Worlds

I've been thinking a lot today about our world, the conceptions of our world, the way those conceptions have changed over time, and what those conceptions mean for us.

Today in my British Literary History class, we were reading Caedmon's Hymn, which goes a little something like this:

Now we must honor

The guardian of heaven,

The might of the architect

And his purpose,

The work of the father of glory,

As he, the eternal Lord,

Established

The beginning of wonders.

He, the holy creator,

First created heaven as a roof

For the children of men.

Then the guardian of mankind,

The eternal lord,

The lord almighty,

Afterwards appointed

The middle-earth

The lands, for men.

The reason I bring this poem up is that, in my class, we noted the Anglo-Saxon cosmology, in which heaven is the roof of the house, earth (middle-earth) is the body/interior of the house, and hell was that which was beneath the house. Now, there was a lot of other stuff about it, but that's the basics of what I'd like to focus on.

Because what are the repercussions of believing that your earth is a home that God has built for you, and that heaven, God's home, is the roof of that house, and what protects you from the outside elements?

I think that this is not too far a shot from LDS doctrine, only I'd make the roof the Gospel, rather than heaven, because faith in the gospel of Christ is our shield and our protection from the storms that would beat us down while we live on this little planet of ours. It's a very functional analogy, I believe.

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The other aspect of worlds I've been thinking of today came from my biology class. We were watching my professor's movie that she made about Tongans, and it got me thinking about what it would be like if I had been born into a different culture, a different "world," so to speak (and to maintain a sense of continuity throughout this post). I thought about how different my life would be if I had been born Tongan, or Japanese, or French, or African, or Nicaraguan ... Part of me was kind of sad that I had missed out on not having that same perspective on life that comes from each of these unique, fascinating, and beautiful cultures. I mean, I might have liked being an Australian, or an Eskimo, or Spanish, or Indian ...

But despite my small portion of sadness at missing out on the cultural richness that these other nationalities would have offered me, I am grateful that I know of worlds before and worlds to come, and the Creator of all of these worlds and cultures that placed me in the situation that I am, both because it has been a great blessing in my life, and because I know that where I am is the best place for me to be in the eternal scheme of things. It's a great comfort, knowing that God is out there, and that He has a plan for our lives, a plan that has the power to make us fantastic and happy beyond our ability to comprehend. I can't imagine being satisfied with life, were it not for that knowledge.

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The final thing I'd like to share with you is this video. It was made using a tilt-shift camera lens, which gives the video a really interesting quality. Rather than telling you what that quality/effect is, I will just let you observe it for yourself:

Small Worlds Project: Circular Quay. Pause while a clip is playing to share it.
Tilt Shift Video by Keith Loutit | Twitter | Facebook

Isn't that interesting? It looks like a little playset, with little dolls running around and toy cars and plastic trees ... But it's all the real world that we see every day with our own eyes. Of course, God is acquainted with every intimate detail of our lives, but I feel like this is what we must look like from heaven. Like a bunch of little toys, waiting to be picked up and rearranged at the will of God.

It's kind of funny, how everything looks like it's in miniature. It makes all these things we do, these mindless motions and stupid activities and things that happen in our lives that distract us from the plan seem so ... insignificant.

Maybe that's because they are, and we're simply looking at the world, and at life, through the wrong type of lens.