How I Overcame Self-Absorption

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August 27, 2021-

There was a time when I bumped into a clearly visible barrier pole, whilst backing my car out of a space, at Breakheart Reservation, in my hometown of Saugus. My head was so far into a matter of such earthshaking importance, that I can’t even vaguely recall what it was. I remember the fender bender, though, and the mildly amused twelve-year-old kid who chuckled at my ignorance.

Mom and Dad didn’t raise us to ignore our surroundings, and I caught more than a few rounds of indignation, when I turned too far inward. Gradually, in the wider world, the core of my being, which loved my family and those around us, took focus. Penny came into my life, and we helped each other break out of our respective shells. Students, clients, by the hundreds, became my focus and between wife and children, I realized that my life actually mattered far more than I had thought. Aram became our responsibility and made sure, in turn, that I didn’t lapse into my former bubble.

There was a long eleven years, in which my wife was my primary responsibility. In the end, son and his crew, Penny’s family and my brothers were our primary support group. The cackling crows who castigated me for using the adjective “my”, when I referred to Penny, offered absolutely nothing in the way of help-save their mealy-mouthed ideological puffery. There were also the masses, who went about their business, but at least didn’t get in my way.

On my own, I had choices to make, and slowly shed the residue of self-absorption, once again. A few women came to me, hoping that perhaps they would be the next Penny. It didn’t happen, and life took a far wider turn. I almost deluded myself into thinking that one or two others might be the next Penny. That didn’t happen, either, and life took a wider turn, still. There were three things that propelled me out of my bubble, altogether.

The first was dealing with five people who were/are so intensely self-absorbed, in their own right, that I was constantly wondering what, if any, place there was in the world for me, or any other good soul who was just trying to live a good life. Four of these five are gone from my world now, banned for constantly magnifying every single mistake I made, ignoring any good thing I did and yet clawing at me for attention. The fifth at least thanks me for what has already been done. I thank them, though, for making me aware of all the times I was the same towards others.

Secondly, I found myself largely responsible, for the well-being of over 80 people in a storm shelter, in Alexandria, Louisiana, late last summer, during the daylight hours of a Red Cross operation. That is when my work never stopped, until wiser heads pointed out that the opposite of self-absorption is not complete other-immersion. Then came a more balanced view, that both my personal needs and those of others had equal importance. I also realized that being too deeply in the business of other people robs them of dignity.

Third, the full acceptance of others as complete human beings, beyond their physical trappings and even their personalities, has come about from our collective dealing with COVID and all the climate change-based events that we have faced, and will continue to face, long after I myself have left this earthly life. It takes me three to five seconds to recognize that a woman has pleasing features, that a child is precious, that anyone has an engaging nature.

There are things that are about to happen in this life, that make such an emergence from self-absorption more essential than ever. I look forward to them all.

In My Element

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August 23, 2021- Friend Jupiter glows in the eastern night sky, encouraging me to dream big. Friend Venus shimmers in the west, telling me that to love is celestial. These orbs will trade sky spots, as summer moves into winter, by way of autumn. Venus will, additionally, become a “morning star”. The abundance of heat and water will shift southward, and we in the north will enter into a modicum of rest.

It occurred to me, this morning, that I am most in my element when in the company of those who have youthful energy and vision, yet are fairly self-sufficient and can contribute mightily to the mix of ideas. This does not mean exclusively those who are chronologically young. Such people can be as young as three and as advanced in age as 100. The prime loci of these individuals are middle schools, high schools and institutions of higher learning.

Maybe that’s why I continue to work on special assignments in school settings or in places where people are both loving and fierce. It’s also the prime reason why I am both comfortable here in my Home Base of Prescott and am prone to visit other places where ideas and achievements are happening. It is why I devote the sharing of my resources as I do. It is why I continue to grow as a person and as a soul. It’s why my cup is ever at least half full.

Dream big; love celestially.

Blue Moon Spirit

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August 21, 2021- I sat in my portable chair, facing the almost-full moon and its attendant-the planet Jupiter, in a quiet spot atop Sedona’s Airport Mesa. The airport itself was closed, as was Synergy Cafe (apparently a Delta thing)-and thus, the Mesa’s Vista Point, with its vortex energy, was a good place to draw in that bounty and to reflect on all that has been given me.

