The Road to Diamond, Day 40: Cherishing

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January 7, 2025- The animated teacher spoke of a calamitous event in our nation’s recent history. He wanted to remind the adolescent students, themselves only vaguely aware of that particular incident, just how fleeting such memories can be, and how easily they can be manipulated by those with ulterior motives. This conversation will continue tomorrow, and perhaps for several more days.

The freedom we have in this country is worth cherishing. So are the love and friendship that have been built, sometimes over decades. So are the gifts that the Divine has imparted to each of us. I thought of these things all day, as once again, I was placed in a setting where I could focus on one or two students at a time, and key in on the boy or girl and specific needs. I will do this for the next two days, as well. Part of the task is to support the teachers in their explanations and foci. Thus do I go forward.

In an evening orientation, for a Baha’i family who are moving to one of the Native American communities where Penny, Aram and I once lived, I also focused on what is cherished by First Nations people. There are friends in that area who I have not seen for several years and others from whom I hear, every so often. The reality, though, is that were I to return to the place, I would be at least welcomed by some, as if I had never left. That is what I wish for this new family, provided they open their hearts to the people.

I will likewise always cherish the friendships I have made here in the Prescott area, over nearly fifteen years. Regardless of what transpires, these next several months, this will always be a Home Base of my heart. The same will be true of the Philippines, no matter how things turn out on my next visit.

Life is for the cherishing, not for the expectancy.

The Road to Diamond, Day 39: Institutional

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January 6, 2025- The day in Washington came and went, with scarcely a murmur. The will of the people, albeit by way of plurality, was acknowledged and for the second time in our nation’s history, the losing standard bearer of a major party was the person certifying the election of a rival. Albert Gore, Jr. did that very thing, on 1/6/01 and Kamala Harris did so today. The institution of the American republic, a form of democracy, was the winner.

It made me think of other institutions: Parenthood, grandparenthood, marriage, community, corporation, formal education, personhood. Each has its rules and practices, which are its underpinnings. Those who challenge any one of the institutions, on its face, are exhibiting an inclination towards mayhem. That does not mean that the institution should be impervious to change. Our Constitution is replete with the amendment process, for the very reason that the government of 1788, or 1861, cannot possibly address all the needs of 2025. Familial institutions, likewise, have the duty to their members, to regularly communicate across the roles of parent, spouse, child, sibling-and even grandparent, so that the personhood of any given member is not trampled or sacrificed.

In the institution of the school, there is a trust between teacher and student. Today, my role as substitute teacher was a special position of trust: A new semester, a new term, was starting. The regular teacher had a last minute emergency, and though today was the start of a major activity, his life had to take its course. I was able to dust off the cobwebs of my technological savvy and get the basic activities started. The task in question was a vocational education exercise, which will last for two weeks. Those who recognized its import-the majority of students, thankfully, set themselves to the task, some choosing to work in small groups and others on their own. Thus are the members of one institution, the school, beginning to prepare for membership in another, the workforce.

It remains my honour to offer support to institutions, holding up their traditions when the good of the order warrants and working to effect change, when the converse is true.

The Road to Diamond, Day 34: Year of The Open Gate

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January 1, 2025- The format of the opening gives its message loud and clear: This is a place where YOU decide to go forward, or not. The half-gate, in Coconino National Forest, behind Sedona Red Rock Junior/Senior High School, offers entry to trails leading up Scheuerman Mountain and along the Scorpion-Pyramid route. Hiking Buddy and I chose to do the Scheuerman.

The gate that isn’t a gate.

So began the Year of the Open Gate. What I do this year is totally open-ended. I have plans and goals for the the first four weeks of the year: Spend next week working, in Prescott schools; visit friends in San Diego and Orange County, the following week; focus on Racial Healing and Justice, during Martin Luther King Day and its preceding/following days.

It is the end of January and the first half of February though, that will set the tone and the agenda, for the rest of the year and beyond. I will be in the Philippines, from January 28-February 18. That could well be the precursor to a major change in my life. The central message of a show I just finished watching, (“The Outpost”), is that each of us is responsible for making wise and independent choices, but I knew that. We will see what choices are made at that time.

Regardless, this year will see me constantly on the move-no surprise there-and ever in the company of family and friends. Plan A involves one set of moves and downsizing. Plan B involves other travel, and still some downsizing. Details will come as we go along, for reasons of prudence. This is not a year for announcing grand plans ahead of time.

In closing, here are some scenes from Scheuerman Mountain and Vista.

The icons of Sedona: Cathedral Rock, Bell Rock, Courthouse Butte, Chicken Point and Airport Mesa are all visible from Scheuerman Vista.

