The Moving Sidewalk

On Monday night I experienced the strangest sensation. I had just gotten home from a fun activity and was deciding what to do next. As I considered my various options I couldn’t help but think about one of the views I had seen just minutes earlier. I was high up in the mountains and had a panoramic view of peaks stretching toward the night sky. Their edges were softened by clouds that glowed in starlight. The moon hovered somewhere in the background and cast an eerie glow on the snow. The sky couldn’t decide if it was gray, blue or black and each muted hue was very much alive. Everywhere I looked the landscape took turns reflecting and swallowing the light. The friends I was with couldn’t help but notice the beauty. I might not have noticed because I was watching my feet to be sure I wouldn’t slip on icy pavement. Someone even said it looked like an illustration from a children’s book. I couldn’t have agreed more.

Somehow, someway I was so pressed to put one foot in front of the other I couldn’t make myself slow down. A mysterious force drove me forward and I allowed myself to think, “Eh, this’ll still be here tomorrow.” In other words, “Why stop and look around when I would just be slowing everyone down? I’ve seen this before and I’ll see it again.” As I sat and thought about this in the warmth of my apartment I wondered if I could get back up there again but then I realized it was getting late and I’d better be off to other things. A few hours later I was trying to fall asleep and it hit me. That strange driving force that keeps pushing me no longer how much I want to stay still feels very much like a moving sidewalk. Moving sidewalks are fantastic in airports but those usually only last so long. This moving sidewalk that I’ve been thinking about is much more like a ride I can’t get off no matter how much I’d like to.

I feel like the closest approximation to this sidewalk sensation is the “tick, tock, tick” of time. I think about time a lot and how much our culture values punctuality and the worth of a minute, hour, or day. It can be easy to calculate our hourly rate and use it as a measure of our personal value. Even if we wanted to escape the influence of time, we’d most likely find it to be difficult. Every electronic device seems to come with a clock and let’s not even mention how attractive watches can be. (I’ll be the first to admit I have a weakness for Fossil watches.) My life runs on a pretty regimented schedule (in fact I’m stressing out right now because I know I’m not going to be asleep by midnight) and I feel like having a routine keeps me sane. On the nights when my body does not cooperate with my schedule (and there have been many lately) I writhe in frustration because I know I have to fall asleep or I’ll be out of it the next day. It must be because I know how detrimental a poor night’s sleep is for me.

Setting sleep (and the lack thereof) aside, even the most relaxing vacations seem to be dominated by time. I’ve been on two really great seven night cruises and although each day I was free to do whatever I wanted, I couldn’t help but think, “Only five days left… Only four days left…” Much like the powerful engines that drove our ship forward, the moving sidewalk kept me gliding along. It wouldn’t have mattered if I was on a rocky mountain road or the smooth Caribbean Sea. I have a hard time allowing my desire to have fun outweigh the constant countdown of how much fun is left. As dread wells within me I find it is best to completely ignore the fact that my fun days are numbered. Inevitably I can’t help but count how many hours are left.

Typing out these thoughts is making me realize I’m super stressed out. It could just be the end of a hard week but I really think this is my outlook on life. Amazing things happen constantly and it is hard not to let memories slip away as time passes. No matter how hard I try to hold onto even the best memories, a few manage to escape my fingers and slide over the handrail. I turn back and look but the moving sidewalk keeps rolling. I promise myself, “I’ll remember,” but the memories only get further away. Luckily they rarely seem lost forever. Family members, friends and familiar faces always jog my memory and I often laugh out loud when long forgotten moments come racing back. Sometimes I just sit and reflect on the past but even in these still moments, the moving sidewalk is inching me ever onward.

A few days ago I wondered if there was a way to beat the sidewalk. I think the people who try the hardest find themselves living in the past. Reaching for past glory, longing for vitality, and aching for simpler times is an exhausting endeavor. It’s like making a 180-degree turn on a moving sidewalk: now you’re on a treadmill. While it can be tempting to march backwards, you’ll be taking three steps backward for every two steps forward. You will still turn a new age every 365 days and responsibility will continue to accumulate on your shoulders. The only difference will be your perspective. Although I might not like the moving sidewalk and I’ll always be looking for the point at which I can get off, I think it’s much better to face the future and hold on for the ride.

