Faded Glory?

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November 11, 2022-

Say not that beauty has faded, rather, make note that it has deepened. The smoothness of a face has found its way into the deeper layers of dermis, shining more brightly, from its place in the recesses underneath.

The brightness of the eyes remains, reflecting more intensely the knowledge and wisdom that have found their way from the psyche on out.

The body has lost no lustre, rather, all the burdens it has borne over years and decades have cast the strength and radiance both outwardly to the surrounding area and inwardly to the harbour of the soul, in both cases sending magnetism that draws the iron in the souls of others towards one’s purity and good will.

Say not that beauty has faded. It is but a reflection, of the Glory that shall never fade.

The First Snow

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November 3, 2022- It mostly danced in the air, before fluttering to its melting place, on the still warm dirt and asphalt. A crew is working diligently, to put in a sidewalk, along the south side of Goodwin Street, between the American Legion Post and Prescott Public Library. Snow was just a minor distraction, for them and for those of us who were going about minor business. I chose a rather salty, but bracing, bowl of chili from Olde World Bakery, for lunch. It was hot, though not spicy-and that was okay. It was a good counter to the unseasonable cold outside.

I awoke this morning to a wintry feeling inside myself, tapping into the strange energy that has been afoot since last week’s attack on the Speaker of the House’s husband. Violence should never be the butt of jokes, but then, neither should a disability, a debilitating disease or even a person’s physical attributes. Such humour only delineates the teller’s, and audience’s, lack of maturity. A while later, after getting myself together, doing devotions and checking the news, I got an e-mail asking that I serve as a Poll Chaplain, in the city of El Mirage, west of Phoenix, on Tuesday afternoon and evening.

Tuesday, November 8, is also the day of a full moon and of a total lunar eclipse. Cosmic guides say that this year’s eclipses have the energy of those which took place in 2004, and thus unresolved matters from that year may arise again this year, for resolution by way of the growth one has undergone since that time. 2004 was part of the time when I was starting to see Penny decline, and starting to deal with a few personal demons. Those have been defeated and expunged, over the past eight years. I will, though, be more cognizant of any residue that needs to be removed and let flow out. The same will be true of each year going forward: Eclipses may bring out old issues from eighteen years prior, and any spiritual learning I have acquired in the interim may be put to use, in dispersing the old energy.

Tonight, the snow has ended, and more seasonal weather lies ahead-with perhaps rain on Election Day. I’ve already voted, but will be there for those, in El Mirage, who are experiencing anxiety or distress.

Loving the “Weeds”

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November 1, 2022- The tall, curly-haired boy came in the classroom, for the second time today, perhaps in a state of momentary confusion. Schedules are changing, seemingly willy-nilly in some instances, and the Special Needs children are particularly placed in confusing situations. He spent extra time with me, this morning, on his friend’s recommendation. The afternoon time slot was his regular time in the room, but seeing the work would pretty much be the same as earlier, he left to get some Math instruction.

Though our area has been able to find teachers, sometimes only after a brief period of skeletal staffing, there remains a climate of tentativeness. This does seep through to the children, who need to be reassured-by substitutes like me, that their regular teacher IS coming back tomorrow. They have seen far too much disruption, in these past 2 1/2 years. Once they realize that order is being maintained, the anxiety lowers from the roof, and a fair amount of work gets done.

I have long had a special place in my heart for the roughnecks and the hard-to-reach. It usually takes a day or two, sometimes a week, to gain their trust. Sometimes, the hurt is too deep and I don’t get very far along, and external circumstances keep any meaningful relationship at bay.

There are those who get characterized, still, as “wild weeds”. I remind myself, and any who will listen, that plants called weeds tend to have medicinal value. It is useful to work on the strengths of the child, while curing the flaws. Re-framing people as having Special Gifts makes more sense to me,

Whose True North?

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October 31, 2022- There is always a back story.

As is the case every Halloween, the lines of costumed people, of various ages, spanned both sides of Mount Vernon Street, one of three Prescott neighbourhoods that put on a great display of hospitality. In a nearby service post, two disparate groups of people were gathered: A handful of adults, indulging in alcoholic beverages and a fairly flowing stream of children, most with their parents, picking up bags of chocolate candy and enjoying cookies and punch. For the most part, things went well. An unfortunate confluence of young girls entering the room and the use of foul language from the adjacent area led to a direct appeal to the adults to cub their vulgarity, while children were present. After a brief period of tension, involving protest about First Amendment rights and such, there was an apology, a handshake and mutual recognition of humanity.

It was explained that there were some hard circumstances in one person’s life, which were being shared with a concerned friend. These, strictly among adults, would not be cause for anyone to step in and ask for more polite language. In my world, though, children ought to be spared having to hear profanity, despite the insistence by much of society that “These are only words”. Adults having a hard time in life deserve every bit of support that can be mustered AND care should be used in speaking around children, points I was able to get across, after a fashion. They are not mutually exclusive.

