I am putting this post, from 13 months ago, back up, to check and see where I am now, vis-a-vis then. Since no one commented on it the first time, I think I’m safe. 🙂
Before diving into my recent visit to San Juan Capistrano, I need to reflect a bit on my blessings at this stage of life. A few days ago, I met a few people whom I will henceforth regard as dear friends. I left at least one of them with a sense of puzzlement, as to what sort of person I am, and for what I stand in life. So, for her, and anyone else who is a bit uncertain, these are nine things that mean everything to me.
1. No one can know the true nature of God. I just know He is in all things, yet above all things.
2. Every person has value, and that value is unique to that person.
3. I had thirty beautiful years with the person who gave me the best of everything in her life.
It was a kind, and delightful, suggestion made by the KOA counter lady, that sent me north, through Hulett and Aladdin, rather than east through Sundance, as I had originally planned. These are solid little towns, with tough, but friendly people, and good stories to tell, as communities.
Hulett has a couple of fun little cafes and a kickass shop- Rogues Gallery. It brings in Native American art from as far afield as the Arizona reservations, and has plenty of local stuff as well. Just outside town, one sees the rolled bales of hay that are common to the upper High Plains.
Then, we come to Rogues Gallery.
I had to buy SOMETHING here, so I got a little ceramic bear.
After bantering with the shop clerk for a while, about Indian art and cowboy culture, I had to choose between the two restaurants nearby.
I chose Hitchin’ Post, as that’s where my car was parked. I wasn’t disappointed. The teen waiter seemed a bit befuddled, but he got the order right, and there was enough lunchtime camaraderie that I felt I had grown up here.
Once lunch, and the tall tales, were finished, I headed out through the Bear Lodge Mountains. These would be a worthy destination, in and of themselves.
A few miles or so later, the genie presented me with- Aladdin, the village.
The Aladdin Store is ready for anyone.
I’ve seen a similar sign, in Tombstone, AZ, aimed at politicians. I was welcomed, as is, given a free cup of coffee and purchased a jar of pickled okra. I understand, from my friend in Oklahoma, that the contents of the jar were quite tasty!
Outside Aladdin, a mile or so, east, lies Aladdin Tipple Historic Park. I will show that, next.
Last week, I received two copies of an amazing book: “Amber, The True Story of a Courageous Young Girl”. Yesterday, I was honoured to take the second copy down to Phoenix Children’s Hospital, and offer it to the hospital’s Family Health Library- The Emily Center. Like Emily, Amber was a person struck down by childhood cancer.
She was the child of a friend, which made reading this book, and sharing it, all the more important for me. It is said, quite often, that growing old is not for sissies, and I’m sure I will experience some of that, down the road a bit. Let me say what else is not for “sissies”: Watching someone you love waste away. I have been there, first as a brother, then as a husband. Yet, I can only dimly imagine being there as a parent, and how much more as a single parent. Amber was courageous, and that courage was matched by the steely, fastidious, undying determination of one of the finest human beings I have ever known: Her mother.
The title of this piece comes from a song by Bruce Springsteen, entitled “The Rising”. He wrote it and offered it, in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York and the Pentagon. The children he mentions were those sent to their heavenly home that awful day. He chooses to see them as an inspiration, not as anchors, or albatrosses. Such are children like Emily and Amber. They move us in all sorts of directions: Charitable fundraisers and ongoing donation programs; medical schools researching cures for such deadly plagues; prayer vigils; meal preparations for the parents and siblings keeping watch over the fighting child. They move us, most importantly, to treasure just what is in front of us, just how fortunate we are.
Everyone’s problems are important, to them, and to those closest to them. Everyone’s issues deserve a measure of attention, a resolution. It is, however, no cliche to say that when the Most Important is front and center, the Important has to wait its turn. There was, in those dark, painful, inspiring days, a decade or so ago, nothing more important in all the world than a child named Amber. I would have been there, in spades, had I known. Stay vigilant, stay involved, stay loving. This world is not for sissies.
Devils Tower, aka Spirit Tower, or Bear Lodge, was originally to be the third stop on a summer-long journey across North America. Several things combined to effect a change in that plan. I’m happier for it. I will reach all the postponed destinations over time.
As it stands, the Tower is close to the culmination of a drive across Wyoming, which lasted three and a half days, and has provided fodder for several posts. It is also near the western terminus of what has served me as a spiritual arc, along which I have focused on discarding baggage, that would ill-serve me in any future relationship and on putting spiritual energy into focus for several greater goods.
I awoke early on Saturday, July 20, and got myself together by 5:30 AM. You have already seen the Tower at dawn. Here are views of the phonolite monolith, from each direction, as well as of the boulder fields that lie at its base. I started at the Visitor Center, which is one of the oldest log cabins in the region.
My route that morning was counterclockwise, mostly because I had not woken up enough to focus on going through the boulder field and finding the southern part of the trail, which would have gone in a clockwise direction, far preferable in circling a place such as this.
So, here are scenes on the southeastern face of the Tower.
