Twists and Turns

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January 8, 2023- The usually spirited and upbeat friend of mine seemed a bit reserved and downcast, yesterday, and though such happens to everyone, now and then, I will keep a close watch over the next several Saturdays, to make sure that it’s not something more serious. Likewise, another dear friend, facing the aftermath of a loss and an ongoing family health issue, may well need my help very soon. For these and other commitments, my meanderings will be limited, over the next few weeks.

Today was largely a day for honouring a woman who had given an enormous amount of herself to the veterans of our area, since the 1990s. Coleen “Corky” Hintz had been an irrepressibly joyful presence at our American Legion Post, since 1994, and was one of the first to welcome me there, in the Fall of 2011. She spearheaded and hosted so many activities, even after overcoming a serious health challenge, nearly eight years ago, that her passing leaves a crater-not easily filled. It was beyond fitting, that the hall was packed. The packets of Forget-Me-Not seeds that were offered to each of us are aptly named.

Northern California, and by extension SoCal and northern Nevada, remain much on my mind. There are dear friends scattered around the region, as well as the fact that, in general, the flood danger in the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta could easily be of Biblical proportions. Anything I do for the Red Cross out there is probably a month away, but the twists and turns of life can shred plans into so much confetti.

In sum, I’m glad to have not signed up for a dull life.

Progression

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January 7, 2022- The breakdown of the common areas of our local Farmers Market took about ninety minutes, as it was my first time with the crew. This year, I have committed to more consistent volunteer work, and early Saturday afternoon is the least interrupted by other activities. Red Cross events, happening primarily during the week, are more touch and go, with substitute teaching and what few dental and medical appointments I have, tending to conflict with them.

Regardless of what choices one makes, though, the key to their being meaningful is clear, consistent communication and not making assumptions about when is a good time to communicate. I had occasion to check in with someone this weekend and found that the matter would have been better discussed earlier. Assuming the individual was too busy, I let slide, which was a mistake.

Another friend, of eleven years, is entering a period of great change in her life, and will likely need my assistance in a few months. Suffice it to say that the change represents stability, in a way that I have hoped for her, for a very long time.

Progression of communication skills, and the relationships that stem from and depend on them, is often a forwards, then backwards, process. We are seeing it in world affairs, in government, in commerce and between individuals. I learned a long time, ago, though, that communication, even-or especially-when difficult, is never something that can go backwards and forwards. It is essential to stay in touch, except in cases where communicating with a person, or group, brings forth a clear and present danger. Thankfully, that is not the case for me, with anyone, right now.

Treasure Vases

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January 5, 2023- The prayers went up, the meditation was focused and the didgeridoo sounded, long and with urgency-in the mournful way that only a “didge” can sound.

An Earth Treasure Vase can be placed anywhere, and many have, over the past several years. The focus is on setting peaceful energy in a given space, on fostering both resilience and a renewed spirit of co-operation, across all manner of divides.

It strikes me as less than coincidental, that a 36-hour truce has been called, between Russia and Ukraine, ostensibly for the Eastern Orthodox Christmas holiday. Fatigue, on both sides, is surely a factor, as much as the holiday itself and the energy set forth by gatherings such as this. There are thousands of such meetings, large and small, in-person and online, as we the people, globally, are increasingly sick and tired of conflict-and are seeking ways to move past its root causes.

There are Earth Treasure Vases placed in Utqiagvik, AK; Antarctica; Argentine Patagonia; southern Sweden; the Outer Hebrides; the Swiss Alps; the Bay Area; northwest Australia; in the waters off the Trobriand Islands of Papua-New Guinea; in the mountains above Fukushima; South Island, NZ; New York City; the Flint Hills, KS; Liberia; Palestine; Hiroshima; various points in New Mexico (where the first Treasure Vase was placed) and the Demilitarized Zone of Korea-among dozens of places, worldwide. More will be dedicated and stewarded to other places across the globe.

Concrete action, of course, will be the only real guarantor of peace on Earth, yet let us remember that action rises from radiant energy.

Mind and Spirit, 2023

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January 3, 2023– I spent three hours or so, this afternoon, watching the film, Babylon, which deals with the experiences of four main characters, who are all linked by way of the debauchery of early Hollywood and the transition from silent film to “talkies”. It has a long time span, stretching from 1926 to 1952, and by the time one of the main characters dispatches his listless wife and daughter back to their hotel, choosing to himself take in Gene Kelly’s “Singing In The Rain” in a crowded cinema, his head is spinning from the memories that one film generates-as he had had a hand in trying to promote a talkie that featured the title song, in the early Thirties.

