January 13, 2024, Ghost Ranch- Soapstone is a delight to shape. I attended a stone carving workshop, this afternoon. The piece was roughly heart-shaped, and brightly mottled, so I filed away the rough edges and sanded the surface, six times-four dry and two wet. Wet sanding helps to establish a sheen on the piece. The instructor will apply a finish to the piece and it will be ready for me to take back to Arizona. I will use a crafting awl, or other fine pointed hand tool, to put a hole in a central spot, through which a small chain can be threaded. Then, voila, a hand-fashioned gift can be sent to a certain someone!
After the workshop, I attended the Grand Opening of a photo exhibit: ”Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse”. It is not ghoulish, like the traditional images based on The Book of Revelation. This exhibit, of the work of Chemehuevi photographer Cara Romero, features four First Nations women on horseback. Two are clad in traditional garb and two are dressed in ranch wear. There is also a short video, explaining “behind the scenes” aspects of the project. For shared photographs, see: https://www.facebook.com/CaraRomeroPhotography/
It has been a most satisfying week, in an amazing and spiritually-uplifting place. Surely, it’d be more comfortable outside, in the milder seasons. Winter, though, has a way of both bringing us to focus inward, fine tune what is still a weakness and bring clarity of vision. I have helped renovate a common room, secure the safety of pedestrians and bury a small bird that froze to death.
Tomorrow, I will have the morning here, then, depending on weather conditions, it’ll be time to head either south and west, or just plain west. I know I will be back to Ghost Ranch, at some point in the not-too-distant future, either solo or with a special friend. This year has gotten off to an auspicious start, in a few respects.
January 9, 2024, Ghost Ranch- Little things are often huge.
The biggest thing I did today was a tiny one-bordering an area that was 1/5″ wide, 15′ from ceiling to floor. This was prep for the caulking of a small gap. Otherwise, I was running an oscillating sander to smooth the walls we will paint. Speaking of the sander. It has two handles for a reason. Hold onto both, when operating a sander, much as you would with a chainsaw. Unplug the tool, before changing the sandpaper.
Not enough can be said, in renovating, as in living, for a place for everything and everything in its place. It’d be all too easy to leave rolls of masking tape, boxes of screws, hammers, screwdrivers and cardboard boxes lying in any old spot. I am a control freak, in that regard, tending to foresee a co-worker falling on the floor, if the area is not kept clear.
Turning a sink upside down is the best way to trace its outline on a paper template, for matching sink with countertop. Those who try to just push the sink into a cut-out countertop have been known to waste $150. My co-workers turned the sink upside down and traced its outline on the template. Tomorrow, they will match sink with countertop, in the only way that works.
When cleaning a paint brush, use a painter’s comb, running it through the brush, whilst rinsing it under warm running water. Then scrub the handle, brush girdle and the brush fibers with a wire scrubber. Clean all the paint, even that which was left from previous projects, off the brush. Scrub the stir stick with the wire scrubber, the same way. Include the sides of the brush handle and stir stick, in this cleaning. Pat the brush and stir stick dry, before using them again.
These are things one can learn from a master craftsman. These are things that I once knew, but needed to be reminded. These are things that are among those that I need to know, if the direction I sense my life is going, is what pans out. It was a good day.
January 8, 2024, Ghost Ranch, NM- I had the honour of getting up in the dark, this morning and getting my steps in, from Corral Unit 4 to the Dining Hall. It was an honour, because the sidewalks were swept free of powdery snow and were treated with icy melt.
After a full, hot breakfast, it was time to cover the borders of an anticipated paint job with blue painter’s tape, which is masking tape that keeps sloppy painters from not staying within the lines. I will be doing some of the painting, in a day or so, and am not sloppy-still, there is always the chance someone will walk by and nudge my elbow, because of a quirky sense of humour.