So, I wish to offer shout outs to all those who emanate those blessings: My son and daughter, Aram and Yunhee; my siblings, Dave, Glenn and Cheryl and their spouses Deb, Barbie and Steven; my heart siblings John Glaze, Judy Russell, Linda and Randy Smith, JoEllen Coney, Wes Hardin, Valerie and Mark Schroeder, Corina Luna Dea, Janet Waters, Lal Fernando, John and Tammy Lambert (brother and sister), Laureen McBradeigh and her husband Chuck, Akuura Kulak, Dawn Wasowicz, Carl and Marcia Brehmer, Molly Beverly, Michele Smith and Melissa Monahan; countless friends and well-wishers around the country and the world; my nieces and nephews, Matt, Nick, Marcy, Melanie, Kim, Curtis, Chris, Jeff, Rebecca, their spouses and their children; my sisters-in-law Wynne and Mindy. Then, there are my star family: Souls like Sierra, Kathleen, Christina, Pam, Joy, Elizabeth, Wendy, Ebbie, Haylee, Annie and Holly, whose presence radiates power and affirmation at a higher level. Each of you has made my life fuller, in just the conduct of your daily lives and I am honoured to know you.

My drive back from Sedona, this evening, was done in the glow of the vortical energy. I am supremely at peace right now.

Conversations, Outbursts and In-between

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August 20, 2021- The furious man probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel of the large pick-up-or maybe the guy who laid on his horn and made the other man furious was the one who shouldn’t have been driving. At any rate, as I was crossing the street on foot, the short but intense verbal exchange between the two gave me pause-for a few seconds, as either one, or both, could have bolted through the red light. Such is the mood, sometimes, as we enter the pause in the Southwest’s monsoon season that is known here, as well as elsewhere, as Dog Days.

Earlier today, the nurse at the school where I was working entered our classroom. As she spotted two boys carrying on, in a manner not to her liking, the woman trained in a more authoritative European model of education dressed the class down and warned them not to entertain disobedience. One tactic she used in this effort made sense to me: She made the students stand next to their desks and look at her, while she was issuing the directive. I found that technique very effective, over the next five hours and every time I had instructions for the six-year-olds, they stood next to their desks and listened. Thus went the one-day assignment I had accepted a month ago, before my concurrent long-term effort at our local high school came about.

When I got home and checked e-mails, I found a last minute, after hours reminder about a medical appointment-for Monday. This procedure was tentatively scheduled, before I agreed to help my old colleague at our high school. Customarily, a reminder is sent out a week prior to the appointment. Two days’ notice, when both the medical facility and school are closed for the weekend, doesn’t work. I will need to re-schedule, at a time that works for all concerned. The students, and my colleague are not going to be given short shrift. The medical procedure will happen, though, and soon. No, it is not a life threatening situation.

Thus went, on this cusp of the August Blue Moon.

Evers, and Nevers

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August 19, 2021- The woman I trust as Cosmic Advisor correctly stated that this week would bring events, fast and furious, which would underscore the powerlessness of those who hold stature. The forces of nature, of baseness and of frenzy have combined to show us that the only real power is that of the Spirit.

I have made a good effort to keep order and help advance learning, in a place I’ve long felt at home. I have not sought, nor have I held, power at an official level. No matter; in any school, the real power is held by those who lead their students to believe in themselves and in one another. Tomorrow, I will spend the day with First Graders, fulfilling a promise made at the beginning of this academic year, and imparting self-confidence to people who are at a very basic level.

I left the high school today, reviewing those things I will ever do, consistently and those things I will NEVER do. One might say, “Never say never”, but I have held, for seventy years, that:

I will ever strive to stand behind anyone acting from a place of truth-so long as that truth is not twisted or distorted, in a way that hurts others.

I will ever trust in the Spirit, that which speaks to me in moments of quiet solitude, and at times when I must decide a course of action.

I will ever hold that there is no nation or ethnicity that is inherently inferior to any other, and that the strength of Woman, however different in the way it is manifested from that of Man, is equal to that masculinity.

I will ever hold to the sanctity of life and that to oppose abortion, but then readily abandon the right to life of people, at any of its later stages, is a false narrative.

I will never join in an attack on a person or group of people who are different from me, in countenance, thought, or mode of living.

I will never seek to deceive even the meanest of creatures. My big mouth will always speak with integrity.

