Ad Intensium

2

January 10, 2021-

(The above is my own coinage, meaning continuously building in strength or force.)

The cold continues, leaving mornings here, in the Teens

and brings snow to the Texas Prairie,

even to the Piney Woods to its east.

The obfuscation continues,

taking advantage of a quiet weekend,

and foretelling extralegal events,

over the next two weeks,

with a surety born of either

delusion, or collusion.

I sit here, in my cozy home,

getting residual chills,

from memories of last Sunday night,

when I walked in the vastness

of a majestic, but nearly frozen,

wilderness.

I read of another soul’s

peregrinations,

in Sedona and near Hopiland,

and recall my having been

greeted,

by spirit lights,

nine years ago,

in a place named

Shalako,

at the bottom of

Palo Duro Canyon,

and not too long after,

in the bed of the Hassayampa River.

I see and feel

the days and weeks to come,

ad intensium.

Keeping Truth Safe

0

January 9, 2020-

In this age of instant communication, we deal on a daily basis with a welter of material, which combines elements of truth with overexuberant opinion and sloppy research. I see this at all points along the political spectrum, and have been guilty myself of the same, on occasion. There have, in the wider sense of this phenomenon, been several “documents” popping up, which purport to show the 2020 Presidential election was rigged. As of now, my assessment is, it wasn’t. The papers appearing on social media are uniformly rushed, would never have passed Mr. Bly’s Business Law class, back in my Saugus High School days, and quite often seem written when the author was in a fever dream. This lends credence to the notion that the ONLY way to rid our society of the notion that the election was indeed rigged, is to conduct a forensic audit-thoroughly, without haste. (I am quite certain that incontrovetible proof of cheating would be grounds for impeachment, so the winning candidate would do best to let the process flow-and fully co-operate, if for no other reason than to show there is nothing to worry about.)

Haste always raises suspicion. My mother was a past master at smelling guilt, and it is no accident that the most dogged adherents of conspiracy theories are so often seasoned mothers of grown children-having heard all the stories and sniffed out all the lies. A truly innocent person has no cause for prevarication.

At least one of the Democratic Senators recommended just telling the truth. Sounds like a plan to me, and it’d be most welcome. Just to be clear-it works both ways.

Drowning In A Bucket

2

January 8, 2021-

My parents taught us to pay attention to the small stuff- an untied shoe lace, a door left ajar when the baby was in the room, a whirling fan-under the same circumstances, a screw or nail left in the driveway. Such attention to detail caught me up short a few times, in my distracted adolescence, but has served me quite well, in adulthood-especially of late.

Would, that this were true of society-at-large. How often, in the past ten years or so, has someone loudly pointed everyone’s attention to an extraneous distraction, while helping self to public funds or quietly changing rules and regulations that impact the little guy, often severely? How often are people paying more attention to Twitter, Facebook Live or Instagram, than to the life that is right in front of them? How often has someone been doing a fairly complex task, only to let self be discombulated by a phone call or Instant Message pings, from someone who just wants attention?

The distractions in our lives, which have only become more numerous and more insistent, even as our ways of dealing with real problems have become more efficient, are akin to someone sticking their head in a bucket of water, and somehow not knowing enough to pull it out-until it’s tool late-or nearly so. Demagogues and tyrants know this, as do rapacious salespeople, pickpockets and all manner of con-men. I’ve used the analogy of shellfish in a pot of water, before, and it’s the same process.

The noises are going to get louder, the stories more outlandish, the threats more ominous-and the need for vigilance from ordinary citizens, more crucial, over the next two weeks. Let’s keep our heads out of the buckets. January 6 may well have been just a dress rehearsal.

