December 5, 2023- A good friend inquired about a course, offered by Wilmette Institute, a Baha’i online academy that focuses on a number of aspects of our Faith. Her interest is in the interplay between the arts and Baha’i, which is actually quite deep. The course, simply titled “The Baha’i Faith and the Arts”, is indeed being offered for six weeks, this coming April-May.
This spurred my own thinking about artistry. I never really advanced much beyond stick figures and potato people, though I can now at least draw reasonable facsimiles thereof, when it comes to people, cats and dogs. I made a bird house, once, in eighth grade. The instructor said “Thank God it’s made of wood. You and metal? Oil and water. ” Craftsmanship has come easier, with maturity, focus and practice. I might even try my hand at ceramics, one of these days.
Art, though, is mainly an expression of the spirit-as humanity has found, over the course of many centuries. The best of artistic expression celebrates the higher levels of human functioning, or calls our attention to suffering, that we might rise to those higher levels. Some, like Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, is mythological in tone, but no less celebratory of the rising of the human spirit. Other art, like Picasso’s Guernica, is intended to provoke reflection on the worst that our species can do to its members. Paintings, frescos, sculpture and pottery can present anything from solid utility, to historical record, to sheer serenity.
My aforementioned friend and I were part of a group who visited Ayala Museum, Greenbelt Mall, in Makati, during my recent Philippines trip. There, we encountered the thought-provoking:
the disturbing:
and the soothing.
Artistry is, to both of us, and to millions of people, a regenerative outlet, one that will sustain humanity through the worst of times and aid in celebration of the best.
December 4, 2023- Dutifully programming my Google Maps, for a friend’s medical appointment, I picked up friend and headed towards the designated locale. When we got to the spot, we found…….a gated community, a cul-de-sac and an overpass above a desert wash. A call to the provider earned us grace-and the names of cross streets,- 20 miles away, on the other side of the city. The algorithm interpreted the directional point in the street address, literally. It just got the wrong city. I double-checked my entry, to see if I had given the wrong information. No, the goober was AI.
We got to the proper location, after 30 minutes, and friend was seen by the gracious provider. All worked out well, and I got us back to Prescott, in time for me to help out at the soup kitchen. That was fortuitous, as they were short-staffed. It wasn’t that hard, though. I was the white rice guy and there was no need to wipe the tables afterward.
Goobers are a nuisance, though, and it would be a good idea if there were a feedback mechanism for Google Maps. This is not the first time that I’ve been steered wrong-and I know that others have gone through the same rigmarole. Of course, another option is to research the location from home. I did this before going to the Philippines, Newfoundland, Vancouver Island and Florida-after finding that I should have done so, before going to Paris and Brussels, nearly ten years ago. I will definitely do my homework, before next Fall’s international journey.
Crossed signals are not just limited to GPS and maps. Sometimes, in the past, I have gotten ahead of myself and not even been grounded in my feelings, before opening my mouth-or writing a message. Nowadays, checking my facts and emotional intelligence before speaking or writing, has generally made life a lot easier. In a few situations, this is tricky, but if I have to muddle through, that’s just how it has to be. I have a few friends who want to be given space, and they get it. When they are ready, I know they will reach out. Others are always happy to connect, and they bring me joy.
Gooberism can be avoided, with healthy self-checks, first thing in the morning, and periodically throughout the day.
December 3, 2023- This day sees the tumult of the Christmas season, and all the interplay between materialism and spirituality come to the fore. The plethora of appeals to share one’s real and imagined wealth has come and gone-or at least run out of dedicated days for one aspect of materialism or another. The liturgical aspect of the season, though, has begun for Catholics and other Christians, with this first Sunday of Advent. So, we may expect more caroling-hopeful voices adding to calls for peaceful resolution of the Israel-Hamas conflict, a move towards rebuilding Gaza and an end to displacement of people-anywhere, for the benefit of a chosen few. We may also expect resistance. What privileged class has ever gone quietly into that good night?
By the above, I note the Iranian clerics and their Revolutionary Guards, as well as the West Bank settlers. I note the raiders who attack the people of Darfur, the “monks” who still harass the Rohingya people of Myanmar and all those who amass fortunes, at the expense of the working people. Where is the evidence that any of you have been wronged by those you assail? Savaging the weak and helpless is no guarantee that you will achieve your goals in perpetuity. There is a place for you in the world, but only if you cease and desist your greed-based, power-hungry depredations.
