December 8, 2025, Banning- Two small piles of notebooks, coloured pencils, a therapeutic colouring book and post cards which had accumulated over the past fourteen years were offered to those gathered at the weekly Soup Kitchen. It took exactly fifteen minutes for six people to go through the offerings and take what suited them, in a discerning manner.
I will be doing more of that, over the ten days left to me to prepare for the move to Plano, especially as most of what I am giving was itself given me, following Penny’s passing, in 2011. Of course, it will largely go to Thrift Stores or to Habitat for Humanity, but new uses will be found for even the most well-worn items.
First, though, is my final visit to Orange County, at least until my granddaughter, whose birth is fourteen days away, attains toddlerhood. With that in mind, I took advantage of an easy clean-up after Soup Kitchen and headed west, through Arizona’s Outback and the Colorado Desert of eastern California. Only a couple of brief incidents coloured the generally smooth trip.
Between Aguila and Wenden, along US 60, there happened to be two rather large deer standing in the road. As Sportage approached, one deer went north and the other dashed south-no collision tonight!
Later, after I topped off the gas tank at Ehrenburg, a Honda Accord appeared to my left, as I was leaving the station-the driver bulling his way onto the road, to get ahead of me. Since he had been right behind a pick-up, I figured they were traveling together and he didn’t want to get separated. That was, until he zipped past the pick-up. Oh, well, we all got to stop, a half-mile further west, at the Ag Inspection. CHP also had a Safety Zone set up, for five miles through Blythe and just beyond, so we were all limited to 60 mph. Sometimes, taking ends up becoming giving, in terms of personal freedom. It’s often better to just go with the flow, at least when it comes to traffic.
From Wiley’s Well onward, the trip was uneventful, and I pulled into a different motel, the Margarita, around 10:15, PST. Tomorrow, I will meet my Orange County friend at Ladera Ranch and share my joys of this past year and the year to come.
November 25, 2025, Amarillo- Having been interested in prehistoric life since I was around 6 years old, I had to seize the opportunity to visit a place which I had sped past, about two dozen times, over the last 25 years: Mesalands Dinosaur Museum, in Tucumcari, New Mexico.
“Tucumcari Tonight!” was a billboard slogan that was shown as far west as Gallup and as far east as Clinton, OK., in the 1980s and ’90s. The little town’s motels and restaurants were billed as a fine halfway point between Albuquerque and Amarillo, in a bid to recover from the loss of traffic, after I-40 replaced U.S. Highway 66, as the prime east-west conduit in the upper South.
I’ve stayed in Tucumcari a couple of times and stopped for dinner there once. I found it a welcoming place-just a bit too far west, when I was going from Gallup eastward and a bit too far east, when going from Oklahoma City or Amarillo, westward. Today gave me the reason to take in the museum, as my itinerary was Moriarty to Amarillo.
The day started with a wonderfully flavourful “Classic Breakfast” at a Country Pride restaurant, on Moriarty’s west side. After about ten minutes, I was the lone diner in the place, a shame, as this Country Pride’s cooks and server seem to care about their customers. K looked bored stiff, but was pleasant and attentive to me and to those who were about to leave. I felt sorry for her, but she said this is the way in Moriarty, from October to April-slow traffic at the Travel Center. I wouldn’t have guessed it was Shoulder Season last night, though, as the nearby Nachos Mexican Restaurant was packed.
I left Moriarty around 9:15 and headed towards Tucumcari and Amarillo, stopping for gas at some friends’ station in Milagro, a rural stop about halfway between Moriarty and “Tuke”. About five miles west of Tucumcari, there was a one car accident, closing the highway fro about twenty minutes. Some people decided to cross the grassy median, and drive west to the frontage road at Cuervo, then head back east. I thought better of that and stayed put, not being in any particular hurry.
Once traffic resumed, it was not long before I was in the first section of Mesalands, the Early Life exhibit, focusing on ancient sea life: Trilobites, ammonites and prehistoric insects are prominent in the collection of fossils from the Cambrian and Carboniferous Ages, the time before the emergence of amphibians in the Permian Era. There are then open rooms displaying fossils and bronze castings of dinosaurs and related reptilians, early avians and some mammalian megafauna. The Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous Eras are all well-covered. A small section is devoted to the Cenozoic Era, the modern time of mammals, including us humans.
