The International Language of Kindness

I'm not feeling particularly poetic or 'writ-ey' but I had some thoughts that I wanted to share, so please bear with me through this array of in-eloquence.

When I moved to Saudi Arabia 11 years ago, it was a very different world than it is now. Very different. From the day I got here and most of the years I lived here, there always felt like there was an unspoken barrier between Saudis and Westerners. This barrier consisted of a wall made up of differences. Differences of one party not really wanting to understand the other one. From the westerner's who lived on my compound, I was always told things about Saudis in a negative light: "It's hard to compromise with them." "Don't argue with them, they love to argue" or "Be careful, they do whatever they want and don't care about you." 

When I got to high school I had the dramatic difference of being surrounded by hardly any westerners, and heard the flip side of the comments: "White people are so uptight." "White people don't care about anyone except themselves" or "they're so close-minded, they don't want to even try to understand anyone who is different." 

If you were to ask me what my biggest pet peeve is, hands down I could tell you in one word: Stereotypes. 

But the point of this blog entry isn't to go off about how stereotypes are unfair, or that they categorize people without giving them a chance. No, this blog is about a beautiful thing that I've been witnessing the last few trips that I have made to Saudi: Peace, the evaporation of differences... acceptance. 

Just this morning, I went to a grocery store in the heart of the city of Al-Khobar, and while everyone was rushing to get out of the store in time for prayer, there was a Saudi woman in line behind us. Behind her was an American family with two girls. As I stood there and watched everyone around me (because I love to people watch!) I noticed that the Saudi woman let the American girls go in front of her in the line, because they just had one thing to check out. Yeah, you might read this and say, "So what? things like that happen all the time" But to me it was a little surprising. In the years that I've been here, the two cultural groups seemed to have done everything in their power to pretend the other isn't there. They usually ignore each other. They usually just say something if one is in the way of the other; but this Saudi woman (who was by herself), totally let those girls go ahead. Even while shopping today at the grocery store, I could see westerners and Saudis acknowledging each other and helping each other. Nothing huge, nothing that would be noteworthy to anyone else.. but it seemed completely normal to everyone. Even as I walked down aisles looking for what I wanted, I felt this wide ambiance of 'understanding'. One was not judging the other, we just accepted that we lived different lives, and did things differently. Simple as that.

I feel that over the years, these groups of people have tried to understand each other, and because of that, the wall has been crumbling. Slowly, but surely.

Over the past month I've been pondering a lot about compassion and kindness, and I feel like my experience this morning has been exactly the closing factor of my thoughts.

Human relationships are everything. For as long as the world has existed, only within the last 200 or so years has technology boosted, as well as education. There were people at the time of Leonardo da Vinci who were set to have known everything there is to know--today, that would be impossible. But if you look throughout time and history, you can see that people still lived and had things to live for. They survived without everything we have today, so what does that tell you? The only thing that matters in this life, are your relationships with other people. 

With that being said, treating people (especially strangers) with kindness is a reflection of building good relationships. Kindness is understood by every culture, every race, every people. You don't have to speak the same language as someone to help them out. In fact, I was sitting next to a Nepalese man on my last flight to Saudi who did not know a lick of English, or... how to fill out his passport form for customs. He gestured to me to help him, I took his passport, and then filled out the paperwork for him; because he was completely helpless in terms of even being able to read it.

Saudi's and westerners are tearing down their barriers, because they are showing kindness to each other. What other barriers can we tear down in our lives if we are but kind to those who are different from us, from those who see the world in a different light than us, or from those who we may not have always gotten a long with? The underlining message that I see in all of this is to love, and never stop loving; no matter your race, your culture, your differences.

If you want to obtain peace and happiness in this crazy world there is only one thing to do: Love with every chance you get. Love everything and everyone without making up excuses. Love with all of your heart.

How Can You Measure Love?

I'm taking an Entomology class this semester (literally '-study of bugs') and my professor is a hoot. I really love him. I'm not sure if it's because he looks like my dad, has a similar personality to my dad, served in Tahiti three years before my dad, or the fact that he actually knows my dad... but I really love my professor. Dr. Riley Nelson (yes, like BYU's new discovered quarterback) and half of lecture time is usually a tangent that he has gone off of that might not have anything to do with bugs. I sincerely look forward to going to his lectures.

