Tangential, Part 1

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on September 8, 2018 in collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

September 8, 2018, Prescott-

This morning, on a visit to Prescott Farmers Market, I spent a few minutes sitting on a bench, near where the guest musician was playing an acoustic version of Outkast’s “Hey Ya”, accenting the powerful words of the sometime party tune.

I began to get caught up in the presence of his delightful little family, noting his daughter’s interaction with a another little girl, about her age. As I smiled at a nearby vendor’s waving and goofing around with the singer’s infant son, the mother looked at me quizzically and I gave her the proper explanation, as to what was happening, before excusing myself and going off to finish my purchases for the day.

I was challenged, earlier this morning, as to having been short and to the point, in my communications of late. Simply put, I felt a lot of pressure this week, especially at work, with hard things happening to my team members, and a difficult person inserting herself into the classroom mix. I have no problems, in particular, with the person who sent the message this morning. We each are highly intuitive, but intuition, on a human level, is not foolproof. One’s own fears and challenges get mixed in, invariably. I take my own intuition with several grains of salt, and end up doing the same with other people’s observations, regarding my life.

Prescott Farmers Market, and the local Planet Fitness franchise, are places I frequent. I notice that, with one or two exceptions, the management team in each of these places tend to keep me (though not their favoured few) at arm’s length, most likely for good reason-but what that reason has to do with me, specifically, I’m not sure. Conversely, having the managers of a given establishment be my well-wishers is not why I avail myself of its services. The Market does have several stalls, where I am on good terms with the vendors and can chat for several minutes, without the emotional door slamming in my face. The gym provides me with a reliable set of full-body machines and the incomparable Hydrobed, a next-gen version of the Ceragem massage bed that we had, in the Phoenix house. Besides, the manager’s front desk assistants are uniformly more personable, and actually seem happy to see people come in, who are less than buff.

This leads me, again, to the whole culture of anonymity that seems to pervade the urban American West. This puzzles me. No one really seems to enjoy living as if under siege, but each of us does it, to some degree. I have made some headway, walking to and from downtown and Yavapai College, and joining in more group activities, especially in the past two years.

I am approaching a crossroads, of sorts, which I had hoped would not be imminent until at least Autumn, 2020. Still very much hoping to complete this academic year in one piece, the difficult academic specialist aside, I go to work each day and give it my best. Still hoping to be of value to my Baha’i and other communities, I am a regular at scheduled and spontaneous events. Still hoping to keep my head above water, I listen, carefully, to the voices of both support and of criticism, to glean the necessary lessons.

Part 2: Affirmations and expectations

August Didn’t Kill Me

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on September 7, 2018 in distraction issues, Poetry, Striving

September 7, 2018, Prescott-

August didn’t kill me.

It was not for lack of trying.

I am, like others in my family,

stubborn, determined,

that the month,

this year,

the next two or three years,

are not my swansong.

Joint pain came and was dispatched,

thanks to my chiropractor,

and a gift from a trusted friend.

Secrecy, in and around my little work family,

means nothing to me,

in terms of my getting my job done.

Harsh criticism,

coming from a casual acquaintance,

who claims to know my future,

will not blunt, or alter, my life’s course.

August didn’t kill me,

nor will September.

The 2018 Road, Learnings and Observations: Part 2

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on September 3, 2018 in collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving, Travel

September 3, 2018, Prescott-

In any stretch of time and effort, be it work or leisure, there are learnings. Some come to us because they derive from novel experiences. Others arise, because we become complacent, set in our ways.

I didn’t read the details closely enough, that morning in Elkhart, IN. My eyes told me the dinner was that very night. It would have been convenient-for me. The words actually read “tomorrow evening”. That was convenient for the main party. Read carefully, completely and in a wakeful state.

I crossed the bridge, from Warren, MI to Windsor, ON, without hesitation, this time. I stayed in the proper lane, unlike on my previous run to Vancouver, three years ago. The Canadian highways are no mystery-they’re essentially the same as on this side of the imaginary line. Most of the problems we create in our minds are pointless.

For many years, since losing an electric cookpot to a raging maniac, who threatened to hurt my disabled wife (long story), I had been relieved of nothing. My car’s interior had been left alone, for many years now. On a Saturday evening, in Montreal, my lengthy walk to the Baha’i Centre gave someone, or two, a window of opportunity, which they smashed. Gone were my seven-year-old laptop and my passport. The computer has been replaced. The document waits for me to retake photos, which happens tomorrow. Use the money belt, even here in North America, and put the laptop in the trunk, if it is even necessary to leave it in the car at all.

