiscence, I made it by way of the whole first 26 years of my life with out lacking a meal.

  Then, a while within the again half of my 20’s, I heard sufficient about intermittent fasting that I thought-about making an attempt it. I used to be married now, much less involved about trying just like the strongest man within the room and changing into rather more involved about enhancing myself.

  I’d begun meditating and, regardless of my CSCS-Joe Kenn background, I grew fascinated by Pavel, Max Shank, the kettlebell, and the MovNat world. I learn the books Tribe and Natural Born Heroes. As a former historical past main, these resonated with me and instantly the way in which I noticed humanity and the human physique started to shift.

  We are adaptable beasts. The causes of mass psychological and bodily dysfunction stemmed from falling away from our pure dwelling patterns. It was now not regular to maneuver naturally, work for the tribe, eat actual meals, expose ourselves to the weather, or expertise prolonged bouts of starvation. By shutting myself off from these experiences I used to be reinforcing my very own fragility whereas shutting myself off from private development.

  By this level, I used to be about 215 kilos of largely lean muscle, and I used to be nonetheless consuming the next menu every day:

  Breakfast – massive omelet and fruit

Snack – too many combined nuts

Lunch – three or 4 items of meat (sure, I had an issue), combined greens, an apple

Post-Workout Snack

Dinner

A sporadic snack earlier than mattress – fruit, a scoop of pure peanut butter, and many others.

  The Insights Born of Deprivation

I set my first 16-hour quick for a busy Wednesday morning, figuring that if it grew insufferable I’d haven’t any possibility however to intestine by way of it. I completed dinner at 5:30 pm on Tuesday and didn’t eat till 9:30 am the following day.

  To my shock, it was not that tough. The bodily shutdown I’d predicted by no means got here. In truth, I felt good proper as much as the time I started consuming. All without delay, that perception that I needed to pacify each starvation pang or got here crumbling down. Hunger didn’t simply enhance steadily till I used to be rolling on the ground in agony. Hunger got here and went, oscillating up and down with none obvious trigger. The entire factor simply amazed me.

  I instantly started working these fasts right into a weekly construction with 16-17 hour fasts each Saturday and Sunday and a much bigger 19 hour quick each Wednesday. When I obtained children, I needed to have a household breakfast on the weekends so I removed the weekend fasts however saved fasting each Wednesday.

  Every at times I stretch this to 24 hours. Whether the fasts create superpowers or not is admittedly not the purpose. The actual energy of those fasts is how they’ve modified my relationship with meals and the way in which I reply to starvation.

  Shortly after that first quick, I removed all snacking. Not rigidly so. If my spouse needs popcorn whereas we watch a film, we’ve got popcorn. But for probably the most half, I don’t eat something however three meals per day, two if I’m intermittent fasting. It appears apparent to me now, that that is a lot.

  I shifted my exercises to the morning and I’ve discovered that I want to exercise in a fasted state. So now, on a typical day, I end dinner by 6 pm, I get up early to put in writing, exercise round 7 am, after which eat round eight:30 am.

  Without making an attempt to I fell right into a day by day construction the place nearly on daily basis incorporates a 14-15 hour break between meals. I’ve additionally reduce down the quantity of meat that I eat every day, significantly. Without having ever apprehensive about weight, I’m now anyplace between 195 and 200 kilos, a lot sturdy and with higher vitality than ever.

  My spouse has additionally match fasts into her schedule on and off for the previous few years. After a break she began once more just lately, and her remark appears to summarize the advantages of fasting finest: “It’s good for me because it changes my relationship with food. I feel less need to snack. Like, I’m good. I don’t need to eat every time I think I’m getting hungry.”

  Courtesy of Ted Naiman, MD, h/t PD Morgan

  That’s it. Sometimes we’re bored and meals looks like a great way to fill the area. Sometimes we’re really thirsty. Particularly in a world programmed for consumption, including slightly extra boundary to our consumption isn’t a foul follow. And that’s the true motive to quick every so often—as a result of you’re a human and never feeling able to going with out meals for a bit marks a drastic departure from fundamental human capabilities.

  Fasting For The Holidays

  “A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.”

Henry David Thoreau

  So a lot of the health world exists to counteract overconsumption. Consumerism is fueled by a system the place we’re at all times reminded of what we’re lacking after which pointed to one thing that’s presupposed to fill that void.

  Food and the engineering of cravings is an apparent instance. Yet, issues are hardly ever the answer to our issues. The change we’re in search of doesn’t come from including the issues we predict we want. In truth, it’s simply the other.

  We are happier once we are much less depending on exterior circumstances being good. We are happier once we want much less. That is why the rich, Stoic thinker, Seneca, recommended a month-to-month follow of self-denial. As he frames it, simply as troopers prepare throughout occasions of peace and prosperity, we should always prepare ourselves amid occasions of abundance. Well, the abundance is right here and it isn’t going anyplace.

  We’ve at all times recognized we wanted to coach. We shall be happier if we’re lively and wholesome, however this solely occurs once we flex our muscle groups and problem our our bodies on a constant foundation. In the identical means, we will construction different challenges to carry us in the direction of gradual development.

  At IHD, our Pillar Experience Calendars, are a structured methodology of pulling your self in the direction of experiences like fasting that develop your capacity to thrive by way of a problem. Each month calls you to a bunch lesson and a problem that can develop willpower and instill wholesome values. You’ll be doing these alongside a neighborhood that may share the knowledge of their very own expertise and helps one another in more healthy dwelling. This appears particularly essential in the course of the holidays.

  I like the cheer and custom of December but it surely additionally appears to be an exaggeration of some cultural patterns which might be already uncontrolled. Thus, I assumed it was the proper month to stretch myself by doubling my previous document for time with out meals.

  This month I’m going to go for 48 hours with solely water. I wouldn’t begin right here should you don’t have a lot expertise, however I do encourage you to contemplate an intermittent quick this December—possibly that’s simply skipping breakfast in the future.

  It is an expertise frequent to humankind and one that may enrich the remainder of your holidays. After all, the pleasures of life are at all times a lot sweeter after a little bit of wrestle.

The post The Real Reason You Should Fast for the Holidays appeared first on Weight Loss Fitness.

from Weight Loss Fitness https://weightlossfitnesss.info/the-real-reason-you-should-fast-for-the-holidays/

[shanedakotamuir]

American happiness is plummeting. Could a few words change that?

A psychologist claims that learning “untranslatable words” from other cultures may be a key to being happy. I experimented on myself to see whether it’s true.

“Happiness is a butterfly which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”

Screw that.

The saying, sometimes attributed to the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, cautions us to not pursue happiness aggressively; we’ve got to just let it come to us. But for many of us today, such 19th century romantic musings seem quaint, if not downright un-American.

The pursuit of happiness inscribed into the Declaration of Independence has grown into a national obsession. We compulsively compare ourselves to others, asking whether they’re happier than we are and why, and then we buy — a yoga studio membership, an empowerment seminar, an $80 Goop water bottle with a built-in rose quartz crystal — to stop losing the competition.

I admit that I, too, zealously hunt down happiness these days. I’ve had a rough couple of years. My dad had a heart attack. My apartment was burglarized. My knees were gripped by chronic pain so intense that, for a while, I could barely walk.

So when I stumbled across the work of Tim Lomas, I pounced on his books, butterfly net in hand. A lecturer at the University of East London, Lomas specializes in a field known as positive psychology, the study of what makes human beings happy. Not just happy in the narrow sense, like the fleeting joy you get from ice cream, but in the broader sense of human flourishing — what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia. Positive psychologists research which factors are the biggest contributors to well-being, from income level to relationships to religiosity.

Lomas has recently published a trio of works on the connection between well-being and language: The Happiness Dictionary, Translating Happiness, and Happiness Found in Translation, his illustrated chapbook published this fall. In them, he says most of us in the West aren’t as happy as we could be, in part because we have a limited definition of happiness. Other cultures have concepts of well-being that are vastly different from ours, but because they’re expressed in languages we don’t understand, Lomas argues, we’re missing out on the insights they embody.

So in 2015, Lomas started the Positive Lexicography Project, a crowdsourced treasury of global terms of well-being, everything from fjaka (Croatian for “the sweetness of doing nothing”) to ubuntu (Zulu for “a spirit of universal kindness and common humanity: I am because you are”).

With the help of far-flung strangers on the internet, he’s since mined 140 languages to come up with a whopping 1,200 words. Each has its own unique shades of meaning not fully captured in English translation. He argues that engaging with these “untranslatable” terms can help us imagine, and ultimately experience, more types of well-being.

And a sense of well-being seems to be in short supply in the US. Americans are only becoming more miserable, according to the World Happiness Report. In 2019, the US dropped in the rankings for the third year in a row, coming in 19th place. Experts blame the decline on various factors, including the deadliest drug overdose crisis in our history, ever-higher levels of anxiety in annual surveys, and decreased trust in politicians and other public figures.

Against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why the emerging field of positive psychology has grown popular both in academia and among the public. And given that the American hunt for happiness is turning out to be pretty unsuccessful, it’s not surprising that proposals such as Lomas’s — which suggest turning to other cultures for insight — exert a seductive pull.

When I called Lomas at his home in London, he told me one of his favorite words is wabi sabi, which is Japanese for “imperfect, weathered, rustic beauty.” The term puts him in a different frame of mind, letting him see things with new eyes.

“Right now I’m looking out at my garden,” he said. “There’s some broken pots there. So I’m thinking, is there a way to look at these pots in such a way that, even though they’re imperfect and old, I see there really is a beauty to them?”

Words like these are tantalizing because they’re so much more than just single words — they’re lexical powerhouses that seem to contain entire worldviews. They let us see how other cultures parse their experiences, offering us more options for how we might understand and live ours.

“In positive psychology, interventions might involve recalling a positive experience and writing about it for 20 minutes, or just sitting and meditating on it,” Lomas said. “With wabi sabi, you could send people away for 24 hours and say, ‘Try and notice this wherever possible and keep a diary on those experiences.’”

Psychologists have adopted a term for the ability to distinguish between feelings in an extra-nuanced way: They call it “emotional granularity.” For example, English has words like pleasure, satisfaction, and pride, but they don’t allow you to differentiate between the pride you feel for a friend whose accomplishment you’re also a tad jealous of, and the pride you feel for a friend whom you’re genuinely, 100 percent happy for. Yet Hebrew has a word for the latter — firgun — which describes total ungrudging and overt pride in another’s success. And German has a word for the opposite of firgun: schadenfreude.

Several studies suggest that increasing emotional granularity is good for our mental and physical health. It makes us more aware of our subjective experiences, which in turn makes it easier for us to regulate our emotions and maintain equanimity. It’s a souped-up version of what we do with preschoolers: We teach them to identify their feelings — “I’m mad” or “I’m sad” — which is the first step toward learning how to manage them.

Lomas says we should try doing the same thing as adults but with untranslatable words, so that we add ever more complexity to our emotional vocabularies. Writing in Translating Happiness, he says he’d want to see “a pilot study, followed by larger-scale empirical testing, randomized controlled trials, replication studies, and meta-analyses. These studies could use psychometric scales to assess the extent of improvement.”

Although I’m in no position to conduct a scientific study, I felt a certain frisson (that’s French for “a spine-tingling shiver of excitement”) when I read this. I wondered what would happen if I picked a few untranslatable words and tried to cultivate the types of well-being they embody.

I knew I had no hope of feeling my way into these words the same way they’d be experienced by someone who’s spent a lifetime steeped in the cultural tradition that gave rise to them. For me to try to access these words outside of their original context would inevitably be to impoverish and distort them. Still, I wondered if spending a little time trying to learn from them would make it possible to experience the world just a bit differently.

I began to plan my experiments.

As a teenager, I used to dance salsa and flamenco. But recently? Not so much. Over the past few years, a chronic pain in my knees that no doctor could explain or treat kept me from dancing. Which is to say, it kept me from the activity that helped get me out of my head and into my body, that replaced worry with sensation. Happily, this year the pain finally subsided, and so I figured it was time to give duende a shot.

Duende is Spanish for a heightened state of passionate emotion that you experience through art, especially dance. The poet Federico García Lorca said having duende is “not a question of skill, but of a style that’s truly alive: meaning, it’s in the veins … it burns the blood like powdered glass, it exhausts, it rejects all the sweet geometry we understand.” And according to Lomas, “The term derives from a magical elf-like creature in Spanish mythology, which suggests the nonrational and otherworldly nature of the mental state duende signifies.”

One weekend, I saw online that a club near my house was hosting a Cuban dance party. The party didn’t start until 11 pm and my elder-millennial friends could not be corralled off their couches at such an ungodly hour. So I went alone, figuring I’d do fine.

Nope. Not fine at all. Everyone there was intimidatingly fantastic at salsa dancing! The men’s footwork was so fast that their shoes blurred into invisibility; the women were all hips, dresses describing sexy circles in the air as they spun. I stood with my back pasted to the wall and guzzled rum.

Eventually, I forced myself to find a partner and hit the dance floor. As he cut confidently through the air, I felt like a penguin in his arms, flightless and waddling pathetically. My confidence level did not rise over the next few hours. Each dancer was somehow better than the last, and I was way too self-conscious to feel the passionate, out-of-your-mind ecstasy of duende. It’s hard to feel mystically transported when you’re worried about stepping on some hot guy’s toes.

And although I hated to admit it, the quote attributed to Hawthorne did seem to be on-point: Trying to manufacture joy can make it even harder to access.

It was 2 am when, pasted to the wall again, guzzling water this time, I finally met someone as clueless as I was. I asked him how it was that everyone there was an amazing dancer. “Didn’t you know?” he asked. “These are professionals. Half of them own their own studios in the area.” I exploded into laughter. How did I pick the one club in town where everyone was a goddamn dance instructor?

