The Road to Diamond, Day 124: Judgment

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April 1, 2025- I received three unrelated photos from a friend, this evening. There is no context and no explanation; just a puzzle. Maybe that is this person’s idea of an April Fool’s joke. In any case, I pass no judgment on them. They were nice photos, in any case.

People spent the day sending one another outlandish, ludicrous stories. Those who are aware of what day this is, responded with outlandish yarns of their own. It was a good day for such things. Even the stock market told itself everything is pretty much okay. No judgment there; I’ll take the small gains.

There are some judgments that do irk me: The woman with the perfect life, who looks down on mothers with problems; conversely, the “free spirit”, who finds fault with the counterpart who has tied self to a more conventional life; finally, the above-board thug, who makes others toe an untenable line, knowing that when things fall apart, it’ll be the little guys who take the full heat.

Life can be hard. I see those who are struggling, and having been there, I know there is only one way to make things right: Ask how I can be of help, without adding fuel to the guilt fire or toxic liquid to the gallon jug. Expect the person to do something for self, but don’t just sit and watch the writhing, the shaking, the wailing. Know that it is always about more than money, or thoughts and prayers. It is always about heart and soul.

The Road to Diamond, Day 123: Listener

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March 31, 2025- “You are a good listener”, the slow-eating, but very intense gentleman said, after telling me of his experiences with others of my generation. He values the sanctity of his person, and does not like to be touched by strangers. I understand him, being on a milder place on the same autism spectrum than that which he occupies. He thinks at a higher level than many, and has two Master’s Degrees to show for it. I understand him, because Penny was at that same intellectual level. I understand him, also because so many of my students, in later years especially, were those who did not like physical contact.

Yes, my listening skills have vastly improved since the time of my wedding, in 1982. They have gone up, as the level of self-absorption has gone down. It is hard to live in a bubble and be a good listener. It is also lonelier in a bubble, and so I upped my listening game, and became the happier for it. Working as a counselor helped in that regard. One cannot counsel and live in a bubble. One cannot counsel effectively and hold onto outmoded concepts of hierarchy and discipline. A hard taskmaster does not often listen well, having all the answers-in own mind.

Working with the homeless is just one of the tools that has honed my listening skills. Spending quality time with both liberals and conservatives impels careful listening; discernment. Doing a variety of activities, broadening thinking, cements the concepts of which I hear. Then, too, I listen to my own inner voice, and to the spirit guides who tell me things in the quiet “alone hours”.

I am delighted to be viewed as a listener. It shows that there is a need for my presence.

The Road to Diamond, Day 121: King Lear, et al.

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March 29, 2025- The rowdy group of revelers burst into the theater-in-the-round, the jester carrying his king on his back, whilst the merry palace guardsmen jump about, yelling “Ha! Ho!”. The scene reminded me, for all the world, of a few such episodes of the last Presidential campaign, though no one would ferret our current Chief Executive on his back.

Basin Lake Theater Project is a new troupe in Prescott, whose maiden performance came tonight, at the newly re-opened Cosmos Theater. King Lear, their first effort, touched all the bases: The conniving of his two older daughters, Goneril and Regan; the plotting of their spouses, the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall, respectively; the plain-spoken sincerity of his youngest daughter, Cordelia; Lear’s deep insecurity, which led him to embrace the plotters’ expressions of fealty and reject Cordelia for her honesty; the unbroken loyalty of the Earl of Gloucester, his aide-de-camp; the ill-concealed ambition of Gloucester’s bastard son, Edmund, contrasting with the filial piety of his high-born son, Edgar. Most of all, Frank Malle, as Lear, nailed the sovereign’s bursts of rage and his descent into madness.

I sat spellbound through the two halves of the play, and found myself thinking afterward, “Are there truly parallels between the fictional Lear, a tenth-century King of Britain, and the sitting President of the United States-or, for that matter, his immediate predecessor?” There is no obvious insanity, in our current leadership, yet we are in a period in which rulers have been exhibiting a thin skin, and not just in the United States of America. There is a naked ambition, on the part of several of the presidential advisors, both in and out of government. Some members of the presidential family seek more leverage, though unlike the Family Lear (ostensibly members of House Plantagenet), there is no obvious rivalry between the children, nor does the president show favouritism for one over the others. Lear does go off on tangents, talking about the horns of snails and the cultivation of oysters, much as Trump talks about birds and whales. The above-mentioned scene evoked the impromptu dancing that Trump has done, either solo or accompanied by random visiting athletes.

