The Road to 65, Mile 258: Eight Questions and Answers

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August 13, 2015, Prescott- I have been asked by a friend, on another site, to offer my answers to eight questions she posed and answered on her own site.  So, here goes:

1. Which of the following will mostly resemble the next show you watch (on tv, online, or even dvd)? a nature show, a historical documentary, a cooking show, a sitcom, or sports?   Given these choices, I would most likely watch an historical documentary.  Nature is something I prefer to see up close.

2. Which natural disaster is your state more likely to encounter?  Arizona is most likely to encounter wildfire.  Occasionally, a torrential rain or blizzard passes through.

3. Would you rather vacation in a log cabin, a modern condo, or a Motorhome?   Log cabin, by far.  A motorhome is not something I would buy, and those of my friends who own them are barely able to fit themselves inside.

4. What type of roadkill do you see most where you live?  Skunks and coyotes.

5. If you were on that old MTV show “Fear Factor”, would you most fear walking a rickety catwalk over a canyon, eating worms, or sitting in a tub and having cockroaches poured on your lap?   The catwalk, if it has no rope or cable guards on the sides. The cockroaches could bite and lead to typhus, though, so they would be more dangerous.

6. Do you think you could survive alone 24 hours in the wilderness, with only a jack knife and 3 feet of rope?   Yes, because I know how to forage.

7. Have you ever owned any leather clothing?  I have had one leather jacket, when I was in my thirties.

8. Have you ever eaten jackfruit chips?  No, but I would be glad to try them.  Jackfruit is very tasty.

The Road to 65, Mile 257: Desert Wildfire, Day 3

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August 12, 2015, Mohave Valley-  Wherever there are unicorns, there are also dragons.  Where there is joy, sorrow and rage are not far away. Light is accompanied by shadow. I prefer, I insist, that the former will outlast the latter, because that’s how life goes on.

The fire has been reduced to hot spots, which are being monitored, 24/7, by a very capable local fire department.  As always happens in a community that prides itself on independence, there is gratitude towards the local first responders, and grumbling towards the Federal presence, in this case, the Bureau of Land Management.  A government that seems distant, both physically and ideologically, is an easy target, and so it has been here.  The perception, among many who have come by for food, clothing and comfort is that the Feds didn’t seem to care about them, or about their property.  The Gold King mine mishap is thrown in, for good measure, as “eventually, that stuff will find its way down here, en route to the Gulf of California.”

It’s hard for people who are themselves overwhelmed, to see the situations of others- no matter which rung of the ladder we occupy.  I was fortunate to have been raised by parents who instilled the viewing of the situation of the other, in me.  Being the oldest of five made it more urgent.

Having to deal with the local bete noire, yesterday, put this whole concept to the test.  I went through six months, last winter and spring, of being patient and forbearing with someone whom nobody else seemed to want.  These folks are sent to us by a Creator Who desires only to see our full potentials realized.  This, I understand; it was just that, at the end of a long day in the heat, I had trouble waiting for a well-rested, fastidious case worker to complete the process with a needy, isolated and very edgy outcast.  I went back to the truck, turned on the A/C, and saved myself, while keeping the window cracked open enough to hear what was going on.  She completed the matter, thirty minutes later, and the four of us left the man, who felt more accepted, and headed home.  I guess this is one of the lessons that Christ meant to impart, when He worked on Lazarus, and on Mary Magdalene.

There are issues in any community, on any given street, and within any household which has more than one occupant.  In the Fire This Time, we, as a team, did well by the town of Mohave Valley.  After a day largely spent cleaning the gym floor of the temporarily closed Mohave Valley Elementary School, three of us volunteers headed home.  As we left town, a swirl of burned-out desert dust rose high in the air, causing our Team Lead to call in a “possible re-sparked fire”.  It turned out to be just a dust devil, with burned material, almost giving us a farewell, of sorts.

We stopped up the road apiece, at Westside Lilo’s, a homey, relaxed German restaurant, in Seligman, and decompressed with some fine sandwiches, served by an engaging and spirited young woman.  I always enjoy a good bratwurst, and a pretty smile.  The rain, which our driver had feared, seems to have preceded us, and it was an easy drive back to Prescott.

Goodnight, and it looks like tomorrow will be a bit of a respite, before the next big thing.

