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Thursday, December 4, 2014

How To Figure Out Who is Practicing

How To Figure Out Who is Practicing the Piano in the Jensen Home Without Looking


Elaina, age 4

When Lain plays, it may sound like your typical kid smashing the notes on the piano. However, if you were to listen more closely, you'll hear her trying to imitate the techniques of mine and Josh's pieces. If you hear cluster chords being played loudly in quick succession, it's her. Also, you may hear choppy arpeggio/scale/trill attempts every once in a while. It sounds a bit like a complex impressionistic 20th century piano piece...

Kate, age 7

If you hear any improvisational variations on the "I'm An Indian" melody or the accompaniment of "Heart and Soul," it's Kate. For now, that's all she knows. It's often obnoxious when listened to over and over, but she doesn't usually play for more than a few minutes at a time. However, when one listens to her improvise with those simple chords it is apparent that she has a natural ability to play by ear. You'll hear scales and chords that are a bit choppy, but fairly consistent. You also might hear her singing along with the chords, as well. She has the cutest little voice, and it'll be unmistakeable. :) That's little KT.

Izzy, age 11

The Biz is practicing if you're hearing the same phrases being repeated consistently over and over and over and over and over. The melodies will be played very slowly and loudly and harshly most often. You can nearly hear the tension in the attempts to nail the difficult ornaments or scales. However, you'll continue to hear the same lines repeating themselves up to 50 times. Eventually, the trills and turns that were worked on for so will become fairly smooth and pleasant to listen to. It's also a sure sign that Iz is playing if it's quite late at night, for she always makes sure to put in her allotted practice time no matter what time of day it may be. This girl certainly is a patient and diligent one.

Josh, age 14

You'll know it's this kid if, first of all, it sounds extremely loud. He will have most likely left the lid to the piano up all the way with the practice room door wide open for all the world to hear. Of the three classical pianists of the home, he has the largest and strongest hands. Thus, if you hear incredibly loud, skilled, randomized runs of octaves in both hands, you have a safe bet it is Josh. Also, ornaments will have been inserted into songs where they do not originally belong. Listen for prolonged and slightly disorganized trills or turns in an otherwise logically-sequenced piece of music. It's just Josh jazzin' it up. Listen for strong improvisation, for some of Josh's best tools are his ears. He can hear a melody once and immediately turn to the piano to play a beautified accompaniment of his own creation. If you hear slightly halting chords and melodies being played different ways every time they are repeated, odds are he is composing his own song. The climactic point of the piece will most likely be played at fortississimo with tons of bass and massive complex chords and arpeggios. The melodies with grow smoother and more expressive as you listen over the course of a few minutes, and soon you'll have the privilege of witnessing the early compositions of a great future composer. That's our Josh.

Olivia, age 16

I'm not entirely sure what my practicing sounds like to the outside listener, actually. I should hope that you could safely assume it's me playing if you hear me trying to create distinct phrasing and expression in the music. If you hear the same phrase played over and over with different tones or dynamics, it's probably me attempting to perfect the piece's musicality. Also, if you hear an obnoxiously large amount of presto drilling, I am probably the practicer. (Ha ha...) You may hear a messy phrase being played overly fast (in an attempt to somehow suddenly get all the right notes at the highest tempo and move on quickly). After the messy phrase has been played (in vain) a couple times, you might start to hear extremely loud, deep, and slow practice. I want to play well and develop my music to technical perfection, but I often become a bit too impatient in reaching that point... However, I could sightread pieces for hours. Thus, if you hear a ridiculously vast amount of repertoire, whether it be classical selections, broadway accompaniment, Disney music, or contemporary nonsense being played imperfectly for fun, it is I.

Mom

If there are any choral parts being plunked out, it's probably my mom. She doesn't play the piano very often anymore, but because she is a choir director she does use it for practical reasons. She may be speaking directions with the plunked out parts if she is making a sectional recording for the choir. If there are more than one person in the room either singing or talking, Mom is probably at the piano accompanying them.

Dad

I've only heard my dad play the piano twice in my life. It was an extremely shocking yet delightful experience. You will probably never see him play, but you'll know it is him if you hear something akin to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Stu7h7Qup8

Warning: There are four pianos in the house, by the way. On average you will hear two being practiced on. If you want a challenge, however, try coming to my home when all four pianos are being used at the same time. I imagine it will be a lovely (and slightly terrifying) surround-sound experience. ;)

Sunday, November 23, 2014

These Pages Are Not For You

“You who so plod amid serious things that you feel it shame to give yourself up even for a few short moments to mirth and joyousness in the land of Fancy; you who think that life hath nought to do with innocent laughter that can harm no one; these pages are not for you."

