Oh Say, What is Truth?

            Let’s be honest. I’m not going to lie. I’m going to be real straight forward here. The truth is on our minds all the time. It sneaks its way into our everyday conversations. It skips onto our facebook feeds. It jaunts into our essays and blog posts. We think about it. We talk about it. Not always, but sometimes, we dream about it. A few times, it’s a nightmare. It’s cold and hard and will always set you free. The truth will set you free… unless you’ve done something really bad. Then, you should probably plead the fifth and get a lawyer. He’ll mold the truth into something much more manageable. But is that real freedom? Is this really truth? How, really, should we manage the truth? Who’s really right? What is the truth about the truth? Now we’re on to something. What is the truth about the truth? This is an important question, because, really, you can know all you want to know, but unless you know what to do with it, you know nothing. With so many truths out there, many that contradict, before you start deciding for yourself which you believe (or much more seriously, what you know), you need to decide your relationship to truth.  

I propose that there are two dangerous extremes when it comes to the truth. The first is what I call “Radical Truth.” The second is Moral Relativism or “Relative Truth.” I’d like to briefly discuss both, and introduce what I think is the better way, the truth about truth.

First, Radical Truth is truth monopoly. Subscribers to this idea affirm the existence and importance of truth. Right and wrong exist and they are arch nemeses. They know what they know and know that all other parties, unless agreeing, know not. If you’re not right you’re wrong. This philosophy of truth is a deeply rooted binary. As humans, we like to double categorize. Men vs. Women, us vs. them, true vs. false, right vs. wrong, and so forth are examples of binaries. The only thing wrong with these groupings is in the two letters that always find their way between them. If you’re not with us, you’re against us! And if you’re against us, you must die. This is at the root of many a conflict. We draw boundaries between each other and fight to the death. A prime example, very much to do with truth, is the ageless contest between Christians and Muslims in and around the Holy Land. Lots of bloodshed has resulted from the Islamic idea that Christians are wrong and the inverse Christian equivalent. The crusade and the jihad stem from an eternal “us vs. them,” and a “right vs. wrong.” For more examples, flip on facebook or the daily news and do a look around for controversy. I’m convinced that something is controversial when both parties can’t see how anyone in their right mind could think the way the other does.

If you’re wondering if you fall into the above category, pay attention to the amount of rage that you feel when you read about the next dangerous ideology, moral relativism. In spite of the timeless popularity of the right vs. wrong binary system of thought, moral relativism is increasingly popular. Subscribers to this idea believe that truth is relative. Maybe truth exists, maybe it doesn’t. Regardless, who are we to decide? Who am I to judge? I have my ideas about what is true and what is not and you have yours and who knows, maybe we’re both right! Maybe we’re all wrong together and who cares? Let’s be nice to one another. While this sounds harmless, it certainly has repercussions. Moral relativism is an ideology of tolerance. If I believe truth is in the eye of the beholder, I’m accepting of everything, from gay marriage, to abortion, to marijuana use, to atheism. In all my niceness, I decide that all voices should be viewed equally, so I lift up minority voices and attempt to drown out, or wipe out, long lasting majorities. On the flip side, if I really believe in the relativity of truth, I become a wimp when it comes to defending the truth I’ve decided on that week, and majority voices probably prevail. I also must accept that what people consider truth has a great deal to do with their actions and I must accept that. Religious and ideological freedom through this lens technically allows for the free practice of whatever anyone believes to be right. This includes suffrage and suffering. It tolerates all extremes, from the LGBT alliance to the Westborough Baptist Church. Under this ideology tolerance, as Boyd K. Packer explained it, turns from a “virtue to a vice.”

I propose that the truth solution is Mormonism. If you’re not a Mormon, please don’t run away yet. I’m not saying what you think I’m saying. Brigham Young defined Mormonism: ““Mormonism,” so-called, embraces every principle pertaining to life and salvation, for time and eternity. No matter who has it. If the infidel has got truth it belongs to “Mormonism.” The truth and sound doctrine possessed by the sectarian world, and they have a great deal, all belong to this Church. As for their morality, many of them are, morally, just as good as we are. All that is good, lovely, and praiseworthy belongs to this Church and Kingdom. “Mormonism” includes all truth. There is no truth but what belongs to the Gospel.” Mormons believe that they are in a search for truth. They believe that the whole truth about God is being revealed through living prophets in the latter days, but that it is our duty to seek it from everywhere it might be. We affirm that all religions have light and truth and that that there is inherent goodness in everything. We definitely believe that truth exists and that it is possible to collect it. It is possible to be wrong, but just because someone is wrong in one way or another, doesn’t mean that they are bad or that they are never right. We find truth in Islam, Catholicism, Buddhism, Hinduism and the sciences. The church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is deeply invested in education in all fields and its members are encouraged to seek “anything that is virtuous, lovely, of good report, or praiseworthy.” There really is no us vs. them binary. We’re all in this together, us vs. Satan. And we encourage diversity and free thought.

