Category Archives: Social

The Road to 65, Mile 157: Chasing Away the Night

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

May 4, 2015, Prescott-  I made another visit to Miller Valley School today.  Being with rambunctious six- and seven-year-olds, and actually getting them to accomplish a day’s learning, is among the finest of days spent.

Kids carry their inner selves so openly, and this is a superb thing.  Those who love, can draw the pain out, and elevate their loved ones.  It’s said that the child who needs love the most is the one who presents the most unlovable persona.  This, I have taken as an article of faith since my own childhood.

By that, I don’t mean to imply that I was a difficult person, as a child.  Rather, I found that the bullies, the disquiet ones, the recluses, all had a feature that made me want to work harder to understand them, just as I, an autistic, before such a label was in use, wanted to be understood.

We all want someone to chase away our night.  The boys whom I had to list for the regular teacher to make parent contact are very bright and, in many ways, delightful people.  They don’t fit easily with others in a class setting, and a sense of darkness is a good part of their life experience. They clamour for an externally imposed discipline, and mine is a rather gentle, firm approach, directly addressing the underlying.

I felt that, at the end of the day, no one felt demeaned or diminished, but knew the security of limits.

The Road to 65, Mile 156: Failure to Thrive

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

May 3, 2015, Prescott-  So much debate has taken place these days, regarding various issues:  Black youth, same-sex marriage, helping people in other countries vs. taking care of “our own”.  I believe the majority of people, on all points along the spectrum of thought, want to see the best for humanity.  Where the matter goes haywire comes when money, power, excessive fear and callous ignorance take the fore.

We are at a turning point in the affairs of mankind.  Those who seem to be causing so much of the mayhem and devastation in the civic affairs of the world are often those on the margins of society.  We have seen the violence in Baltimore, and last year in Ferguson, MO, stem largely from the PERCEPTION of those on the outskirts of the American Dream that there is no hope of any advancement on their part.  The frequent stodginess and inflexibility of those in positions of power in many communities doesn’t help.

We in Prescott have seen a lengthy, and thankfully successful fight by lower middle class people whose heads of household were killed in the firestorm of June 30, 2013, as they battled a wildfire.  The powers that be were largely against paying compensation to the survivor families, adhering to an outmoded frontier dictum that “One should know what one is getting into”, and deal independently with whatever life tosses at you.  The families have received just compensation.

The major effort, as I see it, has to lie in encouraging and preserving one’s own dignity and sense of value to a community.  I’ve worked with thousands of children, teenagers and adults, over the past five decades.  To a one, the people causing the most disruption and heartache to those around them, from my first disquiet students, in my hometown, to the recently incarcerated homeless veteran who I was encouraging to re-enter society, have been the emotionally and spiritually dispossessed.  Economics sometimes plays a secondary role, as well. With the first two bases covered, however, most economically disadvantaged people can overcome their living circumstances.

Failure to thrive comes from a chronic lack of love.  This we have seen in numerous psychological studies of people and animals, and in our daily lives, as abused people of all ages present themselves to the rest of us, as both harbingers of crisis and opportunities for service.

The Road to 65, Mile 155: Oasis Within An Oasis

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Personal goals, Social

May 2, 2015, Granite Dells-  I spent the day immersing myself in better health practices.  Around 10:30, I set out to this dazzling blend of rock, water and greenery, to pay a call on a natural healer and anthropologist, who calls herself Happy Oasis.  She lives with her husband, John, in a delightful two or three acres of land, known as Heaven on Earth.  Happy has been all over the planet, in the course of her twenty-five year career, yet she has chosen, and fought hard for, this sublime paradise.

Thanks to her efforts, there are trails aplenty where there could have been condos too many.  So, Happy and her associate, Jack, took thirty of us on a walk of discovery- to meet the wild plants which can be foraged for sustenance, in the ecosystem of the Dells. It rained a bit, as if to bless our jaunt.

Here are some scenes of this unique experience.

The home of our hosts is a work in progress, after a fire took out its predecessor.  They are nothing, if not multi-talented.

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Here is a slippery elm, with its full supply of salad greens.SAM_4879

I don’t remember what the next several plants are, but they are safe and taste very nice.

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Here is a mustard plant.SAM_4885

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THIS, however, is loco weed.  It is highly hallucinogenic, if ingested.

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Happy, in front, showed us about a dozen plants that can sustain a person, in the wilds of Granite Dells.SAM_4896

This flowering plant is often called prairie rose.  It tastes fine, flowers and all.SAM_4897

Here are some of my classmates, as we enjoyed the fruits of nature’s labours.