So on Monday, he brought some scorpions in a plastic container to show to the class. I had heard this before, but if you know scorpions, you know that they glow in the dark--and from an evolutionary standpoint, nobody knows why. There are maybe two papers out there with theories, but science just doesn't know. We know what chemical it is, we know how it happens through light absorption, but we don't know why it is good for the scorpion.

So my professor is sitting there trying to get us to come up with theories. He starts talking about the scientific method (you observe something, like the fact the scorpion glows, you question why, and then you come up with a hypothesis; then you test it to see if you're right) and at one point he says, "Maybe it is just because God loves the Scorpion and wanted to give it something to brag about" and then jokingly he adds, "How do you measure love? How can you take the scientific method and scientifically measure love? You just can't!"

It may have been one of his random tangents to get us to laugh, or the fact that he's super spontaneous, but that question got me thinking...

How do you measure love? You can't. It's impossible. There is no way on earth you can measure love in an amount or a quantity. Which means, if I love something 'a lot' that is not at all specific. Someone listening would not be able to say back to me, "oh, ok. I know exactly how you feel."

I used to belief that love and selfishness were so cut and dry. For example, "Selfishness is an inside feeling that makes you keep to yourself, all sad and alone and it is a very individual focused feeling." Whereas my idea of love would be something like this, "love is bursting at the seems. Something that makes you soooo happy you feel as if you are going to explode. A feeling that you realize you have no room left to love anymore, and yet God in his kindness manages to continually fill you with that beautiful feeling. You are anxious to give it away, and yet you have no idea how to do it. You wonder how it is even possible to continue to love more, and yet every time you love again or love some more, your love seems to have increased exponentially."

Yes, all these things are true about how selfishness and love make you feel, but there is even more to it. On Monday, and throughout the week as I was thinking about this question, I realized how right Riley was. You can't measure love. You can only base what you think another person feels about love, on the reflections of your own feelings (either about them or based on your own experiences to how you think love is to be measured.) And its not like this is a bad thing, I just find it funny. For example, working at Brighton this summer there were soooooo many instances where I just wanted people to know how much I really cared about them. In fact, I would get frustrated because I had no idea how to let them know the full capacity of my love for them. But I realize now that that isn't the point.

I guess what does matter (what I got out of this whole thought-process through the week) was that there was a different purpose to love then I thought before. I'm always the type to want others to feel loved, the type to want others to feel confident in what they're doing, and if that means doing everything I can to love them, and then show them how much I love them, so be it. But since I realize I can never show a person that, I feel the point of love isn't to be known by others how much we love them, but to just love them.

At Brighton this summer, there was a line in the theme song that comes to mind which states, "...others might not love me back, but I will love them still..." and I think that that is the entire point. We don't love to be loved. We love because love in and of itself is worth doing--it is the one thing that makes us better, the only thing that gives anything in this life, purpose at all... true, pure, Charitable love.

Brighton Week 3. Theme: Tweak Week

Sorry, I have not been keeping this updated.

But because I have to leave to camp in about an hour, this will probably be a short post.

Adventures for this week:

The younger maintenance couple has their day off on Wednesday, so what did we do while they were gone? We pranked them :) We had a box from the craft shack of about 800 small toy mice, and we placed them allll over their room. On the floor, on their bed, on their couch, on the handles of drawers... any possible flat surface. It was Abu Dobby and I doing it, so with 3 of us it took about 15 min. We could not stop laughing the entire time! The next day when they were back Abu and I were so embarrassed and scared to face them, but it was so awesome!

