in Utah, this lake is our heritage and birthright. it's a funny analogy really- to be born of a place known for a lake, unfed and dwindling. a lake so saline and still that only the very small, the very brave, or the very stoic choose to dwell here.
if you are inclined to read the omens in all things, vast tomes of experiences and notations crop up everywhere. and because the landscape is so desolate, so quiet, so devoid of obvious fecundity, every movement, every sound sound, every sprouting thing because immensely powerful and virtuous.
this is true in the evidence of the human-made. (ring stones being things we cannot help but make, and have made for thousands of years.)
and the evidence of a non-human making. in particular trappings of death are everywhere, - bones washed clean and shining, burnished by sun and wind and cleaned by the bite of salt.
and salt abounds. it rests a a crust over anything near the water that remains still...
...perpetual ice in the desert. (though in fact these are ice crystals, as sometimes in the very cold months, salt and ice reveal their differences only when touched. melting coolness. or burning.
in some ways it is very like a beach - the same patterns of wind and weather wear down the lake shores. the same sandy shrines to the past lives of creatures still humbly dot the strand.
but in other ways it is unlike the beach at all. for one, there are no waves, no sound, no marine smells. the water burns, and rises and falls only slowly depending on snow or rain.
and that lack of movement, is prime breeding ground for sludges and algaes of many kinds.
altars are easy to make, because everything is precious.
especially the damaged things