The Road to 65, Mile 256: Desert Wildfire, Day Two

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August 11, 2015, Mohave Valley-  When a crisis overtakes a community, many people come together and work to address the challenges that have arisen.  There are a few outliers and conspiracy theorists who show up, and stage drama.  Then, there are the grifters, who show up and just want, and take.

We had all three types of humans at the  shelter, yesterday.  Several people, who had lost everything, including pets, came, stayed until the evacuation order was lifted, and left at that time.  Others stayed until morning.  Two who felt the world was against them, stayed the night and left at least with the feeling that our corner of it was not so out to get them.  Two others came in, filled their duffel bag with food and toiletries, and left around 10 PM.  (They were technically eligible to stay with us, but chose to go back to their powerless, water-less house, for the night).

Today, I was part of a three-person tam that went out to the neighbourhoods of Mohave Valley and took stock of the damage.  I was the spotter, assessing the current state of the properties.  Another man had computer images of the properties, as they were before the fire.  By comparing the two, we were able to make a realistic assessment of actual damages. These will be useful, when claims are filed.  It may sound like we’re insurance adjusters, but Red Cross uses these assessments to determine how much in emergency aid should be given.  Most people are just grateful that somebody cares and is there for them, at a very bad time in their lives.

It’s hot here, very hot, though the cloud cover from a northern low pressure system mitigated the temperature a bit.  We were glad to let the few who remained this afternoon, stay and rest.  A couple of people were comforted by the staff and made to feel more human than they had in quite a while.  Some ladies helped a badly-shaken young woman, who was disabled, to have a mini-makeover, which probably made her year, not to mention her day.

This is the true depth of what we do- to let people know that, at their core, they are important, and valued.  The fire is mostly out, and the first responders are on hot-spot duty for 48 hours.  Tomorrow noon, we will head back to Prescott, and the local team will continue helping the fire victims, in their recovery process.

The Road to 65, Mile 255: Desert Wildfire, Day One

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August 10, 2015, Mohave Valley, AZ- I got up at 4:17 A.M., so as to be ready for a 6 A.M. departure from Prescott, for this collection of desert villages, hugging the Colorado River, just east of Needles. We got here with 30 minutes to spare, and at 10, had a briefing with the Red Cross team lead.

The task for our team of four was mostly to serve as listening ears and moral supporters for the nearly thirty people sheltering at the vacant Mohave Elementary School, which has been replaced by another school, a few miles away.  It is still a solid facility, and the gym, where people were feeling safe, is a very comfortable spot.

I spent some time sweeping up dust and dirt, keeping the water and electrolyte-replacing drinks iced, and listening to the interesting life stories of several older “desert rats”, as the long-term residents sometimes call themselves.   The fire has wound down enough, so that many residents might return home tomorrow.  Still others, as in any such disaster, have little or nothing to which they might return.  I will find out who has what, tomorrow morning, when our team goes on a “Street Survey” of the affected neighbourhoods.

There is only one silver lining to all this- that the sense of community here is reinforced.

The Road to 65, Mile 254: Sharlot Hall

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August 9, 2015, Prescott- I spent about ninety minutes, this afternoon, visiting Sharlot Hall Museum, Prescott’s historical gallery.  This was the final day of the 2015 Mountain Arts and Crafts Festival, which coincides with the Cowboy Poets Gathering, at Yavapai College.

This was my fourth visit to the Museum, and was mainly to check out the refurbished Arizona Time Line exhibit, in the main hall.  I noticed there was a panel about the proto-planet, Theia, which collided with Earth, back in the days when our planet more resembled the sunny side of Mercury.  It did not end well for poor Theia.  A very well-crafted pair of Pleistocene wall panels loom above the depictions of North American mammals from that Era.

Otherwise, Sharlot Hall preserves several buildings as they were during the period 1870-1910.  My favourite remains the log Governor’s Mansion. As there were few other visitors here, this afternoon, I was able to enjoy the presence of about five monarch butterflies, one of which had a six-inch wingspan. To see the exteriors of the buildings, please check out my 2012 post: https://peacefulwarrior9.com/2012/01/20/the-exterior-of-sharlot-hall-museum-prescott-az/.

Next up:  I will be in Mohave Valley, in northwest Arizona, for the next three days or so, helping with Red Cross sheltering and damage assessment, owing to a nasty desert wildfire, near the Colorado River.  I will continue to post as time allows, during this time period.

