The Road to 65, Mile 216: Celestine

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 3, 2015 in Personal goals, Social

July 2, 2015, Prescott- I am grounded. The Nissan’s dash says “Service Engine Soon”, so it will sit in the carport until my mechanic, and everyone else, has gotten the holiday out of their system. It may stay there longer, if the money that I am expecting shows up in my account, tomorrow morning or Saturday. Then, I will catch a shuttle to Phoenix, and a plane to San Diego, and honour my son as his birthday approaches-on Sunday of course, and I would stay in SoCal until Wednesday evening.

I have personal and civic obligations here at base on Independence Day, and these, too, are labours of love. A parade, in which I will be in the Red Cross contingent, a gathering at the American Legion, and the rest of the day with my best friend in Prescott, all of which brought me back here on the 29th of June.

Last night, after I watched “The Celestine Prophecy”, about which more in a moment, I was upbraided on social media, for not being willing to conduct an online dalliance, with someone I’ve never met. What a change, from two years ago, when I was all over the place, trying to figure out what my emotions were and how to deal with them. Most of the people who were in on the mental anguish I was enduring at the time, are still my friends, and God bless every one of them.

This brings me back to “The Celestine Prophecy”. Every American film, it seems, has to have a romantic twist. In this one, Marjorie is pursued by John, captivated by both her beauty and her aura of mystery (he saw her in a vision, that appeared to have taken place in the year 1622). John learns, quickly, to give the lady her space, and eventually sees that it is not the time for them to be together, though they certainly endure a lot- especially at the hands of Jensen, a cartoonish villain (whom John also sees in his vision, replete with wispy, handlebar mustache.)

“Celestine”, a film adaptation of the first of a series of novels by James Redfield, explores the growth of human consciousness and postulates nine principles, revealed in a series of scrolls in ancient times. John, and a group of like-minded souls, seek to find the ninth scroll, which Jensen, representing The Powers That Be (an Illuminati-like entity, who, of course, remain unseen), wants to find first and destroy, lest it tear asunder the power structure.

The upshot of the film is that the quest for power, by the Illuminati and everyone else, is a chimera. Human consciousness is moving steadily to a far deeper level than any materially-oriented force an ever appreciate. It is emerging, regardless of the quibbling, death and destruction that The Powers That Be are visiting upon us, and will continue to visit upon this planet, for a certain time. Real power, however, is spiritual and collective. It is as present in the most humble, vulnerable child, as it is in the person of a brutish, swaggering general ( such as Jensen’s chief minion in the film), and perhaps more so.

So, I sit in a safe, comfortable room, and contemplate my blessings: A strong, hard-working son, a good woman who is a steadfast friend ( and who, much like the film’s Marjorie, is given the space she needs to process all that is going on in her own, considerably complex life), a community that stands firm together, in spite of the callow local government, and a Faith which can carry me through anything at all, and does.

The Road to 65, Mile 205: Father’s Day

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 3, 2015 in Hiking and Nature, Personal goals, Travel

June 21, 2015, Monroe, WA- I woke , to a bit late today, around 7:15, to speak with my son on this Hallmark morning. It’s always good to hear his voice, contrived occasion or not. I was in the suburban clime of Mount Vernon, had been wished “Happy Father’s Day” by the waitress at Farm House Restaurant, in this city’s La Conner neighbourhood, after getting off the ferry last night, and got a somewhat more subdued greeting from the server at Riverside Cafe, near the motel, during breakfast this morning. Racial politics, Hispanic vs. Anglo, seems to be playing out a bit in this community, which is always a hard thing. I was given my breakfast, and two cups of coffee, then expected to leave. Riverside will not see me again., though Farm House would be a pleasure.

I was in a funk, not knowing which direction to head, yet after reclaiming some items I had left at Holiday Motel, the day before, and enjoying some coffee and a treat at Johnny Picasso’s, in Anacortes, I had an idea. Heading to Arlington, and Oso, the site of a horrible mudslide in March, 2014, I took some time for prayer towards racial healing, as several people back in Arizona were gathering to pray for the same, with the Charleston Massacre as their focal point. There is no one group that does not need a healing balm.

