Saturday, October 23, 2010

Utah Canyonlands Trip

We saw things we've never seen before. It's embarrassing to admit this since we have lived in Utah so much of our lives. Why have we never seen this before? Hopefully it's not the last time.

It was a similar experience when we visited LDS historical sites. Why doesn't every member go out of their way to see this at least once in their lives? Palmyra and Navoo should be like Mecca.

Zion is amazing! Standing at the base of 1000 foot vertical cliffs...! It's difficult to depict in a single image. Click on the following to see it full-size.


That's Carolyn at the bottom. I'm standing behind a sheet of dripping water from the "Weeping Rocks."

Zion is eminently available just by stepping out of your car and looking up.

Bryce, on the other hand, is much less available that way. You have to walk to it. I want to come down here again and spend days just hiking the trails through the fairy land. Carolyn says I have to bring Lawrence with me -- or someone. Besides her.



I would have had Carolyn take a picture of me standing on top of it, except for....


Glen Canyon Dam's a bit intimidating for someone like me who suffers from vertigo. I had to sneak the camera over the edge and take a picture straight down without actually looking myself.


Just looking at the picture gives me the willies.

You can both drive over and walk over this bridge, as seen from the top of the dam.


We decided not to walk over it. (Driving was bad enough.)

Huge Lake Powell, created by the dam, has more coast line than the Pacific coast of the US. It's difficult to get a feeling for it from any single picture. It was considered an environmental disaster in the 60's. You don't hear anything about that today, and you won't hear about it from any guide, history, or presentation here, either.


We drove rather quickly through Monument Valley.


Mexican Hat. Photographer: Carolyn Callister Head
This one's going to find it's way onto our wall someday.

Our brand new, luxury, gold Taurus went over 100,000 miles in Blanding.



Our final (and my true) destination: The only Utah temple I hadn't ever been to:


Monticello Temple

Sunday, August 8, 2010

And then the angel spake, saying... (Lorna Learns a Lesson)

[Taken from The Only Gift, © 2010. Used by permission.]

Raymond opened his hand and revealed a luminous golf-ball-sized orb cradled in his palm. It's luster exceeded Raymond's own and it seemed to have no definite surface.

“Oh!” said Lorna, wide-eyed. “It's beautiful! What is it?” She reached out to touch it.

“It's a universe,” said Raymond.

“What does that mean?” She reached as far as she could, but her fingers didn't seem to be getting any closer. She withdrew her hand, examined it and frowned slightly.

“You can't touch it,” Raymond was saying. “The space-time continuum's a bit contorted.”

“But what is it?”

“A universe.”

“So you said. What's it mean?”

“It means it's a universe.”

Lorna glowered at him from beneath her well-groomed eyebrows. He grinned.

“A universe,” she said. “Like ours. Only you can hold it in your hand.”

“Like ours,” he agreed, “a tenth of a nanosecond after the big bang.”

“If you say so. Where did it come from?”

“It's part of me.”

“What part?”

“It's a particle of my body. It's one of my cells – like the cells in your body.”

“You mean your body is composed of millions of these?”

“You've got more cells than that.”

“I've never counted them. Billions?”

“Try trillions.”

“Trillions,” said Lorna. “OK. Suppose, hypothetically, that you're not pulling my leg. That lovely little bauble contains all the matter and energy of an entire universe?”

He nodded.

“And your body consists of trillions of them.”

He nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Now we've got that straight. With all that mass, why're you not creating a black hole where you stand?”

“Very good question.”

“And your very good answer?”

“First, I can control it better than that.”

“Naturally.”

“Second.... Well, it's a bit technical.”

“Try me.”

“OK. Gravity is a multi-dimensional field. Each higher dimension dilutes its strength by many orders of magnitude. Your unified field theorists calculate that it must be operating over at least eleven dimensions to be as weak as it is.”

“Eleven.”

“At least.”

“Spacial.”

“So they say.”

“Uh, huh. I can't comprehend a fourth spacial dimension, so it's no difficulty at all not being able to comprehend seven more.”

