Jet Mariano

Tag: personal revelation

  • Marked in Time — “Think Celestial!” (President Russell M. Nelson)

    Super Blood Moon over the Los Angeles California Temple — not visible in America last night, so I pulled this in-camera Nikon double exposure from my archives (Oct 2014). Thinking celestial means taking the long view: steps, stars, and a witness in the heavens.

    Excerpt
    President Nelson invites us to “think celestial”—to take the long, eternal view where today’s choices shape forever.

    Intro
    President Russell M. Nelson taught that God’s plan is “fabulous,” that our choices matter eternally, and that the Savior’s Atonement makes that plan possible. His invitation: adopt the practice of “thinking celestial.”

    Straight line (what he’s saying)
    • “The baseless notion that we should ‘eat, drink, and be merry …’ is one of the most absurd lies in the universe.”
    • “I invite you to adopt the practice of ‘thinking celestial’! … ‘to be spiritually-minded is life eternal.’”
    • “Mortality is a master class” in choosing what matters most. “Your choices today will determine … where you will live throughout all eternity, the kind of body … [and] those with whom you will live forever.”
    • “Only men and women who are sealed … in the temple, and who keep their covenants, will be together throughout the eternities.”
    • If we choose telestial laws now, we choose a telestial glory then.
    • “How and where and with whom do you want to live forever? You get to choose.”
    • “Take the long view—an eternal view. Put Jesus Christ first … your eternal life is dependent upon your faith in Him and in His Atonement.”
    • “When you are confronted with a dilemma, think celestial! … When the pressures of life crowd in upon you, think celestial!”

    Final reflection
    Thinking celestial reframes today: my calendar becomes covenant practice, my setbacks become schooling, and my worship becomes preparation for where—and with whom—I want to live forever.

    Pocket I’m keeping
    • Begin with the end in mind (celestial family).
    • Choose temple time and covenant keeping first.
    • Guard agency—avoid anything that becomes a “god.”
    • Pray beyond a shopping list; seek revelation.
    • Take the long view when hurt, hurried, or tempted.

    What I hear now
    Tonight I’m posting an archival blood-moon shot and taking the eternal view. The moon changes phase; covenants point to permanence. Think celestial.

    Link to the talk
    “Think Celestial!” — President Russell M. Nelson.

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  • 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.

  • Thou Art There

    Captured in silence at Yosemite’s Tunnel View — February chill, bulb exposure, and a single LED light to find focus. In darkness, I discovered a sharper image and a quieter soul.

    I stood alone where shadows climb,
    Where granite guards the edge of time.
    The wind was sharp, the night was bare—
    But still, I knew Thou would be there.

    I could not see my hands or feet,
    Just trembling limbs in silent beat.
    One LED—my only spark—
    To chase away the endless dark.

    Each breath was frost, my fingers numb,
    Yet I refused to yield or run.
    A tripod, lens, and faith I gripped,
    Till starlight through the valley slipped.

    And while I waited, heart bowed low,
    The Spirit whispered what I know:

    “There are so many things to be endured:
    illness, injustice, insensitivity,
    poverty, aloneness, unresponsiveness,
    being misrepresented and misunderstood,
    and, sometimes, even enemies.”

    Still I remained, though cold and worn,
    Refusing night to leave me torn.
    I stayed until the shutter’s breath
    Returned a frame that conquered death.

    Not for the praise or photograph,
    But proof that I had passed the path.
    That even here, beneath despair—
    With frozen limbs and unanswered prayer—
    Thou art there.

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

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