Lyanna

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September 29, 2024, Puerto Princesa- “I remember you from before”, said the six-year-old, as she came into her grandparents’ front room, “it’s so good to see you here again.” She introduced herself as Lyanna, “though that’s only my nickname”, and showed six fingers, indicating her age. I asked her what grade she was in- “One”. She then explained that she was not “so conversant” in Tagalog, as she had been initially taught English and Spanish-for whatever reason the latter was important to her Filipino parents. She further explained that her father was a Navy officer and her mother, a nurse. When her little brother came out of the back and started crawling over me, Lyanna said “It’s okay; he can’t help it.” Grandmother quickly took the boy away, and Lyanna continued: “We mustn’t pick on the people who have learning problems. Everyone has one problem or another. For example, I have trouble learning Tagalog.”

I probably could have listened to the child expound on the Universe for a lot longer, but I had to get my dirty clothes to the laundry, up the street. She quickly exited, saying “Bye, bye. See you next time!” Precocity is priceless, and those who place limits on it do so to their own eventual detriment.

The other aspect to this is the seeming closeness of young children to the spirit world. Whether their recognition of certain people, whom they had not previously met in the flesh, is based on mere generalization of people with similar countenances or demeanors, or results from an encounter in a spirit dimension, is something we will only be able to ascertain when the time comes to go to the next level. In any event, I keep running into such children, and I know I am far from alone, in that regard.

This day passed without any of the scheduled meetings taking place. I have to say, though, that the conversation with Lyanna and a longer discourse, with her grandfather, were probably far better uses of my time than meeting just for the sake of meeting.

Precocity is priceless.

A Cordillera Sojourn, Day 2

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September 20, 2024, Baguio- The little boy was curious about what was in my soup bowl, so he started to approach the small table where I sat, in James Wright Cafe, at Baguio’s SM CIty . His mother was having none of it, and sternly called him back to their table, explaining the etiquette of dining in public.

SM is a chain of supermarkets and malls, across the Philippines and in China. It started in 1948, when Henry Sy opened a Shoe Mart, in Manila’s Quiapo District. His business plan gradually allowed for expansion into the supermarket concept, then into full service shopping malls, with a great number of satellite shops. Baguio’s SM has two stories and a plethora of shopping options. I contented myself with food that I could prepare back at my suite, and a few treats to share with my hosts, besides the lunch at James Wright Cafe.

I went into town by jeepney, after enjoying breakfast at Badihoy’s Aqua Garden Cafe. Here is a remarkable view of the Cordillera rain forest, from Aqua Garden’s terrace.

Kordilerya Rainforest, Badihoy, Baguio

Once the langganisa breakfast, with Chocolate Bomb, was finished, it was on to the parks and other sights of Baguio’s City Center. The first stop was a monument to Dr. Jose Rizal, the national hero of the Philippines.

“The Golden Blood”, celebrating modern day heroes-soldiers and sailors defending the Philippines, and first responders.
Monument to Dr. Rizal

Next was Burnham Park, named for its designing architect, Daniel Burnham, of Chicago. He wanted a park that American forces stationed at Baguio could enjoy and one that would appeal to Filipinos, as well. Thus, there is a small lake, with paddle boats and pontoon boats for rental, as well as numerous small gardens, with many stone sitting benches, and a few tables.

Bust of Daniel Burnham, at Burnham Park, Baguio
Some of Pine City’s pines, Burnham Park
Filipinos are quite focused on community health.
A long view of Burnham Park
Celosias make you take notice!
A young fashionista was posing for several “walking photos”, at this bed of daisies. I gladly waited my turn. The girl reminded me of one of our friends in Manila, who also likes to pose in style.
Have paddle boat, will cruise the lake!
Mural honouring small holder farmers, Burnham Park (above and below)
When I was a child, the Swan Boat at Boston Common was a delight. Glad to see that some are still around-pontoons at Burnham Lake.
Wherever one goes, cats rule.
Honouring Igorot warriors, defending their homeland- Igorot Garden Park, Baguio (above and below)
Baguio Cathedral. There was a Mass being said, so I did not go inside.

The way back was interesting, in and of itself. The rain was heavy, but that did not deter anyone, including me, who needed to get somewhere. I found a jeepney, which took me further than I needed to go. With help from a Guisad Barangay worker named Kim, I got back just fine, though.