The Road to Diamond, Day 27: A Simple Beauty

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December 25, 2024, Winslow- I came upon the midnight clear, or close to it, into this small but vibrant community, which Jackson Browne once chose as a surrogate for nearby Flagstaff, in his song “Take It Easy”. Flag already had a lot going for it, being the Snow Capital of Arizona, and Winslow seemed to be both more “poetic” and in need of a boost, so “Standin’ on the corner in Winslow, Arizona…..”. it was. Besides, anyone who has ever driven along Route 66 in Flagstaff knows that the girl wasn’t slowing down on account of ol’ Jackson. She was merely stuck in the city’s legendary traffic.

Anyway, back to Christmas. In Home Base I, and across the Southwest, anyone looking for snow was out of luck. Christmas, and its antecedent, Yule, for that matter, does not depend on snow and cold to be truly meaningful. That hype simply has made a nicety out of the sheer terror that a hard winter can bring. In that regard, it is no different than the Ice Festivals and Winter Carnivals held in Quebec-Ville, Sapporo and the depths of the forest in the Saami lands of Scandinavia. Man carves joy out of adversity, and we survive to face a sometimes kindly, and other times frightful and tornado-riven, Spring.

What makes Christmas meaningful is the promise that the great Teacher, Whose birth is celebrated today, made in His ministry: “The Kingdom of God on Earth will come”. It’s taken a long, perhaps an excruciatingly long, time. We’ve approached peace among ourselves, only to scurry back to the shadow lands of conflict and warfare, countless times since the Day of Resurrection-and well before it. It will take a few more centuries, perhaps, but achieve peace, we will. Astrologers say the Aquarian Age will arrive sometime in the 26th Christian Century, sometime around 2534 AD/CE (591 Baha’i Era). I’ll be off weaving new planets, or whatever the Divine has in Mind for me, and my descendants will be of the sixth or seventh generation, by then. In any event, this theory squares with Baha’i Teachings, that the Golden Age, the Most Great Peace, will be in full flower around that time. How difficult a process that is will be determined by us, as a species.

I attended two gatherings today, that could be seen as harbingers for the sort of peace that humanity can build. In early afternoon, eight of us gathered at the grave site of a much-loved wife, mother, grandmother and friend. Her husband sang prayers, and sacred music that he had composed. The rest of us offered prayers for spiritual progress, healing and the well-being of humanity. Marcia was, no doubt, very pleased.

Later in the afternoon, thirteen of us gathered in the Spirit of Christ, at a friend’s home in the forest of Prescott’s west side. We shared the simple beauty of home made chili and cornbread, salad and three very rich desserts. Hot chocolate took the edge off the cold that came with nightfall. The toddler son of a young couple entertained us with his harmonica-each extended one-note generated applause from the adults, bringing his little face to radiance. His little sister was just glad to be in the loving arms of at least one of her parents, or grandmother, or aunt. We talked of everything from the operation of a dog-boarding facility to the approaching travels of two of us-a young lady to Costa Rica, for her first journey outside the U.S. and me, on my third visit to the Philippines. Both have elements of joy and promise, and elements of uncertainty. Undertaken in faith, though, the right thing will prevail.

Christmas is best observed as a day of simple beauty-and so it was today.

The Road to Diamond, Day 23: Longest and Darkest

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December 21, 2024- When love is freely given them, the children always love back.

Six little girls danced continuously, as the family band, Galactogogues served up the contents of their 13-song album. When the tempo was fast and vibrant, the children pranced, tumbled and bounced around the dance floor, under the watchful eyes of their mothers and grandmothers. When the music was quiet and subdued, the girls offered rather elegant interpretive steps. (The aging security guard glared and grumbled, but that’s another story.) There was love between parents and children.

I thought of the times when my generation’s youthful energy alternately got approval and admonition, from our elders. The same happened when my son’s generation did things that were harmless and delightful, or when they came close to harm’s way. Invariably, the generations understood each other, because underneath it all, there was love.

Today, in the northern hemisphere, featured the longest and darkest night. Here, it was a thing of beauty. The stars twinkled above, and there was a sense of camaraderie among the fans of Galactogogues. The band played all our favourites from its various club dates of the past five years and a few new tunes from the Bohrman’s son and daughter. At the end of the evening, as Meg Bohrman credited her children, Cosimo and Opal, and percussionist friend, Zach Dominguez, Opal did not let her mother go uncredited. When love is freely given them, the children always love back.

Far across the Pacific, another family reunited, a few days ago. I know the mother. She gives enormously of herself, for the sake of each of her three children. They, in turn, are protective of her as well. The same hold with yours truly, and my little family. We are a unit built on love.

When love is freely given them, the children always love back.

Here is the family, about ten years ago, offering their reworking of “Will The Circle Be Unbroken?”

