Perspectives

5

December 16, 2023- From where I was sitting, the painted scene could have been either looking downwards, towards the ocean, with a maelstrom in the middle or looking upwards, towards the cloudy sky, with a swirling snow cloud in its midst. When I got closer, it was the latter that was being portrayed. 

This was my first visit back to Raven Cafe at night, since the kerfuffle with a pair of disquiet people, in mid-November. Tonight, there was a sparse crowd, though Jillian Bessett and Chris Callahan, from Tucson, gave spirited and engaging renditions of both their original songs and covers of tunes by Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and Big Joe Williams. It was peaceful. Before that, I had been in Rafter Eleven, enjoying Mike Lopez, of local favourites The Bourbon Knights, doing a solo set of covers. This was also delivered to a small audience. It’s always peaceful at Rafter.

I pondered, in the relative calm, how my own perspectives on life have changed, in the past decade. The clouds in the painting brought to mind how I was in fog, ten years ago-especially in the summer. A pair of voices of reason brought me gently down to terra firma. One of those voices was that of my spirit guide, who had departed this life two years prior. The other was that of the object of my misguided attention. After bouncing around a few more times, over the ensuing twelve months, I came back to Earth, by way of western Europe and Hawai’i, then strode a path alone-but with dozens, nay hundreds, of new friends.

My view has changed again, and with the encouragement of both human and spirit friends, the path to connecting with a precious and beautiful soul has begun. This time, there is no fog and my perspective is clear. This time, I go one step at a time.

Inextinguishable

2

December 15, 2023- ”I told the truth, I didn’t come to fool ya“- Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah

The young boy, who I hadn’t seen in over a year, came up to me at the end of the school day, and with quiet confidence that I don’t recall him having, a year ago, asked if I remembered him. I did, and by name as well as countenance, though he said his name, for good measure. This has happened repeatedly, especially the past few years, as teenagers who studied under me as children, come up, remind me of who they are and recount their memories of elementary school, or middle school. Their stories are fresh in my mind, as well.

Going back further, I have met some of the people I knew as children, in Hopi and Dineh, now in their thirties and forties, over the past five or ten years. One, who recently passed on, after a long illness, was man of great integrity, in addition to being a talented artist, producing colourful and detailed prints, even whilst bedridden. Each of them, even after enduring unbelievable heartbreak and personal setbacks, one after another, have kept the flames of hope and of love for family alive, in their inextinguishable hearts. These are the true heroes in my life.

This notion may be extended now, across the Pacific Ocean, to the friends I met in October. Each of them has also experienced more heartache and loss in a month, at some point in their lives, than I have endured in a decade. Yet, they still go forward, and largely in acts of service to others. Their spirits, too, are inextinguishable.

I am ever grateful to the Divine, and to my spirit guides, for all those who have come my way, and for those yet to appear.

Burdens

2

December 14, 2023-

A beloved soul recognized,             

that I recognized

the pressure under which she lives.

Another dear soul revealed that he has a challenge

to face,

and will need to make considerable changes

in his life.

Some youth are looking at themselves

and trying to find their paths,

as all youths must,

until their dying days.

The choices we make,

the burdens we cast,

or to which we cling,

determine the arc

of our lives,

and the lives of those we love.

We also choose,

whether they are burdens

in the first place,

and if we are burdens

to ourselves, or

to one another.

Fast Re-fashion

4

December 13, 2023- ‘Fast Fashion, churning out large volumes of low-cost, low-quality garments, loaded with toxic synthetic dyes, is polluting the Earth’s water more than any other industry, save pesticide-heavy agribusiness’. -The Good Trade: https://www.thegoodtrade.com/features/what-is-fast-fashion/

The presenter at the school where I am working, today and tomorrow, represented the College of Agriculture, Life & Environmental Sciences, at the University of Arizona, Tucson. The college has a department of Fashion Science & Technology, and has devised a way to re-fashion used athletic team jerseys. The U of A football team gave their used jerseys to the DFST, whose students, treating the jerseys as fabric, reworked them into purses, fanny packs, shawls and even caps.

