And I was Happy

I was reading an article yesterday in which it asked the reader the question, "What do you want? What do you really want?"
I stopped and thought about this for much longer than I think the question was intended to merit, and I do believe it was intended to merit some thought.
I'll admit when I read "what do you want?" the first things that came to mind were the generic superpowers. I want to fly, I want to be insanely intelligent, I want to breath underwater and run like lightning.
Then I thought a little deeper. I want to be able to sit and watch the sunrise without any thoughts of obligations and worries and without any awareness of the passing time and the tense anxiety such tends to bring.
I want to sit on the beach reading a good book, hearing the waves crash, feeling the wind blow drops of sunlight into a fine mist, without ever having to get up for a drink or a snack and with nothing to draw me back from the beach until my book is finished.
I thought about these things, but ultimately I dismissed them all. They all shared one problem: they were things I could not have and no one was ever the happier for wanting what he could not have.
You may wish to fly and that is a fine wish, but you will never get your wish and so it can bring you no joy. Me, I would much rather wish for some simple thing I know I can obtain, and upon obtaining it, I will find joy.
And so, what is that I want? What do I really want?
A hug.
And you know what? That very same day, I got my wish.
And I was happy.

Life is good. And so are these great people. Spent a whole day playing at the park after a delicious picnic. When a bunch of kids came out to play on the other playground I began to wonder what group they belonged to. Was it a summer camp?  Oh yeah, school's in session.
As much as I love school, it was great to forget for a day. Short sleeves, shorts, playgrounds and bike rides . . .The seed of summer's been planted. Hurry up and grow my precious seed!

Candidly,
Cookie

When Life Doesn't Seem Fair

Life is like a diving competition . . .

I feel that sometimes we see someone land on their back or do a belly flop and we think, "Man, they're not so great."

But perhaps our cell phone or a conversation with a fellow spectator kept us from seeing the dive. Of course we notice the flop, but for the duration of the dive our eyes were shut or otherwise averted. 

Then comes the award ceremony and up there in first place is the one who repeatedly "flopped." We then think to ourselves, "What of the diver who landed without a splash and entered the water seamlessly?" 

Well, there is something called the degree of difficulty. What we failed to take into account is that the diver who flopped was performing a forward with four and a half summersaults and back flying two and a half summersaults. And he who entered the water seamlessly? Well, he just did a forward dive. 

So next time you see someone flop, consider that maybe they had a harder dive, a harder fall. 

And when you see someone who just seems perfect, when life doesn't seem fair, think how they would do in a Backward Flying Four and a Half Summersaults . . . and know if you're struggling maybe your degree of difficulty is just a little higher. If people are laughing now, or if you're feeling down on yourself, don't worry, you're reward will come. 

So then you take a look at these guys . . . well, I'm sure they've flopped too. Was it worth it? I'll bet they'll say it was. 

Candidly,

Cookie

Too Perfect

"You're ugly."
"You're fat."
"You're stupid."
It's easy to see the negative effects of such judgments. But what about, "You're perfect"?
"You're perfect" has come to have a much different meaning than what Christ meant when he commanded "Be ye, therefore, perfect."
We hear it all the time now in a sort of jest. "You're just too perfect."
Pride can look down, but it can also look up. So too can judgment, and "you're perfect" has become a form of judgement. It is no more a compliment than "teacher's pet."
To call someone perfect is to say they're a suck-up, a perfectionist, or that the level they have reached is unattainable. It is effectively, isolating.
The other day I was told, "Brooke, you're so perfect. You have no idea how many people look up to you."
No, I have an idea. Because when everyone is looking up at you, no one is looking at you.
I don't want to be looked up at. I want to be looked at.
I don't want to be up on a pedestal. I want to be down in the crowd, where there is someone to place their arm around me and realize, "Hey, you're human too."
Besides, when you're up on a pedestal, it's so easy to fall, and when you do people notice your stark imperfection and look down at you. But down in the crowd, everyone's imperfect. And you know what? That's okay. Because we're in this together.
We're all imperfect beings just striving to be better.

Candidly,
Cookie

The Birthplace of Dreams

I was staring at a shelf full of books - Dante's Commedy, Jane Austen, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Canterbury Tales, Aristotle's Rhetoric - a copy of Walden Pond by Daivid Thoreau clasped in my hand. The cover was of fine brown leather, as intricately patterned and precious as an elephant's hide, concealing within a whole other life, an entirely other world. I read the title in its flowing script, and the letters blurred.
Tears do that.
I'm note sure exactly why I was crying. Perhaps it was all those beautiful books, more than I should ever have the time to read . . .
Sometimes I wish I could just live in the library. I wish time would stop and I could sit and read for as long as I like. But knowing me, if that ever were to happen, I would lose all my contacts and my glasses would break. That, or the library would catch fire and, simultaneously, ebooks would cease to exist.
And so I must be content with the few minutes before bed when homework has ceased to make sense; when reason has shut its door and the imagination (the middleman of reason and affection) can take only from the emotions - which is what reading is for.
Staring at that shelf full of books in the BYU bookstore, I had imagined for a moment that there would be time to read them all, and in so doing had shut the door on reason; I had poured out my emotions in order to feed an impossible dream, in order to live for just a moment in my own Walden Pond, beneath the beautiful brown leather, within the elephant's hide, where the imagination soars and emotion thrives, where for a moment dreams are born, and for a moment reason dies.

When I don't have much time to read, I write about it. Kind-of pathetic . . . But what can I say? I'm an English major. And I'm loving it.

Candidly,
Cookie

A Belated Valentine to Adveristy

Dear Adversity,

You have been so good to me these past few months. You have such a generous nature, imparting to all of your substance and love, and by so doing, teaching all to be a little more humble, a little more selfless, a little more compassionate, a little more understanding, and a lot more loving. Who couldn't love such a benevolent teacher and boundless giver? Sure, you brought tears a time or two, but so do sappy romance novels, and those always turn out okay in the end.
My dear Adversity, we have spent so many a night together that sometimes as I curl up in bed I feel an emptiness, particularly an absence of the gentle pressure in my chest when you snuggle up against me, that constant confirmation you are there.
Unfaithful as you are, for I know you like to come and go and often need your space, there are times that I will miss you when you leave. There are times you come unwelcome, in fact, this is most often how you come. But because you know I need you, you stay despite my selfish love and gross ingratitude. You stay because you have my best in mind and in this you are both faithful and deserving. Because of this, in hindsight, I shall miss your sweet embrace. But you, knowing this and knowing me, never fail to leave with me a token of our time together, one that I may keep and hold until we meet again.
I used to hold your tokens, keep them close, but then I realized I could purchase with them so many precious things - things I never could otherwise have owned. I took these tokens to your elder brother who for these tokens only would sell to me his many priceless wares.
It might have been much easier had you told me where to take my heavy tokens, but you must have known that I like puzzles and so left me on my own to find his store, at least, I must assume that's what you left these tokens for - for me to buy the things that make me happy, to fill the empty space while you are gone.
I purchased understanding and a little extra love. I purchased some forgiveness, some acts of service to bestow, a little introspection to help me myself to better know. I purchased some more confidence to lend a helping hand, some more patience, some humility - I first must kneel to stand. I purchased ears to listen. I purchased eyes to see. And in the end found gratitude for the time you'd spent with me.

Candidly,
Cookie