Hank Aaron’s life, which transitioned to spirit yesterday, was a clear road map to both honouring God-given talent and transcending even the worst adversity. If Henry Louis Aaron, of Mobile, Alabama, thought of himself as a hero, it was never shown. He did regard himself as a craftsman, a practitioner, whose arts were hitting, catching and throwing a baseball. To that end, he applied himself, practiced rigourously and excelled. From 1974, until 2007, he was the record holder for most home runs hit by a major league baseball player. When his record was exceeded by Barry Bonds, Hank appeared on the Jumbotron and congratulated his successor, also expressing the hope that Bonds’ achievement would inspire others to do even better.
Hank Aaron’s enduring appeal will be that he lived as a man of faith- and thus, hate, even in reaction to that expressed by others, was foreign to his nature. Many heroic figures have stumbled on that note, with the attitude that fairness should preclude people from disdaining them. Hank recognized the myriad of causes for personal hatred: Jealousy, fear and false sense of superiority being the greatest among them.
I, rather unathletic, nonetheless feel indebted to Hank Aaron for showing the way through the worst of sloughs and through the finest of achievements. In many ways, both circumstances test one’s mettle. Henry Louis Aaron passed both tests.
It’s my wont to lie down for a mid-afternoon nap, especially after working since early morning. Just before drifting off, this afternoon, a story I had heard early this morning, on BBC World News, came into my consciousness again. A rural Texan, speaking with a BBC correspondent, had, after a bit of hubris and expression of a desire for his state to become its own nation, showed his visitor a light cannon he had on his property. Loading the cannon, he then lit the fuse and, as the small gathering in his yard looked on, dry brush in his yard and his neighbour’s yard caught fire. The blaze was extinguished with a pair of garden hoses, but left the militia man feeling it just wasn’t his week.
I had a vision, recalling that story, of a tornado sweeping the area in question, and of relief coming to the disgruntled area residents, from the very same Federal government they presently regard as illegitimate. I wish disaster on no one, yet have the knowledge that misfortune is frequently, nay almost always, the bearer of a life lesson, which the learner’s soul needs, in order to get past a block that is preventing the realization of one’s true self. Time will tell.
About an hour ago, whilst listening to a replay of Cosmic Guide Elizabeth Peru’s weekly live broadcast, I heard her mention that one of our foci, this coming week, is to contemplate “What is Your Vision?” That vision thing, again-though it is constantly calling my head into alignment with my heart. I closed my eyes, and the image I saw was my young spirit self looking out over a lush, terraced hillside-which may have been Tuscany (the first word that popped into my head), or Cape Province, South Africa; Napa County, California; northern Luzon, Philippines; the Western Ghats of India-indeed anywhere with misty mornings and a somewhat “Mediterranean” climate, or at least lush, terraced hillsides.
My tendency, as regards my Home Base, has been a bit on the complacent side, of late, and though I know the current national and global state of affairs requires this, there is also a level of comfort I feel here. The trick has been, and will be, to internalize that comfort level, to no matter where I happen to be called. I felt that, late last year, when visiting the prairie of north central Texas (albeit being with family), and even when on the overnight walkabout in a remote area east of here, earlier this month, there was a degree of comfort and surety that stayed with me. I was, somehow, among friends- cattle, coyotes, an intrepid wolf spider that was braving the cold, under a juniper tree-none of them directed anything but caution towards me.
There are some indicators of a more fluid life, come May. I was recently blessed with a backpack that will serve as a one-size-takes-all travel bag, thus eliminating two of my customary luggage items. A routine medical appointment has been scheduled for early May, rather than it usual late-month date. COVID will be the ultimate determinant, of course, yet the vision I had this evening likely counts for something.
It will be, in the meantime, a fascinating rest of winter and early spring.
Tomorrow, a change will take place in our governance, which a bit more than half of the voting public wanted; which nearly half hoped, against hope, would perhaps be thwarted and a few of us, including yours truly, wanted to see blended with the best of what its opposite has advocated.
Changes are a constant. In order to truly realize the cohesion that every politician, regardless of stripe, says is imperative, may we look at what you have meant to so many-and what you might better mean to all who come to your shores.
“There was a time”, Neil Sedaka once sang, “when strangers were welcome here.” Yes, and no. People could come from everywhere, and there was a crucible to be borne. Those who were established, the First Nations, welcomed Europeans, sometimes openly and as time went on, and the mindset of conquest and dominance became more apparent from the first such Europeans, the welcome became far more cautious. People were brought here, mostly from Africa, but from other places as well, against their will-to serve and promulgate the fruits of conquest and dominance. Those who came from other parts of Europe, either in search of freedom from oppression and tyranny or in search of opportunity to succeed materially, had to prove themselves to those who had been here for a century or two-or at least had been here for a few decades.
