The Road to 65, Mile 129: Aftermath

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April 6, 2015, Prescott-  I am off work for a few days, mainly to complete the disposition of my old vehicle, which will be greatly missed, and to tend to things, like laundry, which are no longer a routine drive down the street.  Today’s retrieval of my camping gear and other items from the Kia, and a trip to MVD for a document, had to be coordinated with friends.  This will be a “new normal” for a few days.  I have to make time to visit a dealership on Sheldon Street, tomorrow, and price/select a vehicle which I can buy with cash, then get the cash, and hopefully be back in wheels by the weekend.

Not everyone is so lucky.  My person was not badly affected by Saturday’s accident.  I have the sturdy design of the Kia to thank for that.  My high school driving instructor, the late, great Len Wall, would have been aghast at my driving, at that short point in time.  He’d have railed at me, as he did, to my ultimate benefit, on a few occasions when I was under his tutelage.  The result of his passionate instruction was forty-eight years of safe driving, with only one previous accident, which was a slide on ice and did not result in any appreciable damage.  I am determined, I will resume that record.  An AARP safe driver class will supplement the court-ordered Traffic Safety class that I will take online, over the next few days.

I have to get to work again, and thanks to a few good friends, I won’t have to turn down work, after tomorrow.  Then, too, are the various meetings and gatherings, which may be easily taken for granted, as to accessibility.  It is good to be in touch with what so many have to face, each day, without a vehicle of their own.

One other thing:  As I was walking back from downtown, this evening, I greeted a street person who was sitting forlornly on a bench.  A well-dressed man approached and offered the man a room for the night, at the nearby Hassayampa Inn, a well-appointed establishment.  There are so many fine human beings in this world, and we do well to acknowledge them, as they appear.

The Road to 65, Mile 128: Risen

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April 5, 2015, Prescott-  Easter was important to me as a child, for two reasons:  The first was that it meant the end of hearing of Christ’s suffering, which I could not understand until my teen years and the second was that there was lots of candy.  The first part bothered me because Jesus, to me, has always been the Epitome of Love. I could not see any good reason for either the chief priests’ persecution of Him, nor for Judas’ betrayal.  The second part had a relatively brief shelf life.  My parents never bought Peeps, preferring jelly beans, Jordan almonds, creme eggs and chocolate bunnies.  I outgrew all except chocolate, and occasional Jelly Bellies (during the Reagan years, especially).

Nowadays,as a Baha’i, I recognize spiritual truth as being progressively revealed, across human time.  Christ brought a focus on letting God deal with peoples’ iniquities, on overcoming tribal affiliations, on loving others in spite of their shortcomings.  He also brought the Sword of Truth, not making excuses for one’s behaviour, but challenging oneself to rise higher on the spiritual plane.

Closeness to the Light has had its place in the hearts of men for a multitude of millennia.  There have, however, been limits to awareness, and a tendency to revert to the mores and customs that pre-date a Spiritual Messenger, as soon as that Messenger has departed this earthly life.  So it was with Moses, with Krishna, with Gautama Siddhartha (Buddha), with Christ and with Mohammad.  Those outside a given religion, or with a perfunctory understanding of it, see mythology as creed, hearsay as doctrine.

When Christ was crucified, the Romans reported that He had cried out:  “My God,My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”  In fact, an examination of the Aramaic and Greek, shows an affirmation of His role as Saviour:  “My God, My God, for this I was kept”.  His Rising, then, is a spiritual act, a confirmation that the Word of God can never be silenced.  Baha’u’llah tells us as much, in The Hidden Words:  “My Light can never be extinguished.  Why dost thou dread extinction?”  The Creator does not abandon His Creation, or the creatures that comprise it.

Easter, then, is a day to be universally celebrated, a key point along the collective spiritual journey of Mankind.  Without Christ’s ultimate sacrifice, we would have no way to comprehend the Call to Nationhood, of Mohammad, or the Summons to the entire human race, of Al-Bab and of Baha’u’llah.  Without His having resurrected the despairing souls of His Disciples, by appearing to them after the Crucifixion, there would have been no Christian Faith, and the journey of mankind would have been a more immediate, and far deeper, descent into the Dark Ages than it actually was.

These are only my own measured opinions, yet no matter how much I ponder this most essential of processes, I arrive at the same conclusion I drew as a teenager:  The Spiritual Teachers are vital to our overall well-being and there is no daylight between any One of Them, in comparison to the Others.

The Road to 65, Mile 127: Light and Shadow

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April 4, 2015, Cherry, AZ-   On any given day, there are hundreds of possibilities, for both good and ill.  I set out this morning for Tonto Natural Bridge, looking to explore the northern approach to the Bridge, via Pine Creek Trail.  I had gone the southern route on my first visit, last Fall.  The link between the two is a six-inch wide ledge, that is navigable by hugging the rock face, for about three feet of trail.  I have declined to so navigate.  My purpose in hiking is never bravado or machismo, but understanding.

