Water and Windows

The Hydrant
There he stands, the stoic guard, defending against the fire. Short he is, below my gaze, but harder than even my heart. I almost wonder if some poor soul was given this form as punishment for misdeeds in a past life. If that is so, he must have atoned by standing so long on silent guard through summer's heat and winter's snow. I cannot detect the smallest hint of there ever having been fire near him. I admire him so, this little guard - the hydrant on Campus Drive.



Winking
The windows made me wink as I walked by. They caught the light of the setting sun and turned it white, magnified it, and threw it joyfully into my eye.

A Tree

What an odd tree! An oak, by its leaves, but trained to imitate a pine. It bulges near the base and as it climbs it somehow tapers to a point. One wonders if gardeners, with rope and patient care, compelled this tree to so shape itself, but I think not. It was, rather, the result of students passing by, lost in lofty pursuits.
The tree, confined to one spot of ground, could not voice its desire to rise to the intellectual heights of the humans passing by. It sulked for a few years - that bulging base - but then resigned its sorrow. It knew that God in his wisdom had made it a tree, and since it could not go to class or compete with human gifts, it decided instead to be the best it could be as a tree.
As it yearned for many years to please its master, God, it grew up tall and straight, ever reaching for heaven. In its humility, it accepted its role as a tree. It grew nearer to God and served to remind the endless stream of students passing by of He who had created them.
A very few learned their place too, humbled by who God had made them. They shaped their gifts for many years, as patient as the tree. They came to stand up tall and straight, ever reaching for heaven. Those who saw as they passed by soon took the message too, and endlessly spread through countless years the comforting, sustaining knowledge: We are who God made us, and if we do our best, we will reach heaven.

Black Skirt, Black Coat, Black Trailing Scarf

A woman dressed in sober black stepped up off the pavement. Her black heels made a steady clop as she walked now on the bricks. Black skirt, black coat, black trailing scarf - all made her look much older than her diminutive height and rounded face would make her else to seem. Her long dark hair hung in a braid down her back as she climed the granite steps. Then she sat and gazed away from black on this last true autumn day.



A nearby tree had caught her eye and caused her here to pause. The rich brown trunk was well defined by the leaves that above it hung. The muted shades of red and gold looked more like rust and copper. The leaves that had fallen on green grass below were like the remains of fragmented memories.



Further away her gaze did climb to the top of nearby mountains. One terraced peak with rounded crown stood half lost in shadow.




Its nearest neighbor thrust a jagged peak - rocky and somewhat smaller than its brother - into the sky where glorious light fell on it, full engulfing.



Her dazzled mind, for a moment lost in the beauty all around her, rejoiced in this break from dreary black and her too grown-up routines. Even the dark clouds drifting by, like the grayness of her life, could not keep bound the spirit of joy hidden in a black skirt, black coat, and black trailing scarf.

Astronomy

I noticed the most amazing thing tonight! For the first time ever, when looking at a full moon I didn't see moonlight - I saw sunlight. It just made me shiver in wonder to think that the sunlight is powerful enough to make an object that has absolutely no light of its' own look as though it is illuminating the world (and the snow on the mountains - WOW!) below.
Having noticed this phenomena, I started wondering what change in my perception allowed me to see with my eyes something I have known ever since I learned about the moon. I figured out that my brain picked up, this time, on the fact that my eyes can see the features - flaws, if you will - on the moon, and that this would not be possible if it were giving forth it's own light.
I must say that the full moon on a clear night reflecting light with such perfect whiteness and clarity is probably one of the most beautiful sights it has been my privilege to behold.
I also have to say that it is amazing what happens to our perceptions when we open our eyes and our minds to let our brains see what is really there, instead of just seeing what we have always seen before and taking it for granted. I've had lots of these eye openers lately, but this is the first example that exists outside of m mind. Meaning it's the first time I can demonstrate that it is my perception and not reality that has changed.

Finally, the most precious thought is about the homophones "sun" and "Son." How selfless do you have to be to let your glory shine on an imperfect being and make it appear glorious in and of itself? And how hard is it to reflect that glory when it clearly defines and reveals every flaw on the reflector? Is it not amazing how the glory of the Son creates so much beauty in those who reflect his love, all the while revealing every flaw and imperfection we have to those who watch us?
It makes me realize once again what pride is, for it is pride that makes us wish to cover our sins and imperfections. Satan wants us to believe that we can only cover our sins and hide our imperfections by staying out of the light; by not reflecting the glory of God and the love of his Son. How sad that people fall prey to such deception and choose to live in darkness rather than enjoying the peace that comes from knowing that even our weakness is beautiful when viewed as part of the Great Plan of Happiness in the light of the Savior's love.

Truly, life is beautiful to those who work at it. I know that I have been humbled as I have learned to see how the flaws I have do not lessened the beauty of the light I am trying to reflect.

