Home Is Fluid

6

September 17, 2019-

“Well help me figure this place out.  I know I’m an outsider, but I’m not an enemy.” “No, you’re not.  But in this town those two words mean the same thing.”                     – Toni Morrison, “Paradise”

So, I was part of an interview, this morning, promoting a Home Safety event, sponsored by the American Red Cross, and to be held this coming Saturday.  Inside that little room, among friends, I felt like somebody, safe and honoured.  The interview went well, and I felt secure in sharing it on social media, once back in my apartment.

Walking from the studio to Ms. Natural’s, I crossed the Courthouse Plaza, normally a neutral place, where all are welcome, at least officially. Today, I had to pass by those who glared at me in my Red Cross shirt and ball cap; pass by the well-to-do, who look down at anyone not dressed for business.  It’s never pleasant dealing with the Self-Perceived Originals, in any community.

It was much different at Ms. Natural’s, as it always is.  Claudia and the young ladies are not from here, either, and know some of what gets thrown around, by some of the Pioneer Families and the faux elite.  I am at home there.  Sharlot Hall, one of the original pioneers, for whom Prescott’s Historical Museum is named, would spin in her grave  at the pretense and the snobbery.

No matter; I am here to serve those who need it and just have to put my lingering Impostor Syndrome and refugee mentality aside.  The people who accept me, and take me into their circle, are also from somewhere else.  These are the ones who matter.  They are the ones who make it all worthwhile. Home, for me, is a fluid term.

 

 

True Beauty

2

September 16, 2019-

Ric Ocasek died yesterday, peacefully in his sleep.  He and his band, The Cars, rekindled my interest in rock music, in 1978, after it had been rather put to sleep by the glam rock and proto-disco tunes of the mid-1970’s.  Ric was sometimes called “ungainly”, by certain wags.  He did, however, have a magnetism that drew women-most notably his wife of 29 years, Paulina Porizkova.  To her, he had true beauty, and that is what mattered most.

True beauty transcends gender, species and even Kingdom.  It can only emanate from the soul, through the spirit and be reflected by the body- in terms of actions, expressiveness and outward reflection of spiritual qualities.  A person with the plainest of countenances and the frumpiest of figures can be a human Hope Diamond.

Having only recently completely cast off the social baggage that comes with being raised in a society stoked on appearance, I find the appreciation of each human being, and each daily set of experiences, a liberating renewal of spirit.  In the course of transformation, it’s helped to encounter comely women who have turned out to have dark spirits, plain ladies with hearts of gold, men of saintly mien and plenty of people who have both physical and spiritual beauty-putting the latter kind of beauty first.

This gives me a sense of wonder, at all that lies ahead.

A Sense of the Present Mood

6

September 14, 2019-

I went over to Farmers’ Market, this morning, and found more of a subdued mood.  I’m not sure what is going on, but I basically bought what  I was planning to get, and did not get into any conversations-even normally friendly people were very much into themselves.  A harpist, who was playing as a featured musician, was emotionally very distant from  any of the people walking by.  I liked her music, and left a tip, as usual, but with no acknowledgement.

There was quite a bit more animation at Prescott Stand Down, our annual distribution of clothing and outdoor equipment to veterans who are in varying degrees of homelessness.  It is indicative of our community’s positive outlook towards the homeless, that a dedicated park for their feeding and recreation has been established through a partnership of community agencies and the Hilton Corporation, after the latter took out a long-term lease on city property that had been the site of a squatters’ camp.  The displaced can now at least get a meal on Saturday (typically an off-day for other groups that feed during the week or on Sundays.  There are also maintained toilets and paths for walking.

At my last meeting of the day, planning Hope Fest, which takes place two weeks from today, an offhand remark was made about how girls do well to be a bit sassy.  I believe that speaking up for oneself is a very basic skill, that ALL children should be taught.  My young charge of yesterday has been so taught.   So are several children who were present at this planning meeting.  They will be higher-functioning adults, as a result.

What happens when a child is oppressed and battered, on the other hand, has been chillingly borne out by the behaviour of a  person whom I tried to help, last Fall, only to to encounter resistance and personal attacks.  This same one has tried to get me to resume contact.  The old saw- “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me,” comes into play.  The needs of such a person go far beyond what one individual can provide.  I leave that matter to  the wider community.

