sun protection factor

"The sun is mass of incandescent gas, a gigantic nuclear furnace ...." So goes the song that carols a warning to all those who expose themselves to the sun's magnificent power.

What to do on a beautifully sunny Sabbath day? Well, I'll tell you what I did. I took me a blanket and headed to the park for some ponder time. The setting was picture perfect: some appreciated sunshine, a slight breeze, a blanket under my back, and my books to keep me company. I had nothing but time on my hands. Now, the trouble with this situation is not the setting, but rather the time of day. Not only was it a Sunday afternoon, but also a Fast Sunday. You can probably see where this is headed.

After a wonderful hour in the sun, reading and recording my thoughts, I began to feel quite sleepy. I thought to myself, "Hey, Self, you really ought to move into the shade now. You've been out here for a while. Don't forget that this is your first exposure to the sun this year." Being the genius that I am, however, I decided instead to lie down and rest my eyes for just a few more minutes. Rest my eyes? Who am I kidding? I've known since I was four what "resting my eyes" means; I learned that one from my parents.

The ending to this story should be astutely obvious at this point: my eye resting episode lasted for almost an hour. When I was awakened by a welcome phone call, I didn't immediately realize the predicament I had put myself into. But soon after I began to feel the tight, achy effects from the lack of UV protection. Simply put, I got cooked.

On the bright side, the nap was fantastic.

c. johnson

what a character

Due to my lack of preparation and energy, I'm going to just post another quote that has affected my life for the better. Sorry to disappoint. But take wisdom from a man who's worthy of giving it.

Getting through the hazards of life requires understanding, skill, experience, and self-assurance like that required to sink a difficult basket under pressure. In the game of life, that is called righteous character. Such character is not developed in moments of great challenge or temptation. That is when it is used. Character is woven quietly from the threads of hundreds of correct decisions (like practice sessions).

When strengthened by obedience and worthy acts, correct decisions form a fabric of character that brings victory in time of great need. Righteous character provides the foundation of spiritual strength that enables you to make difficult, extremely important decisions correctly when they seem overpowering. Righteous character is what you are. It is more important than what you own, what you have learned, or what you have accomplished. It allows you to be trusted. It opens the door to help from the Lord in moments of great challenge or temptation. --Elder Richard G. Scott

This is a true principle that I am striving to live by.

c. johnson

land wanted

Where is the ground? How long have I been up here? I am getting tired of floating around. I’ve been up here so long that my feet no longer remember the earth's touch. The air up here is thin; the visibility, poor. I would like to come down if I could only get my bearings. I know exactly where I want to go; yet, I haven’t the foggiest. I think I even know with whom--but even that situation is still floating. My hopes of reciprocation are so high I can no longer see them.

Where is the ground? How long will I stay up here? The lack of oxygen is taking its toll on me. I continue to seek for solid ground, but sometimes I feel as if I may never find it. What I wouldn’t give just to feel it under my feet, to know north and south again. I wonder when it will happen. Heaven knows that I’m trying, searching, praying.

Where is the ground?

c. johnson

not just simple prose

Although this may seem very lazy on my part, the thoughts I have had as of late can be summed up quite concisely in this single, inspired quote.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. -Nelson Mandela-

Remember who you are.

c. johnson

to what end?

Sometimes I wonder why I allow words to affect me in such a significant way. Idiomatic wisdom would teach that sticks and stones may break bones, but words will never hurt. Although this may be the case for some, it is certainly not for me.

For me, being one who has internally struggled with self-confidence, the words of others usually find their way straight to my core. Words can be more sharp and biting than any wielded weapon. Wounds of the flesh will mend themselves, but wounds of the soul cannot be simply covered with a band-aid and expected to heal.

Words frequently come tumbling out with no thought to their potential consequences. Will these words shape and inspire, or will they degrade and demolish? Whether uttered before one's face behind one's back, words carry the same clout.

On the other hand, the right words at the right time are often the means of inspiration to get up and get moving. Words can be stirring, gratifying, supportive, and constructive. A compliment here and a kind word there require little more than a small moment of consideration.

Words can say volumes about one's character. Tactless words, spoken with no regard, cause unnecessary and lingering pain. Considerate words, spoken from the heart, weave a web of comfort and confidence in which one can feel safe and secure about self and the future.

Ponder the power of your words. To what end are they spoken?

c. johnson

voda

“And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together … and let the dry land appear: and it was so. And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good” (Genesis 1:9-10). In the beginning, separation of water from the land was of paramount importance. At the suggestion of a trusted friend, I will give a short moment to ponder on the importance of water.

Some call it water, some voda, and others aqua. Despite its ubiquitous nature, many helplessly thirst on a daily basis. I, on the other hand, have practically endless amounts at my disposal; and I don’t even have to pay for it. Anytime I’m thirsty, I just mosey on over to the sink for a cool, refreshing drink.

But what makes water so innately indispensable? Surely its life giving properties extend beyond the drinking glass. Jesus himself said to Nicodemus, “Except a man be born of water and of the spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:5). Water, as we see, not only provides and sustains life in the here and now, but also provides access to life in the hereafter.

Just a few incomplete morsels of food for thought.

c. johnson

coulrophobia

Some dreams simply don't make sense. More often than not my dreams are laden with unfamiliar people and places. I often wonder what my early morning, sleep-cycle adventures are supposed to mean. Sometimes my dreams are downright absurd. I'll share with you one such gem of my dream land.

The whole dream is in black and white--totally lucid. I enter a house, which is apparently my house, only it doesn’t look like my house. I come in the door and there stands a Yosemite Sam look-alike, in the flesh. He's got one of those crazy-thick, push-broom mustaches; and he’s just chilling in my kitchen, being creepy. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I know I don’t want to get involved. So I just scurry up the stairs to bed, as it’s already very late.

As I'm lying there snoozing, I’m awakened by some hullabaloo in the kitchen downstairs. In my drowsy state I figure that it’s just Mom doing the dishes or some such nonsense. As my heavy eyelids close, I hear someone sidling up the creaky stairs outside the bedroom door. The doorknob turns, and through the small slit of the one eye I manage to open, I see a large figure enter the room. I try to open my eyes and focus on the intruder, but I can’t seem to see though the blur. The stench of burnt grease reaches my nostrils and a shutter. Finally my eyes adjust enough to make out the figure that is now standing at the foot of my bed, looming over me in the shadows.

Upon seeing his ghastly face, my whole being tenses with fear. Leaning over me with outstretched arms and gnarled hands is the epitome of evil: Ronald McDonald. But this is not the Happy Meal-serving, charity-supporting, fun-loving Ronald kids know and trust. No, this is off-the-clock, after-hours, most likely tipsy, and ill-tempered Ronald. His wig is gone, his makeup smeared, his wrinkled and scarred face revealed. I tried to scream, to run, to move, to do anything; but my heart had stopped beating. This was the end. I could only watch as the yellow eyes of death descended slowly upon me.

But just as I had consigned myself to a death high in saturated fat, I awoke to the sweet salvation of reality, breathing hard. I sat up, wiping the sweat from my face. Looking around the room, checking for prowlers, I struggled to control my breathing. Then, as I eventually came to my senses, the first thought that ran through my head is probably the same one that’s running through yours now: "Seriously? Ronald McDonald? Aarg, I hate fast food."

c. johnson