October 26, 2025, Edinburgh- We had a fine Scottish breakfast, on this misty morning. Again, there was no haggis-and nary a bit of porridge. Scrambled eggs, a small bit of bacon and grilled tomatoes filled the bill, along with Alan’s fresh-baked bread and plum jam-plus cheese.
Lisa then took me on a tour of Findhorn’s round houses and small gardens. Here is a look at some of these.
Round home, Findhorn Eco Village. Lisa said this house is presently unoccupied.Wishing Stone, Findhorn Eco Village. Here is a good place for meditation, on a fine day. (Above and below)Lisa at the Wishing StoneThis round house is near my lodging of last night.A wee bit of foliageTwo more round housesFindhorn ForestInside a gathering placeInside Meditation Round House. The similarity of this and another such house with Indigenous American round houses is remarkable.A “hobbit house” (Above and below)Community CenterOpen meditation centreOpen meditation centreAnother sacred space and standing stone, an ARK (Area of Restorative Kindness) above and below
This is the sort of place where one goes for restoration. Thankfully, I need not board a plane to find such a space. There are ARKs of this sort, just about anywhere one might go in the world, and we have our share in the Southwest U.S. I will return here again, if it be the Divine Will, yet in the meantime, it makes me all the more appreciative of sacred spaces closer to Home Base.
I bid farewell to Lisa, Alan and Pupak- and boarded a train bound for Edinburgh, via Aberdeen. The magic was not done with me yet.
October 25, 2025, Findhorn, Scotland- The gentle couple welcomed me into their home, the last of three cozy, warm cottages that greeted me upon my arrival in this ecological village, high on the North Sea. It is a place of learning, of adaptation and of unrelenting hope. Here, I will spend a peaceful night, knowing that the residents have endured gales and storms that are far worse than the mild chill that whispers outside.
I easily made my way from Travel Guest House to Waverley Train Station, and stopped to enjoy a Cornish pasty for breakfast. Looking at the nearby sign board, just two minutes before we were to board a train to Aberdeen, the ride was canceled. After finishing the pasty, I went to the Travel Centre and rebooked- this time for a train to Perth, which would be followed by a bus that would take us through Cairngorms National Park-the crown jewel of the eastern Highlands, thence to Inverness, where I would meet my friend Lisa and go on to Findhorn.
I walked up to platform 19, where the train to Perth was already waiting. Needless to say, there were a number of folks from just north of Aberdeen, who were irritated by the last-minute scrub, but they were making the best of it. In fairly short order, we were underway, and I was seeing a Scotland that was enjoying clear skies, after the cold rain of yesterday afternoon and evening.
Crossing the Forth Bridge to RosythFirth of Forth, through the trees (above and below)Firth of Forth meets the North SeaBurntisland
From there, it was only another hour before we reached Perth, turning inland at Leven and passing through Cupar and Abernethy to the home of Scone Palace. We would not see the palace, though, as the bus took us through glorious highland scenes. I was, however, in a crowded vehicle, with no room to maneuver either a camera or phone, without being a nuisance to the patient grandmother to my right. Take my word for it, though, Caringorms is well worth a journey in itself.
A number of people got off the bus at Landmark Forest Adventure Park, and in another half hour, we were in Inverness. There was no view of Loch Ness- it’s another 20 miles to the southwest, but the city has Beauly Firth, Moray Firth and Clava Cairns to recommend it to a visitor, besides being the northern gateway to Cairngorms. Lisa, a friend from the Earth Rising internet group, which has been meeting once a month, for the past six years, was there to greet me and be my guide to Findhorn.
We headed straightaway to The Captain’s Table, the first warm, cozy cabin-like place of welcome. I “tucked in” to a hearty bowl of cullen skink- Scotland’s other signature dish, (no haggis was either offered or served on this visit). Cullen skink is fish chowder: Smoked haddock, potatoes and onions, usually in a broth of milk or cream. It was a wee bit o’ heaven!
With me fortified against the chill, we explored the small beach at the confluence of River Findhorn and Forres Cove.
Forres Cove Wharf at The Captain’s Table CafeA Scottish sunset (above and below)
Lisa finds the shades of grey things of beauty. Tonight, I agree with her.
Surf meets sedge Lonely walkers on an evening beach A neap tide-not as cold as it looks.
We drove back to the village, and stopped for a bit at Lisa’s house, the second cozy cabin. After a brief chat, it was time to head to the home of friends Alan and Pupak, my lodging for the night. We sat and discussed spiritual matters, and health protocols. Now, it is time for rest, so I bid all A’chiu va (aye chuh va)-good night, in Scottish Gaelic.
