Turnarounds

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April 16, 2024- The nine-year-old said, matterfactly, that he had stopped himself, twice today, from acting out and engaging in negative actions. He started to misbehave, then decided it would be better to act as a leader. He is the oldest child in his classroom, and it was also important that a girl, who is his friend in another classroom, does not approve of acting out.

I routinely think of my own actions and speech. Do they fit what is becoming of someone in a leadership role? Would my spirit guides approve? Would the woman I love the most, to say nothing of my dear friends, be happy or would they be dismayed? It is of the utmost importance, to hold oneself to a gold standard.

There are all manner of turnarounds that are occurring in this time of transition. Some can be attributed to climatic change, to El Nino or La Nina. Deserts, from Death Valley, California to the Arabian Peninsula and the Dasht-e-Lut, of Iran, are experiencing intense rain that has not been seen in modern times. The United Arab Emirates and Oman are virtually shut down, from the flooding that has ensued. These desert countries are not alone. Rainfall has intensified in Central Asia and western Siberia, as well, and the Cone of South America, especially Argentina and Uruguay, had an extraordinarily wet summer (December-January). Conversely, the islands of Southeast Asia are experiencing a drought, as the tail-end of El Nino runs its course.

Transitions and turnarounds are apt to continue for at least the next fifteen months, both in a climatic sense and in our daily lives, as the solar maximum plays out, between now and September, 2025. Nothing really surprises me, anymore.

The Flow of Life

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April 12, 2024- During the course of the day, at least 64 people donated blood, in a small conference suite of Frontier Village, a Prescott shopping center, located 2.1 miles from the center of town. Each person potentially saved the life of a hospitalized individual, a victim of a fire, or of a car crash, or a beating. In the days when assaults on strangers seem to be increasing, sixty-four people chose to help someone they did not know. A few of them told me, the registrar of the Blood Drive, of how someone else had once helped a family member in need.

Across the country, my mother is alert, mildly talkative, still taking minimal nutrients, and pondering the flow of life. She is ninety-five years of age, has seen four children and ten grandchildren grow to adulthood. She is seeing nineteen great-grandchildren grow into solid human beings. Through it all,she has been a stellar example of how to face challenges, head-on. Her life is flowing towards the delta that is the gateway to the ocean of eternity. It has been, by all indications, a grand journey.

Here in Home Base I, increasing numbers of people are facing the reckoning that always comes with ignoring a simple rule of life: Other people matter, every bit as much as oneself does. The person in a crosswalk, the rider of a motorcycle, a bicycle or a skateboard, the person standing in line ahead of you are not objects to be conveniently shoved aside or targets to be struck by a vehicle. Red lights, stop signs and temporary barriers, or detours, are not nuisances to be ignored, out of a desire for convenience. People who hold an opinion that differs from one’s own are not monsters to be slain or idiots to be publicly humiliated. I know that every community faces a similar challenge, in a world that still is plagued by anonymity and self-absorption. That self-absorption, though, is always headed towards a dead end.

The flow of life will ever go, in the direction that the Universe intends, and while that sometimes seems to head in odd tangents, in the end, it will likewise find its way to the Most Great Ocean.

Continuous Flow

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April 4, 2024- My cousin, John, came by this morning, just before I woke up. He and I were walking, along a rough, rocky path, which had a drop off into the ether, to the left, and a series of other rocky paths, to the right-each of those being separated by drop offs into the ether. He asked if I wanted to stay over there. I told him I had many things to do, before I went there to stay. That was when I awoke.

John and I were quite close, as boys, and into our young adulthood. He visited me, when we were both in VietNam, in 1971. He and his wife, Mary, helped me when I was unceremoniously evicted from my apartment, in February, 1977. We kept in touch, though I last saw him at my brother, Brian’s, funeral, in 1994. John passed away three years ago, this June.

I was not at all jarred by this dream. It just affirmed for me that I have many things for which to remain in this life, from a wealth of good friends-one in particular-to several goals, over the next six years and beyond. About an hour after I got myself together for the day, two friends were asking for assistance, and I was able to help both, in small ways. From there, I retrieved items left behind at yesterday’s job site, then took part in a shelter simulation with the area Red Cross team. This evening, there was a session for healing and assistance prayers, at the home of some Baha’i friends.

I also got some input into cosmic energy trends for the rest of the year, which will help in planning activities, both here at Home Base and further afield, including international travel. There will be some small adjustments made, with regard to dates of overseas journeys, and close consultation with friends in each country is crucial. That should be the case, anyway, but the energy trends amplify that need.

