October 3, 2022- The obviously disgruntled man, having finished his meal, offered his solution to what he viewed as the incompetence of those working in social institutions- in essence, ‘Put them out of their misery’. Of course, he was watching, with a puckish grin, to see if I showed any sign of being shocked. I was not, and did not.
The extreme “solutions” being put forth by certain elements on the fringes of society are given more cachet, by many people who know better, than they will ever deserve. The result, if their impulses are transmuted into action, will be a severe disruption of society-and will make January 6, 2021 seem like a walk in the park. It will also not end in the way they think.
The man in question is not in a position to bring havoc to bear on many people. He is homeless and disabled, and no doubt, those factors contribute to his animus towards people in positions of authority, in business as well as in government. We, on the Monday evening feeding crew, work to at least provide a measure of solace to those who have known nothing but grief, from a good many who are in decision-making situations. Anger, especially among those who are fairly well-educated, but who have been dealt a poor hand, does not spring out of nowhere. The man quoted above knows his Bible, chapter and verse. He also has watched many videos on the Gaia Network, and has made some connections between the two.
Misdirected or misapplied knowledge, from any direction, can bring about changes in society. Yet will the changes result in the betterment of society, or end up costing us all far more than even the perpetrators of those changes bargained.
“The betterment of the world can be accomplished through pure and holy deeds and through commendable and seemly conduct.”-Baha’u’llah
October 2, 2022- The ten-year-old girl was apologetic, as she corrected me about a certain procedure, at an event where I was volunteering, this afternoon. I assured her that the advice was welcome, and well-taken. The correction made all the difference, and obviated any embarrassment that would have ensued, had I not been reminded of the proper procedure.
My relationships with people, regardless of age, gender, or any other physical or social consideration, have matured, evolved-to the point where the only thing that matters, at all, is character. This is especially true since 2015, which was about the time that I left recovery mode, four years after Penny’s passing. Even vicious people whom I encountered were able to provide insights that could be incorporated into my personal growth. They were, on balance, not people of good character, so they are no longer in my life. The lessons, though, remain.
As we enter the fourth quarter of this year that has brought sea changes to many aspects of our lives, I find myself closing the door on things I find bogus: The almost whimsical political e-mails, which change with the wind, and whose intent is solely to wring money out of the fearful; the “controversy” over an African-American woman playing James Madison’s crystal flute-with dignity and respect, I might add; in fact, ANY claim that people should mind their place. I treat children with the respect that is their birthright. I treat elders with the respect that their long lives have earned, as well as being their birthright. I treat everyone in between, with the same respect. It is nice that I am able to bring genuine smiles to people’s faces, as a result of that respect.
My goals for the next three months are fairly straightforward. I will work a bit, this week, and over parts of November and December. I will help the Red Cross and local service groups, when I can. Visits with friends in Nevada and Idaho will take up a couple of weeks, later this month, followed by two days celebrating the Birthdays of al-Bab and Baha’u’llah, the dates of which are a day apart. November will see a visit to Monument Valley and with some friends in southeast Utah. Thanksgiving, as has been the case for the past two years, will be spent with my little family, in Grapevine. It is there that I will turn 72. December will see a three-day visit to southern California, just before Christmas and to Taos and Santa Fe, just after. Christmas itself will be here at Home Base.
Everything that is worth while is based on love. So on we go.
October 1, 2022- He once held court, while sitting up in the fold-out bed at our home in Jeddito, Arizona. It was the mid-1990s, and things were fairly good. Tokaya Inajin, better known as Kevin Locke, was succeeding in popularizing hoop dancing, and making the meaning behind the art form clear to all who attended his performances.
He was also a fine singer, a true champion of the Lakota Sioux people, from whom he emerged. Yet, he eschewed violence and saw fit to reach out to all people, reminding everyone that the four colours of humanity were equal before the Creator. His take, like mine, was that no one be excluded, even if they themselves sought to exclude. It was a learning process, which involved a fair amount of unlearning.
Tokaya Inajin, “The First to Arise”, in Lakota, was as proud of his mainstream name and activities, as he was of being part of a First Nation. He embraced a variety of musical styles, following in the footsteps of other First Nations musicians whom he admired, but staying true to the message that his mother’s people had a central part to play in stewardship of the Earth. To that end, illustrating the Hoop of Life was his central muse.
Kevin left us, yesterday, to join the spirits who watch over those still engaged in the work of that stewardship. His presence here was a blessing, from start to finish.