The other great adventure was Wednesday night ( I guess Wednesday in general was just an adventure!) After flag on the rock, everyone split into their units to do Dutch Oven cookout. The overnighter spot hasn't completely melted from the snow yet, so earlier this week Abu and I found a different spot up on the road toward Clayton's Peak. (Yes, Brighton Ski Resort land). The overnighters had left that afternoon, and after about an hour of dutch oven, it began to rain. And then there was rolllling thunder that echoed on the mountains, intense lightening and before we knew it, it was hailing. So what we heard was that the overnighters up on the mountain, threw all of their stuff under trees with tarps under it, and just booked it. The truck would have to go up and get their stuff later. On the way down the mountain though, they realized the gate to the road was locked. They could walk around it, but the truck would not be able to get up to get their stuff. By some miracle Zimmy (one of the Zim sisters) happened to show up. She knew the code to the gate because she has a cabin in that area, and the truck was able to get all of the campers stuff.

While at camp, there were groups ducking for cover, and one unit's food did not even get halfway cooked. One of the Program Directors ended up taking them bagels so they would have some sort of food for dinner.

Wednesday was a crazy night, but as I lay in my bed that night looking at the ceiling I realized that sometimes in our lives what seems like a trial, is actually a tender mercy in and of itself. As hectic as everything was, Abu and I weren't stressed at all. Everything just happened to work out, and I guess it's the Lord's way of telling us that even though he sends the rain (no pun intended), he will always have that silver lining we have to look for that makes it all worth it. And the good news is, we even saw a double rainbow when it was all over ;)

Until next week!
-Yellow

Brighton: Move-In and Pre-Camp

Hello All :)

Here is the Brighton updates for this week! It was a typical Pre-Camp week, where the staff is taught how to be Brighton staff. Pre-Camp is usually the hardest for everyone, as they learn their responsibilities, but this week was just peachy. In fact, I'm pretty sure not a single staff member was having issues at all. The Brighton 2011 staff is amazing! They are so cheerful, and interested in each other and loving. It is going to be a great summer.

The hottest news up at Brighton this past week was the sighting of a bear by one of our PD's Granola, and Head Craft Paisley. This news is HUGE. Floss, the president of camp who has had some involvement with Brighton about the last 60 years, (even before she became president 22 years ago) said that she's never ever heard of anyone ever seeing a bear up here in Big Cottonwood Canyon. We called the National Forest Service to report it, Floss was scared they would shut us down for a week, but all is well. In fact they didn't even care.. (well they cared but not any neg feedback about closing Brighton haha) They are guessing the reason why it came down was because there is still a TON of snow up at higher elevations, so it was looking for food.

Yes, there is a TON of snow up at camp. Some places you can see the pavement in the parking lot, and other places there's up to 6 feet. It varies, but we're crossing our fingers that by the end of this next week it will be mostly melted. We shoveled a lot of snow this week.

Shoveling on the Rock. Left to Right: Gloria, Melody, Shades, Granola, AO.

But that's most of the Brighton updates. Next week I'm sure there will be lots more news to come, with the first week of campers. There is 4 African refugee girls that are supposed to be coming up next week. One of the committee members (Krispie) said she's not sure, but she thinks one or two of them might've seen their parents killed, and their idea of 'camp' is 'refugee camp.' So our goal is to help them feel loved, and feel the spirit, and I'm sure their counselor is going to have an interesting week. That's all for now :)

Brighton 2011 Staff after the Legend Ceremony

Brighton Love!
-Director Yellow ;)

The Brighton Adventures Begin!

Since I am working up at Brighton LDS Girls Camp this summer, I have decided to add these adventures to my blog: not only for those who are interested in what goes on at Brighton, but also for those of you who used to work at Brighton and are curious about the current what's-going-on in "Brighton world" (aka, Zion.)


On Saturday (yesterday) we had our last workshop up at camp. It was the first time we took this year's staff up there. The pole that measures the snow... said it was at 7feet. Yes, that is the lowest level of snow.

 Nibik was completely covered. Pika (a committee member) went up a few weeks ago and emailed me a picture of Nibik... as I looked at the photo I realized "oh wait, there's supposed to be a building there" here's a photo of what it looked like when we got there, along with what the cabin usually looks like:

That mound in the center of the photo is Nibik.

This is what Nibik looks like normally. (Don't mind the saran wrap;

it was for a prank, which is why I took the pic in the first place haha)

The workshop was great! The PD's took the staff around (mostly up the hill) while Abu, (my co-director) Paisley (Head Craft), and I hid the candy.


