Category Archives: Personal goals

The Road to 65, Mile 51: Real Friendship

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January 18, 2015, Prescott-  The question came up, earlier today, about energy flows and what they might have to do with who is attracted to whom. Throughout life,  I have found myself inexplicably drawn to people, of various ages, and all types, for no outward reason.  The same has happened with people being drawn to me.

Most of these encounters tend to run their course, and many of these people I see once, twice or a few times, and then not again, for a long time, if ever.  Yet, I never forget them.  There are others who have gone on, and with whom I still communicate, in thought waves and in visions.  This is especially true with my late wife.

There are maybe two dozen people alive today, who are indelible in my life, and with whom I enjoy a robust and mutually supportive friendship.  Perhaps five or six, I have never met, in real time.  Another ten or so, I’ve met, face-to-face and spent a day or two with them, here and there. Others are a regular, almost daily, part of my world, both on-and offline.

Real friendship does not depend on physical presence, on lock-step agreement or on identical world-view.  It does depend on mutual respect, regard and willingness to fully entertain and learn from the other’s point of view, It also depends on a passionate commitment to the friend’s best interests, as well as to one’s own.  Forbearance is frequently essential, for who among us is 100% in sync with any other person?  True friends are there at the end of a bout of pain-fueled rage; there, as a period of confusion and  foolishness ensues; there, in happy times and in their opposites.  A true friend sees the real person shining through, regardless of occasional lapses.

There will not be a time when I don’t treasure my real friends.

The Road to 65, Mile 50: “You Are Not Alone”

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January 17, 2015, Prescott- Since I was small, I could not envision forcing anyone into a solitary existence.  Pariah-hood does not become us, though there are some who need a period of isolation from those they hurt or deceive.  I thought a lot about these sorts of issues, over the past couple of days.  Like anyone else, I can get caught up in emotionally-charged issues, and come down on one side or another.  When the issue is properly resolved, though, all parties are clear with one another and there is either compromise, or full resolution.

If we look upon those who oppose us or try to force our hand, it’s easy to wage war on a personal level.  In the quiet of the night, or the ensuing early morning, though, personal war rings hollow.  I’ve had a few conflicts, of late, one of which is at least at the live-and-let-live stage; another, which occurred this afternoon, was resolved by both of us learning what we did wrong and taking the right lesson going forward.  A good friend has been there for me, to help in processing what is right by everyone, and in reminding me of how not to handle an issue.

I spent this evening at Planet Fitness, then by watching “Into The Woods”.  I will admit it, I am a schmaltzy sort, when watching sad parts of a film, even when the sadness is punctuated by hokeyness.  I laughed when a little girl in the audience mockingly joined in, when the two princes (Chris Pine and Billy Magnussen) offered a full-on rendition of “Agony”, complete with ripping their shirts open.  Tears formed though, when the Baker’s Wife was reported dead and their baby cried.

The Baker and Cinderella reassure the orphaned Jack the Giant Killer and Red Riding Hood that they were not alone,  a theme song that reverberated throughout the musical, and serves as its saving grace.  I thought more about that, also.  No isolation need be forever; no loss need go unreplenished.  Any obstacle can be faced by people, of all ages and backgrounds, and both genders, forming a united front.  This is all too easy to forget, when our individual personas clash with others.

I am coming up, in another 1 1/2 months, on the fourth anniversary of my wife’s passing.  Losses differ, in type, in circumstance and in aftermath, and no one loss is greater than another, except for a parent losing a child.  The common thread in all, though, is superbly laid out by Stephen Sondheim:  “You are not alone”.  I’m not, and neither are you, no matter how it may seem in the dark night, the early morning, or any time in between.  To everyone reading this:  Speak, be heard, but also be willing to listen. You matter.

The Road to 65, Mile 49: Victims

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January 16, 2015, Prescott- As far back as I can remember, two themes have defined my life:  Love of females and honesty.  Perhaps because my mother, grandmothers and aunts were there for me, even when Dad had to work the graveyard shift in order to put food on the table, I have felt a closeness to girls and women- besides which, I started getting physically drawn to the opposite gender around age eight.  Females, being human though, are not always right, and can be underhanded, and brutal, when they feel insecure.  So can men-being human.  I’ve been furious with girls, less so with grown women, but underneath there is a very deep core of love.