The phonolite, which gives the Tower its unique surface, is the result of an igneous intrusion, caused by volcanic uplift. Devils Tower is still rising, throwing boulders out of its way as it shoots slowly skyward.
Many people regard this laccolith as a sacred place. Shoshone people associate it with a boy, who turned into a bear, thousands of years ago. It is held, in this legend, that the bear still lingers here, thus some call Devils Tower “Bear Lodge”. The mountains north and east of the Tower are called Bear Lodge Range.
Now, we see the Tower from a northeastern perspective. Note the rougher corrugation of the phonolite on this side.
The north side brings us to a scene viewed from the top of Bear Lodge Mountain.
The phonolite is smoother on the west side of the Tower.
Here is a full-on view of the Tower, from atop a rock, due west of the laccolith.
When I rounded the corner, I found the southwest wall looking slightly like the Temple of Karnak, with stone”guards” jutting slightly from the slats.
At each place that is regarded as sacred by indigenous people in the uplands of the Plains region, prayer flags are very common, as people come for Vision Quests and other devotional exercises. The Tower is no exception.
Once I completed the Circle Trail, I went back to the commercial area and spent some time posting. Then, it was time to greet my little friends.
I was advised by the volunteer at the KOA counter to take the northern route to the Black Hills , through Hulett, and to stop at Rogues Gallery. So, I took her advice, saying thank you and farewell to this Tower of the Spirits, from a northeasterly perspective. I felt a very strong resonance, leaving this magnificent site. It would give me great strength, in moving through the Black Hills.
I heard from my dearest friend, this morning. It was a brief message, but it meant the world to me, knowing that she is okay, and in charge of her own life, as always.
This brings to mind just what is the purpose of this life. We are told, in the Baha’i Writings, that the purpose of physical reality is that each of us comes to know and love God. As God is, in His Essence, unknowable, how are we to reflect such knowledge and love?
The answer that comes to me is that we show compassion for His creatures. Baha’u’llah admonishes us to “Be fair to yourselves and others”. We each must regard our own bodies as human temples, thus not abusing these bodies with excess of food and drink, much less an excess of mind-altering substances, however tempting such substances might seem, in times of stress.
Beyond self-care, the knowledge and love of God is reflected in one’s care and love for : Family members; fellows in faith, or, in the case of atheists and agnostics ,fellows in philosophy of life; co-workers; casual friends, and those who inhabit our in-most hearts. Finally, compassion for those we encounter randomly, in the course of a day, and for the non-human- the plants, animals, and inanimate resources, is also a sign of knowing and loving God.
I will have something to say, in a later post, about those who presume to hate God. For now, though, let us consider that, without a deep and abiding compassion for all of the above, including our own selves, we relinquish our mandate and toss aside the very purpose of our being. None lives for self alone, and gets to feel alive, for very long.
This will be short on photos, mostly because it was largely raining that night, from Gillette to the Devils Tower park campground.
As I came down the mountain from Medicine Wheel, my heart was still very much in prayer. Aram called at about the halfway point of the descending drive, just shy of Dayton. It was a good 45-minute break from driving, and we covered all of what was up with him, and with me. It’s always worth the time, and we come away understanding one another’s positions. So, he knew how I felt about things, and people, and why. There’s nothing earth-shaking about it, but I think maintaining clear communication channels obviates messy interpersonal situations later on.
Dayton and Ranchester are lovely, now quiet farm towns. In the 1890’s, though, the area had its share of the conflict between the U.S. Cavalry and Plains Indians, being not that far from Little Big Horn.
The Battle of Tongue River took place in what is now Ranchester.
Indian Wars always leave me in a dumpy mood. The whole concept of owning the Earth is rather dicey, though I know we have to have some form of identity. Still, setting oneself apart from others, by means of ownership, kind of countermands the sense of responsibility that ownership implies. There are homes of friends, which I cannot visit, because one or more of the owners has/have serious trust issues. Fortunately, most of these are places I seldom visit, anyway.
The Tongue River, and its commemorative park in Ranchester, provide relative peace and solace for about two dozen people, on any given night between May and October.
After eating a picnic supper here, I headed on through Sheridan, Buffalo, Gillette and Moorcroft, without stopping, It was raining, hard, all the way to Devils Tower National Monument. A friend had shown me photos of shimmering lights circumnabulating the Tower’s summit, while cautioning that these might be Photoshopped. Still, I had hope for the magic to break out of the clouds, and elected to sleep under the stars, when I awoke in my car, at 1:30 A.M., and saw a beautiful, clear sky. Rolling out my tarp, mattress pad and sleeping bag, I reveled in the silhouette of the Tower, set under the shining canopy. Sleep came easy, until 5:45, when it was time to hustle over to the Tower Trail.
Last night, I had the good fortune to join a small group of friends, at a ranch outside of Prescott Valley, for some grilled items and pot luck salads, stimulating conversation and shooting stars. I ate well, listened and was heard, and saw two beautiful meteors.
The couple who host these gatherings, 4-5 times a year, have a spread that is magnificent in its darkness, come sky watching time, but always warm and welcoming, regardless of time of day or time of year.