-Howard Pyle, The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood



Friday, November 21, 2014

Random Facts About Me

I thought I'd spontaneously compile a list of random things about me. Many of these things I hadn't remembered about myself until I tried to write them down. Not that you'll really want to know these things... You've probably never heard of such strange things. However, I do think you should make a list of random things about yourself as well. I think you'll like it very much.

I love the number 7. I always seem to gravitate towards it.
I had a huge dinosaur fetish as a kid. Clothes, books, toys, blankets, costumes, birthday parties. You name it. It was all about dinosaurs.
I love ancient architecture.
Someday I want to travel outside the country. I want to see the world. My heart yearns for it.
One time I was stung by a man o' war jellyfish on both my feet in Hawaii while bodysurfing. It hurt SO very much.
My heart belongs to the ocean. The beach is my love. No kidding.
I am obsessed with English dramas.
I am also obsessed with choral music.
I love seeing people wear white. They are beautiful.
I love chicken pot pie so very much. It's my favorite comfort food.
I could spend all day at an art museum.
I lost all my baby teeth quite early and got my full set of braces when I was ten.
Colorful sunsets make my heart swell up with pure joy.
I have an irrational fear of flying bugs. I'm working on it.
I have killed more scorpions and spiders than I have fingers and toes, though.
I voluntarily listen to the classical radio station. Yeah, I'm one of those people. ;)
I can talk with my mouth closed. You can almost understand me when I do.
Many times have I had the urge to abandon my plans and become a traveling cheese monger or music critic. Or both.
Jazz and big band music makes my soul dance.
I can separately extend each one of my toes. I kinda pride myself in my flexible toes, actually.
I secretly love my Biology lab and lecture classes...
I am a roller coaster enthusiast.
I am also a Disney enthusiast. How did I not mention that sooner?
I know nearly every Disney song ever made.
I love Disneyland.
For the first 8 years of my life, I didn't see more than three stars at a time because of LA air pollution.
I now marvel at the stars whenever I see them.
I have a piece of graphite stuck in my hand from accidentally stabbing myself in 8th grade English.
I play the cello, and I'm currently messing around on the guitar.
I love Broadway musicals so very much. The ones I have seen/loved/memorized include Lion King, Les Miserables, The Secret Garden, Newsies, Into the Woods, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Little Women, White Christmas, West Side Story, The Little Mermaid, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, 13 the Musical, Footloose, Bye Bye Birdie, The Sound of Music, A Little Princess, You're a Good Man Charlie Brown, Tarzan, Fiddler on the Roof, Wicked, Mary Poppins, Peter Pan, Shrek the Musical, Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Annie, Sister Act, How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Hairspray, South Pacific, Hello Dolly, and Pirates of Penzance. I love them.
I can't stop singing. I sing all the time.
I can think of a song for almost anything.
I love spring and fall.
I love nice male eyebrows and jawlines. There's something about those two features.
I have never been very good at tongue twisters.
My eyes have been gradually changing every day this past year from blue to greenish. They aren't just fading from one color to the next, however. The top of the iris is turning yellowish and brownish while the bottom is still a grayish blue. They are a strange mix in the middle. I can't even name the color. It's weird. I don't know what to think.
I love playing capture the flag.
I love it when babies smile in their sleep. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy.
My feet are ridiculously ticklish.
For 10/12 months of the year, I don't wear any shoes other than flip flops (unless it is Sunday or I am forced to).
I was born in Wisconsin. They'd call me a regular cheesehead.
I don't like doing my hair, but alas, I have a mane. Thus, in order to be presentable I must reluctantly help it out a bit.
I love salads with blue cheese and pecans in them.
Fresh raw milk is, in my opinion, the best thing ever. It's even better when you are friends with the goats or the cows who gave it to you. :)
I tend to be a Grammar Nazi in most situations.
I have a ring I've been wearing for the past four years. I think the tan line is permanent now...
I love singing in large choirs with full orchestras. It is truly magical.
I love watching people laugh. When people laugh, they are so attractive.
I love laughing and smiling lots.
I once had an amazing hazelnut brittle chocolate bar at a factory in Seattle. It was the best chocolate I've ever had.
Food is on my mind right now.
Some of the best things I have ever eaten were in Louisiana. I cannot decide between the following:
Alligator meat and fried vegetables cooked by my mom in an RV and served at a random picnic table in the middle of nowhere (and it was incredible), fish cioppino served family style with freshly baked baguettes at this one fancy restaurant in the middle of the wooded bayou, and samples of over a hundred artisan cheeses and that sandwich I had for lunch at this shop in New Orleans. (The bread was amazing. You know how bread sometimes takes away from the overall success of the sandwich? Well, this bread was flavorful and chewy and warm. It MADE the sandwich. It was also huge. All the samples of artisan cheeses were part of this favorite food experience.)Also New Orleans beniets, free pralines, gumbo, and fried frog legs are delicious.
Someone made me an apple pie today and a friend brought it to my house. I was unbelievably happy, for apple pie is so wonderful. 'Tis my favorite kind of dessert pie.
I once owned a cannibal goldfish names Sparkles.
When people have good posture when sitting, I am greatly impressed.
I've only rock climbed once, but I love it so very much.
I've also only been bowling once, but I love it also.
I've never been ice skating, yet I am secretly worried I will fail miserably if I ever were to go.
I would absolutely love to go ice skating sometime in the near future.
I am obsessed with classical music composed for piano and orchestra.
I love to hear trumpets play "Taps."
If I were to convert to band instead of orchestra, I fantasize about taking up the french horn.
I think hand holding is the greatest thing. I'd do it all the time with people if it wasn't weird.
Speaking of hands, my pinky fingers are runts compared to my other ones. I realized this while learning hand anatomy in a charcoal drawing class. If my pinkies were normal sized, I bet I could reach a comfortable 10th on the piano, maybe even an 11th, and my octaves would be invincible.
I keep every letter or card ever written or given to me.
During finals week, I tend to have a collection of at least five or six mugs on my desk at one time from all the hot chocolate and herbal tea I drink.
Waterfalls bring me joy.
I like skipping. I probably look ridiculous, but it makes me happy. :)
I love finding faces in the mountains on road trips.
When my extended family gathers, we'll all sit around after dinner and sing cowboy songs in complex harmony as loud as we can while my grandpa wails on the guitar. I love it. One of these days, I'll learn all their verses so I can pass them down to my children too.
If you were to ask me what superpower I'd like to have if anything, my knee-jerk response would probably be flight. I often imagine what it would be like. (If I were to sit and ponder about it, I would answer differently. I am not sure what my answer would be, yet.)
I love hearing little children sing. It makes me so happy.
I love you.

