Fluidity

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April 10, 2021- In the past five years or so, I have found myself establishing one after another of close friendships with women of maturity. These have been what I regard as fraternal-sororal, with no hidden agenda on either side.

That this could change, over time, is not lost on me, but the sense that I have now is that my friendships remain fluid. I am happy with the state of each friendship, and that I am doing for each person what she needs from a true friend. Male/female friendships thrive best, when there is a clear and present understanding between both, as to what each other’s needs and expectations are. That makes them no different than fraternal or sororal friendships between those of the same sex.

My life, like those of most others, is also fluid right now, with the status of many societies around the world remaining upended by COVID19 and the various degrees to which each society is responding to the disease. We’re doing better here, and several states are making progress, as well. So, as life slowly and steadily develops a post-pandemic regimen-not necessarily a return to the “good old days” (which weren’t all that great), I am keeping my face masks at the ready (still required for work and some shopping), still offering physical distance from those whose body language seems to want it, and keeping my six-month plan for the first half of 2021 mostly focused on Arizona and the Southwest-with tentative second-half plans for further afield.

Fluidity remains the best policy.

The Power of Observation

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April 8, 2021- When I was about nine years old, I climbed up into a tree across the street from my house. One of my afflictions, over the years, has been getting so deeply into my own thoughts that occasionally I would imagine myself in conversation with others. Yes, that is one of the bigger drawbacks of autism. Unbeknownst to me, another neighbourhood boy was higher up in the tree, for whatever reason, and sat silently, watching my fantasy conversation. It was a shock to me, at the time, that someone I had known for four years would amuse himself, climbing down the tree and gleefully saying I’d been caught.

No matter where I’ve been, these many years, and noticing others- perhaps on the job, like the plainclothes cop who would sit in his car, in the outer edges of the parking lot at the grocery store where I once worked or the random individuals I have encountered, deep in the woods, some sitting and meditating-others taking photos of people on the trail, it strikes me very intensely that we are ever monitoring one another.

I have been more present and focused, as the years have rolled on-and haven’t been nearly as off-track, even when completely alone. Certainly, being a husband, parent and school official, responsible for the well-being of vulnerable people, has brought the necessity of such focus vividly home.

If nothing else, one accomplishes more, when in touch with physical reality. Friendships are also deeper, both when one is being observed and is being observant. This all may seem self-evident to the neurotypical, but it is quite striking to someone like me.

The Reluctant Conspirator

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April 7, 2021- I have been given a strange and whimsical mantle: Conspirator. This came this morning, after expressing my humble opinion that, after death, one enters a different state of being. One of the others in the coffee house stated, matter-of-factly, that our afterlife is another shot at being human, on planet Earth, and that any argument to the contrary is an attempt to rid us of our earthly freedom. To that individual, there is nothing else in the Universe, but the creatures of Earth. I am, therefore, trying to obfuscate and distract freedom-loving Americans.

Hmmm. Perhaps next will come the claim that non-English speakers are destined to be reincarnated-as English-speaking Americans. We have gone half circle, it seems-as there was once a time when belief in reincarnation was anathema to political conservatives. At any rate, once the honour of being a conspirator was foisted upon me, I did what any craven oppressor would do- quietly went back to my crossword puzzle and half-empty cup of joe.

The ruckus continued, across the room, as the ruffled feathers continued to rant-about everything from chemtrails to The Virus. I’d like there to be a good deal less air pollution, and IF there is spray being sent us, to dumb down the masses, or IF the virus and its attendant vaccines are part of the Master Plan, well I’m opposed to such deviousness, in all its forms.

We are, however, put here to develop our spiritual qualities-not to hand off responsibility for our growth to someone else, either by giving it over, or by blamecasting. If any of the conspiracy theories are proven true, I will resist control from above. Come to think of it, I will resist control from any direction. I was given a brain for a reason.

Alpha/Omega

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April 2, 2021- Every so often, I get a reminder about the commitment that I, as “an American of some affluence”, must have towards the poor of other parts of the world. It usually comes in the form of a veiled demand, but is at least offered with good wishes for my health and well-being. That stands to reason, as a sick person would hardly be able to offer anything to others.

My dealings with people who primarily view the world through a transactional lens are, of necessity, getting more and more limited. Even among those businesses I frequent, I regard the people therein as friends first, and means to an end second. One example is a local family restaurant, Zeke’s, where I sit at the counter, gab with the wait staff and other patrons, and comment freely on goings on. The same is true of Rafter Eleven, Synergy and, to a lesser extent, The Raven Cafe. It is increasingly true in the schools where I am taking on special assignments until the end of May.

