I have had more energy, in the past three months, than in the previous ten years. It is likely a combination of things: Essential oil-based supplements, better sleep, being more present in the moment, paying more attention to celestial connections. COVID19 restrictions have kept me mostly around Home Base, but my activity levels have not dropped, appreciably.
Just a few other thoughts, about what I was taught as a kid, and how it has never mattered more than now.
I was taught to look beyond a person’s outer frame-and focus on his/her character.
I was taught that every person matters, ESPECIALLY if other people treat that person as if (s)he doesn’t.
I was taught to be kind to animals, and how much more to other people.
I was taught to stand up to bullies, try to understand their deeper message, make any changes in my behaviour that are warranted and accept a former adversary as a friend, once the tormenting behaviour has been outgrown.
I was taught to honour other people’s lifestyles and traditions, but not encourage those things that demean other people.
I was taught to respect my elders, but not to abide their foolishness.
I was taught to plan ahead.
Most of all, I was taught to love, unconditionally.
Had I not been taught these things, and held them close, I would not be alive today.
Of all things that get done in life, none exceed in value the homage paid to those who have gone before. As giving, to those in need, results in getting more of what oneself could use, so does paying respects, to those who have transitioned, bring more honour to the one paying the respects.
I was able to stay in a fine little cabin, a duplex, which I shared with a family of three, who kept to themselves. Jacob Lake Lodge has been built into a resort, of modest size, staying free from any ostentatiousness. It has a small, but quality, restaurant, where pandemic-based spacing is in effect, and of course, masks helped give a sense of health security, for both patrons and staff-when we weren’t eating or drinking, of course.
Cabin 10, where I stayed at Jacob Lake Inn.
After hiking a “warm-up” trail, in search of the actual Jacob Lake, I found only an RV Park, and so returned to the resort, in time for check-out. Then, it was off to the Canyon!
There is a plan being considered, that will result in a sizable amount of trees being cut, in Kaibab National Forest, along the road to North Rim. There is a huge amount of slash and burned-out trunks, left from previous fires and intense storms. To me, it would make the most sense to clear that mess, and probably would put a fair number of people to meaningful work, this month and next. As the trees under consideration are “old growth” forest, it is especially heart-rending to consider the unnecessary damage to the ecosystems.
After arriving at North Kaibab Trailhead, where the Elantra would rest, while I hiked, it took a short bit of checking the route, to make sure I din’t end up going down the North Kaibab Trail, itself. Ken Patrick Trail, a bit to the north of the steep big kahuna, would take me to Uncle Jim Trail. With the help of a thru-hiker doing the Arizona Trail, I was on my way, in short order. You can see from the sign, below, that Ken Patrick was dedicated to service with the National Parks.
About 500 feet along the trail, a large ponderosa pine had fallen across the path, so I went up and around the mess. Three other trees would lie across the trail, at different points.
The first set of overlooks lies about 1/4 mile along the Ken Patrick Trail. This view mirrored what I saw last October, from the Bright Angel Point trail.
The limestone columns remind me of horse heads.Here is a cross section of the Inner Basin.
Nature leaves her little jokes, even at the expense of damaged trees.
A guidepost, perhaps?
Sooner than I expected, it was time to take a hard right.
The trail junction.
The first segment of Uncle Jim Trail is four tenths of a mile. It is also the area with the most up and down inclines, and the only place where there are switchbacks, albeit mild ones. Two downed trees greeted us hikers, along this stretch, as well.
At 7/10 of a mile, along the western leg of Uncle Jim Trail’s 2.1-mile loop, I came to a series of fabulous canyon views.
This drop-off looks milder than it is.Who’s watching whom?
Finding a heart-shaped rock, I placed it carefully against a small set of wood shavings.
A little altar
This natural eroded bowl could serve as an amphitheater.
Looking at this “amphitheater”, I also saw a back country hiker looking over its edge.