The message was clearer to me after that, and I drove east on Highway 2, finding the small town of Monroe to be a good place to rest. The Monroe Motel lies alongside Woods Creek, so there was no finer place for me to observe today, thinking of fatherhood-how it affected me as a son, as a son-in-law, as a spouse and as a parent.

I was not an easy son. My happy-go-lucky, but hard-working father did not know what to make of me, half the time. I did not know what to make of me, half the time. I wonder if he knew how much he was loved, back then. He knows now.

My role with my father-in-law was part good-natured foil for his jokes, and part guarantor of his family line’s continuing on in safety. We gave him his only grandson, and that guaranteed my safety. He knows now, how important it was to me that Aram actively knew his grandfather. Both of mine were dead before I emerged from toddlerhood.

Penny and I were close to nature, as individuals and as a pair. She would sometimes, in the throes of her progressive decline, say that she felt she was in my way. In truth, she WAS my way. She knows that now.

I have gone through a fair number of personal struggles, in my late teens, in my twenties, and in the buffeting called my fifties. Somehow, I have emerged. Fatherhood happened for me, in the best way I knew at the time. There was a lot more I could have provided, for my son’s stability. I realize that now.

He’s okay, thanks to the discipline of the Navy, and his grandfather’s guiding hands of steel and velvet. I am here for him, and can finally show a solid example of how to move through life, come hell or high water. Aram knows that now.

I went into this lovely, if cavernous, establishment in downtown Monroe. A Caesar salad, meat lasagna and a bowl of spumoni were my Father’s Day meal. Half the lasagna was saved for tomorrow, and my drive to Wenatchee, where I will reconnect with friends from three years ago.

I end this with Monroe’s comment on the whole race issue.

My spirit guides are with me, still.

The Road to 65, Mile 215: Challenges/Opportunities

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 2, 2015 in Personal goals

July 1, 2015, Prescott- As is always the case when I return from a wandering, there were lots of base camp tasks in front of me. Not the least of these was tracking down my pile of mail, so as to get two pay checks deposited and thus stave off NSF. I have had a good track record, since recovering from the Great Recession, and aim to keep it that way.

Finance has neither been my strong suit, nor has it been an Achilles heel. The best way, for me, to go about life is with cash and check. Work will be quite constant this coming academic year, and that’s a great thing.

My yard project was pretty much done for me, by the landlord himself, while I was away. He is a trouper: That work was done during the period that Prescott, and much of the continent, endured 100+ ,for nearly three weeks. I will keep at the process of building raised beds, so that next year, seeds may be planted. At least the onion bulbs will go in shortly, and we’ll see how they do.

July will be prime time for volunteering, I can sense, so I will show up at things like the Fourth of July Parade, and the Red Cross float, the Hope Fest kickoff event on July 18, and whatever things Slow Food and Yavapai County Angels have going. Then, too, there would be any disasters that happen, but we will let sleeping dogs lie, for now.

The travels? Yes, I have gotten to be the Poster Child for wanderlust. As another friend recently remarked, this seems to be a Sagittarrian thing. This Sagittarian will be more inclined to short, focused bursts, for the next five years at least. There may be a faith-based trip down to Chile, late in 2016, but my primary focus is on family and friends: My son, and a couple of good friends, in southern California; my paternal uncle, in Colorado; my soon-to-be hexagenarian brother, in Atlanta; and the bulk of my biological family, at Christmas-time, in New England. I want to do more day trips from here, that could draw in a good friend. Finally, there are my long-neglected Native American friends in northeast Arizona, and at least one weekend in early August will see me up there.

This day finds me in a very relaxed frame of mind, ready for whatever life sends. It’s just too hot and languid to be otherwise.