The Road to Diamond, Day 15: Hats and Antlers

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December 13, 2024- It was Acker Night, tonight, in downtown Prescott. This is an annual fund drive for Music Education, supporting programs in everything from dance to choral singing and a jazz quartet. The second Friday in December is thus an especially heartwarming night, the chill air aside.

I walked around downtown, stopping first at American Legion Post 6, to listen to a few songs by a couple of Post members and starting my “rounds” of contributions to the fund. After being admonished that “downtown is a long way”(It is a half mile from the Post to Courthouse Square), I walked down the hill. As long as I still can manage, walking is a joy. I feel for those who no longer can, though.

In a small alcove, at Lifeways Book Store, a bilingual singer offered several tunes with a Southwest flavour. In his rendition of Ray Charles’ “Seven Spanish Angels”, he sang both the English and Spanish lyrics. The singer told of his having studied the songs in his repertoire, and having “corrected” Mr. Charles’s Spanish translation-to make it flow better. Since he lived and worked for a time in Veracruz, I figured he knew what he was doing.

I walked the south side of the Square for a bit, listening to a choral group doing Christmas carols, then walking around to the north side, where a dance ensemble was doing a “Rockette-style line dance, to Kay Starr’s “The Man With The Bag”. A couple of beginner dance groups followed with “Silent Night” and “White Christmas”.

Finally, it was off to Raven Cafe and a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, which soothed whatever remnants I had of Wednesday night’s stomach flu. The featured artist for the evening, Kendra Vonderheide, gave a solid hour of mostly original tunes, saying that these were her way of releasing pent-up energy, after a three-hour drive from her hometown of Bisbee. Kendra complimented those who wore Santa hats and reindeer antlers. Arizona’s “Christmas City” would offer no less. It was another fabulous step forward for music education in our area.

Here is Ray Charles, with Willie Nelson, performing “Seven Spanish Angels”.

The Road to Diamond, Day 4: Voyages

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December 2, 2024, Grapevine- My planned walk to Grapevine Mills became a ride. Aram needed to get out of the house, after a day of working on his job hunt research, and, driving around, looking for a charging port for EV, came up short. So, we drove over, and walked the mall. In a chain shop called Books-A-Million, I came upon Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Between The World and Me”, said title taken from a line in Richard Wright’s eponymous verse.

Wright’s protagonist fairly screams from the page, would scream, if he were to borrow a stentorian voice in a poetry slam. Coates himself does not scream, but speaks tersely, sternly towards his readers, yet simultaneously with urgency towards his son-the recipient of this long, elegant and painful letter.

As my son moves forward with his life, I don’t so much worry about what society, or the police, might do to him as what he may or may not do on his own. So far, so good. Therein lies the difference between our situation and that faced by too many who are in marginalized situations.

There is a chasm in society, lesser and lesser between people of different racial and ethnic groups as between people of different economic classes. There are those, both Black and White, both Right and Left, who see this class differential as the more enduring problem-and a few who see that the wirepullers of the whole Class Divide are the ones who will set up Race Card situations, clashes between people of colour and people of pallour- usually involving police officers, at some point.

Where am I going with this? What is the voyage of the mind, on which I have embarked? I am looking at justice-the justice that Ta-Nehisi Coates fears may one day escape his son, and others his age. I am looking at justice, deferred, in the matter of the son of a sitting President, supposedly out of fear that the Attorney-General for the next President may impose a draconian sentence on that son. I am looking at justice denied, with regard to that next President, and maybe those who acted, in their minds, on his behalf, four years ago next month. I am looking at justice, whose light is now hiding under a bushel. My mind still searches for it. Justice, says Baha’u’llah, is the best-beloved of all things, in the sight of God.

We will just have to stay vigilant, and see how things turn. In the meantime, my physical voyage, tomorrow, will take me back to Home Base I. The one I love most will be on a voyage of her own, to a gathering of some import. Each of us goes forth, keeping our adult children in our hearts. Each of us will keep an eye on justice. Each of us is on a voyage, to a destiny that may well bring us to a common point.

Down Time

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November 26, 2024, Grapevine, TX- There really is no such thing as down time.

Sitting in the arrivals area of Terminal B, at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, while waiting for my son to complete a personal matter, I got to witness several slices of life. A little girl followed her slightly older sister, in a version of mall walking. They circled around the luggage carousels, at least six times.

Another child decided she would push both her mother’s suitcase and her own, which had her backpack balanced on top. The experiment fell apart, when the backpack tumbled off. Mom just took her suitcase and carried the backpack. Child had enough to handle with her own bag.

Little boy decided he would run around and check out the moving carousel. His gentle mother came and picked him up, soothing his squalling voice, by explaining that she needed his help in finding their suitcase. She did not let him climb into the empty bin that was going around the carousel. Oh, the minds of toddlers!

