Seventy-One and Counting-Day 1

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November 29, 2021, Grapevine- With the four-day holiday at an end, and my weeklong visit with Aram and Yunhee nearing its close, the matter of the year just entered comes into focus. The format of these blogposts will be altered, just a bit. When I change topics, within the framework of a single post, there will be boldface subtitles.

Today, in an effort to support my little family in their individual endeavours, I have fended for myself, resulting in things like checking out a podcast.

Breaking-Points This is an independent podcast site, presenting a variety of topics, within the span of an hour to one and a half hours. Their main philosophical thrust is very much my own: It is past time for elites to stop glad-handing one another, stop tossing out ideological breadcrumbs at members of the economic lower and middle classes and connect with us based on the bread and butter issues that matter most, day to day.

Individual vs. Group Support, in Building Up Communities- For some time, until three months ago, I was being solicited for individual assistance, by someone in another country, who played upon compassion, that I might fund his efforts, singly and alone. After giving a modest amount, and attempting for some time to educate him on groups that might help him, more locally, I found that he was not listening to, or accepting, my suggestions. Thus, the decision was made to cut him off, and I have so communicated this to him.

There are two factors at play here: One is the notion of individual and group empowerment, among citizens of the developing world. The worst legacy of colonialism has been, and remains, the concept that only through financing by individuals who live in Europe or North America can development projects be accomplished.

The second concept is the corollary of guilt. There is much made of the Teaching that wealth is not acceptable unless the whole community is wealthy. That has been taken out of context, quite liberally, by those who do not understand that real wealth is not fleeting, or the result of a windfall. It is something that needs to be sustainable. Pointing to something that a person has and crying out: “Not fair! Give me part of that, NOW!!” is also an outgrowth of colonialism-the “divide and rule” part.

This leads me to: What IS Owed To The Developing World– Omicron Coronavirusdisease 2019 has cast a spotlight on the practice of providing vaccine to those nations whose populace can PAY for the medicine. I understand that the present vaccines are “experimental” and that Research & Development needs a reliable cash flow, in order to be sustained. Yet, there is, at present, enough supply of vaccine to inoculate a hefty percentage of the world’s population. There is enough money in Big Pharma’s coffers to accomplish this, without mass layoffs or bankrupting the industry’s leading executives. One commentator has divided the human race into two segments for the pharmaceutical industry- The developed world as its bankroll and the developing countries as its Petri dish. Simply put: It’s time, past time, to devote humanity’s energies to building humanity’s collective immunity to the pestilences that ravage us-and will continue to do so.

Now, it’s time for me to go and exercise.

Father and Son

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November 27. 2021, Grapevine- In a nutshell, I have been treated like royalty by my son, since he was in the Navy, and continuing to the present time. Truth be known, I would do the same, were he ever again in need. That has, to our minds, been the bedrock of a parent/child relationship for all time. I would do the same if I had a daughter.

Today marked the Centenary of the Ascension of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, the eldest son and Successor to Baha’u’llah, as Head of the Baha’i Faith. He took the leadership role upon His Father’s Ascension, on May 29, 1892, serving in that capacity for over 29 years, until November 28, 1921. The fluctuations in the actual day when His passing is honoured stem from the use of the Lunar Calendar for this day, as well some other commemorations.

What is most important for the generality of mankind is the tenor of the relationship between the two Great Teachers. Baha’u’llah, like Christ, Gautama Siddhartha, Muhammed and Others before Him, brought a set of Spiritual Teachings, geared towards the people of His time and for many centuries thereafter. ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s major tasks were to interpret His Father’s Teachings to the world and to serve as an Exemplar, with regard to how these Divine Principles may best be manifested in everyday life. He was the first to recognize His Father as a Divine Messenger, even while still a child.

