Category Archives: Social

The Road to 65, Mile 136: The Last Such Gift

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April 13, 2015, Prescott-   I completed my online Defensive Driving class, this evening.  Then, I went over to the Tow Lot and retrieved the license plate to the defunct KIA.  A round of machine work and deep heat massage at Planet Fitness completed the ritual.  I am back into the routine.

The loss of my 2007 KIA Optima marks the end of my direct, day-to-day connection with Penny’s side of the family.  The house has given way to the apartment, and the KIA to the Nissan.  Penny will never give way to anyone.  If I enter into another relationship, it will parallel my now spiritual tie to the most effervescent, heart-centered soul I have ever known.  She has guided me into friendships with other women, and I’m sure this process will continue.  The central bond is always there, by the Grace of God.

The last gift I received from her, in the tangible sense, was an investment, the core of which I will guard and do what I can to help grow.  It is this which has helped me, in turn, show responsibility and pay various homages to both her father and to those who came long before us, both here in North America and on the continent of Europe.  It is this which helped me honour our son, on his return voyage from Hawai’i to California.

The last gift from the Light of my life is generating seeds of its own.

The Road to 65, Mile 135: Stratified and Dissatisfied

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April 12, 2015, Eloy, AZ-  

SAM_4786The day broke, generally cloudy, but for one bright spot of blue.  As I gazed at where the sun was illuminating its cloud cover, the blue spot just below it showed a face, of sorts.  I took this to mean that the spirit world was telling me that today will be a productive one.

We did go through a lot of material and set the stage for a lot of “heavy lifting”, in terms of connecting with the wider society.  As I said yesterday, to the apparent consternation of many, we Baha’is are no longer hiding on the fringes of humanity.  We have much to offer, and will work shoulder-to-shoulder with all people of good will, in remedying the ills of the planet.

Some have asked me, “What sort of people do you favour?”  Answer:  Human beings.

“Where do you consider home?”  Answer:  Earth

“Is it not necessary to separate people into groups, so as to make sense of our human condition?” Answer:  Perhaps, but not in the sense that some are seen as better than others.

I detest social stratification.  I have never met a physically dirty person who can’t be made presentable,either by his/her own hand or with the help of others.  I have yet to meet a wealthy person whose heart can’t be touched to the point that he or she generously gives of self or of resources.  Stratification of society serves, essentially, those who for one reason or another fear contact with certain segments of society.  “It’s just easier this way.”, I’ve been told.

We each have our preferences.  I am drawn more readily to some people than to others, and likewise, some are drawn to me, more than to, say, the President of the United States, or to a surfer at Doheny Beach.  None of this, however, means that we must exempt any particular group of people from our lives.  I’ve rubbed shoulders, so to speak, with high and low alike- and some of those, at both levels, have been a bit on the seamy side.  None are beyond redemption.

Those who categorize others, to a great extent, may find themselves dissatisfied with certain aspects of their lives.  I’m not surprised at this, because in the act of pigeonholing others, one is limiting oneself, and one’s choices, as well.  This doesn’t mean we must, in Pollyannish fashion, approve of every aspect of everyone else’s lives.  Rather, it means, simply that an effort to understand, and then to find a place in one’s life, for as wide a variety of people as possible, makes for greater satisfaction.

Those were my thoughts, as we prepared to end the weekend’s consultation, in this Desert Rose.

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The Road to 65, Mile 133: Silver and Gold

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April 10, 2015, Eloy, AZ-  Three of us took a drive down here, from Prescott, this evening, and will spend the better part of the weekend in conference with about 50 other people, on the relationship of the Baha’i Faith to our wider society.  I will write more about that, in the next two posts.

More urgent for me, today, is another consideration of my expanding and evolving circle of friends.  I don’t use people, nor do I let myself be used.  Some “friendships”, in days long past, have ended abruptly, once I got the idea that the person was not to be trusted.

All in all, though, I am very rich, in the friends department.  I will not want for hugs, warm greetings, and help when I need it- from my longtime friends who, as the old song says, are “gold”.  Neither will they want for reciprocity from me.  I have recently made more new friendships, and let the silver stock build also.  These friends, two in particular, bring artistic bounty to my world.  I have missed that, somewhat, since Penny’s voice was stilled.