Let you now be viewed, and experienced, as a place of healing. Of course, your people must begin by healing themselves-and one another. The energy, both spiritual and medicinal, that emanates from you is immense. The ancient wisdom, much of it preserved by the First Nations, and other parts of it rooted in the land itself, can serve to generate enormous healing for those who have lost their way, in the course of nearly five centuries of material quests and forgetting Who the Creator actually is.
I have had the blessed experience of carrying ley lines, from west to east, and back; from southwest to northwest, and back; from north to south, and back-over the past ten years. Far more than merely enjoying travel, as a friend remarked a few days ago, I sense that carrying healing energy-both for myself and for others I encounter- is both your gift to me, and my gift in return, back to you.
Blessed homeland, your nurturance has helped me shed so much emotional and psychological burden, and as I recall my early days of sitting very still, by a gurgling little brook or of visiting a hill, with a view of Boston’s skyline, from a rock behind a turreted house, I feel your healing energy has always been here. Even when buried under the Shrines of Progress, or when ravaged by all that people have deemed essential to build their empires, that energy has sighed, bided its time and waited, sometimes patiently and at other times expressing urgency.
Now, more of us see what the headlong rush into material advancement, regardless of cost, has produced. Now, more of us are making a place in our lives, a place in our hearts, for the healing which, alone, can bring a balance between material stability and spiritual well-being.
I love you, my homeland. May your strength of spirit long make itself known, and endure.
In the decades recently passed, we have seen the most consistently proven of truths and facts dissected, disputed and set on equal footing with the most outlandish and refutable of falsehoods, all in the name of false equivalency and moral relativism. Very often, this is done in the name of preserving a social system which itself depends on hierarchy.
So it is, that the importance placed by Martin Luther King, Jr, in his 1963 speech at the Lincoln Memorial, in Washington, D.C., on “the content of their character”, with respect to the judgment people make of one another, has become the speech’s second centerpiece, after “I have a dream…” As important as character is, it is not grounds for ignoring all other aspects of a person’s being. Character, indeed, can change-and hopefully for the better, with edification and growing awareness.
Thomas Jefferson’s hidebound, fear-laden writings, which denied the ability of enslaved African-Americans to produce intellectual works, such as Phillis Wheatley’s volume of poetry, could be said to betray a lack of character on his part. The flaw, however, and other parts of his character, would later be balanced, however, by his producing the Declaration of Independence, and contributions towards the United States Constitution.
Abraham Lincoln’s anger towards Native Americans, a product of his coming of age, in a contested area of the Midwest and his assessment that enslaved people were 3/5 of a free citizen, would be challenged by Frederick Douglass, and others, leading to the Emancipation Proclamation, and a pardoning of Sioux warriors-the latter largely ignored by military officers on the ground, in the High Plains.
Character matters, yet it must be, as Lincoln also said, affected by “the better angels of our nature”. A rogue can be edified, tamed and redirected to be a person of willing service. A charlatan can be, albeit through consistent retribution for misdeeds, made to regard others in an honest and loving light. The great figures of the Twentieth Century-Gandhi, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mandela, Churchill, and King himself, all had roguish tendencies, in their early years, negative qualities that were, to a greater or lesser extent, subsumed or overcome, by a draw towards advancing the common good.
So it is that, when individually assessing another person, in the age of instant judgement and cynicism, looking towards that person’s better angels becomes imperative, both for the mutual good of the judge and adjudicated and for the common weal.
Today, my focus has been on two things: Sharing things I no longer need and attending to the unity of all life. I am presently reading Amalia Camateros’ “Spirit of the Stones”, an account of her life that focuses on her growth as an embodied soul and deep connection with the elements of Earth: Air, water, mineral and fire. Amalia is a native of Australia, whose primary connection with North America has been with Sedona, our sister city to the northeast.
In one chapter, she relates her most intense visit to Cathedral Rock, perhaps the most energy-laden of the Sedona area’s many vortices. She describes the promontory as appearing to be two souls, standing back to back-united and independent. The standing rocks are often described by those who have spent time on Cathedral Rock as representing a man and a woman- married, but also each their own person.
That set me to thinking: I was in such a marriage, and when one of us needed the other most, we were inseparable. No pun intended, we were one another’s rock. I am seeing more married adults, among my circle of friends, celebrating their spouses. This is a reverse of what I used to see, from the ’90s into the 2010s, though I know many will reply: “I’ve always been in love with my spouse.” There was more bickering, not so many years ago, and I sense that, with life hard enough as it is, people are realizing what matters most in life.