The Road to 65, Mile 214: The Black Tiles

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on July 1, 2015 in Personal goals, Social

June 30, 2015, Prescott- This is where I resume the practice of writing two posts a day. Morning will feature a reminiscence of the day just prior. Evening will bring a post related to a just-completed journey to the Pacific Northwest and southeast Alaska. Thus, you will not a juxtaposition in the “Miles” referenced.

On June 30, 2013, I was returning from a visit to the Navajo community of Dinebito and the Hopi village of Polacca. Whilst driving through Leupp, on the way back, a bulletin came on KNAU. 19 wildland fire fighters had been killed in a windblown firestorm, at Yarnell, west of Prescott. The team had been based in Prescott itself. The communities of Yarnell and Peeples Valley had been evacuated, thus giving me an exact message as to what had to be done next. I went directly to the Red Cross shelter, at Yavapai College, and served, as needed, there for the next four days, while working around a family event in San Diego.

All of that is now a blur, but the suffering of the “Hot Shot’s” families, ever since, is all too real. Their day-to-day recovery has been undermined by the crusty attitude of many here in the area- “The men knew what they were getting into, when they signed on. Don’t give the survivors a dime more than they’re due already.” Fortunately, enough of us Prescottonians can look beyond that benighted view of life, so that the surviving families have prevailed, in the courts and in every day life. A foundation has been established, to handle the most pressing long-term needs.

There is a tradition, in the firehouse, that a rookie does not step on the set of black tiles that lines the middle of the floor, until he or she has been through a major blaze. The tiles in Station 17, where the Hot Shots were housed, are now enshrined. No one steps on them.

This leads me to thinking. Years ago, my father-in-law took me aside and said, “You have had some fine experiences as a couple, already. You have not, though,as yet, been through more than a minor bump or two. That was in 1985. Since then, everyone who knows me, has witnessed the real rough patches. The years from 2003-2011 were enough for any person’s life education. I have stepped on the black tiles of my own life house. It is a humbling place, and not often a lonely one- thanks to those who have stayed as true friends.

As I stood this afternoon, on the Court House lawn, listening to the Fire Marshall offer words of respect for the fallen, the thought came that, while there is no guarantee that a fresh calamity won’t come our way, tomorrow, the sense of community that transcends even the differences of opinion,which sometime threaten to tear us asunder, will be what lifts us in a healing and forward-moving direction. Yes, love is the secret.

The Road to 65, Mile 202: Southeast IS Northwest, Day 11, Reflections While On The Inland Passage

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on June 29, 2015 in Personal goals, Travel

June 18, 2015, Off Campbell River, BC- On a full day of being ferried through the Canadian section of the Inland Passage, the focus turned inward. Fleeting glimpses of places like Bella Bella were more a diversion than the main attraction, on this misty day.

Three central issues in my life flowed along today: Worthiness, safety and perseverance.

In my late teens and in my twenties, I was a train wreck. I was taught social skills in my childhood, but never quite internalized them, until about age 30. The less said about all my missteps and accidents in that decade or so, the better. Things went along well, in my thirties and forties, the prime years of our marriage, and of careers. My fifties were another rough patch, yet there I did learn perseverance, and that it is the natural outgrowth of commitment. My family and friends have stuck with me, through all of it, and each of these years passed before me, in reflection, during the course of this day.

I have had a hard row, in feeling safe, in certain places, during the course of my life. I felt alternately safe and threatened, growing up in my hometown, but learning to face adversaries is an all-too-common part of life. I certainly feel secure, when in Saugus, now, of course. So, too, has the list of places where I feel at ease and free from harm, been growing, over the past few years.

Maybe that’s the real reason why I have been in so many places, since 2011. I have always wandered, as has been mentioned before, but perhaps the only way to know for sure as to security, is to go to a place, follow the normal protocols of safety and courtesy expected there, and prove to myself that all is okay.

Now, on my way back to the more contiguous reaches of North America, I am reminded of perseverance. There is much ahead, in Prescott and vicinity, across Arizona, and around the southwest quadrant of the United States, over the next many months. Family events will take me away, for a few days here and there, but the main focus will be the life of community.