The Road to 65, Mile 253: Auspicious Days

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August 8, 2015, Granite Dells- I spent the greater part of this afternoon at Heaven on Earth B & B, in this lushest area of greater Prescott.  Friends Happy and John had their first event since the Illumine Film Festival, in May (which I missed, having been in Reno at the time.)  It was the first of three Launch Parties, by Green Living Magazine, a monthly eco-friendly living publication, out of Phoenix.  I went over, after two different friends mentioned it to me, independently; the second having followed me through Prescott Public Library, specifically to let me know of the event.

So, always glad to head out to the Dells, I drove over, after first checking out the Mountain Arts and Crafts Fair and a performance by a quintet of young ladies, playing violins and fiddles. The afternoon was then spent with presentations by various advocates of healthy living, from GMO-Free Prescott and Slow Food, to which I belong, to an essential oils distributor.  John sang, gently and sincerely, of “The Golden Age” and the powerful local artist, Celia, lent her rousing voice to the mood of the day- with three amazing songs.

One of the points which Happy made, during her emcee moments, was that today is  a triple treat:  8 8 8. This is how it has worked, since 2010:  March 3, of that year, was 3 3 3,  because if one adds 2+1, one gets 3, so 2+0++1+0 = 3.  April 4, 2011, thus sums up as 4 4 4, and so on, through December 12, 2019, which will be 12 12 12.

I have felt the “double dates” to be auspicious enough, from January 1 to December 12.  New Year’s Day is special for many people, just because of the sense of a new beginning.  We will dispense with 2/2, as some sort of prognosticatory event and note that some thawing starts, in some places, around that time. 10/10 is a National Day for Taiwan, commemorating the day when the revolt of the Chinese people against the corrupt Regent of the Realm, and his underlings, first got traction, resulting in the abdication, four months later, of the pre-teenaged Emperor, Pu Yi, in favour of Gen. Yuan Shi Kai. Yuan’s Nationalist Party eventually established what is now the Republic of China, on Taiwan. (Yes, Dr. Sun Yat-sen was the first elected President of China, but politics is complicated, and the Army stood in Dr. Sun’s way.)

The double dates most special to me are 6/6, the day that Penny and I were married (eighteen months, to the day, after we first met), and 7/7, the day that Aram was born.  I’ve often speculated as to whether some other double date will be special in my life, but now I think that might be rather gluttonous on my part. I will always treasure the two days, in mid-year, which have defined my adulthood.

Now I look to the task of viewing every day as auspicious.

The Road to 65,Mile 252: Frugal

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August 7, 2915, Prescott- Having been generous towards myself and others,                                                                                             I am going through August with a bit more caution.                                                                                             If you don’t see me out and about, sisters and brothers,                                                                                     Don’t assume I’m sitting around, noshin’.                                                                                                           My main goal right now is to not be a bother,                                                                                                     So I’m hanging around home, not here and there,rushin’.

The Road to 65, Mile 251: Dimensions

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August 6, 2015, Prescott- In the course of seeking permission from Four Worlds International Institute, to a) become a member and b) offer comment on its 16 Principles, I came upon a blog offering some discussion of a reported international effort to fend off an electromagnetic force, which some believe is approaching Earth.  Those who believe in the possible event point to various happenings, over the past several years, from the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004, to the Japanese earthquake of 2011, to the increase in seemingly random acts of inane behaviour, such as movie theater shootings, or deliberately driving the wrong way, on a superhighway, then loudly shouting that this is a constitutional right.

There are many ways to deal with the outlandish.  One way is summon fear and devise various means of fending off catastrophe.  Supposedly, this is the intention behind the Cern Supercollider, housed somewhere in the Alps.  It also explains the various Doomsday cults and sects that make themselves known, from time to time.

There is also a “business-as-usual” approach, of denial. Those who adhere to this point to the historical ability of human beings to rise from wreckage, and to restore what is, essentially, a society built on commerce, relationships and routine.  Catastrophic weather or geological events are followed by recovery and rebuilding, with varying degrees of success.  After all, no one has rebuilt Pompeii, as it was, nor, definitively, found Noah’s Ark, nor has the country of Haiti fully recovered from its earthquake of 2010.

Others, including myself, take more of a zen approach to the whole affair.  Suppose there is an electromagnetic force, and it hits Earth in, say, 2020.  I have no idea where I would be then, no notion of who among my widening circle of family and friends will be with me at that point, and no idea how the various geophysical consequences of such a magnificent and terrifying envelopment of our planet would be.  I know that I have survived several challenging events, some tragic, up to now.  I know that my business is not anywhere near “as usual” as it was in 1994, or even in 2002. I know that some quite astonishing things have happened to, and around, me- so that taking a mundane approach to life does not work, for me.  Nor, however, does an apocalyptic mindset.  Both presume that change is something to be dreaded.

