No Abyss Needed

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December 20, 2016, Prescott-

Today was either a day of mourning,

if one sees oppression and catastrophe ahead;

a day of rejoicing, if one sees opportunity to prosper,

or to return to old ways of looking at the world;

or, as it was for me, a day when the imperative,

of seeing one’s perceived adversaries as like unto

oneself, has become manifest.

In a few short days, I will bid farewell

to another old soldier,

whose interment will take place,

two days before Christmas.

Then, it will be time

to listen to the Divine,

in another group setting,

as we Baha’is gather

in consultation and spiritual discovery,

for the thirty-second consecutive

Christmas season.

I’m close to finishing

“The Tenth Insight”,

a novel of intense

spiritual energy,

of visions

of Armageddon,

of Rapture,

of Afterlife.

Much will happen,

in those regards.

I believe, though,

that we need not

leap into an abyss

of self-doubt.

We need not

head backward,

into a jungle of despair.

Our journey,

of true togetherness,

may cast a bridge

across the widest gulfs.

It is a matter

of free will.

A Progressive Rogue

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December 17, 2016, Prescott- 

I regard myself as a progressive.  There is only one way to real progress, though, in my view.  That is, for everyone to roll up their sleeves, get a given job done, and not be concerned with WHO ELSE is on the team, or in the relay line, so long as each person is carrying his or her weight.

I was on a team, this morning, whose collective task was to empty a storage yard of holiday wreaths.  We had about a thousand wreaths, most of which were in boxes of six.  Our team, of ten men and one woman, loaded the boxes and loose wreaths onto any of three trucks.  The trucks then brought their loads up to a staging area, in Prescott Memorial Cemetery, where others took the wreaths and placed them at each of a thousand or so gravesites, as part of Wreaths Across America, which honours our departed veterans, each Christmas season.  The team members did not stop for a minute, until the job was done.  Yes, it was cold(18-25 F), but so was shoveling snow, back in Saugus, Deerfield and Bangor, in my earlier days.  As the project director said, when we first gathered for assignments, the men and women whose graves we honoured did not flinch, for convenience’s sake.

I left the site, after our job was finished, and went over to another place, where 45 women, men and children were putting Christmas baskets and backpacks together, for homeless veterans and disadvantaged families.  My jobs were to sort donated groceries into food types, sort empty backpacks into piles, by colour and size, and then help fill twenty backpacks, with donated clothing, safety implements, toiletries and stationery. Once again, each of us worked with the others, across lines of ideology, gender and age, with no regard for differences.

These two events, no doubt, had their counterparts, by the thousands, across the country, and around the world.  We do them, as part of our community loves, on a daily basis, some of us more than others, but each according to his/her own talents and time allowances.

I  went to see “Rogue One:  A Star Wars Story”, last night, in our very comfortable, and inexpensive, Picture Show Theater.  The plot told of a young woman who grows up, a de facto orphan, learning the self-reliance and self-discipline that such a state of affairs imparts.  She trusts few, having been abandoned by her father, and betrayed by two competing groups of tyrants.  The rest is up to anyone, wishing to see the film, to find out for themselves.

I have had to go it alone, several times, in life and I’m sure this will happen again.  Being “rogue”, however, doesn’t mean that one should lose sight of the greater challenge facing humanity.  We are here, I believe, to care for one another with enormous passion.  My opus, gladly engaged, is caring for others with an ever-decreasing regard for my own comfort.  Yes, my “job”, in the eyes of family members, is to take care of myself, and I have that one down, pretty well.  That said, people and their chronic issues will not go away by themselves.  Progress means that the problems of society are to be remediated systematically, or not at all.  It means we do this together, and get over our differences.

Vortices

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December 15, 2016, Prescott- 

Four years and a day ago,

a vortex of hate came to call,

on a little town in Connecticut.

These past few days,

that vortex, and its cohorts,

have moved on, to Aleppo,

and left a once vibrant city

looking like Dresden,

or Nagasaki, after

Hate came to visit.

A chill vortex is bringing

snow, from the Rocky Mountains

to the rocky Atlantic coast.

It even brings rain,

to parched Los Angeles.

In special spaces,

around the world,

other vortices bring solace.

I wonder,

which vortex

will I encounter, next?

 

Poisoned By These Fairy Tales

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December 11, 2016, Prescott-

Don Henley included that phrase, in his song, “The End of the Innocence”, in 1989.  It was partly a reaction to what he regarded as the excesses of the Reagan-Bush the Elder years.

