A Day of No Nap

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August 14, 2022- The sun peaked through the considerable cloud cover, as I woke in Lake Havasu City, earlier today. There was a full slate of activities planned for the morning-first, an interesting take on a breakfast panini- with egg and potatoes baked inside the toasty bread, Monster donuts were also provided. I ate a portion of one, and took 1 1/2 others back with me, to freeze and eat in small portions, over a few days.

Next was a life coaching-type activity, called B100- “B” stands for balance. The basic premise to evaluate one’s scores in the areas of Health,Wealth, Spirit and Fun. We each did a self-evaluation, and I came up with a total of 82, fairly evenly scored, but with higher scores in Spirit and Fun, good score in Health and a slightly lower score in wealth. None was far removed from the others-the range of scores being 4. It was basically a fun exercise for me and showed that I am on the right track in every area.

Lastly, we had a study of Baha’i writings on “Life after Death”, with the focus being on the life of the soul in the hereafter. This study brought on a lively discourse on the ethics of euthanasia. My own take is that the dying person should have the right to make his/her own decisions on living or dying, hopefully letting nature run its course, as long as one is of sound mind. Penny made her own decisions, until nearly the end. So did several others who have since gone on, after long illnesses.

On the way back to Home Base, I stopped to check in with friends at Westside Lilo’s, in the wayside community of Seligman. The place has some of the best bratwurst in northern Arizona, so along with a helping of the mild, but warm sauerkraut and a side of potato salad, brats were an unusual 3 p.m. meal-essentially, “linner”. The ladies are always full of gab and taking careful stock of each other’s well-being.

The day came to an end around 10 p.m., without a nap. I was determined that I would focus on just finishing the day, in robust fashion-so I did. Sleep came easy. The shadows were sure to gather, come Monday morning.

Triple Decker

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August 13, 2022, Lake Havasu City- One by one, friends of a young man whom I have known for about three years came filing through the door of the home he shares with his father, in this desert community overlooking the Colorado River. It is his thirtieth birthday. He allowed as how this was the biggest birthday bash he has ever had-and I would not have missed it for the world. He sees today as a confirmation of his change in mindset. This was bolstered by going around and asking each of us what one piece of advice we would offer him.

I admit, I don’t know what it feels like to have a birthday where no one attended the party. Even when it was just initially the three of us, others have always showed up and made the day festive. Not everyone is so fortunate-and God knows, there are those who get arrested, or even killed, on their “special day”. Thankfully, this has not happened to anyone I have known, save one person, back in the mid-90s. There are many who do, however, end up noting their birthdays nearly alone. Today’s celebrant was one of those, on several occasions, over the years.

Another aspect of this day is the marking of three decades. Often, the “Big Three-Oh” is a mark of maturity, or at least the glimmerings of such, in a person’s life. For me, back in 1980, it was the day when a woman in San Diego told me I didn’t need to try so hard, in starting a relationship. She was in a bond of her own, so was not dropping any hints-but she said I was more physically attractive and personable than I was allowing self to acknowledge. That was borne out, a week later, when I met Penny in Zuni, NM and my life changed-for the next thirty years, if not forever. My thirties, which my last landlady in Maine had told me, two years earlier, would be enjoyable, were also the period in which I shed a long-standing bugbear: Alcohol dependence; and changed the scope of my faith, from Catholic to Baha’i- more in keeping with my own belief in the essential unity of all people-and the wholeness of Creation.

I became a father, towards the end of the decade, and now our son is in his own thirties, a loving husband, a diligent student, and a man on the cusp of a senior rank in the U.S. Navy Reserves. He has a solid life plan, a tad more organized than I had at that age, and which is also flexible enough that no change in humanity’s fortunes can derail it.

So, I see my young friend also finding a viable path, one that he and his best friend here can navigate together, if they wish. I sense that his days of viewing the world though the half-empty glass, a worldview rooted simply in fear, are over and that his considerable gifts are going to bear fruit.

Life in one’s thirties is indeed a triple-decker, of knowledge, wisdom and meaningful action.

