Category Archives: Spiritual

Magical, Again

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 14, 2023- The leading candidate for the Presidency of a South American nation has issued an agenda that would, for all intents and purposes, dismantle the government of that country and coupled it with proposals that promise nothing but even more misery than the long-suffering citizens of that land have already endured, which is considerable.

About seven months ago, I misread the slogan on a tee-shirt, worn by a community activist, the first word of which was slightly hidden. It read “Make America Musical Again”. I thought the first word was “Magical”.

I would be quite okay with a renewed sense of, magic in this country and in the world. Don’t get me wrong. Easy solutions are not in anyone’s best interest, nor do I believe in the Dark Arts. Rather, I would like to see a foundation of innocence, in the childlike manner,a renewed belief that anything is possible.

As it is right now, we are being given a choice between retreads and rehashing of shopworn notions and practices, on the one hand, and cynical, manipulative sleight-of-hand, on the other. The upshot is same old, same old or “anything goes”. Nowhere in either set of dogmas is there an appeal to real co-operation, to the actual honouring of human agency, across the board. Neither “camp” truly honours the other, and thus, by extension, no one is honoured.

In the Fall of 1985, the Supreme Body of the Baha’i Faith, the Universal House of Justice, issued a document, “The Promise of World Peace”, which cautioned against holding on to outworn practices and beliefs that only deepen divisions. It noted that “a paralysis of will” is in play, keeping the natural forces of unity and co-operation in check. The Universal House of Justice ties this to both self-interest of many leaders and to lack of education among the masses of people.

This tells me that there is a welter of overthinking, combined with lack of trust, in either one’s own abilities or in that of the human race as a whole. People tell themselves that they are overwhelmed by life-and a good many honestly are. This puts them at the mercy of those who have thought things through, to a certain point, and have devised ways of achieving their own self-serving agendas.

Vladimir Lenin regarded his followers as “useful idiots”. The current crop of demagogues has a similar mindset. People in the aforementioned country, and several others across the globe, including this one, are likely to fall for the tropes, the deceptions and the legerdemain of the manipulative class-but for the opportunity in front of each of us, to re-look at matters with eyes of confidence, commitment to both self and others and a turning away from those limited notions that foster division.

If that entails a “magical” belief in unconditional love, co-operation and the endless capacity of human beings for good, then so be it. In this vein, I give you a video of mothers of Downs Syndrome children, lip-syncing Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years”.

Care of the Threads

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 6, 2023- When I was first learning the use of tools, like wrenches, screwdrivers and ratchets, my father would caution me against either being overzealous in tightening the screw, nut or bolt, or being too timid and not tightening it enough. Each one has its particular tight place, he’d say, and I have followed that practice to this day. Every point of contact has its proper tightness.

At breakfast, this morning, another patron was inveighing against members of the political party opposite hers, saying that if we were to get rid of them, the country would at long last be in good shape. Being independent, politically, I replied that there needs to be a balance in all things. That didn’t set all that well with her, but she had no rebuttal. Others at the table agreed with the notion of balance, expressed the wish that those on the “other side” would see the need for a happy medium, as well.

I see the “wrench” in this case as a means of bringing people together, in just the right measure. The lady in question has no friends, or even acquaintances, on “the other side”. There are those from whom I’ve heard, on that side of the fence, who can’t name one person whose views are opposite theirs, who they regard as compadres. It’s all fear, and apprehension makes a very poor fastening agent. I pointed out, this morning, that if Right and Left came to understand they were both being used, and by much the same individuals and groups, the political differences between them would take second fiddle to the unity that would ensue against those wirepullers. There was no argument after that.

This afternoon, a gathering for the purpose of commemorating the Atomic Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki reiterated that things like poisoning the atmosphere with nuclear fallout are an equal opportunity death sentence for the entire planet. I have had exchanges with proponents of maintaining a nuclear arsenal, at various times over the years; my point being that it really only takes ONE high-capacity nuclear weapon to pretty much wipe out a large swath of the Earth’s population. Some are not convinced of that, but really the nuclear screwdriver would take but a few turns to obliterate its fastener, its handler and everyone between its launching site and its target-as well as everyone beyond.