October 8, 2025, Salzburg- “No taxi driver will go there”, the young driver said, referring to Monsbach, the area around Stadtalm Naturfreund, “it’s too dangerous”. Hmm, having not heard anything about crime in Salzburg, I decided to talk to the older gentleman in the next taxi, who had been listening. “It is a dark area, and the road is narrow. THAT is the only danger.” He then asked me how far I had come today. After hearing that my day had started in Zagreb, “Ibrahim” decided to drive me to the flat portion of the route to the hostel. He eliminated 323 steps-for the night. He was paid handsomely for his effort.
The day indeed started in Zagreb. I checked out of Mickey Mouse Apartment at the designated hour, and left the key in the black mailbox, as requested. When I got to the Train Station, my inquiry about getting to Salzburg was met with: “Go through Ljubljana. Maribor and Graz are out of the way. Ljubljana is more direct, then go through Villach!” This I did. The train was late leaving the Slovenian capital and even later going from the Austrian border to Vollach- a distance of 5 kilometers. Enough of a lag had been created that even the cleaning man at Villach Hauptbanhof (Central Train Station) shook his head at “the bureaucrats, always making an unnecessary mess for people.” Slovenia’s capital is a rather lovely place (it’s Lee-oob-lee-ahna), and I had a small lunch there, near the train station. I would grab another supper item in Salzburg, but it was a while later-eight hours later.
Near Catez, SloveniaSava River, outside Catez, SloveniaDinaric Alps, through a dirty windshield, north of Bled, SloveniaDinaric Alps, near Jesenice, Slovenia
As luck would have it, the picture postcard views of Ljubljana were not to be found around the Train Station and I did not dare venture far afield, in the uncertain time frame presented us. So, the dirty windshield of the train was my only vantage point for Slovenia’s beauty.
Once we could view Worthersee, hopes went up for a quick arrival in Villach. There was an unexplained stop, though, just inside Austria-and it was not due to the Border Police. Something else led to about seven of us sitting in Villach Hauptbanhof for an extra ninety minutes. The silver lining, though, was that the young conductor showed me, at long last, how to access the heretofore elusive QR Code on the Rail Planner application. Now, I will not be the sore thumb senior, the only one who doesn’t get it.
At the end of the day, I was at Stadtalm Naturfreund, had climbed only six steps-to my dorm room and savoured the chance to get another decent night’s sleep. Salzburg’s wonders and some business in Vienna awaited.
October 5, 2025, Sarajevo- The bus driver had a long face, as we all boarded his vehicle, in Split. I don’t think the man’s demeanour changed much, even after he had a sit-down meal at a nice roadside restaurant. The weather was equally gloomy, but I felt a comfort that transcended both the driver and the skies.
We went down the coastal highway, very close to tourist haven Dubrovnik, and then turned inland towards Mostar and Sarajevo. Here is a view of the Adriatic from Jesenice, the first major town south of Split.
View from cliffs near Omis, Dalmatia
At Brela, the wonders shifted to the mountains above the southern Dalmatian coast.
Limestone mountains above Brela, CroatiaHeading inland, near Ljubuski (Lee-oo-boo-skee)These lakes are near the well-known Kravica (Kra-VEET-sa) waterfall .
Passing through Mostar, a worthy stop in its own right (for me, maybe on a future Mediterranean visit), the weather was really getting nasty, but the mountains are always stunning.
Prenj Range (Pren-yeh), outside MostarNeretva River, near Donja Jablanica (Donya Yablanitsa), Hercegovina. It was near here that we stopped and the driver had his lunch. I opted to wait until Sarajevo. Below, are the rotating barbecue wheels at Lamb House.Old-style roasting spits, Lamb house, Donja Jablonica
About an hour later, we were in Sarajevo. I caught a taxi in short order, and that driver, from Libya, was determined to find Guesthouse Yildiz. He was very close, but it took asking around the immediate Old Town neighbourhood to get the exact spot. Now, he has another hard-to-find address on his phone.
I found a gem of a place, with a dear young couple from Turkiye, the owners. (Since we’re on a pronunciation binge- it’s Tur-kee-yuh). Here is how to spot Guesthouse Yildiz, on a short alley way off Old Town Sarajevo’s main road.
Guest House Yildiz, Old Town Sarajevo
Here is the junction of Yildiz’s street, with the main road through Old Town.
Intersection near Guesthouse Yildiz
I was in a comfortable place for the evening, and after a well-prepared dinner of Chicken Stir Fry and rice, settled in to get ready for tomorrow’s visit to Srebrenica.
