Quotes from the Recently Read

I've been doing some very enjoyable reading recently, and amid the magic I found a smattering of intelligent and relatable quotes. These three are books I'd recommend without reservation.


Persuasion, Jane Austen
"She prized the frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others. She felt that she could so much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped."


Please, please, please just be real. Don't lie or distort the truth. Don't put on false airs. Don't try to convince others you are perfect. It's not helpful for you or them. I value honesty. I value openness. I value sincerity. These are the things I can trust. I'd rather have someone be outright rude to me than be fake with me. I cringe at fake.


Kaffir Boy, Mark Mathabane, p. 169.

Narrating his suicide attempt at age 10. "For years afterward, I was to think of that suicide attempt in the following terms: whenever the troubles of the world seem too much it helps to have someone loving and understanding to share those troubles with; and life takes its true meaning in proportion to one's daily battles against suffering."


I so value the comfort of meaningful relationships in which communication and mutual understanding are foundational. Sharing one another's battles gives meaning to the sometimes painful tutorials of life.


Kaffir Boy, Mark Mathabane, p. 254.

Speaking to the headmaster of his school who asks why he reads the books he reads and how, indeed, he dare dream that he will ever go places. "I will go somewhere, sir. I just have a feeling I will. I don't know why I have that feeling. Maybe I'm just dreaming. But I've had so many dreams come true in my life, that I now look toward dreams for the meaning of my life."


I love to dream, and the more I dream, the more I learn to believe in my dreams--to live for my dreams and to facilitate my own adventures. After all, you might miss a tiger.


Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston, p. 105.

Janie and Tea Cake are discussing their age difference of 12 years. (She's older.) Tea Cake says, "Things lak dat got uh whole lot tuh do wid convenience, but it ain't got nothin' tuh do wid love."


I don't happen to be dating someone twelve years my junior, but I do appreciate the sentiment that sometimes the qualities that we see in a person at the outset are not the ones of greatest significance. Even beyond physical and demographic characteristics, the surface of a person's personality should also not be the meter by which we judge. And mostly, I just thought this one was sweet.

***Other books I'd recommend include (but are not limited to):

The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini

Peace Like a River, Leif Enger

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, Lisa See

The Piano Tuner, Daniel Mason

My Name is Asher Lev, Chaim Potok

A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis

Reading Lolita in Tehran, Azar Nafisi

Life of Pi, Yann Martel

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, Anne Fatiman

You Might Miss a Tiger

Mike and Laurie Hoer have been people of great influence in my life. Mike Hoer was the mission president in Taizhong, Taiwan when I served there. He often used stories from his life to illustrate principles he wanted to teach us. The stories were usually outrageous. This one occurred on a family vacation to safari for tigers in India. Some of the precise details now escape me, but it went something like this:

The Hoers, along with their four children spent about a week safariing for tigers in India. They stayed in a small village and went out into the jungle all day each day for several days, but they found that this was a particularly bad week for finding tigers. The local guides weren't sure why they had so much trouble finding both the tigers and their tracks. In addition, they spent a great deal of time lost, hungry, and wet from the rain.

On the second to last day they found themselves caught in a colossal storm. They finally found a cave and decided that they had to wait the storm out there. President Hoer got everyone inside and made one last run to bring in the rest of their belongings. He neglected to duck at the mouth of the cave and slammed his head against the roof of the opening. There they were, soaking wet, trapped in a cave by a storm, with blood gushing from President's head. They were several miles from the village they were staying in and quite a few more miles from any real medical help. Fortunately they were all right until they managed to make it back and patch up President's head that night.

The next day, their last day, President was the only one who wanted to go back out looking for tigers. He finally persuaded everyone to try one last time except for one son who insisted on staying behind in the comfort of their lodgings and reading a book. That day when they went out they had a remarkable time. They found a couple of groups of tigers including a mother playing with her tiger cubs. When they arrived back at the village still glowing from the wonder of the day, they showed the pictures to the son who had stayed behind and told him excitedly about what they had seen. He was so upset that he didn't go. Because he doubted that they would find tigers that day when they hadn't seen any all week, he had missed out on what could have been an unforgettable adventure. Since that day, anytime their family does anything, this son has to be involved, because, as he says, "You might miss a tiger."

