The Road to Diamond, Day 121: King Lear, et al.

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March 29, 2025- The rowdy group of revelers burst into the theater-in-the-round, the jester carrying his king on his back, whilst the merry palace guardsmen jump about, yelling “Ha! Ho!”. The scene reminded me, for all the world, of a few such episodes of the last Presidential campaign, though no one would ferret our current Chief Executive on his back.

Basin Lake Theater Project is a new troupe in Prescott, whose maiden performance came tonight, at the newly re-opened Cosmos Theater. King Lear, their first effort, touched all the bases: The conniving of his two older daughters, Goneril and Regan; the plotting of their spouses, the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall, respectively; the plain-spoken sincerity of his youngest daughter, Cordelia; Lear’s deep insecurity, which led him to embrace the plotters’ expressions of fealty and reject Cordelia for her honesty; the unbroken loyalty of the Earl of Gloucester, his aide-de-camp; the ill-concealed ambition of Gloucester’s bastard son, Edmund, contrasting with the filial piety of his high-born son, Edgar. Most of all, Frank Malle, as Lear, nailed the sovereign’s bursts of rage and his descent into madness.

I sat spellbound through the two halves of the play, and found myself thinking afterward, “Are there truly parallels between the fictional Lear, a tenth-century King of Britain, and the sitting President of the United States-or, for that matter, his immediate predecessor?” There is no obvious insanity, in our current leadership, yet we are in a period in which rulers have been exhibiting a thin skin, and not just in the United States of America. There is a naked ambition, on the part of several of the presidential advisors, both in and out of government. Some members of the presidential family seek more leverage, though unlike the Family Lear (ostensibly members of House Plantagenet), there is no obvious rivalry between the children, nor does the president show favouritism for one over the others. Lear does go off on tangents, talking about the horns of snails and the cultivation of oysters, much as Trump talks about birds and whales. The above-mentioned scene evoked the impromptu dancing that Trump has done, either solo or accompanied by random visiting athletes.

All these instances, though, are not connected to actions of substance, in and of themselves. Lear does not seem to have any connection to his subjects, outside of the court itself and a small number of hangers-on. Trump regularly connects with at least his most fervent supporters, outside of Official Washington, as did Biden. That may neutralize any ambition among his inner circle, providing an unlikely safeguard for our republic, in the long run. While some of his Cabinet may invite parallels to Lear’s Fool, there is yet no one who can get away with criticizing the President-at least not openly, as the Fool does with Lear.

In the long run, it is never in the interests of a people to have their ruler descend into madness. In my lifetime, we have seen what happened in the Soviet Union, when Stalin lost his grip on reality,as well as in China, as Mao fell into senescence. The 25th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution is in place, to obviate such a situation here. Let us hope that its application does not become necessary, in the near future, if ever.

The Road to Diamond, Day 120: Williamson Valley

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March 28,2025- We came upon a small set of petroglyphs, whilst looking for the trail to an even larger display, in Williamson Valley, a horse-breeding and ranching area, northwest of Prescott. The area between the ranches and the looming presence of Granite Mountain was once a prime hunting and farming area for the Sinagua people, who predated the Yavapai-Apache.

Petroglyphs along trail in Williamson Valley

The area experienced glacial activity around 20,000 years ago, and as the glaciers retreated, granite and limestone boulders were left behind, creating astonishing landscapes like the Granite and Willow Dells. Here, at the foot of Granite Mountain’s east face, the scenery is every bit as breathtaking.

Lichen-covered granite boulder, Williamson Valley
Boulder field, with juniper trees, Williamson Valley
Granite boulder field, Williamson Valley

We ended up not finding the larger collection of petroglyphs. That trail has been determined, though, and will be the focus of investigation, in the not too distant future. Williamson Valley’s trail system rivals that of the Granite Dells.

The Road to Diamond, Day 119: Passages

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March 27, 2025- In a short letter, with two photos attached, I learned that the young adolescent girl from Mexico,whom I had been sponsoring for three years, has left the sponsoring agency’s wing. There is nothing further I can do for the child, save pray, as all contact with her is through the agency.

