Monks...

If you have been keeping up with the news lately, you are probably aware that there has been some ruckus in Myanmar (otherwise known as Burma) lately. Strangely, much of the ruckus involves protesting monks. This seems vastly different from the image most of us probably have of monks quietly meditating in a pagoda. That is not to say that monks don't meditate in pagodas...but, they are much more multi-faceted than that.

Prior to traveling to Thailand I had drained my local library of any and all books on Thailand. Many of them covered topics like prostitution, culture, architecture...and monks. I was fascinated to learn that a great majority of Thai males enter the monkhood, even if it is just for a three month period. In fact, their king, at the time, had once been a monk (as well as a jazz music composer.)

Once I arrived in Thailand, I bought a paper and learned that the monks were protesting. If I remember correctly, they were protesting because a company had been admitted to the stock exchange that sold alcohol. The monks were protesting this moral decline.

Well, to make a long story short, this is what I discovered about monks:

There are smart, sociable monks (This one spoke English and was quite friendly, but when we tried to talk to him about the Olympics, he had no idea what we were talking about. I don't think they keep up with the news.)








And ones that chat on the job...


(I mean really, aside from the shaved head, primitive brooms, and robes, they are just like the rest of us.)














There are lazy monks...and hard working monks....




















(I hope nobody tries to steal the jade budda on his shift.)

In short, though more multi-faceted than is commonly thought, monks are human just like the rest of us. In fact, being human is one of the essential requirements for becoming a monk...in case you were wondering. Below is a list of the questions they must answer before being ordained, complete with a list of desired answers:

• Do you have Leprosy? (No)
• Do you have boils? (No)
• Do you have ringworm? (No)
• Do you have tuberculosis? (No);
• Are you epileptic? (No);
• Are you human? (Yes);
• Are you male? (Yes)
• Are you free of debt? (Yes);
• Are you released from government service? (Yes);
• Do your parents permit you to become a monk? (Yes);
• Are you 20 years old? (Yes);
• Do you have your robes and your alms bowl? (Yes).

(http://www.chiangmai-chiangrai.com/becoming_a_monk_in_thailand.html)

The Blind Man in the Chair

I lived in France for two years. As a result, my mother likes to send me articles about people who are somehow affiliated with France. Last September my mother sent an article particularly pertinent to me because one of the persons mentioned was living in Missouri. He was not only living in Missouri, he was in my stake.

Before reading the article, a picture of an odd-looking man caught my eye. He was staring off into space with his head tilted and metals of honor all over his jacket. He looked like he must be a little crazy. When I read the article, my smirk turned to awe.

Shumway, it turns out, fought in WW II at Normandy where he led his platoon. I've been to Omaha beach. I've seen the graves. I've seen the terrain they fought on. I was there when I was 20 and I remember the sense of awe I felt as I walked by the graves and realized that these men who died were my age. I remember thinking the inevitable questions, 'Could I give my life for the better good at this point?' I've sat through D-day parades, masses, and ceremonies in France. I've felt the profound feelings of respect that can hardly be explained. Needless to say, I already had respect for the men who fought there long before reading about Shumway. Shumway, however, not only fought there, he lost his eye sight. After spending two years in hospitals, he returned home, got married, had eight children, and now has 41 grandchildren.

I've picked up tidbits of information about him. He serves in the St. Louis temple daily. He is a determined person. Once, before giving a talk, he practiced walking to the podium repeatedly so he could do it without aid when the time came to speak. In short, he is a person of hard work, persistence, integrity, depth of character...but most of all, honor.

I was briskly walking out of the temple this summer when I noticed an old man sitting in the lobby chair. He was staring off into space just like the picture in the article my mother sent. I was so exicted to see him, as if I'd seen an old friend. I seriously contemplated introducing myself, but my shy tendencies won out. Shumway, after all, has no idea who I am.

Adventures in Grubville

It was a beautiful, clear night for my longstanding, biannual tradition of stargazing in mid-August . We took off well after dark into Missouri countryside full of anticipation. Once there we carefully jumped the barbed wire fence and set up our blankets under the wide expanse. It wasn't more than a few minutes before bright meteors were streaking the starlit sky. We laughed and talked well into the night until someone noticed that we weren't the only ones in the field. It became apparent that there were cows very close to us. It was nearly two in the morning anyway so we picked up our blankets and headed home.

It has been nearly a month since the night we termed "Grubfest 2007" and as it turns out, it was not a field of cows, it was a field of bulls.

Is anyone up for Grubfest 2008?

Matchmaking

People often compliment me on my matchmaking skills. In fact, entire odes have been written about me, for example, "Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make me a Match", to name a few. It is not just a talent, it is a sixth sense.

Mine is a thorough process. It begins with three very simple questions:

1. What kind of milk do you drink?
2. Do you prefer crunchy or creamy?
3. On which side do you part your hair?

Now, once one answers these three simple questions, I custom tailor the next few questions to the individuals. For example, if I were match making myself, I would then ask the following questions:

1. Do you have an undying desire to travel the world?
2. Do you have a goat?
3. If you were a mullet, what kind would you be?

My philosophy is simple. Superficial indicators are much more telling than most think. So far, I've had great success (if you close one eye and tip your head to a forty-five degree angle) the stats are impressive. For example, Donna and Ryan went on a second date - voluntarily (eeehhh?). Matt and Cindy never even meet for their "non-date" but I am sure they will fall madly in love...or at least go on a second "non-date" as soon as Matt gets around to inviting her to ice cream. (She is brilliant....he is brilliant, prefect). All in all, I think those are pretty good stats.


Of course my ultimate dream is to make a blog match. My questions would begin something like this:

1. Do you eagerly anticipate responses to your blog entries?
2. How do you feel about foreigners?
3. If life were a series of unfortunate events, which would be your most unfortunate?

I eagerly anticipate your responses.

The beginning...

For some reason, I've been very intimidated by this whole blog thing. I figure the best thing to do with tasks that intimidate me is to just do it. I think part of it is that the whole world can read my thoughts. That is kind of scary. Secondly, the whole world can see what an awful writer I am. But that is life. On the other hand, I love checking out my friends' blogs. I wish they'd write more often. However, I seem to collect friends who are witty, deep, and/or brilliant. I, on the other hand, rarely make much sense and I have bad grammar. On the bright side, if you get bored with mine, or get sick of the run-on sentences just check out my friends' blogs or websites. Theirs, I assure you, will be much more interesting in just about every redeeming aspect. I have never been much of a perfectionist so I plunge forward, flaws and all.

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor ; spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.

-- Theodore Roosevelt