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A version of home

It's not the building itself, though the building is beautiful. It's not the symbolism or the religious function of the building, having never been inside the ritual does not affect me. It's the sense of space. The space is a tangible, physical presence that I can still feel as I approach and that still fades dramatically as I drive away.

Timpanogos is translated as "river of rock." When the Piute Indians look at the mountain they see a tribal princess lying on her back, her head-to-toe profile a delicate silhouette against the sky. The temple was constructed in the foothills of Mount Timpanogos and stands majestically below her jagged skyline.

An entire decade has filled the space between me and the time that I would drive to this space to meditate, cry, write, sleep, pray, and eventually leave it behind. The gracious space at the feet of the princess and within the warm glow of the temple would hold it for me and patiently wait for my return. The space would show me, as only a trusted friend can, the progress I had, or had not, made since my last visit.

When I look at the mountain today I see the Piute princess. I also see a version of home.

ilovermont

A day in the life