Knowing that helped me loosen up. The guy and I danced together, laughing at ourselves. I started to actually have fun. We spun each other around. We tangoed across the floor. We jumped onto the sides of pillars and kicked off from them, flying, however briefly, through the air. It was not really duende, but it was a joy I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The underlying premise of Lomas’s work is the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis — a theory, proposed by linguist Edward Sapir in 1929 and later developed by his student Benjamin Whorf — that our language shapes what we’re capable of thinking and feeling. The strong version of the hypothesis, linguistic determinism, holds that you can’t experience a feeling the same way if you don’t have a word for it. Linguists critiqued that view heavily in the 1960s and ’70s, and it remains unpopular these days.

But a milder one, linguistic relativity, is still embraced by some scholars, including Lomas. It holds that language influences experience but doesn’t determine it.

Even linguistic relativity is controversial, though. Some linguists, like John McWhorter, insist that “the world looks the same in any language” — and argue that claiming otherwise risks fetishizing some cultures (“Italians are a romantic people”) and demeaning others. I share some of that concern. As a woman of color whose family hails from India, Iraq, and Morocco, I’m always wary of ideas with the potential to Orientalize or exoticize. At the same time, I wanted to engage with Lomas’s ideas in good faith.

Words like these are lexical powerhouses

If you find it hard to believe that engaging with untranslatable words can actually increase your well-being, Lomas told me, consider sati. That’s a Pali word from India that you may have seen translated as mindfulness, though many meditators prefer to leave it untranslated, saying the English term is too cerebral to capture the emotional and ethical valences of the original. (Sati also has a very different unrelated meaning among some Indians and Nepalese.)

In the West, sati has been popularized by people like Jon Kabat-Zinn, a scientist who founded the Center for Mindfulness and who in the 1970s developed an eight-week course for people in clinical settings, which he called mindfulness-based stress reduction. Other American teachers, such as Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach, have brought mindfulness practice sessions to the masses. Countless mindfulness apps have also embedded the concept firmly in our cultural lexicon. Lomas points to the rise of sati as evidence that Westerners can study an untranslatable phenomenon, create exercises for cultivating it, and through that measurably improve people’s well-being.

“People looked into sati and built a set of practices around it. That’s been so valuable,” Lomas told me. “Surely there are various other words you could explore in a similar way.”

But by and large, people haven’t yet done that. He’s currently collaborating with scholars in Spain and Japan to see if they can come up with exercises that will help people develop an experiential understanding of untranslatable terms.

Yet just as you need many, many hours of practice to develop mindfulness as a permanently altered trait rather than a temporarily altered state, cultivating different types of well-being will require more than a single exercise to make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.

It will also require that Westerners expand our notion of happiness. Some types of well-being, Lomas writes, don’t come in purely pleasurable packets — they’re ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences. Think of the Italian word magari, which suggests a sense of “maybe, possibly,” the wistful hope of “if only.” Or the Amharic word tizita, which means “a bittersweet remembrance and longing for a time, person, or thing gone by.” Lomas writes:

Psychologists are increasingly appreciative of such feelings, as seen in an emergent body of work that my colleagues and I refer to as “second-wave” positive psychology. When positive psychology was initiated in the 1990s, it defined itself by focusing on positive emotions and qualities. Before long, however, scholars started to critique this foundational [Western] concept of the “positive.”

While [the value of ambivalent feelings] has been recognized within Western academia only relatively recently, many cultures have long since acknowledged their significance.

Lomas says Eastern cultures, in particular, have a wealth of richly ambivalent words.

Mono no aware is a Japanese term for appreciating the transiency of life and its beauty, or recognizing that some things are beautiful in part because they’re impermanent.

“The prevalence and importance of mono no aware in Japanese culture may be attributed in part to the influence of Zen, the branch of Buddhism that flowered in Japan from the 12th century onward,” Lomas writes. “Mono no aware is an aesthetic approach to the cognizance of impermanence, which is central to Buddhist teaching.”

Soon after I read this, I learned about a nearby Zen Buddhist silent meditation retreat. Its theme was liberation from the fear of impermanence. It was meant to cultivate “wordless awareness,” which meant no speaking, no phones, no music, and no books. The idea of being without words for a whole weekend freaked me out, but I signed up anyway.

Liberation from fear of impermanence was something I could really use. Ever since my dad had a heart attack three years ago, I’ve been imagining his death and worrying excessively about when it will happen — What if he goes into cardiac arrest while I’m on a trip overseas and I can’t get back to him in time? Maybe I shouldn’t go on overseas trips! — and how I’ll cope.

When I arrived at the retreat, 20 participants wearing sweatpants and kind smiles — mostly retirees grappling with the looming prospect of their own death — sat in a circle. The retreat leader said we’d be working through the “Touchings of the Earth,” a series of exercises designed by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist monk famed for his teachings on mindfulness. The leader told us he would read three phrases, and after each one, we’d prostrate ourselves on the ground, where we’d lie for five minutes in contemplation.

I felt a bit uncomfortable about the prostrating bit because that’s not really part of my cultural lexicon, but before I knew it, he was intoning the first phrase: “Touching the earth, I connect with ancestors and descendants of both my spiritual and my blood families.”

Down I went with everyone else. Pretty soon, I realized the benefits of lying flat-out on my belly. It humbled me. And it let me imagine myself as a straight line through time, my feet in the past, my hands stretching into the future. I found myself thinking of my Indian great-great-grandmother, an orphan who at age 13 was sent on a rickety train from Calcutta to Bombay to marry a man three times her age.

I thought of all the choices she made to shield her son from violence and poverty, and how they filtered down through the generations, eventually conditioning the choices my dad made for me. All these choices were still shaping my life in palpable ways: my geography, my class, my psychological makeup. I was just starting to think about how my own choices will shape the lives of my potential future children when a bell rang and everyone stood up.

“Touching the earth, I connect with all people and all species which are alive at this moment in this world with me.”

This time I thought of climate change. I pictured all the species we’re losing, trying to visualize each bird, each bee. Now I was a horizontal line, connecting outward to other beings in the present, feeling how precarious they are. The bell rang; everyone stood.

“Touching the earth, I let go of my idea that I am this body and my lifespan is limited.”

Maybe because I’d just imagined myself as an infinite line, stretching out first vertically, then horizontally, it was surprisingly easy to let go of my notion of self as a bounded thing. If my great-great-grandmother’s choices were shaping the lives of my potential future children and my action or nonaction was shaping the lives of birds millions of miles away, what sense did it make to consider myself a separate individual?

As we repeated this exercise over the three-day retreat, I felt open and raw, a crustacean without her shell: soft everywhere. I realized I’d been scared of the prospect of my dad dying in part because I’m scared that his individual mind will no longer be able to speak to me, comfort me, or advise me with any real particularity. I’d hated the notion of his him-ness evanescing into some anonymous flow of consciousness, a drop of water that loses its identity in the ocean.

By the end of the retreat, I didn’t come to completely embrace that notion or magically lose all my fear. What I felt was subtler; I simply feared and hated a little less. Maybe it wasn’t so bad for our particular identities to be transient, if we continue to communicate with everyone and everything through the choices we’ve made. Maybe, as mono no aware suggests, there was even a bit of loveliness to it.

Even as happiness in the US has been decreasing, countries around the world have become more committed to studying, tracking, and increasing their citizens’ well-being.

Amid the global financial crisis, national happiness became the subject of policy conferences and college courses. France commissioned a study on it, which leading economists — Amartya Sen, Joseph Stiglitz, and Jean-Paul Fitoussi — completed in 2009. In 2011, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development released its first well-being report on its member countries, and in 2012, the UN began releasing its annual World Happiness Report.

Several countries are now explicitly focused on boosting well-being. There’s Bhutan, which in 2008 enshrined “gross national happiness” in its Constitution. There’s the United Arab Emirates, which in 2016 appointed a minister of state for happiness. And there’s New Zealand, which earlier this year released the world’s first-ever “well-being budget.” To measure progress toward increased well-being and inform policy, the government there will use 61 indicators tracking everything from loneliness to water quality.

That’s important, because government decisions — and major social problems like racism — do a lot to condition and constrain the types of happiness citizens can access. Political and social change are crucial for increasing well-being; the onus can’t and shouldn’t fall squarely on the individual.

But the machinery of policy grinds slowly, and many individuals want to feel happier now. That’s where Lomas’s ideas may be useful.

Some types of well-being are ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences

Of course, people looking to boost their happiness will find countless other recommendations out there. Many claims stemming from the $4 trillion “wellness” or “self-care” industry — that vaginal jade eggs can fix your hormone levels, say — are not evidence-based. But some other techniques are backed by research. For instance, Laurie Santos, a psychologist who teaches a Yale course on happiness (the university’s most popular class ever), has explained the efficacy of activities like gratitude journaling. Research has also shown that strong social relationships are crucial to well-being; anything we can do to reduce the toxic effects of loneliness is probably going to yield major dividends.

By comparison, how effective is Lomas’s language-learning intervention likely to be?

It’s an empirical question to which we don’t have an answer because it has barely been studied. (My own personal study, with a sample size of one, is nothing like a rigorous scientific trial.) It’s also a question that’s difficult to answer because Lomas’s proposal is actually many proposals. It involves cultivating a plethora of different positive experiences. Plus, you can cultivate them in different ways — and which way you choose matters.

“If Lomas’s intervention involves writing in a journal, that may overlap a lot with gratitude journaling,” said Katie Hoemann, a doctoral candidate in psychology at Northeastern University who researches the interaction between language and emotion. “And if you’re doing the intervention in a social context, you’re probably getting social benefits, too.” The variables may be difficult to isolate.

Hoemann sounded a note of skepticism about the emotional granularity assumption underlying Lomas’s proposal. She noted that although studies have indeed shown a link between emotional granularity and better behavioral control in the face of negative feelings, the evidence that increasing granularity ups positive feelings is much thinner.

Janet Nicol, a professor of linguistics, psychology, and cognitive science at the University of Arizona, cast doubt on Lomas’s claim that learning untranslatable words may improve our well-being. “That kind of claim is just not supported by the evidence so far,” she said. “I think he’s overstating the effects.”

She imagined an experiment to test the hypothesis: Teach a bunch of people the Chinese principle of feng shui, have them rearrange the furniture in their homes accordingly, give them a well-being survey before and after, and measure the extent of improvement. “But in that case, is it the language that’s important or is it just the idea?” Nicol asked. “I don’t think they have to learn the foreign term feng shui in order to learn the idea.”

Nevertheless, Hoemann suggested there’s something here that merits serious investigation, because having a specific word for something does help us identify it. “It might seem like a small individual act to learn new words. But if there are many individuals doing it, there’s a snowball effect and it actually becomes part of our culture.”

In the meantime, people are still suggesting more words for Lomas’s online lexicon. He’s noticing trends in the types of well-being they tend to harp on — groupings that he thinks may reveal something about what human beings find most vital these days. When I asked him what theme is coming through strongest, he replied immediately: our relationship to nature.

The word dadirri, used in several Australian Aboriginal languages, describes a respectful deep listening to the natural world, a receptive state that can be healing. Lomas quotes Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann of the Ngangikurungkurr tribe, who explains, “When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness.”

Although I was under no illusion that I’d be able to experience dadirri as Ungunmerr-Baumann does, I thought I might try to explore it in Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay, where I spent a few days in October.

One morning, I woke up before dawn and went outside. I purposely brought no phone, no people, no distractions. As the sun rose, I sat on a rock and tried to listen. At first I heard only the loud birds who seemed to be in charge of screaming the world’s pain: Ow! Ow! Ow! Owwwwwww! Ow!

Slowly I began to hear subtler sounds. The water lapping at the land. The occasional swish of a fish breaking the surface and flumping back into the bay.

Each time I heard that flump, I swiveled around trying to see the fish that had produced it — until I realized that by the time you can turn your head, you’ll already have missed it. Better to keep your eyes focused on one patch of water, watching and listening.

Sure enough, several minutes later I was rewarded for my attention by the sight of a great dark fish rising above the surface.

I felt a quiet elation — and then gratitude toward the word dadirri for getting me to put myself in the way of this happiness. It’s not that I’d never experienced anything like it before, but having a word for it made me more purposeful about cultivating it and also helped me notice it as it was happening.

I found myself curious about the elation I felt. What is it that makes nature so restorative? I thought it must have to do with the way that, when we’re outdoors, we can more easily sense the interconnectedness of everything. We remember that we’re part of a vast and complex ecosystem, which has gone on long before us and will go on long after us. Knowing this helps to repair the breach we feel in times of loneliness and alienation between us and other beings. It offers the comfort of continuity, the conviction that even if we feel cut off, we’re not really — it’s only that our language has failed us.

After entertaining these wispy thoughts, I looked down to find that a spider had been busy literalizing my metaphor. She’d spun her silky strands across my limbs, making me an actual part of her web.

I laughed, thinking of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The happiness that alighted upon me then wasn’t a butterfly, but it was pretty damn close.

Sigal Samuel is a staff writer for Vox’s Future Perfect. She writes about artificial intelligence, neuroscience, and the intersection of technology and religion. She previously wrote about anxiety apps for The Highlight.

Jordan Kay is an illustrator and animation dabbler based in Seattle, Washington.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/37pr3MW

[timalexanderdollery]

American happiness is plummeting. Could a few words change that?

A psychologist claims that learning “untranslatable words” from other cultures may be a key to being happy. I experimented on myself to see whether it’s true.

“Happiness is a butterfly which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”

Screw that.

The saying, sometimes attributed to the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, cautions us to not pursue happiness aggressively; we’ve got to just let it come to us. But for many of us today, such 19th century romantic musings seem quaint, if not downright un-American.

The pursuit of happiness inscribed into the Declaration of Independence has grown into a national obsession. We compulsively compare ourselves to others, asking whether they’re happier than we are and why, and then we buy — a yoga studio membership, an empowerment seminar, an $80 Goop water bottle with a built-in rose quartz crystal — to stop losing the competition.