We are, as Walt Kelly said, our own worst enemy. We can also choose to be our own best friends. It all hangs in the balance.

Mastering Heat

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Posted by on in collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 5, 2023- With a “desert fox” cap, replete with neck and face shield, and plenty of sunscreen on my arms and legs, getting around in this hottest-and now largely dry-month has not been as much a game of Russian roultette for my person.

It actually felt more brutally hot this morning, with no breeze, than it did when outdoor chores presented themselves at Noon. By then, the slightly cool breeze tempered our version of solar heat-93F-and the team was able to get its work done, in less than two hours.

Other kinds of heat are not as easily mastered:

The greed that is leading to slow-walking of a legal procedure that involves a dear friend-and the circumstances of which pretty much require non-response from said friend. Passion that involves desire for money is as bad, or worse, than passion involving misplaced physical attraction or even desire for power.

The sense of righteousness that leads to falsifying records, spreading of lies and convincing oneself that the false narrative must never be surrendered or changed, lest one’s whole life be upended.

The demand for personal justice, when the injury to the aggrieved is non-existent, physically, and only a passing emotional slight. I haven’t had this happen to me, recently-thank the Divine, but I know how it feels to be in the crosshairs of someone, whose real grievances were towards someone from long ago-and I just happened to be the “low-hanging fruit”.

The physical heat was less of an issue, once our work was done. I gathered with a group of friends for a consideration of local Baha’i concerns, then later went to check on a friend who had fallen, several weeks ago. He’s doing very well and is much steadier on his feet. Not to self: One lesson from the heat-and from said friend’s experience, is that water much go down the throat, at least once an hour in this aridity. So, I am making that happen.

“Shake It, Don’t Break It”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 4, 2023- So sang the irrepressible, ever-engaging keyboardist and social activist, as several of us were up and dancing to the rhythmic flow. There is no better way to get in some hyperactivity, around here at least, than at a Jonathan Best concert. There he was, on the Raven’s sound stage, with members of the Lisa Mitts Band. Jon even wore Lisa’s dress, because she couldn’t be present, this evening. You never know what to expect from Jonathan, but it’s always memorable-and relevant. He is at once an outlier-and a mover/shaker.

I have always been an outlier. At the same time, it has always been important to me to support the legitimate efforts of others, even those who were in a clique of some kind. The elites of my teen years, to the extent they were even elites, were generally friendly and while I was not in any “inner circle”, I was never shut out by them, either. The outlier part was largely in my own head.

Self-fulfilling prophecies tend to perpetuate themselves, though. In the Army, rank and file soldiers, especially in stateside posts, were very clear about who was part of an “in-crowd” and who was a cast off. It had nothing to do with job performance, and everything to do with whether the self-styled group leader liked someone or not. I played right into that scenario. The same pattern would repeat itself, now and then, throughout my working life.

That outlier stigma arises in my head, every so often, still. There are certain people whose presence and energy tend to trigger the feeling that I need to get to the sideline and stay there. One such individual, this evening, had me wanting to keep away from the group that was dancing, initially. Getting a vibe that was both elitist and fearful, it was easy to just bounce and sway, in a corner. My buddy, Ken, a few years older than me, has no such compunction. He went right up to the apparent snob, engaging in banter and dancing in his own style. Ken is everyone’s friend.

Before long, Jonathan’s grooves and beats had me forget about who might have wanted me to stay out of the group. Once Ken saw that I was relaxed and no longer keeping to myself, he went back to his conversations at the bar, and elsewhere, occasionally coming back up to the dance area and speaking with a few of the ladies.

The upshot of all this is that, after all this time on Earth, I am finally casting the burden that not even Penny’s love, or the acceptance I’ve felt from so many friends, could completely remove. I don’t know where my feelings of being an outcast even came from, but I know they need to be gone.

Shake it, don’t break it, indeed.

On Agency

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 3, 2023- The former President of the United States faced a Federal Magistrate today, for the second time in a month. He heard the charges against him, pleaded Not Guilty and thanked the Magistrate, before being released in his own recognizance. He maintains innocence, until proven guilty. He maintains agency, regardless.