Honesty has been my friend, also, though it has frequently gotten me in trouble, and a few times, almost killed.  Life in a New England mill town, with neighbourhoods set against one another, and towns versus the burgs next door. frequently gets dicey.  I have, plenty of times, spoken truth to power.  Power that is not sure of itself strikes out violently, or runs and hides.  The insecure powerful, back in the day, would knock the stuffing out of those who came out against them.  Those for whom I had genuine respect, though, came back, stated their case in a direct, forceful manner and left it to us to learn the hard lessons of life.   My father, the better among my teachers, Coach Wall and one of the best bosses I ever had, Bob Powers, were people of power.  They were not, for the most part, people of violence and handled whatever insecurities they had, in a way that cemented the respect others had for them.

I haven’t considered myself a victim, very often.  When I have indulged my weaker self, there has always been someone dear to me- my wife, our son, one of my brothers, my father-in-law- to set me straight, usually in a voice I would myself use with someone who was in a shaky place.  The fact is, when I have felt the world turning against me, it’s because I have shut some part of it out and become adamant and intransigent about considering other points of view.  My brother pointed out to me, the last time that happened, in 2009, that it was doing nothing to help me obtain what I said I wanted in life:  A better situation for my family, for my increasingly frail wife and our young adult son.

That’s the thing about conflict- there are no real winners, only victims who savage one another and create more victims in their wake.  We all have differences, AND we all have similarities.  We can dwell on the one, and stay off balance, or we can focus on the other, and build bonds.  The key is listening, with both ears followed by action, with heart and mind working in sync. No one can force another to “do what is right”, but if doing things a certain way brings only further distress and misery- then that becomes the person’s Ben Franklin moment, and the old sage’s definition of insanity flickers in the mind.  Honesty, as brutal as it can be, is chemotherapy for the cancer of conflict.  One need not be a victim or, as Glenn Frey once put it, a prisoner “here, of our own device”.

I will not shy away from tongue lashings, people in my face or any form of disagreement.  I’ve learned as much, or more, from my critics as I have from trusted friends, over the years.  I expect to be heard by them, as well, though.  We are all in a place of growth, all in a place where we can falter and all in a place where we can triumph.  Victim or champion, the choice falls to each of us.  Thanks for reading, and listening.

The Road to 65, Mile 48: Trust

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January 15, 2015, Prescott- A little bird told me today, that my trust had been broken, and quite egregiously.  Details would only dignify the insult, so I am going to be brief and succinct about the overall picture.  The foundation of all relationships is trust.  When I have, in the midst of my own suffering and confusion a few years ago, hurt a very dear person emotionally, it took a long time to make amends, and I would not blame my friend if I had been completely cut off.  On that occasion, though, I was like a bull in a china shop.

There is a difference when one abuses my trust, and stealthily acts as a Trojan horse, to curry favour with a third party.  That sort of misbehaviour only magnifies the matter and amplifies my annoyance.  Keener intuition than mine figured it out and let me know.  We are advised, in the Baha’i Writings, not to bare our necks to a wolf.  So it will be, and I have cut off contact with the individual.  Diseased thinking requires quarantine.

The Road to 65, Mile 47: First Come, First Served

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January 14, 2015, Prescott- Those who know me in Prescott, know I have been paying back the kindness of strangers from 2011, by taking a man who is down on his luck from one place to another, over the past four weeks, as my own obligations allow.  It’s worked for him, thankfully, though he’s run into one road block after another, in trying to secure a residence.  My lease doesn’t allow me to put up anyone who doesn’t have a domicile of their own, but he’s been in out of the cold, one place or another, elsewhere.

The man has tried to obtain government assistance, only to be told that others worse off are getting priority.  Yesterday, we came within five minutes of getting him a rental, only to be pushed aside by another person flashing a wad of cash.  This was not exactly a case of the Golden Rule of Greed:  “He who has the gold, rules”.  It did get me to thinking, though.  Competition, real or perceived, has been the source of so many divisions in the world, from time immemorial.

This, to me, comes from a scarcity mentality coupled with a personal sense of urgency.  I have fallen for both unfortunate fancies, which of course ended with blaming the other, raging against “the system” and hiding in a corner.  I am reading a book called “The Slight Edge”, by Jeff Olson.  In the chapter I read most recently, it’s pointed out that one may take either of two approaches to a failure or setback:  Move forward and try again and again, as an infant does when learning to walk, or move backward, and settle for obscurity.

In reality, there is enough to go around.  Some may have to wait for a re-supply of certain things, be it money, a certain kind of food, a particular model of car or a job.  The necessities of life, however, do, from my experience and observation, appear to those who are persistent and proactive.  That may sound like balderdash to those who are suffering.  Look around, though, and examine three things:  1.  How much are you doing to further your own well-being and how flexible are you in doing so?  2.  If there is a roadblock, is it something artificial or bureaucratic?  If so, have you explored all ways around, under, over or through the barrier?  Have you met the bureaucrats involved, starting with the low person on the totem pole, and working upwards as needed?  3.  Are there, in fact, other people who are more in need than you, and are you prepared to wait your turn, within reason?