I admit that I, too, zealously hunt down happiness these days. I’ve had a rough couple of years. My dad had a heart attack. My apartment was burglarized. My knees were gripped by chronic pain so intense that, for a while, I could barely walk.

So when I stumbled across the work of Tim Lomas, I pounced on his books, butterfly net in hand. A lecturer at the University of East London, Lomas specializes in a field known as positive psychology, the study of what makes human beings happy. Not just happy in the narrow sense, like the fleeting joy you get from ice cream, but in the broader sense of human flourishing — what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia. Positive psychologists research which factors are the biggest contributors to well-being, from income level to relationships to religiosity.

Lomas has recently published a trio of works on the connection between well-being and language: The Happiness Dictionary, Translating Happiness, and Happiness Found in Translation, his illustrated chapbook published this fall. In them, he says most of us in the West aren’t as happy as we could be, in part because we have a limited definition of happiness. Other cultures have concepts of well-being that are vastly different from ours, but because they’re expressed in languages we don’t understand, Lomas argues, we’re missing out on the insights they embody.

So in 2015, Lomas started the Positive Lexicography Project, a crowdsourced treasury of global terms of well-being, everything from fjaka (Croatian for “the sweetness of doing nothing”) to ubuntu (Zulu for “a spirit of universal kindness and common humanity: I am because you are”).

With the help of far-flung strangers on the internet, he’s since mined 140 languages to come up with a whopping 1,200 words. Each has its own unique shades of meaning not fully captured in English translation. He argues that engaging with these “untranslatable” terms can help us imagine, and ultimately experience, more types of well-being.

And a sense of well-being seems to be in short supply in the US. Americans are only becoming more miserable, according to the World Happiness Report. In 2019, the US dropped in the rankings for the third year in a row, coming in 19th place. Experts blame the decline on various factors, including the deadliest drug overdose crisis in our history, ever-higher levels of anxiety in annual surveys, and decreased trust in politicians and other public figures.

Against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why the emerging field of positive psychology has grown popular both in academia and among the public. And given that the American hunt for happiness is turning out to be pretty unsuccessful, it’s not surprising that proposals such as Lomas’s — which suggest turning to other cultures for insight — exert a seductive pull.

When I called Lomas at his home in London, he told me one of his favorite words is wabi sabi, which is Japanese for “imperfect, weathered, rustic beauty.” The term puts him in a different frame of mind, letting him see things with new eyes.

“Right now I’m looking out at my garden,” he said. “There’s some broken pots there. So I’m thinking, is there a way to look at these pots in such a way that, even though they’re imperfect and old, I see there really is a beauty to them?”

Words like these are tantalizing because they’re so much more than just single words — they’re lexical powerhouses that seem to contain entire worldviews. They let us see how other cultures parse their experiences, offering us more options for how we might understand and live ours.

“In positive psychology, interventions might involve recalling a positive experience and writing about it for 20 minutes, or just sitting and meditating on it,” Lomas said. “With wabi sabi, you could send people away for 24 hours and say, ‘Try and notice this wherever possible and keep a diary on those experiences.’”

Psychologists have adopted a term for the ability to distinguish between feelings in an extra-nuanced way: They call it “emotional granularity.” For example, English has words like pleasure, satisfaction, and pride, but they don’t allow you to differentiate between the pride you feel for a friend whose accomplishment you’re also a tad jealous of, and the pride you feel for a friend whom you’re genuinely, 100 percent happy for. Yet Hebrew has a word for the latter — firgun — which describes total ungrudging and overt pride in another’s success. And German has a word for the opposite of firgun: schadenfreude.

Several studies suggest that increasing emotional granularity is good for our mental and physical health. It makes us more aware of our subjective experiences, which in turn makes it easier for us to regulate our emotions and maintain equanimity. It’s a souped-up version of what we do with preschoolers: We teach them to identify their feelings — “I’m mad” or “I’m sad” — which is the first step toward learning how to manage them.

Lomas says we should try doing the same thing as adults but with untranslatable words, so that we add ever more complexity to our emotional vocabularies. Writing in Translating Happiness, he says he’d want to see “a pilot study, followed by larger-scale empirical testing, randomized controlled trials, replication studies, and meta-analyses. These studies could use psychometric scales to assess the extent of improvement.”

Although I’m in no position to conduct a scientific study, I felt a certain frisson (that’s French for “a spine-tingling shiver of excitement”) when I read this. I wondered what would happen if I picked a few untranslatable words and tried to cultivate the types of well-being they embody.

I knew I had no hope of feeling my way into these words the same way they’d be experienced by someone who’s spent a lifetime steeped in the cultural tradition that gave rise to them. For me to try to access these words outside of their original context would inevitably be to impoverish and distort them. Still, I wondered if spending a little time trying to learn from them would make it possible to experience the world just a bit differently.

I began to plan my experiments.

As a teenager, I used to dance salsa and flamenco. But recently? Not so much. Over the past few years, a chronic pain in my knees that no doctor could explain or treat kept me from dancing. Which is to say, it kept me from the activity that helped get me out of my head and into my body, that replaced worry with sensation. Happily, this year the pain finally subsided, and so I figured it was time to give duende a shot.

Duende is Spanish for a heightened state of passionate emotion that you experience through art, especially dance. The poet Federico García Lorca said having duende is “not a question of skill, but of a style that’s truly alive: meaning, it’s in the veins … it burns the blood like powdered glass, it exhausts, it rejects all the sweet geometry we understand.” And according to Lomas, “The term derives from a magical elf-like creature in Spanish mythology, which suggests the nonrational and otherworldly nature of the mental state duende signifies.”

One weekend, I saw online that a club near my house was hosting a Cuban dance party. The party didn’t start until 11 pm and my elder-millennial friends could not be corralled off their couches at such an ungodly hour. So I went alone, figuring I’d do fine.

Nope. Not fine at all. Everyone there was intimidatingly fantastic at salsa dancing! The men’s footwork was so fast that their shoes blurred into invisibility; the women were all hips, dresses describing sexy circles in the air as they spun. I stood with my back pasted to the wall and guzzled rum.

Eventually, I forced myself to find a partner and hit the dance floor. As he cut confidently through the air, I felt like a penguin in his arms, flightless and waddling pathetically. My confidence level did not rise over the next few hours. Each dancer was somehow better than the last, and I was way too self-conscious to feel the passionate, out-of-your-mind ecstasy of duende. It’s hard to feel mystically transported when you’re worried about stepping on some hot guy’s toes.

And although I hated to admit it, the quote attributed to Hawthorne did seem to be on-point: Trying to manufacture joy can make it even harder to access.

It was 2 am when, pasted to the wall again, guzzling water this time, I finally met someone as clueless as I was. I asked him how it was that everyone there was an amazing dancer. “Didn’t you know?” he asked. “These are professionals. Half of them own their own studios in the area.” I exploded into laughter. How did I pick the one club in town where everyone was a goddamn dance instructor?

Knowing that helped me loosen up. The guy and I danced together, laughing at ourselves. I started to actually have fun. We spun each other around. We tangoed across the floor. We jumped onto the sides of pillars and kicked off from them, flying, however briefly, through the air. It was not really duende, but it was a joy I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The underlying premise of Lomas’s work is the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis — a theory, proposed by linguist Edward Sapir in 1929 and later developed by his student Benjamin Whorf — that our language shapes what we’re capable of thinking and feeling. The strong version of the hypothesis, linguistic determinism, holds that you can’t experience a feeling the same way if you don’t have a word for it. Linguists critiqued that view heavily in the 1960s and ’70s, and it remains unpopular these days.

But a milder one, linguistic relativity, is still embraced by some scholars, including Lomas. It holds that language influences experience but doesn’t determine it.

Even linguistic relativity is controversial, though. Some linguists, like John McWhorter, insist that “the world looks the same in any language” — and argue that claiming otherwise risks fetishizing some cultures (“Italians are a romantic people”) and demeaning others. I share some of that concern. As a woman of color whose family hails from India, Iraq, and Morocco, I’m always wary of ideas with the potential to Orientalize or exoticize. At the same time, I wanted to engage with Lomas’s ideas in good faith.

Words like these are lexical powerhouses

If you find it hard to believe that engaging with untranslatable words can actually increase your well-being, Lomas told me, consider sati. That’s a Pali word from India that you may have seen translated as mindfulness, though many meditators prefer to leave it untranslated, saying the English term is too cerebral to capture the emotional and ethical valences of the original. (Sati also has a very different unrelated meaning among some Indians and Nepalese.)

In the West, sati has been popularized by people like Jon Kabat-Zinn, a scientist who founded the Center for Mindfulness and who in the 1970s developed an eight-week course for people in clinical settings, which he called mindfulness-based stress reduction. Other American teachers, such as Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach, have brought mindfulness practice sessions to the masses. Countless mindfulness apps have also embedded the concept firmly in our cultural lexicon. Lomas points to the rise of sati as evidence that Westerners can study an untranslatable phenomenon, create exercises for cultivating it, and through that measurably improve people’s well-being.

“People looked into sati and built a set of practices around it. That’s been so valuable,” Lomas told me. “Surely there are various other words you could explore in a similar way.”

But by and large, people haven’t yet done that. He’s currently collaborating with scholars in Spain and Japan to see if they can come up with exercises that will help people develop an experiential understanding of untranslatable terms.

Yet just as you need many, many hours of practice to develop mindfulness as a permanently altered trait rather than a temporarily altered state, cultivating different types of well-being will require more than a single exercise to make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.

It will also require that Westerners expand our notion of happiness. Some types of well-being, Lomas writes, don’t come in purely pleasurable packets — they’re ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences. Think of the Italian word magari, which suggests a sense of “maybe, possibly,” the wistful hope of “if only.” Or the Amharic word tizita, which means “a bittersweet remembrance and longing for a time, person, or thing gone by.” Lomas writes:

Psychologists are increasingly appreciative of such feelings, as seen in an emergent body of work that my colleagues and I refer to as “second-wave” positive psychology. When positive psychology was initiated in the 1990s, it defined itself by focusing on positive emotions and qualities. Before long, however, scholars started to critique this foundational [Western] concept of the “positive.”

While [the value of ambivalent feelings] has been recognized within Western academia only relatively recently, many cultures have long since acknowledged their significance.

Lomas says Eastern cultures, in particular, have a wealth of richly ambivalent words.

Mono no aware is a Japanese term for appreciating the transiency of life and its beauty, or recognizing that some things are beautiful in part because they’re impermanent.

“The prevalence and importance of mono no aware in Japanese culture may be attributed in part to the influence of Zen, the branch of Buddhism that flowered in Japan from the 12th century onward,” Lomas writes. “Mono no aware is an aesthetic approach to the cognizance of impermanence, which is central to Buddhist teaching.”

Soon after I read this, I learned about a nearby Zen Buddhist silent meditation retreat. Its theme was liberation from the fear of impermanence. It was meant to cultivate “wordless awareness,” which meant no speaking, no phones, no music, and no books. The idea of being without words for a whole weekend freaked me out, but I signed up anyway.

Liberation from fear of impermanence was something I could really use. Ever since my dad had a heart attack three years ago, I’ve been imagining his death and worrying excessively about when it will happen — What if he goes into cardiac arrest while I’m on a trip overseas and I can’t get back to him in time? Maybe I shouldn’t go on overseas trips! — and how I’ll cope.

When I arrived at the retreat, 20 participants wearing sweatpants and kind smiles — mostly retirees grappling with the looming prospect of their own death — sat in a circle. The retreat leader said we’d be working through the “Touchings of the Earth,” a series of exercises designed by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist monk famed for his teachings on mindfulness. The leader told us he would read three phrases, and after each one, we’d prostrate ourselves on the ground, where we’d lie for five minutes in contemplation.

I felt a bit uncomfortable about the prostrating bit because that’s not really part of my cultural lexicon, but before I knew it, he was intoning the first phrase: “Touching the earth, I connect with ancestors and descendants of both my spiritual and my blood families.”

Down I went with everyone else. Pretty soon, I realized the benefits of lying flat-out on my belly. It humbled me. And it let me imagine myself as a straight line through time, my feet in the past, my hands stretching into the future. I found myself thinking of my Indian great-great-grandmother, an orphan who at age 13 was sent on a rickety train from Calcutta to Bombay to marry a man three times her age.

I thought of all the choices she made to shield her son from violence and poverty, and how they filtered down through the generations, eventually conditioning the choices my dad made for me. All these choices were still shaping my life in palpable ways: my geography, my class, my psychological makeup. I was just starting to think about how my own choices will shape the lives of my potential future children when a bell rang and everyone stood up.

“Touching the earth, I connect with all people and all species which are alive at this moment in this world with me.”

This time I thought of climate change. I pictured all the species we’re losing, trying to visualize each bird, each bee. Now I was a horizontal line, connecting outward to other beings in the present, feeling how precarious they are. The bell rang; everyone stood.

“Touching the earth, I let go of my idea that I am this body and my lifespan is limited.”

Maybe because I’d just imagined myself as an infinite line, stretching out first vertically, then horizontally, it was surprisingly easy to let go of my notion of self as a bounded thing. If my great-great-grandmother’s choices were shaping the lives of my potential future children and my action or nonaction was shaping the lives of birds millions of miles away, what sense did it make to consider myself a separate individual?

As we repeated this exercise over the three-day retreat, I felt open and raw, a crustacean without her shell: soft everywhere. I realized I’d been scared of the prospect of my dad dying in part because I’m scared that his individual mind will no longer be able to speak to me, comfort me, or advise me with any real particularity. I’d hated the notion of his him-ness evanescing into some anonymous flow of consciousness, a drop of water that loses its identity in the ocean.

By the end of the retreat, I didn’t come to completely embrace that notion or magically lose all my fear. What I felt was subtler; I simply feared and hated a little less. Maybe it wasn’t so bad for our particular identities to be transient, if we continue to communicate with everyone and everything through the choices we’ve made. Maybe, as mono no aware suggests, there was even a bit of loveliness to it.