All the Divine Messengers, and a good many humanistic philosophers, point to both the eternal nature of the Universe, and to the existence of several dimensions.  We tend to think of four such measures:  Length, width, height and time.  These, we can experience on a daily basis.  I know something of the fifth dimension, which is most commonly experienced through mental communication with others, “body language”, and even communication with departed souls- though the last one is something I choose to approach with caution.  I have felt Penny’s presence, many times, since her passing.  Others, including my father, her father, my grandparents and my late youngest brother, have also communicated with me, on several occasions.  They know what I am experiencing, and have helped, when needed.  I, however, cannot know what they are experiencing, anymore than a fetus can know what a person outside his/her mother’s womb is enduring.

There are other dimensions, which some call parallel worlds, past lives, future choice paths and even “Other Universes.”  Such speculation, I chalk up more to the finite minds of those using such terms.  I believe that, in restricting the number of possible dimensions to ten, we are simply reflecting the limits of our intellect- as it is now.  Those of our descendants who look back on all this, a millennium or two from now, may well chuckle at String Theory, as we now view it,having built on it and transcended the false parts, much as we look back on the theories of the Classical Greeks, or Sir Isaac Newton.

I only know that I have today with which to work, to appreciate and enjoy and from which to learn.  Planning for tomorrow, next week, Christmas-time, and the year 2020 will help make those times fruitful; yet, whatever transpires, I adjust and move on.

The Road to 65, Mile 250: Kindness to Animals

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August 5, 2015, Prescott- Today’s paper discussed a plan by the U.S. Forest Service, in Roosevelt, AZ, to round up a herd of wild horses, which have been in the area since the days of Father Kino (ca. 1690).  The horses would then be turned over to the Arizona Department of Agriculture, which then, by statute, has to auction them off in 30 days, if their “rightful owner does not claim them.”  Since Maricopa and Gila Counties do not have a tradition of Spanish Land Grant, such rightful owners no longer exist.  The animals would thus go to the highest bidders, who would, ostensibly, be the operators of slaughter houses. Pets have to eat, ya know!

The horses are said to be a potential threat to public safety, as they “might” enter Arizona Highway 87, which goes from Tucson to Winslow, and thus goes through the horses’ habitat.  This potential threat is also shared by elk, deer, coyotes, mountain lions, javelina, and, in the higher country near Payson, bears.  This could end up being a roundup to rival the Danish whale Grind, about which, more in a bit.

The Salt River Indian Community has offered to take custody of the horses, and there is a great hue and cry in the Metro Phoenix area.  Three conservative, pro-business U.S. Congresspeople have stood up for the animals, so the Forest Service can’t say this is in the interests of the economy, either.  I would say, take the Salt River people up on their offer, or leave the animals alone.

Now, to Denmark, the Faero Islands, and cetaceans:  The neo-Viking mentality that has surfaced in the “Happiest Nation on Earth”, in recent weeks is 1) mind-numbing in its pursuit of slaughter for its own sake; 2) reminiscent of the ill-fated jailing, imprisonment and, later, killings of those who went to the American South, and to South Africa, to protest the legally-sanctioned ill-treatment of Black people.  This time, it is in defense of animals, which actually heightens the worthiness of the actions:  Animals can’t speak for themselves.

Let’s think a bit about the ethics of hunting and killing of animals.  The traditional hunter stalks a creature which both is able to defend itself and has the means of escape.  I know bow hunters who, each Fall, go in search of deer or elk, in Arizona’s high country. When they make a kill, the animal is prayed over, thanked for its sacrifice and all parts are put to use.  There is no pseudo-macho chest thumping over what has transpired.  Children are taught to respect the animal, use their weapons properly and follow the process of putting each animal part to good use.

Contrast this, with the recent miserable spectacle of two American medical professionals, who went to the country of Zimbabwe and staged canned hunts of lions, within range of a national park.  The President of that country is fond of saying that being hunted is how wild animals “pay their rent”.  If this practice is allowed to stand, however, Mr. Mugabe will soon find himself with a dearth of tenants.  Trophy hunting, like trophy marriage, is an odious practice, and needs to go the way of the medieval joust.