September 24, 2025, Copenhagen- Kongen Have, the King’s Garden, was the third place where I experienced quiet today. It was certainly filled with people, but it was day’s end. People were quietly jogging, sitting on a blanket enjoying a picnic supper or closer to Rosenberg Palace, walking among the flowers for which the edifice is named.
Roses, near Rosenberg PalaceRosenberg Palace-It was closed by the time I got here, but the grounds were well worth the walkabout. So, too, was the main section of this salubrious public space.Foreground of King’s GardenFashioned boulders, arranged in a triangleThe garden runs the gamut, from wild….to the sculpted and curated.
All was calm and bright, even in the gloaming.
Rosenberg Palace, across the moat. Ariel was a bit off my path, but she would feel right at home here, especially in the moat!
The mandarin ducks were certainly delighted!
With that came the realization that my Copenhagen visit is coming to a close. An all-too-brief visit to the “foodie city” of Aarhus is next, and a visit to Berlin will give me a sense of another of the world’s great cities. I am sure there will be some special moments in each. Stay tuned!
September 21, 2025, Nynashamn- It was quite windy atop the water tower that served this small city on its own, for several decades-until a larger one was built across town. The tower on which my friend, Mattias, and I stood was had burned down in 2018 and was rebuilt as an observation point, a year later. The taller and larger tower that replaced it may be seen from the top, as may a large area of the southern Stockholm Archipelago, of which Nynashamn (NEE-nahs-hahmn) is an anchor.
Here are some scenes from that vantage point.
View of Stockholm Archipelago, and south side of NynanshamnView of Grondalsviken, to the southwest of Nynashamn. View of Nynashamn Centrum (downtown)On top of Trehorningen Water Tower
Afterward, we went back to find the rest of the crew, Sarah and the kids, at Nynashamn Harbour. We had begun the day with a satisfying breakfast and had gone over to Choklad Huset (Chocolate House), which serves up the finest of hot chocolate and a full variety of solid treats. This establishment provides dessert items for the Nobel Prize Dinner, among other accomplishments. We enjoyed our delights at a playground near the harbour (The “ship playground”, say the kids.
Choklad Huset
It was soon time to go back to the cozy apartment. I spent a blissful afternoon, just soaking in all that being with a little family entails. After a well-crafted dinner of “Fresh Rolls” (spring rolls, in clear rice wraps, with “Chinese Rice” (fried rice), I took in one more Nynashamn sunset.
Sunset from Grondalsviken
Tomorrow, I double back to Stockholm’s Central Station, and take the train southward to Helsingborg and over the water, to Helsingor-the site of Elsinore Castle. It has been a truly lovely visit with my Swedish family. Now, to make more friends, in Denmark.
September 3, 2025, Keams Canyon- The hill we used to climb,and lay on blankets under the stars, is still alluring. It seems diminished somehow, though, with the campground having been taken up for house lots and a fenced in playground . The park is a nice idea for the Keams community, though.
I could have bushwhacked a bit and gone up the hill, just to reminisce about those first fleeting days of our acquaintance, which became an enduring, if sometimes harrowing, love story. It wasn’t far from this spot that your trailer sat, and where I camped out in the snow, the first time I visited you. It was all to keep up a sense of propriety, for your Hopi and Mormon neighbours. It was worth the hassle, though, and I felt akin to the small Dineh children who were traditionally thrown out in the snow, to toughen them up.
Tonight, though, there is no snow or cold, just a light rain. I am not sleeping outside, but in the comfort of some new friends’ apartment. We had a lovely dinner of cod fillets, cauliflower over rice and steamed avocado/cucumber salad. I gave them a set of books about the Hopi and one about Dineh. They are resuming the work we did in the ’80s and ’90s, and will take it to the next level.
Hopi will always be special, even if my time here is fleeting, and only occasional. The people have shared their wisdom with the world, and deserve all our support and understanding. You knew that, back then, when you sought to calm my peripatetic self and got me to devote weekends to attending ceremonial dances, instead of going off into mountains and canyons.
That, ironically, is why I am here tonight, absorbing the gentle spiritual energy that lies within these mesa lands, just prior to my embarking on journeys of homage and transition. Soon, our first grandchild will be joining the world. I will not be surprised if she looks up and smiles at a space where no earthly being can be seen. I will know that she is looking at you.
September 2, 2025- Coming up to a ledge, on the trail between White Spar Mountain and Goldwater Lake, Hiking Buddy and I spotted nineteen American flags-the sign of a memorial to the 19 Wildland Firefighters, who died in 2013, at Yarnell Hill.
Other forms of death showed themselves nearby.
Beyond, though, are the many signs of life, for which these sacrifices have been made.
