"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

in Arizona, there seems to be a general habit for Arizonians to brag about Arizona sunsets. "we have the best sunsets," they say. "better than anywhere, hands down." this is an indisputable fact to my Arizonian friends - and there's no way that they were going to hear some Utah girl who has seen very little of the world contest this fact. but, when i got back to Salt Lake and i was driving downtown along Wasatch Road on the east bench, and the city, mountains, and setting sun were before me, i had to disagree that the best sunsets are in Arizona. the sunsets in Salt Lake are incredible. how come i didn't know that with such surety before? how come i could not give concrete testimony of the beauty of Utah sunsets? why is this not a Utah claim, like green jello, ice cream, and Jericho Road are? i determined that it isn't because Utah has sub-par sunsets that no one claims "best sunsets in the world." i think it's because we aren't looking up as often as our friends down south. i think that any "best of" claims are made because people pay attention. Arizonians love their sun, and they love their sunsets. but, at any rate, i think this extends to the idea that those who are looking for the good will find it. what are we Utahns looking for in our great environment? why are our heads not turned upwards so that we can claim with confidence that we have the best sunsets?

i think there are many "best____ in the world" claims to be made. but it requires paying attention. it makes me wonder where my attention priorities are - what am i seeking and what am i finding, and where are my eyes looking? for, as i found, you can't make the claim that, "no, MY state has the best sunsets" if you never even bothered to look up.

i'll return to you somehow

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure’s lost its meaning,
I’ll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

If you find it’s me you're missing, if you’re hoping I’ll return.
To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning, and in the road I’ll stop and turn.
Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end.
And the path I’ll be retracing when I’m homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing,
I’ll be homeward bound again.

-Music and Lyrics by Marta Keen

peace

i was walking across 3rd avenue, where city buses are constantly passing by in the 100+ degree heat. in an unusual way, a lady from the seventh floor of the building to my left started yelling something to the guy on the other side of the crosswalk from me.

"hey! i'll be on the second floor!" she informed him. he looked up, but he put his hand to his ear and yelled, "what?"

the people who were stopped at the light and i were interested and concerned, so we tried to help. she yelled her announcement again, and the people in the car rolled down their windows to hear what she said. "second floor!" she yelled; "second floor?" he said, holding up two fingers; "second floor," said the people in the car and i, simultaneously with him and i held up two fingers. with his hand still raised, he turned towards our voices and saw me, crossing the crosswalk and holding up two fingers - and for a split second, two strangers were creating a serendipitous exchange of symbols. we were giving each other the "peace" sign.

we smiled, i passed, and was immediately confronted by a "sign up here to legalize medical marijuana" lobbyist. people, just because i am flashing "peace" signs at people doesn't mean that i embrace all that the hippie movement has to offer. i have to draw that line somewhere. but, man, for that moment in the middle of Phoenix on the 3rd avenue crosswalk, there was peace, bro. there was peace.

the common quotes of late

"there's nothing like cutting a pineapple on the top of a mountain...in the dark... when you don't know how to cut a pineapple" (said Mark Eliason with lots of enthusiasm as he unpacked a whole pineapple on the top of a mountain and prepared to cut it.)

"check out Anderson's tweets from Africa on his blog" (said CNN on the bottom of the screen. first of all, i love the evolution of language - tweets and blogs. well, evolution of technology. and i also love this quote because i love Anderson Cooper - he is my news-crush.)

"gosh, she is so lovely - sigh" (said my thoughts after seeing wedding pictures on facebook of a girl i know. facebook can help your self-esteem when someone posts on your wall but can also remind you how much you try not to envy those people who always look like models.)

"you are beautiful, but i still can't afford you" (said Joseph, a Special Needs ward member, who means he can't afford marriage. i promise. we had to double-check what he meant by that. but thanks for the compliment Joe.)

"and he sweats like a Weed too" (said Trevor Weed, my cousin, about his little baby who carries the family curse of sweating like the dickens. and in Phoenix - oh boy. buckle up. but little Ben is so cute and "very advanced," which is the new phrase one uses to compliment new parents on the achievements of their babies.)

"Sotomayor is a racist...a reverse racist" (said parrots of conservative talk radio)

"Gah!" (said Emma, my niece, with a lot of vigor. i totally agree.)

"i think they're both lying" (said the court clerk of our awfully boring case today as she leaned back in her chair to file her nail while pictures of kittens flickered on her screensaver and i determined never to practice personal injury law and turned to my blog to record this moment. well at least i know what i don't want to do now, i thought dryly. that narrows it down.)

i am beginning to think

that logical or not, love must have a measure of faith in it. the more the better.

and today i realized again that a grand piano just sounds so nice. don't you think it is superior to all other pianos? there's just nothing like it.

and today i learned how delightful it can be when you arrive home and there is a little dog, wagging its tail at you when you walk in the door. it just feels good. i have to admit, i have had a hard time relating to dog people in recent years, but i am breaking through little by little. i like this whole feeling wanted and appreciated just for showin' up. and dogs, i realized, always want to play. and they will always play - on your schedule and at your will. this is not always the case with humans. and so, to this i say: "good dog, charlie." what a good friend.

answer me this

how much logic is in love?

"i'm five years too old to lie to myself and call it honor."

i didn't know The Great Gatsby had a plot. at least the plot was NOT the emphasis in my English class almost ten years ago. my teacher had me so focused on the tone of the words, on the metaphors, and the elusive nature of the characters that i plumb forgot there was supposed to be a storyline.

"there is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind."

this time 'round, i was positively engrossed in the story and madly in love with the language. perhaps it was the training my teacher gave me, or maybe it was because i'm now ten years older that these things had significance this time around.

(as some of you know from a previous post, cath committed me to read The Great Gatsby again. which reminds me, cath, i have your copy at my house in Salt Lake.)

really, everyone should read this book again if they read it as a teenager. i knew nothing concerning the dimensions of life and love when i first read it. i hardly know anything now. but, i can say that i recognize a far greater and far more complicated world than i did when i was in high school.

"tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther . . . And one fine morning ----"

i didn't understand daisy my first time through. by now, i've met people like daisy - charming, mysterious, unsure, and yet they still thrive. and how could she say that she loved gatsby AND loved tom? why wasn't it as simple as gatsby getting daisy and happily ever after? how can someone love two people at once - and still not be sure who she truly loves? this was my simple teenage perspective. now i can see that the human heart doesn't always know what it wants and what it feels and what it felt in the past. it doesn't always work in absolutes. it rarely, if ever, works in absolutes.

"so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

i need to find another book that keeps me so engaged. i keep trying to get into the list of classics knowing that it will mold me into a better reader and prepare me for things that i really want to read. i brought Plato's Republic and Austen's Emma with me to AZ. sigh. i'm afraid I will be bored by these selections - although, that could be my teenage mind talking again. i brought them as my healthy vegetable reading selections to balance out any candy media i may consume. i'd much rather read sensational things these days - like the things that modernists and post-modernists write about. i started Emma, though, and it seems like it is gonna be a good read. it's embarrassing that a girl my age hasn't even read such an Austen classic, so that should be incentive enough to pick it up.

if anyone has suggestions of sensational reading even, and maybe especially, if it's your own writing, send it my way.

Gwendolen: "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train." The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde