Sixty-Six for Sixty Six,Part XIII: Civility

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March 4, 2017, Camp Verde-  I began the day, helping with a Red Cross Home Safety activity, in a neighbourhood near the main fire station, in this town that lies over the Black Mountains and some forty-five miles east of Prescott. We worked with town firemen, installing smoke detectors along a street that abuts the fire station.  As I had done a similar task, late last year, in Sedona, the event today went very smoothly.  The firemen are also past masters at installing the devices, which made it smoother still.

After that, I took a couple of hikes, one along the Verde River, at Clear Creek Day Use Area and the other in Copper Canyon, which lies southwest of Camp Verde.  More about each of those, tomorrow.

Today, though, comes the matter of civility. We have, before us, a sitting President accusing his immediate predecessor of conducting surveillance on his signature office building and residence, during the brouhaha that masqueraded as an election campaign. Said predecessor, speaking through his aides, denies the accusations. Time, and investigation, will, of course show who is being truthful here.

We are in the throes of incivility, and have been, for some time now.  Consider:  It was four years ago, last December, that 26 people were slain in an elementary school.  Two days after the carnage, unknown militants threatened to kill both the survivors of those victims AND a man who had taken other children into his home, and reunited them with their parents.  The trolls were insisting that all the above were part of a Federal conspiracy to confiscate weapons from private citizens. Never mind that seven of those families were headed by members of the National Rifle Association, and owned weapons.

Consider:  Survivors, loved ones, of American military heroes, have been, and are still being, attacked by uncivil people-of both Alt-Right ( in the case of the Khan family) and Far-Left (in the case of Karenn Owens) political bent.

Consider:  Trash-talking by adults about, and towards, children is almost de rigeur, online and in the check-out lines of stores; in public and, no doubt, in trusting private.  Children have been treated like mini-adults, by the media, for some time (Children of colour, in particular, are most often referenced by surname, in the mainstream media).  Many parents, citing “freedom of speech”, are following suit.

The way adults treat one another is often little better; thus, the reverse role models, who give kids the notion that no level of profanity, no level of insult, is too extreme.  To the innocent mind, this seems like a perfectly acceptable way to be taken seriously, and thus, filth streams out of many children’s mouths.

I was raised to be civil, and I know I am far from alone. Anonymity is cited as the reason for road rage, Internet trolling, stalking, and bullying of all stripes.  It is not valid.  We can see those at whom we honk horns or flip the bird, and whose vehicles we tailgate or cut off.  We can read the responses, see the fear or sadness of those we attack on social media.  We can feel the trepidation and notice the unease of those we try to intimidate.  The bully knows what is being done.

It all goes back to our self-image.  If, deep down, one doesn’t feel he/she matters, then no one else matters, either.  The fact is, each of us does matter, or we wouldn’t be here.  Each of us does have a mandate to be civil- regardless of the false mirrors we see on television, in the movies, on stage and the messages we hear on radio or see online.  Each of us could learn from those whose opinions differ from ours, because each of us has a portion of the truth, within our psyches.

Each of us could choose to be civil.

 

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part XI: Purification

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March 2, 2017, Prescott-  

A handsome, smug man, in his twenties, happens upon a lovely woman, about his age, tries to get a date with her, and is rebuffed.  He stalks her, online, and screen-shoots photos she has posted on her social media.  He finds that, instead of going on a date with him, she went to a rave, at a converted factory.   Incensed, (no pun intended), he goes to the very next rave, finds her, and drops an incendiary device near where she is standing.  He has carefully jammed the nearest exit shut, the device goes off, and 39 people die, in the ensuing blaze.  The woman he wants survives, but is burned over 30 % of her body, and is blinded.

This was the gist of a three-part episode of Dick Wolf’s “Chicago” quadrilogy, which aired Wednesday evening.  It hit hard at me, for several reasons:

  1.  I have had a family member, by the grace of God, survive severe burns and go on to live a full life.  I could not imagine life without that family member.
  2. There was a time in my life, about seven years, when I was rebuffed by women, primarily because of my own awkwardness and quirky behaviour, not because of any particular flaw on their part.  I never harboured any desire for revenge against any of them, figuring we would each find our own special soul.  I did, and had thirty good years with her.  One of the women, I know for certain, also did and has had nearly 47 wonderful years, with a very good man. I’m willing to bet that a good many others have had fine relationships. I’m glad we’ve all moved on, in peace.
  3. I maintain that the worst human loss is that of a parent losing a child.  Thirty nine couples lost a child, in the triptych mentioned above.  My in-laws lost their daughter, nearly six years ago.  My mother lost a son, many years ago.  Some good friends have lost children, over the years.
  4. I know children, still of formative age, who show serious signs of heading in a sociopathic, or at least misanthropic, direction.  Good people, professionals, are doing all they can to head such a fate off, at the pass, in a manner of speaking.  Yet, we can’t save everyone.