Here is an example of his work, from a visit he made to the Miccosukee Nation.
September 30, 2022, Flagstaff- Today would have been Penny’s 68th birthday. She would have joined me in cringing, if anyone said sixty-eight YEAR anniversary. We were of one mind, about language purity, and if anything, she was more adamant about precision, when it came to names of people and things.
She saw beauty in most things, although acts of racism and sexism were called out for what they were. She struggled, mightily, to throw off her own vestiges of prejudice, and would have made overcoming “white fragility” a major focus of her life, had she been here when it rose as a social construct.
The most important creatures in her life were animals, especially dogs. People could be the source of disappointment and letdown, but dogs and horses were blameless. Cats were outside animals, and they could come and go at will, but dogs were a source of comfort. Horses were the epitome of nobility, and visits to her horse-owning parents most often meant a ride or two, until she could ride no more.
She would be happy at what women and girls have achieved, in terms of resisting paternalism. Although she, like me, abhorred the idea of abortion, she would have remained adamant that it was the woman’s ultimate choice-not to be relegated to others, especially men. She was of a mind to challenge and argue with doctors, when she saw fit. That, besides the undying respect I had for her judgement and dignity, was why she kept primacy over decisions to be made regarding her health. She was a steadfast advocate for holistic health practices and organic foods. I have tried to keep the faith, in that respect.
She had a strong love for children, and fought with herself-a lot, to put their well-being above her urge towards ego-centrism, the legacy of having been raised as a “princess”. This didn’t do her health any favours, but she was a good mother to Aram, and a fine wife to me. She was also a strong and dedicated teacher, even at the end-when declining health and unsympathetic administrators made her professional life a nightmare. The children always came first.
I like to think she would approve of my autumnal years, and how they are playing out. I get inklings, every now and then, like the image of a spirit that appears on the wall calendar, as if to say, “You are not alone”.
September 29, 2022- In the midst of the destruction that has taken place across Florida, and may well spread into nearby states, the mass media has chosen to focus on its answer to curbing inflation: Vote Big Business back into power. These are the same folks whose idea of stopping price rises lies in wage controls, tax breaks for the wealthy-and curbing high employment. Of course, not paying as many workers puts more money in the pockets of a favoured few. It just won’t be sustainable over time, and I dare say it won’t bring prices down by that much, for very long. The downward spiral will have to be maintained in perpetuity, and will probably be accompanied by stagflation-as it was from 1974 until 1982, or so. Then, of course, all the giddiness in the economic stratosphere led to over-speculation, and the Tech Stock crash of 1987. Fast forward to 2008, and another round of over-speculation led to the Madoff scandal, the Great Recession and a lot of bankruptcies-many of which were among the lower and medium middle classes.
So the media moguls instruct their puppets to promote the same shopworn ideas, yet again. After all, the alternative would be a greater degree of social equality, and who wants that? Certainly not the Federal Reserve, or the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.
I am far from an economic genius, but I do see a different, and far more workable solution, than going around in the same circles: Profit-sharing, and joint ownership of enterprises, by both management and labour. The managerial class is needed, to keep enterprises going smoothly-but there is no reason that workers cannot be educated in the ways of systematic prosperity and genuinely share in decision-making and well-earned profits.
The other side of the coin, of course, is financial literacy; especially learning to make wise purchases, to navigate the worlds of simple and compound interest and to be able to avoid phony or unsafe investments. I had to learn some of that the hard way, but for a long time, I felt compassion for people whose view of life was strictly unilateral transactions. The recent downturn has extinguished that impulse, which I had already been curbing, anyway.
I don’t want to be a ward of the state, or other organization. Neither do I want to see many peoples’ hard -earned savings be absorbed by sell-offs, prompted by the Federal Reserve Board, or by accompanying greed at the upper echelons of business and finance. We have a worst case scenario that resulted from just those phenomena: October 29, 1929.
Those thoughts come to mind, as I read Yahoo’s call for a return to the governance of the past.
September 28, 2022- One of my family members, and a high school friend, let us know they were safe and well, as Hurricane Ian made its slow move through southwest Florida, for several hours today. The sometimes contentious state and Federal governments are on speaking terms for this one, and there is no daylight between the arrival of the storm and that of Federal aid.