Babylon does not skimp on details of the Bohemian culture of the Roaring Twenties, nor on the hardheaded business culture that funded the fun and games-especially the drug trade which, then as now, was the means to mindlessness. With that I was again mindful that, in every age, each human soul must choose whether to follow the promptings of the body or to center thoughts and actions on the guidance of the Spirit, a guidance based in genuine love.

A few days ago, a correspondent asked of my goals for spiritual and intellectual growth for this Gregorian year. Three main goals, in each area, come to mind.

Spiritually, I will first continue attending and facilitating study circles that focus on personal and community development, based on Baha’i principles. My second goal is to maintain and extend spiritual ties to those in my personal network. Thirdly, I will continue and expand studies of Baha’i and older Scriptural writings.

Intellectually, my first goal is to actively read each day, outside of Scriptural study. My current pile of books consists of :”The Lost World of the Old Ones”, a study of southwest anthropology by David Roberts; “Prairie Erth”, William Least Heat Moon’s lengthy study of life in Chase County, Kansas; “John Adams”, by David McCullough. As I finish each book, another is added to the pile-and immediately waiting are “EcoVillages”, by Karen Litfin; “The Four Agreements”, by Alberto Villoldo; and a re-reading of “The Fifth Sacred Thing”, by Star Hawk.

Secondly, increasing the quality of my dialogues and other conversations with those in my network is a key goal. I recall the tiredness implied in the 1980s book “What Do You Say, After You Say Hello”, and how I bought into the notion that, particularly in interactions between males and females, there is a short leash of sorts which, Eric Berne rightly pointed out, deserves to be severed and a saner appeal to wider shared interests and explorations be the modus operandi in its place. One of my greatest regrets is letting that one-dimensional outlook guide me in my teens and twenties-and re-emerge, in a sense, after Penny’s death. Thankfully, my present network of friends is way past that mentality.

Thirdly, I will focus more, in my activities both here and further afield, taking more interest in intellectual community events, in this area, and spending more time in selected places, when on the road. I am reading, in this month’s National Geographic Magazine, that increasing the quality of intellectual activity does have a positive effect on limiting, even counteracting, dementia and other cerebral impairments.

As with other aspects of my life, specifics will ensue, as the year rolls on. It’ll be a rich one, for sure.

Things I’ve Learned

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December 31, 2022– As another Gregorian calendar year heads to the history books and memory n, what is most important, for an individual, are the lessons brought forward over the twelve months now past.

So, here are twelve things I’ve learned, some cogent, others banal-but all useful.

January- The border between the United States and Mexico is neither as chaotic as politicians away the border claim it is nor as smoothly functioning as it might be. I saw many content, focused people at the station in Douglas, AZ and no evidence of hordes of people sneaking through, at Coronado National Monument, a rural station, south of Sierra Vista.

February- Human beings, regardless of how they come to identify themselves, deserve the respect of those around them-and a keen listening ear. Losing someone who has not been completely understood by some of those around her was both unsettling and cautionary. Rest in Peace, Salem Hand.

March- Most of Man’s inhumanity to Man stems from insecurity. Andersonville showed the historical proof of that, both through its physical remnants and through the exhibits on Prisoners-of-War, both within this country and around the world. A more benign case occurred, in Miami Beach, stemming from a middle-aged man, having designs upon much younger women and threatening violence when I cautioned them about one aspect of his proposal.

April- There is no foolproof means of transport. Taking a train, when the route is secure, is a marvelous way to both see the countryside and to make good friends. The system is not without flaws, though, and a fire at a remote bridge resulted in my taking a Greyhound bus, between San Antonio and Tucson.

May- It is never too late in life for people to connect. An odd proposition was made to me, by someone much younger-and was quickly, if politely, deferred. On the other hand, two people who had been alone for several years, found each other and had a lovely garden wedding, making for several years of a solid bond.

June- There are still places where even brief inattention to surroundings can lead to discomfort, even momentarily. I found one briefly “wet” situation, checking out the depth of a bog. Fortunately, it was an “oops” moment, and caused no difficulty to me or anyone else.