There is also a rise in the understanding that each human being is a unique soul and that there is no ownership of one by another. Even the use of “my”, in reference to a spouse, or even a child, is fading. Not that many years ago, I was taken to task for using the term “my wife”. The critic was right, though not for the reason he gave (“Only a misogynist would claim to own a woman”). No one owns anyone else, period. It has nothing to do with a person’s psychosexual baggage. Words do matter, though, and when rererring to one’s beloved, children or family members, it’s become my wont to use given names-as well as relationships- end of digression.
Getting back to the blend of unity and independence, the other revelation that came today was with regard to the process of global unity. It must come from the ground up. No downwardly imposed world order will last long. As a community is only as strong as its families, so a planetary order will depend on strong individual nations, each committed to work with the others. This will largely depend, at least initially, on the human race taking the wisdom of the ancients and blending it with the native adaptability of children, in solving novel problems. (I saw this ability, this past week, with a new focus).
The days and months ahead will likely see a clash, of sorts, between those who favour the present, conventional ways of doing things and those who favour such a blend of knowledge, as is described above. There is, though, a new energy taking root.
I closed my eyes during meditation, a few moments ago, and saw the image of a shining pyramid. The message came to me that I was positioned in the lower left angle of the pyramid, and those whose presence challenges me, were in the lower right angle. The Creative Force was at the pinnacle of the structure. I thought of all those who impose themselves in my life, with requests and comments that are just reasonable enough for me to not be inclined to dismiss them from this life. It occurs that this is part and parcel of wanting to be able to choose with whom I associate and to what extent.
The message further stated that such feelings on my part are merely a sign of mental fatigue, and that, if I don’t indulge those impulses, my mental stamina will get stronger. Those who seem to impose themselves on others are often coming from a place of serious abandonment issues, which have nothing to do with the people to whom they are attaching themselves now. Further, the message said- Look at what happened with Adolf Hitler, bruised and battered from childhood; in a different manner, this also seems to have happened with Donald Trump-and, in turn, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama- indeed many who have risen to prominence have overcome abandonment issues, but the scars have led to the less-laudatory aspects of their lives.
I draw some such people into my life, still-mainly children, but occasionally, severely scarred adults, as well. It has only been recently that I have gained a semblance of how to properly communicate with such adults, in a helpful manner. So, the Pyramid cautioned me, it is best to neither jump when summoned, nor to ignore them at length, but to set aside a few minutes and address their concerns in a succinct manner. If it is merely a message of routine greeting, return the courtesy and go on with my flow of activity.
Simple images, coming in a meditative state, can offer a lot of information.
The forthright girl stood at the whiteboard, and explained the same concept, five times, before three of her classmates finally grasped what she was saying. Two very different styles of learning met, grappled with one another and, in the end, meshed.
It is instructive, and advisable, for adults to see, in real time, how children work out problems, step by step. Only in the meat of the solution process can one truly understand the heart and soul of another human being. Only by allowing a person to explain something, from his or her own point of view, without prematurely inserting one’s own input, can there be the beginnings of a bond.
I am, for all intents and purposes, retired from education. There is, however, this lingering, stagnant presence of cornonavirusdisease 2019. This pandemic will, probably for some months yet, continue to affect regular classroom teachers, as it has so many other walks of life. I am, to a certain extent, immune to the virus, and still have the energy to devote some of my time to the elevation and advancement of another magnificent generation. Alphas are given to showing far more patience with selves, surety as to their purpose in life and acceptance of differences, than the generations which came before them, as children. Perhaps it’s just the energy that envelops us all now, combined with the purity of the child. Maybe we are all evolving, and the children reap the benefits of being innocent and bathed in a greater cosmic energy.
In any event, I have been blessed, yet again, with a week’s chapter, in learning from watching others learn.
The title phrase, Latin for “Where to from here?”, often begs consideration on a wide scale. With regard to the Capitol mayhem, of last week, there are a host of ways in which it may be pondered. They all start with how one regards the incident, in the first place. Was it a mob riot? an insurrection? domestic terror? a caper? Everyone is entitled to their view, certainly, with the attendant burden of proof escalating along with the level of seriousness.
I choose to regard it as a riot, with elements of insurrection. Most of the thousand or so who entered the Capitol complex came across as undisciplined rubes, hooligans who gave no thought to their actions-and who gave vent to whatever impulse hit them at the moment. These are the ones who are now expressing remorse, and who are suffering the immediate consequences of their actions. They are those who are responsible for the stomping to death of their wounded comrade, Ashli Babbitt.
