Brock and I can be somewhat of a conundrum couple. We married very young--but still have not had children. We were poor at BYU--but did not do summer sales. And despite living in and around Provo for almost a decade, we'd never been to Holi, the Hindu festival of colors celebrated each spring. 
The literal meaning of the word Holi is "burning". There are various legends to explain the meaning of this word, most prominent of all is the legend associated with demon king Hiranyakashyap. 
Hiranyakashyap wanted everybody in his kingdom to worship only him, but to his great disappointment, his son, Prahlad became an ardent devotee of Lord Naarayana. Hiaranyakashyap commanded his sister, Holika, to enter a blazing fire with Prahlad in her lap. Holika had a boon whereby she could enter fire without any damage on herself. However, she was not aware that the boon worked only when she entered fire alone. As a result, she paid a price for her sinister desires, while Prahlad was saved by the grace of the god for his extreme devotion. The festival celebrates the victory of good over evil and the triumph of devotion. (via)
Holi is literally the only reason why tens of thousands of people would ever flock to Spanish Fork--which is not exactly a hotbed of arts and culture. (This is a town that plunged into apocalyptic fear when someone accidentally booked Rage Against the Machine at the local fairgrounds.) Because Utah makes total sense, a small farming community on the outskirts of Spanish Fork is home to a beautiful Krishna temple. Each spring, local high schoolers and college freshmen gather their selfie sticks and travel southward for the closest thing we have to Coachella. Who needs ancient Hindu traditions when you have that one song Jay-Z did with Panjabi MC?

You have to go to Holi once, though. You really do. Cast aside your worries about cultural appropriation and chalk it up to a $17 donation for the Krishna community. Brock and I set off with Weston, Kami, and Autumn for a Saturday filled with crop-tops and jean shorts. They throw colors every hour on the hour--after a long walk from the car, we missed the 4:00 throwing by just a few minutes! Bummer, because then we had to spend another hour surrounded by youths. 

 Trucks, horse trailers, and a Krishna temple. Naturally.

 We tried to get a "before" picture with  our clean white clothes (c/o Savers), but someone blue it.

 As always, little Autumn was a trooper. I love her.

 Holi colors were originally made from ground-up flowers, but festivals use cornstarch and food coloring.

After the most thorough, blessed showers of our lives, we capped off the day with bibimbap at Spicy Corea . . . by far the more authentic of our cultural forays this weekend ;) Thanks to Weston and Kami for helping us finally cross Holi off our bucket list!

Also, LOL at this post from four years ago. Still here, living that Utah life. But you know what? It ain't half bad.


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