The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 73: Grasping at Straws

2

August 12, 2020-

I am sensing an ennui,

among the people who

comment, investigate

and postulate about

the whos, whats and whys

behind serious matters,

and more quotidian fare.

There is less concern

these days,

with fact,

than with

titillating innuendo.

There is less willingness

to work through an issue,

than to hand off

the matter to

one of the “favoured few”.

There is a joy,

when one finds “clickbait”

on an individual

whom one claims to loathe.

It’s easier to issue

an armchair condemnation,

than to call out the person

and insist on specific steps

that s(he) could take,

in order to rectify

one’s legitimate grievances.

Building legitimacy,

though, is hard work.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 64: Breakfast On the Corner and Another Delivery

2

August 3, 2020, Winslow

Every so often, even during this pandemic, I find myself leaving Yavapai County, to do what is necessary for the good of the whole. My mask and gloves go with me, of course-along with the EO supplements that are giving me all I need to keep my immune system thriving. Vitamins C & D, along with soap and water, go a long way towards making the virus unwelcome. CDC guidelines do the rest.

Now that that’s out of the way, the purpose of my short journey is to deliver some items to a friend from the Navajo Nation. These are health care items that have been sitting in Prescott Valley, since the service plane was grounded, about a month ago. Surface transport being the only way, I have made this time available.

After gathering up the items, yesterday afternoon, and enjoying a leisurely dinner at Leff-T’s, an old favourite from the early days of my life here in Prescott, there ensued a smooth and uneventful drive up here to Winslow, and Delta Motel, a funky, music-themed establishment, which is my preferred place to stay, when in this corner of the High Desert.

The Sipp Shoppe, Winslow, AZ

Speaking of corners, Standing On The Corner Park has developed into an actual park, and is the nexus of a small, but growing, downtown core. Winslow is coming back. I enjoyed a delectable, lovingly-made Mexican-style crepe, at a lovely new place called Sipp Shoppe, across Old Route 66 from the park. A gentleman was strumming a guitar and singing some satisfying Blues, even at 8 a.m. This is what life is meant to be-celebration and affirmation.

Standing On The Corner Gift Shop. Winslow, AZ
Stage at Standing On The Corner Park, Winslow, AZ

I will make my connection with my Navajo friend at Noon, then head back to Prescott directly, returning to the world of online meetings and a new addition to my health regimen: Wheatgrass juice. More about that, in a coming post.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 62: What I Want in August, Part II

2

August 1, 2020-

Half of any soulful person’s wish list, at any given time, is what is wanted for the community. My list, in this regard, is both simple and complex.

The simple things: Our neighbourhood children may continue to come and go as they please, safely, through the alleys, yards and creekbeds that outline their world. Instruction, whether online or in-person, starts soon and engages minds. People gather downtown, or in public parks, and enjoy their time, without having to justify their beliefs. Nursing homes are able to permit visitors, even with screening for temperatures, before too many more weeks have passed.

The complex things: Our election goes off, without a hitch, on the day scheduled. Those erstwhile friends of mine, now acting more like acquaintances, come to see past their sectarian and political blinders and look at the hearts of those, including me, who hold no ill will towards them or anyone else. Freedom of travel returns, and is not made subject to the partisan views or “one-size-fits-all” health prescriptions of either government officials or private citizens of means. Recognition that the lives of preborn children, infants, toddlers, school-age children and adolescents are universally sacred.

August is said to be a month of masculine energy. I know I will be plenty busy.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 61: What I Want In August, Part I

5

July 31, 2020-

My parents were wed seventy-one years ago, today. They got to be together, in the flesh, for thirty-seven of those years. They left several good road maps for us, and Mom is still blazing the trail of how to live long and prosper. I was thinking, last night, that I will be honoured to live into my nineties, perhaps even hitting the Century Mark. I would, however, have to be of use, to have most, if not all, of my faculties.

