Hair Cut

Who knows what day it is? I've had no time to count. My life's tunnel is narrowing and yet more and more obligations, duties, and activities are squeezing in and riding along my side.

I managed to have my hair cut this morning. It was the sequel event to yesterdays dead end investigation into the salon world. My barbershop of choice was closed, the day being monday. Sammy's gave me two leads, one around the corner. The one around the corner gave me a few more. After a $12 price estimation and a face full of mixed aroma I was on my way into the freezing weather and heavy wind. The next salon proved no better. I opened the door to  a thousand different perfumes and to many scents than could ever be used decently; the woman behind the counter and the window was laid down in a chair stretched out with her hair in a fuzz, being clamped down and crimped, providing a sight more terrifying than the worst of dentist offices. My view was graciously obscured by a tinkling of feet and a petite living mannequin of costly apparel and streaked hair, her wide eyes made wider by mascara and dance pants promiscuous. 

Do you cut man's hair here? I asked pointing to my head with my fingers beneath woolen gloves.

Nedless to say, they did but I didn't. I had my hair cut this morning by my pal Kenny. He's been cutting hair for 38 years- man's hair. And thats all he cuts. He cuts President Clarke's hair. Elder Bednar's hair was a regular, and before him President Benyon was too. He's been cutting hair almost twice as long as I have been growing it. $12 was a fair price, no student discount, for the best haircut I have ever had in the states. Kenny's my man.



Kenny and Larry's Barbershop, right on the side of Sammy's. They looked at me funny when I asked them if they had wireless, so I don't imagine they have a website.

Are Masks of the Devil?

Masquerade!

Paper faces on parade.

Masquerade!

Hide your face, so the world will never find you!

Masquerade!

Every face a different shade.

Masquerade!

Look around -

there's another

mask behind you!

True is false.

Who is who?

Declares the catchy song Masquerade of  Webber’s Phantom of the Opera. These words would also be appropriately voiced in a persuasive whisper.

Mask wearing in Masquerade has its tradition in second millennium Venice, Italy in the pre-lent celebration of Carnival (Carne vale- free of meat), where they were used to hide the wearers identity. The exact origin of the implementation of masks is not clear but it became so popular that in 1268 and ordinance was passed prohibiting masked men from throwing scented eggs at women. The masquerade and its promiscuous “anything goes” attitude reached its peak in the 18th century but still lives on today in various celebrations around the world.

Masks have other origins besides the Masquerade and are common to our culture, from Batman and Zorro to the Phantom himself. 

Indeed a ball will be held this Saturday, here at BYU-I, a Masquerade Ball, and masks are on sale by the school, in the Kimball building. This  appears to be a contradiction in practice and has left many people wondering. This past Saturday the 44th ward had a Halloween costume party. It was a gay old time. I dressed up as a 1770’s revolutionary and my date as 1970’s hippie- we were protesters. We carved a pumpkin- a gruesome one even, with a machete through its side, my machete- but no masks. And everybody knew that no masks were allowed, for it is an implicit norm inside our LDS culture. 

A few hours of research with our school librarian yielded many results in the blogosphere but nothing in the ways of official Church policy.

Also, From time to time I've seen a prohibition on Masks at LDS halloween activities. Is this an entirely practical and mundane safety precaution? Or is there some old religious Taboo on masks going on here? 

For costume restrictions clearly state what they are in all fliers/posters/handouts/announcements: No masks, blood, guts, gore, etc. 

I would like to add that usually masks are not a good option. Masks have a way of making people feel anonymous and people might do any number of things when they feel anonymous than they would do otherwise which is why they are not allowed at church parties or even at school parties in our area. 

In Utah our kids got to wear their costumes to school (no masks), but in Oregon they don’t get to. 

All of these citations taken from the mormon blogosphere refer to this implicit idea that masks are bad, and that the Church says masks are bad. But are they? Gospelink had no link. LDS.org offered no comments. And even the authoritative Mormon Doctrine was found to be doctrine-less in regards to masks. Not even Halloween. 

From where does this negative view of masks come from exactly? It should be remembered that masks are not only associated with Masquerade, but also with Halloween, and many religious practices of Africa. 

To conclude I will depart leaving only questions.

Are you going to wear a mask this Halloween? If not why not?

If we frown upon masks because they hide our identity should we not frown upon other like practices such as acting and costume dressing? or make-up and excessive facial hair? and should we demand that Mickey Mouse remove his “mask” before he takes a picture with our kids at Disney World? Our should we outlaw Disney World altogether because Disney was a pagan?