That is all.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

A Poem: The Ladder of St. Augustine

I had an epiphany while reading this poem today. 



The Ladder of St. Augustine

Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame!

All common things, each day's events,
That with the hour begin and end,
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.

The low desire, the base design,
That makes another's virtues less;
The revel of the ruddy wine,
And all occasions of excess;

The longing for ignoble things;
The strife for triumph more than truth;
The hardening of the heart, that brings
Irreverence for the dreams of youth;

All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds,
That have their root in thoughts of ill;
Whatever hinders or impedes
The action of the nobler will; —

All these must first be trampled down
Beneath our feet, if we would gain
In the bright fields of fair renown
The right of eminent domain.

We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.

The mighty pyramids of stone
That wedge-like cleave the desert airs,
When nearer seen, and better known,
Are but gigantic flights of stairs.

The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear
As we to higher levels rise.

The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.

Standing on what too long we bore
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern — unseen before —
A path to higher destinies,

Nor deem the irrevocable Past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Speak Your Truth

A teacher called on me in a class today and said, 

"Speak your truth, Olivia."

I voiced my idea and thought on the topic we were discussing.

The teacher thanked me for speaking and went on to explain to the others why my words were true.

Apparently, I spoke my truth well. 

But I wondered something.

What makes it MY truth?

Shouldn't it be our truth? Or rather, THE truth?

If it is our truth or the truth, wouldn't we all have to have accepted it as truth before it can be labelled so?

Is my truth different than YOUR truth?

Perhaps what I consider to be MY truth is not aligned with THE truth.

Can I possess truth? Can it be mine? Can I make it mine? Can I create truth?

Is truth that tangible?

In the state of nature, a state of perfect freedom, anything you add your own labor to becomes yours.

If I add my work and efforts to a principle or a truth, it could become mine. Couldn't it?

I've tested it. I've experimented and acted upon it. I've lived it.

If I've done these things, it could be MY truth. 

What about THE truth, though?

Can there be many types of truth?

Or are all truths part of THE truth?

There must be an overarching truth. There is. 