True North does require showing love towards everyone-and working through situations which may initially be tough. That seems to be a theme surfacing quite a bit lately, both in real life events and in entertainment media. We may be at loggerheads, at various times, because priorities don’t always jibe. My priority: The care of, and setting examples for, children and youth, is not as far removed from extending a hand to an adult who has come on hard times, as it sometimes seems. Helping parents, after all, IS looking out for the kids. Defusing the tough situations that arise from a clash of priorities just feels good, besides.

There is always a back story, when someone seems obstinate or hostile. It does not have to end badly, and tonight, it did not.

On A Disquiet Friday

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October 28, 2022- Random thoughts pass through, as I consider the implications of the attack on Paul Pelosi.

Would I be just as outraged, by an attack on Elaine Chao, or Melania Trump? Absolutely! The whole “shot across the bow” thing, with regard to one’s perceived enemies, who are-at least for now-no more than political opponents, has taken several steps too far. Good on those in the Republican Party who have seen fit to express their own revulsion at the attack.

I am the last person in the world who should be asked to sing in front of a group of friends, much less a worldwide audience. Yet, if I were, I would know the words of the song and the flow of the melody cold. I’ve heard Eric Burton sing; he has a compelling voice. May last night’s floop be a good lesson, and not represent a trend.

The whole generational divide thing, or any divide for that matter, is as contrived as a Hallmark holiday. I have learned, over time, to follow my gut-and to see people in my elders’ generation the same as I see Millennials, Gen Z and the Alphas. The cliche holds true: “Old people were young people, before young people were people.” Let none of us forget that, should the temptation to disparage the “other” arise-in either direction.

I witnessed two sets of multiple-car collisions, to and from the simple errand of going to my landlord’s bank, to deposit the rent check. Having lost three vehicles, in the past eight years, one of which was partly my own doing, another due to sabotage and the third due to another person driving while impaired, the lesson of the crucial maintaining of discernment has been in my mind ever since the last accident. Every time I set out, therefore, a prayer for protection is in order-even for such a routine errand.

Be especially mindful, these next three days. Whether you think Halloween is a time for having fun, or view it as a harbinger of evil, be careful with children and teens. Safety is not negotiable.

Acceptable/Not Acceptable

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October 27, 2022- Random thoughts, after reading of the attack, late this evening, on Mr. Pelosi, and pondering the level of public discourse, of late.

Listening to a heartfelt critic is acceptable, if not desirable.

Kowtowing to whatever someone says, without discernment, is not acceptable.

Disagreeing with the actions,opinions or stances of a public figure is acceptable.

Calling for said public figure to be maimed or killed is reprehensible.

Investigation of even the most seemingly ludicrous statements is acceptable.

Believing ludicrous statements, in light of incontrovertible evidence to the contrary, is of questionable value, at best.

Striking a balance between the needs of the individual and the needs of society is acceptable.

Favouring large entities, while ignoring the valid needs of an individual or of a small group, is repulsive.

Going about one’s daily routine, in a way that acknowledges and cares for even the most random needs of others, is desirable.

Going about that routine, like a bull in a china shop, is ludicrous-and unacceptable.

Centeredness

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October 26, 2022- Buddha’s smiling countenance greets all who walk into the sanctuary. The door to the large and welcoming home is open. I quietly enter and take the most obvious seat, as the reader of a sacred verse intones his selection. Other readers of sacred verses follow. Then we have a discourse, on the life and legacy of al-Bab. A delectable repast does not interrupt the flow of this discussion. Ice cream and cake guide us out of the session, though, as they remind us that this is a birthday celebration, albeit in honour of a Being Who left this Earth 172 years ago. The event is a testimony to the centeredness of the hosts.

The delighted twelve-year-old shows her increasingly organized and comfortable new home. It is probably the best residence she has ever known. It is, above all else, proof of the diligence and fortitude of her grandmother, who will never give up on her, or on her brother. Only the centeredness of that indomitable woman, and her own mother, both of whom I have known for over thirty-five years, makes things like this happen.

The tall, well-groomed gentleman takes his place as a senior non-commissioned officer, in the reserves of his branch of service. His wife of nearly four years stands proudly at his side. His father, far off in a different state, nonetheless reflects on the success of his only child. It is the centeredness of the family, especially of the young man’s grandparents,that transferred to him, and saw him through one of the toughest challenges he has had to face, in a good many years.

The little girl, in a far-off theater of combat, asks her father if all will be well for them. He stifles tears, and assures her that no harm will come her way, as long as he draws breath. The occupying soldiers look at the two of them, and are somehow reminded of their own children, in a more peaceful place. They let the two of them pass, and the father remains centered on the safety of the most important person in his life.

Centeredness, presence are far more basic gifts to any one of us, than we sometimes recognize. They are what truly connect us to the rest of the Universe. They are the true manifestations of this thing called love.

The Carson Loop, Day 8: Being Ourselves

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October 22, 2022, Carson City- There was big news out of Grapevine, this afternoon. Aram received his Chief Petty Officer pins, and will now serve in that capacity, in the U.S. Naval Reserves. He will continue to work on his Baccalaureate-and he will earn that, as well. We are a determined lot, we Boivins, as were/are our Fellman relatives.

