May 1, 2022- I watched a video of a climate change activist being interviewed by a prominent social change agent, whom I have recently befriended online. The session itself was broadcast on Earth Day, and suffice it to say, I have been so largely occupied with the secondary effects of said climate change, over the past two weeks, that sitting down and listening to the very cogent observations of Peter Kalmus was something that stayed on the back burner until now.
Many of us might be tempted to treat Earth Day, May Day and other social change-themed events as we treat so many other public days: With a view towards entertainment. The people of western Europe had a practice of dancing first around a live tree, then around a secured branch that stood erect, in mid-Spring, which eventually became established as May 1. Because it was fertility-based and came to involve sexual activity, the practice was banned in Puritan communities, both in Europe and North America. The fertility aspect took a back seat, in many cases, to the hedonistic. May Day has more recently become a day for social activism, especially regarding labour issues. Earth Day retains its overall conservation focus, perhaps because there is a dichotomy, even among those living in comfort, between focusing on the well-being of the planet and letting loose in celebration.
While I hardly see harm in finding joy in life, including an element of service, to the planet and to humanity, in our observances will go a long way towards mitigating the damage already done. Performing an act of service each day is even better. There is plenty of time for both.
I am grateful to Marianne Williamson, with whom I have only recently become acquainted, for raising issues that strike at the core of our collective being. We are all in a process of growth, even if some do not consciously focus on it. We are all going around the same maypole.
April 28, 2022- Four groups of high school freshmen watched a video on the “True Story of King Arthur”, voiced in monotone, by an English actor. Some gave it a fair amount of attention, some fell asleep and others vacillated, between checking their messages and looking at the screen. I have the video pretty much memorized, after four straight viewings. Those who are concerned about the assignment that they face next week, will no doubt go on You Tube and check the film in snippets.
On the other side of our county, the fire that got me serving in a Red Cross shelter, last weekend and on Monday, is still raging, albeit being more contained than a few days ago. Being with youth, on the other hand, gives me a sense of the light that truly overcomes the fires of ignorance, destructiveness and imposition of suffering. The teens look out for one another, far more than they are sometimes credited with doing.
These classes are engaged in the study of a project far more cogent than the examination of King Arthur. In the 1990s and early 2000s, a young teacher undertook work with young people who others had written off. At first, any attempt she made to help them was stymied by jealous and insecure traditionalists, who thought that giving her only freshmen students would make her give up and leave the school.
The incompetents lost. Even hardcore youth have an eye for someone who actually cares for them, and gradually, the freshmen made the transition, grade by grade, to being graduating seniors-and many went on to higher learning. This teacher has extended her work to that of Visiting Professor at a university near her high school. She continues to effect change in the hearts and minds of people who might otherwise have been cast off.
This is not lost on the largely lower middle class youth at the high school where I worked today. They, too, are engaged in a journaling project that will be a saving grace for a good many of them. They, too, have experienced being written off by some in their lives-though thankfully not by many in this school.
The light that rises beyond fire is the light of the heart. It can change lives, and communities.
April 27, 2022- The fire found itself blocked, north and east. “Aha”, thought the conflagration, “I see the enemy is only concerned about property. Thus, I shall head west and south, and burn the campgrounds!” It also had visions of doubling back outflanking the firefighters, and burning the towns! “Ha, ha, silly humans! I was here, in the craters and pits, long before any other form of energy. There was no water, no solid land or rocks, just the molten lava and meeeee! Thus, shall it be in the end!!
The craven demagogue looks upon the masses and thinks, “How right Lenin was, with talk of useful idiots! I have them in the palms of my hands. All I need do is tell fanciful tales, demonize the other side and tell the crowds that only I truly understand them, and only I can get them what they need.
The firefighters look at the wind prognosis, and plan for the long run. One crew will work the north, another, the east. A third crew will focus on the west, a fourth team, the south. Then the aerial team will pound the fire from above. They will out-stubborn the force of doom. They will lead the way for rebirth and regrowth.
The voice of reason ponders all options. Freedom and the right to choose for oneself apply to everyone. This is a long, drawn-out process, he knows. His team knows this too, even those who dawdle and fret. All in the room are ready to out-stubborn the dark. All in the room are embracing the light.
April 22, 2022- It’s been fifty-two years since environmental activists gathered, en masse, to protest the policies that contributed to the Santa Barbara oil spill, which happened less than a year earlier.
We have, as a species, gone back and forth on the environment vs. economics issue, over these past many years, and a relative handful of entrepreneurs have engaged in “greenwashing” practices, which look like they are contributing to the improvement of the environment, but do little or nothing to actually help things along. There is also the microplastics aspect, to say nothing of their larger refuse, which has considerable long-term validity, in that the residue of plastics does settle in the stomachs of people and animals, finding its way into the bloodstreams and tissue, of those who ingest it. We can be more discerning, in dealing with the former. The latter, by contrast, will take much more research, as to how to safely capture microscopic plastic residue, store it, reverse engineer it into a usable fuel, and so on.
