No Limits

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August 19, 2022- Four of us spent a couple of hours, this afternoon, going over the process of evaluating buildings as potential Red Cross shelters. Most of our area’s needs, in that regard, stem from wildfire; but there are times when floods and snowstorms create sheltering needs. Flagstaff, some ninety miles northeast of us, is experiencing flood emergencies, often several times a week, due to this year’s bountiful rains-which were preceded by harrowing fires. Prescott has had its share of both, in years past, as well.

I have been asked, by concerned friends and family, WHEN I will devote myself to full retirement. The answer probably lies in my health and clear-mindedness. When those fade, so will my activity. Until then, I enjoy the presence of children, helping out in the community and learning new skills-such as the above-mentioned logistics. So I will continue helping out in classrooms and working in the community, on a regular basis. Besides, now I have an auto loan to pay down.

The late Carmine Moschella, a fixture in the hometown of my youth for well over seventy years, was a prime example of working at something of benefit to self and others, nearly to the time of his death. So was A.C. Fellman, Penny’s paternal grandfather, inventor of the Fellman Boot, a staple of the U. S. Navy’s World War II maritime uniform. Countless others, many still living, have remained productive and in a learning mode, well into their 90s, if not into their second century.

Now I want to flip this post a bit, and give a shout out to all girls and young women who are taking up the study and practice of trades like aviation, carpentry, electricity, plumbing, welding and automotive mechanics. There is nothing that says a person with good eye-hand coordination, a keen attention span, and pride in work has to be limited in field of endeavour. If there are male nurses, flight attendants, fashion models and office workers, so there can, and should, be female tradespeople.

I once had the opportunity to foster a young woman’s interest in the building trades. It came down to spending money on renovating a house, in which she would be a key worker, or using the funds to help someone get surgery. I chose the latter, and as much good as that did for my friend, I have regrets at not having been able to help the lady get practical experience in several trades. Somehow, I sense that she has gone on, and done quite well in that regard.

Age and sex are not intended to be limits a human’s progress.

A Day of No Nap

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August 14, 2022- The sun peaked through the considerable cloud cover, as I woke in Lake Havasu City, earlier today. There was a full slate of activities planned for the morning-first, an interesting take on a breakfast panini- with egg and potatoes baked inside the toasty bread, Monster donuts were also provided. I ate a portion of one, and took 1 1/2 others back with me, to freeze and eat in small portions, over a few days.

Next was a life coaching-type activity, called B100- “B” stands for balance. The basic premise to evaluate one’s scores in the areas of Health,Wealth, Spirit and Fun. We each did a self-evaluation, and I came up with a total of 82, fairly evenly scored, but with higher scores in Spirit and Fun, good score in Health and a slightly lower score in wealth. None was far removed from the others-the range of scores being 4. It was basically a fun exercise for me and showed that I am on the right track in every area.

Lastly, we had a study of Baha’i writings on “Life after Death”, with the focus being on the life of the soul in the hereafter. This study brought on a lively discourse on the ethics of euthanasia. My own take is that the dying person should have the right to make his/her own decisions on living or dying, hopefully letting nature run its course, as long as one is of sound mind. Penny made her own decisions, until nearly the end. So did several others who have since gone on, after long illnesses.

On the way back to Home Base, I stopped to check in with friends at Westside Lilo’s, in the wayside community of Seligman. The place has some of the best bratwurst in northern Arizona, so along with a helping of the mild, but warm sauerkraut and a side of potato salad, brats were an unusual 3 p.m. meal-essentially, “linner”. The ladies are always full of gab and taking careful stock of each other’s well-being.

The day came to an end around 10 p.m., without a nap. I was determined that I would focus on just finishing the day, in robust fashion-so I did. Sleep came easy. The shadows were sure to gather, come Monday morning.

Triple Decker

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August 13, 2022, Lake Havasu City- One by one, friends of a young man whom I have known for about three years came filing through the door of the home he shares with his father, in this desert community overlooking the Colorado River. It is his thirtieth birthday. He allowed as how this was the biggest birthday bash he has ever had-and I would not have missed it for the world. He sees today as a confirmation of his change in mindset. This was bolstered by going around and asking each of us what one piece of advice we would offer him.

