Something Big:Grizzly Bear Scat

• Something Big:Grizzly Bear Scat

On a beautiful chilly summer morning in Yellowstone National Park, my twin brother and I set out on an adventure. The goal was to climb Mt. Washburn, and skirt the edge of the grand canyon of the Yellowstone. On the way down I rolled my ankle and realized just how dangerous it would be to get injured with no cell service, and no way out except four miles up a mountain, or 10 miles along the plain. It began to mist then sprinkle as we made our way down from the peak. Just as we reached the bottom, and began along a meadow, we ran into massive paw prints in the fresh mud. We knew they couldn't be more than 15 minutes old because of the rain, and the hair began to rise on our necks. Five feet later, a pile of grizzly bear scat that was steaming in the frigid air. The hair continued to rise, along with the feeling that we were in too deep, and that we were the smallest part of the park which we thought we'd conquered at the top of the mountain. The sense that we were being watched continued until we'd cleared the meadow and we could start breathing again.

• Something Broken:

My Grandad is one of the most charitable human beings I know. The distinctive smell of a leather coat, whiskers from his cheek, and a twinkle in his eye as he hugs me are ingrained in my memory. He was married to my grandmother for 52 years before she passed away. Peggy developed Huntington's disease, a genetic disorder, that slowly destroys all the motor and brain function. My Grandad never left her side for 4 years while she struggled to remember who she was, and could hardly talk. Now when I am greeted by hugs I can feel the ribs through the leather jacket, the whiskers are too long, and the twinkle almost gone, like his Peggy.

Donald and Peggy Murray

• Something Artistic

There was a rift as wide as a canyon in my freshmen dorm room. We lived together, but besides the polite small talk, we might as well have been strangers. Like the kid that you knew from somewhere and some event that you nodded to as you passed in the hall. Then came a flyer, "Paint Party in Salt Lake", and we all decided to go together. The pounding beat of the music, the crushing waves of the crowd, and the smothering heat of the room forged a bond stronger than steel. We went in as strangers, but the music, the atmosphere, the crazy bacchusness of the rave gave us a common bond. The music had torn down the barriers between us.

• Something Mysterious: Spiritual Experiences

Spiritual experiences have always been somewhat esoteric to me. I grew up in a very spiritual household. Both my parents were members of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, so I naturally followed them in scripture reading, daily prayers and church attendance. I had instances where I truly felt something outside of myself, a warm feeling of awe and love. I have taken these, in combination with answers to prayers as my evidence of a loving God. I often wonder however why my brothers cannot experience the same inspiration that I have. My brother dedicated two years of his life to the church, tried to be good, honest and sought for the same answers, but according to him, the answer never came. Others outside my church have described similar warm feelings in response to Buddhism or Islam, or other Christian Churches. I believe I have something special and wish my brothers could feel the same.