The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 62: What I Want in August, Part II

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August 1, 2020-

Half of any soulful person’s wish list, at any given time, is what is wanted for the community. My list, in this regard, is both simple and complex.

The simple things: Our neighbourhood children may continue to come and go as they please, safely, through the alleys, yards and creekbeds that outline their world. Instruction, whether online or in-person, starts soon and engages minds. People gather downtown, or in public parks, and enjoy their time, without having to justify their beliefs. Nursing homes are able to permit visitors, even with screening for temperatures, before too many more weeks have passed.

The complex things: Our election goes off, without a hitch, on the day scheduled. Those erstwhile friends of mine, now acting more like acquaintances, come to see past their sectarian and political blinders and look at the hearts of those, including me, who hold no ill will towards them or anyone else. Freedom of travel returns, and is not made subject to the partisan views or “one-size-fits-all” health prescriptions of either government officials or private citizens of means. Recognition that the lives of preborn children, infants, toddlers, school-age children and adolescents are universally sacred.

August is said to be a month of masculine energy. I know I will be plenty busy.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 48: From Revolution to WeVolition

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July 18, 2020-

It was another interesting day. There was little on my agenda, until the Harmonic Convergence update session, entitled “Saturday Night Alive”. I made a visit to Farmers’ Market, seeing a few friends I hadn’t encountered in a while and shortening visits with others, who seemed more annoyed at my conversing a bit longer than they wanted. It’s still a good place to pick up fresh vegetables, healthful concoctions and dairy products. (Yes, I am one of those who enjoys a cold glass of milk, on a hot day. It’s not harming me.)

A lunch stop at our neighbourhood family restaurant was pleasant enough, until someone called the police on a couple who had left their dog in a car that had all four windows rolled halfway down. It could have been handled differently- I might have gone in and told the hostess about the make and model of the car, and the dog’s situation-as this is a small place and it wouldn’t have been hard to find the people. Long story short, the couple’s meal was covered by someone else.

There has yet to be a successful political revolution, if one is talking about a result which includes ALL people living in the country affected. There have been few that even serve the interests of a dominant culture-at least at first.

Politics can’t be divorced from spirituality, or morality. We can separate the state from specific religion, and oftentimes, that’s a good thing. Humans, though, are spiritual, and/or moral, and/or ethical beings. We can see down the road, if we care to look.

Where we are now, though, is a rather foggy place. I have long-standing friends who have cut me off, because I dare to say that adoption is preferable to abortion, while still maintaining that the mother should have the final say over her own body. or because I have posted the first person account of a young woman who escaped from sex traffickers. I have others who keep me at a distance, because I don’t support a whole lot of what the current president is saying and doing. Nor do I support the most prominent alternative.

I don’t have to speak to any of these people, ever again, though I still have love in my heart for who they are, essentially. My bottom line is human beings should not be subjected to what is in vogue, what is “chic”. Sexualizing children is NEVER “cool”, no matter WHO is on TV or on social media, defending it. Coercing people to adhere to outmoded practices and promulgating false versions of history-because “that’s patriotic”, is likewise, not kind or just. Calling for people to be killed, because YOU don’t like their view on life, is just plain sick.

Revolution is passe. I propose WeVolition: From the grassroots up, we the people can show the top-down crowd and the naysayers, on both sides, that we can build a genuinely decent society. We can handle safeguarding children, teenagers and young adults from human traffickers. We can, at the same time, learn to deal with the residual effects and continued practices of racism and sexism-despite the loud voices telling us that prejudice is not eradicable. We can curb appetites for addictive drugs that sap a person’s strength-whether they are obtained by prescription or from illicit dealers. We can devise a system for keeping babies alive, through birth, and finding loving homes for them, even if those homes are not those of the birth parents. We can find resources to provide running water and electricity for our friends and neighbours on rural First Nations reservations and back country Appalachia, Ozarks and the Mississippi Delta. We can find both natural and allopathic remdies for the viruses and bacteria that seem to have everyone running into their caves.

It will take knowledge. It will take volition (will power). It will take action.

