Leaping Upward

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February 29, 2024- There were several kids who either said they wished I were around more often or greeted me with a solid dap handshake (fingers clasped, followed by a fist bump), making this Leap Day a fulfilling one. It was incomplete, as I stumbled on a bullying victim-whose case was made to the regular staff-so hopefully there will be some resolution.

The work of anyone who is involved in social justice is getting more intense and variegated, by the day. Someone mentioned, this evening, that she was trying to figure a way to make a better world, but without being drawn into the turmoil that seems to confuse humanity. I do not see any way that can happen. Turmoil will find us, and the principles that guide a decent soul’s life will help that person to offer solutions to the presently incomprehensible issues of environmental, physiological, social and spiritual degradation that hit us from all sides.

Those who hold on to memories of a simpler time seem to think that a strong, almost dictatorial, government, rooted in the evolved religious philosophy that was prevalent in the 1950s and early ’60s, will bring about a calming of the current apparent chaos.

Conversely, there are those who see a rigid, unyielding forced march towards unbridled acceptance of even the most deviant behaviour, victims be damned and a total casting off of logic and of even human biology itself, as an extension of the reasonable treatment of those who are victims of chemically-induced hormonal imbalance. The same people give off an air of rejecting anyone, past or present, who was, or is, not letter perfect.

Neither group will bring human society where it needs to go, because inherent in each of their arguments is a false elitism, rooted in fear of the “Other”. The lesson of every experience that I’ve had this week is that there is no solution, or even a viable trade-off, without involving all sides, in the discussion, and being, as Jesus the Christ said, “alert, to discern” the roots of a holistic peace. There is strength in some time-honoured practices and there is merit in changing the way we do other things. Only giving “the Other” a bona fide hearing, with both ears open and an engaged mind, can help in sifting the psycho-social wheat, from its chaff.

It is time for us to leap upward, together.

Rising Tides

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February 20, 2024, San Diego- The small group of European youths spoke of their concern for their countries, should certain political and military forces hold sway. I stayed out of the conversation, and an older man in the group urged them to not jump to conclusions. Nonetheless, a rising tide of personal ambition and disdain for the changes that society is undergoing is having a disconcerting effect on a good many, in the generations of young adults. There is a renewed commitment to freedom of choice and group cohesion, across the range of political opinion, among a good many in the two emerging generations of young adults. From what I’ve seen, the Alpha Generation, those born since 2010, is showing the same collaborative spirit.

There was another sort of rising tide, at Ocean Beach and at Mission Bay, throughout the day. The oceanic tide kept coming in, from early this morning, until about 4 p.m., with roiling waves propelled by the storm that dumped about an inch of rain on OB. Here are a few scenes of both morning and afternoon.

Ocean Beach Pier, at 9 a.m.
Ocean Beach, at 9 a.m.
Dog Beach, 3:30 p.m.
Dog Beach, at 3:40 p.m.
Egrets and ducks were unperturbed.

My energy tide was raised by a message, from someone I love dearly, as I woke up. It was capped by the news that my little family has successfully relocated to an apartment they like better, this evening. In between, I managed a two-mile walk, to Mission Bay and back to Rainbow House, cooked up some lobster ravioli and hosted a Zoom call, one of two meetings that punctuate this visit.

The rain has stopped and the oceanic tide, at least, has ebbed. It will be interesting to see how these other tides rise and fall.

The Beads

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February 13, 2024-Laissez les bin temps rouler”. The good times are no doubt rolling, in New Orleans, in Mobile and way down south, in places like Rio de Janeiro and Port of Spain. In the Big Easy, there’s a lot of tossing beads at those lining the parade route, but that’s just the throwaway part, and there are those whose first concern is the content of the stringed glossies.

