Prognosis

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March 30, 2024- Astrology is an inexact science, to the extent it is scientific. Astronomical energy and physics are taken into account, certainly, but even the most fervent astrologers admit they may be off, in their estimations. This is mainly because no one knows, with certitude, where one constellation ends and another begins.

That said, the astrologer to whose webinar I listened this afternoon gave an assessment of the rest of 2024, and a broader picture of the five years that will follow, that indicates the pace of change will, for the most part, accelerate. There will be periods, he says, of lightning-fast, perhaps dizzying, change and other periods of sluggishness. In other words, it’ll be more of what we have been experiencing, just more intense in degree.

It was explained that we have been in the energy cycle of the Piscean Age, roughly since 1 A.D. and that sometime between now and 2150 there will be a total shift to the Aquarian Age (yes, that Age of Aquarius). Generally speaking, this will mean a shift from individualism to the collective; from top-down decision-making to a two-way flow of information ( both horizontal and lateral, as well); from separation to unity. The early glimmerings of this shift were seen as far back as the late Eighteenth Century, with the American and French Revolutions, the Mesoamerican and South American Wars for Independence and the Enlightenment. The recent scurrying, in some areas of the planet, including some parts of Europe and the Americas, towards retreat into authoritarianism, are a natural human and fear-based reaction to this shift, but these are destined to be short-lived-even if their immediate effects cause much suffering and destruction-as did the excesses of the European Fascists and the Stalinists/Maoists of Eurasia and East Asia did, in the second half of the 20th Century.

He spoke of this coming month, April, as being a time of particularly jarring change. Of course, this is no more specific than the old “weather forecast” of children’s games: “Light, followed by darkness”-but at least it won’t come as a total shock, if April 20-21 feature some sort of cataclysm. Okay, I will be in and around Home Base I. Conversely, September and October are forecast to be a period of sluggishness. That’s fine by me, as my current plans are to be in the Philippines and east Africa during those months, and I want to be focused on whoever, and whatever, is in front of me.

That is the nice thing about inexact predictions: If they come to pass, we have been forewarned. If they don’t, then there is more time to prepare for what is about to happen.

The Hermit Shares Space

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March 29, 2024- The three-year-old girl wrapped her arm around a pole, while standing just above the stairs at the rear door of the shuttle bus. It was a crowded bus, and even with her watchful grandmother standing between her and the door, she was taking no chances.

Hermit’s Rest is the site of the westernmost of Mary Colter’s eight buildings that grace Grand Canyon’s South Rim. It is in an otherwise nondescript section of the Rim Trail, set away from the stunning overlooks that are signature to the canyon’s edge. Louis Boucher would have preferred it that way. He was a prospector for gold, and probably uranium, in the days before the national park was established. His trail, now called Hermit Trail, leads down to the Colorado River, some 8.7 miles one way. (If I were to hike to the river, it’d involve a camp out at Hermit Camp-not far from where Louis made his home.)

The gateway to the end of one line.
Mary Colter’s Beehive Oven, resembling a Hopi outdoor oven
South side of Hermit’s Rest store.

Neither man-made nor nondescript last long at the Canyon, though. A short walk through the trees reminds the visitor of why the trip was made, in the first place.

The Inner Basin, from Hermit’s Rest.

I began the visit at Hopi Point, where the last trip was cut short, owing to a flash flood in Tusayan, which necessitated most of the visitors having to go back to Grand Canyon Village and tend to their lodging. I was able to make the journey around the eastern route, to Cameron, and then back to Prescott, via Flagstaff. Not everyone was so fortunate, and many ended up spending the night in one of the lobbies of hotels within the park.

Today, there was wind, but no water, so all of us were able to go clear to Hermit’s Rest, or to one of the other viewpoints. I walked from Hopi Point to Mohave Point, taking in the following scene, among others.

The Colorado River has a demure presence, beyond The Battleship, from Hopi Point.
If you think that living on the South Rim is easy, this juniper pine begs to differ.
A view from The Abyss.
The Abyss also shows the effect of weathering, on the topmost layer of limestone.
Here is a view of Monument Creek, flowing into the Colorado River.
From Pima Point, a zoom lens affords a close-up of the Colorado River, without a long hike!

Finally, just when you think you’re done with the Canyon, here’s the next big thing:

The first question says it all.
If your answer is “Yes”, happy hiking-and camping!