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It was one of the loveliest of days, so far this year.  In late afternoon and evening, I visited with a friend and  essential oils colleague, encouraging her in teaching a class on our oils. The day left me with the knowledge that there is more good in our future than not.

The Road to 65, Mile 153: The Flow

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

April 30, 2015, Prescott- We each reach the point,in our grief process, where the events of our present existence take the precedence they deserve, over constant thoughts of the departed loved one. That said, it only takes a small trigger to bring it all back- if only for a short time.

Some regard it their solemn duty to act as “reality checks”, forcibly keeping the bereft person “focused”.  I had family members who did this, in 2011, mainly because they had either no direct experience with grieving a next of kin or because the experience they did have was so extreme in severity, that they had little choice but to carry the poor soul forward.

In my case, I went through  confusion and lack of focus, in the first year of grief; a new appreciation of life, in the second year; misplaced attachments to others, in the third; and, at present, a more concrete concern with reality.  Each stage has had its spiritual component, and each, its learning curve.

I have many well-wishers, a few, scattered, haters and a dedicated cadre of friends and family, on whom I can rely for just about anything.  As others in my circle face their own first, second and third stages of grief, I find myself being ready to wrap my spiritual arms around them and feel the concourse of spirits guarding us all.

The Road to 65, Mile 152: Declaration

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

April 29,2015, Prescott- I took the day off from work again today, this time in honour of the day on which Baha’u’llah declared His Mission to His followers, at a garden just north of Baghdad.  Of course, I did go to the VA Hospital and receive a check-up, which was all good news.  The main thrust of the day, though, was in attending two gatherings of local Baha’is and a few close friends of our Faith.  The widower of our friend, M, was there, and we discussed several matters other than his loss.  Easing him back into a routine life seems appropriate right now.  I was glad that no one hung the noose of sorrow around my neck, four years ago, and he was glad to engage in more neutral discourse today.  The ebb and flow of mourning is something with which I am prepared to help him, though, as time goes on.

Baha’u’llah has outlined many steps by which mankind can attain lasting peace.  His Declaration, on or about April 29, 1863, called for a few basic universalities, upon which He later expounded, prior to His Ascension, in 1892.  These include a democratically-elected world parliament, a common universal currency and system of weights and measures, a universal auxiliary language and equality between men and women.  Many of these have been proposed, in other forms, by people of influence.  Some, like the oneness of mankind and male/female parity, are gingerly approached, then avoided, by those whose minds are in a state of flux.

Yet, we see the same crises and issues arise, in a continuous loop, in one part of the world or another.  Nowhere is this more pronounced than in Israel/ Palestine, other parts of Southwest Asia and North Africa, and in American cities.  The areas where outmoded ways of dealing with problems are most fastidiously gripped by their proponents, are bound to be the areas where the least progress seems to be achieved.

Baha’u’llah’s Revelation is very deep and takes very close, detailed study, as befits a System which will guide the whole of mankind, especially given our enduring free will.  I’m glad I get the gist of it, and can move slowly past my own frailties.

The Road to 65, Mile 151: Smoke and Fire

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Posted by on in Social

April 28, 2015, Phoenix-  I’ve been in Baltimore three times.  The second, and longest, stay in the city was a week, in 1972.  I got off a bus in East Baltimore, and walked about ten blocks, through an old and visibly proud African-American neighbourhood.  There were hints of a place going to seed, but more common were the well-kept yards and people greeting one another in friendship, as I’ve found in lots of places.   At no time did I feel unsafe.

Similarly,I have driven through south Chicago,  south central Los Angeles,the Bronx and Harlem, and walked all over Washington, DC, and not felt at risk.  The thing to remember is:  “Black on Black” violence is far more frequent than “interacial” crime.  I have never been struck, or held at gunpoint, by a person of African descent. There are many, I know, who have had very different experiences, and my sorrow for your losses.

The violence in Baltimore, yesterday and today, will end up hurting Black people more than any other group.  This has been the experience of countless other people, in too many other cities, large and small, across the United States, in the United Kingdom, France and South Africa.  The poor end up poorer.

There is a dynamic at work, at the opposite end of the social scale:  Pursue the well-being of society, only to the extent that it doesn’t upend the current economic system.  Thus, we have calls for “soul-searching”, each time a riot breaks out, or a high-profile person is killed.  What is needed, and sorely, instead, is soul-action.