“My body's a nineteen dimensional object.”

“Why not.”

“That dilutes gravity's strength to where it nearly controls itself.”

“Perfectly clear.”

“This little ball is simply one cell of my body that has been compressed down to six dimensions.”

“Obviously. Why's it just sitting there?”

“I'm constraining it.”

“Of course. What if you weren't?”

“It would expand at the speed of light, annihilate Earth in a few milliseconds, the solar system in a few hours, this galaxy in a few hundred thousand years, and continue wrecking havoc in the universe for billions of years.”

“Sounds undesirable. I assume you won't do that.”

“Actually, I couldn't.” He closed his hand and the orb disappeared. “There are forces beyond me who are protecting Earth.”

“That's a relief. So it's just a jewel. You can't do anything with it.”

“Except create a universe.”

“How? They won't let you.”

“I'll create it somewhere else.”

“There's a somewhere else?”

“Lots of somewhere elses.”

“Naturally. The universe is not universal. And I suppose you can visit these somewhere elses any time you want.”

“Pretty much.”

“And you're free to create universes there. Full size. No one complains.”

“No problem.”

“Sure. How?”

“I'd move the orb to a plane in a different dimension. One that doesn't overlap this universe. Or any other universe. Even gravitationally.”

“Tricky. How would you find such a place?”

“Not tricky at all. There's an infinite number of them.”

“Naturally. How many universes have you created?”

“None, so far. Not permanently. We talk to people. See what they've done. Work with them. Play around with parameters. Get advice. Copy things we like. Great fun. We'll settle on a design one of these days.”

“Sure. Give yourself a billion or two years to get the hang of it. Who's 'We'?”

“My wife and I.”

“You've got a wife?”

“Eloise. You've never met her? She spends her free time nest planning. She's the artist. She'll probably create our first universe herself. Without my help.”

Lorna pursed her lips. “You know, some of that I almost believe. I've seen you do amazing things. You're gods. Two gods.”

“Hardly.”

“Why do you hang out with us?”

“You're important. All our projects are important. One of Father's children is more important to Him than any or all universes.”

Lorna rolled her eyes.

“Secondly, we're not gods.”

“You create universes.”

“Your point?”

“You can create trillions of universes.”

“That would deplete our bodies a little.”

Lorna giggled. “Do all cosmics have bodies like that?”

“Yes.”

“And all released luesenes become cosmics when they resurrect?”

“Just as you will,” said Raymond.

“Spare me.”

“You don't want to?”

“Absolutely not!”

“What kind of a body do you want?”

Lorna didn't have to think long. “One just like this one, except that I want it to be healthy, beautiful, and eternally young.”

“You're describing the kind of body received by Father's least worthy children.”

“Perfect fit.”

“One would think you mean that. Lorna, you're a mortal luesene! Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah. It means I'm blessed – far above my worth.”

Raymond shrugged. “That's true enough. For all of us. OK, when it comes your time, you'll get the body you want. But don't get too smug about your current modest body. It's composed of tightly encapsulated packets of incredible energy, relatively speaking.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know Einstein's energy equation?”

“E=mc2? Of course. Everybody knows that.”

“And you weigh... what? 50 kilo?”

“120 pounds,” she said.

“OK, 54. Plug that into Einstein's equation. Then compare the results with the known yield of nuclear weapons. If all the energy of your body were to be suddenly released, it would be like hundreds of America's largest nuclear bombs going off at once. Or dozens of Russia's. It would wipe out northern California and probably plunge the world into nuclear winter.”

Lorna was finally silent and wide-eyed.

“You've already got a powerful body,” continued Raymond. “And that would be another choice you might have, a bit better than the comfortable, beautiful, young body of the least worthy. Honorable but not fully dedicated people will get the comfortable, beautiful, young body but will also be able to access its power. Not quite cosmics, but much above the dishonorable. Anyway, in mortality, the body doesn't suddenly give up all its energy. These packets are tight! And are held together by strong forces. Scientists in your world are able to free only a tiny portion of this energy from a small set of elements. The 'universe' packets in my body are also tight and they are held together by forces a few orders of magnitude stronger.”