In her stead, I will sponsor and support a much younger child from a Caribbean nation. The differences between the two girls could not be more stark. The first was content to stay at home and tend her younger siblings, or so she said. The second is a self-starter, inquisitive and studious, with eyes full of sass. I look forward to seeing just how far she will go in life.

In my own space, I had a spot on my face treated with cold nitrogen, this afternoon. It will need to be evaluated in three months’ time. Another spot will be surgically removed, next Wednesday. I have borne a scar or two, previously, so I am not worried. It’s better to be rid of the spot, before it becomes cancerous.

The country is going through a passage or two. Indeed, the planet is experiencing changes not seen in over 80 years. Some events are actually more reminiscent of the so-called Dark Ages, when kings, lords and other nobles ran roughshod over the masses. Back then, however, those multitudes were uneducated. Nowadays, any chicanery or deception is occurring because the people are, by turns, tired, distracted or complacent. There has rarely been a time when so many are willing to accept whatever is told them. This, though, will not continue in perpetuity. Abraham Lincoln’s admonition, about not fooling all the people all the time, will be brought to bear-as it was after the Watergate scandal and hopefully in just as civilized a manner. We do not need either another Civil War or a mass uprising, as happened in 1968, after the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. or in 2020, after the death of George Floyd. At some point, the seemingly defanged Congress will need to assert itself and prevent the “correction of overspending” from becoming an overreaction all its own. It will need the support of the judiciary, and of several other institutions.

The point should never be to excuse excess in one direction, but to ensure it is not replaced by excess in the opposite way.

The Road to Diamond, Day 118: Safekeeping

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March 26,2025- Little man next door has watched cars and trucks go up and down our street, from the safety of his front door. He decided he would try out his little tricycle on the street. Mama quashed that idea, very quickly, as you would expect.

On my way to a chili cook-off, this evening, I came upon another little man, on a tricycle, crossing the next street south of ours. This boy was with his mother, who safely guided him across the road, and onto the sidewalk. He rightfully “owned” the sidewalk, but chose to stay on the red brick bicycle path, until I passed on the walk. Then, he took over the right of way. Mom was perfectly content with either safe option.

I read, this evening, about a Kansas State Trooper, who pulled over an SUV for a traffic violation. In the vehicle were two men in their 60s and a 6-year-old girl. Long story short, going over the speed limit was the least of the driver’s transgressions, and the kidnapped girl is being reunited with her parents. The scary part is that the men almost had her brainwashed, but close, thankfully, only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes.

There is no substitute for a loving, sensible, committed parent, in ensuring the safety of any child.

The Road to Diamond, Day 117: Genres

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March 25, 2025- There it was, placed proudly on the choir room wall: Periodic Table of Music Genres, an outgrowth of the famous chemistry table. It reflects the steady growth in both the sharing of musical styles across national and cultural boundaries, as well as the fusion of those styles.

In my childhood days, it was viewed by many as a travesty to mix say, jazz with classical or country music. Duke Ellington and several others interpreted even the oldest of classical music, anyway. It is something that I have come to appreciate, as an adult. The great Big Band musicians redid orchestral classics, even Baroque, with grace and style. Today, every genre can be interpreted by every other genre, and many can be fused with others.

My task today was simply to monitor the guitar and choral classes, making sure they actually practiced their pieces. While getting teens to practice can be a chore in itself, most of the students spent thirty minutes, at least, either in groups or individual work. When given the choice of pieces, they showed quite a range of interests-from Heavy Metal to Country; Grunge to World Music.

Here is a compendium of musical genres, by style and by region. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_music_genres_and_styles. In order to illustrate, here are two very different types of musical expression:

Rosa Lee Hill was a Mississippi Hill Country Blues musician. Here she is doing “Roll and Tumble”, in 1967, a year before her death. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_asE8v-Ls60

Next is Indonesian musician Rahayu Supanggah, leading a troupe in Gamelan, a traditional music genre of the Malay Archipelago. (Don’t worry about the “waitress”; just click on the video and enjoy the gamelan.

There is no place on Earth where people have not found a way to express themselves musically. A student reminded me, this morning, that it all originated in people mimicking birds, other land animals and even whales, in some places. Music has come a long way.

