This morning, when I went to Prescott Farmers’ Market, I saw a poster for the Grand Opening of Deva Healing Center.  A young woman with a rescue dog greeted me and explained this was her center, established to help women and teens, in the manner of a sanctuary.  This has been sorely needed here, as it has elsewhere.  The mission is to help women of all ages “heal from trauma, pain, abuse and addiction through yoga, expressive arts, and therapeutic wilderness adventures.”

The Grand Opening was this evening, and I went for an hour and 15 minutes, being one of 32 people to help Bri Boertman in the launching of this most worthy effort.  While there, I received a chair massage, watched, and joined in, interpretive belly dancing.  Yes, I became the 62-year-old male belly dancer, joining five women and a little girl, in various gyrations, hip shakes  and arm waves, for one of the more interpretive of the selections.  Bri dancing in high heels was a bit painful for this everyfather to watch, but she seemed okay with it, for three minutes. Several women won raffle prizes, the group gathered for one last belly dance, in honour of the women of the world, and I headed back home, for an evening of listening to Celtic music, while those who knew each other previously, stayed around to support each others’ struggles and successes.

This will be a major focal point of what promises to be a concerted effort to help the women of Yavapai County, in raising their voices for curbing the disempowerment of their sisters, mothers, daughters and nieces.  There are a few of us men on the team, also.  We follow Bri’s lead.

Last week, I received two copies of an amazing book: “Amber, The True Story of a Courageous Young Girl”.  Yesterday, I was honoured to take the second copy down to Phoenix Children’s Hospital, and offer it to the hospital’s Family Health Library- The Emily Center.  Like Emily, Amber was a person struck down by childhood cancer.

She was the child of a friend, which made reading this book, and sharing it, all the more important for me.  It is said, quite often, that growing old is not for sissies, and I’m sure I will experience some of that, down the road a bit.  Let me say what else is not for “sissies”:  Watching someone you love waste away.  I have been there, first as a brother, then as a husband.  Yet, I can only dimly imagine being there as a parent, and how much more as a single parent.  Amber was courageous, and that courage was matched by the steely, fastidious, undying determination of one of the finest human beings I have ever known:  Her mother.

The title of this piece comes from a song by Bruce Springsteen, entitled “The Rising”.  He wrote it and offered it, in response to the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York and the Pentagon.  The children he mentions were those sent to their heavenly home that awful day.  He chooses to see them as an inspiration, not as anchors, or albatrosses.  Such are children like Emily and Amber. They move us in all sorts of directions:  Charitable fundraisers and ongoing donation programs; medical schools researching cures for such deadly plagues; prayer vigils; meal preparations for the parents and siblings keeping watch over the fighting child.  They move us, most importantly, to treasure just what is in front of us, just how fortunate we are.

Everyone’s problems are important, to them, and to those closest to them.  Everyone’s issues deserve a measure of attention, a resolution.  It is, however, no cliche to say that when the Most Important is front and center, the Important has to wait its turn.  There was, in those dark, painful, inspiring days, a decade or so ago, nothing more important in all the world than a child named Amber.  I would have been there, in spades, had I known.  Stay vigilant, stay involved, stay loving.   This world is not for sissies.

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.

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.