Actually, I know there is. 

God's truth is THE truth.

HIS truth is above the world's truth.

HIS truth I will proclaim.

Can I have HIS truth? Can I make it MY truth too? 

By proclaiming it, it becomes part of me. HIS truth can become MY truth if I act upon it.

Yet the entire world needs it. We must make it OUR truth. 

We'll bring the world HIS truth.

We must speak the truth. We must live the truth. 

How else can we be sure of it? How else can it be truth?

We must speak. We must speak HIS truth.

But who is We? Why, it's us. 

You and I. 

Seekers of truth. Disciples of Christ. Human beings with a divine potential.

THE truth is eternal. Eternal truths are what life is created from.

THE truth will make you free. HIS truth will set you free

Can we make it OUR truth? I don't want to be alone. 

But wait. 

If MY truth is HIS truth, I am never alone. 

If MY truth is HIS truth, I have nothing to fear. 

My truth must be God's truth, for HIS truth is THE truth. 

God is all-powerful, all-knowing.

Of course HIS truth is THE truth.

But if OUR truth is HIS truth, we can save the world. 

Speak your truth, my friend.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Temple Celebration

I have my own temple.


I can see it from the top floor of my house. It's a minuscule speck, but I can see it nonetheless.

I jumped up and down when I heard its announcement in the LDS General Conference of April 2008. I was only 10 years old then.

I watched the groundbreaking ceremony two years later and was in awe at the fact that they would somehow turn that empty field of weeds and cacti and dry dirt into a place fit for the Lord.

I waited for years as I watched it grow from the ground up. They buried huge power lines so they wouldn't obstruct the view of the temple. They shipped in stone from Jerusalem for the floors and walls. For a year, they parked a little portable classroom in the middle of the dirt construction site for the hordes of people who wanted to know what on earth this massive building was for and why it was being built.

When one of the stone walls was deemed unusable due to a small imperfection, the missionaries of the area broke it up into hundreds of pieces and gave them to visitors. I have my own little chunk of the temple sitting in my room right now.

I watched from our car window as the statue of Angel Moroni was finally placed on top.
During the open house, hundreds of thousands of people flooded to the temple to tour it and see this mysterious building for the first time. I helped many nights in putting the little white shoe coverings on strangers' feet for hours and hours until nightfall so that they could have their turn to walk through the temple.

I was lucky enough to tour the temple four times during the open house period; I went once with my entire family and some business friends we had invited, once with just my mom, and twice all by myself. 

I can hardly find adequate words to describe how I can feel inside that building. When I walk in, I have no thought or worry as to what school assignments may be pressing or what hours of piano practice I should be putting in. I don't feel the weight and pull of stress. I feel purely peaceful. I am still. I feel white and clean. I feel warm in my heart and clear in my head. I feel love. I am so happy. While inside the temple, I feel like I am walking on a bridge between Heaven and earth. I feel close to my God. I know without a doubt that I am in the house of the Lord. 


Every time I drive by it on the way to the community college or an MCO rehearsal or even Costco, my heart swells with joy. I can't help but smile and sing and gawk at the incredible architecture and beautiful stained glass windows. I've always been a sucker for stained glass, but these windows are exquisite. (Also, they look a lovely aqua color in the day and shine a bright yellow at night. It's absolutely beautiful regardless of the time of day.) I am always amazed at how the temple grass and flowers are completely resilient in the face of the Arizona storms and summers. While the front lawns of the rest of the desert dwellers are dusty, crunchy patches of brown straw, temple grass seems magical in comparison. Also, this temple is humongous. One of the first words that comes to my mind in describing its exterior is "mighty." It is the mightiest building I've ever been to.




I was able to be a part of the Gilbert Arizona Temple cultural celebration and dedication this year in March. I practiced choreography, learned sign language, sang songs, fitted costumes, and anticipated the celebration for months. We were honoring the great heroes of the past and celebrating our heritage. I'll always remember sloshing through ankle-deep water and mud in my Nephite costume, singing and twirling my flag as rain poured from the sky. It was spectacular. As I danced for a latter-day prophet of God along with 13,000 other young men and young women in the torrential rain, my life was changed. This was my temple. This was a house of the Lord. We had great cause to celebrate. (If you watch the video, you can find the songs I was in at 37:05, 1:04:05, 1:16:16, and 1:20:50. I also was a flag bearer for my stake in the very beginning of the program. Your very own Olivia Jensen makes a split second cameo appearance as she walks around waving to the crowds with her stake flag bearers at 23:02.)


