Monthly Archives: October 2023

Expanding Home, Day 3: Transitory Headaches and The Homeopathic Telephone

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

October 12, 2023, San Diego- Columbus may have ended his first voyage across an ocean, on this day. I begin my twelfth such journey in less than an hour. Transitions have invariably included at least one headache. Today’s involved finding the auto park where Sportage will spend its time, while I am on the other side of the Pacific. You have to love Google Maps-three times directing me to a man’s welding shop, and all because CalDOT re-named a road and Google didn’t pick up on it. After the third time, I found the shop owner and learned that he gets five or six people a month stopping at his place and inquiring as to the Auto Park’s location. It was then that I called the Auto Park’s parent company, got the Auto Park’s local number and within minutes was securing my vehicle’s safety for the duration of my time away. Cell phones can be homeopathic.

The other thing I realized was that I did not want to leave Samesun Hostel. It was time, though, and the Sowellian trade-off is that I will make several new friends along the way. The desk clerk at the hostel, as I checked out, was officious,but courteous. Her slightly standoffish nature is perhaps the result of dealing with hundreds of relative strangers who come and go each day. It just was a tad different from the other desk clerks I have encountered at Samesun.

I stopped briefly at San Diego Baha’i Center, to pick up a newly-printed study guide. Then it was lunchtime. In the interests of not running out my time on the crotchety parking meter, I stopped in at Carnivore Sandwich, a spot on the edge of Little Italy that is popular with sailors from the not-too-distant 32nd Street Base. Taking the Philly cheese steak to the waterfront was a refreshing idea, sitting on a park bench, greeted by a cyclist who wished me a nice lunch and by a pair of dogs, who were eager to sniff the remnants of my meal. After their owner gave a stern “No” to that idea, the trio went off to their motorized raft and on to her sailboat.

A short time later, after walking along the harbourside, near the Coast Guard complex, I headed towards the Auto Park, and worked through the above-mentioned challenge. A short shuttle ride later, it was time to visit Alaska Airlines. The check-in process was not complicated, with the comical incident of my camera falling out of the TSA bin, while it was going through the screening. When I asked an agent for help in finding it, she wondered whether it needed to be screened further. Nope-it was found, sitting by its lonesome, in a slight dip along the belt.

San Francisco- The flight from San Diego was smooth, but for mild turbulence over Big Sur. I found that the folder containing secondary copies of my flight arrangements and letters of introduction had remained behind, at the gate in San Diego. I have all I need on phone and laptop, so it is just a zing to my pride and a small life lesson.

An occasionally squawking toddler, and a trio of small dogs, yipping one in a while, from their mesh kennel, were the only interruptions to in-flight silence, as my seatmate and I read our books and admired the slender line of sunset, about forty minutes into the flight. I last saw her, intense in thought and trying to figure out the map to the International Terminal. Feeling it prudent to leave her to her own resourceful mind, I made the walk to this terminal, in ten minutes.

When I got to China Air’s ticket counter, a small group of Taiwanese elders pointed to the empty counters, then to their mouths- as in ” Go eat, then come back”. It was a good idea, as once I had supped on chicken salad and a cup of coffee, the ticket counters were fully in business. It did not take long, though, to get my boarding passes for T’aipei and Manila, then to undergo a second security check. Now, a small group of us are at comfortable Gate 11. It’s close to my customary bedtime, but sleep will come on the plane.

My account of this Friday the 13th will be brief. When we leave San Francisco, it’ll be 1:05 a.m., the International Date Line will be crossed, and it’ll be slightly after 5 a.m., Saturday the 14th, when we land in T’aipei. It will be quite a life, these next two days.

Expanding Home, Day 2: Care Shares,Key Chains and Kelp Tossing

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 11, 2023, San Diego- Medaglia D’Oro instant coffee is a hit with the workers at Samesun Hostel. For that alone, it is one of the best investments I have made, for $4.05. In the days of widespread labour dissatisfaction, befriending and encouraging workers, even in small ways, is a most important endeavour.

