August 12, 2025- The self-described guest took charge of the meeting, almost from the start. Offering to take notes, she kept meticulous order and did not let anyone stay off track for more than a few seconds. I sat across from her, and can attest that the notes were copious. Hard of hearing, she also insisted that some comments be repeated, and more slowly. In short, she brought some of our membership back to a reality that had been shoved to the back burner, in our perception of urgency, and in at least one case, doom scrolling.
Our group is facing a few unpleasant realities- first, the skyrocketing cost of insurance and second, the ticking clock that spares no one. That makes the “firecracker” octogenarian, with no outward sense of either gloom or doom, such a refreshing harbinger of what the next decade might be, at least for yours truly. Physical and mental exercise, combined with proper nutrition, seem to keep her in a rather solid position. I resolved to follow the same path, much of which is already in place.
Another aspect of today’s meeting is that we were able to arrive at consensus, as to our next steps regarding the future of the enterprise with which we are concerned. We will need to exercise discernment, in dealing with someone who has made several promises and who may have given us erroneous information. We will need to show discretion and prudence, in the matter of how best to arrange for the rental of heavy equipment and in the renovation of one of our buildings. We will, above all, have to remember the wishes of the founder of the institution with which our group, both official committee members and on-site workers, are charged to preserve.
The Divine has sent us a firecracker. That tells me that there are some solid plans for this rustic property. We need not doom scroll any further.
August 11, 2025- After 46 years in education, I am still somewhat thrown off by questions about very technical issues. Nitpicky matters have just never really interested me, so my tendency has been to give them short shrift. There are times, though, when it’s necessary to get out the notebook and take careful stock of the particulars of things. Today was such a day.
Last night, I went through an online class on Red Cross pedagogy, of all things. Even though it’s better to look at anything academic in the light of day, I pursued it anyway. When it came time for assessment, the technical issues had not registered, and I decided to re-take the class-in the light of day.
So today, after Coffee Klatsch and some checking on the status of fires on the White Mountain Apache Nation, I went through the pedagogy class again, being more careful to take notes on the Course Manual segment. What is covered, and where, became more clear and I cleared the assessment with ease.
Since childhood, I have been hard-wired to primarily go forward, with goals and tasks. Letting self get stymied by technical issues or physical challenges has been an issue at times, but mostly it’s been “Forward, ho!” What is different now is that I am more inclined to plan things out more carefully; chalk that up to Hard Knocks University-and the grace of God. Ten or fifteen years ago, I might have put the re-take off for six months to a year-and it probably would have ended up on the Island of Lost Goals.
Now, I am getting satisfaction from each challenge met, no matter how great or small. Forward motion, more tempered by careful planning, remains among my greatest impetus.
August 2, 2025- Half of the large and amazing farm family were gathered under the little tent, enjoying the artificial, but soft, “grass” and managing to stay out of the heat, whilst enjoying the afternoon breeze. They stayed long after the crowds had departed the Market, but none of us on staff were eager to displace them while there was other work to be done. They are avid supporters of the Prescott Farmers Market and themselves run a family farm, about twenty-five miles north of here. They were, therefore, allowed to stay and relax, until “their” tent was the only thing left to put away.
I am one who will gladly give people the courtesy of lingering, so long as my teammates and I are not taken for granted. The family mentioned above would be mortified if they felt that they were being inconsiderate. (I have visited their homestead several times, and they are most gracious.) Conversely, on Monday evenings, I wait long enough so as not to rush Soup Kitchen guests through their meals-but 5:30 p.m. is the limit set by those on the team who have worked since 10 a.m. So, sometimes it means things might get a bit tense, with those who have little sense of time. It is important to show them that courtesy goes both ways.
We have reached a point where those whose primary value is self-reliance and those who cherish achievements as a group have somehow separated from one another. There is what I consider an artificial division between the two, largely fueled by our culture of anonymity, the overvaluing of personal opinion and of course, the wirepullers- opportunists who alternately whisper and harangue. When I go about tasks of service, working with some at various points along the political spectrum, I find that when the goal is understood, the results are the same.
When profit, a worthy pursuit to the extent that it provides for the well-being of many people, is allowed to exceed the public weal in importance, there is an imbalance. When one’s stated opinions, valuable to the aggregate of the community, are given more importance than the views of others, there begins a process of stagnation. I believe that, once views are stated, they belong to the group to which they are directed. They become part of what is hopefully a healthy conversation and ideally contribute to a solution.