So were Their interwoven lives the stuff of both celestial spiritual provenance and of how parents and children can most optimally work in concert. ‘Abdu’l-Baha was a devoted Son to His mother as well, and a steadfast Brother to His two siblings: Bahiyyih, entitled Khanum (“Lady”, in Persian) and Mihdi, His younger brother, who died accidentally, while still young. He was a chaste and loving Husband to Munirih Khanum.

Even with the constant upheavals in the family’s lives, ‘Abdu’l-Baha, the Perfect Son in every way imaginable, walked among people of all strata of society, seeing none as an inherent enemy and giving even His detractors their due. He served the people of British-ruled Palestine tirelessly, helping feed thousands of people during the privations during and after World War I. He visited rich and poor alike, during travels in Egypt, Europe and North America, from 1910-1913.

When Baha’u’llah transcended in 1892, and His eldest Son, in 1921, hundreds of people, from the political leaders of Palestine to farmers, fishermen and labourers in the streets, gathered to pay their respects. Their Family had come as prisoners of the Sultan, but focused Their energies solely on bettering the lives of those among whom They lived. That effort was not lost on the people, and remains to this day as a prime example for all who call themselves members of the human family.

Justice Is A Long Haul

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November 24, 2021, Grapevine, TX- “The best beloved of all things in my sight is justice.”-Baha’u’llah.

Tonight, after sundown and all day tomorrow marks the 109th observance of the Day of the Covenant, a day set aside by Baha’is to honour the life of ‘Abdu’l-Baha. This happened because He was born on May 23, 1844, which was the very day that al-Bab, Herald of the coming of Baha’u’llah, declared His own Mission to the world. ‘Abdu’l-Baha would never have countenanced anything on His behalf which would have taken even a smidgen of attention away from honouring al-Bab, on that day. He acquiesced to letting the Faithful devote one day a year in honour of His life: November 26, by solar reckoning. When we switched to observing several Holy Days by lunar reckoning, there came about circumstances when the Holy Day falls a day or two before 11/26.

The Covenant between Baha’u’llah and His followers, of which ‘Abdu’l-Baha was the chief Exemplar, is an agreement rooted in justice. Divinely inspired justice is hardly a matter of an imagined deity tossing lightning bolts at miscreants or any kind of deus ex maxina, for that matter. Like its more human derivative, true justice is a process. and a therefore a long haul.

I mention all this because there are times when a person who commits a moral failing, but not a criminal act, may be found innocent of criminal wrongdoing, by a jury of peers and continue to suffer within self and within the wider society. History is replete with such cases, and no names need be mentioned here.

There are also cases where a person, or people, are found guilty of criminal wrongdoing, by a similar jury and the wider society finds agreement-with a minority of people begging to differ. We saw such a verdict rendered today. The matter in question took a long time to resolve, as several commentators have observed, with some further allusions to the ongoing investigations into the affairs of January 6.

Justice is a long haul. The perpetrators of the murders of Emmett Till and of Medgar Evers, as well as the killers of the little girls in the Birmingham bombing of 1963, were brought to justice with all deliberate speed-but the convictions held. The alleged assassins of John F. and Robert Kennedy and of Martin Luther King, Jr. were brought to swift justice-either judicial or vigilante, but were they the sole killers-or even the actual ones, or were they just convenient scapegoats? I have my doubts, especially following the recent revelations regarding the assassination of Malcolm X.

The justice which meshes with that described by Baha’u’llah is potentially an arduous process, one that merits careful contemplation, on this Day of the Covenant, which leads us into the American Thanksgiving. That it is so, does not diminish its importance in our lives.

When On-time Is Late

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November 23, 2021, Phoenix- Once upon a time, Penny and I arrived at Kwangju Airport, in South Korea, a half hour before our flight was due to take-off. The attendant, in a very officious manner, informed us that we were too late for boarding and therefore would be placed on the very next flight-in five hours’ time. We had been in Korea long enough to know that protest, like resistance, was futile.

I have had similar experiences a couple of times since, all here in the U.S. and essentially because of the short time between connecting flights and serious distance between the terminals. LAX, in particular, offers one way to get from domestic to international-one’s own two feet.

