January 21, 2024- It is dangerous, to put on airs, in a cold mist To go outside, shirtless, and mug for the camera, in any air that is less than 32 F(0 C). Water freezes at that temperature, and we are 55-60 % water. Imagine, being a block of ice, with a pleasant countenance that is now marked in a grimace. You, too, could be portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix, or Jack Nicholson-drawn out of retirement, and away from Lakers games. In all seriousness, though, pneumonia is never a trifle, and its little sibling, bronchitis, is a pain in the neck. Corona viruses are always waiting in the wings, also. People here are still finding themselves with COVID19-or 24, or the flu of the year. This PSA is not meant to be a nuisance, in and of itself. I just like seeing my friends, either in person, or online- looking happy and productive, not aching and sad in a corner. Safety first-from Utgiagvik to Tampa, from Portland, OR to St. Anthony, NL. Stay warm and dry.
Category Archives: impediments
Revitalized
January 20, 2024- The watchful Apache man saw that all the modern conveniences that had been installed in his new restaurant kitchen were still missing a key component: A means of heat. He had a stack of firewood on hand, and was able to get a fire going, safely, in his fireplace. The cook stove, of course, was a secondary means of heat. In time, the solar heater would be on track, but for the time being, the fireplace saved the day.
This was one of the vignettes that flowed through “Gather: The Fight to Revitalize Our Native Foodways”, a film that was shown this evening, at our Elks Performing Arts Center. The film illustrated First Nations people working to re-establish viable food systems, in areas across North America. A Dineh farmer is working to increase use of the Little Colorado River, in its traditional role as a water source. A young Lakota Sioux woman is spreading understanding of the nutritional value of the meat of grass-fed bison, such as her father raises. A Yurok man is teaching young men in his northern California community about traditional spear fishing, and keeping salmon populations sustainable. A San Carlos Apache grandmother is teaching a young girl about catching kangaroo rats, and respecting the home of a rattlesnake-not just because it is venomous, but because it, too, is a living being and helps keep the rodent population in balance. She is also teaching the child about harvesting edible desert plants. The White Mountain Apache chef is likewise using local products, in his preparation of dishes at Cafe Gozho’o’ (the second o is silent). Gozho’o’ means happiness, harmony or balance, in the Nde’e’ language of the Apache people.
The key to all this is revitalization, for which this is a year. A friend here in town received final clearance to move her possessions to a house which she had inherited, over a year ago. There had been delays in the move, for various reasons, which have now been resolved. I helped with moving some of the items, this afternoon. Her life, and livelihood, are being regenerated.
My own life has not been stagnant, yet its pace, too, is picking up, in terms of financial, interpersonal and goal-setting elements. This will be a truly interesting year, one in which decisive action becomes the norm.
“Just Tryin’ To Get Home”*
January 19, 2024- One sang a prayer to the angels. Another mused about her Love of thirty years. The third one sang to a dead friend. The fourth sang to his daughter, who was some distance away. Four musicians, offered the stuff of their hearts, in a round table of harmony.
We are all trying to get home-as *the song by Meg Bohrman so poignantly states. Those of us with home bases are ever looking to be ready for our spiritual Home, when the time comes. Others, whose time here figures to be a lot longer than mine, are also looking for a “forever home”, in which they can raise a family. Still others would just like a home that is not a tent in the woods, or a lean-to, or a cardboard box.
My home is in my heart. So, it feels like home, when I have served well, on a given day. It feels like home, when I have made someone smile. It feels like home, when I have been present for my new Love, and been strong for her, when we connect electronically, even though the physical distance between us is, for now, all too wide. It feels like home, when I reflect that my demons, known only to God, to my departed Angel and to me, have long been cast out. It feels like home, when I know that my little family, extended family and wide circle of friends are safe and well.
Home is in the heart.