In the Book of Mormon we read that the people of ancient America protected religious freedom under the law, blended with a responsible moral code, “Now there was no law against a man’s belief; for it was strictly contrary to the commands of God that there should be a law which should bring men on to unequal grounds. For thus saith the scripture: Choose ye this day, whom ye will serve. Now if a man desired to serve God, it was his privilege; or rather, if he believed in God it was his privilege to serve him; but if he did not believe in him there was no law to punish him. But if he murdered he was punished unto death; and if he robbed he was also punished; and if he stole he was also punished; and if he committed adultery he was also punished; yea, for all this wickedness they were punished. For there was a law that men should be judged according to their crimes. Nevertheless, there was no law against a man’s belief; therefore, a man was punished only for the crimes which he had done; therefore all men were on equal grounds.”

Ultimately, love truth. Seek truth. Recognize and respect the truth possessed by all. Love the truth more than you love your religion or your political party. Love the truth more than you love being right. Don’t try to impose your opinion upon truth. Rather, impose truth upon your opinion. Tell the truth and live truthfully, constantly seeking and progressing and the truth will set you free. 

a conversation, born in a library, now a poem about not being what you think

Knives

“Knifes” said Cole and then fretted about image. “Serialkillerish” a new word spawn from the left-hand corner of his mind. “Too serialkillerish.” Chit-chat of the evidently wrong sort, but I don’t mind cutlery now that I know how to chop onions minus myself. I’ll likely still cry about it. Most likely no one will die about it, and we’ll all go back to shelving books. Some, we’ll retrieve at the drop of a, “Name an object found in a kitchen” moment and wish we hadn't and if wishes were fishes we’d fillet, and if wishes were poets, I’ll have the Millay, and no. My candle doesn't burn at both ends. Whatever that means.

On Public Speaking and the Holy Spirit -

Speakers

The microphone was his icecream cone

in this bold new world.

“I,” breathing, “I know.” Breathing.

The third time he enunciated,

“Complete trust or confidence,” meaning

if we have faith, we’ll follow Him.

“I bring greetings

from the stake presidency.

They love you.”

Then stopped, and was stopped

in his quest for his seat.

Muffled laughter and heavy whispering

“Now this is the gospel

according to brother Jones

here.”

“We’re the missionaries

from the church – ”

slam.

Jesus Christ,

The Great “I Am”

met the seated people of the pews,

and a much too loud,

but much more clear,

“In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

He said

and breathed into his icecream cone.

“But sir!”

On the doorstep,

feeling alone.

“I know.” Breathing.

“I know.” Breathing. quickly

reverting to the five year old.

In the face of the

slamming door

the garden scenes started meaning more.

And the scripture read

in the primary mic,

the testimony

and the family night

and all the Mormon boys

and Mormon girls

learning to present

with no

applause,

In the MTC

learning to pause

culminated the spirit’s shouting,

“Hosanna to the Lord,

the most high God;

for he is God over all the earth,

yea,

even above all.

And blessed art thou,”

How I feel writing clean, unread poetry.

“Daniel” Scratched Into the Sink Side

“Daniel,” scratched into the sink side,

so careful. Who are you?

Daniel, stopped off at the rest stop,

probably on your long drive to Salt Lake City,

why?

Why not more vulgarity?

Penmanship’s a rarity

in vandalism’s lot,

your message soon forgot

amongst the penning

that is not so pure.

Yours is not profanity

scribbled on the door.

Yours is not the number

or the “Kristin is a whore.”

Just, “Daniel”

carefully carved into the sink side.

I get it Daniel,

keep writing.

Keep living on the fly.

Keep driving to Salt Lake City.

Stay classy.

Stay Why. 

