Performative and Transactional, Not Altruistic nor Selfless

    One of my faith's religious men, a person that I came to respect and revere, said the Gospel of Jesus Christ makes bad men good, and good men great. 

    I am in there somewhere. I am not sure if mediocre means a bad man, or if okay means a good person trying to be great, but on the scale of bad to great, I am some level of good. However, I am likely lacking a lot of the great. We cannot all be like Solomon, or Suleiman, or Alexander. But at least we are not Ivan the Terrible?

    Side note. I just heard a joke by Donald Trump, about naming an iconic pool after himself. The Lincoln pool. Problem with his jokes, is that so often the ridiculous things he says and thinks are not funny, or not facetious, therefore it is hard to tell if he is joking. And most of the quips are not funny to most of us. Real or false. Or some combination of the two.

    

    I can be the same way. Some of my jokes are not funny, but rather sad, ironic, absurd. Mean, even.

    Trying to be critical and honest, I find that much of what I do can be considered "performative", transactional. Many times, or most times, I do not have selfless or altruistic motives, which I suppose by default makes them ulterior.

    I know when I ask questions, people can perceive that there are not good intentions meant.

    Like when a few months ago I asked a family member where their kids lived. This relative, by marriage, thought that I was getting at something wrong, or sinister, or self-serving.

    I think I was misread. I wanted to know where children, i.e. nieces and nephews are, because I like to think that I care about them. Knowing location is caring, to me.

    Plus, I have some old friends and colleagues who live out that way, so I have personal curiousity about where people and things are.

    I like to know locations. Call me odd that way.

    But, people can be threatened or perceive a threat through direct, truth collecting questions.

    I understand that. We keep peoples' locations private for may reasons.

    Some call that OPSEC and INFOSEC. I get it.

    So anyway...

    It can be hard for me to have the most sincere, Christ-like intentions. I want to, but my inner programs often tend to be performative.

    My dad and others have complained about that. Likely true.

    Decades of years later, I realize: yes, I am harder to motivate for intrinsic goodness.

    On the scale of bad to good to great, I am in there.

    Selfish. Transactional. Short-sighted. Lazy. Apathetic. Demotivated. Less than sharp.

    Dull. Less efficient. Non-productive.

    Ich.

    Not the greatest. Not that good, a lot of time.

    Pity me?

    Well, work with me. Work with what I got. What you got.

    If you know that I am performative and transactional, running to the tune of my own idiosyncrasies, then please accomodate me. Live or survive with me.

    But please not too much scorn. Am I fishing for praise, or some kind of graceful mercy, kind words?

    Likely. Sensitive and guilty souls need placation. We need soothing. And cajoling.

    Us lesser beings.

    I am not a cat guy, or a dog guy. I like primates, but most of them from a distance.

    Lemurs are classed differently from gibbons. Gibbons are between monkeys and the great apes.

    We are of the great apes. Us primates roaming about the planet.

    Some of us deeply transactional and even performative in our ways.

    

    

 All The Things ... 10 November 2026

    I could, and should, write about all the things that I see and know. But this is impossible. That is possibly why poetry is used, because it can convey things that we cannot address and capture in prose.

    Prose cannot do it all. I tried reading some of Marcel Proust; it seemed a messed up jumble of thoughts and people and ideas. A blogger centuries before our world wide web was composed.

    Yet, he is hailed a great writer, and his works have import. To some.

    For history, context, intellectual journeys that matter. To some.

    I am here typing at the end of the work day, for which I earned Paid Time Off. I had so many hours that I chose to take this day to utilize for me. The day before the federal holiday where we celebrate veterans, but the school system does not use it but recognized yesterday, a longer weekend, yes, coinciding with Diwali, the festival of lights for the Hindus. 

    Okay, this is Loudoun County, this is America. The United States.

    Where we in the shadows of the nation's capital, which recently has been affected by mid-term elections, see some diffferences in political moods, and a higher recent jobs growth indicator (165,000 in October), and slightly lower gas prices from reduced oil costs, per barrel.

    Money is important. My son arranged some things for he and his brother and us, electronically so that we can benefit from some conventions of accounts and interests and investments. Important, all of it. Credit, and bills, and incomes, and liquid funds to do things, like send people to Spain, and go back to the land where I visited with the family of Ricardo and Daniela back in the late 1980s.

    I spoke with my ex-brother-in-law, a lifetime friend, who is confederate with John Dehlin, a famous or infamous podcaster, who has serious issues with my faith. Dehlin. He has his place. Meanwhile, one son is doing his things in Arabic with Arabs and others, and another goes to interact with the people of Brazil and the associates of those that have lived there.

    I missed the fireside of the former mission president and his wife, who served in Maputo, Mozambique. A country with two temples now!