Today, so far, has been quieter than the previous two. I received a message from an African friend, for whom I had written a project proposal, bemoaning that those to whom we had sent copies of the proposal had not responded as yet. It’s been a week, so my take is, check in with them weekly, until mid-August. He asked me to send each of them a montage of photos of the worksite. I can do that,around some other tasks that have arisen, since I turned fostering of the project back over to him. Life does not stand still.

I have thought about what I want to do, in my own sphere, as well. As hard as life is for many people, I cannot just put myself into one hundred percent abnegation, though some will no doubt find that odious of me to say. There actually isn’t all that much that I want for myself, though.


August is said to be a month of masculine energy, so the first thing I want to do is to bring some health supplies to a rendezvous point at Holbrook, close to the Navajo Nation, which is still itself off limits to outsiders, due to COVID. In Holbrook, I will meet the same friend who I met in Flagstaff, in the Spring, to transfer the items. That is Monday’s agenda.

Synergy, the health elixir cafe operated by friends in Sedona, reopens on August 8, so that will be my place of refuge and celebration, next weekend. “Double” days are most often special to me.

I also miss my farmer friends in Paulden, up north just a bit, so maybe the afternoon of the 16th will find me there. The following weekend, Friday- Sunday, will likely be a time to visit Bisbee, a vibrant and eclectic Southern Arizona cousin to Prescott

The month will climax with Farm-to-Table Dinner, on the 29th, and unless the COVID cops declare our most stringent safety precautions inadequate, I will be among the masked and gloved servers and busers, tending to a smaller, but no less fervent, group of patrons of our vibrant Farmers’ Market.

What I want is for life to go on, carefully of course, but not dancing to the tune of one group of tyrants or another.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 57: Uprising

4

July 27, 2020-

I was mildly upbraided this morning, by one of the fiercest women I’ve ever met. Stating only what she saw, her caution was that I was heading into the realm of puritanism.

I am, at present, watching a series entitled “Cursed”, about the origins of Excalibur, the sword of Anglo-Saxon mythology. It follows the life of a young Wiccan, pursued by various members of the political and social establishment of that time. Although fictional, it carries several elements of what actually transpired, in the days of an oppressive Church.

It brought me back, to a feeling in my life that I’d long buried and nearly forgotten. It brought me back to the fact that, growing up, I hated the Church. I loved Jesus, with all my heart and soul, so I went to Mass and even served as a substitute altar boy, during the summer of my thirteenth year. Yet, I hated the suffocating power that dripped from the mouths and countenances of all but a few of the priests. I hated it, and had to keep that feeling buried. My parents and family would never have understood.

Only love of Christ kept me in the fold, until I saw the power of Baha’i, the Unity of all Mankind, of all Life and of all Truth. Still, I kept this anger buried. It came to the surface, as I was watching the second episode of this series and remembered the danger of which my much younger friend was speaking.

Puritanism, the control of minds through delusion, gaslighting and fear, has indeed come to grip a good part of our society anew. Margaret Atwood, in her two novels on the, as yet, fictional future country of Gilead, outlines just how easy it could be, for a relatively small group of people to obtain control of the United States, by tapping into the flowing subconscious stream of Puritanism.

It is feared, by some, that a future dictatorship would most likely come from the Left. That’s understandable, given that the primary remaining totalitarian states are all rooted in Communism. It is also rooted in the fear that a future American regime is already putting in place travel restrictions tied to acceptance of a vaccine and personal identification system which will, by force of technology, result in ironclad control of the populace.

I see this as reverse psychology. Fervent Christians have always feared humanism and atheism. There are those who may well be counting on this, and not for the purpose of protecting Christians and others of Faith, but for exploiting that fear, and taking control for their own nefarious ends.

So, regardless of who wishes to oppress, I am mentally preparing myself. Avoiding paranoia, just watching and listening carefully, day by day, in this little Home Base of mine, I look at both sociopolitical forces, and then focus my eyes forward-on what I WANT to see in the world.

