The world is chalk full of ideas. For years, ideas could only be presented to those within your voice. Once language was further developed, writing became a tool as well, but that was still privy to those who actually learned to read and write. In modern days, most ideas gain traction based on the elegance of the originator. Today, even the most simple can express themselves through the tools of AI, allowing nearly any idea to find its way into the world.
There’s something beautiful about storytelling. The ancient world was brilliant at understanding exactly how to tell a story that not only captivated an audience but also kept history alive. Because it was such an important role, it was often elders that people looked to for the stories of their people.
With the development of writing, people had a new person to look towards. Rather than the elders, it was now the educated. People looked to those who could read to share the stories passed down now in writing. This didn’t discount the tales of the elders, but it did create a more established narrative. Going forward, when someone spoke of history, there was always a chance an educated person could refer to the text and correct the verbal history.
As education became a more common occurrence, ideas and stories flooded into society. The world was suddenly overwhelmed with ideas. It was not just educators and elders now. While in some ways, this was wonderful, in other ways, it was overbearing. How do you know who to listen to? How do you know what is right? It all came down to elegance.
Anyone could tell a story, but some could captivate the audience. They could bring them into the hills of the past. Let them smell the flowers of history and feel the cool waters of ancient time. Any writer could write a story, but only some could use their words to build an archway through time. Create a path of words leading to the emerald city of imagination. The elegance of the teller became the standard for people. The more elegant a presenter, the more people you had listening.
Today, the elegance is no longer a skill one needs to perfect. With AI, someone can spend thirty minutes throwing in prompt after prompt until the computer creates an elegant text. With a few prompts, a video can be made that will captivate viewers long enough to present a short story. Media is constant. You are constantly bombarded by it, and the ease of its creation is making it harder to ignore.
As a creator, taking part in media is crucial to better myself. If I don’t read, I can’t see new writing techniques. If I don’t watch shows, I can’t see different ways to tell stories. If I don’t listen to music, I can’t understand how a sound can change how someone feels. With all the media one needs to consume, there’s almost no time to create.
In the ancient days, most people were listeners. Today, people use short cuts to create so they can be listeners. People are so overwhelmed with media they don’t have time for anything else. There is always a movie coming out, always a TV show, and always a podcast to listen to. There are roughly 4.42 million podcasts globally. If you wanted to listen to even a fraction of them daily, you would have time for nothing else.
In some ways, the days of the elders would be nice. The only stories in the world were the ones you told your family as the patriarch. Now, it’s a struggle to even have the time to tell a story. It’s a struggle not to get drowned in the ever flooding world of media.
A Single Moment
It’s amazing how much a single thought for a single moment can create a lifetime of struggle. Today, more than anytime in history, we see how saying something can eventually be turned against you. We see how ideas of the past can stain a person’s reputation even after they’ve now changed that opinion. Learning to hold your tongue in a moment of anger or passion is crucial to survival in this day of constant recorded media.
I was thinking about how I don’t keep a journal. When I started writing this blog, I often debated between it being like a journal or just kind of randomness in my head. I decided on randomness. This decision was based a lot on the stains of a moment. What would happen if I wrote something I felt in the moment that faded by the next day? I would have to answer to anyone reading on why I felt like that and justify how my brain processes trauma or anger or any other emotion.
Journals are good to record history, but they also contain moments and moments that may build people, but they don’t define people. I don’t keep a journal as well as I should. A lot of that is because I fear writing how I feel in a moment and that becoming a permanent page in my book of life. Imagine feeling frustrated, then writing to escape, you list all the things frustrating you, just to realize it was all because you were getting sick. Suddenly, all the frustration makes sense to you, but when others read those words, they wonder if you’re angry with your situation.
Feelings are so complex that we don’t even really understand them ourselves. Writing can be a personal outlet to get those emotions at your level, but words aren’t the same as emotions. That’s why I’ve found it hard to write in a journal. Sometimes, words have to spill all over the page, often a mix of meaningful and pointless words, before I understand the emotions causing them. I even look back now embarrassed at some things I wrote, understanding now why I felt that way.
I do feel like a journal is good. There’s nothing like looking down on an old you and being able to say, “its all going to work out. Don’t lose hope,”. It can be good for your family to really break down who you were and how you became the person they knew. The challenge we each have is allowing the good to overcome the bad.
We often let the negative moments define people. It is so much easier for us to tear someone down for a bad moment, then to build them up for a good moment. Like the phrase “misery loves company”, I think imperfection loves imperfection. Life is a race to be above the people around us, and when you see an opportunity to lower someone’s status in the pool, we do it.
The biggest challenge I think all people face is learning to let people’s good moments play a deeper part in how we feel about them. Let go of some of the bad moments and allow the good to shine. Anyone can be better, but they don’t keep getting better if we only remind them of when they were worse. People only get better when we recognize their effort to be better.
