Category Archives: Spiritual

Journey 3, Day 2- Waltz Across Paradise

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 1, 2023, Black Forest, CO- While the hostess could barely focus, for the crowds that were making their way to her check stand I could see that she was trying to keep it together. Such was the noon hour, at Junction Restaurant, on the east edge of Pagosa Springs.

I have been on Rte. 160, across Colorado’s southern tier, maybe two dozen times, since 1981. I have seen snow in July and bare roads in January. It has been all about navigating Wolf Creek Pass, each and every time. It has also been about an overnight in Cortez, or in Walsenburg, if I was making a return trip.

Highway 160 is the middle route, between I-40 and I-70. It is the guide to the San Juan Mountains, Mesa Verde, the Animas, San Juan and Rio Grande, the San Luis Valley, Great Sand Dunes, the Spanish Peaks-and the heart of the Rocky Mountains.

The three great rivers are hurting. Sand bars are visible in the Animas and San Juan, at Durango and Pagosa Springs, respectively, and Rio Grande is barely flowing, at Alamosa. There are no fires allowed in Montezuma County (Cortez), La Plata County (Durango), Archuleta County (Pagosa Springs) and Rio Grande County (South Fork). For the first time in memory, I saw no snow, anywhere, on the tops of the great “Fourteeners”. Colorado is parched, along with most of its fellow western states, and the its neighbours on the Great Plains.

This is the backdrop to the three days that lie ahead, at the Colorado East Baha’i School, here in Black Forest. Nonetheless, as we take pains to conserve water, be fire wise and love our host Mother Earth, all of us, Coloradans and visitors alike, are grateful for the paradise that this state presents.

I hope the blessed little lady at Junction can find some peace, this weekend.

Dance of Ten Crayons

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

August 29, 2023- The little boy held five crayons in each hand, carefully divided between primary and secondary colours. He sang a song of his own composing, in a rudimentary form of English, the words’ meanings known only to himself. The melody, though, was pleasant and his whirling dance juxtaposed nicely with the song. This occupied him for almost forty minutes.

Creativity is a bounteous thing, and we can learn more ways in which it may be applied, by almost anyone-regardless of their intellect or state of mind. With regard to the former, my youngest brother, with limited speaking ability, nonetheless would raise a cup of juice and call out “Achtung!”, wanting those at table to join him in a toast. (He got this from watching episodes of the TV show “Hogan’s Heroes” It sounded to him like something that would be a nice cue for a toast.) Mentally challenged people are among the most loving and generous of all humans. With regard to the latter, mankind has shown both a limitless capacity for generosity and inclusivity; on the other hand, whole museums have been devoted to the Holocaust of World War II and there are Museums of Torture in a good many cities across Europe, as well as in Chicago.

Among the items in my own wardrobe is a cap that features a wraparound shield, covering the sides of my face, my ears and neck. Of course, some find it amusing, but I am pleased with what it does for my dermatological health. Whoever designed this cap has done fair-skinned (and a goodly number of swarthy people) a huge favour, in this time of approaching Solar Maximum.

We will each have moments when we may be called upon to devise a novel solution to a problem, large or small. Let it then be a time when one’s own dance of ten crayons comes to fruition. May that dance be a peaceful, regenerative one.

The Giant Rubber Duck

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

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Style and Substance

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

August 25, 2023- The little boy greeted me, in late morning, with a warm hug. The angry woman, later in the evening, with much the opposite.

Like so many days, this one began light and airy-and ended with a thud. I woke, sensing that the energy around me was shifting in a positive direction and that, in advance of the journey that begins at the end of next week, my path in what remains to be done here in the meantime would be free of obstacles. The work day reflected that, with the children energetic and cooperative, and my colleagues just happy to see another Friday, though they do enjoy their work. Everyone likes a rest, or change of pace, after a week at a job well done.

I visited Rafter Eleven, and was treated like a king-an extra mocha java was delivered to my table, as a token of appreciation for consistent support of this marvelous enterprise, over the bottom of the past eight years. A little bee was also attracted to my light meal, and to the drink, eventually finding its way to the bottom of the glass. Unfortunately, the poor animal perished from the still icy condition of the vessel-or maybe from the caffeine.

After leaving my friend’s establishment, I chose to join an in-person meeting, instead of going back to Home Base and signing onto Zoom. The hosts and the presenter were congenial, and the information quite illuminating. Not everyone was glad to see me however, and after a fashion, I found it best to excuse myself and head out-easy enough to do, as it had been a long, if lovely, day up to that point-and I needed rest.

There have been, every so often, people in my life who do not take kindly to my manner of speech or style of explanation. I try to learn what I can from such a person, for a time, and if it makes me more well-rounded or expands my knowledge, so much the better. Style, however, tends to reflect the substance of a soul. An angry, wounded soul will be abrupt, castigating and intolerant. I have not done well, in the presence of such people and this evening was no exception.

For my part, I know that I do not think well on my feet at the end of the day-and frequently, I do not engage well in debate, even when rested. This means nothing to the disquiet person, and is often viewed by them as an excuse. The whole trigger this evening was my statement that I like to back up my comments with the words of Baha’u’llah or ‘Abdu’l-Baha, not as a proselytizing mechanism or as a substitute for good deeds, but as the glue that holds my own words and deeds together. That led to an outburst of anger, and I chose to leave, rather than exacerbate the situation.

