The Capitalistic Heart

This past week a particular tear-your-façade-off-and-see-who-you-really-are type of question has been challenging the way I see myself and the world around me.

Do I have a Capitalistic Heart?

Before explaining myself further, I would like to point out that this is by no means a political term, at least in the way that I am thinking of it. Communism, capitalism, socialism, and other economic systems have their pros and cons, blah blah blah. They’re all trying to create prosperity in their own way and they’re all succeeding and failing to some degree, I suppose.

The Alex definition of the “Capitalistic Heart” is: If You Have, I Cannot.

If you get a raise, I cannot.

If you have wonderful experiences traveling the world, I cannot.

If you have a dream job that also allows you to live comfortably, I cannot.

If you get likes on social media, I cannot.

If people think you’re funny/beautiful/smart, I cannot be considered those things.

If you do really fun things on the weekend, I cannot.

If you have enough resources to buy a house, move to your dream town, or buy a brand- new mountain bike, I cannot.

I thought this picture of Jackson worshiping the trees in Kauai seemed the most appropriate for this topic? 

The Capitalistic Heart believes that there are winners and losers. The Capitalistic Heart thinks that someone else’s happiness will taint and diminish their own. The Capitalistic Heart will not share because then there is not enough for oneself. Maybe I am the only person with this kind of dirty laundry, but I find myself thinking this in the very secret crevices of my soul. Sometimes I even find myself putting others down in my head, because hello! I have to win sometimes too! There can’t be too people in the world who truly love the outdoors, wear DI clothes, and ride their bikes everywhere. Everybody else must be some kind of fraud.

Ewww. I hate myself just writing this pile of rotting Baboon crap down.

Maybe this is why poverty is the unconquerable enemy of this world? Is this why the sad and lonely look for validation in vain? Does this explain why people are dissatisfied when they see others being happy? Maybe poverty and equality isn’t really about politics, policies, and programs? (Did anyone see my intentional alliteration??) Light bulb! What if all of these nasty byproducts of society really originate from the Capitalistic Heart in all of us?

Doctor’s Prescription for Eliminating the Capitalistic Heart: However cliché and obvious this message may be, it all comes down to love. There is enough happiness acreage on earth and heaven above for everyone to make their own little homestead. So I am going to try a little harder to be a little better at loving others enough to want their happiness. I want people to succeed at their dreams! I want them to enjoy the wonderful lifestyle I have, which means I will be willing to give, validate, and sacrifice for others. I want others to have enough to live comfortably and I want to believe that that is possible for everyone. And I hope I never forget that. How shameful it would be to have enough to share, only to hoard it for myself in an effort to win the non-existent Happiness Race. In the words of Grace Noell Crowell, "because I have been given much, I too must give." 

And now I don't know how to end today's edition of Free Advice You Didn't Ask For...

Peace, Love, Chicken Nuggets?

My own little acre of happiness

Allen's Is Spooky

I just want everyone to know that; 

1. I went to Allen's today.

2. I bought two dozen doughnuts at Allen's. 

3. Allen's is spooky. 

4. I'm never going to Allen's again. 

For all those who don't live near South Provo, Allen's is a grocery store that is literally a creepy ghost town filled with ghouls and drug addicts. A group project required that I buy some doughnuts on the way to the ice skating rink. Although I tried to find another way, deep down I knew that the only store on the way was, you guessed it, Allen's. 

Let me illustrate how my Allen's experience went down. Because this is obviously something that people care about. 

I pulled into the parking lot and was confused to see that it was basically deserted. It was like the Apocalypse suddenly happened as I turned my blinker on and I didn't even realize it. The handwritten signs advertising eggs and milk shook in the tepid air, an eerie rattling of the sorry souls that dwell within. Was it open? Was anyone alive in there? 

Where is everyone??

The automatic doors to go inside were broken and swinging back and forth back and forth. I took a last deep breath of the clean and lively air outside, squared my shoulders, and entered... Allen's. 