This being a largely fossil-centric institution, minerals have their place in the exhibits, including the Shanks Collection, one of the loveliest mineral exhibits this side of Jerome State Park, in Arizona, which to me is the Gold Standard for mineral displays. Howard and Laura Shanks were keenly interested in the mineral and fossil troves of the Quay County area, collecting sizable amounts of all manner of unearthed gems, minerals and petrified animals and plants. These were donated to Mesalands Community College, in 2004, and the Museum was born. Paleontology has continued apace, with bronze castings and careful restoration of even large dinosaur fossils finding their places in this marvelous collaboration between Mesalands Community College and the people of Tucumcari.
Here are five photos from today’s visit to Tucumcari, Back Then.
Henry Gonzales, professional bronzecaster, who created the dinosaur marvels of Mesalands Dinosaur Museum and taught others his craft.Coelophysis, one of the terrors of the Triassic Period, was an ancestor of velociraptors, and of birds.An Apatosaurus got stuck in the mud, and left this for us.Torvosaurus, an apex predator of the Jurassic Era.A variety of petrified material, in one stone.
There was enough in this Best Kept Secret of northeastern New Mexico to keep me enthralled for two hours. Many more photos will be posted on my Flickr account: https://www.flickr.com/photos/86298326@N07/, over the next several days.
Now, I am resting at a Motel 6, on the west side of Amarillo. After breakfast, tomorrow, in this city’s “Fun Zone” (Old 66), I will make my way down to my little family’s home.
November 16, 2025- The American bison has long been the stuff of both reverence and legend. It was also, following the late Pleistocene die-off of other Megafauna ( Cave bears, American camels, giant ground sloths, American rhinoceroses and giant beavers), the largest source of protein for First Nations people.
It is true that First Nations people offered thanks to each animal they killed for food and sustenance. It is true that many tribes, especially in the Plains region, used as many parts of the animal as they could salvage, for food or for tool-making. It is also true that many tribes employed the technique of the Bison Jump, forcing large numbers of a given herd off fairly shallow cliffs, to their deaths or to severe injury that incapacitated many animals, who then could be slaughtered. This was mainly a late autumn/early winter practice, done for the express purpose of ensuring a food supply in winter. The practice is explained here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qDjUHPzLn5E.
I learned these facts from the film “Singing Back the Buffalo”, which was shown this afternoon, at Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church, in downtown Prescott. The film, by Tasha Hubbard and Jason Ryle, explores efforts by First Nations people, in Canada, Mexico and the United States, to restore healthy bison herds, primarily in plains and prairie regions. Ceremonies are held, often within hearing distance of bison herds. (The name “buffalo” is used by some First Nations groups, interchangeably with the more correct term, bison.) There is much singing and dancing at these ceremonies, which both thank the bison for their sacrifice and appeal to them to gather and procreate. It is said that, when a specific group of five juvenile male bison were the focus of a dance, and were too far away to hear the songs, another group of five juvenile male bison came to the site and presented themselves to the assembled Band. This is documented by the film-makers.
It is gratifying that these efforts to promulgate healthy bison herds are gaining traction. Sustainable hunting is also going on, in areas where the bison herds are large and healthy. There are, however, no more “buffalo jumps”. Discussion afterward extended to efforts at promulgating other species, “rewilding” in both North America and Europe. Indeed, I noticed that efforts at protecting and re-introducing the beaver and the lynx are well underway in Scotland. British wildcats are a focus of re-wilding efforts in England and Wales. The lynx is also a focus of re-introduction in Spain and Portugal.
As we learn how to co-exist with wild animals, there is hope for a mutually beneficial solution to the problems of conflict between species. (Of course, we also need to devote a great deal of energy to solving conflicts between humans!)
October 26, 2025, Edinburgh- We had a fine Scottish breakfast, on this misty morning. Again, there was no haggis-and nary a bit of porridge. Scrambled eggs, a small bit of bacon and grilled tomatoes filled the bill, along with Alan’s fresh-baked bread and plum jam-plus cheese.
Lisa then took me on a tour of Findhorn’s round houses and small gardens. Here is a look at some of these.
Round home, Findhorn Eco Village. Lisa said this house is presently unoccupied.Wishing Stone, Findhorn Eco Village. Here is a good place for meditation, on a fine day. (Above and below)Lisa at the Wishing StoneThis round house is near my lodging of last night.A wee bit of foliageTwo more round housesFindhorn ForestInside a gathering placeInside Meditation Round House. The similarity of this and another such house with Indigenous American round houses is remarkable.A “hobbit house” (Above and below)Community CenterOpen meditation centreOpen meditation centreAnother sacred space and standing stone, an ARK (Area of Restorative Kindness) above and below
This is the sort of place where one goes for restoration. Thankfully, I need not board a plane to find such a space. There are ARKs of this sort, just about anywhere one might go in the world, and we have our share in the Southwest U.S. I will return here again, if it be the Divine Will, yet in the meantime, it makes me all the more appreciative of sacred spaces closer to Home Base.