When one is on the road, there are several options for accommodation. Many people can’t abide the idea of not staying in an expensive hotel room or rented house/apartment. Be aware of surroundings, but don’t rule out hostels, guest rooms, (clean) couches, campgrounds or even highway 24-hour, or 12-hour, rest areas. The only things that matter are safety and hygiene.

Observations-

Even in a rundown, construction-heavy community, there are ways to mail a letter. I don’t even remember the town, but somewhere in Missouri or Illinois, I mailed a letter back to Prescott.

People don’t seem to tailgate as much, or pass on the inside as often, the further east one drives. At least, that’s been my experience.

Warm-hearted people may be found anywhere. The same is true of the icy people. Most often, they work side by side.

Pay attention to body language, even when tired. Some men of a certain age only communicate with head nods and grunts. Then again, so do some teenagers.

Research different ways, ahead of time, to stay connected, when in the car.

Know that, in a pinch, it’s okay to cross back into the U.S., by car, from Canada, with a valid U.S. driver’s license and VA photo id. The reverse is not true.

Terra Shield, by do Terra, works very well, in keeping bugs away.

Lake Champlain, Chesapeake Bay’s Western Shore and Richard Russell Lake are enchanting places, even when it is stormy. Lake Oconee is the stuff of dreams, and crazy expensive. (No, I didn’t stay there.)

There is nothing better, when tired of the road, than just sitting for two days, in a family home, watching TCM and dipping in the pool.

Teen girls can cook, and cook well- the little breakfast place, off I-95, in Timmonsville, SC, offers proof.

Single African men also can cook well. The little apartment which I visited, in Salisbury, NC, offers proof.

Eastern Tennessee has its share of “Heavens on Earth”. I spent two days in just such a place.

Next time, whenever that is, I will set aside more time for Denver, for Chicagoland, for Elkhart and for Amarillo.

The 2018 Road: Honours, Learnings and Observations- Part 1

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on September 2, 2018 in Assistance, collaborating, Family, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 2, 2018, Prescott-

The forty-day journey, whose chronicle I have just completed, is now well-past the reflection stage. The longest trip I have undertaken, since 2015, has passed without controversy, among those of my family and friends who have viewed my travels in the past, with some consternation.

There were mostly good things that happened, this summer that is nearly passed. I want to first note those who have honoured me with their presence, in the deepest of ways. Then, I shall note the learnings I picked up from the trek. Finally, some observations are in order.

Honours-

The first of these always goes to my family: Being in Christ Church, Philadelphia, for the wedding of my beloved youngest niece; having my son, Aram, and his girlfriend next to me during the service, throughout the reception and for much of Father’s Day. I’m grateful to her, for having given him much happiness; being with all of my siblings, nieces and nephews and nearly all of my extended family.

My northern Nevada family has always been there for me, as well. This year, over Memorial Day weekend, was no different.

My sister in spirit, Corina, drove an hour each way to visit with me a bit-once I got to Wilmette, but to no avail. My arrival was way too late, so back she went, to spend Sunday afternoon with her beloved. I feel honoured, nevertheless. Just being in the embrace of the Baha’i House of Worship is a singular honour, in itself.

Having dinner with friends in Mishawaka, IN, was a sublime blessing. Thanks, Val and Sparky.

I cannot say enough, for the staff and fellow hostelers at Auberge Bishop, Montreal, for confirming my worth as a human being, in the aftermath of a serious loss. I am also grateful to the agents at USAA, for mitigating that loss. It was a joy to take lunch at one of the restaurants of a friend’s establishment: La Panthere Verte. I would feel similarly honoured, again, at hostels in Baltimore and in Memphis.

One of the greatest honours is to connect with the spiritual energy of one’s ancestors. My maternal grandmother’s hometown, Plattsburgh, NY first welcomed me, and a few weeks later, my sister and a maternal cousin connected with some of Grama’s grandnieces and great grandnephews.

Penny’s family will always be my own, as well. They helped me greatly, in the wake of Montreal. A few days’ respite, in the family home, in Spring Hill, FL helped me rest before the home stretch, and reaffirmed our bond. Paying my respects to her departed cousin, a few days before, in Maryland, was essential.