Here is a site that provides tips on how this may be done in a DIY manner: https://www.sewhistorically.com/how-to-refashion-clothes-beginners-guide/. My thoughts go to not only the landfills of this country, but also all the trash piles in emerging economies. I hope some of my Filipino friends read this, as well as friends in African countries, Brazil, India-and any other nation, each of which deserves the same quality of life as those who are clad in the products of Fast Fashion. 

Re-fashioning is not a panacea, but it will go a long way towards cutting down the abysmal waste that derives from mindless discarding of fabric-right up there with plastic, as a scourge.

Reiterations

2

December 12, 2023- My horoscope for today says I will reveal my true colours. Truth be known, I’ve been doing that for some time. Historically, I am the world’s worst liar. So, even though I have said a lot of this before, “Double-Twelfth” is a good day for reiteration, to begin wrapping up the cosmic year that started with “Double-First”, a year of introspection and casting out remaining demons, for many. Ahead is a year of action, of putting thoughts into observable energy.

I have been active this year, certainly, and having mentioned those events and processes elsewhere, let me say that next year-the next two years, at least, will see even more of this. After some thought and comparison of costs and routes, yesterday, I am revising my route to an area that is on the itinerary for next Fall ( I will talk about the location on this platform, when it is prudent), to be prefaced by a two-week stop in the Philippines. Unless I hear from friends in Phil that this is not advisable or necessary, that is the plan.

My true colours just reflect love. What I feel for my angel in the spirit realm will never fade. Last week, I got a message from her, that my feelings for a woman now are perfectly acceptable before the Divine-and that I should treat that lady like a queen. It is true that love is the basis for all life-so the colour of love is my most basic hue.

I’ve been tripped up by grief and rebounding, especially for a few years after Penny’s passing. I’ve been hobbled by deep-seated attitudes and fears about myself, that have been brought to the surface and let flow out. Baha’u’llah wrote that love should not blindly lead to error. My thought is that such “love” is not the true kind. Now, in maturity, I see myself as a worthwhile human being-and get a lot of affirmation from those around me, in real time and online. Now, in maturity, I am no longer anxious or overbearing about expressing myself.

That brings up the matter of anxiety in general, and of the need for giving others room to work out their issues-and live their lives. My friends, especially my most beloved, deserve time and space to take care of their personal work. My son, and those I love as if they were my own children-and grandchildren, deserve the confidence and trust that I place in them, to show just how they will move forward. What I offer one and all is that confidence and trust. If you fall down, brush yourself off and go forward-keeping the lesson learned in mind. If you need a hug, it’s here. I will not, though, stand idly by and let you wallow. We are all better than that.

Ahead is a year of building-of a stronger Faith community, of reassurance for members of an extended family (and thus two stops in Carson City, next July) and of another extended family member further north (and thus a stop in Victoria, the same month), of fulfillment of promises both recent and of longer-standing, and of increasing my level of self-confidence-though not to the level of callousness or arrogance.

It’s time to go and tie up a couple of small loose ends-every day has a few such matters. All happiness on “Double Twelfth”, my friends.

What-version?

4

December 10, 2023- The family onstage rocked the house, literally, led by the classical guitarist father (no patriarch, as he shared billing with his daughter and son-and heaped liberal praise on the newly-recruited drummer. Esteban is a widely- revered flamenco guitarist, who is also up to the challenge of rejuvenating rock classics, and doing justice to traditional Christmas songs, in equal measure. Having come to Prescott from Pittsburgh, via Tempe, long ago, he is always in his element, when playing to the hometown crowd.

Tonight was no exception. The Elks Theater is one of those places where people purchase tickets and go to their reserved seats. Then, any empty seat can be taken by anyone who is wandering about, a benign concession to mildly mentally ill people who just want a few hours peace, amongst others. One such person was in our section this evening, and with the performing family’s blessing, was quietly videotaping the concert. There is also a row of folding chairs, along the back wall, where people down on their luck were able to sit-for this concert-though not for every event, in general.