I think of it, instantly, whenever an outlandish conspiracy theory surfaces.  I have my own take on such theories, which are always based on fear-gone-wild.  They are a natural outgrowth of the complex levels of secrecy, employed by so many in the power structure.  Nature, and the human mind, abhor vacuums.  Where there is no explanation, a person will provide one of his/her own.  When no credible explanation of the assassination of John F. Kennedy was offered, in which all questions were suitably explained to the public, all manner of explanations began to surface.  It was not long, before every unusual or unsettling event, from the Apollo 13 landing, to the airplane crashing into the Pentagon, was questioned, as to it’s ever having even happened.  Even the wanton slaughter of 26 people, in Newtown, CT, was denied by people with a fair audience- as if 20 children and six adults could actually be alive, and visible, one day- and have never even EXISTED, the next.

Yes, this nation is poisoned by fairy tales- both those invented from whole cloth and those made up by people working for God-knows-who, the end result of which is total, rampant confusion.  Now, we will have four years, during which a man with little political experience has the primary job of leading us out of a wilderness, to which many of his own supporters, and a goodly number of his foes, helped to guide us, in the first place.

May he succeed, even if, especially if, he is not initially so inclined.

Underestimated

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December 9, 2016, Prescott- Acker Night, a fundraising event for the arts, in downtown Prescott, took place this evening.  I went to my usual venues- Lifeways Bookstore, to hear a violin soloist, Whiskey Row Courtyard, to see a belly-dancing troupe (Mariachi background, rather than last year’s jazz accompaniment), Old Sage Books, to hear a delightful string ensemble, of five young women.

Before my little stroll, at a counter-side dinner, in Marino’s Mob Burger, I was joined by a woman who is a self-taught home remodeler and designer.  She is re-working a home in Granite Dells, which she considers her dream home, after a few years of trial and disappointment, largely due to key people in her life not  giving her due credit.  This seems to happen a lot to people, especially women, whom I have met over the past five years.

It happened to Penny, too, before we met- and she proved her doubters wrong, time and again.  My friends in this time of widowhood also keep their detractors off balance, through sheer constancy and determination.  Overcoming others’ low expectations is not so hard.  It is overcoming oneself that is the main barrier.

For my part, I am determined to see this academic year to a successful finish, in May, and see that each of our students is in the right environment for success. Not every child who is currently with us is in the optimum environment for meeting his needs, but this, too, becomes an opportunity to raise the bar of expectations, both with regard to the child and to the system.

I’ve sometimes underestimated myself, and had those low evaluations eagerly confirmed by those around, and above, me.  Those days are gone.  I hope they are gone for my friends, old and new, as well.

Healing

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December 8, 2016, Prescott-

The toughest month of the school year is almost half over.  Many people, adults and children alike, are eager for the Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa festivities.  Others are dreading the loneliness and tension that the same season brings.

I find it a delight, while keeping my heart open to the suffering.  We got the ball rolling on help for a hurting soul, this afternoon.  Another feels life is crushing- and for her, the only answer is “One step at a time.”  Neither is really alone, and both have a shot at getting through it.

Nothing is guaranteed, though, and things can and do fall apart, for reasons far from understood by yours truly.  I only know that taking the bitter with the sweet has been my saving grace, for many years now.  My son is finding that out, once again.  His healing has progressed another notch, and he is free to wear regular shoes again.  I hope gell pads are part of his foot gear, but he will make that choice and heal completely, regardless.

My own situation is such that, by taking each day as it comes, and learning from each thing that comes my way, I will first survive and then thrive.  Healing has taken five years, mistakes were made along the way, and people were hurt.  I am confident that some amends were made, and that, with my angel’s watchfulness, life will continue to be fruitful and full of growth opportunities for my soul.

As we continue to move towards our holidays, I wish all to find some solace and know that the light of love is shining, however distant it may seem.

 

Contributing

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December 6, 2016,Prescott-

Thirty-six years ago, today,

on a cold and rainy night,

in Zuni,

she entered my life.

It was the night of house blessings,

yet only the keenest of shamans

would have any inkling,

of what a blessing was bestowed

that very night,

upon each of the homes

we would come

to occupy together,

beginning some eighteen months,

to the day, later.

She was always contributing:

to my well-being,

to the future success of our only child,

to the growth and stamina

of every community she entered.