Monday Morning
You know it’s been really weird and freeing to be writing as much as I have lately. I’ve talked a lot recently, and this may be in some things I haven’t published yet about the challenge of writing in such a media driven society. There’s so many easier things to do with time, then sit down and think about words and paste them from brain to page. Today was especially challenging, with work being almost too stimulating on the brain.
There’s something especially sweet about sitting down in bed after a long day and not only having your work successes but also words on a page. It has nothing to do with not feeling accomplished with work. If anything, the more challenging days at work present the most satisfaction. To hold your work in your hands, not what you’ve been paid for, but for a genuine creation of your own, there’s no comparison.
All this writing has pushed me to start digging deeper into some of these ideas so I can really present them. Especially when it comes to my Sunday blog, which, if you haven’t guessed, I try to keep it Sabbathly themed. It’s wonderful to dig deep into something miniscule when compared to the scale of Christianity and peel back the layers revealing the sweet fruit beneath the colorful skin.
Recently, I spent hours learning about a prophet from the Bible that had nothing to do with Israel till they came stumbling out of Egypt. To take a story I’ve enjoyed referring to for so many years and be able to get a deeper understanding of it is lifting. I forget how fun it is to study these things. When I did the most study in my life, it was always to show my knowledge off. For my church mission, I studied to teach, and for work, I studied to show my trainers I knew the job and could perform my functions adequately.
Technically, it is Monday morning, but this is a degree of midnight thinking because it’s only twenty minutes into Monday morning. I don’t expect this same fire to burn in my writing in a few weeks. I’m sure there will be a tapering, and I’ll feel the struggle to keep getting words down on a page, but daily habits fight through the drag. When you don’t want to do it, you can only restart the fire by doing it.
The Raven and the Dove
After many days inside the ark, Noah looked out and started to see the tops of mountains. It was the first sight of land in over 150 days. Thrilled, Noah sent a Raven out. The bird traveled the land, never returning to report its discoveries. Afterwards, Noah sent a Dove, who returned after having found nowhere to refuge. Eventually, that same dove was sent out again, this time returning with an olive branch. On his third expedition, the dove found a place to call home and didn’t return again.
Ravens have an interesting role in biblical history. The raven is released by Noah to see the desolation of the land. In Elijah’s day, ravens were sent to him to keep him nourished during a time of famine. Christ used ravens as an example of the lowest creatures being taken care of by God.
“Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?”
Ravens have mixed symbolism. They can represent wisdom, knowledge, transformation, and death. Biblically, they are seen as unclean and symbolize God’s ability to use unclean vessels to fulfill His righteous works. This is represented by their feeding of Elijah, the prophet. Yet, in other cultures, they are seen as delivering heavenly messages. I can’t help wonder if Noah, growing up in a culture with many beliefs, chose a raven so if anyone was still out there they would see the raven as a message God had fulfilled his word. Furthermore, the raven not returning to Noah could be the reason it status among the jews became so low.
The dove is seen universally as a symbol of peace, purity, hope, and new beginnings. Not only was it the one to pioneer Noah to the world again, it also represented the Spirit of God at Christ’s baptism.
“I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove,”
In none a non-Christian format doves represent love, fertility, and the feminine aspects of the Divine. It’s interesting because I have always seen the spirit as the most motherly of the God head. It’s the Spirit that speaks peace to each soul. The Spirit is a still small voice of comfort.
“But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”
The raven is a lot like the prodigal son. You could say the prodigal son left his father’s house and went to and fro until the lands were all dried up. The dove is symbolic of the loving father who welcomed the son back, allowing him to live the rest of his days in peace. We are all of us doves and ravens. God has sent us out of the protection of his ark to brave the world. Some of us return often, others travel too and fro. All of us have an ark ready for our return, and no matter who we are, we are welcome home.
Annoyingly Prepared
I woke up this morning to the natural chaos of children and a puppy. Lately, I’ve been trying to be more active in the morning, so I immediately prepare to take the dog on a walk. I note my wife saying it’s still raining outside, and I grab a coat to prepare for the weather. When I look outside, I see evidence of rainfall, but nothing is currently falling from the sky. For a second I think, “maybe I should put this coat back,” followed quickly by the thought, “if I want to walk far and it starts raining I won’t want to get caught without it.” So I throw my coat on and step outside into the humid air.
Being prepared is important. It can be the difference of finding yourself stuck hiding beneath a tree till the rain stops and walking home through the storm. In my line of work, it’s crucial to stay ten steps ahead of what’s actually going on at the moment. By staying ahead, when things blow up, you have a solid buffer that allows you to keep your head above water. This could be the difference between immense stress and a stressless day.
