Overcoming Diss-comfort

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August 17, 2021- After checking financial news this afternoon, I read a brief account of a young woman who responded to having been snubbed, by a group with whom she had associated for a few years, by organizing meet-ups for other people who were feeling left out of their social circles. Through the more popular social media sites, including Instagram, SnapChat and TikTok, and by carefully organizing gatherings only in outside venues, paying close attention to local trends in virus transmission, this woman has connected thousands of teenagers and young adults in relatively safe and peaceful meet-ups, across the United States.

One of the hardest experiences anyone can have is to feel disrespected (“dissed”), or shunned, especially by those who have won the person’s trust. I’ve had a few such experiences, though not for at least a dozen years. My own response was to quietly leave the gathering, and make it a point to no longer associate with the instigators of the snub. I am also aware of several readers’ experiences, along a similar line, over the years. I have cut off contact with a few people who have attacked me publicly-one physically, in the past three years, but that is more a matter of self-defense than an attempt at snobbery. I am also aware of several readers’ experiences, along a similar line, over the years. It had to have hurt, but by all accounts, you each handled it well.

None of us is immune from social isolation, but the young woman mentioned above, whose name is Marissa Meizz, has shown a fine middle path between ad hominem rebuttals (which solve nothing) and curling up in an isolated ball (ditto). She may have very well saved many lives, bringing people out of isolation and into a wider social circle. Recognizing that all that most people want is at least to be occasionally included in social gatherings is as much a step towards establishing peaceful communities, as is any movement based on social justice.

I look forward to ever more gatherings and building friendships, as time goes on. May Marissa find the same.

https://news.yahoo.com/now-going-viral-meeting-online-121228537.html?fr=sycsrp_catchall

Hot Spots

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August 16, 2021- I was originally supposed to spend today hiking along a road, to commemorate a friend’s passing, 37 years ago, Wednesday. The person who proposed this originally backed out, over the weekend, citing other obligations. It worked out fine for me, as I got to be with the groups of students with whom I will be working, for the most part, probably well into September.

The weekend brought hard news: There is a new Taliban government in Afghanistan, boding God knows what for women and girls; Haiti was clobbered by yet another severe earthquake, to be followed by a Tropical Storm, of as yet indeterminate strength; Delta continued on its merry path of death and destruction; the Sierra Nevada foothills continue to face the rapacious Dixie Fire. Here at Home Base, I can only continue to do what I’ve been doing- small charity here and there; safe hygiene and honouring the requests of businesses and institutions; promoting fire-safe spaces here and being ready, in case the call comes to go on Red Cross deployment.

We choose what hot spots in which we offer our services. With 7.6 billion people on the planet, there is no reason for any one person to have to do the lion’s share of relief work. I am constantly on the move, as it is, and have no feelings of regret for what I do. Learning to set boundaries, however, has been a most gratifying result of the struggles of the past three years.

Coralie

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August 14, 2021- The slender young woman accepted my offer to check out my deer hide drum, and began gently beating it, while her exquisitely melodic voice sent forth a Plains Indian chant. The offering electrified the room and set several others to join in, singing in Spanish and Portuguese as well as using their own drums, several rattles, and a flute.

The day had begun with my being greeted by another young woman, across the country, whom I regard vey much like my own daughter. C told me that she had had a hard day at work, yesterday. I assured her this was quite common these days, that she could only do her best and that this should be enough for anyone. I know that she is up to whatever challenge she has to face. I love her for that, and for all that she does in this life.

The more people, especially the young, whom I meet, day by day, the more loving I feel towards them. God knows I have felt so, towards my own son, from the day he was born, and my nephews and nieces, students and those I encounter along the way. With this feeling, my main role is that of advocate and encourager.

Days like this seem to come more frequently now, and the darker it gets in the wider world, the more ferocious become my own determination to love and stand by those who will inherit this world of turmoil and hope; the stronger comes the resolve to give encouragement to all, even those who don’t quite understand me. It’s more readily accepted by women and children, though the number of men who recognize the need for sensitivity and a supportive approach to life is growing.

Coralee, an angel from France, by way of Florida, won just about everyone’s heart this evening, in Synergy Cafe, and made a particular friend of a fine young man, with whom she will attend other events during the rest of her stay here. Such turns of events warm my heart. There was a night, in December, 1980, when such happened to me, in equally unanticipated fashion.