After a hearty walkabout along the southern end of Ocean Beach, and the subsequent cat nap, I sat with a few of the staff members and some other hostelers, and made key chains-tutored by the crafts and yoga lady-Lexi. My chain’s decoration is two-sided, with the all-important eye on each side. It will likely cause the lot attendant a double-take, when I lodge Sportage with him, for the duration of my visit to the Philippines. He may wonder which of my grandchildren made this. ( I have none, at present.) The truth of the matter can stay with me, and the readers of this post. I made two new friends here at Samesun (Lexi and her friend, Alicia), and that’s the most important thing.

The day started with a brisk walk to the pier. The surf was a good deal calmer than it was, when I was last here, in December. Noting a sign that said “Throw kelp back into the ocean”, I spent several minutes doing just that, though I know that the message was directed primarily at the ubiquitous fisherfolk along the pier.

Morning surf, Ocean Beach (above and below)

The skies were almost June Gloom-like (“October Opaque”?), and true to form, they would break into sunshine, later in the day. Meanwhile, there was plenty of colour on the ground, in Ocean Beach.

Another sweet OB mural
Two ladies, two pelicans and a lone octopus

It was a pleasure to share my rather large portion of Cashew Chicken and Pork Dumplings with a trio of sidewalk campers, who are accepted neighbours of the hostel. Likewise,the street people here are respectful of their business neighbours and do not harass anyone walking about. There is a neatness and order here, that is not always present in impromptu communities elsewhere.

Once lunch was a wrap, it was time for the walkabout that I mentioned earlier. In December, I focused on the pier and on the north of OB. The south side, also called Sunset Cliffs, is equally a delight, though the area above the beach is considered unstable, and is fenced off.

Sign at Ocean Front Drive, OB
Unstable above; fascinating below
Sunset Cliffs trail, Ocean Beach
Cove, along Sunset Cliffs trail, Ocean Beach
Surf gets feisty, Sunset Cliffs trail
A sandstone sculptor has left several messages, along the south side of Ocean Beach. I am certainly trying my best.

Expanding Home,Day One: Double Tenth at Ocean Beach

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

October 10, 2023 , San Diego- The desk clerk cheerfully informed me that I had arrived here in my favourite part of a favoured city, just in time for a free night of parking. Given what it can cost to park elsewhere in San Diego, I will relish this.

The day got off to an odd start, as old cheapo wrist watch, that I had planned on wearing while across the Pacific, came off my wrist at the band and crashed to the floor. I got the back parts securely on again, but the second hand will not move-so it sits back in my night table drawer, until I get back and can give a jeweler friend something to do in his spare time.

The rest of the prep and pack phase went well. I had breakfast at Wild Iris, caught up on correspondence, gave the landlord a rent check in advance and was out the door by 9:15. A steaming cup of coffee and half of a Southwest sandwich from Pangaea Bakery sufficed for a roadside lunch, at the pleasant and underrated Mountain Pass, west of Salome. The other half went down the hatch, at a second rest stop, at Ripley, CA-just south of Blythe.

The journey was uniformly smooth, though once again there was a crash, outside Ehrenburg, that slowed everyone down just a bit-and a vehicle fire across I-8, near Ocotillo, was cause for consternation-if only for the thick black smoke it produced. There were no ambulances at either site, so I am hoping that means all people got off without serious injury.

Back at Home Base, though, or close to it, two good friends were intentionally attacked as they rode their bicycles near their home. An attentive witness got footage of the driver and vehicle, so I hope he gets nailed. The friends will recover, but it is the idea of “This road belongs to ME!” that is most infuriating.

