The Gold Standard

4

September 9, 2019-

Bill Tracy passed away last Thursday, after a month-long decline, triggered by a fall from the roof of his Palm Desert restaurant.  Bill was one of those rare individuals whose concept of business was primarily as a means of giving back. He had three restaurants in Prescott-The Dinner Bell (ironically, a breakfast and lunch establishment), Bill’s Pizza and Bill’s Grill.  Feeling age, he sold those establishments, in 2015, to a friend who has kept Bill’s vision.  Bill’s Pizza, for example, donated about twenty large pies to the Farmers’ Market Board, yesterday, to feed volunteers and staff at the Farm-to-Table Dinner.

Bill’s philanthropy was where his heart was.  He gave to a variety of causes and regarded the needs of the community, both in Prescott and in the Palm Springs area. He has helped our local Red Cross Chapter, as well as the Farmers’ Market and a local street ministry. Bill hired those who were disadvantaged, and worked with them to develop job skills.  I have eaten at all three of his restaurants, on several occasions over the years.  I never met the man, but I saw his ethic at work and notice that there is a close camaraderie in each of the establishments.

People like Bill Tracy are the gold standard, combining social sense, business sense and deep character.   Many of us strive to develop one or another of these qualities, and make a good effort at it.  Bill had the drive and sense of constancy to keep up with the changes and chances of economic downturns-and was a force in establishing shelters and care programs for the homeless, both in Prescott and in the Palm Springs area.

He won’t return to Prescott, but I daresay his spirit will never leave this community.

Back to Harmony

6

September 8, 2019-

Yesterday, I let the sour mood pass through. I think it was a reaction to the falling barometer.  We got about 1.3 inches of rain, in this neighbourhood and in points east.  A trip to the laundromat, on the northwest side of town, revealed continued “dry as a bone” conditions. Whilst at Farmers’ Market, I learned, from a vendor, who is a mutual acquaintance, that an erstwhile tormentor had found some peace in her life.  That is comforting, as unhurt people are less likely to hurt people. As the day wore on, and the rain had passed, I felt more in tune.  Spiritual Feast, in the evening, was vibrant and well-attended, another uplift.

Today has seen a nice breakfast at Post 6 come and go.  Now the long and celebratory Farm-to-Table Dinner will occupy my afternoon and evening.  This is one of four large social events of the Autumn-three of them this month and the last, on November 2, which will keep me connected to the community and offer a form of activity, in addition to Planet Fitness and whatever hiking I do, here and elsewhere in the Southwest.  Service projects, other than the above, will also be performed, through the Red Cross.  Home safety, simply put, is our major focus, in areas at risk for wildfire.

The message comes to me that disharmony is, largely, actually a product of not being in sync with the community.  Letting other people’s pain affect my own self-concept is a disservice, to them and to myself.  So, back to a state of balance I go.

Today will make many people happy.

The Flow

2

September 6, 2019-

On any given day, I wake between five and six.

On any given day, I tap into an energy flow,

which tells me what I must do that day.

At any given moment,

there is a task,

which may, or may not,

involve payment.

At any given moment,

there is a sense of urgency,

for what is best done then and there.

With any given person,

there is a special element of his/her presence,

that calls for a certain degree of my presence.

With any given person,

there is a gift that is imparted,

that calls for my own gift, in return.

Tonight, I visited with one whom I regard

as my best friend,

and exchanged the gifts of heartfelt discourse.

This week, I have spent time with

members of my circle of honour,

and likewise have given and received

abundant presents of the Spirit.

 

Lack of Imposture

17

September 4, 2019-

Every so often, when I get in a situation where it seems my presence isn’t wanted, the default status, known as Impostor Syndrome, jumps out and tries to say “Boo”.

I feel this, particularly when I go into a business establishment and am either given a pro-forma greeting, followed by a brush-off, or am treated rudely by one or more staff.  Then, there are those who cannot maintain eye contact for more than a minute or so.

In the old days, I’d figure I just wasn’t worth it.  Other people were okay, but I was a different matter.  This didn’t so much impact my casual friendships, but it did affect everything from my dating to employment interviews.

Experiences were thus limited and my own confidence had to start from the ground and work up.   Time in the Army helped-as I was responsible for accountable mail.  Time in college, afterward, wasn’t so beneficial, in terms of self-confidence, nor was the first part of my educational career.  It took marriage, the Baha’i Faith and time among Native Americans to build a solid foundation.  Still, I had trouble whenever I dealt with mainstream society.

