Category Archives: Spiritual

Two City Walks and a Tapas-try

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Historical, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 4, 2022, Atlanta- I set out in mid-afternoon, to pay respects to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on the 54th anniversary of his assassination. I was not able to reach the actual memorial site, but that is just part of the overall wholeness of this day.

I started out by returning the vehicle that had taken me so many places, in three states, over the past fifteen days. Driving a nearly state-of-the-art automobile was a fine new experience-even with the shrill noise, when another car was in the lane to which I wanted to turn(very useful) or when the car in front stopped short(even more useful). All that was missing was EV status-but someday….

Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority (MARTA) has a very full system of stations, from Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, in the south to Doraville in the northeast and Sandy Springs in the northwest. There is also an east-west line, branching in each direction, from downtown Atlanta. This system took me from the airport to North Avenue, from which I walked up Peachtree, to this gem of a coffee house.

Land of a Thousand Hills Coffee House, midtown Atlanta
Mission Statement of Land of A Thousand Hills Coffee House

From there, it was a clean walk, across midtown, to Georgia Institute of Technology. One of my nephews is an alumnus of this vibrant, expanding school. It’s grown a lot since Nick was here, as have a good many colleges and universities. One place that has stayed the same is The Biltmore. Once one of a chain of deluxe hotels, it is now a luxury apartment complex.

The Biltmore, midtown Atlanta

Technology Square is the heart of GIT. It extends for three or four city blocks.

The Heart of Georgia Tech
The Language Institute and Administration Building, GIT’s equivalent of Old Main
Dogwoods in bloom, midtown Atlanta

It wouldn’t be spring in Georgia, without the dogwood flowers.

Wimbish House, aka Atlanta Woman’s Club

My afternoon walk, in the Peachtree area, yielded a few gems. Walter Downing built this masterpiece, Wimbish House,in 1922. Women from across Atlanta meet here, to launch projects aimed at civic improvement, in several areas of community life. Not far down the street is the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta.

Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta
“Let Me Share The Sky With You”, by Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya

It struck me that this is exactly the sort of scene that Dr. King would have loved to have seen, had he lived into his seniority. It is fairly easy to pronounce Amanda’s family name, if one takes the time to look at it and absorb the power of her work.

I found the GPS on my phone was not enamoured of giving directions to someone willing to walk 1.5 miles from Peachtree to the King Memorial. It is definitely a vehicle-oriented system, even in this day and age. I headed back to my hotel, in plenty of time to join my brother for an evening at a Basque-style tapas restaurant, Cooks and Soldiers. San Sebastian, in Spain’s Basque region, is widely-known as a gastronomic paradise. The presentation of exquisite pintxos (Basque for “tapas”), was one item at a time, allowing us to savour each dish. We ended with a hot beverage and a shared piece of Orange Pie. As our conversation dealt with spiritual matters, this heavenly meal was apropos.

https://www.cooksandsoldiers.com/about

It has been a truly rewarding, and hopefully productive journey, in terms of small acts of service and kind energy put forth, for the most part. Tomorrow, the train leaves for a brief stop in New Orleans, then back to the Southwest.

Down to Earth In A Sonesta

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 3, 2022, Atlanta- I left Heart of Dixie Motel, the fixer-upper that did not even have its own towels. (I had my own, for just such an eventuality.) It was mid-morning and I had plenty of time to get up here, to mid-town Atlanta, by the time I was to host a Zoom call. So it went, and the two paradigms of life in America stood in contrast to one another. Rural Dadeville, with mostly comfortable single family homes and a motel or two to house migrant workers, just up the road from the aspiring surrounds of Lake Martin-a fishing and boating mecca that gives east central Alabama a much-needed boost, versus Atlanta, the symbol of the South that rose again, with every amenity that one could call upon.

I find myself in a Sonesta Hotel, one of those which have become part of the system first established by A.M. Sonnabend, a Boston-based entrepreneur, of whom I heard as a child. Mr. Sonnabend lent the first three letters of his name to the brand-“Son”esta. I worked in a Sonesta, in Bangor, Maine, for a few months, in 1976-7, while simultaneously feeling my way in the newly-emerging field of educating the emotionally-disabled. I held my own in that motel job, and may actually have been better off sticking with the field, at least until I got my head on straighter. Things happen the way they should, though, and here I am, 46 years later, glad to have reached equilibrium in my life and impacted a fair number of children and youth in a positive way.