I have had to recognize this fact:  God and the Universe meet everyone’s needs.  That we can’t all have what we  want, simultaneously, but do have our needs met in a timely fashion (unless we interfere in the affairs of the Celestial), is a logical result of living in the physical frame.  The queue is a democratic, and fair, system.  It is worth honouring.

The Road to 65, Mile 44: “Pay Attention”

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January 11, 2015, Prescott Valley-  Autism is rarely depicted on the big screen.  We may see it on television, via at least one of the characters on the series, “Scorpion”.  Film, though, implies a consistent flow of action.  We who are autistic are prone to periods of calm and inaction, often accompanied by silence- hardly the stuff of a major box office success.

I joined a group at a Screen Actors Guild viewing of “The Imitation Game”, last night.  As this was a private viewing, there was none of the First Look, previews of coming attractions, or sitting afterwards to check out who played what part, as the credits roll.  There was a solid cast of British thespians:  Benedict Cumberbatch, in the lead, supported well by Keira Knightley, Matthew Goode, Charles Dance and Mark Strong.

The voice-over at the beginning admonishes the viewer to “Pay Attention”, all the more vital, given the slow pace of the film, during the first two-thirds of the story and the constant flip-flops, from one time period to the next.  I devoted myself to do just that; the task was made easier by the presence of another man, who had exemplary command of detail.

I was primarily interested in how an autistic like Alan Turing would be portrayed. Mr. Cumberbatch mastered both the autistic behaviour and the non-flamboyant homosexuality of Dr. Turing.  As his long-suffering assistants, Ms. Knightley and Mr. Goode reminded me of the best of my friends from youth and early adulthood.  My wife largely carried me out of the fog of the Spectrum, much as Ms. Knightley’s character, both as his sham fiancee and as a genuine friend, managed to do, with Dr. Turing.

Attentiveness is a huge deal for someone like me.  Having worked so hard to be in the moment and stay out of the fog that’s in my head, I tune out the extraneous, and quite readily now.  If I am engaged in an activity, the phone goes to vibrate- or increasingly, totally off.  If I am working, the rest of life gets checked at the door.  If I am on the trail, everything on all sides, above and below, gets brought into my awareness, as part of the natural experience.  If I am driving, I get irritated by any demand from a passenger to “notice ME and what I want”.  The road, and my fellow drivers, have my full attention.  Texting or talking on the phone, while behind the wheel, are foreign to me, especially since I am no longer a caretaker.

Pay attention- a good way to stay out of trouble, I’d say.

The Road to 65, Mile 43: Wild

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January 10, 2015, Prescott-  It has been, and remains, a dream of mine to hike at least one of the great north-south trails that grace our country.  Before the need to replenish my coffers arose, I had a plan to traverse the Appalachian Trail and Pacific Crest Trail in back-to-back years, 2018-19.  For various reasons, this particular pair of endeavours will wait until I am in my seventies- and it’ll happen, along with some other treks, during that decade, unless the Universe decrees otherwise.  Since this change of plans occurred to me in a dream-like state though, several weeks ago, I think it’ll hold.

Last night, I watched “Wild”, with Reese Witherspoon as the wild child who was tamed by the PCT.  As many of my travels have been inspired by visions of my late wife, so was Cheryl Strayed’s time on the Pacific Crest Trail spurred by thoughts of her mother, who had died of cancer, a few years before.  I could identify with her disquiet, on a number of levels.  Though I never had a serious hard-drug problem, and my alcohol abuse was history well before our marriage, the serious lapses in judgement and difficulty with forming attachments that Cheryl displayed had parallels in my own life, and as recently as 2013.  The PCT tamed her inner beast (shadowed as it was by the fox in the film).  Extensive journeys around North America in 2011-13 and the northwest of Europe, as well as across the eastern Pacific, last year, brought my poisonous remnants to the surface and have established more clarity of vision.

Cheryl Strayed found stability afterward, in marriage and motherhood.  My own renewed stability is forming, not necessarily with another intimate relationship, but with the distinct possibility of finally taking charge of, and seeing through, a service-oriented project that will provide a modest and adequate income. Add to that the extra security offered by wellness advocacy, and the six years left of this decade will lend more credence to “Age is nothing but a number”.

The Road to 65, Mile 41: Solar Flares

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January 8, 2015-   My energy lagged today, and so, it seems, did that of many others.  I always have to use slightly extra essential oil on these days.  Several people reported similar energy lags, sicknesses and other mood letdowns, over the past few days.  I read on Yahoo, earlier today, that there has been solar activity of late, and that this may be a determining factor in much of the energy lags.