There are many, across the nation and world, who I regard as spiritual family. They are of all Faiths and of no Faith. Connecting with a woman who is like a daughter to me, in Virginia Beach; an immigrant friend who is like a brother, in Salisbury, NC; and my Tennessee brother and sister of the heart, in Crossville, have made all the difference in healing a part of me that still grieves, somehow.

Being in Memphis, and feeling the pain that all of us who are of good heart experienced, the day Martin Luther King, Jr. died, was cathartic. I had not cried in a good long while, and this overwhelming sadness brought out a lot. Later in the day, walking along the banks of the Mississippi and along Beale Street, felt like a dirge was playing. Dr. King honoured us all.

NEXT: Learnings

The 2018 Road, Day 38: Memphis, Part 3-Resolute, Whilst Sitting On A Beale Street Sidewalk

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on August 25, 2018 in Community, Entertainment, Historical, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 2, 2018, Memphis-

The man to whom I am referring, in the above subtitle, was one of a relative few who were sitting in various spots, along Memphis’ touristy and bustling Beale Street, “Birthplace of the Blues”. I had no green in my wallet, and so gave him a few quarters-though I generally avoid such donations. He is a man my age, though, and probably served in “the Nam”, which tends to be more of a bond than many might understand. So, I dug in my pocket. Of course, it was something of an insult and he yelled in protest, as I made my way back towards my car, parked just off the riverfront. He struck me as being altogether determined to survive and maintain his place in that particular spot.

There is, in Memphis, a publication called The Bridge, which is sold in tourist areas. I bought one, from a man working the parking lot of the National Civil Rights Museum. Ironically, the lead article was about the last regular occupant of Lorraine Motel, who was evicted to make way for its conversion into a tourist venue. She stands, most days, across the street from the Museum, holding a protest sign and calling for more humane treatment of the very people for whom Dr. King fought.

I did notice, as well, there was a certain hardness about the people, mainly African-American, who were working in the Museum. As cogent and compelling as the subject matter was to me, to them, it seemed like just a job-from the no-nonsense ticket seller to the bored young lady sitting in a nearly empty gift shop, in the annex, across from Lorraine Motel.

I carefully parked my Hyundai in a lot one block from Beale Street. The place is a sanitized version of the place known by W.C. Handy and B.B. King, and tourists, many of whom perhaps have buried their own Blues, were in full force on this Monday afternoon. I contented myself with buying one t-shirt, actually one of two trinkets I’ve picked up, this journey. (The other was a “Moose” t-shirt from Ausable Chasm.) I might have dropped into one of the several restaurants that line the five-block area, but Arcade took care of my hunger, very well. Beale Street is an area that is worth visiting, at least once. On another trip this way, I would figure to spend more time in places like Sun Studios.

Here are some Beale Street scenes.

Above, is the west entrance to the entertainment district. Below, the Orpheum Theater has hosted a good many musical events, for nine decades.

The name, itself, tells all.

Here is a view of the heart of Beale Street.

I got my t-shirt at Beale Street Gifts, an unpretentious and very busy little shop. In the background is the east entrance to the district.

I came across this sculpture, in Beale Street’s small park, just after my encounter with the leonine man on the sidewalk.

The widely revered, but tortured, Elvis Presley will always be a part of Memphis.

Leaving Beale Street, I spent a short time on Memphis’ Riverwalk, paying my respects to the Big Muddy.

On the river, many visitors took in the sights from one of two river boats. Here is the Memphis Queen.

A smaller vessel took visitors further upriver, to the north side of downtown, near Mud Island.

As I prepared to head towards Arkansas, one last look uptown was in order. The Pyramid will be on a future itinerary-if for no other reason than that it is there. Pyramids, even commercial ones, are symbols of hope and unity.

I crossed the I-55 bridge, wending my way past West Memphis and cruising through Arkansas, stopping only for a light convenience store supper, in Conway. Sallisaw, OK offered the night’s lodging, at Sallisaw Inn. The town seems to have grown a bit, since I was here in 2016.

