Monthly Archives: March 2020

COVID Forbids It?

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, impediments, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving

March 11, 2020-

I see that there are an increasing number of situations where large gatherings are being canceled, or are being put off limits to the public, because of contamination fears.  While I draw the line, at least for now, with regard to small gatherings in COVID- 19 free communities, such increased vigilance at larger events is only prudent.

There is also the financial consideration.  Those of us, myself included, who are not rushing to the gates, with regard to our investment accounts, do have a responsibility to leave as much as possible alone, so as to not be locked into the temporary Bear Market setbacks that may very well last well into Spring.

There is no immunization protocol for this virus, so prevention measures-including sanitation, are only to be supported and followed, rather than be the brunt of jokes.  I am prone to keeping myself and my area clean, anyway, so this new reality, for however long it lasts, does not pose any great change in the way I do things.

The rest of March, April and May are pretty much cut and dried, as far as what I am doing around here.  Should COVID-19’s aftermath be more severe than I currently think it will be, I can very easily cancel service-and -family-related travel plans for summer.  There’s enough to be done around Home Base, so even if the “quarantine” is more financial than governmental or medical, I will delay making any rock-solid plans for June, July and August, until mid-May.

Having been a caretaker, for eight years, in the 2000’s, this potential set of restrictions is quite mild.

Soup’s On

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Posted by on in Personal Values, Slow Food Prescott

March 10, 2020-

The Nineteen-Day Fast has just passed its midpoint.  So, it’s a good time to look at what sustains this soul, in my last go-round with total abstinence from food and drink during daylight hours.

The key, at least this year, has been hot soup for breakfast.  It helped me knock out the cold that had lingered inside me, for nearly two weeks and has kept me hydrated during the daylight hours-along with two glasses of water before sunrise, and one at sunset.

There have been several soups that filled the bill.  Two were my own concoctions:  1. A beet soup, with the bulbs hitting the crock pot first, then taken out and sliced.  Next, the beet greens were cut up and added.  Sliced scallions came next, with oregano oil, chili powder and turmeric added to the water (no soup stock).  The mix simmered for four hours, and sustained me for five days.

2.  Last Saturday’s Slow Food Prescott potluck called for another soup. This one used fresh cut-up spinach,  a cup of bolete mushrooms, a cup of mixed lentils,  2 sliced dried sugar chilis, turmeric, a pinch of pink Himalayan sea salt and cumin.  The soup was fairly well-received at the potluck and I had enough left over for two more dawn meals.

Since then, there have been a cream of mushroom soup (2 meals, from a vendor at Prescott Farmer’s Market, and a sliced carrot and quinoa soup, from Ms. Natural’s (1 meal).  The rest of the Fast will see more such delights, getting my day off to the right start.

Soup makes my winter sizzle!

“I’m Up Here”

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 9, 2020-

The above statement is often made by a woman who is reacting, in a gently upbraiding manner, to having a man (or boy) focusing his attention on her torso.  I haven’t had that sort of correction being offered me, up to now, though it’s been a self-teaching process, over the years, to direct my attention to a person’s eyes, as we are engaged in conversation.  My autism had me looking down, anyway, so I recognize the imperative of eye contact- if for no other reason than to establish trust.  Besides, it takes three seconds to ascertain if someone is physically attractive; there’s no reason to stare.

It seems to be working, especially these past fifteen years, and definitely of late.  The ubiquity of  those who are either wearing tight clothing, or are “scantily clad” is something I’ve come to regard as mostly for the person’s comfort.  I find Millennial and Generation Z females both more modest in their interpersonal behaviour and more assertive with regard to their rights in the public sphere, than many of my generation were at the same age.  That may not be everyone else’s conclusion, but it’s what I see, in the course of my work, in my travels and at musical gatherings, such as the one I attended yesterday.  Then again, there is the fact that my relationship to the rising generations is one of mentoring, affirmation and overall support.

I like to engage people “up here”.

