Those Who Wait

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Posted by on in Education, Personal goals, Service Activities, Striving

April 4, 2016, Prescott-  I got my photo loading device on the laptop fixed, this evening, so a hiking post, or two, is in the offing for tomorrow and Wednesday.  Today, though, is a time for mentioning something unexpected.

I went to work at our intermediate school, this morning, only to be told my services were not needed there, due to the convoluted situation in which they found themselves.  On a whim, I asked the secretary to call HR and see whether they had any other needs for the day.  HR asked me to go to Prescott High School, and help in the Resource Center.

It turned out that the lead teacher there thought I was her new assistant, for the rest of the academic year.  I said I would be available, about 90 % of the remaining time, given a few  “word is my bond” obligations elsewhere.  Both the teacher and the office manager seem fine with that, so I did my job today and will work three more days this week, and 4-5 days a week there, the rest of this month and all but five of the school days in May.

Those who wait, with open eyes and ears, can be rewarded.

I Learned…

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Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Social, Spiritual

April 3, 2016, Prescott-  This has been a good weekend.  I hiked Segment 4, of Prescott Circle Trail, in two segments, owing to two separate events, that occurred in the middle of each day.  Unfortunately, the photo loading feature on my laptop has stopped working, so I will post about my hikes, once that issue is resolved.  Maybe after work tomorrow, I can get some answers.

The middle of the afternoon, yesterday, featured a nice performance by some friends from Chino Valley.  These are long-time friends, who host a Drum Circle on the second Friday of every month, aHnd an Interfaith Devotional, on the fourth Friday.  They were gracious enough to come to Prescott and present on “Peace and Love”, for an hour or so, making the brightness outside enter a spacious apartment clubhouse.  The Brehmers always light up a room.

Conversing with friends always makes any meal better-so discourse on matters of the spirit lifted my spirit, whether over angle food cake with berry sauce, on Thursday night, Hawaiian bento, on Saturday night, a casserole breakfast this morning, or Brunch items, this afternoon, before my second hike.  One man, near our group, regaled us with his experiences in a Plains sweat lodge.  Such experiences are all the more reason for each of us to get out of our comfort zones, in whatever way works best for an individual.

Now, to get to the title topic.  For each of the years of this present decade, thus far, I learned:

2010- Six years ago,  spent each of my days with my blessed soul mate, in her hospital room, then in our bedroom, when not working to earn my own keep. I learned that most of  those in our lives were on our side.

2011- Five years ago,  said goodbye to the earthly form of my beloved, saw our son off to his adulthood, and the U.S. Navy, and learned that there was plenty of life ahead for me, on my own.

2012-Four years ago, went many places in honour of Abdu’l-Baha’s visit to North America, in 1912 and found that my heart could be at home in any number of locations.

2013-Three years ago, learned that there are subconscious attitudes and feelings that need to be brought to the surface, rooted out and swept away.  No simple statement of “spiritual quest” can exorcise these.  They must be acknowledged, and then sent away.  Lastly, one atones.

2014-Two years ago, learned that it is not so difficult to get around on my own, even in unfamiliar places, far from here.  Learned also, that amazing experiences happen daily, and that one can make gaffes, learn  good lessons on one’s feet, and go on to more amazing experiences.

2015- One year ago, learned that intense connections exist between people who live a continent away, and am able to share in those connections.

2016- My roots are sinking deeper, in terms of spiritual ties to people both here, and throughout the nation and world.  It is a joy to learn deeper meditation, and to trust myself to live closer to the land, both at home and while traveling.  Above all, I am trusting myself more, also thanks to the meditation techniques being learned.

Patty Duke

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Posted by on in Entertainment, Inspiration

April 1, 2016, Prescott-  I close my eyes and see her adorable face, times two, engaged in banter- with itself.  Such was the life of “identical cousins”, with whom, the snappy theme song promised, “You could lose your mind”.  Patty Duke, Hayley Mills, Debbie Watson, and Ann Jillian had my adolescent brain quite engaged, in the days when my female contemporaries were screaming about the Beatles.  I enjoyed the lads’ music, along with that of just about every one of their fellow British invaders, and American/Canadian imitators.  Until the likes of Marianne Faithfull and Mary Hopkin, though, I found my  thrills more on the TV and movie screens, than on vinyl.

