Me, and THAT army

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April 3, 2024- Taking my place on lunchroom duty, this afternoon, I was greeted by two young men who I hadn’t seen since the Fall of 2015. Although my work with their class lasted only three months or so, before the charter school hired a community member who was in need, the kids remember that time as being one of security and helpful instruction. I was still just getting back on my feet, emotionally, at that time, so it felt good to know that my work was beneficial.

Several people, from Grades 5 on up, have said they are glad when I am in their classroom. I share that sentiment, so maybe that’s why. It is equally a matter of sound financial practice, and the satisfaction that I get from helping children and teens build a strong future for themselves, that leads me to continue working in the area schools.

People have been wonderful to me for many years now, by and large, so any difficulties tend to get resolved and put in the rear view mirror, in rather short order. This smoothness in my personal life makes for more time to devote to the considerable tests and difficulties faced by so many other people. These range from something as simple as a lack of transportation, locally, to helping with Baha’i or Red Cross activities in areas farther afield.

Today was mostly spent giving six repetitions of a slide-based lecture, about the history and legacy of colonialism in Africa. It surprised me, as much as it did the students, as to how much I remember of that subject, from my own high school World History class (Thank you, Mr. Musgrave, for your attention to detail, back then) and subsequent independent reading. It was all good. They mostly took good notes, though, so maybe 40 years from now, someone will share this with scholars of the future.

“From whom much is given, much is expected.” My “army” of friends and benefactors makes those expectations easier to meet.

Prognosis

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March 30, 2024- Astrology is an inexact science, to the extent it is scientific. Astronomical energy and physics are taken into account, certainly, but even the most fervent astrologers admit they may be off, in their estimations. This is mainly because no one knows, with certitude, where one constellation ends and another begins.

That said, the astrologer to whose webinar I listened this afternoon gave an assessment of the rest of 2024, and a broader picture of the five years that will follow, that indicates the pace of change will, for the most part, accelerate. There will be periods, he says, of lightning-fast, perhaps dizzying, change and other periods of sluggishness. In other words, it’ll be more of what we have been experiencing, just more intense in degree.

It was explained that we have been in the energy cycle of the Piscean Age, roughly since 1 A.D. and that sometime between now and 2150 there will be a total shift to the Aquarian Age (yes, that Age of Aquarius). Generally speaking, this will mean a shift from individualism to the collective; from top-down decision-making to a two-way flow of information ( both horizontal and lateral, as well); from separation to unity. The early glimmerings of this shift were seen as far back as the late Eighteenth Century, with the American and French Revolutions, the Mesoamerican and South American Wars for Independence and the Enlightenment. The recent scurrying, in some areas of the planet, including some parts of Europe and the Americas, towards retreat into authoritarianism, are a natural human and fear-based reaction to this shift, but these are destined to be short-lived-even if their immediate effects cause much suffering and destruction-as did the excesses of the European Fascists and the Stalinists/Maoists of Eurasia and East Asia did, in the second half of the 20th Century.

He spoke of this coming month, April, as being a time of particularly jarring change. Of course, this is no more specific than the old “weather forecast” of children’s games: “Light, followed by darkness”-but at least it won’t come as a total shock, if April 20-21 feature some sort of cataclysm. Okay, I will be in and around Home Base I. Conversely, September and October are forecast to be a period of sluggishness. That’s fine by me, as my current plans are to be in the Philippines and east Africa during those months, and I want to be focused on whoever, and whatever, is in front of me.

That is the nice thing about inexact predictions: If they come to pass, we have been forewarned. If they don’t, then there is more time to prepare for what is about to happen.

Tonalea

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March 27, 2024- “You don’t need to leave a tip. We didn’t really DO anything.” The cashier thus made her appeal to the dignity of one and all, as I paid for a couple bags of freshly ground coffee. I thought how refreshingly decent this woman is, and how sentiments like hers give the lie to the notion that Gen Z is collectively self-centered and always has its generational hand out. (The Greatest Generation, once upon a time, expressed similar sentiments about us then-youthful Boomers, but I digress.)

