My thoughts often become occupied with baseball when the cold weather shows hints of warmth.  Sunday evening it was warm enough to throw and we still had daylight so Brian, Dave and I went outside for a game of catch.  Everyone has their physical strengths and weaknesses, and my strength is catching baseballs.  My weakness is throwing accurately.  I repeatedly shelled a small pine tree my father planted last year, but the tree survived last season’s shelling when it was even younger so I didn’t worry.  Understand, I can throw a rope with the best of them, right at the target, exactly 60% of the time.  So this season I will soldier to the backyard and force myself to throw more accurately.

I need to learn that I’m not 18 any more and that my body does not respond to new stresses very well.  I threw something like 5 million pitches on Sunday.  Today is Tuesday and my entire right arm and right abdomen still feel like hell.  It’s bad enough this year that I have to cough and sneeze very gently today.

I decided that Sunday I would ride through central Utah to a small town called Gunnison.  When a sufficient riding day is forecast I like to choose a new spot on a map and travel there.  I knew nothing of Gunnison except that it is new to me and somewhat distant and it was very much unlike my home.

When I brought my motorcycle out of the garage it was overcast and the tops of the mountains were in the clouds.  I checked the temperature by quickly inhaling a bit of air against my tongue and it was cold.  It was not too cold to ride however, and the trees were still, so I started the bike.

The beginning of a ride is all thinking.  Motorcycle riding requires more attention than driving and each movement must be deliberate and properly done.  Until I reached the freeway I only thought of technical things like looking deep into corners and leaning correctly and so on.  Once on the freeway all thinking is about traffic.  There were many cars and some were very fast and some slow and some changing lanes.  Freeway riding is not fun and it is more dangerous so I thought only of traffic.

For me the ride begins when I am on a country road.  Before that it is all work.  My mind clears when I am alone with the road.  Thoughts are sharper and with my usual life fading behind me I have a better perspective.  It is easier to be objective and reasonable when taking a break from home.  There is a sense that there are larger and more important things out there, that the silly details I concern myself with each day are simply silly details.  Out on the road I feel the world’s wind on my jacket and everything is more real.

Small dirt roads pass occasionally on either side of me, leading into the desert.  I do not know where they go but some day I hope to follow each one.  Out in the country there is a sense of infinite discovery.  I cannot help but feel as though I’m standing beside something very large that makes me feel very small.

The road led up into a mountain pass and the weather became colder but the air was still calm.  There was snow on the ground but it was warmer and nicer than I expected in the pass.  I took a moment to snap the above picture, feeling very good about my luck.  Within ten more miles I found myself crossing a high plain where there was much more snow and the wind was strong and it was very cold, probably in the lower 30s.  After 20 miles of this, and just as I decided I was purely miserable, I reached the 6,400 foot summit and the weather became much warmer as I descended.

As the air warmed I began to have use of my nose again.  Motorcycle riding has many smells and that uniquely separates riding from driving.  In a car you do not smell wet hay or cattle or chickens.  I do not know why, but it is always surprising the first time I have a helmet full of ranch smells on a ride.  In the city you do not smell ranches but you eat food from ranches.  We are too modern, it seems, and too squeamish, to admit to ourselves the origins of our food.  We do not want to trouble ourselves with a country life and I think we often ignore the very world we live in.  When riding I am a real citizen of the world.

The same is true in small towns.  The picture above is Fairview, Utah.  The photo contains most of Fairview’s city center, and the cluster of homes extends only a few hundred yards in any direction from the spot of this photograph.  Beyond that is sand, dirt, and sagebrush for miles.

I have only lived in a small town once (Greenfield, CA) and that was only for a few months.  Small towns have a unique feel to them, as if there is a whole world contained in each one, that a life could be lived there that would be unlike a life lived anywhere else.  I find the world’s vastness incredible, aside from amber fields of grain and purple mountain majesty, because each place would take years to explore and understand.  We cannot hope to experience even a measurable sliver of it.  I will have to be content with a simple survey from the saddle of my motorcycle.

