A Cosmic Soaking

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September 10, 2022- Today was the latest, in what seems to be a series of auspicious days. This began, this past Tuesday, with the passing of one of my last four surviving paternal aunts, continued Thursday with the passing of Queen Elizabeth II and today, a more cheerful celebration of my mother’s 94th birthday. I was able to sing her birthday greetings, via Face Time-and she liked my singing voice. That’s not a given. Had I sung off-key, I’d have heard about it. Mother has kept us each authentic, over the years.

It was just before starting a day of service, at the Tenth Annual Hope Fest, that this brief phone connection occurred. Hope Fest, for those not familiar, is a large in-person celebration of community service, modeled by the life of Jesus the Christ. So, my own service was basically “serving the servants”, doing whatever was requested by the organizers of the event. I am always a “floater”, going and doing tasks that range from driving back and forth to pick up items overlooked by the Event Director to stomping on excess ice (reminiscent of helping a neighbour of Greek descent stomp on his grapes, as a child). Being the volunteer not as well-known by the Director as her closer friends, I generally keep busy otherwise by finding things that need doing and getting them done.

Today’s event was similar to that of the first year-in that it was punctuated, and interrupted three times, by heavy rain. The first downpour occurred at lunch time, pre-empting the opening ceremony, which is usually a welcome by the Mayor of Prescott and a group photo. The second was in mid-afternoon,just before one of the musical guests was to perform. The third was in late afternoon, and was accompanied by thunder & lightning. The intensity of that downpour led the electronics director, and the scheduled headliner band, to cancel the evening’s performance.

I think it is a good thing that those in charge have a deeply spiritual vision, These, especially the last one, seemed to be cosmic downpours, perhaps testing the mettle of the participants and audience. They did not seem to dampen anyone’s spirits, and those arriving in anticipation of the evening concert were quite accepting of the cancellation, and grateful that the safety of the band and the sound crew were prioritized. The concert artist, who usually paints energetically, in accompaniment to the music, went about her work with only the music in her head to guide her. She is magnificent, in and of herself.

It was a warm rain, and even the young children who were momentarily caught in it were delighted. The monsoon season itself is winding down, and is expected to mostly finish by this coming Tuesday, with a chance for one last sprinkle to accompany the Autumnal Equinox. The Cosmos has been kind to the Southwest, in terms of rain, this summer. Now, we look to whatever lies ahead for Fall.

Saving Grace

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September 9, 2022- I woke this morning, after a vivid dream, in which I had overextended myself, while working in what was a mishmash of high school and university. My first hour class was a high level physics class, in which nearly thirty students submitted intensely detailed project synopses. As they left, I was organizing the submissions into a manageable stack, then realized that I needed to be across campus in short order, to conduct a physical education class, which had not met for two weeks-because I was too involved with the first hour. Surely, the P.E. students had given up on their wretch of an instructor. A visiting professor from Canada appeared and wondered aloud, as to why I had not delegated more to Teaching Assistants-“since that seems to be an American thing”.

It was then that I woke and realized that I had no such responsibilities, and was not going to let anyone down, today, and for the foreseeable future. My substituting tasks are pretty cut and dried, mostly at the upper elementary level, so there is scant chance that any such negligence will be my lot.

In other parts of my life, there is a nagging feeling that I have let people down, by not being where they seem to expect me to be. On the one hand, it is a fine thing to be needed, but on the other, I know that my obligations are primarily to the Creator, then to my own health and sanity, and to family, and only then to the outstretched hands. Someone I admire and respect has seemingly, and unfortunately, taken the brevity of my recent visit as a sign of disinterest on my part, and cut off contact. This is bound to happen, fairly regularly, as the world’s transition to a society at once more connected and yet composed more of self-reliant individuals, struggles to find the balance between those who are self-reliant and those who are needy.

The saving grace, as I was reminded by a dining companion at lunch today, is to recognize that not everyone’s demands of us have an inherent sense of urgency-even when histrionics are employed. My work in this community, and further afield, will stand on its own merits. This is the best that I, or anyone else, can offer.

Fresh Eyes and Heart

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September 7, 2022- There is no better breakfast burrito, anywhere, than a Red from Glenn’s Bakery, on Gallup’s near west side. At least, that has been my experience. I don’t like a BB filled with potatoes-starch upon starch, so there’s that factor. Glenn’s Red Burrito has bacon, red chili and scrambled eggs-nothing more, nothing less and there is a choice of spinach or pumpkin tortilla. I chose spinach. It had not long been out of the oven.

