The Carson Loop, Day 8: Being Ourselves

2

October 22, 2022, Carson City- There was big news out of Grapevine, this afternoon. Aram received his Chief Petty Officer pins, and will now serve in that capacity, in the U.S. Naval Reserves. He will continue to work on his Baccalaureate-and he will earn that, as well. We are a determined lot, we Boivins, as were/are our Fellman relatives.

My day here in Carson was spent with an equally determined bunch, the Smith/Carrillo/Sandoval extended family. The running conversation centered on something especially dear to my heart-the right of each person to be self. It was pointed out that most of the difficulties facing society, both here in the United States, and globally, stem from failure of people to accept each other as they are. Much of this, in turn, seems to come from personal insecurity, and as was pointed out, in another conversation, earlier this week, the notion of zero sum; if one person, or group, achieves or gets something, others stand to lose what’s theirs. This line of thinking has fostered everything from civil wars to the begging culture that arose from colonialism. It was certainly behind the brief episode of screaming and yelling that occurred last night, while I was walking along, and minding my own business. It is behind sibling rivalry, oneupmanship and people talking over each other, or interrupting someone who has the floor, and is speaking in measured tones, or haltingly.

It took a very long time for me to value who I am. I made a lot of progress in that regard, over the course of my 29-year marriage and, thus far, 34 + years of parenthood. I have had precious little trouble accepting everyone else, for who they are, but myself? It’s only, really, been since 2014, that I have been 100% okay with me.

My extended family members, one in particular, stressed that this concept is actually one of the primary keys to the growth of a peace culture, to wit: Parents should lay off pushing their children to follow a narrative that is primarily designed to fulfill the wishes of the parents, and not their own. This affects everything from mistaking a phase in the child’s life for an indicator of his/her destiny to fulfilling, for the parent(s), a long cherished dream, which is NOT necessarily the child’s own, to the attitude that so many have towards people who disagree with them, even on relatively mundane matters.

The consensus of our conversation today was: Let us each be, and love, ourselves.

The Carson Loop, Day 1: A Path of Constancy

2

October 15, 2022, Tonopah, NV- Any journey begins with securing one’s place of return. I began the day with a brief visit to Prescott Farmer’s Market, buying sprouts to help sustain me, whilst on the road and kombucha, for when I get back and need a boost, during the change of seasons. My other close-to-home errand was a stop at Chino Valley’s Harvest Festival, with the aim of helping some other Baha’is set up their booth. Alas, between leaving the market late and having a bit of trouble finding the site, by the time I got there, only one small task remained. I helped with that, and had to leave, which didn’t particularly set well with the Friends, but having to run back to the house and get something needful that I had forgotten, and wanting to be up here in time to connect with two Zoom meetings, I bid them farewell.

Getting to the Kingman area, I found myself in the midst of a rather intense post-monsoonal storm, which dumped nearly an inch of rain on the lower Mohave Desert, only dissipating just shy of Las Vegas. Slotsville traffic was relatively mild, and I passed along U.S. 95, with little trouble. Only one stop, at the Speedway Gas Station, on the north end of Las Vegas (my go-to place for filling up in the city, when on a northward run), was needed. No stops were made this time, in Amargosa, Beatty or Goldfield, but I did notice that the latter will soon have its own Truck Stop, south of the historic district. That will be good for those who otherwise go 95 miles in-between fill-ups between Beatty and Tonopah.

Once here, in this mining community, I returned to Economy Inn, carefully pulling in, and being mindful of a distracted young man, who was pacing around the parking lot, playing with a large sling shot. I checked in, asked about the young man, and was told he is the owner and was probably pacing because he is renovating the property and has to do a lot of thinking. I was also informed that WiFi service there is in abeyance, but that the casino down the street will let anyone use its WiFi.

Thus, I sat on a bench, in the lobby of Tonopah Station, joining the two Zoom meetings, as a mostly silent participant-owing to the intermittent foot traffic and occasional noise of the lobby. This, again, didn’t seem to set well with a few of the meeting participants, but we do what we can in this life, and it has nothing to do with priorities. A young boy sat next to me, for a bit of the second meeting, comparing my laptop to the one he uses at his school. He was also enchanted by a music video, featuring Yusuf Islam joining a group of artists singing his song “Peace Train”. It’s always a joy to befriend children, and there is always time.

After conversing with a man who happened to be from a town near Kingman, and alerting him to ths storm that had hit that area, I went back to Economy Inn, and settled in the night. This post comes to you from Beans and Brews, a delightful coffee house, attached to a Union 76 gas station, and a must-stop when I am in Tonopah. The “kids”, both teenagers and older, are playful and very happy on the job. They also serve good fare.

