The Road to Diamond, Day 64: Adoracion

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January 31, 2025, Manila- She completed a veritable mountain of translations, of Baha’i scriptures and guidance, from English to Tagalog, over a 40-year career. This, without a college degree, relying on a high level of intuition and native linguistic intelligence. Some of the texts she translated are quite challenging to read and comprehend in English. Her husband said she worked on translating letters from our Supreme Body, the Universal House of Justice,as soon as they were distributed. She anticipated the letters and set aside time for the work. This was the way of Maria Adoracion Inowe Newman, who died today at age 64.

The news came to me early this morning, about four hours after her passing, and so the day, which might otherwise have been rather quiet, became busy with messages back and forth, and a taxi ride across town to the high speed rail, which brought us to Antipolo, the Prescott of Luzon, and the city where Ador lived. After five of us took a motorcycle cab from the city center to the cemetery, we spent about an hour in reflection and some conversations, before the service was held, in gentle sunlight and a cool mountain breeze. Ador had chosen the prayers, a balance of English and Tagalog verses, reflecting her life’s work.

A life well-lived begets a personage well-loved, or perhaps the two are intertwined. Ador seems like a fitting name for the lady, judging from the quiet flow of sorrow this afternoon.

The Road to Diamond, Day 60: Floating and Weaving

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January 27, 2025, Hong Kong– When I was a teen, boxers would speak of the technique of bobbing and weaving, as a means of dodging an opponent’s punches and getting in blows of their own. On a long-distance aircraft, the techniques for safely navigating an expanse of ocean, or of continent, or both, require knowing when to move aside an air current and when to “float” through it. The flight crew of our Cathay Pacific craft handled the turbulence over the mid-Pacific very well tonight.

It is the time of Lunar New Year, ringing in the Year of the (Wood) Snake. The holiday in general leads thousands upon thousands of East Asian people to travel to their ancestral homes, and there was quite a multitude in LAX, on our flight and others like it, and in the transit lines at Hong Kong International Airport. We moved, sometimes in flow and at other times haltingly, but there was only a minimal delay in take-offs and in deplaning upon landing. What issues arose were mostly because of scanning issues, with regard to passports and boarding passes, or because people did not understand the concept of facial scanning. It could be construed as a privacy issue, but to me, the government knows what I look like already and I have nothing to hide from any given national authority, so I look straight into the screening device and am waved on my way.

Wedged as I was between two Chinese men, both bigger than I, on the fifteen hour haul from Los Angeles to Hong Kong, it was nonetheless a stress free leg. The three of us had an unspoken agreement that when Window Seat passenger needed to answer nature’s call, we all found our way to the Comfort Room, Aisle Seat passenger going last. There is plenty of leg room and a fairly ergonomic seat construction. Even though we were at the very last row before the galley cabinets, room was still made for us to recline our seats. In fairness to everyone else, who had to bring their seats upright at meal times, we uprighted ours as well. The meals themselves, dinner and breakfast, were fully balanced and appetizing, by airline standards.

I slept for probably 6.4-7 hours, during the flight, availing myself of three films, during the waking portion. “The Wild Robot” explored the notion of adapting Artificial Intelligence to interpreting and communicating with non-human sentient beings. It also considered the adaptation of AI independence from possible future orthodoxy and repression. “Kingdom of Heaven” followed one man’s spiritual progress through the terrifying time of the Second Crusade, and the overarching climate of relative harmony between Christian, Jew and Muslim up until the time that a boorish claque of English and French nobles used the death of the Christian King of Jerusalem and Acre (Akko) as a pretext to seat one of their own on the throne and to wage war against the mighty Saladin. Various documented aspects of the actual Second Crusade, which ended with Saladin’s capture of Jerusalem were incorporated into the film’s narrative, but the story was greatly embellished. “High Noon”, a classic Western of the early 1950s, is a film I had not seen, though I was named for its lead actor, Gary Cooper, and its themes of the nobility of a true hero and the fecklessness of both politicians and the average “get-along” citizen are quite remarkably presented. The film is about 1 hour long,and its plot concerns itself with one hour in the life of a small southern New Mexico town of the 1880s.

So, my time crossing the Pacific was well-spent, and now I ready myself for the final 2-hour flight to Manila. Much will be decided, these next three weeks.