In the meantime, we have many tasks ahead, in saving both the Earth and ourselves. Alternative sources of energy are in their relative childhood, as electric cars are still prohibitively expensive for a good many people, disposal of spent batteries for such vehicles needs to be addressed-as does the safe disposal of the rare metals that go into such batteries. Every innovation that helps relieve one problem has its drawbacks that need to be addressed, preferably before the innovation becomes a mass-produced item.
That said, there is no place for throwing up our hands and just continuing down the road that we’ve been bumping along, for the next century or more. Every energy-wasting practice needs to be evaluated, and either reformed or discarded, based on the availability of viable alternative practices. Thankfully, there are solutions, some yet not articulated or made practicable, which will go along way towards alleviating the distress of the planet once the bugs are worked out.
Tonight and tomorrow night, I will man a shelter for those fleeing a sizable wildfire, southeast of town. During the day tomorrow, it’ll be time to help man a couple of booths at the community’s Earth Day event. I will cat-nap my way around these and have time to rest afterward.
As a one-time psychedelic band advised in the late ’60s: “Wake up, it’s tomorrow.”
April 21, 2022- The titular word means “Paradise”, and is the name given to two gardens in west Asia. The first was a lush garden, north of Baghdad, from whence Baha’u’llah departed for what is now Istanbul, in April, 1863. It became the site of Baghdad Medical City, a large complex of hospitals, in 1973. The second is an island, surrounded by canals, in the vicinity of Akka, Israel. It was rented by ‘Abdu’l-Baha, in 1875, as a place where Baha’u’llah could spend time away from the dust and confines of the Prison City of Akka. It reminded Him of the Iraqi Garden of Ridvan, thus becoming eponymous to that spot, and also sacred to Baha’is.
Ridvan is also the name given to the twelve-day festival that celebrates Baha’u’llah’s declaration of His mission, which occurred on or around the ninth day of His stay at the original Garden of Ridvan, and made in the presence of His family and closest followers. Today, April 21, was the day of His arrival at the Garden and May 2 was the day He and His entourage departed. Thus, we celebrate the first, ninth and twelfth days as Holy Days, suspending work to the extent humanly possible.
Today also begins the nine-year period of which I have spoken in a few previous posts. The Universal House of Justice, our Supreme Body, has issued the framework for a Nine-Year Plan. Baha’i communities are also devising plans, within that framework and individual believers in turn are planning activities that fit within both the global framework and community plans. Our Faith works in both a top-down and bottom-up manner; the two being in synchronicity, through constant communication and consultation.
Both my activities here at Home Base and my travels thus have an essentially spiritual component. The goal is always building unity between people.
April 20, 2022- I stopped in at a small local pizzeria, just before a Baha’i meeting, this evening. There was a lone server, a young woman, who seemed flustered by the eatery’s computer system. While she was gracious and seemed eager to focus on the considerable number of patrons who were gathering, as dinner hour progressed, the computer and the paperwork just seemed to be more of a hindrance than anything else.
There were at least five men in the back, who no doubt had their own specific duties, but only one came up front to help her with the system. The front was backed up, and despite her game face, I sensed she was struggling.
I mention this, because it is the second time this week that I have been in a restaurant, where it seemed like men were standing around, having conversation, while a lone woman was holding down the fort in the front. Maybe times have changed, but I recall working in establishments in the 1970s and ’80s, where we all were a team and pitched in when one member was having a rough time.
Later, at another gathering, I was asked to try and find some time to help out with another person’s project, over the next few months. This will happen, yet I want to see more reaching out-so that more people are drawn in to the effort-not just the same few of us, who are asked over and over again, to just find more time. That will be as much the crux of my efforts in this matter, as direct assistance itself.
This brings up the current wildfire situation in northern and central Arizona. The grasslands and scrub forest, east of Flagstaff, and the pine-clad mountains, southeast of Prescott, are each enduring conflagrations of unknown origin. Shelters are established, and I will be helping out with the one close to Home Base, both weekend nights and on Monday, if needed. Again, a small cadre of us holding the fort, so that the rest of the community may go about their business. In fairness, this has been the case with others, when I have been committed elsewhere.
Somehow, though, I would love to see more people take up the mantle of support and relief.