The Road to Diamond, Day 116: George Foreman

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March 24, 2025- In the early ’70s, watching heavyweight boxing championships was on par with watching professional baseball or hockey. It was always a group event, mostly involving men. Part of it was about demonstrations of power, but the replays, sometimes 4 or 5, were about noticing finesse. Muhammad Ali’s body English was the most watched, and re-watched. Later on, there was a group that was drawn to Leon Spinks. For sheer longevity, and evolution of class, though, no one outdid George Foreman.

George came out of east Texas, and the Fifth Ward of Houston. In both environments, he learned the way of the fist-starting off as a mugger, then being steered into boxing. He would become the titan of the 1968 U.S. Olympic Boxing squad, bringing home the Gold Medal and being welcomed into the White House, even as his main competitor, Cassius Clay, was irritating the government with his objections to the Vietnam War. Cassius, of course, embraced Islam and became Muhammad Ali. He and George would fight for the World Heavyweight Championship, and in 1974, George found himself worn to a frazzle by Ali’s antics, including the “Rope a Dope” maneuver of allowing George to push him to the ropes, then rest a bit and come out swinging. George had given Joe Frazier his first loss, a year earlier, thus becoming World Heavyweight Champion. In the “Rumble in the Jungle”, though, Muhammad came out on top.

George, bruised but not beaten, showed the world that “Forty is not a death sentence” and would continue to box professionally, in between serving as an ordained minister and as pitchman for his line of barbecue grills, until 1997. He sired twelve children, by five wives, naming each of his five sons George. This was his way, he said, of leaving a piece of himself for posterity.

He died on Friday, March 21, at the age of 76. His namesakes-and grills- aside, though, George Foreman will long live in the memory bank of anyone who grew up between 1965-87. He lived larger than his boxing skill set and more intensely than his religious fervour. May George be at peace, in the arms of his Lord.

The Road to Diamond, Day 115: Seed Mania

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March 23, 2025- Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve liked edible seeds-when they have been shelled and especially when they are part of say, a muffin or on a bagel. Seeds in fruit are not so enjoyable, but I see their value, in perpetuating life. So, I have learned to set them aside and let them dry-from apples, pumpkins, squash, even tomatoes and peppers, when there is space on the counter. I have planted them, in season. Some years, they produced lots of tomatoes and peppers. Other years, they have made gophers and javelinas very happy.

This afternoon, Prescott Farmers Market and Slow Food co-sponsored Seed Mania, with several kiosks promoting local farmers and their wares. There were several presentations by still other farmers, reportedly marked by spirited discussion among them, regarding each other’s methodologies. There was also plenty for the kids to do, with school garden displays-which they helped to create and fun educational activities that were seed-related.

My spot was mostly manning the Slow Food table, and encouraging new arrivals in the area to sign up for mentoring, by one or another of the local farmers or garden educators. Fifteen such newcomers signed on, many from areas where the growing season and topography are much different from those of this area. It was a revelation that a local garden center was promoting blueberry cultivation. It was NOT a revelation that the bushes produced small, sour berries-if they produced any at all. Apple trees, I have found, don’t produce much in the way of fruit around here, either.

Plants are fairly fussy, and want certain soil, water, compost nutrients and only certain exposure to sunlight, as well as a degree of temperature control. I guess that makes them like other living things, even a bit like us. We each thrive in different environments.

The Road to Diamond, Day 114: Intuition

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March 22, 2025- The little boy went over to an office building that was closed, and walked around it, then came back. Even though he looked like he was just exploring, I knew he was looking for a toilet. So did his father, who came and took him to the Port-o-San. The man smiled appreciatively, in that, though neither one spoke English, I had been keeping an eye on his son. Intuition is what keeps things running smoothly.

I had a messaging exchange earlier this morning, with someone who is frustrated at the pace of a construction project with which I had helped a few months ago. I made it clear that I would not be able to get things accelerated and that I am being careful with my money. After a while, the person understood and expressed appreciation for what I have done already. Good things take time, and sometimes have to wait for bad things to play out. Intuition can be in play, even over long distances.

This evening, I took in a robust performance by a guitarist who frequents the small cafe that I alternate with The Raven, on weekends. He was having some difficulty with certain parts of his instrument. I am familiar enough with this gentleman that I could offer the name of someone who might be able to help him with the issue. His own preferred method seeming to be not working, he winced but thanked me for the tip. Intuition can be dicey sometimes, but it pays to take initiative and offer help. We are all in this together.