Even as happiness in the US has been decreasing, countries around the world have become more committed to studying, tracking, and increasing their citizens’ well-being.

Amid the global financial crisis, national happiness became the subject of policy conferences and college courses. France commissioned a study on it, which leading economists — Amartya Sen, Joseph Stiglitz, and Jean-Paul Fitoussi — completed in 2009. In 2011, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development released its first well-being report on its member countries, and in 2012, the UN began releasing its annual World Happiness Report.

Several countries are now explicitly focused on boosting well-being. There’s Bhutan, which in 2008 enshrined “gross national happiness” in its Constitution. There’s the United Arab Emirates, which in 2016 appointed a minister of state for happiness. And there’s New Zealand, which earlier this year released the world’s first-ever “well-being budget.” To measure progress toward increased well-being and inform policy, the government there will use 61 indicators tracking everything from loneliness to water quality.

That’s important, because government decisions — and major social problems like racism — do a lot to condition and constrain the types of happiness citizens can access. Political and social change are crucial for increasing well-being; the onus can’t and shouldn’t fall squarely on the individual.

But the machinery of policy grinds slowly, and many individuals want to feel happier now. That’s where Lomas’s ideas may be useful.

Some types of well-being are ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences

Of course, people looking to boost their happiness will find countless other recommendations out there. Many claims stemming from the $4 trillion “wellness” or “self-care” industry — that vaginal jade eggs can fix your hormone levels, say — are not evidence-based. But some other techniques are backed by research. For instance, Laurie Santos, a psychologist who teaches a Yale course on happiness (the university’s most popular class ever), has explained the efficacy of activities like gratitude journaling. Research has also shown that strong social relationships are crucial to well-being; anything we can do to reduce the toxic effects of loneliness is probably going to yield major dividends.

By comparison, how effective is Lomas’s language-learning intervention likely to be?

It’s an empirical question to which we don’t have an answer because it has barely been studied. (My own personal study, with a sample size of one, is nothing like a rigorous scientific trial.) It’s also a question that’s difficult to answer because Lomas’s proposal is actually many proposals. It involves cultivating a plethora of different positive experiences. Plus, you can cultivate them in different ways — and which way you choose matters.

“If Lomas’s intervention involves writing in a journal, that may overlap a lot with gratitude journaling,” said Katie Hoemann, a doctoral candidate in psychology at Northeastern University who researches the interaction between language and emotion. “And if you’re doing the intervention in a social context, you’re probably getting social benefits, too.” The variables may be difficult to isolate.

Hoemann sounded a note of skepticism about the emotional granularity assumption underlying Lomas’s proposal. She noted that although studies have indeed shown a link between emotional granularity and better behavioral control in the face of negative feelings, the evidence that increasing granularity ups positive feelings is much thinner.

Janet Nicol, a professor of linguistics, psychology, and cognitive science at the University of Arizona, cast doubt on Lomas’s claim that learning untranslatable words may improve our well-being. “That kind of claim is just not supported by the evidence so far,” she said. “I think he’s overstating the effects.”

She imagined an experiment to test the hypothesis: Teach a bunch of people the Chinese principle of feng shui, have them rearrange the furniture in their homes accordingly, give them a well-being survey before and after, and measure the extent of improvement. “But in that case, is it the language that’s important or is it just the idea?” Nicol asked. “I don’t think they have to learn the foreign term feng shui in order to learn the idea.”

Nevertheless, Hoemann suggested there’s something here that merits serious investigation, because having a specific word for something does help us identify it. “It might seem like a small individual act to learn new words. But if there are many individuals doing it, there’s a snowball effect and it actually becomes part of our culture.”

In the meantime, people are still suggesting more words for Lomas’s online lexicon. He’s noticing trends in the types of well-being they tend to harp on — groupings that he thinks may reveal something about what human beings find most vital these days. When I asked him what theme is coming through strongest, he replied immediately: our relationship to nature.

The word dadirri, used in several Australian Aboriginal languages, describes a respectful deep listening to the natural world, a receptive state that can be healing. Lomas quotes Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann of the Ngangikurungkurr tribe, who explains, “When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness.”

Although I was under no illusion that I’d be able to experience dadirri as Ungunmerr-Baumann does, I thought I might try to explore it in Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay, where I spent a few days in October.

One morning, I woke up before dawn and went outside. I purposely brought no phone, no people, no distractions. As the sun rose, I sat on a rock and tried to listen. At first I heard only the loud birds who seemed to be in charge of screaming the world’s pain: Ow! Ow! Ow! Owwwwwww! Ow!

Slowly I began to hear subtler sounds. The water lapping at the land. The occasional swish of a fish breaking the surface and flumping back into the bay.

Each time I heard that flump, I swiveled around trying to see the fish that had produced it — until I realized that by the time you can turn your head, you’ll already have missed it. Better to keep your eyes focused on one patch of water, watching and listening.

Sure enough, several minutes later I was rewarded for my attention by the sight of a great dark fish rising above the surface.

I felt a quiet elation — and then gratitude toward the word dadirri for getting me to put myself in the way of this happiness. It’s not that I’d never experienced anything like it before, but having a word for it made me more purposeful about cultivating it and also helped me notice it as it was happening.

I found myself curious about the elation I felt. What is it that makes nature so restorative? I thought it must have to do with the way that, when we’re outdoors, we can more easily sense the interconnectedness of everything. We remember that we’re part of a vast and complex ecosystem, which has gone on long before us and will go on long after us. Knowing this helps to repair the breach we feel in times of loneliness and alienation between us and other beings. It offers the comfort of continuity, the conviction that even if we feel cut off, we’re not really — it’s only that our language has failed us.

After entertaining these wispy thoughts, I looked down to find that a spider had been busy literalizing my metaphor. She’d spun her silky strands across my limbs, making me an actual part of her web.

I laughed, thinking of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The happiness that alighted upon me then wasn’t a butterfly, but it was pretty damn close.

Sigal Samuel is a staff writer for Vox’s Future Perfect. She writes about artificial intelligence, neuroscience, and the intersection of technology and religion. She previously wrote about anxiety apps for The Highlight.

Jordan Kay is an illustrator and animation dabbler based in Seattle, Washington.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/37pr3MW

[corneliusreignallen]

American happiness is plummeting. Could a few words change that?

A psychologist claims that learning “untranslatable words” from other cultures may be a key to being happy. I experimented on myself to see whether it’s true.

“Happiness is a butterfly which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”

Screw that.

The saying, sometimes attributed to the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, cautions us to not pursue happiness aggressively; we’ve got to just let it come to us. But for many of us today, such 19th century romantic musings seem quaint, if not downright un-American.

The pursuit of happiness inscribed into the Declaration of Independence has grown into a national obsession. We compulsively compare ourselves to others, asking whether they’re happier than we are and why, and then we buy — a yoga studio membership, an empowerment seminar, an $80 Goop water bottle with a built-in rose quartz crystal — to stop losing the competition.

I admit that I, too, zealously hunt down happiness these days. I’ve had a rough couple of years. My dad had a heart attack. My apartment was burglarized. My knees were gripped by chronic pain so intense that, for a while, I could barely walk.

So when I stumbled across the work of Tim Lomas, I pounced on his books, butterfly net in hand. A lecturer at the University of East London, Lomas specializes in a field known as positive psychology, the study of what makes human beings happy. Not just happy in the narrow sense, like the fleeting joy you get from ice cream, but in the broader sense of human flourishing — what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia. Positive psychologists research which factors are the biggest contributors to well-being, from income level to relationships to religiosity.

Lomas has recently published a trio of works on the connection between well-being and language: The Happiness Dictionary, Translating Happiness, and Happiness Found in Translation, his illustrated chapbook published this fall. In them, he says most of us in the West aren’t as happy as we could be, in part because we have a limited definition of happiness. Other cultures have concepts of well-being that are vastly different from ours, but because they’re expressed in languages we don’t understand, Lomas argues, we’re missing out on the insights they embody.

So in 2015, Lomas started the Positive Lexicography Project, a crowdsourced treasury of global terms of well-being, everything from fjaka (Croatian for “the sweetness of doing nothing”) to ubuntu (Zulu for “a spirit of universal kindness and common humanity: I am because you are”).

With the help of far-flung strangers on the internet, he’s since mined 140 languages to come up with a whopping 1,200 words. Each has its own unique shades of meaning not fully captured in English translation. He argues that engaging with these “untranslatable” terms can help us imagine, and ultimately experience, more types of well-being.

And a sense of well-being seems to be in short supply in the US. Americans are only becoming more miserable, according to the World Happiness Report. In 2019, the US dropped in the rankings for the third year in a row, coming in 19th place. Experts blame the decline on various factors, including the deadliest drug overdose crisis in our history, ever-higher levels of anxiety in annual surveys, and decreased trust in politicians and other public figures.

Against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why the emerging field of positive psychology has grown popular both in academia and among the public. And given that the American hunt for happiness is turning out to be pretty unsuccessful, it’s not surprising that proposals such as Lomas’s — which suggest turning to other cultures for insight — exert a seductive pull.

When I called Lomas at his home in London, he told me one of his favorite words is wabi sabi, which is Japanese for “imperfect, weathered, rustic beauty.” The term puts him in a different frame of mind, letting him see things with new eyes.

“Right now I’m looking out at my garden,” he said. “There’s some broken pots there. So I’m thinking, is there a way to look at these pots in such a way that, even though they’re imperfect and old, I see there really is a beauty to them?”

Words like these are tantalizing because they’re so much more than just single words — they’re lexical powerhouses that seem to contain entire worldviews. They let us see how other cultures parse their experiences, offering us more options for how we might understand and live ours.

“In positive psychology, interventions might involve recalling a positive experience and writing about it for 20 minutes, or just sitting and meditating on it,” Lomas said. “With wabi sabi, you could send people away for 24 hours and say, ‘Try and notice this wherever possible and keep a diary on those experiences.’”

Psychologists have adopted a term for the ability to distinguish between feelings in an extra-nuanced way: They call it “emotional granularity.” For example, English has words like pleasure, satisfaction, and pride, but they don’t allow you to differentiate between the pride you feel for a friend whose accomplishment you’re also a tad jealous of, and the pride you feel for a friend whom you’re genuinely, 100 percent happy for. Yet Hebrew has a word for the latter — firgun — which describes total ungrudging and overt pride in another’s success. And German has a word for the opposite of firgun: schadenfreude.

Several studies suggest that increasing emotional granularity is good for our mental and physical health. It makes us more aware of our subjective experiences, which in turn makes it easier for us to regulate our emotions and maintain equanimity. It’s a souped-up version of what we do with preschoolers: We teach them to identify their feelings — “I’m mad” or “I’m sad” — which is the first step toward learning how to manage them.

Lomas says we should try doing the same thing as adults but with untranslatable words, so that we add ever more complexity to our emotional vocabularies. Writing in Translating Happiness, he says he’d want to see “a pilot study, followed by larger-scale empirical testing, randomized controlled trials, replication studies, and meta-analyses. These studies could use psychometric scales to assess the extent of improvement.”

Although I’m in no position to conduct a scientific study, I felt a certain frisson (that’s French for “a spine-tingling shiver of excitement”) when I read this. I wondered what would happen if I picked a few untranslatable words and tried to cultivate the types of well-being they embody.

I knew I had no hope of feeling my way into these words the same way they’d be experienced by someone who’s spent a lifetime steeped in the cultural tradition that gave rise to them. For me to try to access these words outside of their original context would inevitably be to impoverish and distort them. Still, I wondered if spending a little time trying to learn from them would make it possible to experience the world just a bit differently.

I began to plan my experiments.

As a teenager, I used to dance salsa and flamenco. But recently? Not so much. Over the past few years, a chronic pain in my knees that no doctor could explain or treat kept me from dancing. Which is to say, it kept me from the activity that helped get me out of my head and into my body, that replaced worry with sensation. Happily, this year the pain finally subsided, and so I figured it was time to give duende a shot.

Duende is Spanish for a heightened state of passionate emotion that you experience through art, especially dance. The poet Federico García Lorca said having duende is “not a question of skill, but of a style that’s truly alive: meaning, it’s in the veins … it burns the blood like powdered glass, it exhausts, it rejects all the sweet geometry we understand.” And according to Lomas, “The term derives from a magical elf-like creature in Spanish mythology, which suggests the nonrational and otherworldly nature of the mental state duende signifies.”

One weekend, I saw online that a club near my house was hosting a Cuban dance party. The party didn’t start until 11 pm and my elder-millennial friends could not be corralled off their couches at such an ungodly hour. So I went alone, figuring I’d do fine.

Nope. Not fine at all. Everyone there was intimidatingly fantastic at salsa dancing! The men’s footwork was so fast that their shoes blurred into invisibility; the women were all hips, dresses describing sexy circles in the air as they spun. I stood with my back pasted to the wall and guzzled rum.

Eventually, I forced myself to find a partner and hit the dance floor. As he cut confidently through the air, I felt like a penguin in his arms, flightless and waddling pathetically. My confidence level did not rise over the next few hours. Each dancer was somehow better than the last, and I was way too self-conscious to feel the passionate, out-of-your-mind ecstasy of duende. It’s hard to feel mystically transported when you’re worried about stepping on some hot guy’s toes.

And although I hated to admit it, the quote attributed to Hawthorne did seem to be on-point: Trying to manufacture joy can make it even harder to access.

It was 2 am when, pasted to the wall again, guzzling water this time, I finally met someone as clueless as I was. I asked him how it was that everyone there was an amazing dancer. “Didn’t you know?” he asked. “These are professionals. Half of them own their own studios in the area.” I exploded into laughter. How did I pick the one club in town where everyone was a goddamn dance instructor?

