“He Was At Home Here”

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Matters of Faith, Social, Spiritual, Striving

May 6, 2017, Cottonwood-

There was a magnificent scrum of motor vehicles, and drivers, when I arrived at the parking lot of Taco Don’s, and took my place in the rapidly forming motorcade.  The hearse and family cars were followed by the motorcycles, then the classic cars (Jayme was a car buff, being from eastern LA County) and us friends and admirers, taking up the caboose end.

We set out ahead of time, and had cleared Prescott, by the time we were originally supposed to leave.  Some stragglers caught up with us, on Highway 89A, and passed ahead, to get to their designated spots.  By the time we reached Jerome, and wended our way through the “ghost town’s” streets, everything was in perfect order.  Jerome, like much of the Central Highlands, is in full bloom.  Here are some lupines, that graced our view.

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We reached Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, on the northwest side of Cottonwood, with 30 minutes to spare.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that the church’s cross-street neighbour had set up two golden Dol Harubangul (Korean “stone grandfathers”, the symbol of Jeju, where we lived from 1986-92).  This was very much something that Jayme would have found wildly amusing.  As the statues are usually black volcanic rock, this was definitely a nod to the area’s mining culture.

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Immaculate Conception is a spacious, majestic parish church- almost cathedralesque, in size and airiness.  The celebrant priest, also a friend of Jayme’s, noted that the man “felt at home here”, making frequent trips over the mountain, on Sunday mornings, perhaps because of the exhilaration one feels, when going through the pines, and along Jerome’s streets.  The church felt quite homelike for us, this morning, with a robust celebration of Jayme’s relationship with his Lord and an outpouring of love, from his family and closest friends.

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The exquisite service left me chastened, as funerals so often do.  I thought, once more, of my own ongoing mission, knowing that being there for others, something that Jayme Salazar did so well, and at which I am improving, is imperative.  We will all gather again, in his memory, on May 20, for a Fiesta Grande, at Prescott’s Watson Lake Park.  I promised his dearest friend that I would be there early and leave late.

One other nice touch- when I stopped for lunch, at Colt Grill, in Old Cottonwood, the soundtrack featured Mike and The Mechanics’ “The Living Years” and REM’s “Everybody Hurts”.  The Universe always speaks clearly.

“If you don’t give up and don’t give in, you may just be okay.” – Mike Rutherford

“Hold on”.- Michael Stipe

Wakefulness

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Posted by on in Family, Inspiration, Spiritual, Striving

May 5, 2017, Prescott-

I  am freshly returned from a visitation for one of Prescott’s genuine champions.The concept of waking, a seemingly odd term for remembering a departed soul, prior to burial or often, in these days, cremation, is perhaps in hopes that death is not a real thing.

I don’t know if that’s accurate or not, but the life of Jayme Salazar (he pronounced his name alternately in English and in Spanish), came back before those listening to the eulogies.His childhood and adolescent antics, presented by his older sister, were reassuring to all, that a full life proceeded from that awkward time.  A lifelong friend of his recounted the man’s intense work ethic, combined with a genuine love of people, which established his Taco Don’s Restaurant as one of the city’s premier lunch venues, and a true gathering place.

He came came here from California, by way of Las Vegas, as so many of us have come here from farther afield.  Jayme found that the mountains, lakes, dells and grasslands of the area, but above all, the earthiness of the people, were a capturing force.  That he gave his life here, in the shadow of Granite Mountain, was the ultimate giving back.

Some six years ago, I saw my beloved wife go homeward, to the Light, in a more prolonged way, but not dissimilar period of service to the children and general citizenry of a western suburb of Phoenix.  Any home in which we ever lived together was open to countless people.  Any school in which she ever worked was the center of our married life, with work and love likewise moving in tandem.

So, I understood, fully, standing in the anteroom of the funeral home, this evening, that priceless spirit, that brings casual customers and acquaintances of a loving soul to a sense that here moved a lifelong friend; here lived a steadfast pillar.

To each one to whom I’ve bid farewell, these many years, let me close with the voice of Enya.

Jayme, Penny, Norm, Dad, Brian, Colonel Mortimer, Uncle George, Aunt Adeline, Margaret, Mike C. and so many standing beside you, in the Legions of Light, thank you, for having lit my way and for lighting the night.

Seen, Heard, Believed

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Posted by on in children, Family, Social

May 4, 2017, Prescott- 

My kids value being greeted at the bus

each school day.

It actually hurts their feelings,

if circumstances get in the way

of this happening.

They tell me things that go on

at home, around the neighbourhoods,

just like my other kids did,

back in the day.