My circle of friends trends larger these days, even with-and in some cases because of-virtual connections. The first and last, alpha/omega if you will, is compassion based on love. Those whose primary focus is transactional have a hard time seeing this-and there was a time when part of me was there. Much of my standoffishness had to do with lack of self-confidence, and a degree of self-loathing, as if I were not “good enough” for others. I suspect that is true of those who behave in this manner now. More’s the pity.

There is, to a good extent, the notion that failure to thrive is a Catch 22, a vicious circle. That realization came to me, about four months after I met Penny, back in 1981. Gradually, over several decades, the self-doubt has fallen away-so that even in the most harrowing of circumstances, the faint light has been in view.

I thought of this today, as the Mystery of Alpha/Omega from 33 A.D.: The Passion of Jesus the Christ, plays out in the minds and hearts of millions across the planet. His basis for everything was compassion, rooted in love.

Godot, and Other No-Shows

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March 30, 2021– Today was spent supervising high school students in Online Learning. The students are, in the words of David Bowie, “quite aware of what they are going through”, and stuck to the tasks at hand, which have the common goal of recovering academic credit. There was just one hitch, the Internet was down, for at least part of the day, leaving most of the students in two class periods to use their cellular hotspots.

While this ingenuity played out, I was reminded of the Samuel Beckett play, “Waiting for Godot”. Those who are familiar with the play know that Godot, whoever he is, sends a messenger to announce his non-appearance, a day in advance, but never does show up himself. The main characters, Vladimir and Estragon, continue waiting for him, nonetheless.

The students in the latter three classes were able to pursue their work, without resorting to personal devices alone, as the Internet, unlike Godot, made good on its appearance. There were, most likely, a few no-shows among the student populace. There always are.

I have experienced a fair number of absentees, over the years. Usually, when I’ve been patient, the person shows up, eventually, and has a credible story to tell. Sometimes it pans out and sometimes, it doesn’t. Each time, though, my only thought has been: “Make sure you are not following their example.” My parents were always true to their word-Mom still is. The people who matter most in my life are similarly trustworthy.

While being all things to all people is a mathematical and practical impossibility, I would hope that reducing absenteeism, and broken promises, becomes a more widespread goal.

The Single Story Myth

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March 28, 2021- Chimamanda Ngosi Adichie, a Nigerian writer, poses some interesting points in a talk she gave on the TED Network. The notion that so many form their opinions of others, both individuals and groups, based on a single thread of information, bears careful thought. Ms. Adichie gives the examples of 1. How many people in North America refer to Africa as a country, and have the image of half-clad, uneducated people, who are uniformly engaged in endless civil wars. 2. How many Africans imagine Americans to be uniformly living lives of prosperity.

While there is some truth to a single story, as Ms. Adichie points out, it is seldom, if ever, the ONLY story about a person, group, nation, or continent. Baha’u’llah teaches us, and science corroborates, that every created thing, from an atom or molecule to the largest animal and tallest tree, is unique from every other of its kind. We recognize that no two grains of sand, or no two snowflakes, are alike. How much more is each strand of DNA, each virus, amoeba, frog, blue jay, spotted hyena, hyacinth, orca, or Douglas fir different from every other of its kind.

Further, how complex is each created thing, within itself! Every human being, therefore, is more than the sum of his/her parts. We each have more than one story, which is one reason why individuals who try to judge one another, always fall short in their estimation. I am not the same person who drove others to distraction, in times past, or even not so many years ago. Neither are you. While one has to make amends for transgressions and missteps, these ought not confine the person who has committed them. This goes double for groups of people.

Let us, therefore, give pause to the preservation of prejudices, either towards individuals or towards groups. Let us learn as many of each others’ stories as we can.

The Unlocked Power

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March 26, 2021- There is an emerging sense of self, when a person turns eight. Individual responsibility has already become expected, a year earlier, and for those who can make sense of toeing the line, that sense of responsibility takes root. It is the full personality, however, that starts to shine, as one enters the ninth year of this life.

As with all new realizations, it takes time to be comfortable with the individual quirks and aspects of one’s personality. Like a sapling in a storm, a newly-emerging personality can be all too easily knocked over by unexpected or intense criticism, by reversals of fortune or just by one’s gnawing self-doubt-which is all too common, even in the child who is receiving a healthy amount of love from parents, family members and adults in school, as well as in the wider community.

It is all too real, for a child to be just lonely enough, that the power which comes with personality’s emergence goes unrecognized, buried by the growing conformity that is expected. That’s a shame, as to my mind, a community and a society can only be made more robust by the recognition and nurturing of an individual’s strengths.