Knowing that helped me loosen up. The guy and I danced together, laughing at ourselves. I started to actually have fun. We spun each other around. We tangoed across the floor. We jumped onto the sides of pillars and kicked off from them, flying, however briefly, through the air. It was not really duende, but it was a joy I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The underlying premise of Lomas’s work is the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis — a theory, proposed by linguist Edward Sapir in 1929 and later developed by his student Benjamin Whorf — that our language shapes what we’re capable of thinking and feeling. The strong version of the hypothesis, linguistic determinism, holds that you can’t experience a feeling the same way if you don’t have a word for it. Linguists critiqued that view heavily in the 1960s and ’70s, and it remains unpopular these days.

But a milder one, linguistic relativity, is still embraced by some scholars, including Lomas. It holds that language influences experience but doesn’t determine it.

Even linguistic relativity is controversial, though. Some linguists, like John McWhorter, insist that “the world looks the same in any language” — and argue that claiming otherwise risks fetishizing some cultures (“Italians are a romantic people”) and demeaning others. I share some of that concern. As a woman of color whose family hails from India, Iraq, and Morocco, I’m always wary of ideas with the potential to Orientalize or exoticize. At the same time, I wanted to engage with Lomas’s ideas in good faith.

Words like these are lexical powerhouses

If you find it hard to believe that engaging with untranslatable words can actually increase your well-being, Lomas told me, consider sati. That’s a Pali word from India that you may have seen translated as mindfulness, though many meditators prefer to leave it untranslated, saying the English term is too cerebral to capture the emotional and ethical valences of the original. (Sati also has a very different unrelated meaning among some Indians and Nepalese.)

In the West, sati has been popularized by people like Jon Kabat-Zinn, a scientist who founded the Center for Mindfulness and who in the 1970s developed an eight-week course for people in clinical settings, which he called mindfulness-based stress reduction. Other American teachers, such as Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach, have brought mindfulness practice sessions to the masses. Countless mindfulness apps have also embedded the concept firmly in our cultural lexicon. Lomas points to the rise of sati as evidence that Westerners can study an untranslatable phenomenon, create exercises for cultivating it, and through that measurably improve people’s well-being.

“People looked into sati and built a set of practices around it. That’s been so valuable,” Lomas told me. “Surely there are various other words you could explore in a similar way.”

But by and large, people haven’t yet done that. He’s currently collaborating with scholars in Spain and Japan to see if they can come up with exercises that will help people develop an experiential understanding of untranslatable terms.

Yet just as you need many, many hours of practice to develop mindfulness as a permanently altered trait rather than a temporarily altered state, cultivating different types of well-being will require more than a single exercise to make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.

It will also require that Westerners expand our notion of happiness. Some types of well-being, Lomas writes, don’t come in purely pleasurable packets — they’re ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences. Think of the Italian word magari, which suggests a sense of “maybe, possibly,” the wistful hope of “if only.” Or the Amharic word tizita, which means “a bittersweet remembrance and longing for a time, person, or thing gone by.” Lomas writes:

Psychologists are increasingly appreciative of such feelings, as seen in an emergent body of work that my colleagues and I refer to as “second-wave” positive psychology. When positive psychology was initiated in the 1990s, it defined itself by focusing on positive emotions and qualities. Before long, however, scholars started to critique this foundational [Western] concept of the “positive.”

While [the value of ambivalent feelings] has been recognized within Western academia only relatively recently, many cultures have long since acknowledged their significance.

Lomas says Eastern cultures, in particular, have a wealth of richly ambivalent words.

Mono no aware is a Japanese term for appreciating the transiency of life and its beauty, or recognizing that some things are beautiful in part because they’re impermanent.

“The prevalence and importance of mono no aware in Japanese culture may be attributed in part to the influence of Zen, the branch of Buddhism that flowered in Japan from the 12th century onward,” Lomas writes. “Mono no aware is an aesthetic approach to the cognizance of impermanence, which is central to Buddhist teaching.”

Soon after I read this, I learned about a nearby Zen Buddhist silent meditation retreat. Its theme was liberation from the fear of impermanence. It was meant to cultivate “wordless awareness,” which meant no speaking, no phones, no music, and no books. The idea of being without words for a whole weekend freaked me out, but I signed up anyway.

Liberation from fear of impermanence was something I could really use. Ever since my dad had a heart attack three years ago, I’ve been imagining his death and worrying excessively about when it will happen — What if he goes into cardiac arrest while I’m on a trip overseas and I can’t get back to him in time? Maybe I shouldn’t go on overseas trips! — and how I’ll cope.

When I arrived at the retreat, 20 participants wearing sweatpants and kind smiles — mostly retirees grappling with the looming prospect of their own death — sat in a circle. The retreat leader said we’d be working through the “Touchings of the Earth,” a series of exercises designed by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist monk famed for his teachings on mindfulness. The leader told us he would read three phrases, and after each one, we’d prostrate ourselves on the ground, where we’d lie for five minutes in contemplation.

I felt a bit uncomfortable about the prostrating bit because that’s not really part of my cultural lexicon, but before I knew it, he was intoning the first phrase: “Touching the earth, I connect with ancestors and descendants of both my spiritual and my blood families.”

Down I went with everyone else. Pretty soon, I realized the benefits of lying flat-out on my belly. It humbled me. And it let me imagine myself as a straight line through time, my feet in the past, my hands stretching into the future. I found myself thinking of my Indian great-great-grandmother, an orphan who at age 13 was sent on a rickety train from Calcutta to Bombay to marry a man three times her age.

I thought of all the choices she made to shield her son from violence and poverty, and how they filtered down through the generations, eventually conditioning the choices my dad made for me. All these choices were still shaping my life in palpable ways: my geography, my class, my psychological makeup. I was just starting to think about how my own choices will shape the lives of my potential future children when a bell rang and everyone stood up.

“Touching the earth, I connect with all people and all species which are alive at this moment in this world with me.”

This time I thought of climate change. I pictured all the species we’re losing, trying to visualize each bird, each bee. Now I was a horizontal line, connecting outward to other beings in the present, feeling how precarious they are. The bell rang; everyone stood.

“Touching the earth, I let go of my idea that I am this body and my lifespan is limited.”

Maybe because I’d just imagined myself as an infinite line, stretching out first vertically, then horizontally, it was surprisingly easy to let go of my notion of self as a bounded thing. If my great-great-grandmother’s choices were shaping the lives of my potential future children and my action or nonaction was shaping the lives of birds millions of miles away, what sense did it make to consider myself a separate individual?

As we repeated this exercise over the three-day retreat, I felt open and raw, a crustacean without her shell: soft everywhere. I realized I’d been scared of the prospect of my dad dying in part because I’m scared that his individual mind will no longer be able to speak to me, comfort me, or advise me with any real particularity. I’d hated the notion of his him-ness evanescing into some anonymous flow of consciousness, a drop of water that loses its identity in the ocean.

By the end of the retreat, I didn’t come to completely embrace that notion or magically lose all my fear. What I felt was subtler; I simply feared and hated a little less. Maybe it wasn’t so bad for our particular identities to be transient, if we continue to communicate with everyone and everything through the choices we’ve made. Maybe, as mono no aware suggests, there was even a bit of loveliness to it.

Even as happiness in the US has been decreasing, countries around the world have become more committed to studying, tracking, and increasing their citizens’ well-being.

Amid the global financial crisis, national happiness became the subject of policy conferences and college courses. France commissioned a study on it, which leading economists — Amartya Sen, Joseph Stiglitz, and Jean-Paul Fitoussi — completed in 2009. In 2011, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development released its first well-being report on its member countries, and in 2012, the UN began releasing its annual World Happiness Report.

Several countries are now explicitly focused on boosting well-being. There’s Bhutan, which in 2008 enshrined “gross national happiness” in its Constitution. There’s the United Arab Emirates, which in 2016 appointed a minister of state for happiness. And there’s New Zealand, which earlier this year released the world’s first-ever “well-being budget.” To measure progress toward increased well-being and inform policy, the government there will use 61 indicators tracking everything from loneliness to water quality.

That’s important, because government decisions — and major social problems like racism — do a lot to condition and constrain the types of happiness citizens can access. Political and social change are crucial for increasing well-being; the onus can’t and shouldn’t fall squarely on the individual.

But the machinery of policy grinds slowly, and many individuals want to feel happier now. That’s where Lomas’s ideas may be useful.

Some types of well-being are ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences

Of course, people looking to boost their happiness will find countless other recommendations out there. Many claims stemming from the $4 trillion “wellness” or “self-care” industry — that vaginal jade eggs can fix your hormone levels, say — are not evidence-based. But some other techniques are backed by research. For instance, Laurie Santos, a psychologist who teaches a Yale course on happiness (the university’s most popular class ever), has explained the efficacy of activities like gratitude journaling. Research has also shown that strong social relationships are crucial to well-being; anything we can do to reduce the toxic effects of loneliness is probably going to yield major dividends.

By comparison, how effective is Lomas’s language-learning intervention likely to be?

It’s an empirical question to which we don’t have an answer because it has barely been studied. (My own personal study, with a sample size of one, is nothing like a rigorous scientific trial.) It’s also a question that’s difficult to answer because Lomas’s proposal is actually many proposals. It involves cultivating a plethora of different positive experiences. Plus, you can cultivate them in different ways — and which way you choose matters.

“If Lomas’s intervention involves writing in a journal, that may overlap a lot with gratitude journaling,” said Katie Hoemann, a doctoral candidate in psychology at Northeastern University who researches the interaction between language and emotion. “And if you’re doing the intervention in a social context, you’re probably getting social benefits, too.” The variables may be difficult to isolate.

Hoemann sounded a note of skepticism about the emotional granularity assumption underlying Lomas’s proposal. She noted that although studies have indeed shown a link between emotional granularity and better behavioral control in the face of negative feelings, the evidence that increasing granularity ups positive feelings is much thinner.

Janet Nicol, a professor of linguistics, psychology, and cognitive science at the University of Arizona, cast doubt on Lomas’s claim that learning untranslatable words may improve our well-being. “That kind of claim is just not supported by the evidence so far,” she said. “I think he’s overstating the effects.”

She imagined an experiment to test the hypothesis: Teach a bunch of people the Chinese principle of feng shui, have them rearrange the furniture in their homes accordingly, give them a well-being survey before and after, and measure the extent of improvement. “But in that case, is it the language that’s important or is it just the idea?” Nicol asked. “I don’t think they have to learn the foreign term feng shui in order to learn the idea.”

Nevertheless, Hoemann suggested there’s something here that merits serious investigation, because having a specific word for something does help us identify it. “It might seem like a small individual act to learn new words. But if there are many individuals doing it, there’s a snowball effect and it actually becomes part of our culture.”

In the meantime, people are still suggesting more words for Lomas’s online lexicon. He’s noticing trends in the types of well-being they tend to harp on — groupings that he thinks may reveal something about what human beings find most vital these days. When I asked him what theme is coming through strongest, he replied immediately: our relationship to nature.

The word dadirri, used in several Australian Aboriginal languages, describes a respectful deep listening to the natural world, a receptive state that can be healing. Lomas quotes Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann of the Ngangikurungkurr tribe, who explains, “When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness.”

Although I was under no illusion that I’d be able to experience dadirri as Ungunmerr-Baumann does, I thought I might try to explore it in Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay, where I spent a few days in October.

One morning, I woke up before dawn and went outside. I purposely brought no phone, no people, no distractions. As the sun rose, I sat on a rock and tried to listen. At first I heard only the loud birds who seemed to be in charge of screaming the world’s pain: Ow! Ow! Ow! Owwwwwww! Ow!

Slowly I began to hear subtler sounds. The water lapping at the land. The occasional swish of a fish breaking the surface and flumping back into the bay.

Each time I heard that flump, I swiveled around trying to see the fish that had produced it — until I realized that by the time you can turn your head, you’ll already have missed it. Better to keep your eyes focused on one patch of water, watching and listening.

Sure enough, several minutes later I was rewarded for my attention by the sight of a great dark fish rising above the surface.

I felt a quiet elation — and then gratitude toward the word dadirri for getting me to put myself in the way of this happiness. It’s not that I’d never experienced anything like it before, but having a word for it made me more purposeful about cultivating it and also helped me notice it as it was happening.

I found myself curious about the elation I felt. What is it that makes nature so restorative? I thought it must have to do with the way that, when we’re outdoors, we can more easily sense the interconnectedness of everything. We remember that we’re part of a vast and complex ecosystem, which has gone on long before us and will go on long after us. Knowing this helps to repair the breach we feel in times of loneliness and alienation between us and other beings. It offers the comfort of continuity, the conviction that even if we feel cut off, we’re not really — it’s only that our language has failed us.

After entertaining these wispy thoughts, I looked down to find that a spider had been busy literalizing my metaphor. She’d spun her silky strands across my limbs, making me an actual part of her web.

I laughed, thinking of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The happiness that alighted upon me then wasn’t a butterfly, but it was pretty damn close.

Sigal Samuel is a staff writer for Vox’s Future Perfect. She writes about artificial intelligence, neuroscience, and the intersection of technology and religion. She previously wrote about anxiety apps for The Highlight.

Jordan Kay is an illustrator and animation dabbler based in Seattle, Washington.

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[gracieyvonnehunter]

American happiness is plummeting. Could a few words change that?

A psychologist claims that learning “untranslatable words” from other cultures may be a key to being happy. I experimented on myself to see whether it’s true.

“Happiness is a butterfly which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”

Screw that.

The saying, sometimes attributed to the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, cautions us to not pursue happiness aggressively; we’ve got to just let it come to us. But for many of us today, such 19th century romantic musings seem quaint, if not downright un-American.

The pursuit of happiness inscribed into the Declaration of Independence has grown into a national obsession. We compulsively compare ourselves to others, asking whether they’re happier than we are and why, and then we buy — a yoga studio membership, an empowerment seminar, an $80 Goop water bottle with a built-in rose quartz crystal — to stop losing the competition.

I admit that I, too, zealously hunt down happiness these days. I’ve had a rough couple of years. My dad had a heart attack. My apartment was burglarized. My knees were gripped by chronic pain so intense that, for a while, I could barely walk.