I came upon an unofficial overlook, east of the main viewpoint, and appreciated the two “guardians”, looking back towards the rim.
Sandstone heads have this mesa to themselves.
Looking out from this vantage, at Uncle Jim Point, I have a tripod to help me focus.
Here’s a view towards the Inner Basin.
Heading out from this vantage point, I spotted a burnt ponderosa, which could serve as a memory pole, of sorts.
A woodpecker’s home and a place to mark memories.
I spent a few minutes sitting on the landing of a restroom building, writing in my journal. As I did, a fierce gust of wind came up and blew my sunglasses off the landing. I looke for the shades, for about ten minutes, but to no avail. If that is my offering to the forces of nature, so be it. I have a feeling that the wind took them all the way to the rim, and over.
Hearing happy voices, I followed the tral to the main viewpoint. There were four women, a couple and me, taking one another’s photographs. Thus, a pyramid could be envisioned: Four at the base, two in the middle and one on top.
Here I am, courtesy of the “better half” of the couple.
With Uncle Jim Point in the background, I fulfilled a promise to myself and to his family.
Uncle Jim Point juts out into the Inner Canyon.
With that, the two parties and I leapfrogged one another, on the way back, as each took rest breaks. We all missed the junction sign, going back on the Ken Patrick Trail by osmosis. I last saw the four women taking an extended photo shoot at the first overlook. The couple, it turns out, are from Santa Monica, and were enjoying their first venture out of town, since January.
So, my heart’s desire was fulfilled and I headed out of the Canyon, with a brief stop at North Country Market, for a well-earned salted caramel latte and a long, but smooth, drive to Flagstaff.
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.
I have found that my throat chakra. It’s a feature that had been rather subject to timidity and over-circumspection, especially when it came time to face challenges from more strident individuals, over the years. I find myself talking back more-and with more confidence.
These are times when people are dealing with fear and pain, in some very unsettling ways. Then again, people have dealt with fear and pain in unsettling ways, forever. It just plays out more in real time.
Grand Canyon National Park has re-opened its North Rim to hiking, but not to lodging. I had a pre-COVID plan to hike a trail up there, in honour of my Uncle Jim, who passed away last year. June 3 would have been his 86th birthday. As it happens, I have an obligation here at Home Base, that evening, but June 2 is open. So, I have plans to take my hiking sticks, water, natural sanitizer, mask and gloves-and honour my uncle’s memory.
The reaction to my announcement of this has not been what I expected. I thought friends on the Left would come screaming about contagion. So far, only one mild protest has come from that direction. Most everyone, progressives and conservatives alike, have simply said “Be safe and enjoy!”
The only caveat that I have, for the driving portion of this trip, is to not stop along the way, in the Navajo Nation, unless absolutely necessary-to honour the Nation’s President’s request that outsiders drive through, without stopping.
For what it’s worth, this is the only long trip I have planned for the next several weeks, if not months, and out-of-state, for now, remains out of the question.
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.
My mother is the last person to want gratuitous or “obligatory” sentiments, on her important days. Either MEAN it, or leave it unsaid. Our gathering, this morning, brought the majority of extended family to their screens and a delighted matriarch was honoured by each.
I recall the things she said, along the way, that have impacted how I face life, even to this day.
“Look beyond the length of your nose”. This appeal to carefully investigate truth and to not be impulsive, in seeking to find answers, has paid countless dividends.
“Strong arm stuff never wins any victories”. So true, the use of force does not breed the sort of loyalty that brings the rewards one truly wants.
“A man was once killed by ‘I thought’ “. Acting upon assumptions can often be woefully counterproductive.
“Staring at the tree won’t get you any fruit.”- Getting up and acting upon one’s desires is the only real way to achieve anything.
“Have adventure in your soul”- She told me this, with regard to being bold enough to get out of my shell and approach girls, for friendship, in my teenage years. I have taken it more broadly, in my maturity, in looking far afield at what I can do in life.
