The Road to Diamond, Day 128: Walls and Wire

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April 5, 2025- “Making bridges out of walls that keep us apart”-line from a 1970s Baha’i song.

A few things became clearer today, after two videos were shown of the situation at the border between the United States and Mexico. First, as I had suspected after my own visits to border communities, over the past thirty-seven years, the communities on either side of the frontier are tightly-knit, one to the other. This is not just true of First Nations communities, like the Tohono O’odham and Quechans. The two cities that are both called Nogales-one in Arizona, the other in Sonora-are no more easily divided than, say, the Kansas Cities, or the Niagara Falls. Borders,necessary as they are to our own contrived sense of social order, are essentially artificial. We need national borders, for our concept of organization to make sense-the same way we need family dwellings and property; towns and cities; counties, states, provinces, prefectures and oblasts.

The second instance of clarity is the futility of maintaining border as illusion. An octogenarian woman from southern Arizona walked segments of the border, in her video, and showed even a few militia members that there are both gaps in the iron wall and places where cartel members have dug underneath the bollocks and spires. The government can police entry and exit from this country to a certain extent, but no less a conservative voice than Phil Boas, of The Arizona Republic, has noted that the Mexican cartels have a presence in all 50 states, all parts of the Americas and the four other inhabited continents, as well.

There are two features of human life that are primarily feeding the strength of the cartels: The natural mobility of the human race and the perceived need of many for an external substance that can provide a sense of personal security/self-worth. It was pointed out that both of these factors have been turned into revenue sources, by the international criminal element-aided and abetted by certain of the international financial and political elite. Personal safety has been shaken, in many villages of Latin America and Africa, by the very same gangs who then offer transport to the United States or western Europe-at a premium. Substances, both natural and man-made, are trafficked by the same entities. All of these activities are promulgated at the point of a gun, or even more serious weapons, like armed drones and artillery.

Walls and wire are offered by the flip side of the same coin that is represented by the cartels. The one engages in disorder; then, the other comes in and offers to solve the problem, through a heavy hand. It’s a timeless story, and yet, we have failed, as a species, to put two and two together.

The solution is perhaps long to yet come, but it entails self-awareness; self-love and self-discipline. Only when the communities of the world are comprised primarily of emotionally and spiritually mature people, can we hope to cast off the twin controlling agents of autocracy. I am seeing glimmerings of hope, in that regard, with open resistance to overbearing governments, in countries across the globe (South Korea, Bangladesh, the Philippines, Poland, Syria and Brazil being recent examples) and more nascent, but still lively, resistance to the cartels, in certain communities of both the Americas and the “Old World”. We saw evidence of both, today, in all 50 states, every U.S. territory and in several other countries with large American diaspora.

Rising past autocracy takes personal discipline, and that takes self-love.

The Road to Diamond, Day 127: Peace Summit

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April 4, 2025- The crumpled sheets of paper were strewn about the meeting room. It was obvious that this was done deliberately, though toward what end remained to be revealed. We were treated to explanations of artwork that showed the long-term responses to Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Bikini Atoll. Man’s resilience, following horrific acts of war, is worthy of celebration. What is abhorrent is that such acts of war are even deemed essential by many of those in power.

The presentations of the artwork were followed by a woman’s heart-rending account of her own traumas, and how she was able to rise above them, enter a satisfying career (teaching Biology) and raise a family. Meditation, yoga and personal discipline all came into play, in this process. Hers is a life worthy of emulation.

A veteran police officer described his work, in humanizing his profession, and the image of his comrades. Much of his efforts were in response to the slayings of George Floyd and Breanna Taylor. The example of the Detroit Police Department’s having Blue (Law enforcement) and Green (mental health response) divisions was presented, with the notation that the two divisions work hand-in-glove.

Getting back to the crumpled papers: The after-lunch presentation dealt with issues of human trafficking. Each sheet of paper, as it turned out, had the photo and basic information, about a particular missing youth. We each picked up one or more sheets of paper off the floor and tacked them to the “Missing” bulletin board. This simple act served to remind the group that trafficked children and teens are an enormous issue, across the population-but especially among First Nations and African-American communities. (I wrote, recently, about Emily Pike, the slain Apache teenager, whose case remains open.) Add to these the trafficked undocumented immigrants, and the matter assumes gargantuan proportions.