I can see that we will be needing to refine our intuition, in the weeks and months ahead, if we are to keep a close watch on the rather sloppy use of Artificial Intelligence, lest it end up counteracting the nobler aspects of the current Administration’s efforts at decreasing waste. Nothing is gained, if these efforts go too far, and end up derailing themselves.

The Road to Diamond, Day 113: Playfulness

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Tom Petty, Harry Chapin and Rivers Cuomo shared the stage tonight, at The Raven Cafe, or so it seemed. The three musicians who were on stage evoked those men, in style-and somewhat in voice and appearance. They played and sang under the watchful poster eyes of Carlos Santana, The Who and Twenty One Pilots. It was a satisfying evening, of both playfulness and angst. The Rivers look-alike offered light-hearted tunes about an elfin girlfriend and living out of his car, juxtaposed with a darker tune about the latter situation. “Tom” sang of being occasionally bereft of spirit and of drinking on St. Patrick’s Day. “Harry” was mainly focused on his courtship and love for his wife.

It was a fine cap to a playful day. The morning brought me back to Bear and Dragon, this time for a French omelet, that was everything such fare should be-light and fluffy, complemented by a couple of English bangers and a pair of potato galettes. My seat was at the counter, shared with the cafe’s owner, who bantered a bit, in between his business calls. Bernie, the barista, tended well to my coffee and water needs.

Next up, in the afternoon, was a revisit to Arcosanti, the experimental community that lies an hour east of Prescott. I went there to get a couple of photos to send Kathy, in advance of our friends’ visit to Arizona, the second week of April. I also wanted to walk a bit on the Visitors Trail, that leads to the base of a small mesa, on the south side of the property. Before that, I took a short break in the laid-back cafe, enjoying a matcha latte. One of the attendants had a confession to make: His matcha lattes had used 2. 5 ounces of the powder. Fortunately, his co-worker fixed mine, with a more suitable 2 teasspoons of matcha. I read somewhere that there is a shortage of matcha in Japan. Maybe overzealous baristas in the U.S. are part of the reason for that.

Such was a light-hearted day, the first of Spring.

The Road to Diamond, Day 112: New Day

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March 20, 2025- Naw-Ruz, in Persian, means “New Day”. In Iran, traditionally, the Naw-Ruz holiday lasts 12 days. For us Baha’is, it is one day; essentially, it is the beginning of a new spiritual year. So, today is the beginning of 182 Baha’i Era.

We marked the day with a festive gathering, at which 51 people showed up, enjoying copious amounts of food, spirited and delightful music and vibrant conversations. Had the room been a bit larger, we may have even seen some, including me, dancing about. No matter, the musicians worked well together and our various discourses ran the gamut from Rubik’s Cube (a child completed it in less than four minutes) to the proper preparation of Persian rice.

I was glad to be able to work the breakdown shift (seems that I can take things apart better than put them together, and that’s okay-the lady who brought much of the decorations, signage and two main dishes deserved any help she could get.). Muscle memory took over, when it came time to shorten curtain rods- I hadn’t done that particular task since helping my mother,as an early teenager. Other tasks were quite routine.

With Naw-Ruz in the books, I thought of the things I used to do with two left feet, that are now de rigueur. Almost anything mechanical used to end upside down, or inside out. Much of that, though, came from a combination of overthinking, an inner voice that told me I was stupid and rushing through the task. Now, I let muscle memory take hold, go ahead and do the task with attention and patience and act with self-confidence. Bob Powers’ Law has finally become part of my inner dialogue. Bob was probably the finest boss I ever had. He told me that some day I would realize that there was nothing wrong with my mental functioning, but that I would have to realize that on my own-and it might come hard. I was 16, impulsive and whimsical. He was in his late forties and had been around the horn several times. I could have listened better.

This new day saw me send greetings to my dear friend in Manila, to others on the Navajo Nation and to my friend and mentor in Phoenix. All around the world, north and south, east and west, may our souls be guided to do what is best for all humanity.

Happy Spring, to all in the north and Joyous Autumn to all in the south!