Of course, just it being ridiculously cold can explain most of the ennui.  Here, though, the days are quite mild, in the low to mid-fifties during the day, and bracingly brisk in the mornings.  So, I will go, somewhat, with the solar explanation.

The connectedness of the Universe brings with it various flows.  There is a lot I don’t know about quantum mechanics, so I will leave it at this:  I have had deep dreams, and waking ones, in which I am in another realm.  The beings there imparted to me a sense of distance from everyone here with whom I am close.  Yet, it was not an unpleasant distance, just a means for me to see them as creatures of intense individuality, and that they are okay, even when I’m not here.  Likewise, I will be fine in a different dimension.

That said, I don’t have any health issues, nor do I feel a sense of impending doom.  If anything, the challenges of my life, such as they are, are being met and my network of support and friendship is growing every day.  Hope the solar flares subside, though, so that well-being is more widespread than it’s been, so far this week.

The Road to 65, Mile 38: Warp Speed

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January 5, 2015, Prescott- I arose at 5:30 this morning.  A voice that seemed like my late youngest brother’s called my name, inside my head, and I decided it was time.  Annoyance at perceived pressure from a needy person, who had CHOSEN to live on the streets, “because nothing else is working”, but has been frequently calling me for assistance- usually when I was out of town, was the immediate impetus.  I was well rested, though, and so showered, groomed, dressed, had breakfast and called my AM prayer partner, to confirm our session.

Today was not a work day, per se, being the first day back to school from winter break.  There won’t likely be a need for any subs until at least later on in the week.  There was plenty to do, though.  After prayers, the aforementioned needy person was met across town, and taken to a medical facility. He was more pleasant this morning, though, so I was not as annoyed.

The afternoon brought a planning meeting, a bit of blogging, beginning the application process for a position in which I’m interested.  An errand of mercy led into the evening.  Now, here I am, thinking about the messages I have been getting about this year.  Things are ramping up to warp speed.  Life will happen at a pace to which I am not particularly accustomed.  There may or may not be full-time work; may or may not be travel from one end of North America to the other; may be a solid Disaster Preparedness Program built by me, or by someone else; may be five days a week of substitute teaching in a larger number of public and charter schools.

It will all mean greater flexibility and more focus, on my part.  It will mean things happening more rapidly, and with less advance notice, than in years past.  It’ll all work out, thanks to essential oils, Planet Fitness and a rapidly growing number of both real-time and online friends, who are dedicated to addressing the deeper implications of what’s happening in the wider world, events which are gearing up- to warp speed.

The Road to 65, Mile 34: Within the Realm of Possibility

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social, Travel

January 1, 2015, Prescott-  Bet you thought I’d never catch up.  Well, the Moveable Feast that was 2014 is a springboard to endless possibilities, this year.  I said farewell to  several friends, family and admired public figures:  Norman Fellman, Richard Keffer, Bill Warden, Steve Archambault,Brooke Bohner, Dane Mc Donald, Ginny Stobie, Helen Fellman, Howard and June Moxham,Bob Wittmann, Mardy Taylor, Norman Hansen, Mary Chrisos, Jack Harper and a few of whom you may have heard:  Pete Seeger, Eli Wallach, Robin Williams, Lauren Bacall, Edward Herrmann,  Joe Cocker, Luise Rainer, Bob Hoskins, Christine Cavanaugh, Phil Everly, Dave Madden, Jack Bruce, Ann B. Davis, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Shirley Temple, Johnny Winter, Mickey Rooney, Sid Caesar, Paul Revere, Maya Angelou, Ruby Dee, Ralph Waite, Mike Nichols, Joan Rivers.

They have each moved on, and are in the Gallery, cheering us on,  as we navigate the challenges before us.  My path forward, this year, will soon come to a fork in the road.  One turn would take me to a full-time position with a non-profit.  Then, my free-lance travel will be limited, but I will be constantly on the road, making sure Disaster-Preparedness programs are in place, throughout northwestern Arizona, and that volunteers are receiving training, and are feeling appreciated.

The other turn would lead me to work as a substitute teacher in more schools than I am, at present.  It would also continue my going to such places as I sense the Universe wants me to go.  The one constant, on both paths, will be my using, and educating people on, essential oils.  These have made a significant difference in my life and in my health.

So, stay tuned.  2015 will be another tumultuous ride.  It started slowly today, with a few errands and a young friend’s birthday.  Tomorrow, I visit and hike with my son, in the Phoenix area, and head up to Las Vegas, for a visit with friends and to Valley of Fire, on Saturday & Sunday.  Then, it’ll be time to get serious again.