Looking Forward to Sunstone and FAIR

I got up this morning, loaded my things into the car, and started driving toward Salt Lake City, where starting tomorrow morning I will be attending (and presenting at) the Sunstone Symposium. I'll also be making a detour to catch part of the FAIR Conference and to attend the Mormon Expression Live Broadcast. It should be a fun few days.

For most of the drive, I listened to a variety of podcasts and NPR recordings. One that I particularly enjoyed was the latest episode of Mormon Expression, which is comprised of personal essays written and read aloud by the various panelists. The essays by Glenn and Zilpha were particularly excellent. Glenn's was more like a very clever slam poem than a personal essay, and reminded me a lot of another slam poem I heard recently and greatly enjoyed. Zilpha's was in the form of a very funny personal narrative. She has a wonderfully expressive voice, and you can just hear her smile behind every clever phrase. You can't help but smile too. Thanks to the folks at Mormon Expression and NPR for sustaining me through the horribly prosaic state of Nevada.

It happened to be about dusk by the time I was passing through the Utah salt flats, and at this point I began to understand why the first Mormon settlers might have stopped here to make this their sacred space. The salt flats are stark in their vastness and emptiness. They have a semi-reflective surface that catches some of the color of the sky above. As the sun silhouetted the mountains at my back, the partially cloudy sky ignited with hues of pink and orange stretching to every horizon. As the richness of these colors deepened, a dark thunderhead loomed ahead. Streaks of lightning pulsed relentlessly, over and over, striking down at the same distant patch of ground. I found myself wondering what sinner must be living there, to attract such punishment. As night fell and the sky darkened, I drew closer to the spot-- uncomfortably close, in fact. I'm sure it was farther than it looked, but one particular strike as I passed by will be forever burned into my retina. I was in awe of the display to which I was treated here, in this vast wasteland. It is as though God emptied this desert so as to avoid distracting from the heavens-- as though he gave it its glassy surface to reflect their fiery glory.

I am here now, in my hotel room, trying to channel the last vestiges of euphoria into poetic energy. The window is open, and a cool Salt Lake breeze is blowing through. The moment has passed, but I won't forget it... at least not until the presenters tomorrow morning give me a ton of other exciting things to think about. ;)

Hope to see you there!