Musings On A Day of Rest

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November 18, 2021- As I was leaving the clinic yesterday, the nurse responsible for wrapping the stitched area with gauze and bandages had done a seamless, excellent job. She gave me instructions for carefully showering, not exercising or doing anything strenuous and leaving the covering on for at least 48 hours.

As I had more or less cleared my calendar of work, for today and tomorrow, this set of instructions seemed fortuitous. Although I tend to march to my own drummer, when it comes to following a regimen prescribed by a health professional, there is no question of adherence. It’s just nicer to be around, and fully functioning, for a while longer.

So, I sat inside most of the day, moving around enough so that I stayed relevant. There was the simple task of putting the trash barrels back. There was light food preparation. There was making sure the temperature on my water heater was raised (so that showers are no longer tepid). Most every other activity was mental: Planning Thanksgiving and the days around it, with my little family; sending out notifications for activities this weekend; watching a commemorative video about ‘Abdu’l-Baha, as the Centenary of His passing approaches (November 27).

Life is ever a trade-off. Tomorrow, at 4 p.m., the bandages will be carefully removed, and I will look to be the walking wounded for a week or two. That’s okay. The seasoned doctors and the nurses who tend, very carefully, to the varied needs of their patients deserve nothing but respect and appreciation, the kind that comes from following instructions; the kind that comes from not second-guessing and casting aspersions on their motivation. It’s all just another variation on the conviction that every person, from a student to a retired volunteer, who lives and works honestly, will have my support and encouragement.

Tomorrow will see a bit more activity, but this day was a good one-and productively healing.

Exhausted

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November 15, 2021- The young woman looked at the police officer who had come to her assistance, and said, flat-out, “I am just…so…tired. There is no end.”

I am not exhausted, though there have been times….. Dan Rather posted a provocative essay, entitled “It’s Okay To Be Exhausted”, in yesterday’s edition of the Blogsite “Steady”. He listed all the things that this modern world has thrown at us, which lead to so many being at the point of zero returns. Part of the issue is the ubiquity of information. No matter where one lives in the world, he or she can be, and often is, bombarded with the plights of those less fortunate-often with urgent pleas for help (preferably financial), on the double. This, on top of politics, social (in)justice, false equivalence, restrictions on travel, restrictions on parental involvement in the schools, ham-handed governance (from both ends of the spectrum, and all points in between), climate change, pro-choice, pro-life, Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All Lives Matter, vitriol, supply chain issues, inflation, Paul Gosar’s anime, AOC’s pickle jar, Michael Flynn’s Theocracy, income inequality, double taxation of estates. I almost miss the days of “Where’s the Beef?” Wow, I didn’t even mention the pandemic.

What matters to me the most is the well-being of those around me-either physically in the community, by my side when on the road, and children/teens-anywhere I happen to be. What seems to matter the most, to those with whom I talk, is being heard and respected. None of us really need to be told how to raise our children. None of us really need to be told to look out for our sickly loved ones. None of us really need to be told that we’re doomed unless we follow _______________ (fill in the blanks).

What matters most is love-the only source of energy that can restore the exhausted ones who are all around. It is not a product of ideology, of lifestyle choices or of political affiliation. It is not demonstrated by giving all one has, willy-nilly, and making oneself a ward of someone else. It is bestowed on us at birth, and hopefully nurtured by family, community and one’s affiliates-near and far.

“Love gives life to the lifeless”-‘Abdu’l-Baha

The Forge

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November 14, 2021- The gentleman recounted how, when he was due to return to his home, after serving his country for four years, his family sent word that people were lying in wait for him, at several transportation depots-including the local airport. He wisely found an alternative way to get back, and was never harmed. My personal feeling is that there is a special place in the hereafter, for those who kill or maim the very ones who have helped keep them safe. It will not likely end very well for such souls.

We each have to undergo a fair amount of trial and tribulation, in this physical life. That we are, essentially, souls allows for a modicum of personal growth, within the physical frame. One can make a grievous error in judgment, and recover-if realizing the consequences of the mistake-and making full restitution for it. There are also those who do nearly everything right, in this life, and have a few blind spots that need to be rectified.