I bid farewell to Lisa, Alan and Pupak- and boarded a train bound for Edinburgh, via Aberdeen. The magic was not done with me yet.
Today’s festivities will be shared in two parts, as some photos are on the iPhone gallery and the cable for my phone doesn’t quite connect to the Lenovo.
Sharing is caring, regardless, so let’s take a look at Gotland Museum. There are four floors, each with two or three galleries. Floor 0 is where we enter, pay admission, check out the bookstore and spend time with Gotland’s unique Picture Stones.
Many picture stones were originally painted with red, yellow or blue pigment. Most have lost the pigmentation, over the centuries.
The standing stones are all over Gotland and its northern offshore sibling, Faro (not to be confused with the resort city in Portugal’s Algarve). See gotlandpicturestones.se
Here are a few scenes of that gallery.
This came from the early Christian era, most likely commissioned by someone looking to protect his farm.The pinwheel also is a harbinger of good fortune.This tells the story of a horse and a deer.
This one has a sensor, which fills in the colours when someone approaches.
There are several others in the gallery, but here is a tableau of some smaller reproductions from around Gotland.
Up to Floor #1, we find The geology of Gotland. It, like the rest of Scandinavia, was once buried under ice. As the glaciers retreated, the Baltic Sea filled in, while islands like Oland, Aland, Bornholm and Gotland remained above water, being the tops of small hills.
Sandstone and limestone predominate the gently rising, but mostly flat landscape. There are some forests, but Gotland is still mostly farmland.
Floors 2 and 3 feature the history of Gotland and stories told by local children and youth, respectively. The historical part begins with a Norse creation story. Odin, representing the Sun, brings the world to life. He and other deities guide people in the ways of right living. All the while, the ravenous Wolf watches and waits. At the end time of Ragnarok, the Wolf will swallow Odin.
On that cheerful note, the story of Gotland proceeds, through its early days of increasingly successful farming, the Viking Era, Hanseatic League and incorporation into the Kingdom of Sweden.
It was during the Hanseatic period that the wall encircling Visby was built. At the East Gate, all peasants wanting to sell produce at Visby’s market had to pay a toll. Those trying to sell elsewhere were fined pr flogged. This was the stricture of the manorial system.
On the third floor, there are both paintings and recorded stories by Gotland residents.
The painting above shows the juxtaposition of hillside Visby with the sea.
The museum was founded in 1875, by Per Arvid Save( pronounced SAH- vay) and the Friends of Gotlanf, with the aim of preserving the island’s rich heritage and sharing it with the world. Dr. Save encouraged the farmers and fishers of Gotland to safeguard the picture stones they found about their homes and nearby lands.
Next, I will visit the ruined churches of Visby’s centrum, with the help of my laptop.
September 4, 2025- The juvenile doe gingerly approached the front yard of the home on Copper Basin Road, the penultimate southernmost road that is headed east to west, in Prescott. It was not unusual to see a deer, or even a predator, along this road. Deer are very social animals though, so seeing a loner was out of the ordinary. I wondered if she were orphaned, or just cut off from her herd. Maybe they were already in the back yard. Even the most social of animals can have stragglers. I can pretty much surmise, though, that the doe was not alone by conscious choice.
We humans are almost unique, in that we can isolate ourselves by placing excessive demands on our families, friends and associates. I have known people, a few of whom are still on the periphery of my social circle, who follow up a contingent demand with yet another. Most, if not all, of their relationships are conditional upon their being treated with deference-and usually at the expense of someone else-of whom they are jealous, or by whom they feel threatened.
I’ve said it before, though, and still maintain, that life is not a zero sum game. There has been, and remains, enough of me to share with several people about whom I care. So far, holding that stance has caused the more skittish ones to stop and thank me for what has been done on their behalf, at least for a few days. In my earlier years, I often kept to myself, only going to join other neighbourhood kids when they came by the house. So, I know a little of what the loners are feeling.
In middle childhood and in adolescence, being with others became more important, so I went to school dances, joined in games and sports, even if I was terrible at them and hung out with others at friends’ houses or went to their families’ camps. This probably kept me alive and reinforced the social skills that my parents bent over backwards, trying to instill earlier.
It also gave me the sense that, after losing my wife of 29 years, staying active in the community-first in Phoenix and then in Prescott- was what was going to guide me back to health and well-being. Community service then indirectly led me to do Terra supplements and a more healthy diet. It ended my status as lone deer- and brought first a wider social circle here in Prescott, then across Arizona and more widely-nationally and internationally.
