Not Overlooked

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December 16, 2025- The tall, soft-spoken man had become used to being overlooked. This morning, though, he was tired of it. When asked to wait for our Blood Donation center to finish being set up, he obligingly sat down. Then, things happened in rapid succession: The Center opened, ten people came through the door and lined up to be admitted, while he stayed seated. Once the line had been processed, the man was called over. He was livid.

He got an apology and was processed, then, still grousing about unfair treatment, he went to the donor interview seating area. One of those who had preceded him in line struck up a conversation, heard him out and offered to let him go ahead. That took the wind out of his angry sails and he calmed down. After a satisfying donation, he told the registration volunteers that they were not at fault, and wished everyone a Merry Christmas.

Many people in our society, and in large communities across the globe, feel overlooked, anonymous. Many indeed are. The human brain can only process just so much, and can only pay attention to just so many, before encountering someone who just doesn’t register, whose needs don’t compute. The brain is part of a physical system. It is finite, although it is also far more capable of achievement than most of us allow.

A lot of anonymity in society is due to spiritual dissonance. We are all primarily spiritual beings, living for a time in a physical frame. Those who don’t recognize their spirituality are far more likely to both feel overlooked and to compartmentalize their relationships with others. Isolation is a dangerous thing, both for the person experiencing it, and for those at whom the isolate, eventually, lashes out. Those who feel overlooked will eventually, invariably, find each other, and form groups with skewed visions of reality. Terrorism then ensues, either by someone acting alone or by the group.

The ISIS attack on American Army Reservists in Syria, over the weekend; the mass murder in Sydney; the murders of a conservative activist and an Uzbeki student, in Providence; and even the killings of Rob and Michele Reiner, all follow the pattern: One or more isolated people, to some extent or another exacerbated by mental illness, and in many cases separated from their true spirit (even if they claim to be acting on behalf of a Faith), and feeling misunderstood, lash out in a horrifying manner. They misunderstand their own nature, and taking the seeming indifference of others-who are themselves a bit cut off from their spirituality-as proof that they are owed retribution, lash out in a horrifying manner.

Each individual needs to know that s(he) is responsible for own spiritual education. Parents and adults close to a child can help him or her in that regard. Adults can help one another, but in the end, we each need to take agency for our spiritual existence.

Several of us heard the gentleman’s cry for recognition, this morning, and turned around what could have been an ugly situation. This can be done anywhere, if we recognize the Source of our lives and strive accordingly.

Group Assistance

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December 7, 2025- Another holiday party/annual meeting/farewell gathering featured inventive, delicious organic and vegetarian fare-including my mixed greens and sunflower sprouts, with a dressing of lemon curd, Sicilian lemon balsamic and Persian lime olive oil, with a hint of paprika. The dressing was a particular hit with the group- and the host, a Master Chef, asked to keep what was left. Success!!

Part of the business meeting involved discussion of whether to donate funds to a Garden School in Africa, that serves HIV-ridden orphaned children. The group has helped the Director, herself uninfected, for the past three years, so it was not difficult to vote for continuance. We voted to double the amount suggested by our executive committee, with no objection from them. One of our members has been to that school twice, and will visit again, sometime next year.

It is hard for many people here to comprehend, but the conduit member said that HIV is still rampant in that particular part of Africa, as many men are unwilling to use hygienic protection in their intimate activities, leaving their women open to infection, which naturally gets passed on to any progeny. This situation was the basis for HIV-fighting funds from USAID. Now that the prevailing view in our government is that these funds just “reward bad behaviour”, the funds have been reduced, or eliminated, and it will take time for the miscreants to realize that no one is going to rescue them. The children are the ones who end up suffering. So, private groups like ours are taking up the slack-helping women and children directly.

Collective action is far more effective than assorted individuals trying to take up the mantle. Besides, I have to be on deck to focus my energies and resources on family first. I am grateful that projects like this are getting an organizational response.

Reading the Room

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December 4, 2025- While mostly enjoying a gathering this afternoon, I got the sense that two of the higher-ranking people, in the group with which I have been involved, were not exactly thrilled with my decision to leave the area. A mutual friend said that was off the mark and that the management is actually supportive of my decision and is happy for me. One of the administrators hugged me before leaving, so my reading of the room was not quite on point.