I spent about an hour there, looking at the remnants of a waterfall, above Pine Creek, and walking along the creek, going through the small caves above it and marveling anew at the Natural Bridge.

The slight sprinkle of fluid, at the “waterfall” is not done justice by a mere photograph.

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Pine Creek Trail, on the other hand, means lots of boulder hopping, along the creek bed.

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The basalt, which makes up much of the area, may be examined up close.

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This is the consummate Southwest- constant interplay between rock and water.

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Small caves abound, north of the Natural Bridge.

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You may see the first of my confirmations, as the two ledges meet.

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Segments of the Bridge show escape hatches for the light.

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I stood, contemplating the Natural Bridge, for about ten minutes, while encouraging those who had selected to traverse the narrow ledge between the north and south sides.  I can’t see the thrill, but they felt it.

After a satisfying lunch at Early Bird Restaurant, in Pine, I headed over to Pine Trailhead, for a five-mile roundtrip intro to the Arizona Trail.

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Actually, I have walked about three miles or so of the Trail, in Davidson Canyon, near Tucson.  The Trail itself runs 807 miles, 795 of which go directly from the Mexican border to the Utah state line.  The other twelve miles circumnavigate Flagstaff.

I chose Oak Springs Trail, which takes one across Highway 87, over to a Reservoir and up to a ridge line.

Spring is springing!  These looks like houndstongues, but I could be mistaken.

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There was no mistaking the horned lizard, however.

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I rested at this little nook, just east of a reservoir, called Bradshaw Tank.

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I did not go all the way to Oak Spring, choosing to save the majority of this magnificent trail for another time.  There were some anomalous sights on the way back:  A memento of a previous hiker’s visit;

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A scene of life that is emerging;

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and finally, my second confirmation of the day.

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I headed back down towards Camp Verde and Prescott, after that.

There is an interesting pullout, on the way up to the Mogollon Rim, at Mile 13 of the General Crook Highway.  This area is closely associated with the unfortunate conflict between the U.S. Cavalry and the Tonto Apaches, as I have explained in a 2012 post on  Fort Verde State Park.

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Thus was the interplay between light and shadow.  Little did I know, driving down the switchbacks and along I-17 towards Hwy 169, and home, that this drive would likely be the last, for my trusty Kia Optima.  Its brakes locked, as I approached the stop sign at the 169 just a bit too fast, and ended in a ditch.  Two hours later, my car, shattered windshield, deployed air bag and all, was in a tow yard.  I was at home, explaining to those closest to me, by phone, what had happened, as my client listened and offered his own support, while organizing his possessions for Monday’s move.  The State Patrol and the judge in Mayer are sympathetic, but still say I need to take an online Traffic Safety course.  Yes, indeed,  officers, and Your Honour.  I will take the course, treat my scrapes and scratches, work with the insurance company, get back to mobility and not take anything for granted, ever again.

Happy Easter.

The Road to 65, Mile 126: Fidelity

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April 3, 2015Prescott-  In this evening’s episode of “Hawai’i Five-O”, the great Chi McBride took up the questions of both marital and fraternal fidelity.  His character, a captain on a Hawai’i State Police task force, finds himself facing the possibility that a close friend is being duplicitous, while re-affirming his own love for his wife.  The heartbreak he faces, in the first instance, makes him hauntingly vulnerable and very much in need of the second.

All my thirty years of closeness to Penny, and the years of unity with her spirit that have ensued, I have kept a fidelity, a loyalty of purpose.   I have female friends, now, whom I adore as people, and as helpers in many aspects of my life.  The time could yet come when I am in a friendship that turns romantic, but that’ll happen if it is meant to be.  My soulmate remains watchful, I know.

Today, millions of people around the world observe, commemorate and mourn the result of duplicity.  1, 982 years ago, money trumped loyalty to the Light of the World. At the same time, fear clouded the judgment of the man who would be the first Pope, and led to abandonment, however temporary.

The Paragon of Fidelity forgave His tormentors, His killers and His duplicitous friends.  Jesus the Christ set the example, to remain steadfast in the face of its opposite behaviour.  How many were the false ones who called “Lord, Lord”, in His wake, yet walked the dark path!  How many the devoted ones who gave their all for Him, Whom they loved completely!

Fidelity and duplicity are choices we each make, in matters great and small, and in all relationships, both secular and divine, both committed and casual.  Which shall be the goal, as this Good Friday draws to a close?

The Road to 65, Mile 123: Out Like A Jackalope

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March 31, 2015, Prescott-  I get a kick out of how so many groups and institutions put so much stock in the last day of a quarter year.  Ninety days is a fairly good stretch, by which to measure personal goals.   Group goals, though, being larger, are harder to quantify in such a short time.  Wall Street usually observes the end of a business quarter by indulging in huge sales of assets, as happened today.  Congress has sometimes marked the three-month point by……going on recess!  Schools don’t care so much, as their academic quarters don’t mesh with the business cycle.