I believe that, big tent or small, there is room for many.
July 28, 2025- On the way back from Coffee Klatsch, this morning, I passed the scene of an accident, at a surface street intersection. There were six bystanders helping, so I kept on going. A police car was en route to the scene, as I reached a block south. To be clear, I would have stopped and rendered what aid I could, had I been among the first on the scene. We make room for other people in our lives, without crowding theirs.
Towards evening, I witnessed a conflict between two men. Larger men than I stepped in and separated the two. One was escorted out of the building and the other stayed around, and cooled off. I later talked with the guy who stayed. I learned that he has been pushed around by people in the community, for some time. He also expressed gratitude for those of us who have treated him well. We are seen as more important, in his life, than the bullies-some of whom I know for a fact have been pushed around, themselves.
We are at a crossroads in our social being. Many have found themselves in a position where they are not sure whether their long-held convictions even make sense anymore. Some will just double down on those tenets and see where that leads. Others will seek to expand their mindsets, even turning their backs on the tried and true. In each case, though, none should merely be set aside nor should they be banned from expressing selves.
I could expand on this further, but for now, let’s just say that I am hard-wired to support the Big Tent. It’d be a sadder world, if everything were streamlined and homogenized-or even brought into a state of limited and forced-choice. Anything that doesn’t lead to the hurting of innocents or the vulnerable is on the table.
July 26,2025- There was a consensus among the staff at Farmers Market, this afternoon-The energy today was quite strange. Those who are astrologically inclined put the blame on the retrograde of Planet Mercury. A planetary retrograde is the seeming movement of the orb away from the other planets in the solar system. It is said to bring those influenced by it, back over old ground or unresolved past issues.
I can only say there were a few moments today, when I was feeling a bit of tension-mainly within my own space. At those points, I just stood still and told self to get a grip. It was not going to be a day of being irritated with people, who were just going about their day-even if it seemed that too many were in the same space at once. It worked, and taking my time with several small tasks, one at a time, helped me keep the peace.
Towards the end of my work at the Market, a disabled veteran came along and offered to help. I was absolutely glad to have his assistance and it seemed to make his day. Too many people are made to feel like they don’t matter. I won’t be one of those who stokes that sad fire. My father taught us that everyone has a place in the world, and no one ought to be made to feel worthless. I hope I have made that clear to those who have crossed my path, over the years.
This evening was spent enjoying the music of The Dust Ups, a classic country and surfer music band, out of Tempe. They brought back memories of songs by Dick Dale, the Surfaris, Bob Wills and Don Gibson. Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash and Mexico’s Consuelo Vazquez were represented. (The trio is not to be confused with the four man New Jersey band, The Dust-ups, who also offer country fare). I liked their arrangements and end the day glad that there were no dust ups here, even with the strange energy earlier.
July 24, 2025- There are days when a common thread wiggles its way through the ether, and draws in other threads, which become fastened to it, through a process not immediately comprehensible. Today was such a day. The common thread was my task of getting documentation for possible shelter venues for the American Red Cross.
I had completed the first visit, to Page Unified School District, yesterday, and had made it back to Flagstaff, after a stop at Cameron Trading Post for a Navajo Taco meal. Saving about half of it for a second meal, later today, involved some positioning of the container in what is arguably the world’s smallest refrigerator. American Motor Hotel, where I spent last night, is a space-themed gem, looking somewhat like the brightly- painted lodging establishments now fairly common in the Los Angeles area. The in-room refrigerator is, well, unique and “interesting”. It is designed to hold maybe one or two cold beverages, and a couple of sandwiches. I got the meal container in there, by temporarily removing the shelf and inserting the container vertically.
All in all, though, Americana is a great place to spend a night or two, or even make a vacation of it, as there is an outdoor pool, a funky Mexican restaurant on site, a large outdoor patio area with shaded round tables and room decor that is both amusing (a blue orb that shines and rotates, when plugged in) and thought-provoking (framed posters). The congenial desk staff seals the deal, with cheerful attention to every guest and offering reusable metal water bottles as welcome gifts. Thus, my overnight in Flagstaff became a mini-break from the business at hand. Breakfast at an old East Flagstaff favourite, Miz Zip’s, was a further delight, with homemade corned beef hash as a well-enjoyed choice. Sedona, the lone server when I first came in, was cheerful and attentive to all, even as nearly twenty people showed up after I came in and sat down. Mz. Zip’s has lost none of the ambiance it had when I lived here in 1980-81.