On the other hand, working with organized groups remains a source of fulfillment.  I don’t regard being part of a team as either an act of cowardice or an attempt to dodge personal responsibility, as a few have suggested, elsewhere.  There are simply a good many social tasks, even involving one troubled individual, which cannot be done well by a person acting alone.  I have lost  a few friends over the above-mentioned issue, but my take remains as described here.

 

Full Moon Thirteenth

7

September 13, 2019-

Some topsy turvy day, this.

The work day was filled with

love and laughter.

Children with Downs syndrome

bring this about.

A crowded room,

at a ribbon cutting,

with children running about,

fully in joy and exuberance,

was better than any nap.

Another request for assistance,

from one of the most vicious people

I’ve ever known,

popped the balloon of joy.

It’s what that dark spirit does.

Am I a lesser soul,

for not putting myself at her disposal?

Prayers and chanting brought me back

to a place of light.

The power and fortitude of youth

imparts strength to those who

may be worn down, just a bit.

All in all, this Full Moon

Friday the Thirteenth

ended on a bright note.

Thus Mom Still Says

8

September 10, 2019-

Mom turned ninety-one, and doesn’t care who knows it.  She’s earned the right to think, do and eat whatever she wants.  That’s my opinion, anyway.  In our conversation, this morning, she gave me two thumbs up, for taking the joyful, positive view of life, which is mine, most of the time.  She expects me to keep on caring for myself, not depending on anyone else-for which I’m grateful.  My mother has lost none of her fire and spunk.

I woke this morning, to a report that a 13-year-old girl was sent home for wearing one comfortable outfit that was deemed “distracting for boys” ( I saw the outfit, and as a former school administrator, who held the line against bare midriffs and mid-thigh shorts, I think it was overkill, on the part of the school).  Her father brought a second outfit, which the Principal also found objectionable.  He took his daughter home, then launched a campaign to revisit the dress code.  Good for him; there are many men who still don’t take enough interest in the healthy self-concept of their children, especially of their daughters.

Body shaming has been with us for a long time-both against people of size and of slenderness.  Children are also sexualized, far too soon and far too often.  The father, in this case, pointed out that his child doesn’t flirt with her male classmates; she just wants to be a kid, and be comfortable, in 90-degree heat.  I heartily agree, as does my mother, who raised us boys to not dwell on a girl’s, or woman’s, physical attributes-one way or another.  My sister was always held in high regard, and was taught to think well of herself.  She has passed that on to her own daughters, and granddaughters.

I took a healthy lunch, this noon, at a local cafe (Ms. Natural’s) that thrives on its salubrious menu.  I was one of two men in the place, which was packed with mostly young women, all of whom take care of themselves and carry themselves with dignity and grace.  This is what I wish, for everyone, especially for those who have been kept in a dark emotional space, for far too long.

Mom wants that, also.  I hope she’s around, to reiterate the point, for several years to come.

Back to Harmony

6

September 8, 2019-

Yesterday, I let the sour mood pass through. I think it was a reaction to the falling barometer.  We got about 1.3 inches of rain, in this neighbourhood and in points east.  A trip to the laundromat, on the northwest side of town, revealed continued “dry as a bone” conditions. Whilst at Farmers’ Market, I learned, from a vendor, who is a mutual acquaintance, that an erstwhile tormentor had found some peace in her life.  That is comforting, as unhurt people are less likely to hurt people. As the day wore on, and the rain had passed, I felt more in tune.  Spiritual Feast, in the evening, was vibrant and well-attended, another uplift.

Today has seen a nice breakfast at Post 6 come and go.  Now the long and celebratory Farm-to-Table Dinner will occupy my afternoon and evening.  This is one of four large social events of the Autumn-three of them this month and the last, on November 2, which will keep me connected to the community and offer a form of activity, in addition to Planet Fitness and whatever hiking I do, here and elsewhere in the Southwest.  Service projects, other than the above, will also be performed, through the Red Cross.  Home safety, simply put, is our major focus, in areas at risk for wildfire.

