It never fails that, after a day of struggle, there is a burst of communal energy and much is accomplished. So it was today, that my quad mates joined in the shoveling effort, and we got the driveway cleared in less than an hour. I will need to do a bit more, tomorrow, in order to get the car turned around, without backing clear down to the street, but that will be a small project.
It takes a lot of positive energy, and sometimes, extreme patience-but I have never felt the need to reduce myself to a puddle of doom and gloom. Life is never perfect, yet whether it is due to age or to a simple realization that what is meant to work out, will, I have found myself increasingly calm in the midst of whatever storms-literal and figurative- have come this way.
There has been a solution to all that I have encountered, over the past ten years, and whether it is an answer I have devised myself or an insight from those around me, is inconsequential. The problem is resolved, the learning has taken place and life continues much the better.
Old habits are sometimes set aside, in light of novel situations. So, instead of celebrating the passing of the storm and the return of beautiful weather-if only for a short time-by heading downtown to a restaurant, I walked two blocks to the meat market and got the fixings for a meatball and past meal, which worked just fine.
Being the curious sort, I tend to raise matters of “What if?” and “Why?” in my head, while also seeking answers from my heart. The queries I have, regarding this life and its priorities, are largely answered in Baha’i Scripture.
Where I get more querulous, though, is with regard to flashes of images, and feelings that arise, that suggest events that happened long ago and places I’ve never been, both elsewhere on Earth and way beyond this planet. The best explanation I can summon, that is in keeping with my beliefs, is that as an energy being, I am tapping into the energy waves of people long departed, both my ancestors and those of like mind who were not directly related to me, but who had similar personalities to mine. Energy communication, and genetic memory, are like Chinese boxes-writ innumerable. We have no concept of from how far back they have been transmitted-and Quantum Physics devises at least thirteen dimensions, many curled up on themselves, from which energy can conceivably be drawn.
For now, though, I wonder as to the messages that these images and feelings are trying to convey. I am not quite on board with the whole Past Lives theory, but can make sense of the notion that energy, from those who lived in past ages and centuries, and from other parts of the Universe, is transmitted to those of us who are open to it, on a regular basis-and without channeling or summoning, which can be too easily faked.
January 25, 2021- The heaviest snow we have seen, since 12/24/2018, arrived late last night, and has continued for most of today. It is expected to go on, until about Noon, tomorrow. As I write this, the white stuff is indeed coming down, in robust fashion.
I grew up, in eastern Massachusetts, with snow being a staple of our winter experience, from mid-December to early March. As with many people, I recall snowdrifts being as tall as, or taller than, my ten-and eleven-year-old self.
I recall reading about the Great Blizzard of 1967, when President Johnson sent military food and fodder drops to the Navajo, Ute and Hopi Nations-and the Southwest was blanketed with snow for days. In 1978, I lived in Bangor, Maine and experienced the three-day blizzard, when it was possible, for those so inclined, to cross-country ski in downtown. I also found myself stuck in Skowhegan, Maine, one snowy February night, and blew off the early morning alarm, only to wake to clear blue skies and scrambling to call in “sick” to my workplace, some thirty miles away. In the mid-1980s, setting out in light snow, from the Navajo community of Tuba City, the storm followed three of us, clear to Tucson, with snow even on the streets of downtown Phoenix. In December, 2000, Aram and I were pursued by a snowstorm, from Roanoke, VA to El Paso, as we took a route across the Deep South, with a view towards avoiding winter weather.
Snow can be fickle, but it also can be intense-and so it is, this evening-with accumulation in even lower-elevation areas of Yavapai County. I was to have gone in to two different COVID-relief school assignments, but Mother Nature simply said “Enough!” Instead, I went out, twice, and did some shoveling, as will likely be on the agenda tomorrow. That, too, is something that was a staple of my childhood-and Mom didn’t even need to ask- we just put on our boots and winter garments, and did it.
It is nice, for now, to have a throwback. Prayers, though, go to those who may have lost power, however temporarily, or who had to find shelter, rather quickly.