So when I stumbled across the work of Tim Lomas, I pounced on his books, butterfly net in hand. A lecturer at the University of East London, Lomas specializes in a field known as positive psychology, the study of what makes human beings happy. Not just happy in the narrow sense, like the fleeting joy you get from ice cream, but in the broader sense of human flourishing — what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia. Positive psychologists research which factors are the biggest contributors to well-being, from income level to relationships to religiosity.

Lomas has recently published a trio of works on the connection between well-being and language: The Happiness Dictionary, Translating Happiness, and Happiness Found in Translation, his illustrated chapbook published this fall. In them, he says most of us in the West aren’t as happy as we could be, in part because we have a limited definition of happiness. Other cultures have concepts of well-being that are vastly different from ours, but because they’re expressed in languages we don’t understand, Lomas argues, we’re missing out on the insights they embody.

So in 2015, Lomas started the Positive Lexicography Project, a crowdsourced treasury of global terms of well-being, everything from fjaka (Croatian for “the sweetness of doing nothing”) to ubuntu (Zulu for “a spirit of universal kindness and common humanity: I am because you are”).

With the help of far-flung strangers on the internet, he’s since mined 140 languages to come up with a whopping 1,200 words. Each has its own unique shades of meaning not fully captured in English translation. He argues that engaging with these “untranslatable” terms can help us imagine, and ultimately experience, more types of well-being.

And a sense of well-being seems to be in short supply in the US. Americans are only becoming more miserable, according to the World Happiness Report. In 2019, the US dropped in the rankings for the third year in a row, coming in 19th place. Experts blame the decline on various factors, including the deadliest drug overdose crisis in our history, ever-higher levels of anxiety in annual surveys, and decreased trust in politicians and other public figures.

Against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why the emerging field of positive psychology has grown popular both in academia and among the public. And given that the American hunt for happiness is turning out to be pretty unsuccessful, it’s not surprising that proposals such as Lomas’s — which suggest turning to other cultures for insight — exert a seductive pull.

When I called Lomas at his home in London, he told me one of his favorite words is wabi sabi, which is Japanese for “imperfect, weathered, rustic beauty.” The term puts him in a different frame of mind, letting him see things with new eyes.

“Right now I’m looking out at my garden,” he said. “There’s some broken pots there. So I’m thinking, is there a way to look at these pots in such a way that, even though they’re imperfect and old, I see there really is a beauty to them?”

Words like these are tantalizing because they’re so much more than just single words — they’re lexical powerhouses that seem to contain entire worldviews. They let us see how other cultures parse their experiences, offering us more options for how we might understand and live ours.

“In positive psychology, interventions might involve recalling a positive experience and writing about it for 20 minutes, or just sitting and meditating on it,” Lomas said. “With wabi sabi, you could send people away for 24 hours and say, ‘Try and notice this wherever possible and keep a diary on those experiences.’”

Psychologists have adopted a term for the ability to distinguish between feelings in an extra-nuanced way: They call it “emotional granularity.” For example, English has words like pleasure, satisfaction, and pride, but they don’t allow you to differentiate between the pride you feel for a friend whose accomplishment you’re also a tad jealous of, and the pride you feel for a friend whom you’re genuinely, 100 percent happy for. Yet Hebrew has a word for the latter — firgun — which describes total ungrudging and overt pride in another’s success. And German has a word for the opposite of firgun: schadenfreude.

Several studies suggest that increasing emotional granularity is good for our mental and physical health. It makes us more aware of our subjective experiences, which in turn makes it easier for us to regulate our emotions and maintain equanimity. It’s a souped-up version of what we do with preschoolers: We teach them to identify their feelings — “I’m mad” or “I’m sad” — which is the first step toward learning how to manage them.

Lomas says we should try doing the same thing as adults but with untranslatable words, so that we add ever more complexity to our emotional vocabularies. Writing in Translating Happiness, he says he’d want to see “a pilot study, followed by larger-scale empirical testing, randomized controlled trials, replication studies, and meta-analyses. These studies could use psychometric scales to assess the extent of improvement.”

Although I’m in no position to conduct a scientific study, I felt a certain frisson (that’s French for “a spine-tingling shiver of excitement”) when I read this. I wondered what would happen if I picked a few untranslatable words and tried to cultivate the types of well-being they embody.

I knew I had no hope of feeling my way into these words the same way they’d be experienced by someone who’s spent a lifetime steeped in the cultural tradition that gave rise to them. For me to try to access these words outside of their original context would inevitably be to impoverish and distort them. Still, I wondered if spending a little time trying to learn from them would make it possible to experience the world just a bit differently.

I began to plan my experiments.

As a teenager, I used to dance salsa and flamenco. But recently? Not so much. Over the past few years, a chronic pain in my knees that no doctor could explain or treat kept me from dancing. Which is to say, it kept me from the activity that helped get me out of my head and into my body, that replaced worry with sensation. Happily, this year the pain finally subsided, and so I figured it was time to give duende a shot.

Duende is Spanish for a heightened state of passionate emotion that you experience through art, especially dance. The poet Federico García Lorca said having duende is “not a question of skill, but of a style that’s truly alive: meaning, it’s in the veins … it burns the blood like powdered glass, it exhausts, it rejects all the sweet geometry we understand.” And according to Lomas, “The term derives from a magical elf-like creature in Spanish mythology, which suggests the nonrational and otherworldly nature of the mental state duende signifies.”

One weekend, I saw online that a club near my house was hosting a Cuban dance party. The party didn’t start until 11 pm and my elder-millennial friends could not be corralled off their couches at such an ungodly hour. So I went alone, figuring I’d do fine.

Nope. Not fine at all. Everyone there was intimidatingly fantastic at salsa dancing! The men’s footwork was so fast that their shoes blurred into invisibility; the women were all hips, dresses describing sexy circles in the air as they spun. I stood with my back pasted to the wall and guzzled rum.

Eventually, I forced myself to find a partner and hit the dance floor. As he cut confidently through the air, I felt like a penguin in his arms, flightless and waddling pathetically. My confidence level did not rise over the next few hours. Each dancer was somehow better than the last, and I was way too self-conscious to feel the passionate, out-of-your-mind ecstasy of duende. It’s hard to feel mystically transported when you’re worried about stepping on some hot guy’s toes.

And although I hated to admit it, the quote attributed to Hawthorne did seem to be on-point: Trying to manufacture joy can make it even harder to access.

It was 2 am when, pasted to the wall again, guzzling water this time, I finally met someone as clueless as I was. I asked him how it was that everyone there was an amazing dancer. “Didn’t you know?” he asked. “These are professionals. Half of them own their own studios in the area.” I exploded into laughter. How did I pick the one club in town where everyone was a goddamn dance instructor?

Knowing that helped me loosen up. The guy and I danced together, laughing at ourselves. I started to actually have fun. We spun each other around. We tangoed across the floor. We jumped onto the sides of pillars and kicked off from them, flying, however briefly, through the air. It was not really duende, but it was a joy I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The underlying premise of Lomas’s work is the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis — a theory, proposed by linguist Edward Sapir in 1929 and later developed by his student Benjamin Whorf — that our language shapes what we’re capable of thinking and feeling. The strong version of the hypothesis, linguistic determinism, holds that you can’t experience a feeling the same way if you don’t have a word for it. Linguists critiqued that view heavily in the 1960s and ’70s, and it remains unpopular these days.

But a milder one, linguistic relativity, is still embraced by some scholars, including Lomas. It holds that language influences experience but doesn’t determine it.

Even linguistic relativity is controversial, though. Some linguists, like John McWhorter, insist that “the world looks the same in any language” — and argue that claiming otherwise risks fetishizing some cultures (“Italians are a romantic people”) and demeaning others. I share some of that concern. As a woman of color whose family hails from India, Iraq, and Morocco, I’m always wary of ideas with the potential to Orientalize or exoticize. At the same time, I wanted to engage with Lomas’s ideas in good faith.

Words like these are lexical powerhouses

If you find it hard to believe that engaging with untranslatable words can actually increase your well-being, Lomas told me, consider sati. That’s a Pali word from India that you may have seen translated as mindfulness, though many meditators prefer to leave it untranslated, saying the English term is too cerebral to capture the emotional and ethical valences of the original. (Sati also has a very different unrelated meaning among some Indians and Nepalese.)

In the West, sati has been popularized by people like Jon Kabat-Zinn, a scientist who founded the Center for Mindfulness and who in the 1970s developed an eight-week course for people in clinical settings, which he called mindfulness-based stress reduction. Other American teachers, such as Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach, have brought mindfulness practice sessions to the masses. Countless mindfulness apps have also embedded the concept firmly in our cultural lexicon. Lomas points to the rise of sati as evidence that Westerners can study an untranslatable phenomenon, create exercises for cultivating it, and through that measurably improve people’s well-being.

“People looked into sati and built a set of practices around it. That’s been so valuable,” Lomas told me. “Surely there are various other words you could explore in a similar way.”

But by and large, people haven’t yet done that. He’s currently collaborating with scholars in Spain and Japan to see if they can come up with exercises that will help people develop an experiential understanding of untranslatable terms.

Yet just as you need many, many hours of practice to develop mindfulness as a permanently altered trait rather than a temporarily altered state, cultivating different types of well-being will require more than a single exercise to make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.

It will also require that Westerners expand our notion of happiness. Some types of well-being, Lomas writes, don’t come in purely pleasurable packets — they’re ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences. Think of the Italian word magari, which suggests a sense of “maybe, possibly,” the wistful hope of “if only.” Or the Amharic word tizita, which means “a bittersweet remembrance and longing for a time, person, or thing gone by.” Lomas writes:

Psychologists are increasingly appreciative of such feelings, as seen in an emergent body of work that my colleagues and I refer to as “second-wave” positive psychology. When positive psychology was initiated in the 1990s, it defined itself by focusing on positive emotions and qualities. Before long, however, scholars started to critique this foundational [Western] concept of the “positive.”

While [the value of ambivalent feelings] has been recognized within Western academia only relatively recently, many cultures have long since acknowledged their significance.

Lomas says Eastern cultures, in particular, have a wealth of richly ambivalent words.

Mono no aware is a Japanese term for appreciating the transiency of life and its beauty, or recognizing that some things are beautiful in part because they’re impermanent.

“The prevalence and importance of mono no aware in Japanese culture may be attributed in part to the influence of Zen, the branch of Buddhism that flowered in Japan from the 12th century onward,” Lomas writes. “Mono no aware is an aesthetic approach to the cognizance of impermanence, which is central to Buddhist teaching.”

Soon after I read this, I learned about a nearby Zen Buddhist silent meditation retreat. Its theme was liberation from the fear of impermanence. It was meant to cultivate “wordless awareness,” which meant no speaking, no phones, no music, and no books. The idea of being without words for a whole weekend freaked me out, but I signed up anyway.

Liberation from fear of impermanence was something I could really use. Ever since my dad had a heart attack three years ago, I’ve been imagining his death and worrying excessively about when it will happen — What if he goes into cardiac arrest while I’m on a trip overseas and I can’t get back to him in time? Maybe I shouldn’t go on overseas trips! — and how I’ll cope.

When I arrived at the retreat, 20 participants wearing sweatpants and kind smiles — mostly retirees grappling with the looming prospect of their own death — sat in a circle. The retreat leader said we’d be working through the “Touchings of the Earth,” a series of exercises designed by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist monk famed for his teachings on mindfulness. The leader told us he would read three phrases, and after each one, we’d prostrate ourselves on the ground, where we’d lie for five minutes in contemplation.

I felt a bit uncomfortable about the prostrating bit because that’s not really part of my cultural lexicon, but before I knew it, he was intoning the first phrase: “Touching the earth, I connect with ancestors and descendants of both my spiritual and my blood families.”

Down I went with everyone else. Pretty soon, I realized the benefits of lying flat-out on my belly. It humbled me. And it let me imagine myself as a straight line through time, my feet in the past, my hands stretching into the future. I found myself thinking of my Indian great-great-grandmother, an orphan who at age 13 was sent on a rickety train from Calcutta to Bombay to marry a man three times her age.

I thought of all the choices she made to shield her son from violence and poverty, and how they filtered down through the generations, eventually conditioning the choices my dad made for me. All these choices were still shaping my life in palpable ways: my geography, my class, my psychological makeup. I was just starting to think about how my own choices will shape the lives of my potential future children when a bell rang and everyone stood up.

“Touching the earth, I connect with all people and all species which are alive at this moment in this world with me.”

This time I thought of climate change. I pictured all the species we’re losing, trying to visualize each bird, each bee. Now I was a horizontal line, connecting outward to other beings in the present, feeling how precarious they are. The bell rang; everyone stood.

“Touching the earth, I let go of my idea that I am this body and my lifespan is limited.”

Maybe because I’d just imagined myself as an infinite line, stretching out first vertically, then horizontally, it was surprisingly easy to let go of my notion of self as a bounded thing. If my great-great-grandmother’s choices were shaping the lives of my potential future children and my action or nonaction was shaping the lives of birds millions of miles away, what sense did it make to consider myself a separate individual?

As we repeated this exercise over the three-day retreat, I felt open and raw, a crustacean without her shell: soft everywhere. I realized I’d been scared of the prospect of my dad dying in part because I’m scared that his individual mind will no longer be able to speak to me, comfort me, or advise me with any real particularity. I’d hated the notion of his him-ness evanescing into some anonymous flow of consciousness, a drop of water that loses its identity in the ocean.

By the end of the retreat, I didn’t come to completely embrace that notion or magically lose all my fear. What I felt was subtler; I simply feared and hated a little less. Maybe it wasn’t so bad for our particular identities to be transient, if we continue to communicate with everyone and everything through the choices we’ve made. Maybe, as mono no aware suggests, there was even a bit of loveliness to it.

