The World of Ideas
I like love this world! It is where I really like to be. I live in my head. It's the way things have always been for me. It drives both of my parents completely nuts because neither of them "get" that. I constantly (literally, constantly) make connections between various, surface level unrelated things. Symbolism everywhere. I love my dreams, and even better, interpreting them. For me, it's about feelings, symbols, abstract thinking, all of these kinds of things and more are the most fun, most interesting things in my life.
The physical world is the pits. Sure, it has its moments, but the best bits are when both these worlds combine in such a way that they seem totally in harmony. This is not the default state of being for me, nor for anyone, I imagine.
I think most people tend to live more in the real world than in the world of ideas. I think that seeing symbols everywhere gets on most normal people's nerves. I think that the reason I enjoy languages, writing, talking, and researching the lives of dead people is totally connected to this love of the world of ideas. I think it's the reason why mothering young children, and its super strong rooting in the physical world of laundry, school routines, laundry, diapering, screaming children, did I say laundry - why I struggle with it.
For me, heaven is a place where the world of ideas can be explored with others without words getting in the way. How? Perhaps telepathy? Instantaneous communication of billions of ideas faster than the speed of light? The closest thing to that in our current world is physical touch, I suppose - and that's obviously got a physical component! But even then... it's not quite the same.
I spend a lot of time in the world of ideas. Because of my extroverted nature (or whatever other dumb psychobabble label you want to paste on my soul) it is really important to not be alone there. I really like talking and sharing with people. I really, really like getting inside the heads of interesting people; the more difficult this is to do, the bigger the payoff (it's way more interesting! Don't know exactly why). I basically expect that the people I care about would want to do the same to me, to crack me. To figure out what I actually think. It's super painful to imagine that maybe they don't care or notice. Maybe they aren't interested. Logic never wins in this argument, either. I can't say to myself, "This person doesn't even know that I feel like they're being an insensitive jerk; they are just expecting you to keep talking without being prodded." That might help, but it doesn't fix the worry that perhaps they just don't care at all. I don't understand why this is the case. It is frustrating to me. I also wonder if maybe there are patterns in when I feel extra sensitive to disinterest - something I ate? A lack of sleep? Too many days in a row without a deep conversation? I don't know. I guess I seem like an open book to my friends, but some things I will never share, even with Danny because they're such unspeakably awful thoughts that never need to see the light of day. Some things only God knows about me. And some things I don't get a chance to talk about because people simply don't ask; I also don't want to be preachy.
I've not had much difficulty feeling too preachy on this blog, though, so here are some of my deeper thoughts and ideas that have been simmering on my mental stove for the past months.
Warning: it's rambly.
Before we were born
I think there's something about me that is eternal. I don't really know what that is, at least entirely. I believe that my gender is part of "it". Like, I've always been female. Always will be. For some reason, that's really important. I don't know why. It feels right.
I do believe that I can grow and change, in other words, learn. Obviously we are all in a constant state of learning while mortal, so in the premortal existence why wouldn't it have been the same? Why won't it be the same later, too?
It makes sense to me that there wasn't one set kind of premortal experience. I think it's possible that some, but highly unlikely that most, people had any kind of say in the circumstances of their birth on earth. I strongly believe that God arranged the universe in a way that each of us would be born with the greatest possible chance to return to him; perhaps for some, they had multiple "best possible" tests. I don't know. I'm glad I wasn't born to be a 19th century latter-day saint pioneer. That would have sucked.
In the paradigm of "life is a test", the goal is to return to him. It's a test we wanted. We voted for it in some kind of premortal council. To experience real agency and choose good over evil basically sums up the purpose of the test. I really don't think our agency is unbounded or without limits, but I think it is real, though. It's just that God has infinite foresight, so he would know exactly what we would choose. He designed the test in a way that the majority of his children, having experienced agency, would still someday be able to return to his presence.
This is really puzzling in light of the fact that most humans have never had the chance to encounter anything having to do with the gospel of Jesus Christ. Why would the apparent best test for most people be one in which they didn't even have the possibility of becoming a member of God's church on the earth and receiving "saving ordinances" like baptism?
Even more puzzling, why was my life arranged in such a way that I was born into a family of members of the true church?
Surely, that's evidence either that: 1. it's all just false (but that really doesn't feel right), 2. I have something really important to contribute in the church/to the world through being a member of the church, 3. I was really righteous before I was born so it was a reward?, or 4. I would have been totally, completely, utterly lost without having been born into the church.
I tend to vacillate between #2 and 4, and sometimes #3. Mostly, apparently this was not knowledge that was important for us to have. Maybe having it would have screwed up our test taking abilities.