    Tyler, Hyrum, Sam, and Mike, as well as a slightly distant Eric live in the farther valley of Virginia, to the west, where a newer temple will be built. New to our Commonwealth. We will have more options.

    We went to the temple with our son, for his first time, his initiation. His friend Garrett came, so we met with his friend and parents from Lyon, France. That was tre jolie, I believe. We paid for our guests from Europe. We will host Emily from Spain soon.

    Too many real names? Nah, I think we are safe.

    Unless, the threats are real. Could Artificial Super Intelligence be plotting and constructing our downfall, our enslavement in the new age of bondage and dystopian lunacy?

    Perhaps.

    Could China be the menacing threat, combined with AI or Machine Learning? Could cyber actors bring us to ruin, steal all our valuables and fungible assets from us?

    Can I read the books that I have checked from the library? Lee Child, Robyn Young, Robert Pulasky... I am finishing Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man". The epilogue is more meaningful, or perhaps sensible to me than the first 500 plus pages. I find a lot of drivel and schlock, but worst of all misogyny and opacity.

    That was not the whole point of Ellison, but perhaps much of it?

    I will write the teacher of my son who was compelled to read it, and receive a grade for it. Better than his peers, he scored, but he, even the one with the best score from some paper, did not bother to read all the words.

    Ah, okay. Fiduciaries await.

    Some of my writings, if not most, seem rambling and even stodgy, or another pjorative that an education profession said of my family history profile. No, he said stilted. Thanks, Wheaton College guy. To me, the Brigham Young Spanish major.

    Yes, I know what it is for people who do not believe in me. They lie behind every corner, to include those of my own home. How to drive, how not to be in danger on the roads. Sure, that is helpful advice. We need A-drivers, truck commanders. In HUMVEES, if not all moving vehicles.

    Did I say enough? No, there is more, always.

    These are not all the things, just a portion. I texted my oldest about "controlled timeouts". Wondering where that kind of parenting comes from.

    Not easy, I admitted.

    Seeing out boy move on, move out, going to speak another language. He will always be ours, I tell her. My beloved wife.

    She passed here test, we are sure of it. A load taken care of, for now. Preparing for the future.

    What will it bring. Some think I will not make much more than I do now. Maybe so.

    If I stay on course, on track, I have a chance to pay all the bills, and do many of the things necessary to be fulfilled. In this process we trust.

    In God and all the Saints.

 Dear Missionary for Jesus

    Dearest Missionary,

    You have been practicing some of the new calling the last few weeks. You have been getting to know the other missionaries that you will learn with, the language of Portuguese, a tongue used by those of Brazil, and other countries found in Europe, Africa, even in parts of Asia. You have interacted with multiple teachers, the first from Curitiba, Brazil, and others who are Americans that have served there.

    The language will be a large part of your mission. But the mission for Jesus, dedicated to Him, is bigger than that. It requires discipline and hope, gratitude and fortitude. All the good things. You started with a fever, but you managed with some perseverence, streaming some of The Chosen, seeing and learning of the Lord, how He came to the people and ministered to them.

    We did a little ministering, you and I. We visited the seasoned couple who lived closer to the church. We made a visit to the younger couple with their new baby, they closer to the river . People of faith. You stayed socially close to the long time family friends that we have enjoyed, once closer neighbors and now across the woods and the creek. 

    That is where we have lived most of your life. While you were a baby in the mid-coast area of California, you quickly made your way across the country with us to this fine hamlet, a town known to some as a post office, between other towns outside of the Washington beltway. The 495 loop, a place I have been managing this last year. Making money, making our way.

    To support you, to provide for you and us, as a family, all of us dedicated to the Lord and His Church.

    Some might not understand. Many do not. Even those who think they do. Many think us misled. We see those misgivings among many that we come in contact with, even friends, family, and loved ones. Jesus Himself faced doubters and malefactors. Even He, the most perfcct, as we hold and revere Him.

    The quest is on. You are asked to love and share and progress and be the light that we know that you can be. Be all you can be, says the Army jingle; this is the Lord's Army.

    We, soldiers of that Army of Christ, understand that the Book of Mormon in no way refutes the Holy Bible, but in so many ways bolsters it. It pushes the Bible into our hands and hearts, making its way into our lives from ancient worlds to the climes of now, the 21st century.

    Now! What about now? My mother, your grandmother that you were not able to meet much in this life, proclaimed from my farewell pulpit that the pig gave all, as the cow shared milk without giving up all. According to her sermon at the end of the 1980s, at my occasion to travel towards South America... We are all in, dedicated to the hilt. Like my mom and dad in West Africa where they saved babies and found water and built homes and jettis for the local folks. Cleared roads for transportation, gave shots and medicines to those who were bloated from parasites, worms, and goiters due to lack of iodine in their diet. 