There are a few troublemakers trying to disrupt things- a bogus article claiming that President Biden has “abandoned” Puerto Rico, with the theme that “a whole week has gone by, and nothing has been done.” Sorry, but the Federal Emergency Management Agency has no drive-through window. It usually takes three weeks to a month before tangible results can be seen and felt. Just yesterday, funds to help Mora County and Taos, New Mexico recover from the wildfires of May and June, were approved by Congress-meaning that those who felt abandoned by FEMA will shortly begin to get actual relief.
The larger picture is that when disasters like those mentioned above, or in Alaska, or further afield in Pakistan or the eastern Caribbean, happen, we feel a genuine desire to help. I am somewhat indisposed to physically go to Florida right now, owing to a commitment to be available for two Social Action prep courses, between now and the end of December. These are Friday morning classes, online, so work of any form would be disruptive. I trust that there will be a multitude of people going to help-with the Florida Emergency Management director telling people to go through official channels, when volunteering, and not to just self-deploy.
The big picture, though, is in seeing that we all are standing on the same common ground-and in times like these, no one gains from throwing stones at others, including government workers.
September 27, 2022- I was unsure about how today would go, after yesterday’s fussing and fuming-from the aforementioned child, and from a couple of adults, on the periphery of the class. I went in, anyway, because my word is my bond.
Neither of the complaining adults were in the room today-and I was informed by the front office that one of the gripes was found to be without merit-and was dismissed. The other, from someone who was out sick today, never went beyond the immediate classroom staff.
The child, conversely, took an opposite tack today and showed nothing but gratitude for my concern. Although the day did not go all that well, behaviour-wise, none of the tantrums were directed towards staff. Much of my day was actually spent with a nonverbal and non-ambulatory child, who showed the best work ethic I’ve seen in a long time-proceeding through online tasks for nearly ninety minutes-stopping only for lunch.
At the end of the day, four of us escorted the students down to the bus and pick-up area. There was exhaustion in the faces of my co-workers, but also relief that-with one step forward and two steps back, progress was nonetheless being witnessed.
September 26, 2022- The child sputtered and fumed at anyone who was found to be even mildly annoying. I was one of those, especially after foiling child’s early morning dash to the playground. Solo actions aren’t generally found to be in a minor child’s best interests, and the more impulsive the act, the more it is seen as a potential source of problems.
I call today’s and tomorrow’s worksite “The Steamer”, because the environment is intense and a few of my co-workers feel it is like being in a pressure cooker. A number of Special Needs children placed together in a fairly small room is never guaranteed to be smooth sailing. They do, however, respond to gently-applied and consistent classroom management. The two paraprofessionals run the show, as is common in Special Needs classrooms. I followed their modi operandi, as I have learned to do, so as to remain afloat, in this extended period of professional afterglow. Besides, they work like tomorrow is not guaranteed, and their dedication to the welfare and safety of the children is magnificent.
The team is working out their game plan, even contemplating, but not yet executing, a division of the three-room workspace into two evenly-split classrooms. The issue there is that there are not, as yet, enough paraprofessionals to man both classrooms, on a regular basis. I am not going to work every single day, anymore, so there will be the necessity of attracting and keeping 2-4 more people, to work alongside the two classroom teachers and the aforementioned parapros. There is a half-time paraprofessional working in the room, as well, but he is not going to single-handedly meet everyone’s needs.
At the end of the day, after the children had been placed on buses, or re-united with their parents, I bid the team goodnight, said “See you tomorrow”, and was asked, by one of the teachers, “Are you sure?” Yes, I’m sure. I feel a bond with the children and am glad to be part of the team, however intermittently.
September 25, 2022- The image stays in my mind, of the effervescent couple, greeting everyone cheerfully at their lakeside restaurant, in the village of Bras d’Or, Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. Then, there were the hardworking Miqmaq people, across the lake, in Eskasoni, their workshops and tool sheds, so vital a part of their community life. Across the strait, in the southwest corner of Newfoundland, the people of Channel-Port aux Basques greet hundreds of visitors each day, during the summer months and send off equally as many, who are at the end of their visits. Nearby, in the village of Doyles, are the cabins along the Codroy River, providing quality accommodations, in a supremely rustic setting. At the northwestern tip of the island, the communities around L’Anse aux Meadows hold their own, in a climate that is already severe, nine months of the year. On the Burin Peninsula, in southeast Newfoundland, a well-kept series of gardens form the centerpiece of an exquisite Bed and Breakfast establishment, honouring its late founder.