This is the season when we Baha’is conduct a Fast, of nineteen days’ duration.  There is a physical component:  Able-bodied people, between the ages of 15-70, take no food or drink, between sunrise and sunset, during those nineteen days.  The more important spiritual component gives rise to examinations of self.  It is all about purification, as the season of Lent, which coincides with our Fast this year, does for Christians, when conducted at its best.  The self-examination aspect is what led me to share the above observations.

Sixty-six for Sixty Six, Part X:The Hotshots Trail

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February 25, 2017, Yarnell-

A lone cactus wren croaked, as I came up the first stretch of hillside, on the way to the spot where, on June 30, 2013, nineteen formidable men met their doom, while working to safeguard this small community at the southeast edge of the Mohave Desert.

I encountered a moderate trail, whose increase in elevation is tempered by long switchbacks, frequent stops to read and ponder each of 19 memorial plaques, set in stones along the way.  Wooden benches and informational signs also provide respite, for anyone who finds the place more strenuous than anticipated.

Yarnell Hill abounds in granite boulders, much as does the back country between here and the east side of Prescott, nearly 50 miles away.  One of these boulders resembles a praying monk.  It is one of the first sights greeting the hiker, on the way up from the trailhead, 1 1/2 miles southwest of Yarnell’s center.  He stands, as lonely as the wildland firefighters must have felt, on that blazing final day of June.

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Each man left people in grief- parents, a loyal woman, young children, siblings and entire communities, from Prescott itself to places as far afield as Oregon, Idaho and North Carolina.  Each man is immortalized by his own plaque.  Crew Chief Eric Marsh founded the Granite Mountain Hotshots, and was responsible for the recruitment and training of the men he led, for ten years, in the aftermath of the Indian Fire, which came close to obliterating downtown Prescott, in 2002.

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I know some of the family members, of four of the Hotshots.  Each of the families has a solid work ethic, reflected in what their sons, brothers, husbands and fathers gave, however long their terms of service were.

The terrain that presented itself, that blustery, torrid weekend, was no gracious host to anyone hauling 50 pounds of gear uphill.  It was, as I say, of moderate difficulty for me, with my 15 pounds of day pack, and for those between the ages of 15 and 75, who I encountered along the way.  A couple of ladies said they found the trail scary.  I could easily figure out which places to which they were referring, though long ago, I stopped fearing secured heights.

Following, are some scenes of just what the wildland fire crew faced, in terms of terrain.  Three red-tailed hawks circled, above this rock.

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Notice the charred mesquite, above, and the manzanita, below.

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Unlike today’s hikers, the Hotshots had to pick their way up granite-strewn hillsides.

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The town they were working to save survived, and will be a more vigilant place, with regard to fire safety.  Like the boulder below, Yarnell shows a large, if broken heart.

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I continued from the main trail’s overlook, at the two-mile marker, to the memorial at the fatality site, another 3/4 mile to the east. At the site, 19 cabions encircle 19 crosses, one for each man who gave his life that day.  Some mementos have been left here, as well as at the flagpole that stands 500 yards to the east.

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I sat here, in the wind, contemplating the meaning of sacrifice, while a lone woman circled around the memorial, lost in her own thoughts.  It is said that the mystery of sacrifice is that there is no sacrifice.  That can be understood, but, I would venture, not easily by a small child who wonders why Daddy went away.

Long may the heroes comfort the grieved, from their own private Valhalla.

 

 

Game Plans, and Other Inspirations

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February 19, 2017, Prescott-

It’s sunny/overcast, this morning, as is often the case in Prescott, after a day and night of heavy rain.  My phone tells me how things are, weather-wise, in Phoenix, and in Busan, as well as here.  It’s a fine thing to keep tabs on my son’s environment, with the aid of the second frame. Korea is a bit milder than Arizona, at the moment.