I admit, I don’t know what it feels like to have a birthday where no one attended the party. Even when it was just initially the three of us, others have always showed up and made the day festive. Not everyone is so fortunate-and God knows, there are those who get arrested, or even killed, on their “special day”. Thankfully, this has not happened to anyone I have known, save one person, back in the mid-90s. There are many who do, however, end up noting their birthdays nearly alone. Today’s celebrant was one of those, on several occasions, over the years.

Another aspect of this day is the marking of three decades. Often, the “Big Three-Oh” is a mark of maturity, or at least the glimmerings of such, in a person’s life. For me, back in 1980, it was the day when a woman in San Diego told me I didn’t need to try so hard, in starting a relationship. She was in a bond of her own, so was not dropping any hints-but she said I was more physically attractive and personable than I was allowing self to acknowledge. That was borne out, a week later, when I met Penny in Zuni, NM and my life changed-for the next thirty years, if not forever. My thirties, which my last landlady in Maine had told me, two years earlier, would be enjoyable, were also the period in which I shed a long-standing bugbear: Alcohol dependence; and changed the scope of my faith, from Catholic to Baha’i- more in keeping with my own belief in the essential unity of all people-and the wholeness of Creation.

I became a father, towards the end of the decade, and now our son is in his own thirties, a loving husband, a diligent student, and a man on the cusp of a senior rank in the U.S. Navy Reserves. He has a solid life plan, a tad more organized than I had at that age, and which is also flexible enough that no change in humanity’s fortunes can derail it.

So, I see my young friend also finding a viable path, one that he and his best friend here can navigate together, if they wish. I sense that his days of viewing the world though the half-empty glass, a worldview rooted simply in fear, are over and that his considerable gifts are going to bear fruit.

Life in one’s thirties is indeed a triple-decker, of knowledge, wisdom and meaningful action.

Assumptions

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August 9, 2022- There is a family with whom my relationship has been touch and go, over the past eleven years. We work towards similar goals, yet there is always a feeling-mostly on my part, that things could be a whole lot better between us.

This, it turns out, is an indicator of my tendency to fill in the blanks with assumptions, which may have scant connection with reality. Most of the people in my life have made assumptions, so I have found this “skill” ingrained in me. Like Nature, human beings abhor a vacuum-especially one of information.

Don Miguel Ruiz comments on this, in the fourth chapter of “The Four Agreements”-noting that assumptions create twice as many problems as they purport to solve. Creating scenarios, with false or incomplete information, has been a waste of time for me, most of the time.

This leads me into the scenarios being devised, to provide false equivalency for the plights of perpetrators, when victims deserve first hearing. Then, there are trolls, whose aim is to discombobulate the masses, by throwing out false accusations about people who, while imperfect, are generally above reproach.

In reading “The Four Agreements”, I again got to thinking, hard, about all the times things have been made worse by jumping to conclusions. With my somewhat stumpy legs, missing the other side has been a considerable consequence. So, there’s another goal-quit assuming the worst, and aim for its opposite.

Impersonal

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August 8, 2022- The masked man snapped, “Don’t be smiling at ME, mister!”, as I went to pass him and his friend, the Feeding Coordinator at a local church, while cleaning up after helping serve a meal for the homeless. The hapless woman introduced us, in hope of de-escalating the matter, then scrunched her face and walked away. Masked Man then got his walking stick and left without another word. My smile was because I felt happy, nothing more.

I am reading Don Miguel Ruiz’s “The Four Agreements”, before passing it on to a family member, who I think could also benefit from his premises. The agreements discussed are those we make with society, which cloud our judgment and limit our thinking.

The one I read today was regarding taking things personally. Don Miguel correctly, in my view, points out that taking offense at someone’s adverse comments or actions is rooted in self-centeredness. If someone calls me “stupid”, it only works its dark magic if I already doubt my own intelligence. What a person says, or does to, another is really reflective of her/himself, and own issues, rather than of the recipient.

I am quite steady, anymore, through either sunshine or rain. It wasn’t always that way. I could easily come unglued, if someone made negative comments about me or acted as if I were a lesser being. That all gradually came to an end, over the past four years, with the realization of exactly what Don Miguel discusses in this book. What is about me, is how I view myself, independently of anyone else’s input. The crucible was the intrusion into my life of a viciously judgmental individual, for whom the smallest error was grounds for a screaming dressing-down. After being physically injured by the individual,albeit through psychic energy, it came to me that only completely cutting off all contact-which I was so quick to advise others to do, over the course of my career, would guarantee my safety.