Socrates would have acting or imitation outlawed altogether for “lest from enjoying the imitation, they come to enjoy the reality” of it (Republic, 395c). 

Am I going to wear a mask at the Masquerade Ball? Of course. The President said I could.

Reggae Love in Rexburg

November 11, 2010

Sammie's. 8-10pm Its going to Melt your face.


http://rexburgraisetheroof.blogspot.com/

Jack o Lanterns, goblin masks, and powdered wigs.

In Crescent City Fla, mid- 18th-century clothing specialist stitched more than three dozen  regimental coats this year, where as in a normal year six will do, says the Wall Street Journal. He has also placed an order for 300 cocked hats which is normally only an order of 72. 

With the Glenn Beck rally "Restoring Honor" in Washington, and all the libertarian and Tea Party movements going about, powdered wigs are finally back in fad- as well round spectacles, classy knee-high knickerbockers, and everything that goes along with them! 

So why not kill two stones with one bird this year and throw a little protest in with your apostate pagan rituals? Go for it. You know you want to. George Washington for halloween.

Just click right here for your new knickerbockers, and bring back the wooden teeth!

Jaima Itzae Barajas Pena

The hot sun filled the world outside the bus and seeped in through the window giving light to the youthful eyes of Jaima Itzae Barajas Pena. His white, short-sleeved shirt folded across his body as he read from a good book. He was dressed in the same way as those boys that came to his home for the first time 4 years ago. All he was missing was a name-tag. The weather was different on that day.

 Rain poured down, splattering against the windows. Young Barajas lounged inside his house, enjoying his soft carpet, and the couches of white and lime green, colors characteristic of Mexico City, Mexico. He was 13 then. 

He heard commotion at the door, and soon two young men entered, water dripping down their smiling faces and from their shirts and onto the floor, wetting the carpet. His father brought out two white polos and insisted that they wear them, they declined but his father insisted more. They put them on, over their wet clothing, one of them fumbling to put his name tag on over the polo. Strange these hermanos are, thought Barajas. 

They announced that they were missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Mom had said that the family needed more spiritual guidance- dad brought back the Mormons. 

They showed pictures of people his family had never seen and “began preaching about prophets of God.”

His mothers needle work hung on the wall.

Barajas was different then, certainly, but still, not so different as he would like. 

A few weeks ago he and his friend had been sitting practicing lines for the upcoming play. They were dressed in simple slacks and polos, cutomary dress code for their all-LDS school. Graduation was coming up and that included graduation from seminary. 

"Are you going to graduate?" his friend asked.

"Uh, of course not, I haven’t done anything" responded Barajas.

And then his friend came out with it- I like you, amigo, but with you I will not progress spiritually. 

“And then it hit me," relates Brajas. His friend then challenged him to read the Book of Mormon, and told him of its importance. 

He had been baptized for four or five years now, and had still not succeeded in reading it all the way through. Light came in and illuminated the pages of the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. The people around him sang :

Called to serve Him, heav'nly King of glory,

Chosen e'er to witness for his name,

Far and wide we tell the Father's story,

Far and wide his love proclaim.

Barajas had started reading the Book of Mormon ever since that conversation with hiw friend. Now he was on his way to teach a nearby town. He was a missionary for a week, as part of the missionary program for his school. His companion was by his side. They had now been asked to read 3 Nephi 11, and to underline this part, giving it to the investigators to read. He refocused on the reading. He desired to know that it was true.

Artwork by Walter Rane

 8 And it came to pass, as they understood they cast their eyes up again towards heaven; and behold, they saw a Man descending out of heaven; and he was clothed in a white robe; and he came down and stood in the midst of them; and the eyes of the whole multitude were turned upon him, and they durst not open their mouths, even one to another, and wist not what it meant, for they thought it was an angel that had appeared unto them.

9 And it came to pass that he stretched forth his hand and spake unto the people, saying:

10 Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.

11 And behold, I am the alight and the life of the world; and I have drunk out of that bitter cup which the Father hath given me, and have glorified the Father in taking upon me the sins of the world, in the which I have suffered the will of the Father in all things from the beginning.

“When I read the Book of Mormon I didn’t really understand, but that day I did understand what it was saying and I imagined that scene in my mind. of the savior coming to the america and talking to the Nephites,” remembers Barajas, “I love that part... I decided to be spiritually strong. If you read the boo of mormon you will be strong. I didn’t do that until he told me.”