By "the candy" this is what I mean: So we went up to camp to show the staff around, but also for them to find out who their roommates will be the first half of the summer! What Abu and I did was write everyone's camp name on a piece of candy, and also the name of room/place they were living at. Whoever had their same candy, was their roommate. Honestly, there weren't a lot of places to hide the stuff... a lot of it ended up being stuck halfway in the snow haha. Some on trees, some along the Boardwalk (previous staff-- the boardwalk is clear! But what it looks like now is demonstrated below, lol) and some on the roof of the George.. yes, the snow was that high.

The Boardwalk

The George Building (The Dining Hall) 

Afterward we had Pato talk about water up at camp, we played some trust sequence games (okay, just one cause we were running out of time) Creeped, prayed and then had lunch. The staff then could leave. If anyone wanted to stay behind, they could to help shovel snow.


I was actually surprised there was quite a lot of people who stayed. Some on the rock, Gloria (a Program Director) shoveled out and entrance to the Barn, and a lot of other's shoveling on Hovel. (Literally, on it. At one point I was standing on the roof trying to get the weight of the snow off of it.) I was also super grateful Gloria's brother Peter came up at the beginning of the workshop and was just shoveling down to the door of Nibik, the entire time. By the time the workshop was over, he pretty much had uncovered it. WOO HOO! 

What the Barn looked like when we got there. 

What the Barn looks like normally. I know this is a terrible picture

because of all the campers in the foreground, but it was the only thing I could find.

Notice Nibik in the back left too. 

What Peter (Gloria's brother) did during the workshop. 

Shoveling down to get to the door of Nibik! :) 

Anyway, that's the adventures! 2 weeks from yesterday is... move-in day! Stay updated for more Brighton news! <3  

Dobby (above) Chuckles (lower photo) digging into the snow on the rock

Yes, THE rock. It was so covered the scene was flat. Notice Chuckles shovel:

She said that the bottom of it barely touched the bedrock. Crazy, huh?!

Floss found a dead mouse in Tinkerbell (the men's restroom on 
the boardwalk) Right to Left: Sunny, Rosebud, Gloria, Floss. 

Russia!

For the longest time, I've been wanting to finish up a scrapbook I started called, "My Book of Travels" basically, a scrapbook of all my travel adventures. Since school got out, I've been working on one particular section, and because I typed out what I wanted to write in it, I figured I would just add it as a blog post. So, here are all the memories that I have of my 10th grade adventure to St. Petersburg. Sorry its long, and may be kind of boring, but if you're curious enough to read the whole thing... then great! I added in some photos that will be in the scrapbook, I guess for your entertainment haha. All of this is what I am currently writing in the scrapbook. I realized I have actually tried shortening some of it as I go along (not main ideas, just phrases) so this is pretty much the bulk of it:

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Imagine that you live in a world of glitter and gold, enchantment and parties, stones and fine gems. Your history is rich of rulers with expensive and unique tastes, and in the period of a few years—it all changes. A new government has arisen, giving hope to the common citizen; unfortunately in even another set of short years it has turned to bleakness as nothing has worked out as intended. The truth to what has happened does not come to surface for nearly 100 years later, and yet living through this change is something that has never ever yet occurred in the history of mankind. This is the story of Russia.  

If you were to ask me what my favorite piece of history to study or learn about would be, I would reply in one word, “Russia.” I am fascinated, not by the rich elegant past, or the dreadful communist era—but by the transition. (Yes, I will admit that after going to Russia I learned to love the taste of Catherine I , and have always had a tint of interest in the Stalin era, but truthfully not as much as the story of the transition). As a child I was mesmerized about the mystery of the missing Anastasia, and what happened to Tsar Nicholas II and his family. I used to read books, and as a sophomore in high school had the privilege of writing a research paper on the family—to this day I recognize how much more I learned from actually researching for the paper than writing it. Fortunately for me, after the paper was written, I got the chance to travel to St. Petersburg for a Model UN conference. (This was my first MUN conference) I was a delegate of Syria in the Environmental forum.