After nearly eight hours of renovation prep, which included drilling holes in a wooden support beam and in the concrete to which it will be attached, I took a late nap, enjoyed Ziti Alfredo and salad, then sat in on a collage-making session. Since the collages were made with magazine photos, and the instructor is worried about copyright infringement (She did not keep a record of which magazines, or which photographers, are involved), I will not post them here. They include, for your imagination’s benefit, a man and his horse, looking up at the Grand Canyon, from the banks of the Colorado River; a sea turtle, floating amid phosphorescent algae; a rhesus macaque coming upon a manicured garden, with topiary arches; a woman in a white dress, walking through a portal, while a chipmunk looks on; and a woman doing yoga on a beach, at sunset, looking at white water rapids, coming down from the river above.
This is the sort of activity one may expect, after a day of service at this magical safe haven, an hour’s travel from Santa Fe or Taos.
December 26, 2023, Santa Fe- It was 6 F, about ten miles south of Chevelon Butte, along the road between Payson and Winslow, at 6:30, this morning. By the time I reached Winslow, the heat had kicked in and it was a balmy 21 F. Gallup offered 19 degrees and Albuquerque, 37.
Along the route, I saw two coyotes sprinting across the highway, between Stoneridge and Crossroads, in Prescott Valley and, much later, two pronghorns gamboling in the desert, just east of the Rio Puerco Casino, outside Albuquerque. Police were along the highways in force, especially in the early morning hours, when I was driving in darkness. Passing the upended hulk of a wrecked semi-trailer, I felt grateful for their presence.
The main focus of the day, though, was on petroglyphs, the communication medium of pre-writing societies, in many parts of the world. Albuquerque’s Petroglyph National Monument, in the Duke City’s northwest corner, offers hundreds of descriptive figures, in three main clusters. The first, just south of the small Visitor Center, is Rinconada Canyon. This sector features a 2.2 mile loop trail, which took me about 45 minutes, a good part of which was spent noting the depicted animals and people.
West Mesa, at Petroglyph National Monument, Albuquerque.Easternmost petroglyphs of Rinconada Canyon.In the upper left hand corner, two beady eyes peer out from a small rock.This collection reminded me of Newspaper Rock, south of Gallup.The artists used pigment from plants, to add luster to some of their glyphs, chipping off the naturally-occurring lacquer and applying pigment to the bare stone underneath.Two fish, a festal cup and a star adorn this rock.This basalt ledge is one of many that served as a grinding table.Spanish explorers added their art to the rocks. This “patriarchal” cross is one of many found in the West Mesa rock forest.Here is an example of a figure that gives rise to speculation about extraterrestrial visitors. Puebloans caution against such speculation, saying we cannot know, for certain, what the ancients had in mind when these scenes were painted.
I went on, to Boca Negra (“Black Mouth”) Canyon. Here, there are three trails: The short Macaw Trail, the moderate Cliff Base and the “strenuous” Mesa Point Trail, which was easily climbed by a three-year-old girl, along with the rest of the group.
Mesa Point Trail:
At the base of Mesa Point, there is quite an assortment of figures.Mesa Point’s own newspaper.Looks like Gingerbread Man, with a robot t-shirt!
Here are scenes along Cliff Base Trail
Pupal scorpion?“Greetings, future ones” ?Fearsome mask?One last newspaper clipping
I took a breather, to put gas in Sportage and fuel in my tank-at Which Wich, an innovative shop that uses a combination of technology and “check-off” paper bags, which the diner fills out and the attendant uses, in making the customized sandwich.
Last, but not least, was Piedras Marcadas Canyon, which co-exists with several housing developments, yet seems a world away, once one is on the trail. There are two options here: Petroglyph View Trail, which goes directly to the scenes, and North Rim Trail, which goes to the top of the mesa-sans petroglyphs. I took the former route.
“Bob” couldn’t help himself. I’ve felt that way, but never given in to the carving impulse.Here is a more “conventional” astrophysical image.Finally, a “family” portrait.
There are many more scenes, which will be on my Flickr site, but you get the message(s).