The Walk that Took Forever

2

January 4, 2021- There was a stretch of time, last night, when I wondered whether I would see Home Base, or any place away from Copper Mountain, ever again. That feeling subsided, with focus on a couple of people who are no longer in my life. I spoke, psychically, with the two of them- forgiving one and apologizing to the other. As I walked the re-found trail, which turned out to be not a loop, but an out-and-back, it was enough to know that I would soon be re-united with my car and with Home Base. I also was just glad to be around people again, even if it was just the sight of a few RVs and a still-lit demo room at a place called Creekside Cabins, whose owner had gone to bed and had left a notice saying to call his number, in case of emergency.

It was then that I discovered my phone was out of juice, with not even enough to call 911. After sitting on Creekside’s porch swing a bit, and taking a short walk around the property, I crossed the empty highway and began to walk in what I thought was the direction of the Black Canyon Recreation Area’s Big Bug Trailhead parking lot. (I had come off the trail about a mile too shy, but reached Mayer’s Circle K, right around 5 a.m.

Coffee and a sandwich led to the kind clerks hearing my story, and making an attempt to enlist the help of our County Sheriff’s Department. As I suspected, that didn’t pan out. The officers did come by and ascertain that I was physically and mentally okay-and that I had not left anyone else stranded in the wilderness. A Circle K regular customer gave me a ride to the parking lot, I drove home and slept for about six hours, and the series of life lessons, that came last night and into this morning, settled further into my consciousness.

There is the part about, at 70, certain limits that weren’t front and center when I was a kid and young adult, tend to assert themselves. The specter of mortality is always in the background. There is, more cogently, however, the realization that when misfortune strikes, it is a good time to assess on just what parts of life-and with whom, one ought focus. Thus, as I was walking, and communicating with various people, psychically, a sense of peace came over me. I knew, at that point, that I had much more to accomplish in this lifetime.

In all, I walked 22 miles, the most I have done, in one activity, since I had to walk from Carmel to Dixmont, Maine, in 1977. Then, I did 23 miles. The weather, though, was not as bracing as it was last night and early this morning. As I mentioned in the last post, however, there are some things which, if one is paying attention, only happen once or twice.

The Past Prologue and The Fulfillment Ahead

4

January 1, 2021

The year just passed has given us a few gifts, as well as having taken some treasures from us. Chief among the gifts is the ability to conduct mass meetings online. This will ease active participation in Baha’i activities, regardless of where I happen to be.

It is a poorly-kept secret that, if it be the will of God (and the creek stays within its banks), I will be back on the road, and in the air, for a fair portion of the next four years. Prescott will remain Home Base, at least for this year. There is much for me to do here, and in the Southwest at large, between now and the middle of May. The stage was set, as it were, by callings I received and followed in the 2010s.

So 2021, any larger issues notwithstanding, is looking like this:

January– The agenda set by response to the pandemic will probably find me continuing to help out in the schools on a fair number of days. Involvement with a regional sustainability group will also be a priority. Then, there is a little group that meets each Wednesday at 1 p.m. (MST), and which has my heart’s attention. I will be on the trail, looking at a couple of extensions of Black Canyon Trail, northward from the original trailhead, outside Mayer; finishing Limekiln Trail, with the Sedona segments; and spending time in Scottsdale’s McDowell Mountain Desert Preserve. There is also the homefront downsizing: Paper-shredding and discarding of unnecessary belongings will begin this month and extend into next.

February- It’s likely that COVID-19 will factor into this month as well, in terms of being asked to help out in the schools. I already have agreed to a four-day stint, in mid-month. Hiking will take me to the Hualapai Mountains, of northwest Arizona and to Picketpost Mountain, outside Superior. Ayyam-i-Ha, the Baha’i Intercalary Days, will find me preparing hand-made gifts, for the first time since I made a bird house in Grade 8. These won’t be that elaborate, but will be done carefully, and from the heart.

March- It will have been ten years, since Penny passed on, March 5. I will invite other friends to join me at graveside, on that day. This is also the month of the Baha’i Nineteen Day Fast, and although I am no longer required ot abstain from food and drink during daylight hours, having reached the age of 70, my thoughts and actions will be in support of those who are abstaining. I will also make a road trip to Texas, in the middle of the month. Hiking will include a first visit to Phoenix’s South Mountain Park.

