Professor Mallard Strikes Again

Another homework assignment turned blog-post. 

The things that occur in the natural world have long been a fascination and topic of pondering for me. When I was very small I learned that my third great-grandmother was a Native American Indian, and I immediately felt that this gave me a deeper connection to the earth than my peers had. Of course, this slight detail on my family history did not biologically contribute to my personal interest in the world around me, but it did give my adolescent mind validation to explore and find reason in natural occurrences. Similar to Aldo Leopold’s descriptions of oaks recording history and critters switching their alliances, I compare the growth patterns of sunflowers to the behaviors of people, which helps me come to terms with my world.

The first entry of Leopold’s that truly meant something to me is found on page 18. He describes the destruction of trees as they are cut down. I’ve always felt that it is a tragedy when trees are cut; humans and roads should move around the trees, not remove the trees to make room for us. Leopold makes the tree sound so resolute and unyielding when he writes “It is not until the transect is completed that the tree falls, and the stump yields a collective view of a century.” Every last fiber must be severed before the tree falls to the ground, and even then the stump leaves a record of everything that happened to the tree during its lifetime. The rings within the tree and the thickness of the bark on the outside are a memory of the years the tree spent growing, recording the history of the surrounding country in a beautiful, unique form.

Leopold goes on to describe this unconventional historian with the statement “by its fall the tree attests the unity of the hodge-podge called history.” When the tree falls, all the rings fall together. One layer cannot be removed individually. This fact can be used to motivate future generations to look upon the history of their families, cultures, and nations and ponder on what will fall or decay if they were to fall away from truths and traditions. As the tree illustrates, the past and the future lean on each other for their support.

I also found Leopold’s description of creatures’ continual changing alliances on page 29 profound and thought-provoking. All the animals and insects Leopold describes first lend their support to a tree or plant, and then become the thing most dangerous to its growth. This is classic example of survival. The creatures are never “helping” or “hurting” the plant life, rather they are doing whatever it is that is best for their own survival. Perhaps as humans we should examine the things we think are helping us: the Internet, media, fast food, drug cures, etc., and see if they are more to our detriment than our benefit. Nature is a reflection of truth; I honestly believe that the behaviors of the natural world can teach us how to operate in our modern civilizations.

Personally, I have an affinity for sunflowers. They are so bright and beautiful and are a representation and symbol of the sunshine that gives life to everything on earth. Also, they are not just aesthetically pleasing, but provide protein and other nutrients in their seeds. Sunflowers are yellow, which is my favorite color, and I love that even though I am considered to be a very tall girl, many sunflowers reach heights above my own.

However, it is the patterns that sunflowers follow that make them so noteworthy. They received their name not only from their appearance, but also because they always follow and face the sun. From the time that it rises in the east to when it sets in the west, the sun is followed by a host of smaller suns. I find the symbolism incredible. If we change only one letter, the sun becomes the Son of God and I find myself emulating a flower to turn my face and constantly follow Him. Likewise, in order to support their heavy seed filled heads, sunflowers must grow deep roots and strong stems. We as people and children of God must also grow deep roots in the gospel and strong stems of faith in order to keep from falling over and maintain our focus on the Son.

Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac was written from the perspective of someone with reverence and respect for all the happenings of nature around him, whether he is affiliated with religion or not. My personal reflection on nature reveals my deep reverence for God and all that He has created, and I don’t see much difference between my account and that of the author. Both Leopold and I have noticed and pondered on what others may have overlooked. Although only three moments in the natural world have been outlined, our modern culture can learn much about how to live and develop from nature’s example. As the centuries old hymn entreats, “all creatures of our God and King, lift up your voice and with us sing, Alleluia!” we should notice and appreciate the simple beauties of our world.

Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust

I feel like I should really get University credit for all the courses Heavenly Father has me enrolled in these days.

Faith 385
Trust 220
Miopia 401


This is me in my life right now:

And my constant refrain is "Lead, Kindly light, amid the encircling gloom. Lead Thou me on!"

And it is kind of frightening, not seeing where I'm going. Pushing forward without knowing the 'to'. All I know is I'm trying my hardest to walk the right direction, even when it's not where I want to go. Because if I walk where I'm told to, even if it's not where I want to go, I will find myself in the place I want to be.

So. To everyone who feels like they are blind, that they are completely functioning on faith and trust, and listening to that quiet voice to know where to step, you're not alone. The sun always rises in the morning, and that warmth and light will reach you and lead you.

