Wednesday, April 25, 2012

a face with a view



Less than a month from now these four will no longer be playing in a tiny kitchen to the light of a lamp.

Sichaun China. We are coming to you.

Please enjoy the original below. I, unfortunately, was unable to locate a grey sweatshirt-dress-leggings ensemble for our version. Maybe next time.


running up


Sweet Anna's been a grump these past few days, on account of two teeth trying to break though gums and make their appearance in the world. The only things that seem to make her happy/stop pulling painfully sad faces and bursting into tears every three and a half minutes has been going for rides in the stroller and hiking in the backpack.

So into the stroller she went this beautiful morning. And we were off for a run. I just so happen to live in an incredibly ideal location for strolls , surrounded by parks and at the foot of majestic mountains (try using the word majestic some time today in normal conversation with a straight face.)

One such park is a massive gully with a newly paved walkway. Whoever designed it must have been dreaming of camels, because there is maybe 5 feet of it's that flat, the rest 45 degree hills up and down. Which makes it ideal for shorter runs.

It's also great because there is hardly anyone ever on it.  I find myself setting little goals-- no walking till fence post A, look only at the beautiful Mt. Olympus and keep moving, etc-- since these hills only seem steeper when pushing an increasingly heavy baby up in front of you. It's a great way to get to know yourself. No-one's watching. No-one cares if you look cool or not. No-one needs to hear an excuse.

I was on my way back, staring up the last and definitely steepest hill, and things were going well. I love feeling my legs tingling with effort, breathing focused and sweat reflecting morning sun. My usual goal is to push through till about 20 feet past the end of the hill, then walk it off for a minute and get ready for the last hill home. But today for some reason I decided no walking. I decided it in the middle of the hill, and when the usual stop and walk mark passed, I just kept going. To my surprise, it wasn't that bad. And I had a sudden rush of really great.

I look up and see a super fit woman in her 60's biking towards me with a huge smile: "Way to go mom! Running up that hill like it was nothing! Keep it up!" And she cruised past.

Again, a rush of goodness filled me and I felt like I could do anything.

I spent the rest of the run home wondering why.

Do I really get that much from praise or encouragement? Was it that I could immediately tell she knew how hard a thing I'd just done?

As I kept running, I passed another mom out with a stroller, walking in the sunny morning. I heard "Faster mommy! Faster like them!" from behind me, and turned around to see they too had now started running.

My friend growing up used to tell me all the time that I was "tough as nails." I really liked the image, and wanted to believe him.  But then I was at the end of a Triathlon in southern Utah. I was about a mile away from the finish, and running through hot, rocky sand. I felt so completely drained, and was by myself. I remember the internal argument "Run! Faster. Push through to the end! I can't keep running. I have to walk. C'mon, you're tough as nails! No. No I'm not" And I walked.

I felt like I got to know myself that day, and was disappointed.

But today as I felt so amazing running that last mile home, I decided that it's always always worth it to just do the hard thing. We don't know who's watching. We can't let past failures make us change how we see ourselves. We gave up one time in the sand. So what. We can decide each moment if we'll be inspiring. Doing the hard things, pushing through, there is nothing but good that comes. We respect ourslef. We can motivate others. We become stronger.

And when you see some-one running up, doing the hard things in this life, give a little cheer. Let them know they're doing great.

"Be strong, and do it." 
1st Chronicles 28:10
 Little scripture I came across this week and love.

Friday, April 20, 2012

wednesday weekend


Dorius has been working lots of overtime. Magdalena has too. This crawling/careening towards any and all sharp objects in the house thing is hard work. So this week we decided to take our weekend on Wednesday.

 Time to take a road trip to somewhere in Utah we've never been before and be back for Scouts at 7:00. So we got coats, boots, baby in the car seat, and pulled out of the driveway, heading in a general north-easterly direction. Opened the map and
ended up at a reservoir I'd never heard of.
It even stopped raining for a few minutes.