Torn Plastic
January 18, 2024- The technician went over Sportage, noting the areas that will be repaired, from December 4’s encounter with the traffic cone, and a small tear in the rear door lift-not part of the claim. I can mend the latter myself, using JB Weld, or maybe a clear epoxy.
My recent time at Ghost Ranch restored a sense of competence in matters of handiwork. It had been a long time since I did anything that involved a degree of knowledge in one of the trades. I did paint my house in Phoenix, externally and most of the interior-just not enough to feel a sense of completion. Back then, Penny’s care was more important.
I don’t have to do much, manually, here at Home Base 1-being a renter. If my life circumstances change, though, I would want to draw on the latent skill sets that served me quite well, last week. It boils down to patience, and being able to do things one step at a time. Multitasking often works against the craftsman, the manual labourer, whose work will never truly become outdated or inconsequential.
Tomorrow, I will prepare a small item for use as a necklace, which may be sent as a gift, for an upcoming Baha’i festival. That will be another affirmation of skill set. When Sportage comes back, next week, I will repair the torn spot on the door lift. It’s all a matter of self-confidence, and patience.
Parents, raise your children in a degree of self-reliance. The Pros and experts won’t always be available to help.
Just Being
January 17, 2024- Someone I love dearly sent me a message, this morning. It was a description of her quotidian life and of the joy that some friends had brought to her world, these past few days. I responded with my normal comings and goings, including some photos of the past few days.
There are no expectations, per se, in our friendship. It is a matter of just being, just sharing what goes on and what we think, feel and experience, because we care enough about one another to make this a regular part of our existence, once or twice a week, until we see each other again.
Once upon a time, this was the province of the telephone call. Mothers and daughters, in particular, talked several days a week, but occasionally men and boys got involved. Social media, at its finest, lets us acknowledge birthdays, anniversaries and achievements. These are all fine things-as long as people are allowed to just be.
Earlier still, communication was face to face. The old-fashioned home visit, sometimes lasting for hours, or for days (before the snarky business about fish and old clothes became the standard), was not an unusual event. In some cultures, not staying overnight is deemed an insult. In others, prior invitation is expected, even for a one-hour house call. Yet, the main thing is that each allows the other to just be.
Another friend wrote to several of us, about having written a book, that is intended to be published. She told of all the trepidation that came, prior to the actual preparation of the book. Once she let herself relax, and accept the achievement, the book became her friend, and her being was enough.
You know, it took me a very long time to get to this point, but now, just being-walking alongside so many good people, and feeling, knowing, that I belong, is a springboard to all that I know I can achieve.
Thoughts On Fixing What’s Not Broken
January 16, 2024- My day was centered on helping a Baha’i friend get to a medical appointment. As Dad taught us to focus on one thing at a time, and doing it right, any other considerations for the afternoon were moot. I got Sportage washed, and opened my collected mail, from last week, but that was all done by mission time.
After the appointment was over, friend recapped the conversation with doctor and physician’s assistant. It seems, as is so often the case, that there is no provision by the practitioners for naturopathic or herbal remedies to the diagnosed malady. Indeed, the implication is that patient (Baha’i friend) ought to accept a treatment plan, “so as to stay ahead of any problems down the road.” Friend did not take the bait, sticking to own regimen for maintaining personal health. In the end, doctor’s advice was: ”Keep doing what you’re doing.”
The goal of any primarily monetized enterprise is to keep the cash flowing. As a snark once told me, “Hey, money pays the bills”, as if that excused the whole nine yards. In so doing, there is a sense that creating a problem, then devising and advancing a solution, is a solid business model. This, when recognized for what it is, gives rise to conspiracy theories-and I have to say, the “kooks” have something there, even if their valid point ends up twisted off into various tangents.