    We all do our parts, small or big, little or large. Life savers. At a later age my mom made it to Cambodia and Indonesia, also close to the equator, where people recieved of her grace and knowledge. Resources much of us take for granted. She and my step-father administered huge gifts and resources to many. Often ways to fish more than just the fish itself. Both matter, a lot. It is what our Master would do. What He did. What He accomplishes throught us. He needs us. He wants us.

    We should never take our health and opportunities for granted. Be humble, stay grateful. Share and be respectful, considerate. That is how Jesus would be. He would give someone the shoes or sandals off his own feet.

    We did farewells differently back then: my parents spoke, as did my bishop, and my step-parents too. My step-mom, a Methodist, read words of my sister newly transferred to BYU-Provo.

    You gave some inspiring words today. Your mother recorded them for your siblings, and for more family elsewhere. My own may or may not hear them. You may see them in two or more years. I know that they love and appreicate you.

    We all do. You friends and cohorts, your teachers and adult leaders.

    I know that Jesus loves you above all, as only He can do. He is the reason for the season, and the season for all of us is etnernal life.

    I thought of Paul going into Italy, the Anatolian peninsula, Greece or come what may. Syria. I wanted to include him in my sacrament benediction, but it was not included. I brought up the "ultimate" missionary in elders quorum. To our group of holy warriors, men with various experiences. We talked of the modern day challenges to have hope and faith, and be steadfast as witnesses of Christ.

    You are now in it to win it!  You mentioned "adulting" yesterday. Yes, there is that. You represent yourself as a young man, newly turned legal, but you represent your family name, and your home state, and your country, and your faith. You are an emissary of all of them, but most of all the Lord Himself. Jesus the Messiah, the Anointed One from the beginning.

    From Genesis to Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers, Isaiah to Malachi, John to Revelations, on and on until this bright day, among the gloomy rumors and darknesses that at times hex us.

    Christ and His way will prevail. As our recently passed Prophet, Seet, and Revelator preached, "Israel means that God will prevail."

    That is so.

    We need to get on the Good Ship of the Gospel, as another modern apostle has taught.

    Was it Elder Wirthlin?

    All are in lock step with the modern, restored, Church of Son in modern times.

    How do we know? For those with eyes to see, and ears to hear, look and listen. Come and see, saith He.

    His Spirit will whisper it to you, or shout it, or get into your bosom and will not let you be.

    You will contemplate the messages of Jesus, and His kingdom, and His authority.

    You will hear competing voices among Christendom, and outside of it, among other organized religions, and the pagans or the agnostics and atheists outside of us all, the believers in the Almighty. Be He God the Father, Allah, Yahwei, Krishna or Vishnu, or some Enlightened Buddha, all of us want to be right, and righteous, and blessed.

    That is the goal. Redemption, Salvation, Eternal Life.

    You are on the way.

    I am thankful for your spirit, your knowledge, your enthusiasm, your perseverance.

    Your love, your testimony, your personality, your unique talents and efforts.

    I love you, we love you.

   Thanks for being a little Saint Paul. In the tropics and sertao of that great nation and place.

 I Wanted to Go Back to See

    I wanted to go back to see, if there was something for me.

    I wanted to go back to know, where the poor people go.

    I wanted to go back and find, that we are all of one mind.

    

    I went back to see, (Chile), that there was someone for me.

    I went back to know (Angol) where my poor people flow.

    I went back to find (Mulchen), that there people of our kind.

    This has a tune, will be a song.

    Perhaps.

    

    Some day.

    Will I go back again?

    The land of Pitrufquen.

 I Wanted to Write You a Love Song

    Barbara's book passage of the snake killing Ruth made me cry. Kingsolver is a potent, poignant writer.

    Let me compose.

    I think of z...

    Lost it. My train of thought for the above. Started last night.

    Well. What could it have been/

 Rob. The Song and Tunes Get Lost. Like Time, Associations.

    I had it pretty well Sunday morning.

    But then the words, the tunes, some of the ideas and sentiments, got diffused and dissipated.

    Can I or someone capture them again?

    I saw the sun on the windows at church, thinking of Rob and the shooting range, and I teared up and cried.

    A big part of my Sunday experience in the last twenty years has been mixing soldier time, God, and the things of the range and the trucks and the orders.

    Cleaning, too.

    Thanks, Micah.

    I liked your suit.

 Used to Non-Belief

I am used to people not believing in me.

My folks, my siblings, my friends.

My mates at work, others here or there.

I believe God believes in me.

But I can be the worst enemy to Him and me.

We must continue to believe.

Press on.