So, as I read “Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Book Store”, and “Crota”, my mind considered the sacrifices made by the protagonists of both stories, the triumph over almost insurmountable challenges, and the three-dimensional nature of the antagonists. My mind considered what I had overcome, when I had been a protagonist of sorts, and when I have been cast as the antagonist in an event- which has happened, more to my chagrin than I sometimes care to think. Nothing beyond the mist is as foggy, or as clearcut, as we sometimes like to think.

Many things go on, like the lives of whales, largely beneath the surface.

Then, the truth surfaces, and distant realities also have to be considered, even as we marvel at the sight closest to our eyes.

I started to refer to the town visible from our port as “Port Hardy”. A gentleman who is more seasoned on these cruises calmly stated the town was Campbell River, and that he had camped there in his RV, on a few occasions.

Oh, the joy, and humility, of seeing illusions evaporate. I placed the freshly-completed copy of “Crota” back in the Purser’s library, and donated “Mr. Penumbra” to that collection. It will appeal to at least a couple of inquiring minds among the ship’s crew. In the morning, I would see the sight of Fairhaven, the ferry port at Bellingham, WA. It is time for filling in the gaps, of my map of the Evergreen State.

The Road to 65, Mile 198- Southeast IS Northwest, Day 7: On Sitka’s Pinnacle

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on June 22, 2015 in Hiking and Nature, Personal goals

June 14, 2015, Sitka- The fast ferry from Juneau made it through some narrow channels, in five hours. Sitka is the premier site of preserved Russian influence in the United States. There are other such sites, most notably Fort Bragg, CA, but Sitka was Base Camp for Governor Baranof and the Czar’s forces of occupation. Only when financial matters took precedence, did Alaska pass out from under royal fiefdom.

I came here with a friend, met at the Juneau Hostel, and we determined to hike one of the island’s peaks, as the weather had returned to picture book perfection. The choice was Mt. Verstovia, two miles south southeast of town.

of course, we couldn’t start without first having a light lunch at a food truck.

A taxi took us the two miles to the trailhead.

Mt. Verstovia had significance to the early Russian colonists, who heated their simple homes with wood and used charcoal for cooking.

My young friend and her husband collect heart-shaped stones, so my penchant for coming across them piqued her interest. Of course, being in a national forest. this stayed put.

At the 1.2 mile mark, this was the view to the west.

Most of the trail involved steps and switchbacks. The moss made the descent a bit of a challenge- but what an unparalleled trail!

Mountaineers no doubt feel the call, when looking northward.

Once at the end of the maintained trail, the true peak of Mt. Verstovia called out, as well. A few young men headed over to check it out.

Most of us, though, were satisfied with Picnic Rock, and the 2480 foot ascent.

I have a long ways to go, in getting trim, but a few more like this will help greatly.

We spent about four hours on the mountain, including all the time spent gazing at the various surrounding sights.

Paternity and Patriarchy

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on June 22, 2015 in Personal goals

June 21, 2015, Monroe, WA- I will continue with my photoblogs and Road to 65, upon getting these thoughts out. Today was my second Father’s Day with no father figure. Every man who is older than I am, is now a senior peer- good for some advice, while not one who has emotional investment in my well-being.

I am now at the patriarchal stage of life. This is the natural order of things, and something one ought to treasure- not as an authority figure, but as one who is a trusted mentor. I am the eldest of my parents’ children, and though I have hardly always been the wisest, I feel responsible for my siblings, nieces and nephews, as well as for my son- though each and every one of them is doing just fine without my daily input.

A father is responsible for ALL his children. Some time ago, a man said- “Well, easy for you to say. You have one son and no daughters.” That is happenstance. Had I a household of nine or ten, it’d be the same. Every child matters- and fathers are needed by both genders of offspring. I would dare say, further, that the more challenged a child is, the more he or she needs both parents to be actively involved in his or her life.