We made this short hike, as part of a run-up to my own seven-week absence from Home Base I, and from Arizona. I have had a good summer here, and now it is time to tie up loose ends. Connecting HB with an aficionado of her type of product was another result of today’s efforts. Finally getting through to a critic of local organic farming, earlier this morning, was another.
The rest of the week will see me on a worldwide prayer call, then up at Hopi for a brief visit with new arrivals in the Health Provider community and a Red Cross meeting here, on Thursday. Friday, I will continue my dry run of packing, as the weekend is full of special events, on which more, in a few days.
I have also carefully spoke my peace about other issues, and so far had little push back. Towards that end, I will not elaborate on my thoughts in this forum. We are all entitled to our own opinions, though not to our own facts.
No matter where I go, the sacrifices of those brave men commemorated above, and of others like them, will still figure large in my consciousness. They tied the loose strands of community, by giving their very lives.
August 19, 2025- There is no shortage of schools in Prescott that are in salubrious settings. One of these is Primavera School, located on the southwest side of town. It is, being in a forest community, geared towards a holistic education in an ecologically-oriented setting. The basics are well-taught, in small groups, and with room made for serendipitous moments. If a “book” lesson is underway, and one of the kindergartners, or third graders, happens to focus on a hummingbird feeding nearby, the class takes time to observe the animal and later discuss the scene-What was in the liquid that the hummingbird was drinking? Are there times of day that the birds prefer to feed? What other foods do hummingbirds take? There is realization that a book lesson is not sacrificed by a 30-minute observational activity.
“Primavera”, of course, is Spanish for “Spring”. Here were a group of us, at this school, in mid-Summer, helping to focus a new year for school gardens. The school’s name hints at an orientation towards every day being a new beginning, in some sense. With the daily awakening and enkindling of knowledge, children-any of us, actually- feel this new beginning. This afternoon, we did a poetic exercise, called “I Am From”, which looks at some of the many factors, past and present, which shape who each of us is. Like anyone else, I could fill in the blanks in a number of ways, and shared one set of answers in the session. I will share a similar, and equally genuine, rendition of this poem below:
I am from
I am from corn on the cob
From 6 a.m. and cool, crisp air
I am from the cabin, cozy, warm, sweet-scented
I am from oak and bear,
tall and stout, strong and gentle
I am from family reunions and walks in the woods
from the beach and caves
From Kauai and wind-swept, craggy coastal bluffs
I am from Granite Mountain and holding my grandchild
and from “The Earth is but one country, and mankind its citizens”.
June 21, 2025- The Howard brothers have come a long way in a year. Their quest to mix Bluegrass with jazz is an unusual path, and started off roughly. Tonight, though, as the first day of Prescott’s 44th Annual Bluegrass Festival entered its evening segment, Cross-Eyed Possum ruled the stage. Their performances did not sound like jazz invading the realm of Bluegrass, or Blues with Bluegrass undertones, but a perfect melding of genres. It would likely have been well-received in even the smallest Appalachian hollow or Piedmont barn dance.
I sat in on their outdoor set, this evening. It had been a full day-taking the preliminary steps to form a Red Cross team that would respond to a wildfire on the Navajo Nation, should it threaten residential areas; helping the Farmers Market crew to break down and put equipment away (as is usual on a Saturday afternoon in Prescott); attending an appreciation dinner for Farmers Market staff, Board Members, and volunteers. I have been a market site volunteer for seven years now, yet it was a revelation that there are 453 people who assist the Market, in various ways-from staffing the compost yard to filling or delivering food boxes to the less fortunate of western Yavapai County. There is so much that goes into any given relief effort.
As we adults enjoyed delicious shredded chicken or vegan tacos, three small boys reveled in the nearby Ponderosa forest, where they gathered fallen branches and twigs, fashioning a fort-bringing back memories of the tree fort that was built in my childhood neighbourhood. It was a great joy to see that children have not lost the thrill of building and discovery. Of course, their parents and grandparents could see them, the entire time they were in the woods. Basically, though, the boys were free to do what they wanted, in that small section of forest, in between nibbles of dinner.
It is always special to mingle with crew mates and get to know their spouses, parents and children. Some of the kids I have known since they were infants and toddlers. They are now in middle childhood, with all the bravado that comes with being 7, 8 and 9. Our intrepid generation was of course there in force. It seems Boomers just intend to make the best use of time- I am but one of thousands, nationwide, and our many hands make much lighter work.
The Howards sing alternately of country joy, favourite animals and heartache, all the stuff of just about any folk or heartland music-as well as of Blues. Here they are, with ” Whipping Post”.
A Sagittarian Seeker 