I am not beyond that sort of adventure yet, but for today, it was time to head back, so onto the shuttle buses I went, including from the Village to the Visitors Center, which was the bus where the little girl and her family crowded on. We all got to go where we had planned, today. No rain, just wind.

No True Veils

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March 28, 2024- The divers found two bodies, yesterday, in the chill of the Patapsco River. Men who had gone to work, on the overnight shift, Monday night, found themselves trapped in a car, as the chain reaction of errant cargo ship goes out of control, hits bridge supports,bridge buckles and collapses, men die-plays out. A miracle can save four others, but the clock ticks on. Families, yet again, are shattered. A young woman hugs her husband, who escaped death by the narrowest of margins, all the more striking, as he cannot swim. They mourn the loss of his crew mates, and join in the sorrow of those families. A city, a state, and five nations are in shock.

Across the globe, 143 people died in an attack on a Moscow nightclub. Moscow, Nova, Orlando, Manchester, Las Vegas, Bali, What is it about entertainment venues that incenses political extremists? Is it a matter of “How dare they have a good time, when I and mine are going through horror?” Is it a matter of “God hates those who relax”? We see the aftermath. Other extremists have killed over 30,000 people, most of them innocent of wrongdoing, in the name of retribution. A world is sliding into shock.

There is no barrier, really, between me and any given counterpart in Gaza, in Moscow, in any one of the nations that lie south of the Rio Grande/Rio Bravo. We all have our legitimate work to do, trying to make the world a better place.

There is no veil between any of us and those who left their bodies behind, either willingly or because their presence is inconvenient to the aims of a certain relative few. The departed still have work to do, in their spirit forms. They may assist those they love or they may exact retribution on those who tormented them. Some probably do a little of both.

There are no real veils or barriers between us. It just makes a convenient dodge, to pretend otherwise.

Circles

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March 26, 2024- The young man proudly showed anyone who was watching just how he was cleaning the coffee house’s tables, with small circular motions, so as to not miss any spots. He completed the task in ten minutes, then went outside with his mentor, and cleaned the patio tables, in seven minutes.

I’ve known J since he was 5 years old. He turns 23 this week. Three days a week, he has a mentor to drive him around to venues, such as this coffee house, where I had breakfast this morning and works the other two days at a sheltered workshop. One of the happiest people I’ve ever known-J is reaping the fruits of his gentle nature.

This evening, about forty of us formed circles, to share stories of inspiration from natural phenomena and from sacred spaces. My group shared stories about spirits coming to comfort an ALS sufferer; the inspiration gained from looking at shapes of clouds; a woman’s acceptance of her children’s Faith, towards the end of her life; a father’s encouragement of his daughter’s pursuit of the arts; a woman’s observation of an animal mother’s love for her babies, whilst visiting a zoo; a hiker’s encounter with spirit forces, in a canyon of a state park (my story).

A Cherokee story teller also told of animals coming together to decide what gift to give the human being, who seemingly had none of the qualities which they had. They gave him fire-to keep him warm, let him prepare his food and purify his water. The sharing circle of the animals was only partially successful, as the colourful crow singed his feathers, which became black, and the ribbon snake singed his scales, becoming all black. Only the spider managed to capture fire, by putting it in her web basket, and inadvertently teaching the human to weave baskets, as well as to keep a hot ember in a safe place.

There are things that do not fare well in a circle: Logic, trying to get from point A to Point B, and, hideously, the firing squad-which should not exist at all. Mostly, though, a circle is all inclusive, and gives everyone in it a chance to participate, to be considered, to belong.

One Person’s Whimsy….

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March 25, 2024- The last step in any prayer is always taking action.

Burying objects in the earth, immersing them in bodies of water or placing them in caves, has long been a spiritual practice of those seeking connection with the Divine, or with forces of Nature. Its effects tend to be slow, usually too slow for the liking of the movers and shakers among us, who want to see quick results.

This evening, I had time available to join a full moon meditation which, after the customary full body relaxation exercise, referenced various treasure vases that have been placed in dozens of locations around the world. Many of these are places of spiritual or environmental significance, to one group of people or another. They range from the Lawrence Laboratories, in Berkeley, CA to a forest in rural Liberia. A sacred site in Israel/Palestine is the location of another such vase. Its mention led someone to protest (in Chat) that the vase was pointless, since things have gotten worse in that part of the world.