April- The Festival of Ridvan marks the twelve days of Baha’u’llah’s preparation for His second exile-from Baghdad to Istanbul (then called Constantinople) and His Declaration of Mission, during that twelve-day period. It also ends a Five-Year Plan we have been following, and begins a twelve-month celebration of the life of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, as November will mark the Centenary of His Ascension. Much of my activity, this month, will revolve around these events. Hiking will take in the Hermit’s Rest area of the Grand Canyon’s South Rim and parts of Sycamore Canyon, which runs south of Flagstaff and east of Sedona.

May- Preparations for the summer and autumn will occupy much of this month. Hopefully, New Mexico will re-open itself to us Arizonans, and I will spend a few days at Chaco Culture Historical Park. If California is open, and safe, by then, a visit to the coast will be in order,

June- If Bellemont Baha’i School is open for in-person groups, I will devote this month to that endeavour. If not, then I will make an early drive northwest-to my soul families in Nevada and Oregon, as well as to Vancouver Island, Haida Gwai’i (The one place Penny wanted to visit together, that has not happened yet) and British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast-north of the City of Vancouver.

July- The Plan B for June will fall into this month, if Bellemont is open. Otherwise, I will head east through Canada, and visit as many family members and friends, en route to and around Boston, as have time.

August– Atlantic Canada will take up part of this month, then it’s back southward and westward, again visiting family and friends along the way.

September and October– Take care of some necessary business in Arizona, spend quality time with Texas family and then off to Europe, with Iceland a first stop. This journey will also be oriented towards the ancestral home of my mother’s family, in what is now western Poland, with other stops in Germany, Czech Republic, Croatia, Romania, northern Italy and France. A few stops in the British Isles are also possible.

November- This month will be devoted to specific community and regional celebrations, in Arizona, of Abdu’l-Baha’s life.

December- This will be whatever my family wants it to be.

These plans are what my meditations have told me, as of today. Recalling that last January, I was fully intending to do a cross-Canada journey in the summer, I will simply accomplish as much as reality on the ground allows.

May all have a Happier 2021!

The Year of Living Furtively

2

December 31, 2020-

Some of the hardest losses of this voracious year were two of the last. It pains me, especially, when two people who are meant to be together are separated by death, however temporarily. Perhaps because I know, so well, how it feels. I know the self-doubts, the second guessing, the “if only” moments that dog the surviving spouse. I also know that the way to resilience, for the one left behind, is to embrace that which makes one special, as an individual, with double the intensity.

I learned, only this afternoon, of the passing of one half of such a pair. Jeff had struggled with his cancer, constantly surrounded, enveloped with the love that only his indomitable wife and daughters could offer. Others among us tried to help, some offering respite care; some, like myself, offering remedies and a listening ear for our friends, whose shop has become such a vibrant gathering place, in a town that is still in the throes of becoming a community.

Thirty-six friends and family members, ranging in age from 21 to 100, have passed to the next realm, in this year of living furtively, Some were fixtures of my childhood; others, I had the pleasure of knowing for only a few years. Some, I only met once or twice, but the empath in me let them make an indelible impression. That impression will last long. It comes with the nature of my beast.

It is now 6:15 p.m. , and it is still twilight. Solstice being past for over a week, daylight lengthens a smidgen at a time. That is fitting; this year has seemed at times to be made of a darkness that is interminable. Coronavirusdisease 2019 has dominated much of the time and energy of the vast majority of people across the globe. Most of us have not been stricken with the ailment, but far too many others have. Those who have not actually contracted it, have been suspect of such-every time we sneeze, or emit a wet cough, into the crook of our elbow, or appear somewhere without a face mask. All but four of those friends and family, to whom I alluded above, died of COVID-related factors-especially pneumonia.