When I  saw this butte I had to stop and take a photograph.  Utah’s scenery must receive credit for its amazing variety.  Only a short time earlier I was high in the mountains which were covered in snow and pines.  Now my journey led to a desert landscape that looks like a scene from a western film.  I really thought that there might be a lone cowboy or gold prospector or native wanderer on that butte, who had somehow completely avoided the modern world and would one day walk to this road and marvel at the blacktop and long yellow and white lines.

When I had reached this butte Gunnison was not far.  In one way this trip was no different from my other motorcycle tours because the planned destination was not as important as the ride to get there.  I am in love with watching scenery change and watching new places appear and pass.  The prospect of experiencing more of the world is what keeps me traveling.

When I reached Gunnison I took this picture.  And here is a photo of the main street:

People wonder why I would dare to ride a motorcycle.  They are dangerous machines, to be sure.  It is just that riding allows me to see and touch our world in a unique and intimate way (while getting 57 miles per gallon).  Hopefully everyone finds something that just works for them.  We all should have something that makes us feel alive.  For me, I believe that my life with riding, even if cut short because of it, is a life better lived than it would be without it.

Really, it’s carpe diem and all that shit.

I love to travel and I find something worthwhile in it.  I found Gunnison, Utah on a map and I had to travel there.  I cannot imagine my life excluding Gunnison, or any other place for that matter.  I would not allow myself to die without seeing it.  I want to experience as much of our world as I can before I make my exit.  I will travel to exotic places too, but I cannot overlook the places near me and I will visit many them on my blue bike.

Yesterday I forgot to take Sudafed and I didn’t think of it until now.  I guess my cold is gone.

To celebrate, I will go on a long motorcycle ride starting tomorrow morning because it will be warm enough and there will be sun.  I’ve been considering what my destination should be.  When I start out I need a destination but not a route.  The route will happen by itself. Towns and roads are rare enough in rural Utah that a direction and a destination are all that is needed.  Therefore I will ride to Gunnison Utah tomorrow.  I actually didn’t know we had a Gunnison here but since we do I suppose I should visit it.

According to ePodunk.com 2,484 people spend their time in Gunnison and let’s be honest, can 2,484 people be completely wrong about a place being wonderful?  I’m sure they’re right.

Gunnison makes sense for an early March ride because the elevation is low (5,000 ft) and I only have to survive one mountain pass to get there.  Most of the region is supposed to be 55-60 tomorrow but the mountain pass could be well below freezing.   The mountains will probably block the low March sun in the pass.  I will be bringing extra layers of clothing.

Tomorrow I will post a picture of Gunnison in all of its glory.  Perhaps they will have a gas station there.

At this moment I am sure the Sudafed is keeping me alive.  I do not get sick but today I have a cold and I want to sleep for a day at least.  A cold is always the worst at night, it seems.  I am alone with myself and my misery and there is no work and no sun to distract me.  Perhaps the beer with dinner and the others that followed were a bad idea.  Now everything is hazy and I cannot decide which distortions are from the cold and which are from the beer.  Things are distorted either way.  My lights seem very bright now and all the sounds are muddy and I do not know why I have done such a thing to myself.  I want to blame the cold for this.

Calling in sick tomorrow is tempting but if I do my boss will know the truth.  If I know the truth then he knows it.  I am not too sick to work because I never am and all else is from the beer.  I will sleep now and it will not be hard to sleep all night.

Dust of Snow

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued

A Question

A voice said, Look me in the stars

And tell me truly, men of earth,

If all the soul-and-body scars

Were not too much to pay for birth.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

I know, it never happens.  Me writing something, I mean.

It’s a shame that I do not write.  I have dedicated a room in my house to writing.  It has only books, a desk, and a chair.  Everything about this room is built for writing.  I have pencils, paper and journals waiting within reach.  I also bought a new writing computer, far too small and underpowered to be used for anything serious, with the intention of actually getting around to writing something.  And yet everything sits patiently while I do not write.

Today is different and I am writing.  During the last week I spent time with a dear writer friend and because of her blog and her stack of filled journals I find myself at this keyboard.  I have written a little in my notebook recently and I will share a couple passages here.

*     *     *

I enjoy being alone on a motorcycle in winter.  The summer riders are not out because of the cold and away from the city cars are rare.  The ride is cold but unless it is very cold I can dress warmly enough to be comfortable.  The winter air is better for riding because it clears my mind like an open window in a hot room.