I thought of these things even further, after offering similar advice to someone in another state, who recently retired and is looking for ways to build a new life. I hope this person will follow a path of self-discovery and self-realization. Each of us has gifts that are far beyond our understanding. Service and fellowship can bring those out.
July 24, 2025- There are days when a common thread wiggles its way through the ether, and draws in other threads, which become fastened to it, through a process not immediately comprehensible. Today was such a day. The common thread was my task of getting documentation for possible shelter venues for the American Red Cross.
I had completed the first visit, to Page Unified School District, yesterday, and had made it back to Flagstaff, after a stop at Cameron Trading Post for a Navajo Taco meal. Saving about half of it for a second meal, later today, involved some positioning of the container in what is arguably the world’s smallest refrigerator. American Motor Hotel, where I spent last night, is a space-themed gem, looking somewhat like the brightly- painted lodging establishments now fairly common in the Los Angeles area. The in-room refrigerator is, well, unique and “interesting”. It is designed to hold maybe one or two cold beverages, and a couple of sandwiches. I got the meal container in there, by temporarily removing the shelf and inserting the container vertically.
All in all, though, Americana is a great place to spend a night or two, or even make a vacation of it, as there is an outdoor pool, a funky Mexican restaurant on site, a large outdoor patio area with shaded round tables and room decor that is both amusing (a blue orb that shines and rotates, when plugged in) and thought-provoking (framed posters). The congenial desk staff seals the deal, with cheerful attention to every guest and offering reusable metal water bottles as welcome gifts. Thus, my overnight in Flagstaff became a mini-break from the business at hand. Breakfast at an old East Flagstaff favourite, Miz Zip’s, was a further delight, with homemade corned beef hash as a well-enjoyed choice. Sedona, the lone server when I first came in, was cheerful and attentive to all, even as nearly twenty people showed up after I came in and sat down. Mz. Zip’s has lost none of the ambiance it had when I lived here in 1980-81.
East Flagstaff has its share of fun places, but it was time to head out towards Native American Baha’i Institute, a three-hour drive eastward. The ride was smooth, and traffic moderate, especially once I got past Winslow. I got there, greeted those present, in the Navajo way, with a handshake and “Yaa’tey” (Good day), and went over the requisite forms for a Shelter Survey. Then, it was time for a mini-birthday celebration for one of the elders, with cake. A discussion followed, about non-Navajos hunting elk on the Reservation, by using helicopters. It doesn’t surprise me that this is being done, but I expressed my view that the Navajo Nation Council should be the arbiter of such practices. The elders agreed, and one of them has already filed a complaint with his councilman.
Wanting to get back to Home Base by early evening, I bid farewell to the Dineh friends and drove back towards I-40. Close to the entry point, I encountered a lady who said that a car was on fire up ahead. Lo and behold, a Navajo Police officer had parked near the vehicle that was indeed on fire. Saying a silent prayer for the safety of all concerned, I thanked the lady and turned around, being able to warn another driver about the situation, before taking the detour to the highway. A fire truck and water tanker came by, just before I hit the road.
That brings me to the next unanticipated thread. I gave a ride to a Dineh man who was heading, via circuitous route, to his granddaughter’s birthday party, far to the south. Turns out, he has been working for a modular home manufacturing company, which closed its factory in Page, just this week. The situation is complex, but here is a man, one of many, who is being left high and dry. This is the first I had heard of the situation, but it would not be the last. I heard him out, and got him to a location, south of Holbrook, from where he could catch a further ride. The rest of the drive home, via Winslow, Clints Well and Camp Verde, was serene and in fairly light traffic. I enjoyed the rest of the Navajo Taco in the comfort of Home Base I.
Thus did the thread of my main effort, getting the process going for Red Cross shelters in two more localities, find itself interwoven with wildlife conservation and protection, the housing industry’s woes and their effect on workers and their families and the pleasurable lodging and dining options on Flagstaff’s east side. It was a good 48 hours.
July 19, 2025- The feather lay on the asphalt, as I left Sportage and went towards Rafter 11, this evening. Remembering the significance, to First Nations people, of a feather lying on the ground, I glanced back and saw that the wind was carrying it towards the edge of the lot. Figuring it would not be run over and therefore safe, I went across the road to indulge in some hummus with pita and vegetable sticks and to enjoy a cover artist’s collection of country and folk rock tunes. Once I took my seat, glancing down, I saw the same feather that had been across in the parking lot. The breeze had picked up during the time it had taken me to cross the street and get situated, so this did not surprise me.