One of the bags was going to the old friend I was en route to visit, and to his family. C lost his wife of 40 + years, a few months back, and so I was heading up to Tonalea, to offer condolences and emotional support. The community’s name in the Dineh (Navajo) language, means, essentially, Red Lake. There is, in years of heavy winter and spring precipitation, an actual lake, off U.S. Hwy/160, on the community’s north side. This year, I saw no lake.

It was a smooth ride from Prescott to Flagstaff, where I bought the coffee from Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery, owned by another old friend. Traffic in and around Northern Arizona University reminds me a bit of Manila-everyone is doing their own thing, and gridlock is not altogether a rarity. My upbringing helps me transcend that, as a motorist here and as a pedestrian in my second favourite big city (after San Diego). Looking out for others makes for a longer journey, but for better self-esteem, at day’s end.

Driving from Flagstaff to Tonalea was even smoother. Dineh and Hopi people are quite orderly and civil, in their driving habits, and the area is sparsely polulated, to boot. As the two Elephant’s Feet (grey sandstone rock formations) looked on, from across the highway, I turned on the graded dirt road that winds around, towards Black Mesa, and reached C’s homestead, five miles inward. There he stood, as I arrived, at about the same time as planned.

C reminisced about his wedded life and what had led to his wife’s passing. Her suffering, it seemed, was mercifully short. We then talked of the connection between those of us in the flesh and our departed loved ones. Years ago, as Penny and I lay together, she told me she had seen my Penobscot ancestors standing over me, as I slept. I was not surprised by that. The ties that departed souls have to this world are very, very strong. Everything that has happened to me, both the serendipitous events that have transpired and my protection from malevolent forces, over the past thirteen years, or even before, has been due to those who have gone before me, and who make up a bulwark of energy that lets me do the bidding of the Divine.

After a two-hour visit, and my reassuring him that all will be well, even with the swirling changes that seem to bother him so, it was time for C to get back to tending to his family, working on his fences, and keeping livestock from eating his trees. It was also time for me to head back to Prescott, with a “halfway stop” at My Pita Wrap, a small Mediterranean restaurant on Flagstaff’s main drag. Going back up to Dinehtah, with its otherworldly rocks, grounded people and mystical energy, is always a reset for my own personal energy.

Circles

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March 26, 2024- The young man proudly showed anyone who was watching just how he was cleaning the coffee house’s tables, with small circular motions, so as to not miss any spots. He completed the task in ten minutes, then went outside with his mentor, and cleaned the patio tables, in seven minutes.

I’ve known J since he was 5 years old. He turns 23 this week. Three days a week, he has a mentor to drive him around to venues, such as this coffee house, where I had breakfast this morning and works the other two days at a sheltered workshop. One of the happiest people I’ve ever known-J is reaping the fruits of his gentle nature.

This evening, about forty of us formed circles, to share stories of inspiration from natural phenomena and from sacred spaces. My group shared stories about spirits coming to comfort an ALS sufferer; the inspiration gained from looking at shapes of clouds; a woman’s acceptance of her children’s Faith, towards the end of her life; a father’s encouragement of his daughter’s pursuit of the arts; a woman’s observation of an animal mother’s love for her babies, whilst visiting a zoo; a hiker’s encounter with spirit forces, in a canyon of a state park (my story).

A Cherokee story teller also told of animals coming together to decide what gift to give the human being, who seemingly had none of the qualities which they had. They gave him fire-to keep him warm, let him prepare his food and purify his water. The sharing circle of the animals was only partially successful, as the colourful crow singed his feathers, which became black, and the ribbon snake singed his scales, becoming all black. Only the spider managed to capture fire, by putting it in her web basket, and inadvertently teaching the human to weave baskets, as well as to keep a hot ember in a safe place.

There are things that do not fare well in a circle: Logic, trying to get from point A to Point B, and, hideously, the firing squad-which should not exist at all. Mostly, though, a circle is all inclusive, and gives everyone in it a chance to participate, to be considered, to belong.

One Person’s Whimsy….

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March 25, 2024- The last step in any prayer is always taking action.

Burying objects in the earth, immersing them in bodies of water or placing them in caves, has long been a spiritual practice of those seeking connection with the Divine, or with forces of Nature. Its effects tend to be slow, usually too slow for the liking of the movers and shakers among us, who want to see quick results.

