What Makes You Smile?

Just the other day I was asked the question, "What makes you smile?"

I thought about long walks in lanes of fiery orange, where the crisp leaves crunch beneath my feet, and the air stirs with the impatient anxiety of the coming winter, unwilling to yet relinquish the warm memories of summer.
I thought about the wide eyes of a newborn boy, the firm grasp of his hand around my finger, the way his mouth stretches into a shy sort of grin before he even knows how to fully smile, or even what a smile is.
I thought about chocolate, because, well, who doesn't smile at that?
I thought about elderly couples that are not overbearing in their passion, but who breath each others laughter and hold each others hearts, not with a grip that is afraid to let go for the fear that if they do their lover will slip out and leave them, but with a hold so light and tender that they choose to stay linked of their own accord, because that's how they are happiest. Their love is like the air they breathe; like the constant gentle thumping of the heart - that unnoticed, and that necessary.
I thought about handwritten notes, especially those not spurned by any occasion but that of love and a thankful heart, that are not beautiful for their eloquence nor penmanship, but for the thought that lead the pen to write.

Handwritten letters: they make me feel so loved! :)

I thought about friends' successes, that contagious joy that allows me to live their moment of rapture vicariously, so much is my happiness for them.
I thought about that one song that whenever it comes on the radio my heart comes bursting out my mouth and I just want to grab whomever I'm with (or the nearest unfortunate object if I'm alone - and yes, this has been done with a ladle) and twirl about the room, finding such a lively beat inside me that I fail to notice when the music stops.

I think of all these things and I cannot help but smile.
To return to the question of "What makes you smile?"
A smile. Or even the thought of one.

A cute little video to make you smile :)

Candidly,
Cookie

Looking Back

Sometimes looking back can give way to some unhealthy rehashing, but oft-times looking back is a way of looking forward. It's amazing to me how truly oblivious we can be. Life could be stacking itself even now in the favor of a path that we may only see when looking back.

This morning I found  a letter that my Literature teacher asked me to write on January 7th, 2012 - my junior year of High School. It had then been sealed and tucked away until the end of my Senior Year.

Dear Brooke,

As I'm writing this I can't help but think about time. How slowly it passes; how quickly it leaves. Eight months. That's how long you have before you head to college. Eight months to play three-man baseball with your brothers. Eight months to play Dominion with the family. Eight months of Mom's delicious cooking. Eight months to grow even closer to those you love before you have to leave them.

 . . . I can't wait for eternity. Nothing here lasts long enough. I want a dance that doesn't end when the music stops. I want time to think uninterrupted thoughts, moments measured by their worth and not a clock, and a hug that lasts as long as the love between two hearts . . .

. . . I'm setting my course for BYU to study Language Arts, rhetoric, psychology, law, or whatever else opens up to me, but most of all, one thing's for sure: I will serve a mission and I hope to one day meet the man I want to be with for eternity and raise a family. It's not so far off as it seems . . .

 . . . Work hard, love without limits, and remember to forgive yourself. You are a daughter of God, capable of remarkable feats. You are loved. And you are never alone.

Yours, Brooke

Looking back, my words seem almost prophetic. Two years later, one thing remains the same - time passes too quickly. I'm enrolled in two dance classes and I'm here to tell you that the dance still ends when the music stops.

Coming to BYU I still wasn't certain what to major in. Of course, most Freshman aren't, but I sure wanted to be. My problem is I don't seem to be any better at English than I am at Physics, Biology, Calculus and Chemistry, and I love both fields of knowledge. How was I to chose between them? As I was signing up for classes I realized it was the Literature and English classes that really had me excited, but I still didn't declare an English major. At least, not yet. I suppose I was waiting for a surer sign, not realizing it doesn't get much more obvious than that.

"Follow your heart." I'm sure you've heard it many times, to the point that it's on the verge of cliche, but there is so much truth and wisdom in this piece of counsel I received from my mother and friend, for looking back, I can see that while my head was engaged in furious debates, my heart had always been set. Junior year was the year I took physics. And I loved it. Yet, I made no mention of it in my letter among the list of things I wanted to study at BYU. You could say I had known all along, and just had no idea that I'd known.

The first week of classes when I entered the Humanities building I felt like I had come home. There's no other way to describe it. And my one class in the science building felt . . . wrong.