All these instances, though, are not connected to actions of substance, in and of themselves. Lear does not seem to have any connection to his subjects, outside of the court itself and a small number of hangers-on. Trump regularly connects with at least his most fervent supporters, outside of Official Washington, as did Biden. That may neutralize any ambition among his inner circle, providing an unlikely safeguard for our republic, in the long run. While some of his Cabinet may invite parallels to Lear’s Fool, there is yet no one who can get away with criticizing the President-at least not openly, as the Fool does with Lear.

In the long run, it is never in the interests of a people to have their ruler descend into madness. In my lifetime, we have seen what happened in the Soviet Union, when Stalin lost his grip on reality,as well as in China, as Mao fell into senescence. The 25th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution is in place, to obviate such a situation here. Let us hope that its application does not become necessary, in the near future, if ever.

The Road to Diamond, Day 114: Intuition

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March 22, 2025- The little boy went over to an office building that was closed, and walked around it, then came back. Even though he looked like he was just exploring, I knew he was looking for a toilet. So did his father, who came and took him to the Port-o-San. The man smiled appreciatively, in that, though neither one spoke English, I had been keeping an eye on his son. Intuition is what keeps things running smoothly.

I had a messaging exchange earlier this morning, with someone who is frustrated at the pace of a construction project with which I had helped a few months ago. I made it clear that I would not be able to get things accelerated and that I am being careful with my money. After a while, the person understood and expressed appreciation for what I have done already. Good things take time, and sometimes have to wait for bad things to play out. Intuition can be in play, even over long distances.

This evening, I took in a robust performance by a guitarist who frequents the small cafe that I alternate with The Raven, on weekends. He was having some difficulty with certain parts of his instrument. I am familiar enough with this gentleman that I could offer the name of someone who might be able to help him with the issue. His own preferred method seeming to be not working, he winced but thanked me for the tip. Intuition can be dicey sometimes, but it pays to take initiative and offer help. We are all in this together.

I can see that we will be needing to refine our intuition, in the weeks and months ahead, if we are to keep a close watch on the rather sloppy use of Artificial Intelligence, lest it end up counteracting the nobler aspects of the current Administration’s efforts at decreasing waste. Nothing is gained, if these efforts go too far, and end up derailing themselves.

The Road to Diamond, Day 112: New Day

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March 20, 2025- Naw-Ruz, in Persian, means “New Day”. In Iran, traditionally, the Naw-Ruz holiday lasts 12 days. For us Baha’is, it is one day; essentially, it is the beginning of a new spiritual year. So, today is the beginning of 182 Baha’i Era.

We marked the day with a festive gathering, at which 51 people showed up, enjoying copious amounts of food, spirited and delightful music and vibrant conversations. Had the room been a bit larger, we may have even seen some, including me, dancing about. No matter, the musicians worked well together and our various discourses ran the gamut from Rubik’s Cube (a child completed it in less than four minutes) to the proper preparation of Persian rice.

I was glad to be able to work the breakdown shift (seems that I can take things apart better than put them together, and that’s okay-the lady who brought much of the decorations, signage and two main dishes deserved any help she could get.). Muscle memory took over, when it came time to shorten curtain rods- I hadn’t done that particular task since helping my mother,as an early teenager. Other tasks were quite routine.

With Naw-Ruz in the books, I thought of the things I used to do with two left feet, that are now de rigueur. Almost anything mechanical used to end upside down, or inside out. Much of that, though, came from a combination of overthinking, an inner voice that told me I was stupid and rushing through the task. Now, I let muscle memory take hold, go ahead and do the task with attention and patience and act with self-confidence. Bob Powers’ Law has finally become part of my inner dialogue. Bob was probably the finest boss I ever had. He told me that some day I would realize that there was nothing wrong with my mental functioning, but that I would have to realize that on my own-and it might come hard. I was 16, impulsive and whimsical. He was in his late forties and had been around the horn several times. I could have listened better.