I want safety and freedom for my family, friends and neighbours, for the children and youth, for those who suffer, both those in the middle and those on the margins. I want to see a world of equanimity. I want to see a world in which power is truly derived from love and light. We may well have to walk through several Valleys of the Shadow to get there. We will, I’m sure, have to overcome many who try to take power in an ad hoc manner, through deception, gaslighting and false assurance.

It is time for all people of the heart to set aside the dark thoughts imposed on them, by any and all whose only interest is in top-down control. It is time for uprising; a loving, just, but forthright uprising. We, the People, can truly rule ourselves.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 49: Following Through

2

July 19, 2020-

I binge watched Season 4 of a Turkish scifi show, called “The Protector”, after completing a project proposal for someone who has great ideas, but who was finding it hard to get started.

The central character in the series, Hakan, had super powers, which he ascribed to certain talismans. He was engaged in fighting a team of demons, one of whom had achieved economic primacy, in the city of Istanbul. The protagonist had his helpers, who experienced their share of doubts and pain.

Two of the demons were more complicated characters, being primarily motivated by emotional pain at feeling betrayed. The lead female antagonist, Valeriya/Nisan ended up being my favourite character, purposely botching the demons’ plan to take over the world, then covering herself enough to avoid suspicion from the others, while gradually learning the truth behind the trauma that had led her to the Dark Side. In the end, her true Light Nature won out.

Following through is always the best course, and as the seeming torture of this year’s transitional events grionds on, it is up to those of us who can see the light at the end of the tunnel to take up the front of the struggle.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 48: From Revolution to WeVolition

4

July 18, 2020-

It was another interesting day. There was little on my agenda, until the Harmonic Convergence update session, entitled “Saturday Night Alive”. I made a visit to Farmers’ Market, seeing a few friends I hadn’t encountered in a while and shortening visits with others, who seemed more annoyed at my conversing a bit longer than they wanted. It’s still a good place to pick up fresh vegetables, healthful concoctions and dairy products. (Yes, I am one of those who enjoys a cold glass of milk, on a hot day. It’s not harming me.)

A lunch stop at our neighbourhood family restaurant was pleasant enough, until someone called the police on a couple who had left their dog in a car that had all four windows rolled halfway down. It could have been handled differently- I might have gone in and told the hostess about the make and model of the car, and the dog’s situation-as this is a small place and it wouldn’t have been hard to find the people. Long story short, the couple’s meal was covered by someone else.

There has yet to be a successful political revolution, if one is talking about a result which includes ALL people living in the country affected. There have been few that even serve the interests of a dominant culture-at least at first.

Politics can’t be divorced from spirituality, or morality. We can separate the state from specific religion, and oftentimes, that’s a good thing. Humans, though, are spiritual, and/or moral, and/or ethical beings. We can see down the road, if we care to look.

Where we are now, though, is a rather foggy place. I have long-standing friends who have cut me off, because I dare to say that adoption is preferable to abortion, while still maintaining that the mother should have the final say over her own body. or because I have posted the first person account of a young woman who escaped from sex traffickers. I have others who keep me at a distance, because I don’t support a whole lot of what the current president is saying and doing. Nor do I support the most prominent alternative.

I don’t have to speak to any of these people, ever again, though I still have love in my heart for who they are, essentially. My bottom line is human beings should not be subjected to what is in vogue, what is “chic”. Sexualizing children is NEVER “cool”, no matter WHO is on TV or on social media, defending it. Coercing people to adhere to outmoded practices and promulgating false versions of history-because “that’s patriotic”, is likewise, not kind or just. Calling for people to be killed, because YOU don’t like their view on life, is just plain sick.