Two weeks into the semester I declared an English Major with a Writing and Rhetoric minor. I considered my course set. By the end of the semester I had made up my mind. I wanted to be a Professor of Literary Criticism. Naturally then, I wanted to take the class called Writing Literary Criticism. I wanted it more than anything. I even rearranged my schedule a couple times to be sure I would have room for it. Well, it was a week before the second semester would start and I was still sitting on the wait list. A couple nights later I got an email telling me that the wait list was being dropped and there would be no add codes. I was devastated. How was I to find a class to fill that spot with only a couple days left before school started? By now, most of the classes I needed would be full. On a whim, I decided to add Intro the English Language, the first prerequisite for the Editing Minor. I hadn't chosen it for the editing minor, I didn't even think I really wanted to be an editor. I chose it because it could fulfill an elective for the English Major.

It's incredible to me that when I wasn't able to get in to Writing Literary Criticism I saw it as a great hinderance to the path I was sure I should be on. I saw it as a closed door. But where God closes a door, he opens a window.

My first semester at BYU I had wanted to join the editing staff for one of the student journals, but was unable to. Through my Intro to the English Language class I was able to join three journals and get credit for them.  As Intro to the the English Language quickly became one of my favorite classes, I began to seriously consider the Editing Minor, but I still wasn't certain I wanted to be an editor, or even whether or not it was something I could enjoy.

One day I was sitting at my desk, preparing to begin my first editing assignment for the student journals. Ever seen someone really sick or someone with a terrible headache attempt to do homework? Or have you ever been faced with a calculus problem you just didn't even know how to begin? Well, that was me. I didn't know how to begin.

As I was sitting there staring at my assignment a friend from across the hall, Laura, came in. "Brooke," she said, "Raechel is applying to the music education program and has to write a couple essays for it. She was telling me that she needs someone to help her edit them and your name came to mind. Would you be able to help her?" I was flattered, but that's not to say I wasn't also apprehensive and a bit nervous. I'd edited papers for people before, but I had a feeling this was to be a little more involved, and I felt so inadequate. Nevertheless, I agreed to give it my best shot.

The necessary corrections came easily to me and though it was difficult and time-consuming I actually enjoyed it, and not to sound too conceited, but I was pretty darn good at it too.
 Of course, I still have a lot to learn, but nothing that the editing minor can't teach me.

Life has been stacked for me, leaving a pile of evidence that God has always seen who I am to be and what I am to do. Looking back, I am beginning to see it too, and, looking forward, I find the view to be breathtaking.

Candidly,
Cookie

The One Item on my Checklist I Know I Can Check Off

I like to abide by the checklist;  I'm also a bit of a perfectionist - a bad combination to have when my checklist grows to the length of the week and the week lasts barely a day.
On a typical day, here's what my checklist might look like:

1. Read 30 pages of the Faerie Queen for British Literary History (Note to self: if you try to do this past midnight, you'll have to start over in the morning.)
2. Read the first half of the debate on Free Will between Erasmus and Luther (A very interesting debate, but I'd much rather discuss it than read it. Too bad you can't really discuss what you haven't read.)
3. Review for a quiz in Linguistics (well, it's for extra credit, which for anyone else would mean, "oh good, I can wing it" but me, I know how rare a gem "extra credit" is, so this means a good hour or two of review)
4. Practice for my ballroom waltz test (this means finding a time that works for both myself and my dance partner, which is quite the task when my schedule alone leaves little to be negotiated.)
5. Read the assigned chapters for my Book of Mormon and New Testament class (if this weren't being squeezed in some time after midnight it would actually be a quite enjoyable, if not refreshing task)
6. Edit articles for the student journal Schwa (yeah, so I really don't know what I'm doing yet. I'm told that's okay - I'm not expected to know exactly how to do it, but once again, I'm a perfectionist, and so this sense of incompetence is not okay)
7. Review and rate articles for the student journal Criterion (they're actually quite interesting, it's just finding the time. That, and after reading all my other reading assignments, I'm generally not in the mood to read more)
8. Finish an essay on Chaucer (this is one of those reoccurring items that just keeps getting transferred to the following day's list, with a little extra weight each time. Usually we gain weight together, as in, "This essay is stressing me out. I need some chocolate.")
9. Practice my French Horn (getting down to the practice rooms definitely counts as practice time, right?)
10. Do laundry (to be done in the wee hours of the morning so I don't have to wait for enough washers to be open so I can get it all done at once)
11. Buy more milk (cold cereal's pretty bland without it. Besides, what else would I have for my second dinner? The dining center closes at 7:30 and around midnight I'm thinking, what college student is still satisfied at midnight with a dinner he ate five hours ago? That's what the vending machines are for, true, but even those can get old, and somehow a bowl of cold cereal always sounds good.)
12. Make my bed (I consider this accomplished so long as it is done before I climb back in it at night)