We old vets talked of earning one’s keep, and of game plans for our years ahead, at this morning’s breakfast.  I am optimistic, as to my own situation- for the simple reason that I don’t plan on sponging off anyone.  What this means, in practical terms, is that I will, as I’ve said a few times, work full-time until either December, 2020 or May, 2021, then take a couple of years for personal pursuits, helping my son with his efforts and traveling- in a mix of discovery and service.  After that, if health allows, I would be glad to return to service-related work, such as I am now doing.  TIME Magazine, in this week’s edition, posits that elders will need to consider several “retirements”, interspersed with work, unless/until infirmity sets in.  I am pretty much covered, thanks to my late wife’s foresight and our son’s personal vow, in the event of my own infirmity.

Children inspire me, first and foremost.  Besides those with whom I work, day to day, there are little souls, incidental to my life, the thought of whom lifts my spirits.  There are my grandnieces and grandnephews, looking out at me from the side of my refrigerator, and whose exploits are regularly relayed by their proud grandparents, my siblings.  The little neighbour kids, brother and sister, bring me to my picture window, whenever I hear their voices and the wheels of their mini-vehicles, from the alley across the way. There are 5-year-old “Boo”, my surrogate granddaughter, in Nevada; her age mate, “B”, in Juneau; the now 11 and 12-year- old sisters from Belgium, who were just full of mischief, three years ago, when we were in a dining car restaurant, in Bastogne; the spirited middle schoolers from Koln, Germany, who enlisted my help in a “take home” exam, in Brussels’ Grande Place, during that same cross-Atlantic jaunt; my nearly 13-year-old sponsoree, “I”, working diligently at his studies, in the Philippines; countless youngsters who have weighed in on matters great and small, in chance encounters during my travels.

The other main source of inspiration is human resilience, which I see every day, in people of all ages and backgrounds.  My cross-town friend, “M”, toughed out some very lean years, as a single parent, before finally arriving at a place of stability.  My cross-country friend, “K”, slept many nights, God-knows-where, before getting her own apartment, finding an honest means of living and a man who loves her.  A once-homeless man, whom some of you may remember from my posts of 2014-15, now has a steady income and reason to get up every morning and smile.

I believe in the Law of Attraction, and its eleven related laws, as surely as I believe that the Arizona sun will dispel any clouds, no matter how thick they may seem.

 

Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part V: Subsets of Love

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February 6, 2017, Prescott- In Baha’i Scripture, as well as in the Teachings of Christ, four kinds of love are identified:  The love of God for His Creation; the love of God for His children; the love of man for God and the love of man for man.

It is the fourth kind,  on which I will reflect, in this post.  There are several subsets of this type of love.  Some are obvious- Parental love, and its mirror image:  Filial love (which, in this context, applies to both sons and daughters).   The love one has for extended family is an outgrowth of parental and filial love. Love of spouse, likewise, in most cases extends to the spouse’s family.  Clan and tribe are the furthest biological love boundaries, traditionally.

Love for one’s neighbours and community takes this a step past the bounds of family.   Over time, this has found extension in the form of loyalty to state, country, civic organization, interest group (including political parties and service organizations) and faith community.  Love for all mankind is the furthest expression of inter-human love, and is regarded as the consummate goal of a Baha’i, in this physical plane.

Love can be expressed in various ways:  Gentle, patient suasion; forbearance; standing alongside the beloved; “tough” holding the beloved’s feet to fire, so to speak.  The goal of any human love, though, would seem to be helping the beloved to attain nearness to God and the development of his/her talents and abilities.  This isn’t always a simple task, and may entail a combination of the four ways mentioned, at the head of this paragraph.  A prime example of this is love of one’s opponents, or perceived enemies.  Seeing their good qualities, and not depriving them of basic human rights, is certainly an illustration of such.

St. Matthew wrote that such inter-human love is “not snide” and “does not put on airs”.  In the Baha’i Writings, it is stated that  “Love is the secret”, to all that is good in the Universe, and “In the world of existence, there is no greater power, than the power of love.”

May there be a ten-fold, or hundred-fold increase in the subsets of inter-human love.

 

Archangels

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February 4, 2017, Prescott- This afternoon, I finished reading “The Standing Stones Speak”.  Set in Carnac, France, British spiritualists Natasha Hoffman and Hamilton Hill detail a series of messages they claim to have received from archangels, on topics ranging from the existence of Atlantis to the progress of souls.

