Compassion

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I heard from my dearest friend, this morning.  It was a brief message, but it meant the world to me, knowing that she is okay, and in charge of her own life, as always.

This brings to mind just what is the purpose of this life.  We are told, in the Baha’i Writings, that the purpose of physical reality is that each of us comes to know and love God.  As God is, in His Essence, unknowable, how are we to reflect such knowledge and love?

The answer that comes to me is that we show compassion for His creatures.  Baha’u’llah admonishes us to “Be fair to yourselves and others”.  We each must regard our own bodies as human temples, thus not abusing these bodies with excess of food and drink, much less an excess of mind-altering substances, however tempting such substances might seem, in times of stress.

Beyond self-care, the knowledge and love of God is reflected in one’s care and love for : Family members; fellows in faith, or, in the case of atheists and agnostics ,fellows in philosophy of life; co-workers; casual friends, and those who inhabit our in-most hearts.  Finally, compassion for those we encounter randomly, in the course of a day, and for the non-human- the plants, animals, and inanimate resources, is also a sign of knowing and loving God.

I will have something to say, in a later post, about those who presume to hate God.  For now, though, let us consider that, without a deep and abiding compassion for all of the above, including our own selves, we relinquish our mandate and toss aside the very purpose of our being.  None lives for self alone, and gets to feel alive, for very long.

I’m happy knowing you’re okay, my friend.

A North American Spiritual Arc, Part 1: The Medicine Wheel of the Bighorn

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I was advised to visit this Medicine Wheel, by my waiter at Elk View Lodge, once he learned that I was on a spiritual quest, of sorts.  This is ancient structure, first built, apparently, to keep track of the movements and positions of stars such as Aldebaran, Sirius, Rigel and Fomelhaut, particularly with regard to the solstices.  The Crow people, and other indigenous nations, send their youth here, as part of the vision quest process.

The U.S. Forest Service maintains the site, as a National Historical Landmark.  I was honoured to hike it, and found it to be the westernmost point in what was to prove the heartland of my journey:  The Bighorn-Bearlodge-Black Hills crescent. The Medicine Wheel is located about 15 miles east of the Bighorn River, and some 26 miles east of Lovell, WY.

Here are some scenes from my hike up to the Wheel, and of the structure itself.  Please don’t be disappointed, but out of respect to the sacred nature of the adornments being placed on the Wheel, as well as that of the Wheel itself, I have one lone photograph of this magnificent structure.

First, here are some views from the trail up Medicine Mountain.

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The Forest Service has placed informational signs and benches, at key points along the route.

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The limestone surface is unusual for this part of Wyoming.

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The route was perfect exercise for me, after a heavy meal at Elk View.

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Nearing the summit, I began to pray privately.

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At the Wheel itself, I stood to the side, away from other visitors, and continued prayers for healing and protection of a few blessed souls, and for mankind as a whole.

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The Medicine Wheel smiles on a wide swath of magnificent Wyoming, and on into Montana.

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Next:  The Road to Devils/Spirit Tower (aka Bear Lodge)

Apples and Oranges; Sticks and Stones

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I have been asked a few times recently, how can I say my wife , Penny, is my soul mate and still refer to a “Best Friend”, who is very much alive.  First of all, Penny was my lover and the mother of my child.  My child-siring days are over.  For all I know, my love-making days might be over, too.

She used to say, “An apple is an apple, not an orange”, in dismissing some of my more ludicrous excuses for silly behaviour and bad choices, in the early years of our marriage.  So it goes.  The person I regard as my best friend is dealing with a full plate, emotionally, spiritually and physically.  It is my turn to support her, by being physically absent from her life, for the time being.  This person is in my heart, as a friend, period.  I pray for her, I send positive thoughts to her, and I love her dearly.  I would take a bullet for her, as I would for several of my dearest friends.

She, and they, are the oranges of my life.  Thus far, Penny is the sole apple.  All are sweet to me, in their own way. I hope this clears up any lingering confusion, and I am putting this subject to rest.  C, wherever you are right now, be safe and well, and strive for what’s rightfully yours.  You are a human treasure.

Ionic Bonds

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It’s said in physics that the breaking of ionic bonds has serious consequences for the entire chain to which the broken ions belong.  It is also said, in some circles, that each ion is attracted to some other ions, and repelled by still others, which may or may not be attracted to it.

This explains a chain of human interactions.  I referred yesterday to my high school friend not being attracted to a boy who loved her, and who, in turn, was liked by a girl to whom he was not attracted.