Elasticity, Drums and A Nerf Torpedo

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 8, 2020, Phoenix- 

I drove down here, this afternoon, to take in the last day of a the three-day McDowell Mountain Music Festival (M3F), held in my former home base’s spacious Hance Park.  This is a time when I touch base, however briefly, with a hyper-energetic artist friend, Pam Mayer, who dances, with and without hoops, encourages young women to do the same and rivets the attention of many, with her irrepressible mien.  Today was more of the same- I may not be Pam’s favourite pest, but  do get in enough quips, and pitches for the Drum Circle that is M3F’s spiritual centerpiece, to get at least a few eye rolls out of the Valley’s most mature “teenage girl” (my term, not hers).  I don’t go looking for her, mind you, but if I turn around at the right moment, there she is, hoops and all.  So it was, this afternoon, at two of the five locations to which I wandered.  Good hoop dancing requires elasticity, which God knows I fairly lack and of which Pam has an abundance.  She’s a treasure.

The other riveting thing about this festival, besides the music, is the mass of humanity.  There was no climate of fear in this gathering- with people of every age, generation and ethnicity-in abundance.  I spent a fair amount of time bouncing along to both reggae and country rock bands, as well as taking in a show by a techno-pop DJ.  He calls himself Bardz.

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At the country rock set, Los Colognes, a band out of Nashville, kept us leaning in and bouncing along. They have not been back to their own homes, to assess any damage from the recent deadly tornado, so the poignant musical tribute to Music City was one of the auditory high points of the day.  I wish the guys safe passage home.

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In between the reggae set  by The Green, not pictured, as I was too busy bouncing up and down, and practicing my shaka (easier with the right hand, than with the left, for some reason), and LC’s performance, I took a brief rest, along the black mesh fence at the park’s northern edge.  There, I was captivated by two adorable children, who were tossing a Nerf torpedo back and forth, sometimes getting in the personal spaces of other concert goers.  Everyone played along though, and when the toy ended up in The  Green’s buffer zone, event security people gleefully came over and gave the torpedo back to one of the kids.

That brings me to the Drum Circle.  This time, I sat in on both of the sessions.  Hand drumming, besides bouncing along to the music, is one of my favourite sound-centered pastimes.  Today was no exception, and as I kept up with the drum master’s rhythms, it was enjoyable to also encourage a variety of people to join in.  A couple of  families were led by one or two of the children to sit in and a couple of elders joined the festivities.

The festival’s energy and vibrations were perhaps best summed up by a group of five friends, who clasped their right hands together, towards the end of Los Colognes’ set.  Even in this challenging month and season, with Coronavirus and the accompanying economic setbacks, we are together in this joyous thing called life.

 

 

 

 

 

Proximity

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Inner Struggles, Social, Striving

March 7, 2020, Chino Valley-

One of the things about my level of autism/Asperger’s is that one tends to keep a distance from others, both physically and emotionally.  I got attached to certain friends and to my family, once in high school, where a modicum of social grace was both necessary and fairly easy to develop.
Once I graduated, the relative anonymity of  university, the factory and even the Army set me back to some of my old distance-maintaining postures.  I got along, more or less, and did my jobs, with varying degrees of competence. I did not feel intimate with anyone, though, until Penny came along,

She helped me get over the tendency to distance myself-and to be comfortable with things like cuddling and the more intimate aspects of married life.  It lasted twenty-nine years.  When she passed, I promised myself and her spirit that I would not revert back to the aversion to proximity that I felt throughout my twenties.

That basically has held, yet only recently have I finally felt that sitting down among strangers, and not wanting to practically apologize for taking my place, is something that ought to happen as a routine.  I know this is all about self-acceptance, and it has been among the most refreshing elements of personal growth, in a very long time.

In several gatherings this week, I felt perfectly relaxed among people I either barely know or have never seen before.  This included tonight’s gathering of Slow Food-Prescott’s members, to hear a wealth of information about the apple, a fruit that has over 7,500 varieties, and to enjoy a sumptuous buffet of vegetarian and “pescatarian” (no meat other than fish and shellfish) pot-puck dishes.

