Journey 3, Day 8: Choosing the Talk, Figuring The Walk

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September 7, 2023, Toledo, OH- There he stood, in the middle of a thankfully empty downtown street, trying to remember where he had parked his car. Having been in that predicament, myself, quite a few times (though taking care to not stand in the street), I asked if I might be of help. He mentioned the name of a landmark, near where his car was-and I was able to reorient him on his way.

A short time later, having had a bracing lunch of teriyaki chicken and rice,at Koya, in Wilmette’s village center, I spent about an hour in prayer, in the Baha’i House of Worship and at its Visitor Center. Of particular personal concern was being able to know in which direction my acts of service might fall, each day going forward.

Mostly, this has been sparked by a few instances of self-doubt, or momentary confusion. After reflection, though, it is more a matter of trying to do too much, too quickly-which is something that has ever been a challenge in my repertoire of behaviours. So, with a prayer to direct the urge for service in the optimal direction, I set out from the Holy Temple.

The Chicago Dance, as I call the flow of traffic along the Windy City’s freeways, lasted about an hour-from Dempster Street, Evanston to the Chicago Skyway. At one point, the first person I’ve ever seen freeze, whilst trying to change lanes, caused the driver behind me to open his window and bellow “Get moving, NOW!”, while the lady in the next lane looked about ready to spew equal venom. All I could do was inch forward and wait until the frightened one had moved his car completely out of my way. The car had Illinois plates, but who knows? Hapless Harry finally managed to screw up enough courage to go forth, in about a minute-which is an eternity to Chicago’s seasoned drivers.

In my own space, it often takes a few tries to get things right, so I did not fault either the frozen driver or the person experiencing parking space amnesia. In fact, once I got off the Tollways, the desire to get as far east as possible overcame prudence-and I had to call around and apologetically cancel a scheduled online meeting. I did find Best Motel, an aptly-named accommodation, here in Toledo. It will be another link in my continental chain

Journey 3, Day 3: Dancing as Sharing the Spirit

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September 2, 2023, Black Forest, CO- Kicking off her shoes, the instructor showed us how to actually dance in rhythm to a classical concerto. A group of us stepped, at first slowly, then in lively fashion, as the crescendo sounded. It looked like the dervishes go to disco, but the idea was for us to be comfortable with our own rhythm and style of movement.

Back in high school, there were only a few accepted ways of dancing. I was the model of two left feet, so I spent a lot of time watching the more graceful dancers and managed to kind-of, sort-of master one of the dance steps, by the time graduation happened.

Since then, moving to the beat has become easier. Now, the eye-rollers are men my age, as in “Leave that stuff to the kids, before you put your knees out of whack!” Actually, dancing saves my knees, as does hiking, but I digress.

Joining group activities is a means of sharing one’s inner spirit-letting people know what moves a soul. The sight of an 85-year-old William Shatner “busting a move”, or the late Leonard Cohen, tangoing on stage with one of his back-up singers, at the age of 80, gives me similar confidence, so long as it continues to feel natural.

I am one of two out-of-staters at this conference, so joining in these types of activities also gives me a connection to the otherwise tight-knit group, who are er,basically the same family members who have gathered together for twenty years. It’s good for the soul to meet new people and learn different perspectives. Besides, they invited me, so here we all are.

Journey 3, Day 2- Waltz Across Paradise

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September 1, 2023, Black Forest, CO- While the hostess could barely focus, for the crowds that were making their way to her check stand, i could see that she was trying to keep it together. Such was the noon hour, at Junction Restaurant, on the east edge of Pagosa Springs.

I have been on Rte. 160, across Colorado’s southern tier, maybe two dozen times, since 1981. I have seen snow in July and bare roads in January. It has been all about navigating Wolf Creek Pass, each and every time. It has also been about an overnight in Cortez, or in Walsenburg, if I was making a return trip.

