Thursday, September 4, 2008


I believe the universe gives us the experiences we need to experience.
this is my belief, and I don't expect it to be held by everyone out there. it's a belief that helps me make sense of the world, helps me stay calm, and enables me to retain my faith. it works for me.

the universe gave me snowtoja training monday, and today it gave me the polar opposite: a most gorgeous, perfect, mild, calm and stunning ride. I slept in (oh what an amazing treat) and didn't ride until mid-morning, after the sun had risen and warmed the air. it couldn't be a more perfect early fall day here, with barely a brush of white cloud in the sky and winds so peaceful I think they are just caressing our valley, giving it a little pat on the back for surviving this past weekend's weather.

I started my ride with a jaunt to my son's school, as he had forgotten his camera for photo journalism. a quick three miles down, camera delivered, and then I headed up emigration canyon, planning for a thirty-mile total on my last pre-lotoja ride. I haven't ridden up emigration in daylight for a while, and it was fun to actually see the bike lane the whole way. I also saw the cutest little bunny, but no deer or hummingbirds. I won't tell about all the dead creatures I saw, though I have to say this is the first time I can remember seeing a little white-bellied lizard lying supine, lifeless, on the edge of the road.

I crested the Little Mountain summit and looked down to Little Dell Reservoir ~ which is always one of my favorite moments on this route ~ and was awestruck. the reservoir was so still, not a single ripple caught the sun. the water perfectly reflected the surrounding hillside, yet gave everything a deeper green cast. it was as if someone had taken a huge piece of glass and pressed it gently down on top of the water, a glareless glass that echoed back a picture of the hills surrounding it. words fail me, here, for it was spectacular and so perfect as to be indescribable.

Little Dell never disappoints me. whether it is frozen as I see it during my first excursion of the season, wind-whipped and full of white caps, still and peaceful, or throwing out myriad shades of blues and greens, it is always a magnificent sight. restorative and refreshing, the sight of this small body of water always grounds me, pulling me back into what truly matters in this world.

I believe what I needed from today's experience is that grounding, the reminder that regardless of what comes my way, God is still God, and our world will always be full of visual reminders that what truly matters is simple, uncomplicated faith in ourselves and our own resilience.

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