My Newest Love

I had this problem in my younger years called anything my mom wanted me to read I didn't want to read even if I really wanted to read it. I remember she bought me Ella Enchanted and I didn't read it for probably five more years at my own detriment, because when I finally did read it, it became one of my most favorite books. (I've read it probably 30 times since then to make up for it.)

On that same note, (pun intended), my mom wanted me to fiddle as part of my violin musical education. I vehemently refused, probably because I was prideful and because she wanted me to. A part of me also felt like it wasn't "really" playing the violin, that it was beneath my oh-so-classical repertoire. I did fiddle a little (rhyme) for my Grandpa because he loved it when I did, but I completely quit fiddling after he passed away with no intention of turning back.

Well, this is one of those Ella Enchanted things again. Because I took a music class last semester that required me to go to the BYU Folk Ensemble concert. And I fell in love. (The Lucky Crickets, favorite band that is BYU affiliated)

And then my parents discovered The Lower Lights. And I fell even more in love.

So....I'm taking Fiddling. The class. And I am so happy. I was meant to be a violinist and play on a regular basis, and I haven't played hardly at all in the last couple years what with school and pursuing nursing and such. So I'm taking the class to make playing a priority.

And I am in LOVE.

Seriously, where has this been all my life???

This is what I'm working on this week:

I'll keep you all updated. And you can come to my concert in April. I fully intend on wearing something plaid with cowgirl boots. Yee-haw.

Scientific

Sometimes my homework becomes more than just a homework assignment.

Enjoy.

Bio 100 Intro Essay

I never would have anticipated to have such a profound spiritual experience on the second day of Biology 100, yet I did. There were two points made in class that day that redefined science and biology in my mind and have caused me to approach the subject with more enthusiasm. The first was that “science is a means of discovering truth, just like art, music, philosophy, ethics, literature, and religion,” and the second is the idea that truth is truth, “independent of a person’s beliefs.
Convictions don’t/can’t change facts.” 

   The first thought, about science as a means of discovering truth, meant something to me because it was different than the way I have always viewed life. I have only ever associated “discovering the truth” from a religious perspective, as something that must be pondered and prayed about. But as the quote implies, all musicians, artists, philosophers, and scientists are simply trying to discover truth through their own means. Therefore, my testimony of this world and of the existence of God can be supported and strengthened by the study of biology, aka, the study of truth. 

   The second point accompanies the first. Truth is absolute and unchanging, regardless of how much someone does or doesn’t believe it. This brings me a great amount of peace. I cannot control what others choose to believe, and my influence may never alter another person’s beliefs. However, the truth is still the truth at the end of the day. In biology, which we outlined above as the search for and study of truth, I will find further evidence of the things that are facts and cannot be changed. For example: God lives. That is a fact, regardless of a person’s belief. Further evidence in science of this fact are the movement and structure of the solar system, our life-providing sunshine, the growth and development of cells, the necessary resources such as water that exist for our benefit, and the list goes on eternally. 

   In closing, biology is defined as the study of life. Life is a constant search for truth and happiness. As we discover those truths that cannot be changed, we are filled with happiness. As Alma stated so beautifully,  “all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator.” (Alma 30:44) Science is not a means of denying truth, but rather of supporting it.

Melancholy

I feel melancholy today.
And when that happens, I write.
So I'm sorry for the blog flood this week, but this is how I deal with stuff. I write.

It has been said that you love those you serve. I know this is true. Often when I feel frustrated or angry with someone, I find a way to serve them. Then I love them.

There was a man that I took care of when I was a CNA this past summer. In the beginning, he drove me absolutely crazy. He was almost completely deaf, and apparently 'Bethany' is a hard name to hear. He's the one who gave me all my nicknames: Stephanie, Daphne, Beckany, Angel, Becky, Rosalie, and the list goes on. He also said some of the funniest things I ever heard while working there, which I will keep to myself because many of them are inappropriate. He had had a stroke, and so the left side of his body was nearly useless. He could stand and move himself from wheel chair to bed and back again using the right side of his body and me, the aid, on the other side.
    He was always cold, and I learned to remember to put the beanie cap on his head and wrap one blanket around his shoulders and the other on his lap. He would holler at me if I left his door open because he was convinced there was a draft. I learned to remember to give him a sip of water before bed and to put his box of tissues by his left shoulder at night. And slowly, I learned to love this man who had originally been such a bother to me.
   He passed away today.
   I was already feeling sad before I heard the news, and maybe its because the piece of me that I put into serving and caring and loving him knew.
   