Hank Aaron’s life, which transitioned to spirit yesterday, was a clear road map to both honouring God-given talent and transcending even the worst adversity. If Henry Louis Aaron, of Mobile, Alabama, thought of himself as a hero, it was never shown. He did regard himself as a craftsman, a practitioner, whose arts were hitting, catching and throwing a baseball. To that end, he applied himself, practiced rigourously and excelled. From 1974, until 2007, he was the record holder for most home runs hit by a major league baseball player. When his record was exceeded by Barry Bonds, Hank appeared on the Jumbotron and congratulated his successor, also expressing the hope that Bonds’ achievement would inspire others to do even better.
Hank Aaron’s enduring appeal will be that he lived as a man of faith- and thus, hate, even in reaction to that expressed by others, was foreign to his nature. Many heroic figures have stumbled on that note, with the attitude that fairness should preclude people from disdaining them. Hank recognized the myriad of causes for personal hatred: Jealousy, fear and false sense of superiority being the greatest among them.
I, rather unathletic, nonetheless feel indebted to Hank Aaron for showing the way through the worst of sloughs and through the finest of achievements. In many ways, both circumstances test one’s mettle. Henry Louis Aaron passed both tests.
I have a long, and strangely satisfying, history of talking back to and ignoring people who a) deem themselves above the masses or b) regard their cause as so sacrosanct that they can do whatever they wish, harm whoever they want and claim it in the interests of the “greater good”.
It does my heart good to see the course of the investigations into the January 6 invasion of the United States Capitol. I am pleased that the investigators are not fabricating any charges, that they are taking their time and not leaving any stone unturned. I am also pleased that the impeachment trial of Donald Trump is following due process, and is most likely waiting until the second week of February, in order to proceed. Justice will be served to those who reject the legitimate rights of people of colour, of women and people of faiths other than that of the dominant culture.
Justice also should be served to those who, by their own admission, are committed to burning the cities of Portland and Seattle. Hiding behind an amorphous and rootless organization, which has no charter and no philosophy, other than wanton mayhem, is a tactic that serves no good. Denying the duly elected and installed President of the United States is reprehensible, whether the terrorism comes from the alt-Right, as on January 6 or from the unhinged Left, as is being done, to scant resistance, in the cities of the Pacific Northwest. Both fringes will try to advance their unprincipled, nihilistic agendas-the Right, by going so far as to attempt to lead Texas, and possibly other states, to secede from the Union and the Left, by just burning everything to the ground, with no real plan for rebuilding.
At my age, 70, I am not concerned with upsetting those who view themselves as being in some sort of driver’s seat. Having been dismissed from positions, for not kowtowing to powerful individuals, when their actions have been questionable, the last thing with which I will ever be concerned is retribution/revenge. Both fringes have forfeited their rights to free speech, by their actions and attempts to intimidate good-hearted, thoughtful citizens and visitors, who are themselves occupying all points along the political spectrum.
Joe Biden was not my choice for President; nor was Donald Trump. I wish the former a successful term in office and the latter a fair trial. I wish all my decent and law-abiding friends, from Right to Left, safety, good health and all the freedom guaranteed by our Constitution. I will never bow to authoritarianism or tyranny, regardless of the point from which it emanates.
It’s my wont to lie down for a mid-afternoon nap, especially after working since early morning. Just before drifting off, this afternoon, a story I had heard early this morning, on BBC World News, came into my consciousness again. A rural Texan, speaking with a BBC correspondent, had, after a bit of hubris and expression of a desire for his state to become its own nation, showed his visitor a light cannon he had on his property. Loading the cannon, he then lit the fuse and, as the small gathering in his yard looked on, dry brush in his yard and his neighbour’s yard caught fire. The blaze was extinguished with a pair of garden hoses, but left the militia man feeling it just wasn’t his week.
I had a vision, recalling that story, of a tornado sweeping the area in question, and of relief coming to the disgruntled area residents, from the very same Federal government they presently regard as illegitimate. I wish disaster on no one, yet have the knowledge that misfortune is frequently, nay almost always, the bearer of a life lesson, which the learner’s soul needs, in order to get past a block that is preventing the realization of one’s true self. Time will tell.
About an hour ago, whilst listening to a replay of Cosmic Guide Elizabeth Peru’s weekly live broadcast, I heard her mention that one of our foci, this coming week, is to contemplate “What is Your Vision?” That vision thing, again-though it is constantly calling my head into alignment with my heart. I closed my eyes, and the image I saw was my young spirit self looking out over a lush, terraced hillside-which may have been Tuscany (the first word that popped into my head), or Cape Province, South Africa; Napa County, California; northern Luzon, Philippines; the Western Ghats of India-indeed anywhere with misty mornings and a somewhat “Mediterranean” climate, or at least lush, terraced hillsides.