This evening, I had time available to join a full moon meditation which, after the customary full body relaxation exercise, referenced various treasure vases that have been placed in dozens of locations around the world. Many of these are places of spiritual or environmental significance, to one group of people or another. They range from the Lawrence Laboratories, in Berkeley, CA to a forest in rural Liberia. A sacred site in Israel/Palestine is the location of another such vase. Its mention led someone to protest (in Chat) that the vase was pointless, since things have gotten worse in that part of the world.

“So”, I mused to self, “this means that the vases on the border between North and South Korea, in the Cloisters of Manhattan, a cave in Bosnia-Hercegovina, and others in Iraq, Mexico, the Georgian Federation, South Kivu Province of DR Congo a hill overlooking Fukushima and nuclear energy facilities in New York and Washington State are pointless as well. Let’s all just throw up our hands and let the Big Dogs have their bones!”

After the session was over, I was glad to have not given abrupt voice to that rebuttal. It would have jettisoned the peaceful sentiments of the call’s organizers and made me as much of a problem as the troll was. Then, I started to think further-maybe she was not trying to disrupt, or be a troll. Maybe her Type A brain has no more patience for the slow path of spiritual healing. More’s the pity. Those who seek quick solutions, but who have no game plan that brings reconciliation and justice, are essentially chasing their tails. Their insinuation, that others of us are chasing rainbows, thus rings hollow.

Martin Luther King, Jr had a dream. He also had specific, tangible plans to bring that dream to fruition. I, too, have both, and will pursue them-albeit in a far less prominent manner.

Here, and There

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March 24, 2024- I dreamed of Penny last night. Nothing new about that; she appears when I need to figure out what I should do, in a particular situation. The dream’s ending showed that I am on the right track, about certain matters. The spirit, on whom I depend for guidance, is always present. Any doubts or qualms are on me.

Today, Palm Sunday in Christendom, started off cold and with light snow. It was nice in the afternoon, and when I went over to work out, it was overcast and snowing lightly, again. The rest of the country is going through winter’s after market misery, and may everyone get through it safely.

While I was on the stationary bike, I was a captive audience for a troubled woman, who let out all the frustrations she has had, with certain employers and other people, for about fifteen minutes of nonstop chatter. I just kept on pedaling, and felt worse for the guy on the other side of me, but after she ran out of vitriol, she left. (If you wonder why I didn’t cut her off, we were in a public place and it would have been worse than if I just kept silent. That’s how it is, dealing with certain mental illnesses.)

Two Baha’i Zoom calls were well attended, and starting off the week when Jesus the Christ is especially honoured with our own spiritual focus will release a lot of positive healing energy. There will be other events, tomorrow and Tuesday, that will add to that energy. With the penumbral lunar eclipse on the occasion of a full moon, I suspect a lot of people will need that energy. I know I will.

Blessed Holy Week, everyone, and may you be safe.

Ad Hominem

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March 23, 2024- “What about the thousands of Vietnamese and Cambodians who have been killed?” So asks Henry Wyeth, an unseen character in Jon Robin Baitz’s “Other Desert Cities”, in response to his father’s admonition to turn himself in, after a bombing, in which he was involved, results in the death of a janitor. Father slaps Henry across the face, and the disheveled young man runs away.

This incident, and its aftermath, are the plot of Baitz’s 2011 play, about family dysfunction, the effect it has on the Wyeths, their two younger children and their doting, but feckless, aunt. It deals head-on with the overemphasis on political differences and how artificial those turn out to be, at the very basic human level. It is, at its core, a horror story. The catalyst is Henry’s sister’s writing a memoir, centered around his disappearance.

I went to a production of the play, this evening, at Prescott Center for the Arts. A fairly new studio theater affords an intimate, “in the square” presentation, almost like watching a play in one’s own living room. This makes the interaction, the tension, that much more relevant to the audience. It also increases the impact of various ad hominem attacks that the family members foist on one another, and no one is spared.

My family, even on an extended level, never fell into such holes of judgment. When we argued, things were resolved by nightfall, or by the problem person apologizing, whichever came first. The same was true in our marriage. Neither of us went to bed angry at the other. None of us let political differences trump familial love. So it remains today. People choose their political and social stances based on their personality, view of the world and experiences. No one else can really judge them, for those things alone.