 

There are numerous references to Jesus, Mohammed, the brief primacy, in the not-to-distant future, of a “charismatic figure”, whose rule will be primarily in Europe and North America, and will last 3 1/2 years, before he is removed.  There are references to karma and reincarnation of souls, from one human body to the next, over  the past several thousand years, and that both karma and reincarnation will cease, in the very near future.  This will take place, the archangels say, because the “New Jerusalem”, mentioned in the Bible and, essentially, the true New World Order (the opposite of that which is, rightly, feared by devout Christians), will be built and will obviate the need for souls to constantly return in human form, in order to resolve their issues.

That is the gist of the archangels’ messages.  To me, these would conveniently explain my wistfulness and longing for the forest, for certain places in Europe, Alaska, the Pacific Northwest and the Rocky Mountains, being drawn to particular people and familiarity with certain situations, that I had not previously experienced.  I would need a lot more confirmation of these messages, from more authoritative spiritual texts, especially from the Baha’i Writings, before I would be “all-in” with the overall content of the messages in this book.

Nevertheless, the tone of the book is positive, encouraging of people to develop the goodly character of their souls, and to work, mightily, to seek spiritual advancement, through a righteous life- not in isolation, but among the people with whom we find ourselves.  Baha’u’llah teaches us to be of good character, in group settings, as well as individually, just as Jesus did.

I am continuing to read several Baha’i books, as well as “Apocalypse”, by Dr. Jim Richards and “Return to The Garden”, by Shakhti Gawain, in pondering this primal subject.

Soul Family

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February 3, 2017, Prescott-

I just read a post, by a friend who wishes to remain at a certain distance, both physical and fraternal.  She wrote of people with whom she feels exceptionally close, but who live far from her.  This got me thinking, once more, about my soul’s family.

My biological family, and Penny’s, to a one, scattered from Massachusetts and Maine, through Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, Georgia, Florida to Indiana, Missouri, Colorado, California and Oregon, perhaps, in and of themselves, justify my peripatetic nature.  Yet, they are also largely occasional in my life, and I, in theirs.

My son,  as well as my Baha’i family-here in Arizona, in Nevada, in Alaska, in South Korea and across the Atlantic, in Europe, are on their own paths, also, and will figure in mine, only to the extent that my path dovetails with theirs.

The same is true of each person in the web that my life has woven, across every state in the United States, much of Canada,the northeast tip of South America, a bit of eastern Asia, the State of Israel,the West Bank, and a slice of western Europe. The network of people whom I’ve met has been my greatest blessing, since the physical loss of my wife. It has been a rich series of life experiences.  I am hardly the world traveler that some see, especially compared with the many correspondents, whose work I read on Word Press, on a daily basis.  Yet, in every state, province and nation, there is at least one place, and often several, where I am well at home.

There are no strangers, anywhere, only friends I have not met.  This is not a cliche, at least not to me, and much more, I’ve been assured, is to come.

Inklings

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February 2, 2017, Prescott-

Many people gathered today, in Punxsutawney, PA, and learned from Phil, the Groundhog, that there will be six more weeks of winter.  I’ve heard it’s been a mild one, back east, so six weeks of rain would be a tad dreary, but not insurmountable- unless the rain comes in torrents.

Here, we seem to have had our winter.  SoCal is due for more rain, tomorrow, but not so our neck of the woods.  Of course, Mother Nature has this month and March, during which to send surprises our way.  I remember the year that St. Patrick’s Day saw snow, atop the White Tanks, west of Phoenix.

A few years ago, I read a book called “Awakening Intuition”, by Mona Lisa Schulz.  I learned that the “inklings” that I had, regarding what I was to do, during the years 2011-2015, were fairly clear.  Most of those were accomplished, with considerable help from unseen forces.

I am reading “The Standing Stones Speak”, by Jessica Hoffman and Hamilton Hill, which has what some regard as a “New Age” tone to it.  Since childhood, though, I have felt, strongly, that I am guided by both angels and my own ancestors, including my maternal grandfather, whom I never met, in this life.  What I have received from him, holds me to a high standard, both socially and spiritually.  Penny, in the last year of her life, told me that she saw my Native American ancestors, gathered around me, while I was napping.

