Gilead

 Last week I finished reading Marilynne Robinson's exquisite novel, Gilead yet again. This is a book to be savored. A beautiful story told by the Reverend John Ames through a series of letters to his young son as he contemplates his life, his history, and the future of his wife and son. Robinson's brilliant observations and lyrical prose set this novel apart from so many other contemporary writings. Her knowledge of the relationship between fathers and sons, as well as her deep understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ is remarkable. This is one of my favorite books and after finishing the final chapter, I felt as if saying good-bye to an old friend. However, I'm sure it won't be long I pick it up once again to be tutored by the ever wise, yet humble, John Ames.

Here are a few excerpts that I found particularly noteworthy during this reading:

". . . it's your existence I love you for, mainly.  Existence seems to me now the most remarkable thing that could ever be imagined.  I'm about to put on imperishability.  In an instant, in the twinkling of an eye . . .  The twinkling of an eye. That is the most wonderful expression.  I've thought from time to time it was the best thing in life, that little incandescence you see in people when the charm of a thing strikes them, or the humor of it. The light of the eyes rejoiceth the heart.  That's a fact."

 "Our dream of life will end as dreams do end, abruptly and completely, when the sun rises, when the light comes.  And we will think, All that fear and all that grief were about nothing.  But that cannot be true.  I can't believe we will forget our sorrows altogether.  That would mean forgetting that we had lived, humanly speaking.  Sorrow seems to me to be a great part of the substance of human life. . . ."

"This is an important thing, which I have told many people, and which my father told me, and which his father told him.  When you encounter another person, when you have dealings with anyone at all, it is as if a question is being put to you.  So you must think, What is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation?  If you confront insult or antagonism, your first impulse will be to respond in kind.  But if you think, as it were, This is an emissary sent from the Lord, and some benefit is intended for me . . . You are free to act by your own lights.  You are freed at the same time of the impulse to hate or resent that person.  He would probably laugh at the thought that the Lord sent him to you for your benefit (and his), but that is the perfection of the disguise, his own ignorance of it."

"In every important way we are such secrets from each other, and I do believe that there is a separate language in each of us, also a separate aesthetics and a separate jurisprudence.  Every single one of us is a little civilization built on the ruins of any number of preceding civilizations, but with our own variant notions of what is beautiful and what is acceptable-- which, I hasten to add, we generally do not satisfy and by which we struggle to live.  We take fortuitous resemblances among us to be actual likeness, because those around us have also fallen heir to the same customs, trade in the same coin, acknowledge, more or less, the same notions of decency and sanity.  But all that really just allows us to coexist with the inviolable, untraversable, and utterly vast spaces between us."

as of late

This poor, neglected blog.  I begin to feel the longing to write again, a gentle tug pulling me back into the world of writing.  Hopefully I still remember how to write, how to capture the moments and feelings that are so dear to me, even if they flit in and out of my mind so quickly and grasping them to put on paper almost seems an exercise in futility.

After dropping Caroline off at her friend's this evening and making my way back to Wasatch, I was greeted by one of our breathtaking sunsets . . . the entire eastern sky above Mt. Olympus was painted pink and the western sky blazed of winter rose and orange.  It was simply stunning, and true to form, I suddenly stopped the car in the middle of the street (making sure no one was behind me) and jumped out and took a picture with my phone, obviously not capturing the scenery as lovely as I saw it, but nonetheless a moment I needed to keep because it made me write again:

This evening's sunset reminded me of the brilliant "winter wonderland" I stumbled across a few weeks ago as Liza and I were heading up Big Cottonwood early on a Saturday morning for ski team.  As we approached the meadow just east of the Spruces we were greeted by a scene like no other . . . the trees, the ground, and every branch on every bush glistened in the morning sun like crystal.  It was simply one of the most beautiful sites I'd ever seen, so of course, I stopped and took another phone picture:

Here are another couple phone pics from the last week.  I suppose I take these pics when I'm at my happiest, when mother nature gives me an unexpected surprise, a gift, to remind me that life is good . . . all you have to do is take a moment and look around:

 getting out of the smog and taking the kids and friends sledding in BC

getting myself out of the inversion for a hike up and around the reservoir

Happy New Year's Eve!!  Who knew we'd be playing tennis outside on December 31st . . . while the big kids don't mind hitting the slopes, the little girls and Lucy thought it would be more fun to go to the park :-).

of human bondage

I read this book YEARS ago, and just finished it again yesterday.  It now ranks among my top five novels of all time. Truly a masterpiece of brilliant proportions with power to stun readers with universal emotion and truth.  I was moved to tears as I read Maugham's final words - grateful for the heart wrenching and passionate life experience of Phillip Carey.

The writing is fascinating from beginning to end, and oh how I wish I could take raw emotion, regret, faith, sorrow, joy, pain, idealism, pride, happiness, disillusionment, beauty, love, irrationality, hope . . .  and capture it on paper. Somerset Maugham did just that almost a hundred years ago in this observant classic which continues to haunt our innermost fears and desires, and persuade readers to question the purpose of living in a world that at times seems hopeless.

Of the several dog-eared pages of my book, one passage in the final chapters stands out as Phillip faces the handicap that he has struggled against for so long . . .