Then, there were the two or three hundred mixed in with the multitude, whose purpose was far more sinister. There were the laptop thieves, maybe looking for evidence to back up the QAnon conspiracy theory about human trafficking and satanic rituals going on, under the noses of broader humanity or to support unguarded documentation of election fraud- or maybe to steal the devices, so as to plant such evidence. The devices have not been found, and may never be. That the devices should NOT have unsecured information on them, in the first place, surely has occurred to their lawful owners and users.
There were the vigilantes, as indicated by the amount of weaponry and ammunition, makeshift shackles and at least one guillotine, that were seized by law enforcement and/or photographed during the incident. There were vocalized death threats against the Vice President and Speaker of the House. There was the fact that a lone Capitol Police Officer distracted the advance of the mob, long enough for the oldest and slowest of the Senators to disappear around the corner. To my knowledge, only one of the (suspected) terrorists, one Cleveland Meredith, has been apprehended. That leaves several on the loose, perhaps to return, as promised, on January 17, or 20, or maybe on February 2.
It is the last group which concerns me the most. Relatively few of those, for whom the fate of Donald J. Trump is the Cause du Jour, in their wider plan to put the masses in their place, have yet made their presence known. Read “Democracy In Chains”, by Nancy McLean, for a clearer picture of the matter. Listen, just once, to one Simon Parkes speaking, clearly and confidently, of the plan for one elite branch to take down the other. Read, just once, the posts on Parler (if you can find them) that promise bloodshed in Washington, next week.
There is much that needs cleansing, in our society. Those who have turned from their own spirituality have much for which to atone: With regard to pushing abortion and then leaving the grieving parents to themselves; with regard to excusing and normalizing antisocial language and behaviour; with regard to turning blind eye and deaf ear to children, youth and elders who suffer; with regard to ridiculing people whose views differ from their own; with regard to hiding in their silos and refusing to even consider the views of those more progressive or conservative than their own.
Yes, I work on my own shortcomings- all day, every day. Where do we go, from here? Let us start with making a redoubled effort to seek and accept truth, even when we find it hard to do so. The rest will reveal itself, a little at a time.
January 3, 2021, Mayer,AZ- There are two kinds of stupid: The one is, sadly, unfixable. The other is the kind that the person exhibiting it can fix, and definitely should. Today, I set out to hike a new loop segment of Black Canyon National Recreation Trail. There are three measurements given for this loop: 8.3 miles, 13.2 miles and 15 miles. As I learned, to my eternal chagrin, the last measurement is correct.
Before showing you, dear readers, the delights of this segment, (There are many), let me share my take-aways from today’s adventure: 1. Make sure your phone is COMPLETELY charged, before leaving the car. Yes, I let people know, via Facebook, as to what I was doing, from the crest of one of Copper Mountain’s many satellite ridges. Sarcastically, I referred to the experience as “camping”. More on that in the next post. 2. Make sure there are fresh batteries in your auxiliary flashlight. Just because it worked well, on the most recent night hike, does not mean that is true in perpetuity. 3. Print off a PAPER copy of the trail map. Having AllTrails.com does not amount to much, when the phone dies, as it did when I needed it, towards the end of my hike. 4. Of course, if possible, hike with a buddy. That means ADVANCE PLANNING, which I do-but my tendency is to go it alone, and not want to bother other people. Postitive results, though, also came out of this: 1. Recognizing that any winter hikes need to either be started in the MORNING, or put off until they can be started in the a.m. Fitting in a long hike (more than 5 miles round trip) does not work, when begun only after a regular Zoom call is finished. Trust me, scenery at night, even in winter, is beautiful, especially under clear skies and with the Moon to help light one’s way. Still and all: It’s cold, people who know your whereabouts get worried and as, a local resident of this town observed, not all wild animals are either friendly or shy. He was referring to javelinas- not bears or mountain lions. I have seen and heard bears and mountain lions, on shorter hikes, but they’ve kept their distance-and I report those sightings on my phone, rather quickly.
So, there is the foolishness of complacency, rent asunder by the fact that every hike is different. Now, for the good news: Copper Mountain Loop, done properly, affords some exquisite geological wonders. It is a treasure trove of volcanic debris.
Here are five examples, and Mickey Mouse puts in an appeareance.
View of scattered igneous towers, southwest corner of Copper Mountain LoopIgneous bench, top of southwest ridgeIgneous tower, top of southwest ridgeIgneous bench and tower, southwest ridgeIgneous benches, northwest ridgeCopper-infused slate-slabs and figurine-shaped rocks, northeast ridge.Prickly Pear Mickey
As the light that provided these scenes faded, and I lost-then re-found the trail (Thanks to the Moon and my spirit guides, including Penny, I had enough sense to plod on, rather than try and tough it out at one spot. Smidgens of sense are better than none-but for the next hikes, things will change.