Highway 160 is the middle route, between I-40 and I-70. It is the guide to the San Juan Mountains, Mesa Verde, the Animas, San Juan and Rio Grande, the San Luis Valley, Great Sand Dunes, the Spanish Peaks-and the heart of the Rocky Mountains.

The three great rivers are hurting. Sand bars are visible in the Animas and San Juan, at Durango and Pagosa Springs, respectively, and Rio Grande is barely flowing, at Alamosa. There are no fires allowed in Montezuma County (Cortez), La Plata County (Durango), Archuleta County (Pagosa Springs) and Rio Grande County (South Fork). For the first time in memory, I saw no snow, anywhere, on the tops of the great “Fourteeners”. Colorado is parched, along with most of its fellow western states, and the its neighbours on the Great Plains.

This is the backdrop to the three days that lie ahead, at the Colorado East Baha’i School, here in Black Forest. Nonetheless, as we take pains to conserve water, be fire wise and love our host Mother Earth, all of us, Coloradans and visitors alike, are grateful for the paradise that this state presents.

I hope the blessed little lady at Junction can find some peace, this weekend.

The DACA Picnic

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August 27, 2023- Close to fifty people were gathered in Granite Creek Park, early this afternoon, when I went over for an event organized to assist people registering with the government, under the terms of the Dream Act, for another two years of relative safety, as legal residents of the United States.

It was a well-organized, if low key, event-with a few people playing games and practicing Tae Kwon Do, despite the heat. Most of the Boomers in attendance were gathered under the ramada. I got my food and went to sit and watch the kids of various ages, who were engaged in the fun activities. The samosa vendor from Farmers Market was providing her delicious East African filled dumplings, as the protein item in the light lunch that was given to each of us. I took one of the chicken samosas, some Veggie Straws, a navel orange and some sparkling water.,

This brings me to the whole immigration issue. I read a post, this evening, by someone I thought knew better, saying that all the changes taking place in the world right now are organized by some shadowy group that wants to buy up as much land as they can get away with (thus, the wildfires in Hawaii, Canada and around the Mediterranean region), lock everyone down again (thus, the recent outbreaks of ad nauseam subvariants of Covid) and crash the U.S. economy (thus, the BRICS Group’s expansion). Similar fears are being expressed about migration, a phenomenon that far predates our system of nations and borders, and which will far outlast its present iteration- and for one reason: People will go where the work is.

I am personally in favour of a Guest Worker program, which would allow people to enter this country legally, for the purpose of filling those positions which American citizens choose not to occupy. While they ought to be able to drive, again as licensed operators, subject to all laws, including the holding of an adequate insurance policy, and should be able to find housing, their children be educated in U.S schools, etc., I do not favour granting other perquisites, such as welfare or unemployment insurance payments-especially as there are many American citizens who go without such benefits. Homeless citizens should be first in line for affordable housing, which is a human right. Citizens who are ill should be first in line for affordable health care-also a human right. We have the wherewithal to do right by our fellow Americans AND, in an organized manner, help our fellow humans who come to us from other nations.

Jumping back to the BRICS question, the very organization of that group is a direct nconsequence of colonialism. Every member of BRICS, except Russia, is a country which was once administered, and/or had its resources extrmeriacted by, one or more nations of Western Europe. It is NOT a cabal that wants to destroy the United States. If anything, the nations want to copy the better aspects of the American model, and why wouldn’t they? Seeking to level the playing field requires a gradual spread of genuine democratic practices-and even China is going to find that to be to its benefit, if it hasn’t realized that already.

BRICS ties in with DACA, in that the only way to prevent the monstrous cabal, that so many fear, from taking over, is to empower the Global South, and its citizens, in place-so that there is not an accelerating and unwieldy wave upon wave of people overloading the nations of North America and Europe, far beyond anything we are experiencing now. Both development in place, and a well-managed Guest Worker program in the developed nations, are needed, and urgently.