I thought of this, on the way down, as I momentarily felt alone.  There was something else, also. When there is disagreement between people, however slight, one must have the presence of mind to know that there are others who will reassure each person, and help their respective journeys resume.  We need both “silver” and “gold” friends, to reinforce the structure of our own self-worth.

The Road to 65, Mile 131: Typhoons

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April 8, 2015, Prescott-  It was cold all over the place today.  Snow was reported on the East Coast, and we shivered a bit, here in northern Arizona. North America is past being ready for warm weather.

It’s time to consider that warm weather has its price:  Storms happen, as anyone in New Orleans or Miami can attest.  Tornadoes have already swiped Oklahoma and Arkansas, this spring.  Even Dubai had a wicked dust storm, last week.

Typhoons, though, are in a league of their own.  Being cyclonic in nature is bad enough, when the storm is an Atlantic or eastern Pacific hurricane.  In the islands of the western Pacific, from Borneo and New Guinea to New Zealand, and on up to Japan, the deadliness of a Category 5 Typhoon, hitting a low-lying island community, seemingly from three directions at once, defies the imagination.  The Philippines have had two such killer storms, this year alone. Vanuatu, which used to be called New Hebrides, is slowly inching forward in recovery from a massive typhoon, a few long weeks ago.  Small countries nearby, named Kiribati and Tuvalu, also got hammered by the monster.  These are not places with an unlimited store of resilience, but they will come back from that one.

Word has reached us, this evening, of yet another Category 5.  This one is hitting Micronesia, a vast federation of atolls, stretching nearly 1,000 miles from east to west.  There was a civilization in western Micronesia, when Europe was shaking from the Dark Ages. The villagers of the  low-lying islands had much to impart to the Spanish and Dutch, who came seeking a quick route from China to the Americas, in the Sixteenth Century.

We used to have an image of Pacific Islanders, as happy, carefree dancers and singers, who were always glad to see boatloads of tourists.  There was a warrior segment, also, of course, but they got reduced to an entertainment contingent as well- savagely tattooed and grimacing, to the delight of the squealing audience.

It was never thus.  South Sea islands, to my mind, are harsh places, in terms of having enough fresh water; in terms of surviving monster waves, tides and gale-force winds; in terms of not being forgotten by the wider world.  We who are concerned with rising seas, point to places like Kiribati, Tuvalu and Nauru, in the Pacific, Anguilla in the Caribbean, and the Maldives and Seychelles, in the Indian Ocean, as victims of climate change, “in the not-to-distant future”.  This year’s experience, though, suggests that the world had better keep an eye on nature’s “dry runs”- the three Category 5 typhoons that have leveled the homes of good-hearted and long-struggling human beings.  Mankind is one, after all.

The Road to 65, Mile 130: Catharsis

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April 7, 2015, Prescott- Often, on Tuesdays, I feel a sense of foreboding or ennui.  I’m not quite sure what has brought that on.  Today, however, I felt a very strong sense of purpose.  The idea was to make the search for another vehicle front and center. So, after clearing my calendar for the day, I headed over to a lot, not far from my home.

It is a clean, well-appointed business, with a large and clean office that is brightly-lit.  There is nothing seedy about the establishment, or its owner.  I walked around and looked at a dozen or so vehicles, finding none that particularly suited my fancy- except one.  A gray Nissan Altima, the second vehicle I examined, drew me back for a second look.  There was an energy coming from this inanimate creation, if one can believe such a thing.

The remorse and sadness I have felt, over losing my Kia, has started to melt away.  I know it is all because of all the memories and the service that automobile gave me.  It’s also because I let myself down, and did not maintain my regimen of safe driving.

Seeing a vehicle that is in fine repair and has  a good maintenance record is cathartic.  I am re-energized and back on track.  The energy that seemed to take a negative turn, with the accident and the Blood Moon, has returned to an upbeat level. Later this afternoon, I did laundry.  The antagonistic people who are there earlier in the day, had left.  A young man, who was not familiar with the dryers, put too many coins in his.  As his clothes were finished, with over a dollar’s worth of time left on the machine, he asked for a refund, from the manager.  This, of course, was not possible. The kid offered me the dryer, and went to leave.  I gave him the quarters for the time that was left.  Adults do not take advantage of their juniors, or of anyone else, for that matter.

Today was Arizona Gives Day.  I did send a small amount to a Yavapai County children’s fund.  We have more youngsters suffering here than one might think.  I find them constantly on my mind.

