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Life starts here

Life is not at all what I thought it would be. For a long time, I’ve had this idea that it’s meant to follow a relatively orderly pattern: certain things happen in a certain order, everyone gets on with their lives, and it all begins to make sense. I’ve been expecting that at some point, normal life would begin.

Life so far has been a combination of disconnected events, experiences, people, responsibilities, adventures, difficulties, successes and disappointments. I can see patterns, but it’s still a mix of so many different things; there are periods of intense activity and periods of quiet; moments when I seem to comprehend it all, and many more others when I feel surrounded by a mess of details and obstructions. I keep waiting for that sense of going from one thing to another to stop. For the orderly pattern to make itself clear. It has finally dawned on me (and I feel a little stupid for not seeing it earlier) that this, in fact, is life. This, right here. It’s never going to get “easy” or follow that order that I thought everyone’s life had to. I’m not all of a sudden going to look around and think, “Ah, here I am. Real life has begun.” It’s been going on all the time.

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Letting beauty balance the darkness, or, learning how not to go mad when life serves spin balls.

I’ve had insomnia for about 10 years. The past 2+ years, I haven’t slept – at all. Well, I doze, sometimes – it’s called hypnagogic hallucinations, where my mind, so crazed by its lack of rest, enters a state most similar to hallucination. It feels like vivid, strange dreams, and occurs in the area between wakefulness and sleep – but doesn’t offer rest or actual sleep. So some time of half the nights, I experience that. The rest is being awake and aware.

It’s tortuous. A bit like being a new parent for a decade, but without any of the good bits that you get in return for being a parent. Here’s a list of things you might not know about me/some other brave soul with this kind of extreme insomnia (because you’re dying to know, I know. I thought of you).

  1. You know how you feel after an all-nighter? I feel like that every day. On top of yesterday, and days and years of days before that.
  2. I look pretty normal, although the last 2 years of extra-crazy sleep deprivation have changed that pretty fast. Let’s say I used to look normal. Except for the discoloured area around my eyes (no, it’s not my natural look) and faster ageing (droopy eyes/eyelids, wrinkles, general haggardness).
  3. Because I look relatively normal – you just might take me as a grumpy old person – it’s hard to know I have what feels like a debilitating disease, where just getting to work or not having an emotional meltdown is a challenge. Just no-one’s going around asking for money for its research or having fun runs for it. So you probably expect me to be at the same perky level as everyone else, because it’s not obvious that something’s going on. The truth is, it’s hard to pay attention, to remain alert, to care, to have energy to be creative (or to do anything, really), to be friendly, to maintain an even temper, to deal with a slightly difficult situation, or to remember what happened yesterday.
  4. I can only access about 1/3 of my vocabulary at any time. This is especially frustrating for me because I love language, and my vocabulary is (I hold to it still being in there, just not available) broad.
  5. I miss who I might be and what I might do without this.
  6. If you ask how I feel, the honest answer would always be, “tired”, “exhausted”, or “like I want to sleep for 8 years”. NB: don’t ask me this!! Because I’ll only make you feel worse by my answer, and I’ll feel bad that I can’t give a different one. Ask me what I’m reading, or what interesting ideas I’ve had lately, or praise me for being there, wherever we are!

So it’s been a long struggle; really long. But I’m coming to the point where I can see a bit more light, hope, and meaning in it all. The hardest part is dealing with the unfairness; the fact that it shouldn’t happen, that I don’t deserve it, that my brain is just a stupid, ridiculous thing that is sabotaging itself/me without any encouragement or reason. It’s hard to take in things like, “you’ll get past it”, “look for the good”, and even “do what you can”. I don’t want to only be able to do what a 70-year-old person could (maybe they could do more – I might be being unfair to 70-year-olds here). I haven’t gotten past it in a decade and nothing’s getting better yet. I’ve always seen the beauty, but it doesn’t change the ugliness; and the ugliness in this feels so heavy.

But through lots of reading, good people, and reflection/journal writing/music listening/feelings in prayer/other help from heaven, I think I’m finally feeling the mental and emotional part of the burden becoming lighter. I don’t want this to last forever (obviously), like I don’t want other situations in my life to last forever. The beauty, though, is still there – and I realised kind of recently that I’m not giving it enough credit, because things are so unbalanced. But what if I do allow myself to really feel it, to let it wash the heaviness of these burdens with refreshment and kindness; to make things light as well as dark? A book I was recently reading by a favourite author, Juliet Marillier, helped me really see it – I’ve heard and heard this, but hearing and getting something inside, for yourself, are not the same.