Tomorrow’s outing to an indigenous craft shop will be better planned out. I will take note of landmarks, so as to not overshoot this little sitio of Badihoy.

Metro Manila, Day 8: Branching Out

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September 18, 2024, Manila- Remembering the old saw that goes: “You can’t tell if someone is disabled, just by looking at him”, I nonetheless walked past the muscular young man who was sitting on the sidewalk, holding out a paper cup. I don’t, as a matter of course, reward begging. There are cases where I will purchase snacks, especially packaged ones, from street vendors. That constitutes reward for some kind of work. Sorry, not sorry, but begging is not work.

I decided to give my friends at the Baha’i Center some space today, and opted to walk about 5 kilometers total, from Ola! Hostel to the light rail station at Vito Cruz, and from Gil Puyat station to Libertad, which took me past the Metro Manila World Trade Center. From Libertad, I took the light rail back to Vito Cruz, then walked to Ola!

World Trade Center, north of Ninoy Aquino International Airport (above and below)

Most people were just going about their business, and did not pay me any mind. A little girl asked if I needed any help, when I stopped to put my camera back in its sleeve. It was kind of her, but I was making myself feel useful and capable, so I continued on-and she went back to wherever she had been people watching.

After doing my laundry, in advance of tomorrow’s bus ride to Baguio, I sent a message to Kathy, touching base about the arrangements she had made for said ride. The answer came back that the information would be at the Baha’i Center, so I went there after all, in the evening. She brought the paperwork, after a fashion, and I saw the work that had kept her busy, these past few days: A thick binder of documents. This woman is nothing, if not dedicated and the work was largely done. I sat with her and several others, a conversation dovetailing between English and Tagalog ( the latter of which I could only understand a smidgen). Were it not for tomorrow’s activities, which start with an early morning Zoom call, I could have sat and talked for hours. It was, at least an hour well-spent, talking about the Baha’is of the United States, and our schools/institutes.

Bend a little, and get a lot in return. Show independence, and get support.

Metro Manila, Day 5: A Day of Study, Then A Deluge

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September 15, 2024, Manila- There was an insistent parade of kids, in and out of the small conference room, as our study group continued on its course-looking into the Baha’i concept of Huquq’u’llah, or Right of God. This fund, which I have described before, is a voluntary obligation. Simply put, if a Baha’i accumulates a certain amount of money, above and beyond what is needed for expenses, it behooves the person to check into the current price of gold, and if s(he) has accumulated wealth equal to, or above, the value of 2.2246 ounces (69 grams), then 19 % of that amount may be paid to Huquq’u’llah. That satisfies the obligation, until another amount that meets that criterion is accumulated. One’s primary residence, primary vehicle and necessary household effects are exempt from this obligation. The bottom line is that such giving is between the individual and the Divine. Even those managing the fund have no business overseeing the frequency of giving.

My friend, Kathy, led the group study and discussion, setting a tone of gentleness and grace towards the children, who mostly just wanted to be sure their parents had not forgotten them, in the course of the meeting. The kids were in the capable hands of a separate instructor, but there is just nobody who can replace Mom and Dad. So, the in and out parade went on, as did our study, the two weaving around one another. It all served to increase my feelings of love and respect for her, and for Filipino culture.

We all dispersed, around 3 p.m., with the group members all going on with their family activities, and me going on, to do my laundry and post the photos from yesterday’s outing. The evening was quiet, at Ola! Hostel and the nearby Sasa Cafe, until it wasn’t. Around 10 p.m., the skies opened up, and the loud thunder that had been rumbling for over an hour, was accompanied by mildly flooded streets. This is nothing new to Manilenos, of course, and being up three floors from the ground level, I found nothing alarming, either. It just added an exclamation point to a mildly declarative day.

The Hurt of One

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September 6, 2024- There are few details about how the young man ended up in hospital, other than “he was assaulted”. I remember him as a small boy of 8, the youngest of four children. The family, all three generations, is exemplary, and have only done good to their communities.

