Tales from the Graveyard

For many, it can be hard to envision that even the most animated of all people can be reduced to ash and dust. This is what we call death in all its glory and its gloom. It is to extract the soul from one’s mortal body and take us to some unknown beyond, or to vanquish ourselves all together.
The cemetery remains our ultimate final residence; given to us by our loved ones or by the means of the public. I thought of this once as I went for a walk on my usual route which frequented by the old graveyard. On this particular visit, the gates of the local cemetery caught my eye. The light had transcended down against the iron cast fence and had burst out dazzling beams of reds and oranges from the rust. I sauntered into the cemetery and found the place the same as it had always been; indifference hidden behind the stones and tombs that laid out beautifully in misshapen ribbons of shadowed gray and moss. There was a strange calm flow of light and shadow across all of the foliage within this forsaken, yet overpopulated place. The trees stood in solemn reverence, protecting the headstones from weather as their roots entangled the dead below. They let off vibrant greens cascading across the ground like water. Headstones were weathered into dappled markers with the passage of time. Most of the headstones found themselves dating within the 19th century. Many were simple grave markers for children mingled in the midst of larger markers. And the foliage encompasses it all by slowly twisting its ivy coils around the perimeter and everything within.

Rotting is the competition here; as is becoming forgotten. Only the raised tombs of the once wealthy stood out magnificently amongst the humble graves of the ordinary, their stones slanting forward or backward from the harshness of time. Call it a morbid intrigue if you like, the fact that I find this place fascinating. It is like transference beyond this ‘veil’ that separates the living from the dead and brings us into unknown, unseen relationships.

Here the dead live within themselves. It is imperative to note that death is inevitably a part of life. Out of reverence for the dead and throughout the centuries all civilizations have created some type of burial ritual for their dearly departed. It isn’t just a way of going about and discarding dead things, it is much deeper than that. As such, it can be as ordinary as it can be in comparison to time itself. The dead are among us, and we show them respect by keeping the place looking as nice as we remember them. This is to say that the commonplace cemetery is kept well and in good order.
There are those who believe the cemetery is scary or a dreary place that one shouldn’t be curious about the deceased. Do they believe this to be morbid? Others see it is as place of bitter sweetness full of solemnity and respect, a place to weep and to contemplate. Possibly even more necessary, the cemetery is a place to show respect and love of our dearly departed, to never forget them; that their chronicle may live on upon the wagging tongues of mankind.
I have come to find, due to my own experience that the moaning ghost was once one who had fallen into complacency and habit; whereas he stood, living already dead before he really died. And they laid him in an indifferent box, in an indifferent plot, along with his new indifferent neighbors. The light and shadow that illuminates their memoirs and surveys the bittersweet calm of death calls out hoarse and solemn whisperings, like smoke.
You can only hear them if you listen with the utmost intent. They weep and moan and rejoice one with another alongside the weathering of their stones.
They speak of many things, but there was one that struck me that day. Quintus Ennius once said “Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men.”
I lengthily considered this as the air moved whisperings through the trees, and said to myself: “Quintus Ennius must have lived the life that reserved him a place forever in the minds of men.” This brought me to the question that made me pause in observing my surroundings. Who are we to be content? To be idle while the world offers us a lifetime worthy of being historically noted? We do not die the day we kick the bucket, but we die the day our stories have drifted away from the minds of men. That is to say, to never be lazy in this probationary state of existence because it’s your chance to really prove yourself and then entertain and share your wisdom for the generations after us. To direct our children and children’s children through the bleak realities of life, to enlighten them about being ensnared in joy, bliss, sadness, and immeasurable grief. And to teach them all of these things by the means of our own experience in the single century we abide in. If we live an accomplished life, then in a way, we live forever in the hearts of men.
Those who have been immortalized in history books are permanently plastered on those pages because they have done one of two things: overcome that which was around them, or overcome that which was in themselves. Fear is the one thing that drives us to hold back. But, why? What is the worst thing that could happen? Any failure that plagues us can be fixed. That’s the beauty of life and the saying "Life moves on". I have grown to know that we cannot waste our time because death is ever vigilant and often unfair. Our Grimm Reaper stands in close proximity from the day we are born and stands ever ready to draw just a little closer as the days pass by. Never be content, never find complacency, and never fall into mediocre habits. We are to live, and live to the fullest lest our judgment day comes as does the realization that there was too much to have missed in life. When death comes, I find solace in the belief that there should be no resentments, nor regrets. Just peace and the knowledge to know my story I created here in life will live on through the minds, mouths, and hearts of mankind.