I just can't describe to you how unbelievably scary an empty grocery store is. It was a prime shopping hour and yet, NO ONE WAS IN THERE. Where were the children buying candy after school? The moms with babbling babies? The men grabbing some beef sticks and toilet paper after work? The college students stocking up on generic Oreos? 

And really, what do they do with all of that food that surely goes bad? How are they still open? Oh no. Do they kidnap people and turn them into weird deli sandwiches and boxed carrot cake? Is this a torture chamber where desperate people go to rot? WHERE IS EVERYONE??

There were about 3 1/2 employees there. The half person was a decrepit old lady who was so zoned out that her breathing had stopped. I found the bakery and ordered my doughnuts from a woman who told me that she was super tired because her boyfriend had left the oven on all night and it was 98 degrees in her house when she woke up. *insert every single horror movie plot into brain* as I nod my head mechanically. Sweet little Bakery (but most Deli, she said) Lady took about 20 minutes to get the doughnuts in the box. 

Bakery Lady: What doughnuts do you want dearie?

Me: Just an assortment of all of them. It doesn't really matter what kind. 

Bakery Lady: So, do you want glazed? 

Me: Sure. Sounds great. But really, just put any in, it doesn't matter. 

Bakery Lady: What about jelly? They're nice. 

Me: Really, any kind of doughnut will suffice. 

Bakery Lady: No jellies, then? 

Meanwhile, flies were crawling all over the inside of the display case and the Bakery Lady was explaining to me that Allen's had an electrical fire that very morning and yadda yadda yadda. The flies were just MACKING on all of the food in there. Heebie Jeebies, galore. 

Bakery Lady. It's blurry because I was terrified she would turn around and see me and throw me in the oven. 

It was a relief to finally get out of there. When I was exiting I saw a handwritten sign on the wall saying that it was prohibited to take pictures. Cue the sprinting to the car and hoping that the Allen's zombies wouldn't come pouring out and suck my brains out and make me work there. 

And that is Allen's. A great little Halloween gem, brought to you by good ol' South Provo.  

Happy Halloween! 

P.S. The doughnuts were actually delicious. Worth the scare. 

The Bike-Stairs Struggle

The Smith Field House is nestled right at the bottom of the giant hill to get to the main campus and everyday I must climb them. With my steel frame bike. On my shoulder. Sometimes those stairs look like mere child's play, nothing that could impede a fit 21 year old.

But other days, those stairs represent everything hard in my life. They represent confusion about what I want to do with my future. They represent my constant and hopeless struggle against classes that I do not excel in. They represent waking up early everyday, occasional loneliness and a constant battle against who I am and who I know I should be. 

Those stairs can be my very last straw on a hard day. 

Many people pass me on those stairs as I slowly trudge up. Most of them are probably worried and sad and busy and late, even more so than me. I assume that they too are facing a "last straw" on a gloomy day. Occasionally people stop to ask if I need help and they dutifully grab my bike and sprint up the stairs. They relieve me of a physically taxing load, but sometimes the heartache sticks; because after all, it's just a really down day. 

Today I was walking those stairs, bike on my shoulder as custom goes. It truly had been a long long day. Scrubbing the walls on my hands and knees at work, ineffectively studying Anatomy all morning and then 4 hours of Anatomy classes on campus... I was whooped emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. Negative thoughts of inadequacy and self-doubt loomed in my mind. How is it that I am the only idiotic student at this behemoth of a school? Why can't I just get it?

That is, until the most attractive and kind looking man came up to me. He had just passed me on the stairs, obviously late to something but had turned around to help me. The poor guy was going the opposite way of his trajectory. He most likely had many other things to worry about. He grabbed my bike from me, talked with me, and helped me. His act was much more than a small token of service for me. His face radiated love. Not a I-am-helping-so-I-can-get-your-number love. In his face I saw the way that my Heavenly Father sees me. 

You may think that this is a big reaction to such a insignificant thing. But what Tate the Economics major did for me was show how we can follow the Lords counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 81:5;

 "Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees."

