notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 4.

grades were posted yesterday.
this first semester of grad school is officially done.
and you know what?
it went far better than i expected.
far better than perhaps i feel i deserve--
were i to believe in deserved and undeserved.
but in this, one of the most peculiar semesters of my life,
(that's putting it incredibly generously and kindly.)
it didn't turn out so bad at all in the end.
not bad at all.
(in all aspects of living, really.)

by the end of the semester, though, i was ready to give up.
(#finalsweek, you know?)
because. am i really meant to do this?
am i actually even capable of being successful?
do i even like it?

and then in the very middle of finals week,
i had a meeting that changed everything.
a meeting that put me back on the bandwagon again.
a meeting that left me saying, okay. fine. i suppose i'll stay.
a meeting that reminded me, i really do have a lot of good things going for me.

because.
looking at real stories--real people.
digging into the puzzle of who they are.
analyzing speech and language anytime i'm around children these days.
seeing the application of where it all goes.

it really does all go somewhere.
it really does matter.
we're not supposed to know everything yet--
that's the point.
that's why we're here.

it's going to be a good life, you know?
because it already is a good life.

one semester of gradschooling down.
t-minus four semesters to go--one of which only slightly counts.
not that we're counting.
(we're totally counting--
especially the days until tuition is paid for the very last time.)

[insertsomanyemojishere.]

coming and choosing.

this one's for the faithless, the ones that are surprised

they're only where they are now--regardless of their fight.

this one's for believing, if only for its sake.

come on, friends, get up now--love is to be made.

(comes and goes, greg laswell.)

belief builds from scratch. i'm realizing that the true power of faith is not only the faith itself, though, of course, that's also important. the true power of faith is the choice--choosing to believe, if only for the sake of believing itself. because choosing to believe? well, this is how all love is made. faith and love are both actions, the action being the school for belief.

(a watercolor painted and gifted by a member in saltovka, ukraine.)

believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth;

believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth;

believe that man doth not comprehend all things which the Lord can comprehend.

(mosiah 4:9)

believing. even when you don't. believing. even when you feel you can't. that's true faith--one step enough for me. walking on faith feels sometimes more like walking on eggshells than it does a solid foundation. little do we realize, though. as we go forth--believing we will receive--all those eggshells become a stunningly colorful mosaic. those eggshells become fired into shining ceramic within that refiner's fire. and then? only then are the spaces between each tile filled with the strongest and thickest of bonding paste. the kind that becomes unbreakable stone.

brother, how we must atone, before we turn to stone. 

the true atoning is already done.

and so we must believe.

some days that belief is simultaneously neat and wild like a mosaic, 

some days simple and clear-cut like a stained-glass window,

some days messy and running together at the borders like a watercolor.

all colorful. all art. all beautiful. all needed.

and so we must believe.

if only for its sake.

Д В А. [T W O.]

уже два года прошли.

уже?

два года. же.

the truth is, there are still days i feel a whole lot like this, or a bit of this.

(i still have an obsession with the concept of home--did you know?) 

the truth is, i hardly ever look at these emails i wrote home, and as i wrote them i never edited or reread.

and most of them left out a grand majority of my experience.

because you just can't send those things home.

the truth is, everything was always just a stream of writing.

(the truth is, nearly all of the things i write are like that--with only minor edit or revision.)

the truth is, i should probably read my mission journal more--

because that's where the real truth of it all can be found, inasmuch as is possible to capture.

i should reflect and embrace the struggles and the miracles together.

but the truth is, sometimes i can't. 

because sometimes it is too much to go back there.

and because i'm starting to think i don't really believe in the validity of should's.

i remember vividly the process of writing my final email home. the dingy, but large, internet club in center donetsk that was infinitely nicer than nearly all the others i'd used each week throughout my mission. all the little boys and men playing games and other things on computers all around us, the scent of beer and breathe reeking of cigarette smoke wafting all around. the emails exchanged with my daughters still in-country. the beautiful emails i received from jillian and megs that made me nearly cry two tears. and most of all, starting the email i was trying to write over and over again. because what do you say at the end of so many months like that? what do you say, when you start to realize that it really does end and there really will be the juxtaposition of simultaneous relief and heartbreak at being pulled away from it? what do you say when dreams and nightmares become reality, and reality becomes dreams and nightmares?

sometimes i feel like God lets me to write, so that i have something to hold. so that i have some way to capture experiences or feelings that cross me, of course. but--perhaps more importantly--to hold the lessons He teaches me for later. i wish i could say i feel like this all the time, that i maintained a status quo of that perspective. i don't. sometimes that wintergrey still gets me.

i've found myself talking a lot about ukraine lately--more than i have in a long time. there's still so much from ukraine that defines so much of who i am, but time's a funny thing, you know? distance is a powerful informer of perspective. as are these 730 days. i'm still 93 million miles from the sun, though some days feel much closer to the warmth than others. it seems fitting that this two-year mark collide with the weekend of finals, the end of my first semester of grad school, jillian's wedding, among other things.

i wish i could say that i've progressed a lot in these two years, though i'm not so sure that i have. it looks like it, of course. objectively speaking. i graduated form college. applied, was accepted, and began graduate school. went to israel. met a million different people--some who have stayed, others who kept moving onward. but has my heart and soul really changed? i don't rightly know. or perhaps she didn't need to change. but i'd still like to hope i've learned a thing or two in these two years.

when i first came home, i wanted so badly to throw out every piece of my life that preceded ukraine. i didn't like the girl i saw there--the way she was or how she thought and lived. i wanted so badly to begin life anew, keeping only small and important pieces from anything before, and building mostly upon ukraine and the woman she made me.

i've started over a lot in the past two years--in every sense of the word--just as i did in ukraine. starting over and over again, here i am living in radical uncertainty. moving all around, often nothing quite staying.

and yet. it's all part of the path. how it ever ends? only God really knows. but you know what? all those things and people that don't seem to stay are a sifter for the things that truly do. because it's in that process that you come to find the things that truly matter--not only inside yourself in regards to where you're going, but also in discovering what matters most in building your life.

december the twentieth was an odd day this year, with a little piece of everything inside. one that ranged through a whole lot of different experiences. because apparently, just like last year, there's just something about these important days, you know? you know.

in the middle of the day, i purposefully chose to walk a ways through the snow to and from my churchings, and there was something so cathartic about that walk through the cold and snow, ukraine style. the chance to breathe and be. walking along and having a good talk with God about who i am and how i got to where i am. in addition to where i am striving to go.

and this twentieth day of december? a day that went from cold and icy to pure and sweet. i'd like to think that it was an odd sort of metaphor. a microcosm of life. i certainly hope. because two years later? in all this building and all this striving? here i am living and breathing. finding that perfect blend of selected pieces of past working with selected pieces of present, paving the way towards future.

two years already? now we've only just begun.

because e.e. cummings is always a good idea, you know?

let it go – the

e.e. cummings


let it go – the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise – let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go – the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers – you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go – the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things – let all go
dear

so comes love