I am now happily ensconced at Samesun Hostel, having had a slice of Che and Chloe’s delectable pizza. A gentle drizzle here makes three days in a row that Aug-tober has been interrupted by unexpected rain. The heat is forecast to be gone now, so I will have a few days of mild weather before arriving in the tropics. I am ready, though, with bug repellent and a broad-brimmed hat that has a retractable bug screen in front.

My prayers go to Israel, Palestine, Ukraine-and to my aforementioned friends, for their recovery.

NEXT: A Free Day in SoCal

First Nations

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

October 9, 2023- There once was a story, that when the People came across the ice and land bridge known as Beringia, they followed large, ferocious beasts, from mastodons and mammoths to smilodons (sabre-toothed cats) and short-faced bears. There was Megatherium, the larger, somewhat more irascible ancestor of today’s tree sloth. There were huge dire wolves and wild cattle, called aurochs. Some legends also say that the continent of North America was occupied by giant humans. There is evidence that some First Nations people also came by sea, from the western Pacific islands and from the Mediterranean region-and that even the Amazon Basin was peopled, before the Pacific Northwest.

Much of that lore remains to be proven. So, too, does much of the lore about who first settled what we call the Holy Land. The Old Testament recounts that the twelve tribes of Israel were led to the edge of that nation, and found Canaanites and Philistines already there. There was battle, and the Philistines were defeated. They went slightly north, became the Phoenicians , and contributed greatly to Western Civilization-as did the Jews.

People have always been on the move. Homo sapiens came out of Africa, spread throughout Eurasia, across the Pacific Islands, into Australia and to the Americas. Migrating peoples left the Eurasian steppes and Altai Mountains-some going east and becoming the Siberians and at least some of those we call First Nations peoples or Native Americans; others going west and becoming the Scythians, Kelts, Teutons, Slavs, Turks, Magyars (Huns) and Sami. Other migrating people left the Caucasus and became the Greeks, Etruscans, Latins and Illyrians of southern Europe, or, going eastward, the Persians and various peoples of north India.

African emigres sailed the Indian Ocean, and the eastern rim of Asia, to Australia, New Guinea and Melanesia. The true First Nations of the Philippines, Taiwan and Jeju (South Korea) were of African origin. In kind, Malays, who long ago left southern China and settled the Pacific Rim of southeast Asia-found their way westward, settling Madagascar, where they found and intermingled with Africans.

In Africa itself, the southern third of the continent was originally the domain of those who have been variously called Hottentots, Bushmen, Pygmies, or more recently by their own preferred name, San. Those known collectively as Bantu were migrants from western Africa, who spread across the continent, much as the First Nations peoples of the Americas spread through those continents.

The beat goes on-and still there is argument, as to who should be allowed to live where. Fighting over land is tantamount to self-defeatism. Untangling the ball of yarn will be a long, tortuous process, but can anyone really say the process of conflict and warfare is easier?

“The Earth is but one country, and Mankind its citizens”. – Baha’u’llah

Shani

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 8, 2023- Her smiling countenance is what we have left of her, at least for the time being. It is a sweet smile, and yes, it’s framed by a scantily-clad physique-but so what? SO WHAT? If that is the “crime” that led grown men abduct her, throw her in a truck, strip her naked and have women spit at her, while she was either unconscious or dead, it speaks volumes about the nature of the individuals and groups who are manipulating the Arabs of Palestine-specifically the long-marginalized, “rats in a cage” Arabs of Gaza.

We all know what deprived animals do when they are trapped and cornered. How much worse it is, for human beings-and when their own neighbours, their own chosen leaders, are the ones primarily entrapping them-as a means of stoking hatred towards a selected enemy-who responds in kind. Thus a few women in an unknown village, somewhere in Gaza, spat at the body of a young woman-who was unconscious or dead. Thus were girls, not much younger than she, made to watch-and be put on notice by their elders-that this is what happens to those who disobey the ulama, the imams, the Supreme Leader.

