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Show Page 20 THE OGDEN VALLEY NEWS Volume IV, Issue II May 1, 2001 And out of the ground made I, the lord, to grow every tree, naturally, that is pleasant to the sight of man; and man could behold it. And it became also a living soul. For it was spiritual in the day that I created it;. . . (MOSES 3:9.) By Gibbs M. Smith Guest Author Come Hike Along with Me All I know is what I know. I ve tried occasionally over the years to act out of another place that is not from the bedrock of what I know but from what I thought would be socially acceptable or popular or what someone else wanted me to say or think. My experience has taught that for me this never works. However, if I get in touch with what I really know, then I can act out of confidence and my actions and words are not hollow. What I m attempting in this essay is to speak about what I really know about being a Mormon and an environmentalist, and to do this with a sincere heart. My goal in this essay is to send a message to other people who may know the same things I know. If you know what I know, I urge you to speak up and influence events. This is a time when many wonderful things related to environmental issues can happen, and we must let ourselves be heard. Like many people, I went through a period of feeling generally alienated. For a while my desire was to oppose the status quo and be alienated from every aspect of my life: church, government, school, all except my family. My family was my base. My parents always loved me unconditionally and trusted me and gave me the support and freedom to find my own way. I actually enjoyed the feeling of alienation because it is a definite feeling of being alive. I believe it is also an indication one is evolving into the person he really is. But in my soul I knew that I didn t want to stay alienated. It was a place to move through and out of, not to stay in for one s whole life. There is something about me that always knew that I need and long for spiritual harmony and peace. And the way I first discovered this harmony and peace was through nature. I intuitively knew that the natural world was, for me, an avenue to God. So nature became a school of experience that has been a great solace spiritually. My spiritual development through nature began on walks with my mother. These are some of my earliest recollections. We lived in Oakland, California, and our walks were around Lake Merritt, where we fed water fowl, and around the well-manicured neighborhood of the Oakland hills. Often on these walks, my mother would rub my hand over the bark of trees. I learned some are smooth, like the sycamore, and some are rough, like pine. I learned the names of trees. My mother would pick up stones and hand them to me. We liked to put small smooth ones in our pockets. I learned to love the smell and feel of rocks heated by the sunlight. We would pick up leaves and look at the veins, shapes, and colors. My mother would ask me to look at the color of the sunlight at different times of day. My favorite sunlight was the pale and soft light of Bay Area mornings. On our walks, we could feel the cool moist air on our cheeks. That was the beginning. I learned to feel at home outdoors, observing and delighting in nature. I learned that I could stop thinking and just be still. I learned that I was happy. Long walks still smooth out my mind and make me happy. Moving to Utah with my family as a child was a shocking experience. Gone was well-manicured nature. When we moved to Kaysville, Utah, in 1948, most of the paved roads ended just out of town and turned to dirt. The sidewalks were mostly overrun with weeds or nonexistent. The sunlight was harsh, and the air was dry. The winters were cold. The summers were hot. But gradually, I came to know and love the raw beauty of Utah. I liked becoming aware of how nature made patterns and how nature harmonized colors. My teachers were the mountains rising to the east and west of my home. Over many years, I observed the mountains in various seasons. Sagebrush, oak, and maple grew in pleasing patterns on the mountain slopes. Snow melted in patterns that were quite regular and predictable year after year. Colors changed with the seasons. Storm clouds often sliced along the face of the mountain in a clear and definable line. The natural drama of the mountains became part of me. Especially during uncertain teenage years, I was helped by mountains. I grew up east of Antelope Island. As a child, year after year I could keep my eye on the island from the second floor of my old grade school. It became a teacher as I watched storms roll in over the lake and envelop the land. Sometimes lightning struck the Junegrass and burned the island. I learned to measure the severity of winter storms by measuring the snow line on Antelope Island. I could tell spring was coming as the sun moved back between two of the islands’ peaks. I could tell my directions by noting where the island was. The island, the lake, and the mountains became my psychic lodestones as a child. I knew where I was and who I was, partly by positioning myself with them. Until I was out of college, I knew little of southern Utah. Few of my friends ventured out to explore; and although I met new friends who lived as far into the southern wilderness as Richfield, they seemed to be glad to have escaped to urban Salt Lake City. Occasionally in a geology or history class, I heard references to events that had occurred or to unusual geologic or geographic features in the south. I was involved in vague discussions about how the growing Glen Canyon Damn would eventually flood Glen Canyon. But it was not until several years later, after I married my wife, Catherine—and after I had moved back to Utah following seven years in Santa Barbara, California, where we started our publishing company—that I ever really went to southern Utah to look at it and experience it. During these years, I kept up the pattern of walking and observing. As we had little money, we started exploring Utah for recreation. We hiked and camped over a good portion of it. That was our peace and our solace during the difficult years of starting a company. How I Used What I Know Finally, by the early 1980’s, we had enough confidence in our economic survival to consider adding another dimension to our lives. We felt the urge to become involved in other commitments and to contribute to the society in which we lived in other ways. My choice was to become active in the Sierra Club. I had long been a duespaying member but had done nothing else. After this decision, I started attending chapter meetings where I knew no one, somewhat apprehensive of the time commitments I might be drawn into. I worried that it was more than I could handle. Gradually, I became acquainted and took on small tasks such as participating in mailing parties, calling people, raising money, and helping to organize chapter events. Also, there was hiking and camping with Sierra Club friends. As we knew the land from our own experience, we were confident we could talk and walk the land with anyone. We liked the people we met. One s religion was not an issue. But gradually I became aware that I was about the only Mormon involved. Over the years, we ve become very good friends with the group of people who were and still are Sierra Club activists in Utah. We met people who, in their professional lives, held very responsible professions by day and in the evenings and weekends attended Sierra Club meetings, to organize mailings, testify at public hearings, organize others, and work on issues such as air quality, water quality, wilderness preservation, and more. I learned to love my Sierra Club friends while working with them on issues that affect WHAT I HAVE LEARNED cont. on page 21 MANSELL AND ASSOCIATES THE TRUSTED NAME IN REAL ESTATE Pete Bealba, GRI 25 year Valley Resident 10 year Valley Realtor 2580 North Highway 162 Eden, Utah 84310 Phone: 801-745-8800 Ext. 328 Fax: 745-1400 Cell-Voice Mail: 391-4100 E-mail: peteb@konnections.net www.move2ogdenvalley.com |