The Giant Rubber Duck

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Style and Substance

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August 25, 2023- The little boy greeted me, in late morning, with a warm hug. The angry woman, later in the evening, with much the opposite.

Like so many days, this one began light and airy-and ended with a thud. I woke, sensing that the energy around me was shifting in a positive direction and that, in advance of the journey that begins at the end of next week, my path in what remains to be done here in the meantime would be free of obstacles. The work day reflected that, with the children energetic and cooperative, and my colleagues just happy to see another Friday, though they do enjoy their work. Everyone likes a rest, or change of pace, after a week at a job well done.

I visited Rafter Eleven, and was treated like a king-an extra mocha java was delivered to my table, as a token of appreciation for consistent support of this marvelous enterprise, over the bottom of the past eight years. A little bee was also attracted to my light meal, and to the drink, eventually finding its way to the bottom of the glass. Unfortunately, the poor animal perished from the still icy condition of the vessel-or maybe from the caffeine.

After leaving my friend’s establishment, I chose to join an in-person meeting, instead of going back to Home Base and signing onto Zoom. The hosts and the presenter were congenial, and the information quite illuminating. Not everyone was glad to see me however, and after a fashion, I found it best to excuse myself and head out-easy enough to do, as it had been a long, if lovely, day up to that point-and I needed rest.

There have been, every so often, people in my life who do not take kindly to my manner of speech or style of explanation. I try to learn what I can from such a person, for a time, and if it makes me more well-rounded or expands my knowledge, so much the better. Style, however, tends to reflect the substance of a soul. An angry, wounded soul will be abrupt, castigating and intolerant. I have not done well, in the presence of such people and this evening was no exception.

For my part, I know that I do not think well on my feet at the end of the day-and frequently, I do not engage well in debate, even when rested. This means nothing to the disquiet person, and is often viewed by them as an excuse. The whole trigger this evening was my statement that I like to back up my comments with the words of Baha’u’llah or ‘Abdu’l-Baha, not as a proselytizing mechanism or as a substitute for good deeds, but as the glue that holds my own words and deeds together. That led to an outburst of anger, and I chose to leave, rather than exacerbate the situation.

For a time, once back in the apartment, I pondered whether this is an indication that my time here in this community is getting short, that maybe the bloom is off the rose and I need to move on. The counter to that, I know, is that the part of myself that triggers anger in disquiet people will only spark the same, at the next place, if I move along. It’s better to keep this Home Base for now, get my journeys done in September and October, and resume work here from November through mid-May.

With that, I am headed to sleep, and hope for a peaceful weekend.

Humanity Isn’t Minimized

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August 23, 2023- In August, 1974, a family visiting from Montreal had taken a cabin at a resort, in western Maine, where I was working for the summer. A fire was built in the hearth, then thinking that it would be secure and burn itself out-in the hearth, the family went to bed. At 2 a.m., the older daughter, 13, smelled smoke and got her parents and sister up and out of the cabin. I was one of the volunteer firefighters who did the best we could to extinguish the fire-and did keep it from spreading. Many of the other crew members were year-round residents of the village. Their own homes would have been at serious risk, in short order, had the blaze spread.

Tusayan is a small town, of about 6,000 people, most of whom work in service industries connected to Grand Canyon National Park’s South Rim. There are also those who serve the servers: The Coconino County Sheriff’s Substation, the Grand Canyon Unified School District and the Town of Tusayan’s government.

Yesterday, much of the town’s populace, and many visitors, were evacuated, due to unusual flash floods. While clean-up will take time, and there is an ongoing threat of more rain, through Friday, the main road-AZ Highway 64, has been re-opened, from the South Rim’s entrance to Williams. The eastern section, from the entrance to Cameron, did not need to be closed, though in taking that road last night, due to a commitment at a school in Prescott, today, I noticed that a severe hail storm had struck the eastern part of South Rim, earlier in the afternoon.