It is a quiet Advent, as the survivors of the MIndanao earthquake and the Wrangell landslide assess their losses and mourn those who didn’t make it out of the wreckage. It is a cheery day for some elsewhere, including three friends who went to a Baha’i wedding in Manila. It is a calm day for me, with a nice breakfast at Post 6, a devotional online and three sets of leg lifts at Planet Fitness. The most important part, though, was reading nineteen pages of an interesting and hopeful letter from our Universal House of Justice. Upshot: We will make it through whatever is headed our way, provided we stick together and don’t let ego delude us.
December 2, 2023- It was disconcerting to get news of an earthquake, off the Philippine island of Mindanao, when I arrived back at HB, from a long day of service activities and visits with friends. There are one or two people for whom I care deeply, who are originally from Mindanao, the southernmost large island of the archipelago, and who now live in the Manila area. Hopefully, their family members, and everyone else, are safe.
I admit to a certain restlessness of spirit, mainly because as I look about me, there is so much that needs doing. At Farmers Market, this afternoon, two market administrators and the compost project worker, all friends of mine, were left to break down the apparati, at closing. I was able to free them of this, so they could do their primary tasks. I give thanks to the Creator, for continued strength-for as long as that strength lasts, and I can continue to be physically -as well as mentally,useful.
It was also a good day for visiting-one of my best friends, who has a market stall; the Slow Food-Prescott group, for part of a planning session, and sharing a box of Medjool dates that I had been given; and another friend, whose small restaurant, Rafter Eleven, has been one of the music venues I frequent on Friday or Saturday evenings.
Now I can wind down, and chalk the day up as successful.
December 1, 2023- So said a line on the bottom of a rear license plate, offered by the driver of a truck in front of me, as I drove back from Planet Fitness, this afternoon. The situation at the club was a bit chaotic, with two older mother-daughter pairs, and a nervous lady of about the same age, all converging on the massage bed/lounges at about the same time-but without telling the front desk person what they wanted. He ended up having to go back and manually reset the devices. I had signed up for a massage lounge, and was waiting for the gentleman who was on it, to finish his time. The ladies looked like they had been waiting, so they got on first, then the whole manual reset thing was needed.
I chose to use a massage chair, if for no other reason than to save the poor kid’s sanity. We are the results of our choices. I have written on this subject before, and have at least gotten pretty good at living with my choices, by first making them more carefully, then by actually running them by those who might just be affected by them, rather than running over them. The last step is not gloating over them, lest someone else’s heart be hurt. It is best to include an acknowledgment that not everyone has a good experience with certain situations, or areas of life. That’s not patronizing, it’s honouring the one who has faced a different set of outcomes.
It’s a good place to note some choices I’ve made for December. This evening, I chose to attend a dinner that honoured those of us who volunteer for the Homeless Assistance Program, at a local church, rather than attend the annual Christmas Dinner at Post 6. Tomorrow, instead of hanging out downtown, during the Christmas Parade, I am choosing to help break down the Farmers Market, then go up to Chino Valley, for a Slow Food planning session. Tomorrow evening, I will choose to visit a friend I’ve not seen in a while, over watching the Christmas Lighting, for the eighth time. On ten different weekdays, between now and Christmas Break, I am choosing to fill substitute positions. You get the drift. There are days of service and days of self-care; days of honouring friends and days of making now traditional visits to places like Santa Fe and Tucson.
Choices fill our lives, from when one gets up in the morning, to how one fills a day, to how often a friend is contacted, and by what means. Hopefully, as I mentioned above, choices will be made that hurt no one, or are at least made in a way that if a person is hurt, it’s because of how the choice made is taken by that person. We can’t control other people’s experiences, but we can control ourselves.
Most choices are almost automatic, after a while, but they should always have an element of presence, in being made.