Today’s ride was very cold and long and made me feel satisfied on the road.  Utah desert roads are lined with sage and the distant mountains move slowly as I pass.  Without trees I can see far and when the road is open I like to look deep into the distance at mountains and hills and sky.

Unless I can find someone who rides just as I do, and I do not know such a person, it is better to ride alone.  I have to think too much when other riders are with me and I worry about whether they want to move slower or faster or about their gas.  When I am alone my mind can wander if I am comfortable and uninterrupted.  Things are worst when riding partners move too fast because the danger is greater and there is more pressure to please them.  They ride for thrill but I am out for thinking and relaxation.  Still I would enjoy a long ride with a friend if I had no worries about their condition.  I want to actually.  One day I hope to find such a friend.

*     *     *

The snow does not stop during the Utah winter.  After work I can expect to shovel the snow that fell that day.  It is dark by then and I shovel at night under the light of the street lamp.  It is a bad lamp that goes dark every few minutes and I have to stop working and wait for a few moments while it lights up again.  Shoveling is heavy work and it is important that the snow is shaven close to the drive or thick ice will form and last until you break it apart piece by piece.  I do not mind shoveling snow but I dislike breaking ice.  When breaking ice you need a firm, square nosed shovel and you must kick the shovel under the ice and push the shovel handle down to force ice to break.  It comes apart in heavy pieces and throwing them is very hard.

I do not mind shoveling snow because I am alone with my work.  I always enjoy being alone with my work.  I have a terribly embarrassing habit of whispering to myself, full conversations sometimes, and shoveling alone allows me to converse in complete privacy.  I think better while I’m employed in a thoughtless task…

In looking back to my “Finding Religion” post earlier, I now see that I wrote it back in August. Back then I’m pretty sure that there were mammoths and glaciers and all kinds of prehistoric stuff. It was a while ago, to say the least.

I settled on a church, and I now consider it my place of worship. It is St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in Draper and it’s a pretty nice place to go. It’s not a perfect place to go–they keep it a little too cold in the sanctuary and the microphone doesn’t do a very good job of filling the hall–but it’s really nice. I like being only one of probably a thousand people at mass because no one bothers me or even cares who I am most of the time. Catholics aren’t really into pushing their religion on others, and even when I mention that I’m new, I’m not pounced upon by Bible-toting religion salesmen. As a former Mormon, I’m used to being in my personal bubble at church where no one touches you and you don’t have to do anything but sit there. At the Catholic mass, I have to sometimes hold hands, shake hands, sit, stand and kneel. It’s largely forgivable though and it’s not like I’m really into all that anyway. When in Rome, you know?

Since August I’ve gone from attending weekly to attending monthly to pretty much never going to church because I’m a lazy slob who hasn’t seen 11:00AM on a Sunday in months. I’m going to change this, but it’s going to take some work. Overall it’s time for me to get back on the wagon and take charge of things like waking up and not being 100% worthless all the time.  It’s a work in progress and please don’t judge the finished product by the mess.

So yeah.  I have a church.  It’s nice.  Ta-da!

Objective: Carpe diem and all that rot.

Reasons: Utah is too cold and too hot, as is most every place. The wind blows too much. My car gets filthy sitting still and it makes me pissed all the time. I’m sick of crappy environments when there is far better out there.

Goals: Earn every last cent that I can until I turn 35. When 35 is reached, I am to immediately vacate my home and move to a tropical island. Really, I don’t need much to be happy and after a couple weeks without a television and easily accessible internet, I won’t miss them. I will write, paint, read, and relax from that moment forward. (Yes, I know that money is a real issue here and this entire thing is subject to extension if I don’t have the means at 35.)

Quite simply, I don’t need tens of millions and I don’t need the biggest house in the neighborhood. All I need is a small, pleasant living space where I can be left alone and where I can pursue the things in life that actually matter to me. In studying the climates around the world, it has become very apparent that I live in an extremely hot, extremely cold, extremely dry, and extremely ugly place. In fact, it’s actually pretty hard to find a place more extreme in climate than Utah. There is basically no spring or fall. It’s all super hot summers and super cold, snowy winters. I’m sick of it and frankly, I’m not going to stay here forever.