This is yet another in a series of wake-up calls for the tourism industry, and for travelers in general, that the places being visited are inhabited by people who are essentially the same as those who have left their homes to take a rest, be served or to just enjoy a change of pace from home sweet home. Lahaina is the largest, and worst, such tragedy, in a series spanning several years. Gatlinburg, Big Sur, Talkeetna and dozens of small forest encampments all over the continent-and across the globe, have seen fire and flood drive those involved in hospitality lose house and home.

There are many reactions to a tragedy in a vacation-oriented area, as I discussed last week. It has been reported that at least one tourist raged about his dinner reservation being canceled by the Lahaina fire’s burning down the restaurant. We are all on a journey away from self, and towards seeing “all humanity created from the same stock”, as Baha’u’llah wrote in a prayer, 150 years ago. Some of us have, in all sincerity and from a place of generosity, gone to the suffering area and purchased a vacation package, thinking that THIS is the way to help the people in the afflicted community know that the world stands with them. Others have sent large supplies of goods, often without checking as to what is actually needed. These are good-hearted people, who have just not taken the time to hear from the victims themselves, or from their spokespeople. Thus, some want to go to Maui, anyway. Others will go to Tusayan, and expect that business as usual has resumed, because the highway is open. The clean-up will continue, for some time.

Humanity isn’t minimized by where someone lives, or by which economic group they occupy. Yes, paying for a service does mean that one gets a product for one’s money. It is also true, in this age when nearly every place on Earth has something of interest to offer, that we are all both visitors and visited, servers and served.

I find that it is the deep connecting with those who live in a community, that makes visiting the locale worthwhile in the first place.

That Floor Space

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August 21, 2023- A friend told of visiting her aunt’s home as a child, and going into the room where her disabled, nonverbal cousin was sitting on the floor, and joining her, talking with the girl and not expecting any verbal response. The joyful smile and noise that she did get in reply were actually more meaningful than the banal banter that we often pass off as “interest”.

I read, this evening, of one of the few houses still standing, in Lahaina. The metal roof, cleared space around the house and the distance between homes, in that part of Front Street, had a fair amount to do with its survival. Another aspect, that the couple who live there now plan to take in some who are destitute, surely affected its fate. Arrangements, solutions, to even the worst of disasters are in the ethereal realm, waiting to be called forth. Floor space is a temporary fix, but I have been in plenty of situations, both as a host and as a guest, when a spot on the floor, or on a couch, has made the difference between renewed hope and despair.

There are also times when the schedule is crowded, or I am out of town, and a call, a text or an e-mail comes from someone, just needing to be acknowledged or to get a listening ear. I could do better in that regard, but setting aside time, pulling over to the side of the road, clicking the Bluetooth phone icon on my steering wheel or, if in an activity, excusing myself and going outside, to answer the call, are all getting easier. That temporal floor space is often all that an overwhelmed soul needs.

There is definitely floor space, one place or another, for everyone.

Magical, Again

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August 14, 2023- The leading candidate for the Presidency of a South American nation has issued an agenda that would, for all intents and purposes, dismantle the government of that country and coupled it with proposals that promise nothing but even more misery than the long-suffering citizens of that land have already endured, which is considerable.

About seven months ago, I misread the slogan on a tee-shirt, worn by a community activist, the first word of which was slightly hidden. It read “Make America Musical Again”. I thought the first word was “Magical”.

I would be quite okay with a renewed sense of, magic in this country and in the world. Don’t get me wrong. Easy solutions are not in anyone’s best interest, nor do I believe in the Dark Arts. Rather, I would like to see a foundation of innocence, in the childlike manner,a renewed belief that anything is possible.

As it is right now, we are being given a choice between retreads and rehashing of shopworn notions and practices, on the one hand, and cynical, manipulative sleight-of-hand, on the other. The upshot is same old, same old or “anything goes”. Nowhere in either set of dogmas is there an appeal to real co-operation, to the actual honouring of human agency, across the board. Neither “camp” truly honours the other, and thus, by extension, no one is honoured.