Jim Moss, who founded Plasticity Labs (for ‘neuro-plasticity’), said: “A pessimistic mindset says, “What can’t I do right now because of what’s missing in my life?”. That’s the default question. Whereas an optimistic mindset says, “Okay, what can we get done with what we have?”‘ (in Curveballs, by Emma Markezic). You know, it is so hard to get from the one to the other, when something is so unfair you are completely justified in having an emotional or mental breakdown if you want to. And staying that way for the rest of your life. But at some point, you have to really accept that life is unfair, no matter how nice, good, or hard-working you are. Or how many dreams or talents you have. That’s the point of unfair. It smothers everyone in good and bad, and it loves irony to the point of obsession. Jim also said, “I had to completely break up with a previous version of myself. I didn’t have a choice. … I think it’s easy to oversimplify this, but when we think there’s a chance that we could get [back what’s been taken away from us], I think we linger longer. But when it becomes absolute, it’s much easier to say, “Okay, this is my new reality.” You go through this period of mourning… whatever was lost…. [H]appiness means the ability to deal with difficult things, not avoid them, and to deal with them in a healthy way. So you should experience all the emotions.”

Emma Markezic, the author of Curveballs, follows this up with, “… for all the good in the world, it is not your oyster and things will rarely, if ever, go to plan. Curveballs are always coming for you. Preparing yourself for that is half the battle.” Part of our problem with that – and this has definitely been part of mine – is comparison. I compare myself to who I would have been without this, and to others who actually get to sleep at night (oh, bliss). What should I be? What might I have been? What am I missing out on?? And like every kind of social comparison, this is torture. It’s trying to have control over something we can’t – like trying to be masters of the universe and all its forces, instead of the only thing we do have control over: our own mind and will. Obviously, believing in a better life after this one is a huge help; but it’s not really enough. Because I expected certain things about life. Even after realising, as I’ve recorded on this blog, that my expectations had been faulty. You still keep wanting things to turn out well – of course you do. What depressing creatures we’d be if we didn’t. But the hard things, even the hardest, deepest, most ironically and painfully unfair ones, never stop. I think they’re actually what makes up most of life. It’s something I’m (still) learning how to accept.

Maybe my lessons in this life are something completely different from what I thought they should be. So, here’s to dealing with the un-dealable and still appreciating – and allowing to balance the darkness – the stars, the ocean, trees and waterfalls, sunshine, sunsets, books, possibility (however small), people, love, music, mangoes, bread, deep and meaningful conversations, and all the other good and beautiful things that are here to stop us succumbing to madness in this mad and precious world. Some days I’m going to do really well with that; others are going to be harder.

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Too much fluff

Popular culture speaks about diversity, but look closer and it’s actually more about same-ness. People enter into and maintain it via the ‘fluff’ of life. Remember the different ‘groups’ at school? Being part of a group was about finding your same people (or the people you wanted to be the same as). If you wanted to be in the popular group, you had to do what they did – like the same movies, have the same taste in music, dress like they did. Some difference was allowed, but not much; it followed for the surfies, druggos, goths, musos, and nerds. We’re always trying to find who we fit with, and ‘fluff’ lets us do that – you talk the walk until you’re in, and keep doing it to stay there. Fluff greases the wheels of social interaction. We need it. But not overwhelmingly so, and not on its own – and this is where popular culture goes overboard.

There’s another way, one that satisfies our deeper longings for human connection. C. S. Lewis describes it this way:

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal…. [I]t is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit…. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously – no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption…. – [no] mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment.

When we take each other seriously, we allow ourselves and others to be more complete; we cease restricting them to the ‘fluffy’ and allow space for the wonderful, the beautiful, the strange. I feel like the loudest things in ‘world culture’ right now are made up of fluff, and the trend is to masquerade it as depth and realness. Fake pretending to care and vested interests pretending to be about fairness. Meanwhile, the really good, truly profound things are so often ridiculed or hardly heard. I look forward to more of the above kind of interactions and voices, where honesty and compassion really are king. Where more people are more concerned about truth and each other than standing alone or being called out, and the crowds become less mob-like and more encouraging of the good.

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A little bit about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This faith is, although the 3rd-fastest growing Christian denomination in the USA for example, little understood by most who’ve had no or minimal contact with it. Many, even among fellow Christians, still regard it as a strange sect with strange practices that cannot be trusted. Or it’s ridiculed in forms such as the musical using the Book of Mormon for its title, but not actually being about the book (which would make an amazing musical or movie actually about it). I feel annoyed, dissapointed or embarrassed when I hear or see these sort of misunderstandings. I really dislike being personally misunderstood. I hate the idea that someone’s thinking something about me that is untrue, and I particularly can’t abide conversations where nothing I say convinces them otherwise about me. So when something as important and big and precious to me as my religion – the thing that supplies me and millions of others with faith, hope, wonder, excitement, and deepest testimony of the meaning of things – is misunderstood, well, I naturally want to attempt to clear it up. Also, it’s just annoying to have misrepresentations, and some things that are believed about the Church/our religion/us are pretty funny. So here’s a bit of history and some proper facts.

Why the name?

