Eastward Bound and Back, Day 2: To Chicago, Sensibly

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April 30, 2024, Glenview, IL- The traffic to this small blue-collar suburb of the Windy City was mercifully light and free-flowing. Yes, it is a Tuesday night, and well-past rush hour, but no matter. In years past, I have simply jumped into the scrum that congregates at the confluence of I-55 and I-94, and threaded the needle, until we all flowed, mile by mile, to our destinations: Some, to the Loop; others to Wrigleyville, Navy Pier, whatever memorials may exist to Studs Terkel and Mike Royko and I, to the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette. Tonight, though, with money in my E-Z Pass till, I took the I-294.

The day began in Miami, Oklahoma. After a deep sleep and hot shower, at Deluxe Inn, a short drive through the remaining sliver of northeast Oklahoma brought me into Missouri. Gassing up, at a Kum n’Go, I saw EMTs and police responding to a crash involving a motorcyclist. The cashier said that intersection was particularly bad, for such accidents. Ironically, it is just up the road from a major motorcycle service center/biker hangout-and across Highway 43 from Mercy Hospital. Next, Norma’s Diner offered a filling, if ordinary, brunch, in quiet ambiance, and I was on my way out of Joplin, a bit late, towards noon.

Most of my day was spent driving, up I-44, then north on the 270, with gas-ups and rest areas the main breaks. A tired, bored young man staffed the Zephyr station, in Ballwin, northwest of St. Louis, where I re-fueled both Sportage, and myself, at the mid-point of the day. The bridge across the Mississippi, a short time later, revealed a Father of Waters that is at a disturbingly muddy, low level. There was scant activity at an Illinois rest area, just south of Bloomington, though the picnic tables along a get-up-and-stretch path are imaginatively done up with mock Midwest town business fronts, as covers. I was glad to have gotten up and stretched. Dinner, a short time later, was broccoli sprouts, with protein from a Thornton’s rotisserie. (Thornton’s is Illinois’ version of Sheetz, or Raceway.)

So now, I am in a secure, quiet Motel 6. They left the light on, and the bed looks new and comfortable. Tomorrow will be the Twelfth Day of Ridvan, so I will put on my “Created Noble” tee, and head over to the House of Worship, a short seven or eight mile drive, for what has become an annual, journey-affirming visit. The Temple, and, by extension, Wilmette are collectively salubrious.

Good night, all.

Eastward Bound and Back, Day 1: Towers of Power

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April 29, 2024, Miami, OK– He stood with his feet planted firmly on the floor, arms forcefully at his side, clutching two bottles of Gatorade, jaw set and eyes blazing-with the unspoken message: “Just TRY and take one of these from me.” His father had his back. The future force of nature is four years old, one of the faces of the Texas that is yet to rise.

Father and son were just two of the faces of strength, the towers of power, I encountered on this day of passing through three states. Glenn, the baker, was at his craft, producing, among other delectables, some of the finest breakfast burritos in all New Mexico-if not in the entire Southwest. His red burritos got me off to a good start, this morning.

In the small eastern New Mexico settlement of Milagro, an earnest woman staffed the thriving gas station/convenience market that two friends started, about eight years ago. She was grateful that the Filipina co-owner had filled the windshield cleaner tanks, as it was still a bit nippy there, in late morning. I am glad to see the young couple, who I met in those early days of their enterprise, are doing so well.

My buddy, Wes, in Amarillo, was not available for anything other than a comment. That, being that he was stuck at home. So our lunch in the Fun Zone (Old 66) will wait until five weeks from now. He’s the T-shirt king of the Panhandle, among other things, but that’s a story for another day. One of my cousins, in southwest Missouri, will be doing God’s work, teaching middle schoolers, as I pass through that area, tomorrow, so no meeting with her, either.

In Massachusetts, Mom is holding her own, so my visit with her, this weekend will proceed as planned. Any strength of character I have comes from my parents. My siblings are keeping me posted, on her day-to-day. They, too, are towers of power.