April 13, 2022- It almost seems, some days, like I spend the day on Zoom. It sometimes seems that I pull the face mask out of my pocket, at random, unexpected moments, getting appreciative nods from the fearful and glares from those who see their own freedom under assault. As the pandemic waxes and wanes, sometimes within the same week, its short-and long-term legacies show how they are with us, ready to do their jobs at a moment’s notice.
Health is a funny thing. I have managed, with the skillful help of my dermatology team, to beat back basal cells that had accumulated over a few years of spotty sunscreen applications-or perhaps, as a gadfly told me in Miami Beach, a few weeks ago, from applying the wrong type of sunscreen. Before these, there was my almost total disregard for my own health, both physical and mental, whilst taking care of my beloved wife in her final years.
Now I am mostly back on an even keel. There is much to be done, here during the next two months and in mid-summer; on the road at other points during the year. A period of nine years, 2022-2031, starts in a week, during which the world will hear and see a lot more about the Baha’i Faith and the Teachings of its Founder, Baha’u’llah, than many have heard up to now. I will have apart in that effort, both here in Prescott and in many other places. On my last journey, to the Southeast, most discussion of Baha’i teachings took place in a family setting, and in short conversations with a sharp-minded person from the Netherlands.
The long run, however, will see more than new wine in this old bottle. As we keep seeing, a lot of things to which we are accustomed, both big and small, have fallen away. This will long continue-in areas from statecraft to roles within the family; from modes of transportation to the design and organization of dwellings. All of this re-organization, however disconcerting it may be at times, will result in a far more peaceful world.
“This is the Day in which God’s most excellent favors have been poured out upon men, the Day in which His most mighty grace hath been infused into all created things. It is incumbent upon all the peoples of the world to reconcile their differences, and, with perfect unity and peace, abide beneath the shadow of the Tree of His care and loving-kindness. It behoveth them to cleave to whatsoever will, in this Day, be conducive to the exaltation of their stations, and to the promotion of their best interests. Happy are those whom the all-glorious Pen was moved to remember, and blessed are those men whose names, by virtue of Our inscrutable decree, We have preferred to conceal.
Beseech ye the one true God to grant that all men may be graciously assisted to fulfil that which is acceptable in Our sight. Soon will the present-day order be rolled up, and a new one spread out in its stead. Verily, thy Lord speaketh the truth, and is the Knower of things unseen.”- Gleanings from the Writings of Baha’u’llah, page 346.
April 8, 2022, Phoenix- The bus continued, through the back country of west central Texas-the Permian Basin oil towns, the re-awakening desert town of Van Horn, effervescent El Paso, through southern New Mexico, Tucson and on up to this metropolis.
It seems, in more places than not, I encounter souls who make me feel that my life is something out of Canterbury Tales. There are recurring archetypes: The athletic blonde woman who is there to show me health and fitness tips; the young woman with long brown hair, who watches me from a short distance and seems always to be right in front or behind me in a line, not always saying much, but ever concerned with my safety and well-being; the group of Black or Latino men, usually in threes or fours, who look at me as “Uncle G” and are there for my protection; the children who approach me, with their parents’ approval and tell me of things that are of great importance. All of these people have been there on this journey as well. They don’t always introduce themselves, but there is this sense that we’ve seen one another before. They were all on either the train or on this bus, which I have just exited-for the short hop over to Sky Harbor, where I will catch the shuttle that will bring me up to Prescott, and Home Base.
Yes, it is almost as if I have crew around me. There are some of the above-mentioned prototypes, right there in Prescott as well. Ha! I see that one of my team from there was in New Orleans, right at the same time I was there. You have to love this little ball bearing we’re on.
The train pulled out of Peachtree Station, nearly an hour behind schedule. We have made progress, by fits and starts, along the way towards New Orleans. Now, we are leaving the commercial hub of eastern Mississippi. This is where the Atlanta crew got off and a crew that will be with us, until New Orleans, has come on.
The journey from Atlanta was through rain, until we got to Birmingham.
Downtown Birmingham, AL
Since then, the skies have been clear and the ground has been wet. Wetlands and rivers abound, through the central swath of Alabama and Mississippi. The Black Warrior and Tombigbee are particularly dominant. The former (below) has been made into a series of reservoirs.
Black Warrior River, near Tuscaloosa, AL
Ms. Blackstone, sitting across from me, put the whole concept of why some of us go on journeys into perspective-and one that fits nicely with the conversation I had with my brother, Dave, last night. In her view, each of us who goes out each day, whether close to home or further afield, is on assignment from the Holy Spirit. This helps explain the seeming randomness of some of the events that take place-who we meet, where we meet them and the tenor of our interactions. It also explains both the pleasant and less than pleasant events that happen, and the lessons drawn from each. It also gives me an affirmation that I am on the right course in this life.