That was an extreme case, and my cutting off contact with the individual did not meet with the approval of a few friends, but no matter. My greater task, indeed the greater task of all of us, is to work towards full potential, to develop those attributes that will sustain the soul in the world beyond.

The woman at the church tersely thanked me for having helped, this once, and said “See you…around”. My efforts were at the behest of another friend, who asked me to help there once before. That appearance also ended on a sour note-but that’s another story. I may go back and help, next Monday, just because I believe in the effort being made. If I get the same response as this evening’s, maybe it’ll be better to leave the group to themselves-but at least I will know, it’s not me who has the problem.

Carousel of Time

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August 6, 2022- “Do you smoke?”, the gregarious woman asked, referring to the use of cannabis. When I replied in the negative, she said that she thought I should. The fact is, I ended, that my imagination needs no external aid, in going off on tangents. I haven’t used any intoxicants since February, 1981, and while I will socialize with just about anyone, it is not necessary for me to follow their behaviour in lockstep.

I was at the coffee shop of one who is an angel to me, and who has been in a mutually encouraging friendship, for four years. There are many such people in my life, all sent by the Divine, with the understanding that I be an angel to them in return. Some are huggers; others, fist-bumpers; still others are hand shakers or just verbal greeters. The heart connection is what matters most, and all are treasured.

We do all ride together, on what Joni Mitchell calls “the carousel of time”. I don’t quite see myself as a captive on that conveyance, despite what the great poetess exclaims. Nonetheless, it is a joy to find myself, increasingly, in the company of noble beings and to be able to educate those of good heart who face challenges.

The woman mentioned at the beginning of this post allowed that her dependence is perhaps a vestige of the stress under which she lived and worked, in her former place of residence. The environment she’s in now is far more nurturing, and hopefully will relieve her of stress, and that dependence.

The carousel of time does not have to be bumpy, in perpetuity. The new dreams of which Joni sings, in the last verse of the song, are indeed plenty-and there will be more still, “before the last revolving year is through.”

On Behaving Well in Groups

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August 5, 2022- The old friend could not, by all seeming, help himself. The rash of cuss words just flew off his tongue, for no particular reason other than that they came to mind. The women around us ignored the spate of profanity, and seemed to be in their own worlds. I kept my own diction in a socially acceptable framework, though I recognize that it may have been a good idea to gently and firmly ease him out of that pattern of speech.

It has been customary for parents to stress to their children that they must be polite at home, when visiting family, at a House of Worship, and in the neighbourhood. The best of parents have included school, eateries and stores in that regimen. The idea has been to build a good personal code of conduct. Not embarrassing one’s family has been a good deterrent for most, but not all.

In the Baha’i Teachings, and among others whose social consciousness is elevated, the idea of behaving well in groups, because it is a key feature of building a society based on the oneness of mankind, and because it helps build a listening culture, rather than a knee-jerk reacting culture.

I have come a long way, since 1980, in that regard, especially. There were lapses, between then and now, but they were made reparable by the culture of learning from one’s mistakes, by the qualified forgiveness of those I hurt and by the overarching power of said Teachings, which are to be applied personally, with minimal, if any, social pressure-yet have the force of practically reinventing a person, by stressing one’s strengths and letting weaknesses flow out and fade away.

I choose to act as a counterweight to boorish personalities, these days, while remembering all the times when I was one of them-and not wallowing in those memories.

Mitote

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August 4, 2022- Once, there was a skilled teacher of mathematics, who told himself that there was nothing he could do right, anymore-not even teaching mathematics. That man helped me break my fear of math, and got me to understand how relatively simple it all is. I reminded him that what he did for me was certainly true many times over. His own self-talk, perhaps reflecting the criticisms of others, was unfortunate and unnecessary.

Don Miguel Garcia, in “The Four Agreements”, writes of mitote, (mih-TOH-tay), a Toltec word meaning, essentially, the fog of self-deception. It is the same as the Hindu concept of maya, or illusion. I have thought of this quite a bit lately. Yesterday, a friend and I were talking about the liberating feeling one gets, when not “wearing a mask” in the process of trying to impress another person. Fakery is discerned by most people, even by those who want to embrace one’s false image.