Having to be on my own, since 2011, has erased most of this sense of imposture.  It started to come back, last Fall, when I was challenged by someone, as to my very basic level of competence.  I made it past that hurdle, only to have self-doubt re-surface, over the past  week.

So, it became needful to spend much of this day in reflection.  Some conclusions:  It is NOT my fault that the bar manager at a local restaurant was in a bad mood and avoided dealing with anyone dining at the bar, and not imbibing alcoholic beverages.  It is not my fault that a vendor at Farmer’s Market would prefer I not stop at her stand, and take her attention away from older women, who may or may not purchase items.  It is not my fault that a Hispanic waitress at a downtown diner prefers to not serve or interact with English-speaking patrons.

I will do what I can to accommodate these people, and others like them, but I will not, any longer, absorb a sense of imposture or unworthiness, into myself.

On Justice

4

September 1, 2019-

“O SON OF SPIRIT! The best beloved of all things in My sight is Justice; turn not away therefrom if thou desirest Me, and neglect it not that I may confide in thee. By its aid thou shalt see with thine own eyes and not through the eyes of others, and shalt know of thine own knowledge and not through the knowledge of thy neighbor. Ponder this in thy heart; how it behooveth thee to be. Verily justice is My gift to thee and the sign of My loving-kindness. Set it then before thine eyes.”- Baha’u’llah

I spent much of the day today, pondering the operational definition of justice.  Baha’u’llah is writing about Divine Justice, which takes into consideration all sides of an issue, instantaneously.

That, of course, is something that takes a lot longer for us mortals.  We have different ideas, based on the particular doctrine or interpretation of Scripture, as to what Divine Justice even means.  How much more does the meaning of everyday justice find wildly different viewpoints, largely dependent on one’s life experiences and view of the world.

What triggered this was my having been followed, closely, by another motorist this afternoon, whilst running some errands downtown.  Traffic was unusually heavy for a Sunday, and Driver A was on the verge of road rage, over the spillover effect of traffic bunched up, through two lights.  I, being immediately in front of him, caught a long horn blast, two seconds after the light had turned green and whilst I was waiting to turn left.  Prescott’s left turn arrows are few and far between, so I had to wait for oncoming traffic to pass, which infuriated him even more.  He followed me to my next left turn, then leaned on the horn again, when I was waiting for yet another care to pass straight ahead. Then, he decided to go straight himself, and the air was peaceful once more.

Which was the justice, and for whom?  I grew up with my Dad, some uncles and my driving instructor telling me that there is seldom a black and white, when it comes to traffic.  The seemingly brash and rude driver gets his/her attitude from somewhere-ranging from an inbred sense of entitlement (actually quite rare, even today) to a very real amount of pressure-from a spouse, from an employer or client, from a participant in our appointment-driven society or from society-at-large.  The people going straight were going by a centuries-old, universally-accepted tradition of traffic flow, as was yours truly.  The belligerent Driver A was just pushing an envelope, which the rest of us could not fathom.

Justice, then, can’t immediately be understood by one and all.  It takes what my mother instilled in us: The pondering of other people’s circumstances and, to a point, willingness to make adjustments to our own behaviour.  I thought of this point as well, after a local resident was beaten by a man who demanded she give him cash or phone cards.  The case is winding its way through the justice system, and has made its way to social media.  As these two elements of modern life are frequently at odds, you can imagine the status of the investigation.  Everything, from women’s rights to fair treatment of the homeless, factors into such a case.

As we move forward, perhaps seeing justice for what it really is, the end product of love, would be a good place to start.

The Cleansing

0

August 31, 2019-

The day began with my usual Saturday ritual:  Get up, sans alarm, devotions, coffee& paper and a visit to Farmer’s Market.  What is different today was the call to clean up.  A local business owner found an abandoned homeless camp near and around his property, in a wooded area by Granite Creek, one of Prescott’s many streams.  The creek flows into Watson Lake, a reservoir that is also a prime boating and fishing venue.  Thus, it’s a good idea to keep the watershed clean of trash and debris, a notion that has not been front and center for those who regard themselves as desperate for a place to live, or for those who rousted the squatters out of their encampment, nearly a month ago.