Things are bound to be fast-paced, in certain months, and like cold molasses, in others. Energy will be continuous in flow, though, regardless.

“I have promises to keep, and miles to go, before I sleep.”-Robert Frost

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42891/stopping-by-woods-on-a-snowy-evening

No True Veils

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March 28, 2024- The divers found two bodies, yesterday, in the chill of the Patapsco River. Men who had gone to work, on the overnight shift, Monday night, found themselves trapped in a car, as the chain reaction of errant cargo ship goes out of control, hits bridge supports,bridge buckles and collapses, men die-plays out. A miracle can save four others, but the clock ticks on. Families, yet again, are shattered. A young woman hugs her husband, who escaped death by the narrowest of margins, all the more striking, as he cannot swim. They mourn the loss of his crew mates, and join in the sorrow of those families. A city, a state, and five nations are in shock.

Across the globe, 143 people died in an attack on a Moscow nightclub. Moscow, Nova, Orlando, Manchester, Las Vegas, Bali, What is it about entertainment venues that incenses political extremists? Is it a matter of “How dare they have a good time, when I and mine are going through horror?” Is it a matter of “God hates those who relax”? We see the aftermath. Other extremists have killed over 30,000 people, most of them innocent of wrongdoing, in the name of retribution. A world is sliding into shock.

There is no barrier, really, between me and any given counterpart in Gaza, in Moscow, in any one of the nations that lie south of the Rio Grande/Rio Bravo. We all have our legitimate work to do, trying to make the world a better place.

There is no veil between any of us and those who left their bodies behind, either willingly or because their presence is inconvenient to the aims of a certain relative few. The departed still have work to do, in their spirit forms. They may assist those they love or they may exact retribution on those who tormented them. Some probably do a little of both.

There are no real veils or barriers between us. It just makes a convenient dodge, to pretend otherwise.

The Fighter Still Remains

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March 22, 2024- Dad would have been 97 today. So, I spent a fair amount of time remembering what he taught me, of life, survival and responsibility. He himself was not a physically rough man, and discouraged any such behaviour in his four sons. He was a traditionalist, with regard to Mom working outside the home, but never stood in her way, when it came to her running a hairdressing and cosmetology practice, with the kitchen as her shop. He also let her handle the household budget, while in his own right, he was sensibly frugal. He taught us to figure out what the unit value of what we were selling was-whether it was the family newspaper route, which I had for two years and passed on to my middle brother, and he to brother # 3, or retail offerings. He showed us three oldest boys, and our sister, how to change a tire and change the motor oil and filter. I also watched as he gapped spark plugs. When the horn beeped, on a Thursday evening, all hands were on deck, going out to carry the groceries into the house, and we helped Mom put them away.

He also taught me to stand my ground; again, not violently, but with resolve. It is that on which I have drawn, in a variety of situations, over the past five decades-more effectively some times than on other occasions, but as consistently as I knew how, at the given time. It’s easier now, though the challenges are more nuanced, slightly more muddled, than in my earlier life. As I have branched out, and traveled both domestically and internationally, people have, on occasion, pushed the boundaries of my dignity and worth. At other times, the fight has been within myself, and has required more focus, more resolve.

Looking back, I was not the greatest of fathers, in my own right, but I did offer my son the basics in how to value work, treat others fairly and to take pride in self. I could have been a better husband, but I never strayed and took care of Penny, in her time of infirmity. In her prime, I honoured and valued her as a full partner, a strong, productive human being in her own right. My filial devotion could have been more strongly expressed, even while Mom has been, and is, fiercely independent. I would be at her side in short order, though, if the call came, even if I am 24-hours away at the time it comes. My treatment of friends and family could be better, yet they know I am loyal and that I cherish their dignity and worth-and, from the woman I love most, to the most casual in my friendship circle, value their achievements.

Above all, when it is a matter of their safety, survival and basic well-being, I will stand with any of them-and all of them. No one messes with my circle. Not unlike the character in Paul Simon’s song, the fighter still remains.

Spirits At Work

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March 20, 2024- An old friend, who I haven’t seen in thirteen years, gave me a call, and said that, among other things, she has a journal that Penny wrote, whilst we were on Pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places, as well as to Jerusalem, Bethlehem and the Galilee, in 1982.
I will retrieve that treasure, when I go to northern Nevada, en route to the Pacific Northwest, in July.

In our conversation, friend also referred to her deceased husband, sending her messages that he was engaged in productive work, in the world beyond. Penny gave me a similar message, in her last appearance in my sleep, about two months ago. The souls progress, and they do not slumber.