December 17,2023- As I sit here, writing, I am watching a film, entitled “Awaken“. In this, First Nations people, from across British Columbia are talking about their memories, and impressions of their current lives. There is talk of how the elders have given them the tools they need to sustain their lives, of how they seek reconciliation and the ability to forgive their oppressors. There is a revelation of how connected they remain, to nature, to animals.
I will, as ever, be connected, in this coming 8 Universal Year- a year of action, both individual and collective, with the Indigenous people across North America, in the Philippines and in other countries that I will visit in September and October. Dineh and Hopi figure in this next year. So do Tohono O’Odham, Maya and Shoshone (in Nevada), Tewa, Towa and Keresan (northern Puebloan), Yakima, the various nations of Vancouver Island, Sunshine Coast,and southern inland British Columbia and the Miqmaq, of Atlantic Canada.
I will be connected to children, youth and adults of all ages. I will be connected to women and men alike. Voices are getting stronger, and the people are awakening-a higher level of consciousness than the insipid term “woke” can ever signify. Where as the latter is a slogan, a cliche and a diversion, being used to distract people, by inflaming passions, the former-the rising, the increased understanding, will be deemed dangerous, by those who regard themselves as powers that be.
The people rising is not a threat to those who sincerely want to help raise the standard of living, who truly value the input of those they serve, of those with whom they live. The people rising is only a threat to those who seek to dominate, to eliminate, to exterminate. Most of these are individuals and claques, whose consciousness is several steps removed from the lives of those they want to quash and destroy. The truly great leaders of history, and of our own time, have warned us, repeatedly, of this: Chief Joseph, of the Nez Perce, Frederick Douglass, Jose Rizal, Mohandas Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Julius Nyerere, Kwame Nkrumah, John Hume, Rabbi Judah Magnes and Ali Abu Awwad, Tanya Tagaq and Autumn Peltier, Neville Bonner and Adam Goodes, Xanana Gusmao, Marcos Terena, Milagro Sala, Feliciano Valencia, Miriam Miranda, Wilma Mankiller. Many are the names you may not recognize. Search for them; learn of their efforts for humanity.
My small path will be concerned with the well-being of my friends and family (wherever they may live), Home Base community, state and nation-and across Planet Earth. Some self-care is always in play and my mahal na isa (dear one) is ever on my mind and deep in my heart. For all of us, though, the primary need is to stay awake, and look out for one another.
December 8, 2023- The people scenes and the decorations were fabulous, tonight. My camera, though, was acting up-so one of the great events in Prescott’s year will depend on a friend’s shared photos. Stay tuned, far-off friends and loved ones. I am ever one to enjoy festivals, though, and tonight was no exception.
I started off Acker Night, 2023, with my second night in a row, eating chili for supper-this bowl of spicy goodness was at Post 6, where I also contributed to a raffle, which brought a gift basket to someone. I didn’t stay long, as few people I know were actually there. I somehow can’t get past not wanting to intrude on the space of strangers my age or older. It’s easier joining younger adults at table. (With friends, of course, it doesn’t matter what age, gender or place on the political spectrum they occupy.)
Meeting my Hiking Buddy at Century Lounge, I caught up with what’s been going on in her life, then made the rounds at different businesses-from Old Sage Books, which is closing (owner’s retirement) to Lifeways (which is thriving). We encountered a Grim Reaper, a few Victorian-clad gentlemen and the Ghost of Christmas Present, from “A Christmas Carol”. There were a few teenagers singing Carols and any number of musical artists, both inside businesses and on the sidewalks.
The very purpose of Acker Night is to raise money for children and youth in the Arts-especially in music. So, it is always sweet to see the kids themselves showcasing their talents. Indeed, one dance school proprietor, whom I’ve known for many years, was out there again tonight, leading her girls, and a few women, in spirited dance steps. At least it was not as cold this evening, as it has been, the past several years.
I hope that this season is filled with light where you are!
