Random Observations, on A Quiet Sunday

6

November 3, 2019-

I see that my recent posts have led quite a few people to delete my site.   All the best, but my writing is, first and foremost, sharing my thoughts, not pandering to yours.  If I have ten followers left, so be it.

People who stand up for themselves very often have to get past the trolls and pundits.  I notice that, in the current presidential campaign.  Anyone who crosses the Establishment is attacked as “weird”.   That will never change their truth.

We had a great day, yesterday, as 65 people observed the Bicentenary of the Birth of al-Bab, at Prescott Senior Center.

I heard a Roman Catholic say, this morning, that all Muslims should be killed.  The Quran mentions Jesus, in a reverent way, countless times-and more often than the New Testament.  Fighting extremism is one thing, blind genocide, quite another.  By the way, anyone interested in mass slaughter, of any population, will have to include me among their victims.  God willing, I’d be standing in front. (Yes, that includes Christians being persecuted by Muslims and Hindus. Wrong is wrong.)

The most important thing facing me, this month, is setting up a safe, comfortable place for my daughter-in-law, who will be here for several weeks in December, while her husband is separated from the Regular Navy.  Happily, he will have six years of Reserve duty, to help them get established in civilian life.

 

 

 

Damage Control

4

November 1, 2019-

Someone put one over on me,

earlier today,

leading to my getting

a mild tongue-lashing.

Anomalous situations

have not been my strong suit.

I reported the matter,

it was handled at a higher level,

and that was the end of it.

The rest of the day was

mostly uneventful,

but my former co-workers

came by with a tea cart,

which one of the students

was manning.

I purchased a cup of tea

and got a hug from the

grateful student,

whom I’ve known for

eight years.

After work, another

critical message came

expressing irritation

that I have chosen

one activity over another,

tomorrow.

There is only one of me,

though,

and the people

on the road I’m not

traveling,

will fare just fine.

I will, as well,

and the one

who took umbrage,

has also been invited

to the event

to which I’m committed.

Choices,

and damage control,

are so often the order of life.

The Hallowed Eve

4

October 31, 2019-

The last day of October has been many things, over the years.  It is the birthday of one of my best friends, in boyhood.  Haven’t seen him for many years, but he’s still alive and well, and almost a month my senior.

It is also the day when people on a fixed income start raiding their investments and usually bring the stock market  down, just a tad.  The holiday spending period thus begins.

For many, though, it’s a day of putting on costumes, of various levels of sophistication, from the white sheet with eye, nose and mouth slots cut out to the ten-foot T-Rex robo-suit.  In recent years, I would sit outside my apartment, at a  card table, with glowing jack o’lantern and bags of candy.  Four or five people would stop and get a handful of treats.  Most candy, though, ended up either being shared or being tossed.

Tonight, I left the place dark and went over to American Legion Post 6, where an organized party was in play, in a warm building with a modest buffet for those helping to give out treats.  About 120 people, of various ages and costumes, showed up and were delighted to have treats in their bags and a cup of hot chocolate, or coffee for the adults.  Two brought their costumed dogs, but alas, biscuits were not among our treats.  About fifteen people who were invited in, declined, saying that they were afraid it was a government trap.  Such are the times in which we live.

Nevertheless, there is much more to be said for helping out at a safe, organized Trick or Treat than sitting alone in the cold, looking as if I was begging for people to come by the table.

The Way of the Network

9

October 30, 2019-

A few days ago, I received a rather terse e-mail from a sometime mentor, to the effect that, if I was not going to support her business activities, then it was “Goodbye”. Throughout my life, I have rarely written anyone off, and even then, not permanently.  I don’t get the sense that this woman is permanently off my radar screen. That is simply not how business works.

Jordan Peterson’s third rule for living is “Surround yourself with people who have your best interests at heart.”   In childhood, and to some extent in adolescence, I had little choice but to learn to deal with both those who were well-wishers and those who I viewed as challengers, rather than as ill-wishers.  This stemmed from my conviction, even as a child, that we are all just feeling our way in life.  I observed how kids who came across as mean were treated by their own parents.  That made dealing with bullies a lot easier, and made reconciliation, later in life, a fait accompli.

Those whose view of me, and of themselves, is pointed upward are plentiful in number, at this stage of my life. Of course, we must hold each other accountable, as well as being one another’s advocates and cheering sections.  An enabler is not much more than a sugar-coated toxin.

Those whose view of life is pointed downward are, thankfully, rare in my life and it is indeed my job to keep it that way.  The most potentially  problematic, yet easiest to control, is the friendships on social media.  I am judicious about blocking and deleting anyone, with only those who have been hurtful in a big way, or over time, getting the boot.  Accepting online friendships is more of a judgment call, with any hint that a person is not being transparent about their identity, and/or reasons for being on my network, being a red flag.  Beggars, trolls and boastful people have generally not found welcome on these sites.

That said, those who genuinely need, and appreciate, help will always find a place here.  Peterson’s rule does not eschew kindliness and fellowship, nor does my code of living.