There is this thing

called eye contact,

undivided attention,

heart connection.

There is this thing

where they matter,

more than the rules

of “Boys Town”,

more than Policy.

There is this thing

where I see them

down the road,

in a few years.

There is this thing,

where I tell each

of them,

that a bright future

lies ahead.

There is this thing,

where I tell them,

that the only one

keeping the door locked,

ultimately,

is themselves.

I’ve said it before,

“seen and not heard”

is a heinous lie.

Whoever coined that phrase

is guilty

of crimes

against humanity.

There is a child,

whom I’ve never met,

who was molested,

a few years back.

I read of her family’s struggles,

trying to deal with

something they don’t understand.

They want it to go away.

Sexual abuse,

like any other loss,

never goes away,

entirely.

Whoever said “seen and not heard”,

is a secondary monster,

extending the pain

inflicted on the child,

by the primary perpetrator.

Victims:

Be seen, heard and believed.

 

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXXI: Type Cast

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Posted by on in distraction issues, impediments, Striving

May 3, 2017, Prescott-

I have always had difficulty

with Type A personalities,

if their insatiable drive

works in tandem,

with a need to embarrass

co-workers and subordinates,

by calling them out,

publicly.

It’s one thing,

to want to be in charge.

Many great things

have been achieved,

by the driven.

It’s quite another,

to want to be in charge,

and need to put

others down,

in a  quest for power.

Seems that the more

things unravel,

the more there is

a tendency to blame,

to micromanage,

and to misjudge.

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXX: Density

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Posted by on in Community, Inner Struggles, Poetry, Service Activities, Striving

,May 2, 2017, Prescott-

The night sky seems denser than usual.

I’m walking home,

from the second of two meetings

held after work.

This one was spiritual, in tone,

so I was not worn down.

Spirituality can be dense,

also.

Yet, that density is what lifts us

to the light,

and sustains us,

in time of an even denser sorrow.

My heart aches for one

who lost her dearest,

a few days ago.

I have been there,

and felt the aloneness,

even when surrounded by friends.

She feels lost, at times,

this I know,

without ever having met her.

There is a fog,

as thick as pea soup,

that envelops the grieving.

Left behind, it seems,

one inches forward,

in the gloom.

Light breaks through,

however,

because that is the nature

of the Universe.

The density of light

is what sustains us.

We stand with you, Senora.

Let us, the friends you know,

and those you haven’t met,

be your light.

Requiem On A Winding Road

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Posted by on in Community, Inspiration, Poetry

May 1, 2017, Prescott-

I sat in a quiet, uncrowded taqueria, this evening.

The solemn crew of cooks and servers remained

as earnest and dedicated in their craft, as always.

Don Jefe, though, was somewhere else.

The motorcycle had been on the downhill of this road, countless times.

Its rider had gone to visit his friends, in the small town,

southwest of here, countless times.

That sunny, windy afternoon, last week,

he was taken somewhere else.

It’s not clear why she,

with both hands on the wheel of her truck,

felt it imperative to hurtle along,

pell mell, at breakneck speeds.

All that is known,

is that she over-corrected,

having realized she was in,

over her head,

on a winding road.

Her mind, it seems, had been somewhere else.

The young worker was on his way uphill,

driving into town, to put in his time.

He was a tad behind schedule,

but it wasn’t important enough,

to risk life and limb.

He was driving prudently,

and wondered why

the truck ahead of him

was taking the bends

so fast.

He saw the truck and motorcycle

collide.

He saw the rider, flying somewhere else.

The taqueria owner opened his shop,

most mornings, at seven,

and was  usually there for the closing,

twelve hours later.

His family, and a devoted crew

kept the place flowing,

building a dedicated base

of regular diners

and take-out customers.

Tonight, as I enjoyed

an enchilada-style burrito,

with a side of solemnity,

the messages of love

and gratitude

filled the shop’s windows.

Vases of flowers began to spread

along a small section

of the storefront.

Bright, multivariate,

in colour and hue.

That’s how the taqueria owner

would want it,

bringing joy out of pain,

as he watches,

from somewhere else.

Adios, Don Jayme.

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXIX: Kindred Spirits

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Posted by on in Family, Poetry, Spiritual

April 30, 2017, Prescott-

My spiritual family,

ever present,

even when physically

distant,

have made all the difference,

in a life that has seen

its share of ups and downs,

on a vessel

that has hit its share

of shoals and sand bars.

Spirit mothers,

reinforce what my

birth mother taught.

Father spirits,

advise bold action,

but with a sense of

constancy.

Brothers in spirit,

proffer strength,

yet are not afraid

of sensitivity.