Thinking back on the amazing display of light riddling the mountains and snow with stardust and shadow, I can hear a quiet hum beneath my feet. I’m not worried about sliding on ice. In fact, I’m standing quite still. There’s not a chill in the air. It feels quite sheltered in here and I’m holding onto a handrail that’s slightly warm to the touch. My left hand grips the handle of a wheeled suitcase. I must be going somewhere but I’m not exactly sure where. Maybe I’m just watching it for someone. My surroundings are quite plain until I see a window up ahead. I enter a tunnel of glass and everywhere I look there is a winter spectacle of nature’s transfixing beauty. The far edge of the glass catches my eye and I know this is a temporary scene. Still, I manage to soak it in and capture it in my mind before the windowsill approaches and closes my view. In that same moment I feel a chill emanate from my right hand. I open it and find a perfect snowflake carved from ice. It’s rather uncomfortable to hold so I decide to put it in my suitcase. I search for a zipper or pocket but there are none to be found. There is no choice but to hold the memory in my hand. As I wonder who saddled me with this useless suitcase the snowflake begins to drip.

Tetrominoes!

“Just keep up. You have to keep up,” was all I could say to myself last week. The week ended in a flurry of activity, both social and academic, that kept me busier than I prefer to be. Since I like being busy you can imagine what it would take to push me to my limit. The week’s pace continued through the weekend which was also nonstop. The breaks during which I could catch a breath never seemed long enough. In the few moments where all was still, the quiet only brought to mind more tasks at hand, including some things I had forgotten to do the previous week. The weekend wasn’t as much of a break as it was a compound fracture. Things were out of hand, stress protruded from me like shards of bone, and Monday was racing nearer.

Monday was what I refer to as a collapse day. I was singlehandedly trying to hold up the sky and plug every leak that each storm cloud threatened to pour out. Nothing bad happened that day, but I can’t remember much good about it either. I dismissed it as another Monday devoid of remarkable events. Then Tuesday came – more pressure, more intensity, more urgency. I will not have chaos in my life so I countered with control. However, very little was under my control. “Just keep up. You have to keep up,” echoed through my mind. At one point I froze in the middle of my tasks, in need of a deep breath, and attempted to methodically collect my thoughts which had scattered to and fro like marbles on a granite floor.

Here I was, little ole me, trying to hold the whole world together. The challenge was the same as always – keep it together. Anticipate trouble and fix it before anyone notices. Somehow, routine tasks had gotten out of hand. I thought back and wondered if this was a gradual process (like a frog slowly being boiled alive in a pot of water) or a temporary problem (like a quick rainstorm which would soon clear out until next season). For the time being I am convinced it is the former. A few years ago it felt like the pace of my life was picking up in a predictable, linear fashion. Sure, time seemed to be going faster but I was able to rely on a steady stream of past experiences to get me through new obstacles. Recently, the pace seems to have taken on an exponential growth rate. I am wondering what will happen if the line eventually shoots off the charts.

If I had spoken to you as Tuesday trounced all over me, I would have told you I was living in a Tetris game. Tetris starts off at a level we all know and love – Level One. Everything makes sense in Level One, but soon we are ready for a challenge and it’s time to advance. Early on, moving to the next level seems like a great reward. “Yeah, I’m ready for this!” As the game’s speed increases and impossible combinations of shapes are dropped into your ever more disorderly world you think to yourself, “What exactly did I sign up for?” Even more questionable is your desire to keep moving forward. Whether you like it or not you improve in the game and are pushed forward. (Forward is good, right? Well, that may be debatable.) As you reach higher levels and push yourself to keep up with the frantic pace and falling shapes, the quickened cadence becomes the new standard by which to measure your success. What once seemed chaotic now seems normal, and you brace yourself for more.

