The MuddyMonsoons of Paragay

26 10 2018

I have a small family from my maternal parents. I talk a lot about my wonderful children, but I do not talk much about my mom dad, or sister.

I was born in 1965, the month of September, the 21st day.  In North America that is the last day of summer.  In South America I was born the last day before spring.

When I was in Paraguay they celebrated my birthday and told me I was special, being born on that day.  I was a young missionary and was honored by their praise but I told them I was nothing special but it made me feel good that those latter-day-saints, in that time we in America saw as impoverished but who I saw, because of my call as a missionary in Paraguay, as rich and righteous saints, being given the things they need in life and living unencumberedand un-oppressed in a society where ministering was just a part of their daily activity.

Those good and humble people of Paraguay looked out for one another’s needs.  They learned from their mothers and fathers what to do in a time of unexpected crisis.  When the monsoons would come with menacing clouds from the horizon, walking toward them on legs of lightning, they knew what was coming, how to endure it while it came and then afterword, come together in ministering efforts to see if anyone around them needed help with anything.

I remember many times when the monsoons came I would get all excited about the torrential thunder claps and broad streaks of lightning across the sky, lighting up the night.  That was entertainment for me.  I was 20 years old, on the Lord’s errand, being drenched in the monsoons of the tropical jungle environment of Paraguay.

I was taught by Christ to make every turn of adversity into something positive.

And so I did.  Or so I tried.

With my companions by my side I knew we were on the Lord’s errand and He was having fun watching us enjoy the rains and waterfalls and gushing rivers though the streets.

It was a cleansing of sorts, to clear up things that had been mired by the heat of the day and to give a nice washing to the surface of the land.  It was still over 95 degrees Fahrenheit, so when me and my two mission companions found ourselves in this environment, soaked to the bone, there was no reason not to walk through the rivers of water made by this tropical storm.

And so we did.

Three missionary companions strolling through the flooded rivers in the jungles of Paraguay.  And I had two of my favorite Elders as companions on that day. I felt so blessed.  How could a 20 year old Elder from Vancouver, Washington be given this as an experience so great and uplifting to us but seen as a torment of nature to the natives of Paraguay.

And the mud down there was not the mud you see here in America.  It was pure red clay that you could scoop up and forge anything you wanted to.  This would be a potters dream.  The clay was perfect, red and gray mixed together.  So we started making baseballs out of this stuff and started throwing it at each other.  And we’re running around in our white shirts and ties, sometimes falling down in the mud-clay, but just getting back up and letting the gushing rivers of water clean us off.

And my Chilean companion, Nefi Pantoja grabbed a chunk of muddy grass and nailed me in the back with it.  So I ran over to him and jumped on him, submersing ourselves in the river.  And then we just stood up laughing so much and being so wet, yet being so clean by the tropical rains that we both just fell backwards into the river, completely submerged by the rushing waters of the monsoon.

And our third companion , Elder Powell, was way cooler than us.  So he just stood there laughing and watching me and Elder Pantoja go at it in the river.  And then we got up and Elder Pantoja had a giant muddy clod of grass in his hand and I had a handful of red clay and we were about to keep going but then we saw Elder Powell, in his wisdom taking pictures of this event.  So me and Nefi dropped our battlements and remembered that we were on our way to give a discussion to a family that lived far out in the jungle from our little community.

So we brushed ourselves off the best we could and hugged each other and said, “that was awesome!”

And we even bypassed the bridge to cross the river, we just walked right through it

So when we three amigos finally arrived at the hut where our investigators lived, they looked at us and asked us if we had fallen off the bus.  Because that was also a possibility in Paraguay that we will not discuss right now.

We said “no, we were playing in the rain.  And they asked us a few minutes later, “did you slip on mud?”

And we said, “No, we actually had fun playing in the rain, en serio.”

And they would say, “en serio?”

And call us loco. And we would all laugh together.

But then we got serious and taught our discussion, soaking wet and happy as could be.

I was with my two best friends that day, and the Holy Spirit testified the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ that day in those conditions.

The Mentally Ill

20 10 2018

44333041_10215192780146631_255440645898895360_nThe doctors of Pharmaceutical Disney Land give retards and loonies, I mean, the mentally challenged all sorts of powerful mixtures of mind and mood altering substances to control them or put them in a zombie like state where they feel eternal bliss and don’t have to deal with being retarded anymore.

Because the doctors are pumping them so full of toxic meds the side effects manifest themselves so that the doctors can prescribe other medications and rigorous rituals of psychotic control rather than treating the mentally ill with compassion and allowing them to naturally express themselves for fear of embarrassment or some societal discomfort.

But give them a break man. Talk about societal discomfort; these guys aren’t just square pegs, they’re trapezoidal pegs.

It would be nice to be able to put these mentally challenged individuals in environments where they were able to self soothe and be the freaks that they are. I’m not suggesting we release them into the wild to reproduce and take over the natural world. We would always keep an eye on them and still not give them any sharp objects but keep them in safe and comfortable padded environments where they can be the wild and crazy characters they are naturally.

Rather than trying to mold them in to a society that is rigorous and restricting and scary and dangerous to them, we should try to understand them on their level. Let us bring a natural and nurturing environment to them.