Random Thoughts, As The Seasons Change

2

October 7, 2022- Some new friends, at an Oktoberfest dinner I attended this evening, told of a young lady who was their cashier, at a small store and who had said she was working two jobs, because she wanted to get things for herself and that was the only way she could do it. They were “amazed”, that such youngsters still existed. My thought: Welcome to the majority of people, young and old, alike! The noisy, entitled class are not that common, they’re just loud.

I have things that I want to do, over the next several years. So, I’m still working, to a reasonable extent. Honest work remains the best way to assure that one can cover the cost of what is wanted, or needed.

I watched an online memorial service for a man who was a friend to thousands of people, around the world, myself included. His wife and children remembered him, in a good way, which goes to show that a loving soul can and does put family first-and expands his soul family, through continuous acts of love. He was laid to rest in the midst of his beloved Black Hills. Rest in power, Tokaya Inajin. You were a fine friend and mentor.

My little family is now in the last two weeks of an extended training exercise, which when completed will leave them in a more secure position. Son will also have made solid progress in his academic work, and have 3 or 4 semesters left, after this. I have every bit of confidence that he will emerge in a place of strength.

It seems some politicians are all over the place, in their public remarks, of late. That, to me, indicates a loss of control, a sense of powerlessness. I’ve had times in my life, when that’s happened. They were not pleasant experiences, and I am grateful to my spirit guides that these are things of the past; that I can respond to challenges, both from random other people and from the course of events, in a more stable way. Another friend, this morning, called that maturity. I agree wholeheartedly.

Food for thought: Behind every extremist act, or pronouncement, lies a fear that has overtaken the mind, as well as a person who should have offered consistent care and guidance, but did not. There but for the grace of the Divine, and for the consistency of my parents, go I.

At What Cost?

2

October 3, 2022- The obviously disgruntled man, having finished his meal, offered his solution to what he viewed as the incompetence of those working in social institutions- in essence, ‘Put them out of their misery’. Of course, he was watching, with a puckish grin, to see if I showed any sign of being shocked. I was not, and did not.

The extreme “solutions” being put forth by certain elements on the fringes of society are given more cachet, by many people who know better, than they will ever deserve. The result, if their impulses are transmuted into action, will be a severe disruption of society-and will make January 6, 2021 seem like a walk in the park. It will also not end in the way they think.

The man in question is not in a position to bring havoc to bear on many people. He is homeless and disabled, and no doubt, those factors contribute to his animus towards people in positions of authority, in business as well as in government. We, on the Monday evening feeding crew, work to at least provide a measure of solace to those who have known nothing but grief, from a good many who are in decision-making situations. Anger, especially among those who are fairly well-educated, but who have been dealt a poor hand, does not spring out of nowhere. The man quoted above knows his Bible, chapter and verse. He also has watched many videos on the Gaia Network, and has made some connections between the two.

Misdirected or misapplied knowledge, from any direction, can bring about changes in society. Yet will the changes result in the betterment of society, or end up costing us all far more than even the perpetrators of those changes bargained.

“The betterment of the world can be accomplished through pure and holy deeds and through commendable and seemly conduct.”-Baha’u’llah

Fourth Quarter Musings

4

October 2, 2022- The ten-year-old girl was apologetic, as she corrected me about a certain procedure, at an event where I was volunteering, this afternoon. I assured her that the advice was welcome, and well-taken. The correction made all the difference, and obviated any embarrassment that would have ensued, had I not been reminded of the proper procedure.

My relationships with people, regardless of age, gender, or any other physical or social consideration, have matured, evolved-to the point where the only thing that matters, at all, is character. This is especially true since 2015, which was about the time that I left recovery mode, four years after Penny’s passing. Even vicious people whom I encountered were able to provide insights that could be incorporated into my personal growth. They were, on balance, not people of good character, so they are no longer in my life. The lessons, though, remain.

As we enter the fourth quarter of this year that has brought sea changes to many aspects of our lives, I find myself closing the door on things I find bogus: The almost whimsical political e-mails, which change with the wind, and whose intent is solely to wring money out of the fearful; the “controversy” over an African-American woman playing James Madison’s crystal flute-with dignity and respect, I might add; in fact, ANY claim that people should mind their place. I treat children with the respect that is their birthright. I treat elders with the respect that their long lives have earned, as well as being their birthright. I treat everyone in between, with the same respect. It is nice that I am able to bring genuine smiles to people’s faces, as a result of that respect.

My goals for the next three months are fairly straightforward. I will work a bit, this week, and over parts of November and December. I will help the Red Cross and local service groups, when I can. Visits with friends in Nevada and Idaho will take up a couple of weeks, later this month, followed by two days celebrating the Birthdays of al-Bab and Baha’u’llah, the dates of which are a day apart. November will see a visit to Monument Valley and with some friends in southeast Utah. Thanksgiving, as has been the case for the past two years, will be spent with my little family, in Grapevine. It is there that I will turn 72. December will see a three-day visit to southern California, just before Christmas and to Taos and Santa Fe, just after. Christmas itself will be here at Home Base.