Thank you Tate. I will most likely never see you again, and I'm sure you won't ever realize how much you impacted my life. Because of you, I want to be a better disciple of Jesus Christ. I want to help those whose shoulders are heavy with the weight of their own "bikes" in life. And I not only want to help with my actions, I want people to feel my sincere love for them. I want them to know that I see them as a child of God, infinitely precious and valued. I want them to feel that at the end of the day God doesn't care if you are terrible at Anatomy or slightly awkward or alone. God loves you for who you were, who you are, and who you will become. 

My hope is that I may incorporate this more fully into my life. To serve with my heart, not my conscience. To love a person like God would, not according to my impression of them. May we all carry up those figurative bikes up those figurative stairs with a deep and genuine love for others. 

Happy Monday. 

You Can Call Me, "Ask Amy"

Hermana Ostler’s Update – November 18, 2014

We went to Quillabamba this week. I worked with two brand new sisters and let me tell you, they were not expecting a work visit like this one. Me fighting with a pit bull with my water bottle, running for my life screaming, losing my name tag and walking around with Hermana Frame’s name tag for a week, and a drunk man trying to steal my water bottle... But we had so much fun and I learned so much from them. I love being with new missionaries because they are so wise and full of energy and teach me so much. Some of the advice I gave, just call me Amy now and get me a newspaper column. But really, all of it are things that are helping me to become the best missionary I can be, because we ALWAYS have time. 

• Pick your battles verrrryyyy wisely. If you can live with an annoying habit, do it. It is so not worth it to nitpick. 
• Decide that every companion will be your best friend. No exceptions. They are all lovable.
• Do not go a single day or moment without doing something that makes you laugh and is just a tad bit mischievous. 
• Take all your love for your mom, your moto, your boyfriend, your dog, and give it to the people. All those things will be waiting for you. LOVE THE PEOPLE. They should be your very air, the reason you live. 
• Give God everything. Do not hold back anything. Love Him and talk with Him always. My favorite part of the day is when I can communicate all that I feel. He is there. He exists. And we can feel His love. 
• EXERCISE every morning. Just do it. There is no need to roll off the plane like greased up popcorn chicken. 
• Every so called “bump in the road” can be transformed into a super rad jump that you can fly off and enjoy. Perspective and attitude is everything. 
• Read The Book of Mormon in your mission language every day. Read that book. Love it. Help others to love it. 
• Decide to love the food, the people, the culture, the area, the language.
• The way to get over your fear to share the gospel or contact...is to do it. Do it and you will see miracles. We are God’s messengers. If we do not share what we know, no one will ever find the truth. 
• Lose your weaknesses but don’t lose your personality. 
• Obedience brings happiness. Don’t try to find out for yourself by being DISobedient. Just stick with the rules. 
• Be your own convert every day. 
• Don’t forget to pray. 
• Learn how to fast BEFORE the mission. Fasting is hard, but it brings strength. And my typical 8 hour fast I did before does NOT count. Its 24 hours, people. If Christ could do it for 40 days, we can do it for one. 
• Never wait for a reason to love people. If you wait, you will lose precious time with that amazing child of God. If people don’t like them, make sure that YOU do. If they are different, accept them and learn. Do not wait to love. The opportunity will never come if we stall. 

I also woke up this week with a hickey on my lip. FROM A SPIDER: Bad news bears. But I did get to look like a very ugly version of Angelina Jolie that day, so hey, it’s all good. 

Yesterday we spent all day contacting. It happens sometimes. But I loved it. I get so much joy to talk to people about why I am here, why I want to share this message with them. It’s even fun when we get rejected. I always tell my companion that it’s my preparation for post-mission dating life. The best part of it all was that we were able to meet Herbert. We were waiting outside a house, but our appointment wasn’t there. Herbert walked past and it looked like he wanted to talk to us so we said hello.....and I have no time but I will finish the story next week! 

I love you all!

Hermana ALEX