Category Archives: Personal goals

Storage

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Posted by on in collaborating, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

November 25, 2024- One way or another, sometime next year, much of what I own and choose not to give away or sell, will be placed in storage. My game plan for 2025 will be discussed with my little family, over the next eight days. There are three options, but time in my current residence is getting short. More on what will transpire, as we go along.

Things can be placed in storage; feelings cannot. Many people stuff their emotions, either because they are internally uncomfortable or because they are unacceptable to those closest to them. I used to try and stuff my feelings. They came out anyway, in highly counterproductive ways, ranging from physical uncoordination to social awkwardness. There was, in retrospect, no real reason for this, except my misconception that being myself was an imposition on my family and would not be accepted by my peers.

This conviction was somewhat, but not completely, erased by marriage, career and parenthood. The emotions that remained “in storage” were rooted out later, when I was responsible for Penny’s care and for getting myself together, after her passing. There were those who understood and encouraged my growth, and there were those who would not cut me any slack. Fortunately, both contributed to the release and dismissal of those demons.

Storage has its place-and that is for temporary safeguarding of material possessions, like keepsakes and books that are not immediately needed. Feelings, though, should not be subject to “safekeeping”-at least not long term.

Angelic Troublemakers

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving

November 23, 2024- “We need, in every community, a group of angelic troublemakers”-Bayard Rustin

An angelic troublemaker is defined as “someone who uses their life to disrupt the status quo in a positive way”. The above quote was among those cited this evening by a community activist who definitely has challenged the status quo, in positive ways, over a period of twenty years. One of her actions involved playing an accordion in the midst of a rally of an angry demonstration, two or three years ago. It had a calming effect on some of the ragers, and she was not hurt.

Angelic troublemakers were responsible for much of the progress the nation, and the world, have seen over the past eighty years or so. Certainly Mohandas Gandhi would fall into that category. So would most of the rank and file in the American Civil Rights movements. Others, like yours truly, fall into the category of angelic troublemakers with tight halos, stumbling into acts of goodness as often as we intentionally walk into them. Most of the time, though, some good comes out of what we do.

I open my big mouth as often on behalf of people with whom I disagree on many things, as I do on behalf of kindred spirits. We have, in this physical world, a duty to listen to all sides, even the most outwardly ludicrous, in order to glean the whole truth of any matter. So, the “Flat Earther” can spout his gibberish, and maybe one or two kernels of truth will drop to the floor. The person who claims to be from the Pleiades can also spew forth a barrage of nonsense, and we may actually learn something about the greater Universe, in the process.

Where I draw the line is with those whose beliefs, when acted upon, cause harm to children, teens and other vulnerable people. There is no quarter for pedophiles, for vaccine deniers who also adhere to a diet of processed foods, for human traffickers, and for those who believe in price gouging of medicine and care for the chronically ill, the infirm elderly, the disabled and the mentally ill. I have no use for those who tell veterans and families of dead First Responders that they are on their own. I detest warmongers, no matter how “worthy” the pretext for their rampage.

So, on we go, us good troublemakers, angelic and otherwise.

The Face of Unity

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Family, impediments, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

November 20, 2024- “The core of a child’s education starts with the mother.” Upon my uttering that statement, a chorus of naysayers erupted with their buts, howevers and whatabouts. Methinks they missed the word core. A father does indeed have to stand alongside a mother, and augment the child’s learning. Grandparents and other adult relatives are the second layer of learning reinforcement. Teachers and neighbours, the “village” that it takes to raise a child, are the tertiary layer, and on outward it goes. No, friends, the entire village cannot be on top of the child, all at once.

Several of us were gathered in a comfortable Southwestern-style home, to ponder the question, “What does a unified community look like?” Much of the time was spent in putting forth, and sifting through, various and sundry individual points of view and reflections on life experiences that emanate from life in an often harsh and imperfect world.

Unity starts with respect for, and from, the individual. It proceeds outward, only when one has self-respect and when genuine respect for others emanates from oneself. That respect has to be a two-way street. A political conservative, even a reactionary, cannot advance real unity, without having respect for liberals and progressives. The converse is equally true.

