A Soul of Glass

I am fragile.

Not always, for my innocent heart has learned to build complex bridges and barriers of strength and independence--some of them grounded in eternal truth and faith, others simply facades.  Nevertheless, experience has taught me to become strong and I have learned how to stand and to fight and to control the mind's focus away from those things that could hurt me.

But deep down, a part of me still remains small and fragile, quiet and reserved.  I am such a sensitive creation, one who breathes in her surroundings with a vulnerable awareness of the world around me and of the paper thin barrier that guards my heart.

Sometimes I feel out of place, like a soul of glass amidst so many who have learned to become concrete...or even yet still as a child--like a young girl sent to journey in a world full of strange and frightful things who wishes to return home to her shining haven where she was always secure.

There are so many faces of this little self of mine.  There is this fragility, but then there is another who resents this quivering heart and demands one of fierce foundations that are far from easily affected--a heart that for once stands up and is not weak.
Then there is another, a face more mature and balanced, who mediates the two and says to the resenter, "Be patient with her.  she will grow strong in the end."
And I have no choice but to believe her and to move on, hoping that this sensitive and fragile girl will eventually learn to carry herself and no longer be so vulnerable.

Sigh.  I know it shall be.  And perhaps when that day comes, I will breathe another sigh of relief in knowing that all the security I ever needed I had inside me all along.

Sunlight

Day twenty-six: Something that makes you smile.

That moment, right before the sun starts to set, when the light hits the mountains and the world just seems to pause in a faint, shimmering glow; when time seems to stop for just a split second and in that moment everything is well, there is no hurt, and the world is pure and beautiful.
     It is in that tender mercy that I cannot help but smile, and it is in that smile that my countenance is not only changed but my soul is lifted.  I remember the beauty of the small things and the joys of an untainted life--of a world that is pure and timeless, where all things are just as they were meant to be.  And in that quiet moment as I pause to look at those golden hillsides, beaming with steadiness, truth, and brilliance, I once again believe that somewhere deep down within this corruptible world, a place of stillness still exists.  <3

Fears

Day twenty-five: Something you're afraid of.

Well, let's see.  Spiders.  Heights.  Creepers hiding under my car waiting to grab my leg.  You know, the usual stuff.  Surface. Common.

Then, we dig deeper.  Losing people.  Regrets.  Unfulfilled potential.  Pain.  Failure.  Being betrayed by someone who once promised that their love for you would never cease.

You see, my fears are not just fears.  They are heartaches, longings, sadnesses...They are my soul looking back on what I wish I could change and preparing myself for a future that inevitably holds more pain.  They are a solemn stillness and a resignation to life, knowing that difficulty will never truly cease.

But, while my fears may be many, there is one thing I do not fear: abandonment.

And so, while I sometimes wade through fear's dark caverns, I know that I will never be alone.  I will never be lost.  I will never be abandoned.  These fears are too much to carry on my own, but I was never left to do this on my own.

And this one little grain of faith buries all my fears deep down within me.  They still exist, but often times they lie dormant and do not threaten me.  I am free to embrace opportunities, to live openly, to improve, to love, to exist. I can face all situations with courage and trust, knowing my foundation and who it is that walks beside me.

No, I may not be brave on my own just yet.  But I am learning.  And as my foot steps along the pathway of faith, I will get there.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear." ~Ambrose Redmoon

Possibility

I feel...full.  But an anxious kind of full.  Full of love and emotion and life, wandering inside of me amongst swirls of uncertainty, not sure exactly where to place my energies or how to offer up all of the things that I wish to give.


I feel...possibility.  As if I'm cradled in a shell, so small and fragile, yet wanting so much, yearning to realize the potential that it's been said I have the capacity to possess.


     May I really fly?
                Is it really possible?
                         Can I really bloom into grandeur and soar amongst the beauty of the earth, numbered
                                     among the guardians and the exemplars, shining with light and truth?


Nay, it cannot be true...

And then I look to the light and think, but wait...how could it not be?

Forgetting

       It's so silly, really--forgetting. It's such a simple and common cause for such an eternally significant effect.  The danger of it is that it is almost unnoticeable--like a long strand of hair that slips quietly into the flowing breeze, or the moment of subtle change from late sunset into twilight.  We walk on--small, shifting moments all around us--but our focus is elsewhere, and it may be days, months, or years until we realize how much we have let disappear.
How many times have we doubted ourselves simply because we forgot the celestial beings we really are?
How many times have we bitterly wondered why we are here because we forgot in whose plan we first trusted?
How many times have our hope and faith faltered because we forgot about the matchless gifts of love our Savior has given us every step of the way?
How many times have we repeated a bad decision because we forgot what we once learned?
How much longer will we continue on in a state of stagnation because we forget the greatness we were sent here to achieve?
       Could it be that perhaps remembering these things would be among our greatest tools for success?
       What difference would it make if every day we woke up remembering these eternal truths?
It would have made a world of difference in my own life.

