Facebook Note: I Have Learned the Healer's Art

Written [mostly] on February 11th, 2011, and published to Facebook on February 13th, 2011

Author's Note: You can see, right from the start, that this is about a poem I wrote. If you want to see that, scroll down for a while. But the prose that comes before it is actually of some value. So, if you're patient and read both, you may appreciate it. I know I will. :)

Hey, here is a flash of news, not as brilliant as lightning, not as new as a current event that you would see on professional news, but it is a news flash nonetheless. I finally finished writing a poem that I feel right about!

I've been having this horrible writer's block for the last two months or so. Heck, who am I kidding? You could say that I've had this block since I came home from my mission, in Salt Lake City; somehow, things just haven't flowed the same way that they used to. It's not possible - let alone easy - to pick up an old voice that doesn't belong to me anymore, to re-assume the driver's seat with the mirrors adjusted to different angles than will accommodate me now. It's like I'm picking up my sword after having been using a different weapon for two years, and all the muscle memories in my hands and arms don't feel the same anymore. I'm a stranger in a foreign world that I used to call my home.

So... do you know what kind of a breakthrough it is that I've been able to forge out a poem that satisfies me?! We have progress, captain!!! It's approaching a future lift-off! Yes, [TAB III]... because poems regularly lift off of the ground and take flight, slicing the sky like a firebrand to slash away at the skyscape...

Ahem. I can be sane. So, here is the poem that I wrote... as I have said to a few of you out there, I may "sculpt" stories, but most of the time, sometimes I need to "bleed" poetry. The best is borne when one is in intimate touch with their feelings. Unfortunately for me, that most often comes when I am in pain. For some reason, the joys don't inspire poems; they inspire me to go out and love someone in the real world. ...Ok, so that's not a great loss. Other emotions... anger blocks out all intelligent thoughts. That is, rage makes it impossible to think about anything more complex than basic impulses. Hate is worse than that, because that is how one can plot destruction... but anyways, I won't go on that tangent. For the time being, I'll focus on this fact, that pain is one of my best inspirations for writing a poem. And the very best ones of those are the ones wherein I am finding hope, as I go along. I wrote one of those about five or six years ago. I called it "Chemeone; id est Scorchfrost." Hmmm... remind me to publish that one, soon; I said I would retain that one, hidden for the right time, and now, I think that time has surfaced. Yes! It feels right! Ok, make sure I don't forget; that one is a gold mine of... stuff. (*Sigh.* I guess somebody forgot to give the poet a glass of creativity this morning!)

Well, this past one... hmm. It was nothing too terrible; just your run-of-the-mill attack by Satan. I tagged some people, down here vvvv, that seemed to have reason to be concerned with me, recently. Well, thanks! No worries, either! I know, I know, I was kind of being depressing. And I know, there was no reason for that. There's never a reason for that kind of sorrow, if you know how to avoid it in the first place. But I still fell in. As President [surname] said (I guess that means I should tag him, too, then...), just because you're holding to the Iron Rod, it doesn't mean that the Mists of Darkness won't shade over your path. And to add my input to the analogy... just because you're being diligent and clinging to the Rod as tightly as you can, that doesn't keep the Adversary from spraying lubricants on it, like frigid splashes of filthy water, cold enough that it causes you to wonder if you're really holding to anything at all, and then when you start to slip, it's so hard to tell, until you've tripped over the bank, and you're in the river of sorrow. Again.

Now, that doesn't mean that I'm free of blame... but then again, I'll side with the medical professionals, for once - depression is real, and there are times that it will come on some of the happiest of people, in some of the best moments. So, I've been having one of those "quandaries." Among the causes were the fact that I haven't had a permanent job since September 2008, and I'm starting to run out of places to apply for work; most of my best friends reside either in other countries, or not on this world at all; I've been out of school for almost four years now, and I'm missing the chance to learn things; and one of the foremost - I've been feeling like my talent for writing has been slipping away from me entirely. Forget the fact that I've now written my first poems and a short story in Spanish... I've been starting to worry! Where has my old sanctuary gone? Why haven't I been able to create worlds of splendour, get into the hearts and minds of the characters I create, plot out storylines from the third-person omniscient, cause "deus ex machina," fight my way through enemy rabble from the first-person viewpoint, and be amazed when I find the character with whom I've fought has managed to help us survive that onslaught?

...Why do I talk this weird, anyway?

Well, in this fall... finally, something has surfaced. And not surprisingly, it came when I learned to do something that I haven't made use of in at least 10 years - arguably, I never have been known to do what I just have. The Atonement is an infinite sacrifice, and I have taught all about it, studied it, pored over scripture after scripture as a missionary, finding out things I never knew, feeling a love that I couldn't previously, and gaining a huge appreciation for the fact that the burdens of sin can be taken away. And not only that, but this was the only way whereby we can live after this life is over. I know and understand that if it weren't for Jesus Christ, there would be no more life after mortality. Well, ok, so our spirits would live on - but we would just die, and be separated from our bodies forever. It would undo half of what we gained in this life! Well, there is one principle that I routinely taught to people learning about the gospel of Jesus Christ - and I felt the Spirit confirm it. Heck, normally he was the one to put the idea into my mind in the first place! It was testified in Alma 7:11 - 13, one of the most popular scriptures among many missionaries.