Barajas now attends BYU-I. Has been living in the United States for a little over a month now, and just finished his mission in Mexico. He is an example of the power of true friendships. We call him James.

Eric Bibb

To say it simply the Eric Bibb show was the realization of dreams. He entered the stage and took his natural place behind the old microphone. The stage aged as his soul caught up with him and all things around him became antiques. He wore a purple v-neck up top and some brown suede pants down below, a simple bracelet around his wrist, and a single stud in his left ear. He cradled his guitar like a baby; you could tell he loved it. A flat-brimmed cowboy hat capped him off, and framed his steady eyes. His mouth began to open and an easy, gritty voice came forth, speaking hefty words of rhymes and tales of days today does not know.

Bibb came to town this Friday to a half full auditorium, to move the soul by his perform and song- some of the new, some of the old. Blues Folk are not words you hear often together and are even more seldomly heard apart these days, especially on your average college campus, but when struck just right they make a beautiful tune that pleases the right ears.

Born in New York to Leon Bibb, he grew up with many great musicians, and shared their love of music. "I would cut school and claim I was sick" said Bibb. "When everyone would leave the house I would whip out all the records and do my own personal DJ thing all day long, playing Odetta, Joan Baez, The New Lost City Ramblers, Josh White." He became caught up in the Folk-Revival in Greenwich Village, and became immersed in the pre-war blues. He says, “The hardest thing to write is a new Blues song that sounds older.”

Bibb fills a gap that is all too prevalent in todays pop culture- a gap that is for the moral, and the aged. His songs speak from an era that is all too important to be forgotten, that is the early 1900’s when folk songs were sung regularly by southern troubadours. From these roots sprung much of our pop music today. In a time when many are calling for reversion to an older or “truer” style of government, perhaps we should also look to the older or “truer” styles of our culture. In man’s appetite for progression, we many times over shoot the mark, trading what is already tried and good, for what is untried and new. There is much to be understood in these poetic tales that Bibb makes audible to the modern ear.

Of older times, he sang. He spoke of the 1927 Mississippi Flood as if he had lived then and seen it with his own eyes.  He sang of the famous Booker White’s Guitar as if it were a sacred heirloom. He reminisced of the days of country blues as if his soul was a part of them, and they a part of his soul. 

His time sadly came, the clock struck, and he bid his dues and tried to leave the stage vacant, but he could not ignore the roaring applause and shouts for an encore, and promptly returned to bless us with a gospel spiritual. 

If Tommy Johnson sold his soul to the Devil, Eric Bibb sold his to the Lord, because the Devil never made anything sound so good. 

 Bibb entered to an applause and left after a demanded encore to a standing ovation.



(Click on the "sang" and "Booker White's Guitar" links to melt your face.)

Change?

What is the direction of our society? Where are we going? What are our goals? World Peace?

Is the government doing what it should? What is it doing poorly? Is the fault in the Constitution, the Politicians, or in the general masses? What should it do ideally? When did it cease to do this, if ever? Was it better back in the good old days? If yes, what was soo good about George Washington and his wooden teeth?

Maybe this will have some insight on the latter.

I noted the RV's across the gas station parking lot (I dare not call them campers). Their insides heavily burdened with trivial miscellany. They rob their owners of more worth while pursuits and they squat on their property when not being used. Slavery, I thought to myself as I removed my shoes for a looser pair of sandals. 

We made the long drive back to Rexburg.

Here's some samples of competitive sports photography.

Maxine Rose Marshall (Day 24)

... rose comes from like a great aunt or something,

 died form breast cancer...

... ok, my happiest time with my family is

 probably on easter because we always have a big easter egg fight...

...when was the best year?...

-when we had the missionaries with us (laughs)...

...I got to videotape the missionaries engaging in that activity and they told me not to post it on facebook...

-Do you have those tapes?

-I do, yeah.

-Where are they?

Easter weekend. The blanket of gray clouds above hold back the sunlight, as the wind rushes along the Californian shore below. The Marshall family packs up their camp and heads inland to enjoy Eastern dinner with their friends. They pull up to to an older house, different from the others. Its walls are rounded adobe on the inside, and each of its doors has a different glass knob.  Warm greetings are exchanged, I'm sure, as they sit down to dinner. 

Meatloaf and mushy potatoes are served alongside over-cooked carrots,

I added to much butter, says the humble mother chef.

The Elders are there; their shiny black badges and pristine white shirts unharmed and untouched by the world. They are asked if they have any plans for later; they don't so they are invited to stay for the "easter egg thing" going on later. They stay. They keep their shoes on.

