Animal Visions

2

December 5, 2020-

As has been the case quite often, of late, I had a vivid dream last night-this one of my being a personal guest of the President of Brazil, at his country villa. I was actually speaking Portuguese, intermittently, with the leader speaking English, in his turn. It was a cordial, and rather casual, visit- with the two of us having an earnest discussion about Amazonia-and me pointing out that there is evidence of a grand ancient civilization in the river basin.

As often happens in dream sequences, the matter went unresolved, with the president excusing himself to go to bed and me being escorted to the guest bedroom. The next dream scene had me being greeted by a full-grown alpaca, which was a house pet-in a different house (and probably a different country). The beast looked out the window and saw a bunch of kangaroos gamboling outside. Alpaca went to the door and looked at me to let him out. I opened the door, and he nudged me to go outside with him. Then I woke up.

I cannot readily imagine either scenario; neither can I rule eother one out. It’s as likely that something I ate may have sparked the unusual, as it was that the books I’ve been reading about ancient peoples of the Americas planted thought threads in my mind. I can’t speak to the animal vision, but perhaps the fact that I’ve been close to animals, most of my life had something to do with it.

I do know that certain spiritual attributes are tied to particular animals, the stereotypes being such as an owl embodying wisdom, a coyote or a fox depicting stealth or treachery or a large feline exhibiting courage and ferocity. For some reason, I have always felt close to the bear, though exactly what lies behind that is unknown to me.

Perhaps each of us does have a true connection with a given animal, in which case, awareness of our true attributes is a good place to begin, in the search for understanding that connection.

Sudden Shifts

4

December 2, 2020- As the time for my retirement (more or less) gets closer, there is still no end to the surprises and shifts that continue in the conduct of public education. I no sooner was told my scheduled assignment for today had been canceled, than I got a call for three days-thus taking me through this week.

The next surprise: Friday will most likely be my last day of work for the calendar year. This is due to the school districts going online again, beginning Monday. I am strictly an in-person educator, as far as public schools are concerned. I helped a few children when attempting online instruction, but it was tough, which is likely one reason why the previous assignment was canceled-as online instruction was part of it.

This will prompt a re-assessment of my schedule for the next two weeks, but change is a constant. There is always a lot to do. For tomorrow and Friday, my young charges are glad that I came back. They are not thrilled about going back to online learning, so I hope that streaming technology, at least, can make things vivid for them. The chances of them going back to in-person learning, in January, will depend on COVID levels at that time. I will be taking on only special assignments, in the new calendar year, in any event.

Staying personally disciplined is, and will be, the only thing that will keep me standing-regardless of the swiftness or degree of changes. So, it will remain- Rise early, keep serving and stay steadfast in both exercise and faith. That, and be discerning with regard to the claims to reality, of disparate groups.

Filling Needs

5

November 30, 2020-

The little boy rested his head on the sleeve of my sweater shirt, dozing off the minute our flight lifted off the ground. His apologetic grandmother was assured that there was no need to waken and admonish him. Sleep so often comes in short supply, these days. The right arm remained perfectly still, while the child-my child for an hour or so, caught up with the rest that had been interrupted by God knows what.

So often, we have no understanding of backgrounds or antecedents, preferring to stand on ceremony, or rest on principle. It can go both ways: I know people in need, real or perceived, who constantly badger and cajole their would-be helpers. It’s the adult version of “Are we there yet?”, and it betrays a lack of understanding, as to the complexities of process. I will have to so advise one such person, before heading for bed, tonight.

I have said previously that children and their well-being are my top priority. That remains very much so. My love and commitment extend outward to all ages, certainly, and will no doubt find expression in further acts of service-both planned and random. The New Heaven and the New Earth foretold by Saint John, in the Book of Revelation, will come about-but one step at a time, and with all of us pitching in.

So let the month ahead see an uptick in recognizing what can be done in the moment, what needs more time to accomplish, commitment to both-with the wisdom of knowing the difference.