The old saw about this month that is now ending is “In like a lion, out like a lamb.”  Here in Arizona, it seems March is ending like a jackalope- the legendary creature that is half rabbit, half pronghorn.  People are a bit skittish, and many aren’t paying attention to their surroundings.  The jackalope is confused as to which direction it should take, and so are many people I am encountering around here today.

I am pointing my client, whose belongings are taking up my entire patio, towards a storage unit- with tomorrow afternoon or Thursday P.M. as a goal for getting everything over there.  I am pointing myself towards a solid workday tomorrow (no joke) and a morning of service towards disabled veterans on Thursday.  Good Friday, though I don’t observe Christian liturgy, remains a solemn day, which honours the life of one of the Lights of the World.

It’s easy to get confused, this time of year.  Weather is, by turns, wintry, springlike or hot.  Snow may fall, even here, and be gone by 10 A.M.  Kids get test-burnout, as this is the time to perform on tests, to satisfy the politicians. The rest of us may focus on the secular aspects of Easter, which to me is one of the loveliest of Christian Holy Days, and concern ourselves more with blood-sugar levels, and artistry on an egg shell.  Then, there is the Full Moon, which greets us on the first day of Passover, also a lovely Holy Day.

Stay loose, as my Dad used to say, and be kind to one another on All Fools’ Day.  More about that, tomorrow of course.

The Road to 65, Mile 122: The Lifeboat Exercise

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March 30, 2015, Prescott-   My job today involved guiding five classes of Eighth Graders through choosing seven people, out of a possible twelve, to hole up in a bomb shelter, following a hypothetical nuclear holocaust.  This is the culmination of their study of the Cold War Era.

It is, as many will have guessed, a variation on the Lifeboat activity, which many of us have done, in Psychology 101 or as an icebreaker at a business convention.  One gets to play God, or at least presume to advise the Supreme Being.

The students took this responsibility very seriously, and with the re-population of Planet Earth in the balance, being young and highly intelligent worked to the hypothetical survivors’ advantage.   The lone hexagenarian was left out in the Nuclear Winter.  Then again, a nineteen-year-old, of average intelligence, was also culled from the sack.

Each of us does the lifeboat exercise on a regular basis.  We let some people get close to us, and others, try as they might, are kept at arm’s length.  It is human nature, though thankfully such selectivity does not result in harm or death on a regular basis.  Most people who are cut out of one situation find that, as that door closes, another opens.

When I was growing up, and throughout my twenties, I learned to stay flexible and to circulate widely, so as not to depend to excess on any one person or group.  Thus, my love of travel became more than just a means to joie de vivre.  It was a path to survival.  After nearly thirty years of marriage, I learned calmness and patience, in place.  In widowhood, life is more of a mix.  While I will not let myself be either cast out of the lifeboat or shackled within it, the safe haven is a fine place to have close by.

The Road to 65, Mile 121: Getting In Tune

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March 29, 2015, Jerome- After a difficult morning, largely due to my dealing with a few internal conflicts, I headed to this mountainside former mining town-turned-tourist mecca.  Jerome, as a whole, and my chosen lunch spot, Haunted Hamburger ( a bar and grill), are not the sorts of places one goes for emotional support.  Those who live here are a tough breed, so the affirmation I got from the wait staff was- “Yep, tough it out” .  I chose that route, anyway, so I found the meal enjoyable and left right after eating, as the place was way full of tourists- another reason the locals tend to be short, in the listening department.

Driving back up Mingus Mountain, I decided to explore the north peak of the mountain a bit.  A four-mile round trip hike along Woodchute Trail was what really restored my equilibrium.

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A restoration project, Powerline Meadow, is found at the beginning of the trail,just east of the road that makes up the first half-mile of the route.  Livestock and vehicular traffic are banned.

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About a half-mile further, I met a couple and their two children, with an eight-week-old puppy, who had walked with them to the nearby ridge, from which there are exquisite views of Sycamore Canyon, to the northeast.

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I wonder how much the little dog saw.  Nature seems to like togetherness, at any rate.

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I know what I always enjoy seeing, besides the greenery.

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I also find, when my chemical imbalance gets in my way, as it did once yesterday and a bit this morning, is taking a few drops of a soothing essential oil, and rub it on my neck or forehead.  The return to equilibrium is almost immediate.  It is a blend of frankincense, patchouli, Roman chamomile, sandalwood and lime oils.  I find that, the more severe the zoning-out or disconnect, the faster the blend works to bring me back to where I need to be.  I don’t mind sharing this here, as anyone else who is autistic, or someone who has OCD, panic attacks, or even mild schizophrenia, can benefit from applying this oil blend. As with our other products, there are no side effects and it does not counteract medication.

