Category Archives: Spiritual

Fear Factors

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Posted by on in Community, Personal Values, Spiritual

February 19, 2016, Prescott- This week has been a bit rough, although work resumed for two days and I did have a nice dinner with friends, last night.  The difficult part has come from the number of attacks, two of them pointedly personal, that have come my way this week.  Last night, I received a written death threat, which I take only mildly seriously.  The person in question has neither the physical or financial wherewithal to put an end to my life.  Today, someone on another medium said that, unless I supported building a wall on the Mexican border, I was not entitled to claim citizenship.

We have devolved into a “my way or no way” mentality.  It’s not just in the United States, that this is happening.  Europe is finding itself overwhelmed.  India and Indonesia are experiencing the resurgence of religious fundamentalism, to say nothing of what is going on in Africa and western Asia.  Mexico has been rigid, in not letting migrants come in from Central America, or from Cuba, for that matter.  Even a small nation like Nicaragua puts those seeking a better life, in detention camps.

Otherwise good people are turning on others, mostly out of fear- that their livelihoods will be lost, that their families’ safety will be at risk and, more existentially, that all they cherish and believe will be upended.

I have three thoughts on this whole phenomenon.

1.  Remember the French Revolution.  In a nutshell (no pun intended), the common people rid themselves of leaders who looked upon them as less than human.  After that, there was no game plan, except to continue the carnage, until the Revolutionaries had decimated their own ranks- and Napoleon stepped in, restored a monarchy and only slight improvements had been made in the public weal.

2.  “The Earth is but one country, and Mankind its citizens”- Baha’u’llah

We do best to see all other people and nations as our relatives, by extension.  There need to be rules, sane and intelligent boundaries, and no one should enter another’s home, without leave of the owner.  Each family, city or town, county, state/province, and nation is entitled to having its boundaries, and its laws, respected.  Nonetheless, there cannot be the sort of racism or ethnocentrism that only perpetuates misery.  There also cannot be the economic colonialism that demands people in one country suffer, so that people in other countries can indulge themselves with habit-forming drugs that foment death and destruction, both for the people around the producers and for the consumers.

3.  Everyone is entitled to seek the truth of spiritual, intellectual and metaphysical matters for themselves.

Groups have arisen, from ISIS to the American Tea Party, that rely on fear and loathing to keep their agendas moving forward.  Again, I refer you to the late, unlamented Jacobins.  The Ku Klux Klan, Khmer Rouge, National Socialists, the “Know Nothings”, and various tribal armies-of-slaughter, throughout history, have followed the same path- sometimes with deadly violence, other times with the violence of the mind.  In both cases that I mentioned at the beginning of this post, my response was immediate- I will think, and speak, for myself.  I have served the United States of America, and will not give up my citizenship; nor will I ask that of my critic, who was born here, also.  I will follow my own schedule, protocol and regimen, with regard to my daily life, and not give in to threats, of any kind.

The challenge, before us all, is to put fear in its place.

Whose Love Is It, Anyway

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Posted by on in Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Uncategorized

February 14, 2016, Prescott-  I spent Valentine’s Day on a trail, of which more in the next post.  Right now, I feel the need to address some concerns that came up, regarding a post I wrote on another social media site.

No, love is not physical in origin.  It is not limited to the chosen few, nor is it something that should cause rifts between friends, siblings or parents/children.  In a contentious society, such as the one we have now, such rifts often happen- over anything.

Love is a spiritual force.  It began with everything we experience with our senses, being brought into existence.  It became manifest in plants, when they propagated.  Likewise, with animals, when they procreated, then nurtured their offspring and family members.

Humans have taken love to the next level- and we see the spiritual, feel the eternal.  I have spent the past five Valentine’s Days as an observer, a well-wisher to couples, and a would-be soother to the distressed.  There have been some, including one I thought was a friend, who have attacked me for even hinting that we should treat today as a time for honouring the concept of relationships.  More’s the pity.

The fact is, most of us have been in a close friendship that, sooner or later, evolves into romance, and in many cases, marriage. Many of us, myself included, have had such friendships, and I have certainly had my share of those which “went south”.