I sat by myself, a seat away from a family I’d never met before, but who later recognized me as one who had been in their confection shop, once or twice. That spurred thoughts about introversion, extroversion and ambiversion. My friend and I have talked about this; she figuring that each of us is a percentage of the first two categories-thus accounting for the third. I am more extroverted than I used to be, but as I said in a recent post, am the opposite, around certain groups, especially if I don’t know their members. I notice that others are halting in their speech and awkward communicators, in initial meetings-and that’s okay. I went over to the restaurant where a young lady, who I love like a daughter, works. After being warmly greeted by her, I enjoyed a light lunch and had a halting conversation with the two bartenders, as that was where I sat. We three seem to approach new people the same way, cautiously, but at the end of the meal, the lead bartender expressed hope that I’d be back.

Speaking of love, Esteban and family offered up a couple of Elvis Presley’s finest love songs, which resonated with me, because of the friend I mentioned at the top of the last paragraph. This is the second night in a row, that a musician has played such romantic tunes-and it may be happenstance, but I sure feel nice when it occurs.

Here is Esteban (nee’ Stephen Paul) playing La Paloma, which also reminds me of my friend.

The Blue-Leafed Vase

2

December 9, 2023- “Now, it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, but you only want the things you can’t get.”-Don Henley and Glenn Frey, “Desperado“.

Two ladies, looking like twins, focused their attention on the titular vessel, and the fresh-cut flowers within. The crystalline surface, and the shimmering blue leaves, take up a small space on the bar at Rafter 11, yet for those ten minutes, the vase dominated the room. A fine singer, named Duane, was belting out covers of songs from the ’50s (Fly Me to The Moon) to the 2000s (Nothing Compares 2 U), yet for that brief time, his efforts were background noise.

The ladies, who were sitting at the bar with my friend, Harry, said they had adopted the older gentleman-a fine thing, as he thrives on the friendships the rest of us regulars offer him at Rafter. Turns out, they themselves have been best friends for 35 years, which they said in response to my observing that they looked like twins. Proximity can rub similarity off on people- something Penny noted, years ago, when we started to ape one another’s habits and proclivities. These ladies were both bleach blondes and about the same height. They dressed just differently enough from one another to be distinctive, and there was enough difference in their facial features to hint at fraternal, rather than identical, twinship. As it happened, though, they were each from a different coast.

When they left, my attention went back to Duane’s music, especially as his vocals pretty much drowned out anything Harry was trying to convey. My older friend left, as he was feeling the day was spent. Duane sang several songs that brought thoughts of my new friend, far away, but ever in my heart and mind. Desperado was among them.

That raised the thoughts of gratitude-or its opposite. I am very much immersed in the former: I have been blessed, a thousand times or more, by all the friends who have come into my life, especially since 2011, and before that, by the woman who gave the best years of her life to me, and whose spirit still spurs me on. There are women and men fifty and older, who are like siblings. There are younger adults, from older teens to forty-somethings, who are like my beloved children. One and all, no one is going to hurt or impugn any of them, in my presence, without a swift rejoinder. A few women from the first group have expressed romantic love for me, and while I haven’t felt the same towards them, their well-being is of high importance.

I am grateful for all the fine things that have been laid upon my table-daily experiences, far and wide as well as local; vivid and exciting, as well as quiet and mundane. I am grateful for the challenges, which have led to refinement of some rough edges. I am grateful for the first that was laid upon my table-the deep love of supremely committed parents and the sibling love that has branched from that. I am grateful that the child we raised is a full-grown, clear-headed man, and happily-married. Now, I am grateful for the friendship of a lady far away, and all the encouragement I feel from the small coterie to which she belongs.

We’ll see where it leads.

Suspicion

4

December 7, 2023- The gentleman regarded me warily, and had several questions, as to my reason for being at a gathering of social justice activists, this evening. I later saw him talking with one of my friends, and pointing in my direction. This friend no doubt vouched for my sincerity and involvement in those organizations that seek to bring about harmony. I later came across a bumper sticker, that said “Love your enemies and you won’t have any.” It seems to me that those who claim to represent social justice ought to work at ridding themselves of judgementality. It helps to have an open heart.

Earlier today, I was with a group of students, who were grateful for my presence, and help in getting calmed down. The lead teacher, not all that welcoming, was at least tolerant of any assistance I could offer. There were few incidents of misbehaviour, and those that did occur were quickly resolved, and in a peaceful manner. The suspicious lead was at least thankful, at the end of the day.