A Memory

Here I am, exhausted, and blogging instead of sleeping.
I guess that's life. I never do get to bed as early as I tell myself I should.

It's wet outside tonight, but not really raining. I wouldn't even say it's misting, because in the walk from my apartment to the ward building I only felt one drop and no wetness. But as I was walking out to ward prayer this evening, the streetlights and the overcast sky reminded me of the weather on a similar night about fourteen years ago.

There's no real point to this, as usual. Just a writing exercise.

I was in seventh grade, and I was walking home from either a choir concert or maybe a play rehearsal. (I was in both General Music that year, as well as the school musical: I was a munchkin in The Wizard of Oz.)

Anyway, the northwest side of Cyprus High school had some relocatable classrooms and a parking lot. I always walked through the high school, since it was the most direct route home. Probably my tendency to walk by myself in the dark stems from this time. It probably wasn't the safest thing for a twelve year-old to walk alone in the dark on the streets of Magna, but at the time I was completely oblivious to the danger. I sometimes think my naivety has been a protection to me: nothing ever happened.

That parking lot was very empty that night, and it was usually pretty dark. But it was that time of year when the sky is always overcast with clouds ready to snow, and they were glowing with that peculiar luminescence that snow clouds have. I always wonder if the clouds reflect the street lights from below or filter the moonlight from above.

This night, it was actually snowing, and while my description hasn't been very clear, my memory is. I was wearing the purple jacket that I had until after college, and there was a very light dusting of snow on the asphalt. I was high off the performance and enjoying the solitude and the cold. The streetlights were the yellow glowing kind, and the snowflakes were just drifting down on that windless night. I must have taken a minute to hold my arms out and slowly spin around, and when I looked up I was standing directly under the streetlight.

Do you know what it looks like when the air itself freezes? The spaces around the snowflakes were filled with shimmering, sparkling glitter. It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and probably accounts for the many winter nights since then that I have spent in similar activities. I still walk alone in the dark on such nights, and I always feel bemused and at peace when I see the frozen air and the falling snow. You may be dreading the snow, but I am looking forward to a few more nights of glittering peace in the dim but not dark nights of Utah winter.

New in Town

So, so much tension, and I'm not quite ready to release it all. But I found a high place from which to look over the valley. The beauty of the evening sun reflecting off the lake makes the western mountains hazy as they hover ominously in various shades of gray. It almost makes me glad to be here. From my outlook, I can see the water of the lake rippling in the evening wind, and I am amazed that I am able to see it from this distance.
Looking out on this beautiful scene, surrounded by wild sunflowers, scrub oak, and a few young fir trees, I again wonder what I am doing living in this valley. Not for the first time, I feel uneasy - like this isn't really my life. But as I hear the bells of the nearby religious university, I have to chage my word. I am not uneasy, exactly. It is more discomfort, living in this place where I don't fit.
I suppose it is unreasonable to think that after scacely two weeks there would be anyone welcoming me with open arms, but I feel the absence of such a welcome very keenly. A long time friend - one of two I know in this area - has welcomed me, and my dear friends at home have encouraged me and wished me luck, but it seems that no one here has any room in their lives for a newcomer.
I don't really wonder why I have avoided this place, and it is probably my own fault that I don't fit in. I probably wouldn't feel so alone here if I were a student away from home for the first time. That four-year period called college was a time in my life I will never forget and for which I will never cease to be grateful. It was a safe place between childhood and full-fledged adulthood. My one purpose - to obatin my degree - overshadowed the reality of the uncertainty of adult life - a life that is still as indistinct as the mountains which are now before me.
I am not here for a college experience that will prepare me for the rest of my life. I am a professional, and it seems the only certainty in my life is my profession. I moved here to be closer to my work, and from 5 am to 5 pm I don't worry too much about what to do with myself or my time. In my after 5 pm world, I wonder what to do, where to go, and who to talk to.
Writing has been a joy, as has playing my piano. But what is there to write about and who is there to write to when no one reads what I write and the few who do may not even care? What is music without friends to share it with? What, exactly, is the purpose of a life that is other-oriented when there are not others around which to orient?
I suppose therein lies my discontent and the answer to it. Can I become a complete person on my own? Do I really need friends close by to talk to and share companionship with? Can I just write and sing alone, with no feedback and no synergy to move the processes forward?
I say the answer is no. I certainly need people. But maybe I should look for people who need me, rather than being concerned about the people I think I need.
The sun is lower now, almost touching the top of the least distant of the Western mountains. This hillside begins to be filled with voices and friendly conversation. If I were a different person, I might try starting a conversation or joining one. But people don't come here to meet new friends, and it is too late to begin the hike I was contemplating when I stopped here. My own friends wouldn't like me hiking alone in the dark, so to my house I go, wishing it were home.