It is just a pleasure to not feel like a nuisance or an interloper-both things that come more from negative self-talk than from any bad social vibes from other people.  I look forward to a very robust spring and summer.

Transference

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 6, 2020-

I went into work early today, to have a conversation with my supervisor as to her assessment of my work so far.  I had a concern about how well I was being accepted by the close-knot staff, as there have been some expressions of hostility this week.

I need not have worried.  Both my supervisor and co-teacher are more than satisfied with the work I’ve done up to now.  They both want me to stay and finish helping our special needs student-and I will.

The legacy of Penny’s time and energy with me is, primarily, that she helped me get out of my own little world, giving up alcohol straightaway in 1981, being more present and comfortable in the presence of others, than I had been before we met.  It was, arguably, the first time I truly felt accepted by a woman, outside my family, since high school-when I had relatively little trouble getting along with my female schoolmates-even if I didn’t see myself as “dating material”.    Thus, what I viewed as rejection by others had much to do with my self-rejection.

Penny helped me transcend a lot of my self-doubt.  Some of it resurfaced, in the first years after her passing, but gradually, with travel to Europe, Oahu and northwestern North America, I began to recognize that I was not unworthy of acceptance and true friendship, from a wide variety of people.

My tent is huge.  I like people from a number of backgrounds- so whether their musical tastes are Classic Rock, European Classical, Country, Bluegrass, Zydeco, Blues, Jazz, Hip-hop,  Metal, ( but not “Death Metal”), Powwow songs or Folk, I enjoy their gatherings.  Whether someone is a person of size, svelte, or (like me) somewhere in between, it’s everything else about them-their character, primarily, that matters far more.  The same goes for other physical attributes.  Ditto, with political leanings, so long as the individual is not clamouring for the death and destruction of those with opposite leanings, be they conservative or liberal.  I like my friends to leave their silos and, at least occasionally, listen to the opposite point of view with open ears and minds. Everyone has a piece of the Truth.

So, the most influential soul ever to grace my world still has a day-to-day impact on how I view myself.  The spirit tells me to exude love for those around me, as well as for my own self, as life is hard enough for most people.

Nine Years On

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Posted by on in collaborating, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Spiritual, Striving

March 5, 2020-

As my dear love got ready to go on to her next spiritual journey, I was driving with our son to her hospice.  Random road construction set us back, about three minutes.  As we got to the door of the facility, a slight spiral of air brought leaves and dust upward, on an otherwise still morning. I knew she was not able to hang on, any longer.

It’s been nine years, since that hard March morning.  Each anniversary since, I’ve taken stock of where I am.  The bottom line is that I am able, in general, to do what she and my other spirit guides tell me is necessary.  I feel her presence, constantly.

There has been a fair amount of travel involved, to accomplish the goals that she and I had set for our later years.  There are both family (biological and extended) visits and journeys on behalf of our shared Baha’i Faith.  There are acts of service to the developmentally disabled, whose education was Penny’s life’s work.  There is embracing  a community, in its pursuit of sustainable culture.  There is facing down all the negative forces that threaten the lives, and livelihoods, of so many-from the capriciousness of politics and finance, to the mind games that play out in interpersonal relationships.

These things always concerned Penny and sometimes “drove her nuts”.  There was one thing that kept her steady, even in the darkest of days:  Her faith in God and a knowledge that Creation, in its many forms, was eternal.  No corrupt financier, feckless school administrator or greedy medical practitioner ever kept her from realizing her goals.

To this day, I hold all the lessons of her life, dear to my heart.

Little Things

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

March 4, 2020-

In the newspaper, this morning, my horoscope was a bit on the snarky side:  “You have been known to take the smallest hint as a sign from the Universe”.

Yes, and no.  Each day, there are hundreds of small hints that come the way of any one of us.  As I laid down for an after-breakfast nap, something I have customarily done during the Fast, these past 39 years, a magnet button fell off the refrigerator, hitting the floor.  The button’s message:  “Follow your dreams”.  I re-attached the button to its magnet, and resumed my rest.