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a long name. I know. But there are important reasons for it: that name means that it’s the Church of Jesus Christ, restored, revealed and led by Him. It’s not the church of Mormon (which a lot of people still call it, even though news outlets and other sources have been asked often to use the correct name, or an approved shortened form) – he wrote and compiled records which became the Book of Mormon, an important volume of scripture in the Church, but he didn’t create it. The second part of the name designates it as the latter-day equivalent of the church that Jesus Christ established and Peter, James and John continued to lead under the Lord’s direction back in the beginnings of the first century AD. Members of that church were called “saints”, so we also call ourselves that. It means “holy”, and is a reminder that we are disciples (followers and devotees) of Christ, set apart by our choice, healed and made gradually holy by His grace as we become more like Him through following the path He sets. A shortened form is the Church of Jesus Christ; members of the Church are called Latter-day Saints, Christians, or Saints (obviously in the sense I just explained, not the Catholic or Anglican one; although generally it’s members of the Church who use this last term, not others talking about them). For more about this topic, I wrote this fascinating post about it a while ago ; ). We often also call the church the ‘Restored Church’, or its doctrine the Restored Gospel.

A bit of history

In its early days in the 19th-century United States, members of the restored Church of Jesus Christ were outcast and mistreated – ridiculed, beaten, raped, killed, driven out – because they were different. It’s not a new or even an unusual story; it happens far too often to various groups, and not just in times past. This persecution, though, had the effect of helping to cement the faith of those who strongly believed in the doctrines and revelations of the church, making them even more loyal to it and more firm in their personal convictions, and of shearing away the rest. In the end, members of the church found sanctuary and relative peace in what later became the state of Utah, and what was then Indian Territory. They created a haven where they could worship and live as their convictions led them to; a place where their children could be educated in both temporal and spiritual ways; where no one was tarred and feathered, thrown into jail on spurious charges for months, or had their homes and farms burnt down and their possessions stolen. For many years, Utah was the main gathering-place for new converts – really the only place they could live their religion freely. In time, this changed and such converts began to remain in their home countries in larger numbers and establish themselves as conscientious members of their communities. Today, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is found in most countries of the world, with significant populations in South America, Africa, Europe and Oceania, and growing numbers in South-East Asia.

A few more actual facts

Hope you enjoyed the history lesson. (If you want to know more about the actual details, look here). I think a lot of concern or antagonism comes from either lack of or mis-information, because when you understand its key doctrines and philosophy, it holds many of the same tenets as other Christian faiths and differs from them in ways that make Christianity more understandable and common-sensical. There’s a more concrete and specific understanding of who and what Christ is, why we’re here, and where we go after this life. The family is central to this understanding, with the beautiful temples seen around the world built for the purpose of sealing those families together forever – including members of families who’ve passed on to the next life, a concept that takes away the finality of separation through death. Church members are encouraged to seek as much education as they can, both formal and informal, to better serve their families, the church and the community, and achieve personal growth. A personal relationship with God is also encouraged, and vital; Latter-day Saints are not expected to lean on their church leaders for their understanding of doctrine or the spiritual life, but rather to use them as guides in their own path of discipleship. The church officially, through donations and investments, gives huge amounts of financial and physical aid to causes and situations around the world. It works with other Christian and non-Christian denominations that support worthy causes and initiatives. Members are encouraged to participate in their communities, locally and nationally – including through voting, according to their own consciences. It is a religion of personal and community growth that looks to families as the source of values, stability and the improvement of problem areas in society.

There are still other Christian churches which really detest ours, who actively preach against it/us, and there are some churches which just don’t like our doctrines and see us as so different that they call us non-Christian. The first is probably due to their churches’ history with ours, because it’s exactly how leaders of those churches treated Joseph Smith and the church in the beginning. The second is also a result of history, but much older – it’s the outcome of all the wrestles and disagreements, often violent, which characterised the growing Catholic Church through the ages after the Apostles, and the dissensions which gave birth to the Reformation. We don’t comply with accepted creeds in those churches, which is a system they’ve had for a long time, so it’s hard to blame them except for some closed-mindedness. It’s a legacy I don’t think they can escape. But then, we don’t claim our authority from that tradition, or to be part of it. We’re happy to be different! I just feel like we deserve to have that choice respected. And, like I said before, we actually have rather a lot in common with the rest of the Christian world; some wise leaders in those churches recognise that and work with ours to relieve suffering and promote religious freedom.

Some beliefs

The thirteen Articles of Faith, penned by Joseph Smith, (the first prophet and president of the latter-day church) back in 1842 in response to the question, “What do you believe?”, are a good starting point and summary of the main tenets of our faith. They’re straightforward, clear and simple. You can read them here.

I think that’s enough to be going on with. I really hope it’s helped to clear up some misunderstandings, and maybe given you some curiosity about things outside what you normally think of.