Category Archives: Inspiration

Echoes of Amy Winehouse

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 12, 2022- The songbird’s voice was reminiscent of Amy Winehouses’s. If I had wandered into the room with my eyes closed and had been living under a rock, for the past eleven years, I’d have sworn Amy was in the room. As it was, the gentle, forthright soul who was belting out tunes, over the cacophony of eclectic instruments, including her own beatbox, bore a slight physical resemblance to the late, long-suffering British master of R&B. The two other women in the room, each a talented musician in her own right, just stood and watched in awe. The rest of us, men of varying ages, were equally cognizant and appreciative of her presence, even as we were focused on our own instruments and as three of the younger among us were increasingly engaged in an improvisational spoken word trialogue, the decibel level of which was rising by the second-yet did not cancel out one word of Shawna’s powerful delivery.

For my part, I was more or less ephemeral, by choice. It had been a long while since I had sat in with the group, and many of the members were new. Shawna and her mate were the only ones I recall from last year. The others, true to the spirit of the establishment, were politely cordial, but a step short of welcoming. This is a loosely closed circle, which lets people in momentarily, and only gradually over time will accept the unfamiliar. Each member seemed to select one or two others, with whom they would interact. The rest were ignored. I was just glad that the hostility, encountered on my last visit, had gone away.

Shawna and her partner, who declined to introduce himself, once again, were otherwise gracious and accepting of all in the group. The hosts, keeping to the front of the house, eyed everyone a bit warily, understandable, given the noise level at times, but were cordial enough, as we entered and left. I’m actually glad that they abided the scene-no one was destructive, or particularly vulgar in their speech. Nine young men showed the utmost respect for the lone woman singing and playing several instruments, in their midst, as did I-the only elder in the room. May it never be otherwise.

It was, despite the reticence of its members, a fine evening of music and catharsis. It also gave me the realization that I need to bring my drum with me, on the rest of my forays. In that sense, this was the first step on a journey of a thousand miles.

Unk

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Posted by on in Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving

February 11, 2022- Tim Lynch was the biggest kid in the room, and lit up that room as soon as he entered. He was one of those who held that “Close only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes”-with the caveat that no one ever even think of bringing the former anywhere near his place. Horseshoes, the game, was a different matter, and each Labour Day weekend, for at least the seven years of my adolescence, the extended family found its way to the backyard of Tim and Margie Lynch. I got close several times, and may have even landed a ringer, or two, but Uncle Timmy almost always piled his shoes around the stake.

He was a classic Irish boyo, roguish in a way, but always a man’s man. He knew the value of hard work, and gave his best in his chosen occupation. Once the party started, though, Tim gave that his best as well. Whether in the small backyard in Lynn, Massachusetts or at the beach in either Seabrook or Salisbury, any time spent with Uncle Tim and Aunt Margie was the highest form of memorable.

He was also a man of character. When one of my cousins made snarky comments about another relative, Tim shot the kid down, posthaste. His love for his family was never more clear, on the day when one of his daughters and her little family were left homeless, after one of the worst apartment fires in Lynn’s history. When it was necessary to crowd into the house for a while, that’s what was done. The shattering moment of his beloved wife’s untimely passing, in 2000, brought a change in his demeanor, and the parties became quieter, less frequent-but he never lost his love of life.

Timothy D. Lynch was one of the last of my paternal uncles by marriage. He left the Blessed Mess behind, very early this morning, but he also left us with two sons and two daughters -having taught them to be nobody’s fools and to carry themselves proudly. He taught his nieces and nephews to never look down their noses at anyone-especially not at ourselves. Rest in Paradise, Unk.

Feisty

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Education, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 10, 2022- The usually quiet, self-absorbed girl sat with a group of more outgoing friends, watching as they crafted “pointy fingers” out of computer paper. For some reason, this is the rage among pre-teens in this community, right now. As long as they are not used as weapons, and does not interfere with lessons, it’s tolerated. The quiet one decided to give this craft a try, putting the paper concoctions on three of her fingers, eventually deciding the devices were too tight on her fingers, and giving them back to her friends.