My day here in Carson was spent with an equally determined bunch, the Smith/Carrillo/Sandoval extended family. The running conversation centered on something especially dear to my heart-the right of each person to be self. It was pointed out that most of the difficulties facing society, both here in the United States, and globally, stem from failure of people to accept each other as they are. Much of this, in turn, seems to come from personal insecurity, and as was pointed out, in another conversation, earlier this week, the notion of zero sum; if one person, or group, achieves or gets something, others stand to lose what’s theirs. This line of thinking has fostered everything from civil wars to the begging culture that arose from colonialism. It was certainly behind the brief episode of screaming and yelling that occurred last night, while I was walking along, and minding my own business. It is behind sibling rivalry, oneupmanship and people talking over each other, or interrupting someone who has the floor, and is speaking in measured tones, or haltingly.

It took a very long time for me to value who I am. I made a lot of progress in that regard, over the course of my 29-year marriage and, thus far, 34 + years of parenthood. I have had precious little trouble accepting everyone else, for who they are, but myself? It’s only, really, been since 2014, that I have been 100% okay with me.

My extended family members, one in particular, stressed that this concept is actually one of the primary keys to the growth of a peace culture, to wit: Parents should lay off pushing their children to follow a narrative that is primarily designed to fulfill the wishes of the parents, and not their own. This affects everything from mistaking a phase in the child’s life for an indicator of his/her destiny to fulfilling, for the parent(s), a long cherished dream, which is NOT necessarily the child’s own, to the attitude that so many have towards people who disagree with them, even on relatively mundane matters.

The consensus of our conversation today was: Let us each be, and love, ourselves.

The Carson Loop, Day 5: Swimming through Chaos

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October 19, 2022, Garden City, ID- I bid farewell to the wonderful family at Three Bears Inn, around 10 a.m., after hearing of their evening at an indoor water park, followed by star gazing. Being with a large and well-grounded family is always a delight. I look forward to the same experience in Carson City, with a longtime extended clan, in a few days. This, more than scenery and interesting buildings, is the bedrock of travel.

Three Bears Inn, St. Anthony, ID

Several years ago, an unfortunate incident took place, in Rexburg, just down the road. I decided that, one day, I was going to stop in Rexburg and give love from my heart, to the people who acted out, because they felt forgotten by the country at large.

It was a quieter visit than I had intended, but I did get a view of foliage, near the city’s hospital, before moving along, towards the towns along Idaho’s southern tier. Me

Douglas firs, in Rexburg city park
Red oaks, downtown Rexburg, ID

That, as it turned out, was about the extent of the camera’s work for the day. I dealt largely with chaos, both a momentary internal state- trying to make sense of the route westward, with my phone’s internet being on the blink, most of the day, and of that which stems from a region faced with growing pains, as Idaho’s southern tier is now experiencing.

Idaho Falls is the home of Melaleuca Corporation, the original purveyor of essential oils, in modern times. It’s entrance is right next to the on-ramp to I-15 south, so I was momentarily off-track. Then, in Blackfoot, 20 miles south, there is a rather large Sonic-type mom and pop drive-in burger shop, at which half of the ordering speakers happen to be on the passenger side of the parking space. A Shoshone woman, parked next to me, looked at me, then at the speaker, and shook her head. I think the idea was to have two speakers on the same stand, but it just doesn’t work, at least for a solo traveler. I left without ordering, which was okay, as breakfast at Three Bears was enough to get me through the day.

I located the westward route in Pocatello, home of Idaho State University, going through more heavy traffic which, once I was out of town, almost completely dissipated. On along I-86/84 I continued, stopping for a stretch and photograph at Oregon Trail Rest Area.

Oregon Trail Rest Stop, near Massacre Rock, ID

I drove into Massacre Rocks State Park, only to find it closed at 3:30. The site of one of Idaho’s more unfortunate events, a battle between westward-bound emigrants and a band of Shoshone people, resulting in the deaths of 8 emigrants and 20 First Nations people, Massacre Rocks also tells the story of Lake Bonneville and its feeder rivers, one of which had four times the flow of the Amazon River.

Twin Falls, an hour further west, brought dinner at Sizzler, an old standby. A personable and attentive server, named Jessica, took good care of me, and of a large group of hearing-impaired people, who were on a group outing. TF is reached by crossing a wide gorge of the Snake River, which would be a fine place to investigate further, should I come this way again.

As it was, the time had come to get to Boise for the night. I happened upon 7 K Motel, in this suburb called Garden City, around 8 p.m., too late for another Zoom meeting, but safely nonetheless.

Sharing

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October 14, 2022- Once upon a time, three of us went trick-or-treating.

We were never out of each other’s sight,

stayed clear of any house whose lights were off,

and had no worries about bullies trying to raid our stashes.

When we got home, all three stashes were dumped on the dining room table.

Mom and Dad went through the pile, with fine toothed combs,

looking for signs of tampering.

They never found any, but I am grateful to this day that they did this.

I was raised to share, to not hoard.

“This is myyyyiin!” seldom, if ever, came out of my mouth.

If it did, the soap bar was at the ready.

Grown, a long time ago, I still share-my time, my energy

and, to the extent that is prudent, my money and my thoughts.

I try not to overshare. Friends and family have enough going on.

Being a burden to anyone is not my style.