Being prepared is not always easy, though. Like this morning. The coat meant to protect me from the storm got really hot. I took it off and tied it around my waist, but then it constantly slipped off because of the same material used to protect me from the rain. At work, it can be tedious making note of every possibility, but it’s even worse if you get caught unprepared.
Being prepared means carrying around an uncomfortable coat, not because it’s going to rain, but because it could. It means reading the book and knowing all the rules, so when that rare situation arises, you know what to do. It’s not always the fun thing. Sometimes, it can be downright annoying, but nothing’s more annoying than getting caught unprepared and walking home soaked.
Paradox
I think I’ve had a lot of blogs about my blog. That fact is, I don’t really know how a blog works. It’s not like a journal. I’m not writing all the deep, dark secrets of my soul. It is a little personal, though. I express thoughts I don’t generally talk about to anyone. How often has been a major question in the matter. Do I write daily, just a few times a week, or whenever I want?
Writing in a blog is like a casual Friday. There’s still a hint of presentation present in your words. You know someone could eventually read what you’ve written, but you’re also not running as tight a ship as writing an article. A journal is definitely more like walking around naked in your house. I think blogs can sometimes go that far, but most people don’t come to a blog for that much exposure.
So far, I’ve honestly treated this blog as a more paranoid casual Friday. I know I don’t need slacks and a button-up shirt, but I overthink the t-shirt and wonder if I should go shorts or jeans. I think too hard about what someone might want to read rather than just writing. Some might not think that, but just like my causal clothes might not jive with everyone, my writing won’t either. No matter how much thought I put into it.
I set a schedule for myself recently. I write one blog for Wednesday, just something general. I then write a Sunday blog, usually religiously themed. It was a good idea, I thought, until I really thought about what a blog is. A blog should just be random thoughts, right? I shouldn’t be structuring it to two days a week, I should feel free to write as much or as little as I want. I don’t want to write too little, though, because I don’t want people to lose interest or disappoint someone who might enjoy hearing the blog.
It’s all a crazy mess of should I, shouldn’t I; how much, how little?
Ultimately, writing because I have to write is not the purpose of my blog. I will write though, because I want to write, maybe more than I want to write, so I continue to write. Now you know why I called it Paradox.
Every Moment
My writing comes from the deepest places in my mind. Somewhere down the line in my life, I found saying words was much harder than writing them. Hence, my blog. That’s even trickled into my marriage. I often feel like I can better express myself through writing rather than trying to say the words out loud. Needless to say, my wife has caught onto this trend. Each time I write, she takes a moment to investigate my words, searching for deeper meaning.
This led to the moment today where she told me to write. She said it in response to my last blog. Somewhere, I had pointed out the lack of time for writing. It is nice to be able to sit down and write, feeling some sort of designated time frame for it. I used to wake up early every morning, before my son was born, to write my book. The challenge has never been having time to write, but choosing to write.
I think designating time to something is especially important these days. If you grew up before the ever distracting waterfall of media, you’ve probably built up habits that lead to a focus effort on things you love. If you grew up with that media waterfall, you’ve likely been caught up in the curling wake at the bottom, often tossing yourself in doomscrolling or following pointless stories for entertainment. There’s always a sport to catch up on, a video game to play, a movie you have to see. It all adds up. There’s so much of it, and it’s so easy to get caught in. Time to do things that take even the slightest bit of extra effort seems burdening.
It’s not that you don’t want to do it. My wife is the same way with decor. She loves getting it, taking and editing pictures, decorating, and even selling it to someone who can really love it. Yet it takes work, and when you’ve spent an entire day doing work that has to get done, it’s hard to choose more work no matter how much you enjoy it. So you’re left doomscrolling, telling yourself, one more, until suddenly it’s midnight and if you don’t go to bed you’ll be too tired for the necessities in the morning.
That is what inspired my poem. Time is always moving, and what we do with it, we can’t get back. Once we’ve used it, it is gone, yet its effects weigh on us. What we do with time affects who we are, what we are, and how we are. It can age us like wine or spoil us like milk. It’s so easily disposed, and yet the most precious gift we’ve been given.
The Uselessness of Yesterday
Time is such a fickle thing
It sways
It moves
It ever sings
It’s always new and never old
Yet more of it can make you bold
You somehow have it all the time
Yet not
It goes
Fast as the rhyme
It sits upon you like a weight
But still it drifts with every date
You have it all, but still have none
You wake
You work
You always run.
It ages you but stays away
It’s useless used so stay awake
If you fail to take your time
It sways
It moves
It says goodbye
You’ll find tomorrow here today
The uselessness of Yesterday.
