52lights

[52lights]

52/52

Well, that went fast.

As per tradition, the first and last picture of my 52 lights projects are always a “selfie”. I went to take my picture this morning and it was the weirdest thing - I didn’t really recognise myself.

Nothing drastically altered. My hair is longer, I wear masks instead of makeup, and I’m pretty sure this is the most tired I have ever been but…those are not significant differences.

Maybe I didn’t recognise myself because I haven’t really looked at myself in a while or maybe I’ve simply been looking at myself in a different way. Like so many others who have been disconnected by necessity this year, I’ve been focusing a lot more on internals rather than externals. The state and progression of my mind and soul.

Maybe I didn’t recognise myself because my perspective on who I am has changed. This explains the disconnect I feel between how this year has altered my soul vs. how much it has kicked me in my actual face. 😊 I guess I expected the monumental shift I have felt this year to be more reflected in my real world.

The overarching lesson that I have learned this year has been that it is my perspective that has the greatest impact on my world. It a lesson that has weaved through each week this year as I have learned more about love, doubt, trust, responsibility, expectations, patience, trials, healing, and hope. I have been grateful for this project and what it has given me this year; the reminder that the greatest gift I have been given is the ability to choose. Choose how I will see my world and choose what I will do with that perspective.

#52 #2020

[52lights]

51/52

I can’t believe it has almost been a year. With the new year, the end of this project, and a chapter of my life rapidly closing…let’s just say I have been in a reflective mood.

To that end, I have been reading my journal from last year before I write in my current one each night. As a reflective exercise, I am writing, “On this day last year I…” and then I do a quick summary before writing, “Today I…” for every day this month.

It has been interesting. I move through my days, weeks, and months but nothing feels different. When changes do come, they seem sudden. Like when I finished my revised text at the end of September. It didn’t feel like I had been working on it since the end of January, it felt like it was suddenly finished. Being in the muck of things, I didn’t notice my daily progress.

I guess what I’ve learned this week is that - upon reflection - my daily decisions have fundamentally altered me as a person. Each instance is so miniscule that I don’t notice until I suddenly cross a threshold and I can’t quite mark how I got there.

One of the consequences of that perspective is that I don’t feel changed. We often call this imposter syndrome where you can’t recognise your worth. Based on my reflections this week I think that may be because we haven’t recognised the daily changes that have qualified us for where we are standing.

The journal exercise I am doing right now is helping me see how far I have come. In fact, my entry on 1 Jan said this at the end, “See? Very different from last year. Maybe everything will be.”

This 52 lights project has helped me immensely to better recognise how I have changed over time. My reflective journal exercise is helping me see how far I have come, and that progress is helping me heal. Looking back is helping me move forward with less fear.

#51 #2020

[52lights]

50/52

A favourite quote from Pres. Nelson is: “Expect and prepare to accomplish the impossible." Today, a brother in the ward said that hope was to believe, to work, to trust, and to expect that something will happen.

I realised that I have a problem with hope because I have a problem with expecting. I try hard to have faith and work my butt off but expecting…not good. This may have something to do with not fully internalising the difference between expectation and entitlement. I worry that if I expect something that I am acting entitled. This likely has to do with a whole crap pile of cultural stuff that I am not going to get into here. 😉

So, expectation vs. entitlement. Expectations are rooted in anticipation, hope, and trust. They are logical and form because situations in the past have shown it to be so. Expectations are the result of action. Entitlement is believing that your will and expectations will be met when and how you want them. It is insisting that others conform to your needs. Entitlement is a result of ego and often transcends reality.

I realised that it is not wrong for me to expect to accomplish my goal, which often feels impossible. I think the difference is that I can expect a positive outcome based on my experiences in the past, but given the agency of others, I am not entitled to it when I want it.

This is hugely different from how I have felt for the last 352 days. I recognise that I have no control over the decisions of someone else. To deal with that I have been preparing myself to fail, even as I do everything I can to pass. I thought that not having expectations would protect my wee heart, but I realised today that I’ve been robbing myself. There is great joy to be had in the belief, work, trust, and expectations that make up hope. That can be felt no matter the decisions of others because it is based on me.