It goes around and around like this, throughout life.  I have been in the middle of this, several times.  I have been drawn to a person, who is drawn to someone else, who is drawn to yet another, and so on.  On my other side, there is one who is drawn to me, while turning away from someone who is drawn to her, who turns away from yet another, and you get the picture.  This could be Aretha Franklin’s “Chain of Fools” or just the human condition, voicing its disquiet.  Nonetheless, even those who feel like they’ve never been loved are attractive to someone- they just haven’t met, or acknowledged, that person.

Each turning away causes some turmoil.  The wiser among us realize that each soul, each human; each mating, befriending being, has criteria for making these choices, these bonds.  For some, the criteria are physical and so don’t endure.  For others, the criteria are spiritual, and less easily understood or accepted.  For still others, there is this attraction that makes no sense to the casual observer, and much less to the receiver of affection.

I’ve felt all three types.  With my wife, Penny, the first two sets of criteria existed simultaneously, and the spiritual set endures, though she is in another realm.  I’ve had plenty of physical attractions, and these have fizzled, after a very short time.  Ditto for those whose being attracted to me is purely physical.  There are a few in my present life to whom I am attracted spiritually.  These attractions linger in my heart, even though I no longer have any direct contact with them.  Luckily, I am not involved in the third type of attraction.  The last such was in 1976, and hurt the intended recipient, terribly.

My bottom line is this.  The most horrifying thing I can ever hear from another human being, especially someone I love, is “I am really hurt by what you did(said)”.  I know I must hear it, and make amends, but knowing I have crushed someone’s spirit shakes me to the core.

Austere Landscapes, and Mindscapes

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I woke up in Greybull, Wyoming, on the morning of July 19. Somehow, I knew that I had gotten myself into a passel of thorns, again, and had no one else to blame.  The town of Greybull had no Internet service, due to a phone company issue.  So, I did my laundry, while watching a cheesy Charles Bronson film.  A thug caught Charles lurking in his apartment’s kitchen.

Thug:  “What are you doin’ here?”

Charles:  “I’m makin’ a sandwich.”

Tussle ensues, and Charles throws the thug through a plate glass window.

Laundry’s done, as the thug’s girlfriend screams, over the body of her dead tormentor.

I headed out, across the rugged moonscape that comprises some of the finest fossil digs in the country, around the small town of Shell.  There is some irrigation being done, on the outskirts of town, and it works, nicely.

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All around Shell, though, there are fossils in this slice of the Great Basin.  The remnants of life forms, from the Cambrian to the Pleistocene, are being found almost on a daily basis, by paleontologists working on energy company-owned lands.  The signs said,”No Stopping or Parking on Road” and “Watch for Trucks”.

I pulled off on a side road.  That’s my drawback, as a human being.  Someone asks me to do something reasonable, and I find a way around it.

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The austerity of this place masks the wealth of knowledge that is slowly being extracted from its depths.  It begs the question:  What will future excavators make of the likes of me, if my bones are found, perhaps in a similar moonscape, 10,000 years hence?

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In the end, it was the sky, the gorgeous blue, that told me:  “Move along.  This land belongs to the dead.  You only imagine yourself so.”

So, a short time later, I encountered the opposite of this basin.  I found Shell Canyon and its Falls.  See you tomorrow.

The Story of Joan

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This is becoming a trend:  Soul-sharing in the morning, travel-sharing in the evening.  I think that’s how it will remain.

Anyway, my mind drifted back to my high school days, yesterday.  I was trying to find a parallel for just how I really feel about my best friend.  Romantic thoughts just don’t jibe, though she is a beautiful woman.  The thing is, 62, with under 40?  Umm, not very likely.  Brother and sister?  No, and for the same reason.

Here is a parallel.  In the summer of my junior year, I would spend most week days at Fireplace 10, of  Nahant Beach.  I would alternate between sunbathing and hanging in the blanket area, and body surfing, when the tide was coming in.

Although I had no girlfriend of any sort in high school, I had a lot of friends, both male and female.  The girls would often sit down on my blanket and just share their feelings and frustrations, seeking a “safe” male perspective.  It made me feel purposeful.  One of these was Joan.  She is two years younger than I, so she was entering her sophomore year.  There was a guy who was absolutely bonkers over Joan.  She was, and is, a lovely woman.  She was dating a guy already, though, and they were happy.  Charlie was one one of my best friends in school, and Joan felt safe talking with me about her dilemma.  She didn’t want to hurt N’s feelings, but it was she and Charlie, and no one else.

As my senior year progressed, N moved on, Charlie and Joan remained a committed couple and they both were among my best friends.  Joan was probably my best friend that year, and I could share my own hopes and dreams with her, where the guys with whom I hung out were far more opinionated and judgmental, with me and with one another.  Joan also didn’t mince words, when she thought I was being over the top, but there was never unkindness in her demeanor, or her voice.  She just was, and had nothing to prove.

