Actual Vacation, Day One

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November 20, 2023, Grapevine- As I started to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich, around Noon, son intervened. It means a lot to him to be a good host, so he took over the making of lunch. My true vacation, time with no service or work responsibility, has begun.

Yes, most often, when I leave Home Base, there are elements of the greater good involved. This time, I will just focus on being a good family member, with no Zoom calls or other activities-emergencies aside. Yet, being a good family member is the greatest good, as I think about it.

Up early this morning-2 a.m. early, I found smooth sailing and was off to the shuttle by 3:05. The ride to Phoenix was not crowded, and after a pleasant conversation with one of the other passengers, we arrived at 5:10. From there, TSA was a breeze and our flight to Dallas-Fort Worth arrived ten minutes early. Aram was at the airport shortly thereafter. I accompanied him to an appointment, then got to enjoy the grilled cheese lunch and sprawl out for a snooze.

This evening, after a light dinner, the three of us took in Grapevine’s charming Christmas Festival-with plenty of lights and a modest fireworks display. There was even Fair-type street food, so we each tried a deep-fried Oreo. Not as bad as I thought it might be, and we walked enough to keep the pounds from sticking.

Here are some scenes from the Festival.

Holiday Lights, at Grapevine Recreation Center
Sculptures in the Peace Circle, Grapevine Main Street
Sam Houston, offering peace to First Nations of Texas.
View of the Peace Circle sculptures
All around the Clock Tower (Above and below)
Some fireworks scenes (Above and below)
The Glass Reindeer
More lights in Grapevine’s Main Square (Above and below)

As in Manila’s Rizal Park, and back in Prescott-at Courthouse Square, there is nothing like bright lights to raise spirits and the people’s mood. Sometimes, just a little encouragement is all the incentive people need to make a commitment to the betterment of their lives.

Beeswax Pull and The Flower Moon

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November 19, 2023- The beeswax cone did what it was supposed to do, gently cleanse my ears, with a pulling effect. It pretty much confirmed today’s gentler tone-compared to yesterday’s angry intensity. I had more small tasks to do-checking in on senior friends at Post 6 (most are well), attending a Baha’i study session (respectful, but thorough, examination of a letter from the Universal House of Justice), picking up the Farmers Market order that I missed yesterday, this beeswax cleanse and a visit to a Holiday Market in Prescott Valley, to get gifts for Aram and Yunhee.

Now it’s almost time to go view “Killers of the Flower Moon”-an acclaimed depiction of modern day exploitation of resources on First Nations lands. I will have some comments on the film, in the next post. I will say, ahead of time, that the part of the human being that often is killed first is the spirit. Once that happens, it takes a generation or two to recover, if justice is truly exercised.

That brings me to this morning. Last night, I went to bed, questioning my place in this community. In the light of day, though, and after talking with a few friends, my message to those who don’t like my being here- some of whom may read this- is:

I have a place here. It is not defined by you, and no matter who you may try to turn against me, it will not end well. There are many who know my heart, which you do not. They know I have the best interests of children, teens and the disadvantaged always front and center. They know it has been this way, for 42 years. They know I am committed, I will respect your gentle friends, whom I met last night, and show them honour. I will do the same for you, even if you strike back in anger.

So, though you are popular, active in social justice causes and will be in the same spaces as I am, quite a bit- know that I am not going anywhere. We might as well get along; but if not, Prescott will remain my home-until I am needed elsewhere.

The Sandbox

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November 18, 2023- So often, the most difficult person is who needs love the most.

When I was a child, my siblings and I had a fine sandbox, with plenty of quality, durable playthings. We shared it with everyone in the neighbourhood. No one was excluded. I knew what it felt like to be shoved to the sidelines, and left out. I was determined to not be that kind of person, in my own dealings with others.

Today,a small team of us went about a city that is 2 1/2 hours west of here, and installed smoke detectors in homes of those who requested them. Fifteen households were visited; fourteen of those who requested the implements were grateful. One household was not-for reasons that are best left unsaid. Chances are, the smoke detectors will end up save the life of our detractor. The most difficult person needs love the most.