“Are there higher bodies than yours?”

“Many.”

“What are they composed of?”

“You mean like Father?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let's explain it this way. Scientists in your world – both planes – have characterized the universe down to 10-43 seconds after the big bang, 10-36 meters in diameter. That's a particle smaller than anything that could be seen in your most powerful microscopes, much smaller even than the cells in my body. Earlier and smaller than that...? Well, they know of no laws of physics that give a clue as to what the universe was like then.”

“What a surprise. But you know.”

“Well, some scientists theorize the universe could have started infinitesimally small.”

“10-36 isn't infinitesimal enough?”

“We're talking infinitesimal.”

“OK,” said Lorna, shrugging.

“And those scientists are right.”

“Who'd of guessed it? So the universe did start out as an infinitesimal.” She thought for a second. “And are you saying that God's body is composed of these infinitesimals?”

Raymond nodded.

“Packed infinitesimally close, I presume.”

“Insightful,” he said.

“That's true?!”

“Your words.”

“But that means His body is composed of infinite mass and energy!”

“And complexity,” he added.

She stared.

“Stunning, isn't it.” He grinned.

“Terrifying,” she said. “I'm not sure I can ever talk to Him again. Even in hallucination.”

“You'll get used to it. It's reality. It's the way things are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take this universe. You find it so amazing. The Hubble telescope is going to reveal secrets that will astound humanity. Released level one scientists are following its results as closely as the mortals because they think it may help reveal the secrets of far-jumping. But the universe is a vaporous and tenuous thing. Relatively small bits of mass and energy, like this...” He opened his hand and the orb reappeared. “...spread out over a volume a few billion light-years in diameter. It gets its stability from its size. What happens in one place scarcely affects the rest of it. But, locally, in any given small area, it's fragile.”

“But why does it exist? As an incubator for earths?”

“There's only one earth.”

“What?!”

“OK. Let me restate. There are trillions of earths. Trillions of trillions. I don't know how many. But each has its own universe. There's only one in this universe.”

“One? Why all the wasted space?”

“It's not wasted.”

“It's not?”

“No. Look. This earth has already emitted tens of millions of cosmics, myself included. In the near future I'm told it will emit billions, yourself included. Lorna! Sh! Don't say it!”

He touched her slightly open lips with his finger.

“Our primary job, as current cosmics, is to help nurture this huge set of emerging new cosmics. That's what I'm doing now. With you.”

He looked at her pointedly. She rolled her eyes.

“All of you,” he continued, “will have dramatic new powers you won't know what to do with nor know how to handle. New cosmics are like toddlers. They have to be watched constantly. Otherwise we've got the cosmic equivalent of smashed china, deleted word-processing files, speaker wires pulled off the amplifier, Mommy's watch flushed down the toilet, and, of even more concern, the risk of them falling into the swimming pool, running out into traffic, or ingesting cleaning solvents from under the sink. The house has to be baby-proofed and it's best to shut them up in a place full of brightly colored toys that fit together in interesting ways and produce intriguing sounds and flashing lights. I assure you, this universe is none too big to provide such controlled environments for billions of newly minted, half-baked cosmics. Present company not excepted.”

Lorna was laughing.

“The universe is already lighting up like a fireworks display,” he continued. “In a few million years, the light from this display will start arriving at Hubble.”

“OK,” she laughed. “Are you a toddler?”

“It's not been that long ago. I could tell you stories! But now I'm more like a grade-schooler. I can leave home once in a while for education. I can watch the babies, change their diapers, feed them, play with them, keep them from killing each other. I'm not quite up to the full, near-adult, baby-sitting qualification of a teenager. In fact, I still need baby-sitting myself. But I can help.”

Lorna was still giggling.

“Are you still worried about having a cosmic body?” asked Raymond.

“Maybe not,” she laughed. “I feel quite... toddlerish.”