Side note: Because it is hard to recall the order of events, and correlate my memories with what few photos I have, I will just write out the account, and have the photos mixed in spontaneously with the text.

The first day we landed, was a blizzard. Our plane was not able to touch down properly because the wind pushed it upward, and we had to circle around for another half an hour before we could actually land. From the Saudi warmth, to the bitter Russian cold, it was hard to bare. We were picked up from the airport on a charter bus, and had a tour guide with us to help explain things in the city as we drove to our hotel. Oh, she told wondrous things that made my ears feel like they were being filled with sweet honey. There were statues of men on horses everywhere, and she explained to us the symbolism (all assuming the man is on the horse): If the two front legs are in the air then the man died in war. If one of the legs is in the air then the man died of injuries due to war. If all 4 of the horses legs are on the ground then the man died of natural causes. She also explained to us why some of the doors on a lot of the older buildings were so large and so tall: So a man on a horse could easily go inside while staying seated on his horse. Our tour guide also took us to a small little shop along a not-so-crowded road—when i walked in I didn’t even know what to do with my eyes. We were in a shop particularly made for Faberge eggs... a Russian specialty. The royal family used to have these eggs made for each other on Easter. When I say, ‘have the made’ I mean with the most exquisite metals and gems you can imagine. I later bought a cheap glass one from Catherine the First’s palace, but it was nothing compared to what I saw in this store.

At one point we even drove by an old communist building on the banks of the Neva River, in which our tour guide told us of one gruesome night when a lot of people in St. Petersburg went missing... the next morning the river was red with blood. She joked about how the communists use to run things in the early days of Stalin. In fact, she even told us that if you were to notice the older generation of people walking the streets, they will never smile at you, and rarely will make eye contact. They were told to never smile, to always look stern; for fear of their lives that someone might be suspicious of them in the government. Nobody wanted trouble.

The first day we visited the Winter Palace (now called ‘The Hermitage’ which I will talk about later) and for the first night, this is what I wrote at the time, 

            “On the first night, for dinner we went to this really nice restaurant across [the square] from the Winter Palace, [the table was] Onyx, (what the Czar's really liked b/c when heated it supposedly changes colours [when warmed]...When we were going back to the bus, i looked at the Winter palace, and got kind of creeped out. I was just thinking, Man, there could be hundreds of ghosts in that place at night when the museum is closed! Servants, tsars, family, tons of ghosts! It was scary. That night we had a snow ball fight in the front of our hotel... Our hotel isn't [in the main city of] St. Petersburg, it's on the outskirts, across a bridge [of the Neva River], (the bridge goes up at 10 pm every night and is put down at 7 am the next morning) But man there is a lot of Alcohol in Russia. Down at the hotel store, a bottle of Alcohol was cheaper than a bottle of water. It was insane! [A few kids in our group actually took advantage of that, and I just ended up staying away from the store altogether just in case my lack of Russian reading skills would cause me to buy a bottle of vodka instead of water]”

This is my favorite photo of the Winter Palace even thouh you can't tell what it looks like haha.

 Its green though, and nowadays it is used as a museum because the Bolsheviks sold all the furnitre

that was previously inside. 

            Our hotel: I remember we were told not to drink the water, so Melody and I took a walk down the street to a small convenience store. We couldn’t read Russian, so we guessed what was a water bottle by the picture, and ended up getting extremely carbonated water to brush our teeth... it was disgusting! Also the first night, Melody and I decided to have some fun and jump on our beds. Unfortunately I broke mine; not in half, but a leg of the bed. Melody poked fun of me for the rest of the trip. At the time I was embarrassed but now looking back, we both still laugh. One of the days between the conference, we woke up one morning to big giant letters in the field facing our porch that said, ‘FREE PALESTINE’ it made all of us happy. Another funny thing about our hotel, was we discovered from another friend we had made on the MUN trip, that if you were to walk down the hall and bang on the wall, the light would go out. But if you wanted it back on again, he would bang on the wall, and it would turn back on... it was hilarious!