One can best effect change locally.  I grew up in what many would call a “white-bread” town.  There was still a lot of need there.  Lower-class whites were somewhat “privileged”, but they were still regarded as lower-class. I tried my best to call attention, as a teenager, to issues like economic disparity and civil rights, seeing them as closely-tied.  I was ridiculed for this, but I noticed that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X were saying the same things.  The Irish kids who cheered their assassinations were biting the hands that were outstretched to them.  The Italian and Polish kids who groused about Affirmative Action, seeing it as permanent, and a privilege system all its own, were way off the mark.

My conclusion was that, unless and until people saw how they were being manipulated to separate themselves from others, and did something to build a bond with people to whom they were more closely tied than they thought, there would be the same cycle of riot and rebellion, followed by oppression (by the same people who used divide and conquer), followed by a period of acquiescence, then more riot and rebellion.

Solutions?   The disenfranchised must vote.  Citizens attending, and speaking out at, public meetings is crucial.  Parents actually bringing up their kids is not subject to substitution. The politician must be held to viewing the title public servant as more than a sobriquet.

Further:  Women are the equal partners of men, and not just within the bounds of matrimony.  There is neither a favoured class, nor a protected class.  Political Correctness, the ultimate band-aid for society’s boils, deserves to be consigned to the refuse pile.  Human decency could ably take its place.  See someone who looks different from you walking in your direction?  Stay on the same path, and offer an appropriate greeting.  “How’re you doin?'” or “What’s happening?” are words I have heard from countless people, in cities all over the country.

These are simple thoughts, but the great innovators have brought change to society, not by quantum leaps, or fell swoops.  The changes have been systematic, and through persistence.  This has been true of everything from the automobile industry to the expansion of civil rights.  So it must be for the reconstruction of neighbourhoods:  Not through gentrification, not through creation of urban deserts, but “brick by brick, block by block” , designed by and for the benefit of those already living there, as well as artisans and entrepreneurs who are actually invited by the community, rather than by the real estate market.

Extinguish the fire and clear the smoke.

The Road to 65, Mile 150: Sagarmatha

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Social

April 27, 2015, Chino Valley-  Nepal, and the Himalayan region in general, is suffering deeply from the effects of Sunday’s earthquake and the ongoing aftershocks.  A great deal of attention is going to the Westerners who are stuck on the slopes of Mount Everest.  To be sure, the deaths of climbers are as tragic, in their way, as any other loss.  Trekking is a key source of revenue for the Nepalese, as for those in Indian Sikkim, in Pakistani Swat and in Bhutan, which is only recently opening up to the mountaineers.

The immediate concern of most of the international community, though, is the plight of ordinary Nepalese.  The one silver lining for them is that the Himalayan winter is drawing to a close, and the monsoons are a ways off.  This gives the army of native and international aid workers a chance to accomplish the slow, painstaking work of clearing rubble, burying the dead, healing the injured, replanting fields and initiating long-term reconstruction.

These are orders as tall as Sagarmatha, the Sherpa name for Mount Everest.  The process is as delicate as the ice sheets which now present an obstacle to several climbers who are trying to descend the mighty overlord.  It will require fortitude as enduring as the great mountain itself.

There remain, though, the vagaries of the News Cycle, and by Wednesday, much ado will again be made of the Clinton Foundation (about which, more later) and due attention will be paid to Baltimore (about which, more tomorrow).  The marriage issue will also supplant matters abroad, for a time.

I am neither young, nor financially wealthy.  The skills I would bring to the table, were I to go to a disaster area, would be the ability to teach the young, a well of compassion and the willingness to get my hands dirty, doing whatever is needed to rebuild the community. I am unlikely to just jump on a plane, though, and show up with a bright, but determined, face.

These are my scattered thoughts about the shattered and beautiful land and its people.  For now, I will finish the academic year, comforting those closer to home, getting a rootless man on his way to a better life in another state and pushing forward with my Spirit Quest to the northwest coast.

The Road to 65, Mile 149: Confluence

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Posted by on in Social

April 26, 2015, Prescott- The downpour, yesterday and today, has come at an unusual time, in the climatic sense.  We very seldom see any rain here, between March and July.  It is always welcome, though, as we approach the so-called “fire season”.  The storm brought cold in its wake, but the temperature will rise soon enough, and Phoenix may well see 100 degrees on May 1.

M was laid to rest today.  As befitting a balanced soul, the rain and sunshine alternated, as three women took turns reciting the verses of the Baha’i Prayer for the Dead, a reflective repetition of six verses, each said nineteen times and interspersed with the Arabic “Allah-u-Abha”, God is the Most Glorious”.  A few other prayers were said after the lowering of the casket, we all greeted and consoled one another, and the confluence of her earthly and spiritual lives was reached.