I had the bounty of being able to hone in on the strengths of twenty four eight and nine-year-olds today. Granted, their socialization was such that the conformity, necessary to get a goodly amount of work accomplished, had already been established. It is not stifling, however, and the unearthing of individual power is something that would not be very difficult to bring about. The biggest impetus to such self-realization would be for the child to be enveloped by adults who are themselves not hobbled by their own powers being locked.

My energy will be ever directed towards these wondrous souls.

The Sometimes Pesky Extra Mile

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March 25, 2021-

To go north in the dark, and wait for the door to unlock, at the behest of a detached bureaucrat, has never been my wont.

On the other hand, knowing small children are waiting even in relative comfort, for direction and explanations, is enough to get me on the road, even at 3 a.m.

To stay behind and arrange a room, so that the next day will see people enter and feel welcome, appreciated, is worth all the time in the world, even if it is initiated by a timekeeper.

May the extra mile be filled with blessings for those whose tender souls rise each day, expectantly.

May it never find itself the tool of self-aggrandizement or a neurotic means to power.

The Pain Next Door

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March 21, 2021- I happened by two very different friends’ shops, last night. One, which features coffee, wine, olive oil and balsamics, with a small sampling of fresh-baked breads and scones, had a musical trio playing for a couple of hours. I have been a friend to the owner and her family, for about five years. In the course of our conversation, the topic of inflation and its effect on small businesses, arose. There are the obvious concerns that would need to be considered: Wage increases, rental costs, insurance premiums, maintenance of facilities and equipment, pricing, housing and transportation-for both the owners and employees. There are as yet unseen factors, such as the cost of keeping up with business-related technology and of environmental events, which will impact the enterprise.

The second place I visited is a vegetarian/vegan coffee, tea and chocolate cafe, which also offers CBD Oil, herbs and medicinal compounds. It is a hangout for musicians who like to jam, on Saturday nights. I brought my hand drum and a couple of rattles, and joined a small group of guitar players, flautists and a didgeridoo master. As the manager was solo, behind the counter, a couple of us pitched in and helped clean some drinking vessels and steamers. The owner of this enterprise is less concerned about inflation, which she approaches by keeping a communal mindset, with regard to staffing, maintenance and supply chain. The “tribe” man the counter (for reasonable wages, of course), help keep equipment in working order and grow much of what goes into the cafe’s fare.

There are similarities and differences, in the realities faced by both owners. Both are single adults, who recently lost their life partners. Both have a strong work ethic and a sense of entrepreneurship. Both are what may be called “Compassionate Conservative”, with a strong sense of tradition and self-reliance. The main difference lies in their view of community. One has a strong circle of friends, who keep her buoyant, and know that she has a solid commitment to their well-being, as they do to hers. The other has the potential for growing into a similar place, but has been a bit more sheltered, and is still honing her sense of trust, as well as being in a newer community, which is itself still evolving.

I began to feel the pain of the latter friend, and while not being in a place to offer long-term, day-to-day assistance, in resolving her difficulties, I will at least lend a shoulder and pair of hands to help her get organized for the challenges that are anticipated.

Each of us encounters the pain next door, in some form or another. As one who has often lived in “islander” status, during this pandemic year, I can see, going forward, that being hands on, in helping to relieve at least some of that pain, is the only recourse.

Regeneration and Reaping

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March 20, 2021-So many times, I have been knocked down and gotten back up-sometimes right away, other times after a fashion. It is a solace that I am far from unique, in that respect. Mohandas Gandhi was knocked down, by a South African policeman, at least half a dozen times, and simply got up-not to attack the officer, but to move along, independently of what anyone in authority thought. The Civil Rights crusaders of the Twentieth Century moved through targeted assassinations, betrayals and studied indifference, to build the framework that has so changed at least the trajectory of social discourse, to an elevated place where hatred is rightly seen as the fruit of ignorance and psychological instability.

My own struggles pale in comparison to those faced by so many, across the globe. The best of those, especially the indigenous people in so many countries, have withstood centuries of degradation, squalour and deprivation of human dignity-only to spring up anew, and lend their life learning to the betterment of some of the very people who oppressed them. I have learned far more from the First Nations peoples of North America than I ever imparted to their children. African-Americans have imparted a goodly amount of common sense solutions and the importance of maintaining presence, which have gone a long way towards bringing my often convoluted thinking processes in line with what is needed on the ground floor.

South of the Equator, people are getting ready to reap what they have cultivated over the past year- both in terms of agriculture and social action. We, who are north of the Earth’s midsection, are preparing our soil and our societies for another season of productivity. Will we struggle aimlessly, or keep our focus on what will bring relief and power to all concerned?