            Having a bunch of high school students together on the same floor of the hotel for our trip, was a blast for us. We would come out into the halls and talk, or if we kept the doors open, wander between each other’s room. There was one guy in our group named Kush, and one night we comes off the elevator (we were on the sixth floor, I think?) laughing, talking about how he had just farted as he left the elevator so everyone would be stuck with it as they went on their way.

 Melody in our room at the hotel

In a journal entry, I told how day 2-5 were dedicated to MUN. We met in an old famous communist building in downtown St. Petersburg for the general assembly on the first day. From the entry, I talked about how bored I was the first day for listening to opening speeches, but the next few days we were able to debate. There was a lot of note passing. I remember sitting next to a boy who had come from a private school in Florida and all these Russian girls would send him notes with their number or to tell him how good looking he was, because he was American. It was so funny! He did not seem the type to be used to girls contacting him, and he was actually really shy about it. Melody was in my forum (she was the delegate of Oman) and she taught me how to make origami stars, which I would do to pass the time when I got bored.

On the second day of MUN (day 3 of the trip) I talked about a school building where the environmental forum was held. It was quite the experience. Like most buildings I had noticed in St. Petersburg, was that they were all decades old. Some even before the fall of the Tsar. Looking at the buildings, it was also a sort of culture shock as I noticed there were no alleys. In fact, the buildings were built so close to each other, there was probably only an inch between when one building stopped, and the next began. Because of this, buildings rarely were torn down, but rather recycled. A building could have been an old elitists home, turned into a factory, which was later used as a school. The school I went to for my forum was also a shock to me. I was told the building was about, or just over 150 years old. The first thought that came to mind when I walked in was, ‘this is an old place and there have been many people who have walked in and out of here’ In fact, a lot of our MUN meetings were held in old ballrooms, where you could tell just by looking at the curtains, ceiling, or chandeliers that they were used for elegant wealthy class citizens in the 1800’s. I absolutely loved it.

Pepsi can, part of a lunch for MUN

One of the most vivid images that remains in my mind was an old staircase I remember climbing, in awe. Looking back as I guess to remember, I will say it was about 6 or 7 feet wide. The stairs were shallow. On the edges where one would walk to hold on to the railing, the stone was deeply depressed—you could tell thousands if not hundreds of thousands of footsteps have treaded those stairs in those 150 years. The bathroom stalls had no doors, and the building was freezing in the winter—the funding was low. There were old radiators dotting the halls, and the tiles looked like they had never been changed from the first time they were laid. Even the windows were like the reality of a photograph taken from a century before—the style and the fact they were pull-out, clear un-frosted windows with Victorian handles. The other fascinating thing to me, was that the school was still in use. I would walk past classrooms with paintings clothes-pinned to a string, or see lines of small children walking the halls. Was this the effect of the communist movement in Russia? My chaperones guessed that the government just didn’t care about the buildings and recycled them for everyone’s use.

On the last MUN night, for the entire Model UN conference a club was reserved (as in, booked out so there wouldn’t be alcohol and other non-high school MUN-ers around) for the students. I remember talking about how much I was not a fan of Russian food (they eat a lot of cabbage) and even for the entire trip felt Russian food was bland.  This is what I wrote from my journal for the night we went to the club,

“After the disco, we were going out to the busses, and as we were waiting, we had fun sliding back and forth across the ice. Oh, and right before the disco as we were going to our hotel, we had some fun with some students from Switzerland on the other bus, and one of the guys mooned us. Man was his butt hairy! Ha ha it was funny though [our entire group joked about it after that]”

Another opportunity that I was blessed with in Russia, was that we got to see a real Russian ballet! It was the ballet, ‘Carmen’ (written as a French ballet, but performed by Russian ballerinas). Before the ballet, our group walked around the building and took pictures with some of the girls dressed up in their fancy ball-gowns as models from the 1800s (they were the ushers). Before Carmen began there were some random acts, and then the show.. I remember being enchanted as I walked around thinking about how things might’ve been like in the old days.