At times, failure falls upon even the most adept Tetris player. I was never a great Tetris player and if I were to pick up the game today I would probably be sent back to Level One more times that I’d prefer to admit. Even so, Level One is a great place. Unpredictable challenges can quickly be sorted into level piles of successfully completed work. However, Level One can’t last forever.

One thing Tetris doesn’t teach you is how to cope with a level that outmatches your skill set. The only way to progress in Tetris is by earning your way there. Life is constantly throwing things at me and saying, “Can you handle that? No? Deal with it anyway!” I continually ask myself, “How on earth did I get here?” and, “Am I qualified for this?” And there’s always the question, “Do I really want to progress to something harder or should I pay a nostalgic visit to Level One instead?” Since life doesn’t come equipped with a “pause” button (only a costly mimic called “denial”), I have a tendency to hold my arms up to the sky and keep anything else from dropping down on me. As the rate and pressure intensify, it doesn’t take long to realize this “break” is going to break me. Sometimes my tibia snaps, other times my fibula. My knees and ankles squeak and creak, but I still hold up the sky. Just as I think my plan is working, I reach the breaking point and everything collapses, including the crumpled bones in my legs.

What is the solution for fixing sore arms and broken legs? Run. On Wednesday night I went to the track and ran for the first time in a week and a half. I involuntarily ran much faster than normal (my body must have sensed that my poor little mind has been in control for far too long) and I couldn’t slow my pace. Nothing could have felt better. I am no expert in physiology but I know I carry stress around in my body. It is very easy to talk myself out of running, (“I’m too busy!”) but choosing to run is one of the best possible uses of my time. If you feel overwhelmed the best possible thing to do is take a break. It may seem counterintuitive to take valuable time away from your tasks, but your personal well being will always outweigh your to-do list.

Today I feel a lot better about things, but not for any reasons I trust. Could it be the allure of a restful weekend? Is it the promise of getting pizza in class tonight? Or maybe is it because I am planning to take a break in a few hours and spend perfectly valuable time watching TV? Perhaps I am gleefully anticipating a few days off next week for Thanksgiving. Regardless, I can tell you that today’s outlook is very promising. I can look back on this week and say I did everything I could. Even though I can’t count on anything that may happen in a few hours or a few days, I can tell you that someone has hit the elusive “pause” button for me. While this may just be the calm before another storm, I am glad to have time to collect my thoughts and recommit to this crazy life of mine.

Escaping the Maze

Jack be nimble

Jack be quick

Jack jump over

the candlestick

That lights the way

and keeps us safe

in this maze

where all is gray

Which way's left?

And what is right?

So hard to tell

in the night

Jack be quick

and Jack be nimble!

Find some meaning

in this symbol

So hard to see

what it might say

in this maze

where all is gray

Grab the candle

but don't get burned

What once was straight

is now all turned

Jack be nimble

Jack be quick

We are so lost

and feel so sick

The clue is there

but we can't see

Stay close now

until we're free

Jack, not so high!

We need you near

Stay on the ground

until we're clear

Almost there

just focus now

and we'll get out

you'll show us how

Darkness to light

Gloom to fright

Flames like a knife

Run for your life

Safety is ours

The fury is quenched

Charred remains

lie still and drenched

Jack was nimble

Jack was quick

Jack jumped over

the candlestick

But missed the mark

and tipped the flame

and with one spark

destroyed the game

Flames burned red

and raged through gray

Exposed each wall

as clumps of hay

Flames burned red

the fire raged on

The gray shades fled

and freed their pawns

But in their wake

they threw aside

Jack, our friend,

our fearless guide

He got us out

and won the fight

ending night

with one small light

Jack was nimble

Jack was quick

Jack tipped over

the candlestick

Which all alone

was not enough

to show us home

or melt the cuffs

Let it be said

May it be known

of our friend

who led us home:

"No walls can hold

He who dares

to dispel lies

and face despair!"

.....