It is ironic that the man of the house lost his father yesterday, as he was putting the finishing touches on this long-planned event. It was not an unexpected departure, and there is an aura of relief around the home. His father lived in another state, but his presence was reflected in the shooting spectacles, of which each of us saw at least one.
There is a joy that I find in stillness. Much of my life, the past four weeks, has been invested in sorting out my feelings for a very dear friend. Are these romantic? Platonic? Fraternal, or even paternal? What gives? Stillness, and quiet, measured reflection, provided some answers.
I believe in marriage. I believe it is very hard work. I believe it is work that each partner should share, day in and day out- giving 100 % of himself, and of herself. It may seem like there is no end to the heavy lifting, but look at your partner. See the person with whom you are meant to spend this life, and all eternity. See her, or him, in a setting of stillness, and let the frenzy of the world take a hike.
The quiet of the night, the beauty of its sky, led me to this point. The best moments of my long and blessed marriage were found in such a time. They healed Penny and me, and more than once. Now, I feel her in such settings, watching and smiling.
My dear friends, yes FRIENDS- husband and wife, heal yourselves and one another. It can be done, in stillness, in reflection and in appreciation of just what a wonderful partner you have. I love you both, actually, and want to see a beautiful home restored. The work will be strenuous, grinding- and rewarding, far beyond what you can see now.
The whole is always greater than the sum of its parts. Namaste.
I was advised to visit this Medicine Wheel, by my waiter at Elk View Lodge, once he learned that I was on a spiritual quest, of sorts. This is ancient structure, first built, apparently, to keep track of the movements and positions of stars such as Aldebaran, Sirius, Rigel and Fomelhaut, particularly with regard to the solstices. The Crow people, and other indigenous nations, send their youth here, as part of the vision quest process.
The U.S. Forest Service maintains the site, as a National Historical Landmark. I was honoured to hike it, and found it to be the westernmost point in what was to prove the heartland of my journey: The Bighorn-Bearlodge-Black Hills crescent. The Medicine Wheel is located about 15 miles east of the Bighorn River, and some 26 miles east of Lovell, WY.
Here are some scenes from my hike up to the Wheel, and of the structure itself. Please don’t be disappointed, but out of respect to the sacred nature of the adornments being placed on the Wheel, as well as that of the Wheel itself, I have one lone photograph of this magnificent structure.
First, here are some views from the trail up Medicine Mountain.
The Forest Service has placed informational signs and benches, at key points along the route.
The limestone surface is unusual for this part of Wyoming.
The route was perfect exercise for me, after a heavy meal at Elk View.
Nearing the summit, I began to pray privately.
At the Wheel itself, I stood to the side, away from other visitors, and continued prayers for healing and protection of a few blessed souls, and for mankind as a whole.
The Medicine Wheel smiles on a wide swath of magnificent Wyoming, and on into Montana.
Next: The Road to Devils/Spirit Tower (aka Bear Lodge)
The whole inappropriate comment thing was stuck in my mind, all day, July 19. I was soothed a great deal, though, by the beauty of Shell Falls, and the delightful meal at Elk View Inn, which is all by its onesies, about halfway between Powell and Sheridan, in north central Wyoming. I also got to check the Web, and take my medicine. As I’ve said elsewhere, the worst thing I can do to someone, in my own head and heart, is to hurt their feelings. I had thirty years of sensitivity training, and it’s second nature now. I still feel terrible about this, my friend.
Elk View Inn, though, tried its best to help me feel great again, and it got me through the day. So did some fine scenery, from the top of Shell Canyon (below), to the foot of Medicine Wheel Mountain.
Rounding the corner, at the top of the canyon, I encountered a juvenile moose, enjoying a meal.
After lunch, I found my footing, in the foothills of the Bighorn Range, about three miles east of Medicine Wheel. Some volcanic outcroppings graced the scene.
Medicine Wheel Mountain is visible, from these outcroppings.
Columbine are prolific in the foothills of the Bighorns.
The base of Medicine Wheel Mountain, though, is largely high desert scrub.
I was, however, psyched to drive to the Forest Service parking lot, and go to Medicine Wheel, for several minutes of prayer and homage. God knows, I needed it, and needed to offer it.
I have been asked a few times recently, how can I say my wife , Penny, is my soul mate and still refer to a “Best Friend”, who is very much alive. First of all, Penny was my lover and the mother of my child. My child-siring days are over. For all I know, my love-making days might be over, too.
She used to say, “An apple is an apple, not an orange”, in dismissing some of my more ludicrous excuses for silly behaviour and bad choices, in the early years of our marriage. So it goes. The person I regard as my best friend is dealing with a full plate, emotionally, spiritually and physically. It is my turn to support her, by being physically absent from her life, for the time being. This person is in my heart, as a friend, period. I pray for her, I send positive thoughts to her, and I love her dearly. I would take a bullet for her, as I would for several of my dearest friends.
She, and they, are the oranges of my life. Thus far, Penny is the sole apple. All are sweet to me, in their own way. I hope this clears up any lingering confusion, and I am putting this subject to rest. C, wherever you are right now, be safe and well, and strive for what’s rightfully yours. You are a human treasure.
