The Road to 65, Mile 289: Breathe In Bliss

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September 12, 2015, Prescott- Several things happened today.  One of my brothers turned 60.  I made my usual morning visit to the Prescott Farmer’s Market, and had my usual cup of coffee with a sweet treat.  After buying a few vegetables, I encountered my good friends, Happy and Johnny.  Since they had a booth at the Market, with foraged goodies from a nearby forest, I spent close to an hour, talking with them, nibbling on things like manzanita berries, sweet acorns and prickly pear fruit.  I even peeled and sliced a prickly pear fruit- if you ever get the chance, first double check the rind for small spines.  I caught a  tiny nub of spine in my finger, but got it out, without any hassle.

This afternoon, lunch was a grilled hot dog, courtesy of a Recovery Group, so I gave them a small donation.  Soup from Shannon’s Deli also filled the bill.  I went to a memorial service, in mid-afternoon, for the parent of a friend.  So many elders have left this year- and many babies are coming, to take their places in this world.  I was pleased to see at least seven infants and toddlers, in various places.  They are all so busy.  I wonder, at what do we start to lose the focus we had as infants, mastering mobility and as toddlers, absorbing so much data about the world all around us.

Happy says, “Breathe in bliss”.  I notice that, no matter the constraints put on me, I can do that.  Breathing mindfully clears a lot of tension and confusion.  It can have an effect on those in one’s immediate surroundings, as well.  I am as at peace, right now, as I was when at Tuileries, in Paris, or walking a trail in El Dorado Springs, Colorado.

Sadly, it doesn’t affect everyone.  I lost a friend, this evening; but as I heard her voice fading, over the phone, and said my goodbye, a strange calm came over me, and I sat, in perfect stillness, for several minutes.  A message came to me: “You are a threat to no one, and if they perceive you as such, perhaps it is a reflection of their own view of the Universe.”

Breathe in bliss.  Doors are opening.

The Road to 65,Mile 249: Repression and Resilience

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August 4, 2015, Prescott-   One of the features of life on Earth that most sticks in my craw is the mistreatment of children.  This morning, I spent about ninety minutes, listening to one of the people I most admire in this world:  Philip N. Lane, Jr., an hereditary chief of the White Swan band of the Dakota Nation.  Chief Phil has been working with indigenous people, in various parts of the world, for over thirty-five years.  His focus has been the creation of a culture of dignity and positive self-regard, aspects of life that were long repressed among Native Peoples, by the dominant culture, in the name of “assimilation”.

Indigenous North Americans, Andeans, Amazonians, Siberians, Saami, Hawaiians, Maori,Native Australians, Ainu, Hill Tribesmen of northeast India, Dravidians, Native Saharans, and the nomadic peoples of the Kalahari and Namib deserts have long been told their cultures and ways of life do not jibe with “reality”, as identified by the powers that be, in their lands of residence.

One of the most effective ways that conquerors have found, in creating a culture of self-loathing, and hence submission, is to remove the children of the repressed ones from their home communities, place them in compulsory residential schools, and systematically quash all traces of the native culture within the psyches and personas of the child-residents.  This was done in the United States, Canada and the Soviet Union, throughout much of the Twentieth Century, with an actual view towards “turning savages into human beings.”

I grew up seeing, and sometimes receiving, corporal punishment in a regular public school in Massachusetts, in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.  I have been grabbed and shaken by an angry teacher, seen a friend in another class thrown violently against a wall and witnessed other unnecessary acts, harmful acts, by teachers, administrators, and, later, by a Catholic priest, who was ultimately found guilty, defrocked and disgraced.

As a new teacher, I found myself initially subscribing to forceful techniques, though thankfully not to the extent that a child suffered lasting damage.  I owned up to it,made amends, and was able to move on to more humane and effective ways of correcting misbehaviour.  It was a long road, but I was then able to focus on helping the abused children to recognize that they were not at fault, that the beatings I witnessed at a private boarding school, in the late 1970’s were the true aberration, and that no one should have to suffer in silence, or alone.

Getting back to the Native American boarding schools, and many of the Federal and state day schools:  The schools which “served” Indian, Native Alaskan, and Native Hawaiian children, like the Black and Hispanic schools, under Jim Crow laws, were hotbeds of cultural repression, language extinction and harrowing punishment, which included acts of sexual violence against children and teenagers.  The most casual and innocent use of a Native tongue was punished, severely, by school staff ( I will not use the term, “teacher”, here. These individuals negated the definition of the word.).  These individuals were both secular and clergy, and had no other goal than the advancement of the national economy.  Money trumped all else, as it often still does.

Chief Phil Lane, Jr. was a recipient of this kind of miseducation and ,to this day, has had to continuously re-educate, and re-train himself, which he is doing admirably.  I have met many people, in the indigenous communities, and in the wider world, who have expressed hatred for who they think I am, based on my light skin, brown hair and blue eyes.  The only remedy for this, given what these people have endured, is patience, and staying the course of building a healing environment.

We still have a long way to go, and I am grateful to Phil Lane, and others who have arisen to outline what needs to be done.  I will introduce his 16 Principles of creating a nurturing culture, in a series of posts, very soon.

The Road to 65, Mile 242: Friends Are Us

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July 28, 2015, Prescott- Get used to this byline; most of my posts, especially during the week, will be “Prescott”.  I tend to get more free-wheeling with these, as my travel blog readers disappear.

More about the topic of friendships:  A friend in another state recently said same-gender friendships are very important (partly in response to my comment about having a large number of women friends).  The choice is not apples or oranges.  It’s a healthy mix of the two.  When I socialize with groups of people, there are men, with whom I discuss some aspects of life; women with whom I discuss other aspects of life; and “mixed” groups, where the conversation is general. None of these are confined to “safe” topics.

My best friend, for thirty years, was my late wife.  We had no secrets, kept no grudges and worked together on just about everything.  My next-best friend was a man, with whom I could also discuss just about anything, over the 31 years we knew one another.  He was also very honest, in a loving way and guided me through some very rough patches after Penny’s passing.  Mike could say “No, you don’t!”, when acquiescence would have easier, but less authentic.

I have many friends, around the continent, and a few in Europe, Australasia and southeast Asia, with whom I can discuss a variety of topics, get honest feedback and correct things as I need to.  I am also here for them, in that way.  This list is not a gender-heavy or age-heavy roster.

There is one woman friend, here, with whom I am collaborating on a venture.  Our friendship is more “sibling-ish” than anything else, with plenty of free-wheeling discussion and any illusions either of us had of romance were dispelled early-on.  Were she to meet a good man, tomorrow, and at long last have a life relationship, I’d be the first to congratulate.  There was a time in my life when I had to deal with distraction issues.  Over the past year or so, especially since having visited Europe, I see these issues for what they are:  Impediments to real friendship.

I guess it’s largely a matter of maturing, and clearing one’s inner eye.