November 30,2023- Ernest A. Love, a decorated Army pilot, who died in the line of duty, during the final months of World War I, is honoured in his hometown of Prescott with his name being given to our regional airport and to the local American Legion Post. He was further honoured tonight, on the occasion of his birthday-128, and counting. A squad of ROTC cadets from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University posted the colours, and the youngest of these, an 18-year-old woman, stood proudly, next to our oldest veteran Post member, who is nearly 88, and the youngest veteran Post member, a wet-behind-the-ears 48.
Each of these people has a compelling story, and each is a complex human being-just like everyone else. The difference is, each of them has done something with her/his life and has either a lifetime of giving back to the community, or is embarking on such a life. Not everyone else is so inclined, which is a shame, in a way. We all have gifts that can help bring light to the world, rather than the darkness that some see fit to cast into it.
I am truthful, in saying that I love so many in the world, even at different levels and displayed through different means. When that was not so apparent, it was largely because my self-love was lacking, and thus, I didn’t know how to communicate how I really felt. I have learned from several of those closest to me, how to grow my self-love, and therefore, how to more clearly honour the fullness and complexity of each person I meet. In turn, I can’t be all things to all people, and that may ruffle a few feathers.
May they learn to smooth those feathers and find a way to obtain what I can’t give them, whether it is a romantic relationship or taking a call at midnight. There are, conversely, things they cannot give to others. I am drawn to someone, far from here, and if she is drawn to me, then so much the better. If not, then I will honour her complexity, and full humanity, and carry on.
That, my friends, is how peace can happen, human to human-even when it’s hard to do.
November 29, 2023- I watched as a man and his little daughter ran, hand-in-hand, towards their car-no winner, no loser, only a team, only a connected pair. Just beforehand, I was greeted by warm smiles from virtually everyone at Planet Fitness. I felt aglow, so the ambiance was a mirror.
Today was a satisfying day-with two acts of service either completed, or finished to the extent that was doable. Over 100 people sent birthday greetings, from Monday night until today. Every one of them was affirming. One, from a new and treasured friend, was the most affirming of all. The royal treatment I enjoyed in Grapevine was the icing on a very rich cake.
I think of all who bemoan the lack of love in their lives. Quite often, it is intertwined with lust-which can negate love, if it takes precedence. It invariably is intertwined with self-centeredness, something with which each of us struggles, at least intermittently. I have yet to meet a happy person who views others as means to an end. That goes as much for a “high-powered” social misfit as it does for one who sees self as “involuntarily celibate”-and there are women, as well as men, who cast themselves in that gruesome bit of darkness.
There was a time when I was in that sad realm-in the late 1970s. Penny came along and dispelled that state of affairs. Even with her passing, my mien has been one of gratitude and deep love, at any of several levels, for so many people. I cannot view anyone as a stepping stone. I learned that saying I love a woman means seeing her as a complete human being, whose central mission is not satisfying my urges and meeting my needs. We met each other’s needs, together. That is the standard going forward, for any relationship that might develop.
So, as I sit here at Home Base, and give thanks for everyone of my family and friends, I also give thanks for the opportunities that come my way to help others uplift themselves.
November 28, 2023, Grapevine- So it has come to another re-set, another “trip around the Sun” completed. All that happened during the past year has only made me stronger, and no less committed to what a friend in Manila told me, during my visit there, and my most trusted family members reiterated today: My mission is to love those around me and help them live better lives.
There was another friend, I met in Manila, who would fit very nicely at my side, but I am not quite sure how well I would figure in her life. So, my path goes on, and as the cliche states-“If you love something (someone), let it (her) go. If it (she) returns, so much the better. If not, it (she) was never meant to be yours in the first place.” That’s happened a few other times, over the past twelve, and the ladies are still my friends.
Between now and November, 2024, there are six journeys, three short and three long. Next month, and again in January, take me to northern New Mexico. The first is customary-a Santa Fe and Taos-centered post-Christmas tradition, with a possible errand of mercy. The second will find me at Ghost Ranch, for a week of service.
February will take me to San Diego and, briefly, to Orange County-another emerging tradition. Ocean Beach, especially Samesun Hostel, is practically Home Base #3. I have to remind myself that I am NOT staff, and can be only just so much at home, particularly around some of the more officious staff people. Still, it’s a marvelous place to spend a day or two.