(Pictured is me and my ward along with the multitudes just a few hours before the performance. I'm near the middle with the crazy ponytail with my back turned. At least I was present... You can see the storm clouds sneaking into the skies behind us. At this moment, we had no clue we would be up against a torrential downpour later.) 

As we practiced before the actual performance in the dress rehearsal, storm clouds gathered all around. However, there was a patch of clear sky above our practice as we sang and danced. We thought for a while that it would perhaps stay this way for the show somehow. It didn't, as you can see. :) This was not an unfortunate event at all, for the rain somehow perfected the message of the show. We were drenched, yet we danced and sang more stalwartly and passionately than we ever had done before.


You may be wondering why it poured during the celebration. Why wasn't the weather perfect? How could the rain be let to spoil everything? We certainly had a couple of those thoughts as we huddled together under tarps with blue lips and chattering teeth, soaked to the skin. Let me tell you, however. We prayed for the rain. All 13,000 of us. It's probably our fault. :) It hadn't rained in almost 6 months leading up to the celebration, for one. But you see, the week before the performance was a torturously dry one. It was swelteringly hot, as usual, which made practicing and running through dance numbers and moving thousands of kids across large spans of ground for hours exhausting. The grass of the park we practiced at was brown, dry, and dusty, so there soon was so much dust kicked up in the air that we couldn't breathe. They had to cut the 15-hour practice short that evening due to "hazardous levels of dust." So many kids were being taken by ambulance to the hospital due to asthmatic attacks or heatstroke or who knows what. We all returned home with hacking coughs, splitting headaches, aching limbs, sore throats, and sunburns. I lost my voice completely, along with many others I am sure. We prayed in our meetings and cars and homes afterward. While adults looked at the weather forecast and prayed for no rain, the youth prayed that we would be able to perform safely and inspirationally, without being prevented by the dust. Most of all, we wanted to show our love for the temple and bear out testimonies of Christ through song and dance. After all the hours of sacrifice and practice, the rain seemed like a capstone to this epic event, and it will never be forgotten by us. 



(Pictured are members of my region waiting to take our places in the final song. I'm the one with the long wavy hair just right of middle. My little brother is also one of these heads...)

One of the greatest moments I experienced while in this celebration was what occurred at the arrival of the prophet. The rain poured out in sheets over the crowd. I was standing on a platform all the way back by the jumbotrons with my fellow banner-bearers, so I couldn't see much of what was happening across the park. The ice cold rain pounding my face certainly wasn't helping me see any better. But oh, wait till you hear what happened when the prophet came. Perhaps we shouldn't have yelled so loud, but we couldn't help it. :) Everyone cheered and applauded as the prophet's car drove up. A ramada has been set up for the visiting authorities. The moment President Thomas S. Monson got out of the car, the rain stopped completely. We all fell quiet and watched him walk to his seat. I promise you, the very moment he was safely underneath the ramada, the rain picked up once again. Somewhere, someone began to sing the hymn "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet." I was so far back that I only was able to hear and join in the last few phrases before it ended. "We thank the for every blessing bestowed by Thy bounteous hand. We feel it a pleasure to serve thee and love to obey Thy command." After we finished singing, the prophet stood and faced us. He and President Henry B. Eyring began to applaud us while the rain again grew to a roar. Or the crowd began to roar. Most likely, it was both. All 13,000 of those youth started yelling and hollering at the top of their lungs. I know I cheered just about as hard as I could. We certainly had reason to cheer, for a prophet of God had come to dedicate our temple. We knew he was a prophet of God. Our joy was full.

Another cool fact about my celebration experience was that I and some others had the opportunity to be in multiple songs where extras were needed for the partner dances. I got to maneuver around the outside of the field from one group to another in between songs through the mud while quickly changing costumes as I ran to be in time for the number. I and some other extras was often in complete panic mode as we tried to make speedy costume changes and locate our groups. A few times, I ran into line as the music began. It was worth every bit of extra practice hours, thought, for I wanted to participate in this event as much as I possibly could.


I remember standing in the light of the jumbotron with my stake flag bearers on the night of the performance. The six of us had a blast. I remember it really began to pour while we stood there. We first made some vain attempts to stay dry and warm, but alas, the rain could not be stopped. I remember we simply gave in to laughter, and we stood there with our heads upturned, mouths open. It was a fantastic moment.

