Author: Jana

  • for the Saint


    St Patty’s Day, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Because I don’t want to get pinched. :)

  • another yellow ribbon

    Friends:
    This is pretty irreverent comedy. You might find some of the language offensive. Or you might laugh. :)

  • because it’s all about me anyways


    self-portrait, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Just got back from the gym this morning and was feeling strong and proud of myself. Strong enough to try taking a few self-portraits…

    Can I just say how hard this is? To look at myself and not see an image full of flaws? To think positive thoughts about this aging and scarred body that I inhabit?

    So this is me in my favorite gym top (I think it makes my arms look extra muscle-y). I am wearing a necklace that I made myself a few weeks ago (I just love it). And I am feeling brave enough to share this photo with you. Closing my eyes as I finish this entry and taking a deep breath as I push the “post” button.

    World, this is me.

  • blogher

    Wow. My IWD post, “Is it because of all that armpit hair?” is featured on this blogher article about youtube feminism. Cool!

    More and more, I feel that feminism is returning. I know the term itself has baggage, and that there are numerous women who feel that the movement is too fractured with vying groups for it to have any focus or effect. But I’m hopeful that it can and that it will.

    As I predicted/prophesied at the Sunstone Symposium last summer, I believe that the Internet will be the biggest influence on the world of LDS feminism. By the same token, I believe the ‘Net will have huge impact on feminism at large–enough to initiate a new wave of activism and social change. When I see groups like Mojo Moms, Coalition of Women for Peace, Moms Rising, Women for Women, and similar organizations that are building a strong presence via the web, I am filled with hope.

    Yes, I know that there are problems with attempting to organize feminists. There are factions along lines of identity politics and issues with essentializing gender. But I think there are things that we can agree on, and we can move forward with the movement by finding common ground.

  • not afraid to come out of his shell


    not afraid to come out of his shell, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Usually I pick up any snails that I find in my garden and I throw them over the fence to do their slimy business elsewhere.

    But this particular snail was so precocious, I decided to capture his image on film and let him be. For my kindness he smiled for the camera. :)

    If you have a minute, click on this picture, go to flickr and click on the tab above that says “all sizes.” You should see this photo in a much larger size. And it’s amazing. Look at the ridges, bumps and colors on the shell. Examine each little lump on his body. See how his antenna are the faintest translucent blue color. And can you see the individual drops of water on the stem that he’s sitting on??

  • on the inside


    iris on the inside, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Suffering from a bit of insomnia last night, I decided to play with lighting and the macro setting on my camera to pass the time.

    Came up with this very psychedelic photo of the inside of an iris that I’d picked in the garden yesterday. I love the way the light plays across the back of the flower as if it were a reflection in a pool of water.

  • The Hardest Part, part I

    For those of you who are new to pilgrimgirl, this is an installment in my ongoing effort to explain why I left the Mormon church about a year ago. You can find related posts here.

    This will be the hardest part of the story to tell. But I think I’m ready now. Why is it so hard, you ask? Maybe because it matters so much. Maybe because it took that long to find the words to tell of the experience.

    So I was sitting in church on a very typical Sunday. We were having a fairly unordinary meeting where the men’s and women’s groups were meeting together for an hour after Sunday School (usually the adults meet separately during this part of church). John wasn’t attending church with me on this particular Sabbath. So I sat by myself in the back of the room, empty chairs on each side of me. I didn’t mind being alone, really. If I sat with friends I was generally too distracted to pay much attention to the meeting. And for whatever reason, this particular Sunday I actually wanted to listen, perhaps because many weighty issues were on my mind. Specifically, I was concerned about John’s apathetic attitude towards church, I was thinking about my son’s upcoming ordination to the priesthood (it would occur on his 12th birthday), and I was musing about my own difficulties with some particular church doctrines.

    The Bishop announced a line-up of 4 or 5 male speakers who would discuss various fundamental gospel topics. A few of them got up to the podium to give their spiels. Near the end of the meeting an older man addressed the issue of the Restoration of the Gospel. He began by discussing Joseph Smith’s Vision of the Father and Jesus Christ and then launched into an extended discussion about the Restoration of the Priesthood. He gave specifics of how this occurred through angelic visitor’s conferring ‘priesthood keys’ on Joseph Smith. Following that, the speaker delineated each of the LDS ordinances that are administered by priesthood holders and emphasized their necessity for salvation.

    During much of this man’s talk I found myself impatient. I felt I’d heard this so many times. There was no fresh insight in his words, no illuminating inspiration. I grew weary of the meeting and was looking frequently at my watch, hoping that the talk would be over soon.

    As he began discussing the necessity of priesthood ordinances, however, my feelings began to turn. I focused intently on what he was saying and as I did so, I felt a heavy black fog settle in around me. It was prickly and cold. And then I felt pressure squeezing against my entire body. I looked around at the other people sitting around me in the meeting. Their faces were impassive.

    I tried to understand this feeling that was now so uncomfortable that I felt nauseous. I fought an almost overwhelming urge to stand up and get up out of the meeting. Not wanting to make a scene by leaving, I turned inward, asking myself What is going on? As I did so, distinct words formed in my mind: I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS.

    To be continued in part II

  • an end…and a beginning

    So today I finished the required coursework for my Ph.D. That means that from here on out I may sit in on a few classes, but that’s entirely at my discretion.

    So, what now? My Qualifying Exam (a rather grueling oral exam) will be on April 20th.

    Then the dissertation work commences…

    Yeah! :)

  • when i grow up

    When I grow up I want to be Dorrit Hoffleit, slowing down to writing only five articles per year when I’m 98. Yah.

    Happy 100, Dorrit!

  • daffodil


    daffodil, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    This daffodil sprang up in the far corner of my garden along with a handful of others of varying yellow hues. Such a delightful surprise! I would imagine that some previous owner of my garden plot planted these bulbs.

    It’s comforting to know that my garden has been enjoyed by many different people through the years. Knowing this will make it easier for me when I have to say goodbye to it someday. :)

  • a daily daisy


    pink, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    For many years, daisies were my favorite flowers. When John and I married, he promised me that I would have daisies every day because they brought me so much joy.

    Well, that promise was one that was quickly broken–probably at my own insistence because I’m such a cheapskate. But back then I spent very little time thinking about flowers. I was busy working three jobs, then mothering two children, etc, etc

    Now I find myself spending more and more time gazing at flowers. Yes, part of it is because I have some freedom in my life right now that affords me the time for leisure, the time for contemplation. And I do try hard not to take that gift for granted. Because I’ve found worlds without end on the insides of flowers.

    I’m no longer strictly a daisy fan. Rather, I enjoy the merits of whatever flower happens to cross my path on a particular day. Last week it was this bright pink gerber daisy, pictured here, that I put in a vase with a half-dozen of a similar hue. This morning it was a royal purple iris hiding under a little table in the center of my flower garden. What will tomorrow bring? Roses peut-etre? That would be lovely, as I do relish the scent of a tea rose…

    There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
    -Anais Nin

  • in the face of fear

    “I gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face…I say to myself, I’ve lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along…We must do things we think we cannot do.”
    ~Eleanor Roosevelt