Sunday, August 27, 2006

Do you have to have a body in order to be in love?

Scott's play has started me thinking. What role do our bodies have in this thing we call being "in love"?

In stake conference today, I heard quoted again that little research blurb about some chemicals in our brain that scientists say are the cause or effect of the feeling of being "in love" which supposedly decrease drastically or disappear altogether about 18 months after they appear. The point which people are trying to make when they quote this little tidbit in church is always something like, "So we'd better be working to replace that with something BETTER if we want our marriages to last," blah, blah, blah.

So I've been wondering what exactly is this "in love" thing, and what role it has in the eternal scheme of things. If I had no body (and therefore no chemistry), would I be incapable of falling in love? Were those two characters in Scott's play, who fell in love over the phone (these days people do it with e-mail), really in love, since they had never met? Or were they good friends who loved each other and happened to be of opposite sexes? Could it have been possible for them to have a similarly intense relationship with others? Is it possible to be in love with more than one person at a time? (Of course, it's possible to deeply love more than one person at a time.) Is being "in love" just a chemical thing? Is it a choosing to confine certain emotional intimacy to just one person? What is it that makes married love different than platonic love, other than hormones?

When I look at my own marriage, I don't come up with answers to these questions. One reason that I can't is that Roger is so much a part of me now that I can hardly even stand back far enough to see him. We are more like parts of the same person, which I think precludes a feeling of being "in love" because, at least as I remember it, that "in love" feeling had a lot to do with the fact that someone ELSE (the other) whom I thought was cool, thought I was cool too, and we were cool together, woo-hoo, flutter, flutter. (See "The Look," previous post.) And Roger is no longer someone else.

Second of all, I would not like to explore whether I could fall "in love" with anyone else while being "in love" with Roger. For obvious reasons.

We are taught to so very carefully school our thoughts and feelings so that we avoid even the first step on a path of infidelity. Good idea; I'm all for it. And yet-- and yet it's too bad, because there are all kinds of very intimate (which word I use, of course, in the non-physical sense) love which could probably be possible without messing up other loves in our lives. Maybe not, though. Maybe it really has a lot to do with funneling the bulk of our intimacy into one relationship. Better safe than sorry, anyway.

My biggest question of all, though, is why does God plant inside us whatever it is that makes that "in love" feeling? Is it all just the biological drive to perpetuate the species? What role will that exciting, romantic feeling play in the eternities (once it has been replaced with something "better")? This question is related to my other question about why we respond so deeply, achingly, yearningly to great art (especially music)--sometimes with stronger responses than anything we feel in real life.

I suspect it's a little taste of things to come. Somewhere in the scriptures it says that the righteous will come to a greater awareness of their enjoyment. I like to believe that the more godly we become, the more capable we become of deep and thrilling emotion. I think God gives us a little taste of it here, but doesn't let us live in it all the time (lest we be overpowered, maybe, or become addicted), but that he plans to let us swim in it all we want with our sanctified bodies. For now our job is to really work on charity as the basis of relationships.

Just a guess. Or a hope.

(Meanwhile, don't be thinking that I am anything less than thrilled with the "something better" going on in my life. I am extremely satisfied with my marriage. Personally, I don't think I would have the energy these days anyway for the rollercoaster that was "being in love" in my college days.)

Friday, August 25, 2006

A sloggy but nice life

Well, it was a pretty darn good day, even considering I was feeling sloggy all day.

This morning in the cool I took a scooter/walk with His Highness The Tyrant of the Universe and his Evil Sidekick, both of whom were in pretty good moods today (Allelujah). I love to see their little cannonball helmet-covered heads, three feet off the ground, as they paddle their scooters around. They look like two lollipops, really. I want to lick them.

Tonight I got to go on a date with my handsome husband who is, yes indeedy, up and around and looking awfully spunky and healthy. He only has little red marks and a little swelling (besides the original stitches) to show for his surgery, and so he is not getting the attention and sympathy he deserves. But he is practically himself again, which is such a relief to me. I really can't stand it when he is under the weather (good thing that is rare)--it throws me for a loop. It's not like him to ever be down, and I feel it like an injury to myself when he is not well.

