Tonight, while a rerun of a BYU Forum address was playing on a PBS television station in the background, I heard one of the best course of actions for how to cultivate the creative process: Fall in love with the world, and take notes.
If God is THE Creator (which I believe) and we are His children (which I know), we are, by heavenly heritage, also Creators. What better way to learn the pattern and mature into our deific future than to study His creations: the world, ourselves and the plan of salvation?
The power of observation, I now see, is one of many divine powers we can develop in order to hone our skills as creators.
Sometimes my nephews forget to watch their language and fall into a string of "potty words" that for some reason make little boys giggle. When four-year-old Joey called his brother Zach a "booger," he was reprimanded by his mother for using such inappropriate language. "But mom," Joey countered, "that's not a POTTY word. Boogers come out of your NOSE." Technically true.
John Ruskin, the art critic, said, “When we build, let us think that we build forever. Let us not build for the present delight, nor for the present peace alone. Let it be work such that our descendants will thank us. And let us think as we lay stone upon stone, that a time is to come when these stones shall be a blessing, that we might receive inspiration, and be guided as it were by this molding of the humble clay.”
And that's why I do what I do.
Today I learned that my very good friend and fellow Nauvooer, Erin, is currently welcoming her newborn son into the world. Congratulations/Good Luck/Best Wishes.
Whether the world is aware of it's importance or not, June 27th is a very significant date. In 1844 Joseph Smith the Prophet of the Restoration, and his brother Hyrum the Patriarch, completed their foreordained duty, and returned home. Considering how we remember birthdays, and thrill at soul's entrance into this life, I've pondered a little bit on what kind of celebrations must occur as one is born again into a new life beyond the veil. Another friend of mine, Adris, a pioneer in her own right, coined the term "homegoing." I like that.
I just couldn't let this day pass without acknowledging the incalculable efforts made by the forebears of our faith–those who facilitated earthly access to the fullness of the gospel, for all mankind. Today I am particularly moved by the unfathomable sacrifices of Joseph and Emma. To me they are the ultimate dynamic duo, right up there with Adam and Eve, our first parents. My sincere gratitude and profound awe for all parents who selflessly bestow gifts of new life.
check out this great video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaH_OKPO-zs
Assisting with my impending high school reunion this summer, I have been able to reconnect with some long lost friends. One of those acquaintances is Gordon. In addition to being a dad and doctor, he is an amazing photographer. www.gordonsmith.smugmug.com
Years ago, on a sluggish summer day, I remember packing my camera around downtown Salt Lake with Gordon as we played tourists in our own city. It was a ton of fun– learning more about the history and architecture of the area, picking up complementary postcards and interviewing native Utahns about what they liked to do around town.
In light of rising fuel costs, taking another vacation close to home may be more in the budget this year. If you also choose to tour locally, send me a postcard.
Getting ready for church this morning, I was painfully aware of my need for a new tie. Oh, to be a dad on father's day.
When the numbers and the days of the week align just right and Friday the 13th appears on the calendar, many people experience a feeling of dread. There is even a word for that specific fear: paraskavedekatriaphobia.
But is there a word for people like me who actually LIKE that day? Known as someone with an unusual knack for bad luck, one would think that I would be justified to stay in bed on such an ill-fated day–with the covers pulled up over my head until the safe light of Saturday peeked through the windows. But for some reason, I am drawn to the day–almost like a personal anniversary of sorts.Back in my college years, I was in a terrible car accident on Friday the thirteenth. My little red Toyota Camry was struck nearly head-0n when a rusty work truck did a U-Turn on the highway. Of course the collision causing truck was not licensed, and the illegal alien driver was not insured. My car was held captive in the auto body shop for the entire semester, being re-injured twice while waiting patiently for its restoration–a shop worker drove the bumperless car into a telephone pole on the repair lot, and then a few weeks later the windshield was smashed. I sported a rather unattractive neck brace for much longer than fall fashion would allow; and of course, this was all during the semester I decided to live quite a distance from campus.Sometimes the unexpected can be devastating. Which is why, I suppose, I kind of like Friday the thirteenth. Now, I don't get me wrong–I don't tempt fate by walking under ladders while petting a black cat or anything like that. It's just a day I don't have to look over my shoulder for the storm clouds rolling in, or an anvil falling from above...I just kind of expect it. So the pressure is off, and my anxiety can take a holiday.
MONEY PIT
A few more floors,
windows and doors,
lighting and landscaping–
In money, time,
and patience,
it's the bottom of the barrel
I'm scraping.
The Jefferson Inn is coming along...I hope I look this good when I am 100 years old.
Tonight, while a rerun of a BYU Forum address was playing on a PBS television station in the background, I heard one of the best course of actions for how to cultivate the creative process: Fall in love with the world, and take notes.