This evening, I pulled myself together and went to the concert of a dear friend, at a favourite venue. Someone I know, and fairly trust, as an acquaintance, came in and asked to sit at my table. I was glad to see this person, who is fairly popular and influential in town. After a time, I started to feel discomfort, almost as if I didn’t belong in the situation. I focused on my friends’ music and danced about a bit. The most difficult person needs love the most-but in this case, I am not at all certain that my support and caring would be either welcome or accepted. By the end of the evening, and for the first time since I moved to Prescott, in fact, I feel like my status in the community is very much in jeopardy-and I will have to step back for a while. Red Cross, the Farmers Market (to some extent) and Slow Food are safe spaces-but the places I have visited and treasured, like the venue where my friends performed tonight, don’t feel so safe right now.

The most difficult people need love the most, but they can do a lot of damage along the way-especially when they wield a lot of influence. I can only hang on, the best I can.

Not Ugly

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November 17, 2023- Someone wrote a note to Daniela. In English, it said “You’re ugly!” Then it said, “Nobody’s as ugly as you.” Daniela sneered and sat on the note. After her class left, a group of younger students came in. One of them found the note, and gave it to me. That’s how I knew what it said, and why Daniela sneered.

She is not an ugly girl-nor is any other child in this community ugly. The spirit of one who makes that judgment is rather feo. Spirits, though, can change-have to change. I took a class that had several groups visiting. They each had the same assignment. I found that there were no difficult groups-just more people to whom I felt and showed love.

That’s the beauty of being here-of being with those whose lives are all ahead of them; to whom I can point out that certain behaviours are more deadly, or at least hurtful to them as individuals, than they are to those around them. So the younger ones were not allowed to lift the heavy covers of oaken desks. The older ones had more responsibility to clean up and make sure that like objects went with like objects.

Most importantly, they were made accountable for the well-being of their classmates. A sad child was paired with one or two classmates of the same gender, who were encouraged to say kind things and lift the aggrieved one’s spirits. No one was coddled, but no one was left out-or shut out. Everyone’s work was praised, because that is how people advance-one skill set at a time.

I gave the note to Daniela’s teacher, who had a fair idea as to who wrote it. There will be a healthy discourse on the subject of judging people by perceived appearance.

I see no ugly faces.

Patience Rising

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November 16, 2023- The soloist momentarily forgot a line, or a note, and uttered “Oops, I forgot…”, then got his memory jog and continued his tune-all within a span of three seconds. He ended his turn on stage by noting the atmosphere of patience in the room.

Since we were at a Community Celebration of Thanks, the attitude of gratitude was a given, and the gentleman, a Sufi, as it were, would have been unlikely to have incurred anyone’s annoyance. There was applause after each performance-even after each short reading of Scripture. The accent was totally on the positive.

I am noticing, in the face of much ballyhooed implosions of public manners, particularly in Washington, D.C. and among the frustrated few, that the average Joe and Jane are showing more patience with one another. I see this around town, and I saw it in southern California, when I was en route back here from a visit to the Philippines. Road rage is still a thing, but it seems less common, of late. The angry person, or persons, who set fire to the underpinnings of the freeways in downtown Los Angeles are outliers, even more than would usually be the case.

Perhaps it is a natural reaction to the horrors we are witnessing, in other parts of the world. It may well be that we are growing up, as a species, slowly but surely, and that peace in our time will become more than a buzz phrase. It starts with talking with those who have differences of opinion, and focusing on our common humanity. The leaders of the United States and China did so, yesterday. The leaders of the two parties in the House of Representatives did so, yesterday, as well-and they will do so again-of necessity. Sooner or later, the leaders of Israel and Palestine, Ukraine and Russia, the warring factions in Sudan, Yemen and perhaps a dozen or so less intense conflicts, will have to sit face to face-and patience will win out, of necessity.

Nuclear obliteration, Mr. Putin’s view of it aside, is not an option.

Death of A Culture?

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November 15, 2023- The scene, in a National Geographic Magazine article on orcas of the Southern Ocean, showed three or four females in an orca family systematically using wave action to upend a small ice floe, on which their prey, a Weddell seal, was sheltering. The maneuver was ultimately successful and the dolphins took their food home.