The next day or two will find me bidding farewell to the Hyundai Sonata, which safely took me to Miami Beach and back, via Brunswick, Amelia Island, Kennedy Space Center, Key West, Big Cypress, Naples (FL), Lake Okeechobee, Tampa-St. Petersburg, Spring Hill, and the Carter Country of southwest Georgia. Thinking things through, in the safety of a comfortable hotel room, is not hard. I have Celtic music gently playing and the knowledge that, although the faith-based activities I hoped to have included in this journey were eclipsed by lingering pandemic-related restrictions, I did right by family members along the way and made new, if fleeting, friendships-with people I may very well encounter again in the future. I kept the online meeting commitments I had, that either did not conflict with family engagements or get rendered cumbersome by lack of a proper venue at the time they were scheduled.

Above all else, I did not fold, did not collapse or get shaken by either aloneness or by the ignorance of others who did not honour my presence, even though I did theirs. March was both a hard energy month and a stage filled with opportunities for growth. April, May and June will bring more of the latter-mostly around Home Base, but with another likely journey of observation and service, towards the end of Spring.

The flutes and strings are telling me to be gentle with self and re-group, in any way that such is needed.

Two Voices of Reason, and Their Opposites

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

April 2, 2022, Dadeville, AL- “Behold a tree. Does it speak to us thusly: ‘Don’t you see that God is not working Himself into a frenzy in me? I am calmly, quietly, silently pouring forth my life and bringing forth fruit. ‘ Do thou likewise.”-Clarence Jordan

Mr. Jordan was one of the founders of Koinonia Farm, an intentional experiment in Christian living, which began in 1942, west of Americus, GA. Together with his wife, Florence, and colleagues Martin and Mabel England, he built a community based on the brotherhood and sisterhood of all people. This brought hostility from those who were afraid of racial equality, with Ku Klux Klan attacks and drive-by shootings, as well as bombings in the 1950s.

Koinonia’s response was nonviolence and prayer. The founders, and the community, survived nicely, and the enterprise remains as it was founded, rooted in love and prayer. Clarence passed away in 1969. Out of Koinonia’s ministerial efforts have come Habitat for Humanity, and The Fuller Center for Housing. Koinonia remains a fully-functioning cooperative farm.

Here are some scenes of the property, which I visited this morning.

Koinonia Farm Welcome Center, west of Americus
View of the Main Campus, from Welcome Center
Dried mud beehive oven, Koinonia Farm
Jubilee House-one of several residences and guest houses on Koinonia
Koinonia Chapel, across the road from the farm.

An example of an unreasoning individual showed up, as I was preparing to turn left into the chapel’s driveway, and passed my car, on a double yellow line, in the opposite lane, seconds before I would have turned, had I not felt the energy telling me-“WAIT!” The vehicle must have been moving at 50 mph, leaving the road and bouncing back on it, about fifteen seconds later.

Jimmy Carter, the 39th President of the United States, is still alive, at age 97. He lives with his wife Rosalynn, on a private compound, in Plains, GA, where they grew up. Plains proudly holds its favourite son and daughter to its heart. The small downtown bears the imprint of the U.S. National Park Service. While not everyone on the block is a fan of Mr. Carter, those who grew up there are.

The east end of downtown Plains
and the west end.
Downtown Plains Park

Two very positive shop owners were the proprietor of a peanut butter ice cream parlor, who is a native of Plains and a small cash dispenser/convenience store owner, who comes from Sri Lanka. The owner of Plains Trading Post has one of the largest troves of political memorabilia and media, in the nation. I will leave it at that. He has several rare books on various historical topics. I bought one, as a gift to a family member.

