There was no way to prepare for The Parliament of World Religions. This every-five-years-or-so conference, which draws thousands of attendees from all over the world of nearly every faith, converged on Salt Lake City, my hometown this month. The focus this year, “Reclaiming the Heart of Our Humanity,” promised speakers including: Jane Goodall, Michael Beckwith, Mother Maya Tiwari, Vandana Shiva, Marianne Williamson and many more …
I’ve found myself swirling my pen into hearts and curlicues, lately. Lingering a little longer at the end of gatherings when a certain someone is there. The mural must have worked some unexpected magic, its heart’s rays more potent than I imagined for one has pierced me in a cobwebbed place—a place I have not visited since perhaps when I twirled out in a green cheerleader skirt to kiss Terry Glover, the star basketball player, amid hoots from the 9th grade student body. This was a time when Kelsey Glover was written on the rubber soles of my floral Chuck Taylors to be secretly enjoyed until worn away with time. But I am not 14 anymore.