The world hold many marvelous gifts and adventures. Sometimes we have to be willing to take risks, make sacrifices, and muscle our way through difficulties in order to find them, but if we never try, we just might miss a tiger. And so the message is 有信心， 有办法. Where there is faith, there is always a way. If you are willing to don your safari hat and make the sacrifice, you will find a tiger.

Waking Instructions

I ran across this poem a few weeks ago and sensed its profundity, 

but after yesterday I get it. 

Waking Instructions


Crawl ashore
to the damp beginning of day.

Forget before and after.

Allow yourself
to be spelled differently.

It will feel like falling.

It had waiting attached.

--Emma Mellon

Good Morning

Guess what I woke up to this morning? 

 

I must be the luckiest person in the world.

Heroes, Part II

My mom is the toughest woman I know. You'd never know it to look at her because she is so approachable and kind, but underneath she wears the garb of a superhero. Think Superman, Spider-man, Batman, and Elasti-Girl all rolled into one. Like Elasti-Girl, she sacrifices everything for her family.

My mom has endured more than I could put into words, but she faces it all with unbelievable courage and tenacity. When asked (as she often is), "How do you do it?" she humbly and simply says, "What is the alternative? You would do the same." Every day she wakes early, puts on her superhero costume, and is back to the business of rescuing. One time I tried to take over for her for a few days, and though I consider myself to be pretty tough, and if not tough, then at least resilient, the emotional burden about knocked me off my feet. Two things that allow her to do what she does and be who she is. The first is the gospel of Jesus Christ. The second is her love of her family. She never lets go of these things, and they give her the strength, hope, and will to continue to "fight the good fight." 

Mom always taught us to be tough. Her rule for being sick was, "If you don't have a fever and you're not throwing up, you go to school." I learned from both my parents that a little discomfort should not slow a person down; ignore being sick as much as possible and go on with life. However, a couple of weeks ago when I went home for Sunday dinner, as is my custom, I was feeling pretty under the weather, and my mom completely catered to me. I was coughing quite a bit, but I really didn't let on how sick I was. Nevertheless, Mom kept asking me what I needed, "Can I get you some tea? Did you take any medicine? Do you have medicine? Is there anything you want? Are you sure you don't want some tea? I can make you some honey lemon tea." I was floored, not because my mom isn't caring--she's one of the nicest people I know--but I don't remember ever being this fawned over just for being sick.

My mom is always concerned about my basic needs. When I'm getting ready to leave on Sundays, she often starts pulling out groceries or homemade bread for me. (Her homemade bread is absolutely the best bread you'll ever taste.) "Do you have enough corn?" she asks. "I found some yogurt on sale, and picked up some extra." "There's some apple cider from the local apple stand for you." And on.

I love that in my parents' relationship, they take care of each other. It's not a one-way deal. Last Sunday we celebrated my brother's 18th birthday, and in my family, celebration means food. We had seared tuna, coconut shrimp with three kinds of dipping sauces, horseradish mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, asparagus, jello, and strawberry satin pie. I'm telling you my parents know how to cook. We usually all do the dishes together, but my dad wasn't feeling well, so my mom flat-out banned him from the kitchen. He still came in to load some glasses in the dishwasher, but my mom took one look at him and banned him again. "You go rest. I've got the girls to help me with that."

Mom and I have become such good friends as I've grown older. We frequently chat about politics, global affairs, literature, and the arts. I love talking to my mom. She's intelligent and capable, and she taught me to have passion for life (or at least to channel my passions). She lets me know how much she appreciates any time I visit or call home. I spend a lot of time following my mom around the house and chatting with her when I visit. She takes me around and shows me paint colors she's considering, tells me about interesting things she's learned lately, and asks my opinion on a variety of topics.

