For Each One…

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August 17, 2024- As I entered the patio at Rafter Eleven, to sit and enjoy the repertoire of a singer-guitarist named Dwayne, a woman invited me to sit at her table, making mention of having seen me sitting alone, a few weeks ago. Mom didn’t raise any snobs, so I gladly joined her at table, exchanging names and broader life stories. The lady asked about the Baha’i Faith, and I gave her a brief synopsis-in between interruptions by wait staff and others needing the attention of one or both of us. (The website, http://www.bahai.org, was part of the information given.)

I was mildly cognizant of being guarded as to her interest, but one of her first questions, after our mutual talk of widowhood, was “Is there someone in your life now?” My answer in the affirmative prompted her to offer that she, too, had recently met a gentleman, a budding friend.

Our conversation continued, for nearly ninety minutes, in between offering applause for Dwayne, showing appreciation for his family being there to encourage him and enjoying Rafter’s delectable food. We encouraged one another, in the growth of our respective friendships and parted with a respectful handclasp.

There is someone, I believe, for every person in the world; for every being in the Universe. It is not necessarily upon the expression of desire, and, as in a maze, there are many mistaken paths that end in a roadblock. Even those of us, like the lady above and yours truly, who have lost a true love, can find another who may have him/herself been through a loss. When this happens, there is surety and it never feels like a chore, or something that is contrived. Believe me, I have been through several false starts, that fortunately did not end in irreparable harm to either party. Several of those women are still good friends of mine.

One day at a time, sweet Lord.

The Iron Circle

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August 12, 2024- His words were unequivocal: “Excuse me, who said it was okay for you to go to the Philippines?” Since this came out of left field, so to speak, and from someone who professes belief in the Oneness of Mankind, I was rather taken aback. Maybe he thought I was moving there for good, or something of that order. Regardless, what I do is not, and never will be, his call. As grateful as I am for the services he has rendered, for a good many years, managing my affairs does not fall among them. (Clarity: The individual is not an officer of any government agency.)

I love a great many people, in this state, across the country and around the world. When it comes to making decisions about my path, however, any consultation is with my son and daughter-in-law, my siblings and their spouses, maybe an aunt or two, a few cousins, four Baha’i friends in the Prescott area (three women and one man), three other women friends here, and three or four other friends around the country. I run things by my dear friend, K, but neither she nor any of the others is under any obligation to answer at a moment’s notice. In each instance, moreover, the answer I get from any of them is not tailored to what they think I want to hear, and that is so much for the better.

The above are my Iron Circle. It is from them, and the inklings I get from my spirit guides, that I base my final course of action. I do not need permission from any random “authority figure”, to go anywhere or do anything. My son and my siblings are the closest, then the others I mentioned. Anyone else is free to disagree with a course of action, but they are not free to exert control. That is the purview of the government alone.

On my way back up to Home Base I, I stopped at Penny’s grave. I got the same answer- “It’s not his call. You know what you have to do; go do it!”

The Iron Circle remains tight, and I am not afraid to cry power.

Tofino

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July 21, 2024, Powell River,BC- I must have looked like a duck out of water, clad in t-shirt and shorts, in 55 F (12.7 C) and cloudy weather. A Tofino pull-over hoodie presented itself, and so the duck was back in the water, in short order. The few small children present appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. The adults, being the flinty sort, were more “Well now, that shows there’s a light on upstairs, after all, eh?” Thus it goes, when one finds slivers of foggy dew, after days of high heat, even ten kilometers inland.

Tofino, and its sister town, Ucluelet, are the north and south anchors of Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, western Vancouver Island’s well-visited gem. I first heard of the place, when sent a recording of a young girl prodigy from there, and was drawn to its artsy vibe. Friends who had been to the area corroborated this rather laid back aura, but said it was getting somewhat more commercialized. So, as with any other place that sets forth competing reputations, I had to go see for myself.

This brief break from Baha’i-centered visits took me to Whalers on the Point Guest House, at Tofino’s north end. The name refers to the whale hunting traditions of the Tla-o-qui-aht (“Clayoquat”, in English parlance) First Nation and their neighbours along V.I.’s west coast, as well as of the Makah people, across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The large and comfortable, family-friendly hostel was a beehive of activity, especially in and around the kitchen. The ambiance, though, was most welcoming.