Dealing with the pandemic became complicated, with racial incidents, some of which were exacerbated by crimes of ignorance and by people continuing to talk past one another. Demonstrations muddied the water of our national response to the pandemic, especially in light of bans on gatherings for worship or for bidding loved ones farewell. Too many of those loved ones died alone, after having spent their last days and months in solitude. Demonstrations were, in most cases, necessary to the public weal. So, too, however, were gatherings of worship, so deeply-rooted in the American psyche-and not just in Christian communities. Dineh and Hopi friends missed their traditional ceremonial gatherings. We Baha’is also have made do with virtual connection.

The two demonstrations upon which I happened, featured participants who were uniformly masked-even among counterprotestors. The two church-based memorial services I attended featured physical distancing and/or uniform face masking. In these instances, subsequent infection was either minimal or nonexistent. Needless to say, I have exercised extreme caution when out of Home Base, since having had bronchitis (non-COVID), in mid-February.

My usual taking to the open road took a back seat, for the most part, in 2020. There were two deployments with the Red Cross, to Louisiana and Dallas. Another journey took me back to the Dallas area, for Thanksgiving and my 70th Birthday, with care taken in airports and elsewhere, to not become part of the problem. The joy of just being with my small family unit was worth the trip, as was the drive to Phoenix, three weeks later, for a mini-visit.

Equally salubrious, however, has been the use of technology, in connecting with my Faith community, with the Red Cross community and with wider spiritual gatherings. I have learned much and shared much. This aspect of technology can only serve to enhance our direct physical encounters, post-pandemic. I know that I need not be isolated from those in this community, when further afield again, towards summer and autumn of the coming year.

Finally, in reaching seventy, I reached full social security, and look at the culmination of my teaching career. Five days a week, out of personal necessity, is in my rear view mirror. Work in the coming Spring semester, will be in view of service to the schools and more discretionary, in terms of schedule.

This year, now grumbling to a close, has accented the small-How needful it is to revitalize memory, when it comes to the humble password or the most routine of courtesies! How crucial it is, to rekindle acceptance of differences, reminding ourselves how dull it would be for everyone to be forced into the same train of thought or the same world view. Exclusivity, as much as its proponents tell themselves it is necessary, is a dead end.

Let not one’s conservatism, or progressivism, lead to that dead end. Let 2020 be what comes to an end, without one’s viewpoint joining it.

The Love of God

9

December 25, 2020-

A small group of us gathered this afternoon and evening, sharing a light repast made with love by one of my best friends. The conversation afterward devolved, for a time, to the affairs of State. Once that was out of everyone’s system, there was a focus on the news of the terrible and confusing attack on downtown Nashville. It was then that the discussion turned to God’s love for mankind.

To my mind, and that of my dear friend, there is no daylight between His love and the challenges that are sent us, which are largely consequential of our own actions. Most misfortunes that I have experienced in this life have stemmed from either a bad choice that I have made, or from a weak area in my character that I have refused to acknowledge. There are also those times when I have happened along at a time when another person is struggling, and lashing out at all those who happen to be around.

There is the notion that we are all in this together, and indeed we are. I cannot be ignorant of my friends’ or family members’ struggles, nor do I wish to be. I will need to check on another friend, who has been incommunicado with members of our wider circle, for a day or so, and will need to answer a query from a needy person in another country, making both to be urgent business tomorrow.

Simply put, God’s love is not something we can either ignore without consequence, or put on a shelf to be dealt with at our convenience. There is, in truth, not much I can accomplish, without accepting His love, either as a direct flow of Grace or in the form of assistance from my Spirit Guides, first and foremost being my Guardian Angel-who has had my back, continuously, for seventy years. The payback for this love comes in the form of service to humanity, to our planetary home and to all its creatures.

It has been a fine Christmas Day, from the morning conversation with my mother, through other communications with each of my siblings and to the lovely time spent with the little group, near the foot of Thumb Butte. Let us each approach the last week of this unusual and challenging year, with a mindset aimed towards growth and equanimity.