He accepted the deformity which had made life so hard for him; he knew that it had warped his character, but now he saw also that by reason of it he had acquired that power of introspection which had given him so much delight.  Without it he would never have had his keen appreciation of beauty, his passion for art and literature, and his interest in the varied spectacle of life.  The ridicule and contempt which had so often been heaped upon him had turned his mind inward and called for those flowers which he felt would ever lose their fragrance.  Then he saw that normal was the rarest thing in the world.  Everyone had some defect, of body or of mind:  he thought of all the people he had known (the whole world was like a sick-house, and there was no rhyme or reason in it), he saw a long procession, deformed in body and warped in mind, some with illness of the flesh, weak hearts or weak lungs, and some with illness of the spirit, languor of will, or a craving for liquor.  At this moment he could feel a holy compassion for them all.  They were the helpless instruments of blind chance.  He could pardon Griffiths for his treachery and Mildred for the pain she had caused him.  They could not help themselves.  The only reasonable thing was to accept the good of men and be patient with their faults.  The words of the dying God crossed his memory:

Forgive them, for they know not what they do.

A MONTH . . . really??

Freak, it's been over a month since my last post . . . so many thoughts, ideas, and moments to record.  I think the lack of writing and expressing myself on this blog is leading to some serious depression!  OK, it's not that bad, but the past few weeks I've felt a deep need for an outlet and I've missed writing.

Ahhh, how good did that feel to write one small, measly paragraph?

So, I am back.  Clean slate, new template and tonight I will finally remove the spring pics, add some fun summer pics, and if I I'm really ambitious, maybe another post :-).

I've missed writing

I really need to find time to write, but what happens is I open my blog and begin reading everyone else's blogs because it's been forever and I love catching up, and then I'm too tired to even think about putting one or two of the thousands of thoughts bouncing around in my head down on paper (computer) . . . UGH, so many things to write about, so LITTLE time and energy to do it.

I will be a better blogger, for my sanity, I will write!!!  But it's too late now, but I did actually get around to a Halloween post, which is progress.

Breaking my Blog silence . . .

Who am I kidding - not blog? I think too much and I just can't NOT write when something takes place that absolutely demands my attention . . . when an evening out turns into the perfect blog posting - or maybe my evening just feels like it an episode of Seinfeld rather than a date with my husband. I'll take that back, the majority of our dates could be possible Seinfeld episodes :-).

So, our time was short for a date tonight after a day of tennis lessons, birthday parties, and a hockey game - but I was determined to make it happen because it's been three weeks since our last outing and Chris and I could use some time AWAY from the noise and chaos of the house. As much as we avoid such places with names such as "Megaplex," we took the plunge figuring that Jordan Commons was fairly close and the movie we wanted to see was there. First of all, it's been over two years, and the last time it was a really late movie with a girlfriend who was in town visiting - we walked in late, found our seats in the dark and watched a delightful movie. The time before that was with the kids for a summer matinee of "Curious George." Frankly, I avoid the place as much as possible.

Tonight it felt like entering an entirely different dimension. Um, do people really bring their dinner (let me clarify - I'm talking huge portions of french fries carried in on massive trays) in with them to watch a movie? How much are these people eating? Do these theaters always smell like fried food? Holy crap - are we the only people in the theater without a giant, 5-gallon sized bucket of popcorn - for TWO? Does anyone come to watch a movie anymore without stuffing their faces full of food? Seriously, we look a little out of place showing up with our contraband box of Dots and a water bottle. Maybe I was just in shock and couldn't experience the true depth of the movie we had chosen.

Which brings me to something I am SO passionate about - movies. If I'm going to sit in a theater with large people eating even larger portions of fried food for over 3 hours, the movie better be good. The movie was supposed to be amazing, the critics raved about it, my friends and family loved it, it was supposed to tug at your heart strings, it would make you think . . . it was supposed to be "epic!" Um, ok, great, I'll go to the "Megaplex" for epic.

Lights dim, previews begin - love the previews - that new movie with Sandra Bullock looks cute . . . movie starting . . . I'm watching . . . pretty interesting . . . ok, old dying lady is um, old . . . great, I think I'm getting something out of this, or maybe not . . . I'm still waiting . . . ok, hmmm, there was a little tidbit of wisdom . . . Is this movie Hollywood's version of "depth and feeling?" . . . . oops, I don't think I was supposed to laugh at that part . . . . um, it's starting to feel a little like Titanic and Forrest Gump rolled into one movie, . . . . oooh, Brad Pitt on a sailboat with the sunset - that was NICE . . . ok, nothing happening here - no depth, flat characters, no emotion, contrived, a little lame . . . ok, I'm REALLY getting tired of the dying old lady . . . now Chris and I are whispering lines to each other that the characters should say . . . DO NOT start laughing because the lady next to you is wiping her tears . . . suppress your laughter Julie . . . "Chris stop whispering silly lines - I'm going to burst any minute!" . . . old dying lady is on again . . . . YAWN, when is this saga going to end?? . . . sore butt, shifting my positioning for the hundredth time . . . . Do NOT laugh, it's not over yet . . . . FINALLY, the credits!. . . exit the theater (while the theme from Titanic is now playing in my mind - "near, far, wherever you are . . . ") as quick as possible, try not to laugh too loud . . . ok, can't help it, I'm CRYING, Chris is cracking up, we finally make it out the door and tears are literally rolling down my face and I seriously can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.

The movie was The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons. From now on I'm sticking to my tried and true films at the Broadway. Those movies that are filled with powerful, intelligent writing and directing. Movies that make me laugh because they are quirky and beg for laughter. Love stories that are meaningful and filled with simple, yet profound longing. Dramas that truly touch your heart and soul . . . the ones that the tears flow spontaneously because they move us so powerfully.

I don't regret going to see that movie tonight. It was fun to just be out together, view humanity, and reconnect in a way only Chris and I can . . . plus, laughing that long and hard is oh, so good for the soul :-).