Carousel of Time

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August 6, 2022- “Do you smoke?”, the gregarious woman asked, referring to the use of cannabis. When I replied in the negative, she said that she thought I should. The fact is, I ended, that my imagination needs no external aid, in going off on tangents. I haven’t used any intoxicants since February, 1981, and while I will socialize with just about anyone, it is not necessary for me to follow their behaviour in lockstep.

I was at the coffee shop of one who is an angel to me, and who has been in a mutually encouraging friendship, for four years. There are many such people in my life, all sent by the Divine, with the understanding that I be an angel to them in return. Some are huggers; others, fist-bumpers; still others are hand shakers or just verbal greeters. The heart connection is what matters most, and all are treasured.

We do all ride together, on what Joni Mitchell calls “the carousel of time”. I don’t quite see myself as a captive on that conveyance, despite what the great poetess exclaims. Nonetheless, it is a joy to find myself, increasingly, in the company of noble beings and to be able to educate those of good heart who face challenges.

The woman mentioned at the beginning of this post allowed that her dependence is perhaps a vestige of the stress under which she lived and worked, in her former place of residence. The environment she’s in now is far more nurturing, and hopefully will relieve her of stress, and that dependence.

The carousel of time does not have to be bumpy, in perpetuity. The new dreams of which Joni sings, in the last verse of the song, are indeed plenty-and there will be more still, “before the last revolving year is through.”

On Behaving Well in Groups

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August 5, 2022- The old friend could not, by all seeming, help himself. The rash of cuss words just flew off his tongue, for no particular reason other than that they came to mind. The women around us ignored the spate of profanity, and seemed to be in their own worlds. I kept my own diction in a socially acceptable framework, though I recognize that it may have been a good idea to gently and firmly ease him out of that pattern of speech.

It has been customary for parents to stress to their children that they must be polite at home, when visiting family, at a House of Worship, and in the neighbourhood. The best of parents have included school, eateries and stores in that regimen. The idea has been to build a good personal code of conduct. Not embarrassing one’s family has been a good deterrent for most, but not all.

In the Baha’i Teachings, and among others whose social consciousness is elevated, the idea of behaving well in groups, because it is a key feature of building a society based on the oneness of mankind, and because it helps build a listening culture, rather than a knee-jerk reacting culture.

I have come a long way, since 1980, in that regard, especially. There were lapses, between then and now, but they were made reparable by the culture of learning from one’s mistakes, by the qualified forgiveness of those I hurt and by the overarching power of said Teachings, which are to be applied personally, with minimal, if any, social pressure-yet have the force of practically reinventing a person, by stressing one’s strengths and letting weaknesses flow out and fade away.

I choose to act as a counterweight to boorish personalities, these days, while remembering all the times when I was one of them-and not wallowing in those memories.

Mitote

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August 4, 2022- Once, there was a skilled teacher of mathematics, who told himself that there was nothing he could do right, anymore-not even teaching mathematics. That man helped me break my fear of math, and got me to understand how relatively simple it all is. I reminded him that what he did for me was certainly true many times over. His own self-talk, perhaps reflecting the criticisms of others, was unfortunate and unnecessary.

Don Miguel Garcia, in “The Four Agreements”, writes of mitote, (mih-TOH-tay), a Toltec word meaning, essentially, the fog of self-deception. It is the same as the Hindu concept of maya, or illusion. I have thought of this quite a bit lately. Yesterday, a friend and I were talking about the liberating feeling one gets, when not “wearing a mask” in the process of trying to impress another person. Fakery is discerned by most people, even by those who want to embrace one’s false image.

For so many years, I bought into the image of myself as less than those around me. The illusion was bolstered by a lack of physical coordination, and was dispelled only through military training and the maturity brought by marriage and fatherhood. With my mitote clearing, life has become more fulfilling-not easier, as that is not the purpose of this life, but infinitely more fulfilling.

There have been those who try to foist their own mitote on me, and on others. I am grateful to have had the strength of discernment, when it came time to deal calmly and firmly with such folks.