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Claire Full of Suprises #2


Jameson got a hair cut. He now looks like a little boy. Is he still as cute?

The jury is still out on that.


Meanwhile, however, we oo'd and ah'd about how different he looks. He's not the same little boy. Who is the little guy running around our feet? He seems to know us. He runs around the house as though he knows where he's going and how to most effectively get into trouble.

We just don't know him.

And then we notice Claire crying.

"What's wrong?" we ask.

"Since Jameson got his hair cut, nobody loves him!" she sobs.

We found out that we simply cannot make such comments. She either breaks down crying, or she gets mad at us. She does it with her parents, too, we notice.

Claire Full of Suprises


The other day (June 21st) I did my morning constitutional run around the base of Grandeur Peak. A half hour up the side and a half hour back down -- a respectable single day's workout for which I was well equipped with walking sticks and detachable spikes to prevent slipping.

This is a beautiful time of the year. Everything is green and the wild flowers are a profuse delight. In a few weeks, everything'll be brown and dead -- this being Utah and all. I wondered if Claire would enjoy it. We like (and she likes) to do something together every day she's with us.

How to get her up on the mountain? The last few times I've tried to take her geocaching with me, she's been decidedly unenthusiastic about even the idea.

"Would you like to go on a picnic with me, Sweetheart? There're beautiful flowers and a most delightful view."

I was proud of my cleverness. It worked, too.


She loved it, enthralled by the green lushness, the beautiful flowers, and the ever broadening gorgeous perspective on the world. We found a shaded place to sit on a large towel and eat our lunch and she sidled up close to me for stability since we were on the side of a mountain.

"This is just right!" she said. "It's fun and it doesn't cost anything. We have to do this when the cousins come in August."


She wasn't particularly thrilled when I pointed out that, by August, the only thing living here would be the scrub oak.

She wanted to climb continuously higher and she scrambled ahead of me, often on all fours, chattering animatedly the whole time while I huffed and puffed trying to keep up with her. Soon we were beyond the half-hour point I had reached earlier that morning, but now I had neither walking sticks nor spikes. I was not expecting to come up this far nor into an area this rugged. She was fully equipped with flip-flops.

I tried to talk her into believing that we were amply high enough, but I was unconvincing. "Let's just go a little higher," she said. I seldom say no to anything she suggests.

But this time I had to lay down the law. "See those rocks up there?" I said. "That's as far as we should go."

"OK," she agreed.

Soon we were at the rocks. "OK," I said. "This is as far as we go."

"No, it isn't," she said. "You said those rocks up there." She pointed to a huge outcropping way above where we were.


On we went. Soon we were higher than I have ever been on that trail and before we reached the outcropping the trail petered out completely. We continued climbing and finally stood on the rocks.

Then she was freaked out a little, realizing we were higher than she has ever been on the side of a steep mountain. She almost immediately realized that getting down was harder than getting up. But she followed me down, slipping and sliding and whimpering slightly. I was slipping and sliding, too, and was amused.

Half way down, she decided she needed to call Mommy, which she did, chattering with her for a while and feeling much better.

She was very proud of herself. "We got almost all the way to the very top!" she told people.

"Not by a long-shot," I tried to tell her, but she believes her eyes over accepting my words.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

What am I to do with you, little boy?!

I brought in the mail one day a couple of weeks before General Conference. It included our tax return. We were supposed to review it and approve it for filing. How on earth does our simple financial situation warrant a half-inch stack of paper? It always alarms and confuses me. I stood at the kitchen counter and examined it trying to understand it. I looked at each page and tried to figure out what it meant and why it was relevant.

Finally, after several minutes, I understood it as well as when I started.

Then I looked up and saw Jamison sitting right in the middle of the kitchen table. He had spread various things around him and had a salt and pepper shaker in each hand. Everything was covered with salt and pepper. It looked like a dirty snow storm. And he accomplished all this right in front of me while I was facing him.

I hit myself in the forehead and said, "What am I to do with you, little boy?" Then I said, "Your grandma is going to be so mad at me."