“So”, I mused to self, “this means that the vases on the border between North and South Korea, in the Cloisters of Manhattan, a cave in Bosnia-Hercegovina, and others in Iraq, Mexico, the Georgian Federation, South Kivu Province of DR Congo a hill overlooking Fukushima and nuclear energy facilities in New York and Washington State are pointless as well. Let’s all just throw up our hands and let the Big Dogs have their bones!”

After the session was over, I was glad to have not given abrupt voice to that rebuttal. It would have jettisoned the peaceful sentiments of the call’s organizers and made me as much of a problem as the troll was. Then, I started to think further-maybe she was not trying to disrupt, or be a troll. Maybe her Type A brain has no more patience for the slow path of spiritual healing. More’s the pity. Those who seek quick solutions, but who have no game plan that brings reconciliation and justice, are essentially chasing their tails. Their insinuation, that others of us are chasing rainbows, thus rings hollow.

Martin Luther King, Jr had a dream. He also had specific, tangible plans to bring that dream to fruition. I, too, have both, and will pursue them-albeit in a far less prominent manner.

Here, and There

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March 24, 2024- I dreamed of Penny last night. Nothing new about that; she appears when I need to figure out what I should do, in a particular situation. The dream’s ending showed that I am on the right track, about certain matters. The spirit, on whom I depend for guidance, is always present. Any doubts or qualms are on me.

Today, Palm Sunday in Christendom, started off cold and with light snow. It was nice in the afternoon, and when I went over to work out, it was overcast and snowing lightly, again. The rest of the country is going through winter’s after market misery, and may everyone get through it safely.

While I was on the stationary bike, I was a captive audience for a troubled woman, who let out all the frustrations she has had, with certain employers and other people, for about fifteen minutes of nonstop chatter. I just kept on pedaling, and felt worse for the guy on the other side of me, but after she ran out of vitriol, she left. (If you wonder why I didn’t cut her off, we were in a public place and it would have been worse than if I just kept silent. That’s how it is, dealing with certain mental illnesses.)

Two Baha’i Zoom calls were well attended, and starting off the week when Jesus the Christ is especially honoured with our own spiritual focus will release a lot of positive healing energy. There will be other events, tomorrow and Tuesday, that will add to that energy. With the penumbral lunar eclipse on the occasion of a full moon, I suspect a lot of people will need that energy. I know I will.

Blessed Holy Week, everyone, and may you be safe.

The Fighter Still Remains

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March 22, 2024- Dad would have been 97 today. So, I spent a fair amount of time remembering what he taught me, of life, survival and responsibility. He himself was not a physically rough man, and discouraged any such behaviour in his four sons. He was a traditionalist, with regard to Mom working outside the home, but never stood in her way, when it came to her running a hairdressing and cosmetology practice, with the kitchen as her shop. He also let her handle the household budget, while in his own right, he was sensibly frugal. He taught us to figure out what the unit value of what we were selling was-whether it was the family newspaper route, which I had for two years and passed on to my middle brother, and he to brother # 3, or retail offerings. He showed us three oldest boys, and our sister, how to change a tire and change the motor oil and filter. I also watched as he gapped spark plugs. When the horn beeped, on a Thursday evening, all hands were on deck, going out to carry the groceries into the house, and we helped Mom put them away.

He also taught me to stand my ground; again, not violently, but with resolve. It is that on which I have drawn, in a variety of situations, over the past five decades-more effectively some times than on other occasions, but as consistently as I knew how, at the given time. It’s easier now, though the challenges are more nuanced, slightly more muddled, than in my earlier life. As I have branched out, and traveled both domestically and internationally, people have, on occasion, pushed the boundaries of my dignity and worth. At other times, the fight has been within myself, and has required more focus, more resolve.

Looking back, I was not the greatest of fathers, in my own right, but I did offer my son the basics in how to value work, treat others fairly and to take pride in self. I could have been a better husband, but I never strayed and took care of Penny, in her time of infirmity. In her prime, I honoured and valued her as a full partner, a strong, productive human being in her own right. My filial devotion could have been more strongly expressed, even while Mom has been, and is, fiercely independent. I would be at her side in short order, though, if the call came, even if I am 24-hours away at the time it comes. My treatment of friends and family could be better, yet they know I am loyal and that I cherish their dignity and worth-and, from the woman I love most, to the most casual in my friendship circle, value their achievements.