Patty Duke had substance, as well, playing one of  recent history’s most complicated characters:  Helen Keller, in her breakout role.  Her range allowed a redo of “The Miracle Worker”, on television, and she made playing Anne Sullivan look easy.  I was not allowed to go to see “Valley of the Dolls”, but even at 17, I was discerning enough a movie goer, that I would have passed on it-Patty or no.

Teens grow up, and so Patty became, for a time, Mrs. John Astin- and gave us Sean, of the Rings, and dozens of other film roles. She continued herself, in television, periodically and never quite left our generation’s collective psyche.  Now, she is at rest and it is for the boy of long ago to look back, and say “Thanks, my beautiful screen friend.  You played your part in a magnificent youth, very, very well.  I’m only sorry there was pain attached.”

 

No Foolin’

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Posted by on in Entertainment, Poetry

April 1, 2016, Prescott-

In honour of the launch of the annual Poetry Month:

Jesters gather, on the street curb,

Prepared to mimic, mock, perturb.

A small child gets away again,

with pointing out his grandpa’s  shirt’s imaginary stain.

Even the family cat, it seems,

Gets a rise out of her lady,

by feigning screams.

A cynic once proclaimed April

to be the Cruelest Month.

With such ubiquitous mirth,

is his judgment debunked,

or is it a wise, prescient verse?

 

Dribs and Drabs, On A Final March Morning

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Literary criticism, Personal goals, Striving

March 31, 2016, Prescott- I woke this morning, to an insistence from the Universe, that I not move too quickly, at first.  So, the shower was leisurely, a “hit the ground running” job request was declined (Throwing myself together, for a forty-five minute drive, at the last minute, would not have ended well, this morning.)

Some readers think I’m too self-centered.  I guess it can look that way, from a distance.  Truth is, not an hour goes by, that thoughts and prayers aren’t with someone less fortunate.  My thoughts right now are with a young lady whom I regard as a niece, dealing with her second severe loss, in less than a year, and with three young people, in different parts of this continent, whose financial woes are presented as intractable.  While I wish I had the resources to get several people straight, my inner Dave Ramsey gets channeled and I can best send them the spiritual energy to make do with what is, and build from there, as I have made myself do- thanks to two men named Dave.

The March lion is a bit tamer today.  It’s a bit cool, but that will change, drastically, as April arrives.  We’re anticipating temps in the mid-80’s here, next week.  Water conservation, at least in my apartment, continues unabated.

My Reading List for April is,at present:  Continuing, and finishing, “Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself:  How to Lose Your Mind and Create a New One”, by Dr. Joe Dispenza ( This is a “get out of your comfort zone” book, lent me by a dear friend); “Atlantis:  Insights From A Lost Civilization”, by Shirley Andrews (This one relies on actual science to extrapolate how things were, in that fabled place.); “Marco Polo:  The Journey That Changed The World”, by John Man (also relying on historical records to tell the story of the man who helped get Europe out of its medieval doldrums); “The Billionaire’s Vinegar”, by Benjamin Wallace (This is the last of the books given me, by my paternal uncle, and weaves a classic tale of fraud, perpetrated on a naive and greedy man of means); “All The Light We Cannot See”, by Anthony Doerr (This is a tale of two young people, in the Brittany of World War II, who are brought together, in the most harrowing of circumstances.)  These, and study of a Baha’i text, will take up my reading April.

The rest of today will be getting errands done, and catching up with friends in town.  The lamb is rearing its head, so I must get going.

Out Like A Lion

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Inspiration, Personal Values, Striving, Uncategorized

March 30, 2016, Prescott-  I’ve been pretty busy this week, with work, and a brief foray into the “after work” social gathering scene.  I find it still as shallow as it was when I frequented such gatherings, before Penny came along.  People have their closed groups, and no matter that one or two might invite a newcomer, out of courtesy, it doesn’t take long for the body language to stiffen and the eye contact to move to those familiar faces.