Both cases necessitate the forge-the tests and difficulties that help make us better people. The gentleman mentioned, at the onset of this post, has lived an arduous life-yet has, by all accounts, proven the paragon of decency, humility and resolve. Hearing him speak, this afternoon, only corroborates this. He has walked through the forge, run through the forge and been stuck in the forge. Each time, he came out stronger and shinier.

The forge started in his mother’s home-and his initial comment resonates with me: He would rather face a hundred neighbourhood toughs, than face his mother’s wrath. Yes, indeed! The home fire is that which creates an indomitable, yet forthright and genuinely loving servant of humanity. He credited his mother for setting the stage of his fruitful life-and I credit my mother the same.

Modus Operandi

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November 12, 2021- Three girls came up to the white board, offering their own methods of solving a subtraction problem that, depending on one’s age, involved either borrowing or regrouping. Since both of those traditional methods get the job done, I left the door open for alternative concepts to be presented. As it happened, two of the methods proffered by the students proved faulty. A careful check, that was done by the girls themselves, showed the flaws in their concepts, The third method, which involved diagramming and regrouping, was merely a more cumbersome version of straight-ahead regrouping. Once the class was clear on the process, I continued with an illustrated explanation of borrowing.

There is nothing wrong with allowing a learner to pursue own line of learning. It enhances understanding, when one has to push one’s own boundaries and experiment with new ways of looking at matters, in a controlled setting. There is also, to my mind, nothing wrong with a bit of sass, which shows that a person knows own mind and is working, honestly, to develop a unique personality- so long as other people’s rights are considered.

All in all, this was a perfect day of getting children to think things through, act in accordance with the program set by the absent teacher and still be given room to move in their own directions, even if that movement was faster or slower than the “norm”. Each of us must develop and practice our own modus operandi.

The Road Back

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November 10, 2021- Another signature morning meal, at Harbor Breakfast, this one involving fried oysters, of all things, got the day off to a marvelous start. Armando’s gracious hosting and Maria’s delightful antics and banter were supplemented by conversations with a visitor named Chris, who hails from the Boston area and who works in Saugus, as well as other communities in the area, and with Billy, a Little Italy local who has known the staff for quite some time. Chris and I knew some of the same people, most of whom have passed on. Billy is quite enamoured with Prescott, and has driven his vintage truck there several times. Needless to say, Harbor has joined my pantheon of breakfast establishments-alongside Zeke’s, Bedford Diner, Maple Leaf Cafe and Hammersmith Inn (all of which have stellar lunches, as well). Thus will it be a staple of future San Diego visits.

I headed out of San Diego, a bit after 10 a.m., fortuitously being nudged by traffic onto Rte. 67, which led, in turn, to Rte. 79 and Julian, Penny’s last place of residence before our wedding. I always enjoy a stop in this former mining town, which has since learned to prosper from apple farming and a healthy tourist economy. My main purpose there, this time, was to connect with a group of friends on a Zoom call. Ala, there were no electrical outlets, so using my laptop was not an option-and Zoom is awkward, when used on a mobile phone. The slice of apple pie and coffee were at least a consolation.

The route from Julian to Indio is fairly straightforward, and cuts out about 2/3 of southern California’s I-10. It also offers the cheapest gas in the region at Pit Stop, in the “don’t blink” settlement of Mountain Center. I was therefore not surprised at having to navigate a scrum of drivers, worthy of any strip mall parking lot, in order to get out of the place.

The rest of the way was uneventful, though I pulled into the gas station in Congress, AZ, at the tail end of an incident involving a little girl who had been missing for about ten minutes-and was found to have been just exploring the lot, before getting scared and running back to her grandfather. Congress is one of those small communities where everyone looks out for one another- and they will keep an eye out for visitors’ well-being, too.

These three days were a fine return to southern California. Even with my being far more relaxed these days at Home Base, it is a tonic to be near the ocean, every so often.