I want:

• to barbecue every single day.
• a cold beer during a wam afternoon.
• to never, ever see snow again. Ever.
• trees.

I will not endure:

• working 9-5 every day until I’m old and toothless so that I will feel good about myself.
• tumbleweeds blowing across the road in front of me.
• sandstorms, dirt storms, or valley inversion.
• 103 degree temperatures throughout July and August and 21 degree temperatures throughout January and February.

I realize that it’s everyone’s dream to leave their flawed existence for something better and that I am nothing special by wanting the same. In fact, how dare I suggest that I’ll actually be able to leave it all behind? I mean, what will I do for money? Food? I’m doing all that I can to live my life such that I will eventually be able to accomplish these goals. This includes saving, planning, earning, wishing, dreaming, and all sorts of other stuff. If it doesn’t happen, it’s not the end of the world. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to try.

We’ll see what happens.

I may start attending a church again. Now I just need to find one.

Maybe it stems from my heavily religious upbringing, or maybe it’s because I desire another degree of structure and dedication in my life, but whatever the reason I’ve been feeling a growing storm of religious hunger within myself. I miss religion, to be honest. I believe that a religious life, wisely free of zealotry or excess, can be richer than any alternative. With religion a person inherits a genuine support network, a set of specific moral guidelines, a more structured time schedule, and many additional constructive elements. Further down the road, as I will probably eventually marry and have children, a religion can often provide improved family cohesiveness and a more directional perspective for children. Dogmatic belief and ritual aside, these reasons alone are a sufficient argument for religion.

There are apologists in every religion, vehemently fighting for their faith through facts, scripture, history, science, prophesy, speculation, assumption, and countless other theaters of thought. Personally, I am not looking for absolute truth as I highly doubt that such a thing exists. I absolutely refuse to delve into the petty arguments that permeate modern religion. While a religion’s teachings must certainly be a concern, it is by no means the only one, and my search for a compatible church will not involve intensive studies in comparative religion. I will not be lured by the fool’s gold of “truth.” For now, I seek religion for the goodness of it, and to allow this goodness to enrich my life.

My religious search does come with a deep, yet cautious hope. I very truly hope that there is a loving god, that there is a pleasant and bountiful afterlife, and that we may be reunited with dead loved ones. I suppose everyone hopes for these things. My scientific leanings and speculation leave me quite pessimistic, and that probably won’t change soon. Even so, I hope that religion may eventually yield optimism for me in some form.

So, which church do I choose? For now, I will limit myself to Christian churches because they are standard in the United States and probably have the best infrastructure of members, clergy, and location available to me. Even though I live in Utah, Mormonism is disqualified for many reasons I won’t discuss now. Because I’m not basing my decision on doctrine alone, it will be necessary for me to visit local churches to make a decision. To get started, I will visit four churches, one Catholic, two Protestant, and one non-denominational.

For the next four weeks, I will visit the following churches:

WEEK ONE - St. John the Baptist Catholic Church (Draper, UT): This church is part of a surprisingly large K-12 Catholic school complex. This visit will likely be the largest congregation of my tour. It’ll be pretty easy to disappear here and it should provide a pretty non threatening, easy first week.

WEEK TWO - Grace Lutheran Church (Sandy, UT): This is a medium sized church which is also part of a private school complex. It will be interesting to see the contrast between Catholic and Protestant churches during this visit. I’m expecting a more intimate setting here, very different from the giant Catholic church from the week before.

WEEK THREE - Hilltop United Methodist Church (Sandy, UT): Another Protestant church, just for some contrast. This is a pretty big church and I really have no idea what to expect. They offer three different versions of mass: casual, contemporary, and traditional. Guess which one I’ll be attending.

WEEK FOUR - Grace Community Bible Church (Sandy, UT): This is an Evangelical bible study Christian church. It’s similar to Protestantism, but I’m expecting a lot more energy, modern services, and general excitement from this group. We’ll see what happens.

I strain to hear you, man of past,
Yet we shall never meet.
You’ve left your story strewn about;
Your song, your crafts, your axe.

Intently now I marvel how,
Astride vast seas of years
The time recedes, you whisper back,
“Just lately I was here.”