Nowadays, if I have a flight to catch, as I do today, the solution is to catch an early airport shuttle from Prescott, grab a hearty lunch, then check in and go through TSA at a time when there is relatively scant traffic, then have plenty of time to ease into the afternoon and set my thoughts on things that either matter, or should.

The fallout over the Kenosha verdict has been underscored by the events in Waukesha, although the two are entirely separate issues. KR has made a statement, that he supports the Black Lives Matter movement. He has also made White Power gestures. These tell me that, like many young adults, he is in a state of flux. In my own teen years, I veered from Civil Rights advocate to taking a hawkish position on the Viet Nam War, then briefly considered conscientious objector status, went back to wanting to look into the conflict firsthand and having to confront my own subconscious, ingrained biases-with regard to People of Colour.

Where someone ends up, in a place of maturity, largely depends on the intersection between heart and mind. Both Ronald Reagan and Donald Trump, at one point in their public lives, were liberal Democrats. I have a childhood friend who is in the same position- the fiery leftist of the ’70s is now a business Republican. (I saw that one coming, way back in the late 1960s, but no matter).

My passion, which has itself ebbed and flowed, over the years, is still there-at the intersection between heart and mind. It’s one area where lateness is not an option.

Once Forward, Twice Back, Thrice Forward

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November 21, 2021-

The horse took a tentative step forward, the wolves gathered in front, the steed took two steps back, the canines stiffened, ready to charge, but the equine charged first, taking three bold steps forward, then broke into a canter, then a gallop, and leapt over the startled predators.

His hind hooves smacked the alpha male, as his rear legs rose, and the pack slowly retreated, relying on instinct, trying to figure their collective next move.

The horse’s next move was to continue towards the water trough, which he had as his goal, before being so rudely interrupted.

Many times in life, one has a worthy goal that doesn’t fit the agenda of others. Some may put up roadblocks and force a retreat. A worthwhile plan may be to try and negotiate a peaceful solution, meeting the needs of those who seem to represent an obstacle. There are times, however, when the only agenda of those who are obstructing is to obstruct. It is then, that one who strives must leap over the barrier.

A Child Is A Child

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November 19, 2021- I have friends and family, on both sides of the Chasm, when it comes to discussions of race. Just so we’re clear, I am dead set against ANY policy or action that limits or prevents a person from following his/her life plan-so long as that plan does not itself involve limiting or preventing another person from following theirs.

It started, in a sense, with Emmett Till. When he was killed, I was four. An older cousin saw the news on TV and commented: “That is just plain SICK!” I asked what was sick and he told me that a kid, not much older than he, was killed by some crazy people in a place called Mississippi. I knew that name, because the older girls in the neighbourhood spelled it out while jumping rope. It bothered me, from that time on, that adults would kill a child.

As time went on, I witnessed and experienced all types of adult behaviour towards children-mostly good, but some very wicked things as well. I was, thankfully, never beaten or abused-but I knew plenty of boys and girls who were.

Growing up in a mostly White town, I saw and heard people of all ages-including some of my mates, express hostility towards people of other racial groups. In fairness, they were just as caustic towards people of other European ethnicities. I never felt such animosity towards anyone, but as the saying goes, “You stand in chalk, you inhale the dust.” It took time in the Army and frank discussions with people of other backgrounds, in which I chose to listen more than talk, for me to truly understand their experiences.

It is the duty of adults to teach teens in the ways of maturity. Maturity, as my father explained to me, means not rushing furiously into a situation, unprepared and likely overmatched. Now, we see what happens when the reverse is true. Kyle Rittenhouse went into battle, in his own mind, against an imagined foe that he barely understood, and of whose diversity he was completely ignorant. Someone in his life owed him a hand of restraint- not a violent hand, but a firm one.