For a time, once back in the apartment, I pondered whether this is an indication that my time here in this community is getting short, that maybe the bloom is off the rose and I need to move on. The counter to that, I know, is that the part of myself that triggers anger in disquiet people will only spark the same, at the next place, if I move along. It’s better to keep this Home Base for now, get my journeys done in September and October, and resume work here from November through mid-May.

With that, I am headed to sleep, and hope for a peaceful weekend.

Humanity Isn’t Minimized

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Entertainment, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

August 23, 2023- In August, 1974, a family visiting from Montreal had taken a cabin at a resort, in western Maine, where I was working for the summer. A fire was built in the hearth, then thinking that it would be secure and burn itself out-in the hearth, the family went to bed. At 2 a.m., the older daughter, 13, smelled smoke and got her parents and sister up and out of the cabin. I was one of the volunteer firefighters who did the best we could to extinguish the fire-and did keep it from spreading. Many of the other crew members were year-round residents of the village. Their own homes would have been at serious risk, in short order, had the blaze spread.

Tusayan is a small town, of about 6,000 people, most of whom work in service industries connected to Grand Canyon National Park’s South Rim. There are also those who serve the servers: The Coconino County Sheriff’s Substation, the Grand Canyon Unified School District and the Town of Tusayan’s government.

Yesterday, much of the town’s populace, and many visitors, were evacuated, due to unusual flash floods. While clean-up will take time, and there is an ongoing threat of more rain, through Friday, the main road-AZ Highway 64, has been re-opened, from the South Rim’s entrance to Williams. The eastern section, from the entrance to Cameron, did not need to be closed, though in taking that road last night, due to a commitment at a school in Prescott, today, I noticed that a severe hail storm had struck the eastern part of South Rim, earlier in the afternoon.

This is yet another in a series of wake-up calls for the tourism industry, and for travelers in general, that the places being visited are inhabited by people who are essentially the same as those who have left their homes to take a rest, be served or to just enjoy a change of pace from home sweet home. Lahaina is the largest, and worst, such tragedy, in a series spanning several years. Gatlinburg, Big Sur, Talkeetna and dozens of small forest encampments all over the continent-and across the globe, have seen fire and flood drive those involved in hospitality lose house and home.

There are many reactions to a tragedy in a vacation-oriented area, as I discussed last week. It has been reported that at least one tourist raged about his dinner reservation being canceled by the Lahaina fire’s burning down the restaurant. We are all on a journey away from self, and towards seeing “all humanity created from the same stock”, as Baha’u’llah wrote in a prayer, 150 years ago. Some of us have, in all sincerity and from a place of generosity, gone to the suffering area and purchased a vacation package, thinking that THIS is the way to help the people in the afflicted community know that the world stands with them. Others have sent large supplies of goods, often without checking as to what is actually needed. These are good-hearted people, who have just not taken the time to hear from the victims themselves, or from their spokespeople. Thus, some want to go to Maui, anyway. Others will go to Tusayan, and expect that business as usual has resumed, because the highway is open. The clean-up will continue, for some time.

Humanity isn’t minimized by where someone lives, or by which economic group they occupy. Yes, paying for a service does mean that one gets a product for one’s money. It is also true, in this age when nearly every place on Earth has something of interest to offer, that we are all both visitors and visited, servers and served.

I find that it is the deep connecting with those who live in a community, that makes visiting the locale worthwhile in the first place.

One Day, Four Events

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

August 19,2023- I woke this morning, with the intent of primarily being on site at the eleventh annual Hope Fest, where I have helped local Christians, in some of the practical tasks that crop up during the course of their program of ministry to those who are suffering from homelessness, addictions and/or domestic abuse. There were to be two other activities: Helping break down the Farmer’s Market, which was essential, as a new person came on board today, and Spiritual Feast, in the evening.

A last-minute text message added a fourth event, and by 9 a.m., I was online, co-hosting the Worldwide Celebration of Unity. This has been needed of me during the main host’s lengthy illness, which continues in the recovery phase. The program went forward quite well, and by 10:15, I was back on site at Hope Fest-getting caught up with a few tasks, involving communications.

At noon, the Farmer’s Market site saw my shadow, the new person proved to be as energetic and as quick a study as the rest of the crew. We got everything cleaned and put away by 2 p.m., and back to Hope Fest I went. The afternoon proved very smooth, musicians were happy and some patrons with questions were my main concern, along with the woman custodian needing help. I left at 5:30, got ready for Feast and at 6:40, drove to a friend’s house for the devotional, consultation and fellowship that we Baha’is have, once in each nineteen day period. As always, the evening was lovely, made more so by this being at the host’s new home.

After Feast, I went back to Hope Fest, in anticipation of the lengthy process of wrapping things up and making sure that the clean-up, and putting away of borrowed equipment was in order. I found the concert by the event’s headliners (Building 429) was still in full swing, and enjoyed their last few songs-including the “good night” tune: A spirited beginning verse of “Don’t You Forget About Me’, by Simple Minds. Their spiritual tunes were well-crafted, and energized the audience to the very end. Things wound down nicely, a full crew was then engaged in putting chairs up, for the rental agents to collect, trash was collected one last time and unused water given to whoever wanted to take it with them or given to the Solid Rock Church, across the street. By 11:30, I was satisfied that all was in order, and that a late-night crew would take care of the stage breakdown-which did not require these old bones to be present.

Though I might have been annoyed by the last minute request, as recently as six months ago, these days, it just seems like part of the deal. As long as I feel up to helping out, it just seems like what is being asked by the Divine. There will be times, when being in two places the same day will seem unreasonable-and I will have to decline a request, but today, everything dovetailed quite nicely.

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.