Anyway, we got to go down to hear a reading of Scott Bronson's "Dial Tones," which was cute. (Oooh, yeah, Scott, I see you wincing. One word to describe all that work? CUTE?) Well, it was. I appreciated having some things to laugh about at this one--it's what hubby and I needed tonight--and a sweet love story to boot. It was fun to look forward all day to an outing tonight to see my "AML friends," as they are referred to around here. And, as always happens when I hang with said friends, my mind starts whirring in different directions, never landing for long. What could I write on that topic? Why don't I try writing a play sometime? How does a playwright decide whether and when to have a character who addresses the audience? (There are so many ways to tell a love story that I haven't tried yet!) Will I ever have any success? My great and deepest yearning, I'm afraid, isn't to write that fantastic play or story or poem, but rather to write whatever it takes so that I can hold my head up as an artist around these people. In other words, it's not so much that I have the urge to write, but that I want to be in their club. So there's my confession: I'm not a real writer, just a wannabe.

But I think I may have confessed that before.

And, as much as I confess it, I find myself still writing all the time, so maybe I'm a writer after all.

The frustrating thing lately is that I have been getting just a downpour of ideas for all sorts of writing projects--but I don't have the time set aside to pursue them (even if I could decide which to focus on first). It makes me a nervous wreck. Better to put them all off and go around feeling sloggy, maybe. Or concentrate on the "Friend" stories because they bring in money . . . which means I could take another class . . .

Does anyone else get as envious as I do when your kids go back to school?

Anyway, it's a good life when you can head to Utah Valley for an evening under the stars (and occasionally, umbrellas) and some good theater and ELF cookies in the car on the way home while you watch the lights coming on in the houses and laugh with your handsome husband with the stitched-up eyebrow and then come home and the World's Best Babysitter has already put the Tyrants down so you can blog about it. Isn't it?

Friday, August 18, 2006

Keep us in your prayers

Rog has surgery today. I told him that if he sees a dark tunnel with a light at the end of it . . . run away! Run away! (I can't quit thinking about Mom's near death experience, which happened because of general anesthesia.) I admit it--I'm superstitious. I just figure that I can't have managed to get the absolutely best husband in the history of marriage and then expect to keep him for long. So knock on wood, cross my fingers, etc., etc., that this isn't his time and that I'll luck out yet again.

Don't worry--it's "routine" surgery (if having someone cut through your face to put a plate under your eyeball can be considered routine--what kind of world is this?) and we have the best surgeon in Utah doing it (Rog made sure of that). So we should be fine. I just feel so dang vulnerable when it's my guy on that table . . .

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Speaking of bodies . . .

Just wanted to give everyone a heads-up on our excitement this week.

Roger was hit in the eye with a baseball on Saturday. Here's a copy of the mass e-mail I sent:

> Hello, family and friends,> > I just wanted to give you the update. For those of you> who didn't get my first e-mail, I'll catch you up:> Roger was hit in the eye (his left and dominant eye)> with a softball on Saturday. He had a huge laceration> that required a lot of stitches. At the E.R., we had a> CT scan done that showed two fractures, one of the> lower orbit (the bone that supports the eye> underneath) and one on the side of his face. He was> really hating it for a while--at first he had no> vision, but later his vision returned and he perked up> a lot. Because of some of the medications, his damaged> eye is dilated and will not shrink. Also, he has some> nerve damage that has removed feeling in parts of his> face and mouth.> > Again, I repeat that he HAS VISION. That is the big> miracle. We are so very blessed that he has not lost> vision. His vision is not as good as it was, but it is> basically 20/20 when corrected, which, he knows, is> all he can ask for. It's still hard to adjust because> that was his dominant eye and it is just not as sharp.> > Today we met with the surgeon, a guy Roger hand-picked> because of his reputation, for a review of the CT> scans. Turns out Roger WILL require surgery. Dr. Patel> will go in through Roger's lower eyelid and insert a> plate that will support the eye so that it will not> sink any lower. The plate will stay in him> forever--well, until the resurrection. The surgery is> routine for Dr. Patel and should take about two hours,> out-patient. Roger is not nervous at all about that> (but I am, because of some family history of> complications with general anesthesia). > > Most of the residual problems should resolve over> time, according to Dr. Patel, but it could take> months. For example, Rog should eventually get the> feeling back in his face, and his eye muscles will be> able to constrict again, etc. Probably his visual> acuity will not improve much, though. (But, as I said,> it's still pretty darn good sight.)> > We are so blessed that this wasn't any worse. He will> be able to continue his career and hardly ever notice> the difference (eventually). > > For my part, I'm really relieved. I also think it's> easier for me to be the patient than to be the> caregiver of the patient--I was much more distressed> when it was Roger in pain than I was during my own> labors, for example. Part of it is the fear of the> unknown, I guess. Anyway, we are doing fine, although> emotionally exhausted. Thank you for your prayers.> Keep us in them on Friday, will you?

