Another quest was undertaken yesterday, with fish both landed and broken off, views both terrible and majestic, strange phenomenon and blessed happenstance, all during one complete circuit in the midst of a summer's day.
Along with the undeniably good we experienced, we were startled on our way by an act of cultural and spiritual terrorism perpetrated upon Torrey, Utah. The old LDS building, erected in 1928 to replace the even older log meetinghouse (still standing and acting as a Daughters of the Utah Pioneers Hall), had been architecturally bedeviled by the church over the years until it was finally set on a course of demolition sometime this week.
The stones had been hand-worked and placed, made from stone native to the area. Babies were blessed there, marriages performed, consciences piqued and assuaged, wars worried over, loved ones mourned and celebrated, and, well, God worshipped. But no more. It was knocked down by rude machinery, without regard to the hallowed place, sentiments, or material.
The world keeps turning, and as I heave a sigh, I can only hope that we'll be all right. Humans can be so unfeeling, at times.
Ah, but all is not lost on the vast sea of human endeavor. Ryan and I took a chance detour onto the high desert in the midst of high summer, and insodoing, we met good people doing great things. At the Mesa Farm Market in Cainesville (Caineville on the map and to modren folk), Randy Ramsley, his wife, and a crew of darned fine people do thier thing. They bake bread in an outdoor oven, brew Chiapan coffee, raise goats, organic vegetables, divine herbs, and a generally positive ruckus in and amongst the good people of Wayne County, Utah. This is the view from their kitchen window. O, Lord...
We talked on subjects ranging from paleoantropology to Carl Jung and the impression of the good thinker/worker on the collective and all manner of metaphysics. Randy graciously (and, quite probably, patiently) related his experiences (nosey tourists we were, afterall!) in finding and acquiring the land he works and of the lessons learned so far in a life entered into thoughtfully and deliberately, and of difficulties with working with the seasons whims and the necessities of caring for the earth that cares for us. He spoke of wisdom in action and static knowledge, and seems to know a thing or two about the way things work or, in many cases, fail to work out.
We had a wonderful time with them.
These wild burros called us off of the beaten path again, and into the San Rafael Swell. Mayhaps of the same blood as those who accompanied dear old Everett Ruess. They run the desert now with the antelope and desert sheep, the jackrabbits and coyotes. Onward toward home we went, as he thunder rumbled through the redrock. The rain poured, and nourishing was their effect on the seeds planted in our hearts throughout the live-long day.
On to wisdom in action, and to visions carried to fruition.
Ah, sweet, blissful work.
But there is a difference between knowing the path and walking it.
It might be a little while, yet. I'm a man infirm, in many ways.