At different points in the trip, because we were allowed to walk around areas that we would travel to by bus, or near our hotel (we were told to be back at a meeting point at a certain time) Melody and I wandered a lot. At one point our group was in an area with a Russia marketplace. It sold the usual touristy stuff, but we knew it was also a marketplace for the native people because there were things like produce, shoes, and jackets for sale. We also walked past a church called, ‘The Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood’ or other shorter names like, ‘Church on Spilt Blood’ or ‘Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ’. Honestly, I don’t know the history. Our tour guide didn’t tell us about it and I even had to google image Russian cathedrals to find out what the name of it was. We did get the chance to go into a catholic church on a Sunday. It was very busy, and a neat experience. I don’t remember much other than the crowdedness but a lot of gold leafing and candlesticks. I also have a vague memory of our group on a bridge near the Neva river. We took photographs, and there was a bear for tourists to look at as they walked by (hence the bear picture) but I do not remember much else.

The last thing we saw in Russia was Catherine the first’s palace. But before I go into that, (which was my favorite part of the trip) I will record the last details of the trip, and what I wrote in my journal.

I will be honest, I got this photo from google (we actually went on a very snowy day)--because I didn't have a good one, and this was my FAVORITE part of the trip. I know I didn't talk about it in this blog entry, because I haven't written that part for it yet, but just to give you an idea: She painted it this color so that in the summer at a distance it would match the color of the sky and only the  white columns would appear making the building look invisible. Cool huh?! Maybe (i dont know yet) i'll include later what I write on this place but I LOVED it. 

Because MUN was over, and we needed to be nearer to the airport, our group moved to another part of St. Petersburg by bus. In fact, that evening we walked around with our group to shops, and under the streets through connecting tunnels underground. I remember we stopped at a Nike store so people could look at things, but it was way overpriced, so we left. I think I remember this mostly because we were in the heart of St. Petersburg—modern St. Petersburg. Russians who lived in the area surrounded us, homeless people on the streets, we even saw a McDonalds!

For the end of the trip, this is what I wrote,

“That night, we didn’t go to bed because our flight was going to leave at 3am. I took an hour or two nap. Then left. It was my birthday! We flew to Frankfurt, stayed there for like 5 hours. Me and Mel walked around a lot, and bought a chocolate bunny for easter. Then we took a connecting flight to Dubai, and then to Saudi. I had spent my 16^th birthday in 4 countries... how cool is that?! Ha ha ha it was great.. even though it was boring at the same time ;) Heh, so yeah. Russia was soooo fun!” And that was that. Yes, maybe a little dramatic as a 16 year old, but who isn’t at 16? I guess I will admit that just as I was then, I still am now...completely in love with Russian history.

How can you write about Russia, and not include a photo of Lenin? 

It would be disgraceful. Ladies and gentlemen, the man who was in charge

of all the change in Russia in the 1920's: Vladimir Lenin. (did you know he specifically

said that Stalin should never be in charge, and actually should be removed from his position as a secretary in the office because he foresaw how power hungry he was? He called Stalin a selfish, angry, irrational person.. and look who took control after Lenin got sick and died? How ironic.) 

The Story-Teller

Many many years ago there was a young boy who loved to look at the stars. He would look up astronomy books, trace, and keep track of traveling stars through the skies. Because he lived near the mountains and away from the big city, it was easy for him to go hiking or sit outside of his house at night and look at even the dim ones, that not many city-folk got to see.

When he grew older and as a young man he left his home to travel across the world. He found himself again in  a remote area, but this time among island-folk.Through getting to know them, he also learned of their history, their culture, but most importantly their stories. The people told wondrous stories of how their ancestors used the stars to navigate the seas, and even go up into the sky. Over time, and through laboring service, he learned to have a deep love for these people. He wanted to share the stories he had learned from older generations, to the younger generations.He wanted to take the principles of these stories to teach both his own children, and teach others how to apply the principles into their own lives.

And this is just what he did.

When he eventually returned home, he taught these forgotten stories to the island-folk's relatives; he told stories in prisons, he told stories to school-children, and he told stories to all who were willing to listen. He studied and learned more stories, recited, memorized and told them to even more people. When he had children of his own, he would take them out on clear nights under the sky and tell them the ancient stories he had learned, from loving the people of the islands.

