Mountains

There's something about mountains that affects my soul. I feel more real--which is ironic since I'm convinced it's their theatrics, their nonchalant splendor, that gets me. Whether haloed or robed, highlighted or stained, they perform nightly, but act like they don't know we're watching.

Colorado doles out beauty to any location that wants it, carelessly tossing a mountain or a stream next to a Conoco, wasting surplus views on grocery stores patrons or school bus parking lots or nobody at all.

In Utah stark wedges of earth rose like trolls from barren ground. Renee called them dead giants. They were aloof and rebuffed the communities around them. In Arizona, cliffs showed off scarlet wherever vegetation ran out. Seattle's peacock hills drew worshippers in with malachite peaks against sapphire lakes. And they all act like it's normal to be so magnificent.

A couple of weeks ago we witnessed a regular night on Mt Shasta, who pretended that her majesty was off the cuff. Stars perched in layers so thick they tumbled all the way to the horizon just to be seen. Their light traveled across eons and miles to converge on that spot, at that moment, just like it might do any other night. Nothing especially unique in a dozen shooting stars on the moonless screen. The mountain, comforting and lethal, rose up behind us in the spot she's always been. Reflected starlight colored her periwinkle and us awestruck. She acted like she didn't notice.

It was all so regular, so typical. Just like a thousand people before us, we sat on the side of the mountain and drank watery hot chocolate that I didn't mix well enough. Every hour or so, more hikers would arrive, their crunching tires on gravel interrupted our laughter, or our silence. The wind chilled us as normal. The trees stood silhoutted over the valley as scheduled.

The mountain leaned in to listen, but pretended that she wasn't eavesdropping on our stories. She acted like she didn't notice that, nestled at her feet, I was core-tranquil with fewer loose ends and less confusion. Or that Angela was floating in awe. She pretended not to see that our friend Bubba, who always looked soul-cramped and out of place in Dallas, finally looked like a 3D version himself in her presence. She just sat there, as she always does, ignoring her audience. What a diva.

pics 2

Here are a few more pictures:
1. My fabulous friend Lori in Seattle
2. Me in front of one the gardens at the Salt Lake Mormon temple
3. Fog in Monterey, CA
4. Lions on the facade of the Joseph Smith Memorial building in Salt Lake
5. Our sweet friend Emi between Donna Renee & me in Las Vegas