December 5, 2023- A good friend inquired about a course, offered by Wilmette Institute, a Baha’i online academy that focuses on a number of aspects of our Faith. Her interest is in the interplay between the arts and Baha’i, which is actually quite deep. The course, simply titled “The Baha’i Faith and the Arts”, is indeed being offered for six weeks, this coming April-May.
This spurred my own thinking about artistry. I never really advanced much beyond stick figures and potato people, though I can now at least draw reasonable facsimiles thereof, when it comes to people, cats and dogs. I made a bird house, once, in eighth grade. The instructor said “Thank God it’s made of wood. You and metal? Oil and water. ” Craftsmanship has come easier, with maturity, focus and practice. I might even try my hand at ceramics, one of these days.
Art, though, is mainly an expression of the spirit-as humanity has found, over the course of many centuries. The best of artistic expression celebrates the higher levels of human functioning, or calls our attention to suffering, that we might rise to those higher levels. Some, like Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, is mythological in tone, but no less celebratory of the rising of the human spirit. Other art, like Picasso’s Guernica, is intended to provoke reflection on the worst that our species can do to its members. Paintings, frescos, sculpture and pottery can present anything from solid utility, to historical record, to sheer serenity.
My aforementioned friend and I were part of a group who visited Ayala Museum, Greenbelt Mall, in Makati, during my recent Philippines trip. There, we encountered the thought-provoking:
the disturbing:
and the soothing.
Artistry is, to both of us, and to millions of people, a regenerative outlet, one that will sustain humanity through the worst of times and aid in celebration of the best.
November 27. 2023, Grapevine- The dream was all too vivid, and all-too ridiculous: I was at a seminar for teachers, wearing white chinos, of all things, and spilled salsa from the provided breakfast burrito. I went to clean my pants, and for some reason, grabbed a push broom to carry with me (never did figure that part out). Walking to find a restroom, I happened by an African English-language academy, and an old-style trattoria, where there were many people gathered, and as I wandered aimlessly back and forth, looking for a restroom, a teenaged girl told me my meandering was getting tiresome. A staffer came out of a back room and started randomly filling recessed open concrete hollows, with rose petals. I began to think the girl was right and I was being a tiresome distraction. Then, I woke up and realized that none of this was happening, nor did it have to.
My reality was that of a slightly chilly, but sun-filled day. I spent the day on a small service project, to be continued on free moments Wednesday, to hopefully generate a just conclusion to a long-standing matter, for a Filipino family. Otherwise, it was a quiet day of relaxation, with Aram focusing on his remaining school projects and Yunhee back at work.
The final three months of my being 72 were no less fulfilling than the other nine. I began September with a drive across southern Colorado, then three days at Eastern Colorado Baha’i Summer School,which as last year was largely a family affair-and I was a bit more included this time. Once the school had adjourned, I made my way east, as detailed in earlier posts. Mom’s 95th birthday, and the arrival of grandniece Adeline Bryan, were the milestone events. Paying respects to a fallen police officer, in Minnesota, and a beloved cousin, in Pennsylvania, were also high points.
October saw my first visit to the Philippines, via San Diego, San Francisco and T’aipei. Getting to meet a sponsored teen, and helping him get a wardrobe item he very much needed, was a wondrous start to this visit. Being guided and watched over by three fellow Baha’is, whilst in Manila, was a magnificent follow-up. Respects were paid to two of the great figures of Filipino history: Dr. Jose Rizal, regarded as the country’s national hero, and Lapulapu- who ranks similar to Cochise or Black Elk, in terms of standing up for the rights of First Nations people. I made more friends for the rest of my life, which is the main purpose of going anywhere.
November has seen a productive month at Home Base, and a salubrious week at HB2. Red Cross work was intense, but compressed into one 12-hour day. School assignments were uniformly pleasant. The flu came and went-courtesy of a crowded reception area at LAX. I had one of the finest meals of my life, at 1845 Taste of Texas.