These aspects of working towards peace were then summed up by three Yavapai College Student Government Association officers, who went over all the considerations their board has to ponder, in making sure that their constituents’ needs are heard and addressed. No one issue can be ignored, in favour of one or two other “more pressing” (in the view of dominant groups) matters.

This is a first-time effort by the college, so its promotion and programming will no doubt be the focus of improvement and expansion, should the Administration and Student Body choose to make it an annual event. Coming the day before a nationwide day of protest against real and perceived grievances that many groups have with the recent actions of the Federal government, the format of dialogue and making the case for peaceful resolution would seem to be something that needs to be put forth on a continuous basis.

“Be the change you wish to see in the world” should not relegate to cliche status.

The Road to Diamond, Day 126: Reset

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April 3, 2025- The bandage that was placed on my left facial cheek, to stay there for 48 hours, is still there. It will come off tomorrow and a short period of going about with a sutured face will continue until next Wednesday. Then the true healing, the reset of sorts, will begin.

On Monday, I will pick up my two guests from the Philippines, at their home-stay in Las Vegas, and bring them to Arizona for 6-7 days. We will enjoy a variety of experiences, many of them in natural beauty and several that will involve gatherings with friends of mine around the state. It will also be a reset of sorts.

This evening, I attended a crowded dinner meeting of Prescott Indivisible. I had more conversation with my table mates than I have had there in the past. There were also two calls for a show of hands, as to who will attend a protest march in a few days’ time. I will be working at Farmers Market, at the time of the march, so my hand did not go up. Though the door monitor glared and loudly cleared his throat, when I left early to attend another meeting, I owed neither him nor anyone else an explanation. The speaker at the gathering said it best: “None of us has a monopoly on the truth”. There is a nascent reset of attitude, among those on both sides, who have viewed others with disdain. The pain that the nation is beginning to experience will humble a good many people.

After attending an online discussion of Baha’i Teachings, I went to return to my other online sites. The browser was undergoing a reset, and so I had to re-enter a few accounts. Rebooting seems to be a part of life everywhere today.

The Road to Diamond, Day 125: Carcinoma-free

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April 2, 2025- Three of us walked into the Dermatology clinic, at the same time this morning. One went straight for the freshly-brewed coffee. The second wanted only water, which she got from the small refrigerator. I was the third, and took nothing-as I’d drunk water at home and find that drinking coffee before a surgical procedure makes the medical staff’s work harder-as it often increases bleeding.

The procedure, to remove a basal cell carcinoma, went smoothly. The surgeon, grim-faced and all business, did not take long to remove the infected tissue. The longest part of this process is the analysis of the tissue, to make sure all the cancer has been removed. That usually takes 45 minutes to an hour. It took the latter, for my case this morning. The four Licensed Practical Nurses, who helped the surgeon and the plastic surgeon who sewed me back up, were fairly congenial and methodical in their work. All the staff explained each step, as they went along.

I am again carcinoma free. The process of staying that way involves continuing to apply sunblock, of 40-50 SPF and wearing a broad-brimmed bush hat, even when I am not in the desert or in the tropics. The sunblock I use is either Alba or Badger Balm. These are zinc-based, rather than loaded with toxic chemicals. I can get Alba at Sprouts, but have to order Badger Balm online. Of course, in the warmer months, it’s necessary to re-apply the cream in mid-day.

This is all part and parcel of remaining active and largely outdoors. I will continue to have a full-body scan, twice a year and take these precautions even more diligently going forward than I have even up to now. As one ages, and there are fewer layers of dermis, the care taken of the skin, our body’s largest organ, needs constant upgrades. I aim to stay steady.

The Road to Diamond, Day 124: Judgment

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April 1, 2025- I received three unrelated photos from a friend, this evening. There is no context and no explanation; just a puzzle. Maybe that is this person’s idea of an April Fool’s joke. In any case, I pass no judgment on them. They were nice photos, in any case.

People spent the day sending one another outlandish, ludicrous stories. Those who are aware of what day this is, responded with outlandish yarns of their own. It was a good day for such things. Even the stock market told itself everything is pretty much okay. No judgment there; I’ll take the small gains.

There are some judgments that do irk me: The woman with the perfect life, who looks down on mothers with problems; conversely, the “free spirit”, who finds fault with the counterpart who has tied self to a more conventional life; finally, the above-board thug, who makes others toe an untenable line, knowing that when things fall apart, it’ll be the little guys who take the full heat.