Like many people in adolescence, he seemed to think he was capable of rising to the occasion and fending off those who had trouble in mind. Ironically, it was not the thugs on the periphery of the social justice movement whom he faced down, that awful night. It was three grown men, who likely fancied themselves allies of that movement, coming at him, a boy of 17.

I question how he was able to bring an AR15 with him, when the minimum age for BUYING such a weapon is 18. Yet, there it was, in his hands, after who knows how much training and practice he had been given in its use. Even people in the military, who are, with rare exceptions, 18 and over, have to have a minimum of eight weeks of training in the handling, use and maintenance of firearms, especially automatic weapons. Kyle should not have been there alone. Adults should have been with him, and then as a force of restraint.

There is, additionally, the research into the maturation of the human brain. The brain is not completely formed until the age of 25, if then. I look back on myself, in my teens and twenties, and sometimes shudder that I am still alive- my parents’ best efforts to raise me aside.

We are, however, in a crisis of adulthood when, once again, people at the street level are left trying to explain to the wider society why People of Colour are frustrated and angry-while not exactly hearing the voices of reason from those above them, in the halls of power. We are in a crisis of adulthood when a child is castigated in the court of public opinion, publicly coddled by a sitting judge and probably just as confused as he was on that awful night. We are in a crisis of adulthood when the voices of the nation’s leadership use vitriol, rather than step back, breathe deeply and foster healing. We are in a crisis of adulthood, when we just go back to the same sides, across the Chasm, that led us here in the first place.

A good-hearted, gentle family member remarked this evening that she just wants to see love for everyone. She is a conservative Christian. I am a gadfly, who leans progressive, in most matters. My sentiments, though, are the same.

A child is a child; raise him (her)!

Snipped

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November 17, 2021- Every so often, for many of us, it becomes time to give up a piece of ourselves. Sometimes, it’s someone we love; other times, a house that means a great deal and at other times, maybe a treasured possession.

Over the past several months, I have had small facial tumors removed. Today, the last of these procedures took place. In each case, a skilled plastic surgeon has repaired the area where the tumor was removed. This procedure was no exception. It was, however, probably the most challenging, being on my right ear. The snip was successful, however, and the repaired area is not altogether noticeable. It does look like a case of shrinkage, but I’m fortunate. Some have, in similar cases, lost their entire ear and have had to have prosthetics made. Mine is essentially intact.

Of course, going forward, there are things like the consistent application of sunscreen, use of headgear, and semiannual full body check-ups, the first of which will be in December. What I have given up, today, was something that did not belong on my body. What I gained was the care of a passionate group of dermatologists and nurses, devoted to preserving the well-being of their charges, gentle in their mannerisms. A few are a bit awkward socially, and I attribute that to the long hours they put in at this facility. Their hearts are undeniably pure.

There must be something important ahead of me, because I certainly lucked out, in catching these “skintruders”, late-but not too late.

The Powers That Be

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November 16, 2021- The various groups of 11-12 year-olds that convened today made a concerted effort to complete their tasks, which were focused on the study of Early Man, with regard to four subtopics: Hunting, gathering/fundamental agriculture, pre-family socialization and intergroup relationships. Some wondered what it would have been like to have encountered pre-historic humans. The boys, in particular, were musing about having to face muscle-bound and aggressive creatures. A couple of the girls talked about always having to work and perhaps having no real status. The focus on personal power was quite telling.

Many today have relinquished their own power-in the face of those tests and trials of which I wrote, in the previous post. This relegation is certainly a contributor to fatigue, and to dis-ease. In the face of such disempowerment, is it any wonder that the pandemic is the “gift that keeps on giving”-and taking? To rely on The Party, on The Movement, on an individual benefactor, or even on a small group of benefactors, is a falsehood, destined to lead to despair and cynicism. My mother calls it magical thinking-and I call that a spot-on assessment.