Well, there is something about just getting up, moving past ennui and getting the big stuff done.  The cathartic effect of something as small as mailing an envelope, my first order of business today, generated energy to get the car search underway, which in turn made the rest of the day reveal random opportunities for service.  Life means rolling, ever so carefully, over the speed bumps.

The Road to 65, Mile 129: Aftermath

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April 6, 2015, Prescott-  I am off work for a few days, mainly to complete the disposition of my old vehicle, which will be greatly missed, and to tend to things, like laundry, which are no longer a routine drive down the street.  Today’s retrieval of my camping gear and other items from the Kia, and a trip to MVD for a document, had to be coordinated with friends.  This will be a “new normal” for a few days.  I have to make time to visit a dealership on Sheldon Street, tomorrow, and price/select a vehicle which I can buy with cash, then get the cash, and hopefully be back in wheels by the weekend.

Not everyone is so lucky.  My person was not badly affected by Saturday’s accident.  I have the sturdy design of the Kia to thank for that.  My high school driving instructor, the late, great Len Wall, would have been aghast at my driving, at that short point in time.  He’d have railed at me, as he did, to my ultimate benefit, on a few occasions when I was under his tutelage.  The result of his passionate instruction was forty-eight years of safe driving, with only one previous accident, which was a slide on ice and did not result in any appreciable damage.  I am determined, I will resume that record.  An AARP safe driver class will supplement the court-ordered Traffic Safety class that I will take online, over the next few days.

I have to get to work again, and thanks to a few good friends, I won’t have to turn down work, after tomorrow.  Then, too, are the various meetings and gatherings, which may be easily taken for granted, as to accessibility.  It is good to be in touch with what so many have to face, each day, without a vehicle of their own.

One other thing:  As I was walking back from downtown, this evening, I greeted a street person who was sitting forlornly on a bench.  A well-dressed man approached and offered the man a room for the night, at the nearby Hassayampa Inn, a well-appointed establishment.  There are so many fine human beings in this world, and we do well to acknowledge them, as they appear.

The Road to 65, Mile 128: Risen

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April 5, 2015, Prescott-  Easter was important to me as a child, for two reasons:  The first was that it meant the end of hearing of Christ’s suffering, which I could not understand until my teen years and the second was that there was lots of candy.  The first part bothered me because Jesus, to me, has always been the Epitome of Love. I could not see any good reason for either the chief priests’ persecution of Him, nor for Judas’ betrayal.  The second part had a relatively brief shelf life.  My parents never bought Peeps, preferring jelly beans, Jordan almonds, creme eggs and chocolate bunnies.  I outgrew all except chocolate, and occasional Jelly Bellies (during the Reagan years, especially).

Nowadays,as a Baha’i, I recognize spiritual truth as being progressively revealed, across human time.  Christ brought a focus on letting God deal with peoples’ iniquities, on overcoming tribal affiliations, on loving others in spite of their shortcomings.  He also brought the Sword of Truth, not making excuses for one’s behaviour, but challenging oneself to rise higher on the spiritual plane.

Closeness to the Light has had its place in the hearts of men for a multitude of millennia.  There have, however, been limits to awareness, and a tendency to revert to the mores and customs that pre-date a Spiritual Messenger, as soon as that Messenger has departed this earthly life.  So it was with Moses, with Krishna, with Gautama Siddhartha (Buddha), with Christ and with Mohammad.  Those outside a given religion, or with a perfunctory understanding of it, see mythology as creed, hearsay as doctrine.

When Christ was crucified, the Romans reported that He had cried out:  “My God,My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”  In fact, an examination of the Aramaic and Greek, shows an affirmation of His role as Saviour:  “My God, My God, for this I was kept”.  His Rising, then, is a spiritual act, a confirmation that the Word of God can never be silenced.  Baha’u’llah tells us as much, in The Hidden Words:  “My Light can never be extinguished.  Why dost thou dread extinction?”  The Creator does not abandon His Creation, or the creatures that comprise it.

Easter, then, is a day to be universally celebrated, a key point along the collective spiritual journey of Mankind.  Without Christ’s ultimate sacrifice, we would have no way to comprehend the Call to Nationhood, of Mohammad, or the Summons to the entire human race, of Al-Bab and of Baha’u’llah.  Without His having resurrected the despairing souls of His Disciples, by appearing to them after the Crucifixion, there would have been no Christian Faith, and the journey of mankind would have been a more immediate, and far deeper, descent into the Dark Ages than it actually was.

