Among the many things to like about Easter is the fact the word itself has the word "east" in it.

For those with a spiritual turn of mind, east — not north or south — is where the action is.

In the natural world, wanderers and seekers always try to find "north." They line up their compass needles to the north, use the North Star to keep from getting pulled toward magnetic north.

But for wanderers and seekers in the spiritual realm, it will always be "True East."

East is where the light originates. The rising sun always affords better vision, more warmth and brings a sense of well-being and rebirth.

It means "finding the way." When we say "Orient yourself" we are talking about the Orient — the east. We are saying, "Find your bearings, get aligned, find out who and where you are."

Muslims bow to the east five times a day.

When Mormons are buried, they are laid to the east.

On LDS temples, the Angel Moroni usually holds his trumpet to the east.

Almost a decade ago I attended the dedication of the LDS temple in Cochabamba, Bolivia. And I soon found that every morning in that little town a "prophetic drama" plays itself out.

On a hill east of town stands a giant Christus. The Christus in Rio de Janeiro stands 33 meters tall — one for each year in the life of Christ. The Christus in Cochabamba stands just over 33 meters (locals say they think Jesus lived 33 years and a few months more).

Each morning when the sun comes up it ignites that Christus. It gleams with outstretched arms for all to see. And every morning, soon after, the rays of sunlight hit on the golden trumpet of the Angel Moroni on the LDS temple — a trumpet pointed directly at the Christus, signaling not only the coming of a new day, but playing out — day after day, year after year — the advent of The Savior.

In Cochabamba, every morning is the day of salvation.

The thing is, however, to get to the Christus you have to make an effort. You have to be willing to climb a little.

Light and knowledge may come from the east, but to make your way east you have to be willing to struggle.

And the people who live along the Wasatch Front know that better than most.

Back in the 1970s, when I was a student at Utah State University, a young poet named James Miller passed away — but not before he was able to get a small collection of his poetry into print. The poems are about his early years in Utah. He called the book, "East Was Always Uphill."

His intent is obvious.

Salvation may lie to the east, but you need to be ready to work a bit to get there.

Light, warmth and clearer vision might come from the east, but to embrace it you have to do your part.

Something to keep in mind as the sunlight filters into your own, particular valley today.

Happy Easter, everyone.

E-mail: jerjohn@desnews.com