Now that day is done, I feel like, between “Haunted Hamburger’s” get-with-the-program tough love, my walk in the woods and the doses of this blend, I am ready for a busy and successful week.

The Road to 65, Mile 119: Sunshine In A Box

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March 27, 2015, Prescott-  I had a fascinating interview today, with the director of a Waldorf School.  He asked me to choose between committing to a full-time position, immediately and continuing to substitute, while filling in for a three-week period, during the month of May.

I chose the latter, mostly because I want to immerse myself in the Waldorf Method, which does look fascinating, to a holistic educator, before jumping into a shallow pool head first, as it were.  I have a lot to offer this school and others.  There will be several meetings between this gentleman and I, over breakfasts and lunches, as he wants to hear more about the Baha’i Faith and to exchange views on historical processes.  Yet, I want to be prepared, in terms of methodology.

My presentations in May will be on Mohammad, of Whom I have read a fair amount and on Jeanne d’Arc, whose historical sites in Rouen are proximate to those of my paternal lineage.  There are a wealth of interests and areas which I believe I can contribute, besides.

A woman at our evening devotional, in Chino Valley, remarked that both those we like and those we dislike will be attracted to the light we emit.  This explains a lot that has happened to me, especially recently.  One does not get to pick and choose who is encountered in this life; only what one does with the encounters.  I came very close, today, to severing my ties with the laundry I have been using for the past year, over the owner’s reaction to the hard line I am taking with my former client.  On reflection, though, he’s right:  No one can tell another person how, or where, to live.  We can only choose to support the decision, or to cut the individual loose.  Regardless, one’s sunshine, or one’s venom, cannot be contained in a box, in perpetuity.

Now that those two rather variant topics are off my chest, I will rest well tonight.

The Road to 65, Mile 118: Consistency

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March 26, 2015, Prescott-  My client walked out of his shelter, this evening, because he dislikes the rules.  He may want to revert to leaning on me for support.  This time, though, he has made a stark choice.  It’s no longer freezing at night, so guilt is not a tool to be used.  This time, from my perspective, he will be moving on.

Life is full of choices, and my choices are to maintain my independence, focus on the needs of my biological family, and on the legitimate needs of those who are actually suffering.  There is an organization in town, called “Angels of Prescott”.  They, and the Red Cross, will get the bulk of my time and energy, outside of work.  The kids will get my full attention, otherwise.

It is necessary, in life, to be consistent.  There are just too many vagaries and changes in the world around us, for a person to bounce from one goal or set of behavior to another, and still expect a successful outcome, or a sympathetic human climate.  Steadiness of purpose and unconditional love are not mutually exclusive, though, and in fact. real caring, empathy for others depends on a person being reliable in behavior, and in response to challenges.

Those who expect others to tend their rose gardens, without fail, are doomed to not smell the sweetness.

The Road to 65, Mile 117: Group Therapy

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March 25, 2015, Chino Valley- Last night, a family of three lost their trailer home, in an unincorporated town, about eight miles north of here.   The oldest child attends the school, where I am working for three days this week. He, his mother and toddler sister lost everything they owned, except the clothes that were on their backs, at the time of the blaze.  They lost their pets.  That home was in an area which lies outside any fire district, meaning that residents have to pay for fire fighting service.  The family had not paid for the service, so the home was a lost cause.  Of course, mobile homes are not likely to last long, in a fire, anyway.  A crew would have to arrive within three minutes of a blaze starting, in order for it to have any chance of success in extinguishing the blaze.

I watched again this evening, as reports of deadly tornadoes came out of Oklahoma:  Oklahoma City and Moore, again, and Tulsa, its suburbs of Sand Springs and Okmulgee, also in the wind’s cross-hairs.  This is March, so God, alone, knows how this tornado season, April to June, will play out in full.  Everything seems on hyperdrive, weatherwise, this year, though, so perhaps the season will spend itself early, as well.

A pilot on a crowded commercial flight in western Europe was locked out of his own cockpit, and the plane crashed, killing all on board.  The cause is left to the realm of speculation- always a sauce for further mayhem and disaster.

Terror, both natural and man-made, abounds, at any given time.  Heartbreak, both local and international, is rife, most days.  The only solution, as I see it, is unity of response and of relief.  Some of us can offer money.  Others, like me, can offer only time and energy. My point is solely that each of us can contribute to a group effort, at some level.  Only by working together, consistently, can we foster healing.  This has not come easily to me, over time, having been a loner until the age of 30, and more or less a steadfast, but somewhat quiet, spouse, until age 60.  Penny got me out of my shell, and circumstances since she left this life have kept me out of it.

My only question:  Where on the involvement spectrum are you?