“Like Someone Who Matters”

0

October 29, 2019-

I will be writing two posts today, and tomorrow, as these are the Twin Holy Days, the back-to-back commemorations of the Births of al-Bab (The Gate) and of Baha’u’llah, respectively.  So, my post this afternoon will focus on al-Bab, Who was born 200 years ago, today (reckoned by the Badi (Lunar) Calendar.

First, let’s look at the second rule for living outlined by Jordan Peterson:  “Treat yourself like you are someone who matters.”  Baha’u’llah teaches:  “Be fair to yourself and others.”  Many parents teach their children to put others first.  That’s a good enough way to discourage selfishness, as far as it goes.  One of the wisdoms of having 2-3 children, in a family which can support such numbers, is that it is most likely to train a human being in sharing and altruism.  Those families like that of my birth, who struggled with the stresses inherent in being a family of seven, nonetheless impart a sense of belonging and of being a key part of something far greater than self.  My son, being the only child, was encouraged to make a wide circle of friends, and to regard the closest of them as if they were his siblings.

Thus, a good many of us are taught well, with respect to others.  Where we tend to drop the ball is with how we treat ourselves.  It is therefore best to look at how one wants to be treated by others, and to look at this regularly, with a view towards treating ourselves as we want to be treated by those around us- a corollary, if you will, to the Golden Rule.

In a practical sense, then, partaking of those activities and other things which enhance one’s well-being is essential.  Neither asceticism nor overindulgence result in a healthy self.  Hypercriticism of self is, likewise, as bad as narcissism.  An honest self-accounting, each day, with the follow -up of self-improvement, shows a resolve to regard oneself as “Someone who matters”.

Another Cusp, and A Lobster Tale

6

October 28, 2019-

Today begins  yet another cusp, of another revolution around the Sun.  This coming year is significant, in that it is the last year of my seventh decade.  People  warned me that 68 would be the year that health challenges would surface.   They haven’t.  Maybe because of my personal regimen, and open-mindedness to the suggestions of friends and family,  the overall state of my physical frame has actually been better this year, than last.

When a cusp begins, the month before my birthday, I start to think of goals, and changes I might make.  One change is the way I sit, and for how long.  Someone has suggested using 135 degrees as good posture, when having to sit at length.  A thirty minute limit to any one sitting session has also been suggested-which works everywhere except in a theater or on a long road trip, or flight.  In those cases, every 1-2 hours works better.

Another change is to think even more out of the box than I have been.  This, of course, will give my critics fits, as they already roll their eyes at unconventional things I do and say, but no matter.  I will need to be even more flexible, with regard to my schedule and commitments, over the next several months, than has been the case in the past several years.

Now,  let’s get to the lobsters.  In his work on “Twelve Rules for Life”, the psychologist Jordan Peterson begins by describing the behaviour of lobsters.  The crusty crustaceans have a hierarchy.  There are ten levels, with the alpha lobster having a high level of serotonin, which leads the animal to maintain an erect, well-balanced posture and the low creature in the hierarchy having low serotonin, but a high level of octopamine, which leads it to splay its limbs and slump around- in other words, to be a low-achieving lobster slacker.

The implications for us human animals is fairly clear.  Seratonin is huge, for those of us who want to feel strong and be taken seriously.  If it affects posture, then let’s have more of what the singer John Mayer calls “a serotonin overflow”.  See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81yl_76s7jA.

I would prefer not to depend, though, on a romance, or a respite from daily life, to provide me with the juice that affords me with  respect from self and others. Towards that end, as with other health-related matters, let food be my medicine, as has been said by wise men, from Hippocrates (and probably the ancients who preceded him) to ‘Abdu’l-Baha. https://www.healthline.com/health/healthy-sleep/foods-that-could-boost-your-serotonin.  More attention to posture is also in the offing.

I will have more to say about Jordan Peterson’s “Twelve Rules”, over the next several days.

Equity/Equivalence

4

October 27, 2019- 

There is no inherent tie, between being in touch with femininity and emasculation.

On a visit to one of my best friends, here in Home Base, I enjoyed another of her unfailingly fine meals, followed by plenty of food for thought.  The fare, this evening, included a thorough look at the effects of  excessive social policing on the male psyche.

I am a fairly sensitive soul, who notices people’s feelings and reactions to their surroundings.  As such. weighing my words and actions has been a much higher priority, in my life, especially these past ten years.  Yes, I have had relapses, during the low water marks of grieving and recovery, not so many years ago.  Said friend has had much to do with the movement away from that low state, as has my personal faith.

I thoroughly enjoy the company of peaceful people, especially of women who have arrived at a state of personal peace.  The higher goals of one’s existence are far more achievable, when one is not pre-occupied with a set of self-conscious, other-imposed expectations.

All this underscores that emasculation,  depriving boys and men of their pursuit of meaning, in the name of gender equivalence, is the source of  much of the violence and aimless behaviour, which we see increasing in some quarters of the populace.  It cuts across all sectors of society, and its fingers may be found in the areas of drug abuse, domestic violence, unemployability, and general listlessness.