One longtime friend of the owner has been steadfast in helping him clean the place, over the past three days.  I joined them today, and will do so again on Monday morning and any morning that I am not working, Wednesday-Friday of the coming week.  Much of the large items, like  tents, blankets, coats, and sleeping bags were bagged and set for disposal on Tuesday.  Disclosure:  NONE of the items are salvageable, as water and mud have rendered them useless.  This is the cost of “sweeps”, and of random, ungoverned squatter camps.

That brings up a broader issue:  The matter of personal responsibility for self and for community.  The lay minister who was my partner on this endeavour, this morning, raised a valid point as to the tendency of people to leave solutions to issues to government- or to some other group.  Many people in Prescott, and in other places across the globe, tell themselves that it’s the government’s job to tend to social issues.  This attitude can be shown either vocally(including online posts, telling the police, Parks & Recreation, etc. to “Do their job”) or by attrition (i.e. volunteering for an activity, then just not showing up).

I was, thankfully, raised to take responsibility for the neighbourhood and/or the community, and trust me, I was not always the kind of child who wanted to get out and volunteer for such projects.  My parents kept after us anyway, and instilled that sense of community involvement.

There are as many ways to “cleanse” a community and build its strength, as there are people.  The Red Cross effort to make sure smoke alarms are working, in modular homes and more conventional dwellings, is also an effort that is gaining steam here.

Lastly, the cultural strength of a community matters greatly, in building a civil society.  The Folk Sessions and Concerts at the the Court House are a major piece of this effort, as are the art fairs, soccer matches and the Farmer’s Market itself.  Last night, an intrepid young woman,who I am proud to regard as a friend, made Prescott a stop on her way from Portland to Boston, just for the sake of supporting the musical scene in a town that welcomed her, three years ago.

There are many ways to build a community-and I know of shut-ins who make quilts or stuff backpacks for needy kids, in the new school year, or the disabled man who fashioned an “adventure train” for stray dogs, whom he takes out of the shelter, two or three days a week. I am fortunate to still be able to be of more ambulatory service, and thank my spirit guides and the Creator for this.

Just, let’s not pass the buck back to the next one, or to the Government.

Dribs and Drabs

9

August 29, 2019-

It’s been a fine week, so far.  I just feel like making a few random observations, today.

The National Weather Service has one forecast for Prescott, from now til October:  Sunny and warm.  The skies, though, have their own ideas.  One area, or another, of Yavapai County has had a fairly good soaking, the past few days.  This is what is most likely to continue.

A few shout-outs to local residents:

My Red Cross volunteer partner, Jenn Winters-Ashcraft, has largely been the force behind our finally canvassing homes in western Yavapai, for working smoke alarms. This endeavour will compete with substituting, on my own schedule.  Money aside, it’s academic (no pun intended) as to which is more important for our community.

Mr. Matt Williams is spearheading the clean-up of an abandoned homeless encampment along Prescott’s main waterway, Granite Creek.  Yours truly is part of that, as well.

The Boars Head girl, at Sprouts, offered us kids a fine deal on cold cuts & cheese, so I have had four days’ lunches all covered, for a reasonable price.

A variety of workers, across business fields, are holding down the fort in this season of high heat, for their less heat-tolerant colleagues.  I have seen this in at least a dozen places, this week.

When someone is uncomfortable in another person’s presence, it falls to that other person to give the uneasy one some space.

The Epstein Horror Project is finished, kaput-but the victims will long need the support of every decent human being.

The Amazon Basin Horror Project, it seems, is just getting started.  Sorry, but there is no comparison between the willful decimation of a global resource and the accidental spark that set Notre Dame Cathedral alight.  The very farmers being sent to do this dirty work are bound to be among its first victims.

I look forward to a weekend of celebration. God bless the workers whose efforts are tantamount to acts of worship.

Summer is almost, “officially”, over.  Friends, don’t worry about wearing white after Monday.  We have at least three weeks of heat left.

 

 

The Wheat and the Chaff

3

August 26, 2019-

Sitting at home, this sultry evening, working on a project for a friend, I got this insistent message to walk downtown, and visit Frannie’s, a frozen yogurt shop and bakery.  Setting the work a side, I headed into the bright sunset and, ten minutes later, found myself one of two patrons, in the final thirty minutes of  the shop’s open hours.