I have been on the periphery of Mardi Gras, twice. The first time, the bus I was riding rolled into NOLA, early on the morning of Ash Wednesday, 1987. Piles of stringed beads, leftover jambalaya and crawfish pila were all over downtown, but I was told the French Quarter was already clean as a hound’s entire mouth-never mind a single tooth. The second time was on the little sister of Mardi: Lundi Gras, in 2015, as good an excuse as any to extend les bon temps to four days. Things were already red hot in the French Quarter and a woman tossed a string of beads to me, from one of those balconies that could easily have featured a t-shirted Marlon Brando calling for Stella, at the top of his lungs. I think I made do with a large slice of pizza for lunch, and had my jambalaya later, in the evening, at a nice spot in Lake Charles.

Getting back to the beads, I gave mine to a granddaughter of the heart, that summer. Now we hear that the beads themselves may contain varying amounts of lead. By now, she has probably long since tossed the cheapo stringed glossies. What appeals to a four-year-old is an eye roller, when she reaches the age of twelve. Needless to say, if I have it to do over again, I’d graciously accept the beads, and find that algae pond that an intrepid high school freshman in, I believe, Missouri, said he’s using to break down the lead-infused beads.

My Mardi Gras today consisted of a spirit walk, checking out the end of downtown Prescott’s easternmost north-south street. Cortez Street goes up a short hill, and ends as a cul-de-sac, where there is an apartment complex. Things didn’t get much more rapid fire after that- A Mexican chocolate latte, a walk past the Granite Creek mural (will video that rather charming masterpiece, on Thursday) and a workout at Planet Fitness, rounded out the good times. My Mardi Gras meal was four small Buffalo Chicken empanadas. The times, though, are good enough. I learned a lot, this evening, from a community activist’s presentation on urban gardening. There is much good afoot, in Columbus, OH.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is also the beginning of Lent, for Christians. I guess that means I should not eat chocolates, when walking by a church that’s letting out. Since Mom taught us not to eat while walking outside, I’m good. Valentine’s Day, this year, feels different. More on that, tomorrow. For now, here’s Ric Ocasek, with another take on Les Bon Temps.

The Long Game

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February 11, 2024- As Super Bowl LVIII went into overtime, thanks to the teams being evenly matched, and both having very accurate Kickers, the notion of Long Games came to mind. The Chiefs eventually won by three points, but it could have gone either way.

That’s how it is with Long Games, of various kinds. The experienced player, or team, sometimes wins, by dint of a superior use of skills. Other times, the victory goes to the upstart, fresh and hungry, poking holes in the Old Pro’s defense and guarding own position. 

What is seldom, if ever, true in sports is the notion that the Big Dog is just handed a victory, because that’s the way the world works. This also applies to business and to a good many other human endeavours. Political affairs, unfortunately, may be different, but that’s a matter for another time.

For now, I want to look at my own long games. One is Plan A; the other, Plan B. The first depends on how things play out with someone for whom I care deeply-and the jury is out on how that will go. I am not going to impose myself on anyone, ever. She does, however, keep in regular contact, so the long-distance period of our friendship is holding nicely.

 The second, as always, will find me turning to my spirit guides, dusting myself off, and proceeding on my own, with both service around Home Base and time on the road. I feel that a lot of good has come from that game plan, especially over the past seven years. It would be nice, though, if the two of us did some version of this, together.

The Long Game requires patience, resolve in the face of setbacks, and being able to turn on a dime, so to speak. In yesterday’s post, I mentioned being summoned awake, at 4:44 a.m. I was reminded, by another friend, that 444 is a numerological indicator that a person is being prepared to face a greater challenge, rising to a higher level. There is no immediate indication of such a thing in my life, but who knows? Frequently, calm (like what is happening right now in my life) precedes a storm. Besides, I have already shown, time and again, that I can handle whatever life throws at me. No matter who walks away or closes a door, I’m still here, and there will be other doors to open.,

Useful Metrics, from A Brief Job

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February 2,2024- Today was Imbolc, a day of spiritual renewal for Naturists and Wiccans, some of whom are my friends. While the origins of their Faiths are found in the mists of time, many of their guiding principles go along with those of more recently revealed Faiths, including Baha’i. Not the least of these shared principles is the Golden Rule, the real one, that states “Treat others as you wish to be treated.” It was also Groundhog Day, and there will, apparently, be six more weeks of winter, since Phil didn’t see his shadow.