Everything that is worth while is based on love. So on we go.

The Hoop of Life

2

October 1, 2022- He once held court, while sitting up in the fold-out bed at our home in Jeddito, Arizona. It was the mid-1990s, and things were fairly good. Tokaya Inajin, better known as Kevin Locke, was succeeding in popularizing hoop dancing, and making the meaning behind the art form clear to all who attended his performances.

He was also a fine singer, a true champion of the Lakota Sioux people, from whom he emerged. Yet, he eschewed violence and saw fit to reach out to all people, reminding everyone that the four colours of humanity were equal before the Creator. His take, like mine, was that no one be excluded, even if they themselves sought to exclude. It was a learning process, which involved a fair amount of unlearning.

Tokaya Inajin, “The First to Arise”, in Lakota, was as proud of his mainstream name and activities, as he was of being part of a First Nation. He embraced a variety of musical styles, following in the footsteps of other First Nations musicians whom he admired, but staying true to the message that his mother’s people had a central part to play in stewardship of the Earth. To that end, illustrating the Hoop of Life was his central muse.

Kevin left us, yesterday, to join the spirits who watch over those still engaged in the work of that stewardship. His presence here was a blessing, from start to finish.

Here is an example of his work, from a visit he made to the Miccosukee Nation.

Watchful

2

September 13, 2022- “Consider what eyes of bounty gaze upon you and what glances of mercy are cast upon you.”- ‘Abdu’l-Baha

As I gaze at the page of the calendar on my wall, I see a very clear image, looking at me through the black background. I know it is a spirit guide, and there is a small beam of light above the image. Even in the midst of seemingly impenetrable darkness, there is a benevolent being who is helping keep me on the right track. I am told that much of what happens is my own doing, while those who mean me harm have to deal with this spirit, who is acting with the blessing of the Creator. In sum, looking at the spirit’s image is a source of comfort and reassurance.

The image, though, is a bonus affirmation. That it appears in the illustration for the September calendar page, showing a month which was Penny’s birth month, as well the birth month of Mom and two siblings, is a distinction not lost on me. I’ve felt the presence of spirit guides, as many of you know, for quite some time. I haven’t been let down, as long as I have paid attention to their messages.

Responsibilities are quite clear, especially for self-care and service to others. As long as I live up to those, good things happen-such as the good report I got today from my dentist and dental technician. Rewards also follow, such as the delicious quesadilla at Local Jonny’s (Cave Creek), half of which will be lunch tomorrow, at my sub assignment.

Watchfulness, like marriage, is 100/100. I do my full share and my guides do theirs.

A Cosmic Soaking

0

September 10, 2022- Today was the latest, in what seems to be a series of auspicious days. This began, this past Tuesday, with the passing of one of my last four surviving paternal aunts, continued Thursday with the passing of Queen Elizabeth II and today, a more cheerful celebration of my mother’s 94th birthday. I was able to sing her birthday greetings, via Face Time-and she liked my singing voice. That’s not a given. Had I sung off-key, I’d have heard about it. Mother has kept us each authentic, over the years.

It was just before starting a day of service, at the Tenth Annual Hope Fest, that this brief phone connection occurred. Hope Fest, for those not familiar, is a large in-person celebration of community service, modeled by the life of Jesus the Christ. So, my own service was basically “serving the servants”, doing whatever was requested by the organizers of the event. I am always a “floater”, going and doing tasks that range from driving back and forth to pick up items overlooked by the Event Director to stomping on excess ice (reminiscent of helping a neighbour of Greek descent stomp on his grapes, as a child). Being the volunteer not as well-known by the Director as her closer friends, I generally keep busy otherwise by finding things that need doing and getting them done.

Today’s event was similar to that of the first year-in that it was punctuated, and interrupted three times, by heavy rain. The first downpour occurred at lunch time, pre-empting the opening ceremony, which is usually a welcome by the Mayor of Prescott and a group photo. The second was in mid-afternoon,just before one of the musical guests was to perform. The third was in late afternoon, and was accompanied by thunder & lightning. The intensity of that downpour led the electronics director, and the scheduled headliner band, to cancel the evening’s performance.

I think it is a good thing that those in charge have a deeply spiritual vision, These, especially the last one, seemed to be cosmic downpours, perhaps testing the mettle of the participants and audience. They did not seem to dampen anyone’s spirits, and those arriving in anticipation of the evening concert were quite accepting of the cancellation, and grateful that the safety of the band and the sound crew were prioritized. The concert artist, who usually paints energetically, in accompaniment to the music, went about her work with only the music in her head to guide her. She is magnificent, in and of herself.

