Jet Mariano

Tag: faith

  • I Feel The Answer

    Draper Utah Temple — A rainbow of promise through the branches.

    Intro
    Some moments arrive quietly but carry the weight of eternity. This season has taken me away from the work I love, yet placed me in a space where the Lord can speak more directly. It feels like a “calling” — not just an assignment, but an invitation to walk a path I did not expect, at a time I did not plan.

    A calling can refine you, but it can also break you — I know this firsthand. When I lost my father and my younger brother, the grief was so heavy it lingered for over a year, leaving me with a frozen shoulder and a frozen spirit. But in that stillness, I learned something I now carry with me: when you are not preoccupied, when your heart is still enough, Heaven can speak — and you will hear.

    In 1987, during my Seminary days, there was a song in our Free to Choose program called I Feel the Answer. Its words spoke to the questions of a heart unsure yet willing, and today those words still echo in me.

    I Feel The Answer

    How I wish this hadn’t come right now,
    With so much on my mind.
    I just don’t think I’m ready for a calling of this kind —
    Where do I turn to, searching for me?

    Does He know me even better than I know myself?
    When I am sure that I can’t do it, can I turn to Him for help?
    And will He answer? Will He give me peace?

    More than air to breathe, I need to know
    If what I feel is right — Father, hear my pleading.
    Let me see the light. I’ll do whatever You ask me to do.

    And yes… I feel the answer.
    He calls my name and whispers to my soul.
    And oh, His gentle answer heals my aching heart — and I am whole.
    Heals my aching heart — and I am whole.

    Sometimes, a calling feels like a classroom. Sometimes, a setback is a sacred appointment. And sometimes, the answer doesn’t come as a trumpet blast, but as a whisper — so quiet you only hear it when you pause. In those still moments, He calls your name, and you know — you are exactly where He needs you to be.

    In this quiet stretch of life, I’ve learned that solitude isn’t the absence of connection — it’s the space where Heaven’s voice becomes unmistakably clear. Away from the noise and demands, I’ve come to see that even the pauses in our path are part of His perfect timing.

    Recently, the Spirit carried me back to a sacred temple moment, where familiar faces seemed etched with eternity — not just in their features, but in the quiet witness of the soul. At times, the Lord grants us glimpses of recognition that reach beyond mortal memory, as if to remind us that His hand has been guiding our paths long before we knew it.

    It was a quiet confirmation that the same Spirit who whispered then is still speaking now — through remembrance, through reflection, and through the gentle truth that our journeys, though carved by different streams, are being guided toward the same horizon. And in those moments, just as the song I Feel the Answer says, “He calls my name and whispers to my soul” — and I feel the answer.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • I’m Able: Climbing for Light, Capturing the Moon

    After hiking over 2,000 feet to my favorite mountain ridge, I waited in silence with my 1000mm + TC 2x lens—watching the Supermoon rise in full glory. It reminded me that some things are only visible to those willing to climb.
    From this 2K-foot summit, I waited with my 1000mm lens and 2x teleconverter. The shot was worth it. My eyes soaked in the rising Supermoon, but I wanted to remember the experience forever. It took patience, precise camera settings, and above all, an ‘I’m able’ attitude that brought me the stillness I needed. Here’s the result.

    That simple phrase didn’t just motivate me. It rejuvenated me. It reminded me that every setback I’ve endured, every delay, and every heartbreak was not the end—but a test of endurance. Like Edison, like Tesla, and like countless others who stood firm when things fell apart, I now carry this quiet fire inside me.
    No matter what the odds say—I’m able.
    And that means everything.

    I’m Able
    Poem by Jet Mariano

    I’m able—not because I’ve won,
    But because I choose to rise with the sun.
    I’m able—not from praise or might,
    But by standing up when wrong feels right.

    I’m able—through the tear-stained night,
    To cradle hope and guard the light.
    I’m able—though I walk alone,
    To make the climb and call it home.

    I’ve come to realize—I don’t need titles to prove my worth. I don’t measure myself by applause or position.
    What I carry is truth. Lived truth. Quiet truth. Hard-earned truth.
    And in those silent battles when no one’s watching, I remind myself:
    I’m able.
    And that means everything.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • Somewhere in Life

    Sunrise behind the Taylorsville Temple — a reminder that even after storms, there’s light, a place prepared for us, and battles that can be won.

    There are moments when life’s rhythm seems to shift, as if unseen hands are arranging the day in ways we can’t quite explain. Today feels like one of those moments. My morning began with simple exchanges, yet carried an undertone of purpose. Last night’s dream—more like a second visit from the other side—lingers in my mind, as if to say, you’re not walking alone.