At the Jimmy Carter National Historical Site, on the campus of the former Plains High School, it was noteworthy that one of the strongest influences on Mr. Carter was his school’s lead educator, Miss Julia Coleman-who was a pedagogically active Superintendent. Miss Coleman (She rejected the title, Ms.) was active in community gardening and took a personal interest in both the white and black schools, and their students. It dismayed her that there was so much resistance to integration of the two student bodies, even as late as 1965.

The Friendship Garden of Miss Julia Coleman

The fullness of Jimmy Carter’s life is well-depicted in the 25-minute video that is shown in the historical site’s auditorium. I hope to learn more, at the Carter Center, his Presidential Library, in Atlanta-but not until my next visit in the area. (Mr. Carter believes on keeping the Sabbath, so the facility is closed on Sunday). Needless to say, his legacy is already one of the most genuine and consistently enriched, of all the Presidents.

Tuskegee Airmen National Historic Site is situated at the very field where the men trained. Just north of the city of Tuskegee, Alabama, it is a spacious area, and is still used as a training site for pilots of small aircraft.

Main Gate to Tuskegee Army Air Corps Training Facility
These skeletal structures represent the Army Supply Building (foreground) and the Cadet House (background).
Hangar # 1, Tuskegee Army Air Corps Training Field

This hangar contains examples of two training airplanes, a plane motor and has audio presentations of several different players in the endeavour. Women served as security, parachute preparers, and aircraft mechanics.

Homage to Dr. Robert Moton, who fostered this airfield
Replica of a training biplane
View of Tuskegee Airfield training complex, from the upper parking lot

It was a full day, and I admit to being a bit less energetic than the various people zipping along the backroads of Alabama, while I headed to and from Oskar’s Cafe, and Heart of Dixie Motel, Dadeville. Oskar’s has modest, but very filling portions-continuing in the spirit of Georgia and Florida. Madolyn was another very focused and energetic server. The motel needs a lot of work, but it’s clean and safe.

Tomorrow, I head back to Atlanta, for a day or two.

Cognitive Dissonance

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Education, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 30, 2022, Weeki Wachee, FL- The hapless individual, wearing a health agency tee shirt, began to clutch the area just below her rib cage. Her nurse friends got a chair and had her sit down, while they summoned a team to offer a higher level of care. Those in the waiting area made sure that she did not fall out of the chair, in the interim. Her pain did not abate and within twenty minutes, an ambulance arrived and took her to a larger facility.

The psychologist Leon Festinger offers the theory that much disbelief that interferes with a person acknowledging what is clearly taking place in front of him, is the result of cognitive dissonance-the distinction between normative unfolding of events (“business as usual”) and a drastic, wholly unexpected changed sequence of events, which is nonetheless real.

It took me a few seconds to look past the tee-shirt and see only another human being in acute distress. Yes, my guard was up for her safety until a proper team gathered around her and off they went to hospital. I relayed the gist of this incident to others without, of course, identifying so much as the location of the facility. My presence there was only to get a few stitches removed, from a procedure that was done two weeks ago. That matter took mere minutes. The poor lady’s husband arrived on scene and was likewise driven to her hospital by a close friend of theirs. Their ordeal may well have taken hours, perhaps much longer.

The cognitive dissonance that is vocalized by “It can’t happen here!”, is again and again being tossed in our faces, by a system that is collapsing, in one way nor another-and is being replaced by a structure that is both ground up and side by side. There is a top down element, but it is not the sort that the once dominant forces think they want. Those whose mantra is the above statement cannot but be increasingly confused by all that seems to be happening around us.

I am more certain that many of the changes we see will redound to the betterment of the human race. Those that don’t do so will likely bring changes in other ways, that will be to our betterment over time. We could discuss this all night, but it’s time for this one to rest.

A Gram-tastic Hostel and Twin Bayside Gems

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Posted by on in Community, Education, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 29, 2022, Spring Hill, FL- I sat patiently on one of the rock benches outside the Dali Museum, whilst a budding model was having a short photo shoot on the limestone pillar that is one of the building’s supports. Once it was completed, her photographer came over and asked if I would be so kind as to take a photo of the two of them and their male friend. I agreed, and as they were delighted with my photograph, a couple of shots of me at the rock pillar were taken. Thus was a memorable encounter with Kellie, Tyler and the model, who wouldn’t give her name. It is always a joy to encourage young people in their endeavours, however these may look at first glance.