It was a warm rain, and even the young children who were momentarily caught in it were delighted. The monsoon season itself is winding down, and is expected to mostly finish by this coming Tuesday, with a chance for one last sprinkle to accompany the Autumnal Equinox. The Cosmos has been kind to the Southwest, in terms of rain, this summer. Now, we look to whatever lies ahead for Fall.

Fresh Eyes and Heart

4

September 7, 2022- There is no better breakfast burrito, anywhere, than a Red from Glenn’s Bakery, on Gallup’s near west side. At least, that has been my experience. I don’t like a BB filled with potatoes-starch upon starch, so there’s that factor. Glenn’s Red Burrito has bacon, red chili and scrambled eggs-nothing more, nothing less and there is a choice of spinach or pumpkin tortilla. I chose spinach. It had not long been out of the oven.

That was the start of the home stretch, of a brief journey of stellar upliftment. The Colorado East Baha’i Summer School was not a treasure trove of scholarly talk, which so many Baha’is my age seem to expect. It was a re-connection of souls, after nearly three years of all COVID, all the time-and its attendant Zoom/Microsoft Teams “gatherings”. It had a devotional focus and considerable attention to our Nine-Year Plan, which itself already seems to dovetail with the enormous changes we have seen, these past two years. Mostly, though, it was a joyous reunion of hearts- and I was glad to be a part of it. To have followed that with an evening of equally heartfelt spiritual connection, along the West Rim of Rio Grande Gorge set my heart afresh.

Then came Taos and the return along El Camino Real, always refreshing to the eyes. I return to places out of love for those whose spirits shine-and there are more of those, with each stop along the way. It is that way in Cortez, Santa Fe, Madrid (NM), Moriarty, Albuquerque’s Old Town, Gallup-and Winslow. A little place called Sip Shoppe, across from Standing On The Corner Park, has been my go-to place in Winslow, for a few years now. I was delighted to get into town, in time for an early lunch.

There was, however, a pall on the occasion, as I received word that one of my paternal aunts, whom I had visited in Maine, a few years ago, had passed on. After lunch, I walked over to Route 66 Park, which Winslow has established along the Santa Fe Railroad tracks. I wanted only peace and quiet, hoping to sit in the gazebo and pray. The spot was taken up by a disabled man, who seemed to be needing solitude of his own. After some further walking along the sidewalk that featured three or four verses of doggerel, I chose a north-facing bench, and engaged in my prayer and meditation.

Thinking further, about a friend who had done a marvelous series of posts on Winslow, a few months ago, I took a few shots of Route 66 Park, before heading back to the Sportage and driving the rest of the way to Home Base.

Classic VW Beetle, Route 66 Park, Winslow
Sculpture in honour of Indigenous peoples of the Winslow area
Ode to Hubbell Trading Post, about two hours northeast of Winslow

The towns and cities of the Southwest are particularly given to being seen with fresh eyes, each time one passes through.

Brightness, Under A Half-Moon

2

September 5, 2022, Taos- About seven miles west of this town of Puebloans, hippies, cowboys and off-the-grid Libertarians, there is a bridge across Rio Grande Gorge. About a mile further west, there is West Rim Road, which takes people to old Apache campsites, new marijuana farms and a Buddhist stupa, atop a hill and past various homes built by Apaches, South Asians and the above-mentioned Libertarians. Among those who built a home, on ancestral land, is a friend, G. She and her surrogate grandson live in a comfortable solar-powered residence, about a mile off West Rim Road.

When I was leaving Colorado East Baha’i School, earlier today, I felt very strong energy, telling me to go towards Taos and G’s home, and to do whatever it took to visit them. So, after helping with the clean-up at CEBS, and bidding farewell to new friends, I headed down I-25, and arrived in Taos around 5:30 p.m. With my usual penchant for following general directions in a skewed manner, and for not checking my phone while I was driving, I missed a few last-minute updates-which came while I was on “Flag Road”, as her graded road is called. I also missed G, while going in one direction, only to turn around and see her, while driving in the opposite way. Call it lighting effect, fatigue or, as one local astrologer said, “the Taos effect”, in the end I followed G slowly up the driveway, and in short order was enjoying the delectable fresh garden vegetables, with chopped tuna and non-glutinous rice, that she had prepared in honour of my visit.

A half-moon guides us tonight, and with its energy, G filled me in on the events that have transpired since I last saw her, in Tucson, at her son’s residence. Grandson, M, proved a quiet, but congenial young man and seems like he will be an asset to G, in the months ahead. The time there was well-spent, and the house will not be hard to find, when I am next in this part of New Mexico. As the evening turned to late night, I headed back into town, and now am resting in Super 8, on Taos’ south side.

G’s brightness is always evident, no matter the phase of the Moon.