The 2018 Road, Day 38: Memphis, Part 2- Martin and The Mountain Top

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on August 22, 2018 in children, Community, Historical, impediments, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 2, 2018, Memphis-

From the time I was a nine-year-old, trying my best to vicariously understand why Black people were struggling for the same rights my parents seemed to have, I have been fascinated by people like Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X and Fannie Lou Hamer. Rosa Parks and her story came a bit later to my consciousness, when I was in high school, and the works of Langston Hughes were part of our tenth grade English curriculum.

The murders of Emmett Till, the children in the Birmingham church bombing, the Civil Rights workers in both Alabama and Mississippi, Medgar Evers- all hit me hard. I remember my Dad being pissed about the assassination of Malcolm X- “He was just starting to be reasonable”. It struck me that maybe that dialogue with White America was what got Malcolm killed; that maybe the powers that be don’t want the common folk to get along. His death turned me from Goldwater youth to angry leftist radical. The common denominator, for both alt-Right and Far Left seems to be the sense that the poor are just fodder-for those with money to burn. 1968 just added gasoline to my fire.

Time has made me recognize the complexity of the whole ball of wax. I remain committed to a solid implementation of social justice, though, and visiting the National Civil Rights Museum brought me to my knees, in silent, shaking tears.

Martin Luther King, Jr, indeed made it to the mountain top. While his last physical gaze was at the eastern edge of downtown Memphis, his spiritual gaze saw the heights of recovery from a deeply-embedded misogyny, from a dalliance with classism and Marxism and from narrow focus on the cause of Black folk. He spoke of, and was moving towards, leaving no one out: Opposition to the Vietnam War was a part of his new credo, but so was the plight of hardscrabble farmers and miners in Appalachia and the Ozarks. Forging ties with La Raza Unida and Native American activists was a rising tide, but so was listening to the children of European immigrants who were living increasingly precarious lives, in poor urban neighbourhoods and rural slums, alike.

So, my morning was focused, in three museums in and around Lorraine Motel.

This establishment had been one of a relative handful of inns, across the country, where African-Americans could stay in safety, whilst traveling.

In the main hall, there are replicas of key episodes in the Civil Rights struggle. Below, is a depiction of Rosa Parks, taking her rightful place on a Montgomery bus.

This credo has been, to varying extents, followed by the greatest of those who have sought to bring about meaningful change.

Those kids were my age, or younger, and that this did not matter to the bombers will forever burn in my heart.

These two bedroom photos show the room occupied by Dr. King (top) and by one of his top aides(bottom).

This museum, across the street from the Lorraine, features two floors that exhibit details and archives of the assassination and the investigation into James Earl Ray and his suspected associates. The killings of other key figures of the Civil Rights Era are also examined here.

My evolution, as a compassionate soul, is far from finished. Being a “woke white man” is a worthy goal, but I still feel a bit drowsy. This has nothing to do with my visiting places associated with the Confederacy or pondering conservative statements: One must know what the “other side” thinks, and why, if there is to be a lasting peace in society, and in the world.

Lastly, before heading to the musically significant Beale Street, I stopped for a late lunch at one of Memphis’ oldest eateries. The Arcade has been around since 1959. The crew definitely made me feel at home, at the counter. I’ll be back again.

Back to The (Changeable) Future

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on August 19, 2018 in Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Social, Striving

August 19, 2018, Prescott-

“You’ve lost your shimmer!”- So I was told, this morning.

Before sitting down for the last four posts of “The 2018 Road”, let me indulge with some reflections on yesterday. August 18 has been an auspicious day, since 1984, when my then best friend passed on, suddenly, in the midst of getting his truck unstuck-of all things.

I joined a newly welcomed friend, on a hike around Lynx Lake. We walked at a leisurely pace, from the north trailhead to the south side of the lake. As it was rather sunny when we got to the small south side beach, I suggested that we continue, counterclockwise, along the more rocky eastern shore.

In all my circumference hikes along the lake, the last being in 2016, the trail has been dry as a bone. It was not so, today, with three water crossings along the east side-hardly surprising in a monsoon that has been second to none, as Lynx Creek and Salida Creek flow into the lake, from the east and the dam’s spillway has a few inches of water flowing.

So, we each had a new experience, she with the lake itself and I with the different dynamics of the trail, in wet conditions. Then, there was a spot where the trail was washed out and I had to follow a bushwhacked area, much to the chagrin of the five people who were “depending on (my) knowledge of the trail.” All made it back to the north side safely, though.