These are only my own measured opinions, yet no matter how much I ponder this most essential of processes, I arrive at the same conclusion I drew as a teenager:  The Spiritual Teachers are vital to our overall well-being and there is no daylight between any One of Them, in comparison to the Others.

The Road to 65, Mile 126: Fidelity

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April 3, 2015, Prescott-  In this evening’s episode of “Hawai’i Five-O”, the great Chi McBride took up the questions of both marital and fraternal fidelity.  His character, a captain on a Hawai’i State Police task force, finds himself facing the possibility that a close friend is being duplicitous, while re-affirming his own love for his wife.  The heartbreak he faces, in the first instance, makes him hauntingly vulnerable and very much in need of the second.

All my thirty years of closeness to Penny, and the years of unity with her spirit that have ensued, I have kept a fidelity, a loyalty of purpose.   I have female friends, now, whom I adore as people, and as helpers in many aspects of my life.  The time could yet come when I am in a friendship that turns romantic, but that’ll happen if it is meant to be.  My soulmate remains watchful, I know.

Today, millions of people around the world observe, commemorate and mourn the result of duplicity.  1, 982 years ago, money trumped loyalty to the Light of the World. At the same time, fear clouded the judgment of the man who would be the first Pope, and led to abandonment, however temporary.

The Paragon of Fidelity forgave His tormentors, His killers and His duplicitous friends.  Jesus the Christ set the example, to remain steadfast in the face of its opposite behaviour.  How many were the false ones who called “Lord, Lord”, in His wake, yet walked the dark path!  How many the devoted ones who gave their all for Him, Whom they loved completely!

Fidelity and duplicity are choices we each make, in matters great and small, and in all relationships, both secular and divine, both committed and casual.  Which shall be the goal, as this Good Friday draws to a close?

The Road to 65, Mile 125: Angels Among Us

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April 2, 2015, Prescott-  Yavapai County Angels is an ad hoc group, which was formed last November, to bring holiday cheer to disabled veterans and other shut-ins, in the Quad Cities (Prescott, Prescott Valley, Chino Valley, Dewey-Humboldt) and outlying areas of our county.  Thirty-nine households ended up receiving much-appreciated solace from the initial group.

This morning, with help of various sorts from 133 members, several members of YCA, including me, assembled Easter baskets for distribution to residents of a Veterans Housing facility, and several extras, to be given to homeless veterans outside that facility.  Puzzles and word search books were also brought to the Arizona Pioneer Home, a senior living facility here in town.

YCA is a grassroots group, not beholden to any creed or political agenda.  This makes it doubly attractive to me, as the mission statement, so to speak, is simply Love Thy Neighbour.  My own halo may have prongs on it, but it still feels good to have the means to make a small difference in the lives of the disadvantaged.  On this Maundy Thursday, what else is there?

The Road to 65, Mile 124: Stuff and Nonsense

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April 1, 2015, Prescott-  I spent the day with Second-Graders, enjoying the silliness of April Foolery, at the elementary level:  “Look, your shoes are untied”  So much innocence, and underlying trust that things are basically okay, fuel the basic sense of relaxed fun.

It doesn’t last, and more’s the pity.  I fielded a phone call from my landlord, who lives in another state.  He learned of my client’s lingering presence on our compound, and gently-for now- expects me to bring the situation to a close.  I gave my client two more days to move along.  My eviction is neither a joke, nor an option.

His reaction was predictable, and after finding him a motel room, in lieu of his sleeping under the stars, in a forest not far from here, I formulated a plan to keep his belongings safe, should he revert to a passive- aggressive abandonment of them.  That may well be how the situation “ends”.

That’s the thing about endings; they are usually hiatuses, breathers that are designed to give the tormented soul a chance to regroup his/her thinking, in light of a reality that is hard to comprehend.  Here’s the rub, with my client:  He was never really parented.  Raising oneself, even in the rather tame world of the 1950’s, leaves lots of gaps.  One only learns to consider others if one has a mother and/or father, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, who is modeling such relative selflessness.

So, I would find room in my storage closet outside, for the dozen or so boxes he has organized, and when he, or his adult children, show up to collect them, the stuff and nonsense that have played out over the past four months will have not caused any harm.