Turn and Stop

Glimpse at this breathtaking moment that Jason miraculously captured with our small pink camera. He took it in the middle of our trek up Mt Timpanogos in Utah last September:

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hmm—I can almost taste that fresh morning air. Moist, clear, and rich.

The miracle is not a comment on Jason’s photography skills. He is good at taking pictures. The miracle is that:

  1. We don’t usually stop to take pictures until we reach the top. Who does that?
  2. Heavy fog and rain quickly engulfed the view for the remainder of our hike.

After that photo, we pursued the summit of the mountain as if it might run from us.  When we got there, it looked as if the summit really had run away.  The only scene was a disconcerting 10-foot view of shadowy rock out in every direction. The rest was swallowed up in thick mist. We were glad we made it there but it was not the view of triumph that we expected to soak in. No “king-of-the-mountain” moment at the top that day.

 

Timp1

Ah, what a peculiar experience…

The vista isn’t always waiting at the top. It is waiting for you to take a moment on the pathway there to turn, and to stop. 

 

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Why the title?

The quote came from a children’s book by Yuko Takao about a little mouse that goes to the concert and is filled the beautiful music there. Afterward, the music lingers and colors her world. Then she writes about it. Now it is there so she can go back and remember the experience. From there, more experiences will add colors and depth to the experience she recorded that night, making the captured moment more meaningful in the past, present, and the future.

A winter concert image from book

  I believe that one of the reasons why we write is not only to understand what we are thinking, but also to have a way to add/measure the things that are not measurable, the things that color life, the spirit that breathes life into living. More on that later though.