Sure enough, a few minutes later when I was in the middle of cleaning the mess up and Jamison was trying his persistent best to climb back up onto the table, in walked Grandma. She took one look at us, hit herself in the forehead and asked, "What am I to do with you two guys."

Fast forward a couple of days. I was coming out of the Bountiful Temple after a multi-hour temple meditation and worship session. The topic for this meditation turned out to be the Invictus Response. You know: discovering that the Lord is the master of my fate and the pilot of my soul -- or rediscovering it or discovering it for the first or something. Anyway, I was pleased at the insight and quite proud of my spiritual progress.

I came out of the dressing room -- or I tried to come out -- and went around the corner just in time to see a man turn around and start a conversation with an ordinance worker. The ordinance worker was outside the dressing room and I was inside, and this man stood right in the middle of the entrance way facing out. You couldn't get around him without pushing him aside with an "Excuse me!" which I didn't do.

The Master of my Fate had placed me in this inconvenient situation and I was completely OK with that and I responded with absolute patience -- with silent absolute patience -- quite unusual for me. And I was proud of my advanced spiritual development. I was almost a finished work, shiny, beautiful to look at, my calling and election nearly made sure, the second comforter ready to settle around me and embrace me with arms of love and joy.

All I did was sidle up close to the man so that, as soon as he finished his discussion, he would turn around and immediately bump into me and recognize how severely he had inconvenienced me. And I was proud of the diplomatic way I was handling the situation and feeling quite righteous.

And it worked out just as I engineered it. He finished his conversation, turned around, bumped into me immediately, was appropriately apologetic, and disappeared into the dressing room.

And it was Elder Richard G. Scott.

I stood there for a second, then hurried after the ordinance worker who had been talking to him.

"Was that Elder Scott?!" I asked.

"Yes, it was," he answered.

Oh.

I didn't feel so righteous anymore.

In fact, I seemed to hear the Lord saying, "What am I to do with you, my son?"

My response was, "Well, my Lord. If you'd have let me recognize Elder Scott from the back side, I'd have treated him differently. I'd have stood back and given him room enough to turn around and perhaps he would have favored me with one of his loving smiles I've seen in the Salt Lake Temple."

And I seemed to hear the Lord say, "My son, when you eventually give yourself to me to be the pilot of your soul, you will treat everyone you meet as though they were all Elder Scott. You are still a work in progress, my son, with much left to do."

And as I stood there in the temple being chastised by the Spirit, I realized that our infinite Heavenly Father possesses infinite patience and he will continue to work with me and with others of us who are still works in progress for as long as it takes.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Tinga (a Mexican Recipe)

Continuing the series of delicious, easy, crock-pot, conforming meals at the Jeff and Amy house, we have "Tinga". Which means... who knows? (Amy says it's not normally made in a crock-pot, but it couldn't have been better made any other way! And it's much easier in crock-pot.)

In crock-pot:

Bunch of pieces of boneless chicken (>= 5 breasts)
Lot of onions (5+?) sliced (not chopped) previously sauteed on stove top
Generous amounts of garlic also previously sauteed
Chicken boullion(?) to taste (generous)
1-3 t chopped chipotle (a pepper) (canned) to taste
1/4 cup veggie broth

Cook on low 6 hours

Shred the chicken. Remove most of excess juice. Taste juice to see if it's to taste. Add components that may need enhancement.

Continue cooking for another hour.

Serve on tostadas liberally sladdered with sour cream.

Delicious!

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Jeff (and Amy's) Gluten-free Pancakes

Jeff's Sat a.m. pancakes (OK, Amy says she found the recipe):

In food processor (!) blend

0.4 C Gluten-free oats
0.5 C cottage cheese
Some Splenda brown sugar
1T oil
1t vanilla
pinch salt
2 eggs

Jeff quadruples or quintuples the recipe

Fry

Serve with fruit stuff made from various food-processor-processed frozen fruits and berries.
Peanut butter also helps.
Mushed bananas are a great addition.
For best results, swim in whipping cream.