Once I graduated, I would only see Joan now and then, at the Friendly’s Ice Cream Parlor, on Rte. One, or at random parties.  Three years after I graduated, we lost Charlie in a tragic accident.  Joan, bless her, moved on, slowly and with determination to survive and thrive.  She was doing well, the last time I saw her, working out of Boston and traveling, both for her job and for pleasure.  She waxed poetic, on that last meeting, about East Asia, especially Japan.  That was thirty-eight years ago.  I believe she is now a grandmother and still working.

She remains, though, an inspiration and a long-ago source of stability in my life.  I guess that’s why I feel the same about a person who is an inspiration to me now.  Many blessings, to you, my best friend on the planet.

A Best Friend Is….

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I have used the term “best friend” almost to distraction, of late, so it seems prudent to offer some clarification, as to what I mean.

Until March, 2011, my best friend, for 30 years was also my wife and soul mate.  There is no disputing that, still, and as I type, I feel her energy touching my fingertips.

I now consider another person my best friend. She is neither my romantic partner nor my soul mate, but that’s because those roles were long ago filled.  This is new territory for me, so what do I mean by saying such a thing?

There are nine things about a best friend, that this person exemplifies in my life.

1.  She sees me as I really am, strengths and weaknesses.

2.  She does not mince words, while being kind.

3.  She honours and states her own feelings and needs.

4.  She sets clear limits and boundaries.

5.  She is here for me, when I have the need to be heard..

7.  She knows I am here for her, and accepts my help, knowing it is unconditionally offered.

8.  She distinguishes between true friendship and other relationships, and never loses sight of that.

9.  She has a strong set of personal ethics, which are never compromised.

These are the reasons why I regard this individual in such a high light.  I hope someday to be at least half the friend she has been to me, over the past 1 1/2 years.

 

 

 

No Tears, No Pain

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This morning, things were made clear, as all matters of deep and abiding friendship must be, and must stay.  The person I will regard as my best friend, for the rest of my earthly life, will remain just that.  I will have her back, whenever she needs me.  She does not have to provide anything in return, other than respect for me as a person.  Today, she provided that respect in spades, which only deepens my regard for her as a human being, and as a spiritual presence.

There is no more honourable and enduring title that may be bestowed on a person, by another, than “steadfast friend”.  Too often, we can get confused by the intensity of our feelings and send the wheels of these relationships careening off one of the precipices which are all too prevalent in our psychosocial environment.  The 1970’s pop hit, “Rollercoaster of Love” pokes gentle fun at that.  This is especially true of relationships between people who recognize each other as attractive.  It is not fair, in the end, to a person who is in a vulnerable or transitional state, to place too much emphasis on the ephemeral, the physical aspects of friendship.

Each of us has a soul mate.  Once we find him or her, it lasts for all eternity, regardless of whether death or divorce removes the person from one’s physical reality.  This is the point to which my best friend and I came today.  It cements our friendship, and ought to reassure our respective soul mates that they matter most.

When I love a person, regardless of the level that love takes, I love them on their own terms, and unconditionally on mine.  There are no expectations of a reward for me, save what God ordains.  I am a somewhat romantic soul.  I believe that hugging and cuddling have benefits.  I am not, however, indiscriminate in that regard, nor am I ever of a mind to be hurtful to another human being.  A friend recently commented elsewhere that he sees other men as competition.  I am sorry he feels that way.  Every person put on this Earth is entitled to have some ONE to whom they can bond, and with whom they feel safe.  Others may come and go.  A few stay around, as cadre of support and refuge, but those steadfast friends will always be there for the purpose of safeguarding their well-loved friend AND his/her relationship with his/her soul mate.  The soul mate is never, for an instant, regarded as disposable.  To do so, is to show abject disregard for the person whom the friend claims to love.

When Penny had been in the spiritual world for a mere five months, I was getting fawning looks from women who fancied themselves as potential replacements for her.  I therefore know how my best friend must feel, as she navigates one of the most treacherous challenges of her life.  This, though, is where several of us write the book on this sort of thing.  She stands by her love for her man.  He takes the bull by the horns and becomes a better person than he ever was.  Their loyal friends, including me, stand by BOTH of them, as a unit, and do not let harm come to either one, including, especially harm from one to the other, or harm to themselves.

So, that’s where my deepest self is, and if the day comes when I meet someone who feels as much for me as I feel for her, then maybe a second marriage will be an option.  I haven’t met that person yet.  If it happens, though, Christina and Corey, I want you both at the wedding, as guests of honour.

Life is getting more beautiful every day.  Stay well, my friends, all of you.