May, and the first week of June, will be my Back East time-with a return to Cape Breton Island and Newfoundland. It will also be post-Covid catch-up time, with a few friends in Indiana, as well as family visits to Maine, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania.
Mid-July to the first week of August will see two visits to Carson City, as bookends to another Vancouver Island trip, and long-delayed visits to BC’s Sunshine Coast-and Four Worlds International Institute.
That brings me to Journey # 6, which will find me in a part of the world I’ve not been in before. Details will come, as the time for the visit gets closer. It will take in the latter part of September, until November 1. Suffice it to say that I have promised friends in that area, that I will visit them, for several years-and intend to make good on this, God willing.
Here in Arizona, there will surely be many opportunities for continued service-and visits to southern Arizona, in late January and to both the South Rim and Jacob Lake (weather-permitting) in mid-March. Early July, after the Fourth, will be time on Hopi, just before I head up to Carson City.
Of course, next Thanksgiving, which coincides with my birthday, will be right here in Home Base #2. It will be another milestone, well worth celebrating.
November 27. 2023, Grapevine- The dream was all too vivid, and all-too ridiculous: I was at a seminar for teachers, wearing white chinos, of all things, and spilled salsa from the provided breakfast burrito. I went to clean my pants, and for some reason, grabbed a push broom to carry with me (never did figure that part out). Walking to find a restroom, I happened by an African English-language academy, and an old-style trattoria, where there were many people gathered, and as I wandered aimlessly back and forth, looking for a restroom, a teenaged girl told me my meandering was getting tiresome. A staffer came out of a back room and started randomly filling recessed open concrete hollows, with rose petals. I began to think the girl was right and I was being a tiresome distraction. Then, I woke up and realized that none of this was happening, nor did it have to.
My reality was that of a slightly chilly, but sun-filled day. I spent the day on a small service project, to be continued on free moments Wednesday, to hopefully generate a just conclusion to a long-standing matter, for a Filipino family. Otherwise, it was a quiet day of relaxation, with Aram focusing on his remaining school projects and Yunhee back at work.
The final three months of my being 72 were no less fulfilling than the other nine. I began September with a drive across southern Colorado, then three days at Eastern Colorado Baha’i Summer School,which as last year was largely a family affair-and I was a bit more included this time. Once the school had adjourned, I made my way east, as detailed in earlier posts. Mom’s 95th birthday, and the arrival of grandniece Adeline Bryan, were the milestone events. Paying respects to a fallen police officer, in Minnesota, and a beloved cousin, in Pennsylvania, were also high points.
October saw my first visit to the Philippines, via San Diego, San Francisco and T’aipei. Getting to meet a sponsored teen, and helping him get a wardrobe item he very much needed, was a wondrous start to this visit. Being guided and watched over by three fellow Baha’is, whilst in Manila, was a magnificent follow-up. Respects were paid to two of the great figures of Filipino history: Dr. Jose Rizal, regarded as the country’s national hero, and Lapulapu- who ranks similar to Cochise or Black Elk, in terms of standing up for the rights of First Nations people. I made more friends for the rest of my life, which is the main purpose of going anywhere.
November has seen a productive month at Home Base, and a salubrious week at HB2. Red Cross work was intense, but compressed into one 12-hour day. School assignments were uniformly pleasant. The flu came and went-courtesy of a crowded reception area at LAX. I had one of the finest meals of my life, at 1845 Taste of Texas.
Adi’s birth was a happy milestone. Transitions in the other direction saw the departures of an old high school friend and a cousin-in-law. Steve Finnegan and Caleb Jayne were both humble tradesmen, but neither man was anybody’s fool. Both will be long-missed. Jimmy Buffett, Terry Kirkman, David McCallum and Suzanne Somers all entertained us and engaged our social awareness, as the best of their caliber do. Rosalynn Carter and Ady Barkan raised the bar for true public service.
Now comes another early morning commemoration of the Ascension of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and with it my re-set, to the age of 73-as of 1:30 p.m. EST, officially. It has been lovely, being 72.