Spirit sisters,

you are in

particular abundance,

of late.

It is always a comfort

to feel your loyalty

and nurturance.

Child spirits,

you are inheriting

the momentum

that will restore

our fellow man.

We know one another,

instantaneously.

Many of you reside

in Arizona,

but there you are,

when I happen upon

California, Colorado,

Texas, Oklahoma,

Illinois, Indiana,

Massachusetts, Virginia,

Florida, Washington,

Alaska, Alabama,

France, Korea

and so many points,

in between and beyond.

It is my greatest comfort

to feel your love and support.

Lover spirit,

you are ever with me

as you have been,

from the beginning.

Your message is

to forge ahead,

do what I am intended to do.

The parent, sibling and child spirits,

will see me through.

Should you, my love, visit me

in another personage,

I will be mindful and attentive.

Until then, my kindred spirits

envelop me in love,

as I envelop them.

Tapeats Creek

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Posted by on in Hiking and Nature, Poetry

April 29, 2017, Prescott-

I’ve not been to Tapeats Creek.

I hear it is a raging torrent, right now.

Reachable from the North Rim,

of the Grand Canyon

of the Colorado River,

via a trail best used

by the hardiest

of the hardy,

Tapeats tempts

and threatens.

So, a hardy family

set out,

on Easter Weekend,

to take up the challenge.

So, a woman with

consummate wilderness skills

led her grandson,

to the water’s edge.

So, they lost their footing,

and were taken,

by Tapeats Creek.

The young man

was found, yesterday.

Tapeats had claimed

another victim.

The woman’s fate

remains yet uncertain.

The waters do not invite.

The waters only accept us,

on their own terms.

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXVIII: Cornerstones

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Personal Values, Poetry, Spiritual, Striving

April 28, 2017, Prescott- 

Every great edifice has a cornerstone,

from which the foundation spreads,

and the stories rise.

Every family has two cornerstones,

from whom the children emerge,

and are raised to strengthen their communities.

Every community has several cornerstones,

from whom the leaders emerge,

and rise up to keep their towns and cities strong.

Every nation has a plethora of cornerstones,

from which the generation of ideas proceeds,

and safeguards the security of the land.

Our planet has a myriad  of cornerstones,

by whom the human race can be united,

and the spiritual unification of mankind may be realized.

 

The First Eon, Part II

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Posted by on in collaborating, Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Spiritual, Striving

April 28, 2017, Prescott- NOTE:  Today marks the Ninth Day of the Festival of Ridvan, during which Baha’u’llah declared His Mission to the world.  On this day, His family joined Him, in the blessed garden, outside Baghdad, preparing for their departure, towards Constantinople (Istanbul).

Each of us is constantly being separated, and reunited, with both our physical and spiritual families.  This is the second part of my own reunion with a very close member of my spiritual family.   Her remarks appear in quotes.  Mine do not.

And so:

I have looked at your mate’s countenance.  He’s intensely devoted to you, as you are to him.  That’s essential, especially in the years immediately to come.

“I’ve been with him, at several levels.  He is a fairly advanced spirit, as you and I are.”

My departed wife was a bit more advanced than I.  She still looks out for me, constantly.

“You are too modest, my brother.  Yes, you have your blind spots, especially when it comes to controlling your physical attractions.  You’re working on that, though, and I recently gave you a boost, up and over two of the more restricting ones.”

That you did, and I’m glad those particular stumbling blocks are in the rear view mirror, so to speak.

“All of our earthly desires can be restricting.  It’s best to channel the basis of those desires into service to the greater Universe, which you and I are both doing now.”

So true, and I am learning from the children, on a daily basis.  Their well-being, and appreciation of nature, remain my impetus, on this plane.

“You’ve been like that, almost from the beginning.  I admit to having been off-track, a few times, but my love for Creation has always brought me back. Again, having a mate who is so close to my own mission, has been a series of blessings, beyond measure. Having you, and several of the others, with me again, is even greater a bounty.”

I’m glad to have you with me, also, dear sister.  There are several of the others who have reunited with me, as well. One of the younger spirits is living not far from you, now, as a matter of fact.  He will reconnect with you soon, I believe.

“It’s so odd, to be using terms like ‘he’ and ‘she’.  We have had to do that on a few other planes, as I recall. I have a sense that the next plane won’t be so.”

Yes, and I feel that raising animal consciousness, to a level higher than that imposed by procreative impulses, is a major task of our presence here.

“Our little troupe of souls will continue, in that regard.  Let’s ever be open of heart and mind, to all whom we encounter.  I look forward to our next physical encounter, and may you be safe and well, in the interim.”

May you be the same, precious soul sister.