My tendency, as regards my Home Base, has been a bit on the complacent side, of late, and though I know the current national and global state of affairs requires this, there is also a level of comfort I feel here. The trick has been, and will be, to internalize that comfort level, to no matter where I happen to be called. I felt that, late last year, when visiting the prairie of north central Texas (albeit being with family), and even when on the overnight walkabout in a remote area east of here, earlier this month, there was a degree of comfort and surety that stayed with me. I was, somehow, among friends- cattle, coyotes, an intrepid wolf spider that was braving the cold, under a juniper tree-none of them directed anything but caution towards me.
There are some indicators of a more fluid life, come May. I was recently blessed with a backpack that will serve as a one-size-takes-all travel bag, thus eliminating two of my customary luggage items. A routine medical appointment has been scheduled for early May, rather than it usual late-month date. COVID will be the ultimate determinant, of course, yet the vision I had this evening likely counts for something.
It will be, in the meantime, a fascinating rest of winter and early spring.
January 20, 2021- In the end, there were no Cabal Trials-and most likely, there is no Cabal, at least not the widespread, nefarious and nearly impregnable network. In the end, the 45th President of the United States took his ball, his fig leaf and whatever memorabilia he chose to bring with him, made two fairly benign speeches and left what his successor described as a “generous” letter, before taking what is likely his final ride on Air Force One, going to his rest haven in Florida.
The transition was well-guarded and peaceful. There was a gentle Inaugural Address from the 46th President, not rambling and with only a few stumbles in pronunciation. I doubt I’ve have done any better. It was essentially what the nation and the world needed to hear. There were heartfelt, well-delivered prayers. A widely popular Country & Western singer offered “Amazing Grace”. An equally popular Pop singer served up “This Land Is Your Land” and “America the Beautiful”. A gifted singer, who once opted for the outrageous in her performances, gave a stellar rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner”. The youngest prominent American poet in decades, gave a heartfelt recitation, as our first National Poet Laureate.
What does not change is the need to examine major issues facing the country from all legitimate angles. The environment is not immune from human influence. Some aspects of climate change are cyclical and would be catastrophic, regardless of the levels of pollution and wanton degradation. There is, however, much that we can, and should, do to safeguard our planet-and by extension, our solar system. Personal attention to conservation begins, as the late John McCain once said, at home. Recycling, in an era of concern for its cost, is tricky, but still must be consistently endeavoured. Water is an essential part of any community development, and requires careful usage, particularly in areas beset by drought. Air quality is likewise a key concern.
Our dietary health is essential. Despite claims from large corporations involved in genetic modification of foods, and their pop culture shills on television and social media outlets, human beings are not meant to subsist on a diet of monocultural crops, nor are such commodities helpful in soil conservation. A wide variety of fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts, seeds, herbs and spices, consumed with or without a modest amount of meat, and preferably grown organically, represent the best regimen for disease-free living.
No human being capable of thought and reason deserves to be deprived of the right to make decisions which affect life and well-being. Women inherently have the right to decide what happens with their bodies. The issue can, and does, get messy when it comes to matters of sexuality and procreation. Education is the only path to informed choice, when it comes to abortion and the practice of circumcision (genital mutillation).
Each of the above issues has become fuzzy, due to the influence of deep-pocketed economic interests. Large corporations, such as Monsanto, and financially-driven nonprofits, such as Planned Parenthood, have exercised their influence, in promoting practices that are not necessarily carried out with the interests of individual human beings, including pre-born children, in mind. So, it falls to a widely-based coalition of citizens to build and carry out education programs that can counteract the propaganda of monetized interests.
The current administration has already shown concern for the environment. Its positions on the other two issues are less clear, thus pointing to the need for truly extending its path forward towards consideration for holistic health and the promotion of strong, healthy parents, children and families.
Tomorrow, a change will take place in our governance, which a bit more than half of the voting public wanted; which nearly half hoped, against hope, would perhaps be thwarted and a few of us, including yours truly, wanted to see blended with the best of what its opposite has advocated.