Life can be hard. I see those who are struggling, and having been there, I know there is only one way to make things right: Ask how I can be of help, without adding fuel to the guilt fire or toxic liquid to the gallon jug. Expect the person to do something for self, but don’t just sit and watch the writhing, the shaking, the wailing. Know that it is always about more than money, or thoughts and prayers. It is always about heart and soul.

The Road to Diamond, Day 123: Listener

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March 31, 2025- “You are a good listener”, the slow-eating, but very intense gentleman said, after telling me of his experiences with others of my generation. He values the sanctity of his person, and does not like to be touched by strangers. I understand him, being on a milder place on the same autism spectrum than that which he occupies. He thinks at a higher level than many, and has two Master’s Degrees to show for it. I understand him, because Penny was at that same intellectual level. I understand him, also because so many of my students, in later years especially, were those who did not like physical contact.

Yes, my listening skills have vastly improved since the time of my wedding, in 1982. They have gone up, as the level of self-absorption has gone down. It is hard to live in a bubble and be a good listener. It is also lonelier in a bubble, and so I upped my listening game, and became the happier for it. Working as a counselor helped in that regard. One cannot counsel and live in a bubble. One cannot counsel effectively and hold onto outmoded concepts of hierarchy and discipline. A hard taskmaster does not often listen well, having all the answers-in own mind.

Working with the homeless is just one of the tools that has honed my listening skills. Spending quality time with both liberals and conservatives impels careful listening; discernment. Doing a variety of activities, broadening thinking, cements the concepts of which I hear. Then, too, I listen to my own inner voice, and to the spirit guides who tell me things in the quiet “alone hours”.

I am delighted to be viewed as a listener. It shows that there is a need for my presence.

The Road to Diamond, Day 119: Passages

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March 27, 2025- In a short letter, with two photos attached, I learned that the young adolescent girl from Mexico,whom I had been sponsoring for three years, has left the sponsoring agency’s wing. There is nothing further I can do for the child, save pray, as all contact with her is through the agency.

In her stead, I will sponsor and support a much younger child from a Caribbean nation. The differences between the two girls could not be more stark. The first was content to stay at home and tend her younger siblings, or so she said. The second is a self-starter, inquisitive and studious, with eyes full of sass. I look forward to seeing just how far she will go in life.

In my own space, I had a spot on my face treated with cold nitrogen, this afternoon. It will need to be evaluated in three months’ time. Another spot will be surgically removed, next Wednesday. I have borne a scar or two, previously, so I am not worried. It’s better to be rid of the spot, before it becomes cancerous.

The country is going through a passage or two. Indeed, the planet is experiencing changes not seen in over 80 years. Some events are actually more reminiscent of the so-called Dark Ages, when kings, lords and other nobles ran roughshod over the masses. Back then, however, those multitudes were uneducated. Nowadays, any chicanery or deception is occurring because the people are, by turns, tired, distracted or complacent. There has rarely been a time when so many are willing to accept whatever is told them. This, though, will not continue in perpetuity. Abraham Lincoln’s admonition, about not fooling all the people all the time, will be brought to bear-as it was after the Watergate scandal and hopefully in just as civilized a manner. We do not need either another Civil War or a mass uprising, as happened in 1968, after the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. or in 2020, after the death of George Floyd. At some point, the seemingly defanged Congress will need to assert itself and prevent the “correction of overspending” from becoming an overreaction all its own. It will need the support of the judiciary, and of several other institutions.

The point should never be to excuse excess in one direction, but to ensure it is not replaced by excess in the opposite way.

The Road to Diamond, Day 116: George Foreman

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March 24, 2025- In the early ’70s, watching heavyweight boxing championships was on par with watching professional baseball or hockey. It was always a group event, mostly involving men. Part of it was about demonstrations of power, but the replays, sometimes 4 or 5, were about noticing finesse. Muhammad Ali’s body English was the most watched, and re-watched. Later on, there was a group that was drawn to Leon Spinks. For sheer longevity, and evolution of class, though, no one outdid George Foreman.