I spent the morning with two groups of Freshman Success students, who were mainly occupied with things like Typing Tests, real world skills-like how to buy a car and, of course, teen life. One savvy teacher has a set of metrics posted on her wall. These include: ”Listening, Being respectful, Fairness,Nicety,Kindness, Appropriate conduct,No put-downs, Effort and Honesty.” I intend to keep a record of my own performance, in those areas.

There was another set of metrics, in poster form, on a closet door, adjacent to the teacher’s desk. Here they are: ”Be yourself; think young; laugh often; forgive quickly; be happy; love deeply; dream big; take chances; be grateful; have no regrets; play hard; be spontaneous; let go; never give up.” I have practiced most of these, at least as an adult-and gotten better at several. 

Having shared all this with my most treasured friend, I bring these into my wider circle. Anyone is welcome to point out when you see me lapsing-just remember to be constructive. It was a pleasant start to Hiking Buddy’s birthday weekend, this evening, with a dinner at a small fine dining establishment, called BigA (pronounced big-uh). The fresh ingredients were delectably put together, for both of our meals.

Weather, work and even a stuck red light were no impediments. Imbolc was a fine day.

Habit, or Potential

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January 31, 2024- As I woke from a disturbing dream, this morning, I realized that I was not driving through gale force winds or microgusts, that there was no Mexican farm woman being propelled by such gusts, towards my vehicle and that I was not at risk of hurting her, or anyone else. My habit, after such dreams, has been to engage in what-ifs and self-doubts. I would not let that happen, today.

My cosmic advisor, Elizabeth Peru, talked about the choice we each have, this year, with its Eight Universal energy that is action-focused. We can act out of habit-thus invoking the Irish admonition, “Do what you’ve always done and you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.” We can, conversely, act based on our potential-and show what we can truly offer humanity.

The year began with my going back to Blue Collar roots, and pushing myself to drive through snow, to Ghost Ranch, and doing the noble work of a tradesman, step-by-step, not cutting corners and above all, not doubting my capabilities. I fashioned a heart, from soapstone, to send to a beloved friend, next month. The rest of January has been more quotidian, but the year ahead is filled with opportunities to make the choice: Habit, or potential. I have an added incentive: A relationship to foster and tend. The habitual Gary would mess things up, through self-doubt. So, I am going with potential. The good woman I met, last Fall, deserves my best.

Elizabeth says that only one other year, in recorded history, has featured Eight Universal energy at the same time as a solar maximum is taking place. That year was 1979. Remember where you were, if you were born prior to 1974, or thereabouts. What was going on in your life? I recall that 1979 was the year that I truly started to get my act together-and began to really explore the West, transcend my comfort zone and stand up for myself, when attacked by a disgruntled former colleague. From that point on, I went back and forth, several times, between habit and potential. It has, however, mainly been an upward trajectory, with the plateau decade of 2000-09 nonetheless seeing a rise to the challenges of caretaking and facing down my personal demons.

This year will not be one of habit.

The Blind Dancer, and Other Marvels

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January 26, 2024- He danced with his beloved woman, confidently in her arms and with a serene expression, as Galactogogues gave another rousing and stellar performance, this evening. Blind since birth, the gentleman is an accomplished musician in his own right, and a regular at Raven Cafe. He is one of many marvels of our town, in his instrumentality and in his dancing.

A couple who have had a hard life, and have stuck together for over forty years, are monitoring me, since we had a disagreement about something, two months ago. They seem almost saintly, in and of themselves, yet inquire of mutual friends about my well-being, or so I’m told. It is something of a marvel, that this is even important to them. My life is not all that prominent in Prescott.