Monday, August 14, 2006

Why I am so annoyed that Richard Dutcher appeared on a panel at Sunstone with Brian Evanson and Neil LaBute

OK, let me start by saying that I KNOW NOTHING. I am completely unqualified to hold this opinion and to share it in public and definitely unqualified to defend it. I am very naïve about Sunstone, having never attended a single session or participated with them in any way. So, those of you who say, “Try it; you’ll like it,” I answer, “Possibly, but I think not,” and for those of you who decide that I am not intellectually brave enough, or sophisticated enough to stand outside my narrow world-view that was formed by my LDS upbringing in order to see more clearly, I answer, “Maybe.” So that’s that.

I was really sad to see the announcement that Richard Dutcher would be appearing on a panel at Sunstone with Neil LaBute and Brian Evanson. Not because I didn’t think he had anything he could add to the conversation. Not because I don’t want “an insider’s” POV represented on any panel at Sunstone (the more the better, I suppose). But because I DON’T LIKE HIM BEING PUT IN A SIMILAR CATEGORY with them. Whatever the category is, I wish that he would BEND OVER BACKWARDS to make sure he does not have even the appearance of being like them.

Because this is the thing: they are past Mormons. They have decided to speak from outside. They feel that speaking the truth required them to renounce membership, or at least to stray from the requirements for membership. There is a HUGE difference, in my mind, between them and Dutcher, who has been for me the symbol of hope for the future of Mormon art. Here is a guy who writes from inside, showing us the struggles of souls within the church (without implying that the gospel, at the most fundamental level, is faulty) showing us that we can wrestle with truth in a mature way without sacrificing our basic beliefs, our commitment to membership. Not only does he not show that abandoning membership is the solution to problems, but the basic message (and I use that word with hesitation, because I don’t believe his goal is to share “messages” but rather to tell the truth, which is very, very different) of his art is that the gospel of Jesus Christ, purely understood, is the only solution to problems—and even then it is only the solution in the eternal scheme of things.

NIGHT AND DAY different from LaBute and Evanson and, from what I can tell, the general philosophy behind the Sunstone symposium itself.

I was at the symposium for a few hours to man the AML table. I walked in and saw people greeting each others and hurrying around and I liked the feeling of learning together and discussion. I’m all for that. I’m all for exploring the gospel and how we live it—and how we can live it better—in conversation with others. Especially, I am strongly interested in discussing how we can make better art, and build the kingdom through truthtelling (as opposed to sappy, moralistic and shallow stories). Standing there in the hall at Sunstone, I wanted to be open-minded (the One True Religion, according to some) about it and see if I have gotten the wrong impression of it. Certainly some of the people I admire most swear that Sunstone is a great thing for the church and the scholarly/artistic community. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt.

I can’t say that I really did give it a chance, because I didn’t attend any sessions—not even the Dutcher session. But I learned a lot just by sitting at my table and reading the program. First of all, my table was situated next to a table sponsored by some other church. It was piled high with pamphlets from that church’s founder, etc. I met the (very nice) lady who staffed it, a minister in her church. The next table down was staffed by the Eagle Foundation, an organization that exists to advocate for LDS gays. I leafed through some of their stuff and it became clear that there was an agenda to “work for change” among the LDS authorities until the new day dawns etc., etc. (OK, I’ll say right now that I ABSOLUTELY AGREE that there needs to be a change among the membership at large in the perception of what it means to be gay in the church. I am all for gays forming foundations, etc., to learn to live with their challenges. I have no problem with that and see the great need of it. The thing I have a problem with is the attitude which I saw inherent in many of the presentations listed in the Sunstone program: that if we get together and discuss enough, and whine enough, we can influence change in gospel doctrines. It’s the “bring change about from the bottom up” philosophy that is offensive to me, the absolute lack of faith in divine direction through a prophet that lies, IMO, at the critical foundation of a testimony in this particular church.) So, judging only on what I saw in the resource room and on the program, I was disappointed to see that all of my pre-judgments about Sunstone seemed to be accurate.