"And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities. Now the Spirit knoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me."

...Did I not testify, repeatedly, that Christ will take away our pain, if we will just trust Him to do so? Was I not acting under His authority as I promised that all of the afflictions that everyone felt would be lessened, then accquited from them - because of their faith in the Lord? Yes, and I felt the Spirit surge in me every time that I said so.

Then why did I not believe it? Why did I never apply that promise to myself? ...Why did I never ask for the same blessing that I was sharing with the world?

Well, it took me until February 10th, 2011, before I finally started applying that segment of the promise, for my own self. It took some suffering of my own before I could finally come to realize this promise. See, one of the "benefits" of momentary depression is that you will often hear these dark voices in your head, undermining everything you know to be true, everything that you love, doing everything possible to shake your faith. In that process, you might find yourself temporarily convinced that nobody cares about you - not even God. The Adversary will do all in his power to discourage you from praying to Him, or to call on Christ for peace. It was in that despair that I tried something out of character.

It's been too long since I was able to clearly hear the voice of my Father in Heaven when I talk to Him. But I put all the faith I had in Him, that night, and listened as hard as I could, fighting all other thoughts out. I let Him tell me what He had to say - what I had been ignoring for years: if you will trust Jesus Christ in the price He has already paid - which was infinite - then the suffering, the sorrow, all of the evil feelings... will be gone. Not just covered up, not just made easier - or even just possible to endure. No, He means it; the suffering will be gone. As though it never was. As I thought in my heart about the sacrifice of One who loved me so much, who was practically pleading for me to use this gift He had given me already - I finally trusted Him and loved Him enough to say what He longed to hear. It was more so in my mind than with my voice: "Take it, Lord. Please, take all of the pain and suffering from me. I will give it to you."

...

..."Just like that?"

"Yes, [my name]. Just like that."

Wow! I can't remember the last time I felt healed like that! I think it took me that long, but I finally learned the spiritual gift, "the faith to be healed." You should try this!!! It made me so happy, felt so light, that I finally wrote a poem that felt this good. Ah, and that just added to the happiness! Now, as I'm writing this line, maybe I can think of what the title should be...

...Here it is.

Learning the Healer's Art

Now, I write a requiem

In advance of decease

While I yet postpone dreams

For tonight, I seek peace

How late comes the morning

How quick falls the night

How oft falls such wordplay

To such deepened plight

Howbeit unceasing?

Why shan't it give way?

Such reviling and teasing

Bringeth succor's delay

Received I not the blessing?

Has my soul not obeyed?

Is my purity missing;

False intentions bewrayed?

I must be at fault, here

My rebellion to blame

With obedience, I'd adhere

I would honour Christ's name

While I am not evil,

My heart is my own

My way with the lawless

Has this vacancy sown

And now is appointed

'Tis a good day to die.

And now I'm anointed

To fall from on high

I work out with trembling

Not humility - fear

Remorse that's resembling

When the Enemy's near

So horrid dilemma!

What trap I've invoked!

How tragic the drama

O, the joy I've revoked!

I'm told, I'm God's child

Of infinite worth

Am I merely beguiled?

Deserving this curse?

From whence came this stupor?

Why don't I think straight?

My mind wants to droop, here

My heart's ruled by hate

Father, where art thou?

Am I not Thy son?

This void where I fall now

...Is all hope undone?

Shew me my lackings

I beg Thee, I plead!

To free me from rackings,

Assure me Thou heeds

The serpent beguiles me;

He claims that my Christ

Cares not to save me

Or doth he speak right?

I long for redemption!

I yearn to have joy!

His propitiation

I hope to employ

"My son, hold thy peace

Which I shall grant thee

To secure thee release,

One thing ye must see."

"Behold ye the sufferings

And death of him

Who pleased me in all things

And whom did no sin."

"Saying, 'Spare these, my brethren

That believe on my name;

The blood of thy Son was shed

For Thy glory, the same.'"

"He remembers you, Thomas.

He knows you by heart.

He remembers your promise,

And will give His part."

"Yea, He was wounded

For transgression's sake

Yet now, how soon could

He, all this pain slake."

"The words are before thee;

Ye know what to do."

I'll trust...

              ...He does love me!

And I know - to let go!

I'll do more than just lighten -

Rather, cast off my pack!

I can feel my heart brighten

To give my pain back

...Now, I write an aria

For hope needs not cease

I'll enter new dreams

For tonight, I found peace.

***

Yeah... it's true, isn't it?

Then nothing else matters.

Love you all! And thank you!

- [TAB III]