Adi’s birth was a happy milestone. Transitions in the other direction saw the departures of an old high school friend and a cousin-in-law. Steve Finnegan and Caleb Jayne were both humble tradesmen, but neither man was anybody’s fool. Both will be long-missed. Jimmy Buffett, Terry Kirkman, David McCallum and Suzanne Somers all entertained us and engaged our social awareness, as the best of their caliber do. Rosalynn Carter and Ady Barkan raised the bar for true public service.
Now comes another early morning commemoration of the Ascension of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and with it my re-set, to the age of 73-as of 1:30 p.m. EST, officially. It has been lovely, being 72.
November 26, 2023, Grapevine- “1845 was the year that the Union joined Texas”, the young waiter intoned, tongue firmly in cheek. With that, my advance birthday dinner began, with what turned out to be endless lemonade (from Rio Grande Valley lemons), followed by Fort Worth filet mignon and oven baked Brussels sprouts, poblano meatballs and, for Son, a Game Combo of venison and quail drums (breasts and a leg). We can safely say that the plates, while not Texas-sized, were more than ample. The desserts were Texas-sized, and we’ll leave it at “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire! I did have a sparkling candle in my pumpkin crispy, as word got out that my birthday is forthcoming. 1845: Taste Texas is top of the line, in fare and in style-no corners cut. It was a meal for the ages.
Before that, though, we took in the wild side of Dallas, and I don’t mean riding a mechanical bull. Cedar Ridge Preserve sits on the south side of Big D, and is intended to offer safe space for butterflies, birds large and small, and the small carnivores that keep other species in check. As the name implies, cedars are the dominant trees. There are a few ponds, here and there, but what sets this stretch of prairie apart from elsewhere in DFW Metro is the ups and downs offered by the 10-mile trail system. This park could be at home in Prescott. Needless to say, it was a good workout.
My little family on the move, Cedar Ridge PreserveOne of four stream crossings along the trailAram and Yunhee headed upstairs.
It was a fine cap to the Thanksgiving weekend, and a prelude to the end of my 73rd trip around the Sun-which comes on Tuesday. I also fly back to AZ on Tuesday evening, so this dinner fell nicely into place.
Now it’s time to look back at June, July and August. As with other months, people left. Some had checkered public records-Pat Robertson and James Watt left us, a day apart. Ted Kaszynski had a scary public record, finally taking his own life, in early June. Leslie Van Houten didn’t take her own life, but certainly took those of others, so many years ago. Cormac McCarthy wrote, tellingly, of other people’s checkered lives. Daniel Ellsberg warned us of same. Sinead O’Connor hollered about injustice, and sounded melodious. Dame Glenda Jackson astonished us, on stage and Paul Reubens made us chuckle, with his puckish wit. Robbie Robertson made us think, while honouring his First Nations family. Lahaina, Hawaii practically perished as a community, in a freakish wildfire.
Closer to my circle, the queenly countenance of Wilma Ellis left us Baha’is behind, for the spirit realm. Childhood friends Rodney Lavoie and Robert Ritchie passed their batons to their beloved children. A cousin, David Wonoski, passed suddenly and my last living uncle-by-marriage, Dave Dufour, saw the end of a long, varied and colourful life. JR Cline, with whom I visited twice on cross-country journeys, saw his long and valiant fight come to an end.
My path went to three camps, all carefully managed to the best of my ability. WiFi did not fade out this time, thanks to my iPhone. Other local homages were to a good friend who turned 60; to the Granite Mountain Hotshots, who perished ten years ago, at Yarnell Hill; and to the summer solstice, on, where better, Solstice Mesa, in north Prescott. I sat with a dog, later with cats, and tended to people’s needs at Hope Fest, which came early this year.