My work day began with an expectation, on my part, that this would be a quiet day, working with Special Needs children. The school is understaffed, though, and it was no surprise when I was informed by the Office Manager that my day would be split: Morning, teaching Music and Afternoon with a First grade class. After a dicey start, I was able to get access to the computer and video, in time to teach three groups of children about rhythm and tempo, using rhythm sticks, whilst listening to varying speeds of a video-based tune. Of course, they liked the prestissimo the best.  The middle school choir was self-directed, which was fortunate, as the teacher had not left plans for their class period. 

After some sober assessment of the overall situation, the OM decided that I should have an hour break, at lunch, and had me teach one more music class, using the same plan. Then there was First Grade, reading the chapter of “Charlotte’s Web, in which Wilbur decides he wants to try to spin a web of his own. Wilbur, for the unitiated, is a pig. The old “when pigs can fly” quip pretty much gives an idea of what happened next. Charlotte rightly points out that, as a domesticated animal, he is fed by the farmer, and so, is not in need of a web. A spider, on the other hand, must fend for self. The children got the point, that they are cared for, but that many people have to fend for themselves. Charlotte also compares her web to a bridge that people build-and with that, we segued into the topic of bridges. The afternoon was delightful.

Just before attending the latter part of the Galactogues concert, I joined an hour-long devotional, discussing the topic of Resurrection. We Baha’is see it as spiritual rebirth, rather than full-on re-emergence of a physical body, from the dead. I have had several dreams , over the years since Penny died, in which she had come back alive and I felt the need to re-arrange my life to accommodate her renewed presence. Realizing, upon waking, that this was only a dream, and that she is in a good place, I came to understand that her spirit is in a constant state of renewal and advancement. Indeed, whilst sitting at her grave site, in early December, I got affirmation that her spirit is pleased with, and had involvement in, my new friendship with another woman. I think that, as one of my primary spirit guides, Penny has made sure that I have all manner of friends, of both genders. One’s spiritual progress, after death, is probably the greatest of marvels.

Ghost Ranch, Day 5: Search for Connections

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January 12, 2024, Ghost Ranch- Have you ever pondered our connections to Nature? Have you ever pondered just how well you understand self? These questions were raised at the pre-breakfast coffee table, as five of us decided that lack of connectivity to the Internet was hardly worthy of sapping our spirits-or our thought processes.

My connection to Nature has led me to the forest, the desert, the tall-grass prairie-and the ocean-almost since I learned to walk. Understanding myself has been a lengthier, and sometimes thornier, process. The key, I have noticed, is applying unconditional love to self-thus opening the door to understanding why I had certain emotional baggage,and making it easier to rid myself of it. I also recognized that I couldn’t, in good faith, claim to have unconditional love for others, unless I had it for myself first.

The Baha’i traditions teach us that we are all connected to those around us, progressively through family, community, nation, species and life form, then to all forms of energy. We are connected to visible and invisible, Earthbound and universal. The search for evidence of these connections is what has fueled most, if not all, voyages, experiments and social movements, since the discovery of fire, and perhaps earlier. There is, in a place of unconditional love, only unity, only understanding. Neither of these mean acceptance of injustice, marginalization and unconditional self-denial. The Creator did not intend for one person,or group, to lord it over all others. Indeed, Baha’u’llah writes, in The Hidden Words: ” O Son of Spirit! The best beloved of all things in My sight is justice…..”. Justice springs forth from truly unconditional love.

Later in the day, a co-worker asked about my late wife, and how I had adjusted to her passing, as he had more recently experienced the same type of loss. He asked about my recently beginning a friendship with another woman, implying that he found hope from my experience. As I have mentioned earlier, my spirit guides, of whom Penny is definitely one, have let me know that they approve of this new friendship, having arranged the spiritual energy that led to our meeting.

I learned, a while back, that when one tries to force a connection or relationship, that is when the tie is impaired, or severed. I have done such a thing, and have had it done to me. Letting each person be who their best self is, even helping her/him realize that best self, constitutes the best manifestation of unconditional love. This is perhaps the greatest realization coming from my time here at Ghost Ranch.