This new day saw me send greetings to my dear friend in Manila, to others on the Navajo Nation and to my friend and mentor in Phoenix. All around the world, north and south, east and west, may our souls be guided to do what is best for all humanity.

Happy Spring, to all in the north and Joyous Autumn to all in the south!

The Road to Diamond, Day 109: Cultural Markers

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March 17, 2025- I wore a teal-coloured shirt today. It was the closest I had to green, which many in the U.S. wear on St. Patrick’s Day, which is today. There is a plethora of chlorophyll about-green punch, green beer, even green eggs. No one wants green beef or chicken, of course, so red and white still colour our meats.

We honour a variety of cultural markers in the United States, a testimony to our status as a nation built by immigrants-some here since ancient times and others descended from those who have arrived since the establishment of a settlement in Pensacola, in what is now Florida, in 1559. We have evolved as a nation that has welcomed people from every other nation on Earth-as have several others in their turn: Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Mexico, South Africa, Argentina, Chile, Peru and so on.

In today’s world, one can go to virtually any nation and find people from just about any other country. There is no real homogeneity, in terms of “ethnic purity”. We are in a place of sharing, yet there is a curious notion, among some, that cultural markers belong only to those who claim ownership of that culture. There is a view that “cultural appropriation” takes place, whenever those outside a cultural group show too much interest or enjoyment of its markers.

No one wants to lose their identity, and this is hardly the point of cultural sharing. It is wise to note when anyone, either in or out of the cultural group, tries to turn its practices into a mere money-making venture or combine it with some sort of unicultural mish-mash. It is best to resist such ersatz practices. Culture is best seen as an expression of the heart, and further as a voice to the identity of a people.

I do have Irish ancestry, on both sides of my family. My father’s paternal grandmother was pure Irish. My mother’s paternal forebears migrated from Ireland to Germany, during the Hanseatic Era, then came to the United States in the early Nineteenth Century. I also have French, English, German and Penobscot Nation ancestry. Some cultural practices could flow authentically from me; others, not so easily.

I have spent much time among Dineh and Hopi people, as well as Koreans and Filipinos. I have enjoyed a great deal of these four cultures, especially food and the arts. I have subsumed little of the outward cultural markers of these peoples; that is not my place. I do, however, honour the deeper energy behind their cultures and have put the most honourable features of their heritage to use in my own service to mankind. For example, the tendency of Dineh or Hopi to listen, deeply, to someone, without jumping into an argument or engaging in one-upmanship, has stood me well, on a great many occasions. The fastidiousness of Koreans and the gentle patience of Filipinos have also imparted lessons to me, in my daily life.

Man has always been on the move, and encountering those with different ways of conducting daily life is the lot of us all. Cultural markers need not be a barrier between groups.

Erin go bragh!

The Road to Diamond, Day 108: Perquisites

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March 16, 2025- I have been blessed to have not been raised as what Mom used to call “a privileged character”. We were each loved and encouraged to develop moral fiber. Part of that was willingly taking our places in line, sharing with one another and with others and not expecting any over-the-top rewards for doing what we were supposed to do in the first place.

It is that way with, arguably, the majority of people around the country, and around the planet. We get up in the morning, go about our work or other daily tasks, enjoy the company of family members or others close to us and pursue our dreams-all within the bounds of the society in which we live. Some live hand-to-mouth, others, paycheck to paycheck and still others, like myself, have a bit more leeway. There are those who, either by dint of hard work and careful planning, live more comfortably than we. Then there are those who, by a variety of factors, have risen to a place of perquisite-indeed, the privileged ones about whom Mom warned us.