The Road to Diamond, Day 58: True North, ’25

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January 25, 2025- It is finally getting cold here in Home Base I, the sort of bone-chilling cold that foreshadows a snowstorm. That storm is expected here, sometime between Sunday evening and Tuesday morning. I will be elsewhere during that time- largely in the air, or in airports: Phoenix, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Manila. Tuesday morning here will be the early morning hours, Wednesday, in Metro Manila. It will not be cold, and probably not wet.

I have received nothing but good wishes from friends here, and sense only good energy coming from the Philippines. My dear one, and our mutual friends, will believe that I am coming, when I get there, and send out the first messages on the ground. I have now gone back and forth so many times, that they who have largely spent their lives in one area have lost count.

Our True North, however, is the same. The Divine Spirit has gotten me from A to B, and back, countless times-even in 1971, when I was barely alive, spiritually, and all the more so, over the past four decades. It is that Spirit which kept Penny and I physically safe when our vehicle’s engine died, on a bridge above I-10 in Phoenix and again during the evening commute, in downtown Glendale, when I was pushing the car to a safe spot off a main street, while she watched from the safety of a sidewalk. It was that Spirit that landed me in this small and cozy apartment, when the house I was minding needed to be sold, eleven years ago this coming April. It is that Spirit that is bringing me back to Luzon for the third time, in less than two years.

It the same Spirit that has safeguarded two trusted friends here and kept each of them in home and hearth, despite limited circumstances. It keeps another little family, well north of here, in a tiny but sturdy house, as their grand-matriarch finds work wherever she can. It keeps my own little family in safe surroundings and guides them safely through times that could be far more uncertain. It sees my dear one and her family free from harm.

Each of us has had our share of harrowing situations, and will face them again, in times to come. It is our True North that will provide the way forward, each time.

The Road to Diamond, Day 52: Doughnut Economics

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January 19, 2025- Consider the musk ox. The animal, found across the Arctic region, will gather in closed herds, with the larger and more robust members forming a circle around the youngest and more infirm members of the group. The needs of all are considered, as the guardians stand shoulder to shoulder against predators, and the neediest are safer from harm.

I have often wondered at the possibility of a human community that would operate under a similar aegis. It has ever seemed possible, given our collective intelligence and drive towards survival. Today, at a devotional brunch, one of the participants spoke of Doughnut Theory, as means for conservative and liberal thinkers to reach common ground.

In 2012, the English economist Kate Raworth published a paper, on behalf of the famine relief organization, Oxfam, calling for an economic model that balances basic human needs with the boundaries of this planet. She called it Doughnut Economics. https://doughnuteconomics.org/about-doughnut-economics. After working in a micro-enterprise project in Zanzibar, in the mid-1990s, Ms. Raworth became critical of the notion of unfettered economic growth. She began to advance a model that promotes meeting the basic needs of every human being, such as nutrition and education, while protecting the ecosystem and thus not limiting opportunities for future generations.

The “wheel” of the doughnut has an inner layer,the social foundation; then there is a mid-section,a regenerative and distributive economy and an outer layer, the ecological ceiling. Outside the “wheel” are the challenges facing humanity: Air pollution, ozone layer depletion, climate change, ocean acidification, chemical pollution, nitrogen and phosphorous loading, freshwater withdrawals, land conversion and biodiversity loss. Inside the “wheel” are the spokes: Gender equality, housing, networks, energy, water, food, health, education, income/work, peace/justice, political voice, and social equity. The risks are two: There can be a shortfall in meeting one or more of these essential needs and there can be an overshooting of facing one or more of the challenges.

It was pointed out, at another gathering, this afternoon, that Baha’u’llah has charged all humanity, from rulers and the learned to the most humble and destitute, to face the challenges of living on this planet as a global community, while retaining responsibility for individual growth and the identities of local communities and nations. In that regard, as well as just a general sense of thoughtfulness, Doughnut Economics is worthy of serious study and efforts at implementation.

The Road to Diamond, Day 48: Desert Rose

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January 15, 2025- He was never, to my knowledge, at a loss for words. in his search for truth, he frequently spoke of a figure in his dreams, to whom he referred as “the shiny man”. I, too, dreamed of that same figure, on my first visit to Prescott, in 1979. William Sears and I had both dreamed of ‘Abdu’l-Baha. Mr. Sears, who preferred to be called “Bill”, established Desert Rose Baha’i School, along with his wife, Marguerite, in 1988. It was held in various locations, in Tucson, for its first eight years. Mr. Sears passed away in 1992, but Marguerite and a small group of helpers purchased land in 1996. This became Desert Rose Baha’i Institute, occupying about half of the land that Marguerite had envisioned for the Institute. (The other half, still owned by individual Baha’is, faces an uncertain future.)