I am slated to leave for another part of the world, in less than a week. Some of my loved ones have urged me to reconsider, given the current situation in Southwest Asia. It is a fair request, and I am keeping a close watch on the situation. This journey, like all my travels on public conveyances, is insured to the hilt. If the situation escalates-which it may, and those sympathetic to the terrorists strike in the part of the world where I am headed, then I am prepared to stay in bounds, spend a few days in San Diego and San Francisco, and come back to live the dream. If the situation stays as it is presently-which it also may, I will take one leg of the flight at a time, and check updates, while in San Diego, then in San Francisco, then in T’aipei, to say nothing of being constantly vigilant, while in the Philippines.

Back to the matter of Shani Louk: She was at a music festival, in the Negev Desert, when she was abducted, taken to Gaza, stripped bare and paraded around a village like a slab of meat. There is little difference between this act, and all the other abductions, killings-on both sides of the border and torture-on both sides of the border AND the brutal attacks at a concert in Manchester, England, in May, 2017-except in the degree of death and destruction. There is little difference in the intent of the terror-mongers in southwest Israel and that of the perpetrators of the September 11, 2001 attacks on the United States-except in the degree of death and destruction.

Like the girls who were made to watch someone, not much older than they, be rendered unconscious, stripped of her clothing and paraded around, in total deshabille, their mothers’ and aunts’ sputum dripping from her body, we can only wonder how the human race got into this mess. Like the survivors of the Holocaust of 1943-45, forced to watch as their family members were herded onto rail cars and sent to “the showers”, never to return, we can only recoil in horror, as it happens again-albeit to a smaller group-so far. Like the innocent people of Gaza, the West Bank and the State of Israel, whose sole crime is living among those who exist by inhaling the stench of neurotically-achieved power, we can only redouble our own resolve to bring those tottering remnants of Byzantine folly to their just retribution. Extremism has begotten extremism-and it’s high time the gauntlet came down.

May Shani Louk be brought home to her mother.

A View from The Cusp

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

October 7, 2023- As we walked along, on the impromptu tour of Prescott College, this evening, one of the conversations drifted into the subject of zodiacal cusps-those periods just before the transition from one zodiac sign to another.

As the person who raised the issue was born just before Scorpio gives way to Sagittarius, the discussion revolved around which traits of the latter sign could be discerned in her make-up. There were 2 or 3, which I will not divulge, as the conversation was semi-private. She did, however, acknowledge that being born on the cusp of Sagittarius gave her a unique appreciation of both zodiacal realms. She went down the list of traits, and asked whether I had them: Free spirit-Check; Life-long learner- Check; Loyal- Check; Inveterate traveler-Check (The last one caused one of my dearest friends, walking nearby, to concur, with a mild sigh. )

One astrologer refers to a Sagittarian’s life as “a wild ride”. I am beginning to think that just about anyone’s life is a wild ride, these days-even if he or she is a homebody. Surely, though, if I have a quiet day at Home Base, it’s in preparation for something intense that’s about to break. My dull days have certainly been few and far between. The Scorpian cusper fairly said the same about her own life. She also said that she has less of a sense that things are out of control, on a frenetic day-and more along the lines of “This is what I am choosing”.

There is certainly much to be said for that view of life. If one recognizes freedom of choice, then it is easier to take responsibility for what happens. That has been, intermittently, a weak spot of mine, corrected in recent years by self-discipline.

This unanticipated stock-taking happened to follow a brief, but temporarily unsettling conflict, earlier in the day. Thankfully, another of the Sag traits with which I’m saddled is not holding onto grudges. Every human deserves a second chance, and the person with whom I had a run-in thought things over and was more respectful towards me, within an hour. Life is too short for anything less.

Three Bruces and Two Jerrys

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Entertainment, Inspiration, Social, Striving

October 6, 2023- As the band bantered, this evening at Rafter Eleven, a hand drummer joined and was promptly christened “Jerry, from a band of one two many Bruces”. The context was never explained, but it gave rise to this little story, in my head.