As for Synergy itself, the owner, one of a half dozen, or so, women to whom I am particularly drawn in close friendship, stopped by a couple of times during the evening. I hadn’t seen Sierra in about eight months, so it was especially joyful to visit, just a bit, with this effervescent, irrepressible soul. She promised that the venue’s weekend hours will increase, which suits me just fine. Any time with such friends lifts my soul.

The key to all this is apparent: “O COMPANION OF MY THRONE! Hear no evil, and see no evil, abase not thyself, neither sigh and weep. Speak no evil, that thou mayest not hear it spoken unto thee, and magnify not the faults of others that thine own faults may not appear great; and wish not the abasement of anyone, that thine own abasement be not exposed. Live then the days of thy life, that are less than a fleeting moment, with thy mind stainless, thy heart unsullied, thy thoughts pure, and thy nature sanctified, so that, free and content, thou mayest put away this mortal frame, and repair unto the mystic paradise and abide in the eternal kingdom for evermore.”- Baha’u’llah, “The Hidden Words”

I have no inkling as to when my own mortal frame will be put away, so for the time being, I will see all I meet as friends, not strangers-and be glad for my dearest friends, that they may only grow in number.

First Class

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August 13, 2021- I finished reading “Caste”, by Isabel Wilkerson, this evening: A magnificent work, by a stellar human being. For the first time in my adult life, if not the entirety of my life span, I felt that here is someone who understands my point of view-that there is, simply put, no group of people, anywhere, who deserve to be cast aside (pun intended) or downtrodden, so that others may rise to the top-either through privilege or through through benefitting from the efforts of those held lower than themselves.

It is human nature to want to pull the wagons in a circle; to exclude those one dislikes or whom one sees as a threat. It is spiritual nature, more reflective of the higher self, what Abraham Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature”, to at some level, at least, regard others as equanimical to oneself; to keep the wagon secure, but somewhat ready to receive the visitor.

Let me take stock, of just who could be a second class citizen, given what is apparent in the Divine Teachings, and in the common origins of humanity. No European person is a second class citizen; no person of East Asian or South Asian ancestry can reasonably be seen as such; no person of Indigenous American (North or South) or Pacific Islander descent, nor any person of African or Caribbean ancestry; no Jews, Arabs, Turks, Persians, Afghans, Australian Aboriginals, Central Asians, Saami, Finns, Estonians, or their cousins, the Magyars (Hungarians) who even claim to “whiteness”. None warrant second (or lesser) class status.

There are other classes of people, sometimes regarded as children of a lesser god. People who are unable to walk, speak, hear, see, think clearly; men who are attracted to other men, women who are drawn to other women, people who are drawn to both sexes; people who have undergone gender transition, or who just like to wear the clothing of their opposite gender; people who are mentally ill; those who prefer to live in tents or those who feel the need to live in mansions; one-time law breakers who have served their time and are making a bona fide effort at living a righteous life; ectomorphs or endomorphs; conservatives, liberals, reactionaries or progressives; Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Wiccans, Sikhs, atheists, agnostics, Naturists, Baha’is; NONE of these deserve to be placed in the “also ran” category.

So, it appears that there is, in the end, no one who warrants less than first class status- in terms of citizenship and access to opportunity. We can’t all be financially wealthy or all be in charge of the community. We can’t all do the same work.

We do, however, deserve a shot at realizing our dreams.

The Tenth Anniversary Torrent

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August 11, 2021- The nimble little girl danced in the rain, barefoot, to the music inside her head, carefully prancing and pirouetting, along a fairly narrow wall between her alley and the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. S captured my heart several years ago, as a shy, grinning toddler, who proudly showed me how well she could ride her tricycle. She and her family are essential to our neighbourhood, alternately taking a leading role in keeping a sense of balance between an “Over 55” mentality and a street overrun with kids, and being, for a short period, the only child-centered family on the block. I don’t mind the street full of kids part at all, as that was the way it was in my childhood-we children were everywhere. I watched S dance, from my living room window, lest she had slipped and fallen-in which case, I’d have been across the street like a shot. Every child who lives in this block has my heart. As it is, they also have my admiration, especially when living out their dreams.

The afternoon had brought a torrent of rain, on top of yesterday’s deluge. As I watched the sheets of precipitation pour down, I was reminded that it was ten years ago, today, that I wrote my first post on Word Press, after my previous blogsite, Xanga, became monetized. There are people I miss from Xanga, that I have not heard from since 2011. There are also those who turned on me, some for good reason, and others in fits of pique. For the most part, I am still in contact, either here or via other social media, with the Xanga friends who have stuck by me.