That was the start of the home stretch, of a brief journey of stellar upliftment. The Colorado East Baha’i Summer School was not a treasure trove of scholarly talk, which so many Baha’is my age seem to expect. It was a re-connection of souls, after nearly three years of all COVID, all the time-and its attendant Zoom/Microsoft Teams “gatherings”. It had a devotional focus and considerable attention to our Nine-Year Plan, which itself already seems to dovetail with the enormous changes we have seen, these past two years. Mostly, though, it was a joyous reunion of hearts- and I was glad to be a part of it. To have followed that with an evening of equally heartfelt spiritual connection, along the West Rim of Rio Grande Gorge set my heart afresh.

Then came Taos and the return along El Camino Real, always refreshing to the eyes. I return to places out of love for those whose spirits shine-and there are more of those, with each stop along the way. It is that way in Cortez, Santa Fe, Madrid (NM), Moriarty, Albuquerque’s Old Town, Gallup-and Winslow. A little place called Sip Shoppe, across from Standing On The Corner Park, has been my go-to place in Winslow, for a few years now. I was delighted to get into town, in time for an early lunch.

There was, however, a pall on the occasion, as I received word that one of my paternal aunts, whom I had visited in Maine, a few years ago, had passed on. After lunch, I walked over to Route 66 Park, which Winslow has established along the Santa Fe Railroad tracks. I wanted only peace and quiet, hoping to sit in the gazebo and pray. The spot was taken up by a disabled man, who seemed to be needing solitude of his own. After some further walking along the sidewalk that featured three or four verses of doggerel, I chose a north-facing bench, and engaged in my prayer and meditation.

Thinking further, about a friend who had done a marvelous series of posts on Winslow, a few months ago, I took a few shots of Route 66 Park, before heading back to the Sportage and driving the rest of the way to Home Base.

Classic VW Beetle, Route 66 Park, Winslow
Sculpture in honour of Indigenous peoples of the Winslow area
Ode to Hubbell Trading Post, about two hours northeast of Winslow

The towns and cities of the Southwest are particularly given to being seen with fresh eyes, each time one passes through.

Brightness, Under A Half-Moon

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September 5, 2022, Taos- About seven miles west of this town of Puebloans, hippies, cowboys and off-the-grid Libertarians, there is a bridge across Rio Grande Gorge. About a mile further west, there is West Rim Road, which takes people to old Apache campsites, new marijuana farms and a Buddhist stupa, atop a hill and past various homes built by Apaches, South Asians and the above-mentioned Libertarians. Among those who built a home, on ancestral land, is a friend, G. She and her surrogate grandson live in a comfortable solar-powered residence, about a mile off West Rim Road.

When I was leaving Colorado East Baha’i School, earlier today, I felt very strong energy, telling me to go towards Taos and G’s home, and to do whatever it took to visit them. So, after helping with the clean-up at CEBS, and bidding farewell to new friends, I headed down I-25, and arrived in Taos around 5:30 p.m. With my usual penchant for following general directions in a skewed manner, and for not checking my phone while I was driving, I missed a few last-minute updates-which came while I was on “Flag Road”, as her graded road is called. I also missed G, while going in one direction, only to turn around and see her, while driving in the opposite way. Call it lighting effect, fatigue or, as one local astrologer said, “the Taos effect”, in the end I followed G slowly up the driveway, and in short order was enjoying the delectable fresh garden vegetables, with chopped tuna and non-glutinous rice, that she had prepared in honour of my visit.

A half-moon guides us tonight, and with its energy, G filled me in on the events that have transpired since I last saw her, in Tucson, at her son’s residence. Grandson, M, proved a quiet, but congenial young man and seems like he will be an asset to G, in the months ahead. The time there was well-spent, and the house will not be hard to find, when I am next in this part of New Mexico. As the evening turned to late night, I headed back into town, and now am resting in Super 8, on Taos’ south side.

G’s brightness is always evident, no matter the phase of the Moon.

The Future of Power

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September 4, 2022, Colorado Springs- I had breakfast with a group of children, this morning. The topic of conversation (to which I was largely relegated to the role of listener) was the quality of schools and of those schools’ schedules. There was a fairly lively debate about the advantages of sacrificing an hour of sleeping-in, four days a week, for the joys of a Friday off. Siblings from a rural community, in southeast Colorado, have that reality. The rest, living in various communities along the Front Range, are attending schools with standard, M-F 8-3 regimens. Quietly, I empathize with the four-day week, though I would have to LIVE near the school that starts at 7 a.m., in order to work there-especially in winter. The children, ages 6-10, have definite expectations about what they want from their teachers-and recess is not their “favourite subject”.