The Wounded, The Judges and The High Horse

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I am going to take a few minutes with this, before going out to pull more weeds in my front yard.  Of course, I will also post about the American bison and two of Yellowstone’s southern lakes, later today.

A man I have never met, but have come to know vicariously, through the eyes of a mutual friend, is struggling with a medical condition that I’ll not mention here.  He has not, to the best of my knowledge, received adequate resolution to this condition.  He has opted to self-medicate, and to excess.

Some others I know have responded to his actions with ill-disguised scorn.  This is the way, it seems, of modern society, at least here in the West.  In so doing, they disregard the words of  Jesus the Christ, “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” John, 8:7. They may not have read similar words from the Pen of Baha’u’llah, “If ye meet the abased or the down-trodden, turn not away disdainfully from them, for the King of Glory ever watcheth over them and surroundeth them with such tenderness as none can fathom except them that have suffered their wishes and desires to be merged in the Will of your Lord, the Gracious, the All-Wise. ” Gleanings From The Writings of Baha’u’llah, 315:23.

It’s something we all do, from time to time, for any number of reasons.  Perhaps, as in my own case in times past, it’s a matter of expediency. It might also be that the onlooker sees something in him/herself that is reflected in the other person’s real or perceived transgressions.  The bottom line, though, is this:  The suffering person is still in the world; is still in the lives of those he loves and of those who love him; still has the capacity to heal, to grow, to change.  No judgment from another person will change that reality.

High horses don’t take well to the high ground.  They stumble on the scree and pebbles, which the careful goats and sheep navigate so well.  History shows that the Caiaphases, De Torquemadas, McCarthys and Starrs of the world tend to fall precipitously, when they reach the inevitable climax of their power.  God, the Unknowable, is the only Judge Whose Hand is sure, steady and equitable.

This is a man who, though I have never met him and may never meet him, is worth my love and support- however indirect and oblique that love and support have to be.  You and I gain nothing by his failure, and may well benefit in many ways by his recovery.  So, I remain dismounted from my high horse and lead it gently through the scree and pebbles.

Two Polished Stones

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On Wednesday night, I drove into the first Forest Service campground to which I came,after my friend in Del Norte said the rental cabin was being renovated, and was unavailable.  As it was a calm night, and free of moisture, I rolled out my ground tarp, bed pad, sleeping bag and pillow, and got ready for sleep.  I prefer that there is nothing between the stars and me, whenever possible.

Just before greeting the dream world, I placed my watch and camera on the picnic table. There was nothing else on the table, at that point. I would occasionally wake, regard the starry sky with awe, and contemplate all that I had seen and heard on this trip, both good and bad.  Generally, though, the sleep was restful.

In the morning, I awoke, took my change of clothes into the latrine, got dressed and shaved.  I went over to the picnic table and retrieved my watch and camera.  There, right next to them, were two polished silica rocks.  These did not remotely resemble anything that was on the ground.  I will probably never know, in this life, how they got there, or who left them.

It did get me to thinking.  Rocks get a silicone quality through fire, rough treatment by wind and water and more heat.  I thought of my wife, who suffered mightily, her last eight years, yet maintained a cheerful disposition until nearly the end of her days.  I also thought of friends, one in particular, who are undergoing extreme pain and stress, at the hands of people whom they trusted.  I then thought:  “Gary, are YOU being trustworthy?  Are you making situations better, or worse,by your own behaviour?”

The pain and suffering in this world are seldom about me.  I am almost a poster child for Bob Dylan’s “Positively Fourth Street”, or Keith Emerson’s “Lucky Man”, yet I do have more to me than a goofy, smiling face.  My friends’ hardships are my hardships, by choice, and I will not rest easily while any of them are in pain.

They in my social circle, though, tend to be fiercely independent and want to do it all themselves.  I know the feeling.  I didn’t want or expect much help, when caring for Penny.  Our son was there, doing things a teenager should never have to do.  Otherwise, it was my wife, polishing her stone, and me, moving forward, one step at a time, and not knowing what was ahead for me, once she was gone.

I have purchased a book, about a friend’s late child, and her struggle with cancer.  I will read this with close attention, because it defines the attitude we each must have in facing horrific pain, every bit as much as did my wife’s struggle with neurological disease, and those of countless other friends, and friends’ relatives, who have struggled with, and sometimes succumbed to, relentless disease.

To whom much is given, much is expected.  I am sorry to those whose needs I could meet, but haven’t always.  At the same time, know that every waking moment, you are in my heart, and need only say- “Hey, FRIEND, what about me?”  None of us need burnish our stones in isolation.

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( I will share this on Facebook, though it is somewhat personal, just because there are people on FB who need to be re-assured that they are deeply loved.)