Changes are a constant. In order to truly realize the cohesion that every politician, regardless of stripe, says is imperative, may we look at what you have meant to so many-and what you might better mean to all who come to your shores.
“There was a time”, Neil Sedaka once sang, “when strangers were welcome here.” Yes, and no. People could come from everywhere, and there was a crucible to be borne. Those who were established, the First Nations, welcomed Europeans, sometimes openly and as time went on, and the mindset of conquest and dominance became more apparent from the first such Europeans, the welcome became far more cautious. People were brought here, mostly from Africa, but from other places as well, against their will-to serve and promulgate the fruits of conquest and dominance. Those who came from other parts of Europe, either in search of freedom from oppression and tyranny or in search of opportunity to succeed materially, had to prove themselves to those who had been here for a century or two-or at least had been here for a few decades.
Let you now be viewed, and experienced, as a place of healing. Of course, your people must begin by healing themselves-and one another. The energy, both spiritual and medicinal, that emanates from you is immense. The ancient wisdom, much of it preserved by the First Nations, and other parts of it rooted in the land itself, can serve to generate enormous healing for those who have lost their way, in the course of nearly five centuries of material quests and forgetting Who the Creator actually is.
I have had the blessed experience of carrying ley lines, from west to east, and back; from southwest to northwest, and back; from north to south, and back-over the past ten years. Far more than merely enjoying travel, as a friend remarked a few days ago, I sense that carrying healing energy-both for myself and for others I encounter- is both your gift to me, and my gift in return, back to you.
Blessed homeland, your nurturance has helped me shed so much emotional and psychological burden, and as I recall my early days of sitting very still, by a gurgling little brook or of visiting a hill, with a view of Boston’s skyline, from a rock behind a turreted house, I feel your healing energy has always been here. Even when buried under the Shrines of Progress, or when ravaged by all that people have deemed essential to build their empires, that energy has sighed, bided its time and waited, sometimes patiently and at other times expressing urgency.
Now, more of us see what the headlong rush into material advancement, regardless of cost, has produced. Now, more of us are making a place in our lives, a place in our hearts, for the healing which, alone, can bring a balance between material stability and spiritual well-being.
I love you, my homeland. May your strength of spirit long make itself known, and endure.
In the decades recently passed, we have seen the most consistently proven of truths and facts dissected, disputed and set on equal footing with the most outlandish and refutable of falsehoods, all in the name of false equivalency and moral relativism. Very often, this is done in the name of preserving a social system which itself depends on hierarchy.
So it is, that the importance placed by Martin Luther King, Jr, in his 1963 speech at the Lincoln Memorial, in Washington, D.C., on “the content of their character”, with respect to the judgment people make of one another, has become the speech’s second centerpiece, after “I have a dream…” As important as character is, it is not grounds for ignoring all other aspects of a person’s being. Character, indeed, can change-and hopefully for the better, with edification and growing awareness.
Thomas Jefferson’s hidebound, fear-laden writings, which denied the ability of enslaved African-Americans to produce intellectual works, such as Phillis Wheatley’s volume of poetry, could be said to betray a lack of character on his part. The flaw, however, and other parts of his character, would later be balanced, however, by his producing the Declaration of Independence, and contributions towards the United States Constitution.
Abraham Lincoln’s anger towards Native Americans, a product of his coming of age, in a contested area of the Midwest and his assessment that enslaved people were 3/5 of a free citizen, would be challenged by Frederick Douglass, and others, leading to the Emancipation Proclamation, and a pardoning of Sioux warriors-the latter largely ignored by military officers on the ground, in the High Plains.
Character matters, yet it must be, as Lincoln also said, affected by “the better angels of our nature”. A rogue can be edified, tamed and redirected to be a person of willing service. A charlatan can be, albeit through consistent retribution for misdeeds, made to regard others in an honest and loving light. The great figures of the Twentieth Century-Gandhi, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mandela, Churchill, and King himself, all had roguish tendencies, in their early years, negative qualities that were, to a greater or lesser extent, subsumed or overcome, by a draw towards advancing the common good.
So it is that, when individually assessing another person, in the age of instant judgement and cynicism, looking towards that person’s better angels becomes imperative, both for the mutual good of the judge and adjudicated and for the common weal.
A Sagittarian Seeker 