Maybe some people got to preview their lives before coming, before crossing through the veil of forgetfulness between our world and the spirit world. I sometimes imagine this. I'm not sure if I actually believe it, but I do think about it fairly often. "Why the heck would I have chosen to live a life with anxiety?" "What was it about that horrible experience with that person that I needed to learn?" Mostly, I wonder about the test itself. I think I mostly believe that it's a complicated mix of specific circumstances and the tiny fleeting moments. For example, we could probably categorize our lives as scenes. In some specific scenes, it's obvious that there's a crossroads in front of us. Will I cheat on this test? Will I be kind to this person? Will I tell the truth even though it will be painful? These seem like obvious tests of our will, character, ability to choose good over evil, etc. But there are also small moments - like the microseconds between when you say something and you receive a response - where the test is all in your mind. Oh! I think this horrible thought. Now what? Will I dwell on it? Will I develop it further? What will become of it? These kinds of mind-choices take mere milliseconds.
If it's all a test, and God knows everything, including our thoughts, we - or rather, I - am in desperate need of a mediator! That is why it is easy for me to believe that Jesus Christ, and his atonement, is real. The "life as a test" metaphor would not work without it, or rather, we'd all be doomed to fail, which means God hates us.
But God loves us, and therefore, he sent his son. In fact, John says that exact thing. "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."
I really believe this.
After we die
I love the temple. I do a lot of research for the real people to whom I owe my life so that I can take their names to the temple and do proxy ordinance work for them. I stand in place of them to be baptized, etc. This means that they will have the same, equal chance to accept the gospel, repent, and join his church. I don't really get "why baptism" is necessary - it's kind of weird. But hey, why not. It's a nice symbol of death and rebirth. It is something firmly rooted in the physical world. Apparently the World of Ideas was not enough - we needed this corporeal experience. It is the test.
When I die, I firmly believe that I will meet the people for whom I have spent many thousands of hours researching their lives and performing their temple work. I will see them again, and beyond the veil I will remember them. I will have known them from before I was born. I don't know how that's possible, since I don't really think we were organized in families (except that we were basically all brothers and sisters, children of our heavenly parents) in the premortal existence, and we certainly will have families in the postmortal one. Except, eternal families are more like a running chain than individual clusters, in my opinion. We'll all just be connected to everyone, like a giant family tree. And infinite potential to continue to have children, obviously minus the crappy experiences that come with being physically pregnant.
I sometimes imagine it will be a very long gauntlet of people. I will get to high-five the people whose temple work I did, and they will thank me for it, cheering for me. I think this is a bit simplistic, though. It's almost like...
It's like what I imagined what living in a host family in France would be like. I imagined that there would be this super loving French family who was really interested in listening to me and teaching me about the world. That they would want to hear me crappily bang out my tunes on the piano. That they would ask me all kinds of questions about myself, my thoughts, my feelings, my culture, etc. That...
hahaha!!
Well... that, was not the case. At all.
I think that maybe my gauntlet-like expectations of the postmortal reunion with my deceased ancestors will be similar, except from the other end. I think it will be far, far superior to anything I can really imagine.
And I can imagine really amazing things.
But some of what I imagine is quite personal, so that isn't something to write about now.
Does God shave?
"I just don't believe God is this man with a beard in the sky. Think about the Hubble telescope. It takes photos of space, and in one square inch there are hundreds - thousands - millions of stars! There's just no way that earth is all there is. There has to be more."
I don't believe God is a man with a beard in the sky, either. And I find photos of space to be mind-boggling, too. Awesome in a literal sense of the word. I also don't think that we're all that there is.
I've never found it very interesting to study astronomy or space in depth and that came as a direct result of taking astronomy 101 in college. I took it because I wanted to memorize the constellations. That was a tiny part of the class - the only part that was fun because it involved staring at the actual sky on a blanket with a bunch of friends at night. The rest of the class was about the dullest topics on earth, such as spectroscopy. Studying the way the light fragments so that you can discover what elements exist on far distant planets which you'll never see with your own eyes. Using complicated mathematical equations to describe very, very distant places and events - impossibly distant. I've never found it interesting to study geology or early man, either. I just don't get that lit up about rocks, and I can't relate to family tree arguments about neanderthals when we can't get past 1835 on one of my ancestral lines. Heck, I've never even found it that interesting to talk about the Slavs. Or the Celts. And these guys were my ancestors. But how do they connect to me? Maybe I'm selfish, or self absorbed. If I can't connect to it, meh.
It's easy for me to accept that we're not all that there is. It's easy for me to believe that there are other planets with life. It's easy to think that maybe aliens don't look like humans. I have no idea how it works. It's pretty weird that we haven't made contact with extraterrestrial life yet, but it's also easy to believe that God would want it to be that way. Maybe we humans on earth are not ready for it. There's hundreds of possible reasons why that might be the case - I don't ascribe any of them to "truth." I just kinda muse about them. Mostly, it's just one of those things that I don't know about, and can't wait to find out about - and I'm pretty sure I'll only find out about it when I'm dead. I firmly believe that after I die, at least some of that knowledge will be made known. Or perhaps it will be remembered. Maybe I knew it before. Someday, somehow, I'll get the chance to know everything. I think that's another "definition" of what heaven is - the capacity and opportunity to understand and know everything.