At the Conoco, in Shamrock, the little man stood his ground, and eyed me as I was leaving the store, with a ferocity that seldom have I seen from one so young. I hope he holds onto that determination. There is much that will challenge his grit, far more than this aging wanderer ever will.

Three ladies staffed the toll booths along the Oklahoma Turnpike, each taking the time to note that, in two days, their jobs will pretty much become obsolete, as the system goes electronic on May 1. They will go on to other duties for the Turnpike, probably monitoring glitches in the system-which are bound to happen, at least initially.

So, it is that I reflect back on a day spent going through familiar turf, and take my rest in this comfortable room at Deluxe Inn. Tomorrow will no doubt mean more encounters with towers of power.

The Myth of Finality

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April 28, 2024, Gallup- As I was walking to breakfast, at Post 6, this morning, one of the dogs who customarily run up to their owners’ fence and barks his head off, was true to form. A raven began flying in circles, above the dog, and cawed loudly, mimicking the dog’s bark. Animals can hassle each other like that.

So, too, do we humans seem to think it is our due, to hassle one another. I give you the current version of “Forward, into the past!”-Right-wing students, mixing with peaceful protesters and yelling for a renewal of “The Final Solution”. There is no real concern about the Palestinians who have suffered, no desire to see justice for Gaza, just a re-hash of Nazi propaganda-blaming Jews in this country and around the world for the destruction that has come from two groups of extremists fighting one another. Palestinians, in Gaza, have asked that the hatred against ordinary Jews be stopped. It is, they note, not helping their search for justice.

I have relatives who are at least a quarter, or half, and in a few cases full-blooded Jewish. I have many more, both Arab and Jew, who I count as friends. None of them hate the others. Growing up, my parents counted both Arabs and Jews as friends. It is thus second nature.

In Creation, there is no permission given by the Divine, for one group of people to slaughter another. The deluded young man who called for the deaths of all Jews can quote Mein Kampf all he wants, but if he follows through, he deserves full punishment, under the law. I say the same applies to anyone calling for the deaths of all Arabs. Enough is enough! If someone, or a group, attacks a Jew, or an Arab, in my presence, I will stand for the intended victim-nonviolently, mind you, but I will stand in defense of the one being attacked.

Today is the anniversary of Baha’u’llah’s Declaration of His Mission, to unite mankind, both spiritually and materially. We Baha’is celebrated, worldwide. There are fellows in Faith who are of Jewish descent, as Penny was and there are fellows in Faith who are of Arab descent-in fact, there are Baha’is in virtually every ethnicity, across the planet. We stand for the oneness of mankind. There is no room for anyone to act on genocidal thoughts, of any kind. There is no such “final solution”.

In a few days, I will be at the Baha’i House of Worship, in Wilmette, Illinois, north of Chicago. I try to visit there, each time I head east, for family visits. The magnificent Temple helps me ground self spiritually. This time, I hope to see both Jewish and Arabic visitors, among the multitude that is there, on any given day.

The only finality should be love.

Dharma Sunset

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April 27, 2024, Paulden, AZ- “You’re spirit IS you!”, the 5-year-old boy opined, as we were talking about whether we lived forever. I had just noted that my body would be gone some day, but my spirit would live on. His reply showed that he already knew that we would continue to live on.

He has named himself Sunset, and his parents are going with it. Their overarching concern is that each of their five children, and possibly a sixth, will grow to their maximum potential and on each child’s own terms. So far, what I have seen is an amazing group of strong humans, loving and nurturing with one another-and learning from their mistakes, without accumulating baggage.