On Monday night my friends and I enjoyed a fun adventure in a local corn maze. Our trek through the maze was lighthearted and although we became thoroughly lost we knew we would eventually get out. If we got tired of walking "the long way" we just cut through paths of flattened corn stalks that others had hewn down. I imagine it would be difficult to feel claustrophobic in such a natural environment. The walls weren't really walls at all, just insentient stalks standing as sentinels against their human visitors. Even though there was only one "right" direction, we knew we could make our own path. While the merit of our corn maze conquest may have been questionable, we emerged victorious and unscathed (albeit completely disoriented).

On Tuesday night I was pondering our journey. I was with close friends whom I trusted. None of us had all of the information we needed in order to successfully navigate the maze. We entered the maze expecting fun and a little adventure. We knew it was nothing serious and that we most likely wouldn’t be stranded overnight. While it was frustrating that the only lights in the area which acted as our point of reference completely blinded us, it wasn't really a big deal. With a few blinks we were able to regain our vision and distinguish between solid terrain and questionable ground. But what if the circumstances were different?

The world we live in thrives on shades of gray. Some hold that seeing the world “in black and white” is to see the world with a closed mind. In a maze where there is only one right way to go, paths subtly diverge without indicating that they will lead us in completely different directions. At the onset there is no telling how far off course we will be led. Oftentimes a dead end is the only indication that we’ve chosen the wrong path. We frequently have to backtrack and find our way back to the beginning, only to start again and navigate the dangerous gray area we feel so comfortable in. Great concentration is often required to spot and interpret markers along the path. They may be warning signs, helpful hints or even the occasional Cheshire Cat.

During a devotional address at Brigham Young University on November 9, 1978 Elder Robert D. Hales* emphasized the importance of knowing your destination:

In Lewis Carroll’s story Alice in Wonderland, Alice approaches the Cheshire Cat and asks, “Would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here?”

The Cheshire Cat replies, “That depends a great deal on where you want to go.”

Alice says, “I admit, I don’t much care where.”

The Cheshire Cat then says, “Then it doesn’t really matter much which way you go, does it?”

“Just so I get somewhere,” responds Alice.

Then the Cheshire Cat reveals an interesting truth: “Oh, you’re sure to get there if you keep walking long enough.”

How many of us are going through life telling ourselves, “If we keep going long enough, we’re going to get somewhere,” but are not defining exactly where that place is we want to be? “Somewhere” is not good enough. We must know where we want to go and be firmly committed to getting there. And we should get that knowledge and commitment early.

I committed to follow the gospel of Jesus Christ at an early age. This commitment has been tested time and time again. Recently we were blessed to hear from church leaders during General Conference.** Their teachings act as markers along the path that are plain and simple and reverberate in our hearts and minds. One talk has gained significant attention in the media. President Boyd K. Packer’s address, “Cleansing the Inner Vessel,”*** discussed issues that many people are more comfortable ignoring than facing. He took a stance on what was evil and what was good. While this act may alienate a great number of people who prefer to stay in the gray area, it is his responsibility as a prophet, seer and revelator to teach eternal truths.

Sometimes it is hard to hear the truth. When our heads have been filled with lies the world has happily placed there, the truth seems confusing and malicious. In order to understand what is right and what is wrong we have to be sufficiently humble and recognize we need help. There is real danger in ignoring the difference between right and wrong. Those who are brave enough to take a stand are often scorned and misinterpreted. The enemy of all good wants you to stay in the dark. If you are humble and desirous to do what’s right, our guides will set fire to Satan’s traps and free you from the world that would have you as its prisoner.

“‘Somewhere’ is not good enough.” If you’re feeling lost, you’re not alone. Navigating this treacherous terrain takes skill, experience and wisdom. The best solution is to follow a guide who can see beyond the walls of mere mortal existence. He will do anything it takes to bring you home, even if it means making the greatest sacrifice of all.

.....

*http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?hideNav=1&locale=0&sourceId=6888092480e6c010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____&vgnextoid=f318118dd536c010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD

**http://lds.org/conference/sessions/display/0,5239,23-1-1298,00.html

***http://lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-1298-23,00.html