Above all, when it is a matter of their safety, survival and basic well-being, I will stand with any of them-and all of them. No one messes with my circle. Not unlike the character in Paul Simon’s song, the fighter still remains.

Spirits At Work

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March 20, 2024- An old friend, who I haven’t seen in thirteen years, gave me a call, and said that, among other things, she has a journal that Penny wrote, whilst we were on Pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places, as well as to Jerusalem, Bethlehem and the Galilee, in 1982.
I will retrieve that treasure, when I go to northern Nevada, en route to the Pacific Northwest, in July.

In our conversation, friend also referred to her deceased husband, sending her messages that he was engaged in productive work, in the world beyond. Penny gave me a similar message, in her last appearance in my sleep, about two months ago. The souls progress, and they do not slumber.

I’m pretty much convinced that all the good that has happened to me, in the past twelve years-and especially in the last five, has largely been due to personal growth, in which I have been guided by the spirits who love me. I have survived auto mishaps and a few personal attacks, because of their intercession. The same is true of all the journeys I have safely undertaken and the friends made. They have helped me shed baggage and demons, as I’ve mentioned a few times.

The work of the spirits continues-as we observe the Baha’i New Year, that is called, in Persian, Naw-Ruz. May this busy 181 B.E., that falls mostly in 2024, be a safe and healthy one for all.

Lunar Water, and Other Things Overlooked

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March 19,2024- “The test guide says there is no water on the Moon, so that’s what we need to go by, for now.” So I was told by a colleague, not long ago, when I pointed out that water had been discovered on Luna, in small amounts. Oh, how we deal with the cognitive dissonance that fact often brings our way, when it clashes with previously-held concepts and shibboleths. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that Celene Dion had a minor hit song called “Water from the Moon”.

The late, great Harry Nilsson once did a spoken word piece on his album, “The Point!”, in which his message was “You see what you want to see, and you hear what you want to hear.” This has never been truer, for many people, than now. Those who have particularly strong convictions are apt to discount, and in many cases vehemently disparage, alternative points of view, even when presented with factual information that is at variance with their own deeply-held beliefs. One Congressman, during the Watergate hearings, actually blurted out the famous quote from Plato: “I’m trying to think; don’t confuse me with facts.” The philosopher, at the time, was not discounting the facts. He was simply trying to see where they fit into his line of reasoning. That may have been true of the Congressman, during that heated time in American life, but it appeared ludicrous back then.

This is true of many of us, even among those who are known for an open mind and open heart. We each have at least a few beliefs that are unshakable-usually with regard to personal Faith or concerning our views of human nature, or individualism vs. collective action. My late maternal grandfather was a stalwart believer in individual responsibility. He imparted this to each of his nine children, who in turn passed it on to us-and we, to our own children-and so on. My paternal grandfather also believed in living up to one’s duties, but also took time for joie de vivre. He passed both on to his eleven children, and on down the line. Papa was not a dour man, and Grampy was not frivolous. They each had their core beliefs, which our grandmothers more or less shared, though the dear women seldom spoke of their own convictions.

We were raised to work hard, but also to think for ourselves, and when we were able to present facts to back up our statements, we had the respect, sometimes grudging, of our elders. I miss that environment.

Completion

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March 18, 2024- Always, to the best of your ability, finish what you start-and strive to correct mistakes. I learned this, over and over, from my parents. Making amends for wrongdoing wasn’t always immediately possible. Some effort, though, was usually appreciated. Follow through, when something was lost or broken, was mostly essential. Giving up was never an option.

Today was a good one, because of follow-through. Something that I was missing prompted a call to a place I had been on Saturday. The person on the other end vowed to look for the item. It took seven hours, but the missing item was found, and will be returned to me by mail. Nothing ventured, nothing gained-or retrieved.

The same goes for regular communication. “If you care about someone, let her/him know-consistently.” I am not stellar perfection, in this regard, but I’m getting there-and there isn’t anyone in my circle, to the best of my knowledge, who feels abandoned. I don’t provide for some people’s financial requests, but that doesn’t mean I have forgotten them. Sometimes, leaving a person to struggle a bit will help him/her rise up stronger. Some people I love very much did that for me, at various points in my life. I’m still here, and have never seriously contemplated giving up.

Life is always about making an effort to finish what you start.