Many other changes have enveloped me, in this past ten years. Rage stemming form personal affronts now seems cheap and a waste of energy. I no longer harbour thoughts of long-distance thru-hikes of the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trails, at least for the time being. There is simply too much to be done, with other people around, both here in Home Base and further afield. I am more contemplative, before speaking or acting. A Basal cell has been removed and my immune system has been largely built up.

is There are other ways in which life is the same. My best friends, locally, are for the most part almost a decade or more, younger than me. My contemporaries don’t understand me any better than they ever did. That’s fine; being someone who is humoured and sent on his way has been my lot, among my age-mates, for a very long time. The “kids”, from Gen X to the Alpha Generation, have come to know me better, as I worked with them day-to-day. I can talk with many of them for a long time, without their passing judgement or getting their socks in a knot over some real or imagined slight. There are exceptions, among the Baby Boomers-like my hiking buddy, but it is with those my junior that I am most in my element.

Ten year into Word Press, self-assuredness and recognition that I am a person of worth have grown-and all the journeys of mind and body have only gotten richer.

Tenderness

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August 9, 2021-

Tenderness, Mutual caring, Each for another.

The above is a Hay(na)ku- a 1-2-3 verse, containing six words, lined as shown.

I saw nothing but tenderness, yesterday, between the three girls and their Nanny. The kids looked after one another, and each other’s personal items. Ages six, seven and nine, they showed no jealousy or lack of understanding, when encouraging each other in their impromptu exercise routines. The woman, for her part, showed the girls the proper way to stretch and kept a light, but constant, vigilance, respecting both the girls’ emotional awareness and the nature of the group.

Tenderness comes a bit harder, when one is tasked with maintaining order in a larger group setting, with people who may not have experienced it very much, in their overall lives. Prisons, mental hospitals, residential schools, and overcrowded, underfunded day schools conjure the notion of ludicrosity, when tenderness is mentioned. It does indeed take a different form, but acknowledging another person’s pain has happened in settings as horrific as concentration camps and plantations of the enslaved.

Tenderness is a key to many things: Resilience, reconciliation, resolution of disputes and the recovery of communities, among them. It is not weakness, but it is the realization of a commitment to pay attention to the needs of others, on a level at which they are equal to oneself.

Musical Double Eights

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August 8, 2021- The three little girls methodically cleared all the pebbles from the piece of carpet on which they and their Nanny sat-and on which they wanted to show their tumbling skills. It was a fine bit of teamwork and an enjoyable sight for, as rudimentary as their forward and backward rolls, attempted somersaults and semi-cartwheels were-they showed a determination to build on their nimbleness.

I took in two somewhat different concerts, last night and this afternoon-in each case after a series of study sessions which took four hours. The faith-based discussions were necessary for our work to continue. The music was essential for the soul to want to keep on with this work. Melodious tunes, even vigourous Celtic and American folk tunes, help to focus the spirit, by soothing it. Brid Dower and the Big Fellas provided Gaelic reverie and lore, over two hours last night. It’s been awhile since I last heard live music at the Raven, and far longer since I heard anything Celtic, in a live setting. It was a blessed entry into 8 8 Lionsgate.

Today, after our study session finished, I napped-then went over to Becky Fest, a celebration of women in music, which I had attended for several years since moving to Prescott-except last year. There was plenty of room, and I brought my own chair, thus being able to find a nice shady spot, at which to listen to the vibrant ladies and a few male guitarists sing of all aspects of life-both joyful and full of pain. The little girls mentioned earlier were on the carpet in front of me and to the left of the stage area. One of them, I have known for three years, so it was especially important that I noticed every flip and flop. She was not hurt in the least, and it was a good backdrop to the pickin’ and singin’. ‘D’ was mainly concerned with one thing, in the end: When was I going to go up and visit her house again? That will depend on her ever-busy parents and their willingness to have visitors-nothing to do with COVID, they are highly intensive farmers and like to schedule any company.

Oh, to have a child’s simplicity again!

Firewalls

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August 7, 2021- A firewall guards me, from mayhem both inside and out .

The above verse is a Lune, or “American haiku”. I have thought of several firewalls, which keep my once fearful self in safety.

There is the firewall of respect. It extends to all life, to the healthy relationships people have with one another, to the sanctity of marriage, of parent and child bonds, and to the right of human beings to make their own choices. It also extends to the hope that this respect will be a two-way street-that parents will respect their children, even those in the womb; that children respect their parents and grandparents-as well as one another; that people respect those whose opinions differ from their own, while measuring their own opinions, so that the resulting actions don’t hurt others.