In the beginning, and in the end, there is only love.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AIOkrxMPEQ&t=38s

Zero Degrees of Separation

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March 21, 2024- There are several people in my life who, it seems, have been everywhere I have been and known most of the people I have known, at one time or another. I spent about an hour with such a person, this evening-and each place, or person, I mentioned, jogged his memory. There were fascinating stories that followed, some of which I knew and other that were novel. I was able to recount a few that were new to him, so I would say it is a draw.

Much comes about, just from having lived as long as each of us have. The rest comes from wanderlust, open mindedness, natural friendliness and sheer curiosity. There is the overarching effect, also, of genetic memory. If one’s ancestors lived happily in a certain environment, then one is drawn to that environment. Conversely, if they had bad experiences in a place, then the same, or similar, places may well be repulsive to the descendant.

The only odd part of all this is: We had many of the same friends and lived in many of the same places, yet I only encountered this man a year ago. Now that could be a matter of when we each lived there. It also could be just each of us being part of a large crowd, only some of whom hobnobbed with some others and at different times, even if our stays overlapped. Interests shift, and don’t always converge.

Still, I ponder the meaning of situations in which it seems there are zero degrees of separation.

Spirits At Work

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March 20, 2024- An old friend, who I haven’t seen in thirteen years, gave me a call, and said that, among other things, she has a journal that Penny wrote, whilst we were on Pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places, as well as to Jerusalem, Bethlehem and the Galilee, in 1982.
I will retrieve that treasure, when I go to northern Nevada, en route to the Pacific Northwest, in July.

In our conversation, friend also referred to her deceased husband, sending her messages that he was engaged in productive work, in the world beyond. Penny gave me a similar message, in her last appearance in my sleep, about two months ago. The souls progress, and they do not slumber.

I’m pretty much convinced that all the good that has happened to me, in the past twelve years-and especially in the last five, has largely been due to personal growth, in which I have been guided by the spirits who love me. I have survived auto mishaps and a few personal attacks, because of their intercession. The same is true of all the journeys I have safely undertaken and the friends made. They have helped me shed baggage and demons, as I’ve mentioned a few times.

The work of the spirits continues-as we observe the Baha’i New Year, that is called, in Persian, Naw-Ruz. May this busy 181 B.E., that falls mostly in 2024, be a safe and healthy one for all.

Lunar Water, and Other Things Overlooked

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March 19,2024- “The test guide says there is no water on the Moon, so that’s what we need to go by, for now.” So I was told by a colleague, not long ago, when I pointed out that water had been discovered on Luna, in small amounts. Oh, how we deal with the cognitive dissonance that fact often brings our way, when it clashes with previously-held concepts and shibboleths. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that Celene Dion had a minor hit song called “Water from the Moon”.

The late, great Harry Nilsson once did a spoken word piece on his album, “The Point!”, in which his message was “You see what you want to see, and you hear what you want to hear.” This has never been truer, for many people, than now. Those who have particularly strong convictions are apt to discount, and in many cases vehemently disparage, alternative points of view, even when presented with factual information that is at variance with their own deeply-held beliefs. One Congressman, during the Watergate hearings, actually blurted out the famous quote from Plato: “I’m trying to think; don’t confuse me with facts.” The philosopher, at the time, was not discounting the facts. He was simply trying to see where they fit into his line of reasoning. That may have been true of the Congressman, during that heated time in American life, but it appeared ludicrous back then.

This is true of many of us, even among those who are known for an open mind and open heart. We each have at least a few beliefs that are unshakable-usually with regard to personal Faith or concerning our views of human nature, or individualism vs. collective action. My late maternal grandfather was a stalwart believer in individual responsibility. He imparted this to each of his nine children, who in turn passed it on to us-and we, to our own children-and so on. My paternal grandfather also believed in living up to one’s duties, but also took time for joie de vivre. He passed both on to his eleven children, and on down the line. Papa was not a dour man, and Grampy was not frivolous. They each had their core beliefs, which our grandmothers more or less shared, though the dear women seldom spoke of their own convictions.

We were raised to work hard, but also to think for ourselves, and when we were able to present facts to back up our statements, we had the respect, sometimes grudging, of our elders. I miss that environment.