Penny and I visited DRBI last, in 2007, when we joined a gathering of musicians. The late Dan Seals was among the artists present, and is the only person who has ever persuaded me to sing in a chorus. It was not a bad experience, joining people whose voices were pleasant, in a rendition of “We Are One”. That, of course, was both Dan’s, and Penny’s, last visit to Desert Rose. He died in 2009, and she, in 2011.

I went there today, after visiting Tohono Chul Park, in Oro Valley, near Tucson. That salubrious desert park’s Garden Bistro served up what will now be among my favourite plates: Mesquite flour pancakes, filled with Poblano peppers, topped with fresh berries. It was my second fabulous meal in a row, dinner having been a supremely savoury taco salad, at Benson’s Cafe 86, a homey local favourite, staffed by a hard working couple.

It was thus time for spiritual food to supplement the repasts. I pulled up next to a sign at Desert Rose that said “administration”. A small group was sitting outside a house next to the building. After greeting each other, I got basic directions from one of the ladies, as to the location of Mr. and Mrs. Sears’ memorial sites. (Marguerite passed in 2006, and is buried in the Institute’s Memorial Park.) After a brief stroll around the main property, I stopped at the memorial dome that is dedicated to Bill, reflecting on his life’s work, which ranged from being a sportscaster in Philadelphia to humanitarian efforts, from Mississippi to South Africa. He was ever a stalwart foe of racial segregation, but always worked within the law.

The Memorial Dome for William Sears, Desert Rose Baha’i Institute, Eloy, Arizona.

Here are a few of the other buildings that grace the property.

Round House is the dining hall and doubles as a conference center.
Musician Chris Ruhe manages this small FM radio station, which serves up both spiritual and secular programming.
Hadden Hall is the main conference center.
This is Marguerite Reimer Sears’ resting place. Several other friends are also laid to rest in the Memorial Park.

After saying several prayers there, I went back to my hosts’ house and joined them for a cup of peppermint tea. Telahoun and Brooke Molla were proprietors of an Ethiopian restaurant in Tempe, when I lived in Phoenix. We enjoyed the fare there, a few times, and became friendly with the family. It was a delightful surprise to find them living at DRBI, with their youngest child.

PROMOTION: Desert Rose is looking for energetic, sustainability-oriented xeriscapers or those trained in permaculture. The kitchen garden and a tree-planting campaign are the current foci of self-sustaining volunteers. Spiritual open-mindedness is a plus. So, too, is being able to innovate ways to deal with extended periods of high heat (Upwards of 118 F, in the height of summer.) The adobe homes do offer protection and there are two swimming pools. A large bank of solar panels helps to provide power.

https://drbi.org/facilities-and-rentals#rh

The Road to Diamond, Day 46: Copper Mountain

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January 13, 2025, Superior, AZ- The Wolf Moon shone through my front window, keeping me company, as I read the morning paper, at Home Base I. Thirteen hours later, a sliver has darkened, and the night is quiet here, in the eastern foothills of the Superstition Mountains. The sub-range is also called Apache Tears Mountains, in reference to the gemstone that is quite common in these parts, and named for the tears of the survivors of warriors who rode their horses off a nearby cliff, rather than be captured. In reality the gems are flakes of obsidian.

I am spending the night at Copper Mountain Motel, where I stay when visiting Superior. Usually once a year, it is a joy to spend a few hours at Boyce Thompson Arboretum or a nearby wilderness area. Main Street is also worth an early morning visit, for the shops and Victorian hotel that have sprung up in recent years. These might be tomorrow morning’s agenda.

Today started with the Monday morning coffee group, which saw all regular members arrive fairly early and solve the major problems of the world. We will repeat that process next week, as for some reason, the problems just don’t stay solved. If at first you don’t succeed……

After carefully packing, and listening to a full moon meditation, I drove towards I-17, stopping to pick up a supplement and connecting to Sirius XM, so as to keep tabs on the Los Angeles fire situation. The heartbreak will be long in abating, even if not another inch should catch fire. Whilst en route here, U.S. 60 found many of us inching along, only to note that a major pile-up involving five vehicles, had taken place. I was saddened to see four or five people sitting on blankets beside the highway and looking stunned. Eight people, including an infant, had to be sent to hospital. The pain goes on. In Superior itself, I stopped at the Arizona Rest Area, only to see signs that said the waterline for the facility had broken-an oblique connection to the Los Angeles blazes. Thankfully, there is no blaze at present in this area.