These communities, as well as Prince Edward Island and much of New Brunswick, mainland Nova Scotia and eastern Quebec, suffered immense damage from Hurricane Fiona, the same storm that blasted Puerto Rico and several other Caribbean islands, earlier this month. I spoke with the proprietor of a motel, in an area that was spared damage this weekend. She said that much of Cape Breton and the Chignecto/Bay of Fundy region to the west of the island will be in extended recovery mode, for quite some months to come. The area has winter to keep in mind as well.
Many of us are used to thinking of tropical islands and forested lands of the north, in terms of vacations and scenery. Now, we are, more and more, coming to see the entirety of life in those communities. Every location that provides others with rest and relaxation, has its own human communities, whose members have needs, aspirations and dreams of their own. Let us stay in contact with those friends in the affected areas, and encourage their resilience as best we can.
I know that the Caribbean, Alaska and Atlantic Canada, like all places affected by disaster, will rise again.
September 24, 2022- The little girl, no more than two, came up to me while I was sitting in my “director’s chair”, at the large music festival. She tried to climb on my lap, which, as I knew neither her nor her mother, I gently declined. Her mother came over and led her back to the spot where she was preparing the child’s stroller. With mother so occupied, the girl came right back, and tried again. This time, both mother and I explained that this was not something she should be doing. There was no yelling or finger-wagging, just gentle dissuasion. Conversely, while the mother said I should have ignored her daughter, that, too, is something one doesn’t do to a person who is experiencing so much, for the first time in her life. I feel that I have a duty before the Creator to lovingly assist other people, especially children, to the best of my ability.
Earlier today, a small group of us honoured a revered community leader and beekeeper, on the first anniversary of his passing. There was a man who embodied loving assistance to all he met. Even the bank manager, who oversaw his mortgage, was given instructions on what to do with his house-upon the occasion of said passage. Hopefully, those instructions were followed and the home sold to the certain type of family who would honour its feng shui. The bees themselves were carefully dispersed to various other apiaries, prior to GK’s passing.
I went from the memorial service to VortiFest, in Sedona, particularly to meet up with a friend I had not seen in 2 1/2 years and to possibly see other friends from the Synergy/Apotheca complex. The centerpiece, for me, of the music festival, was an appearance by Camille Sledge, the scion of Sister Sledge, and her band, Phoenix Afrobeat Orchestra. Camille, as it turned out, was off, touring with her mother and aunts, so PAO’s superbly talented instrumentalists managed a delightful and rousing 45 minutes of non-vocal ear candy, and got many of us, up and jumping around, much as they and Camille did, when I first heard them, four years ago.
That set was what brought about a brief encounter with a Sedona friend, that puzzles me, even as I write this. She greeted me, danced around for a bit, then spent the rest of the set alternately acting like she was scared to death of me and that I no longer existed. I will refrain from trying to explain that, other than I am aware of certain threats to her safety, from someone other than myself. He could have been around and have made his presence known to her. For a good part of the rest of the Festival, she was escorted by other men, including one of the security detail members, so who knows? For my part, I would not harm a hair of anyone’s head, much less a dearly loved friend of three years.
My newly re-connected friend served as a reality check on the whole matter, cautioning against personalizing the incident, in any way, shape or form. I followed her advice, knowing that forming a narrative, based on incomplete information, is worse than a fool’s errand. So, I headed homeward, ahead of the mass exodus that was sure to happen after the last set of the festival. Even having parked in a smaller lot, across the highway, I would have been stuck in the scrum of traffic, had I stayed to hear the last, excellent band.
Besides Afrobeat, there were two other fabulous bands that I did encounter: One was the festival founder’s group, simply named “Decker”. The other was a group called “G-Love”, which offered several peace-themed tunes, that were nonetheless rousing, and which had what seemed to be 2/3 of the audience standing and bouncing, in front of the stage. I chose to sit for most of that set, getting up mainly to take video of three friends who were wearing lighted costumes and were engaged in performance art. There was a third band, which performed well, but their vibe was a bit on the angry side. Turns out, they had a shortened set, due to some misunderstanding with the festival organizers. The final band, Arrested Development, a hip-hop group, also performed well, though I heard their offerings only as I walked back towards my vehicle.
So, that was Vorti-Fest, and my Saturday. This is also my 3000th post, on this platform. Goodness and ill abound in this life, and I do not hesitate to bring you both, in the right measure. My feelings right now are well-covered, if obliquely so, by Paul Simon’s “America”.
A Sagittarian Seeker 