       Of course, I did not know I was forgetting.  I was once so strong and grounded.  Yet while I never lost the knowledge nor doubted it was real, somehow as days went by, I forgot what it meant to me.  I forgot that this truth was exactly what it was--true--and that it is glorious, personal, and life changing.  I never stopped living the teachings, but I forgot for awhile the important of who I am in the plan of things.
       Oh, how much sadness and discouragement I could have been saved if I had but remembered!
But here I am, reminded once more of all those things I have learned.  I feel renewed, strengthened, and I am happy again.


And my soul sighs, because remembering feels like home.

Of a Heart Still in the Past

I hold on to shadows--to figments, to glimpses, to quiet memories from a lost summer's day. I live in them, in the fleeting haven wherein lies my love and my solace, a vapor of the past--constant, but never tangible, never real.  Yet they are mine--they unlock my chambers and walk through my walls.  They are my transient foundation, and the place my heart calls home, for it cannot rest now--not here, not yet.


Yet, is it enough?  Can one hold on to figments and memories and make a life out of their faint illumination?  Or does the past make one too weak to go on?


Perhaps shadows are traitors, victors of immobility, haters of the possible, lonely fiends who desire our eyes and yearn for our halt, preventing any reality that might replace them.


Ah, this may be true for some, but I am too fond of glimpses to deem it true for all.  No, my shadows are kind and giving.  They do not only show my tears of loss but tears of joy for love to come.  They are full of hope and assurance--an evidence that my dreams were possible once before and they will be possible once again.  They are a witness of love once true, and my heart is not alive without their residence.


And so I continue--one foot behind, one foot in front, carrying on with these memoirs I call my friends, walking forward till the day they will be my reality once again.

Props to My Home-Skillets

Day twenty-four: A picture of something that means a lot to you.

          It means a lot to me when people take the time to care.  I have been blessed with an incredible support system and I couldn't have made it to where I am in my life without each and every one of you.  Forgive the sentimentality, but I don't know how I got so lucky as to have so many amazing people come into my life.  YOU GUYS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME!

Wendy: for getting me through high school, for helping me be spontaneous and enjoy life, for all those late night Voxer conversations, and for the sincere support and interest you show it what's going on in my life.

Hilary: for always sending thoughtful text messages when we're miles away, letting me know that I'll always have a friend in Centerville, Utah :)

Aly: for the countless times you've dealt with all my imperfections and sacrificed your sleep to stay up into the night listening to all my worries and issues, always giving the kindest attention and best advice, never judging me and standing by me as the best roommate I could ever ask for.

Ian: for always being a friend; for putting up with all my complaining about college (even though there was nothing to complain about) and for reminding me how to laugh and not take life so seriously.

DJ: for being 100% reliable and fully selfless--for always looking out for me and being the best shoulder to cry on, for showing me how to see the world through different eyes, and for helping me see the value of who I am when no one else could.  You are the best :)

Garrett: for supporting me and believing in me over all these 14 years, for adding perspective and spice to life, for never judging me and for helping me laugh, always bringin' back the good old days.

Courtney: for always being interested and checking in on the updates in my life, and for offering the smart and genuine advice that no one else can.

Danielle: for being  100% real and 100% there; for relating to me in all of my hard times and showing me that I never have to walk them alone.

Kyle: for the utter selflessness, patience, inspiration, and laughter you bring; for always giving so that I could have; for all the times you did the dishes so that I could finish my homework; for lighting up my hope and future, and for seeing me in the eyes of eternity and inspiring me to be the best possible version of myself.


Y'all don't even know how great you are.  Good karma is comin' your way. :)

Life Lessons from Tom

Day twenty-three: A picture of someone who inspires you.