Between an evening sunset stroll (at 9:45 p.m.) and a longer walkabout in the downtown area, this morning, I got a sense of Tofino life. Here are some scenes.

The salubrious hostel
Clayoquot Sound, on a foggy Sunday morning

The entrance to Tofino’s children’s park
Salvage art, part of a display by Pete Clarkson, a marine debris collector. His Washed-Up Workshop has several pieces in this unique downtown garden.
Another of Pete’s pieces
Ciinul (totem pole), with explanation below:

So I found this earnest community, of First Nations people and eclectic artisans. Now, it was time to check out the National Reserve itself.

Smoother Sailing

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July 19, 2024, Victoria, BC- The distraught woman was yelling, at everyone and at no one, as I walked toward Bold Butchery and Grill in search of a falafel dinner. She was adamant that “he” had no business telling her to clean her room. The “room” was a small dome, that actually looked quite tidy. I saw no male around there, so who knows whether the “boss” was present, or was an unwanted memory of a past overlord. There are about twenty-five people living in tents along and adjacent to Quadra Street, down a bit from Turtle Hostel, where I am spending the night. There are about twenty-five of us in the hostel. Only four walls and the ability to pay for lodging really separate the two groups.

Joseph Campbell, in “Myths of Light”, describes the primal cakra of kundalini yoga as muladhara, the “root lotus”, the most basic urge to hold onto something which represents one’s identity. We see this in everyone, from a politician holding onto an office to a soldier fighting to the death, to someone living on the street and guarding personal space, along with the few possessions that are there within that zone. I tend to exercise reasonable precaution and care of my possessions, so that I have what I need, day to day. Obsession with them left, quite a few years back, as the realization set in that there was nothing that couldn’t be replaced-except my life. It has also been thirty-two years since I was homeless, and even then, my little family and I were not living in a tent, but in a motel-and that was only for a month or so. I wish smoother sailing for the folks in this little community, who do seem to take care of one another. There is even a “mayor”, who lives in an RV that is parked across the street from the ornate Conservatory of Music. He was making the rounds this evening, seeing who needs what basics, which he will try to find, when he goes to the Farmers Market tomorrow.

I will meet a Baha’i friend across town tomorrow morning, spending a bit of time along the waterfront, and praying for another friend, who is laid up a bit. That has been the nature of this journey-to connect with members of my Faith community who have felt a bit isolated, of late. So far, it has worked out, and if there are no Baha’is to visit, I have been able to connect with other old friends who I haven’t met in person.

I left the incomparable Bayside Motel, on Bellingham’s commercial strip, after getting Sportage its overdue maintenance check. All is well, and the lead mechanic remarked that the vehicle is in tiptop shape. Lord knows I pay attention to it. Bayside is a reasonably-priced establishment, that keeps up with the chains, when it comes to things like breakfast and a guest laundry room, as well as the sheer comfort of the sleeping room itself.

I got to the ferry terminal at Tsawassen, a bit early, and so had to drive around a bit, then return to the gate. The computer system resets on the hour, so a 1 p.m. check-in does not mean 12:55. Once in queue, there was plenty to do, in passing two hours-between lunch, writing to my resurfaced friend and organizing what I could of still-damp laundry, drying in the car. (Long story short, the dryers at Bayside were taken up by one family, and check-out happened before the clothes could be finished. At least they’re clean!)

The ferry ride was smooth, I napped for a while and it was easy to find Turtle Hostel. As indicated above, this is a somewhat artsy area. It also has several Mediterranean restaurants, which is good for my palate. Bold Butchery and Grill has several varieties of hummus to go with its excellent falafel. I chose the turmeric version. After dinner, it was easy to connect on a Zoom devotional, then segue into a section of Myths of Light that talks about the seven bodily cakras.

Smooth sailing depends on self-knowledge, so I am definitely interested in continuing to learn what Joseph Campbell had to say about the upper cakras.

“You’ll Understand Some Day”

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July 12, 2024, Beatty, NV- So did the attendant, at a convenience market in the small Mohave Desert town of Dolan Springs, explain a decision she had made to a much younger woman. Since I am inclined to wish long and happy lives to just about anyone I meet, I silently concurred. Mom always answered my chortles at one or another of her predicaments by singing “Your day will come“.