On a more ridiculous note, I've been looking for a place to share this gem of a meme that was made shortly after the cultural celebration. It is relatable in every way. My friends and I found it to be extremely hilarious, especially after having huddled in the freezing cold water with groups of soaking wet males under tiny little tarps on that night. Oh brother, it was just great. XD
Something that many viewers may not have realized is the significance of the flags. Every single one of the 13,000 carried a personalized "Title of Liberty." We were asked to write something meaningful to us on the flag. I loved seeing what phrases, quotes, songs, and scriptures were meaningful for each individual. But me being me, I honestly could not decide which one would be the best. Which song, which scripture, or which quote would be worthy of my cultural celebration flag? Also, seeing as it was I who was designing it, it would have to be epic somehow. Finally, the day before the big dress rehearsal, I decided that I would go with every single idea I had and combine it into one, of course. :) It has ended up being a very meaningful memento of my experience, for this was the flag I twirled for hours and weeks and months practicing for the "flag dance" with my friends. I had sword fights with it and attempted to juggle it when we had free moments in practices. I ran after Captain Moroni in my Nephite outfit while waving it high. It's been dropped in mud, stained by grass, and soaked by rain. I'm probably going to keep it forever. I remember a moment when all the youth sang the closing number in the performance. Someone decided to raise their flag into the air as they sang. One by one, we all followed suit. It wasn't preplanned at all, but we all did it in sync nonetheless. There was a wordless feeling of unity, and we felt the Spirit so strongly as we sang. I'll never forget how my heart swelled up with love for the gospel of Christ. 


Another cool tidbit about this celebration was the Live True hand symbol that circulated around the participating youth. According to the celebration website, "The Live True logo is made up of a capital L and T representing Live True. Together they form a rectangular viewing window through which we 'set our sights' on the temple. When the 'L' and 'T' and made with the hands, it becomes a positive hand gesture we can share among other members of the church and nonmembers as a reminder to 'Live True' to our personal standards and beliefs. The purpose of the Cultural Celebration is to encourage us all to set the focus of our personal viewfinder on the Gilbert Arizona Temple." We all were simply beside ourselves to find that we now had our own secret gang sign for the temple celebration. ;) People would randomly stick out their left handed gun in practices or at church or school, and you'd rush to complete the rectangle with your right hand to finish the symbol. It was quite fun, really. 



For one last thought on this celebration, I want to mention one of the songs we heard called "I Choose This Day." Now when I first heard this song, I was bothered by its initial cheesiness. Week after week, we practiced the sign language with the video each night to the sound of giggles and snickers from other young men and women. I desperately tried to open my mind to the song and be serious about it, for I felt bad for feeling a bit doubtful about its success. Boy, was I ever wrong. Perhaps others may hear the song and have the same first reaction as I, yet this song has found a warm place in my heart today. The lyrics are as follows:


I Choose This Day

It's easy to talk about faith,
It's easy to do what's right
When there's no sacrifice;
It's so easy to preach about heart,
And say you'll be faithful and true 
When you know there's nothing to lose.
I could do so much good in my life 
And help my people in this land;
But what is there to live for
If I'm not true to who I am?

I choose this day, 
I choose the person I will be;
Do I fear man,
Deny who I am 
And all that I believe?
Will I stand tall?
Do I soar, or do I fall?
When the Spirit calls, 
Will I be strong, will I obey?
I will choose this day.

I look into the ev'ning sky 
And I see the temple of God;
The Spirit is telling me 
I've found Zion in the midst of Babylon.

I choose this day, 
I choose the person I will be;
I'll not fear man;
I know who I am, 
And what I believe.
I will stand strong 
And turn my back to Babylon.
I find my strength
When I kneel to pray.
I will follow the Lord,
I choose this day.

O verall, my life was changed as I participated in this historic celebration. I'll never forget the emotions I felt and the experiences I had. (If anything, the rains certainly ensured that there would be no forgetting this event...) I have been inside the temple and can attest to the unsurpassable beauty and feelings of peace one can witness inside it. I can hardly wait for the day that I can enter the temple with the man I will love and be sealed to him for eternity. When I research the names of my ancestors and visit often, it brings undeniable blessings of peace and happiness into my life. I know without a doubt that it is a house of the Lord. 

Ethereal Music: Yo-Yo Ma Plays Ennio Morricone

This entire album is magnificent.

"Oh, if we could all live life the way Yo-Yo Ma plays his cello."