Dineh, Hopi, Apache (Inde) and other First Nations peoples regard a feather on the ground as a gift from the sky, establishing a connection between the receiver and the bird from which the feather came, by extension another link to the Creator. We live in a time when there is an increasingly tenuous connection between Man and the Nature of which he is a part. I have been in various natural settings, from sandy desert to deciduous urban parks; from Ponderosa and Douglas fir forests to high grasslands and desolate peat bogs; from the middle of the ocean to a Vietnamese rain forest. In each, there is a sign of nature.
Usually, that is something like a heart-shaped rock, of which I have encountered many. So have thousands of other people who are observant. Many of us have also seen animals that appear real, only to not be visible in a photograph, when they were present in the view finder, even as the shutter was pressed. I have been gifted with bird feathers by First Nations friends, over the years, and have carefully placed them in a web, attached to a dowsing stick that was given me by a Dineh friend, twenty years ago. The stick itself has two falcon feathers and a wild turkey feather attached. I also have an eagle feather that was given me by another Dineh friend, and which is attached to a wicker heart that Penny devised, in the early 2000s. I placed the raven feather opposite and slightly underneath the eagle feather.
Whilst sitting and enjoying hummus and strumming, I placed the raven feather in a planter next to my table. I found myself considering the matter of Labor Day weekend, six weeks away. I recently received an invitation to attend a Baha’i school in Colorado Springs. Having attended it three times in the past, it was on my mind this evening. With spiritual energy that I can only sense as coming from the feather, I pondered what is happening here at Home Base I, that weekend. I was reminded that my friends at Farmers Market will be busy preparing for the Farm-to-Table Dinner, a week later and that there may be only three of us who can work the market breakdown on August 30. I was also reminded, earlier this afternoon, that a Peace Day will likely take place on August 31. Then, too, after the Farm to Table Dinner, it’ll be off to Europe, and possibly east Africa ( safety permitting), during September and October.
At the risk of overthinking, I am staying put here, over Labor Day. I love the eastern Colorado friends and will pray fervently for their school’s success. I love the friends here, too.
July 15,2025- My final feeding of and cleaning up after the cats was the quiet and easy part of the day. I was able to get past the road construction zone fairly easily as well. While heading to get coffee and breakfast, afterward, I came upon a fundraiser car wash, for a high school dance group, which is starting up this year. Sportage really needed it, and the girls did a great job. So, there was coffee, but breakfast waited until I got to my post as Blood Donor Ambassador. It was a bag of pretzels. I lived.
Once at the Red Cross Blood Drive, there was a steady flow of donors, most of whom were able to complete their donation. It was nice, though, that I was accompanied by a second Donor Ambassador. “Lunch” was a bag of Cheez-its. I still lived. The building was comfortable, even with the temperature of a meat locker, in the main donation bay. This is necessary, to keep the blood fresh. In the lobby, where I spent most time, the temperature was more conventional.
In a sign that the intensity of the past eight days will continue, I am now part of a plan to provide shelter for workers who were evacuated from the North Rim of Grand Canyon. If this works out, I will provide management for the shelter. It will be in Page, near Lake Powell, at the Utah border, and likely be from July 18 until the end of this month. Arrangements will need to be made tomorrow. On it goes. It is the least I can do, though, for people who have their livelihoods in the balance.
There was a prediction, not too long ago, that life would get more intense, after July 7. Looks like there may be something to that.
July 14,2025- It was a sign that the day was going to see routine matters become complicated. The road scheme, in the neighbourhood where friend’s house is located, is under repavement, which means it is being dug up and will gradually get new layers of asphalt. As with any repavement in a close neighbourhood, there needs to be close cooperation and communication between the workers and motorists. I take care to make sure that there are no misunderstandings, so while a three-minute drive to feed the cats became seven, all was smooth.
Later in the day, I found that Soup Kitchen was laid out more like the Luby’s Cafeteria of old. There was twice the amount of fare available tonight, which was a fine midsummer’s treat for the guests: Three kinds of pizza, angel hair pasta with two kinds of sauce, two types of squash, two salads and a variety of desserts. I was the pasta and sauce person. The cleanup took a bit longer than usual, but the diners were most pleased. The line manager doesn’t always remember my name, yet she does know what I do, and is glad that I show up most weeks.
Back to feeding the cats, after Soup Kitchen, I found that the road work was winding down for the day, but it was still necessary to go slowly around heavy equipment that was being brought into position for tomorrow’s resumption of the work. Mundane tasks can become complex, at any time. It’s a good way to hone the skills of patience and humility.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 