Nothing Succeeds Like Success

2

December 22, 2020-

Sir Arthur Helps offered this viewpoint, in 1868. It was an ironic statement, as two years before, Sir Arthur had all but lost his shirt in the Panic of 1866. Since then, the phrase has been tossed out, several times, by snarky commentators, both in support, and in condemnation, of the amassing of personal wealth.

My own idea of success has such an amassing of pecuniary fortune somewhere down on the list of what constitutes actual wealth. I have not yet seen a fabulously wealthy person exude happiness, based solely on the ability to attract coin. There are several more realistic criteria, by which to measure stature.

Friendships are probably the most obvious of these. While in my own life, money has come and gone, (though, at present, it is giving me a modest level of security), friends since childhood are still in my circle, and new people show up all the time.

A secure set of values is even more fundamental to a feeling of success. Secure does not mean rigid, which actually undermines security, by not taking into account the changes in circumstance. Being able to live honestly, while adapting to change, and growing from it, has led to my present homeostasis. It also has enabled a positive response to crises, when they rear their heads.

Baha’u’llah has given us leave to earn financial wealth, as we see fit, and has instructed us to put such wealth to good use, in resolving the ills of humanity and of the planet. Not everyone will amass millions, or billions, yet each can do something along the lines of sharing.

Money has been called “the lifeblood of civilization”. It is love, however, that is the lifeblood of humanity. Nothing succeeds, like the success of attracting and maintaining friendships, and living a life of integrity.

Deep Dish

2

December 19, 2020, Phoenix-

Last night, whilst visiting with some new friends, at Sedona’s Synergy Cafe, I got a call for which I’d been waiting. Aram was en route here, to retrieve a few personal possessions that had been stored by one of his closest friends. So, I made plans to zip down to this desert metropolis, masked and covered, to join him and another friend, for Deep-Dish Pizza, at a place called Lou Malnati’s.

We had a bit of a wait for the pizza itself, and so our conversation took off, on several topics, the common thread of which was the need for universal compulsory education. Given the current state of affairs, in which ignorance is prized, in some circles, on an equal level with empirical knowledge, the need for carefully guided enquiry is that much more evident.

‘Abdu’l-Baha advocated a system whereby a child would pose a question and another child would give the answer, thus establishing a discourse-related system of learning. It would thus become far more natural for independent investigation of truth to take root. I regret having largely adhered to a “top-down” imparting of knowledge, for much of my own teaching career. That system would do well to be consigned to the scrapheap of outmoded practices. The teacher-as -guide concept has found welcome acceptance, in many quarters of modern society.

Deep engagement of learning is fostered much more strongly, when learners take prime responsibility for its acquisition.

Keeping Responsibility

2

December 16, 2020-

Although, for all intents and purposes, I am retired from teaching, there have been various times of ruminating and reflecting on continued responsibility in the community and beyond. Certainly, everything to do with counteracting the current pandemic remains a duty for anyone old enough to know what a disease is. Thus, my keeping and using a good supply of face masks; researching vaccines (so as to, hopefully, find one that is not dependent on aborted fetuses for content); and maintaining personal wellness. Honouring the concept of not making further trips to areas where COVID is raging even more than it is here in Yavapai County, (to say nothing of staying out of other states, for the next few months), is desperately necessary.

Getting past the health crisis, there are other areas of responsibility: Helping out in the schools, when needed, during the January-May semester; supporting local businesses, especially those where younger workers are themselves supporting families; volunteering with Red Cross (still the only thing, other than family emergency, that will take me across state lines; and consoling sick and bereaved families of friends and relatives. Making an effort to be a comforting presence, in general, is also vital.

A legacy work, my memoirs of 1950-2020, is in the hands of its editor. This afternoon, I sent out the “Beta” copy to my mother, who is 92. It may be the only time I’ve ever given her a Christmas gift made with my own hands-except perhaps a birdhouse that I made in Eighth Grade woodshop.

Responsibilities will continue to arise, either by my own search or by the circumstances of community life. As long as I am physically and mentally competant, they will be welcomed.