This has been on my mind lately. Especially lately. Ok so listen.
This week in digital folklore, we talked about the weirdness of identity. The weirdness of identity=my thesis (but in poetry form). Basically, what we think about ourselves is not what we use to express ourselves, but it's all we have. So like your clothes, your hair, your makeup, your cool toys, your books, your taste in music, none of that really expresses who you are. Then there's what you think other people think of you, which gets weirder. Because that's not who you are either, but it's a lot easier to talk about. We care way more about how others think of us than how we think of us. And it's even further from our true selves than what we use to communicate who we are. Are you still following dis?
Okay so then we get to what we think others think we think we are. And what they think we think they think we are. WAT. But it's all about us, about our identities, and how they are really weird and defining them gets weirder. What we have to define them are things like words, which are so abstract. They are simply not enough to express things like love (for instance, you may love your spouse, but you also love that bag of chips on the counter) or sadness or guilt.
As I'm scrolling through Instagram these days, I see a lot of people doing amazing things/being amazing. They have perfect lives, o woe is me! Why? Why does this bother us? We demand imperfection! We want to know that people are real, and imperfections=real. And yet, seemingly perfect people are the ones with all the followers (real or internet-ish). The equation just doesn't add up.
Which brings me to the eternal things. The things that do matter because they have permanence. A.M. Royden said, "Learn to hold loosely all that is not eternal." And I think what's bothering me about all of the stuff on Instagram, all the stuff that gets attention... is not permanent. But we spend so much time thinking about it. We're not just spending money on it, we're spending time and energy on it. And yo, I don't have a lot of time or energy these days. Not nearly enough is left over to worry about the midcentury modern furniture I don't have or the trips I am not going on or the lipstick I absolutely positively must buy cuz it doesn't smudge.
It makes sense that focusing too much on those things would make me feel out of place and miserable and weird, cuz those things aren't eternal, but I am. Even though there's parts of my identity that are hard to define, there are things I do know: I am a child of God, I always have been, and I always will be. I am eternal.
this list is for me, but it could be for you, too.
things that do matter:
- my family + any time I spend with them
- making the burdens of those around me much lighter
- praying as much as I can to feel peace in a confusing world
- keeping my eyes on the Savior
- temple work
- teaching my future children to be kind human beings
things that don't matter (in the eternal scheme of things):
- whether or not I put on makeup today
- how many cardigans I own
- how many concerts I went to this year
- if I have adult acne (ugh)
That last list was way harder to make than I thought it would be. I'm not saying that just because temporal things are just that--temporal--we shouldn't spend any time on them. If putting on makeup every day makes you feel good about yourself, do it. But if you happen to lack perfectly sculpted brows, I don't think you should beat up yourself about it. The thing I am most afraid of is extremism, and right now I find myself leaning too far towards caring about things that have no eternal value at all. And really, it's getting old.
'"The Son of man came … to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45) is one of the clearest statements in the Gospels about the meaning and purpose of Jesus Christ’s suffering, death, and Resurrection--they were the price He paid to redeem all mankind. “Ransom” is translated from the Greek word lutron, meaning a sum paid to secure another person’s release from bondage or captivity. In Old Testament times, when someone was in bondage, the price of his release was expected to be paid by his kinsmen (see Leviticus 25:48–49). As the Firstborn of our Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ paid the ransom required to free all mankind from the bondage of sin. According to 1 Peter 1:18–19, the ransom was paid not “with corruptible things, as silver and gold, … but with the precious blood of Christ.'"