My thoughts went today to the places where, and the people with whom, I feel at home.  Not all are my ever-agreeable supporters.  Some are critics, but they are honest critics, and are often quite helpful.  As my beloved always said, “The opposite of love is indifference”.

In this hour of a March that is headed out like a lion, after treating us to icy wind and a dusting of snow, I want to honour the places that are homes to me, in the West, since it’s been a while.

Prescott and vicinity, Flagstaff, Marana, Tubac, Bisbee, Thatcher, the Sunnyslope area of Phoenix,  Holbrook, Hopi land, Pine Springs, Reno and Carson City, San Diego and vicinity, Dana Point, San Clemente, Lomita, Santa Barbara, Ojai, Ashland (OR), Portland, Spokane, Anacortes, Wrangell, Juneau, Sitka, Ketchikan, Afton (WY), Cortez, Boulder, Colorado Springs, San Luis (CO), Socorro, Albuquerque, Truth or Consequences. I can go to any of these places, and there will be a welcoming presence.

I will talk further about my homes in the Midwest, the South, the Northeast, and the rest of the world, in subsequent posts.  The point is, I am ever grateful for all who have reached out, kept faith in me, and not abandoned me out of difference of opinion, hurt feelings, or convenience.

Let’s see whether the March Lion gives way, willingly, to the April Lamb.

Shante’s Dream

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Posted by on in children, Community, Striving

March 27, 2016, Marana-  He has only been among us, here in Arizona, for about ten days, along with his two brothers and two sisters.  None of the kids speaks English, and they only know a smattering of French. Swahili is their mainstay.  Shante (SHAN-tay), age 3, and his siblings, have come to us from DR Congo, by way of Tanzania. The children, and their caretakers, joined thirty-four others of us, at a Unity in Diversity musical festival, on this bright, but thankfully breezy and cool, Easter Sunday.

Despite all his family’s travails, Shante walks with a swagger, and a purpose.  His take on life is strictly one day- or one moment- at a time.  That is the joy of being three, nothing has assumed an air of permanence in life, as yet.  He looks up at the tall, well-built drummers, themselves having come here from the Republic of Congo-Brazzaville, speaking just enough Swahili to make the kids feel welcome.  They show Shante their drums, and lift him up, so that he may tap on the skin and feel his own rhythm start to stir.

After a few minutes of this, and a ping-ping, on the keyboard of a Cuban musician, fresh from the city of Holguin (visited by Pope Francis I, last Fall), Shante comes back down, off stage, and lingers by my seat for a bit, then goes along his way, back to be with his sisters.

They take part in a second-round hunt for plastic eggs, filled with jelly beans.  The girls manage to find all remaining eggs, within two minutes of search.  Shante gets his share of the take- four plastic, jelly-bean filled delights.  He eats one jelly bean, and that’s enough.  For a child who has seen, and tasted, little of sweetness, a little bit goes forever.

Shante has his dream- as yet locked behind the door of linguistic disparity, and development.  A three-year-old’s Swahili is, after all, no more proficient than would be his contemporaries’ Norwegian, Spanish, or Kwa Zulu, in other parts of this hard, but exquisite home of ours.  His eyes, though, are scintillating.  This boy is sharp, and will make his way in the world, regardless of circumstances.  He shows interest in the music, whether African, Caribbean or Bluegrass, and dances to whatever tune is being offered.  He examines a blind man’s Australian bush hat, carefully fingering its strap and felt covering, as the patient man abides the probing. He works the crowd, and sizes each of us up, by looking us in the eye, for a minute or two, before moving on to the next person of interest.  He offers a brief opinion of what he has seen and heard, to his oldest brother, who nods in assent and holds Shante close, for a few minutes.

I keep saying this:  We, the elders, are in good hands with the generations that are rising.

Light of the World

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Posted by on in Inspiration, Poetry, Spiritual, Striving

March 25, 2016, Prescott-

The Light spoke:  “I came unto you, and offered Myself unto a crucifix,

upon the Plains of Ganges,

and you slumbered.