I have had one that endured, and that’s really all that matters-in my case.  Love is eternal.  It will survive the worst of excesses, abuses and miscarriages of justice.  It can be confused with its physical manifestations of affection, and lust.  They feel good, when they are mutually accepted by both in a friendship, for a time.  Real love, coming from the spirit, feels good for all time.

Hope your Valentine’s Day went well.  If it didn’t, may you receive more love, as this year progresses.

 

Vigils

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Posted by on in children, Education, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

February 13, 2016, Glendale- The slight, bespectacled girl embraced her tall, athletic friend, and caressed her blonde forelock.  “Are you scared?  You are safe now.”, the shorter girl spoke, in comfort and assurance.

There were about 500 of us here, tonight, at Independence High School, in  the southern corner of this vibrant, artsy city, immediately to the west of Phoenix.  Yesterday, two girls, who were openly in a relationship, died in what appears to have been a murder-suicide.  We were here to pray and place lit candles at the makeshift memorial that lines the southern exterior wall of the gymnasium.  Those who felt like talking, did.  Those who needed a hug from someone they knew and trusted, got all the comfort they could handle.

I am a stranger here, tonight.  It was 2011, when I last worked in a classroom at Independence High, as well as at the other campuses of Glendale Union High School District.  I had good experiences here, and got on well with the students.  This evening, though, drew me like moth to flame.  I explained my ties to one of the current school counselors, who was introducing herself to anyone who seemed out of place, and making sure we had a connection to the school.  It was enough for me to just stand and silently pray, offer positive thoughts and accept a candle from one of the other teachers.  It was graciously lit by a well-dressed student, and I joined a line of people in placing the candles at the memorial site.  I stayed for about 20 minutes further.

Candlelight vigils have become all too common- as have the acts of despair, of giving up, which lead to the cause of the vigils.  One of my online friends responded to my initial post about the girls’ deaths, with one word:  “Bleh”.  My own response, every, single time is a sinking heart.

This is Valentine’s Eve.  People at other high schools are having dances and parties.  People across this maddening, beautiful Valley, with its frenetic traffic and culture of anonymity are crowding into hotels and motels, paying premium prices for the sake of a holiday. At Independence, suffering proto-adults, and their elders, are doing what far too many of their peers have had to do, since 1997:  Mourn those among them who have fallen victim- sometimes by their own hand, sometimes by the Hand of Anonymous Rage.

It would be nice to be able to simply say:  STOP!- and have it be so.  For now, though, all I can do is be here for people I’ve never met, people who might recognize me from five years ago, people who are part of a generation I have come to love with the highest level of intensity.  I want “my kids” to thrive, to dream, to live to the fullest.

I dream- of the day when vigils may come to an end.

The Road in Winter,Part II

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Spiritual, Striving

February 3, 2016, Prescott-  A deep freeze has visited us, these past two days.  I took my students in Chino Valley outside, yesterday. Today, it was a bit colder, and my special needs student stayed inside.  It’ll be more like Arizona, tomorrow, and for the next several days.  In fact, we’re expecting 65 on Sunday.

This brings me to the notion that some have, about one’s sixties being the start of the Winter of life.  I had a wintry start to my sixtieth year, and it did end with the passing of my beloved.  Since then, though, and not without her influence, I feel my own Winter is a ways off.  For one thing, I am far from ready to stop working.  For another,  my energy level has not gone down, and no one who really knows me is saying, “Slow down!”

I love helping children find their direction in life, and acquire the skills needed to do that.  I treasure being in nature, and trails abound, both here in Arizona, and increasingly, just about anywhere else.

So, what of the road in winter?  My own expectations, as previously stated, are that it will filled with wonder and constant learning.  I have been warned, by the constantly-hectoring elder generation, to “just wait” until I reach my 80’s and 90’s.  Then, I am told, “You’ll see how the cow chews the cabbage.”  Maybe so,and if it rolls that way, I’ll deal with it.  On the other hand, there are Dick Van Dyke, and Betty White, to show us that the cow not only chews the cabbage, but digests it well and comes back for more.