Another aspect of child life these days is, as it has ever been, the angst of adults, especially of grandparents and their contemporaries, over “What will become of humanity?”, as they observe little boys fighting, throwing things from rocks to tantrums and being generally aggressive. “Where do they get that from?”, asked one grandmother, while fretting that the generation will become inherently violent in their own adulthood. The answer to the question is: We are, physically, animals, and thus have one part of ourselves that is territorial and defensive. The answer to the second fear is: It falls to us to nurture the rising generations, intervene, nonviolently, in the fracas and offer alternatives to trail by combat. It is going to take a long time to get past the genetic memory of spanking, a practice which I admit I used, albeit sparingly, in bygone days. Yes, adults who hit, with the best of intentions, sanction present and future hitting by their offspring. Thankfully, I saw only nonviolent firmness and loving care by parents, even when they thought no one was watching, these past three days. The toughest of men were as steel and velvet, and the women were, as ever, firm and gentle. The little boys will grow up, by and large, to emulate their fathers.

I am coming away from this gathering of Baha’is, and some of our friends from the wider community, with deep-seated hope. The emphasis here has been on cooperation and creativity, as well as the deepening of faith. The power invested in children, and the channeling of energy in a constructive direction, is being replicated in any number of communities, nationally and worldwide. It is this phenomenon which is actively competing with the acquiescence to the above-mentioned violence, and the use of electronic media as passive diversions, for the hearts and minds of young people. The children, based on what I heard this morning at breakfast, prefer the former.

Power thrives on encouragement and nurturing.

“Manitou Likes You!”

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September 2, 2022, Colorado Springs- After edging along I-25, due to an unfortunate collision, I made a detour over to Manitou Springs, a most pleasant town west of Garden of the Gods and north of Seven Falls, as well as being a gateway to Pikes Peak. My once favoured lunch spot there, Hearts of Jerusalem, closed during the COVID period. In its place is Good Karma Coffee House and Deli, a thoroughly delightful husband and wife-operated spot, with a short, but well-conceived menu. After an “Inside-Out Grilled Cheese”, I walked on over to The Taos Maos gift shop and bought a nicely-made wind chime, which will accompany another that will get from Arcosanti, in a few weeks. Maos is as interesting as its name implies, and has small items that can enhance even the simplest home.

After that was done, I remarked to the parking lot attendants, two very agreeable and helpful ladies, how much I like Manitou. Their response was: “Manitou likes you!” Moments like that are always affirming. I got up to La Foret Conference and Retreat Center, just northeast of downtown Colorado Springs, in mid-afternoon, and checked in to Colorado East Baha’i School an hour early. We began study and discussion of meaningful social action, this evening and will continue over the next 2.5 days.

I am in a comfortable little cabin, with one roommate-a nice gentleman, and six other cabin mates, all very considerate and agreeable people. There is an abundance of children and teenagers here, also very considerate and high-functioning people. As we are preparing to get ready for sleep, thunder and lightning are all around us. Rain has come to CS to the first time in two weeks, a welcome easterly extension of the monsoon.

I bid you all good night, with a scene from Manitou Springs and one from La Foret.

Yes, Manitou is ONE of Colorado’s Christmas cities.
Inglis Hall, named for La Foret’s founders.

Questions About the Ordinary

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August 30, 2022- The students were asked to draw their non-dominant hand, to examine both front and back and to write down any questions that came to mind about the hand. This was all by way of the commenter explaining how great discoveries are made, just by taking time to look at things that one sees every day. He pointed out that Galileo, using a telescope that Italian military scouts employed to keep watch on intruders, managed to see the physical features of Earth’s Moon. Mary Anning’s curiosity about rocks on the beach at Lyme Regis led to her finding the complete fossilized skeleton of a plesiosaurus. She helped identify a skeleton her brother had found, of an ichthyosaur, and later herself found the fossilized remains of a pterosaur.

With that background, the two classes of 10-year-olds were set to the examination of the non-dominant hands of themselves and of a partner. Some came up with as many as ten questions. Others could not think of any. Such is the range of curiosity, even among children. Some are ready to examine the world and all that is therein-or far beyond it. Others are like the baked earth that follows a period of warm rain. While we ought give up on no one, a goodly dose of patience will be needed, in encouraging some to learn-while others are just late bloomers, who will eventually find the stirrings of curiosity breaking through, like shoots through a hard soil that is cracking open.

So many times, I have asked, with regard to an ordinary phenomenon: “Why is that?” As long as that persists, I will wake each day with a sense of anticipation.