All Hands On Deck

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November 9, 2021, San Diego- Three teams of fourth grade students manned a rope each, and carefully maneuvered the empty steel safe into position, in the hold of the Star of India, a barque that is the world’s oldest active sailing vessel and is the centerpiece of the Maritime Museum of San Diego. Below is a photo of the ship’s miniature, taken during my last visit to the Museum, in 2012.

It is always a joy to see children engaged in an activity that involves a fair amount of thought, and all the better when that activity requires teamwork. There were four sets of students each involved in ship-related activities, during the time I was aboard. It was the only place in the museum where face masks were required. With the children’s safety in mind, all but two people were in compliance. Fortunately, the teachers and parent chaperones made sure those two got nowhere near the kids.

There are two ships that have been added to the Museum’s collection, since 2012: The galleon, San Salvador, a replica of the vessel which Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo used to sail into San Diego Harbor, in 1542 and a Patrol Craft Fast (Swift Boat). I took a fifteen-minute walk around San Salvador, joining a party of visitors from Mexico. Here is a view of the galleon.

It is notable that Cabrillo, one of the wealthiest men in Spanish America at that time, contracted food poisoning either whilst in this area, or shortly after leaving. He never got to see the successful settlement, which was fostered sixty years later, by Sebastian Vizcaino (Viz-ka-YEE-no), who gave the settlement the name, San Diego.

One ship will soon leave the Museum: The B-39 Soviet submarine. I made one visit aboard this vessel, in 2012. Here are the way it looked nine years ago, and how it looks now.

After visiting or re-visiting several of the vessels, I headed over to Little Italy, which lies between the waterfront and San Diego’s downtown core. There, a stop was made for lunch, at an old favourite: Filippi’s Pizza Grotto. It was the first restaurant I visited in San Diego, back in 1979-then, as now, accessible by entering through the market and kitchen.

This was a most gratifying day, made all the more so by the presence of so many young people, who are enthused by embracing their city’s maritime heritage-and learning teamwork in the process.

All In Good Time

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November 7, 2021, San Diego- There are times when even with the best intentions, one gets behind the eight ball, and misses out on something of fair importance. This morning, preparing for a short trip out to this third hometown of mine led to my arriving late for a spiritual gathering, honouring the Birth of Baha’u’llah. Nonetheless, there was a warm welcome, great conversation and a fine meal. The Blessed Beauty (one of Baha’u’llah’s titles) has long seen to my well-being, and was no doubt watching over this one, from His place in the Unseen Realm.

Leaving Prescott around 2 p.m., I made a beeline, of sorts, for Yuma. The mission was to spend some time with old friends, and to receive their generous gift of Baha’i literature. The choice of books was mine, and I was thus able to retrieve some treasured volumes by the late humourist and radio personality, William Sears. He spent several years in the Philadelphia area, as well as in the South, in Hawai’i, and several more in southern Africa, in service to our Faith. His take on spiritual matters is always refreshing and often light-hearted, but reverent.

My friends treated me to a light, but satisfying meal, at a place called El Buen Taquito, on Yuma’s south side. It is still possible to get a delectable dinner, in a “Mom and Pop” establishment, for under ten dollars. After coffee and further conversation, I left my friends and headed due west. A brief stop in the town of Ocotillo, for another cup of java, put me on track and arrival here, at the Pacific Hotel, on the northern edge of Little Italy, was achieved by 10:30. After a slight mix-up, with regard to which room was actually unoccupied, I am now in my home for the next three days.

It’s time to revisit some old haunts, starting tomorrow.

Progression: A Primer

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November 2, 2021- I came across a curious comment, made by a public official in another state, that people should seek “to be Americans, not Citizens of the World”. I can readily understand where this sentiment is leading, and from where it is derived.

In any debate about showing concern or rendering assistance to others, there are always those who confine their involvement to their immediate family; others, to their extended family; others, to their neighbourhood; outwardly it goes-to the community, the state, the region, to the nation and among the most divergent of thought, to the entire planet. Those who limit their largesse wrangle with those whose interests are wider in scope, and vice versa. Each feels the other is either too parochial or too expansive. In truth, there are people needed at every level.