We share a love of China. She served a mission in Hong Kong and I served in Taiwan. She speaks Cantonese, and I speak Mandarin. She has a great talent for learning languages, and still remembers a little from the couple of Mandarin classes she audited when she returned from Hong Kong 30 years ago. When I was a missionary, I emailed home every week, and I occasionally inserted a little romanized Mandarin for her to decipher--a little puzzle to emphasize our connection. I always waited eagerly for her emails the following week. When I came back from my mission, she teased me about my Chinese-sounding English, especially words like "jam" and "sure." I talked to her about Chinese concepts and appreciated the enthusiasm she showed.

Mom and I have enjoyed sharing a calling in our respective church units. We're both serving as Relief Society instructors and chat about what we're learning as we study for our lessons and swap lesson ideas. As we do the dishes on Sundays, we often talk about our gospel learning. I always feel so uplifted by our conversations and so strengthened by her gentle wisdom. 

Mom's confidence in me makes me feel capable. She encourages my dreams and my sense of adventure. I've recently started thinking seriously about moving to Boston after I graduate in December. I mentioned this to her one Sunday, and she was fully supportive. Then she said, "I'm not going to think about being sad until it gets here. I'm not going to borrow worry." She tells me she wouldn't want me to live at home the rest of my life, even though she misses me at home. She says she wants me to live my own life and follow my dreams. And she means it--she's always pulling for my dreams. The whole family gathered to play games a little later, and my mom said to my dad, "Amanda is thinking about moving to Boston." He smiled, and said, "It's a dream."* My dad communicates a lot in few words and was in no way trying to denounce the idea, but my mom, my sweet, wonderful mom, said, "Yes, but with Amanda, dreams can come true."

I love my mom. She's my friend, my advocate, my mentor, and captain of my fan club. Some of the conversations we've had will live forever in me as treasured memories. She takes care of me but still lets me grow my own way. She knows how to give priority to the things that matter most. She seeks without ceasing to improve her spirit and her mind. She works harder than anyone. She is intelligent, brave, kind, and wise. She is my superhero.

*The next week we went to visit my grandparents and watch General Conference. My family arrived before I did, because I had a mission reunion to go to first. I arrived to find that my dad, backed by my mom, had already told my grandparents all about my plans to move to Boston. He had talked about it as he might if I really had a job and an apartment there and it wasn't just "a dream"after all. I was extremely touched.

I found my heart and left it behind.

China, oh China, my heart belongs to thee. Only you have been constant. Only you have been true. I could not remove you from my heart with surgeries, potions, or spells. I would never even try. From the moment I met you, the very breath of you intoxicated me. I feel drunk on you still. Feet wobbly, limbs unsteady, mind fogged over with the taste of you. My only cure--to drink you in again. Let me come home to you.

I Have No Words

Last semester I read a short work by Shi Tiesheng called "我与地坛" or "The Temple of Earth and I" in which Shi wrote some lessons he had learned about humanity by watching the people at the park there. Aside from identifying with his ways of people watching, I found something in his words that really resonated with me. At the end he writes as if addressing the park itself:

要是有些事我没说，地坛，你别以为是我忘了，我什么也没忘，但是有些事只适合收藏。不能说，也不能想，却又不能忘。它们不能变成语言，它们无法变成语言， 一旦变成语言就不再是它们了。它们是一片朦胧的温馨与寂寥，是一片成熟的希望与绝望，它们的领地只有两处：心与坟墓 。

 

If there are some things I do not say, Temple of Earth, don't think I've forgotten. I have forgotten nothing, but some things are only fit for storing up. You cannot speak them or even think them, but you cannot forget them either. They cannot become words; it is impossible for them to become words. The moment they are turned to words, they are no longer themselves.They are a hazy slice of  tenderness and of loneliness, of mature hopes and of despair. Their only two domains, the heart and the grave.