          My grandfather, Thomas Kasparian.  He was a crazy yet incredibly brilliant Armenian who lived one of the most unique yet most inspiring lives I know.  He was born and raised on the streets of Bronx, New York, by parents who had fled to America to escape the Armenian genocide.  At the age of 16 he moved out on his own to Arizona, and eventually moved to California where he met my grandmother.
          Tom believed that there was no other way to live life but full throttle.  He had an uncanny ability to take a task and marry it with fun.  He lived his life almost in glory to God, recognizing that He's made all these great things and the best way to give thanks is to enjoy them!
          He had a sense of adventure in everything he did.  He walked to the beat of his own drum.  He had a different perspective on everything, and always thought way out of the box.  He was always honest; he was the epitome of the phrase "say what you want to say when you want to say it."
          He loved the gospel and he loved the priesthood.  He used it often and with so much faith that it forever affected all those who saw him.  There are so many amazing stories of him using his priesthood, like when he miraculously blessed a deaf and blind girl with her sight along with the return of 60% of her hearing, and commanded a girl, surely dead from being hit by a motorcycle on their street, to arise and live.  His testimony was vivid and apparent and he shared it with such color and power that people just sat on the edges of their seats while he spoke and loved it.
          He was always doing something for someone else, whether it was giving money or letting people stay at their home, as he did with 44 people over the years.  He was always faithful to my grandmother.  He never spoke any disparaging thought about anyone--that was simply unacceptable.  And people loved him for that--no one could ever tell him to walk a mile in their shoes, because they knew he already had!
          He was brilliant.  He double majored in Math and German, and spent his days as a genius computer programmer, working on military planes and later the space program.  He also helped develop the first online travel reservation system.  He had an intense and original love for history.  He passed on great pride for his Armenian heritage.  He also loved literature and had an unparalleled knowledge of the English language and a broad range of intellectual vocabulary.  He was creative and a home repair guru--if there was something you told him needed fixing, it'd always be done the next day.  He could restore some sort of functionality to almost anything.
          He was also a little bit crazy, like buying fuchsia polyester pants, taking his sons (age 16, 13, and 11) on a cross-country motorcycle trip of over 7,000 miles, and quitting his job while buying a mint-condition convertible Camaro on the very same day.
          He believed in his kids and supported them in everything.  He was the kind of dad that when his kids had long hair he said it looked great, or if they wanted to dance then he'd always pay the costume fee, of if his son Rhett loved Bon Jovi then he thought there must be something to it, so he started listening to Bon Jovi too.
          He wasn't perfect, but he was perfect in the important things.  He got baptized when he was 26 and never faltered in 56 years.  He died having lived a full life with no regrets.  What a man!

I hope I have some of him running on through me!


Love you, Gramps.

How Can I Keep From Singing?

Day twenty-two: A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most.

        I do not have the capacity to voice words that adequately express my feelings for my Savior, but I know that I cannot truthfully write about this day post without trying to express them.
        The Savior has not only gotten me through the most in my life, He has gotten me through everything in my life.  He is my greatest friend.  I would be nowhere without His love, comfort, strength, support, and guidance.  He has never left me alone.  He has gone through so much and sacrificed everything for me so that I would be able to succeed.  Being a member of His true and living church on the earth today has brought me the most peace, joy, direction, meaning, beauty, strength, and happiness than anything else in the entire world.  I know wholeheartedly that I would be lost in misery without the knowledge of these sacred truths.  Jesus the Christ has given me everything and it is through Him that I will continue to make it through everything else.  Truly, no storm can shake my inmost calm.

              Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

More Than Biologically Related

Day twenty-one: A picture of someone you miss.

Let's expand this to the two people I miss:  Courtney Poulsen and Danielle Warnick.
     From Logan to Orem to St. George, we span the state of Utah.  Coming from a family of all boys, these two gorgeous women are the closest thing to my biological sisters.  And when you are as close to your cousins as I am, seeing them a few times a year is not enough.
     From the simple childhood days of slumber parties, fashion shows, and Mary-Kate and Ashley movies, to growing up and facing boy problems, bad-hair days, and changing friendships, they've always been there for me.  Through every shopping trip, Park City getaway, and family reunion, we've got good times coming till the end of it all.
     Here's to you, women.
                                LDC for life.

So Long Sweet Summer

Day twenty: A picture of someone who has made a huge impact on your life recently.

      Have you ever wanted a best friend that you can talk to about anything in the entire world for hours on end?

     What about someone who you know will be there for you every step of the way, no matter what?

     A person who never ceases to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, even when there's tears streaming down your face?

     Maybe you'd like someone whose smile was contagious, and whose positivity made you feel like you have every reason in the world to be happy--because you do.

     On top of all this let's add someone who tells the best stories, gives the best advice, accepts you wholly for who you are, and makes sure you're always heading where you want to go in life--even if sometimes you forget.