Silence

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August 12, 2022- Having not heard anything about the progress of Saturn’s repair, I called the body shop and was told that there was damage underneath, and that the responsible party’s insurance carrier was insisting that one of their adjusters come out here and look at the vehicle himself. This will bring the whole matter into sometime next week.

Although I was told that the rental agency was being updated each day, by the body shop, I called the agency myself,as a courtesy, to let them know I would be needing the rental vehicle a few days longer. The clerk informed me that his records show Saturn as a total loss. Hmmm, a vehicle that makes a 2,700-mile journey, with no issues, and is given a thorough check-over and maintenance by its regular mechanic, is judged a total loss, by a rental car agent. Life is full of surprises. Being that the responsible party’s insurance company will re-open on Monday, all will be silent for two days. I will call them then, and see if they are the source of the rental agent’s “records”.

Silence is a capricious thing. It may be used as grist for rumours and misinformation-remember, the human mind, like Nature, abhors a vacuum. It may be comforting, or it may be unsettling. It can be used to reassure, or to intimidate. I have learned that, eventually, silence is broken. There is usually enough to do, when one or two things are interrupted by a period of silence, that little is lost, in the long run.

Speaking of which, I see that my last two posts, written using Firefox instead of Chrome, have been viewed by only a few people. It’s not a big deal, in and of itself, but I notice this has only been an issue since I refused to purchase an advanced security package from Chrome. An e-mail I sent them on the matter has been met with…….silence. So, if you want to read my posts, try accessing WordPress by Firefox.

The School as Sanctuary

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August 11, 2022- The tearful little girl was introduced to me, by her teacher of four days. She readily agreed to take a short walk with me, and we went, briefly, out a door to a small play area. There were other students and teachers in the area, and between the lot of us, we found an exterior door that was unlocked. The girl and I went back inside, walked to the office and let the staff there know about the door. Each of us who was over the age of 18 thought of another school, far away, that had an unlocked door, a few months ago. The matter took on an urgency.

The school where I worked today is in a fairly comfortable part of Prescott Valley. The teachers and staff have a clear love for their students and there is a warmth there, that I wish were present in every institution of learning. Although the rest of my day was spent as a lunch room monitor, I could very easily return to the school and assist in whatever capacity is needed.

Modern schools almost to a one, find themselves as sanctuaries. Those whose structures more accurately resemble prisons, in their design and physical plant, have to struggle mightily to avoid being such. There are also schools whose teachers are intellectually adept, but are emotionally-stunted, and actually take pride in making students cry. This school has none of that. There is a sense that difficult children are so, for a reason, and that reason is not to punish adults.

I sense that this year will be one of more discerning acceptance of assignments, especially as there seems to be a surplus of substitute teachers. There are maybe 8 schools where I feel that my presence is a good fit. This school would be the eighth, and but for a three-to-five month commitment on Fridays, and a pair of short, but necessary trips in September and October, I would have signed on for a lengthy “Roving Sub” position, there or in another such school.

Best Efforts

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August 10, 2022- In the midst of the confluence between the first COVID outbreak and the hurricane season, two years ago, I found myself on the floor of a large congregate hurricane shelter, in Alexandria, LA. I had been getting messages about that city, for about two months, so it came as no surprise that the Red Cross sent me there. What was surprising was that I managed to be on the floor, in constant motion, helping a variety of people with sometimes complicated concerns, for up to nine hours-and being able to wind down, getting enough sleep for the next day’s activities. There were no full days of rest allowed, though we did get up to three hours off, on one day of our choice during this two-week period. This was mainly because of the Shelter Manager’s assessment of the situation, which was not all that far off the mark. It was probably the most physically intense event that any of us had worked.

I was given a high rating on performance of duties, for that assignment. Even if that had not been the case, it would not have mattered much. I did my level best and felt that I had. No one else’s opinion really mattered, though the clients, who were mostly lower middle class people, of white, black and Hispanic descent, gave me a hearty thanks. That felt good.