My Testimony

There has nothing been more fulfilling in my life like the LDS church. I am a literal witness of the divine authority of the priesthood the men in my faith uphold. I have never healed so much from my own illnesses, weaknesses, and inadequacies than I have with this Gospel comprised with the divine goodness of our Heavenly Father. I know for a surety that this is the true Gospel of Jesus Christ. I was blessed so much by my Heavenly Father by being born into the faith; but I have had my downfalls and indeed once I fell away due to a phase of extreme rebellion. Even in my days of refusing to have the LDS faith in my life though; I never doubted that this is the true faith and Gospel of Jesus Christ. And now that I am striving along my path with this faith by my side; I can unequivocally say that nothing has blessed my life so much! The spirit of the Lord is with this Gospel more than any other faith I have looked into, and I truly value it for what it is: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. And there is nothing more fulfilling than having the Savior as the cornerstone and the very foundation of the way you live, love, and laugh.

I live my faith as honestly as I can. I want to please my Heavenly Father and show Him that I am willing to be His servant.

I adore my Lord Jesus Christ; He is the only man worthy to try and impress, and I find that when I am doing my best to try and impress my Savior- I find His love to be all the more deeper. The peace that enters into my life is unequivocally divine and miracles spew forth in such great abundance that I can scarcely breathe from it's goodness. There is no greater relationship to be made and had than that of a relationship with the Savior. When He is in relationship with you, then every other relationship in your life falls into place. Friendships grow deeper, family grows more precious, your own self becomes precious and of worth to you, and enemies evolve into dear acquaintances.

To pursue a life led by Christ one of the most difficult goals to obtain in this world- but I can say from the depths of my very soul that there is no other goal more enriching and fulfilling. Life, regardless of pain- remains optimally beautiful.

and I am so glad that such grace has never given up on me, regardless of my actions in this life. Divine love is not founded upon actions- Divine love is always there. Exaltation is dependent actions and sincerity. So never consider yourself to be unloved by God. He loves you as much as he did when you were three and without sin- He loves you when you are gone completely from His gospel- and even so, He loves you now, and He wont ever give up on you.

Remember: When you give up on yourself, you're not just letting yourself down. You let Jesus Christ down as well, because He died for you... I pray that you wont ever throw His sacrifice for you back in His face.



Feel free to share your testimony as well

I dreamt of Apollo

I decided to take a nap earlier today and this was the outcome:

I had a dream that Apollo (who looked like a delicious Hercules) decided to leave the strange dimension of Olympus to go bother the Vampires of earth. On his way back to Olympus though, one, called Fenton (who had long curly red hair, tight leather pants, and an open black shirt. He was a complete bad boy you could imagine riding a motorcycle and owning all things leather) snuck through the dimensional portal thing with Apollo. Apparently, in my world of dreams- When Christianity began overtaking this world, the Olympians and Titans moved over to Mars, and put a spell over the planet to make it look like a wasteland.

Olympus was beautiful, full of light. It was an entire palace made of fine gold and rivers ran through porcelain tiles embedded with jewels. Rain forests rested in different areas and each room was specifically set apart for each god.
- It was awesome, I really should draw it.







Anyways- Fenton went to find this specific statue of a horse that Medusa had turned to stone under Zeus’ command. He then got on the horse and began to whisper in the beast’s ear to be rebellious. The horse then sprung to life and caused quite a ruckus in command of its rider- The Vampire Fenton.
Medusa’s spell that was put onto the horse promised a massive flood and so… obviously, Olympus soon begins to flood over.

Apollo then, with all of the other deities furious with them, runs to save the day….. This is where everything gets really foggy. I remember it had to do with some manner of book and the vampires on earth writing out an outcome they want or something, but I can’t remember how Apollo saved the day…. But apparently he did.
As punishment, Apollo takes Fenton to Theia(Titan of Brightness) where she causes him to burn slowly forever. The other vampires on earth are then take over to Olympus and brought before Zeus. One of the Vampress’ showed a lot of potential (by incredible chemistry in the beginning of the dream) to fall in love with Apollo, but in the end, Zeus asks Apollo to come up to see him, takes him by the hand and says:

“Be touched by no one save it is the woman you wish to wed. Thus and inasmuch as this, She (your beloved) who is frequented by death, shall taste death no longer to your touch”

So, then Apollo embraces Zeus and goes on his way. The Vampress meets up with him and he begs her not to touch him and that he has an errand to run. And then he goes into one of the chambers of Olympus to find Selene (Deity of the Moon) sobbing over the blackness she has to endure. He then goes and says her name, and takes her hand asking her to be his wife. Instantaneously Selene’s night gets shredded as if it was just some simple cloak about the room and brilliant light came in. She then looks at him as happy as ever shouting “Yes, oh yes!!”

And then I woke up.

Hypocrisy of All Man

The most unfortunate and disconcerting idiosyncrasy mankind has persistently and subconsciously acted out throughout history is dishing out forms of hypocritical nature. The most prime and absolute example of this: They who insist upon believing in Christ yet living in worldly nature. This is the most common form of faith comprised with action- thus making almost every man guilty of being a hypocrite. For those who have belief in Christ furthermore call themselves a Christian, which is taking upon them the name of Christ. As such, who is to take upon him the name of Christ yet act out the opposite nature but he who is the hypocrite? Let none of us play the Hypocrite in this earthly life. If we take upon us the name of Christ by being Christians; let us not insult the manner and do otherwise. LOVE and ACCEPT those whom others (and your own hurt/offended feelings) insists is not worthy of such. Give freely and forgive those who trespass against you; for if Christ was willing to DIE for that person- can you not try to forgive, love, and accept them also? Let none of us be hypocrites like the Scribes and Pharisees who persecuted and murdered our Lord, such a manner of life only leads to DEATH. For if we are to be like unto Christ, yet act as sinners; do we then (by Sinning) proclaim false doctrine to the world that Christ our Lord was a minister of sin? God forbid such an insulting thing… yet it is done continually through our hypocritical nature.