Revolution is passe. I propose WeVolition: From the grassroots up, we the people can show the top-down crowd and the naysayers, on both sides, that we can build a genuinely decent society. We can handle safeguarding children, teenagers and young adults from human traffickers. We can, at the same time, learn to deal with the residual effects and continued practices of racism and sexism-despite the loud voices telling us that prejudice is not eradicable. We can curb appetites for addictive drugs that sap a person’s strength-whether they are obtained by prescription or from illicit dealers. We can devise a system for keeping babies alive, through birth, and finding loving homes for them, even if those homes are not those of the birth parents. We can find resources to provide running water and electricity for our friends and neighbours on rural First Nations reservations and back country Appalachia, Ozarks and the Mississippi Delta. We can find both natural and allopathic remdies for the viruses and bacteria that seem to have everyone running into their caves.

It will take knowledge. It will take volition (will power). It will take action.

WeVolition.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 47: Serendipity

4

July 17, 2020

I was raised to do what is right,

for the long view.

It doesn’t matter

what’s immediately in it

for me.

This afternoon,

I was looking for something

specific,

for my own health needs.

I didn’t find one of the items.

I did find something

more beneficial to

someone’s business.

After a flurry of texts,

the item was procured,

and said business will now

be able to move forward.

Serendipity abounds.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 28: Four Roads

6

June 28, 2020-

I listened to a couple of Bluegrass bands, this afternoon, as well. One of them was comprised of three little girls, who sang cheerfully and intensely. Listening to them move seamlessly through a nearly one-hour set, I had only one thought: Long may they know only peace and safety.

Yesterday, at the same time of day, I was participating in a wrap-up of a Unity Week Conference, online. We collectively traversed four socioemotional roads: Via Positiva; Via Negativa; Via Creativa; and Via Tranformativa.

The first, as the name indicates, was an acknowledgment and celebration of all in one’s life that is positive. We sang, swayed and shared happy sounds. The second, opposite to the first, was an acknowledgement of all that is negative in one’s life. People laid on the floor, wherever they were, and were given permission for catharsis. Many moaned, cried aloud, screamed and wailed. I was glad the neighbours were not coming to the window to check on me. Having had an emotional release, after watching a gut-wrenching video on the reality of the Confederacy, on Friday afternoon, I was pretty much catharsized out for this one. It was good for those who have been through extreme trauma.

When we came back together, it was to acknowledge the pain, as a group. We then proceeded on Via Creativa, and tapped into the inner talents and creative energies of each of us. Finally, we gathered in small groups, discussing, very briefly, the possible transformations we might bring to bear, from this conference and into the work that will lead to Peace Weekend (September 20-21). This longer road is Via Transformativa.

I had thought that July and August might be quiet months of toeing the line of those loud voices demanding that everyone stay in their homes. Upon reflection, though, avoiding criticism from the Left, or from the Right-for that matter, is not what is going to bring peace to this world. I have to leave Home Base, if necessary, to do Red Cross work, to help plan this event in September and if need be to go to the sides of those who are suffering.

The key to overcoming COVID19 lies not in timidity, nor in maintaining the appearance of ideological purity (a chimera, at minimum). It lies in being sensible about precautions (masks, yes, but mainly hand washing and being aware of one’s surroundings) and in obeying actual laws-not loudly expressed opinions.

The Silence

4

May 25, 2020-

The silence, today, was truly deafening.

There were few speeches,

anywhere in the nation.

There were no mass gatherings

of Scouts, Gold Star families,

Scottish Piper Regiments,

and surviving veterans.

all placing flags,

at gravesites.

There were several picnics

and barbecues,

people in boats,

people in swimsuits,

people wishing one another,

“Happy” Memorial Day.

It’s de rigeur, anymore.

I recall the Memorial Days

of my childhood,

watching a parade,

then going to place flowers

at the gravesites

of my grandfathers

and Grama.

There was a quiet,

the rest of the day,

and I recall reflecting,

sometimes worrying about

mortality.

I’m not sure when

things started to change.

Maybe it was the

unpopularity

of our involvements

in the wars that came

after Korea.

There will always be that debate,

but this remains:

Those who went,

and did not come back

alive,

did not make policy.

They deserve better,

than “Happy Memorial Day”.

All gave some;

some gave all.