Neptune Direct

4

November 28, 2020, Plano-

Seventy, as I expected, feels no different than sixty, or sixty-five. The day passed with a variety of activities: Joining a global Zoom gathering, hosted by a longtime friend from Phoenix; picking up another pair of dress casual shoes; munching on burger and fries for lunch and a delectable Pho (Vietnamese soup) and spring rolls for dinner; and exploring parts of Grapevine, TX (photos tomorrow), where Aram and Yunhee will live, come the end of January.

It has been a time of both taking stock of how things have changed, as I mentioned yesterday, and of projecting ahead. I have a sense of what I hope to accomplish in 2021 and beyond. Right now, I am focusing mostly on December, and being there for any children and youth who need me, between now and the Christmas/New Year’s Break. I had planned on taking three days off, to mark the fortieth anniversary of Penny and I having met. That would have taken me to a couple of places in New Mexico that are associated with our first encounter.

New Mexico, though, remains closed to people from most states, including Arizona and there are relatively few substitutes working with my employer, so I will be making myself available from December 1-18, straight through. With any interstate road trip over the holidays looking increasingly ludicrous, I will have plenty of time to check out places in other parts of Arizona, as well as relax with friends, during the Break.

Planet Neptune ends its retrograde, relative to Earth, tomorrow. This sort of event exhausts a lot of people, but generally focuses my attention more sharply and lets me sleep more deeply through the night. That will make it a lot easier both to give my attention where it is needed and to plan realistically for the weeks and months ahead.

The Prairie Sings

2

November 26, 2020, Plano-

The prairie sings of those

who once walked among its grasses,

both short and tall.

The Spaniards came, one day,

and brought horses.

The People learned to ride

and their world changed.

The forests sing of those

who cleared useful paths

among their fastnesses,

cultivated plants, grew herbs

and managed the moose and deer.

The French and English came

and bought furs.

The People learned to trade

and their world changed.

Yhe deserts sing

of those who learned to grow

maize, squash and chilis,

by building irrigation canals

and by dry farming.

The Spanish came here, too,

seeking gold and silver.

The People learned to delude

and their world changed.

The People were here,

long before wars,

religious conflict

and pestilence

brought others from Europe,

as natural calamities,

wars and pestilence

had sent them

here, from three directions,

millennia before.

Now, the People are still here.

Nothing can destroy those

whose hearts and souls

are rooted in Mother Earth,

who sings of all her children.

I hope one and all had a Happy Thanksgiving, as the three of us had.It was non-traditional, as we grilled chicken sausages and carne asada on a gas grill outside, in Plano Home’s outside pavilion. The dessert was chocolate pecan pie. It was as close to the traditional Thanksgiving Dinner as the original meal probably was- with its menu of oysters and clams, squab, pheasant, maize and fiddlehead greens. It was unlikely that any turkey with dressing was served, nor was there any pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving, then as now, is a festival of the heart.

Forging Ahead

0

November 25,2020, Plano-

On a fine and comfortable late November morning, it’s a nice touch to hit the trail, even if the trail in question happens to be paved. So it was that the three of us headed over to Spring Creek Recreation Area, in neighbouring Richardson.

November, in the northern hemisphere, is something of a shoulder month, with leaves having mostly fallen (the cottonwoods of the Southwest, in their golden glory, are an exception). Nonetheless, Nature is healing, sustaining, even in its time of faded glory.

So it was, this morning, at Spring Creek.

This ramp leads down onto the trail.
Most of the trail is flat. This is, after all, a forest situated in a prairie.
Spring Creek, a small stream, is muddy in times of low precipitation.

There were relatively few people on the trail with us. A family of five, with a mildly mischievous adolescent boy teasing his older sister, and a couple of loud younger boys from another family, punctuated an otherwise quiet, self-absorbed coterie of joggers and T’ai-Chi practitioners, who wanted nothing but privacy.