It was then pointed out, that the decline in sea ice has led the seals to find a new home, inland on a rocky landscape. Orcas, and other cetaceans, have no such recourse. Thus, the author concluded, we may be witnessing the death of a culture.

Cetaceans may, over eons, return to the land-dwelling practices of their very distant ancestors. Living things are almost always able to adapt to the Earth’s changes, if given plenty of time. Aspects of culture, though, will rise and fall, with the onset of those changes.

I pondered what this has meant, in a human context, just in my own lifetime. When I was four, a child could not get on a phone and call a beloved relative, without two or three unfamiliar female voices telling him to get off the phone. I used to wonder, even back then, how nice it would be it we could speak to family and friends on a phone that could be used in a car-or while walking along a sidewalk.

In moments of self-pity, in my early adolescence, I wondered what it would be like to live in a society where it was severely frowned-upon, or even illegal, to ridicule others. I quickly concluded that the scenario would be untenable- since nobody’s perfect, and not being held to account for things would end in the person falling victim to own ego.

The narrowness of my contacts, growing up in a community where people of colour lived on the periphery of town, or came to work from the two larger cities to our northeast and southwest, respectively, allowed subliminal and stereotypical views of other ethnicities to settle in my psyche. Still, I wondered from an early age as to how long it would take for people of colour to be able to live freely, wherever they wanted-with no harassment from those around them. I guess we’re still working on that one-though we’ve certainly come a long way. The house, where my mother and her siblings were raised, has been owned for several years by an African-American attorney, of distinguished bearing and considerable accomplishment. I think my maternal grandfather, who prided himself on his work, would have approved.

Culture, our collective, shared set of beliefs, practices and implements, may always change. To say it is subject to death, though, is rather presumptuous.

Little Deep Breathing Victories

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November 14,2023- There it was, mocking my best efforts to control its forays into my small coffers: Yet another unauthorized deduction from my account- with no goods or services offered in return. This time, though, yet another call went to the Fraud Department-and got a swift response. Essentially, the bank is tired of the elusive thief’s cat and mouse, no contact number, e-mail or website. The gig is up and the small, but irritating charges have been blocked and will not be allowed henceforth. Whoever it is, never bothered to even try to snooker me. He/she/they just glommed onto a legitimate start-up, which has since gone under-and stopped charging me, since she can’t provide her promised service. Not so the ghost outfit, who soldiered on, in the shadows, oblivious to my protests to the bank-until today. Deep breathing and thought won out.

Later in the day, a hurriedly prepared task was handed me, and its author headed out the door to a meeting. Predictably, when a key detail was left out, the program omitted any links to the next elements of the program. Those of us in the room were left using marker and white board to complete the tasks. I am fairly well-versed in technology, but navigation of a Chrome Book, with no mouse, still gives me fits-especially when a link just up and disappears-not even locatable on the bottom of the screen-which is the first place I look for an errant link. Somehow, with deep breathing, we got through a good part of the task, before an apologetic task writer came back in.

When all else fails, inhale, count to ten and exhale. Repeat 10x-no rinsing necessary.

What’s Missing?

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November 13, 2023- Today is one of two days this week with no outside schedule, per se. So, of course I went down to Century Lounge, to sit and chat with my friend, Marianne, the barista. While we had a few minutes, before the upstairs tenants and streetside regulars came in, M asked me if I was homesick for Prescott, whilst in the Philippines.

I have not given that notion much thought. I do not miss one place, when I am in another-largely because there has been so much that is comforting and wondrous, wherever I happen to be. Certainly, I’d be “homesick” were I in a war zone or in some other captive situation-but, as it occurred to me, in another situation today, there would be scant comfort and wonder, in such a place.

That said, I certainly miss friends here, when elsewhere and am glad to see them, once back in Home Base. Likewise, there are people I miss in many other places of the heart, when here-and thank the Lord for the digital connections we now have, to augment the telephone and the mails. (I thought of someone from whom no one has heard in a while, and thus sent her a message. I will be very much concerned with the response.)

We each can only be in one place at a time-and my loci do not depend on permission, per se, from anyone who interposes self in other people’s lives, my own included. This has caused a rift with someone I’ve known for many years-and is discomfiting to a few others. To equate availability on demand, however, with trustworthiness, is a false equivalency.

