I don’t know about you, but Daylight Savings Time throws me off for a few days at least. Bleary-eyed and foggy-minded I got through the day yesterday. This morning I stepped outside to grab something out of my truck and was drawn to a surreal glow past the garage door. Stepping out into the morning light, I saw a sunrise that made the discomfort of adjusting to Daylight Savings Time well worth it.
Observing the dawn this morning, an hour earlier than I’ve been accustom, and with a soft cloud cover absorbing and reflecting the colors of the rising sun took my breath away. Blending and glowing pinks, reds and oranges, I experienced a gift to be truly revered. Behind me to the west, the Ochre Mountains basked proudly in the bright sunlight from the east, their snowy faces bright and sharp. The miracles of this world are abundant, and honestly, looking at something as majestic as a mountain is kind of a slam dunk. If you can’t appreciate the beauty and magnificence of a mountain, well, I can only conclude you’re not looking very hard.
Later, on my drive into work, the sun had risen and dissipated the ethereal spectrum of color. The Wasatch Mountains stood proudly, cloaked in snow. I know that it is only a few weeks before we watch that white blanket inch its way to the mountains’ peaks, replaced by grasses and vegetation reborn. The Summer Mountains greenery will relinquish itself to Autumn’s colors, fiery reds and auburns streaking across the mountainside.Consider this. Our Source, our Creator, our God not only blessed us with an enormous display of beauty that is a mountain, but also has the power to change the color of its face each and every season.
I call that a miracle.
Wildly Enthusiastic Writing
Your little will can't do anything. It takes Great Determination. Great Determination doesn't mean just you making an effort. It means the whole universe is behind you and with you - the birds, trees, sky, moon and ten directions.
Until one is committed,
there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back,
always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills
countless ideas and endless plans:
That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner of
unforeseen incidents and meetings and
material assistance which no man
could have dreamed would come his way.
there is hesitancy,
the chance to draw back,
always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills
countless ideas and endless plans:
That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner of
unforeseen incidents and meetings and
material assistance which no man
could have dreamed would come his way.
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Poetic Liberation
This poem found itself to me in the most amazing circumstance. I was at a restless point in my life, feeling my inner poet clammering for richer expression. My husband and I were painting a home and there were papers scattered everywhere that we were using to tape off the windows and cabinets. I looked down, and the following poem was printed in the paper. It was the winning poem in a local high school poetry contest. It was written by Grace Reitz, from Viewmont High School, whom I've never met, but would guess is on to great things by this time. Thank you Grace.
Give poetry free will.
Do not organize it by category or length
Do not force it into rows if it is unwilling
Do not amputate its limbs to make it fit
Let poetry stretch all of its sinews and syllables
Let it heave and writhe and roll off the table if it wants to
Don't read it monotone, robotic, or cold metallic
Let it breathe
Don't polish until it does not offend
Let poetry be vulgar
Encourage it to be impolite
Give it reason to hate, and ability to love
Let it slog and drool and make your skin crawl
Don't let ignorant eyes push it around
Stand up for it, fight for it, cherish it
Give it freedom to take form
Let it roll over your subconscious
Let it mosey, or gallop if it wants
Digest it, crave it, become addicted
Don't trust those whose knowledge
comes from dissecting poetic cadavers
Find a live specimen and just observe
Let it be your religion, your language, your soul
Give poetry free will.
Do not organize it by category or length
Do not force it into rows if it is unwilling
Do not amputate its limbs to make it fit
Let poetry stretch all of its sinews and syllables
Let it heave and writhe and roll off the table if it wants to
Don't read it monotone, robotic, or cold metallic
Let it breathe
Don't polish until it does not offend
Let poetry be vulgar
Encourage it to be impolite
Give it reason to hate, and ability to love
Let it slog and drool and make your skin crawl
Don't let ignorant eyes push it around
Stand up for it, fight for it, cherish it
Give it freedom to take form
Let it roll over your subconscious
Let it mosey, or gallop if it wants
Digest it, crave it, become addicted
Don't trust those whose knowledge
comes from dissecting poetic cadavers
Find a live specimen and just observe
Let it be your religion, your language, your soul
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