I believe in God. I believe that it's way more complicated than "a man with a beard in the sky." First off, I believe that it really depends on what you mean by "God." Are we talking about God the Father? Are we talking about our Heavenly Mother - who we never, ever talk about (and there are about a hundred thousand reasons I can imagine why we don't talk about her - not the time and place to go into that here I guess)? Are we talking about Jesus Christ? Are we talking about the Holy Ghost? Are we talking about ourselves in our perfected post-mortal resurrected bodies?
Is the idea of "God" like the borg? Maybe? After we die, do we get sucked into this collective, united being? I think it's possible, but improbable. I think our identity is eternal, and I think its core doesn't change very much at any point in the process. There are some parts of me that always have been, and always will be. Maybe I fit into a giant puzzle? Maybe I am a strand of an intricately woven tapestry? Maybe - but I'm still individual, and I believe I always will be, even later. I don't really believe it's God-soup.
The stereotype of "God" is a man in a white robe with a beard. Some Christians (not latter-day saints) believe his winged. I think that this image is way too limiting. An all-powerful God could surely appear like whatever he wanted at any given moment. But that's a non-answer because appearances can be shifted by many, many intermediary means. Maybe when Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ in the first vision, what he saw was influenced by what he expected to see. Maybe they appeared to him in that way for a reason. Maybe they can appear completely differently - as something completely, wildly different-looking. I feel kind of irreverent postulating on that, so I won't.
Instead, I'll answer the question, "Does Heavenly Father shave?" That question is meant to poke fun at the stereotype of God the Father. The kind that you see in comic strips, that nobody takes seriously. It's meant to make the idea of a real God sound ridiculous. Of course God could shave if he wanted to. Now we're getting into the philosophy of religion, and stupid questions like, "Can an all powerful God create a rock that's so heavy he can't lift it?" Eugh.
A more fair question would be something more like, "Does Heavenly Father have a corporeal body?" The answer to that question is yes! But unlike so many of my peers, I refuse to accept that we definitely know what that means. Maybe his body can shift in ways that we can't comprehend. Maybe earth itself is a cell of his body. Maybe he exists in dark matter. I don't know! Apparently it wasn't important for us to know much about his physical body. It probably does not have blood, based on some deep doctrine rumors I've heard (but don't really know where that comes from). We are created "in his likeness and image" but that isn't a very satisfying answer - it could be stretched to encompass many, many possibilities.
I believe God is real. When I see him again - when I see both of my heavenly parents again - I will know them. I will be able to hug them again someday. I am not worried about not being able to understand more than that because apparently, it's not important right now. It doesn't worry me, and that's weird because lots of things worry me!
Isaiah (my favorite prophet of all) put it really beautifully. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." I was thinking about this idea in terms of the Hubble space telescope that had been mentioned in that earlier conversation. I imagined that what we can see and understand about the world and the universe, might be compared to our current scientific understanding and wisdom. We can peer into space with this super powerful telescope and start to imagine the scope of what the universe is, but we are nowhere close to understanding - really knowing - anything. We can see just about as far as our scientific instruments, all of which are securely tied to us, here on the ground of earth. God, on the other hand - his knowledge and understanding of everything - isn't bounded by the earth. His capacity to see and understand everything reaches out way, wayyyyy beyond those galaxies photographed by the Hubble space telescope. I think that's what Isaiah is saying by "higher than the earth."
It is easy for me to accept the idea that a being/entity could have that kind of incomprehensible capacity and power because it feels true. I believe that God is real because it makes sense to my mind that I came from real parents. It makes sense to my heart that I am loved. It feels right that there's more than just this tiresome physical world occasionally colliding with the World of Ideas to create pockets of temporary happiness and joy. I believe that there's meaning in my existence, and potential for infinite, lasting joy.
I'm never going to convince anybody else with these words, and as such, it feels like such a waste of time. These feel like simple truths that are easy to believe! They feel self-evident. I feel like a jerk explaining them to non-believing friends because it feels like I am trying to push an agenda or values on them - because, honestly, I suppose on some level, I am. I really feel a lot of joy in my belief in God, and I want others to share it. I also really abhor conflict, especially over deeply held personal values and beliefs. That is (one reason) why I did not serve a mission. It's why I tend to lean towards temple and family history work rather than missionary proselyting.
But I am glad to be a passive "missionary" in conversation and writing from time to time, and with my example, always. And when I fail, I can repent. That's the promise, and it's really beautiful.
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