Benny the Baptist Bear Part I

                Benny, Lucas, and Andi were best, best friends. they lived in three cottages that shared a backyard with no fences and no end to fun. Each friend was just different enough from his best friends to make things exciting, but just alike enough that there was no doubt they would be best friends forever. Benny ate blackberries, Lucas liked lemongrass and Andi ate anything, but they all loved eating. Lucas liked lacrosse, Benny loved rugby and Andy liked football, but they all liked contact sports. Benny was a Baptist. Lucas was Lutheran, and Andi was atheist, so Benny and Lucas were pretty sure Andi was going to hell. Lucas and Andi thought Benny was a sexist and Andy and Benny thought it was gross that Lucas thought he ate Jesus’s blood and Body on weekends, but they all liked… well, they tried to stay away from religious topics and focus on kid stuff.

            They were the best friends a bear, a Llama and an Armadillo could be. They spend every day of the year together: every schoolday after homework, every weekend after breakfast and every summer day from day dawn to dusk. The only week they didn’t play together was during vacation bible school. Benny and Lucas weren’t sure what Andi did that week, but didn’t ask.

            The day after Vacation Bible School was always the SUPER FUNNEST, awkward day of the year. Fortunately and unfortunately, it only happened once a year and things were back to normal. On one such day, right at day dawn, Benny and Lucas were surprised to find that Andi was nowhere to be found. With a gasp, they blurted out the first thing that came to their minds in a muddled mess of words, “You – man – know, - she’s – super – is – kind of – hot – really weird. Wait! What did you say?”

            “Oh nothing,” Benny sheepishly stammered, “I mean, yeah. What did you learn at Bible School?”

            “Acts through 1^st Corinthians. You?”

            “re-Revelations, and selections from Romans.” said Benny, “Plus we had this class about other religions that was mostly about how there’s no archaeological support for the Mormon Bible and how spiritual truths can’t be found through prayer.”

            “Nice,” Said Lucas, “so where do you think Andi is?” He leaned down and started grazing.

            “Beats me. Wanna play some rugby?”

            But Rugby wasn’t that fun with just two people and they ended up going home early.

            The next morning, Benny and Lucas were reunited with their best friend, Andi. They decided not to ask her about the day before. To their surprise, Andi brought it up. “So how did you pansies like bible school?” she snarled. Taken aback, Benny and Lucas stared blankly. “I spent the week with my aunt Alice and learned the way of the earth. You know, our society would be much more cohesive if we did things the natural way. Mother earth is filled with pleasure and peace.”

            “What – that’s – are – inter-you-esting – talking – tell – about – me more.” Lucas and Benny simultaneously stammered.

            “With the right combo, you can trip through your wildest fantasies just on the bounty of nature!”

            “I’m sorry guys. I’ve got to go.” said Lucas and he turned to leave. There was an awkward silence as he walked away.

            “What’s his problem?” Andi asked. hormones.”

            “Probably just hormones.” responded Benny, “You were saying?”

            “Well, we could chat about it, or I could show you!” She said. “Follow me!” They left the backyard and down the road they slunk through a back alley and then trudged through some mud behind a building where they saw two dumpsters with skulls on them. Benny had a bad feeling come over him but he was silent. Andi went behind the dumpster. “Over here!” she beckoned to Benny. Benny stepped into the darkness behind the dumpster. Andi  pulled a cardboard box out of a corner. “In this box, all of your wildest dreams can be reality.” The box said, “Danger: Poison” on it and smelled kind of funny.

            “I don’t know, Andi…” Benny muttered.

            “Andi pushed the box aside and got real close to Benny’s face. She looked straight into his soul and took his face in her claws. Her eyes were mesmerizing. “Trust me.” she whispered.

            Benny swallowed and nodded and Andi turned to the box. She opened the flaps. Inside the box there was a glass bottle on its side. A small pool of strong smelling liquid filled the bottom, soaked layer of cardboard. Six small frogs slowly walked circles around the perimeter. They all had distant looks on their faces and their frail bodies looked like they hadn’t eaten I weeks. For moments the only sound was soft moaning of garbled nonsense as the frogs staggered around the box.

            “Take one of these babies, and you’ll never have a single care again.” Andi scooped up a frog that let out a week squeal and dangled it before Benny. “Open your mouth.” Benny obeyed and slurped in the slimy amphibian. Andi closed his mouth and told him to chew.