    It brought to mind the song Somewhere in Life from the 1979 Gates of Zion Seminary album, recorded during the time President Spencer W. Kimball was the prophet. I know these songs well because I served as a CES Institute Director from 1987 to 1990, a season in my life where music like this carried deep spiritual lessons to youth—and, unexpectedly, to me as well. Its words about “storms of evil that cloud your view” and “a hand to hold” speak directly to my journey.

    Somewhere in life there’ll be darkness too
    Storms of evil moments that cloud your view
    And yet in life you’ll find that Morning Sun
    You’ll find a battle won

    Somewhere in life there’s a place for you
    Far away from forces you can’t subdue
    Somewhere in life there be someone to know
    There’ll be a hand to hold

    The assurance that “there’s a place for you” feels especially real today, and with it, the quiet courage to keep moving forward until, as the song says, “you’ll find a battle won.”

    This ties closely to my August 12 “Storm of Life” reflection. Back then, I wrote about facing trials head-on and finding calm in the eye of the storm. Today, I feel that same calm as I prepare to enter the Taylorsville Temple—not just to perform a proxy endowment, but to lay the names of loved ones on the altar, trusting in the Lord’s timing.

    Final Reflection
    Life’s battles are rarely fought on visible fields. Most are waged in the quiet spaces of our hearts, where faith pushes back against fear. My dream reminded me that heaven is closer than we think, and the song from Gates of Zion reminds me that somewhere in life—right here, right now—there’s still a hand to hold, a place prepared, and a victory ahead.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • Marked in Time — Learn to Love the Storm (Provo City Center Temple)

    Provo City Center Temple under lightning—shot from the walkway with leading lights. A reminder I first learned in 2018 after that T-bone crash: storms can shake you, but they don’t decide the ending.

    Excerpt
    Learn to love the storm.

    Intro
    Storms touch every life—loss, illness, missed chances, worry. In IT they hit at 2 a.m., at airports, on freeways, even overseas. Like weather carves a canyon, adversity shapes a soul. Preparation helps—docs, reps, calm breath—until we learn not just to endure but to embrace the rhythm.

    Backstory
    Second week of January 2018, on my way to photograph Provo City Center Temple, a driver T-boned my car. He was arrested on the spot. I blacked out for a few seconds—came back, shaken but okay—and still made it to the temple. That night taught me: storms hit hard, but they don’t have to end the story. Funny enough, as I write this, American Pie wanders through a verse about endings. I’m grateful mine wasn’t.

    Notes from the Journey
    Urgency doesn’t wait; readiness is mercy. Pressure reveals what practice built. Quiet faith plus steady habits turns chaos into clarity.

    Practice (today, not someday)
    Prep what future-you will need (one checklist, one page of notes). When the alert hits: breathe, bless, begin. Re-anchor: Grounded • Rooted • Established • Settled.

    Final Reflection
    Loving the storm doesn’t mean pretending it doesn’t hurt. Some trials mark the body and the heart. Yet the covenant echo remains: “Thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment… and shall be for thy good.” (D&C 121:7; 122:7) In tech and in life, Murphy visits often; I’ll meet him ready, resilient, and willing—trusting that beyond the thunder, I keep moving.

    Pocket I’m Keeping
    Prepared, prayerful, unafraid of weather.

    What I Hear Now
    Hold fast. Keep going between flashes.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • Today or Tomorrow, Now or Then, Endure to the End

    I become what I will — not by gift, not by chance,
    but like this still house on the prairie, rooted by water, framed by sky —
    I endure. I reflect. Today or tomorrow, now or then.

    Intro Paragraph (Why this poem?)

    There are things I rarely speak, not because they don’t matter — but because they do. Some stories are too sacred to explain plainly. I’ve carried burdens for decades — for family, for faith, and sometimes for people who never knew. This poem is not a confession. It’s a quiet map of where I’ve been and what it cost me to endure. If you’ve ever sacrificed in silence, this is for you.

    Today or Tomorrow, Now or Then, Endure to the End

    by Jet Mariano

    I become what I will—
    not by gift,
    not by chance.

    They said it was for the dream.
    But I never dreamed of this.

    Not the hauling at midnight,
    the cold linoleum behind the receiving dock

    but never my name.

    I didn’t come with love in hand—
    I came with a debt to pay.
    To rescue a soul,
    and carry a family
    across a sea of impossibilities.

    A job at USC
    became a cure for my father,
    a lifeline for my family,
    a bridge for my siblings
    to find homes I would never live in.

    And still, I smiled.