WeVolition.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 40: Discretion

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July 10, 2020-

For these sixty-nine years and change, I have felt two, perhaps semmingly contradictory things: Unconditional love and discernment, with regard to how I spend my time and money. The contradiction clears up, once I remember that unconditional love includes how one is towards self.

So, when someone decides, on my behalf, that THIS is what I should do, for the greater good, THIS is how I will spend my time and THIS is what deserves my financial investment, the door tends to shut-at least until such time as I see the value in being involved. Part of this is my autism, and part of it is that I have received clear guidance from my ancestors and spirit guides.

I appreciate that some in the world feel drawn to me, calling me their brother or father, even though we’ve never met. A few of them have my support, to a certain extent. I will fulfill those commitments I’ve made, but this will NOT open the door to unending work on more projects. I have my path set, for the times when we are dealing better with COVID19 and for when there are other events going on, for which I will need to be elsewhere. During such times, I will not be at the random beck and call of individuals. I will have my family and selected other people as my first priorities.

Yes, this is a statement of discretion, which hopefully will be understood in the spirit of love with which it is offered.

The Summer of the Rising Tides,Day 27: Grass Stains

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June 27, 2020-

Today was largely spent in a Zoom conference, concluding Unity Week, an 8-day conference, in which I only obliquely participated, largely through addressing topics that need to be faced, if true unity is to be achieved. The closing sessions, therefore, caught my undivided attention, addressing the Four Roads one must traverse, in reaching a point where contributions to society will be meaningful.

More about these Four Roads (or Vias), in the next several days. This evening, my mind went back to simpler times. I walked downtown, after the conference had reached its closing remarks and extended farewells. The aim was to sit up on the roof of Raven Cafe, and catch the salsa and funk that was emanating from the rooftop’s makeshift stage.

Wouldn’t you know it? There was an hour’s wait, for any spot on the roof. I’d already eaten dinner at home, anyway, and so went up the street to Frozen Frannie’s, and grabbed a refreshing cup of goodness, then headed further, over to the Courthouse steps, enjoying pina colada and berry frozen yogurt. A group of children buzzed around me, alternately sliding down the short incline, tussling, and engaging in a game of hide and seek. It’s always reassuring to see that, COVID or no COVID, life is going on, and parents are taking their families to places where fresh air and exercise are not monitored by draconian elements.

After enjoying my frozen treat, a seat in front of a tree beckoned, closer to the Bluegrass band that was occupying a festival stage. Sitting on the lawn, taking in a bona fide North American art form, was a perfect ending to the evening. Another group of kids was dancing up a storm, twirling around, as the band played the songs of Bill Monroe and John Prine, among others. When it was time to get up off my haunches, I noticed something was missing from my childhood: Grass stains. Lawns sure have changed, in 60 years.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 23: Calming the Conniptions

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June 23, 2020-

Taking part in a lively debate, in the Age of Hypersensitivity, is no small thing. Most of those who operate from a place of political correctness have at least recognized that I operate from a humble posture of learning, and if I can be proven wrong, by facts rather than well-presented emotion-based opinions, I will actually be grateful.

Any man who voices opposition to abortion is going to get pushback, unless that opposition acknowledges that the mother of the fetus and has the final say. Making that acknowledgement, and prefacing my own qualms about the matter with the sacredness of being, from the moment of conception, has been, for all but the most fervent abortion advocate, enough room to set common ground.

The same may be said about the dispostion of controversial historical monuments. I have reservations about the wisdom of wholesale destruction of statuary. Certainly, those figures whose presence causes extreme anxiety for African-Americans , First Nations people or anyone else who has faced systemic persecution, need to be removed from public view-not because there is a need to comfort the overly sensitive, but because there is a deeper genetic memory than is commonly accepted.

I will discuss this last, in another post, insofar as it pertains to my own being. For now, note that the practices adopted by enslaved people, over the period of chattelhood and right up to the end of the Jim Crow Era, in order to ensure the safety of both their children and of themselves, have found continuity, in the seemingly draconian disciplinary practices of a good many African-American families. Keeping the child safe, by limiting his/her freedom to explore, is one feature of this. It goes back to keeping the child safe from exploitation.