I left the family to its privacy, finished an errand which resulted from last night’s downpour, and took a meal of haddock, baked potato and corn, accompanied by a salad and some red apple tea, in M’s honour.  A slice of French Silk pie is here for tomorrow’s enjoyment.  M loved nothing more than to offer a balanced meal, and a well-steeped cup of tea.  Adding malt vinegar to the pieces of haddock, I felt she was hosting this repast, albeit in a neighbourhood restaurant.

Many times, I have felt Penny’s unseen hand, or that of my father, in events that have happened, in the past few years.  The spirits are as close as we let them be to us, and almost continuously they see us through periods of joy, trial, growth and triumph.  M will be there for her loving husband, and for all who stayed with her during her own trials and sorrows.

The Road to 65, Mile 148: Slingshot Day

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Posted by on in bamboo fence, Mountain Oaks Charter School, Personal goals, School Gardens Project, Slow Food Prescott, Social

April 25, 2015, Prescott– I woke this morning, at 2:35, got shaven and dressed, then headed down to Phoenix Zoo, where an Oral Cancer Awareness Run/Walk was being held.  My volunteer position was the Raffle Table, where I sold tickets, oversaw the placement of tickets in various jars that were in front of prizes being raffled, and encouraged a couple of high school students who were walking about the grounds and selling tickets, as well.  The activity was most enjoyable and our happy mood drew many more people to the table, as they were curious as to the joyful atmosphere.  The old saying goes “Laugh and the world laughs with you.  Cry, and you cry alone.”  I have always found that to be a bit harsh, but I will go with the first part of it.

Around 8:20 AM, I left to go back up to Prescott, the reason being that I also planned to help out at the School Garden Project, at Mountain Oaks Charter School, where I have a loose association with the administration.  Plus, Slow Food Prescott has made school gardens a priority, and I support that group’s legitimate activities, even if I don’t always like the people it attracts.  Anyway, I got back home, napped for an hour, and got over to the school in time to put together a woven bamboo fence, in front of the back vegetable garden. After a quick lunch, the project ended with weeding a section along the front fence, and spreading manure, for the sunflowers, gourds and corn that were planted there.  These activities, also, were done in a joyous atmosphere.

That’s what service should be.  Contrasted with the sometimes grim and guarded posture that I find myself adopting, when dealing with aggressive homeless veterans, today’s activities were a breath of fresh air.  Tomorrow, I will focus more on paying respects to my departed friend, who served others constantly, in her own way.

The Road to 65, Mile 147: The Appointed Hour

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Posted by on in Social

April 24, 2015, Prescott- A friend of twenty-three years passed on, last night, after a three year battle with cancer.  She had brought our then homeless family into the loop of our community’s activities, in the harsh winter and spring of 1992, while not lowering her standards of decorum and good taste.  She never wavered in that regard, over the years.

An Anglophile of the highest order, M.  kept her home immaculate, knew and practiced the art of High Tea, on a regular basis, and always served refreshments in/on ceramic ware, to be enjoyed using either silver or stainless steel, never plastic.  We were all made well aware of the distinction between the first two, as well.

She spent all her adult married life in the same house, not far from where she grew up, though she was well-traveled and had familiarity with just about every place I mentioned I had been.  She felt as much at  home in Tokyo as in Prescott, or Savannah, GA.  A daughter of a military man, she nonetheless shuddered at the carnage amok in the world, and would not suffer crudeness or profanity in her presence. Her own speech was clear, concise and polished.

M. could have been viewed as an anachronism, but she mastered technology, and was a regular presence on Facebook and my e-mail network.  I felt I could discuss virtually any subject with her, as well as with her husband of nearly forty years.

She weathered the vicissitudes  of her disease quite well, all things considered, and would be aghast if she were to hear anyone cast blame for her condition upon the physicians, support staff, or her family members.  Her family were exemplary, and as far as I can tell, so were most of the hospital and medical staff.

M.’s last great enjoyment was connecting with her newborn fifth grandson, and the last photograph of her that was shared by the family showed her and the infant reaching towards one another, and holding hands, as they lay facing one another, at opposite ends of her in-home sick bed.

The impact of such a soul, on each and every person who entered her presence, was one of abiding reassurance and confirmation.  I feel that now, as ever I felt it over the past twenty-three years.  As we lay her body to rest, tomorrow afternoon, I will also feel another soul at the side of my wife, gone homeward, at the appointed hour.