I’m pretty much convinced that all the good that has happened to me, in the past twelve years-and especially in the last five, has largely been due to personal growth, in which I have been guided by the spirits who love me. I have survived auto mishaps and a few personal attacks, because of their intercession. The same is true of all the journeys I have safely undertaken and the friends made. They have helped me shed baggage and demons, as I’ve mentioned a few times.

The work of the spirits continues-as we observe the Baha’i New Year, that is called, in Persian, Naw-Ruz. May this busy 181 B.E., that falls mostly in 2024, be a safe and healthy one for all.

Lunar Water, and Other Things Overlooked

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March 19,2024- “The test guide says there is no water on the Moon, so that’s what we need to go by, for now.” So I was told by a colleague, not long ago, when I pointed out that water had been discovered on Luna, in small amounts. Oh, how we deal with the cognitive dissonance that fact often brings our way, when it clashes with previously-held concepts and shibboleths. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that Celene Dion had a minor hit song called “Water from the Moon”.

The late, great Harry Nilsson once did a spoken word piece on his album, “The Point!”, in which his message was “You see what you want to see, and you hear what you want to hear.” This has never been truer, for many people, than now. Those who have particularly strong convictions are apt to discount, and in many cases vehemently disparage, alternative points of view, even when presented with factual information that is at variance with their own deeply-held beliefs. One Congressman, during the Watergate hearings, actually blurted out the famous quote from Plato: “I’m trying to think; don’t confuse me with facts.” The philosopher, at the time, was not discounting the facts. He was simply trying to see where they fit into his line of reasoning. That may have been true of the Congressman, during that heated time in American life, but it appeared ludicrous back then.

This is true of many of us, even among those who are known for an open mind and open heart. We each have at least a few beliefs that are unshakable-usually with regard to personal Faith or concerning our views of human nature, or individualism vs. collective action. My late maternal grandfather was a stalwart believer in individual responsibility. He imparted this to each of his nine children, who in turn passed it on to us-and we, to our own children-and so on. My paternal grandfather also believed in living up to one’s duties, but also took time for joie de vivre. He passed both on to his eleven children, and on down the line. Papa was not a dour man, and Grampy was not frivolous. They each had their core beliefs, which our grandmothers more or less shared, though the dear women seldom spoke of their own convictions.

We were raised to work hard, but also to think for ourselves, and when we were able to present facts to back up our statements, we had the respect, sometimes grudging, of our elders. I miss that environment.

Boxcars, Boyos and Braceros

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March 17, 2024- In 1946, a decorated soldier came back to his hometown of Galesburg, IL, and went with his friends to a downtown movie theater. They were directed, by an usher, to sit in the “Mexican section”. The honourably discharged soldier refused, saying that he wished to speak with the manager. When that wish was granted, the soldier told the manager that he had just finished serving their country, and fighting against Fascism, for nearly three years. He expected the same rights as any other citizen of the United States.

That began the end of racial segregation in Galesburg, and across Illinois. It would take another ten years for the practice to end across the northern and western states, as well as in Canada. It would be another 18-25 years for it to end in the southern states.

In 1917, as American men went off to fight in World War I, there was a vast labour shortage. Corporate representatives recruited Mexican men, by the thousands, to fill the vacant positions. These men were housed in re-purposed railway boxcars, as many of the positions were with the railroads. Boxcar villages, near towns like Galesburg, were established near the railyards.

The same thing happened, on a smaller scale, in World War II. By then, men were allowed to bring their families along, and more permanent “barrios”, many with row houses, were established by the railway companies, and other employers. Thousands of Mexican workers and families were thus brought into the United States, not by “liberal politicians”, but by business and industry leaders, seeking to accomplish their missions.

A century earlier, much the same process unfolded, on the East Coast and in the cities of the Midwest, as Irish (the boyos, they called themselves) and Italian workers, fleeing chaos in their homelands, arrived in the United States, having heard of opportunities here. They, too, encountered prejudice, and were enticed to quarrel with one another, so as to keep a united front from forming among the refuge-seekers and the dispossessed. That tactic would resurface, when each new group: Poles, Hungarians, Greeks, Arabs, Japanese, Chinese, Filipinos, arrived here and sought their chance at a new life. Then came newly freed people of African descent, fleeing the Jim Crow laws of the former Confederate states-and Mexicans, fleeing the repression and chaos of the Diaz years. Braceros, or manual labourers, did the work that few Americans wished to engage.