Well, then I think you're looking for someone named DJ.

Whilst In Sienna, 2009

Day nineteen: A picture of your favorite book.

     Like the Flowing River, by Paulo Coelho.
I actually stumbled upon this book as I was drifting down the cobblestone streets of Sienna, Italy.  I wandered into a little bookshop and, through nothing that could be called coincidence, my eyes fell upon its title.  The next thing I knew I was sitting on a little brick wall in the middle of the town's square, surrounded by  people speaking Italian, enjoying gelatos, and happily strolling down the flowered alleys, reading a book that must have been written just for me.
     The book is a collection of thoughts, reflections and short stories from Coelho's own life.  Coelho is an incredible, world renowned Brazilian author who has traveled everywhere on the earth.  His life is incredible--he's lived so many places, experienced so many things, spoken in front of so many different audiences, connected with so many different people, and yet he still sees the simple majesty, priceless lessons, and tiniest miracles wherever he goes.  I love it because all of these short messages are real, true experiences and reading them helps me to see life in a different, brighter light.  His writing is beautiful, poetic, understandable, relate-able, and enjoyable.  It's full of incredible life wisdom, and yet it's so simple.  If I had could transform my personality into a book, this would be it.

One quote out of my countless favorites:  "While separating the wheat from the chaff, and not allowing ourselves to be discouraged by the enormous number of charlatans in the world, I think we should ask ourselves again: what are we capable of?  And then, quite calmly, go off in search of our own immense potential."

If you're looking for a short, easy read that will bring you happiness, further open your eyes to the beauty of the world, and help you be a better person, this is my formal recommendation.

Coming Home, 2011

Day eighteen: A picture of your day.

Let's pretend I'm posting this on Saturday.  Okay?  Okay.
Ahh, homecoming!  Utah State, my heart will always lie with you.

My day on Saturday was perfectly prepared by an eventful Friday night, camping out on the Quad with some wonderful new friends as well as breaking the world record for the longest kissing chain.  You know us Aggies and our kissing ;)

And then came Saturday.  A great morning with time to get some good soul searching in, going to the USU Bookstore to get game day t-shirts, pre-game BBQ picnic out in the sunshine, homecoming game with my best friend, neighbors, and roommates, and finally the homecoming dance followed by late night ice-blocking with great company.

These are my days in Logan, Utah.

It's Indie Rock & Roll For Me

Day seventeen: A picture of your favorite band or artist.

The Killers.  Dave Keuning, Mark Stoermer, Ronnie Vannucci, and Brandon Flowers.  My love for this fabulous indie-rock band first caught aflame junior year thanks to Wendy Kimble, the beginning to a love story of which I will never cease to adore.  I can't say it better than her own Killers post.  Their four albums (Hot Fuss, Sam's Town, Day & Age, and compilation album Sawdust) are some of the most diverse, original, and incredible collections of songs ever.  They bring something to my life, something that makes my indie heart sing.  And no matter how much my music tastes change, the Killers will always reside.

 "Glamorous indie rock and roll is what I want, it's in my soul--it's what I need.  Indie rock and roll, it's time."

Whoops.

Day sixteen: A picture of something you wish you could forget.

I wish I could forget embarrassing moments!  Not the kind that really taught you something and helped you realize how to better handle situations, but the ones where you were seriously just being an idiot, made a total fool of yourself (in a way that wasn't even comical) and now it's forever stuck in your memory.  These experiences don't benefit anyone in any way-- begone, red-faced moments of the past!

I once saw a picture with the words:
"Remember that one time when you did that one thing that was really embarrassing?
              Yeah, no one else does.
Get over it!"                                                                 Words of wisdom.

Learning the Language of the World

Day fifteen: A picture of something you want to do before you die.

I desperately, wholeheartedly want to be fluent in another language.  I don't care what language (though preferably Italian,) when I learn it, or how long it takes me-- only that I'm fluent before I die.
I want to be beyond a uni-lingual, typical, white American from Utah.  I want to be a citizen of the world. :)

"...True Poets, They Who Are Seers, Seek to Express the Universe in Terms of Music."

Day fourteen: A picture of something you wish you were better at.

MUSIC.  The thing I most wish I was better at is playing musical instruments.  I play piano, I'm picking up the ukulele, and I played some guitar for awhile but now it just feels huge and awkward in my hands compared to my uke.
But I'm just average.  And I want to be, "Daang.  That girl has got some serious talent."