East Flagstaff has its share of fun places, but it was time to head out towards Native American Baha’i Institute, a three-hour drive eastward. The ride was smooth, and traffic moderate, especially once I got past Winslow. I got there, greeted those present, in the Navajo way, with a handshake and “Yaa’tey” (Good day), and went over the requisite forms for a Shelter Survey. Then, it was time for a mini-birthday celebration for one of the elders, with cake. A discussion followed, about non-Navajos hunting elk on the Reservation, by using helicopters. It doesn’t surprise me that this is being done, but I expressed my view that the Navajo Nation Council should be the arbiter of such practices. The elders agreed, and one of them has already filed a complaint with his councilman.
Wanting to get back to Home Base by early evening, I bid farewell to the Dineh friends and drove back towards I-40. Close to the entry point, I encountered a lady who said that a car was on fire up ahead. Lo and behold, a Navajo Police officer had parked near the vehicle that was indeed on fire. Saying a silent prayer for the safety of all concerned, I thanked the lady and turned around, being able to warn another driver about the situation, before taking the detour to the highway. A fire truck and water tanker came by, just before I hit the road.
That brings me to the next unanticipated thread. I gave a ride to a Dineh man who was heading, via circuitous route, to his granddaughter’s birthday party, far to the south. Turns out, he has been working for a modular home manufacturing company, which closed its factory in Page, just this week. The situation is complex, but here is a man, one of many, who is being left high and dry. This is the first I had heard of the situation, but it would not be the last. I heard him out, and got him to a location, south of Holbrook, from where he could catch a further ride. The rest of the drive home, via Winslow, Clints Well and Camp Verde, was serene and in fairly light traffic. I enjoyed the rest of the Navajo Taco in the comfort of Home Base I.
Thus did the thread of my main effort, getting the process going for Red Cross shelters in two more localities, find itself interwoven with wildlife conservation and protection, the housing industry’s woes and their effect on workers and their families and the pleasurable lodging and dining options on Flagstaff’s east side. It was a good 48 hours.
July 21, 2025- Walking to the Soup Kitchen, this evening, I got an urgent call from a friend, needing assistance. Fortunately, someone else was able to render help. I continued on to the Solid Rock and found that there was a shortage of servers, so my presence was actually indispensable. We did manage to finish serving and the clean-up, by 5:30, thanks to a simpler menu than what we had last week.
It was a day of rolling boulders, and though I managed to avoid getting steamrolled, some had a harder time. Friend texted me afterward, and the emergency had been handled-for now. I will keep my calendar clear tomorrow, though, in case there is any repetition. Another friend had enough of a work situation that he saw as unethical, and quit. He will land on his feet.
A mid-sized restaurant chain, mostly in our area, has been shuttered, due to several allegations of misconduct. The branches I have visited offered rather good food, and many of the workers were pleasant people. I hope for justice in this matter. When the boulders roll downhill, though, they are indiscriminate. More and more, that which has been kept dark is being brought to light.
I am choosing to be more discerning about my own actions and statements. That is the best way I can see to not be steamrolled.
July 20,2025- This evening, I spent a few hours watching all I cared to, of the 2010s series Blindspot. It begins with a woman who has been injected with drugs that lead to her total amnesia. Of course, nothing of the sort lasts forever, and through snippets of triggered memory, helped in part by her having been tattooed in specific manners, over her body, she is soon faced with two DNA paths, as to her real identity.
I may get back to the series at some point, but this week will be focused on three aspects of my own identity: Red Cross documentation, study of Baha’i guidance, and a friend’s need for transportation. Today was just focused on the leisure aspect of who I am. Breakfast with friends, exercise at Planet Fitness and light reading, followed by crossword puzzles and the aforementioned program.
I have a much firmer grasp of my identity and purpose now, than I did in certain parts of years past. There has never been any doubt as to my family, or the love of my late wife. Any gaps in understanding have more or less began and ended with my own being at peace with self. There are things that seem to have been kept from me, by extended family who have gone on-but none of that has any bearing on who I am now, so bygones are bygones. I’ve elaborated in other posts about the various parts of my life, and the people who are important in those elements. What matters most now is what I am going to do with those parts, as I approach the next quarter century, or whatever part of it I may be given.