July- You can go home again, but family is often going to be swamped with schedules, plans made at the last minute by spouses and friends, or just the crush of dealing with one of the greatest of American holidays.

August- No matter how well a car is maintained, the aftermath of a chain-reaction accident can lead to a total loss being declared, even 1.5 months after it occurs. So it was, for the vehicle that took me across seemingly ridiculous distances, with nary a squeak. Another person’s health issues led to Saturn Vue’s demise.

September- Not all Baha’i school events need include a heavy dose of scholarly presentations. Just being with children and youth, in crafting, dancing and fellowship, is as much a tonic for the soul as any engagement with intellectuals.

October- New friends, made in the wake of a bureaucratic flub, and clear across the continent, to boot, are as fine a result of a mistake as I can imagine. Three Bears Inn will be a place where I could definitely stay for several days, especially en route to the great mountain parks of the northern Rockies. It is all the sweeter when followed by a visit with dearly beloved friends, themselves so much like family.

November- Speaking of family, it is never necessary for my biological family to expend energy on my entertainment. They do so anyway, but just reveling in their presence and celebrating their achievements, is the finest way to spend any time-especially a holiday.

December- As an Old Guard increasingly passes from the scene, among my cohort of veterans, younger people are arising, in service to those who served our nation. I am also re-learning the rewards of patience, with those around me, as we all face increasing uncertainty. They need me, as much as I need them. I also need to be patient with myself.

Still A Tenderfoot Scout

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December 28, 2022- When I was in Boy Scouts, from ages 10 to 12, I started out, as all did, a tenderfoot. Eventually, I made it up to First Class, with only a lingering fear of deep water keeping me from the mandatory Swimming and Lifesaving merit badges that would have advanced me to Star, Life and Eagle Scouts. To this day, I don’t swim well with my head above water, but can do about 2 laps underneath.

Shyness still makes itself known in friendships as well. There are people I consider friends, who I am a bit reticent about visiting, mainly because they are reticent about being visited, even though when I have seen them, they wax poetic about my loving nature or gentle energy. Of course, this is on them, but it does bring back old insecurities.

I count people as friends, who are from ages 2 1/2 to 91. Each has a connection that is indelible and each brings a particular quality to the table. Children and seniors bring an unfiltered wisdom. All those in between have character qualities that may not be unfiltered, but are worth encouraging. Some of these friends are only reachable online. Others could not be bothered with cyberspace. Some are quite well-known; others are people most could not tell apart from Adam or Eve. Some are people with whom I have had only a few encounters; others have been my friends since childhood. They run the gamut from students to retired executives; from the kids across the street to my financial advisor, who lives in Florida, and the couple who run a seaside bistro in Brittany.

Only a few people, who chose to dwell on my negative qualities, because that’s all they could see, have had to be cut loose. In every other case, my loyalty remains firm-even if a friend comes up with excuses, every time I ask to visit with them, or is surrounded by “protectors”, who make it clear I am not welcome there. I am still something of a shy tenderfoot, yet feel much blessed in the friend department, as has been said several times.

As We Go

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December 25, 2022- It’s quiet, this morning, as it often is around here, on any given Sunday. Occasional cars go by, but most people in the neighbourhood are either busy with their worship services or are opening and enjoying their gifts from each other.

My gifts are more of the heart variety, this year. Just having family and friends is always a blessing, whether they are those who include me in everything, or are more selective in their invitations. All are appreciated and loved. It was an unexpected honour to help a former student’s family by transporting aod single gift to their home, yesterday. Being able to finally connect with an old friend who experienced horrific loss, earlier this year, was a bonus. On the way back, it was also a joy to find Sizzler Steakhouse open, get a good sirloin & shrimp combo, and be served by an angel of a young woman. There is a gold mine, in the ordinary.

I have no idea how this Christmas Day will pan out. Siblings are silent, probably busy with a dozen things. Friends nearby are struggling, and need space. After a devotional, later this morning, the whole of Prescott’s outdoors is waiting, along with a likely visit to Prescott Resort’s always scintillating Holiday Display. As with any organic day, I suspect it will turn out magically.

So, no matter where you find yourselves, on this special day, look to the angels in your midst, and to the better angels of your nature, and know that things will turn out for the best, even if they take lots of time.

Merry Christmas, one and all!