We both really like buffalo. (es?) Something about wanting to hug, be, tackle, paint a picture of and run away from a creature all at the same time earn it a special place in my heart


Kept on driving, up, up, and into the Uintah's. Went for a hike/bushwack in the misty afternoon.
Any explorer (read:boy) recognizes the value of a nice, long stick.

She thought the whole day a great idea.



Stopped at a small-town diner for lunch: Aussie burger in honor of my little brother and a Bacon-Maple shake.



Tuesday, April 17, 2012

beginnings, e.s.

And now, a little from the pen of e.s. written in a book given me just after I left on a mission to Taiwan. The other side of sweetly since. Figured it fair to let him tell it himself.

"In this book I want to record the complex history of...well, us. The story, if you will (and I hope you will). So just warning you, handwriting will be sloppy, there will definitely be words crossed out, perhaps entire paragraphs. It will be completely subjective. Don't feel pressure to read it all in one swoop { For the record, I did.} I will try to break it up into events, so you can flip to any page and remember.

So buckle up for a crazy ride. The completely unreasonable, serendipitous, divinely guided proccess of events that lead to [Dorius] and Brinn.

1. Beginnings are always beautiful. Puppies, babies, dreams, airplane rides--they are always beautiful to me. So it was when I first met Brinn Elizabeth. I guess we can't start there. It would have to start sometime in high school, when we sort of unconsciously, passively passed in front of each other's eyes. Who knows when? It had to have happened a few times, causing the more courageous of the two, Brinn, to speak to me one quiet day in the TSC. In reality, it probably goes back farther and deeper than we can possibly comprehend.

For us it did not start in highschool. I wonder what would have happened if we had met in highschool. Well, it didn't happen so we will move on to what did.

My roommate Brady and I were walking somewhere, I believe a concert of some sort, and I saw a girl whom I had glanced upon many various times throughout the previous semester. I had seen her multiple times and was surprisingly intrigued and taken back by her. There was something different about her presence. I sensed her waters ran deep.

I would think about her surprisingly much for a girl I had never met before or even exchanged words with. Every time I saw her I would hope she would glance my way, but it seemed she never would. She seemed so untouched by the flowing world around her, and the fact that it seemed she did not even notice my existence intrigued me more.

What was it about her? Dark eyes, long dark hair, appeared to be outdoorsy, carried a violin. All these things were cool, but there were plenty of girls like that. What was it about her?

Well, back to the story, I saw her walk past, and watched, and suddenly Brady said "Hey that girl went to Skyline." "No way!" I said, "What's her name?" "Brinn" he responded. I think he could tell by my response and expression I had great interest in this person. So Brady, being Brady says "Go talk to her Chip! C'mon, go do it!" I, not being a victim of peer pressure, did not, using the excuse that it was too late, for she was already walking out the door."

Saturday, April 14, 2012

two good women

Last night we returned to our days in Logan. Without leaving the Salt Lake Valley.

Dorius and I went to a house show of two of our beautiful friends who sing beautifully.  If you haven't heard of them, please remedy the situation immediately. Introduce your ears to Libbie Linton and Bianca Merkley.

When so many of the women in music these days resort to posturing, affected vocals, dance beats, and anything but that which is natural, that which is uplifting, and that which has roots, it was a happy thing to sit on a wooden chair in a small room full of old friends and watch these two be genuine.

Yes. They are both girls with guitars. Yes. They sing about love. But each in a way unique to themselves. And everyone (except the annoyingly loud people talking in the kitchen) felt it.


I've known Bianca since highschool. We sang in the girl's barbershop choir together, then were counselors together a summer at Brighton Girl's camp up Big Cottonwood Canyon. Watching her sing again last night I could almost smell pine trees and fire smoke and felt happy for all the 12 and 13 year old girls who were loved and inspired by her. I'm so happy she's still singing and still shining her light, now from the other side of the country.



