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Show It** joined feeling, where l i f e bridged the tumult of death. My grandCmother's grandmother had pulled a handcart across the Plains to join Brigham Young's Mormons, had entered the Principle to s t a r t a new race of man. I had only taken up t h is the burden and followed my f a t h e r ' s footsteps to A place, gazing into the dark, and knowing that nothing but ocean lay beyond until the grasp of other hands, other voices, other thoughts allowed me space and time. All the backwaters of my past poured through me into the ocean, there to be cleansed, merged, there to be given new shape and purpose, there to learn to walk on water. My l i f e would be translated. And I knew t h a t Brian and I were one. My father and I were one. My family and my s e l f were one. Humanity and I were one. There was no d i s p a r i t y between myself and the world. Art and r e l i g i o n , God and man are the same in inception and purpose. We had reached the vortex, the coupling of great forces. Long a f t e r we had crossed over, I was crying, hugging myself and whispering. " I t ' s too beautiful. Much too beautiful to be spoken. " I did not know u n t i l a f t e r my father was <mmm that Brian and I had traced the honeymoon path that he and Aunt Karen had taken, and that the honeymoon had ended nearby, when t h e ir car refused to climb the h i l l overlooki i-nv,go- t+hhep mmoouuttnh ofAColumbia where i t joins the P a c i f i c Ocean. |