It had been three years since I last visited the little bit of heaven that its residents call Dharma Farm. Most of my absence had more to do with scheduling-mine and the family’s. Tonight, though, we were in sync, the older girls preparing a simple meal and the younger siblings, including Sunset, enjoying the two exercise balls which I have given the family, rather than have the balls just sit in my bedroom and be used infrequently. I walked around the farm with the father, noting changes he and his wife have made on the property, since my last visit. Several more trees have been planted and are thriving. A couple of buildings, including a greenhouse, have been added. So, too, has a lonely young girl come to be a regular part of the family and two other, wonderful women and their children settled in.

The place continues to be a haven-and another woman, earlier today, at a different location, musing about how delightful it was to see happy children, would have been thrilled to have been here. The secret to all this is that the couple is committed to both raising their children holistically and teaching thriving skills (on a permaculture model) at the local community school, as well as in a home schooling co-operative.

Sunset will continue to burn brightly, and so will the rest of his family. Below, are two scenes of his inspiration.

I won’t be absent from here for quite so long, going forward.

The Road to (Mayer’s) Grapevine

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April 26, 2024- Tooling along the gravel-coated roads in Grapevine Canyon, about 45 minutes southeast of Prescott, Hiking Buddy and I found several large, fairly new houses and an old mining camp or two.

The actual goal of our quest-Grapevine Trail, was a bit east of the residential areas, so we backtracked and drove along a short, graded dirt road, just to the left of the graveled jobs. The walk today was, essentially, a scouting mission-first a .7-mile hike from the parking area to a green livestock gate, then about .5 of the .7 further mile to the actual trailhead that leads into the inner canyon. There will be time in June, maybe, or late October (as things stand now), for a further foray into the Grapevine of Mayer.

Here are some scenes that my i-Phone afforded me, after I headed out the door without my trusty Samsung digital.

The v-shaped ridges form a splendid backdrop to the jagged shale outcropping, that seem to have been dropped, willy-nilly, by the glaciers of the Mesolithic Period (26,000 years ago).

Once past the cattle gate, the rim of the inner canyon itself came into clearer focus.

Grapevine Creek will fill this bed, once the monsoons arrive, in July-September.

The sometimes jagged road would not be kind to Sportage, parked a mile or so back. It does make an agreeable hiking trail, in and of itself.

As we walked back to the car, this small group of outcroppings appealed to me, as a possible spur hike in a future visit.

The morning put yet another area of Unlimited Arizona on my radar screen. After nearly 44 years here, off and on, the Southwest never ceases to amaze.

Diligencia

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April 25, 2024- The rain came down in buckets, ending three weeks of dryness and keeping the fire danger down for another month or so. I had a room full of Kindergarten English-language learners, who noted that it was raining-again (“Otra vez”) and they hadn’t been out all day. They continued to work on their foldable stories, we read them, they highlighted their sight words, the first letter of each sentence and the punctuation mark at the end of each sentence-and then we played. They built little “forts”, by moving chairs and cushion pillows, while a timer counted down. When the time ran out, the screen said “Poof”, and the hamburger on the screen disappeared. Then the kids did-actually, just going back to their classrooms, after putting everything back.

The others, first and second graders, were equally diligent. Even those, especially those, who had minimal competency in English, applied themselves to their tasks with a drive that people in high school would do well to emulate. They let no time elapse, when finished with one task, before asking what was next, and diving right into it.

That made me think. What happens in the lives of children to turn a hard worker into a dodger, a slacker? Some who go through a slacking phase, and then get their bearings and turn into productive adults, can say it was due to the adults in their lives being alternately overbearing and overindulgent. Others gave in to peer pressure, and others were just testing the limits. In the end, though, those who’ve turned themselves around have looked back at the real “good old days”, when their classmates and they were getting satisfaction from learning, going home to parents who were genuinely proud of their achievements.

The fog of insolence can sink in as early as 7-years of age (I saw one, a scowl on his face, as he waited for his teacher to open the classroom door, while my students and I were walking towards the ELL room). It will likely take a lot of diligence, on the part of educators and social service professionals, to turn his life around. Such a shame. The high achievers will walk on past him, but the smartest among them will stop, turn around and hold out a caring and insistent hand.