Unity continues with each one having what my father called the courage of your convictions. True courage involves recognizing that what I think and feel does not have to be what anyone else thinks and feels-and the converse is also true. I can be equally at home talking with the members of my American Legion Post, or with conservative Christian friends, as I am among Progressive groups or those committed to social justice. Their opinions are not their souls.

Unity necessitates that the group be able to separate fact from fancy. It also goes back to respect: No adult has the right to live their life through their child, or even through their spouse. We live for our loved ones, and with them. Arriving at a point of unity means talking with the significant other, with the offspring, ascertaining everyone’s wants, needs, dreams and seeing what is most important for the group, and for each of its members. Penny’s mantra was “Consultation is finding out.” I can think of no better way to put it.

Do you think that submitting to the dictates of a strongman will solve the problems of the community, or of the nation? How does that affect the future of your children-both in the immediate and in the far future? Do they not have a say in the matter?

Want to invest in bitcoin? How will that impact your family or group of friends? Should you not discuss this fully with your near circle?

Wish you had a son, instead of a daughter-or vice versa? Does that give you the right to talk him/her into transitioning, even before full adulthood, or even before full puberty? How will that impact the life of that precious soul-tomorrow, next year, and ten, twenty, fifty years from now? Is that not an informed decision to be freely made by the person in question, as a mature adult?

It is well-known that I have deep feelings for someone who presently lives far from me. I also have deep feelings for my little family in Texas, for my siblings and extended family, across the continent and for all manner of friends in this community, and beyond. Any decision that I make, that impacts the life of any one of them, will actively take into consideration their thoughts, feelings and sensibilities. That is my path of unity.

The impact on unity of our decisions is large and small. Slight disunity is like a pebble in a shoe. Major disunity is like a brain tumour, or an abdominal stone. Most, if not all, of it can be avoided by consultation. The greater the chasm, the longer the bridge.

We did not arrive at a picture of what unity looks like, but we did leave the house with an overall sense of respect for one another. We did arrive at the realization that we are each primarily spiritual beings in physical bodies. We will proceed from there, in our deliberations.

Misogyny

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

November 17, 2024- I watched the first episode of “Lioness” this evening. It is a spy thriller, centered on women secret agents and fighters, in a Middle Eastern backdrop. Each of the women has a male advocate, if not a lover. They just don’t really need those men, day to day. One of the central characters comes to the Lioness program by way of escaping from a gang of disaffected, misogynistic men.

I thought back to how I was raised-to be a gentleman (by my father), countered by male peers who were alternately respectful of our mothers, sisters, grandmothers and aunts, while carrying a veneer of seeing other girls and women as means to an end. It was the stuff of adolescence, certainly, but subliminally was carried forward into our group psyches.

My wife became my equal, my partner, by dint of her sheer intellect and tough personality. Penny grew to become nobody’s fool. I became someone who did not need a fool. As the first true love of my maturity grew into a fully independent woman, so I began to grow into a fully independent man. From there, we both became interdependent.

In the years immediately following her passing, I found the sticky residue of my adolescence clinging to my psyche. As sheer will power and prayer had helped me shed alcohol dependency, thirty years earlier, so did they help me shed the stench of misogyny that was trying to get out. I let it out, along with the lack of self-esteem that is behind all such negative dust. True maturity had been reached.

Young men, around the world, face challenges to their self-concept that have historically been faced by posturing, adopting a dominant position towards their female peers and subscribing to a false sense of entitlement. This is the ethos of The Pack. There is an alpha male, but his “true strength” is only evident when the rest of the peer group is present, for reinforcement. The public face of misogyny is the Incel (“involuntary celibate”), who takes the stance that abstinence from sex is being forced on him by a conspiracy of women and other men.

In truth, though, focusing on one’s sexuality is dealing with only the outer trappings of insecurity. Procreation has an important place in the order of society, but it is only a place. A person, male or female, who has been raised to truly value self, who is focused on his/her totality: Intellect, variety of interests, physical stamina, dreams and goals, social skills, spirituality-will be more likely to know success, to be resilient in the face of challenges and less likely to blame others when things go wrong.

These are things I have come to fully realize, over the past fourteen years.