After dinner the smell of the meatloaf and carrots lingered and mingled with the retched scent of mixed fruit and aroma-therapy.

Father Marshall saunters over and places himself behind the coach. The hoard of ownerless children divides as they and their pajamaed legs scurry to different corners of the house. The voices stop all across the house. Its about to begin.

"Its hard to remember details," relates Maxine Marshall, "Its a really old house... squeaky wooden floors..."

And then the great exchange of brilliant, multi-colored easter eggs begins. Eggs, flying through the air, in a mad volley across the open air space. Yellow ones full of prunes crack against the walls. Red eggs stuffed with dead bugs shatter across the floor. The fight is brutal. The vicious children take full advantage of the fact that they can hurt their parents, and the parents don't hold back on the children, but all agree: the missionaries are the worst of all. One unlucky soldier attempts a sock slide across the floor dealing out eggs rapid fire against his mother, but it is folly as he slips out and his mom ends up on top of him on the ground, beating him up and down. War cries echo through the chambers as the girls flee to distant rooms. Mayhem is rife. 

Maxine grabs the camera, sick of the boys throwing too hard, and positions herself at a crossroads where she can see all entrances, and starts to film. She declares herself a neutral journalist but nobody coming around the corners waits for her to shout neutrality as they pummel her with eggs. Its dark outside 

The last eggs are thrown, some hit their target, others miss, they all find their way shattered on the floor, an honorable sacrifice of another easter tradition well kept. Large, long-lasting welts will be the reminder of this Easter, it is decided, as the two families and the missionaries sit down on the coach, sweaty from the household civil war. A movie starts. It might be Shrek. It plays.

BYU-I Goes to Conference (Day 28)

A man chats in soft words of french to his wife and daughters behind me, his wrinkles crinkling around his lips as the words are formed. Two brothers communicate in brazilian Portuguese on the street corner, displaying signs: "Two Tickets". Somehow lines form out of the crowds of people as they file into the great building. One man lifts himself from his chair, and directs the people to this way or that; he wears a sturdy cowboy hat atop his had, blocking out the hot Utah sun. College kids scurry about from friend to friend. This is not an over-seas embassy- this is General Conference. 

Thousands of people come to the heart of Salt Lake City to celebrate the biannual conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

Men position themselves in the streets, opposing the gathering crowds. Painted crosses and antagonistic signs are their weapons as they attack the Saint's beliefs. The conference is not seen as a good thing by everybody. 

The Conference Center was dedicated on October 8, 2000 by President Gordon B. Hinckley. It seats 21, 333 people and is full for every session of conference (known as General Conference among the Saint's) with many people directed to overflows when the doors are closed. Students of BYU-I are among those seated and those turned away. 

Protesters position themselves on the stairs
 of the Conference Center

Two Brasileiros.

Choir buddies walking towards the Conference Center
for the Sunday Afternoon Session

Two young boys hold signs for tickets with mother.

Matthew 11:28-30

Matthew 11:5

Outside a violinist plays prelude music as the the crowds subside

Brothers, James and Pablo Barajas.

James and Pablo Barajas made the trip from BYU-I together. Being born and raised in Mexico, this is their second time here at Temple Square, they "love it," they say. "I came here years ago with my mom," says James Barajas,"but it was different cause now im a student here- im supposed to speak the language." James has been in the United States for only four weeks. "My brother and I came here by car- he has a car so I am lucky," he says, his face openly smiling.  

Colby and his friend

Colby and his gang are down from BYU-I for a mission reunion and also various sessions of Conference. "I get into every session but one, I didn't get into saturday afternoon, I saw it in the tabernacle, I got into the morning- I was fifth row from the front for the priesthood" And the tickets? "A friend of mine was just like here you go- from BYU." Oh, sweet Charity.

End of Stand-By Line.

Some aren't so lucky, however, Craig Handy being an example of that. One of many waiting in the Stand-By Line, Handy may or may not be seated. Tickets are given out free of charge, by request, to members, however, as those ticket holders are often not able to make the trip or they arrive late, those waiting in the Stand-By line are allowed to enter and fill any available seats. Handy came down for a mission reunion as well, and this, the Sunday Afternoon session will be his only chance to watch Conference live.

"You don't have any tickets?"

"No." He responds.

He is remarkably calm considering his blatant lack of power of admittance. Was he seated? I do not know. After an uneasy wait and far too many phone calls, my friend's cousin comes dashing around the corner with my tickets in hand. He made the drive across the canyon just in time as we slip through the back doors and into our seats. Perhaps those were the very seats that Craig Handy would have sat in were we late. We were not late.