There is the firewall of unconditional love. It, too, extends to all life, and starts with my unconditional love for self, as a child of the Creator. It does not mean I will give someone everything that is requested-especially if I can see that such giving will weaken either me, or the recipient, or both of us. It means that I love each person, where he/she is now. It means I care equally for the people around the beloved, as they are essential to the loved one’s well-being.

There is the firewall of logic and reason. It is dependent on rest, on proactive health and on inner peace, so that the mindfulness which brings it to the fore can flow untrammeled. Logic and reason allow for flexibility, for movement through changing circumstances. They allow for a climate of peace.

There is the firewall of obedience to natural law. It forewarns me of consequences for acting on untoward thoughts and makes me learn from my mistakes. It shows how to get through unexpected turns of events and how to plan for the next time a calamity may strike.

Firewalls have, all in all, kept me on track for what I must do in the short term, and how I might plan for further out. They also remind me that what I did wrongfully, in the past, simply present lessons, from which hopefully I will have learned.

Odds and Ends

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August 5, 2021- August, around here, is both the hottest month of the year-and the month when evenings start to get cooler-at least, after the 15th, or so. Today is a bit on the stifling side, with a fair debate between the National Weather Service and more independent climatologists, as to whether we will get rain again tomorrow, or have to wait until next week. NWS’ default prognosis for our area is always “Mostly Sunny”-which is right, about 60% of the time. The monsoon, thus far, has been a lot more active than NWS predicted, so we’re not badly off.

I will talk more about life with Delta, tomorrow. I haven’t had the boomerang disease, yet, and am fully-vaccinated, so masks are still clean and handy, but not needed all that often. I read a fair amount about kids of friends having COVID, and being kids, after 4 hours of sleep-are ready for a day of fun and games. I miss the days of being on autopilot, NOT!!

I had Elantra serviced once more, after the journey back from New England. In 2022, she will have one long drive ahead-late February to mid-March, across the South. The May & June sojourn to the Northwest, Canada and northern tier of states will be a hybrid train and rental car workout. The Grizzled Gray One will get ample rest, here at Home Base.

For some reason, as I watch the Day Care van pull up, three houses south, I was reminded of the time that, as I was coming back from an errand, late one afternoon in May, a man who seemed to be impaired was crossing the street and stopping in the middle, trying to figure out which way he wanted to walk. Up behind me comes the Day Care van, with a little boy looking like he was doing the potty dance, in the second row of seats, for which the driver passed me on my left, even though this is a two-lane road and my left turn signal was on. Pedestrian was all the more confused, and started doing his own dance, in the middle of the street-looking at me and grinning. Once van had passed, and pedestrian had figured out where the curb was, my sense of “Don’t mind me, I just live here” also went away and I pulled into the driveway.

One can never be too sure of routines staying routine.

Fealty

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August 4, 2021– This is a Kimo, a verse with three lines: Ten syllables on the first line, seven on the second, and six on the third. The subject is jealousy-which is a perversion of fealty, or legitimate loyalty.

A seemingly helpless woman trembles,

as she realizes the truth,

that man is free to roam.

So many people live their lives through other people, rather than alongside them. So many friendships are based on quae pro quibus (archaically, that is more than one quid pro quo), and failure to do as someone says often leads to a rupture in a friendship.

My own friendships, at least those that are authentic, and not based on conditions of commerce, obedience or being in one place as opposed to another, have lasted well beyond the time when I first met the person. I am loyal to my family and friends, and will make every effort to help those who help themselves. No one will lay an unkind hand on any family member (close or extended) or any friend, without my standing up for the affronted one.

Our collective loyalty to one another is the next level of this process. I watched an episode of the Amazon Prime series, Peaky Blinders, in which two gangs of men were squared off, ready to fire on one another-when the wife of one and sister to several other members of the titular group pushed her way through their rivals, with her baby son in a carriage, and stood in the middle of the groups-informing them that she stood to lose her husband and brothers-and asking who stood to lose their men, on the other side? She told them she and her son weren’t leaving. Although one man on each side ended up dying, the groups then dispersed.

Loyalty to mankind as a species means, in my view, that there is on co-dependence, no false litmus test that measures fealty to one person or a small group of people, and no jealousy when it happens to be the turn of another person for a friend’s attention.