Everyone essentially has to do the same basic tasks each day-and none can escape the aches and pains of life, nor can anyone escape the transition to the spirit realm at some point, We each have moments of joy, and times of sorrow. Even the uberwealthy can find themselves in dire straits-either material or spiritual; maybe both. Therein lies the masquerade of perquisites. It strikes me as sad, that the most powerful people on Earth are often the most insecure; they appear to us as needing artificial protection from reproach; indeed, protection from any criticism. Thus we have the spectacle of people who merely protest at Tesla dealerships being labeled “domestic terrorists”. (NOTE: Anyone who vandalizes property, public or private, is committing a crime and deserves to pay the price.)

Free speech is not curbed by the perquisites of its focus occupying a place in the upper strata of society or of government. Free speech does not depend for its existence on being in any sort of agreement with those in positions of power, real or imagined. I am no fan of religious zealotry or of political extremism. Nonetheless, absent acts of terror or concrete evidence that same is being planned, I oppose the detention, incarceration or deportation of any citizen or legal resident of this country-be they Right, Left or anywhere in-between. Removal of those here unlawfully still needs to be accomplished in as dignified and humane a manner as is humanly possible. It cannot be done haphazardly, lest human beings fall through the cracks-some of them literally so.

There is no perquisite that says someone in power can unilaterally do as suits him/her. In that, as we saw in 1974, Richard Nixon was wrong. So is anyone else who assumes otherwise. Abraham Lincoln noted that the President of the United States has enormous power. It is, however, not unlimited.

The Road to Diamond, Day 106: The Wages of Indiscipline

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March 14, 2025- I am watching a limited series, called “Long Bright River”. It’s a Philadelphia show, following the life of a police officer, a single mother whose son’s father is a deadbeat and whose sister is a troubled streetwalker. There seem to be a lot of independent, limited series about police these days. Most show their subjects as complex characters, who nonetheless approach their tasks with a measure of self-discipline and their lives a bit more recklessly.

Watching this series and reflecting on the country as it is in the midst of a spiral of indeterminate direction, I thought of the roles that discipline and its opposite are playing in the roll-out. Those who are engaged in the present downsizing are accomplishing success by happenstance, as if Jackson Pollack were to have created a few coherent works of art, in the midst of his series of what I would name “Splotch Art”, but is more commonly and politely known as Abstract Impressionism.

We are in a state of social flux, in which the seeming flood tide of cutbacks and closures looks to be a carefully crafted assault on the Administrative State. There is a certain discipline in the actions of those in the Executive Branch, even as it outwardly appears to be indisciplined and chaotic. Project 2025, as loathsome as several parts of it are, is carefully laid out. It is the speed and scope of the layoffs and cutbacks that give the appearance of recklessness.

Nonetheless, there was, for a good many years, a creeping indiscipline overtaking bureaucracy, indeed overtaking society, at all levels. With that came the somnabulism that accompanies all too many pet projects foisted by individuals in Legislatures and Councils at the local, state and Federal levels. Money was being misspent, wasted-maybe not across the board, but frequently enough that some measure of rollback would have been in order. When that rollback was resisted, it became a cyst on the Body Politic,and the wages of indiscipline were bound to be paid out.

Any time a person decides to rebuild a sense of order and discipline in own life, there are a variety of options available. Gradual adjustments in eating habits and changes in exercise routines, even in sleeping habits, have been the path that has worked for me, over the past five years, building on the use of supplements since 2014. Others use a Boot Camp approach, with Cross Fit memberships, Iron Man training, and so on. Still others lean on fad diets.

Our society has relied on instant gratification, moral license and an ethic of nonjudgmentality,to the point where confusion has set in on a wide scale, leading those on one end of the spectrum to view democracy as outmoded and those on the other end to see Fascism in every attempt to get some sense of fiscal responsibility established. Thus, the lumbering financial behemoth is being bound at the ankles, and is in danger of toppling.

Discipline is needed, both in the conduct of governmental affairs AND in the practice of restoring a culture of responsibility to both government and society. Everything can’t happen everywhere, all at once. Mass layoffs do more harm than good, and save little or nothing. Careful examination of each line item of the Federal budget, by forensic accountants, may be dull as dust, but it is the only way that the deficit is going to be meaningfully brought down-and kept from roaring back as a result of overkill on the part of the current group of clear-cutters.

I’ve said it before- a scalpel, not a hatchet.