Returning back to Plano Home, Yunhee treated Aram and me to freshly- made bowls of bibimbap, a Korean dish in which is placed rice, ground meat, leafy greens, shredded carrots, mushrooms and, if one wishes, either hard-boiled or over-easy egg in an individual bowl. The diner mixes the ingredients to own satisfaction. Often, the ceramic bowl is heated, so that a raw egg will cook as it is mixed with the other contents. Today, though, all was cooked in advance. It was, nonetheless, delectable-along with her home-made kimchi and seasoned dried minnows.

Bibimbap

As will be occasional, throughout this week’s visit, I felt it proper to join a couple of Zoom calls. One was with a small group of kindred spirits, in a guided meditation. The other, celebrating the life of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, was based in Prescott. Today is observed as the Day of the Covenant, which was the wish of ‘Abdu’l-Baha for those who expressed a desire to celebrate His birthday. As He was born on the very day that al-Bab proclaimed His Mission to humanity, ‘Abdu’l-Baha randomly selected this day (November 25 or 26, depending on the lunar calendar) as a day during which Baha’is could celebrate His life, and Baha’u’llah’s Covenant with His followers.

As it happens, November 28, 1921 was the day on which ‘Abdu’l-Baha ascended to the Spiritual Realm. Thus, in a short span of days, we honour His life and commemorate His passing. Next year, as you might imagine, our focus will be on that extraordinary life and legacy.

So it is, that the governing body of the Baha’i Faith, the Universal House of Justice, has given us a rough outline of the decade ahead- a One -Year Plan, focusing on the above-mentioned life and legacy of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and a subsequent nine years of helping to build a more sustainable and peace-focused society. So it is, that we forge ahead.

Progression

2

November 19, 2020- I went home, this morning-to Prescott High School, my last place of fulltime employment. It was only for a couple of hours, covering for a friend who was tending to his family dog’s illness. Those who were my friends and well-wishers, back in earlier times, were glad that I came back. Those who were among ill-wishers were silent; they had no say in the matter, anyway. I genuinely feel that I have a place in that facility.

Facilitating small groups of people, in their self-directed study of the German language, was a pleasant way to spend the morning. I even picked up a few words in the tongue of my maternal ancestors. It made a difference to a few of the starfish on the beach, so to speak.

Afterwards, I ran a couple of papers, which had errantly remained in my possession yesterday, over to Liberty School, then dropped in to check on friends, one of whom is recovering from a deadly disease (not COVID).

During this time, thoughts came through about the progression of my life, and the themes that defined each decade. The 1950s and’60s were formative years. The 1970s and 2000s were years of faltering in the face of challenges and of making a fair number of mistakes. The 1980s and 2010s were times of spiritual growth, of falling down-but getting back up, and treasuring novel experiences. The 1990s were mostly a time of stability, and of finally shedding residual rough edges.

The 2020s are shaping up to be years of staying calm in the storm. I can see that the current pandemic may well be only the tip of the iceberg, and that it is extremely crucial to stay focused on the spiritual solutions to problems-not getting caught up in the tides of the moment. I am looking, at long last, of seeing a time of fruitio, much like the ’90s, but with the difference that now, I genuinely believe in myself.

Your Dreams

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November 18, 2020-

Your dreams count,

so long as they don’t mean

the destruction of another

of God’s creatures.

Your dreams matter,

even if they differ

from another’s dreams,

but let them not

be the stuff of negation.

Your dreams can,

and should,

be wondrous

and raise the level

of mankind,

and of our collective home.

Your dreams-

may they propel you

forward into the Light.

Homol’ovi

6

November 14, 2020, Flagstaff-

The day dawned, crisp and clear, with the news that our entire county was without Internet. I took that as an opportunity to set out early, from Cottonwood and towards Homol’ovi State Park, just north of Winslow. The route goes through Camp Verde, so breakfast at Verde Cafe was the first order of business. Many of the dishes there have a Mexican flair and the place is relaxed, with vivacious servers. Today’s meal did not disappoint.