I have ached today, at reading some accounts by women who feel that they have no close bond with their father. I have read posts by women who suffer, seeing that the father of their child has only a fleeting connection to that child- and the child in question is just as likely to be a boy, as to be a girl. Every child matters.

I was, and am, far from a perfect parent, and very much doubt that perfection exists in this aspect of our lives. That does not excuse anyone from putting their best foot forward. Both of my parents did their level best with their roles,as they understood those roles. They knew parenthood to be their most important job. This awareness was passed along to us, and we, in turn, have passed it along to our children. My nieces and nephews are doing a fine job, in their turn. I have observed Aram, in his moments as a surrogate parent, and he will do just fine, when the time comes.

My middle brother once said, “Any man can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a Daddy.” This is all too true- but it should not be! A child should be able to follow the natural inclination to call his father “Dada”, “Papa”, “Dad”. There will never be a time when that title, (first used by Aram towards me, when he was just shy of two and sang a song that he made up, on that very special Father’s Day of 1990), will not be the greatest I’ve ever held.

May the day come when each parent can be honoured on their given day, and every day, in all honesty, by each of their children.

The Road to 65, Mile 178: But For The Grace

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on May 26, 2015 in Personal goals, Social

May 25, 2015, Reno- Yesterday, for us here, was a day of reflection, of gratitude towards the fallen, and of intense discussion about spiritual matters. I will need to invest a fair amount in my vehicle, this week, and I will be okay; it will be okay.

I am terrified for our country’s fourth-largest city. I haven’t spent much time in Houston, over the years. I have a few friends there, and will be in touch with them by private message, tomorrow. I appreciate, to this day, the assistance given us by some Space City residents in 1984, when my wife was deathly ill, after our return from Guyana. They sacrificed greatly on our behalf, and set the mold for our own welcoming of people into our home, over the years- some for weeks, others for months.

Now is time for everyone’s thoughts, prayers and actions to be focused on Houston, on Texas, and on the south central part of the country. Water, everywhere, is our sustenance, and yet our threat. Across the globe, India has a different issue: Extreme heat. I’ve not been there, but those who have, have told me that the intense heat throughout most of the subcontinent nearly exceeds anything habitable- yet people make do. It falls to those of us who are doing relatively well, by comparison, to also focus positive energy in their direction.

I’ve had a fair share of difficulty and challenge in my life. Yet, the old saw about missing my shoes, until I met a man with no legs. always resonates- especially in times like these. God bless the fallen. God bless the displaced.

The Road to 65, Miles 173 and 174: Preparations

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on May 22, 2015 in Personal goals, Social

May 20 & 21, 2015, Prescott

My final day of the academic year was spent again overseeing reading programs and computerized math tests. it’s been, all in all, a fine year. Next year won’t be as punctuated by my travel, as I have nothing out-of-region that would impede my work- except possibly a few days for my brother’s 60th, in September.

In the meantime, there is the matter of making sure my car is roadworthy. It went through five stress tests and two road tests today, courtesy of the automotive shop I use. I will stop by the transmission specialists, first thing tomorrow morning, and ask their opinion about the stalling out. Three mechanics pronounced the matter solved, though, so I am not sure the transmission folks will be any different. Still, I have to ask, before heading out on Friday morning.

All of my former client’s stuff is out of storage, and at his new agency. He seems to be adjusting well. He tried to get the new agency to reimburse me for last weekend, but that is not in their budget. I wasn’t expecting it, in any event.

My friends in Reno are expecting me, sometime on Saturday, so I will get there, one way or another. Most likely, it’ll be by Nissan. I will be traveling lighter than on previous occasions, and hope to get the most essential stuff into my backpack, with the items only needed for “town” visits in a spare bag.

The heat will be off in the house. My landline will be turned off, as will my printer. The DISH account will be suspended for the summer. Who needs re-runs? My dinosaur TV is ready to go to the parts collector, anyway. I will deal with that at the end of June.

Now, I will lay me down to sleep, and knowing that my dear friends are praying on my behalf, adds extra heft to the spirituality that underlies my impending journey northwestward. Stay tuned.