In a few short days, I will be back at Home Base, with a full slate of “assignments” from the Creator of us all. I wish Ms. Blackstone well, in her daily work and am certain that, despite the dark clouds that encircle so much of humanity, the forces of division and darkness that prey on the fears of so many will fall short in their efforts to ensnare the human race.
Through downpours, tornadoes, bombs and bombast, stay strong.
April 2, 2022, Dadeville, AL- “Behold a tree. Does it speak to us thusly: ‘Don’t you see that God is not working Himself into a frenzy in me? I am calmly, quietly, silently pouring forth my life and bringing forth fruit. ‘ Do thou likewise.”-Clarence Jordan
Mr. Jordan was one of the founders of Koinonia Farm, an intentional experiment in Christian living, which began in 1942, west of Americus, GA. Together with his wife, Florence, and colleagues Martin and Mabel England, he built a community based on the brotherhood and sisterhood of all people. This brought hostility from those who were afraid of racial equality, with Ku Klux Klan attacks and drive-by shootings, as well as bombings in the 1950s.
Koinonia’s response was nonviolence and prayer. The founders, and the community, survived nicely, and the enterprise remains as it was founded, rooted in love and prayer. Clarence passed away in 1969. Out of Koinonia’s ministerial efforts have come Habitat for Humanity, and The Fuller Center for Housing. Koinonia remains a fully-functioning cooperative farm.
Here are some scenes of the property, which I visited this morning.
Koinonia Farm Welcome Center, west of AmericusView of the Main Campus, from Welcome CenterDried mud beehive oven, Koinonia FarmJubilee House-one of several residences and guest houses on KoinoniaKoinonia Chapel, across the road from the farm.
An example of an unreasoning individual showed up, as I was preparing to turn left into the chapel’s driveway, and passed my car, on a double yellow line, in the opposite lane, seconds before I would have turned, had I not felt the energy telling me-“WAIT!” The vehicle must have been moving at 50 mph, leaving the road and bouncing back on it, about fifteen seconds later.
Jimmy Carter, the 39th President of the United States, is still alive, at age 97. He lives with his wife Rosalynn, on a private compound, in Plains, GA, where they grew up. Plains proudly holds its favourite son and daughter to its heart. The small downtown bears the imprint of the U.S. National Park Service. While not everyone on the block is a fan of Mr. Carter, those who grew up there are.
The east end of downtown Plainsand the west end.Downtown Plains Park
Two very positive shop owners were the proprietor of a peanut butter ice cream parlor, who is a native of Plains and a small cash dispenser/convenience store owner, who comes from Sri Lanka. The owner of Plains Trading Post has one of the largest troves of political memorabilia and media, in the nation. I will leave it at that. He has several rare books on various historical topics. I bought one, as a gift to a family member.
At the Jimmy Carter National Historical Site, on the campus of the former Plains High School, it was noteworthy that one of the strongest influences on Mr. Carter was his school’s lead educator, Miss Julia Coleman-who was a pedagogically active Superintendent. Miss Coleman (She rejected the title, Ms.) was active in community gardening and took a personal interest in both the white and black schools, and their students. It dismayed her that there was so much resistance to integration of the two student bodies, even as late as 1965.
The Friendship Garden of Miss Julia Coleman
The fullness of Jimmy Carter’s life is well-depicted in the 25-minute video that is shown in the historical site’s auditorium. I hope to learn more, at the Carter Center, his Presidential Library, in Atlanta-but not until my next visit in the area. (Mr. Carter believes on keeping the Sabbath, so the facility is closed on Sunday). Needless to say, his legacy is already one of the most genuine and consistently enriched, of all the Presidents.
Tuskegee Airmen National Historic Site is situated at the very field where the men trained. Just north of the city of Tuskegee, Alabama, it is a spacious area, and is still used as a training site for pilots of small aircraft.
Main Gate to Tuskegee Army Air Corps Training FacilityThese skeletal structures represent the Army Supply Building (foreground) and the Cadet House (background).Hangar # 1, Tuskegee Army Air Corps Training Field
This hangar contains examples of two training airplanes, a plane motor and has audio presentations of several different players in the endeavour. Women served as security, parachute preparers, and aircraft mechanics.
Homage to Dr. Robert Moton, who fostered this airfieldReplica of a training biplaneView of Tuskegee Airfield training complex, from the upper parking lot
It was a full day, and I admit to being a bit less energetic than the various people zipping along the backroads of Alabama, while I headed to and from Oskar’s Cafe, and Heart of Dixie Motel, Dadeville. Oskar’s has modest, but very filling portions-continuing in the spirit of Georgia and Florida. Madolyn was another very focused and energetic server. The motel needs a lot of work, but it’s clean and safe.
Tomorrow, I head back to Atlanta, for a day or two.