I recall, on our first wedding anniversary,

a wayward child in a little mining town,

dutifully handing her, a stranger,

the needle he was using to jab

people around him.

She was always contributing,

to the collective life around her.

She contributes, still,

to my well-being,

from the Placeless,

from the Timeless.

 

 

 

 

Turtle Island

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December 5, 2016, Prescott-  Native Americans have always been deep in my heart.  Even before I learned, at age ten, that my paternal grandmother had distant ties to the Penobscot people, of Maine,  there was a closeness that I felt to those who have been here in the Americas, since the last Great Shaking.

I have always loved traditional drumming, the stories that get told at ceremonies around a communal fire and the concept of family being the core of one’s being.  So, it has been a source of great comfort, to see the U.S. Government making more effort to address the legitimate concerns of those who have stood firm against the idea of running an oil pipeline under the Missouri River.  If it’s that crucial, run it elsewhere, away from the river, and the Ogallala Aquifer, which serve not only the Standing Rock Lakota people, but all those downstream- and beyond St. Louis.

I know that many indigenous people have lost their way, and do not, as individuals, represent the spirit of their traditional beliefs.  Neither do  many of the descendants of those who came here from other parts of the world.  The fact remains that there are core beliefs, as to how to address the stewardship of Mother Earth.  Many people regard the northern three-quarters of the North American continent as Turtle Island, as there is a legend that the whole of the world’s landmass, and especially North America, are supported on the back of a turtle.  It is said that the human race is like the turtle, in that we only make progress by sticking out our necks.  Staying inside our collective shells, i.e. comfort zones, gets no one anywhere.

I am proud of all my distant relations for having stood so valiantly, and truthfully, for the good of all.

Crowds

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December 3, 2016, Prescott-  I am pinching my pennies, for the next two weeks, as it is both high bill time and a cause for continuing severance of expenditures that no longer make sense.  Satellite TV and landline telephone have gone by the boards, as a result.  Even my essential oils purchases are cut, since I’m the only one buying from me.  There also won’t be many meals out, if I’m dining alone.  It doesn’t take much to make me happy, anyway.

Watching this evening’s lighting of Courthouse Square, including the Christmas tree, was a free delight, though.  The melodic voices of children of all ages added sonic luster to the event.  I was a needle in a humongous crowd- I’d estimate 2,000 people on the lawn, and another 500 or so, walking the streets and patronizing every restaurant, cafe and shop within a half-mile radius of the Square.   I found a small deli, a bit off the beaten track, and contented myself with a cheap, delicious bowl of meatball,kale and white bean soup.

Although I am perfectly happy being alone, I like crowds.  They bring prosperity to my otherwise struggling friends and neighbours in the downtown shops and restaurants. I learn from listening to different people talking, as we all stand and watch the festivities, or while  walking along the sidewalks. Although, they can try people’s   patience, they also bring a chance to think outside the box and to develop networks of co-operation, that otherwise would not have a chance to be established.  One never knows when such networks will be imperative.

Last Sunday, at a gas station just this side of the Colorado River, I happened upon the usual chaotic, end-of-holiday scene.  I took my place in a pump queue, moved up in amazingly short order, and filled the Hyundai’s tank.  As I was preparing to drive out, after paying, another driver backed into the spot in front of me, boxing me in and keeping the person behind me from pulling up to the tank.  The driver behind me got out and started yelling at the miscreant, who, as it happened, did not speak English, but  looked determined not to co-operate, in any event.  Fortunately, there was an attendant on scene, who directed me around the car and carefully past the store front, which was also insanely busy.

Thinking outside the box seems to be the only way, as we move through a most unsettled and chaotic time.

Not Kneeling or Lying Down

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December 1, 2016, Prescott-

I was raised to stand for what I believe.

Others may believe as they will.

None, though, will force me to toe a line,

which I cannot abide.

Those who spout foolishness,

those who maintain a false equanimity,

between good and evil,

will not get a hearing in my court.

I believe in the basic capacity for people

to work together and build a better world,

with all that there is,

in the way of raw materials.

I do not, nor ever will, however

believe in the right of the created

to assume equality with the Creator.

This is my response to those who say,

“But they mean well.”

There are no good intentions,

coming from an egomaniac.

My idea of good intention

is consistent, hard work

and consistent love for

the weak,

the vulnerable,

the dispossessed.