I will never again walk past a person who is injured or fallen, without seeking to offer or obtain help. (This last was a lesson I learned fifty years ago, and my shame stayed with me for a long time.)

Many years ago, I was told never to marry a person of a different race, as society would make life miserable for any children who came from such a union. When it was my turn to take a stance on that matter, approving the marriage was the easiest decision I ever had to make, and the happiness of my child and his wife is an eternal reward. Their offspring, when they come into this life, will be blessed beyond measure.

I have learned that embracing others of varying belief systems does nothing to weaken my own dearly-held tenets.

The Tenth Anniversary Torrent

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August 11, 2021- The nimble little girl danced in the rain, barefoot, to the music inside her head, carefully prancing and pirouetting, along a fairly narrow wall between her alley and the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. S captured my heart several years ago, as a shy, grinning toddler, who proudly showed me how well she could ride her tricycle. She and her family are essential to our neighbourhood, alternately taking a leading role in keeping a sense of balance between an “Over 55” mentality and a street overrun with kids, and being, for a short period, the only child-centered family on the block. I don’t mind the street full of kids part at all, as that was the way it was in my childhood-we children were everywhere. I watched S dance, from my living room window, lest she had slipped and fallen-in which case, I’d have been across the street like a shot. Every child who lives in this block has my heart. As it is, they also have my admiration, especially when living out their dreams.

The afternoon had brought a torrent of rain, on top of yesterday’s deluge. As I watched the sheets of precipitation pour down, I was reminded that it was ten years ago, today, that I wrote my first post on Word Press, after my previous blogsite, Xanga, became monetized. There are people I miss from Xanga, that I have not heard from since 2011. There are also those who turned on me, some for good reason, and others in fits of pique. For the most part, I am still in contact, either here or via other social media, with the Xanga friends who have stuck by me.

Many other changes have enveloped me, in this past ten years. Rage stemming form personal affronts now seems cheap and a waste of energy. I no longer harbour thoughts of long-distance thru-hikes of the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trails, at least for the time being. There is simply too much to be done, with other people around, both here in Home Base and further afield. I am more contemplative, before speaking or acting. A Basal cell has been removed and my immune system has been largely built up.

is There are other ways in which life is the same. My best friends, locally, are for the most part almost a decade or more, younger than me. My contemporaries don’t understand me any better than they ever did. That’s fine; being someone who is humoured and sent on his way has been my lot, among my age-mates, for a very long time. The “kids”, from Gen X to the Alpha Generation, have come to know me better, as I worked with them day-to-day. I can talk with many of them for a long time, without their passing judgement or getting their socks in a knot over some real or imagined slight. There are exceptions, among the Baby Boomers-like my hiking buddy, but it is with those my junior that I am most in my element.

Ten year into Word Press, self-assuredness and recognition that I am a person of worth have grown-and all the journeys of mind and body have only gotten richer.

Cloudburst

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August 10, 2021- The water came pouring into the office space, putting electronic equipment at risk and forging a disparate group of workers into a unified team. I’ve noticed that about the school where I once worked full time, and where I am covering for an old friend who is on family leave, this week. In about forty minutes, we had the water mostly sucked up, using wet vacuum cleaners and had prevented any electrical short-outs or fires.

This has been a beneficent monsoon season, after three years of drought-like summers. We are likely to get more storms, this week and at least part of next. The type of storm we had in the Prescott area is called a cloudburst, with a heavy amount of rain falling, in a relatively short time. That the students faced this at dismissal time is disconcerting, but not uncommon. I can recall one storm, in 2010, in Phoenix, in which the streets were impassable, north and south of the school where I was working. Heavy hail was also falling. I had to advise students who were trying to walk home, regardless, to return to the school and wait for safer conditions-and so notified the school office of the situation. Today’s situation was close to that-and many students indeed did come back inside for the duration of the storm. At least, there was no hail.

It is said there is no true retirement, when one’s career has been spent working with children and youth. So it goes.

Tenderness

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August 9, 2021-

Tenderness, Mutual caring, Each for another.

The above is a Hay(na)ku- a 1-2-3 verse, containing six words, lined as shown.