Her actions, in both directions, were a good thing, in my view. She is a bright, engaging child and can only benefit from taking part in frivolous, but harmless, activities. Conversely, she got a couple of the more rambunctious kids to open books and read quietly for about twenty minutes. That is a start, as well.

I say this, having been an introvert for a good part of my childhood. I am more given to ambiversion, over the past several years. It’s just more enjoyable to be among others and to exchange views and experiences, with a wide variety of people. It is this that I wish to see for those who remind me of myself as a child-and thus to show their inner feistiness.

Forthrightness is the outer expression of internal security and self-trust. If it means being a bit mischievous, that’s okay. Secure adults, in turn, can deal with a modicum of feistiness from children and youths, and direct that energy in a way that builds the young person’s character.

Besides, I would rather have feisty people looking out for me, in the event I someday become infirm and confined. Even if that doesn’t happen, spirited people are still more fun.

Their Presence

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Posted by on in children, Community, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 9, 2022- The little girl hovered around, while her parents were engaged in a teleconference. Occasionally, one of them would answer her question, whilst muting themselves. She still wanted to hear much of what was being said, and so kept a discrete but noticeable presence, to the side of the camera.

The comely young woman posted that she liked me, and asked if we might be friends. Doing a courteous bit of diligence, I saw the likely reason for her out-of-the-blue comment: All of her friends, and several of the posters on her page, were from a part of the world known for grifters. She herself may or may not have had a sincere interest in befriending a man old enough to be her grandfather, but I’ve been among the people whom she counts as online friends, and the hands are outstretched, 24/7. I took a pass.

Noon at a local bakery/restaurant is packed solid, yet I found a table in the sunny patio. Most of those present were my age or older, lunch being one of the prime social hours of the day. I was pleasantly surprised that my simple order took less than ten minutes to reach the table. That speaks well of the perks of simplicity. I wished the crowd a very fine afternoon.

Today was my self-imposed deadline to get a Valentine’s card to Mother, in the mail. Every year I can send cards, and small gifts, for the days set aside for her being honoured is a very good year. Her presence means the world, as long as she is feeling well and happy-and, all the more, of sound mind.

What Makes Me Proud

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Posted by on in Education, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 8, 2022-

What makes me proud of the man I helped raise? His work ethic, independent frame of mind, commitment to the well-being of humanity, love for his wife and maintaining self-care. What makes me proud of the young people I help educate? Their day-to-day enthusiasm, even when it is a bit loud; concern for one another and for the adults who show them respect; open-mindedness, even towards those whose beliefs seem antiquated; dogged pursuit of truth; gradual and steady outreach to those who are marginalized. What makes me proud of my community? The commitment to virtuous behaviour, even when it flies in the face of demands made by those towards whom some feel obligated to show fealty; the standing up for what one believes, whilst for the most part letting opposite points of view be openly expressed; the commitment to open space and increasing willingness to conserve resources. What makes me proud to bear witness to my Faith? It is based on the oneness of humanity; owning up to, and working to shed, prejudices and other flaws; independent investigation of truth, not dependent on group pressure or self-aggrandizement; the equality of women to men.

I am proud to be part of a world where the best among us work to empower one another, to show respect, even to those who disrespect us.

Vagaries

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Fiction, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 6, 2022- As a switch, this evening, I put on a dark comedy about a woman who is recruited to be a Deputy U.S. Marshal, based on the true story of Francis Miller, an Oklahoma rancher, who DID become a peace officer. The antagonist in this film happened to be an Afrcian-American, who had himself owned slaves in Texas. Just how many such men there were in the South is debatable, but they did exist. This individual was presented as somewhat of a psychopath, who nonetheless served as a dispassionate observer of the hypocrisy exhibited by those who swore to uphold the law.

Antisocial people can frequently excel at pointing out the flaws of others, usually because it serves as a distraction-and helps them get the drop on those who are trying to bring them to justice. As happened, to a degree, in this film, so does it seem is unfolding on a wider scale, in the modern world. Autocrats love to turn the tables and claim what is wrong is actually right; what is dark is actually light; what is hateful is, in truth, loving kindness.