November 26, 2023, Grapevine- “1845 was the year that the Union joined Texas”, the young waiter intoned, tongue firmly in cheek. With that, my advance birthday dinner began, with what turned out to be endless lemonade (from Rio Grande Valley lemons), followed by Fort Worth filet mignon and oven baked Brussels sprouts, poblano meatballs and, for Son, a Game Combo of venison and quail drums (breasts and a leg). We can safely say that the plates, while not Texas-sized, were more than ample. The desserts were Texas-sized, and we’ll leave it at “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire! I did have a sparkling candle in my pumpkin crispy, as word got out that my birthday is forthcoming. 1845: Taste Texas is top of the line, in fare and in style-no corners cut. It was a meal for the ages.
Before that, though, we took in the wild side of Dallas, and I don’t mean riding a mechanical bull. Cedar Ridge Preserve sits on the south side of Big D, and is intended to offer safe space for butterflies, birds large and small, and the small carnivores that keep other species in check. As the name implies, cedars are the dominant trees. There are a few ponds, here and there, but what sets this stretch of prairie apart from elsewhere in DFW Metro is the ups and downs offered by the 10-mile trail system. This park could be at home in Prescott. Needless to say, it was a good workout.
My little family on the move, Cedar Ridge PreserveOne of four stream crossings along the trailAram and Yunhee headed upstairs.
It was a fine cap to the Thanksgiving weekend, and a prelude to the end of my 73rd trip around the Sun-which comes on Tuesday. I also fly back to AZ on Tuesday evening, so this dinner fell nicely into place.
Now it’s time to look back at June, July and August. As with other months, people left. Some had checkered public records-Pat Robertson and James Watt left us, a day apart. Ted Kaszynski had a scary public record, finally taking his own life, in early June. Leslie Van Houten didn’t take her own life, but certainly took those of others, so many years ago. Cormac McCarthy wrote, tellingly, of other people’s checkered lives. Daniel Ellsberg warned us of same. Sinead O’Connor hollered about injustice, and sounded melodious. Dame Glenda Jackson astonished us, on stage and Paul Reubens made us chuckle, with his puckish wit. Robbie Robertson made us think, while honouring his First Nations family. Lahaina, Hawaii practically perished as a community, in a freakish wildfire.
Closer to my circle, the queenly countenance of Wilma Ellis left us Baha’is behind, for the spirit realm. Childhood friends Rodney Lavoie and Robert Ritchie passed their batons to their beloved children. A cousin, David Wonoski, passed suddenly and my last living uncle-by-marriage, Dave Dufour, saw the end of a long, varied and colourful life. JR Cline, with whom I visited twice on cross-country journeys, saw his long and valiant fight come to an end.
My path went to three camps, all carefully managed to the best of my ability. WiFi did not fade out this time, thanks to my iPhone. Other local homages were to a good friend who turned 60; to the Granite Mountain Hotshots, who perished ten years ago, at Yarnell Hill; and to the summer solstice, on, where better, Solstice Mesa, in north Prescott. I sat with a dog, later with cats, and tended to people’s needs at Hope Fest, which came early this year.
Travels were both long and short: A hike in honour of the departed Hotshots, at the State Park established in their names, preceded the 10th Commemoration, in downtown Prescott. A return to Bell Rock, near Sedona, brought variations in light into focus. A Grand Canyon visit, to the west side of South Rim, had to be cut short, when a deluge closed the main road heading south. I made a detour, through the Navajo Nation and Flagstaff, as I had an appointment in Prescott, the next day. July 17-29 took me through the Mojave Desert, Central Valley, Oregon and Washington, to British Columbia. There were visits with Baha’i friends in Ashland, OR, Victoria, BC-and, sweetest of all, a performance in “The Wizard of Oz”, by a girl I look upon as a grandniece, in Carson City. In each case, my visit seemed to have an outsized effect on the host’s sense of well-being. That’s actually the hope, wherever I go. New friends were also made in Ludlow, CA; Medford and Salem, OR; Centralia and Chehalis, WA.Richmond and Nanaimo, BC. That’s also the idea. Zipping down to a dental appointment, on two hours’ notice and zipping back up to get my trusty vehicle serviced, after a long trip-that’s also the idea.
As August ended, I headed out to a Baha’i school, the House of Worship in Wilmette, and mother’s milestone celebration. Many are those who fill my heart; she is first among them. The people I specifically visited, these three months, are also in that category.
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A Sagittarian Seeker 