   There are a few things I know, with absolute certainty:
   God lives.
   Jesus Christ lives.
   They know who I am, and they love me.
   Life is beautiful. And it ends.
   There is a life after this, where we will all be reunited.
   Love is so important.

So in my melancholy state today, I am holding on to these absolute truths. Everything else feels uncertain and unclear, but those things are in tact. And the Sun will rise in the morning.

Happy Birthday: 23

He was my first hero. Always treating me like a queen, never calling me names, always standing up for me and being kind when I wasn't.

He lets me push his buttons, and not just the literal ones on the robot costume from 1994. He let me play his cool big kid games with legos and dinosaurs and airplanes, and then he let me steal his underwear because I wanted to be potty trained too.

He was always my cohort on family vacations, and we thought we were so funny when we would pretend to be snotty rich kids at restaurants. I loved Sunday afternoons spent playing in his room, often including me being pinned down and tickled. I hated the tickling but I always came back for more.

He helped me invent the Sandwich game, where we would pile mattresses and pillows and blankets on top of each other, and see how long it took to get out.

He protected me on the bus in elementary school, and I always felt safe with him around (still do). He put up with my screechy violin beginning, never teasing or making fun but encouraging. He writes me love notes that I still have, telling me I'm beautiful and amazing and once: "if we were both sixteen, and you weren't my sister, I would ask you out." He gave me courage to be myself and he helped me learn to love Jesus Christ, because I knew what it was to have an older brother who loved me perfectly.

He made me brave enough to ride a roller coaster, even though he probably did it for his own entertainment more than for me to overcome the fear :)

He taught me what courage and brave mean. He taught me to value life and laughing and to always say thank you. He taught me that even if someone has a personal space the size of Jupiter, you break through it and hug them and kiss them and hold on tight. He taught me to love and not be afraid of sick people, and how to look into their eyes and pull the person out of the sickness. He taught me to never give up, to fight and keep fighting and conquer.

He taught me to love literature and movies. He takes me on dates to see movies in IMAX and to Denny's at midnight. Sometimes he just comes and hangs out with me late at night and we talk about school or dating or something weird he read on the internet. He tells me I can do anything.

I love the looks we share between ourselves when one of our family members has done something weird/hilarious/confusing. I love that he calls me Bethie. I love that he hugs me more than he used to, because we live away from each other. I love his little giggle and his glasses. I love his gait, permanently different than it used to be. I love it that he sets goals and goes after them.

I love James Andrew Coleman, the best friend of my childhood and on into our adult lives. Happy Birthday.

Diagnosis

Because I'm going to be in medicine someday, sometimes I practice interpreting symptoms and potential diagnoses.
For example: young man sitting by me in class with a nervous twitch that makes you raise your hand a lot and saliva glands that projectile gleek onto my arm, you might possibly have Awkwarditis. Inflammation of the Awkward. (It's very common my dear, don't worry, and sometimes curable.)

Another: Oh darling, I'm so sorry you're hunched over and your feet are deformed and you lose your balance a lot. You suffer from Lack of Logic disorder, sometimes referred to as "LOL". This is a big campus. That is a heavy backpack. For goodness sake, leave the six inch heels at home.

And to the professor afflicted with Justin Bieber's Disease, I'm sorry everyone hates you. Stop requiring ridiculous amounts of course work and making us buy $486,987,301.95 textbooks THAT WE NEVER USE. (Yup. I said Never. Deal with it.)

Well. I have a self diagnosed disease, and I didn't even have to use Web.MD to get there.

Dating Anxiety. DA, for short. (Not to be confused with Dumbledore's Army, which would in fact be awesome.)
What causes this, you may ask? Perhaps it was my obscene prom experience, outlined here. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that everything I knew about male and female interaction came from Jane Austen novels, where they don't actually date. They pursued with lovely, eloquent letters, passion filled waltzes, cobblestone carriage rides, and delicately lowered eyelashes. None of this disjointed modern business of guessing and manipulating, and in my case, panicking.

I wish it were different. I wish I could be like my sister, who seems to thrive on going on dates with any nice fellow who asks her, unlike myself who shrivels up like a raisin in the sun (a wonderful play, bytheway).