Radiance

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August 27, 2022- In the middle of the 1990s, a gentleman took the helm of Native American Baha’i Institute, which heretofore had been a project of local Dineh and White residents, and persuaded a good number of us to adopt a series of best practices. The focus was to remain on serving the needs of the local community, but with a wider vision-improving the educational programs, both spiritual and academic, which were beginning to be offered by the Institute. The gentleman and his wife administered the Institute for 3 years or so, then were called to do other work in the Phoenix area. Their philosophy and programs, while being put in the background by their immediate successors, never went away and have found new life, in the present administration.

Joel Orona, MBA, PhD, worked tirelessly on a variety of programs during his long career, which ended a year ago today. His soul’s work was to uplift both the view that the First Nations peoples of North America have of themselves and the view that mainstream America has of its Indigenous inhabitants. Academic standards held by Dr. Orona were very high, and so was his commitment to presenting the culture of his ancestral Apache people. He did both, and with his wife, sons and grandchildren, was a familiar face at various cultural institutions associated with Native American art, music and dance.

This morning, several people from around the planet celebrated the life of Joel Orona, his radiant spirit and long list of accomplishments, in a special First Year remembrance. He accomplished much, to the betterment of the Dineh (Navajo), the Akimel O’odham (Pima) and his own Apache (Inde) people, over four decades. None of those achievements, however, eclipsed his role as husband, father and Tata (grandfather). This was underscored by the remembrances each of his family members had of him.

Radiance remains, long after a person of substance is gone.

Eliminating Piles

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August 23, 2022- A friend sent a message this morning, about a large body of work that needed to get done this week, which she has to do herself. Shortly afterward, another friend sent a request that I help at a coming event, by washing and drying glasses. Tomorrow, I will be part of a team that sorts out and inventories the contents of a small trailer which will be used in the event that a shelter is needed, upon any sort of local disaster.

Late summer,and early autumn, are times when farmers and ranchers look to getting everything set for a potentially long winter. A productive growing season helps, in that regard. This has been, in the Southwest at least, a very wet and sometimes volatile summer. It is well that we have this much moisture-and it would be nice if the planet as a whole could enjoy sufficient rainfall, though that would seem to go against the physics of weather.

There are going to be constant tasks to get done, throughout anyone’s life, if for no other reason than this world is something of a proving ground for developing spiritual qualities, such as compassion, cooperation, diligence, perseverance and trustworthiness. Some work is going to be harder than others, and some work needs to be repeated, no matter how well it is done the first time. The piles may be replaced by still other piles, but in the end, it is the attitude one takes towards such work that determines how hard it is to deal with subsequent burdens.

These thoughts came to mind, as I briefly met two friends who were off for a day of working compost piles, surely a job that requires diligence and perseverance.

Ownership

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August 22, 2022- It is essential to own what’s yours.

It was an “oops” morning. I had made a wrong notation on my place of assignment, for this morning’s efforts. As far as I can figure, two assignments popped up, at the same time, and I clicked on one, while mentally registering the other. It all worked out, and I did some good work at Location B. Once done, an acknowledgement of my error was in order, and Supervisor gave me a pass-and a pat on the back, for overall excellent work. It pays to own one’s behaviour and its results.

It is essential to relinquish what is no longer yours. The title to Saturn Vue was returned to me, due to a slight gap in communication, itself stemming from momentary uncertainty from the insurance companies and body shop, as to the reparability of the vehicle. This afternoon, I returned the title, one more time, to the insurance company. This time, it will stay with them, as the law requires. Kia Sportage is now my road friend, and the settlement funds were transferred to the dealership, as agreed.

It is essential to own one’s love for humanity. I returned to the Open Feed, in which I assisted two weeks ago, letting the team know that my absence last week had nothing to do with having been threatened by a disgruntled homeless man. God knows, I ignore threats and go with what my heart says. The diners thanked me for ladling the soup, after which it was prudent to help the lone janitor by folding up chairs, so that he could focus on vacuuming the huge carpet. There is no daylight between my feelings for homeless veterans and undocumented immigrants; for people of colour and “rednecks”; for known friend and “stranger”.

It is essential to own one’s dignity and worth. Love for humanity does not mean enabling the grifter, the liar, the imposter. In fact, the opposite is true. Making such people either follow the Golden Rule, or cutting off all contact with them, is the true loving choice. I have elaborated on that, previously, but mention it here, lest trolls try to engage in false equivalency.

It is essential to own what’s yours, and relinquish what isn’t.