Limestone support, Dali Museum, St. Petersburg

The day began in the one and only hostel dedicated to the memory of the one and only Gram Parsons. The rock/country music fusion pioneer, so bedeviled in his personal life, like so many musicians of the 1960s and ’70s, still casts a giant shadow on the music scene, forty-nine years after his death. Like the man himself, Gram’s Place is eclectic, over the top and leaves an indelible impression.

Entry to Gram’s Place, Tampa

The Flying Burrito Brothers were an offshoot of The Byrds, organized professionally by Gram and a fellow Byrds alumnus, Chris Hillman. Gram worked with this band from early 1969, until mid 1970, freely admitting he was a bit on the lazy side, while still coming up with amazing material, when he was so moved.

This take on a Bob Dylan song captures both Gram’s talent and his nonchalance. It also foreshadows his passing.
Chaotic Montage, Gram’s Place. Tampa

You just never know what you might find, on the grounds of this fascinating hostel. It’ll rank as one of the best places at which I’ve ever stayed. Luxury is nice, but authenticity rules!

It was soon on to downtown Tampa. Parking my vehicle in a spacious lot, I set a loop that took in the city’s Riverwalk, went over a bridge across the Hillsborough River and through Plant Park (named for Henry S. Plant, a railway pioneer) and the University of Tampa. The city was in a fairly relaxed frame of mind, into early afternoon.

Curtis Hixon Waterfront Park, Tampa
Hillsborough River, Tampa
Bank of America Plaza, Tampa

In January, 2002, a teenager, Charles Bishop (nee Bishara), crashed a stolen Cessna into the Bank of America building. He was the sole casualty of the crash. He left a letter, claiming to have been inspired by al-Qaida.

Bridge across Hillsborough River, from Riverwalk to West Side, Tampa
Propeller sculpture, commemorating the first commercial plane flight, from St. Petersburg to Tampa, 3/1/1914

Tony Jannus, a 25-year-old pilot, transported a former mayor of St. Petersburg, and a bag of mail, on the nation’s first commercial flight, across Tampa Bay.

First Baptist Church, west side of Tampa
Plant Hall, University of Tampa

This large complex was once a hotel, operated by the entrepreneur, Henry Plant. It became the University of Tampa, in 1932. The steel minarets were regarded by Mr. Plant as a symbol of majesty. They are a point of pride for the city and for U of T’s students.

Veterans Memorial, Plant Park, Tampa

Once back across the river, it was time to head to Tampa’s sister, St. Petersburg-named, on a coin toss, by Peter Demens, a Russian immigrant, after his home city. Had the coin toss gone the other way, “St. Pete” may well have been named Detroit.

Fountain, Veterans Memorial Park, St. Petersburg, FL
General Tadieusz Kosciusko

Brigadier General Kosciusko, who cam from Poland to assist the Continental Army in America’s War for Independence, also sought freedom for enslaved Africans, and bequeathed funds for their education and training, after emancipation. Alas, this wish of his would not be met, even in rudimentary fashion, until the 1860s.

City of St. Petersburg Marina
White ibis, looking for dinner, St. Petersburg
Dali Museum, St. Petersburg
“Eagle Catcher”, outside James Museum of Western and Wildlife Art, St. Petersburg

This sculpture by Vic Payne is found in various cities. It does capture the spirit of St. Petersburg, as much as it does any other city. After a lovely day in the “Florida Twins”, I was ready for the quieter clime of Spring Hill, an hour to the north.

Aunt Grace’s Homeland

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 26, 2022, Naples, Florida- The sweet-spirited young woman was glad as heck, that someone entered her family’s small cafe, just as she was opening the door to business. I felt like royalty, being welcomed as if I was the first soul in years to stop by. It didn’t hurt that she had a gorgeous smile and a barely concealed measure of confidence. When I ordered coffee and a piece of fry bread, (a staple among the Miccosukee, as well as among First Nations people around the United States and Canada-a testimony to the creative use of worm-shot flour, back in the Nineteenth Century.), J placed the order for the bread and turned to her uncle and me, admitting that she only knew how to use a Keurig. Uncle D was nonplussed, and calmly showed his teenaged niece how to make coffee using a drip system. Her coffee was superb, as was her mother’s fry bread.