The topic of agency arose, this evening, during a study session on the matter of public discourse. While the discussion ended up a bit off the rails, largely due to my being a bit tired, after a long day, and thus, not moderating matters as well as I might have, the agency of both those who were carried away in dialogue and those who felt left out, were addressed by the end of the session. Ground rules were established, going forward.

Ironically, the whole kerfuffle came about when the subject of the agency held by children was brought up-by yours truly. That led to discussion about gratuitous spanking of toddlers, and the umbrage taken by some people of our, and our parents’, generations when objections to such “punishment” are raised. Those who got carried away are of the opinion,as am I, that striking people just perpetuates violence. The others in the group, themselves hardly people who believe in corporal punishment, felt “point taken, now let’s move on.”

I have evolved in my thinking on the matters of both agency for children and of corporal punishment. I once believed in the pecking order, that children should serve adults. That went out the window, when I caught some adults using that notion of “service” as a pretext for abusive behaviour.

I have never given our son anything less than respect for who he is, nor have I, save one or two unfortunate lapses of judgement, as a teacher and counselor, seen fit to belittle a child’s soul. My own experience of corporal punishment, as a child, was sparing. Mom and Dad regarded it as tool, to be used judiciously. I followed suit as a parent, until it became obvious to me that there is a conflict between using force as a parent and communicating responsible behaviour to one’s child.

My overall sense, for the longest time now, is that each person, regardless of age, has personal agency. The child needs guidance and reinforcement. The elder needs reassurance of continued relevance. All of us in-between, likewise, need consistent respect, regardless of our positions on matters being discussed or positions in a community.

Trade-offs

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 2, 2023- A photo has gone viral today, of a stern-faced man, in Niamey, Niger, holding up a sign that says, in French, “Long live Putin”. There appeared to be about five hundred people around him, in the photograph, at a rally organized by the new self-appointed leader of that impoverished West African nation. How many were there of their own volition is debatable, but if they were brought there under duress, or with the promise of perquisites/rewards, the adulation for the autocratic leader of the Russian Federation will soon fade. It would not surprise me to learn that the man mentioned above was put up to holding the sign, by soldiers of the Wagner Group, who are ubiquitous in the Sahel region. He certainly did not look very happy to be there.

In a nutshell, I attribute the ease with which demagogues can rise to power, in impoverished nations, to the legacy of colonialism. When personal agency or a sense of community is cut off, by interlopers, for the sake of satisfying the greed of those invaders, the resentment simmers. This will prove as true for the Russians, as it has for the western European colonizers of yore. The only path to overcoming poverty among the masses is unity-under a democratic system, not under the yoke of a tyrant-be he home-grown or foreign-born.

This brings me to Florida-and the notion that slavery was beneficial to the enslaved. That this trope was first advanced by a professor of history, who is himself African-American, does not impress me in the least. Anyone can excuse abusive or oppressive conditions, and offer up a silver lining. More convincing is the umbrage taken to this cockamamie nonsense, by several Black Conservatives. They may ascribe to the noble concept of self-reliance, but attach to it anything that says their ancestors benefitted from having been enslaved, and the cord, rightfully, is cut.

Everything, as Dr.Thomas Sowell once wrote, is a trade-off. If you enslave a people, you break their self-reliance. If you steal agency from another person, then they learn dependency, and you now have an albatross around the neck. If, on the other hand, a person is empowered, honoured and granted agency for life, then society has one more individual who can actually contribute the gifts given by the Divine-on her/his own.

The Blessing of Colour

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

July 31, 2023- Everyone appreciated the readings, music and the spread on my friend’s table. Organizing and moderating an event that honours “perfection” was an all-day affair, but as the name itself implies, was well worth the day.

Costco was a good place to be guided by the unseen, in picking out refreshment items that would both appeal to the eyes and palate, while offering nutritional balance. I try to avoid “junk food”, when planning a set table, and it worked out quite nicely, unless one considers fresh-baked frosted pound cake as junk-admittedly a relative term, anyway. It was a festive occasion, this Spiritual Feast of Perfection, so why not a (guilty) pleasure. All else was light and nutritious.