Don Miguel Ruiz, in the fifth chapter of “The Four Agreements”, casts the agreement to do one’s best, across situations and physical states, as the prerequisite to overcoming the failure to keep one’s word, the tendency to take things personally and the making of assumptions. Since the latter three are themselves derived from self-doubt, and are only fed by the negative energy of others, the mindset that one has done one’s best diverts from such self-defeating practices. It sets the stage for a new set of agreements, which are proactive in building a world based on true personal inner peace and positive relationships.

The Universe, almost in keeping with the spirit that welled up in me, after I read that chapter, provided work for tomorrow, three substitute assignments for next week and a social gathering, across the state, on Saturday evening. The respite of about ten days has been sufficient and it will be reaffirming to be back in service.

Now, I need to put the trash out.

Assumptions

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August 9, 2022- There is a family with whom my relationship has been touch and go, over the past eleven years. We work towards similar goals, yet there is always a feeling-mostly on my part, that things could be a whole lot better between us.

This, it turns out, is an indicator of my tendency to fill in the blanks with assumptions, which may have scant connection with reality. Most of the people in my life have made assumptions, so I have found this “skill” ingrained in me. Like Nature, human beings abhor a vacuum-especially one of information.

Don Miguel Ruiz comments on this, in the fourth chapter of “The Four Agreements”-noting that assumptions create twice as many problems as they purport to solve. Creating scenarios, with false or incomplete information, has been a waste of time for me, most of the time.

This leads me into the scenarios being devised, to provide false equivalency for the plights of perpetrators, when victims deserve first hearing. Then, there are trolls, whose aim is to discombobulate the masses, by throwing out false accusations about people who, while imperfect, are generally above reproach.

In reading “The Four Agreements”, I again got to thinking, hard, about all the times things have been made worse by jumping to conclusions. With my somewhat stumpy legs, missing the other side has been a considerable consequence. So, there’s another goal-quit assuming the worst, and aim for its opposite.

On Behaving Well in Groups

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August 5, 2022- The old friend could not, by all seeming, help himself. The rash of cuss words just flew off his tongue, for no particular reason other than that they came to mind. The women around us ignored the spate of profanity, and seemed to be in their own worlds. I kept my own diction in a socially acceptable framework, though I recognize that it may have been a good idea to gently and firmly ease him out of that pattern of speech.

It has been customary for parents to stress to their children that they must be polite at home, when visiting family, at a House of Worship, and in the neighbourhood. The best of parents have included school, eateries and stores in that regimen. The idea has been to build a good personal code of conduct. Not embarrassing one’s family has been a good deterrent for most, but not all.

In the Baha’i Teachings, and among others whose social consciousness is elevated, the idea of behaving well in groups, because it is a key feature of building a society based on the oneness of mankind, and because it helps build a listening culture, rather than a knee-jerk reacting culture.

I have come a long way, since 1980, in that regard, especially. There were lapses, between then and now, but they were made reparable by the culture of learning from one’s mistakes, by the qualified forgiveness of those I hurt and by the overarching power of said Teachings, which are to be applied personally, with minimal, if any, social pressure-yet have the force of practically reinventing a person, by stressing one’s strengths and letting weaknesses flow out and fade away.

I choose to act as a counterweight to boorish personalities, these days, while remembering all the times when I was one of them-and not wallowing in those memories.

Mitote

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August 4, 2022- Once, there was a skilled teacher of mathematics, who told himself that there was nothing he could do right, anymore-not even teaching mathematics. That man helped me break my fear of math, and got me to understand how relatively simple it all is. I reminded him that what he did for me was certainly true many times over. His own self-talk, perhaps reflecting the criticisms of others, was unfortunate and unnecessary.

Don Miguel Garcia, in “The Four Agreements”, writes of mitote, (mih-TOH-tay), a Toltec word meaning, essentially, the fog of self-deception. It is the same as the Hindu concept of maya, or illusion. I have thought of this quite a bit lately. Yesterday, a friend and I were talking about the liberating feeling one gets, when not “wearing a mask” in the process of trying to impress another person. Fakery is discerned by most people, even by those who want to embrace one’s false image.

For so many years, I bought into the image of myself as less than those around me. The illusion was bolstered by a lack of physical coordination, and was dispelled only through military training and the maturity brought by marriage and fatherhood. With my mitote clearing, life has become more fulfilling-not easier, as that is not the purpose of this life, but infinitely more fulfilling.