-Brandon Stewart, Millennial Choirs and Orchestras

Every track is a work of art. They are not meant to be merely listened to. Every drop of this kind of music is meant to be indulged in and savored. Try it. You'll experience the adventure, hear the majesty, and witness the genius of this romantic music. You'll feel something great. Here are a few of my favorites:






Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Breathtaking Views: Prince of Peace

This painting, entitled Prince of Peace, is by Akiane Kramarik, who is considered to be one of the most successful child prodigy artists who ever lived and the "youngest binary genius in both realism art and poetry." I would highly recommend thoroughly perusing her entire art website, for it will astound you.

She painted this when she was 8 years old.


Below is the poem she wrote to accompany it:

Perhaps I wanted to catch it
perhaps not

But one morning
an eagle dropped a diamond

And right then
with my faulty brush
full of my own hair
I wanted to paint

I wanted to paint the wings-
Too late - they flew away
I wanted to paint a flower
Too late - it withered

That night the rain
was running after me
Each drop of rain
showed God's face
His face was everywhere
On homes and on me

I wrung out the love
to make the red

I wrung out the stumps
to make the brown

I wrung out the trust
to make the pink

I wrung out my own eyes
to make the blue

I wrung out the seaweed
to make the green

I wrung out the nightly pain
to make the black

I wrung out my grandmother's hair
to make the gray

I wrung out my visions
to make the violet

I wrung out the truth
to make the white

Today I want to paint God's face
IT'S NOT TOO LATE!


-Akiane Kramarik, age 8

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Ethereal Music: La Mer

Claude Debussy. There's just something about his music that is truly otherworldly. I usually don't choose favorites, but I must say, Debussy would be on my list of top ten favorite composers. This song. This song is absolutely incredible. It is called "La Mer," or "The Sea."


I first heard it with one of my dear friends played live by the Phoenix Symphony in concert. It brought me to tears and gave me chills at nearly every swell and resolution and powerful chord. I loved each and every one of those three movements. It was, however, the very first movement that best painted the picture of the sea, brought back childhood memories of the ocean, and pierced my heart.

Imagine it as you listen. It is the early morning. The sun is beginning to rise over the horizon. The sand is glistening like diamonds. The waves are as smooth and as shining as silver. The ocean is waking up, and you are a blessed witness. As you listen, you'll hear it grow brighter and brighter. You'll hear the soft sand and the foamy waves and the growing height of the swells of water. At the end of this piece, you'll hear the sun come up. You'll hear the ocean basking in the light and the crashing waves and the golden sand. 

That's the thing about music like this. You can hear what you would see. You can hear a story without words having ever been uttered. You can hear thoughts and textures and colors and emotions and pictures without ever having to open your eyes or reach out your hands. Try it. I promise it will change your life.



"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." 
-Victor Hugo

"Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything." 
-Plato

"Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy."
-Ludwig von Beethoven

Monday, October 13, 2014

Breathtaking Views: Mysterious Magical Pink Snowy Mountain...

I have no idea what mountain this is, but it has served as my mac laptop wallpaper for over a year now. I swear it has magical, stress-relieving properties. Just stare at it for a second. Take a deep breath. You'll love it.

Ethereal Music: How Great Thou Art

Listen to this, my friend. Singing this song in this choir changed my life.

"When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
And there proclaim, 'My God, how great thou art!'
Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to thee.
How great thou art!
Amen."

https://play.spotify.com/track/0BRIYsewhx91yQFoNs3ktT

(The video I originally linked to was deleted due to a copyright claim, so I hope the link above works. You're wonderful.)