These are the extended family of my late Aunt Grace, who left Big Cypress after World War II, and never returned, even after leaving her husband. Gracie was content to raise her five children and work as a waitress at a discount department store’s lunch counter, until she died a few years back, at age 90. She was pleased when I went to work with other First Nations people, though. She was quiet. but firm in her assessment of things- much like young J.

The Miccosukee are a southern branch of the Seminole, who came to central and southern Florida in the 1700s, and are the branch of Seminole who managed to elude Andrew Jackson’s forces, when he was appointed military governor of Florida, in 1821. Today, they live along the Tamiami Trail and in sections of the Everglades and Big Cypress natural preserves. No sane United States official, today, would recommend moving these careful stewards from the Federal lands. South Florida is rightly viewed as a proving ground for our species’ commitment to conserving water and all other living natural resources.

I spent about an hour in Osceola Panther, as Uncle D’s small village and store are called. Here are some of the scenes from the store and along the Tamiami Canal outside.

Traditional Miccosukee Spirit Mask
Traditional Miccosukee family
Tamiami Canal, at Osceola Panther
Miccosukee shade chickee

Another hour was spent, up the road, at Big Cypress National Preserve, which offers extensive programs to educate the public on the intertwining topographic areas of savanna and wetlands, which comprise most of southern and central Florida.

Here are a few scenes of everyone’s favourite swamp creature: The alligator.

Alligator feeding at Big Cypress National Preserve
Two alligators at rest.
Juvenile alligator, looking for food

The heat became a bit enervating, after noon, when I found myself dealing with the hyper-energy of Naples, southwest Florida’s southern anchor community. Here, I found that I had returned to suburbia, intense high-speed traffic and people who had scant patience for one another. After a brief preliminary visit to Naples’ excellent Botanical Garden, I rested, took in a Baha’i planning session and rested more.

The Trumpeters

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 16, 2022, Newnan, GA- Three trumpeter swans, mother, father and son, make the rounds of Lake Redwine, an artificial lake around which many new homes on the west side of this relatively serene town in west Georgia have sprung up in recent years. I am here, for three days, visiting my middle brother and his wife.

The swans, for years, kept other water fowl, particularly ducks, from settling in around the lake. An attack on the mother swan, by a snapping turtle, three years ago, resulted in her losing her lower beak. This seems to have mellowed out the trio. They have turned inward, reverting to the cygnine behaviour of parents bullying their cygnet into leaving the nest, once it comes of age. So far, it has not worked. Dutiful son still looks after his mother, even if it seems she may want him to move on.

How close to human are these opposing behaviours? The difference is that the birds are acting on instinct. Humans, with the powers of reason and utterance, still manage to hold grudges and thrive on half-truths. I will not give any specific examples, out of respect to those involved, but I keep learning of families in which parents and children push each other away, and not always out of a desire to see the other become self-sufficient.

With the swans, there are winners: The offspring get to start their own family and the parents can hatch a new set of cygnets. With humans, the hits often just keep on coming.

Humility and forgiveness-are these so impossible?

For The Hostages, on the Ides

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Posted by on in Community, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual

March 15, 2022- It has been reported that some 500 people are being held by Russian troops at a hospital in Mariupol, Ukraine. 400 of these are residents of the area near the facility and 100 are a mix of medical staff and patients. The situation is a breach of all that is humane, but that ship sailed several days ago. For all the posturing about Ukrainian neo-fascists in the Azov Brigade, most, if not all, of the brutality that is quantifiable is coming from the invaders-not from the defenders.

This is a short post, as I have a very early wake-up, tomorrow. It is no less important, though, that the world is kept abreast of matters like this. The true horror of war is largely the stuff of how innocents are treated. So far, there is no sign of any adherence, on the part of the invaders, to those provisions of the Geneva Convention that pertain to the treatment of civilians, of noncombatants.