Even as happiness in the US has been decreasing, countries around the world have become more committed to studying, tracking, and increasing their citizens’ well-being.

Amid the global financial crisis, national happiness became the subject of policy conferences and college courses. France commissioned a study on it, which leading economists — Amartya Sen, Joseph Stiglitz, and Jean-Paul Fitoussi — completed in 2009. In 2011, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development released its first well-being report on its member countries, and in 2012, the UN began releasing its annual World Happiness Report.

Several countries are now explicitly focused on boosting well-being. There’s Bhutan, which in 2008 enshrined “gross national happiness” in its Constitution. There’s the United Arab Emirates, which in 2016 appointed a minister of state for happiness. And there’s New Zealand, which earlier this year released the world’s first-ever “well-being budget.” To measure progress toward increased well-being and inform policy, the government there will use 61 indicators tracking everything from loneliness to water quality.

That’s important, because government decisions — and major social problems like racism — do a lot to condition and constrain the types of happiness citizens can access. Political and social change are crucial for increasing well-being; the onus can’t and shouldn’t fall squarely on the individual.

But the machinery of policy grinds slowly, and many individuals want to feel happier now. That’s where Lomas’s ideas may be useful.

Some types of well-being are ambivalent, containing both positive and negative valences

Of course, people looking to boost their happiness will find countless other recommendations out there. Many claims stemming from the $4 trillion “wellness” or “self-care” industry — that vaginal jade eggs can fix your hormone levels, say — are not evidence-based. But some other techniques are backed by research. For instance, Laurie Santos, a psychologist who teaches a Yale course on happiness (the university’s most popular class ever), has explained the efficacy of activities like gratitude journaling. Research has also shown that strong social relationships are crucial to well-being; anything we can do to reduce the toxic effects of loneliness is probably going to yield major dividends.

By comparison, how effective is Lomas’s language-learning intervention likely to be?

It’s an empirical question to which we don’t have an answer because it has barely been studied. (My own personal study, with a sample size of one, is nothing like a rigorous scientific trial.) It’s also a question that’s difficult to answer because Lomas’s proposal is actually many proposals. It involves cultivating a plethora of different positive experiences. Plus, you can cultivate them in different ways — and which way you choose matters.

“If Lomas’s intervention involves writing in a journal, that may overlap a lot with gratitude journaling,” said Katie Hoemann, a doctoral candidate in psychology at Northeastern University who researches the interaction between language and emotion. “And if you’re doing the intervention in a social context, you’re probably getting social benefits, too.” The variables may be difficult to isolate.

Hoemann sounded a note of skepticism about the emotional granularity assumption underlying Lomas’s proposal. She noted that although studies have indeed shown a link between emotional granularity and better behavioral control in the face of negative feelings, the evidence that increasing granularity ups positive feelings is much thinner.

Janet Nicol, a professor of linguistics, psychology, and cognitive science at the University of Arizona, cast doubt on Lomas’s claim that learning untranslatable words may improve our well-being. “That kind of claim is just not supported by the evidence so far,” she said. “I think he’s overstating the effects.”

She imagined an experiment to test the hypothesis: Teach a bunch of people the Chinese principle of feng shui, have them rearrange the furniture in their homes accordingly, give them a well-being survey before and after, and measure the extent of improvement. “But in that case, is it the language that’s important or is it just the idea?” Nicol asked. “I don’t think they have to learn the foreign term feng shui in order to learn the idea.”

Nevertheless, Hoemann suggested there’s something here that merits serious investigation, because having a specific word for something does help us identify it. “It might seem like a small individual act to learn new words. But if there are many individuals doing it, there’s a snowball effect and it actually becomes part of our culture.”

In the meantime, people are still suggesting more words for Lomas’s online lexicon. He’s noticing trends in the types of well-being they tend to harp on — groupings that he thinks may reveal something about what human beings find most vital these days. When I asked him what theme is coming through strongest, he replied immediately: our relationship to nature.

The word dadirri, used in several Australian Aboriginal languages, describes a respectful deep listening to the natural world, a receptive state that can be healing. Lomas quotes Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann of the Ngangikurungkurr tribe, who explains, “When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the riverbank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness.”

Although I was under no illusion that I’d be able to experience dadirri as Ungunmerr-Baumann does, I thought I might try to explore it in Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay, where I spent a few days in October.

One morning, I woke up before dawn and went outside. I purposely brought no phone, no people, no distractions. As the sun rose, I sat on a rock and tried to listen. At first I heard only the loud birds who seemed to be in charge of screaming the world’s pain: Ow! Ow! Ow! Owwwwwww! Ow!

Slowly I began to hear subtler sounds. The water lapping at the land. The occasional swish of a fish breaking the surface and flumping back into the bay.

Each time I heard that flump, I swiveled around trying to see the fish that had produced it — until I realized that by the time you can turn your head, you’ll already have missed it. Better to keep your eyes focused on one patch of water, watching and listening.

Sure enough, several minutes later I was rewarded for my attention by the sight of a great dark fish rising above the surface.

I felt a quiet elation — and then gratitude toward the word dadirri for getting me to put myself in the way of this happiness. It’s not that I’d never experienced anything like it before, but having a word for it made me more purposeful about cultivating it and also helped me notice it as it was happening.

I found myself curious about the elation I felt. What is it that makes nature so restorative? I thought it must have to do with the way that, when we’re outdoors, we can more easily sense the interconnectedness of everything. We remember that we’re part of a vast and complex ecosystem, which has gone on long before us and will go on long after us. Knowing this helps to repair the breach we feel in times of loneliness and alienation between us and other beings. It offers the comfort of continuity, the conviction that even if we feel cut off, we’re not really — it’s only that our language has failed us.

After entertaining these wispy thoughts, I looked down to find that a spider had been busy literalizing my metaphor. She’d spun her silky strands across my limbs, making me an actual part of her web.

I laughed, thinking of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The happiness that alighted upon me then wasn’t a butterfly, but it was pretty damn close.

Sigal Samuel is a staff writer for Vox’s Future Perfect. She writes about artificial intelligence, neuroscience, and the intersection of technology and religion. She previously wrote about anxiety apps for The Highlight.

Jordan Kay is an illustrator and animation dabbler based in Seattle, Washington.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/37pr3MW

[marcusssanderson]

Signs You’re on Your Way to Being a Massive Success Story

Do you consider yourself a massive success? Are you living how you want to live? Are you doing what you want to do? How do you even define success in the first place?

I know many people who define success as having degrees, such as College, Masters, or Doctorate.

Some people define success as making a six or seven-figure salary. But how about having a beautiful, loving family? Or being at peace with who you are right now at this moment?

Something I’ve learned in my own life is that, in order for me to be successful in anything, I must recognize what I’ve already been successful at. I had to tell myself that it’s okay if I am not great from the start. I had to tell myself it’s OK to be where I am at this moment.

I even had to see myself as a success, which is not always easy. It was then and only then, that I felt enabled to take the next step in my journey.

When I saw myself as a success, I unconsciously gave myself permission to move forward. Odds are, you are on your way to being a massive success – and you might not even know it!

You’re on the way to massive success if…

1.) Failure doesn’t scare you.

I was watching the 10-minute YouTube video of “Who Moved My Cheese”. It was so powerful to see the concept of trial and error, how it affects our levels of success, as well as our overall quality of life.

The video reminds us that the people who are not scared of failure are the ones who become massively successful. While the people who are ‘not trying to lose’ will never reach their full potential.

Failure is not permanent. It should not scare you out of action. Trial and error (emphasis on error) will teach you everything you need to know about the next stage of YOUR journey.

2.) You have strong social skills.

You can think on your feet, you’re willing to have awkward, challenging, and difficult conversations. You’re able to communicate with people with whom you just met or with whom you don’t agree with. But having strong social skills doesn’t mean that everyone likes you, or that you can persuade everyone.

It means that you know how to communicate effectively. You’re willing to share your voice in order to get what you want and have the influence you desire. So dare to be heard.

3.) You constantly work on yourself.

Every day, you’re conscious about what you eat, what you’re reading, what you’re learning. You’re constantly thinking “How can I do this better? How can I grow?” You sift through opportunities for growth. You refuse to work at places where you won’t.

For you, growth and expansion are top values that you’re not willing to compromise.

4.) You don’t compromise your character.

Your character and integrity are extremely important. Money will never be something that can sway you. Your values, the relationships you have, how you treat people: those will not be negatively influenced by any external rewards. To become a massive success means maintaining and developing extraordinary character.

5.) You are dedicated to serving people.

While everyone else is running around on the hamster wheel of life, you are focused on serving people.

You’re dedicated because that excites you. The idea of having a legacy and impact gives your life a sense of meaning, purpose, and direction. You are here to serve.

6.) You wake up early.

Even if you’re not waking up early now, you are willing to and you have before. You are willing to wake up early to get a head start on the day. We can never get as much done with as much focus and clarity as first thing in the morning.

Even if you’re not getting up at 5AM now, you have the awareness that getting up early is a powerful tool for your success.

7.) You give love.

When I first got into the teaching profession in Harlem, New York City, my mantra was simple: GIVE LOVE. No matter what the situation was about, how stressed out I was, how many meetings I have to attend, how many calls I had to make, or how many difficult conversations I will have today.

That changed everything. When we approach things with a loving mindset, we’re able to perform at extraordinarily high levels. We’re able to forgive, not hold grudges, and remain in emotional control.

Maintaining a positive mindset doesn’t just make us feel good, it’s a productive strategy that helps us get things done, improves our concentration, and develops our poise, character, and influence.

8.) People notice you.

When you walk in the room, you light it up, and when you leave, everyone knows. There’s just something about you. People have been telling you your entire life that you have the ‘IT’ factor. You have energy about you. You have this charisma.

Maybe it’s because you’re very optimistic. Or perhaps it’s because you have an empowering worldview. Possibly it’s because you communicate your beliefs and your love for others. Whatever it is, people want to be around you.

9.) You’re confident.

Confidence is the biggest key factor when it comes to getting things done and creating massive success. When we believe in ourselves, we are willing to step out of our comfort zone and do things that will lead us to growth.

We know that we might just surprise ourselves. Maybe our fears will not come true. Whatever it is we’re pursuing just might work out. You’re not arrogant. People love your confidence and it inspires them to believe in their selves more. Your confidence will allow you to take action when others freeze up.

10.) You only surround yourself with great people.

I once heard my mentor, Les Brown say:

“If you hang around nine people who are down, you will be the 10th one, if you hang around nine people who are broke, you will be the 10th one, and if you hang around nine losers, well…you will also be the 10th one. See, it doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out that we are who we surround ourselves with.”

We can’t control our family, where we grow up, or what we’re born into. But we can control who we spend our time with. People who are a massive success know that you can only surround yourself with folks who want to be extraordinary. Watch who you hang around with.

11.) You’ve learned to say NO.

This was always difficult for me. I always saw myself as a nice guy and to be honest with you, I’m still working on this one. The idea of saying NO to engagements, to people you love and care about, is not always easy. I’ve learned that I can’t be great at 10 to 15 things, but I can be extraordinary at one to three things.

I’ve learned to treat time like gold and honor my priorities. I’ve learned that saying no is a sign of confidence and self respect. Saying no will free up your time and lessen your commitments, so you can focus on what is truly important for you.

12.) You focus on your time.

You are great with time, or you studied and learned how to be great with time. You don’t take it for granted. You’re aware that we all have the same exact 24 hours in the day. What we do with it is completely up to us and you take 100 percent responsibility for it.

You spent time studying how to create routines that will help you develop the habits necessary for massive success. You’re not just focusing on the reward – you’re focusing on the habit, time, and effort that you’re putting in.

13.) You don’t complain.

Of course you want to be honest, authentic, and truthful – but some people just complain way too much. You know exactly who they are; you might even be one of them. This isn’t to call you out, but to create awareness that criticizing, condemning, and complaining does nothing for you.

You’ve learned in life that when you’re positive, you’re able to find solutions when others are stuck. When you’re not complaining, you’re in a better mood. This affects how you think, how you speak, and how you communicate with yourself.

You made a commitment to not complain anymore. Your words are precious.

14.) You are patient.

Patience is another key to becoming a massive success. Many people give up on their dreams because they don’t get it when they want it. I once heard somebody say, “Be in a rush to be patient. The only thing you should be rushing towards is greater patience.”

You know your goals and your dreams are a marathon, not a sprint. This is something you’re dedicating your life to. This is not a get-rich quick scheme; this is your livelihood, your legacy, your character, and your reputation. So be patient. You’re going to build it, brick by brick.

15.) You practice discipline and self-control.

You know the power of discipline and self-control. Everybody wants stuff right now, but you know the power of staying on course.

You don’t beat yourself up when you mess up. You practice self-control and discipline on a regular basis. You are highly intentional and deliberate with everything that you say and do.

16.) You’re a self-improvement junkie.

As the old adage goes, “every day in every way you’re getting better and better”. Even on days you don’t feel like it. Even on days that are difficult. Even on days when you just feel like sitting in bed. There’s always a little something that you do each and every day to get better.

17.) You hate average.

Well, maybe hate is a bit strong, but you get the point. You don’t want to be average because you’re driven to do and achieve great things. You believe that average is NOT an option as greatness is possible.

You want to give in a great way. You want to serve in a great way. You want to take care of your family and your friends in a great way. As Eric Thomas says, you are “Allergic to average!” Your drive will be a major key to make you a massive success.

Through trial and error, through movement and activity, it will soon become clearer exactly where you want to go. When other people say slow down, you say sit back and enjoy the show. You go, greatness junkie!

The goal is to work your way up to embody all 17 characteristics day in and day out.

Ask yourself the following questions:

Which of these qualities do I express all the time?

Which qualities do I express sometimes?

Which qualities do I rarely express?

If I expressed this one quality, how would it have the biggest positive impact on my life?

What quality do you think will be the most difficult for you to express?

The key is consistency. Commit to your daily practice in becoming the best version of yourself. Use your Everyday Power push yourself to massive success.