It's not even that I don't like dating, because I do. I like going on dates. I like gentlemen. I like bowling, and ice cream, and playing hide and seek in the HFAC, and all the other Provo-ish dating things that get recycled every weekend. Its the physical act of going on the date that makes me feel squeamish. 99% of the time I'm fine once I'm gone.

So, I suppose I'm seeking fellow dater's advice. Am I the only one who suffers from DA? How have you overcome it? And don't give me the answer I got from a co-worker: "Take a Xanax and get free dinner!"

(See this?? This is how it should still be done. And all marriage proposals should include "Marry me, my wonderful, darling friend.")

Amor

When Abby slips her little hand into mine and whispers "Let's skip."
When Andrew sees my green face mask and starts to chuckle
When I'm in bed and Chloe flings herself over my legs to talk about boys
When I can hear my Daddy reading books out loud to my Mama
When Emily does her hair to look like mine
When Nate snuggles against my chest at church, or knowing he's in the seat behind me when I'm driving.
When I'm sitting quietly and suddenly remember a happy memory, and can't suppress a smile
(especially thinking that when those memories were made, I had no idea they {you} would mean so much to me years later)
When every love song feels like sunshine on my heart

How I Feel about Airports and Hospitals

I love them. I love the long hallways, the busy-ness, the people, the rushing, the noises, the big glass windows. I love the food sold at both airports and hospitals, and I love the gift shops. In airports I love the flat-escalator-type-things (that's a technical term) and the luggage everywhere. In hospitals I love the really big, wide elevators and the doors that open when you flash your name badge. I love how airports smell like coffee and rubber and plastic and anticipation. I love the smell of hospitals, too: antiseptic and cotton and metal and a lot of hope.
    Most people don't like either of these places. I don't really know why I love them both so much, but I do. I get a thrill when I walk into either. And I've decided, they both have a lot in common.
     The airport is a place people come and go.
     The hospital is a place of birth and death.
     The airport gathers people of every ethnicity, every age, every experience.
     I've only ever seen some of the cultures I've experienced in a hospital.
     Airports have a common goal: get people what they need as soon as possible.
     Hospitals have a common goal: save lives as soon as possible.
     Airports bring loved ones to each other.
     Hospitals do, too.
     Airports also take loved ones away from each other.
     Hospitals do, too.

I guess the underlying common factor is they are both a metaphor for life. Life is hectic and exciting and stressful and fun and full of anxiety, anticipation, faith, and hope. Airports and hospitals are unpredictable and sometimes disappointing, just like life, but also lead to new adventures and experiences.

But the real question is, what would be more fun: riding on the luggage carousel, or having wheelchair races?

Big

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reservedI am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

Many of you have heard this story before. Sometimes it applies to families with special needs children, or great tragedies that alter the course of their life. I've loved it ever since I heard it, because honestly it applies to everyone in some way. Life never turns out how you plan it. That is what makes it life, and that is what makes it magical. We all need to trust in God a little more.

Um...I have some big news. Some really big news. As in, not sure I'm even going to post this news news.

I went and met with nursing advisement.

I told them how hard I've been trying to make up for past mistakes and be good enough for them. And how badly I want to be a nurse. And how I've always wanted to be a nurse. And how I need to lift up the hands that hang down and strengthen the feeble knees.

And they said "Yes. You are going to be a good nurse. But maybe you need to get there a different way."

You're actually being nice to me? Usually you're so crabby. Okay, tell me more.

So this is the advice the advisement gave me:

Change your major to a quick major

Graduate as soon as possible, so that you have a bachelor's under your belt

While graduating as quick as possible, finish the University of Utah's nursing prerequisites

As soon as you graduate, apply to the U's Accelerated Nursing Program, which is a 14 month program, and requires you to have a previous bachelor's degree.

The whole process will take just as long, and likely even shorter, than it would take to sit around BYU trying to get in to their program.

Oh, and did I mention you can still apply to our program again whenever you want, if you feel like it?

I saw a sign walking to one of my new classes that said "The Whole is More than the Sum of its Parts."

That really stuck on me. This whole major change and everything is just a different means to an end, what matters is that I get to that end. And even grander, I am a daughter of the most High God. I am more than my degrees and accomplishments.

So.

That is my plan.

I'm thinking of majoring in Human Development. Something I've always been interested in, and now the Lord has given me the gift of being able to study both fields that I love.

So I'm going to Holland instead. And it will be beautiful. And it is still hard to think of doing things differently than I had always hoped and dreamed and planned. Its hard to even publish this post, because I feel self conscious and insecure about it. But I'm choosing faith. I'm choosing happy. And it's going to be a lovely ride. 