In the course of this hike, a long conversation ensued, about who I was and where I was headed in life, as well as the same, to a lesser extent, with respect to my hiking partner. Most of this is confidential, but I will share a couple of insights she had about me, which explains the remark at the head of this post.

The things I can share are: 1. I would do well to get out more, socially. 2. I need to be open to possible sudden, drastic, very specific life changes. These remarks, she said just by looking at me. The second has occurred to me recently, given the precarious state of my MIL’s health, and despite her (MIL’s) occasional insistence that she will make it to the age of 100, (she is 92), and to my son and his fiance talking of marriage, within the next ten months (No further specifics yet, so please don’t ask). As for the former, I am getting out more, socially. Intuition is a marvelous thing, though, as I’ve found out, some of it puts one at risk of, “Well, duh!”, in response. No one really likes to be second-guessed.

The 2018 Road, Day 29: The Cleansing Storm and Saturday’s Markets

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on August 9, 2018 in Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

June 23, 2018, Tifton, GA-

After a short pass by Clemson University, which I found closed for the evening, I headed off to look for a campsite along Richard B. Russell Lake. Named for a conservative senator from Georgia, who was noteworthy as both a pragmatist and a parliamentarian, despite having misgivings about integrating whites and blacks at the Federal level, the lake, formed by damming the Savannah River, draws people of all ethnicities.

I chose the first campground on the South Carolina side of the river: Calhoun Falls State Park. The town was named for another senator, John C. Calhoun, who strode the floor of his chamber, orating in defense of slavery, whilst privately educating his own slaves back home. Even the most seemingly venal of people can be complicated.

The Southland has always graced my camping efforts with a torrential rain, and last night was no exception. Despite the cleansing downpour, with copious thunder and lightning, my tent and rain flap stayed put. It also helped that the tent site is on porous ground.

Here are some views of the lake, looking towards the Georgia shore. Note that the soil along the shore is red.

I made a stop at the camp store, for a bit of breakfast, before heading out. Two sweet teen girls were minding the store and made sure I had fresh coffee and a scone, on this soggy morning.

Outside, the dock and its attendant were getting ready for a more promising day of sunshine.

I took county roads to the town of Calhoun Falls, then to McCormick, before going on to Edgefield, the hometown of another of South Carolina’s more provocative figures: J. Strom Thurmond. Before Donald Trump, before George Wallace, Strom Thurmond stood for keeping things as they were, in bygone days- before coming to his senses in later years, and actually being mortified by those who cited him as an example of a man who could “keep the races apart”.

I found numerous mementos of the Civil War, as was to be expected, and solid antebellum architecture. Then, there was the turkey. Edgefield’s more eclectic claim to fame is as the headquarters of the American Wild Turkey Association. One of the men with whom I spoke had been to Prescott, and had hunted wild turkeys in our National Forest.

I took in Edgefield’s tiny, but welcoming Farmers’ Market, purchasing a couple of gifts for my family in Florida. Then I poked around a bit in Edgefield’s town square.

Below, is the town’s memorial to its Confederate war dead. Being on the opposite side of the slavery issue, I nonetheless recognize that people of earlier times had to go through their growing pains. Then, too, so do many of this day and age.

Other memorials honour those fallen in subsequent conflicts. This memorial stone commemorates World War II.

I stopped in Park Row Cafe, for a muffaletta, which held its own with the more famous New Orleans versions of the sandwich. I was greeted warmly by the young lady who I had met on the street, earlier. The cafe’s manager, though, was a bit more guarded, wondering aloud about “the western Yankee”. She was quite glad to see me go. Too bad, as the place has wonderful fare.

Down the road, and a bit north of the river, is Aiken. It is home to another Xanga friend, who was not at home when I visited downtown. I can see the attraction, though. Aiken had a larger Farmers’ Market than Edgefield, and was considerably more vibrant. I spent most of my time here in New Moon Cafe, a fortuitous discovery, as I was missing Artful Dodger. I sat, nursing a Haitian pour-over, absorbing the positive energy. I found this magnetic little cafe a great excuse for returning to Aiken in the future, even if Xanga friend is not around. Here is a small hotel that might be of interest to those not inclined to camp.

New Moon is all about power!

I took this photo from a discrete distance as, underneath the signage, another patron was relaxing with coffee and the paper.