The post Signs You’re on Your Way to Being a Massive Success Story appeared first on Everyday Power.

[laurendzim]

Book review: Denver comic Adam Cayton-Holland digs deep, finds healing in “Tragedy Plus Time”

Adam Cayton-Holland has often seemed like one of those people who has everything.

The 38-year-old stand-up and former Westword scribe, who returns for Season 3 of his truTV sitcom “Those Who Can’t” this fall, comes from a well-educated, well-off family in Denver’s Park Hill neighborhood.

After years of proving his talent and work ethic in the city’s DIY comedy scene, he broke through to a national audience and managed to remain true to his Mile High City roots, all while cutting a path for other local artists to follow.

That’s the public version, anyway.

As Cayton-Holland reveals in “Tragedy Plus Time” (published Aug. 21 on Touchstone), it all meant nothing after his younger sister Lydia committed suicide in the summer of 2012.

“I’m a 32-year-old stand-up comic from Denver who just sold his first Hollywood script,” Cayton-Holland writes five pages into the memoir, which crackles with his on-stage confidence and aches with his vulnerable worldview. “I’ve never been more devastated.”

“Tragedy Plus Time” (named after the comedy axiom “Comedy is tragedy plus time”) may be a memoir, but its present-tense tone and trembling details give it an in-your-ear immediacy.

Cayton-Holland’s parents instilled a sense of righteousness in their children early. His father, a civil rights attorney, and his mother, a former investigative journalist, taught their trio of offspring — Anna, Adam and Lydia — to expect a lot out of themselves and each other. As Cayton-Holland writes, this encouraged great achievement (Anna, the eldest, was nearly a professional ice skater) but also obsessive-compulsive disorder and hypersensivity to the world’s ills.

Cayton-Holland is prone to airing these memories in bright flashes, cutting between interwoven scenes one can easily envision on the big screen. (He’s working on adapting the book into a movie, according to an interview with Medium.) It often amounts to a showcase of horrors and absurdities, particularly as he threads death and inequity through the earlier chapters — less foreshadowing than a peek into the alternately noble and morbid air he breathed at home.

But the care with which he approaches the subjects never betrays their gravity. This is simply how little Adam — painfully aware of his privilege, but also privy to things most kids will never see — experienced the world: filtered through episodes of “The Simpsons,” private-school culture, world travels, his parents’ hippie ideals, the odd legal jargon. Not exactly typical.

Lydia, whose childhood is also recounted in sharp flashes, was too sensitive for her own comfort. A vegetarian from age 9, she successfully lobbied her parents into changing their landscaping plans because she feared the existing plants would get torn up. She kept a menagerie of animals and talked to them. She lived in South America for a time. She felt deeply.

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Cayton-Holland analyzes this and other memories to stunning degrees, an armchair psychologist leaning so hard on the furniture that it creaks under the effort. But it’s built into his personality, and one can easily see why his subsequent experiences in school, from discovering his class-clown potential to vandalizing his college campus in alcohol-fueled blackouts, were less spoiled brat than tortured aesthete.

As Cayton-Holland captures his childhood in Spielbergian freeze-frames of ’80s youth, then traces his rise in Denver’s scrappy alt-comedy scene (which he helped create) onto mainstream clubs like Comedy Works, he’s soaked with the sense that something violent and defining will happen at any moment.

Sometimes you find those things by looking for them, but more often they wash ashore.

Lydia, emotionally alluring and often joyous but intimidating in her intellect, became haunted. Shrinks and prescription drugs and living a Bohemian lifestyle — none of it helped. Adam invited her into his newfound comedy career, letting her run the door and the tech rehearsals at Denver art spaces while he ran his stand-up showcases.

(It’s a period I witnessed firsthand, chronicling Cayton-Holland and his Grawlix comedy trio members’ rise locally and nationally. I shared conversations with Lydia outside venues and chatted with her on social media. She was always an acquaintance, but the most harrowing parts of the book — where she’s admitted into the psych ward at Denver Health after overdosing on pills, and where she takes her own life with a gun, only to be found later in her bed by her brother — were mostly unknown to me.)

“It made us laugh, the insanity of it all,” Cayton-Holland writes. “We Cayton-Holland three baffled and tickled at how we were suddenly seeming to exist in the sad works of art on which we were fixated. But those moments gave way to teary panic when we removed the rose-colored, indie-film lenses from our eyes. This was just our little sister. Struggling. In a psych ward.”

These parts of the book, roughly from the second-half on, justify the glowing praise on the jacket. In crisp and measured prose, Cayton-Holland explores the tragedy that in many ways is still defining him. The grief process, including the anger and the self-blame. The speculation about a family that feared mediocrity more than failure. The unimaginable first-person details of Lydia’s decline and death. The drinking, professional help and career triumphs that followed for Cayton-Holland, even as Lydia was always on his mind.

It’s a lot to digest, both for author and reader, but Cayton-Holland never chokes. Perhaps owing to his three seasons of sitcom writing, he bandies around too many clichés at times. It never detracts from the narrative, but one can’t help wishing he had used them more sparingly, given his obvious command of language.

Then again, this is a book one can hear being read out loud (as Cayton-Holland did for the audio version), and readers familiar with his engrossing, conversational stand-up will hear his voice in their heads the entire time.

“Publishing a book has been my dream forever,” he told The Denver Post in March, just before the debut of his first half-hour special on Comedy Central. “I wish it was under different circumstances. That said, I needed to write it. It’s been a part of me every day since, and it’s a good tribute to her.”

Indeed. But “Tragedy Plus Time” isn’t simply a window into grief. It’s also a flag, firmly planted, signaling his family’s resolve. Cayton-Holland is doing well these days (his High Plains Comedy Festival, the region’s biggest stand-up event, returns Aug. 23-25). Colorado Gov. John Hickenlooper tweeted a video last week from Cayton-Holland’s book-release party at the Tattered Cover, lauding the “hilarious/heartbreaking” new tome.

That’s a fine endorsement, but Cayton-Holland doesn’t need it. Not only because his work stands alone, but because his existential evolution, which emerges in the last few chapters, has found him at a place of humbleness. He looks for meaning in red-tailed hawks and an “empath” friend, frequently visiting a bench in City Park that his family had dedicated to Lydia.

It all amounts to an affecting portrait of a family struggling to contain its feral grief, and finding themselves the more united for it. A tower of cat hair and trampolines and inside jokes and blood and laughter, leaning crazily to one side. Silly and sad, clever and crude. And above all, true.

If you go

“Tragedy Plus Time.” A discussion with Adam Cayton-Holland by Colorado Public Radio’s Ryan Warner at Gates Concert Hall, Newman Center for the Performing Arts, 2344 E. Iliff Ave. 7-8:30 p.m. on Sept. 13. Tickets: $12 via bit.ly/2BFQgXN

Journalism isn’t free. Show your support of local news coverage by becoming a subscriber. Your first month is only 99 cents.

from News And Updates https://www.denverpost.com/2018/08/24/book-review-denver-comic-adam-cayton-holland-digs-deep-finds-healing-in-tragedy-plus-time/

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Book review: Denver comic Adam Cayton-Holland digs deep, finds healing in “Tragedy Plus Time”

Adam Cayton-Holland has often seemed like one of those people who has everything.

The 38-year-old stand-up and former Westword scribe, who returns for Season 3 of his truTV sitcom “Those Who Can’t” this fall, comes from a well-educated, well-off family in Denver’s Park Hill neighborhood.

After years of proving his talent and work ethic in the city’s DIY comedy scene, he broke through to a national audience and managed to remain true to his Mile High City roots, all while cutting a path for other local artists to follow.

That’s the public version, anyway.

As Cayton-Holland reveals in “Tragedy Plus Time” (published Aug. 21 on Touchstone), it all meant nothing after his younger sister Lydia committed suicide in the summer of 2012.

“I’m a 32-year-old stand-up comic from Denver who just sold his first Hollywood script,” Cayton-Holland writes five pages into the memoir, which crackles with his on-stage confidence and aches with his vulnerable worldview. “I’ve never been more devastated.”

“Tragedy Plus Time” (named after the comedy axiom “Comedy is tragedy plus time”) may be a memoir, but its present-tense tone and trembling details give it an in-your-ear immediacy.

Cayton-Holland’s parents instilled a sense of righteousness in their children early. His father, a civil rights attorney, and his mother, a former investigative journalist, taught their trio of offspring — Anna, Adam and Lydia — to expect a lot out of themselves and each other. As Cayton-Holland writes, this encouraged great achievement (Anna, the eldest, was nearly a professional ice skater) but also obsessive-compulsive disorder and hypersensivity to the world’s ills.

Cayton-Holland is prone to airing these memories in bright flashes, cutting between interwoven scenes one can easily envision on the big screen. (He’s working on adapting the book into a movie, according to an interview with Medium.) It often amounts to a showcase of horrors and absurdities, particularly as he threads death and inequity through the earlier chapters — less foreshadowing than a peek into the alternately noble and morbid air he breathed at home.

But the care with which he approaches the subjects never betrays their gravity. This is simply how little Adam — painfully aware of his privilege, but also privy to things most kids will never see — experienced the world: filtered through episodes of “The Simpsons,” private-school culture, world travels, his parents’ hippie ideals, the odd legal jargon. Not exactly typical.

Lydia, whose childhood is also recounted in sharp flashes, was too sensitive for her own comfort. A vegetarian from age 9, she successfully lobbied her parents into changing their landscaping plans because she feared the existing plants would get torn up. She kept a menagerie of animals and talked to them. She lived in South America for a time. She felt deeply.

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Cayton-Holland analyzes this and other memories to stunning degrees, an armchair psychologist leaning so hard on the furniture that it creaks under the effort. But it’s built into his personality, and one can easily see why his subsequent experiences in school, from discovering his class-clown potential to vandalizing his college campus in alcohol-fueled blackouts, were less spoiled brat than tortured aesthete.

As Cayton-Holland captures his childhood in Spielbergian freeze-frames of ’80s youth, then traces his rise in Denver’s scrappy alt-comedy scene (which he helped create) onto mainstream clubs like Comedy Works, he’s soaked with the sense that something violent and defining will happen at any moment.

Sometimes you find those things by looking for them, but more often they wash ashore.

Lydia, emotionally alluring and often joyous but intimidating in her intellect, became haunted. Shrinks and prescription drugs and living a Bohemian lifestyle — none of it helped. Adam invited her into his newfound comedy career, letting her run the door and the tech rehearsals at Denver art spaces while he ran his stand-up showcases.

(It’s a period I witnessed firsthand, chronicling Cayton-Holland and his Grawlix comedy trio members’ rise locally and nationally. I shared conversations with Lydia outside venues and chatted with her on social media. She was always an acquaintance, but the most harrowing parts of the book — where she’s admitted into the psych ward at Denver Health after overdosing on pills, and where she takes her own life with a gun, only to be found later in her bed by her brother — were mostly unknown to me.)

“It made us laugh, the insanity of it all,” Cayton-Holland writes. “We Cayton-Holland three baffled and tickled at how we were suddenly seeming to exist in the sad works of art on which we were fixated. But those moments gave way to teary panic when we removed the rose-colored, indie-film lenses from our eyes. This was just our little sister. Struggling. In a psych ward.”

These parts of the book, roughly from the second-half on, justify the glowing praise on the jacket. In crisp and measured prose, Cayton-Holland explores the tragedy that in many ways is still defining him. The grief process, including the anger and the self-blame. The speculation about a family that feared mediocrity more than failure. The unimaginable first-person details of Lydia’s decline and death. The drinking, professional help and career triumphs that followed for Cayton-Holland, even as Lydia was always on his mind.

It’s a lot to digest, both for author and reader, but Cayton-Holland never chokes. Perhaps owing to his three seasons of sitcom writing, he bandies around too many clichés at times. It never detracts from the narrative, but one can’t help wishing he had used them more sparingly, given his obvious command of language.

Then again, this is a book one can hear being read out loud (as Cayton-Holland did for the audio version), and readers familiar with his engrossing, conversational stand-up will hear his voice in their heads the entire time.

“Publishing a book has been my dream forever,” he told The Denver Post in March, just before the debut of his first half-hour special on Comedy Central. “I wish it was under different circumstances. That said, I needed to write it. It’s been a part of me every day since, and it’s a good tribute to her.”

Indeed. But “Tragedy Plus Time” isn’t simply a window into grief. It’s also a flag, firmly planted, signaling his family’s resolve. Cayton-Holland is doing well these days (his High Plains Comedy Festival, the region’s biggest stand-up event, returns Aug. 23-25). Colorado Gov. John Hickenlooper tweeted a video last week from Cayton-Holland’s book-release party at the Tattered Cover, lauding the “hilarious/heartbreaking” new tome.

That’s a fine endorsement, but Cayton-Holland doesn’t need it. Not only because his work stands alone, but because his existential evolution, which emerges in the last few chapters, has found him at a place of humbleness. He looks for meaning in red-tailed hawks and an “empath” friend, frequently visiting a bench in City Park that his family had dedicated to Lydia.

It all amounts to an affecting portrait of a family struggling to contain its feral grief, and finding themselves the more united for it. A tower of cat hair and trampolines and inside jokes and blood and laughter, leaning crazily to one side. Silly and sad, clever and crude. And above all, true.

If you go

“Tragedy Plus Time.” A discussion with Adam Cayton-Holland by Colorado Public Radio’s Ryan Warner at Gates Concert Hall, Newman Center for the Performing Arts, 2344 E. Iliff Ave. 7-8:30 p.m. on Sept. 13. Tickets: $12 via bit.ly/2BFQgXN

Journalism isn’t free. Show your support of local news coverage by becoming a subscriber. Your first month is only 99 cents.

from Latest Information https://www.denverpost.com/2018/08/24/book-review-denver-comic-adam-cayton-holland-digs-deep-finds-healing-in-tragedy-plus-time/