This article captures something that is hard to put into words without either flattening it or making it sentimental.
To me, the way you frame distance and separation not just as something to endure, but as something that may actually belong to the conditions of becoming. Not as a flaw in the plan, but as part of what makes love deepen into something more conscious, chosen, and lasting.
It also made me think about mortality itself as a gift, even with its losses. Not because loss is easy, and not because separation hurts any less, but because this life seems to be the place where love, longing, gratitude, and sorrow actually teach us something. Scripture does not treat suffering as meaningless interruption. It can become part of what gives us experience and shapes us for more than we are now.
That is part of what I appreciate in this piece. It does not rush past the ache, but it also does not treat it as empty. It leaves room for the possibility that even these distances, painful as they are, belong to the kind of life through which God is enlarging the heart.
It leaves room for the possibility that even these distances, painful as they are, belong to a life where improvement and progression have one eternal round.
I deeply resonated with this piece, Ryan. I've spent most of this week reflecting on how despite everything I've written about community over the past few years, I do not have one and I do not know how to build one in a country whose economy flings family and friends geographically apart. These questions have felt even more dire to me as I've pondered how to minister to the many people in our church communities who have no family to care for them as they age, no social net to rely on, and no one at church who is actually trained and qualified to address their needs. Since our school days, my life has for practical purposes shrunk to the members of my household. It's not a good way to live, and I have tried and failed to find alternatives. However, sending you empathy from my corner of the world.
Thank you for your kind words, Natalie. It can be sobering to see the contrast between those who enjoy thick social networks and others who seem to dangle from gossamer threads. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, which sound only too familiar. I'm glad we had a chance to meet at the MHA conference those few years ago and I wish you the best.
I hope we connect again in the near future! I feel that contrast acutely and spend far too much time fantasizing about retiring to a place where I have family and friends. Or wondering whether my life would be socially richer had we not chosen academic paths. I took for granted what I had through grad school (friends and community) and did not think sufficiently about how important location would be to my future self. I feel perpetually displaced.
Yet, I also feel that this loneliness / dislocation from where we felt belonging is increasingly the norm most of us live with. I cannot identify a place we could realistically move that would better balance career and social opportunities than where I currently live, so maybe this is just part of being a middle aged person today. Nevertheless, I think it’s deeply telling that I felt happiest when living on a student income amongst peers with whom I felt equality, potential, and common purpose. Though in fairness, that was also a time of very few real responsibilities.
Yes, it would be nice to cross paths again. I'm inclined to think there is a law of entropy that affects all spheres of life, not just the physical realm: social relations, spirituality, religious communities. It seems to be the force against which Zion pursuers must labor. If this is the case, there is wisdom, sober as it may be, in the line, "do your duty with a heart full of song". And the verse that reminds us to "be still and know that [God is] God."
I just saw something from the Maxwell Institute that is relevant to our conversation.
"We find that experience can produce a high spiritual yield (see D&C 122:7). Laban, for instance, was reluctant for Jacob to leave his employ, 'for I have learned by experience that the Lord hath blessed me for thy sake' (Gen. 30:27). The modern Church even today is instructed to 'wait for a little season' to build up central Zion. Why? So that we 'may be prepared … and have experience' (D&C 105:9–10). We gain knowledge through particular experiences, but only incrementally, 'in that thing' (Alma 32:34). Hence the ongoingness of it all, and perhaps we can be forgiven for wondering, 'Is there no other way?' Personal, spiritual symmetry emerges only from the shaping of prolonged obedience. Twigs are bent, not snapped, into shape.
"Without patient and meek endurance we will learn less, see less, feel less, and hear less. We who are egocentric and impatient shut down so much of our receiving capacity."
From "Endure It Well," General Conference, April 1990
This article captures something that is hard to put into words without either flattening it or making it sentimental.
To me, the way you frame distance and separation not just as something to endure, but as something that may actually belong to the conditions of becoming. Not as a flaw in the plan, but as part of what makes love deepen into something more conscious, chosen, and lasting.
It also made me think about mortality itself as a gift, even with its losses. Not because loss is easy, and not because separation hurts any less, but because this life seems to be the place where love, longing, gratitude, and sorrow actually teach us something. Scripture does not treat suffering as meaningless interruption. It can become part of what gives us experience and shapes us for more than we are now.
That is part of what I appreciate in this piece. It does not rush past the ache, but it also does not treat it as empty. It leaves room for the possibility that even these distances, painful as they are, belong to the kind of life through which God is enlarging the heart.
It leaves room for the possibility that even these distances, painful as they are, belong to a life where improvement and progression have one eternal round.
True and beautiful like great poetry. Thanks! Zion bound we are to improve everlasting lives among Kolobians . . .
I deeply resonated with this piece, Ryan. I've spent most of this week reflecting on how despite everything I've written about community over the past few years, I do not have one and I do not know how to build one in a country whose economy flings family and friends geographically apart. These questions have felt even more dire to me as I've pondered how to minister to the many people in our church communities who have no family to care for them as they age, no social net to rely on, and no one at church who is actually trained and qualified to address their needs. Since our school days, my life has for practical purposes shrunk to the members of my household. It's not a good way to live, and I have tried and failed to find alternatives. However, sending you empathy from my corner of the world.
Thank you for your kind words, Natalie. It can be sobering to see the contrast between those who enjoy thick social networks and others who seem to dangle from gossamer threads. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, which sound only too familiar. I'm glad we had a chance to meet at the MHA conference those few years ago and I wish you the best.
I hope we connect again in the near future! I feel that contrast acutely and spend far too much time fantasizing about retiring to a place where I have family and friends. Or wondering whether my life would be socially richer had we not chosen academic paths. I took for granted what I had through grad school (friends and community) and did not think sufficiently about how important location would be to my future self. I feel perpetually displaced.
Yet, I also feel that this loneliness / dislocation from where we felt belonging is increasingly the norm most of us live with. I cannot identify a place we could realistically move that would better balance career and social opportunities than where I currently live, so maybe this is just part of being a middle aged person today. Nevertheless, I think it’s deeply telling that I felt happiest when living on a student income amongst peers with whom I felt equality, potential, and common purpose. Though in fairness, that was also a time of very few real responsibilities.
Yes, it would be nice to cross paths again. I'm inclined to think there is a law of entropy that affects all spheres of life, not just the physical realm: social relations, spirituality, religious communities. It seems to be the force against which Zion pursuers must labor. If this is the case, there is wisdom, sober as it may be, in the line, "do your duty with a heart full of song". And the verse that reminds us to "be still and know that [God is] God."
I just saw something from the Maxwell Institute that is relevant to our conversation.
"We find that experience can produce a high spiritual yield (see D&C 122:7). Laban, for instance, was reluctant for Jacob to leave his employ, 'for I have learned by experience that the Lord hath blessed me for thy sake' (Gen. 30:27). The modern Church even today is instructed to 'wait for a little season' to build up central Zion. Why? So that we 'may be prepared … and have experience' (D&C 105:9–10). We gain knowledge through particular experiences, but only incrementally, 'in that thing' (Alma 32:34). Hence the ongoingness of it all, and perhaps we can be forgiven for wondering, 'Is there no other way?' Personal, spiritual symmetry emerges only from the shaping of prolonged obedience. Twigs are bent, not snapped, into shape.
"Without patient and meek endurance we will learn less, see less, feel less, and hear less. We who are egocentric and impatient shut down so much of our receiving capacity."
From "Endure It Well," General Conference, April 1990