So, I was disappointed to see Dutcher there, agreeing to be thrown in a category with two others who are so open about their opinions that great art and membership in the church are mutually exclusive.

I heard that Dutcher’s session on States of Grace was extremely well-received at Sunstone, and that the comments afterwards were very moving to him. I don’t doubt that he has been wondering if anyone appreciates what he has been doing. I firmly believed he deserved whatever praise the Sunstone attendees gave him. But please, oh, please, don’t let him think that there is no understanding, no appreciation, no true recognition of his value, except at Sunstone. Don’t let him even begin on that path. Because I believe that there are so many of us out here who are thirsty for him to be himself, to pursue the path he began, to continue to speak from WITHIN the community with the power that he has. I don’t blame him for doubting that we are out here, because we are hard to reach and not very vocal (and we don’t have a lot of money to spend on movie tickets). But we’re here, and he will alienate us by joining up with those who believe telling the truth requires them to leave the church.

I am torn in writing this because I am afraid. I don’t want to lose respect from the people who love Sunstone. There are a lot of good things in Sunstone, and a lot of good people who write for them and read them. ( I may even write for them myself sometime.) But even they have got to admit that there is this fundamental difference between people who agree to cross the line of sacrificing commitment to living the gospel (and the laws of the CHURCH) and those who will not cross that line under any circumstance. Those on one side of the line tend to look at those on the other as being frightened of examining ideas, close-minded, possibly shallow. Those on the other side of the line tend to look at the others as lacking faith or even being instruments of the devil to lead us away gently. Both are wrong in these suspicions. But the line exists, and I see now that I cannot straddle the line. I don’t think Richard Dutcher can, either.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Body

I’ve always been fascinated with the way life affects my body. Just the concept that, through experiences that are often just flukes, my body can change permanently from how it was before. The first time I was injured in a way that meant I would have a permanent scar, for example, is still very clear in my mind—not the pain, or the injury itself, but how I stared at my arm and marveled that it would never, ever, be scar-free again. It was sort of a marveling that I am actually alive, really—that this life thing is really happening to me.
I experienced the same thing when I got my ears pierced. My parents had required me to wait until I was fourteen to pierce my ears. Then it was my choice. I remember lying in bed, trying to imagine myself with holes in my ears. It was so permanent! I tried to picture my life ahead of me—going to the temple with pierced ears, for example, or taking care of my children with pierced ears.
Same thing happened the day before I started typing class. I remember staring at my fingers, wriggling them, thinking, “Tomorrow they will have been initiated into the mystery of typing.” Things that occur through my body are endlessly fascinating to me because I am so interested in time, the before and after of moving along in time through experience.
I had a sort of tiny nervous breakdown on the day my mother took me to buy garments because I would be getting my endowment later in the week. I remember how perplexed she was by my tears. I just couldn’t make her understand why the thought of my entire future stretching out before me in which I would be having to wear something different, strange, and so symbolic of adulthood was overwhelming to me. It was the crossing of a line that could never be returned from that got to me. It's significant to me that it was an outward thing, too--a physical thing involving my body. I would never see my body the same again, knowing it would always be covered by these garments.
Anyway, I mention all of this because something new, in regards to my body, has come into my life lately, something I never thought would happen to me: ever since my car accident last year, certain driving situations give me get panic attacks. Real panic attacks, in which my heart beats fast, I sweat, my eyes dilate, I get that leap in my stomach that you get when someone jumps out at you. My mind can say, “This is stupid; nothing is wrong; your fear is unfounded,” and my body answers, “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah, I can’t hear you!” (with it’s metaphoric fingers stuck in its metaphoric ears). It’s like there’s no connection between the logical part of my mind and the rest of me. Amazing, strange experience, like being possessed, I imagine. I am dumfounded to find that this has happened to me, that I am now a person who gets panic attacks. Life is so weird!
The scriptures have some amazing things in them about bodies, and about how our lives and choices affect our bodies. There’s a really interesting passage in Mormon Doctrine about bodies—about how our lives and what we’ve become will be able to be literally read through our bodies, similar to the way we learn about a tree by examining its rings. (I’m not a big fan of that book, but I love this passage.) I think most of us have no idea how amazing our bodies are, and how much they are actually an instrument of the spirit. I think they are like another sense, a sense for picking up the spirit. They are integrally involved in sanctification, I believe.