We seek continually for the gifts of God; yet we already have received his greatest gift of all time and space. It is a gift to be worked and endeavored for, as it is the greatest gift and we must be worthy of it. This gift is our Christ, who we must always persevere after- and furthermore- mimic. Otherwise we are slaves. For Abraham had two sons: One of Sarah; who was free, and One of the Egyptian bondwoman Hagar. Which offspring of Abraham are you then? The Child of The Free, or the Child of Bondage?

The greatest of Thanks be unto God for his most unspeakable gift. May we continue to gladly pursue after Obedience and not Hypocrisy. Let us Love and Accept even those of different ethics like our Elder Brother loves and accepts every man, woman, and child born onto this earth.

I love you, All of you.

And though we may not talk often, I am glad to have you- even if it is in the instance of simply knowing your name. I hope in return, love can be set aside by many for me. Yet even if not, my love in Christ is enough.

With love-

Sydnie Jones

Okay... That was weird

Last Night’s dream is vague today. All I remember was that I was roaming through a massive haunted house dressed like a classic Sherlock Holmes (apart from the pink light saber).

There was my sister Heidi; who was outside dressed up like a matted werewolf and was pretty rabid. She came after me growling and spitting every time I tried to escape the house. Her pack also soiled my favorite blanket. I distinctly remember her taking off the mask and saying:

"I am going to try and bite you now, don't take offense! I'll buy you a new blanket later"

Inside I encountered a fat homicidal Bill Cosby who was chasing everyone for killing his wife. There was also a group of three brothers who were trying to snatch a bottle of over the counter pills away from me.

In the end, I was beat up by a baby who convinced everyone I had impaled him with a broken off stalactite. I convinced him not to beat me though when I told him his family was alive and still wanted him. He asked for them so I gave him cut out paper dolls of a mommy, daddy, sister, and grandparents. He was pretty pleased… I got lost in the attic.

When I woke, my left arm was completely dead asleep (My first thought was that I was having a heart attack, Haha) and I was laying Dracula style: straight and stiff, arms crossed across my chest. Can that put your arm to sleep?

The 1920's Spy

I had a dream I was a 1920s spy named Sabina. (Why am I always named in my dreams?)
I was a part of an organization of 50 people, some of them my siblings, and we took on the guise as actors. In reality we were actually storing up a factory of food. We fought constantly. There even was one point that someone thought that pressurizing all of the food along with a human body would turn the material into gold. (He claimed it was something to do with the Philosopher’s Stone)
Who knows why storing hordes of food and fighting amongst ourselves (along with a LOT of smoking… which started a few fires) was so wrong, but the government came after us plenty of times. Myself and my colleagues were shot, bombed, and set a fire on countless occasions. I even once turned into a rag doll.
In the end, they bombed our factory with everyone inside (apart from myself and a very large girl named Thelma ((She tried to kill me once, earlier in the dream as well)))
We ran to a cemetery where we saw a mausoleum with a very ornamented and large statue which looked very similar to Michelangelo’s La Pietà. I decided I wanted to die dramatically on top of that statue, so we headed in that direction.

Thelma was shot trying to run in a different direction- the bullet turned her into a squirrel.
As for myself, I made it to the top of the statue and dodged bullets. As I was dodging bullets, I saw a spaceship far off made of bronze, Aristotle was staring out the window and said something to the affect of “If you’re meant to die, then die… don’t fight it”
And so… I was shot down, Lol. Strangely enough, I went down in history as an amazing Director. Go figure.

My Viking Dream

Last Night’s Dream: I was a Greek Woman named Astyochaea who was washed up on the shores of Iceland. There I had to live with Vikings. I became a very good sword maker and thief. Haha.
The chieftain of the Viking clan had taken me in, so I made him a Katana as a thank you. Apparently, I said I had 13 elder brothers back home, but now I could never return because they would have thought I was dead. If I did return, my people would have considered me back from the dead and thus- a witch. In which I would be burned alive.
But... I ended up traveling back to Greece when the Chieftain's daughter ran off with a complete idiot who was supposed to fall for me. No, seriously, I said that in my dream.
"I am the beautiful and talented one!! He was supposed to fall for me, that idiot!"
...
I am so narcissistic in my sleep. Sadly, I woke up before we got back to Greece. I was excited to see my brothers. In the end I was pretty much wearing the same outfit Kate Beckinsale wears in Van Helsing.