I spent the past three days in Phoenix, attending a gathering of Baha’is and friends of our Faith, billed as Grand Canyon Baha’i Conference.  This has nothing to do with the great geologic symbol of Arizona; rather, it has everything to do with bridging the chasms that often exist between people.  The Baha’i Faith’s essential purpose is unity among all peoples and nations.

A hundred years ago, the eldest son of our Faith’s Founder, Baha’ullah, ‘Abdu’l-Baha, traveled throughout North America and Europe.  We have spent the past nine months commemorating the North American portion of His journey. (This was largely the impetus for my own travels of this past year, but enough of that).  He came here primarily to engender and nourish the seeds of social unity in the United States and Canada.  Amity was His message- love for one another.  Racial equality, the rights of women and justice in labour were all themes of His talks, as was the true meaning of Christ’s Message, which ‘Abdu’l-Baha saw as the primacy of love as a propelling force in the Universe.

We spent these days contemplating and discussing the legacy of ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s visit.  From His encouragement, the Baha’i Faith has grown, a House of Worship has been built, and is in full flourish, in Wilmette, IL, north of Chicago.  Other such edifices have followed, with at least one Baha’i House of Worship on each inhabited continent, and several more in progress.  Our communities are also works in progress.  We go forward, in amity and in honest communication.

Among those in attendance was one of our brightest young lights.  He came unannounced, sang his delightful, light-hearted tunes and made several young girls scream.  He’s Andy Grammer and he has many more years of artistic life ahead of him.  I’ve known Andy since he was five, and he is now a Facebook friend, so I wish him love, prosperity and continued growth as an artist.  Rainn Wilson, of The Officeand Soul Pancake was also in attendance, and was a prominent presence.  I have met Rainn’s father, and appreciate the offbeat humour of both of them.

Rainn was MC on Sunday night, and introduced a drama troupe, who performed one of the most moving performances I’ve seen in many years.  It is Azadee (Persian for “Freedom”).  As many know, Iran is not exactly a Poster Child for human rights- especially for the rights of women and religious minorities.  Four beautiful young ladies, aged 11 to 17, portrayed women who have been imprisoned in Iran, for various reasons. One photographed a women’s soccer match.  Another was an attorney, representing others who were accused of crimes.  A third was a Kurdish human rights activist. (She has since been executed, and the moments leading up to her execution were referenced in this portrayal).  The fourth was a woman imprisoned for being on the Baha’i Administrative Council in Iran, known as Yaran.  A  poem by this woman, Mrs. Mahvash Sabet, follows.

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An English Translation of a Poem by Mrs. Mahvash Sabet

No, I’m not about to imitate Suggestive Tongue.  This Labor Day weekend was  platonic, and a fair amount spiritual.    Eros is on vacation elsewhere, as yet.

No matter, though; I spent Saturday cleaning up the front yard of my Phoenix property and making sure all was well with the house itself.  I also went around the Valley in pursuit of an item needed by  a friend.  It took until Monday morning, but the search ended successfully, online.  I also had lunch at one of my favourite spots en route to/from Phoenix- Rock Springs Cafe.  Like many restaurants, they were getting jammed up big time, with holiday travelers so abundant.  I took my spot at the counter, placed my order, drank my coffee from a disposable cup-it WAS that crowded, had my first order on burnt toast delivered by the food runner.   It was promptly taken back by the waitress, and a suitable sandwich came my way moments later.

Sunday started out, well and good.  I got to Mingus Mountain picnic area ten minutes  after the appointed meeting time.  This irritated the self-appointed time keeper, but everyone else was laid back.  We drove further in, about five miles on a rutted, four-wheel drive worthy road, to the trailhead for Jeronimo’s Cabin Trail.

A half hour later, up a moderately steep incline, we arrived at the abandoned gem.

We poked around the cabin for about twenty minutes, before heading back down.

The three dogs who were along also made the most of the occasion.

After this outing, we found the cool and restful patio of Alice’s Restaurant, in Jerome, AZ.  The celebrated Ms. Brock doesn’t own this one, but the owner IS named Alice, and the food is well worth the drive.

Here are the entrance, and the patio.

After a delicate and satisfying shrimp and crab flatbread, and a slice of chocolate cake, the latter shared by nine of us, I bid farewell to my hiking and dining friends, and took a three-hour break.

Sunday evening saw a birthday barbecue and jam session, in honour of a long- time friend, Marcia.

Her husband, Carl, is the consummate grill-master and a top-notch musician.  His band kept our feet tapping, and some of us accompanying on drums, for over an hour.

Today capped the weekend with relish, as I went to a noon barbecue at my American Legion Post, in Prescott, then cast a critical eye at the documentary, “2016:  Obama’s America”.  I march to my own drummer, politically, as in much else, so I came away not exactly overwhelmed by the film’s message.

Labor Day weekend’s most important events were those where we were able to bring joy to one another’s hearts.

* NOTE:  Photos of Alice’s Restaurant are from http://www.aliceinjerome.com.

This is a pictureless post, because the images of terror that we see, every time a self-appointed social regulator takes to the streets or buildings, to kill and maim innocent people, are vivid enough.  I leave it to qualified psychiatrists to judge whether a miscreant is psychotic.

When I was in graduate school, one of our professors gave a lecture on “Neurotic Means to Power”.  The usual suspects, from Napoleon to Nixon, were examined briefly, but the crux of her message was that a neurotic person seeks power at various levels of the social structure.  Friendships, families, work relationships, and politics are all subject to the neurotic in search of meaning in his/her life.  Most likely, we all have a need to influence the behavior of those around us, so as to ensure personal safety.  Neurosis kicks in, however, when a person’s identity depends on the number of people who listen and obey one’s dictates and demands, as well as the extent to which those people listen and obey.