Viva diligencia!

Commonalities

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April 22,2024- We are all part of an astonishing web of consciousness.

Bees are known to play with small wooden balls, pushing them around, until one of the bees falls. Octopuses recall certain kinds of fish, visually, rather than by the sound of their swish. Baby spiders scamper to catch up to their mother, as she walks along the floor, toward the bathroom cupboard. Corvids, from ravens to jays, recognize the faces of friends and foes alike, from day to shining day. A sea turtle recognizes its human handler’s voice, nibbling either lettuce or spinach, when given a choice. Androcles removed a thorn from the paw of the lion and the great cat purred, as his eyes were shining. A mother baboon tended the wounded baby meerkat grooming and feeding the little one, until its health was intact.

We all feel, all remember, and most can recognize themselves in a mirror, if even after some repetitions in front of the reflector. Instinct is common to us all, and so is industry; so is the use of tools, no matter how simple. None of us enjoys living in chaos, or in filth. Indeed no one is more fastidious about cleaning a place up than a scavenger. Hornets, if undisturbed, or not enticed by scent, will leave humans alone. Poisonous snakes, if not cornered or threatened, will not pursue a human, with the intent of injecting venom.

May Earth long enjoy the presence of its diverse creatures.

Power Language

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April 19, 2024- When I was a child, the concept that every blow delivered would be followed by an equal and opposite retaliatory strike was alien to me. I thought, naively, that a simple exchange of blows was enough for each boy to express his annoyance at the situation. My opponents uniformly believed that there had to be a winner and a loser.

There has been much discussion, over the past five years, about Love Language-the way in which an individual gives and receives love. My love language, for example, is acts of service. Words of affirmation, quality time and physical touch are secondary love languages-expressed only to a certain few.

Power is also a concept that is expressed in “languages” of sorts. (These are only my thoughts on the matter.) The power languages I have ascertained are persuasion, coercion, diminution, guilt-mongering and inclusion. The first and last are positive means to power. The second, third and fourth are negative, if not neurotic, power languages.


Both persuasion and inclusion involve patience, flexibility and a regard for others that is equal to one’s self-regard. Persuasion entails a commitment to a lengthy engagement with those whose agreement and co-operation are desired. Inclusion entails an inherent regard for the other person’s, or group’s, sense of self-worth. Inclusion is a longer game, in which the perception of power, coming from within the self, is large enough a reservoir that the individual sees others as being of the same worth as self. The two power languages do not entail a lesser view of either oneself or any other human being. They may even extend to non-human animals, plants, funga and spirits.

Coercion, often involving physical force, but also including bribery, co-opting, blackmail and obfuscation, is the most common historical power language. Even in modern times, the cynic’s Golden Rule, “He who has the gold makes the rules”, has silenced those whose financial or time-management skills are sufficiently wanting, that a keen observer who is hungry for power can leverage the person’s weakness and buy or intimidate them into giving up their agency.

Diminution, the convincing of social groups of their own unworthiness and of the superiority of others, is a second very common historical power language. It is the modus operandi of the plantation, of the colonial system and of patriarchy. Diminution depends on a top-down decision-making apparatus. It goes beyond the sensible system of parenthood, infantilizes women, disempowers adolescents, and instills a sense of superiority in members of a dominant culture. This is most obvious in the notions of White Supremacy and Male Superiority, but is also true of any culture where a dominant group trivializes the contributions of marginalized communities.

Guilt-mongering is the “when all else fails” power language of dominance. It features self-as-victim, gaslighting, false equivalence and an “after all I’ve done for you” pitch, each of which is like a rock in a shoe, designed to nettle and disrupt the other’s concentration and sense of well-being. It manifests itself in endless legal appeals and slow-walking of valid processes, just enough to create doubt and suspicion. It is a favoured tool of those among the well-connected who lack a moral compass. It is also a favoured tool of those in the media whose primary concern is generating revenue, at the expense of morality.