One of the things that has indeed held me back, over the years, is a difficulty in reading people. I came to the conclusion, a while back, that oftentimes when I sense hostility or dislike from someone else, it is more a matter of how I am feeling about myself at the time. Many, if not most, people are neutral-to-supportive. Very few, actually, are hostile-and even if they are, the question begs, “Do I reflect something they don’t like about themselves?

I went to another gathering, this evening, putting these ideas to the test. A person who I previously had considered hostile was actually quite agreeable, jovial. Most of the people at the gathering were engaging and took an interest in one another. I felt at home, and recognized that any tension inside myself right now is likely processing the matter of leaving a place that has been home for fourteen years, and a state that has been home for all but six of the past forty-seven years.

It’s best to let the feelings flow, and know that all will be well, in the weeks to come and in the years that follow. I am getting better, at reading the room.

Dependence

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December 2, 2025, Winslow, AZ- A friend who thinks deeply about the course of human behaviour made a cogent point today- People who often get assessed as being “broken” or “lost” are more often creatures of dependence. They seek approval or guidance from those they view as more powerful or worthy of control over their affairs, and leave their own power on the sidelines.

Through my life, I have often been right, when I trusted my gut and my heart. The bloopers, which have also been many, have come when I tried to “honour” requests or demands made by those who I, erroneously, deemed “heavy hitters”, “hard chargers”, or more adept at life than yours truly. They came when I absorbed their insults and diatribes into my own psyche. Mathematically, this translates into (Dependence) X (Sycophancy)= Self-defeat.

Here is what I would like to see increased: Each person takes stock of how the gut feels, how the heart feels and how those feelings are in sync with common sense, before deciding upon a course of action and certainly before carrying it out. Committing myself to these has definitely decreased the number, and severity, of bloopers that cause so much pain and annoyance to me and to those around me.

This morning, I had a brief urge to go from Tucumcari to Pecos National Historic Site-which would have been a two-hour, thirty-five minute diversion. Gut told heart that there is simply much to be done back in Prescott, once I return there tomorrow. When the turn northward, towards Pecos, presented itself, I kept on driving west, and other than a brief stop at Continental Divide, continued on until I decided that a Winslow break was in order. Top notch birria tacos, at Shorty’s and a night’s stay in The Beatles Room, at Delta Motel, the music-themed inn that is one of my favourites have helped set the tone for the rest of my return to Prescott and getting started on the month of transition ahead.

As for the exploration of New Mexico and other areas, I am looking forward to helping, slowly and gradually, introduce the world and its beauty to my grandchild.

The Road to Diamond, Day 362: Another ’70s “Show”

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November 24, 2025, Moriarty, NM- I left Home Base I , around 8 a.m,, bound for Texas, with a few stops along the way. The first was the Monday morning Coffee Klatsch, where we each gave a rundown of Thanksgiving plans. I then set out for Winslow, encountering almost no traffic between Camp Verde and the famous corner from the Eagles’ tune. After a nice lunch at Relic Road (aka Sipp Shoppe), I found I-40 also relatively tame, even through Albuquerque, to this old ranching town that has become a favourite stopover of mine, being close to the Duke City and therefore halfway across New Mexico.

I did not focus on taking photos, having taken lots of the I-4- corridor, over the years. It is noteworthy, though, that late November is foliage season-for the cottonwood trees and shrubs along High Desert river banks. So, golds, bright yellows and rust-colours are a frequent site, across north central Arizona and New Mexico.

My attention was more drawn to a Sirius XM channel of ’70s Rock. A few songs conjured memories of people who figured in my life in that decade of dissolute behaviour. “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”, by the Temptations concerns the sons of a reckless, irresponsible man trying to determine the truth about him. The lyrics say he died on the Third of September. I knew a man who did pass away on that day, in 1971. That gentleman was the antithesis of the subject of the psychedelic soul tune. He was a man who never took a dime he hadn’t earned and who worked almost to the day he died.

“Seasons in the Sun, by Terry Jacks, brought the memory of four young men from my hometown, who were killed during the Vietnam Era, two in the war itself and two others, due to accidents in nearby countries. The notion of people dying young is voiced by Jacks, saying goodbye to his best friend, his father and his beloved. It struck many of us, at the time, as sappy and unrealistic. Yet, there were our contemporaries dying around us-and not just the four guys in the military. Disease and automobile accidents took their toll on our generation. One of my best friends in high school dies in a crash, not long after his graduation.