How to be a Saint

I would be a friend to the friendless and find joy in ministering to the needs of the poor.

I would visit the sick and afflicted and inspire in them a desire for faith to be healed.

I would teach the truth to the understanding and blessing of all mankind.

I would seek out the erring one and try to win him back to a righteous and happy life.

I would not seek to force people to live up to my ideals, but rather love them into doing the thing that is right.

I would live by the masses and help to solve their problems that their earth life may be happy.

I would avoid the publicity of high positions and discourage the flattery of thoughtless friends.

I would not knowingly wound the feelings of any, not even one who may have wronged me, but would seek to do him good and make him my friend.

I would overcome the tendency to selfishness and jealousy and rejoice in the success of all the children of my Heavenly Father.

I would not be an enemy to any living soul.

Life Creed of President George Albert Smith

Out of Sorts

Oooh my life.

I was researching a professor on Rate my Professors (dot com) (which has changed my academic life, bytheway) and almost died laughing. The first rating said this "You will learn a lot about ducks but it is all part of the fun." I thought: Alright. I've fed ducks before. I can handle ducks. A few more ratings down made me laugh so hard Emilie thought I had lost my mind: "He pretty much talks about ducks all day." Whaaat?? Oh I hope he looks like a duck....or walks like one. I will hereon out refer to him as Professor Mallard. And he would like us students to attend Utah Bald Eagle Day as well as the Utah Snow Goose Festival. Prime.

HFAC: What the HFAC?? Who designed this building??? (correct answer: the same people who run tests on mice in mazes. Or terrorists.) Who puts a room on the outside of the building?? and out of numerical order???

On that Note: Who designed the Tanner Building?? Most beautiful building on campus. I can't handle it.

That awkward moment when there's a knock at the door and you yell "COOOOME IN!!!!!!!" and its a member of your bishopric....asking you to teach gospel doctrine on Sunday, last minute.

If a professor begins the class/semester by putting a list of chick flicks up on the powerpoint....you know that I love him. And when he follows that list by letting us watch the original President Hinckley reading of the Proclamation to the World.....<3

Also, my adorable co-worker Malae who is super talented and super beautiful and I like her super a lot, has pointed out that I yell talk to myself while I work. Usually when I'm frustrated: "Ah!" "No!" "Why?!" "Stop! Stopstopstop!" "Go back!" "I hate this!" "Uuuuuugh!" And the more polite I talk on the phone, the more annoyed I am: "Hello, you've reached BYU Law Career Services, this is Bethany, how may I help your day become the best day you've ever had? *silent screams and gritted teeth*"

That was a very random assortment of information. That's basically how my life is right now. I feel a little like a paint ball that has exploded all over a painting. The painting was already complex and beautiful and inspiring, but now there is all this color all over everything that makes the image unclear, although parts of it peek through.

Also, to my moms: thanks for coming to see me tonight. I didn't know I needed you. Sorry I was so crabby.

The Way I Am

If you were falling, then I would catch you
You need a light, I'd find a match

Cuz I love the way you say good morning
And you take me the way I am

If you are chilly, here take my sweater
Your head is aching; I'll make it better

Cuz I love the way you call me baby
And you take me the way I am

I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair
Sew on patches to all you tear

Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise
And you take me the way I am
You take me the way I am
You take me the way I am

There have been times in my life where I have customized myself for a certain person. I don't do it consciously, and I don't believe in doing it, but I've noticed that it is something I do.

For the senior boy when I was a sophomore, I was the constant shoulder to cry on, innocent and disposable.

For the teacher my last semester of high school who was more lost and confused than I have ever been, I was the adult with a clear head and all the answers.

For the arrogant gentleman who took me on a date, I was sweet and shy, something pretty to drape across his arm and then to put away later.

For the girl that got hurt, I was brave and confident, firm and unyielding. Untouchable.

So, that's the goal. How often do people tell me to be myself? The problem is sometimes I don't know what that means, what version of 'myself' I'm supposed to be, because I've spent so much time being someone's custom order. I'm realizing there are very few people I am who I am with. Very few people who "take me the way I am".

I hope I can pull Bethany out of all the hybrids this year. I wanna be who I wanna be. Feel comfortable. Let go of anxieties. Find the people that take me the way I am.

The Way I Am, Ingrid Michelson