I wish, for everyone who has embraced their sunset, to have as many days of solid energy as possible, and not to lose sight of a dream.  I’d rather take after one of the two above-mentioned entertainers, or Kirk Douglas, seemingly back from death’s door, at least twice, or the late Bob Hope, who joyfully celebrated his centenary, before heading to a new stage.

Dylan Thomas was onto something.

A Touch of the Rio Grande

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Hiking and Nature, Spiritual

January 31, 2016, Albuquerque-  One of the places Penny and I liked in the Duke City was Rio Grande Nature Center.  As the name implies, it celebrates the great river that plies Albuquerque’s west side, on its way to becoming the Rio Bravo and a feeder for the Gulf of Mexico.

The last time I was here, it was summer, my wife was alive and well, and our son was about 8.  Now, it’s winter, Penny has been at rest for nearly five years and Aram is pushing 28, doing just fine on his own.

I’m good, though, because of places like this.  These refuges, with their waterfowl and raptors, tangled trees of the bosques and True Believer hikers and bicyclists, work their magic, regardless of how bare the trees are, or how turgid the river tends to be.  The majesty of the place lies in the comfort it gives to the birds, and to those, like me, who can sit and watch their antics, for hours on end.

I didn’t have, nor take, those hours, today.  There was a storm to outpace:  One that the locals here were expecting, but which was still churning from California to western Colorado.  Nonetheless, this visit gave me a bench by the river, a picnic lunch at that bench, and the joy of watching the ducks, Canadian geese and lesser sandhill cranes compete for the silver minnows and other fish that Rio Grande serves up.

Without further ado, here are a few scenes of the Rio, its feeder Silver Minnow Channel and the bosque, in its own state of repose.

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Entrance to Visitors’ Center, Rio Grande Nature Center

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View of Silver Minnow Channel, from Rio Grande Visitors’ Center

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Rio Grande, Albuquerque, NM

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Ducks, trying to stay warm, Rio Grande Nature Center, Albuquerque

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Sand bar, Rio Grande, Albuquerque.  These spots are good places for insects, and other food sources for the birds, to hunker down and wait out the cold.

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Somnolent trees, along Bosque Loop Trail, Rio Grande Nature Center

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Rio Grande, Albuquerque

Rio Grande, Albuquerque
Jetty jacks, salvaged from Silver Minnow Channel, Albuquerque
Rubber heart, Aldo Leopold Trail, Rio Grande Nature Center

I have seen this river run higher, and have seen it at a trickle.  I have stood on its banks near Brownsville, TX and near its headwaters, in the mountains known as Sangre de Cristo.  Nowhere does the Rio Grande reach out to comfort its patrons more than it does here, at the western edge of a bustling, but heritage-laden metropolis.

Portrait of the Poet

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Posted by on in Education, Historical, Poetry, Spiritual, Striving

February 1, 2016, Prescott-

The Winter Scavenger Hunt prompt says “artist”, not “poet”, but a poet IS an artist.

Today begins the month “officially” set aside as Black History Month.  African-Americans certainly are not limited to any given point along a year, in terms of their impact on our nation’s history.  Yet, why quibble?  We do well to reach as far back as possible, in comprehending the spirit and drive that gives each individual, regardless of ethnicity or melanin level, the capacity for great achievement.

The first published African-American poet, Phillis Wheatley, was brought to Boston at the age of 8, from either Gambia or Senegal.  She was given the name Phillis by her captor, Peter Gwinn, and sold as a slave to a tailor named John Wheatley.  The Wheatley family taught Phillis to read and write, encouraging her to study the Classics.

Phillis began to write her own poetry at the age of 14.  She drew the favourable attention of both British and American leaders of both politics and thought, having audiences with the Lord Mayor of London and George Washington.  Thomas Paine published her work in the Pennsylvania Gazette, and she drew favourable commentary from Voltaire.

Things went sour for Phillis, after her master died.  Though she was freed, under the terms of his will, and married a Free African-American grocer, John Peters, the prevailing view of society was not favourable towards African-Americans.  The Peters’ struggled financially, John was imprisoned, in 1784 and Phillis, along with their infant son, died shortly thereafter, she being only 31.