I switched to a folk song channel, just east of Gallup, being guided by less evocative tunes until arriving at Lariat Motel, where I am for the night. Still, the songs that came up on the ’70s “show” helped me that much more, in confronting lingering baggage.

The Road to Diamond, Day 354: Interspecies

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November 16, 2025- The American bison has long been the stuff of both reverence and legend. It was also, following the late Pleistocene die-off of other Megafauna ( Cave bears, American camels, giant ground sloths, American rhinoceroses and giant beavers), the largest source of protein for First Nations people.

It is true that First Nations people offered thanks to each animal they killed for food and sustenance. It is true that many tribes, especially in the Plains region, used as many parts of the animal as they could salvage, for food or for tool-making. It is also true that many tribes employed the technique of the Bison Jump, forcing large numbers of a given herd off fairly shallow cliffs, to their deaths or to severe injury that incapacitated many animals, who then could be slaughtered. This was mainly a late autumn/early winter practice, done for the express purpose of ensuring a food supply in winter. The practice is explained here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qDjUHPzLn5E.

I learned these facts from the film “Singing Back the Buffalo”, which was shown this afternoon, at Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church, in downtown Prescott. The film, by Tasha Hubbard and Jason Ryle, explores efforts by First Nations people, in Canada, Mexico and the United States, to restore healthy bison herds, primarily in plains and prairie regions. Ceremonies are held, often within hearing distance of bison herds. (The name “buffalo” is used by some First Nations groups, interchangeably with the more correct term, bison.) There is much singing and dancing at these ceremonies, which both thank the bison for their sacrifice and appeal to them to gather and procreate. It is said that, when a specific group of five juvenile male bison were the focus of a dance, and were too far away to hear the songs, another group of five juvenile male bison came to the site and presented themselves to the assembled Band. This is documented by the film-makers.

It is gratifying that these efforts to promulgate healthy bison herds are gaining traction. Sustainable hunting is also going on, in areas where the bison herds are large and healthy. There are, however, no more “buffalo jumps”. Discussion afterward extended to efforts at promulgating other species, “rewilding” in both North America and Europe. Indeed, I noticed that efforts at protecting and re-introducing the beaver and the lynx are well underway in Scotland. British wildcats are a focus of re-wilding efforts in England and Wales. The lynx is also a focus of re-introduction in Spain and Portugal.

As we learn how to co-exist with wild animals, there is hope for a mutually beneficial solution to the problems of conflict between species. (Of course, we also need to devote a great deal of energy to solving conflicts between humans!)

The Road to Diamond, Day 351: “The Play’s The Thing”

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November 13, 2025- It may well have been the last time I work in Chino Valley High School, but everyone made it count. The Career Exploration students took up the bulk of the day, researching and applying concepts like job descriptions and the expectations that go into their creation. The Drama students were more involved with a production that they are staging, in a few days.

“Twelve Angry Jurors” is an updated version of “Twelve Angry Men”, a film that was done, in 1957 and again in 1997, and which graphically illustrates the intensity of jury deliberations, especially in ambiguous cases. It is more than just a mixed-gender version of the film. Being audience-facing, the play thus appeals to the sensibilities of those watching, as well as acting out the viewpoints of any given juror. There are other, more subtle differences, briefly discussed here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q58Wxi20Frk&t=152s.

I haven’t attended nearly as many plays, over the years, as I might have liked. Small efforts, done in the round, have been my favourites among those I have experienced. A performance of “King Lear”, earlier this year is probably my favourite, if only because it stayed truest to the play as I remember having read it, in my senior year of high school. The themes of mistrust of a loving critic and the clouds of madness, followed by rage at being deceived are most cautionary. The human tendency to reward even the most transparent sycophancy also hits home.

The most appealing thing about live theater, though, is that the efforts of the performers-and of the stage crew may be seen close up. Human effort, at changing the scenery and moving about the room, even having to navigate the audience at times, also makes the play more intimate than even the most exhilarating IMAX presentation of a motion picture.

Movies can be fabulous, but for intimacy and connection, yet, “the play’s the thing”. Long may high school and college drama programs endure. Shakespeare may have used the term as a vehicle for Hamlet to trap his father’s killer, but it certainly sums up, in general, the appeal of the medium.