The message may, or may not, have been an affirmation. I follow my inner promptings, regardless, after always bouncing them off the reality around me and subtle messages from my spirit guides.  Reality can change, from one day to the next, so I am prone to a fair degree of flexibility-as is most anyone else, I’d imagine.

I have met people who are so over-tethered to the sights and sounds around them, that every billboard, bumper sticker and expression on someone’s face is seen as intended just for them.  There are times when the connection between self and universe is indeed very intense, and there are times when one is left to own judgment.

I am grateful to items like horoscopes, tarot cards and sightings of heart-shaped objects, for generally offering comfort and affirmation.  May they ever be so.  I am also supremely grateful for having been given the power of discernment.

 

 

Nashville

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Posted by on in Community, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 3, 2020-

The two little boys missed their Mommy,

as the wind sounded for all the world

like a freight train, headed straight towards them.

Daddy was there, and got his two cowboys

to the safe room of their house.

When they talked with their mother,

later on this first horrific day of their young lives,

they learned that she had been safe, too,

throughout.

She was in another part of the country,

doing her work.

A musician friend, who has been ailing,

had to flee her home,

along with her beloved soulmate.

They will go back there,

to recover what’s left,

and then move on,

in the light,

provided by a Loving God,

through the portal

of an enveloping community.

The dead are being recovered,

and will long be remembered,

by a city, state and nation,

which cast their arms around

those left, in neighbourhoods,

vibrant, once, and again.

Nashville, resilient.

How Far?

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Posted by on in collaborating, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 2, 2020-

Chris Matthews retired as host of the news show, “Hardball”, with this evening’s broadcast. He’s not someone I have watched very much, if at all.  Talking over one’s guests isn’t something that would have gone over well, when I was growing up.

He comes to mind for a different reason, though. One of the things he is reported to have said this evening, is that he was sorry for constantly telling the women on his program that they were beautiful.

It took  many years, but a former student of mine pointed out, a bit sarcastically, that this is not the first thing a woman, or a girl for that matter, wants to hear about herself, first.  I began, at that point, to think more of the actual skills the person has, and of how to compliment those.  Beauty is not a skill, so however attractive I might find someone, the sensible thing is to focus on what can keep her in the loop, can help her grow.

We might think, in this month that celebrates Women’s History, of just how far we have come, as a species, in the area of gender relations.  My grandparents’ generation would have been mortified, had women gone out on the street in slacks, less-than-full length skirts or, God-forbid, shorts.  Women rarely drove cars.

My parents’ generation saw women exercising more options, when it came to dress, and certainly most women drove cars.  Working outside the home was one area on which progress was a bit lacking-other than teachers, secretaries, cashiers and nurses.

There was a lot of  “break-out”, both socially and vocationally, with my generation.  The Women’s Liberation Movement took me aback, when I got home from Vietnam, in 1971, though it might not have. Young Vietnamese girls were telling us that they heard “Mi “(American) girls were thinking more for themselves, and therefore they, the Vietnamese, expected to do the same. There was an incident where a girl told me I was not her type.  The other guys at the table about fell out of their seats.  I left her alone; then again, I did that routinely in the States, so it was nothing new, for me. For a girl in southeast Asia, though, it was a big step forward.

When women started opening doors for men, letting us board buses first and talking fiercely about not wanting to be on a pedestal, it began to sink in that this Movement was resulting in lasting change, however maudlin it appeared.  It was the beginning of the end for “Prince Charming”, who actually ended up being a villain in one of the more contemporary Disney films.

That has suited me just fine.  I was married to a woman who eclipsed me, intellectually, and, since her passing, have preferred the company of women friends who have clear goals, and make no excuses for their dreams and their drive-in fact, who make no excuses for anything in their lives.

While there is much to be done, as yet, I would answer the question, “How far have we come, in the area of gender relations?”, by saying how proud I am to be in the company of so many who are sure of themselves and can be persistent, with no fear of being pushed back into the corner.