It was a quiet drive up the hill to Strawberry Junction, then to Winslow, with remnants of snow all along the road, in the sun shadows. I got to Homol’ovi,a mile north of town, around 11:30, and had to ring the doorbell at the Visitor’s Center, to purchase my admission. The ranger seemed surprised, though grateful, that I was even bothering. Indeed, nobody else was stopping there, but I don’t take something for nothing.

Here is the Visitor’s Center.

There are two 13th Century ruins, and a 19th Century Mormon cemetery, preserved in the park’s grounds. I walked to Sunset Cemetery, the only remnant of the Mormon settlement of Sunset, which had been built on the floodplain of the Little Colorado River. As the Mormon party had had no experience with the monsoons of the Southwest, they felt it would not be problematic to build on the flat area. When the monsoons came, and the settlement was washed away, they left. The hilltop cemetery bears witness to their simple lifestyle.

The names of those laid to rest are on this one stone, set by the LDS Church and the State Park.

Above, is a description of Sunset, the settlement. Below, is a view of the cemetery as a whole.

The park maintains a small observatory, for Star Viewing parties, during more normal times.

Tsu’Vo, above, is a short nature trail, where there are petroglyphs scattered among the stones. I did not see any, from the trail itself. Tsu’Vo means “Place of Rattlesnakes”, in Hopi, but with the weather being cool, I didn’t see any of them, either. Below, there is much evidence of volcanic debris, which is this area’s legacy from the eruption of Sunset Crater, 60 miles to the west.

After walking around Tsu’Vo, I headed to Homol’ovi II, the larger of the two preserved ruins of the settlements built by the likely ancestors of the Hopi. Hopi spiritual leaders are regularly consulted by the park curators, with regard to preservation issues. The park has brought a halt to vandalism and theft of artifacts, which was worse here than at other parts of the area.

Below is a view of the central kiva, where religous ceremonies were held. This kiva was restored, after having been vandalized, prior to the park’s establishment.

The, as now, the San Francisco Peaks were regarded as sacred, by the Hopi, as well as Dineh and other Indigenous peoples of the region.

Removing pottery shards, or any other artifacts, is a Federal and State crime. Flat stones are set, off the trail, as a safe place where people may place any shards found on the sidewalk and view the collections.

Two herds of wild burros have made their home here, between the two main ruin sites. I spent a few minutes, silently conversing with the equines, then headed to Homol’ovi I, the first settlement uncovered by archaeologists. Below, is one of the few intact walled rooms.

The scattered remnants of Homol’ovi I’s central plaza are seen above. Plazas were, and are, the main gathering places of Pueblo dwellers, including the Hopi. Homol’ovi’s preservation, along with those of other civilized communities which pre-date European settlement, is a sincere effort at acknowledging the foundation of Man’s presence in this exquisite, harsh environment.

Three Comforts

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November 6, 2020-

My faith in the Divine has brought me three consistent comforts, over the decades. As I sat in the second night of a four-night evening retreat, focusing on Divine Light, I saw an emanation of the first of these: The golden light in a neighbour’s window.

The glow of amber light, often lighting my way in a dark night, has reassured me-whether the street lights of my childhood-saying it was time to go home or the light in a window of a house in a forest, saying that in a time of need, there would be another human soul who might be of aid.

I have spent the past three days working with students in need of self-sufficiency enhancement. The second comfort to me has ever been the voice of a child asking: “May I do this myself?” My answer is always the same: “Go for the gold!” Whether it was a young girl tying her own shoes for the first time, or a little boy writing his own letters and numbers on a page, being present when independence results in genuine strength is a true honour.

The third comfort is the joy of being with others in a gathering, in whatever form the needs of the time provide. In many cases, electronic gatherings are the only way, either because of public health issues or because of the need to communicate with those who live far afield. I have carefully participated in physical gatherings, and as long as precautions are taken by one and all, I will continue to do so, in a limited manner, until the global health emergency is brought under control-in a real sense.

There are many comforts in my life. These are three of the most enduring.