Ghost Ranch, Day 3: The Art of The Trim

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January 10, 2024, Ghost Ranch- Several things are predictable, so far this week: The sunrises and sets have been spectacular; the mornings and evenings are a bit on the chilly side here, and the breakfast fare consists of scrambled eggs, large sausage links (or Beyond Patties, for vegans), oatmeal and/or granola, plenty of fruit. 

I lapsed into writing “2023”, for a few days, correcting that this evening. Other unexpected resets involved remembering things that my Eighth Grade Industrial Arts teacher, as well as my father and uncles, tried so hard to convey to my squirrely teenaged self. It’s amazing, just how much I have channeled all the practicalities that I thought were useless, back in the day. 

One thing I have always done fairly well, though, is painting buildings, both inside and outside. In the past, this has helped me make ends meet in Dexter, Maine, earn a rent rebate in South Deerfield, MA and made Penny happy, when I painted the outside, and most of the rooms of our Phoenix house, before her final months on this Earth. 

Today began a three-day painting of the area that our team of three is renovating. I have the painting honours, while my co-workers wrestle with the installation of new countertops and sinks. Team Lead showed me a few of his tips on getting it right the first time, and I conjured other pointers that my Dad showed us. Today’s focus was painting along the edges, top and bottom and around extraneous spots, such as strike plates and door frames.

Focusing on trims and edges gives detail its due. My life, as civically involved and as conscious of others as I have been, has nonetheless largely been on my own. At day’s end, I have mostly answered to myself, over the past thirteen years. I sense that may be changing, within the next year or so. Right now, that’s just a hunch, a feeling welling up from gut and heart-but the last time I felt this sort of energy shift was a month before I met Penny. It’s a good feeling, and proof that there is much life left to live.

Snow, and Steady

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January 7, 2024, Ghost Ranch, NM- The knock came on my door, at 10 a.m. sharp, as the snow was still coming down, in Gallup. ”Housekeeping!”, so I opened the door, and the young lady assured me that, with the snow, she was taking everything casually and I needn’t rush out the door-checkout time notwithstanding. After finishing my prayers, I started up Sportage, cleaned all the snow off and loaded up, for the drive here. Poor kid was speaking to her supply cart, encouraging its spirit to keep going. Dineh people sense that everything, even a machine or wheeled tool, is animated by a spirit. It worked for her, as the cart did not get stuck in the snow.

Likewise, Sportage did not get stuck in the snow, which was fairly deep on the road out of Gallup, tapering off when I turned onto McKinley County Road 9, headed towards Crownpoint, the seat of the Eastern Navajo Agency. I drove steadily to Cuba, NM, and stopped for a breathtaking cup of hot green chili. This was real New Mexico chili, served up proudly, at Cuban Cafe, by Tia Sonya (not her real name)-who says “None of that foo-foo meat, beans and onions! You want chili here, you get the peppers in their own juice!” It is a fiery treat, especially on such a winter’s day. A BLT and hot coffee balanced out the fire. 

After gassing up, I left Cuba and encountered about fifteen miles of snow-packed road, on NM Route 96. Sportage took the challenge very easily, and by the time I came to the small village of Gallina, the road was covered with red mud and cinders, being dropped by a snowplow, with its blade up and the cinder bin open. I stayed behind the plow, which left the road once it was bare. Fortunately, the twists and turns near Abiquiu Lake were on the bare stretch of road. 

Now, I am at Ghost Ranch, which I briefly visited, two years ago. The team on which I will be working is made up of a wiry, well-seasoned gentleman, a few years my senior, who reminds me of my buddy Wes Hardin; a reticent, but pleasant, lady from Kansas; and a friendly couple from Kansas City, MO, who have served on the Winter Workforce a few times, already. It looks to be a light schedule, yet I am glad to be here and tap into the spiritual energy from the surrounding area. I am also glad there is WiFi, so as to let me share this week with all of you.