The devotional program also was varied, and songs that honour the concept of perfection were interspersed between readings, and carried the evening. It is noteworthy that each of us has an element of perfection within us. Some, like yours truly, hide it better than others, but we all have such a seed inside. I see it in those, like the unhoused people I helped feed this evening, before the Spiritual Feast and in those who work at jobs that they may sometimes view as thankless. I see it in the faces of my Baha’i friends and in those of each human who I encounter every day, both here in the Prescott area and when I am on the road.

So, if you so wish, click on this song and ponder how the Divine sends us Perfect Guides, from time to time and to each part of the planet.

Jitterbug, with The Munchkins

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Entertainment, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

July 28, 2023, Carson City– The cast was set to dancing and jumping about, in this version of the spell cast by a cheekier version of the Wicked Witch of the West. W3 did not feel like even hinting at opium being an acceptable diversion and so came the Jitterbug, whose weapon was getting everyone to dance until they dropped from exhaustion. The classic dance marathon, instead of deadly poison, was a tad more family friendly-but W3 still asked Scarecrow if he wanted to play ball.

“The Wizard of Oz” first came into my consciousness when I was about nine, and we started watching it, as a family, once a year. When I hit my mid-teens, the watch party shifted to a gathering of friends-still a time for laughs and feigned fright. Seeing that it has not lost its appeal is re-assuring. There is much that is not ersatz about our culture, and these are the totems that I hope will remain.

Children and teens are almost universally dear to my heart. One of the dearest was on stage as a Munchkin, her time under the klieg lights about five minutes of play time and a few minutes at the end. In our pre-play conversation, I re-assured her that this is how just about everything starts. The first jobs are almost always the equivalent of a small role, with few lines. It is approaching the task with aplomb, with the confidence that one is going to do the small stuff well and move up the ladder, to a place that is deserved, that makes the dream become reality.

So she did her small role well, being visible and audible from where I was sitting, with her grandmother, in the second row. Afterward, the three of us went to a fast food place and each got an orange cream shake. We talked of the importance of agency, which she has already stood for, as she described an incident in which she asked that officials remove a poster she finds offensive. She heard us say: “Good on you and keep standing for justice, even when-especially when, it’s hard.”

I will always stand beside her, her brother, cousins and any other young person who is looking at being hazed or subjected to injustice.

A Mountain Route Towards Second Home

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 27, 2023, Carson City- One of my favourite chain eateries, of which there are few, is Black Bear Diner, which started in the city of Mount Shasta, CA, in 1995, and has now expanded throughout the western half of the U.S.

It was at Grants Pass’s Black Bear that my day got revved up. The counter crew, like crews in most restaurants, are a well-working team. A lovely, perky young lady at the register told me it was her first day-and I noticed that the rest of the crew was solicitous and helpful towards her. She is likely to have a good run there. The food was excellent, as always.

Mount Shasta itself was prominent during the first part of my drive towards Carson City. A first time visitor to the area stopped at the western vista point, off I-5, just after I got there and asked what mountain that was. She proceeded to take several snaps of the peak, from different vantage points. I was happy taking one, from there.

About an hour later, heading towards Reno, on the Lassen Highway, I stopped at another “Vista Point”, to find that Mount Shasta was pretty much hidden from view by the tall pines. Lifting a bit of litter from the stop, because Mount Shasta is just majestic and doesn’t need our trash in view, even from thirty miles away.

Mount Shasta peeks through the pines, taken from the south.

There was no time to make a stop at Lassen peak that would have done it any justice, so I turned left towards Susanville and Reno. The damage done to the forests on Mount Lassen’s northern and western flanks, and in the mountains near Susanville, is heart-wrenching to see. Thankfully, fire has spared this area so far this year, but it’s unfortunately very early yet. In the intermediate future, one of my sojourns will entail a three-day stay in one of the cabins at Lassen Volcanic National Park.

In my heart, with Prescott my primary Home Base, there are several others-Carson City chief among them, that very much feel like home. That’s as it should be. I settled into the small America’s Best Value here, and spent about two hours visiting with Michele, very much like a sister, at Betsy’s Big Kitchen, a rather nice in-casino establishment, serving sizable portions of fine comfort food.