Don’t try to put a person who has sub-human abilities into the natural rat race of this world and expect to have positive results. There is a reason they are like they are, although I do not know the reason.

But we should nurture their environment as we should do for anyone who suffers from any human disorder, and help them find what is comfortable for them to do and allow them to make mistakes and learn in their own capacities.

There are many things we do not understand about who we categorize as mentally ill. But nevertheless, they are precious vessels of spirit children from our loving Heavenly Father in bodies that do not function on normal levels.

Our minds manage our bodies. What we think, our bodies respond to. Imagine what a mentally disabled or distorted thought process does to a physical body. Maybe that’s that’s the reason their bodies are sometimes somewhat disjointed.

Managing Space and Time

20 10 2018

314104_10151223164688770_1936615880_nThey should make the days shorter so we could get through the day faster and on to the weekend where we all want to be. I wonder who’s in charge of that.

Trump knows Bush changed daylight savings time. I’m sure Trump could shorten days. They say he has a genius IQ and if dumb old George Bush could change daylight savings time, I’m positive Trump at least knows a guy who could shorten the work day.

We could have shorter days, then we could have more days crammed into the calendar so we can put off the stuff we didn’t want to do on those longer days in our regular weeks.

But then we would have fewer weekends, and I’m not sure that would be good for the economy. But with fewer weekends we would have less time to go visit our in-laws so that might make life a little bit easier.

But with fewer weekends we wouldn’t have as much time for football. But we could fix that by just mowing the lawn earlier in the week.

I have this whole space time continuum thing figured out. It‘s just hard to put down in writing. I forget a lot of stuff that I remember.

Does that ever happen to you?

If I do that too many times in a day I find myself travelling back in time where I remember things I meant to forget.

But then I have the opportunity to see them through a whole new perspective and this is where things get real gnarly. Because I find myself at that place where I say to myself, “If I could do that over again with what I know now...”. But then I remember that I completely forgot about what I was thinking in the first place. And it’s at this point that the things of the future just start to come in to my perspective and then I feel De Ja Vue all over again. Like I already thought of this, or lived it before. And remember that I have been here before and my wife pats me on the shoulder and tells me to stop huffing the nitrious oxide out of the whipped cream canisters.

I used to do drugs. Not hardcore rock-star drugs like cocaine and heroin…although I dabbled but didnot enjoy. Those drugs are way too cool for me.

I like over-the-counter meds. Things you don’tknow what you’re quite getting in to, but the FDA has been involved so you know it’s safe to experiment. And sometimes when you find that right combination of elixirs, you’ll find yourself in a state of eternal bliss where the rules are made by you and everything goes your way in your mind while on the outside world things are coming at you hard and fast.

But you don’t have to deal with them because you have overcome the rules and are now totally in control of yourself in your own world. SO sometimes the reality police put your body in jail but you’re still in total control of what’s going on in your universe.

Then they release your body from jail and you go get a sandwich and write funny stories, that actually happened, but could not possibly be put down on paper or expressed through interpretative dance.

Pharmaceuticals are gnarly man. I don’t actually experiment on myself with cornucopias of drug cocktails to see what might happen to my thought processes for the sake of comedy some day in the future. That would be ludicrous and counterproductive to someone who just wants to know what it would be like if a guy drank a bunch of cough syrup, then took sea sick pills, smoked a little marijuana and then tried to resolve all of the worlds political issues in about 45 minutes.

The Internet is dangerous.

I learn way too much about how to be safe in environments where they say death is an option.

But death how?

I do the research. They’re just trying to freak us out so we don’t unlock Pandora’s Box.

Irresponsible Revisionist Journalism aka Time Magazine

1 10 2018

20663894_10211972485361274_5791033455315356987_nThere is a publication of Time magazine about creativity and they focus on the works of Leonardo da Vinci.  The journalist, Walter Isaacson talks at length about his understanding of Leonardo and in the article he quotes Leonardo’s biographer, Giorgio Vasari.

“Sometimes in supernatural fashion, a single person is marvelously endowed by heaven with beauty, grace and talent in such abundance that his every act is divine and everything he does clearly comes from God rather than from human art.”

And in the article Mr. Isaacson took it upon himself to claim that these words of praise from Leonardo’s biographer were [as he puts it] a “mistake”, removing God from the possibility that Leonardo was inspired from on high.

He goes on to speak for Leonardo (he must have known him well), “In fact [he says] the self taught Leonardo’s genius was wrought by his own will and ambition.  It did not come from being the divine recipient, like Newton or Einstein…”

What gave this journalist the authority to speak for Leonardo, Newton or Einstein?  That does not really matter.  The important thing is that revisionist journalists like Walter Isaacson are called out and recognized for trying to re-define things that have been set in stone for over 4000 years.

Did Mr. Isaacson go back in time and witness these things or is he just an irresponsible journalist who has an opinion and needs to finish his research on Leonardo so he can get paid?

To be so cavalier in removing divine inspiration from the gifted Leonardo is to put himself in place of the divine.

Just because he might not believe in such things does not give him the authority to disparage such excellent praise as was given by Leonardo’s biographer.

Mr. Isaacson needs to go back to school and remember that, as a mere journalist reporting on the great and gifted Leonardo, his opinion does not matter and should not be part of his reporting.

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