The Girl with Golden Hair and the Guy with Glasses

There was this girl in my class last semester who sat on the other side of the room; a short girl with golden hair. She wore vibrant, colorful eyeliner every day, never too much–loud enough that you knew she had confidence, while quiet enough you knew she wasn’t trying to make a scene or disturb …

A Together Place: An Alternative Utopia

In seventh grade, my English teacher assigned me to write an essay about my version of a perfect world—a utopia. I set about this philosophical prompt with all the panache of a barely thirteen-year-old kid and wrote an essay—shorter than this one—summing up societal perfection. A decade later, I remember three things about the paper, …

Woven Together

“I am grateful for my eyes because I can read books.” “I am grateful for my mouth because I can taste blueberries.” “I am grateful for my legs because I can jump.” In the morning, early, before I leave for BYU campus to start my day of classes and writing and thinking, I spend time …

Humanists as Activists: Rewriting the Narratives that Lurk Beneath Technological Tools

Artificial Intelligence has been a topic of special interest for the BYU Humanities Center during the Winter semester of 2023. With masterful blog posts and colloquium presentations by Brian Jackson from the English Department, Earl Brown from Linguistics, and Steve Richardson from Computer Science, we have been enlightened, challenged, and (somewhat) reassured about our abilities …

Building Communities of Belonging

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“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” –Mahatma Gandhi Last week marked one year since we released our once feral cats from the cattery at the barn. Trapped at the old slaughterhouse in Salt Lake City, these ferals were rehomed for their safety …

The Candle: Notes on Holy Envy for Holy Week

—Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Jerusalem I wanted to light the candle. I wanted to press it gently to the flame, see the wick catch, tilt the yellow shaft so the wax wouldn’t drip on my hand. I wanted to pay homage, be a pilgrim, worship. I wanted to do it boldly, smoothly, reverently, as …

Paintings of Rocks

Rain drummed a steady symphony against our umbrella as my husband and I trekked through the sidewalk puddles in front of BYU’s Museum of Art. Couples and excited family home evening groups rushed past us, clutching donuts and flyers to their chests. Gold light streamed through the MOA’s glass doors. Dancing reflections rippled across the …

Home, Memories, and the Humanities

There is one simple question that I’ve grown to dread. People around me can answer it in the flash of a second, like a reflex. But I always have to pause. The question is so common and so fundamental to a person’s identity that to be left there stumbling over one’s words trying to come …