Thus, the strength of an emotional trigger is far different for a person whose forebears faced oppression, than it is for one whose hardships have been more in line with the struggles inherent in earthly life, in its generality. Life is complicated like that, and we do best to grow a thick hide of patience, along with a strong spine of fortitude.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 22: Analogies and Other Tough Calls

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June 22, 2020-;Dad transitioned, 34 years ago, today, All of us, except Brian, who was 22, and in hospital at the time, were on our own and looked to our father mainly for guidance with adult issues. This memory enveloped my day.

I took part in an online discussion, of sorts, in which the moderator tried to conflate the deaths of African-American adults and teens with what he sees as an excessive number of Black fetuses being aborted. It was too large and broad a conflation, for most people, and seemed to have upset many.

One person analogized the abortions, though, with a person picking up coins from the street, which he characterized as a minor theft. (I’ve happened upon both coins and bills on pavement, and have either given them to destitute folks or used them for charitable causes.) I see it as more than a bit sad, though, that intellectuals, mostly men past the optimum age of child-rearing, view the life of an unborn child as no more than small change. It’s as if anyone with whom one can’t have a deep discussion is not worth one’s consideration.

The same blind spots occur in many situations- almost always among people who have a very narrow view of who is and isn’t as human as they are. Isn’t this the whole reason we are going through what we are enduring now? I’ve always been viewed as strange, for being holistic in my view of humanity. Somehow, though, we will need to broaden our collective view on this matter, if we are to know peace as a species.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 19: Juneteenth

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June 19, 2020-

I relaxed, this evening, with a group of African-American entertainers and public figures, presenting a Facebook Live performance called Black Wave 2020. There were a wide variety of musical styles and civil presentations by competing office seekers. There was no vitriol, no cussing, and no displays of rage.

There was a very up front, definite commitment to acting towards justice, towards the systemic changes that need to be brought to bear. There was also the understanding that there will be resistance to such changes, and a few racists did show up in the comments section, to spew their nonsense. All in all, though, we who were watching were genuinely interested and appreciative of the show.

Change has to be made, and it has to be deliberate and transparent. We cannot have the history of THIS day and age presented to the people of the Twenty-second Century, in a sanitized form. That will take fortitude, and commitment. There are those who don’t understand the Oneness of the Human Race. I heard from one such individual today-with regard to the rights of unborn children, in his view, not mattering to anyone other than religious zealots. There are others who, don’t understand that People of Colour don’t want to be regarded with special treatment-just regarded with dignity and respect.

Growing up in a lily-white town, albeit in suburban Boston, I had to learn the reality of People of Colour, piecemeal: The African-Americans in my childhood and adolescence were authority figures: The cafeteria monitors in our Junior High and the first police officer to give me a speeding ticket. I’d have been punished, very swiftly, once I got home, if I ever gave them any lip. That told me that real African-Americans were not any different, to my parents, than anyone else.

Indeed, watching Saturday morning cartoons, one day, when I was about eight, a character who was supposed to be Stepin Fetchit came out with “Everything I do is always wrong.” That cut through me like a switchblade. I asked my father why anyone would say such a thing. He told me that Black folks were conditioned to act that way, having been enslaved for over 200 years. He also told me to show all people kindness and treat them fairly. I often thought that if I ever met the actor who played Stepin Fetchit, that I would shake his hand and tell him he was a wonderful person.

There were, though, some tough conversations, awkwardness and hard lessons, that came my way, in young adulthood particularly, in learning the nuances and basic decencies of overcoming some very deep-seated social beliefs. I am glad for all of them.

The Baha’i Faith lends spiritual weight to the notion that all people are created equal-All ethnicities, male & female, all age groups, both neurotypical and disabled, all points of view-so long as they don’t preach exclusion of others. We view all life as sacred,from conception to death. Independent investigation of truth is the bottom line.