What I've been reading, and the apex of my career

Well, lately I’ve been reading a few things. I got on a sort of Amish kick and read a few books about the Amish. One is a diary kept by an Amish woman in 1976. I love the dailiness of it. It’s good for me to read journals regularly—my own journal always benefits.

For classics bookgroup I have been reading Don Quixote. This is probably my fourth time starting it but I’m determined to get through at least part one this time. I admit that it is somewhat entertaining, but the joke is getting old. Is there anything more to it than the making fun of the romantic conventions of Cervantes’s time? (Do you like that apostrophe-s? I can’t figure out this new rule from AML. Someone help me with it.) It reminds me of Northanger Abbey, which also makes fun of the romantic conventions of its time. I’m hoping something new happens at some point, and that the next 300 pages are not just more of the same.

BTW, here's an excerpt from my favorite new website, "Book-A-Minute Classics." At this site, you can find classics abridged down to a couple of lines. Here's the shrunk version of Don Quixote:

Don Quixote:
Chivalry demands I destroy that evil thing.

Sancho Panza:
No, master. It is something ordinary and harmless.

Don Quixote (falls down)
THE END

The website is http://www.rinkworks.com/bookaminute/classics.shtml. Way cool! Check out the Austen one!

For ward bookgroup I have been reading These is My Words by Nancy Turner (my second time). I’m enjoying it even more this time, although the same things that bugged me the first time are bugging me again. Sarah and Jack are such Scarlet/Rhett characters, and Savannah is Melanie, the acknowledged spiritual superior to Sarah but obviously lacking in sparkle and personality. Jack is the rugged man archetype—fiery, passionate, a little bit mysterious, older. I would like to see a combination of Jack and the best friend Jimmy type (well, what Jimmy seems to be, anyway). I’m not sure that, in real life, that sense of mystery can continue through years and years of marriage. There’s something to be said for the best friend-spouse.

I sure sympathize with Sarah’s yearning for education. That is also reminiscent to me of another book—Betty Green’s Joy in the Morning. What an eternal theme that is, the young housewife who loves books and dreams of going to college.

Which brings me to the other thing I’ve been thinking about lately. I’ve been watching the news about the conjoined twins who have been separated this week. I’ve been fascinated with the surgeons who facilitated this miracle. Here are men and women in their 50’s, at the pinnacle of their careers. Years of practice have made them into people capable of amazing, amazing things.

I am burning with jealousy.

What happens to a housewife at the “pinnacle of her career”? What will I have spent years practicing? What great contribution to the world will I make as a result of a lifetime of study and practice?

Well, yes, you’re going to say, “Your children are your contribution to the world.” Blah, blah. Of course they are. But, darn it, most of what my children become is up to them, isn’t it? I’m doing my best. But right about the time when people in other careers are starting to really be at the top of things, I’ll be struggling with teenagers that hate me, and then dealing with an empty nest. (Not that I’m not looking forward to an empty nest. Heaven knows I have plans for that time in my life—but that will be a time of beginnings for me, not achievement.)

This is my problem with the Thomas Jefferson Education theory. It all sounds great—for a person who plans on having a career outside the home. I love the idea of dedicating myself to deep scholarly study, then moving on to the application and impact phase, and then finally discovering and pursuing my mission. Sounds great. But what happens when right after college you abandon study (at least at a deep level) and raise babies? Where’s my impact? Where’s my mission? What’s the point?

So, I will join the large group of women who jumped off the track to personal greatness in order to spend time changing diapers and reading picture books, and then, once the kids are in school, start blundering around looking for something to sort of dedicate myself to sort of part time, hoping that some day I’ll find some sense of mission.

Yeah, yeah. Motherhood is a noble calling. But, please, I can spend all my time making a science out of using my food storage, etc., and try to get some sense of mission about that, but to tell you the truth, the actual making an impact on the kids occurs in an awfully small percentage of the time. The rest of the time is really just being there and marking time. You can talk all you want about how important it is for me to be here (and I really do believe it) but you can’t convince me that scrubbing the toilet every day vs. once a week makes a difference in the eternal scheme of things. Sorry—no sense of mission here. And as far as having a sense of mission about the spiritual, etc., development of the kids—yeah, I’ll go for that one, but, really, a lot of it depends on them.

ANYWAY, I’m jealous of the surgeons. I hope that I can find my little personal mission in my later years and find a way to make an impact on the world even though I won’t have had time to become really good at anything.