After 25 Years of Life, I Have Learned...

Well, today's the day. It's my birthday. I never have thought birthdays worth much. It's just another day. In fact, as far as my existence goes, I believe that I (and everyone else) have always existed (not in my current form). So birthdays really aren't to celebrate the day we first existed. Yes, it is birthday, so that means it is the day we were born into this world (actually, you could say that all of us are nine months, or so, older than we are). I suppose that is worth celebrating. It is a wonderful thing that we are all here, that we chose to live. Yes, we chose. I firmly believe that. Existence isn't random or the result of ages of evolution or something else. We chose to be here. But what in the world did we get ourselves into? What is it that life is supposed to do? Why celebrate our existence?

Birthdays are funny things. Everyone has one, and yet that day of birth is not unique. But it's a day we try to be unique. Like everyone else. [Insert smiley with a wink]

Birthdays mark the passage of time (Enya's "Only Time" just came on my Media Player; fitting, no?). Time is important to mortals. From the day we are born, we mark the days and months and years until we will no longer be. I've often wondered why time is so important. It is ingrained into our very beings, somehow. Why? Why not forget that today is Monday and tomorrow is Tuesday and in three weeks it will be Monday again and next year will be 2011 and a hundred years ago it was 1910? What if we stopped watching the little minute hand on the clocks tick by, telling us how far the sun is traveling across the sky, indicating to us the beginning and ending of a day? What would that do? What if we just slept when it was dark and lived when it was light and forgot to wonder how far gone the sun is? What if we lived as if there were no time, as if life would continue on forever?

But I'm getting off topic. I'm talking about the fact that I have lived on the planet earth for 25 years. That seems so long, doesn't it? Yet, my grandmother has been here for almost 95 (if we counted conception as the moment of our "birth," she is 95 currently). She was 70 when I was born. She had already lived almost three of my current lives by the time I can crying into this world of toil and woe (and joy and peace). Now, she has lived my life with me.

There I go again. I like tangents, you see. The point of this post (or what I will define as a personal essay) is to relate some things I have learned in 25 years of life on earth. I guess I hope you will learn something about life, about living, about birthdays, about humanity, about yourself. That's a lot of abouts, but life is about many things, after all.

Well, first thing is first: I have learned that there is God. Not only is there one, but he loves me, and you, and everyone else. Why? I am still figuring that one out, but it is all about love, the kind that God has for you and me and all of us.

I have learned that humans are stupid and funny and ironic and evil and happy and kind and sad and generous and guilty and selfish and thoughtful and thankful and wise and selfless and good and irrational and irreverent and holy and helpful and forgetful and forgiving and unforgiving and unusual and God's children. That is all.

I have learned that there is beauty in everything and everyone. All things come from God, and because of that, there is beauty in everything, even if that beauty is hard to find or even if someone wants to be ugly because they are unhappy or something on the outside pretends to be what it is not. There is a lot of pretending in this world. Too much, if you ask me. Whatever happened to being genuine?

Since I am getting tired of "I have learned," I find that there is something common to all humanity, despite and because of our different cultures and religions and such. We all are divine and have a spark of God in us. How else can it be if we are His children? That spark encourages us to become more than we are. I don't believe that the ideologies behind democracy and freedom are culture-related. I believe they are innate in all of us. History shows this, if it shows anything.

Another thing that is important to humanity is family. What would we do without our families? Even if we have broken homes, there is little doubt that our family defines who we are, in part. By nature we are divine, by nurture that divinity is fostered or repressed. We choose what we do with our lives, and we are accountable for those choices, but it is in our families that we learn what choices there are. May fathers and mothers and children always be what they are and united in love; anything else will destroy us.

As for literature (and you thought I'd forget that, didn't you!), that divine spark (light may be a better word; it's hard to describe) in humanity searches for truth (whatever that is; see below on what we are all searching for). In fact, that divine spark/light is itself truth, and truth embraceth truth (yes, that is scripture; somewhere in the Doctrine and Covenants, I think; I'll let you look it up). For some reason, humanity has tried to figure itself out through literature. I am glad it has (or else I wouldn't have a job), but why I am still trying to figure out. Literature can tell us something about humanity, about this truth that we are all looking for (or I think we are). Literature is that divine spark manifest in material/physical/temporal form. Granted, there is "good" and "bad" literature. My canon looks something like this: whatever is good leads to good. So if literature inspires the spark to be light or a flame or something, then it is good—there is definitely some bad stuff out there, so watch out. That's why I like literature. I know not everyone does, but I do so you don't have to (unless you want to; I don't mind fellow readers).

What are we all searching for? What do we see as the purpose of our lives? What have I discovered (ha! not learned)? I want peace. I'm not talking about world peace (though that would be nice) or societal peace (again, a good thing). I'm talking about that deep inner confidence and satisfaction with yourself, life, accomplishments, goals, etc. I want more than RIP on my tombstone; I want to know now—while I am living and breathing as a mortal—that what I am doing is what I am supposed to be doing to get me where I want to go. I want to go/return to God, and I want to know that what I am doing will get me there. Isn't that what you are searching for? This search can take different forms. Maybe you don't care what God thinks, but I am sure you still want peace or happiness or satisfaction (not the lust kind, but the confidence in self kind). And if you don't care what God thinks, think again. You should care.

I've stayed on topic pretty well, haven't I? I've always thought of personal essays as meandering things. I once read an essay that meandered through defining what a personal essay is. It was delightful. So I will meander, from point to point, some related and some not. I think I am just about done anyways. How can one write in a single blog post/essay all that one has learned in 25 years? I mean, I haven't even mentioned the stuff about taking care of oneself. That is a feat! Just watch a child trying to figure it out! It's really amazing any of us make it past the age of five. Parents are really amazing people to not strangle children. Pay homage to goodly parents! (If your parents did strangle you, I apologize. I really don't mean to be offensive; one thing I have learned is that people are quick to be offended, so I must watch what I say and do.)

What have I accomplished in the 25 short years of my life?—I spoke with my grandmother yesterday. She said, You are 25. Wow, you are so young. So young. And you have accomplished so much! The pride was all evident in her voice. I love you, too, Grandma. I'm glad God has extended your life so you can be here to love me—Three college degrees and one on the way—probably my biggest accomplishments. Beyond that, I have helped people, which is what life is all about anyways. It's about two things, I have realized—actually, three—1) Love God, 2) Love People, 3) Learn as much as you possibly can—never mind, four—4) Become something with all that loving and learning. When we die, when we pass from mortality to immortality, we will only be what we have become and what we know. Maybe what we are really all searching for is what we want to become. What do you want to become?

I want to be like God. That is why I believe loving God and loving people means serving them, and you serve God by serving people, so God has set it up so you can kill two birds with one stone (um . . . that doesn't sound right, does it? Oh well, it is written). But you also serve God by doing what He wants you to do (and not doing what he doesn't want you to do). I serve God because I love him. By default I love you, too. Awe, shucks! We are one big, happy, loving family! Hugs all around!

Ew. Enough of the lovey-dovey stuff. So, anyways, that is what I have learned, after 25 years of life as a mortal. What will I learn in the next 25? Or 33? Or 47? Or 52? Or 66? Or 71? Or the rest of eternity, when I am immortal? What adventures await us all before and after we die? Dumbledore said it, after all: death is the next great adventure (bad paraphrasing here). But God said it better: "For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man [and woman]" (Moses 1:39). And if all I remember when I die (or get hit in the head and have amnesia) is that one sentence, I'll know all I ever needed to know because I'll have become all I ever needed to become.