How ironic that all this is happening, in the silly summer of “Zoo”.  Far better it is for us to heed the Words of Baha’u’llah:   “He should show kindness to animals, how much more unto his fellow-man, to him who is endowed with the power of utterance. He should not hesitate to offer up his life for his Beloved, nor allow the censure of the people to turn him away from the Truth. He should not wish for others that which he doth not wish for himself, nor promise that which he doth not fulfil. With all his heart should the seeker avoid fellowship with evil doers, and pray for the remission of their sins. He should forgive the sinful, and never despise his low estate”The Kitab-i-Iqan, Pages 161-200: 194

I have made the comment, elsewhere, that unless the savagery of the Grind stops, I will not purchase anything produced in Denmark or Faeroern, nor would I visit them on any future journey.  This, in and of itself, is minuscule- but multiply little old me by thousands, and the effect is quite staggering for such small nations. Likewise, Zimbabwe, which depends on tourist dollars, for its “rent”, is in no position to face a boycott. Should the people of those nations take heed, and find other outlets for their machismo, they would find a wealth of opportunity to fully partake in the bounty of the world community.

Stay tuned.

The Road to 65,Mile 249: Repression and Resilience

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August 4, 2015, Prescott-   One of the features of life on Earth that most sticks in my craw is the mistreatment of children.  This morning, I spent about ninety minutes, listening to one of the people I most admire in this world:  Philip N. Lane, Jr., an hereditary chief of the White Swan band of the Dakota Nation.  Chief Phil has been working with indigenous people, in various parts of the world, for over thirty-five years.  His focus has been the creation of a culture of dignity and positive self-regard, aspects of life that were long repressed among Native Peoples, by the dominant culture, in the name of “assimilation”.

Indigenous North Americans, Andeans, Amazonians, Siberians, Saami, Hawaiians, Maori,Native Australians, Ainu, Hill Tribesmen of northeast India, Dravidians, Native Saharans, and the nomadic peoples of the Kalahari and Namib deserts have long been told their cultures and ways of life do not jibe with “reality”, as identified by the powers that be, in their lands of residence.

One of the most effective ways that conquerors have found, in creating a culture of self-loathing, and hence submission, is to remove the children of the repressed ones from their home communities, place them in compulsory residential schools, and systematically quash all traces of the native culture within the psyches and personas of the child-residents.  This was done in the United States, Canada and the Soviet Union, throughout much of the Twentieth Century, with an actual view towards “turning savages into human beings.”

I grew up seeing, and sometimes receiving, corporal punishment in a regular public school in Massachusetts, in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.  I have been grabbed and shaken by an angry teacher, seen a friend in another class thrown violently against a wall and witnessed other unnecessary acts, harmful acts, by teachers, administrators, and, later, by a Catholic priest, who was ultimately found guilty, defrocked and disgraced.

As a new teacher, I found myself initially subscribing to forceful techniques, though thankfully not to the extent that a child suffered lasting damage.  I owned up to it,made amends, and was able to move on to more humane and effective ways of correcting misbehaviour.  It was a long road, but I was then able to focus on helping the abused children to recognize that they were not at fault, that the beatings I witnessed at a private boarding school, in the late 1970’s were the true aberration, and that no one should have to suffer in silence, or alone.

Getting back to the Native American boarding schools, and many of the Federal and state day schools:  The schools which “served” Indian, Native Alaskan, and Native Hawaiian children, like the Black and Hispanic schools, under Jim Crow laws, were hotbeds of cultural repression, language extinction and harrowing punishment, which included acts of sexual violence against children and teenagers.  The most casual and innocent use of a Native tongue was punished, severely, by school staff ( I will not use the term, “teacher”, here. These individuals negated the definition of the word.).  These individuals were both secular and clergy, and had no other goal than the advancement of the national economy.  Money trumped all else, as it often still does.

Chief Phil Lane, Jr. was a recipient of this kind of miseducation and ,to this day, has had to continuously re-educate, and re-train himself, which he is doing admirably.  I have met many people, in the indigenous communities, and in the wider world, who have expressed hatred for who they think I am, based on my light skin, brown hair and blue eyes.  The only remedy for this, given what these people have endured, is patience, and staying the course of building a healing environment.

We still have a long way to go, and I am grateful to Phil Lane, and others who have arisen to outline what needs to be done.  I will introduce his 16 Principles of creating a nurturing culture, in a series of posts, very soon.