I can expect good because that is how it has been for me repeatedly in the past. I can have joy today instead of hopelessness. I can look forward with anticipation instead of dread. I can hope. I haven’t fixed me yet but this week I am going to work on hope.

#50 #2020

[52lights]

49/52

I get asked fairly often what I miss about England. I miss the public footpaths and bus system. I used to walkabout constantly. I would walk, and walk, and walk, and then take a bus home if I walked too far.

I didn’t have the same support system I do here and so when trying to figure out time zone differences for calls took too long and I just couldn’t deal with another second at my desk, I walked. I think I went on a walk almost every single day in Durham.

I walked through the soles of the shoes I brought from home and my favourite pair of hiking boots. Sometimes I walked all day, stopping by a café for lunch and then continuing until it was dark. I walked until I felt peace or was too tired to worry anymore. Walking was a refuge for me and a great way to clear my head.

I haven’t needed it as much here. I don’t have to wait hours to call family or get away from things that are driving me crazy. Still, I miss it. I miss always having a camera in my pocket in case something touched me, and I had to capture it. I miss the wandering.

This week though I needed a walk, so I went. It was snowing and there was something so lovely in the muted sounds. It reminded me of my walkabouts before but instead of missing the past I felt grateful for the moment.

#49 #2020

[52lights]

48/52

I was going through old boxes from university and came across two copies of one essay. I had turned in the first copy but when everyone got their papers back, I didn’t. The professor insisted they had not seen my essay, but since another student remembered me handing it in, I was allowed to re-submit. I got a disappointing C.

At the end of the semester, we got a stack of our work back, and somehow both copies of my essay were there. The first copy had been graded as an A, but it was the C of the second copy on my transcript. It was first time as an adult that I decided that the war was not worth that battle. That the final grade was more important than a single assignment. In fact, despite the low grade on the assignment, I got an A in the class, and so I let it go.

Deciding how to respond to the consequences of someone’s decisions is a universal trial and gift and that was the first time I remember being aware of it.

I haven’t talked much about my revisions, but the situation was similar to my old essay. I agreed to move forward instead of appeal because I knew I could make my thesis better. I wanted it to be undeniable. But I can’t. Not really. I can’t control what people like. I can’t control how they will respond. And I’ve learned that I am not entitled to something just because I’ve done what they’ve asked. That sounds defeatist but it isn’t. Indeed, I feel that understanding that reality is liberating.

There are things that you can and can’t control. Things to fight and let go. The gift and trial of this life is the ability to choose how you respond to the consequences of decisions - both yours and someone else’s. I am not defined by their choices but my own.

I can say that whether I get the accolade, this experience has changed me and not for the bitter worst. It has opened my mind. It has given me opportunities. It has freed me. I finished the main text of my revised thesis this week and I am so grateful I didn’t appeal or give up in the face uncertainty. Choosing to do my best was a decision to endure the consequences of agency and it was worth it to become who I am in this moment.

#48 #2020

[52lights]

47/52

This morning a sister bore her testimony about how much faith it would have taken to follow the Brother of Jared and get into the barges to cross the sea to the promised land (Ether 6). She specifically talked about how claustrophobic it would have felt to get into the barge, seal it, and wait on the Lord to take you to where you are meant to go.

I fixated on the claustrophobia for a bit. Well, not so much on the claustrophobia of the barge but how claustrophobic I feel in my life right now.

Acting on personal revelation and jumping off into the unknown feels like the Brother of Jared and his family in those barges. They received inspiration and then built barges, prepared things they would need along the way, made sure they had a source of light etc.

Then, they went. They pushed off into the madness.

During the journey, the sea was tumultuous because of the wind caused by God to get them to their promised land. The very thing that was going to get them there also made the journey hard (Ether 6:5-7). Still, they were protected by the barges they were inspired to build, comforted by the light they asked for, and never ceased in their gratitude because while they were tossed by necessary waves, the Lord always brought them back to the surface (Ether 6:7).

This resonated with me in a way that nothing in the last year has. I felt compelled to take a journey and was led in my preparations. Then I went. The waves, the wind, and the claustrophobia of my life this last year has been more than I ever anticipated. Still, while I am not as practiced in gratitude as the Brother of Jared, I can see the hand and consistency of the Lord.