            Benny felt suddenly drowsy, the good kind of drowsy, like after a good meal and a hard day’s work. He closed his eyes and chewed more carefully and slowly. the frog tasted terrible, but in a bearable kind of way and made his mouth tingle. Benny forced one eye half open to look at Andi. She had never looked so beautiful. Her eyes sparkled and twirled. She was dark and comely. Within Benny’s body there was a sudden electric feeling and he swallowed the frog. His eyes flew open and the world spun. Andi sprouted wings and flew to an exceedingly high mountain. Benny wanted to follow so he stepped into the music and floated to meet her. She said something Benny didn’t understand, then flew to a magical forest. Hideous witches were everywhere, but they looked friendly enough so Benny danced with them.

            Round and around they went until all the colors blurred together in a heap of muddy gray. The witches clawed open a tree and drank fresh blood from the bark. Benny followed suit until the tree became a giant ant hill covered with ants which crawled all over his body. The tingling sensation was … well… SENSATIONAL! Benny had never felt anything like it. He ran through the woods laughing until he tripped on a marshmallow pumpkin and rolled in the mud.

            “The trip is almost over! Before it wears off, we need to restock.” he heard Andi say, “find frogs! Stay away from the colored ones. They’ll make you bad trip.” Benny stopped and looked around. he saw a couple of frogs on a nearby lily pad and scooped them up.

            “Let us go!” they screamed, 

             but Benny didn’t care. 

"We Invite You to Be Reverent"

I learned a few things at General Conference over the weekend, mainly of inability to follow simple instructions, first, my own. The hardest part of the whole experience was definitely that conference is in Salt Lake City, and I am in Overton Nevada. Therefore, in order to attend, I had to put myself through 5 hours of I-15 northbound. Luckily, I had a buddy to do it with. Unluckily, that wasn’t the end of my driving woes. I-15, though long, is easily navigable. The Salt Lake Valley is less so. I know, to those of you who live there, I am wrong. Utah is the easiest place in the world to navigate. Unfortunately, I’m right. It’s hard to get around up there. Mostly, I’m sure, It’s hard for me to get around. I have the worst navigation skills of anyone I’ve met, and it doesn’t help that there are so many ways to use the same numbers in so many different combinations in street names. I arrived in Salt Lake city and lost my way to the conference center to drop off my copilot. I then adopted a new copilot, my iphone, to help me find my next destination. Unfortunately, here I must reiterate. Even when perfectly clear, I have trouble executing directions. One might say I’m “directionally challenged.” I do, for sure, and I am not two.

But in the spirit of prayer and accidental fasting, I made it to conference! Exclamation Point! I found great parking. I took a nice walk. I enjoyed the weather, I acquired some tickets. I waited in line, oh so near the front, and I saw the prophet. Shortly after seating myself on the front row of my section and reviewing Mosiah 2, I was ready to go, and instructions were displayed on… that thing they project the conference on for those, like me, who couldn’t sit in the first 10 rows.

“We invite you to be reverent.” Read the message, “your conference experience will be enhanced by taking your seat and quietly meditating,” or something like that. The point was, “we invite you to be reverent” it will help you feel the spirit and make your experience here better. Better is Better! But no one seemed to know how to read. They talked on their cell phones. They snapped photos. They talked. Perhaps they needed a wiggle song to help them settle down. Now, don’t get me wrong. Had I not been alone, I would probably not have noticed this. I would have joined them. I’m sometimes a social moth at all the wrong times and places. I’m not the most observant person in the world. However, I didn’t have many options but to accept the Church’s gracious invitation for reverence. And you know what? I certainly do.

I know that reverence enhances conference experience. In fact, I know that reverence enhances life experience. We run around too much. We talk too much. We have not enough “take your seat” time. Careful meditation is a lost practice. I’m all for loud, but we need not forget time for quiet. Quiet time clears the mind and calms the soul. It opens the window to inspiration. I was certainly helped when I took a few moments to pull over, reset my map app and reorient myself. Silence is sanctifying. So take some, on the house. You might find some groovy instruction. Consider yourself personally invited. 

Over You

Over You

I’m so over you,

like boats over water,

like the sun to a cloud,

like goats on the run,

a claustrophobic in a crowd.

I’m so over you,

but I’m probably not going to tell you that,

just in case. You know?

Just in case tomorrow you come back

to tell me you were wrong.

Just in case this was some sort of test,

to see what I’d do, to check my next move,

to watch reactions to “I’m through.”

I think you could be that clever,

but I am so over you.