My main reason for being here will happen tomorrow, as a Munchkin takes the stage.

Denial Gets A Comeuppance

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 26, 2023, Grants Pass, OR-

I was told, some time ago, that the homeless community along Washington State’s southern tier had been removed, by sending the lot across the Columbia River, to Portland. Being skeptical that this is even something that could be pulled off, without a whimper from a city that was already choking with a large unhoused community in its downtown and other neighbourhoods, the last time I visited (2015), I went to Vancouver (WA) this morning, after checking out of the motel in Kelso.

Vancouver, not to be confused with the much-larger city in British Columbia, has a lovely park along the Columbia River, and pleasant, clean downtown and uptown sections. It also has the manicured Fort Vancouver, a well-maintained National Park site, whose historic homes are leased to residents and businesses. Living wherever they can put up tents, usually in nooks and crannies along the Columbia, are the remnants of the unhoused community, admittedly smaller than those of Portland, Seattle or Tacoma, but in Vancouver, nonetheless. Denial of a problem will never make it go away. Whoever passed that information along to people down at my Home Base, in Prescott had probably not been to Vancouver.

I took a walking loop to the banks of the Columbia, then around to Esther Short Park, after first enjoying a vanilla latte at Brewed, a small, but efficient coffee shop, combined with a bar and small bakery, on Main Street. Not far from Brewed, there is a parking lot with murals on two of the walls.

The Skagit, Yamhill, and other nations, have not lost their dignity.
Nor, for that matter, have the Hispanics who come here for agricultural work.
The African-American community here seems small, but holds its own.
Columbia River, at I-5 Bridge, Vancouver.
“Boat of Discovery”, commemorating the visit here, by Captain George Vancouver’s fleet.
A long wall emanates from this plaza, honouring veterans of all “foreign” conflicts, from the War of 1812 to Iraq and Afghanistan.
Clock Tower, Esther Short Park. The park was being readied for a special event, when I happened by.

Having a couple of errands to do, across the river, I gave myself an hour to explore Fort Vancouver. The post was established to safeguard U.S. control of the mouth of the Columbia River-with .British, Russian and Spanish claims not fully resolved.

Here is the flag staff, in the midst of the parade ground.
This was a serious parade ground!
Grant House, intended for use by Ulysses S. Grant, when he was stationed here, in the 1850s. He never lived in this mansion, on Officers’ Row.
Here is a view of the Enlisted Barracks, south of the Parade Grounds.
These cannons were replicated, from descriptions of the originals, by local high school students, from 1990-92. They are owned by the City of Vancouver, which supplied the materials.
This was the residence of General O.O. Howard, the post commander from 1874-80.
The Artillery Barracks-It struck me that this could house a lot of people.
Non-commissioned Officer’s Housing
Marshall House, home to General George C. Marshall, during his duty here, prior to World War II.

This pavilion honours the Chinese diaspora to Oregon and Washington. Chinese immigrants faced horrific treatment in the Pacific Northwest, during the late Nineteenth, and much of the Twentieth, Centuries.

After leaving Vancouver, I made my way across the bridge to Portland, getting my Pastini fix, with a late lunch at the Italian food chain’s Northeast Portland branch. Then, it was time to locate and purchase a new adapter, to house my photo SIM card and post these and other scenes. It took me all over North Portland. At one point, I stopped in front of a crosswalk, so that a young lady could cross. One would have thought I had held up the President, for the insistent beeping from behind me. The lady shot a dignified, but definitely disapproving, glance at the impatient motorist and gave me a gentle smile.

The shop I eventually found was a Best Buy, on the far northeast side. Its location afforded a fairly lightly-trafficked way out of Portland, so I missed all but a small amount of rush hour. Still ahead, however, was the large influx of participants, family members and spectators at the Junior Olympics, which I learned was being held in Eugene, Springfield, Albany, Corvallis and Roseburg. All of those cities’ accommodations were either occupied or were priced exorbitantly by the Law of Supply and Demand. After gassing up in Eugene, I made my way down to Grants Pass, and got a reasonably-priced overflow room. My last thoughts of the day, though, are wishes for the kids to be successful at their sport-and more importantly, to have a good experience.