The message comes to me that disharmony is, largely, actually a product of not being in sync with the community.  Letting other people’s pain affect my own self-concept is a disservice, to them and to myself.  So, back to a state of balance I go.

Today will make many people happy.

Lack of Imposture

17

September 4, 2019-

Every so often, when I get in a situation where it seems my presence isn’t wanted, the default status, known as Impostor Syndrome, jumps out and tries to say “Boo”.

I feel this, particularly when I go into a business establishment and am either given a pro-forma greeting, followed by a brush-off, or am treated rudely by one or more staff.  Then, there are those who cannot maintain eye contact for more than a minute or so.

In the old days, I’d figure I just wasn’t worth it.  Other people were okay, but I was a different matter.  This didn’t so much impact my casual friendships, but it did affect everything from my dating to employment interviews.

Experiences were thus limited and my own confidence had to start from the ground and work up.   Time in the Army helped-as I was responsible for accountable mail.  Time in college, afterward, wasn’t so beneficial, in terms of self-confidence, nor was the first part of my educational career.  It took marriage, the Baha’i Faith and time among Native Americans to build a solid foundation.  Still, I had trouble whenever I dealt with mainstream society.

Having to be on my own, since 2011, has erased most of this sense of imposture.  It started to come back, last Fall, when I was challenged by someone, as to my very basic level of competence.  I made it past that hurdle, only to have self-doubt re-surface, over the past  week.

So, it became needful to spend much of this day in reflection.  Some conclusions:  It is NOT my fault that the bar manager at a local restaurant was in a bad mood and avoided dealing with anyone dining at the bar, and not imbibing alcoholic beverages.  It is not my fault that a vendor at Farmer’s Market would prefer I not stop at her stand, and take her attention away from older women, who may or may not purchase items.  It is not my fault that a Hispanic waitress at a downtown diner prefers to not serve or interact with English-speaking patrons.

I will do what I can to accommodate these people, and others like them, but I will not, any longer, absorb a sense of imposture or unworthiness, into myself.

Inside and Out

6

September 3, 2019-

I stopped, briefly, at the new location of SunFlour Shops, about four doors down from the former SunFlour Market.  My purpose was to deliver a bouquet of sunflowers, on the occasion of the store’s Grand Opening.  This, I did, and was treated to a fine cup of coffee, whilst the owner hobnobbed with the people who will make up her primary customer base.

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The store is more focused on dry goods than its predecessor, although her fresh-baked pastries are still featured, along with espresso and other coffee drinks.

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As a result, seating is less of a priority, at this point. There is, however, a huge patio, which will be amenable to visitors tarrying, in a month or so, when the heat subsides.

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The storefront is not signed, as yet, but I knew the location from the window decorations.

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My time there was limited by two things:  I wasn’t entirely welcome in the shop and there was a meeting of the Prescott Red Cross Chapter, where I was welcome and where my input on a few things was needed.  After being asked if I needed anything else, I left Superior quietly and headed back  to Home Base, getting to the Red Cross office, in time for a barbecue and the brief meeting.

The two situations are a snapshot of my relations with groups.  There have been, historically, few groups where I have been “on the inside”.  The old SunFlour was one of those.  The Red Cross Chapter has evolved into such a place.  My last fulltime place of employment was, as well, until newcomers decided I was not ” a good fit”.

These situations are always fluid, given the vagaries of human nature. So, I’ve learned where, with whom, and how much time, I should focus.  It’s no surprise that some parts of southern California, the Midwest and South are always places of refuge.  The area of my childhood and youth will remain welcoming, also.  Wherever my little family is, likewise, will be home.  Prescott, and a few other places in Arizona, are ever home.

Maybe it’s more because of my more globally-focused nature, that I am more of an outsider.  It’s not something that hurts all that much, though running into closed groups is always a challenge.

 

On Justice

4

September 1, 2019-

“O SON OF SPIRIT! The best beloved of all things in My sight is Justice; turn not away therefrom if thou desirest Me, and neglect it not that I may confide in thee. By its aid thou shalt see with thine own eyes and not through the eyes of others, and shalt know of thine own knowledge and not through the knowledge of thy neighbor. Ponder this in thy heart; how it behooveth thee to be. Verily justice is My gift to thee and the sign of My loving-kindness. Set it then before thine eyes.”- Baha’u’llah

I spent much of the day today, pondering the operational definition of justice.  Baha’u’llah is writing about Divine Justice, which takes into consideration all sides of an issue, instantaneously.