In the Fall of 1985, the Supreme Body of the Baha’i Faith, the Universal House of Justice, issued a document, “The Promise of World Peace”, which cautioned against holding on to outworn practices and beliefs that only deepen divisions. It noted that “a paralysis of will” is in play, keeping the natural forces of unity and co-operation in check. The Universal House of Justice ties this to both self-interest of many leaders and to lack of education among the masses of people.

This tells me that there is a welter of overthinking, combined with lack of trust, in either one’s own abilities or in that of the human race as a whole. People tell themselves that they are overwhelmed by life-and a good many honestly are. This puts them at the mercy of those who have thought things through, to a certain point, and have devised ways of achieving their own self-serving agendas.

Vladimir Lenin regarded his followers as “useful idiots”. The current crop of demagogues has a similar mindset. People in the aforementioned country, and several others across the globe, including this one, are likely to fall for the tropes, the deceptions and the legerdemain of the manipulative class-but for the opportunity in front of each of us, to re-look at matters with eyes of confidence, commitment to both self and others and a turning away from those limited notions that foster division.

If that entails a “magical” belief in unconditional love, co-operation and the endless capacity of human beings for good, then so be it. In this vein, I give you a video of mothers of Downs Syndrome children, lip-syncing Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years”.

A Dozen Years

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August 11, 2023- On this date, in 2011, I posted a short, tentative introductory post, inaugurating this site. It was at a difficult time in life. My wife of twenty-nine years had been gone five months. I was feeling isolated from many people, and was feeling pressured by others, to do what they thought was best for me, going forward. I ended up “going dark”, for the most part, until the following January.

A dozen years later, I’m still very much here, and no longer feeling besieged, either by my own demons or by others’ expectations. So, I want to take a look back, at some of the things that I did right, during each of these years.

2011- It was an honour to help my in-laws, providing food for them, over a two-week period, when they were laid up and unable to prepare their own meals. I also re-connected with my father’s older brother, in Colorado.

2012- Some of the places that Penny and I had wanted to visit together, I was able to reach-with her spirit very close at hand: San Francisco’s Baha’i Center; the Redwoods, both coastal and interior; the Oregon Coast; the Portland Rose Gardens; Neah Bay and Cape Flattery, WA; Seattle.

2013- I was able to attend a “Sail Blind” event, in which my second-eldest brother was participating.

2014- Attended the 70th Anniversary of D-Day observance, at Utah Beach, and visited the site of my father-in-law’s World War II imprisonment,in Berga, Germany- both in his memory.

2015- Made it to southeast Alaska, which we had also hoped to visit as a couple.

2016- Overcame a lot of self-doubt and took on a job that involved helping other autistic people. With considerable help, replaced the broken-down vehicle that I had bought on the cheap, two years ago.

2017- Kept at my final full time job; had a smooth drive, to and from New England.

2018- Faced down a very powerful negative force.

2019- Survived a physical attack; made the decision to move into semi-retirement. Went to Korea and attended Aram’s and Yunhee’s wedding.

2020- Worked the floor, twice, during the height of COVID-19, at Red Cross storm shelters, in Louisiana and Texas.

2021- Drove to and from Massachusetts, twice, to assist with Mom’s move and the clearing of our former family home.

2022- Traveled to Newfoundland and Cape Breton, fulfilling another of our couple dreams. Bought a vehicle on my own, this time in a proper manner.

2023- Made a concerted effort to reduce my weight-and succeeded. Visited a few friends,in the Pacific Northwest, who had felt isolated during the long night of COVID-19. There are two long journeys, at least, left in this year. I say “at least”, because there is no telling what will be asked of any of us, by the Red Cross-with regard to Maui.

In any event, my psyche is in so much better a place, after twelve years of self-responsibility.