I like Ether 6:8 where it says, “…the wind did never cease to blow towards the promised land while they were upon the waters; and thus they were driven forth before the wind.” While I may feel claustrophobic in my life right now, I also deeply feel that every single moment that I have been in the waves, they have been pushing me forward to what God has promised me.

With that promise, I can deal with my time in the sea and do it gratefully.

#47 #2020

[52lights]

46/52

I’m a bit numb this week but somehow still able to work which has been miraculous.

I think the lesson I’ve been thinking on this week comes from countless experiences in the past where I truly believed it was over, or there wasn’t enough time, or the task was to big. Every time that I put my “shoulder to the wheel” and pressed on, it somehow worked out - NEVER like I thought it would - but it did.

Lesson for the week: put your head down, focus on the work, and don’t stop until something is finished…the time, the work, or you.

#46 #2020

[52lights]

45/52

Dear Poodabug,

Yesterday you left us as all babies do, To drive cross-country and begin something new.

I hope that you know how much you’ll be missed, But that it won’t stop you becoming your best.

The gratitude that I feel today, Was for that last walk before you went away.

I’ve walked that path three times since you left, And your shadow is there as I take every step.

My glorious Bug, I can’t wait to see, All that you’ll be, though it’s so far from me.

#45 #2020 #givethanks

[52lights]

44/52

I’m going to talk about my thesis again this week. In fact, I probably will again and again for the rest of time. It happens. 😊

This week most of my time was spent running these massive viewshed analyses for traffic paths on an archaeological site. The purpose of the analysis was to show how the use of different paths over time influenced what someone saw and... how what they saw influenced their perspective of the site and... how their perspective of the site impacted the development of the site.

Perspective can impact where archaeologists dig, what data is considered, narratives that are formed, and what a site may become. For my MA I surveyed Greco-Roman theatres in Syria, Jordan, Greece, Turkey, Italy, Sicily, and England. If a theatre was perceived as a cultural treasure it was preserved and lovingly maintained. If it was perceived as draw for the economy, it was modified for performance and/or tourists. Many theatres were ignored and almost lost to the landscape. A very few that I saw were not valued and were quarried for stone or used as a dump for nearby trash.

How these incredible structures were seen impacted how they were used and developed.

I talk about perception a lot. If nothing else, this PhD and the research I chose to focus on has given me the opportunity to shape and refine my mind. I think a lot more about how my thoughts and reactions impact my physical world and how the things I CHOOSE to see impact my perception. When I perceive my trials and tribulations as a curse or consequence, my perspective is one of victimization and rage. That perspective impacts how I form my world.

On the other hand, when I CHOOSE to see my trials and tribulations as opportunities for growth or when I CHOOSE to not be consumed with the things outside of my control, my perspective becomes one of gratitude and hope. My world is transformed. Those things outside of my control diminish in significance to the hope that rises before me.

Like those theatres, I feel my world is shaped by how I perceive my life. It can become a dump, neglected, manipulated, or celebrated. It is all dependent on how I choose to see what is before me.

#44 #2020

[52lights]

43/52

My work right now is focused on studying impact and cause on archaeological sites. Because my brain is in that space right now, I am constantly looking at personal and societal decisions. I think about their potential evolution or how the state of things connects to decisions in the past. This mental exercise is a rather depressing commentary on how decisions have brought us to this point and where they could lead. 😐

I was talking to my Mom about my worries and hopes in these difficult times. The conversation led to the Come Follow Me readings, which did not initially lighten my burden. For example, take the words of Moroni: “Behold, my father hath made this record, and he hath written the intent thereof. And behold, I would write it also if I had room upon the plates, but I have not; and ore I have none, for I am alone. My father hath been slain in battle, and all my kinsfolk, and I have not friends nor whither to go; and how long the Lord will suffer that I may live I know not.” (Mormon 8:5)

We talked about how Moroni continued in his testimony and work despite the evil in the world, the loss of his family, and the likely violent conclusion of his life. I wondered where he found the hope to go on when he knew that everything was gone.

I was reminded by my wise mother that both Mormon and his son Moroni understood that what they did was for a time beyond their own (Mormon 7, 8). They understood that their words would come forth in a day when they were most needed, a day of hardship and wickedness - like the days they had experienced. They understood that while the wickedness of the past would not be forgotten entirely, it would be the words of those who acted for the good of their fellow man that would be remembered.