Later, I showed you Light and Darkness,

and you made them into caricatures.

I then showed you the Eight-Fold Path,

and you found it too complex.

When I came to you, as a Carpenter, a Fisher of Men,

you asked for Barabbas, and worshiped Mithras.

So, I again let Myself be crucified, that you might be saved.

You responded by quarreling, as to which of you heard Me correctly.

I came to you, in a time of darkness, and showed you the ways to

nationhood, and the gathering of knowledge.

You were  most interested in the battle techniques of My generals.

Still, each time I came, there were those who heard the truth.

Their genetic memory was strong enough, that I came yet again,

and through a life of great heartache and sacrifice, I have brought

you the way to unity, a path towards reaching the Day that shall not

be followed by Night.

As you commemorate My prior sacrifice, will you listen to Me now?”

(This is offered as testament to the Truth, which sacrificed Its

Messenger, on this day, some 1,983  years ago.  It has never left us

alone.)

 

Trafficking, and Obfuscation

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Posted by on in children, distraction issues, Personal goals, Personal Values

March 24, 2016, Prescott- I watched an episode of a network television show, on my laptop, this evening.  It dealt with the abuse of teenaged girls by a sex-trafficking ring.  The piece was outlandish, on the surface, having, as its antagonists, two powerful members of the Roman Catholic Church hierarchy in New York. The piece was fictitious, yet showed how diligent police work, and an appeal to the humanity of a low-level operative in the ring, gave up the culprits.

It was no surprise, though, that during the early stages of the investigation, the ringleaders turned to obfuscation, to role reversal, and smoke-screening, in their attempts to get out from under the encroaching detectives. This is a common modus operandi  of wrongdoers with means.

This stays in my mind, because yesterday I read an article in the Global Post, an online news magazine I have trusted for several years.  The article takes issue with widespread concern over sex trafficking, specifically in the country of Cambodia. The author quotes an “expert”, who has “lived with the sex workers” in that country, as saying that a Cambodian woman who enlisted the aid of U.S. journalist Nicholas Kristoff, in shining a light on the problem of sex trafficking in her country, was exaggerating, had falsified and embellished her reports, and that making human trafficking a cause celebre was, in the case of Cambodia at least, a misrepresentation of the facts.

This is what the powerful do, when their activities, and the income they derive from those, are threatened:  Obfuscate, discredit and go back to business as usual. Maybe there are plenty of women who choose a life of compensated sexual promiscuity, whether out of economic despair or the sense that this is the only way that they will ever know physical intimacy with a man.  They, however despondent their lot, are not the primary focus of those who have taken up the cause of bringing an end to human trafficking.

The shameful attempt by Global Post to becloud this whole matter will never stop those of us who are committed to ending the imprisonment and torture, to which  thousands of women and children are subjected, world-wide, day by excruciating day.  I urge each person reading this to stand up to those beguiled by their own perceived power and authority, and work to free those, in every nation on Earth, who are held in virtual slavery.

Bruxelles, Mon Amour

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Posted by on in Community, Personal Values, Poetry

March 22, 2016, Prescott-

Bruxelles, mon amour,

I hear your screams

As the hosts of tyranny

Hose your streets with blood.

You welcomed me warmly,

Giving a festival of peace,

French, Flemish, Algerian,

Standing side by side,

As the games of comradeship and hope,

Played out, in front of my eyes.

Paris, mon amour,

I recall your sons and daughters,

Taking time out of their frenetic days,

To help an oft bewildered Americain

Find my way across your arrondissements,

With nary a hint of hauteur, in their demeanours.

Rouen, ma cherie,

I think of all you endured,

As the scene of travesty,

When the Light of All France

Was immolated,

Just a stone’s throw from where

My paternal ancestors were first blessed.

Damascus, my friend,

I have not had the honour of your presence.

Yet, I hear and feel your anguish,

And, yes, I know these horrors are

Not what you wish,

For yourself, nor for the cities

Which weep alongside you.

All my friends and beloved ones,

Know the horrors and cruelty,

Will pass, must pass.

Soon comes the day,

Which will not be followed

By night.