As it was for one Richard Andrews, in the film “Lady Lawman”, so it is for any number of would-be tyrants, who charm those living in uncertainty and self-loathing, building a loyal corps of defenders and toadies. How their particular stories play out, depends on the attention level of those seeking to bring justice to society, as well as to the integrity of those people. We’ve seen, in the past, how much fortitude and fastidiousness was required, in order for justice to prevail. Let us now again steel ourselves and not be either distracted or dissuaded by the difficulty presented by latter day miscreants, either at the local, national or international levels.

A Queen and Her Precipice

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 5, 2022– It’s been a busy day, with a service project and two meetings to keep me honest, until mid-afternoon. This is all part of what Elizabeth Peru talks about, when discussing keeping the soul relevant and staying connected to the Oneness. Besides, I do things that I enjoy.

It is also bittersweet, as the morning paper brought an essay on Cheslie Kryst. The suicide of any young, highly intelligent, sassy, multi-talented and comely human being is a disaster, at both a deeply personal and a profoundly social level. I looked at the images of Cheslie and could only think, “God, I wish I had known her, could have intuited something was wrong and reached out. ” If I have been guilty of overkill in any area, it has been of a near obsession with the well-being of the younger generations.

Yet, I leave my son to forge his own destiny, while dropping everything when he calls. The thing is, he knows he CAN CALL, day or night, and I will drop everything else. I devote snippets of time, here and there, to those in my circle of friends, of all ages, whose issues are chronic, even seemingly intractable, with the understanding that I will get over to see them or at least talk with them, when I can. The bottom line is that each one continues to matter, and none need consign themselves to the scrap heap.

Cheslie Kryst had family who loved her dearly; friends and mentors who guided her, the best they knew how to guide. She had a loving group of well-wishers, who cheered her on, throughout her wonderful moments of triumph. There was also a chorus of dementors, who hounded her to end her life, and in that final, terrible end moment of dejection, that last group forced her hand.

Simply put, no one deserves the fate wished on them, by those whose own lives are miserable and who lack the courage to set those wrecked houses in order. No one deserves to feel so alone, even in the dark of night or early morning. If you read this, know that, in a moment of despair, you may reach out and I will find a way to send out a message of hope-that you may back away from that ledge of doom.

Is Life Formulaic?

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Fiction, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

February 4, 2022- In the 2019 film, : “The Rising Hawk”, a small party of Ukrainians fends off both a much larger Mongolian force and their turncoat Ukrainian allies. This is reportedly based on an old Ukrainian legend, of a heroic fighter who lived into his nineties and his wife and helpmate, who in this telling is the daughter of the turncoats’ leader. It is a somewhat farfetched, and rather formulaic, action film, with people switching sides when convenient for the plot and brute strength displayed at exactly the right moments. It’s also a sign of the cinematic times that the film uses plot twists from at least three other films.

There are a few political movements, current in a few countries-including this one, that seem to be dependent on plot formulas turning in a certain direction, at just the right moment. It is no accident that the leaders of these movements have established their standing with a fair audience by borrowing shopworn tactics of demagogues past. There is a lot of wishful thinking on the part of those who believe that the world ought to unfold in a prescribed and orderly manner, as prescribed and ordered by a certain elite. Life, however, is not formulaic. There is an urban myth that Benito Mussolini made the trains in Italy run on time. Another credits Adolf Hitler with the humming of the German economy, by the late 1930s. Neither tale is true. Economies on a national scale have numerous moving parts, not credible to any one person-or clique. Effective strikes and slowdowns by labour movements can bring even the most hardheaded tactician down to size.

The film itself, ironically, demonstrates the humanity of the tough Mongolian leader, seen crying at the death of his son. There is also enough brutality on both sides-or on all three, if you will, to once again show the futility of war-even as there is a nod to valour. Finally, there is a split-second switch of fealty, near the end.