The lights dim, and the prayer is said; the choir raises, lifting its voices up to heaven:

Lead, kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom; Lead thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead thou me on!

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see

The distant scene- one step enough for me.

For more information on the Conference Center

For more information on General Conference

For the Official Church Website (new)

Inside the Conference Center.
The last session has just finished.

Salt Lake Temple with American Flag.

Deborah and friend in front of Salt Lake Temple.

Fancy hatted Elder.

Keeper of the Lines

Portagoras Rebuttal (Day 24)

Protagoras expresses his views on truth in the piece of literature entitled “Protagoras. ” He describes truth as being relative, as being “what one’s experiencing.” This essay will argue against his views of truth on first a conceptual, then an epistemological, and finally a practical level.

Protagoras argues that 1)truth is relative to the individual (conceptual); 2) that a human being is the measurer of truth (epistemological); and 3) that a wise man is one who sees and beneficially applies the spectrum of reality (practical). 

First, truth is relative. Conceptually there are two proposed forms of truth: absolute truths and relative truths. In his speech Absolute Truth, Spencer W. Kimball, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, makes an excellent argument for this idea. He states that the theories of science on the creation of the universe have changed  much during his lifetime, changed to match with new discovered truths. “There are relative truths, and there are also absolute truths which are the same yesterday, today, and forever—never changing. These absolute truths are not altered by the opinions of men” (Kimball 1978).  If all of the world thought that the world were flat, it would not cease to be round. Two truths exist: relative and absolute. Relative truths are true to the beholder, things as they presently are, seen from one angle- the earth is flat. Absolute truth is the reality of things as they are, as they have been, and as they will be; it involves laws and tangible reality as it is from all angles- the earth is round. 

Second, human beings are the measures of truth. “A human being is the measure of all things- of things that are, that they are” (Protagoras). To propose that all things may be accurately measured by a lone human being, and to put faith in that measure is to propose that humans are able to see all things and so make an expectable measure. This is folly, for the perception of man is most definitely skewed and acute.  This may be illustrated in the example of a pyramid. A stationary observer viewing a pyramid may see but one or two sides at a time. An observer on the other side might also see one or two sides, but neither of them may see all four of the sides at the same time. There is only one way to see all of the pyramid at once: that is to stand at its peak and, look down. Only at the top may absolute truth be seen. No man stands at the top. We may not believe in man’s judgements, nor his experience to give us absolute truth. Man, alone, can only see the relative truth: what he is experiencing now, and so hid judgement is affected by his present state.  

Many try to discover absolute truth by means of science. However,  “a scientific fact or "truth" is only an approximation of what is ... and is constantly subject to change” (Maser 2006). Science is not the place to turn.

“Man cannot discover God or his ways by mere mental processes (Kimball 1978).” Men must receive absolute truth spiritually from God. It is communicated to us spiritually by the grace of God, as we search for it: “study, think, pray, and do. Revelation is the key” (Kimball 1978). It is something that is sought individually and spiritually,

Now the third and final point may be discussed: a wise man is one who sees the good and the bad and beneficially applies them. “Good politicians make beneficial things...   seem to their states to be just” (Protagoras). Protagoras speaks here not of right or wrong, but of beneficial and non-beneficial, this leaves the doorway wide open for men to circumvent Justice, an absolute truth, allowing men to commit self beneficial indecencies. Justice is an absolute truth for it is unchanging regardless of the opinions of 

men. 

Some argue that the correct application of truth in politics is doing what is self beneficial, regardless of how it negatively effects others. Some say that that absolute truth and politics may 

be mixed, but are not because of the corruption of politics (Kierkegaard 1847).  Protagoras’ philosophy leads one to neglect absolute truths, and when absolute truths are neglected in politics it entails disaster.

The Melian/ Athenian conflict provides a fine example. The Athenians struck down hope, slandered honor, and threw justice in the dirt, rejecting the Melian suggestion of friendship, laying siege to their island and terminally slaughtering or enslaving the entire populous of the island, to no particular advantage to the Athenians. So is the result of ignoring absolute truth and recognizing only its relative partner: ego-centric destruction.

In conclusion there are relative truths and absolute truths- both should be recognized. Relative truth is discovered simply by experiencing, where as absolute truth is given spiritually by God. If only relative truth is obeyed then chaos ensues. Absolute truth should be remembered and applied.