I am grateful to admit that I know this story teller, and have now taken the time to tell his story.

Why are stories important? What do they teach us?
-They teach us about people's lives, cultures, principles and experiences.

By learning about other people we can learn to love them
By learning about principles, then we can become more deeply rooted in principles.
And by learning of other's experiences, we too can take those and apply/use them in our own lives.

Stories shape and form us. Teach us how to live, teach us how to get through the hard parts of life, teach us emotion; passion, love, Charity.

I'm forever grateful for the lesson of this story-teller. He taught me about the stars, about serving others, about Charity. From recited stories, to read books, it doesn't matter the type or source of the story... all have lessons; all have potential to principles learned. He read stories from books like Les Miserables, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Screwtape Letters, The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings, and many more...

He never missed up an opportunity to tell a story. From sea-faring adventures, to cowboys, to pirates and stories of ancient peoples... The truth is, I've learned to live because of stories and now will admit that this is how I personally choose to share Charitable love: by telling my own stories and sharing the lessons I've learned---for the sole purpose that maybe someone else can benefit. That's why we have stories, and that is why they are so significantly important: they shape our lives, and teach us how to live. I am again, forever grateful to my favorite story-teller: my dad.

This picture was taken during his trip to the Marquesas Islands

December 2009. Her name is Vaeheana. 

The Joy Behind Learning to Love Something, You Once Hated

Forgive me, I have not written in about 6 months. My goal is to be better at posting in my blog, so if I don't update next week please bother me about it :) Also forgive me because I feel that the title of this blog is super cliché. However, I couldn't think of anything better and I wanted to get my thoughts out before they died down. Also, warning: I'm not feeling very eloquent tonight, so another reason to apologize if it's cliché. I really just want to write and get this out of me.

I want to share a story and then the lesson I learned from that story.

It is incredible to me, the ability behind learning to really passionately love something that at one point in time you absolutely despised.

For me, it comes in the form of a class that I have taken this semester--- Plant Identification & Ecology.

Story: I graduate in about a year and signed up for this class as an elective for my major, because I'm done with my major requirements... in short, this class was not required for me. But I LOVE learning new things, and after taking ecology and learning that I loved that too, I thought it wouldn't be so bad. "Cool, I get to learn about some cool plants and more about how plants work.. why not?" 

Unfortunately, the first month of the semester was a disaster. I thought the class was about learning concepts, and discovered it was mostly memorization. For the life of me, I could not figure out how to memorize the set of plants AND be able to recognize them for our weekly quizzes. I really hated this class. I'm not even kidding, I would have nightmares about it.

But through time, things got better. In fact, the transition was quite slow, but now I can honestly say I love this class. Why? Because of the beauty that comes behind learning about something you hate. 

Lesson:
Why do I love this class? Because to me, it is a manifestation of the Love of God. I feel this class has given me at least a taste at how intricate and vast this world is. Not so much in the sense of 'look at how intricate plants can be' but also from the idea of how incredible it is to discover that anything is possible... is this not love?

For LDS readers who are reading this, this concept reminds me of 2 things: 2 Ne 2:2.."..and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for they gain" the word consecrate means, 'to make holy.' So basically, He will make holy our afflictions, for our gain. For me, my gain was learning about the Love of God. Not only through the manifestation of learning something hard, but through the manifestation of His great hand in the creation, and that He made this world for us. (Moses 1:39)

The other thing I think of, is the 4th Verse of 'How Firm a foundation':

When through the deep waters, I call thee to go

The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless

And sanctify to thee, and sanctify to thee, 

And sanctify to thee, thy deepest distress.

Isn't it beautiful? That's what it's all about. Having the hard things in life become beautiful to you, because they were hard. Loving something because you hated it. In reality, this is power.. because you can become a powerful person by doing hard things, and by learning to love. 

That's all, sorry if it's a little cheesy or cliché.

Sphaeralcea coccinea- scarlet globemallow

The plant that defines the turning point of the semester for me. The amazing thing about it, is that the hairs are 'stellate' which means they come out of its pores like a star, or a firework. It's beautiful.