Leaving salubrious Aiken, I wanted to make fairly good time getting to north Florida, before turning in. So Augusta, Lake Oconee, Macon and Andersonville all wait for another time. I made a mental note, as to the exquisite beauty of Oconee and its Reynolds properties. There is much also that Georgia has to tell, regarding the struggles of men with one another. Americus showed the way towards amity, whilst Andersonville chronicles the flip side of Maryland’s Point Lookout, being the site of a POW camp for Union soldiers, just as the latter was for Confederate POW.

So, I stopped here, in Dublin, just off I-75, enjoying chicken salad at a Zaxby’s. I still am determined to make it at least to Ocala, tonight.

The 2018 Road, Day 27:The Flow of Kindred Souls

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on August 5, 2018 in Community, Family, Matters of Faith, Service Activities, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

June 21, 2018, Hemingway, SC-

I did accomplish a goal of three years’ running: A simple dinner with a young woman who is like a daughter to me. C and I met up at Jenna’s Cafe, Virginia Beach, after I negotiated a busy, but peaceful causeway from Williamsburg to V.B., via Norfolk.

After a couple hours of encouragement from me, it was time for her to head back home and prepare for another day’s work. She has the wherewithal to go far in her field, and to continue doing a fine job with her children.

I found a reasonable motel in Newport News and rested well, preparing for a southward journey. My next goal would be Louis Gregory Baha’i Institute, Hemingway. The center is used for spiritual education and gatherings. It is named for an early African-American Baha’i, who was a prominent attorney. He chose to move to the South, in the midst of the Jim Crow era, and whilst abiding by the laws of the time, he worked behind the scenes to gradually ease the discrimination, which hobbled oppressed and oppressor, alike.

On this summer solstice, I chose to bypass Richmond, and drove a straight shot through North Carolina, to which I will return, next week. A leisurely drive into South Carolina’s pine woods brought me to LGBI,

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES just in time to meet the caretaker, before he closed up for the night.G generously gave me accommodations for the night, for which I offered a nominal contribution, this being a place that operates on a shoestring budget. LGBI was established in 1972, to assist the large number of people in northeastern South Carolina, who had shown interest in the Baha’i Faith.

Here are some scenes from around the small campus. The first three are from the Main Hall. The patchwork quilt was made by junior youth, ages 11-14.

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Mr. Gregory is shown below, with his English-born wife, Louisa. Theirs was one of the first interracial marriages performed legally in the United States.

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After settling into my night’s lodging, I made a visit to downtown Hemingway, for dinner, finding the lovely and welcoming Fish Net Seafood Market.

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Across the street from LGBI is a Baha’i- affiliated radio station, named-what else: WLGI!

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I find my accommodations for the night quite refreshing, and another unfinished goal from 2007 is realized.

NEXT: Return to Greenville

Burned, but Not Broken

Posted by Sagittarian Seeker on August 4, 2018 in distraction issues, impediments, Inspiration, Poetry, Striving

August 4, 2018, Prescott-

As I stood, gazing at the sunset, this evening, admiring just how beautiful this city is, I think of different people here, and also realized:

You the disaffected one, silently snarl,

and greet me sullenly,

no longer by name,

just a perfunctory “Hello“.

You’d like me gone,

because I’m not who you want me to be,

WHAT you want me to be.

I’m still here,

as it’s the Universe,

not human beings,

deciding what I am going to do,

and where.

You, the gym managers, greet me by name,

because you see my heart,

and your only agenda

is to love and serve.

You, the busy entrepreneur, make time for me,

when it fits your schedule.

That’s okay, as

I was brought up

to honour people’s privacy.

You, the children and youth, smile

when I walk in your space,

or into the classroom,

because we share

a tenderness of heart.

You, my co-workers,

know of my undivided loyalty,

and support,

because we share a love

for the youth we serve,

and all else is secondary.

I have no real enemies,

just people who read me wrong.

I suffer no lasting injury,

just the temporary wounds

which those in dire pain

want so badly to share.

As I looked at the sunset,

I realized the wounds are healing.

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A Sagittarian Seeker

Sharing a life of inner and outer journeys

Category Archives: Striving

August Didn’t Kill Me

The 2018 Road, Learnings and Observations: Part 2

The 2018 Road, Day 27:The Flow of Kindred Souls

Burned, but Not Broken

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