Crashes and Comfort Zones

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August 2, 2022- The woman two seats over from me, at the counter of a local establishment, began telling me about what she said was the worst accident she has handled, in twenty years in the automobile insurance industry. It involved a head-on collision, caused by someone who passed on a double yellow, on a curve, and was driving a luxury vehicle. The driver was from another state. His passenger was killed. The right-way driver has lost the use of his legs, for at least two years.

We agreed that there is a long-standing problem with people leaving their manners behind, when they cross out of their home states-and in some cases, home communities. There have been instances where a driver, culpable in an accident, has argued with police and the other parties’ insurance companies, saying that people should make way when said driver is approaching. You can easily guess how that worked for the guilty party. I was taught that other motorists, and pedestrians, are fellow travelers, and deserve every courtesy that I wish for myself.

Conversely, the other phenomenon the insurance agent has witnessed is the frequency of accidents caused by people within a few miles of their homes. The incident in which Saturn got bumped, on July 7, was caused by a driver who was two miles from home-and was headed there when a red light, and two other vehicles, were in between. My Elantra was once dinged by a woman who was backing up, while looking straight forward, because “this is a routine pick-up and I’ve done this every day for six months.” The same hapless vehicle was t-boned by a truck whose driver was two minutes away from his first landscaping job of the day. I was three minutes away from mine, and needless to say, neither of us worked that day. Had he driven the speed limit and had I looked left and right for ten seconds, instead of five, things would have been different.

As it happened, I made another run up to Bellemont today, to finish a cleaning task, using a power washer. There were no problems with traffic and drivers, as Tuesday is not a high volume day, even in summer. In any case, I tend to follow basic rules of courtesy, and follow laws, whether driving in Prescott or Parrsboro, NS.

Ironic

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July 29, 2022- Irony is abundant, a good many days. Today, I find it ironic that the desert Southwest is getting a good soaking, whilst the Pacific Northwest is experiencing scorching heat. Coal Country is going through a horrific flood, of what looks like Biblical proportions. Fossil fuels didn’t cause the present spate of climate change, but they aren’t helping matters any.

I find it ironic that the national lottery is up to $1,000,000,000 and Congress is considering upping the tax on billionaires. Then again, it’d do my heart good to see a dirt-poor village in Appalachia, the Deep South, one of the First Nations-or somewhere in Haiti, for that matter, have the winning ticket. A billion dollars, split 15-20 ways, would help a lot of people.

Speaking of Congress, isn’t it ironic that some of those voting against a medical program for military veterans are veterans themselves? Then, again, they have theirs, so what else matters? Self-interest, ladies and gentlemen, is going to be what sinks the current system. Co-operate and regenerate!

This great planet of contradictions will keep us on our toes, for a good long while.

Under A Gentle Mist

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July 26, 2022- I woke this morning, to a router/modem combo that was struggling to even fully load, and a candle pot that had somehow crashed to the floor and shattered, overnight. After cleaning up the pieces of ceramic and vacuuming the shards, I looked carefully at the device, and found its power supply was running very hot. So, the whole thing was unplugged and will remain so, until a technician from Sparklight comes over, tomorrow at some point. Thus do I write from the pleasant surroundings of Wild Iris Coffee House and will communicate with others, this evening, from Raven Cafe.

There is a misty rain in Prescott, this morning, a gentle reminder that, no matter how difficult things may seem at times, there is always a Guiding Hand that will help keep things on an even keel. Last night, as I walked from Bill’s Pizza, following a pleasant dinner served by a precious soul, I was approached by a longtime friend, who is a Youth Pastor. He asked my opinion on the political events of the past two years, then stated his disaffection with a certain defeated candidate for the presidency. My contention that any one of us can be dumb at times, but few are stupid, was reinforced by our conversation. My conservative friend has a good heart and a discerning mind.

I got a reasonable estimate from the auto body shop that I use here, so Saturn should be repaired, relatively easily, sometime in August, courtesy of the culpable party’s insurance company. In the meantime, it’s roadworthy and will get its welcome back oil & lube on Thursday.

Late August and early September will find me in Colorado and northern New Mexico, with a Baha’i school in Colorado Springs as the centerpiece. The second half of October will bring a visit to northern Nevada and eastern Idaho. I had considered a train ride to Sacramento, and renting a car from there, but the time and money required to drive up there is actually less than a train/rental car combination. So, once again, it’ll be Saturn and me going forth together. Thanksgiving will, most likely, be a Texas affair, with Christmas right here at Home Base, but more on those, later.