The Road to Diamond, Day 343: A Short Stint

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November 5, 2025- Some things never seem to change. Two little girls decided to shut out their more officious row-mate, after she called attention to something they supposedly said. I have two thoughts on reporting vs. tattling. On the one hand, I thoroughly believe that children should be seen, heard and believed. The days when only adults were allowed to speak are, mercifully, long gone. On the other hand, not being naive, I know that children, being human, can also be wrong-in their assessment or even in their intentions. A child’s frame of reference is most likely limited by the brevity of their life experiences. Nevertheless, I listened carefully to her report, and equally carefully heard their side, not assessing blame or credit to either.

As it happened, we were starting what is called “Centers”, where students rotate among different activities in the classroom. So, the two girls went to one area and the third occupied herself in drawing and reading. They later were all collaborating on another activity, the earlier dispute seemingly set aside. The regular teacher returned shortly afterward, and I was on my merry way.

We can be very funny about hanging onto bad exchanges with others. I learned a long time ago that grudges are like dead weights. The kids who came across as bullies, in my younger days, were all different. Early on, I decided to look at them individually. The good-hearted boy who was always on my case about one thing or another became the man who was earnestly interested in my well-being. The troubled kid who was constantly trying to beat up others was, as I later witnessed, terrified by others who were stronger and meaner than he. The duo who harassed other kids, by riding up to them on their bikes and taking things, later became men who found themselves being targeted by more nefarious grifters. Holding grudges would have weighed me down. I’m glad to have moved on.

Hopefully, the very competent regular teacher will handle any ongoing tension between the three girls and their different personalities will find a way to mesh, over the years.

The Road to Diamond, Day 341: On Cocooning

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November 3, 2025- I revisited a small regular gathering today. One usually consistent attendee was conspicuously absent. It was explained to me that this person is on an inward journey and does not wish to be with anyone, for the time being. While this news is a bit disconcerting, I have to wish friend well.

I have rarely, if ever, ensconced myself in seclusion for very long. There was a period of time, after Penny passed (2011), when I kept a lot to myself, but there were always other people in the house and I never really felt like I was cocooning. In truth, though, old habits and ways of viewing the world, some of which I had held since adolescence, were being shed. Wrapped up in contemplation, I came out of that period, towards the end of 2014. During those three years, there were a few adventures and a couple of colossal missteps, that might have wrecked my life, and those of a few other people, but for the Grace of the Almighty.

We are each ever in a state of flux, with changing circumstances that could either propel us forward, or upend everything we know and cherish. Sometimes, life brings us a little of both. I see that this might be happening to said friend, and can only be a well-wisher. My own life, in the next six weeks, will see the conclusion of one great chapter and the beginning of another, perhaps grander. I will not be cocooning, though.

The Road to Diamond, Day 340: Disquietude

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November 2, 2025- The meeting, held unusually on a Sunday, was going like clockwork. Out of the blue came a rash of cursing and threatening language. Those involved knew fully well that they were disrupting the meeting next door. They made it clear that they didn’t care-and further, that no one was going to tell them to stop arguing and leave the building.

The right to use foul language and disrupt business, however, seems to end three feet from one’s neighbour’s face. In a privately-owned facility, moreover, a person may be compelled to leave, at the discretion of the building’s owner, or her/his lawful representatives. This is what ended up happening today. The person responsible for keeping order in the meeting, aided by two other officers, escorted the four disquiet people out of the building. There was some discussion outside, but the four went their separate ways, apparently understanding that attracting the attention of the police was not in their best interests.

This is my own main argument for not letting alcohol, or any mind-altering substance, affect one’s ability to carry on with life. I was, at one time, a terrible drunk, and I will leave it at that. I seldom, if ever, though, threw my weight around. On the few occasions that I did so, I was readily called to account, and there are those in my past who are all too happy to remind me of that time when…. So be it. Life is a series of mishaps and, hopefully, of lessons learned.

As a society, though, we still have drug allusions that are used to extol the virtues of a legitimate food or beverage-i.e. “It’s better than crack”. Oh? How do you know about crack? The fact that such a horrible substance is seen in a positive light gives me the willies. Disquietude can be found in any nook and cranny of society. Dealing with it, rooting it out, takes fortitude-and persistent effort-the kind that does not allow for a positive view of an addicting substance.