The Road to Diamond, Day 99: Invisible No More

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March 7, 2025- It was in the mid-1990s, and three young girls felt that their safety was at risk, at their school and in the nearby area. They bolted and hid in a remote spot. I was school counselor back then, and while I had earned the trust of most students,including the girls, they weren’t taking any chances with possibly having to deal with their adversaries. I was left to notify their parents that they had absconded and to enlist the support of the local police and the Superintendent of Schools. Several of us were out looking around, and by nightfall, one of the girls had made it back to her mother’s house. Early the next morning, I got a call from the other two. They had found their way to a safe house for the night, but were ready to go back to their parents. I went and got them, bringing them home.

This was in a Native American community. What is important here is that Native American women and girls, in both the United States and Canada, have been disappearing at an alarming rate, from both urban and rural areas. 5,800 women and girls disappeared in 2023; 74 % were children. I would estimate that this number has, if anything, only increased over the last 1.25 years. It has been called a “silent crisis”, but it is hardly silent to the First Nations.

On January 27, a young girl named Emily Pike left the group home where she was staying, possibly aiming to get back to her parents on the San Carlos Apache Nation. She never made it. She was found dead, killed in a gruesome manner, on February 14 along the route back to San Carlos from Mesa, where she had been living. In a hideous way, Emily at least was found and her family can get a small measure of closure. Many women and children are far less “fortunate”.

There has been an invisibility problem, with regard to indigenous people on this continent. It is probably true elsewhere in the world, as well. Here, though, various bad actors have been able to choose victims from across the First Nations of the United States and Canada-whether trafficking the women and girls, or systematically raping and killing them, with the sense that “no one will notice.”

The families notice, and now, the rest of society is beginning to take stock, as well. It is high time, and it is past time. It has also affected young men-and not too long ago, I paid my respects to a mother who lost only son, a young man only a year younger than my own son. They knew one another, during our time on the Reservation. He, too, disappeared and was only found after nearly two years of search. It was too late.

We have an anonymity problem across our population. With customarily shy and wary First Nations people, it is all the more pronounced. They are, however, not deserving of invisibility. Their gifts, dreams and skills are every bit as valuable as anyone else’s. They were put on this Earth by the Divine, just like everyone else. It is an ongoing stain on this continent, that their lives are undervalued.

No one’s life should be.

The Road to Diamond, Day 98: Dribs and Drabs Again

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March 6, 2025- There was about an inch of snow that fell here, this morning. Dribs and drabs, and gone by noon. There is a better chance of accumulation tomorrow, so we’ll see. I stopped by a coffee shop that offers a hang-out for teens, just to see what it looks like. School was in session, so there was a lone young man staffing the counter and there were a couple of ladies running the office. Three workmen were doing repairs on a heating, ventilation and air conditioning system (HVAC). I got a cup of joe to go and moved along, saving the coffee for later and getting lunch at a downtown bagel shop that has several nice sandwich options. It was a good day for lox and cream cheese, with capers.

The Red Cross monthly meeting provided all the information I needed, in order to set up and run a shelter simulation-a week from Saturday. My team is poised and ready, and we will finalize the preparations next Friday. As for my acting as Sheltering Lead for this area, that will be decided next Friday, also.

I sat in on the Prescott Indivisible chapter meeting this evening. It focused on civics- helping those in attendance brush up on state government. This is something that everyone ought to know, so it was time well spent. There was not a whole lot of counterproductive bickering about personalities, which was gratifying. I see that the Governor of California has come out as opposing boys playing in girls’ sports. Personally, I think there are probably enough transgender athletes that they could compete against one another. On the other hand, there are times where girls take part in traditionally “boys-only” sports, like baseball and tackle football, so I think such matters need to be weighed carefully-on a case by case basis.

I ended the day by proofreading a paper by a Baha’i student from Indonesia, who I had met whilst in the Philippines, last month. It focused on an ecumenical ceremony hosted by some Buddhists, using traditional Javanese spiritual practices. I found the whole premise quite enlightening. It is called Ruwatan and is a means for fostering respect for diversity.

Sometimes, a day full of dribs and drabs works out quite well.