There was no down time, once Aram came and got me at the passenger pick-up point. We discussed some aspects of my game plan for next year. We also had a wide-ranging discussion of current events. There were errands done, a nap taken (okay, that was my “down time” again) and the three of us watching The Goonies, which Yunhee and I had never seen. I found it interesting, seeing actors I only know from adult roles (Sean Astin, Josh Brolin, Martha Plimpton) in their early years and John Matuszak, a professional football player, who became an actor, as the unlikely hero, Sloth. The silly film’s redeeming plot twist came when the namesake group of kids came to the deformed, but intelligent, Sloth’s defense.

In a world of humans, individual needs and interesting sideshows, there is no real down time.

Angelic Troublemakers

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November 23, 2024- “We need, in every community, a group of angelic troublemakers”-Bayard Rustin

An angelic troublemaker is defined as “someone who uses their life to disrupt the status quo in a positive way”. The above quote was among those cited this evening by a community activist who definitely has challenged the status quo, in positive ways, over a period of twenty years. One of her actions involved playing an accordion in the midst of a rally of an angry demonstration, two or three years ago. It had a calming effect on some of the ragers, and she was not hurt.

Angelic troublemakers were responsible for much of the progress the nation, and the world, have seen over the past eighty years or so. Certainly Mohandas Gandhi would fall into that category. So would most of the rank and file in the American Civil Rights movements. Others, like yours truly, fall into the category of angelic troublemakers with tight halos, stumbling into acts of goodness as often as we intentionally walk into them. Most of the time, though, some good comes out of what we do.

I open my big mouth as often on behalf of people with whom I disagree on many things, as I do on behalf of kindred spirits. We have, in this physical world, a duty to listen to all sides, even the most outwardly ludicrous, in order to glean the whole truth of any matter. So, the “Flat Earther” can spout his gibberish, and maybe one or two kernels of truth will drop to the floor. The person who claims to be from the Pleiades can also spew forth a barrage of nonsense, and we may actually learn something about the greater Universe, in the process.

Where I draw the line is with those whose beliefs, when acted upon, cause harm to children, teens and other vulnerable people. There is no quarter for pedophiles, for vaccine deniers who also adhere to a diet of processed foods, for human traffickers, and for those who believe in price gouging of medicine and care for the chronically ill, the infirm elderly, the disabled and the mentally ill. I have no use for those who tell veterans and families of dead First Responders that they are on their own. I detest warmongers, no matter how “worthy” the pretext for their rampage.

So, on we go, us good troublemakers, angelic and otherwise.

Misogyny

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November 17, 2024- I watched the first episode of “Lioness” this evening. It is a spy thriller, centered on women secret agents and fighters, in a Middle Eastern backdrop. Each of the women has a male advocate, if not a lover. They just don’t really need those men, day to day. One of the central characters comes to the Lioness program by way of escaping from a gang of disaffected, misogynistic men.

I thought back to how I was raised-to be a gentleman (by my father), countered by male peers who were alternately respectful of our mothers, sisters, grandmothers and aunts, while carrying a veneer of seeing other girls and women as means to an end. It was the stuff of adolescence, certainly, but subliminally was carried forward into our group psyches.

My wife became my equal, my partner, by dint of her sheer intellect and tough personality. Penny grew to become nobody’s fool. I became someone who did not need a fool. As the first true love of my maturity grew into a fully independent woman, so I began to grow into a fully independent man. From there, we both became interdependent.

In the years immediately following her passing, I found the sticky residue of my adolescence clinging to my psyche. As sheer will power and prayer had helped me shed alcohol dependency, thirty years earlier, so did they help me shed the stench of misogyny that was trying to get out. I let it out, along with the lack of self-esteem that is behind all such negative dust. True maturity had been reached.

Young men, around the world, face challenges to their self-concept that have historically been faced by posturing, adopting a dominant position towards their female peers and subscribing to a false sense of entitlement. This is the ethos of The Pack. There is an alpha male, but his “true strength” is only evident when the rest of the peer group is present, for reinforcement. The public face of misogyny is the Incel (“involuntary celibate”), who takes the stance that abstinence from sex is being forced on him by a conspiracy of women and other men.

In truth, though, focusing on one’s sexuality is dealing with only the outer trappings of insecurity. Procreation has an important place in the order of society, but it is only a place. A person, male or female, who has been raised to truly value self, who is focused on his/her totality: Intellect, variety of interests, physical stamina, dreams and goals, social skills, spirituality-will be more likely to know success, to be resilient in the face of challenges and less likely to blame others when things go wrong.

These are things I have come to fully realize, over the past fourteen years.