I don’t doubt any of this, though some of my hard-headed friends would call it “Woo-woo stuff”, as there seems no practical or tangible value to it.  I have a different view, and we’ll leave it at that, for now.  Nonetheless, the spirit world is flexible, and some of the inklings I’ve had, have been changed.  In 2013, instead of going to Newfoundland, I stayed in the Boston area, and spent more time with my family, especially with my second brother, who was involved in Sail Blind, at the time.  Considering that I went through tortuous emotional issues, earlier that summer, it was probably best.  Last year, instead of going to Chile and Peru, I opted to go, domestically, East and South.  Considering that I got a message, in the middle of the trip, saying that my Nissan was making its last ride, the choice was apt.  As you all know, the Nissan did expire.

I’ve now been advised to work, full time, until either December, 2020 or May,2021.  There are other messages I’ve received, but those are best left for a later date.

Hearts, Black History and Chief Executives

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February 1, 2017, Prescott-

The Mini-Month is now upon us, with groundhogs galore waiting to be yanked out of the ground, tomorrow.  I know there will be many enlightening programs and articles about African-Americans, this month, but I think people should be fully honoured for their place in America’s story, and the stories of the world, EVERY month, and regardless of ethnicity.  Still, I’m glad the stories are getting out there.  Too many people still think Blacks, Native Americans, Latinos, Irish-Americans, and even women, collectively, are making up, or exaggerating, the past,  because “things aren’t so bad for ________________ NOW!” We  have to know our history, and know it well, for the very reason that too many people see things on the surface, and have short memories.

The Italian martyr, Valentino, has become a symbol of unconditional love and thus a day devoted to love- and romance- has taken the English form of his name.  St. Valentine’s Day falls on a work day, Tuesday, this year.  I will be giving the same unconditional love to my students that I offer, every day.

The following weekend will be Presidents’ Day, ostensibly to honour two of our greatest Chief Executives:  Washington and Lincoln, and, by extension, those of our presidents who have not harmed our nation.  Who they are, remains a matter of intense debate.  I have my opinion, but will not get into that, here.

Aram will leave for South Korea, in about a week.  I will be at San Diego International Airport, to see him off.  Then, each of us will get on with our respective duties, and other aspects of our lives.  For him, there will be some familiar aspects, as he was born, and spent his first three years of life, in Jeju, and shore duty will be more of a routine, than sea duty.  For me, the regimen will continue at school, the American Legion honours World War II’s Four Chaplains, my work for the Baha’i Faith goes on, and new outdoor adventures will present themselves- Scottsdale’s McDowell Mountains, the Verde Valley’s Limekiln Trail and, a slightly-delayed visit to Granite Mountain Hotshots Memorial State Park, in Yarnell.

It looks to be a fascinating 28 days.

Sea of Trees

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January 30, 2017, Prescott-

Saturday evening, after my hike, I headed for a friend’s house, in Phoenix, where I spent the night.  I had experienced a fair amount of spiritual resonance, whilst on the trail, particularly in the alluvial stone deposits, just north of the New River. As I’m reading “The Standing Stones Speak”, which some of my more jaded friends regard as New Age hokum, I found a bit of a connection, through my meditation, between the book and the spiritual climate.

It was not a coincidence, in my view, that “The Sea of Trees”, a 2015 film that was slammed by hipster critics, was my friend’s Netflix choice for viewing, that evening.  Like the central character in the film, I was caretaker for a deathly-ill spouse.  The wife in the film was not ill for very long, though, and ended up being killed by a distracted driver, while riding in an ambulance (the one plot twist I had a hard time accepting, as I have never seen anyone T-bone an emergency vehicle, especially at a high rate of speed).

The protagonist and his wife struggled, at times, just as many couples do, when differences of life energy become personalized.  Penny and I worked through our issues, and ended strong.

When the protagonist chose to travel to a forest, east of Japan’s Mount Fuji, with the intent of committing suicide, he encountered another suicidal man, who was struggling to get out of the forest, as he had changed his mind.  Through trying to help the other man, he realizes his own suicidal impulses were not all that deep.  It turns out that his late wife’s spirit was working, through the presence of the other man, to help the protagonist work through his grief.

Again, this was no coincidence that we viewed this particular film.  I reflected that there have been so many times, in which Penny’s spirit has helped me, through one difficulty or another. This, it is apparent, is what loving spirits do for those they leave behind, here in the physical realm. Indeed, are there really any coincidences, at all?