For so many years, I bought into the image of myself as less than those around me. The illusion was bolstered by a lack of physical coordination, and was dispelled only through military training and the maturity brought by marriage and fatherhood. With my mitote clearing, life has become more fulfilling-not easier, as that is not the purpose of this life, but infinitely more fulfilling.

There have been those who try to foist their own mitote on me, and on others. I am grateful to have had the strength of discernment, when it came time to deal calmly and firmly with such folks.

Bill Russell

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August 3, 2022- On July 31, one of the greatest professional basketball players to push forward, even when he was tired and feeling out of shape, took his last breath. Bill Russell did not compromise on a good many things. He spoke off the cuff, a good many times, sometimes alienating long-time personal friends and infuriating those who felt “victimized” by his vitriol.

I have been one to look carefully at the anger expressed by people of colour-even when they object to the term “people of colour”. In 1968, when Martin Luther King was assassinated, the reaction of far too many people in my town was, essentially, “good riddance”. At the high school, the next day, the two African-American students were not, to my knowledge, directly threatened, but a small group of male students stood, within earshot of one of the boys, and said what a great day it was for America. Not that many years later, a half-in-jest, half-in-earnest movement was begun to celebrate the life of James Earl Ray, Dr. King’s convicted assassin. It never went far, of course, and Dr. King’s stature has grown, over the years, while few remember Ray, or the doctor who supposedly put a pillow over the reverend’s face, thereby completing the act.

Maybe because I was something of an outlier, or because my personality is given to inclusion of everyone, active racism has made me sick-whether it came from other Whites, Asians reacting to White hubris or any other group exhibiting a sense of superiority. None of us walks on water; none of us is created by other than the Almighty. I have had to acknowledge, and gradually jettison, the racial blind spots and ingrained attitudes that were imparted by those of my elders, and peers, who did not examine their behaviour’s effect on those around them. While not loving them any less, I could not continue to hold those attitudes, or ignore areas where I needed to grow.

Bill Russell might have glared at me, had we ever met, and I may have had a hard time dealing with that, but in the end, his pain-coming from all the way back to his childhood, youth and young adulthood, became my pain, too. I learned from the anger of my fellow soldiers, the guarded indignation of people on the street, here and there, and the righteous chastisement of a beautiful, articulate woman at a Baha’i event, of all places, that “Bring thyself to account each day” meant what it said: Not to wallow in self-pity, not to flagellate oneself, but to acknowledge flaws and grow out of them.

Rest in Power, Mr. William Felton Russell. You were one of the good ones, and one of the greats.

Crashes and Comfort Zones

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August 2, 2022- The woman two seats over from me, at the counter of a local establishment, began telling me about what she said was the worst accident she has handled, in twenty years in the automobile insurance industry. It involved a head-on collision, caused by someone who passed on a double yellow, on a curve, and was driving a luxury vehicle. The driver was from another state. His passenger was killed. The right-way driver has lost the use of his legs, for at least two years.

We agreed that there is a long-standing problem with people leaving their manners behind, when they cross out of their home states-and in some cases, home communities. There have been instances where a driver, culpable in an accident, has argued with police and the other parties’ insurance companies, saying that people should make way when said driver is approaching. You can easily guess how that worked for the guilty party. I was taught that other motorists, and pedestrians, are fellow travelers, and deserve every courtesy that I wish for myself.

Conversely, the other phenomenon the insurance agent has witnessed is the frequency of accidents caused by people within a few miles of their homes. The incident in which Saturn got bumped, on July 7, was caused by a driver who was two miles from home-and was headed there when a red light, and two other vehicles, were in between. My Elantra was once dinged by a woman who was backing up, while looking straight forward, because “this is a routine pick-up and I’ve done this every day for six months.” The same hapless vehicle was t-boned by a truck whose driver was two minutes away from his first landscaping job of the day. I was three minutes away from mine, and needless to say, neither of us worked that day. Had he driven the speed limit and had I looked left and right for ten seconds, instead of five, things would have been different.

As it happened, I made another run up to Bellemont today, to finish a cleaning task, using a power washer. There were no problems with traffic and drivers, as Tuesday is not a high volume day, even in summer. In any case, I tend to follow basic rules of courtesy, and follow laws, whether driving in Prescott or Parrsboro, NS.