We are seeing a slow, but inexorable, move towards persuasion and inclusion as preferred power languages. The futility of coercion, diminution and guilt-mongering is being seen by more and more people around the world, as their perceived value is recognized, more and more, as impermanent, ephemeral and of scant overall value. The language of power will, in time, become linked to the language of love.

Gordian Knots

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April 18,2024- A bit ago, a boy in an intermediate school was placed in detention, for hitting a girl classmate. He told the principal that he felt demeaned by the girl and her friends, so he did the only thing he knew-he lashed out.

Anxiety fuels fear, which fuels aggression, which fuels more anxiety and aggression-all tied up in a Gordian knot. The legend of Alexander the Great has the king using the expedient solution of cutting a complex knot with a sword, rather than trying to loosen and unravel it. Modern times find certain rulers using brute force, in an attempt to bring an end to “intractable” problems. Thus, a series of events that would be amusingly schoolboyish, were they not so chilling, are unfolding between two countries-in the guise of preservation of faith.

Thomas Sowell’s admonition that there are no solutions, only trade-offs, has never rung more true than in the matter of the conflict in western Asia. The resolution of this matter involves, essentially, two basic processes: 1. All people living within the borders of a nation-state need to have a full voice in the affairs of that nation-state, provided they are willing to abide by the laws of that nation-state; 2. Countries that neighbour one another need to fully honour the legitimate rights of all people in their neighbouring states, to say nothing of honouring the legitimate rights of their own citizens. The trade-offs will need to be worked out, but they cannot allow dominance of any one country, or national ideology, or authoritarian ruler, over its neighbours.

I’m keeping an eye on the situation in western Asia, at least for the effect it will have on my plans for Autumn, which presently involve transit stops in two airports in that region. Those places need to show a modicum of safety, in order for anyone to make even the briefest of stops. There is also the impact the conflict will have (is at least temporarily having) on global finance. The possibility exists that I may be working for wages in October, instead of visiting Baha’is in east Africa, after my September visit to the Philippines.

Fear triggers anxiety, which brings on aggression, triggering more fear and anxiety. I face all this, knowing that in either Plan A or Plan B, I will be okay on a personal level. Many communities and countries will get through the matter, just fine. There will, however, be vast areas, and millions of people, who won’t be at all fine-with the situations in Gaza, Darfur and Ukraine just the beginning, unless the Gordian Knots are untied, rather than cut.

Turnarounds

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April 16, 2024- The nine-year-old said, matterfactly, that he had stopped himself, twice today, from acting out and engaging in negative actions. He started to misbehave, then decided it would be better to act as a leader. He is the oldest child in his classroom, and it was also important that a girl, who is his friend in another classroom, does not approve of acting out.

I routinely think of my own actions and speech. Do they fit what is becoming of someone in a leadership role? Would my spirit guides approve? Would the woman I love the most, to say nothing of my dear friends, be happy or would they be dismayed? It is of the utmost importance, to hold oneself to a gold standard.

There are all manner of turnarounds that are occurring in this time of transition. Some can be attributed to climatic change, to El Nino or La Nina. Deserts, from Death Valley, California to the Arabian Peninsula and the Dasht-e-Lut, of Iran, are experiencing intense rain that has not been seen in modern times. The United Arab Emirates and Oman are virtually shut down, from the flooding that has ensued. These desert countries are not alone. Rainfall has intensified in Central Asia and western Siberia, as well, and the Cone of South America, especially Argentina and Uruguay, had an extraordinarily wet summer (December-January). Conversely, the islands of Southeast Asia are experiencing a drought, as the tail-end of El Nino runs its course.

Transitions and turnarounds are apt to continue for at least the next fifteen months, both in a climatic sense and in our daily lives, as the solar maximum plays out, between now and September, 2025. Nothing really surprises me, anymore.