Juneteenth, with all this being considered, merits being made a National Holiday- a paid National Holiday. Let it continue to spark thoughts, words and action, to advance the cause of justice- and the increased equality of all people.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 15: By Definition, Part 2-Does Behaviour Define Us?

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June 15, 2020-

I referenced traits,yesterday, in considering how people sometimes define who they are, by their external qualities or, unfortunately, how OTHERS see them.

We have also reached the point where many are judged, defined, by something they did, or said, years or even decades ago. There will always be those who look under rocks, to find fault with others. There will always be those who jump out from behind a bush, and scream: “I remember when YOU did this to ME!”

I am not referring to heinous crimes, like rape, molestation, gross physical assault, calumny or theft. Those need to be brought to justice, and there should be no statutes of limitation. I am referring to personal slights that are stored away and used like traps-often by mentally ill people, for whom treatment is a far better option than revenge.

Essentially, what I want to say here is: For those personal slights, those shortcomings that were not heinous, I will apologize, and I claim the right to live the changes I have made in my life. Everyone else who is in similar straits deserves the same right.

These are what define me: Unconditional love; commitment to the health and safety of children, adolescents, women and the elderly; commitment to equality and dignity for all, regardless of physical traits, level of development; sexuality or philosophical stances; the prevalence of humaneness over profit-motive or doctrine.

Each can find redemption. Each can make the change.

Knowing Places

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May 30, 2020

Today was the traditional Memorial Day, observed each year, until President Nixon set up a “streamlined” observance, for the fourth Monday in May, each year-beginning with 1971’s commemoration.

It struck me, today, that each of us conducts our affairs, our personal business, our honouring of others and even our leisure activities, largely based on what we perceive as our place in the world. That place, in times past, was determined, not so much by oneself, but by whosoever was deemed “in charge” of us- as in the Victorian Era and Twentieth Century dictum: “Children shall be seen and not heard.” or, even more rudely put-“A woman’s place is in the kitchen.”

I’ve been told, at least once, during this pandemic, “STAY HOME!”. The person making that demand has no say in my life, whatsoever, so I take the demand with several grains of salt. As long as I maintain distance from those who I know are at risk of infection, and practice recommended hygiene and PHYSICAL distancing, it’s no one’s business how much time I spend between these four walls.

My place is this world has always been fluid, and remains so. There is also a truism: “Those who stand for nothing, will fall for anything.” I will keep on with a full regimen of activities, both within my Home Base, in the community and, as life inches forward, go with the utmost safety to certain places which have re-opened, provided there is not an air of recklessness in said locales.

Anymore, children should be taught to speak thoughtfully and a woman’s place, a swell as a man’s, is wherever s(he) deems fit.

Unsticking from the Hustle

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May 14, 2020-

One of the issues that some who are not seeing their business at death’s door, during the current pandemic, is that they miss their prior routine, so much.  They are going stir crazy, from being “stuck in the hustle”, working ten-twelve hours, daily, even from home.  The presence of their children, pets, even of their spouse, does not deter them.

Long ago, I was there, to the point that I would come back from my office, a forty-five minute drive from our house, spend five minutes getting a recap of my wife’s and son’s days, and get ready for bed.  The zombie act did not faze either of them- and to their credit, they spoke up.  Son was in seventh grade at the time and wasn’t buying the fatigue excuse-being quite outspoken, about being entitled to some of my time.  He was right, and my long-suffering wife, knowing just how hard it was to do a good job, by a less-than-appreciative boss, would have been within her rights to insist on much the same.

In the end, the fatigue induced by an impossible set of expectations, from a man who lived ten minutes away from the worksite, led to my resignation, in md-year.  That I was also framed by an underling, mattered little.  It was my choice to opt for leaving the cauldron and going into a less-stressful line of work, thus saving my place in the hearts of those who mattered most.

We are all left with the fact that, no matter how complex a situation is, the choice as to the direction of one’s life, belongs to that individual.  It may take longer for a person, whose presence is more crucial than mine was, to process the  pros and cons of one action, over another, but we are each given a Rubicon, or two, to cross in our lives.