I am incensed by today’s news, yet am limited to prayer and a small contribution to help offset the cost of his care. His family is large and united, and so is their community. The young man has a lot of group energy going into his recovery. That is more than many have going for them, yet there is irony here. His father has worked, tirelessly, for thirty years to foster healing in communities across the country. Now, in this time of close to home, those of us who love and cherish what the family has represented will stand by them, in the best way each of us can.

The hurt of one shakes the world of all. It goes without saying-cherish those closest to you. Life and safety are never guaranteed.

Grace

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September 5,2024-

Grace be unto the angels who watch over me. Mom and Dad, Penny, Brian, Bunny and Norm, my grandparents, friends Marcia, Gordon, Margaret, Sallie, John H. They bring blessings to this small spiritual center.

Grace and benevolence to those who seek to oppress, that they may make a turn from their pursuit of power, vengeance, retribution, hegemony. May they see the value of unconditional love.

Grace, protection and guidance be to the children and youth, that they may realize their dreams, and bring about a convergence like those which have been tried, so often in the past.

Grace and beneficence to the dour, the tired and the disconsolate, that they may see the beauty and joy that they have overlooked, in the course of their viewing work as drudgery, as a necessary evil.

Grace be unto all the Universe, that every element, every creature be mindful, heartfelt of the Source that brought us all into being.

It was a good day today. The kids and I struggled a bit, with some features of the technological program, but all worked together and we accomplished the tasks. That was the morning, followed by a hearty curried chicken lunch. An evening meeting, of one of the organizations whose leadership I had found a bit oppressive, proved quite welcoming and joyful-with more people in attendance, who had previously avoided “the club”. The leaders themselves were far more cordial than in the recent past. Maybe they are feeling more optimistic, and therefore more expansive.

May it continue.

Inside Track

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August 30, 2024- Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau decided to spend the eve of their sister’s wedding bicycling near their family home in southern New Jersey. Not far away, someone else decided to spend the evening getting drunk. In a matter of an hour or so, the twain met.

Driving home, the drunken man became annoyed by the driver in front of him, who was going the speed limit, and then “inexplicably”slowed down. The careful driver eased to the left, so the impatient one decided he’d show who was boss, and passed on the inside-in Driver A’s blind spot-and…..hit the two bicyclists, killing both of them. Thus were the lives of six families- Johnny’s wife and children; Matthew’s wife and unborn child; the greater family Gaudreau; their prospective brother-in-law’s; the family of Driver A and that of the drunkard himself ( a decorated military veteran, and father of two) , irreparably upended and altered.

It is time to make passing a vehicle on the inside an illegal act, especially in areas where cycling is active. The practice used to be actively discouraged-at least in my home state of Massachusetts, when I was learning to drive. Back then, roads were seemingly half as crowded as now, and there was a lot more civility-and accountability. Errant drivers were more likely to be cited by the police, and called out by their fellow drivers, not by road rage or a raised middle finger, but face to face, in an admonishing manner. End of digression.

There is much about the culture of driving that makes no sense anymore-and it all derives from tunnel vision, a lack of awareness that there are in fact others around, whose lives matter as much as one’s own. We go about, almost on auto pilot, many “burned out” by life, or distracted by what’s next on the agenda and absolutely convinced that there is nothing more important than that next big, or little, thing.

Now, three children will grow up without their fathers and two others will probably see theirs only fleetingly. A loving couple will wed, in time, and two widows will raise their children, with a vow to “make their Daddy proud of them.” The horror of August 29, 2024 will ebb, but never completely go away-as such horrors are wont to never do.

Impatience, impaired judgment and insolence will continue to claim innocent victims, until the day comes when we look the beast in the eye and say “No more”. Such is the legacy of the Inside Track.

Another Banner Day

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August 23, 2024- The little girl introduced herself, about ten minutes after the first group of students came in. When I told her of a newborn baby who shared her name, she shrugged and said “There are a lot of us”.

There was much that was matter-of-fact about this group of children. Even the most squirrely of kids were most responsive when expectations were clearly stated, and most resistant, when they thought I was listening to tattle tales. Those last were discouraged from their snooping and the wayward ones settled down.

Today was a shorter work day, so it took no adjustment to go over and pick up my healed Lenovo, which basically just needed to be cleaned up, internally. We are all set for the next few months, which will be quite full of the unexpected, even aside from my journey across the Pacific.