Truth be told, there are enough problems that are extant in this physical world, at any given time, that inventing more issues and devising solutions to them, is little more than a perverse Socratic seminar. Each end of the dominant culture’s spectrum accuses the other of faux saviourhood. Yet, both practice the ruse: The Far Left, by announcing a ban on vehicles with internal combustion engines, by a certain year, without securing the commitment from industry to produce enough Electric Vehicles to meet the resulting demand; the Far Right, by excoriating present immigration policy, then refusing to work with their counterparts in Congress, to resolve the issue. The solutions that each offers are non-starters, that are essentially designed to simply “make the other guy look bad”, and solving nothing.
There are others, coming from both sides, but I shift the focus to my own situation. Things happened, or didn’t happen, this morning, which could have provoked me into attempting to “resolve issues”. Instead, I chose to do nothing. These are matters which it is best to let play out, and resolve themselves. That may not be possible in the larger social issues-but one thing is clear: No problems can truly be solved, by coming up with solutions when no issue exists.
Up, Down and All-around
January 14, 2024, Winslow- I went into the Welcome Center, to set up for an online meeting, and found that my favoured spot was occupied-first come, first served. It would have been awkward, anyway, as the table is in the area of a looping introductory video-and many new guests were set to arrive today. So, the Acting Director of Ghost Ranch gratuitously let me use a section of her office, for the meeting, which, since it drew only one other person, was a brief one.
I next went to the gift shop (“Trading Post”) and purchased note cards, on which I may write my mother. Then, I packed up and loaded the car. In that process, I saw that I was missing a certain item, looking high and low for it-to no avail. The Aha! moment told me to go back towards Gallup, the way I came.
Before that, though, I called someone who had asked for a ride to AZ, to check on the status of the roads in that area. When it was stated that the road required four-wheel drive, and that, on balance, the person was uncertain about making the trip, I bid farewell, which wasn’t entirely the response that was desired. Oh, well. I promised my loved ones to practice safety first.
I said goodbye to the Ghost Ranch staff, thanking them for all that they gave us this week. It’s truly been both a wake-up call, for what I still need to do, spiritually and socially AND a reward for having made a continuous effort at self-improvement.
The drive back towards Cuba, NM was much more delightful than last Sunday’s drive to GR, as the roads were bare today. When I got to Cuba, I stopped for lunch at Chaco Grill. The owner, who is a friend, had found the item I was missing, and had secured it, intuiting that I would be by to check. So, all was well again!
Getting to Gallup, before sunset, I decided to continue on to Holbrook, then to Winslow. So now I am at some other friends’ establishment-Delta Motel. Tonight, I was given the Veterans’ Room , themed in honour of one of the family’s members who had served in the Army. His uniform and other equipment are here in the room.
Winslow is a fun town, and also good for at least a night’s rest.
Ghost Ranch, Day 3: The Art of The Trim
January 10, 2024, Ghost Ranch- Several things are predictable, so far this week: The sunrises and sets have been spectacular; the mornings and evenings are a bit on the chilly side here, and the breakfast fare consists of scrambled eggs, large sausage links (or Beyond Patties, for vegans), oatmeal and/or granola, plenty of fruit.
I lapsed into writing “2023”, for a few days, correcting that this evening. Other unexpected resets involved remembering things that my Eighth Grade Industrial Arts teacher, as well as my father and uncles, tried so hard to convey to my squirrely teenaged self. It’s amazing, just how much I have channeled all the practicalities that I thought were useless, back in the day.
One thing I have always done fairly well, though, is painting buildings, both inside and outside. In the past, this has helped me make ends meet in Dexter, Maine, earn a rent rebate in South Deerfield, MA and made Penny happy, when I painted the outside, and most of the rooms of our Phoenix house, before her final months on this Earth.
Today began a three-day painting of the area that our team of three is renovating. I have the painting honours, while my co-workers wrestle with the installation of new countertops and sinks. Team Lead showed me a few of his tips on getting it right the first time, and I conjured other pointers that my Dad showed us. Today’s focus was painting along the edges, top and bottom and around extraneous spots, such as strike plates and door frames.