“A male is not a man until he’s forty.’- She saw that men need a broad variety of both successful and adverse life experiences, before becoming truly mature.
“Drinking gives false courage”- Isn’t that ever the truth!
There were many other admonitions that my mother has offered, in her ninety-one years and eight months on this Earth. I look forward to hearing at least a few more.
There were once two children, who were the best of friends. The first lived in a large house, was given all manner of toys and games, had a Nanny and was rarely disciplined-except for when his mother told him how stupid he was.
He was, in fact, rather impetuous, would hit adults and call other kids names. His mother just told him that was very STUPID. His father, rather aloof, was also seldom in his life. Dear old Dad taught the boy how to golf and how to get the drop on other people. His Nanny was kind to him, and taught him to pray to Jesus, so to the extent he listened, it was mainly to her.
The other child was the Nanny’s own daughter. Since the boy was not allowed out of the compound, she was his closest companion and saw goodness in him. She lived with her mother in a small cottage, on the mansion grounds. The boy was forbidden by his parents from going over to the servants’ quarters, but the girl could play board games and do her homework in one of the family rooms of the Main House.
As they got older, the boy was given to a sort of rebellion, as many children are, when going through adolescence. His tantrums both got worse and resulted in his mother taking a belt or a broom to his derriere, nearly on a daily basis.
The Nanny objected to this treatment, and after several protests, she was fired. Father explained to the bewildered son: “This is what you do, when underlings disobey. You tell them they are fired.” Of course, this meant that his friend, his sole reliable companion, was also gone-never to return. Truth be known, they were becoming more than friends. The dismissal happened, a few days after an afternoon of casual exploration, in the woods behind the cottage. Boy was convinced it was more than just his Nanny’s protests that caused the rupture in his life.
So, a few days later, the boy crawled over the wall to his compound, knapsack in hand, and made his way to the address which his friend had written on a napkin, which was also filled with her dried tears. Her mother was not at home, having found work in a factory down the street from their new residence. The girl was elated to see her best friend, and so the casual exploration continued.
Boy never went back to his parents’ house, and not surprisingly, they never bothered to look for him. They never got to know their three grandchildren, who called the Nanny “Abuela”.
(Any relation between the characters in this story and real people, is purely coincidental.)
Today, the fourth day of the fourth month, is also seen by numerologists and astrologers as Universal Year 4. This is figured by adding the digits of the year: 2+0+2+0= 4. It is considered a year of feminine power, as multiples of two reflect feminine energy, whilst odd-numbered years reflect masculine energy.
I tend to have a balance of the two, having been raised by parents whose power was balanced. Many, both male and female, who were raised in an imbalance-usually patriarchic , have judged me as weak or even effeminate, as I have leaned away from aggression-most of the time, in my earlier days, and always, of late.
Feminine energy, as most of my readers know, is far from weak. I was raised by a lioness, who nonetheless knew how to nurture, as well how to exact obedience. My father also showed a good balance of masculine and feminine, in his discipline. So, in my maturity, I chose a career that stressed being both supportive and showing my charges the value of boundaries. The vast majority of “my kids” have grown to be mature, grounded and productive citizens, even those who have hard lives.
Now, in late middle age, I find myself cheering the arrival of a more balanced culture. These Twenties are bound to be rough for many, who hang on to shopworn ways of looking at and doing things. This year has already dragged many through the ringer, and the rest of us just taking one day at a time. I am still ready to do what is needed to bring in the real sunshine, knowing that the love of the aging is going to be needed, as those of the Rising Generations: Younger Gen X, Millennials, Generation Z and the Alpha Generation, will be doing the heavy lifting.
Each day is bringing with it, full power-the power each of us needs to effect transition- our own individual, that of the nations and of the planet. Rise with the Sun, live your day fully and rest well at night. We are all needed, in our way.
A Sagittarian Seeker 