It is much the same as in school: Some people will only finish a few years of high school; others will graduate; of those, some will go directly to work and others will enter an institution of higher education. Among those who earn a degree of some kind, some will go on to an advanced credential and others will go to work on the strength of their Associate’s Degree or Baccalaureate. None is inherently superior to the other. Each has a contribution to make to society.

The structure, so it appears, is comprised of energy flowing in both directions: Upward, from the family unit and downward, from humanity as an aggregate whole. Family is the foundation of society, followed by neighbourhood, community, state (province, prefecture, republic, etc.), nation, geographic region or continent, and world. No point along that progression can exist, ultimately, in opposition to the legitimate needs of the other points. Family does need to be on a firm footing, yet ultimately, all families live on the same planet-and each has to interact with other families. Each town or city needs to cooperate with others, as do subunits within nations and nations with one another.

Baha’u’llah espouses the practice of “a sane and intelligent patriotism”, while warning against the limitations of nationalism. In a family that is healthy, the measured thoughts and views of each member are considered-with the heads of each household making the final decisions. This process, ideally, will go up the chain and and the ethic of cooperation will only grow.

A grounded American will naturally seek to be a citizen of the world-because the needs of America, meshing with the needs of other nations, will be what draw out a peaceful planet.

Sainthood

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November 1, 2021- Today is observed, in many Christian communities, as All Saints Day-honouring those who have been canonized, as well as those who may have been regarded as holy people in their time, but are not generally known to history.

What makes a saint? Could you or I be one? Is a life lived in service enough to raise one’s profile? Is it needful to recognize the power of the Great Teachers sent by the Creator? Is it prerequisite for one to be free of all transgressions, or is it simply enough to be an adherent to Faith?

In ages of cynicism, saints have been pilloried and their icons smashed. In this age, for example, those revered by people of the past have been publicly taken to task, for not having been of absolute purity. This, of course, has happened not only to canonized saints, but also to secular heroic figures.

It is hard for anything different to take place. Every human being is flawed, in one respect or another. Only the Great Teachers Themselves have lived lives of absolute perfection. Saints have, for the most part, been those who have risen above their human failings, but have had those failings nonetheless.

Would any of us want to be regarded as saints?

Rain, Fading Colours and Certitude

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October 30, 2021- Rain put a slight damper on the celebration of Hallowe’en Eve, in Salem. The last day, or two, of October constitutes a prime commercial windfall for the Witch City. Indeed, October as a whole has emerged as Salem’s prime tourism season. The confluence is that of the city’s being the site of several, but not all, of the trials of people (mostly women and girls) with the American observance of All Hallows Eve-itself a metamorphosis of the early Christian (ca. 4th Century A.D.) honouring of departed saints, and family members of the faithful, for the three days October 31-November 2. British Celts began the custom of disguising oneself as a departed person, and going house to house for small food items. This custom came to North America, with the mass immigration of Irish, Scottish and Welsh people, from the 17th Century onward. It gradually evolved into today’s secular practices of widely varying costume play and the disbursing of treats. Should the rain continue, tomorrow evening, in Salem and environs, it will diminish, but not cancel, the celebration. Having grown up in a town not too far from Salem, I can predict many ghouls, goblins, witches, even 10-foot-tall dinosaurs and skeletons will be afoot-even some in rain gear.

Some scenes from Salem were shared by cellphone, as Hiking Buddy and I drove from Prescott, through Jerome, Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon, to the overlook at that canyon’s North Rim. The idea was for HB to be able to see at least some of the remaining fall foliage-a bit of which was still bright, despite being still in recovery from an injury. That mission was accomplished, and was a good use of a day which was quite open-ended.

The day started with my consideration, again, of the balance between serving this community and following insights from my spirit guides. It is, in my condition of certitude, a question of balance. There are those whose mantra is: “Bloom where you’re planted!” There is also the mantra of “Follow your own path!” The truth, for me, means following a path that incorporates both time spent in one place, serving those living here, and extending one’s network to people and places further afield. My path to certitude thus does not subscribe to the dictates of even the most well-meaning of those around me. Rather, it derives from intense reflection and meditation.

Even the most open-ended day can bring sunshine into the lives of others.