I saw nothing but tenderness, yesterday, between the three girls and their Nanny. The kids looked after one another, and each other’s personal items. Ages six, seven and nine, they showed no jealousy or lack of understanding, when encouraging each other in their impromptu exercise routines. The woman, for her part, showed the girls the proper way to stretch and kept a light, but constant, vigilance, respecting both the girls’ emotional awareness and the nature of the group.

Tenderness comes a bit harder, when one is tasked with maintaining order in a larger group setting, with people who may not have experienced it very much, in their overall lives. Prisons, mental hospitals, residential schools, and overcrowded, underfunded day schools conjure the notion of ludicrosity, when tenderness is mentioned. It does indeed take a different form, but acknowledging another person’s pain has happened in settings as horrific as concentration camps and plantations of the enslaved.

Tenderness is a key to many things: Resilience, reconciliation, resolution of disputes and the recovery of communities, among them. It is not weakness, but it is the realization of a commitment to pay attention to the needs of others, on a level at which they are equal to oneself.

Musical Double Eights

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August 8, 2021- The three little girls methodically cleared all the pebbles from the piece of carpet on which they and their Nanny sat-and on which they wanted to show their tumbling skills. It was a fine bit of teamwork and an enjoyable sight for, as rudimentary as their forward and backward rolls, attempted somersaults and semi-cartwheels were-they showed a determination to build on their nimbleness.

I took in two somewhat different concerts, last night and this afternoon-in each case after a series of study sessions which took four hours. The faith-based discussions were necessary for our work to continue. The music was essential for the soul to want to keep on with this work. Melodious tunes, even vigourous Celtic and American folk tunes, help to focus the spirit, by soothing it. Brid Dower and the Big Fellas provided Gaelic reverie and lore, over two hours last night. It’s been awhile since I last heard live music at the Raven, and far longer since I heard anything Celtic, in a live setting. It was a blessed entry into 8 8 Lionsgate.

Today, after our study session finished, I napped-then went over to Becky Fest, a celebration of women in music, which I had attended for several years since moving to Prescott-except last year. There was plenty of room, and I brought my own chair, thus being able to find a nice shady spot, at which to listen to the vibrant ladies and a few male guitarists sing of all aspects of life-both joyful and full of pain. The little girls mentioned earlier were on the carpet in front of me and to the left of the stage area. One of them, I have known for three years, so it was especially important that I noticed every flip and flop. She was not hurt in the least, and it was a good backdrop to the pickin’ and singin’. ‘D’ was mainly concerned with one thing, in the end: When was I going to go up and visit her house again? That will depend on her ever-busy parents and their willingness to have visitors-nothing to do with COVID, they are highly intensive farmers and like to schedule any company.

Oh, to have a child’s simplicity again!

Hugging, In The Time of Delta

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August 6, 2021- I had the stitches in my left cheek removed this morning, and was able to shave the area of my scar, with no ill effects. This should eliminate some of the disdain, shown by some shop workers around town, when I next pop into their establishments.

I digress, however. I will find myself on special assignment, next week, as a longtime friend at a local high school is off duty. The protocols needed for effectively dealing with the nuisance named Delta are real, are serious and are not the stuff of government overreach. One of those protocols precludes hugging, in and around the school environment.

I am prone to hugging those I know, who are amenable to such a greeting. I do not go around hugging everyone in sight, nor have I kissed more than one or two people, besides my own mother, since Penny passed away-ten years ago. It is less likely to be an issue, in a high school setting, because Andrew Cuomo,70 and 14-18 retain a certain level of decorum, relative to one another.

This brings me to Andrew Cuomo. While few, if any, of his male critics can claim to be squeaky clean, in the #MeToo department, by and large, they have each had to own up to their indiscretions, at some level. I have certainly done so, and would continue to, were my present levels of self-discipline and heightened awareness to somehow go on a slow fade. We have not, to date, however seen this level of accountability from His Excellency, the Governor. Instead, we hear, “I’m Italian. It’s a cultural thing.” Yes, I know about the men in the Old Country who are legendary butt pinchers or leg/breast gropers. I would imagine that’s changing. Italian women aren’t exactly pushovers, from what I understand. Besides, in this country, Italian-American women are likely to kick a man’s butt, if theirs, or their daughters’. are pinched.

Hugging, or more intimate expressions of affection, are chancy in this country, in any era. Given the current public mood, though, with a 75/25 split as to the seriousness of Delta, I would advise knowing a person’s overall health status, before embracing.