That, of course, is something that takes a lot longer for us mortals.  We have different ideas, based on the particular doctrine or interpretation of Scripture, as to what Divine Justice even means.  How much more does the meaning of everyday justice find wildly different viewpoints, largely dependent on one’s life experiences and view of the world.

What triggered this was my having been followed, closely, by another motorist this afternoon, whilst running some errands downtown.  Traffic was unusually heavy for a Sunday, and Driver A was on the verge of road rage, over the spillover effect of traffic bunched up, through two lights.  I, being immediately in front of him, caught a long horn blast, two seconds after the light had turned green and whilst I was waiting to turn left.  Prescott’s left turn arrows are few and far between, so I had to wait for oncoming traffic to pass, which infuriated him even more.  He followed me to my next left turn, then leaned on the horn again, when I was waiting for yet another care to pass straight ahead. Then, he decided to go straight himself, and the air was peaceful once more.

Which was the justice, and for whom?  I grew up with my Dad, some uncles and my driving instructor telling me that there is seldom a black and white, when it comes to traffic.  The seemingly brash and rude driver gets his/her attitude from somewhere-ranging from an inbred sense of entitlement (actually quite rare, even today) to a very real amount of pressure-from a spouse, from an employer or client, from a participant in our appointment-driven society or from society-at-large.  The people going straight were going by a centuries-old, universally-accepted tradition of traffic flow, as was yours truly.  The belligerent Driver A was just pushing an envelope, which the rest of us could not fathom.

Justice, then, can’t immediately be understood by one and all.  It takes what my mother instilled in us: The pondering of other people’s circumstances and, to a point, willingness to make adjustments to our own behaviour.  I thought of this point as well, after a local resident was beaten by a man who demanded she give him cash or phone cards.  The case is winding its way through the justice system, and has made its way to social media.  As these two elements of modern life are frequently at odds, you can imagine the status of the investigation.  Everything, from women’s rights to fair treatment of the homeless, factors into such a case.

As we move forward, perhaps seeing justice for what it really is, the end product of love, would be a good place to start.

Dribs and Drabs

9

August 29, 2019-

It’s been a fine week, so far.  I just feel like making a few random observations, today.

The National Weather Service has one forecast for Prescott, from now til October:  Sunny and warm.  The skies, though, have their own ideas.  One area, or another, of Yavapai County has had a fairly good soaking, the past few days.  This is what is most likely to continue.

A few shout-outs to local residents:

My Red Cross volunteer partner, Jenn Winters-Ashcraft, has largely been the force behind our finally canvassing homes in western Yavapai, for working smoke alarms. This endeavour will compete with substituting, on my own schedule.  Money aside, it’s academic (no pun intended) as to which is more important for our community.

Mr. Matt Williams is spearheading the clean-up of an abandoned homeless encampment along Prescott’s main waterway, Granite Creek.  Yours truly is part of that, as well.

The Boars Head girl, at Sprouts, offered us kids a fine deal on cold cuts & cheese, so I have had four days’ lunches all covered, for a reasonable price.

A variety of workers, across business fields, are holding down the fort in this season of high heat, for their less heat-tolerant colleagues.  I have seen this in at least a dozen places, this week.

When someone is uncomfortable in another person’s presence, it falls to that other person to give the uneasy one some space.

The Epstein Horror Project is finished, kaput-but the victims will long need the support of every decent human being.

The Amazon Basin Horror Project, it seems, is just getting started.  Sorry, but there is no comparison between the willful decimation of a global resource and the accidental spark that set Notre Dame Cathedral alight.  The very farmers being sent to do this dirty work are bound to be among its first victims.

I look forward to a weekend of celebration. God bless the workers whose efforts are tantamount to acts of worship.

Summer is almost, “officially”, over.  Friends, don’t worry about wearing white after Monday.  We have at least three weeks of heat left.