The other patron, it turned out, was an 81 year-old farmer from a small village about 35 miles to the southwest.    We chatted about a steak house in the village, and how it hangs on, week after week, with a great facility but few customers.  The owner of the steak house hails from somewhere in the Northeast.

That led to a discourse about our current President, one of his rivals and a group of Congresswomen, and how being immersed in the culture of a certain area makes one behave, consistently, in a certain way.  The gentleman expressed concerns about the motives of those who oppose our current President, whom he regards as a crusader.

I chose to listen, and not counter any of this, as it’s all going to turn out as it is supposed to transpire.  I am not much of a political animal, preferring to work across the spectrum as, the last time I checked, we were all put here to work together.  It may not always be easy to hear theories that seem made from whole cloth, yet they are only that-theories, which are subject to change, in light of new information.  This is as true of some notions that I have had, as it is of anyone else’s.

Just as his comments were about to turn into a rant, my former co-worker, her husband, daughter and daughter’s boyfriend emerged from the shop.  Delighted greetings, and exchanges of how things were going for each of us, took the next few minutes. Learning that an all-woman staff was in place, in my former work site, is an affirmation of what I said above:  The right thing happens, even if after a fashion.

Once the family left, our conversation turned to health practices.  At first, he admonished me for not having taken better care of myself, en route to age 70.  I mentioned some things that I AM doing, on my own behalf, and he relented a bit.  The gems of wisdom he then imparted, struck me as the main reason I was led to go to the shop, in the first place.

Baking soda and vinegar could augment my efforts at trimming down (Slim shakes from do Terra, along with more fruits and vegetables).  It would have to be good quality baking soda, with the Vinegar of the Four Thieves that I have on hand.  Check, for tomorrow morning!  He seconded my use of frankincense and melaleuca, for skin issues.  My exercise regimen sounded just fine.  So, his theory of a decrepit sixty-something was cast aside, with new information.

I still have work to do.  It was a walk well-taken.

The Shift

2

August 25, 2019-

It’s been long in coming,

this being able to empty my mind,

and to sit, just taking in the stillness.

It’s been so much the focus of longing,

this being able to go about and not

have a thousand thoughts and scenarios

distracting me from what is here and now.

It’s such a relief,

to be with people and not concern myself

with the superfluous,

with how people look,

but rather to focus on how they are,

and of what they dream.

Stillness, presence and depth of character

cannot be forced,

as someone tried to do with me,

last autumn.

They must be brought out

by love, by patience, by a sense of balance.

Better

2

August 24, 2019-

The father of one of the 19 Wildland Firefighters who died in the 2013 Yarnell Hill fire, gave me a wristband that his son had devised, shortly before his death, that said, simply, “Be Better”.  Andrew used this to remind himself, and his loved ones, to strive daily for self-improvement.  So, I am deeply honoured that I should have this wristband to wear.

I have also had this as my motivating force, climbing out of various ruts and working to treat those around me with ever more consideration and equanimity, especially over the past eight years.  Every so often, I slip.  We all do.  The wristband will help remind me to not let any provocation set me on a downward path.

This brings me to the natural inclination that we have, to attack what we don’t understand, perhaps thinking that, if there is enough vehemence in one’s voice, the “bad guy” will go away.  This is a much more tightly-connected world than in the days of White and Black Hats.  Those we fear and loathe tend to hang out on the fringes, rather than just disappearing.

So, improving oneself  not only takes on an increased urgency, it also serves as a beacon for even those who regard us with loathing.  “Be Better” does not draw a concrete trench  between us; it beckons us to resolve that which stands between us.

It is no secret that I have friends across the political spectrum, standing only against bullying and violent, excluding behaviour.  A person’s viewpoint is always subject to being challenged; but it is theirs to explain, and to hold, and hopefully to expose to new information.

I learned that one of my more politically conservative friends passed away, at a very young age, a few days ago.  I will miss our sharing of visits to Indiana Dunes and her accounts of the beauty of Brown County, in the south central part of Indiana,  and I will miss her keen mind, while remembering that my more moderate views on things Federal did not always sit well with her.  Being better, though, always resonated with A, even as it does with several of  her fellow conservatives and many of my more liberal and progressive friends.

One needs no one’s agreement, or permission, to work on oneself, after all.