The Worth Of Souls
Probably the most misunderstood figure in the life of Jesus Christ is the Apostle Judas. He walked with Christ, saw His miracles, felt His majesty, and yet, at the end, betrayed Him. How could one who walks with God turn against Him? People argue he had a different vision of the journey Christ was meant to take. Others see him as the wolf in sheep’s clothes, waiting among the disciples to betray the Christ. When I look at Judas, I see a struggle between good and evil. An epic battle for his soul.
Christ knew his mission and, based on scripture, had some detailed knowledge of how everything would play out. He may not have known Judas’ final fate in the beginning, but Judas was called either way. The Lord never called a soul to Him without a path to a greater good. No matter what Christ knew of Judas’ fate, He called Judas because He desired to bless his life. In scripture, there is clear bias against the man who betrayed the Lord, and perhaps it is all warranted, but I believe the Lord called a soul with the same flaws as Peter and Saul.
We often look over the depth of Peter’s betrayal when Christ is taken. The man who swore to stand at Jesus’ side to the end ran in fear, realizing Jesus did not intend on fighting his captures. To seal the betrayal, he is asked on multiple occasions if he knew Jesus, and he denied it. This is only hours after the Lord predicts this, to which Peter swore it could not be so. Why do we overlook this betrayal? Because Peter repented.
Peter was not the only Apostle to betray the Lord that evening. Not a single man stood with Christ as he was taken to be judged. When the people called for Christ’s death, not one apostle is noted to shout a rebutle. Of the twelve that walked with God, none stood with Him at His most desperate sacrifice.
This moment was the most important moment in human history, but there was one barrier that stood between Christ and the cross. The betrayal of Judas. Had he chosen to turn back to Jesus that night and stayed among his friends, the Savior would not have died. Without this very betrayal, the most power sacrifice to be made would not have been made. How could Judas not have betrayed Jesus with the fate of redemption resting in the choice. What a truly sacred role Judas played in the Atonement of Christ.
The spirit can not tempt Judas to do evil, but it can leave him and allow the devil to tempt him. With an absent spirit, it was easy for the devil to work on Judas’ pride and lead him to believe he knew what was best. Here is the worth of a soul. The devil knows the Savior. It is evident in the way the corrupt spirits spoke to Christ in His ministry. This means the devil knew of the importance of what was about to happen, but despite the great disturbance this would cause to his own plans, Judas soul was worth the risk. Judas, the betrayer, soul was worth that to the devil. If that is so, how much more important was his soul to Christ.
Judas soul was important to Christ. If we could turn back time, perhaps we could convince him of his importance. He could have been the greatest Apostle of the bunch, the betrayer becoming the bold missionary. Unfortunately, his story did not play out the same as Peter and the other apostles. He could never forgive himself for his betrayal.
Each soul is beyond precious to the Lord, but they are equally precious to the devil. Both Peter and Judas betrayed Jesus that night, but it was Peter that rose above his mistake. When the world swallows you down, remember it is not what we do in our lowest moments that define us, but how we choose to climb up out of those deepest ravines.
The Inconsistent Battle
Something my wife does, which is brilliant, is making a group of things work together as a whole. She can find some of the most unrelated objects and next time I see them they’re all together sprayed in a beautiful array on a side table. She has an eye for decorating. This goes beyond just decorating though. Even her pictures she works very hard to make them cohesive. She loves to look back on all her items and see a blend of art that any onlooker could appreciate.
I admit, I envy this talent. Honestly I wish I could have the same one. Not necessarily for decorating, but for writing. I swear every time I sit down to write it’s on something that really isn’t anything except a desire to write. I don’t every feel like I have enough time to sit back and really investigate an idea before I feel the need to just sit back and write. Then I’m left of a smorgasbord of ideas thrown sporadically in a blog.
That’s what this is though right? The whole purpose of this blog is so I can just write without the burden of consistency. Yet I honestly want to have something beautiful people can appreciate. At this stage do you know how many of my posts have been about not really knowing where I’m going with this thing? But that’s the thing, I love writing. It’s tough getting older and not feeling like there’s enough time. Most of that, I think, comes from easy entertainment that can distract from a stressful day while writing takes a bit of effort.
So, I’m sorry this is all random and repetitive. Maybe on day I’ll lock down a solid theme and people will look back on these early days and think, “wow, this is so different,”. Yet again, maybe life will keep being crazy and I’ll only be able to reminisce on the challenge of doing something I love. I hope for the first. I hope I can write better, cohesive, and consistent. I hope I’ll finally finish my book that has taken a back seat for the last three years of my life.
Hope leads to action. Writing these blogs are my step one. Hence my great battle with inconsistency. I write to fight against inconsistency, but I’m inconsistent to fight against leaving writing too far behind. You’d think it would be easier to do something you love, but honestly, do you really love something if you’re not fighting for it. It’s when things get hard you prove your love.