Here is a sample of her poetry, which drew on both Christian and animist influences, as well as ancient Greek and European Enlightenment thought.

“On Virtue”

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height t’ explore, or fathom thy profound.
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
Array’d in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give me an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day.[9]

Phillis had conflicting feelings about slavery, recognizing, on one level that it was the cruelest of institutions, while simultaneously expressing the view that captivity had served her well, by bringing her to Christianity.

In any event, I see Phillis Wheatley as the first great African-American woman, in public life.

Black Canyon Trail: Ever Glorianna

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Spiritual

January 17, 2016, Black Canyon City-  With the snow along Prescott Circle Trail slowly turning to mud, I determined that today was as fine a time as any to resume my journey down the Black Canyon National Recreation Trail.  Last spring found me stopping at a ranch in Bumble Bee, an old mining town-turned-have for off-gridders.  About a mile further east, along the old Crown King Road, lies Glorianna Trailhead.  It was there that I began today’s marathon:  12.5 miles, round trip, to Black Canyon City and back.

The crew of All-Terrain Vehicle enthusiasts, who greeted me at the trailhead, confirmed that this was the route I needed to follow-  a fact I had determined from looking on the BCNRT website, earlier.  It’s always good to have locals know where one is headed, the fantasy goons in “Deliverance” aside.  So, I bid them a fine afternoon, and headed out.

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Granite tower, near Glorianna Trailhead, Bumble Bee, AZ

Cholla, shimmering in the winter sun, near Bumble Bee, AZ.
Sahuaro Army, on the march, just south of Bumble Bee, AZ
View of Black Canyon City, from point four miles northwest.

Above, I encountered a cholla cactus, shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, a group of sahuaro, seemingly on the march, and, upon climbing a ridge, my first trailside view of Black Canyon City, still four miles further southeast.

The shared use portion of the trail ran for about two miles, before it split off from the road, and headed uphill, just west of the small shooting range, where a very focused young man was practicing,  and thankfully facing away from me.

About thirty minutes later, I came upon one of the two big treasures of the route:  The Agua Fria River.

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View of Agua Fria River, from a ridge to the northwest.

This used to be privately-held ranching land, and the old fence posts dot the trail.

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Old fence post, about a mile west of the Agua Fria.

The river needed to be forded, but as you can see, the shallowness made this a minor task- and it was rather delightful.  The cast and stunt people of “The Revenant” would have been rolling on the ground laughing.

Just before I made my way down to the flowing stream, the ruggedness of the upper branch of Black Canyon presented itself.

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Upper Branch of Black Canyon, north of its namesake town.

Agua Fria River, north of Black Canyon City
Agua Fria River, north of Black Canyon City

Above are two views of the Agua Fria, before I crossed (right) and after (left).  Just after I forded, a mother/daughter hiking pair came down from the south rim, accompanied by their protective 1 1/2 year-old-German Shepherd, who let me know my presence was not appreciated.  The women were more gracious, though, and held the youngster by her collar.

Onward and upward, I headed towards the canyon for which the town is named.  It is a far more interesting sight than I had previously thought. On the lower right is one of the four spur canyons which one encounters along the Horseshoe Bend subsection of the Glorianna.  On the lower left is a good view of the limestone “wall” which distinguishes Horseshoe Bend.

Limestone “wall”, on Horseshoe Bend segment of trail
Spur of Black Canyon, west of the main canyon.

 

The canyon itself, which will be the focus of further exploration, next Sunday, is seen again, on the lower right.  I got a nice zoom shot of a cylindrical edifice that rises about three miles east of Black Canyon City, from the vantage point of Black Canyon’s north rim.

Cone-shaped rock, east of Black Canyon City
View of Black Canyon, from the west.

So as to get back to the wide road before dark, I did not tarry long at Horseshoe Bend, before heading in reverse.  Below are three examples of the mineral beauty to be seen along this trail section.

Limestone, with rhyolite inflections, Black Canyon, AZ
Limestone, with hematite, Black Canyon, AZ
Heart-shaped limestone, along Skyline section, Glorianna Trail

I encountered the three female hikers again, on my way uptrail, after recrossing the Agua Fria.  Dog was no happier to see me than she was the first time, but no matter.  I also met the ATV group, once back on the shared-use part of the trail.  They had been concerned for my safety, and once it was established that I was fine and knew where I was going, they headed on their way.