Charting Own Course

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Personal goals, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving

November 9, 2024- Everyone deserves to chart their own course.

It turns out that the recent messages I received have little to do with me, at all. At some point in the not too distant future, the woman I love most in this world will be looking to find a position in a very sacred place. It is her long cherished dream to do this, so the last thing I ever want to do is be an impediment.

At this point in my life, the joy that would come from holding her or just being close to her is as nothing, when compared to the satisfaction of seeing my beloved K achieve this goal. Too often, even now, the dreams of one person, usually a woman, are subordinated to those of one, usually a man, who assumes a dominant role.

The thing I’d like to see more men, more people, embrace and foster the dreams of those they claim to love. Kathy will do so much good in any position she may take, at this most sublimely holy of spots, in service at a material level. Seeing her do this is dearer to my heart than any conventional relationship, as exhilarating as that would be. Seeing her reach any of her goals means the world to me.

My own course, at this point, will be determined largely by the needs of my little family and of this most cherished woman. I have lived a full and satisfying life, thus far, and accomplished many of my goals. Now, it is time to cheer on my loved ones, whether at their side or from afar.

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&q=bridge+over+troubled+water#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:c096a59c,vid:nNq3c0NVhzA,st:0

Sky Way

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 23, 2024, Manila- The area between the entrance to Terminal 3 and the taxi stands, at Ninoy Aquino International Airport, is rife with touts, every one of whom wants to charge double or triple the fare charged by metered taxis, or even GRAB (Uber-type) vehicles. I have learned to walk straight ahead, saying “Excuse me!”, in a firm tone. The lady who mocked, saying “Get out of way!”, was a GRAB imposter, who still wanted twice the fare. I told her no, and went over to the meter booth.

The driver took me to Ola! Hostel, via the Skyway, for which the passenger (rightfully, in my view) pays the toll of 35 PhP (Philippine pesos) on top of the fare. It is a much nicer drive, with little slow downs and, at lunch time anyway, no gridlock. I arrived at Ola! seventeen minutes after leaving NAIA.

It has just been that sort of day. I was very warmly welcomed back to the hostel, and to the Baha’i Center, in late afternoon. My darling had news of her own: She has landed the job that she had sought, before last week’s loss of a dear Baha’i community member and this past weekend’s art gallery opening ( by K’s good friend), which I missed for the sake of connecting with an old friend from Mesa, AZ, who now lives in Dumaguete, Negros Oriental.

She will be busy for several months, and that’s a good thing. I will also be busy, once I get back to Home Base I. There is a lot going on, just before the election and immediately afterward. November and December promise to pass with lightning speed. Through all of it, I will be encouraging Kathy, every day. I will see her again in February, during a short visit here, that will focus on a few important tasks.

Picking up on the ways to navigate this sometimes chaotic, but vibrant, society is coming to me organically. There are aspects that will also be very useful in the months to come, back in the United States.

Foundation of Gold

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 19,2024, Manila- Many know that the islands of the Malay Archipelago, from Singapore, south and east to Timor and Halmahera, then north to Batanes, had structured, hierarchical societies, based on a chiefly class, prior to the arrival of European traders and colonialists. Relatively few know that these societies were an outgrowth of the successful use of metallurgy, and that the metal most commonly in demand was gold.

The Spanish, Portuguese, British, French and Dutch all had designs on countries which produced a wealth of spices. It was only when the colonialists settled down a bit, and made friends with some of the indigenous people, that they found there was gold to be had. As was their wont, the traders, adventurers and soldiers took the precious metal for themselves, under the guise of “for King and Country”. The rest is known to most of the world.

The Malay people, from their western outpost, in Madagascar in the far west to Taiwan and the Korean island of Jeju, in the north, are related linguistically and culturally to the Micronesian and Polynesian people of Oceania. Various features of Malay people, especially those indigenous to the Philippines, are outlined in exhibits now showing at Ayala Museum, in the southeast corner of Makati, Metro Manila. The foundation of their culture being the mining, smelting and wearing of gold is a point made most deftly.