There have been those who try to foist their own mitote on me, and on others. I am grateful to have had the strength of discernment, when it came time to deal calmly and firmly with such folks.

Bill Russell

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August 3, 2022- On July 31, one of the greatest professional basketball players to push forward, even when he was tired and feeling out of shape, took his last breath. Bill Russell did not compromise on a good many things. He spoke off the cuff, a good many times, sometimes alienating long-time personal friends and infuriating those who felt “victimized” by his vitriol.

I have been one to look carefully at the anger expressed by people of colour-even when they object to the term “people of colour”. In 1968, when Martin Luther King was assassinated, the reaction of far too many people in my town was, essentially, “good riddance”. At the high school, the next day, the two African-American students were not, to my knowledge, directly threatened, but a small group of male students stood, within earshot of one of the boys, and said what a great day it was for America. Not that many years later, a half-in-jest, half-in-earnest movement was begun to celebrate the life of James Earl Ray, Dr. King’s convicted assassin. It never went far, of course, and Dr. King’s stature has grown, over the years, while few remember Ray, or the doctor who supposedly put a pillow over the reverend’s face, thereby completing the act.

Maybe because I was something of an outlier, or because my personality is given to inclusion of everyone, active racism has made me sick-whether it came from other Whites, Asians reacting to White hubris or any other group exhibiting a sense of superiority. None of us walks on water; none of us is created by other than the Almighty. I have had to acknowledge, and gradually jettison, the racial blind spots and ingrained attitudes that were imparted by those of my elders, and peers, who did not examine their behaviour’s effect on those around them. While not loving them any less, I could not continue to hold those attitudes, or ignore areas where I needed to grow.

Bill Russell might have glared at me, had we ever met, and I may have had a hard time dealing with that, but in the end, his pain-coming from all the way back to his childhood, youth and young adulthood, became my pain, too. I learned from the anger of my fellow soldiers, the guarded indignation of people on the street, here and there, and the righteous chastisement of a beautiful, articulate woman at a Baha’i event, of all places, that “Bring thyself to account each day” meant what it said: Not to wallow in self-pity, not to flagellate oneself, but to acknowledge flaws and grow out of them.

Rest in Power, Mr. William Felton Russell. You were one of the good ones, and one of the greats.

Crashes and Comfort Zones

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August 2, 2022- The woman two seats over from me, at the counter of a local establishment, began telling me about what she said was the worst accident she has handled, in twenty years in the automobile insurance industry. It involved a head-on collision, caused by someone who passed on a double yellow, on a curve, and was driving a luxury vehicle. The driver was from another state. His passenger was killed. The right-way driver has lost the use of his legs, for at least two years.

We agreed that there is a long-standing problem with people leaving their manners behind, when they cross out of their home states-and in some cases, home communities. There have been instances where a driver, culpable in an accident, has argued with police and the other parties’ insurance companies, saying that people should make way when said driver is approaching. You can easily guess how that worked for the guilty party. I was taught that other motorists, and pedestrians, are fellow travelers, and deserve every courtesy that I wish for myself.

Conversely, the other phenomenon the insurance agent has witnessed is the frequency of accidents caused by people within a few miles of their homes. The incident in which Saturn got bumped, on July 7, was caused by a driver who was two miles from home-and was headed there when a red light, and two other vehicles, were in between. My Elantra was once dinged by a woman who was backing up, while looking straight forward, because “this is a routine pick-up and I’ve done this every day for six months.” The same hapless vehicle was t-boned by a truck whose driver was two minutes away from his first landscaping job of the day. I was three minutes away from mine, and needless to say, neither of us worked that day. Had he driven the speed limit and had I looked left and right for ten seconds, instead of five, things would have been different.

As it happened, I made another run up to Bellemont today, to finish a cleaning task, using a power washer. There were no problems with traffic and drivers, as Tuesday is not a high volume day, even in summer. In any case, I tend to follow basic rules of courtesy, and follow laws, whether driving in Prescott or Parrsboro, NS.