A positive energy is flowing here tonight. After another nice meal at Los Hermanos, a place I first patronized in 1979, I walked back to the motel and took in another two episodes of “The Chosen”, Season 4. The series about the ministry of Jesus the Christ has its unsettling moments, yet affirms much of what I believe about the nature of faith.

In light and darkness, energy is often what you make it to be.

The Road to Diamond, Day 44: Ring of Fire

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January 11,2025- The views from north Los Angeles County have been dispiriting, as views of mass destruction always are. There seems to be no end to burned-out shells of what used to be homes, businesses, institutions of culture; no end to scenes of forest gone, and dead wildlife lying on the forest floor. There is, also, it seems, no end to the finger-pointing back and forth, between people who didn’t like each other, before the fires, and won’t like one another even after some of them are dead. This last accomplishes nothing, as the well-to-do and the homeless, alike, find themselves on the street and too many are wondering where their next meal might be found.

Los Angeles proper is not free and clear, yet. No place within a thirty mile radius of the Palisades or Eaton fires is. The Santa Ana winds are that strong. Prayers are going up, all over the world, that next week’s tempests will not exacerbate the current fires, or spark new ones, along the State Highway 15, I-5 or Highway 101 corridors. Solutions are being devised, to the water accessibility issues, and in the United States Senate, where a conservative Republican (Montana’s Tim Sheehy) ,who is also a wildland firefighter, has reached out to Senator Schiff, of California and Senator Kim, of New Jersey-which has also had recent wildfire woes. The Federal strategy should prove proactive and its necessity is beyond argument, given that FEMA ends up with the tab for much of the costs of recovery. The piper can set the stage before playing the tune.

Too often, in times of disaster, from Pearl Harbor, through September 11, 2001 and on through all manner of hurricanes, tornadoes, chemical explosions, mass shootings, and wildfires, naysayers have to some extent deflected the public’s awareness of the actual causes of a tragic event and been allowed to interfere with the process of recovery. The public weal calls for us to shut off the noise and focus on actual causes of a disaster. Usually, those causes are far more complex than the fast track news cycle allows for analysis. Addressing only surface issues serves merely to guarantee that the same problems will be faced, the next time, regardless of the locale.

I live in a fire prone area. There is no daylight between the suffering of a conservative rancher or that of his neo-hippy artist neighbour. We have learned to see the needs of both as equally worthy of consideration, and it is highly likely that the one would come to the aid of the other, without hesitation, judging by the reactions to our own last big blaze, in 2013, when 19 wildland firefighters died in a firestorm. Conservatives and progressives spoke with one voice, when misfits came out of the woodwork, after the blaze had been extinguished and threatened the very lives of other firefighters, Go Fund Me,should there be a future fire, in a ludicrous claim of “speaking for freedom”. Everyone of sound mind stood together and helped both those who lost their homes and the families of the fallen Hot Shots.

That last is already happening, in Altadena, in Sylmar and in what remains of Pacific Palisades and south Malibu. Several nonagenarians were carried out of harm’s way, by their neighbours. Go Fund Me campaigns are in place for assistance to large families who have been displaced. A network of recovery is being established, across Los Angeles County and across the nation and the world. Fire teams from Oregon, Idaho, Alaska, Arizona, Nevada, Montana,Texas, the Navajo Nation, Canada and Mexico are on the ground, rendering assistance. World Central Kitchens, Project Rubicon and the American Red Cross are also in a full court press, across the County.

When disaster strikes, the greater fire of community strength rises. May it ever be thus.

The Road to Diamond, Day 43: Thin Veil

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January 10, 2025- Someone close to me mentioned feeling a very strong presence, while in great discomfort a few days ago. There was a clear voice that said to stretch fully, and upon doing so, relief was felt almost immediately. This person was physically alone.