Emasculation does NOT proceed from giving women and girls the wherewithal to process their goals and pursue their dreams.  It does derive, though, from making gender equity a societal seesaw.  When Penny was alive, there was no time when her pursuits meant that mine did not matter, and vice versa.  My son’s dreams and goals matter no less than do those of my daughter-in-law, and vice versa.

Equity of opportunity and encouragement under the law does not mean equivalence of function, any more than any group of men or women must all do the same things.

Jordan Peterson calls for less political correctness, in the overall course of civic life.  To the extent that one group does not actively work to diminish another, I see his point.  I don’t really believe that there are all that many women who wish to emasculate the men and boys in their lives.  There is, though, an urgency that people attend to those who feel cut off from their hopes and dreams- regardless of the social inequality that led society to turn aside from their needs.  Again, gender equity is NOT a social seesaw.

 

The Missile of Truth

3

October 26, 2019-

I got where I am now,

not through glad-handing

and sweet talk..

There have been

times that I needed

to learn from setbacks,

and course corrections.

The Universe made sure that

those things happened.

The lessons were learned.

There were times when

I could have fudged

the truth, but didn’t,

and took the heat

for it.

There were times

that I left things

unsaid,

and just made

matters worse.

So often,

the road to solace.

is manned by

the vicious.

So often, one

must get past

those of unsound mind,

who see things

that are white

and pronounce them

black.

The surest way past them

is to stay one’s course,

and not bend,

in the face of illogic,

no matter how loudly

or brashly

it is expressed.

The surest weapon

remains the missile of truth.

(These thoughts came to me, upon watching a program about a man who reminds me of myself.)

 

 

I Care Not; I Care

4

October 25, 2019-

The year,  of which I thought as a pinnacle,

when it was approaching,

now seems a plateau of focus,

as it begins to recede,

into the alpine mists of history.

Here and now have become

more urgent.

Past is  a glimmer,

whose lessons impact

the present stage.

Future is “that time”

of promises,

which only I

can bring to fruition.

Twenty-twenty

appears in my

mind’s eye,

like yin and yang.

In the heat of the now,

I care not for the culture

which glorifies drug use.

The mantra,

“This is better than crack!”,

is the cackling of the ignorant.

I care not for the powers

that pretend to be,

sending their tanks,

flame throwers and

armor-piercing bullets,

against unwitting defenders

of freedom.

I care not for the puppet masters,

who order the innocent

to stand down,

to step aside,

that the purveyors

of death,

may present their wares,

to the foolish and

the deluded.

I care not,

for those who

cry foul,

at being told

that an infant

has the right

to life,

the right

to be adopted,

instead of killed.

I care not,

for those who

start wildfires,

in the hopes

of returning later,

and building

cookie-cutter,

gentrified living resorts,

affordable only to

the favoured few.

I care,

for the struggling,

for the lost children,

kept in a prison box,

with no resources,

save the cement floor,

which they share,

with hundreds,

and with their reluctant

guards,

who are themselves

pariahs.

I care for those

who are beaten,

chased down,

hunted like animals

and then,

treated like filth,

by the jurists,

who look first

at the well-being

of those

who beat, menace

and hunt the innocent,

like so much prey.

I care for those

who have given

their all,

and end up

as footnotes,

in the journals

of narcissists.

Give us your tired,

poor, innocent,

that we may find room

in our hearts and

in our diminishing spaces.

 

 

The Myth of Beyond

2

October 22, 2019-

No one is truly an outsider.

In a recent online discussion about a purported conflict, between two public figures, one  of the participants made the valid point that the whole thing is contrived.  Many public spats, and not a few private ones, are indeed straight out of WWE.

I am what is known as an ambivert.  I live alone, though that is likely to change, if a relative shows up, in December, for a month’s stay.  I live alone, mostly hike alone and, when I go to a restaurant for a meal, I usually sit alone-unless I’m at the counter.  I do, for the most part, travel alone, preferring to set my own schedule.

I do not, however, regard myself as an outsider.  True, I am not in very many “inner circles”- my Baha’i community, groups with which I volunteer and a handful of friendships being the exceptions.  Camaraderie, with both men and women, is important in my life.   If I am at an event, conversation with those around me tends to be organic and fluid.  If I am in nature, I also find myself speaking, quietly, to animals, plants and even the elements.  The reason is, communication is  a thing of joy.

My sense is, even a hermit needs to interact with some humans, every so often.  So, to say a person is an outsider is something of a chimera.  We can be isolated by circumstance, and that is temporary. We can be isolated by choice, yet sooner or later, there will be a knock on the door, a phone call, a postal letter or a message of some kind on an electronic device.  People in institutional settings are a serious concern, yet even they face multiple interactions with staff, volunteers and, hopefully, loved ones.

These are some thoughts that came to mind, after reading the above-mentioned participant’s rebuttal of the public figure’s claim of being an outsider.