I have three key work assignments, this week, followed by a day helping to install smoke detectors, in a town three hours west of here. Then there will be ten days spent with family. All else remains in the realm of prayer.

Seat of Honour

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November 12, 2023- The full chocolate cake, with frosting to match, fit the recipient’s taste to a tee. I recall this, as her choice of cake for my birthday gathering, six years ago, was this exact recipe. She got to keep the greater part of that cake, since there was only so much that I wanted to stick in my freezer for parceling out, over the subsequent days.

It had to be carefully choreographed, as this gathering in her birthday honour was following a business meeting, and was a follow-up to the surprise birthday party she had staged for her husband, a few weeks ago. He, of course, turned the tables, saying nothing about today’s surprise. It was a nice ending to a well-organized meeting.

There should be a place of honour for each soul, at the right time. Many go through life without so much as a stale crust of bread. They don’t complain, mostly because they have little strength. They deserve a place of honour, and will someday get it. Others go through life, squawking about every little slight-and letting the rest of us know just how much we have let them down. They deserve a place of honour, too, just not to the extent they tell themselves so. People like today’s birthday lady, though, have endured a fair amount of physical and emotional pain-and have walked through it, with little fanfare. Only when her loved ones’ safety is at risk, do the rest of us get put on notice about being extra careful.

Today was her time in the sun-and she got to keep the bulk of the cake this time, as well!

Hours of Power

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November 11, 2023- Settling in, to enjoy ninety minutes of pulsating, original rock songs, by one of Prescott’s most pulsating, original bands-The CheekTones, I was pleasantly surprised when two young ladies I had not seen before sat themselves at the table, joined, for good measure,a few minutes later by two of their male classmates, then by a shyer, more reticent girl.

The first two asked me general questions about my day, and how I enjoyed The Raven-and the CheekTones. It turned out they were mostly there to support one of the boys who was playing a song with Don Cheek and his band. The kid can play! His parents were there, for the moment-as were these classmates. The girls spoke a bit about their after school jobs-shopping cart jockey, beverage pourer at a local burger joint and juice bar attendant. The boys had nothing to say. Then we all turned our full attention to the band.

Don has had a band presence here, at least since I moved up from Phoenix, in 2011. He has been mentoring young musicians for probably twice that long. He inspired, and supports, another local band, Scandalous Hands, who appear regularly at The Raven, as well. The two bands do 95% of their performances in Prescott clubs and outdoor venues-going, every so often, to Sedona or to Parker, on the Colorado River. Such energy conservation has its benefits-and is rather common, to local bands. It’s a huge reason why their performances here tend towards the intense, the explosive and are so inspirational to young artists.

The kids excused themselves, after forty minutes or so, to go do teen-specific activities. They popped back in one more time, towards the end of the concert, just so I wouldn’t think it was because of me that they left the first time. Nah-I was there once, long ago. It was good they stopped back in, though. I had the young guitarist’s finger warmers on the table and would not have been able to return them, save through Don-who has enough to concern himself.

There was a lot of power in the air today. It is categorized, by astrologers and cosmic advisers, as an Eleven Master Day-meaning that its digits, 1+1+1+1+2+2+3, add up to eleven. A pair of ones, written side by side, are also seen by the mystics as being pillars of both male and female energy.

Today was Veterans Day, and there was a long parade, part of which I watched, before heading to Farmers Market, to tend to the only service day I could offer there, this month. In early evening, I sat in on a Healing Devotional, hosted by someone who was attacked last month. She is on the mend, though, and is still working with police in her community, to try and locate her assailant, before another attack happens.

Each of these events had a power of its own, as did the initial responses to my joining subgroups of nextdoor.com. It has never been easy for me to accept compliments and positive views from others, but that is changing-at long last. It does not have to conflict with personal modesty-and is good for building the energy flow that I need, in order to accomplish what lies ahead, both here and further afield. One friend says my travel is foolish, but deep down inside, I think she is only masking her own wish for a more expansive life, something that those who controlled her life for so long would never allow.

Each of us can move ahead, and as long as we support one another, in our struggles with our own egos and with those who would try to stifle us, for their own ends.