My family achieved another milestone, of a nature personal to my siblings and me. This is just one less matter that might have been irritating. It was handled professionally and well. It gives me confidence that we are each on the right track in our respective lives.

Another well-lived week has passed, giving more strength for what lies ahead.

Fierce

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August 6, 2024, Holbrook, AZ- The little girl peeked out, from behind the screen door, as I was speaking with her grandmother, on the family’s porch. She quickly figured I was no threat and came outside smiling, with a hint of mischief on her face. Her t-shirt said “Fierce”, and that is how I remember her mother, who is away on personal business, when she was a child. The present child began to emulate a tiger kitten and paw at the air, with a mini-hiss. In time, and with her family’s continued guidance, she will be fierce-in a good way, the way her mother, at her best, has been.

This was a day spent under a sometimes ferocious sun, looking for gravesites that were not catalogued or mapped-and dependent only on the memory of a mutual friend to me and the decedents. In the end, I did not find either resting place, leaving one flower vase at the lonely, unattended grave of a combat veteran (Afghanistan, 2015) and keeping the other for placement tomorrow, at the tomb of a friend who died nearly forty years ago. It was hot and dusty, at both cemeteries, and I noted both well-kept, love-saturated gravesites and untended, often unmarked, plots, often next to one another. Wind and wild animals have taken their tolls.

I see ferocity as something that is rising, in the life of the world-both good (self-affirmation and love for others) and ill (self-aggrandizement and disdain for those who are different). I see once good-hearted and loving people turn sour and hateful, and I wonder what happened in their lives to make bitterness so appealing. My own life has had its share of trouble an disappointment- but much of that came from my own doing, and the part that wasn’t my fault was shared with a good many other people. I am fortunate to have been raised by sensible and loving parents, in a large extended family and in a close-knot neighbourhood, where any given child was “raised by the village”.

I drove across the Navajo and Hopi Reservations, as the ferocious sun was supplanted by monsoon rain. It was raining, as I left the second cemetery, stopped by the house mentioned above and while I stopped for dinner, at Keams Canyon Cafe, where I had many a meal during my residence in the area, in the mid and late ’90s. It was raining again, when I got here to the Motel 6, chosen after I noted that Keams Canyon Motel had been razed, since I was there last.

The world is fierce, in nature and in everyday life. Let us be equal in ferocity, in the best sense of that word.

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Coming Together

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July 28, 2024, Carson City- Little Man wanted to learn the simple game, which other members of the family were playing. So, he was given a seat at the table and the process was explained very simply. He’s a bright child, so it didn’t take long, and he was fully participating in the game-actually doing quite well at it. Allowances were made for his attention span, so he came and went-taking care of other things that had his interest.

His older sister was involved in the game, and played more consistently. A household chore took her away from the table, and that was more than okay. Peace in any house depends upon respect, across the board. When it later came time for her to spend quality time with her father, as well, that took priority.

There was a calm and very civil air in the house today. I sense it has much to do with the departure of some rather troubled and uncivil neighbours. Toxicity can spread, almost unannounced, insidiously. It was the first time, in quite a while, that the head of the household felt comfortable working in his own back yard, and the relief was palpable. These are good people, who have much love to give to their children and to extended family.

We are each individuals and will always have a sense of separation from even those closest to us. At the same time, we need one another, and pretending otherwise just leads to an unnatural divide. Coming together requires respect, in both directions. Miscreants can be brought into the fold, but on the terms of those who are practicing virtuous behaviour, not the other way around. There is a story that an early Baha’i told, of a saintly man and a ruffian. The saintly one told the ne’er do well that he could help him turn into a respected member of society, “in a month’s time”. The thug replied, ” I can corrupt you, in less than a day.” Both were right, underscoring the need for virtues to be instilled in children, and modeled in a consistent manner, by all significant adult role models in their view. Fortitude and self-discipline are needed, in withstanding the temptations thrown out by such as the miscreant in the story.

I am relieved that the two children, who I love very much, will no longer have to endure the nefariousness next door-and that everyone will be able to show the love for one another that has never been far below the surface, even in times of tension. This has been a wondrous cap to a very fruitful journey. Tomorrow, I head back to Home Base I.