There are enough loose ends to be explored around Horseshoe Bend, that I will return here next weekend.  Stay tuned.

Everlastings

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Posted by on in Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

January 16, 2016, Prescott-

God is reflected in the everlastings.

My love for my soul mate is everlasting.

Lemuria and Atlantis are not.

The joy taken from hearing children laugh, puppies bark and kittens mewl is.

The ups and downs of the financial markets are not.

A California traffic jam sometimes seems like  it is.

The joy of time spent with good friends definitely is.

The Sun, as vital as it is, is not everlasting.

Beauty and radiance will always be found, somewhere, so they are.

Earth, as familiar as it is, is not everlasting.

The Universe, with neither beginning nor end, is.

The stuff in my cabinets and my refrigerator, definitely is not.

I, in some form, will be- at least I strive to meet with God’s pleasure.

 

Un-Frozen

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual

January 13, 2016, Prescott- The year is starting to show its own character, as years always do.  There is less of the despair that seemed to hang over from its predecessor.  Maybe the State of the Union speech both reflected the longing for a new rising of national unity, or maybe it will ignite the light of that coming together.

There are issues:  More people’s lives are being snuffed out, both by the forces of authority and by those of anarchy.  David Bowie had not been dead 48 hours, when people began speaking out, regarding a heinous crime he is said to have committed, I believe in the ’70’s.  The forces of irreligion, masquerading as an army of the faithful, continue to wreak havoc, just about anywhere they walk.

Yet, hearing my little 4 and 6-year-old neighbours, riding their tricycle and bicycle along the alley that they rule, I know that several right things will happen in 2016.  The work that I need, in order to accomplish a few immediate goals, is presenting itself, and I get the sense that the Creator wants me to achieve some key tasks.

Regarding the prompt of Winter Planets and Constellations (#5):

Most of us are frozen, far beyond Sol.

Earth’s antennae signal us, calling out for love.

Each of us has our own denizens, living ‘neath the cold.

Microbes and carbonites alike, rarely venture to the ice above.

Terrestrials shall not see us, until the Universe says  “Behold!”

Yet, below the surface, we live unfrozen, in constant communication, undubbed.

We are the Winter Planets, and the constellations who light the chill.

Some clear, cold night, sit by your fire, and let us share our thrills.

 

 

Epiphany

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Spiritual

January 6, 2016, Prescott- I woke this morning to two things:  There was a not totally expected, fresh coating of snow on the ground and I found an e-warning that taking down holiday decorations, before today, is “just plain wrong”.

Prescott being in central Arizona, the streets were cleared by late morning sunshine, though more snow is in the offing, between now and Friday. As for the rather stern warning to those of us on Facebook, it’s a non-issue.  I know all about the Twelve Days of Christmas, and have had my part in several choral renditions of the song, over the years.  I’m also familiar with the Shakespearean romantic comedy.

Like Saul, who became Paul, I have had my share of divine revelations.   The most significant of those led me to accepting the Baha’i Faith, thirty-five years ago, next month, after nine years of holding it at arm’s length. Those were nine rather futile years, as  I recall, with nothing to show for them, other than a Bachelor’s Degree, and a middling Grade Point Average.

I am presently reading a book, “Extreme Ownership”, which describes the Navy SEALS method of dealing with challenges, and applies it to business models.  I have done my share of blame-casting, over the years, so a beloved family member thought it would be good for me to read, and absorb, lest I be tempted to resort to further ascribing of my difficulties in life to others’ actions and attitudes.

There is always SOMETHING that a person can do, to turn adversity into a beneficial lesson.  Saul the Tax-Collector determined he would do better to be a servant of God.  The SEALS who wrote the above-mentioned book determined they would do best to seek to understand the reasons for the actions of their superiors.  I am learning, from them, that coping and transcending all conditions, without blamecasting, is not only doable, but is far superior to the almost Pavlovian tendency to hand off responsibility.

Joyous Epiphany, one and all!