Wednesday, July 15, 2026

"SOME FEW"


A photo taken by a friend on our morning sunrise hike on July 11, 2026. 


This past weekend on Saturday (7-11) was the second anniversary of the passing of my father. Hard to believe it has already been two years now. In way to honor him,  I spent Friday night  camping under the stars at an elevation above 10,000 feet on top of the Grand Mesa. I wish I could have captured with my camera what the night sky looked like. Never seen the stars so bright. 

Ten years ago, I went up to the Grand Mesa in Colorado and camped up there for the fall equinox. I posted about it here: High on a Mountain Top. It brought back alot of memories being back up on the Grand Mesa. 

I woke up early and begin hiking around 4:30 a.m. to make it to the summit of Crag Crest to see the sunrise. Grateful for the “some few” who joined me. Here are a few photos.









I heard the term "salutary vertigo" in a talk given on Sunday in Grand Junction on the Law of Adoption. It was Part 3 on the Holy Order. The term came from a quote by Samuel Brown in a BYU Studies article in 2013. I wasn't quite sure what that term meant. Here is the definition:

Salutary = beneficial, healthy, or good for you 
Vertigo = dizziness or a spinning, disorienting sensation.

Put together, “salutary vertigo” refers to a beneficial kind of dizziness or intellectual disorientation. It describes the unsettling but ultimately helpful feeling you get when you encounter ideas, practices, or a worldview that are so different from your own that they shake your assumptions and make the familiar world feel temporarily unstable. It is not a negative dizziness (like confusion or nausea). Instead, it is portrayed as a positive, corrective experience — like having your mental framework gently (or not so gently) knocked off balance so you can see things more clearly. 


Throughout the entire trip, I felt this “salutary vertigo”—not only because I hit my head while running up the mountain and got a mild concussion, but also because I was learning new concepts that were originally part of the Gospel as restored through Joseph Smith. Specially the Law of Adoption.  Here is a quote from the talk: 

"The words “root” and “branch” are genealogical, or familial. They indicate ancestors and posterity. When the “root” and “branch” are destroyed in that coming day, the surviving “children” will be genealogically connected to the “fathers.” Correctly understood, the prophecy of Malachi is about adoption. This talk will clarify and reaffirm the need for adoption as an actual ordinance or rite that must return to connect some few back to Abraham before the coming great and dreadful day of the Lord’s return."
"A great deal of what Joseph Smith taught has been lost, limited, or rejected. It is not an overstatement to say that the loss of adoption may be the most serious of all that was left behind. It is so important that the world will be cursed and utterly wasted at the return of Christ if it is not restored. Joseph was first alerted to this on September 22, 1823, when Nephi repeated the prophecy that the failure to reconnect to the fathers would result in “the whole earth would be utterly wasted at his coming.” Christ also quoted this warning to the Nephites and required them to add it to their scripture."  
DS Talk given in Grand Junction. The Holy Order Part 3.


What’s interesting is that I tripped over a root or branch on the hike and really bloodied up my face. Maybe it was a reminder that I’m getting older, but symbolically it showed me the importance of paying attention to the roots and branches—and the deeper importance of being connected to them.

An observation: Tripping over the root/branch is such a direct, physical way of being forced to notice it. My body literally got yanked into contact with it. Instead of just walking past something subtle and easy to overlook, the stumble makes the root/branch impossible to ignore in that moment. It’s almost like the path itself said, “Hey… down here. Don’t forget this part exists.”

Paying attention — Not just to where my feet are going, but to the living structure underneath everything. Being connected to it — Roots don’t just sit there; they’re the actual lifeline. They anchor, they nourish, they communicate with the rest of the tree and even with other trees. Sometimes these little “accidents” on hikes feel like nature’s version of a gentle (or not-so-gentle) tap on the shoulder.  

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