Focusing on trims and edges gives detail its due. My life, as civically involved and as conscious of others as I have been, has nonetheless largely been on my own. At day’s end, I have mostly answered to myself, over the past thirteen years. I sense that may be changing, within the next year or so. Right now, that’s just a hunch, a feeling welling up from gut and heart-but the last time I felt this sort of energy shift was a month before I met Penny. It’s a good feeling, and proof that there is much life left to live.
Ghost Ranch, Day 1- De-icing,Masking Tape and Collages
January 8, 2024, Ghost Ranch, NM- I had the honour of getting up in the dark, this morning and getting my steps in, from Corral Unit 4 to the Dining Hall. It was an honour, because the sidewalks were swept free of powdery snow and were treated with icy melt.
After a full, hot breakfast, it was time to cover the borders of an anticipated paint job with blue painter’s tape, which is masking tape that keeps sloppy painters from not staying within the lines. I will be doing some of the painting, in a day or so, and am not sloppy-still, there is always the chance someone will walk by and nudge my elbow, because of a quirky sense of humour.
After nearly eight hours of renovation prep, which included drilling holes in a wooden support beam and in the concrete to which it will be attached, I took a late nap, enjoyed Ziti Alfredo and salad, then sat in on a collage-making session. Since the collages were made with magazine photos, and the instructor is worried about copyright infringement (She did not keep a record of which magazines, or which photographers, are involved), I will not post them here. They include, for your imagination’s benefit, a man and his horse, looking up at the Grand Canyon, from the banks of the Colorado River; a sea turtle, floating amid phosphorescent algae; a rhesus macaque coming upon a manicured garden, with topiary arches; a woman in a white dress, walking through a portal, while a chipmunk looks on; and a woman doing yoga on a beach, at sunset, looking at white water rapids, coming down from the river above.
This is the sort of activity one may expect, after a day of service at this magical safe haven, an hour’s travel from Santa Fe or Taos.
Running the Maze
January 6, 2024, Gallup- One of the classic experiments in Behavioural Psychology has rats running through a maze, in return for which any animal finding its way out will get a reward.
It occurs to me that each of us can find ourselves running a maze, of sorts, in return for which we may receive a reward. I found myself working mazes, pretty much all day, and found the end, in each instance.
Starting off, there were replies to a comment I posted on another social media outlet, regarding a local attempt at censorship. Most responders were opposed to the censorship ploy, but one, hailing back to bygone days, said that anyone going against conservative social norms deserves to be cut off. That really got the crowd going-piling on the hapless “good ol’boy”. I had to post that everyone was welcome on my page, so long as they did not advocate violence against those who hold a different point of view. I don’t go to drag shows, as they are not my cup of java. I also don’t go to rodeos, poker tournaments or gun shows. That doesn’t mean I think they should be banned, because I don’t. Parents can decide to not let their children view that format, and that’s their right. No one, though, should decide, for other informed adults, what they may see or not see-so long as the format does not include child pornography or horrific violence against defenseless people or animals. I found my way out of that maze.
Next up, there was a gathering to honour a Baha’i couple, who are leaving our area, in a few days. It was well attended, with great camaraderie and delicious food. There was one rub, for me. I talked with friends, past the time that came for me to head up to Farmers Market, and helping with breakdown. I found my way, belatedly, out of that maze and made my way through Saturday afternoon traffic, getting to the Market grounds by 12:50, only twenty minutes behind schedule. Bumping against the maze barriers wasn’t so bad.
The Market breakdown was no maze, though, and something I’ve wondered about for a while: ”How might our breakdown crew better connect with the set-up team?” was answered, as a member of that team had stayed around, for that very purpose, and gave us hints as to how we might make their work easier. The suggestions were implemented, immediately.
Finally, there was the fairly quick packing and heading out to this old mining town, my rest stop on the way to Ghost Ranch. It turned out to be no maze. The skies were clear and the roads, bare. I am now at my standard resting place in town: The Dineh-owned Colonial/Ranchito Motel.