George came out of east Texas, and the Fifth Ward of Houston. In both environments, he learned the way of the fist-starting off as a mugger, then being steered into boxing. He would become the titan of the 1968 U.S. Olympic Boxing squad, bringing home the Gold Medal and being welcomed into the White House, even as his main competitor, Cassius Clay, was irritating the government with his objections to the Vietnam War. Cassius, of course, embraced Islam and became Muhammad Ali. He and George would fight for the World Heavyweight Championship, and in 1974, George found himself worn to a frazzle by Ali’s antics, including the “Rope a Dope” maneuver of allowing George to push him to the ropes, then rest a bit and come out swinging. George had given Joe Frazier his first loss, a year earlier, thus becoming World Heavyweight Champion. In the “Rumble in the Jungle”, though, Muhammad came out on top.

George, bruised but not beaten, showed the world that “Forty is not a death sentence” and would continue to box professionally, in between serving as an ordained minister and as pitchman for his line of barbecue grills, until 1997. He sired twelve children, by five wives, naming each of his five sons George. This was his way, he said, of leaving a piece of himself for posterity.

He died on Friday, March 21, at the age of 76. His namesakes-and grills- aside, though, George Foreman will long live in the memory bank of anyone who grew up between 1965-87. He lived larger than his boxing skill set and more intensely than his religious fervour. May George be at peace, in the arms of his Lord.

The Road to Diamond, Day 114: Intuition

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March 22, 2025- The little boy went over to an office building that was closed, and walked around it, then came back. Even though he looked like he was just exploring, I knew he was looking for a toilet. So did his father, who came and took him to the Port-o-San. The man smiled appreciatively, in that, though neither one spoke English, I had been keeping an eye on his son. Intuition is what keeps things running smoothly.

I had a messaging exchange earlier this morning, with someone who is frustrated at the pace of a construction project with which I had helped a few months ago. I made it clear that I would not be able to get things accelerated and that I am being careful with my money. After a while, the person understood and expressed appreciation for what I have done already. Good things take time, and sometimes have to wait for bad things to play out. Intuition can be in play, even over long distances.

This evening, I took in a robust performance by a guitarist who frequents the small cafe that I alternate with The Raven, on weekends. He was having some difficulty with certain parts of his instrument. I am familiar enough with this gentleman that I could offer the name of someone who might be able to help him with the issue. His own preferred method seeming to be not working, he winced but thanked me for the tip. Intuition can be dicey sometimes, but it pays to take initiative and offer help. We are all in this together.

I can see that we will be needing to refine our intuition, in the weeks and months ahead, if we are to keep a close watch on the rather sloppy use of Artificial Intelligence, lest it end up counteracting the nobler aspects of the current Administration’s efforts at decreasing waste. Nothing is gained, if these efforts go too far, and end up derailing themselves.

The Road to Diamond, Day 112: New Day

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March 20, 2025- Naw-Ruz, in Persian, means “New Day”. In Iran, traditionally, the Naw-Ruz holiday lasts 12 days. For us Baha’is, it is one day; essentially, it is the beginning of a new spiritual year. So, today is the beginning of 182 Baha’i Era.

We marked the day with a festive gathering, at which 51 people showed up, enjoying copious amounts of food, spirited and delightful music and vibrant conversations. Had the room been a bit larger, we may have even seen some, including me, dancing about. No matter, the musicians worked well together and our various discourses ran the gamut from Rubik’s Cube (a child completed it in less than four minutes) to the proper preparation of Persian rice.

I was glad to be able to work the breakdown shift (seems that I can take things apart better than put them together, and that’s okay-the lady who brought much of the decorations, signage and two main dishes deserved any help she could get.). Muscle memory took over, when it came time to shorten curtain rods- I hadn’t done that particular task since helping my mother,as an early teenager. Other tasks were quite routine.

With Naw-Ruz in the books, I thought of the things I used to do with two left feet, that are now de rigueur. Almost anything mechanical used to end upside down, or inside out. Much of that, though, came from a combination of overthinking, an inner voice that told me I was stupid and rushing through the task. Now, I let muscle memory take hold, go ahead and do the task with attention and patience and act with self-confidence. Bob Powers’ Law has finally become part of my inner dialogue. Bob was probably the finest boss I ever had. He told me that some day I would realize that there was nothing wrong with my mental functioning, but that I would have to realize that on my own-and it might come hard. I was 16, impulsive and whimsical. He was in his late forties and had been around the horn several times. I could have listened better.

This new day saw me send greetings to my dear friend in Manila, to others on the Navajo Nation and to my friend and mentor in Phoenix. All around the world, north and south, east and west, may our souls be guided to do what is best for all humanity.

Happy Spring, to all in the north and Joyous Autumn to all in the south!