This is the backdrop, as the wall goes up and scapegoats are sought, by wirepullers, for the overlooking of homeless veterans and others. Two equally worthy groups of people need the help of their fellow humans, and yes, charity begins at home. It begins at home, and family members get first dibs, then community members-like those who served their country and are now getting short shrift, in many cases. It doesn’t end there, however. Only a truly unified human race can resolve the issue that stem from the mindset that some people are less than others, because of differences in their make-up, strengths and weaknesses, appearance, national origin, religion, personal predilections- you name it. Only seeing that there really is no other, just a mirror of ourselves, will lead to a systematic solution to all that has gone wrong-starting with family, then community, then state/province, country and region, until the entire globe gets the idea.

Maybe then, there will be no cross-border caravans, no twenty-foot walls, no former police/military officers seizing power in their destitute countries, no mindless interplay between ideological rivals, rather than each sharing viable solutions to deep-seated social ills.

Domhan go bragh. (Earth, til the end)

Nuggets

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March 16, 2024-

Smoke is smoke, fire is fire. An explosion in a small town, affecting two or three families, can implode an entire community. A General Alarm fire, on the street of a large city, can generate headlines, and bring onlookers, even politicians, making promises, which may or may not go over with those of the stakeholders, who were not asked of their views, on cost and benefit, of recovery efforts, to the greater good. All tragedy, all mishap, decimates body and soul, whether one is directly affected, or only connected in passing. To the former, it’s as if a life is shattered, though only for a time. To the latter, it’s like a pebble in a shoe, but not so easily shaken loose. “No man is an island”.

So, I got up early, and went to the small town of Seligman, a ninety-minute drive to the northwest, and helped with a smoke detector installation project. Our team encountered a heavy smoker, who had no such devices in his house. He now has four. He was chastened, and grateful.

Smoke is smoke, fire is fire.

UndivIDEd

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March 15, 2024- Today being the Ides (Divides) of March, I am taking a few minutes to look at one element of life that may lead to division.

Among the entries on my e-mail serve, this morning, was one from a local woman, bemoaning socialism. That comes as no surprise, with so many who view any sort of collective as an affront to those whose well-being has come, in their honest assessment, from the sweat of their own brows. It does not, however, recognize that both socialism and individualism are continuums, varying in degrees.

Socialism can be as compatible with individual effort as are the systems in place in countries as diverse as Sweden, New Zealand and Costa Rica-all of which have, or recently have had, conservative leadership. Those conservative leaders have not seen fit to wholly dismantle the economic system; instead viewing small tweaks that stimulate individual ingenuity and drive, when the State appears to be overly dismissive of those two qualities.

Socialism can also be overly deterrent of individual initiative and drive, when ambitious reformers get ahead of their own agenda, as has happened in Cuba, Nicaragua, and in the former Soviet Union. Ego can end up destroying whatever good might have initially come from the attempt to correct excessive individualism. Then, we will see the very thing that the artist Pete Townshend described in his song, “We Won’t Get Fooled Again”- “The parting on the Left is now parting on the Right…”

No one size fits all, and human beings are, by and large, hard-wired to draw inspiration, and affirmation, from their own imaginations, interests and talents. Baha’u’llah teaches that “It is made incumbent on every one of you to engage in some occupation, such as arts, trades, and the like. We have made this—your occupation—identical with the worship of God, the True One. Reflect, O people, upon the Mercy of God and upon His favors, then thank Him in mornings and evenings.” (Bahá’u’lláh: Bahá’í World Faith, p. 195) (Programmer’s note: ‘Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh revealed after the Kitab-i-Aqdas’, p. 26).

We were each created to live to our fullest individual capacity. Even many developmentally disabled persons can do some form of work that contributes to the public good. Being discouraged from this, by anyone in authority, can only do harm to society, over time-which is why a balance between liberal idealism and attention to the collective need to be balanced with conservative preservation of values and the honouring of individual initiative. Left to themselves, either ideology can become over-active, and end up stifling the populace.

I could offer several specific examples of both, but suffice it to say that no human institution can thrive, in perpetuity, without rigourous oversight by the people it purports to serve. That’s why even enterprises and social groups, formed with the purest of motives, need to be subject to scrutiny. Publicly-held companies, school systems (both public and private) have Boards of Directors for a reason, and founders of those institutions have been asked to leave, when they depart from their own original plan of operation. Government, too, operates best with a system of checks and balances.

Belief in one’s own primacy can never take the place of commitment to the public good.