It was mentioned a few times, this evening, that 2023 has been a stressful year. I can sense that, in any number of people, but I have to say that life, in general, can be stressful-in any given year. For social justice workers, this coming year will no doubt be full of stressful moments. The key to not walking about, looking over one’s shoulder, and seeing a bogey man in every closet, is self-confidence. I have had to work on that, mightily, in years past.

It helped, certainly, that I found a message from a dear friend on my laptop, this morning, but even on days when that doesn’t happen, I know to go forward and trust that the right thing is going to be, at least by day’s end.

GPS Goobers

4

December 4, 2023- Dutifully programming my Google Maps, for a friend’s medical appointment, I picked up friend and headed towards the designated locale. When we got to the spot, we found…….a gated community, a cul-de-sac and an overpass above a desert wash. A call to the provider earned us grace-and the names of cross streets,- 20 miles away, on the other side of the city. The algorithm interpreted the directional point in the street address, literally. It just got the wrong city. I double-checked my entry, to see if I had given the wrong information. No, the goober was AI.

We got to the proper location, after 30 minutes, and friend was seen by the gracious provider. All worked out well, and I got us back to Prescott, in time for me to help out at the soup kitchen. That was fortuitous, as they were short-staffed. It wasn’t that hard, though. I was the white rice guy and there was no need to wipe the tables afterward.

Goobers are a nuisance, though, and it would be a good idea if there were a feedback mechanism for Google Maps. This is not the first time that I’ve been steered wrong-and I know that others have gone through the same rigmarole. Of course, another option is to research the location from home. I did this before going to the Philippines, Newfoundland, Vancouver Island and Florida-after finding that I should have done so, before going to Paris and Brussels, nearly ten years ago. I will definitely do my homework, before next Fall’s international journey.

Crossed signals are not just limited to GPS and maps. Sometimes, in the past, I have gotten ahead of myself and not even been grounded in my feelings, before opening my mouth-or writing a message. Nowadays, checking my facts and emotional intelligence before speaking or writing, has generally made life a lot easier. In a few situations, this is tricky, but if I have to muddle through, that’s just how it has to be. I have a few friends who want to be given space, and they get it. When they are ready, I know they will reach out. Others are always happy to connect, and they bring me joy.

Gooberism can be avoided, with healthy self-checks, first thing in the morning, and periodically throughout the day.

Quiet Advent

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December 3, 2023- This day sees the tumult of the Christmas season, and all the interplay between materialism and spirituality come to the fore. The plethora of appeals to share one’s real and imagined wealth has come and gone-or at least run out of dedicated days for one aspect of materialism or another. The liturgical aspect of the season, though, has begun for Catholics and other Christians, with this first Sunday of Advent. So, we may expect more caroling-hopeful voices adding to calls for peaceful resolution of the Israel-Hamas conflict, a move towards rebuilding Gaza and an end to displacement of people-anywhere, for the benefit of a chosen few. We may also expect resistance. What privileged class has ever gone quietly into that good night?

By the above, I note the Iranian clerics and their Revolutionary Guards, as well as the West Bank settlers. I note the raiders who attack the people of Darfur, the “monks” who still harass the Rohingya people of Myanmar and all those who amass fortunes, at the expense of the working people. Where is the evidence that any of you have been wronged by those you assail? Savaging the weak and helpless is no guarantee that you will achieve your goals in perpetuity. There is a place for you in the world, but only if you cease and desist your greed-based, power-hungry depredations.

It is a quiet Advent, as the survivors of the MIndanao earthquake and the Wrangell landslide assess their losses and mourn those who didn’t make it out of the wreckage. It is a cheery day for some elsewhere, including three friends who went to a Baha’i wedding in Manila. It is a calm day for me, with a nice breakfast at Post 6, a devotional online and three sets of leg lifts at Planet Fitness. The most important part, though, was reading nineteen pages of an interesting and hopeful letter from our Universal House of Justice. Upshot: We will make it through whatever is headed our way, provided we stick together and don’t let ego delude us.