There were once two musically-inclined cousins, Bruce and Jerry. They grew up, close to one another, in Swarthmore, PA, home of a “Little Ivy League” college-which gave the town its name. Bruce wasn’t much of a student, in the usual sense, but he could read music from the age of 3. Jerry, on the other hand, couldn’t tell a G clef from an B sharp, but he could make his guitar sing-from the time he got it, at the age of 5. He was also a book worm, and would make up song lyrics from the things he read-having been first inspired by “Zippity doo dah”, from Walt Disney’s “Song of The South”. He kind of hit a brick wall, when trying to make songs about the Periodic Table of The Elements. That’s where a second Bruce came in. Bruce A. was a classmate of Jerry’s, having moved to Swarthmore with his family, from a small town in Alabama, called Eutaw. Coming from a family of Blues musicians, Bruce A. would sit in on the cousins’ jamming and lend his vocal talents to Jerry’s lyrics. B. A. made up his own songs about hydrogen, oxygen, and neon-and krypton, where his Blues aria about Superman had the Man of Steel tossin’ whole planets around. That brought in Bruce # 3, who was actually a girl.

Brucella Mantooth was a Choctaw girl,from “somewhere in Oklahoma; I think it starts with a T.” That turned out to be Tahlequah, where most everyone else was Cherokee. The reason the Mantooths came to Swarthmore was that B’s mom was a Professor of Native American Studies, at a time when everyone referred to the First Americans simply as “Indians”. Work opportunities for First Nations scholars were few and far between, even in Oklahoma, which used to be called Indian Territory. Swarthmore wanted to make a mark for itself, so the N.A.S. Baccalaureate and Master of Arts programs were started.

Bruce M. could play seven types of drums, from a big “powwow-type” drum to little bongos. She added a dramatic flair to the Superman songs that came from Bruce A.’s head. There were regular jams, in the back yard or garage, of one cousin or another, from the time they were all seven, until they were ten.

One day, Jerry came to a realization: There were one too many Bruces- and only one Jerry. He quietly fussed and fumed about the situation, not letting it get in the way of the band’s activities. Brucella, though, was intuitive-and determined she would find a solution to the problem, without making a big fuss. So, one day, she walked in with a new friend.

Geraldine Spector came from the city-Philly, and not just from anywhere, but from Old City. She was from an old time rock and roll/rhythm and blues family-her uncle invented the “Wall of Sound”, but Jerry was into country music, of all things. It started when she was learning to ride horses, first English style, then Western. With the latter style came a fascination with cowboys, and their music. When Jerry met Bruce M., at a mini-rodeo, the tapes played by Brucella’s Dad in his truck, left the slightly older girl hooked on the genre. The two girls, a year apart in age, became inseparable, and so, the band got its second singer, who could also play a mean keyboard.

As ten and eleven became thirteen and fourteen, the kids’ voices changed, there was a hiatus for that sort of discomfort to pass, and then the group took off again-being a staple at local high school dances-and small music festivals around Philadelphia. They came up with a dance, “Philly Dog”, which got cachet when mentioned in the hit song, “Land of A Thousand Dances”. They did soaring, rock-opera type songs, twangy country tunes about love and loss-and to placate Jerry S’s family, some covers of her aunt’s girl band classics.

There was still one little burr in the saddle: One two many Bruces.

(DISCLAIMER: Any relationship between the characters in this story and real people is purely coincidental.)

“What ARE You?”

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Education, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

October 5, 2023- So asked the little boy, as he tried to wiggle out of his car seat, with the door open, while he waited for his mother to return to the car. I saw my immediate task as making sure he did not manage to fall out of the car. So, my short answer was that I was a helper, whose job was to keep the children safe. That gave him something to ponder-and Mom came back a minute or so later.