The golden nature of the Filipino personality, though, is what has outlasted the mineral reserves, to which the Spanish conquistadors and Chinese pirates helped themselves copiously, over several centuries. Filipinos stand their ground, of course, and do not go about their lives foolishly-though anyone navigating the northeast side of Makati on Friday night would wonder about that, as the taxi driver ferrying me to my hostel, after my day with Kathy, could certainly attest. (There was no one to be found, among the drivers, who was obeying traffic signals.)

I was delighted, though, to rejoin her and two other friends this afternoon, at Ayala Museum, experiencing various sensory performances, from a Shadow Play with romantic songs playing in the background to a delightful performance by Manila Symphony Orchestra, which is Asia’s oldest. It was founded in 1926, by Alexander Lippay, and has not skipped a beat (pun intended) ever since. MSO even served as a vehicle of the Resistance, during Japanese occupation. The military governor, not wanting to look like a rube, reportedly attended classical music performances, but missed the message embedded in the program, that the Filipino spirit was alive and well.

The diorama of Philippine history is an area of the museum that would probably take me several hours to properly take in. I may get back there to do just that, on this visit. Otherwise, it’ll wait until February. (Yes, I am skipping out on chilly Prescott, for two weeks in 2/25. Certain matters will need my attention here, at that time.)

Life has taken me to many places of pure gold. I am especially glad for this latest.

Camia Garlands and A Filipino Banquet

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 10, 2024, Manila- The little entrepreneur was down to his last few hand-strung garlands of sweet-smelling camia blossoms. As we sat in a group and discussed various aspects of life in Manila and the urban U.S., one of our group members purchased the rest of the garlands. One was given to each of the women in our group, and I kept one for K, in case she was able to join us later.

Koi The’ Bubble Tea Shop, One Ayala Mall, Makati

Our host, Nelson (seated to my right, with ball cap), then brought us to MESA, a Filipino restaurant, where we enjoyed a full range of regional and national culinary treats: Pork belly (Binaggongan baboy), baked scallops in shell, suahe (large shrimp, barbecued in shell), sisig (fried rice with minced pork), various chicken dishes and a flounder-like baked fish, along with various side dishes whose names I did not quite catch.

It was a fitting celebration of both Nelson’s return here (he lives in the U.S. ) and that of a revered Baha’i elder, who lives primarily in the U.K. The rest of us were honoured just to be along for the gathering.

Part of me would not mind relocating here. There is more of the universal way of thinking, a collective mindset, to which I long ago became hard-wired. It will depend on how things go in a certain friendship, so we’ll see. Nevertheless, I have bonds here, for the rest of my life-much like in Home Base I, and in a number of other places across North America, in South Korea and in Europe. I can’t ever look at life through a dark glass again.

Nampo Garcia- A Street Kid Story

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 9, 2024, Manila- (Any connection between the characters in this tale and real people is purely coincidental.)

I felt the blade at my back,as I retrieved the cash from the ATM. “Now, you will give me the due that you refused, back at the Light Rail station!”, snarled a voice at the other end of the knife. “Will I, now?”, I responded, in my best fake Irish brogue. I looked at the wad of bills, then glanced over at the small pair of hands to my right, cupped and ready.

I tossed the folded bills to a chuckling, triumphant street boy. The hapless beggar took off after Nampo, dropping his knife and momentarily forgetting about me. The boy, little more than 3’8” and 50 pounds soaking wet, ran around the floral planter that graced the front of my hostel, all the while holding the cash, in a teasing manner, as the half-addled thief continued to pursue him, like a cat chasing its own tail.

Nampo knew the drill. He ran up to the hostel’s security guard and stood still, until I came up the steps. His meal depended on not running afoul of Steven Morales, who had often graciously provided the boy, and his little sister, with one of the hostel restaurant’s signature burgers or at least one of its ample rice bowls. Tonight, though, as Steven handcuffed the foolish beggar, I took Nampo inside the cafe, and for once, the Chinese owner did not wince and start fussing in Mandarin, about “a mouse being in the house”. Nampo had a full meal and was allowed to take an order to go, for his sister, who was waiting at their makeshift cardboard and plywood hut, off Dominga Street.