There is no amnesia, or conflicting paths, as to who I am or what I represent. That’s what matters most.
July 19, 2025- The feather lay on the asphalt, as I left Sportage and went towards Rafter 11, this evening. Remembering the significance, to First Nations people, of a feather lying on the ground, I glanced back and saw that the wind was carrying it towards the edge of the lot. Figuring it would not be run over and therefore safe, I went across the road to indulge in some hummus with pita and vegetable sticks and to enjoy a cover artist’s collection of country and folk rock tunes. Once I took my seat, glancing down, I saw the same feather that had been across in the parking lot. The breeze had picked up during the time it had taken me to cross the street and get situated, so this did not surprise me.
Dineh, Hopi, Apache (Inde) and other First Nations peoples regard a feather on the ground as a gift from the sky, establishing a connection between the receiver and the bird from which the feather came, by extension another link to the Creator. We live in a time when there is an increasingly tenuous connection between Man and the Nature of which he is a part. I have been in various natural settings, from sandy desert to deciduous urban parks; from Ponderosa and Douglas fir forests to high grasslands and desolate peat bogs; from the middle of the ocean to a Vietnamese rain forest. In each, there is a sign of nature.
Usually, that is something like a heart-shaped rock, of which I have encountered many. So have thousands of other people who are observant. Many of us have also seen animals that appear real, only to not be visible in a photograph, when they were present in the view finder, even as the shutter was pressed. I have been gifted with bird feathers by First Nations friends, over the years, and have carefully placed them in a web, attached to a dowsing stick that was given me by a Dineh friend, twenty years ago. The stick itself has two falcon feathers and a wild turkey feather attached. I also have an eagle feather that was given me by another Dineh friend, and which is attached to a wicker heart that Penny devised, in the early 2000s. I placed the raven feather opposite and slightly underneath the eagle feather.
Whilst sitting and enjoying hummus and strumming, I placed the raven feather in a planter next to my table. I found myself considering the matter of Labor Day weekend, six weeks away. I recently received an invitation to attend a Baha’i school in Colorado Springs. Having attended it three times in the past, it was on my mind this evening. With spiritual energy that I can only sense as coming from the feather, I pondered what is happening here at Home Base I, that weekend. I was reminded that my friends at Farmers Market will be busy preparing for the Farm-to-Table Dinner, a week later and that there may be only three of us who can work the market breakdown on August 30. I was also reminded, earlier this afternoon, that a Peace Day will likely take place on August 31. Then, too, after the Farm to Table Dinner, it’ll be off to Europe, and possibly east Africa ( safety permitting), during September and October.
At the risk of overthinking, I am staying put here, over Labor Day. I love the eastern Colorado friends and will pray fervently for their school’s success. I love the friends here, too.
July 16, 2025- We each have a responsibility to investigate truth for ourselves. This is all the more urgent, given the generation of informational pieces, using artificial intelligence. While AI can be useful in graphic design and outlining programs, it also is woefully inadequate in writing factual stories. I have found several such tall tales, involving popular figures. I missed the fallacy in a story regarding a disabled person, until someone presented me with several similar stories about the same disabled person. Stories cannot really be written by algorithm.
This morning, I woke to see an angry emoji apparently sent by a dear friend, with no real context. Upon writing back and forth, it became clear that she had pushed the wrong button on her phone. No harm, no foul. The clearer message was that we were in a good place.
Following through on a plan to shelter concession workers from the North Rim, I was able to arrange tentative lodging. An hour or so later, word came that the employer was going to find more suitable housing for the workers, on its own dime. A shelter will not be needed. That also frees me to take care of other matters.
Procedural matters that were unclear around noon became transparent in mid-afternoon, through information provided by a third person in the discussion. In another context, procedural matters and someone’s dissatisfaction with my work will need further clarification. I’m sure those waters will get clearer, as time goes on.
What started out as “one of those days” actually became a good one. Happy conversation with a dearly loved person, across the ocean, being able to help another friend in the same region with concerns, getting the sheltering issue resolved, and pleasant visits with two friends here in town are not going to be negated by one rather terse encounter,at a business meeting later in the day. The waters of my river are running clear.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 