The Road to Diamond, Day 262: The Face of God

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August 17,2025- Yesterday, I came across several people who sang my praises. Today, the other side showed up. Their anger was muted and subtle, but still obvious. Life is a process of twists and turns, and one must, as my mother said, take the bitter with the sweet.

The strange energy that was everywhere yesterday was also muted today. I used the day to make sure Sportage is good for tomorrow’s drive to Phoenix and back, and to join four other Baha’is and a friend of the Faith for a devotional and light lunch. I also made further arrangements for the Swedish leg of next month’s journey.

‘Abdu’l-Baha teaches us to “see the Face of God in every person”. Further, if a person “has nine good qualities and one bad, focus on the nine. If there are nine bad qualities and one good, focus on the one.” Of course, we can hardly be expected to let those bad qualities work their ill, but He operates on the awareness that the person will come to see her/his good qualities as what will bring benefit, while the bad will be detrimental.

I pondered this, after reading a friend’s similar post, and in light of the various interactions I’ve had, over the weekend. Seeing the Face of God in one’s detractor is actually easier than it appears, at first blush. I have, over the past six years, taken the view of trying to glean self-improvement from negative encounters. ” What is the critic trying to teach me?” seems to work better than “What have I done to deserve this?” It has helped, in more ways than one.

Wildness and Woolery

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September 30, 2023- The duo paid no mind to the wind that, off and on, gusted through the patio and blew a paper, a napkin or a ball cap away from its owner. The Bourbon Knights, at least the two remaining members, were too busy cranking out solid, vintage rock, to pay attention to such a mundane phenom as wind.

Their preference was playing the classic tunes of The Who, and when they got into the late riffs on “Baba O’Riley”, I half expected to see one of them break into an imitation of Pete Townshend’s Kazotsky kick. Alas, too much of their signature drink had found its way down their gullets, and they were content with their musical offerings, which remained solid. They also ranged from Stevie Nicks to Tom Petty.

This was the wild part of the evening at Rafter Eleven, where I went to close out the bittersweet month of September. Today would have been Penny’s 69th birthday, and true to form, not only one, but two Baha’i events got my attention, back to back. The Worldwide Celebration of Unity, of which I have written before, has taken its place in my Saturday morning routine. Only when I am not in a place where WiFi is accessible, do I beg off the task of co-hosting. The other event, which followed straightaway, was the annual Unit Convention, where Baha’is living in a designated area meet to elect a delegate to the National Convention, set for the following Spring, and consult about issues of import to the region and to the national community. I feel fortunate that the first event was able to be held at the Convention site, courtesy of the electoral tellers, who let me use their meeting room. Penny’s spirit, and my other ethereal guides, see to it that what needs to be done, finds a way.

A woolery is a place where the heavy cloth may be spun, carded and woven into the heavy cloth that is so comforting in cold weather. Our spiritual woolery is the Source of the guidance that comes from following those Spiritual Teachings that afford us protection, in the cold of challenges, tests and setbacks that are so commonly experienced in this life. So it was, both physically and emotionally chilly, at different times today, giving me reason to wear a woolen jacket, given me as a thank-you, by a once homeless man, who I helped for a time, nine years ago-and to seek solace in the Teachings of Baha’u’llah, when feeling the annoyance of people I normally help on Saturdays, who were left on their own today.

The day, and the month, ended well though. Even the country got a breather, from the political clashes that have played out, these past several weeks.

Here, for the curious, are The Who, and “Baba O’Riley”, though sans Kazotsky.

Floating and Flowing

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July 8, 2023- The young couple with whom I work on Saturday afternoons entered the Raven, as a mutual friend was playing the opening set for tonight’s joyful noise. Preferring the rooftop patio to the stage-side seating, they floated on upstairs, to enjoy their date night, while I went with the flow in the main room.

Life and friendships are like that now. Other than marriage and the parent-young child relationship, the strongest of bonds do not need constant physical presence, in order to thrive. It is actually a throwback to the days of my mid-to-late twenties, when many gatherings were of friends happy to just be doing their own things, and connecting as those activities naturally intertwined. Back then, though, I didn’t really understand, and often felt like I was on the outside, looking in. These days, it all makes more sense. I know I can count on friends, when they are needed-and vice versa.

Earlier to day, I covered for an old friend who was unable to host his weekly online group. Things started slowly, and yet as the hour continued, people floated in to the call. Some stayed, others were on for only a few minutes, while still others came in place of those who left. It was, all in all, an unpredictable, but delightful spiritual session.

My afternoon work, with the Farmers Market team, also started off with each of us doing separate tasks. Before too long, though, we were helping one another, coming up with more efficient ways that each work station could be completed. This makes two weeks in a row that the Market was closed up within ninety minutes of the vendors and patrons leaving.

At tonight’s concert, people floated between tables-and I found myself enjoying the company of the opening artist, and a few friends of the main artist, then sitting alone after they all left, just enjoying the rest of the performance. After a fashion, leaving the table, so that the band’s videographer could have the right vantage point to do his work, and taking a single seat by the piano, to take in the rest of the concert, worked just fine.

Going with the flow has actually made life a whole lot more joyful.

Restitutions and Return Visits

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March 6, 2022- I was quite gratified this morning, to be given a complementary breakfast, in view of the two such meals which I had to speak out in order to receive, after paying in advance. Good will means a lot at the Legion, so when the servers mess up, the host steps up. After I was finished eating, one of our regular table mates who usually helps serve the other diners had just been given his own breakfast. So, I took a turn at service for a bit-and saw where some of the confusion may have arisen over the past few weeks. There is a tendency to write first names and family initials. There are four “Garys”, myself included and two of us have the last initial “B”. There are six “Steves”, five “Bobs” and three “Terris”. I called out the people’s names and got it done. The problem, thus, seems to be shy servers.

After my weekly Zoom devotional, the day looked open-ended, and the Agua Fria River was calling, so I made a return hike along the Badger Springs Trail, this time focusing on the section that passes by two frames of petroglyphs. The glyphs are visible to the naked eye, but don’t photograph well in a casual manner. Could it be that the spirits are protecting them from casual photographers? We’ll have to see, on future visits.

The river itself is not so coy. It does seem to be down a bit, but since it is largely dependent on snow melt, the level may yet rise, over the next month or so.

Return visits to local natural scenes are increasingly important, if for no other reason than rootedness. They also figure in acts of completion. A few days ago, I finished hiking the Lime Kiln Trail, which runs between Cottonwood and Sedona. The final segment is but 1 1/2 miles, from one segment of the Red Rock State Park access road, over Scheuerman (SHOY-er man) Mountain Ridge, across a forested valley and on to the entrance to the state park. It was a fitting end to a segmented hike that had been in abeyance for over a year.

So the cementing of returns dovetails with the strengthening that comes from new discoveries.

Finally, because we need it in the face of both real and imagined tyranny: A return to the most stirring song from Les Miserables (2012). Let us neither be deluded or complacent, in the weeks, months and possibly years ahead. Every nation, every people, deserve to be free of rule from without.