While much of the hardship we face is a consequence of the bad decisions of those with more power than us, it is comforting to know that time and goodness diminishes that power into nothingness.

Today is Remembrance Sunday. A time when we remember less about who made the larger decisions and more about the individuals who made the sacrifices for those around them.

Moroni had reason to hope in a time of great hardship. So do I.

#43 #2020

[52lights]

42/52

I was having a bit of a rough day - exhaustion more than anything. I thought about how tired I was and then what my kid, teenager, or young adult self would think about my life.

As a kid I wanted to be an Olympic swimmer. In my teens I knew swimming wasn’t going to be my thing forever, so I wanted to get a doctorate and travel to London. As a young adult I was less interested in graduate school/travel and more interested in just finishing school, getting married, and having lots of little kids.

There was a shift as I moved into adulthood. Dreams were too fickle, and I needed something more solid to make decisions with. So, I started to focus more on doing what I felt was right rather than doing what I thought I wanted or what others expected. Today I thought a bit about how doing the right thing this last decade+ has actually answered all those fickle dreams.

I haven’t gotten married, had lots of little kids, or been to the Olympics BUT I am finishing my doctorate, I have lived in England, I have travelled all over the world, I have loved many incredible people who have changed me for the better and I am an aunt (or honorary aunt) to more kids then I could have on my own.

My dreams have never been guaranteed but if I could tell my younger self anything about my life today it would be that even my hardest days are better than the best of my younger dreams. So, on my hardest day this week I had feeling of deep gratitude for the life I have today.

#42 #2020

[52lights]

41/52

Like many old and injured people before me, my shoulders act up when the weather changes. This particular superpower came from years of competitive swimming. It usually starts with a dull ache but if the change in air pressure is extreme enough, the pain is pretty much unbearable. It will radiate through my arms, trigger numbness for extended periods of time, restrict my range of motion, and cause many, many tears. It also means I know when to wear a jacket so…there is that. 😊

I’ve been thinking about how my shoulder pain this weekend parallels how I - and my family - are feeling in general right now. In a series of completely separate circumstances, a lot of us have been brought together for the last 9 or so months as we finish school, deal with pandemic hardships, and prepare for our next chapter.

Recently, there has been a growing ache and some discomfort as each of us have felt that this chapter together was ending. Like a storm forecast, we knew a change was probably going to come around the beginning of next year, but things have significantly accelerated. The increased pressure, unexpected events, and a little sorrow move the heartache into something a little more painful.

Today my heart aches a little, my shoulder hurts a lot, but I can’t say I’m not prepared for bad weather or imminent goodbyes. I am sad this chapter with my family is ending but I look forward to the next one.

#41 #2020

[52lights]

40/52

I LOVE cairns. I’ve seen cairns in every country I’ve been to and every place I’ve lived. I’ve seen them on the tops of mountains, from remarkable viewpoints, to show the safest path across a surface, and to mark boundaries for land.

I went to Lindisfarne with a friend a few years ago while I was living in England. We had a lovely, windy afternoon watching the sea, walking about, and each building a wee cairn. I wanted to memorialise my first visit, so I left my favourite shell from the day in my cairn.

I came back a couple of months later when my cousin visited. I found the spot I had built my wee cairn but - no joke - all that remained was that shell. I picked it up and it is now on a shelf in my room. My original cairn may have been knocked over by the wind, a child, or taken apart to build another one by someone else. Regardless of the method, all the stones I used were gone and all the remained was the thing that was the most important to me - the seashell.

That experience was a beautiful reminder of why I love cairns. They mark a moment of significance and yet they are temporary. We leave the monument to be destroyed at will, but the monument isn’t what was important anyway - it was the memory that inspired the monument. The view, the people you were with, the accomplishment, the experience.

I’ve been grateful for this 52 Lights endeavour. To look back and remember what has been important to me as I move forward. In doing this project, I like to think that my photos are those shells from all the memorable moments over the years. When I look back, the monuments I built along the way are gone but the important memories - the little shell offerings - remain.