Travels were both long and short: A hike in honour of the departed Hotshots, at the State Park established in their names, preceded the 10th Commemoration, in downtown Prescott. A return to Bell Rock, near Sedona, brought variations in light into focus. A Grand Canyon visit, to the west side of South Rim, had to be cut short, when a deluge closed the main road heading south. I made a detour, through the Navajo Nation and Flagstaff, as I had an appointment in Prescott, the next day. July 17-29 took me through the Mojave Desert, Central Valley, Oregon and Washington, to British Columbia. There were visits with Baha’i friends in Ashland, OR, Victoria, BC-and, sweetest of all, a performance in “The Wizard of Oz”, by a girl I look upon as a grandniece, in Carson City. In each case, my visit seemed to have an outsized effect on the host’s sense of well-being. That’s actually the hope, wherever I go. New friends were also made in Ludlow, CA; Medford and Salem, OR; Centralia and Chehalis, WA.Richmond and Nanaimo, BC. That’s also the idea. Zipping down to a dental appointment, on two hours’ notice and zipping back up to get my trusty vehicle serviced, after a long trip-that’s also the idea.
As August ended, I headed out to a Baha’i school, the House of Worship in Wilmette, and mother’s milestone celebration. Many are those who fill my heart; she is first among them. The people I specifically visited, these three months, are also in that category.
November 24, 2023, Grapevine- Turkey Day leftovers made for a nice lunch, as they tend to do on “Black Friday”, and for days afterward. The day is crisp and clear, and many are headed to shopping malls/centers for Deals on Wheels-and on just about everything else. Son and I are not among them. He is taking a short break from the academic grind, and I am just taking a break, in general.
The Universe has not taken a break, of course. I learned, to my sadness, that an extended family member lost her spouse, a few weeks ago. They were a tightly-bonded couple, yet thankfully the family branch from which she comes is equally tightly-bonded, and will help her take one day at a time. Having been in similar shoes, a dozen years ago, I will keep them both in my heart.
The Force gives, as well as takes- 24 people who were kidnapped on October 7 have been released by their captors, in a prisoner exchange. Those freed by Hamas will go back to their homes and families, for a bittersweet Passover. Those freed by Israel will go home to their families, and face more uncertainty, at the conflict may well continue.
As is my wont, it is that time of year to look back at the past twelve months. This time, let us consider them, a quarter at a time. December, ’22-February, ’23- saw several leave our midst: Three stalwart Legionnaires, Gene Smylie (whose wife had passed a few weeks prior), Corky Hintz and Dwight Peters each had an outsized influence on the affairs of Post 6. Theirs will not be easy shoes to fill, but it looks like people are stepping up nicely. An old Baha’i mentor and friend, Bob Riggs, went to join his wife, in the spirit world. Celebrities, who influenced me in oblique ways, also left: Christine McVie, Barbara Walters, Jeff Beck, David Crosby, Raquel Welch, Gina Lollobrigida.
December-February provided many substitute opportunities, some of them for multiple days. Anything I can do to help children thrive is worth waking in the dark. Community service slots, at Solid Rock’s Monday night dinners, helping break down the Saturday Farmers Market, serving as co-host for Saturday morning Zoom calls and whatever the Red Cross needed, filled several days. Hikes and meals with friend Akuura also kept me physically on an even keel.
What made the biggest difference though, was going into an intensive weight reduction program-with heavy duty exercise, a strict meal plan and more resolve-courtesy of Ben Filer and True North Nutrition. As of February 28, I was well under 200 lbs. Dental health remained good, as did the skin scene.
Journeys always take their places in my world- a three-day California visit, in December, reconnected me with Ocean Beach and I found my spot there: Samesun Hostel. I also accomplished a hike down to Trestles Beach, San Clemente. House of Trestles was nearly deserted, but Harpoon Henry’s, in Dana Point, was delightful as ever.
February took me to southern Arizona, for a few days. Return visits to Boyce Thompson Arboretum and to Bisbee were coupled with introductions to Biosphere II, San Pedro House, the town of Patagonia and Nogales’ Pimeria Alta Museum.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 