Is life formulaic? No, as it happens. Free will most often seems to get in the way of the best plot lines.

Plus and Minus

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

February 1, 2022- Going into a local bank to pay my monthly housing rent, I was struck that there is one teller, who tends to about 45% of the branch’s total daily business, on each of the five days that she is there. The young lady has a pleasant demeanor and is especially engaging with those who are regular customers of the bank. While her colleagues staff desks or are busy counting cash or auditing transactions, B deals with all manner of people in their moods of the moment. I have mostly seen her treated well and complimented by people in line ahead of me, as she takes a genuine interest in their affairs. I have seen her get harshly, verbally abused on occasion, for matters that were decided in board rooms and corner suites far from here and, thus, beyond her control. Of course, she had to “take ten” after such a browbeating and regroup, while people like me were feeling an almost parental pain on her behalf.

The frontpeople in our lives have suffered, sometimes in silence and sometimes standing up and retorting to their critics. The pandemic has brought this to the fore, but it has gone on for decades and centuries. The negativity of ego takes aim at even the most positive of loving souls. I have seen tons of it; probably most of us have. Disquiet, unhappy people have written or spoken diatribes, directed at everyone from the neighbourhood grocery clerk to Jesus the Christ. The aphorism, “Hurt people hurt”, says a lot, but overlooks one thing: Those who do the most good have figured out how to overcome personal attacks, or to let them slide off like water. Better, still, are those who can turn adversaries into loyal friends.

B, the teller, has a handle on this. I have managed to get to that place as well, though I was much older than she is now, before reaching it. Those who succeed in life, in the real sense of the term, are the ones who can spread this way of being to all who cross their path.

Every Town Matters

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Posted by on in Community, distraction issues, Family, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

January 30, 2022, Douglas, AZ- The little boy, in the room next to mine, tried to open the door separating us. Of course, after a minute or so, his parents took him away from the door and there was no further attempt at a surprise visit. I would not have minded, if he had poked his head through the door, as long as Mom and Dad were close by.

I have also had a couple of “surprise visits” on the phone, from adult friends who thought they knew best how I might be spending my time. There is the usual “You’re out of town, so you must be on vacation” mindset and the “You’re in this area, so therefore you must go to….” prescription. Prescott is not a place I regard as a 24/7 work environment and while I appreciate suggestions or networking connections, when I am on the road, my schedule is basically set, most often with a good deal of forethought and inspiration.

I came to Douglas, and spent two days here, because I felt the urge to devote spiritual energy to this area and to the border. I had also wanted to connect with a Baha’i friend in Bisbee, not far away, but the person was not available. That much more time was thus spent on the former.

Douglas was founded as a railroad town, mainly as a place to load and haul copper and gold to points east and west. The rail depot is now the Police Station.

Douglas Railroad Depot

I walked from there to the border station, being careful to not enter any area that was within the actual processing district, to dissuade the few grifters and beggars who tried to make their case for “sharing” and to show kindness to those who were obviously leery of being accosted by anyone, so soon after having crossed the frontier.

Raul Hector Castro Port of Entry, Douglas, AZ

Just before I got to the bench near the crossing, I spotted a white dove, resting on the branch of a tree, in Douglas’ west side park.

Dove in a tree, not far from border crossing

Douglas matters, for more than just its border crossing. A vibrant Mexican culture transcends the border here, as it does in many places, from Brownsville to San Ysidro. There is also a core group of regenerators, people who are either willing to invest in the infrastructure or are, as a small family of siblings and cousins at an innovative bakery and restaurant called Mana’, putting in serious hours to draw people TO Douglas, not to have them just pass THROUGH the town. Mana’ has an electronic menu, accessible only by phone or computer and it is one of the more extensive I’ve seen, for an establishment of its size, with over a dozen unusual omelet and Mexican scramble items. If the town can draw a music and arts scene, the way nearby Bisbee has, Douglas can again make its mark. In fact, I had three meals at Mexican restaurants here-and all were great. That can also be a draw- a culinary mecca!