Hester's Strength - A Literary Analysis

            Nathaniel Hawthorne, author of the 1840 romantic era masterwork, The Scarlet Letter, has presented us with a protagonist by the name of Hester Prynne. Hawthorne’s Puritan ancestry ignited in him a curiosity in the America of the seventeenth-century and in Puritan motivations and actions of that time. In his book, Hawthorne’s ideas and opinions about that period are reflected in the heroine he created. His first description of Hester seems static, telling of her “natural dignity and force of character,” but throughout the course of this renowned narrative, Hester exhibited a more dynamic character, which embodied a deep contradiction. As The Scarlet Letter developed, Hester Prynne’s strength was evident in certain dealings with her fellows, for she broke the bounds of her past iniquity with her honesty, good will, and service. She was confined to prison for many years following a grievous sin, yet she arose from this trial with honor. Likewise, she was later cast out of society to live alone in the forest, yet she focused her efforts on serving the very people who had shunned her. Throughout the rest of her life, her chest remained branded with an outward symbol of her mistakes, yet she achieved a victory over this “scarlet letter” and succeeded in changing its meaning in the eyes of the people.
            Although Hester was confined to seven years of punishment in prison for her adulterous affair, she emerged from this anguish with dignity and a deep trust in herself. We see Hester walk out of the dungeon in chapter two, proud and beautiful, carrying her infant, wearing the elaborately embroidered scarlet letter “A” on her chest. In that moment, standing on the scaffold, she experiences a painful realization, a foreshadowing of her fate; Hester then saw that because of the Puritan predominance in which she lives, society will not tolerate her. Hester determined that she must "sustain and carry" her burden forward "by the ordinary resources of her nature, or sink with it. She could no longer borrow from the future to help her through the present.” This courageous state of mind shapes her future from that turning point. In fact, the onlookers in that Massachusetts town were quite shocked by her vitality and strength. “Those who had before known her, and had expected to behold her dimmed and obscured by a disastrous cloud, were astonished, and even startled, to perceive how her beauty shone out, and made a halo of the misfortune and ignominy in which she was enveloped.” Although Hester did not realize this at first, this demonstration of her strength against the ridicule of her fellows provided a means for her future personal progression. Hester showed that even seven years of terrible imprisonment should not destroy one’s self-worth and beauty.
            During Hester Prynne’s time of loneliness and rejection as a public outlaw, she turned her efforts to the care of her daughter, Pearl, as well as to the kind service for others around her, despite her trials. With no friend, no companion, and no foot crossing the threshold of her cottage, Hester began to use her solitude for good, pondering and growing spiritually instead of feeling sorry for herself. She was already a skilled seamstress, so a means of employment is available to her, and she provided services for the Puritan townsfolk. However, she could have chosen to avoid them; after all, those she helped do not even acknowledge her on the street at first. Nevertheless, she comforted the poor, attended to the sick, and lifted the downtrodden, all in addition to giving tender care to her own young daughter, Pearl. In one instance, when Boston’s governor is dying, she came to his side. "She came, not as a guest, but as a rightful inmate, into the household that was darkened by trouble.” 
Because she accepted her own past sin and has a true desire to repent, she continued to give throughout the course of her life, in hopes of rectifying this mistake, and eventually became a figure of compassion in her community. Hester deliberately chose to change, which sends a powerful message to the reader about self-directed transformation. In the town, “they would say to strangers, ‘It is our Hester, the town’s own Hester, who is so kind to the poor, so helpful to the sick, so comfortable to the afflicted!’” By focusing on fulfilling others’ needs before her own, Hester Prynne amended what would otherwise have been years of isolation and loneliness.
            By reclaiming her life, finding peace within, and promoting honesty Hester was able to literally change the symbolic meaning of her “cursed” scarlet “A for adulteress” into an “A for able.”  Although she never cast off the embroidered scarlet letter permanently, it remained a mark of sin, a mark of an adulteress, a mark of scorn to those who saw her. But by the narrative’s completion, it is clear that Hester’s personal triumph resulted in a transformation of the letter’s meaning. It is now indicative of her virtue. “The scarlet letter ceased to be a stigma which attracted the world’s scorn and bitterness, and became a type of something to be sorrowed over, and looked upon with awe, and yet with reverence, too.” Hester’s inner calm is reflected in the attitude of the community when they acknowledge that she is a healer, a mother, and an “able” woman: “They said that it meant Able; so strong was Hester Prynne, with a woman's strength." The message Hawthorne sends is that anyone can cast off what might otherwise be life-defining weaknesses and failures through sincere, determined, and profound virtue and selflessness of character. Hester Prynne alone was the one who, by her own deliberate actions, changed the society’s cursed stigma of the “scarlet letter” into a symbol of great morality and strength; she not only found peace, she promoted it.
            Through artistic language and symbolism, Nathaniel Hawthorne brought Hester Prynne to life. Despite her tremendous punishment in prison, her outcasting from society, and her scarlet branding, Hester emerged triumphant. These examples of enduring character throughout Hester’s life make her a timeless heroine of American Literature. The novel reveals that it truly was Hester's undying strength, honesty, and compassion that carried her through her lifelong trials. We read that Hester lived on, quietly serving, and became somewhat of a legend in an obscure Massachusetts colony, and remains so even in the world today. She had sinned, yet she rectified it. She lived in darkness, yet chose to turn to light.  We can see that it is the dynamic contrasting of her character over time that makes Hester Prynne’s story a classic. Hester became free of her sin by extending good will and exemplifying virtue; this lesson of change is what Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter teaches the world.

Olivia Jensen, 2013