The Power of Personal Conversion

    When one person becomes convinced of a thing, a notion, idea, movement, person, God, power, story, it is incredibly powerful.

    Convinced.

    Determined.

    Resolved or resolute.

    Devoted.

    Dedicated.

    When one missionary, only with his or her words, message, heartfelt approach, convinces another human being to believe in his or her words, which are of the Master Jesus Christ in the Christian context, or Buddha in the Buddhist context, or Marx or another in the Communist context, then there is a power set alight, a firm foundation that will not easily extinguish as a light or flame, but will join other voices and wills and should grow and extend.

    Just from one personal conversion.

    Is it yours? Who else shares it?

 Andema kana Sagheer

    Andema kana sagheer

    Andema kana weled wa tifl

    Andema kana yashrib haleeb min el -um

    Andema kana sagheer

    Il ikhwan ou il akheerin 

    Qatla al nas

    wa kana fi almania

    wa huna

    fi Amereeka wa fi kulu mukaan

 Pessimism is Not Correct

    I started this blog post a week or so ago, after a pessimistic poem that I wrote.

    It's okay. Realism and optimism are good things.

    Hope escaped from Pandora's box, too.

    A million or more people are dying of starvation and malnutrition in South Sudan tonight.

    Not enough people care.

    Some day we will.

    Optimism.

    Realism? Take a seat, Donald Trump, Mao Zedong, and George Orwell.

    Or even J.D. Salinger.

 Eight Billion Stories, Tonight and Tomorrow

    There are many of us across the planet. Human beings.

    I spoke today of human psychology. That is most of it.

    But there are millions of of non-human psychologies, too. They count, too.

    Right? Some of them hunt us, or get run over by us. They lick us and slobber on us. They bit us, and each other.

    The foxes scream while the dogs yap, in front of the house of down the hill.

    Many billions of inner thinkers with their brains, like the whales in the sea.

    The old barren mother who doesn't go to Hawai'i to mate any more. She stays and feeds in Alaska.

    There is that brain psychology, too.

 Poems Say Things

    Yes, obvious, no?

    Yeah, poetry.

    It does not have notes

    Like the elegiac songs of past and present

    That so many memorize and cherish.

    Some poems go tossed and waylaid

    Like forgotten seeds, lost, that never make it to the good earth or eventual fruit.

    They wither and die.

    Their molecules convert into other elements, some day creating another 

    Substance 

    For us to chew on.

    Masticate.

    Suck on, sometimes swallow, or at times spew.

    Wherever those substances go...

    Back into poetry, 

    And here we are.

 The Pessimist's Poem

    She is tired of me

    She is bored with me

    I offend her

    I don't inspire her

    She is sick of me

    She wants to escape

    Go to other countries

    Other streets, other homes

    Places without me.

    She used to like me more

    I lost something

    We lost something

    I eroded away

    I am not who I was

    Or maybe I never was who I thought I was

    Who she thought I could be

    

    She loves God,

    She loves Jesus

    She knows that they love her unconditionally 

    But I am far from, and have a harder time accessing that Perfect Grace

    I am far from

    I try, I step, I move, but likely not fast enough

    Not steady enough

    I try, but likely not hard enough.

    Not enough.

    She dislikes all that

    And I will try.

    But only God can help us.

    And that is my prayer,

    

    Even as a pessimist.

    However, I am not a pessimist, truly,

    I am a realist and an optimist.

    Who am I?

    All of the above

    None of the above

    I am me most of the times 

    But not always

    Not always constant

    Not always the same

    Changing

    Cambiante, in Spanish

    A language of many cultures that I know decently well

    

    For a gringo

    Gringo, not tonto.

    Tonto, not imbecil.

    But realistically, I should be more optimistic.

    Yes, I should be.

    Yet, I always love her.

    That does not change.

   

    I love the Father and His Son, too.

    We pray for their Spirit. Always.

    And love. And Kindness. And mercy.

    Those are always there.

 The Bloomington Young Single Adult Branch

    Some people look through prisms of people and social structure primarily through race. That can be indicative of many things that are true and real. Racial composition can have its own culture and power dynamics. The YSA Branch that I became a member of had a minority of minorities. Most of us were white, Caucasian Americans, citizens of the United States. 

    For what I remember in the 1997 to 1999 time frame in our group of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we had two African-Americans, two Latinos (three if we counted a young lady moving out), and a couple East Asians. The Black members were a young lady doing her masters at IU, from Chicago. Darxavia. I think I spelled it right. Another was Tsombe Masala, based out of Indianapolis, whose family from Congo had joined the Church around the time the second manifesto, when blacks were granted permission or access to the priesthood. We had a young lady from Czech Republic. Anyone else international? Not too much. Many from Utah, for sure. Caitlin Shirts, but many from Indiana, too. Tara Tripple. She married Chris Arick. 

    Real names. Have we protected the people enough by the amount of time passed? Kaaren from Washington State. Megan from Alabama. Kristin from Las Vegas, Nevada. The Hawkins from Oregon. The young lady violinist or violist from Colorado.

    We had some local folks, like the Taysoms. And others. The Potits. Me, returning from the Inter-Mountain West. Nichols, and Snyder. Oh, I had forgotten about a couple. Like the dark haired girl. Likely from Indiana.

    Other ways to divide or categorize us is by education, socioeconomic status, gender, orientation, level of faith of commitment, native to Indiana as students, intelligence native to us (genius, average, slow), and age. And cities or states or countries of origin. Experience, like serving missions.

    Sal Mendez, and others. Sandy Padron. Rhea LeMaster and Liz Wood. Jared Asay and Trevor Irwin.

    Oh, those times. David Hawkins. David?