Exactly what any of us are, is more spiritual than physical. We are spiritual beings having a physical experience. The physical body is a vessel, that lets us practice and develop spiritual attributes and resist, shed, those limitations borne of insecurity: Lust, greed, fear, rage, insincerity, envy-all that keep us down.

I am, essentially, a spirit living the life of a male human-and glad for every bit of it. That’s how I see myself. How the child mentioned above might see me is an entirely different matter-and based on my Dad’s contention that what people think of me is none of my business, a superfluous one at that. I would safeguard him, or any other child, as the need arises.

It’s been a good week.

Messages

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 4, 2023- When I closed my eyes at this evening’s prayer meeting, I saw a cabin in the woods, with soft, multicoloured lighting outside. After a few more prayers were said, I closed my eyes in reverence again, and saw the dungeon where Baha’u’llah was imprisoned for four months, in 1852. The full meaning of these visions could play out, in terms of my being physically-present in those locations, at some point, or there could be some related meaning, that pertains to something else in my life.

Messages can have “one and seventy meanings”, according to any number of spiritual traditions, including the Teachings of Christ, and those of Baha’u’llah- Who goes further, ascribing such a distinction to every written word in Scripture. Indeed, any time I get an inspirational message about how to spend a day, where to work and where to visit, it takes some contemplation, beforehand and along the course of the day, to be sure that I am maintaining the intended course of action,

The message that came to me, three weeks ago, to accept this week’s work assignment, was very clear: “Do your level best for the two children who will be your primary focus, while also helping with anyone else who needs attention, especially if the classroom teacher is busy elsewhere or is overwhelmed.” This has prepared me for a few instances, such as lunch time, when there has been shortness of staff and I found myself serving as an adhoc monitor. It also falls into my long-held view that every educator in an institution of learning is responsible, to a degree, for the well-being of every student in that environment.

The message that came to me, back in May, regarding my journey to southeast Asia, was to focus strictly on the Philippines-that a longer journey to the region, involving more nations, would happen in a few years. Such guidance can always change, as situations evolve in various aspects of my life and in the wider world. Yes, the dynamics of aging and health are among those aspects-but for now, that part of my life is not fraught with issues. I have three focuses for the upcoming trip: Visiting a sponsored youth, connecting with the Baha’is and a few other friends, and paying homage to those who died at Bataan and Corregidor, as well as to Jose Rizal and,if time allows, Lapu-Lapu, whom I regard as a figure little known in the West-but every bit as important to history as the great chiefs of North America’s First Nations.

Over the next few days, I may receive further insight regarding the matter, but for now, the message is to focus on the children and correct an oversight on a financial matter, relative to health care I received one and two years ago.

Smoke, Scheming and Fatigue

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

October 3, 2023- More than one child said they were just plain tired- of the smoke from “prescribed burns”, of someone else getting the “last” of a lunch item, or choosing a book they wanted, ahead of them.

More than one adult said they were just plain tired- of the smoke from “prescribed burns”, of people, with agendas contrary to the best interests of children, holding sway.

I am just plain tired- not so much of the smoke from “prescribed burns” (late autumn wildfires are far worse), as from the all-too-transparent schemes of those who think they know exactly how to create a perfect society-just quash the dreams of the common people, and of the rising generations and make everyone toe the line. If people start to catch on, the wire pullers have a plan for that, too-just blame the “other side”.

We, at the ground level are beginning to see that there is no other side-save the puppet masters; indeed, some of us have seen this, for a good long time. My third and fourth grade teachers taught us to reduce fractions to lowest terms. A professor in Graduate School taught us to resolve matters at the lowest possible level. “Keep it simple” ( I will dispense with the odious term ‘stupid’) was something I only mastered late in life, but I’m there now. The more someone tries to complicate things, the more likely it is that a nefarious agenda is afoot. The more someone tries to deflect attention away from themselves, the more likely it is that there is a serious offense being hidden.

Keep an eye on those who are taking advantage of chaos-they may very well be the ones creating it, in the first place.