This is a community of very finely-tuned synchronicity. I left the coffee house, momentarily, to change parking spots, as there is a two-hour limit. Spotting an empty space in Iris’s lot, I went to the car, turned around and, lo and behold, the car in front of me got the empty space. Having been raised with a mindset of abundance, I pulled around the corner and found several spaces available. There is, most often, room for everyone in this world.

Rainy Day People

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July 25, 2022- The day has started off proactively. I was able to get an estimate on repairs to the Saturn, and this now goes to the insurance company representing the person who caused the crash on July 7. I sense that the relatively small amount of damage should not be difficult for that company to

Intermittent

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July 24, 2022- Short and bittersweet- After finishing my dog-sitting stint this morning, I came back to Home Base and prepared to host a Zoom devotional, as I frequently do on Sunday mornings. We got off to a good start, then the connection was cut. I have noticed my modem/router combination going out, off and on, since a renovation project began upstairs, in the apartment formerly occupied by a deceased neighbour.

It seems some jackhammering was done on Thursday, while I was away. The workers say that their activity shouldn’t affect electric flow in my unit. The Geek Squad will be here on Tuesday, so we’ll find out what the issue really is. There is plenty to be done in the meantime, and I have no Zoom activity until Wednesday night.

This is a time of uncertainty, but I will make it through these First World speedbumps.

Improv

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July 19, 2022- The long-winded gentleman took twenty minutes to describe a method of boosting metabolism and removing those elements which block the turning of food into energy. I understand the need to explain the science, and to offer a personal narrative, but I was glad when he finally named the ingredients that might help me boost my own metabolism.

His product, containing mangosteen juice, ashwagandha powder, cinnamon bark, panax ginseng, green tea and inulin (carob powder), in a shake form, is rather pricey. So, I got those products, from Prescott’s most reliable herb shop (One Root Tea), and two organic food stores-Sprouts and Natural Grocers, and will add a morning supplemental regimen of the aforementioned, to the evening Lifelong Vitality Supplements. Am I sounding like others of a certain age? Why, of course! That’s okay. I will improvise a daily concoction or shake, with the powders and take the capsules with it. We will see if the spokesperson’s promise that “You, too, can move like Jagger!” pans out. I find Mick to be rather entertaining, but I can see exactly what reaction I would get, if…….

We each have a responsibility to be the best self that can be. So, working on the gut has its place. Having more energy would not be so bad, either.

Unbaffled

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July 18, 2022- Acts of love never baffle me.

The day greeted me, freshly-washed as it was, after a thorough overnight monsoon soaking. I had several tasks ahead, so it was easy to get up and greet the day right back. First up was a preliminary visit to the Auto Body Shop that I use, to get a sense of when I might be able to get an estimate on the damage from July 7’s kerfuffle in Pennsylvania. Then there was the considerable amount of mail that I needed to sort. Finally, my body was treated to its first real workout since last Thursday.

I am never surprised by acts of kindness that come my way. This evening, I went to one of my favourite pizzerias in town. It was unusually busy, and even with a full staff, I waited quite a while to even have my order taken, another little while before getting my salad, but not too long afterward for my one slice of pizza. The waitress, who I have known for about a year, gave me an extra slice, for my patience. In the end, she was flustered with herself, for making me wait yet another twenty minutes, before bringing me the check-and said my meal was on the house. The owner, based in Palm Desert, CA, would have expected as much. After tipping my young friend well, for her trouble, I headed back to the Nest.

Loving does take practice in a world that is often lacking in it. The waitress’s act was likely noticed by several others and to the extent she was able to serve them in a timely manner, it probably redounded in her favour. Nonetheless, J is someone who will go far in life, just by holding herself accountable.

For my part, I know that my own accountability is an ongoing process. Everything, from how often and how well I write my mother (who needs to have letters written in large print) to keeping my own affairs in order, will remain rooted in love. From love, comes dignity and the two are inseparable.

I remain unbaffled by it all.