Looking at this, all I want to do is take a nap, but of course there's not time for that - I have to finish my checklist first . . .
But then I had the brilliant thought to add "nap" to my checklist. No sooner had I done so than I was crawling in bed, smiling, and thinking to myself, now at least there's one item I know I can check off.

Candidly,
Cookie

The Art of Rambling

What do I mean by the Art of Rambling? I mean the art of being able to continue on in a thought that is both unprecedented and unrestricted. I mean being willing to accept the first words that come to your mind as both well-intentioned and meaningful, despite that at first glance they may seem lacking in both sense and beauty. I mean being able to say something like "oatmeal is like a roller coaster" and "rolling" with it despite the audacity of such a comparison, which is precisely what I did when I encountered the seeming "slip-of-the-tongue", which could be the only possible explanation for such an absurd assertion.

But this isn't just any oatmeal we're talking about - it is a work of art. It is a presentation of what I affirm to be the best compilation of condiments to ever ornament such a measly brand of porridge. We're talking a crown of raspberry sauce, sprinkled with shreds of coconut, adorned by a ring of walnuts, and consummated with a shake of salt.

As you take the first bite, the gooey porridge gives way, allowing your tongue to sink in, in much the same way your stomach sinks and then all but drops out as you step on the ride, pull down on the harness and hear the click as it locks in place. The warmth of the raspberries relaxes your palate like the warming rays of sun that brush your skin as the cart emerges from the covering and rounds the corner, gradually picking up speed. You bite down and the walnuts crunch against your teeth like the clickity-clack of the cart as it trugs slowly up the tracks. Then comes the coconut, that sweet rush of wind as the cart plummets down the track with a gush of speed. As all else melts away you're left with the bitter sweet tang of a speckling of salt, its savor as entirely unexplainable as the mix of fear, relief and thrill that's pounding in your chest as the ride comes to a stop. It is that ultimate satisfaction that leaves you paradoxically dissatisfied in your bottomless craving for more.

Candidly,
Cookie

Looking Out

What causes the most unhappiness in life? I'll tell you. Selfishness. Much of the sins in this life are due to selfish thoughts. If you're view point in life is "What's in it for me?" there won't be enough for you in life. You'd assume it follows then that selflessness brings the greatest joy. I'd assumed so too . . .

A couple weeks ago I wrote the following journal entry,
"Today was one of those days that I wish I could bottle up in a jar and then take just one sip every day for the rest of my life. This semester is going to be wonderful. This morning I told God in my morning prayer that I wanted Him to give all my blessings to a friend. Tonight, as I sat reflecting on my day, I couldn't help but smile and think, "He must not have heard."
Well, I'm here to tell you that God does answer prayers.

I should be happy then right? Well . . . in a perfect world, I would be. But the world's not perfect and neither am I. At times you could say I get jealous.
In the weeks following that prayer I lost a good friend, but I've also learned what it truly means to be selfless.

I was sitting in church when the thought occurred to me, "Brooke, would you be willing to give up nearly all your friends and loved ones if by so doing you could ensure that no one would ever go without a friend?"
I thought about it for a moment. I wasn't sure. Then the thought occurred to me, "That's what Christ did for you."
He did nothing for himself.

Though at times I am jealous, though at times I wish that I could take back my prayer, when I am truly thinking of others and filled with the love of God, I could not be happier.
I could not be happier for my friend, and as I am able to find joy in her successes I find joy in my own life as well.
There are so many reasons to be happy, if only we have the heart to look outside ourselves.

In short, happiness is found while looking out.

Candidly,
Cookie