Every one of us has far more power to achieve than many ever give themselves their due. I daresay that, if we realize, really recognize who we are, then the various “industries” that prey on the masses-the drug cartels, large reaction-oriented pharmaceutical companies, manufacturers of cheap alcoholic beverages, and all manner of “snake-oil” vendors will be desperately seeking other lines of work. Realistically, that likely won’t happen in the next few years-but there will come a time.

The learning, as to the depths of one’s power-given each of us at birth, takes as long as one feels is needed to recognize it and to determine how best to bring it to bear. It is my work to keep on imparting that message to children and youth, to be a way shower, and to persist in reminding those who say they are helpless, that their weakness is an illusion-and that the power of the individual sometimes needs to be reflected by the power of the group.

No one is less strong than s(he) feels.

Exhausted

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November 15, 2021- The young woman looked at the police officer who had come to her assistance, and said, flat-out, “I am just…so…tired. There is no end.”

I am not exhausted, though there have been times….. Dan Rather posted a provocative essay, entitled “It’s Okay To Be Exhausted”, in yesterday’s edition of the Blogsite “Steady”. He listed all the things that this modern world has thrown at us, which lead to so many being at the point of zero returns. Part of the issue is the ubiquity of information. No matter where one lives in the world, he or she can be, and often is, bombarded with the plights of those less fortunate-often with urgent pleas for help (preferably financial), on the double. This, on top of politics, social (in)justice, false equivalence, restrictions on travel, restrictions on parental involvement in the schools, ham-handed governance (from both ends of the spectrum, and all points in between), climate change, pro-choice, pro-life, Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All Lives Matter, vitriol, supply chain issues, inflation, Paul Gosar’s anime, AOC’s pickle jar, Michael Flynn’s Theocracy, income inequality, double taxation of estates. I almost miss the days of “Where’s the Beef?” Wow, I didn’t even mention the pandemic.

What matters to me the most is the well-being of those around me-either physically in the community, by my side when on the road, and children/teens-anywhere I happen to be. What seems to matter the most, to those with whom I talk, is being heard and respected. None of us really need to be told how to raise our children. None of us really need to be told to look out for our sickly loved ones. None of us really need to be told that we’re doomed unless we follow _______________ (fill in the blanks).

What matters most is love-the only source of energy that can restore the exhausted ones who are all around. It is not a product of ideology, of lifestyle choices or of political affiliation. It is not demonstrated by giving all one has, willy-nilly, and making oneself a ward of someone else. It is bestowed on us at birth, and hopefully nurtured by family, community and one’s affiliates-near and far.

“Love gives life to the lifeless”-‘Abdu’l-Baha

The Forge

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November 14, 2021- The gentleman recounted how, when he was due to return to his home, after serving his country for four years, his family sent word that people were lying in wait for him, at several transportation depots-including the local airport. He wisely found an alternative way to get back, and was never harmed. My personal feeling is that there is a special place in the hereafter, for those who kill or maim the very ones who have helped keep them safe. It will not likely end very well for such souls.

We each have to undergo a fair amount of trial and tribulation, in this physical life. That we are, essentially, souls allows for a modicum of personal growth, within the physical frame. One can make a grievous error in judgment, and recover-if realizing the consequences of the mistake-and making full restitution for it. There are also those who do nearly everything right, in this life, and have a few blind spots that need to be rectified.

Both cases necessitate the forge-the tests and difficulties that help make us better people. The gentleman mentioned, at the onset of this post, has lived an arduous life-yet has, by all accounts, proven the paragon of decency, humility and resolve. Hearing him speak, this afternoon, only corroborates this. He has walked through the forge, run through the forge and been stuck in the forge. Each time, he came out stronger and shinier.

The forge started in his mother’s home-and his initial comment resonates with me: He would rather face a hundred neighbourhood toughs, than face his mother’s wrath. Yes, indeed! The home fire is that which creates an indomitable, yet forthright and genuinely loving servant of humanity. He credited his mother for setting the stage of his fruitful life-and I credit my mother the same.