    Though phone jobs stripped my voice,
    while I studied with red eyes and calloused faith,
    and slept beside hopelessness

    They think I’m quiet now.
    They don’t know I’ve just spoken enough pain
    for a hundred lifetimes.

    I write it in playlists
    that no one plays but me.
    I express it in photographs I create—
    where silence can finally breathe.

    I date it in the margins of scripture
    where no one else will read.

    Let them think I’ve always been composed.
    Let them think the IT job made me.
    I know what made me:

    A God who watched me
    hauling furniture in Burbank
    and still whispered,
    “You are mine.”

    Today or tomorrow,
    now or then,
    endure to the end.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • There’s No One Now but You

    When all else faded, only You remained

    (Inspired by the journey of loss, growth, and grace)

    I felt so strong, so sure, so free,
    Believed the path belonged to me.
    No need for hands to guide or stay—
    I didn’t know I’d break this way.

    I chased the stars, ignored the signs,
    Built my dreams on shallow lines.
    But life, with quiet storms in view,
    Took all I had—and tested too.

    It seized the hope I once embraced,
    And left me wandering, soul displaced.
    I thought the shape of life was mine,
    Each step designed by grand design.

    I didn’t need You—so I claimed,
    Dismissed the whispers of Your name.
    But all along, in silence deep,
    You held the vows I failed to keep.

    And now the curtain’s torn in two,
    I see the world in clearer hue.
    No crowd remains to lean into—
    There’s no one now…
    but You.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • Marked in Time — Taylorsville at First Light

    Taylorsville Utah Temple at first light—quiet watch at dawn, one frame when the grounds glowed.

    Excerpt
    “Beyond the frail, scant promises of time.”

    Intro
    Second sunrise in a row at Taylorsville. Waiting in the quiet before the grounds woke, I felt the same steady whisper—and remembered a Seminary song I grew up with.

    Notes from the song
    Patience over haste. Choose carefully. Build real friendships. Seek what lasts beyond quick feelings and trends.

    Perspective (direct quote)
    “True happiness is something I must earn.”

    Practice (today, not someday)

    • Slow one thing down.
    • Invest in one real friendship.
    • Re-anchor: Grounded • Rooted • Established • Settled.

    Final Reflection
    Sunrise teaches covenant pace: night yields to light; hurry to peace. What matters most isn’t in time’s quick promises, but in what endures beyond them.

    Pocket I’m Keeping
    Choose the lasting over the loud.

    What I Hear Now (paraphrase)
    Love carefully chosen and patiently sealed outlives the clock.

    Credit note
    Song reference: “Beyond the Promises of Time” (Gates of Zion, 1979). © Intellectual Reserve, Inc. (quoted lines limited for commentary).

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • Because I Have Been Given Much, I Too Must Give

    Because I Have Been Given Much, I Too Must Give

    Jordan 4s laced, knee braces locked, and 20s in hand—another stair session. I train to stay ready, not just fit.

    I train to stay rooted in purpose, faithful in service, and prepared for life’s demands.
    Fitness clears my mind and sharpens my focus.
    The goal isn’t just strength—it’s being able to make a difference.

    That’s why I wear McDavid knee braces, elbow support, and back support. My workouts are non-stop—compound, high-rep, and uninterrupted. You have to train smart. No shortcuts. No injuries.

    Tonight’s training flow?

    • 30-minute stair run (1st floor to basement, non-stop)
    • 120 reps each of:
      • Pushups
      • Sit-ups
      • Leg raises
      • Abs crunches
    • Bird/Dog exercise for balance and core control
    • Crab-walks to engage hip and glute strength
    • 20-minute plank rotation
    • All while my laundry spins in the background
    • Tilapia fillets thawed and ready for a clean dinner
    • Playlist? Pure Church music, filling the air with purpose

    This is a multi-tasked project of body, spirit, and home.

    During sacrament, the hymn “Because I Have Been Given Much” played softly—but its message roared inside me.

    It asked me:
    What are you giving in return?

    I reflected:

    👉🏼 I give my focus to study—choosing AZ-104 over passive scrolling
    👉🏼 I give my energy to fitness—choosing movement over comfort
    👉🏼 I give my rest to quality sleep—choosing recovery over distraction
    👉🏼 I give my time to the Lord—choosing temple service over idle time
    👉🏼 I give my work my best—choosing to document, secure, and improve

    This isn’t boasting. This is realignment.
    When you’ve been preserved, protected, and placed where you are for a purpose—
    you can’t just sit still.

    You move.
    You give.
    You train.
    You serve.
    Because you’ve been given much.

    And what you give in return becomes your praise.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

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