I have heard a voice, on occasion, usually telling me to get up. Since I live alone, it is quite apparent that a spirit guide is making sure I get to where I need to be. More subliminally, I get messages regarding which route I should take, when on the road, or even on routine drives back from the next town over. Once, the seemingly oddball route that was recommended took me by a lemonade stand, where the girls were raising money to buy their father a birthday gift. That was well worth the detour.

We are not separated from the departed by atmosphere and ionosphere. It is basically a matter of: We need a physical body in this life, and we don’t need one in the next. Higher level, to my understanding, refers to the level of functioning of a spirit, once released from the body. It is only a slight veil that separates us. I have felt departed relatives, and my late wife, Penny. Ironically, one afternoon while she was bedridden at home and we had taken a nap, she awoke before me and told me that she had seen my ancestors standing over me. I am certain she is doing the same now.

In what is probably a hybrid of spiritual promptings and common sense, I have determined it’s best to hold off on a planned San Diego visit, next week, as the weather forecast calls for more Santa Ana winds in that area, on the days I was planning to be there. I will head down to southern Arizona instead, and the days in March when I would have gone there will likely be a better time to go to SoCal.

The veil is thin enough, that we can get fine guidance, if we keep intuition keen.

The Road to Diamond,Day 41: Unpredictable

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January 8, 2025- The ongoing saga of people settling in and around Los Angeles, for either a life of leisure or for pursuit of a fine, active regimen, and finding that Mother Nature has other ideas, has reached crisis proportions even more dire than in any past year. Perhaps it is due to the increased density of population, from even the 1990s-2010s, or just a consequence of rising global temperatures, but it seems worse.

Here at Home Base I, there was a brief period of snow, in the higher elevations, southwest of town and in the Santa Marias, to our northwest, but here in the downtown area, just a few sprinkles fell, late last night. We, like, California, are facing a Big Dry-at least until March. There is, of course, plenty of water-on paper, but I digress. The ultimate test of hydration for a community is if the taps start to trickle. Who knows if and when that will happen.

Life on the ground here remains fairly predictable, but on the larger scale, we may be seeing seismic changes, in short order, and it feels at times like the news cycle is whipsawing, back and forth. I have learned, though, that as long as the markets are open and there are no manufactured crises hitting too close to home, that we can each do our civic duty, show kindness to others-especially those most vulnerable and continue to speak our peace.

These things came to mind, this afternoon, as we considered another strange and unsettling time in our recent past: September, 2001. The teacher recalled his own experiences during that time, as a security guard in Phoenix. His wife was working in the tallest building in the city, at that time. He made a beeline to get her home, as soon as he saw what had happened in New York and at the Pentagon. In my case, I had no work that day, but heard over the radio about the first tower strike and also headed straight home, being glued to the TV screen most of the day. Penny and Aram went to their respective schools, which were let out early, as many parents were beside themselves, with “what ifs” and doomsday scenarios. I was just as glad they came home.

Stay aware, friends, and stay close to those you love-in California, in the frigid eastern half of the country and anywhere else that may be suffering in this winter of heightened challenge.

The Road to Diamond, Day 40: Cherishing

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January 7, 2025- The animated teacher spoke of a calamitous event in our nation’s recent history. He wanted to remind the adolescent students, themselves only vaguely aware of that particular incident, just how fleeting such memories can be, and how easily they can be manipulated by those with ulterior motives. This conversation will continue tomorrow, and perhaps for several more days.

The freedom we have in this country is worth cherishing. So are the love and friendship that have been built, sometimes over decades. So are the gifts that the Divine has imparted to each of us. I thought of these things all day, as once again, I was placed in a setting where I could focus on one or two students at a time, and key in on the boy or girl and specific needs. I will do this for the next two days, as well. Part of the task is to support the teachers in their explanations and foci. Thus do I go forward.

In an evening orientation, for a Baha’i family who are moving to one of the Native American communities where Penny, Aram and I once lived, I also focused on what is cherished by First Nations people. There are friends in that area who I have not seen for several years and others from whom I hear, every so often. The reality, though, is that were I to return to the place, I would be at least welcomed by some, as if I had never left. That is what I wish for this new family, provided they open their hearts to the people.

I will likewise always cherish the friendships I have made here in the Prescott area, over nearly fifteen years. Regardless of what transpires, these next several months, this will always be a Home Base of my heart. The same will be true of the Philippines, no matter how things turn out on my next visit.

Life is for the cherishing, not for the expectancy.