I first saw Libbie playing with Ryan Morse at a similar house show maybe 5 years ago. There weren't too many people in attendance. I remember my friend Cassie and I looked at each other with wide eyes and almost a disbelief at how good what we were hearing was and how, well, obsessed--to put it lightly-- we immediately became. We may have gone home and formed our own band just the two of us inspired by this Logan Miss we heard that night. We may have followed her house show to house show. We may have also had mini Libbie Linton pins. That Cassie made herself. Just listen. You'll get it.

I was again reminded of why I love live music so. And reminded that we all need to make time to do things that allow us to express ourselves, tell our human experience, and share.

Monday, April 9, 2012

abril

Awake! I love hearing her soft pebbled syllables down the wooden hall.

I slowly opened the door to her napping room. She was sitting up in her summer dress, her head turned back and up to meet me and she grinned her two-tooth grin with such vigor I made an audible "ohhhh!".

She melts me. She has a happiness that spills.






Today was one of those days life feels right. I think the earth feels happier as it warms. We had lunch with a friend and her son at Roots Cafe. A hard life she'd lived and is living but on this beautiful April afternoon the hard was forgotten.

Dorius, Magdalena, and I went for an evening run through the park and up to the mouth of Parley's canyon, overlooking the entire valley. I'm pretty sure I could see everyone in it smiling.

Then dinner was a plate full of fresh colors, fruits and vegetables my body thanked me for feeding it. And one chocolate bunny to round it out.

“sweet spring is your 
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love

(all the merry little birds are
flying in the floating in the
very spirits singing in
are winging in the blossoming)

lovers go and lovers come
awandering awondering
but any two are perfectly
alone there's nobody else alive

(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)

not a tree can count his leaves
each herself by opening
but shining who by thousands mean
only one amazing thing

(secretly adoring shyly
tiny winging darting floating
merry in the blossoming
always joyful selves are singing)

sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love”
― e.e. cummings

how it ended

love story pt. 1...

There is a weight, when a heart is broken. I feel it still some quite times, my breath tightens and I see the eyes. I always thought looking back, we would know.

But there are still questions. There are still regrets. There is peace at a true decision. But aches and things never said sit patiently on the lungs.

A man named Sei Weng owned a beautiful mare which was praised far and wide. One day this beautiful horse disappeared. The people of his village offered sympathy to Sei Weng for his great misfortune. Sei Weng said simply, "That's the way it is." 


A few days later the lost mare returned, followed by a beautiful wild stallion. The village congratulated Sei Weng for his good fortune. He said, "That's the way it is."

Some time later, Sei Weng's only son, while riding the stallion, fell off and broke his leg. The village people once again expressed their sympathy at Sei Weng's misfortune. Sei Weng again said, "That's the way it is."

Soon thereafter, war broke out and all the young men of the village except Sei Weng's lame son were drafted and were killed in battle. The village people were amazed as Sei Weng's good luck. His son was the only young man left alive in the village. But Sei Weng kept his same attitude: despite all the turmoil, gains and losses, he gave the same reply, "That's the way it is." 
                       Chinese Folktale

I'm the one. I broke it. I understood what it would mean, so I put it off. I was confused, unsure, childish.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

just

We (Matteo) played at a wedding this weekend. It was held in a large room with big wooden beams and sunny flowers hanging down in strings from the fireplace. Clusters of twigs attached to the posts, ribbons flew in the warm breeze each time the doors opened, and glass milk bottles held even more bright flowers.


I love how horse hair pulled across a string attached to a wooden box can make sound to fill such a large space. Which can then be blended with other sounds coming from other instruments and people to make a whole new sound, familiar songs, and something to dance to.We played for two hours. And enjoyed it.

When we were told to go get some food before it was gone, we obeyed, and carried our full plates back to one of the empty tables with a pretty center piece. "You know that woman you were just talking to?" Yes. Didn't know her well at all, just that she was the mom of the bride and mom of one of my sister's friends. "Well she seems to think your sister is actually better than you at violin. We told her you are really great, but she had in her head your sister is better. Is that true?"