I feel like a part of me is lacking, or is not fully developed...like I can't fully express myself yet.  Ideally, I would be proficiently awesome at playing the

• Piano
• Ukulele
• Guitar
• Drums
• Harmonica
• Tambourine (Does that really even count?)
• Harp
• That small flute-ish instrument like from Lord of the Rings

Yeah.  Pretty much.  And no, that's not unrealistic.  I'll get there.  Even if it's not until the millenium.  :)

"Music is the purest form of art...therefore true poets, they who are seers, seek to express the universe in terms of music... The singer has everything within him.  The notes come out from his very life.  They are not materials gathered from outside."  ~Rabindranath Tagore Indian poet, playwright, and essayist; won Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913  

Endings

Day thirteen: A picture of something you wish you could change.

           There are a lot of things that I wish I could change.  I wish I could change the world into a better, peaceful place where people simply believed in being good.  I wish I could change my height, the cost of gas, the media, and how long the Autumn season lasts.

      But today--today is different.  Today I wish I could change endings.

      You see, everyone's life is a story.  (Hence the blog title.)  And everyone's story consists of many different chapters.  Some chapters are long, some are short, some are sweet, some are sad.  Everyone's chapters vary, spanning a wide range of painful, trying, scary, lonely, to infatuating, lovely, peaceful, exciting, or joyous.  Every reach of emotion these chapters touch is essential and important.  Opposition and trials are indeed a great blessing, and that is not ever something I wish I could change.

      But the endings.

      What about the chapters that close in a way that is so unsatisfying that you can't possibly make sense of it?  What about the chapters where the main character in your life suddenly walks away, only to be glimpsed here and there as a total stranger, and you never found out what really happened, or how things might have been different if times had only been.... What?  If they had only been what?  That's the problem--you don't know.  And of course you will continue on with your story, searching inward for some self-made closure, learning from it what you can and beginning anew, where happiness will be waiting for you just around the corner.

      But there is still that tiny little part of you that yearns for the hidden story, wondering why things happened the way they did, what compelled that person to act in such a way, if things could have been different if you had acted more maturely, if your ending was really how it was supposed to turn out, etc.

      In some cases, these questions will be soothed further in the future when you will look behind you and understand the purpose and necessity behind these things.

      But some will not.  The fact still remains that at that moment-- the moment when you came to realize that things have changed and you must close a chapter that was so much a part of you and claimed so much of your heart, never to open it again-- that it was an ending that made your heart sad.

      And that is what I wish I could change.

The Source of Awesomeness

Day twelve: A picture of yourself and a family member.

I'm pretty sure this picture is self-explanatory as to the nature of my relationship with my brother.

Ten Reasons Why Ryan Kasparian is the Source of Awesomeness

1. He's 13 years old and can grow a scary good mexi-stache.

2. He's pro at pwning all the newb-lets at Star Craft.

3. He can never take a picture without pulling an abnormal facial expression.  (At least, not that I know of.) 

4. He has a shirt that reads, "What? I can't hear you over the sound of my AWESOMENESS!"
5. We dominate at team Mario Kart. 

6. He's already way talented at composing some sick-rad original songs on the piano.

7. Whenever I come home from college, he walks in and states with a straight face, "Sister."  Then he proceeds to do whatever else he was doing previously.

8. You will hear the word "Sp-gowsh" (or something of that sort) at least once a day.

9. He has a legitimate afro.

10. He's one of the nicest kids you will ever meet.

Here's to you, brosef :) 

Journeys

Day eleven: A picture of something you love.

Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.  ~Miriam Beard

TRAVELING.  The world.  The open road.  The adventure.  The serenity.  The expanse of human experience.

What more can I say than quote the great words of those before me?

The following is two stanzas of a 15 stanza poem by Walt Whitman.  The whole poem is absolutely fabulous.  It is my favorite poem-- if you can spare five to ten minutes, fulfill your quota of great, classic literature for the day and read the rest.        

Song of the Open Road

BY WALT WHITMAN

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,

Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,

I do not want the constellations any nearer,

I know they are very well where they are,

I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,

I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,

The picture alive, every part in its best light,

The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,

The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?

Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?

Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?

O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,

You express me better than I can express myself,

You shall be more to me than my poem.

Continued at http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/178711

Further Linkage to Fun Traveling Tips:  Nomadic Matt's Travel Site

How to Travel the World Part One: http://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-blogs/how-to-travel-the-world-part-1-pre-trip/
How to Travel the World Part Two: http://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-blogs/how-to-travel-the-world-part-2-on-the-road/