No Reindeer on This Ride

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December 24, 2022- The father took his teenage daughters to pick out a Christmas tree for their home. He was used to going alone, and picking out a huge spruce, that only fit inside the house after a struggle and some sawing off of limbs. Not this time: The girls saw a scrawny, mini-tree, no more than three feet tall. They fell in love with it, and wanted to take it home and care for it-“Looks so lonely, Daddy!”. Yes, the result was a foregone conclusion, and the tree is said to be sitting in the family’s front room, decorated by Dad and his eldest angel.

With this story under my belt, I headed off to deliver a gift which had inadvertently been mailed to me, by a rehabilitation worker who was confused by a patient sending “too many gifts to too many places.” Spoiler alert: There were four gifts going to two places. No reindeer were over-exercised on this delivery. It was me and my Sportage doing the honours.

After a stop in Flagstaff, to pick up a small gift for a family in the same area, who have been suffering a most untimely loss, I headed to Hopiland. Going to delivery stop # 1, I got Reservation-style directions from a woman who barely knew the recipients, and, combining her comments with the description I got from the sender, I was able to deliver the gift easily, and get the t-shirt that was intended for me and had been mailed to the other party.

The other small gift was then brought to the matriarch of the grieving family, and after a brief offer of condolences, I headed back off the Hopi Reservation, a place that has never stopped feeling like home. “Visiting” Hopi families, during periods of mourning or when the people are preparing for a holiday, is a necessarily brief occasion-unless one is of blood family. Then again, the same has been true of late, with other friends- visits pertain to the matter at hand, and vague promises of “getting together again soon” precede the farewell.

Holidays just are not easy for many.

The Ridge

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December 23, 2022-

Ocotillo cactus, late blooming and in autumn fade, Ridge Trail, Sedona

Akuura, my Hiking Buddy, and I chose the Ridge Trail as a pre-Christmas route, following a wide loop path, which ended being close to three miles-a fairly easy but vigorous workout. The Ridge in question would have taken us another forty minutes to get to the top-and thus remains a goal for future efforts.

As it was, we got at least one fine view of the great formations to the east and north.

View of Sugarloaf Mountain and Brins Mesa, from first ridge, Ridge Trail, Sedona
Sugarloaf is in the background.
The remnants of last week’s cold snap remain along the washes which drain Carroll Canyon, along which the Ridge Trail runs. Every ice formation tells its own story.
Some juniper trees tell of hard times.

After our loop, Airport Mesa called-with its Mesa Grill providing a fine repast, as always, and the views from the Mesa top offering a different sort of dessert.

Thunder Mountain and Sugarloaf, from Airport Mesa
Sugarloaf and Brins Mesa, from Airport Mesa viewpoint

Ridges, loop trails and sweeping viewpoints also happen in other aspects of life. The afternoon came and went, with no word on the work situation for next semester. Since I have a Plan B, there is not a whole lot of upset on this end. The main thing is that the students get the best possible teacher, given the circumstances.

More immediately, tomorrow will find me on a relatively brief visit to Hopi, to deliver a gift from a hospitalized former student to his wife. The spirit of Christmas will allow for no less.

Surviving The Crush

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December 22, 2022- On the Pine Ridge and Rosebud Oglala Sioux Reservations, in west central South Dakota, people are faced with piles of snow, thirty inches deep in some places, made even more impassible by the deep freeze that has followed Winter Storm Diaz, and has impacted an area from central Alberta to Orlando, Florida. There are people stranded, far from home, along the Missouri River, in both Dakotas and into Nebraska and Iowa. Drones are dropping infant formula and other necessities, as best they can, in rural areas where other transport is presently impossible.

I will be sending some money to help, through whatever avenue that will help the people of the worst-affected region, who are nearly destitute in the best of times. I have been to Pine Ridge, Wanblee, Martin and Rosebud. I have seen suffering and seen the joy that shines in the eyes of the people, when their humanity is acknowledged by those with no agenda. The warrior spirit of the First Nations people, like that of the people of Ukraine, will carry them through this, and the assistance of those fortunate enough to live in an area not as affected by the crushing cold and snow is more than warranted. Thankfully, also, there is an outreach by the State of South Dakota to the Tribal lands. This is an earnest recognition that there is no longer any daylight between the two entities. The Governor is a rancher, whose family has seen this type of horror before, albeit not to this degree. She has had her differences with the tribes, in the past, but weather has erased ideology as a basis for deciding who gets what.

Leave it to calamity to show humans that banding together is the only way any of us can survive.