“Uncle Rama”, Nampo queried, as we ate, “do you have a friend like me, back in Bengaluru?” “Actually, I have several such friends, Nampo”, I responded. “You see, not so long ago, I too was sleeping under rattan and cardboard, frequently crying myself to sleep and keeping one eye open. The street bandits back in India are not so easy to elude, as the drugged up fiends here in Manila.”

“Not all the thieves here are drugged up”, answered Nampo, “in fact, the only reason I can leave Shakira alone is because we have Auntie Jinja looking after us. Her son, Raul, is also here, visiting his mother and taking her to see a doctor, for her diabetes. Raul said that if he needs to take his mother back to his house in Sucot, we will go with them-and he will make sure we go to school every day.”

I felt relieved at this news and as I walked Nampo back to his encampment, thought of how lucky this resourceful little boy was, to have found Jinja, and by extension, Raul, in the first place. Then again, it was Nampo’s heart energy, taking care of little Shakira, and his pluckiness at cultivating a security guard and a tourist as his friends, that most appealed to my own heart. As it happened, Raul had gone to the hardware, on P. Ocampo, and purchased a few folding chairs. His mother was sitting in one, and he, in another. The dutiful son beckoned me to sit for a while. “Would you care for a cup of iced tea?” “That would be heavenly”, I replied, taking the last empty chair, as Nampo sat down on a bean bag seat, which Raul had also purchased. Shakira was asleep on a small cot, covered with a clean sheet, again provided by the dutiful son.

This night would pass safely for the makeshift family, and soon the four of them would head past the Ninoy Aquino International Airport, through Paranaque to the seaside community of Sucot. I would be heading home to Karnataka, in a few days, and thought that I would make more of an effort to help the urchins in my home city, in honour of Nampo and Shakira.

(The street children of Manila are definitely winsome and engaging. It is their sheer number that prevents meaningful individual assistance, but there are a number of organizations, such as Children International, which I use as a vehicle to help two families, and Save the Children, that can provide assistance to destitute children and their families. Nampo and Shakira are fictional characters, but there are people who fit their description all over the streets of Metro Manila-and other Philippine cities.)

More Transition

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

October 4,2024, Manila- She was long a champion of civil rights, for racial minorities and women. “Sexual minorities” were a bit harder for her, but she was trying to understand. Michele was, nonetheless, a compassionate friend of 35 years.

It was she, and her late husband, Tom, who talked me into taking a road trip to San Francisco-Oakland, in 2012; of course, swinging by their then-home in Reno and caravanning to the Bay Area. From there, I headed north, after three days of commemorating ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s 1912 visit to that area. After Tom passed away, in 2013, I continued to visit Michele and her family, which I came to regard as an extension of my own. Her eldest granddaughter became a surrogate grand-niece, followed, seven years later, by her little brother.

Sis has been getting weaker, these past few years, though she did not lose any of her feistiness. On my last visit, three months ago, she stood strongly against what she regarded as a general moral laxity. She cautioned me, on a different note, against up and leaving the United States, for what she regarded as a pipe dream of living abroad again. I think she felt the hourglass was running out. Last night, it did. Michele Le Boutellier Smith passed away, at the age of 75.

Michele may yet turn out to have been right. I have pretty much hit a plateau, in several aspects, as to what I can accomplish in Manila, and after giving it a few more days, will likely move on to the provinces for a couple of weeks. It is encouraging to me, though, that a well-educated, savvy gentleman is stepping up as a moving and shaking force for the Baha’i Faith in the capital area. Today, at lunch, he articulated some solid practical ideas for making the Regional Baha’i Center a true locus for the betterment of the community. It is the local residents who must achieve the true greatness of a place. Visitors like me, no matter how loving or well-intentioned, wear out our welcomes after so many days.

Transitions have been at flood tide, in a number of respects, in this Eight Universal Year, which always seems to bring about drastic change. The number of close family and friends who have left my life, either through death or attrition in the past nine months, is jarring. It is also not entirely unexpected. The year is not over yet, by a long shot, so I hang on and continue to work for the best.

Somewhere, in the great energy field to which we all go, at some point, all my relations and extended family of friends are sending the energy that will guide me aright, as long as I pay attention. I will probably be walking that path largely alone, but that is okay. I can do this.