Some obedience is necessary to the survival of the obedient.  Laws are sent to us by God, the Creator, the Universe, Unknowable Essence, Great Wave of Energy, or whatever you wish to call That which put us here.  We follow along, willingly or not, because the alternative, chaos, is way out of most people’s comfort zones.  Children obey their parents and other adults, because they only have their own will power to guide them, otherwise, and it gets sketchy not having all the answers.  Most people obey the police and courts, because without a system,  it could be they who are hurt or killed next.

Those who know me know that I am a law-abiding person.  I’ve never been arrested, and have paid willingly for the occasional excesses of my right foot, when behind the wheel.  I have never, and won’t, however, kowtow to those who insert themselves into my affairs, with no more authority than “This is how I expect you to act.”

Back to the shooting in Aurora.  James Holmes, as far as we know, acted alone.  That makes him the same as the shooter at Virginia Tech, Andrew Kunanan and Ted Bundy.  He could not dominate or control those with whom he was intimate, if indeed there were any such people, so he chose to thrash and flail at strangers.  We don’t know if he had been bullied as a child, spanked on his birthday or spurned by a woman.  We do know however that two wrongs don’t make a right, two stupids don’t make a smart, fourteen deaths don’t make a life.

What does neurotic seeking of power get a person, in the end?  My guess is that it earns the person a label of toxic, among his/her peers.  It earns annoyance, followed by anger, followed by avoidance and isolation.  These may or may not lead the power-seeker to lash out in further anger- at self or at others.

James Holmes ended up controlling no one.  The historical figures cited by my professor, except for Nixon, ended their lives in defeat and disgrace.  My final point is this:  There is a system, throughout the Universe, which follows the laws of physics and their subordinate man-made laws.  This system is understood by most, and all are subject to it.  This system makes no provision for those without authority to dictate, demand, cajole, ridicule or browbeat those around them into submission.

When someone who is not my mother, family elder, work supervisor or officer of the legal system tells me “You will!”, that’s when I won’t- unless it makes sense to ME.  When that same person says “You can’t”, that’s when I will- if it would benefit me or others.

The lesson of the film which James Holmes disrupted is that ad hoc, casual, unsanctioned exercise of authority will never succeed, in the end, because the human spirit is   answerable only to the Higher Power.  This applies equally to the  power usurper with arms and ammunition, and to those whose weapon is their tongue.

Genetically-Modified Organisms are industry’s attempt at feeding the masses, through altering the genetic codes of certain foods- Soybeans, corn, wheat are the most common items involved- and some tomatoes, potatoes and rice are affected as well.  The idea is to make big bucks, while fending off microorganisms and other pests.  It has had mixed results, in that regard.  Pests are rather clever at finding a way around the ruse, using their own genetic engineering.

In the meantime, we now look at the first long-term results of the tinkering.  Allergies, cancer levels and secondary mutations among farm animals are being traced to the GMO’s. GMO-free movements are cropping up, in many places being closely tied to the Slow Food movement, which, as one might guess, is a reaction to convenience foods and drive-through burger joints.  Locavores and farmers’ markets are the most common manifestation of the blend.

I had the pleasure, last Saturday, of visiting Orme Ranch, a pesticide-free, hormone-free cattle ranch, about forty miles east-northeast of Prescott.  The establishment has been around for about two decades now, and, while having its struggles with the agricultural establishment, may well represent the most promising future for meat production in this country.  The cost of treating diet-related diseases is not going to decrease, and the cost to our economy of health-related absences from work and school is far greater than any of the powers that be want us to recognize.

This is where “streamlining” and “efficiency” are falling off the tracks.  The Orme Ranch is, among other things, by following conscientious soil management, careful grazing policies, crop rotation and humane treatment of cattle, managing to keep soil erosion to a minimum and is actually restoring the water table- no small feat in our semi-arid grassland and chaparral- covered environment.  The larger operations, pretending to be “too big to fail”, may very well be bringing catastrophic failure on themselves, through practices that look good on the balance sheet, but are Pyrrhic in the successes they present.

The ranch wife pointed out something very humbling:  “The only true wealth comes from the earth.  It is grown, mined or hunted.”  All else, then, is wealth that exists on paper.                                                    

It may look desolate, but Orme Ranch is surprisingly productive.  I wonder, when I go to Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas next month, how many heartfelt farm and ranch folks will I encounter?

Valentinus, Bishop of Terni, was executed by Emperor Claudius II for marrying couples in the Christian rite.

His life became the impetus for married people to take a day and reaffirm their love, at least once a year.  Hallmark Cards, in modern times, has tried to institutionalize the process, with considerable financial success.

In a real marriage, one that endures, love is reaffirmed EVERY DAY.  I know this from personal experience.  Anyone who argues otherwise is entitled to their opinion, but need not be surprised if rough spots surface, increasingly, as the gaps between reaffirmations of love increase in number.

I decided to spend my first solo Valentine’s Day in 31 years ruminating.  “What should a day of celebrating love actually mean?”

Here is what came to mind:

. Love transcends the physical.

. Love is not imposed or arranged.

. Love is not grounds for guilt.

. Love is not lust.

. Love has a place in everyone’s life.

. Love can be boundless.

. Love cannot be destroyed, if it’s unconditional.

. Love cannot endure, unless it’s unconditional.

. Love is the basis for all life.

As recently as this afternoon, someone was telling me that if I didn’t fall in love with her friend, I would be ignoring the friend’s many good virtues.  That’s not how it works, and it is not a simple matter, as the woman seems to think, of my being picky. Love is not imposed or arranged.  Love is not grounds for guilt.