#40 #2020

[52lights]

39/52

In 2010 I was in Syria. One day we were excavating this nasty mudbrick nonsense and I was sure I was being cooked alive. I could feel my face burning from the reflected light, my neck from direct light, and my insides baking from being in a 2 metre hole with no shade. I was not doing well. I took off my kaffia (leaving a bandana on my head) and rolled up my sleeves because I felt like I was suffocating from the sweat and cloth.

Mahmoud noticed my struggle when no one else did. He grabbed my kaffia and taught me how to tie it in a way that shaded my face, absorbed my sweat, and caught the breeze - turing the sweaty cloth into something of a personal AC unit for my noggin’. He truly did save me that day and I’ve used that lesson every day I dig.

We counsel new students who dig with us in Jordan to cover their skin for a lot of reasons. Almost all of them struggle with this because they feel the clothing is restritive or suffocating. When they don’t, they often deal with bad sunburns, low stamina/endurance, injuries, and heat related illnesses.

Today I thought about the lesson I learned from Mahmoud: things that may initially feel uncomfortable, restrictive, or suffocating will be what saves us from unneccessary burns, injuries, exhaustion, and illness. It took an adjustment period to do hard labour in the sun all day, have no skin showing, and a kaffia wrapped around my head. Yet, with direction from someone who knew better than I did, I have never had a heat-related illness since.

Mahmoud gave me skills to protect myself from heat and other dangers on site. The memory of that lesson has also helped me understand and push through the period of discomfort that comes when I need to make an adjustment in my life. Those adjustments that unfailingly result in greater happiness, endurance, and safety.

I hope I will see Mahmoud again someday to say thank you. Until then, I will do my best to keep using the lesson he so kindly taught.

P.S. This is NOT a picture of the trench of fire and death but it is from the same season. 😊

#39 #2020

[52lights]

38/52

This morning my Dad called all of my siblings and got their omelette orders (even though he didn’t make them all), we gathered fall leaves between sessions of conference (pic for today), and we are eating together in…less than 10 minutes (according to the delightful smell of dinner).

We have a lot of traditions in our family but my favourite part about them is how they change. They grow for more family, they shift for new places, and give us a touchstone no matter where we are.

We haven’t talked about it out loud, but I think everyone in the house can tell that this chapter together is coming to a close. The result is that we seem to be gathering more and doing everything together at the moment. It feels like a long goodbye, where none of us knows where the other may go. Sometimes it is exciting, others sad, but I am grateful for the things that keep us together - wherever we are.

#38 #2020

[52lights]

37/52

We watched the animated film Anastasia this week. In the last scene Sophie says, “what a perfect ending” to which the Grandmother responds, “No, what a perfect beginning.”

I thought about that this morning. We camped in the backyard last night. I fell asleep to the stars and woke to these amazing flowers outside the tent. The leaves were changing, it was crisp yet warm, and it felt like fall - my favourite season. A season of transition and change. The presence of the flowers and the changing leaves really impacted me. For the first time I can remember in the last year, I felt like I was beginning something new - not just trying to finish what I started. I finally felt that this trial of a year was more than a waiting period but a time of transition - a choice and a move forward.

Basically, it felt like the perfect day to keep going. If this year has taught me anything, it is that there is no end, just transitions to the beginning of something new. For me this morning, my “perfect beginning” was the opportunity to move forward.

#37 #2020

[52lights]

36/52

The Journey to Knock

There was a long journey to earn freedom’s gate, made of trials and pain and the fear of too late. The journey did end, as all journey’s do, at a door, with a lock rusted through from disuse.

The lock rusted through was because of the troll, who cared not for effort but only control. It guarded the gate, it had hidden the key, it constantly screamed, “freedom only through me!”

You could break down the door, you could bow for the key, you could quit at the threshold and just leave it be. It may be inspired by your effort today, it may let you pass, it may send you away.

But what does it matter if troll lets you through? Was it her that you thought of when journey was new? Or was it the freedom of choice that you craved, the chance to break free from what had you enslaved.

At the door it wasn’t the key that you earned, or the lock, or the troll, or rejection that burned. The path that you took, the thing you became was the real prize of effort and journeys true aim.

So stand on the threshold, defend where you are, it’s the knock, not the key, that brought you this far. For the chance to knock is not for the troll, it’s the prize for those standing tall at their goal.

#36 #2020