I say goodnight, with prayers for their safety on my lips and in my heart.

Two Inverse Triangles

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 12, 2022- During this afternoon’s Web of Light meditation, (part of a monthly Zoom call), I saw an inverse triangle covering North America, and got a message that the three focal points were to be the purpose of my journeys this year. One is Florida-with Miami having more of a role in the itinerary than I had previously thought, and a clockwise traverse of the peninsula being in order. Orlando, and the theme parks, didn’t even register, but then again, I am not a huge theme park aficionado, unless children are involved. This works out well, considering that I had long been drawn to go to the peninsula after visiting with family in the Atlanta area.

The other two points of the triangle are Atlantic Canada and Alaska. These will be clearer in a couple of months. Mid-June to mid-July look to be the first and mid-September to mid-October, for the second. As the meditation also showed robust activity around Home Base, in northern New Mexico and in southern California, from mid-April to mid-June, I will be engaged in measured activity, a good part of the time. I didn’t get any insight on fire or hurricane response, unlike the warning I got two years ago about Alexandria, Louisiana, but it’s early in the season yet.

My conscious self asked, “So, Europe is obviously off the table this year?” The insight gave the meditative version of “Well, duh!”, and brought my thoughts back to healing and peaceful resolution of the conflict. Another inverted triangle appeared, with Africa at the bottom, Europe on top left and the Asia-Pacific region on the top right. These areas seem to be more in a long-term sequence, which will be more clear towards the end of this year. Five years seem to be involved.

Today, the most important time period in front of me, saw a goodly amount of planning for the next few weeks, with accommodations mostly set. I put in an hour on a school garden project, at a nearby campus. Visits to Rafter Eleven and Synergy capped off the day, with the latter being a mini-jam, my drum accompanying a guitar and a harmonium. Three others in the group were suitably forceful in their singing.

Despite all that the above seems to signal, I feel very much at peace and in charge of my life.

Restitutions and Return Visits

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 6, 2022- I was quite gratified this morning, to be given a complementary breakfast, in view of the two such meals which I had to speak out in order to receive, after paying in advance. Good will means a lot at the Legion, so when the servers mess up, the host steps up. After I was finished eating, one of our regular table mates who usually helps serve the other diners had just been given his own breakfast. So, I took a turn at service for a bit-and saw where some of the confusion may have arisen over the past few weeks. There is a tendency to write first names and family initials. There are four “Garys”, myself included and two of us have the last initial “B”. There are six “Steves”, five “Bobs” and three “Terris”. I called out the people’s names and got it done. The problem, thus, seems to be shy servers.

After my weekly Zoom devotional, the day looked open-ended, and the Agua Fria River was calling, so I made a return hike along the Badger Springs Trail, this time focusing on the section that passes by two frames of petroglyphs. The glyphs are visible to the naked eye, but don’t photograph well in a casual manner. Could it be that the spirits are protecting them from casual photographers? We’ll have to see, on future visits.

The river itself is not so coy. It does seem to be down a bit, but since it is largely dependent on snow melt, the level may yet rise, over the next month or so.

Agua Fria River, at Badger Springs
Agua Fria River, at Badger Springs

Return visits to local natural scenes are increasingly important, if for no other reason than rootedness. They also figure in acts of completion. A few days ago, I finished hiking the Lime Kiln Trail, which runs between Cottonwood and Sedona. The final segment is but 1 1/2 miles, from one segment of the Red Rock State Park access road, over Scheuerman (SHOY-er man) Mountain Ridge, across a forested valley and on to the entrance to the state park. It was a fitting end to a segmented hike that had been in abeyance for over a year.

Beginning of Scheuerman Ridge segment, Lime Kiln Trail
Junction with Scheuerman Mountain Trail
View towards Cathedral Rock, from Scheuerman Ridge

So the cementing of returns dovetails with the strengthening that comes from new discoveries.

Finally, because we need it in the face of both real and imagined tyranny: A return to the most stirring song from Les Miserables (2012). Let us neither be deluded or complacent, in the weeks, months and possibly years ahead. Every nation, every people, deserve to be free of rule from without.