After a morning of home base activities, whilst waiting for the final word on a possible shelter, I prepared for Trip # 3, of 2024. Right at Noon, the shelter was deemed unnecessary, and by 1 p.m., I set out. Six hours later, after pit stops in Seligman, Dolan Springs, Las Vegas and Amargosa, I stopped here, so as to join a Baha’i Zoom call. It was plenty to drive here, in heat that ranged between 95-118 (35-47.77) degrees. My AC worked its magic and I was fine, so long as I kept pushing water down my gullet.

All along the drive, I contemplated the when of letting go- of power, of control, of position. This is not an issue for me, personally, but it seems much of the leadership of our governmental, financial and social institutions is unable to pass the baton. I have been ecstatic when a younger person shows up and is ready to take up the mantle of whatever mission I have had in front of me. I will always be willing to lend a hand, but being in charge is a bonus, not a craving.

Perhaps some of the younger ones will experience a strong urge to hold on, overstaying their welcome and even outliving their usefulness. Should that happen, I offer this, right here, right now. “May your time in the limelight impart lessons and knowledge that serve you well-and may those be of the sort that can be shared with the younger generations of YOUR seniorhood. May you remember these days, and know when to take the position of being ONE among many, of a number of generations who work together.”

I will spend much of the weekend with one of my favourite families, with 5 or 6 bright, engaging children, and their loving parent and grandparents. There is no overbearing or insecure adult there, at least not when it comes to the children’s upbringing.

Those who have tried are relegated to the periphery of the children’s lives. May they understand, some day.

Systematic

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July 9, 2024, Bellemont- Staff-wise, I was a none-person show, yesterday evening, as camp entered its second night. The chaperones have their own way of doing things, and take the rules and regulations of the camp committee in stride. We both get to the same place, in terms of serving the campers. That, to me, affirms they are on the right path, even if it is different from the way I do things. Al-Bab, Who was executed 174 years ago, today, stressed the importance of working systematically and in unity, in the course of establishing a truly peaceful world.

This being a Baha’i Holy Day, my post is a mere two paragraphs. Suffice it to say, my parents raised us to approach anything we do in a thoughtful and systematic manner. It took me a bit longer than my siblings, but I have been in that frame of mind, for at least fifteen years. It is crucial to my well-being, and personal safety, moving forward. Expanding this ethic, every problem that families, communities, nations and the planet as a whole face requires a systematic and well-thought-out approach, in order to truly address the matters raised. It doesn’t mean that the same problem(s) won’t resurface again, down the road, but it will provide a roadmap for dealing with them now-and when they rear their human-nature-caused heads again.

Eastbound and Back, Day 22: Victoria Day

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May 20, 2024, Moncton- There was fury, then consternation, on the face of the well-coiffed woman, as she pulled around Sportage, after blaring her horn, twice, after I stopped at the edge of the gas station driveway to take a stranded couple a kilometer or two, up the road. It was not convenient, or easy, for any of the four of us. She, however, was able to just go around, and on her way. I moved a few things in the back seat, making room for the young woman, with her husband getting in the front. After they were dropped off, I moved everything back.

Ernie, Meena and Theresa Johnson

This transpired a short time after I visited some Baha’i friends in Eskasoni, NS, apprising them of the concerns of another Miqmaq friend who I visited in Corner Brook, on Saturday night. Mr. Ernie Johnson listened to my account of our mutual friend’s concerns and offered a history of that family’s contributions to the growth of the Baha’i Faith in Ontario, Alberta and Nova Scotia, especially in Cape Breton and Ottawa. Now, he surmised, our friend has yet another opportunity. After suggesting that he and others pay a visit to the Baha’is of Corner Brook, and being showered with gifts, including two delightful tuna salad sandwiches, I headed out towards the lower Maritimes, bidding farewell to blessed Cape Breton Island.

After the above incident at the gas station, I pondered whether I was biased in favour of the poor and downtrodden, over the seeming well-to-do, in terms of service acts. It was not long, before the Universe called me on that one. By the side of the road there stood a forlorn-looking man, the trunk of his car raised, and a spare tire resting against the rear right bumper. I stopped the SUV, pulling well into the gravel breakdown area, and went to see if I could assist.

It turned out that a tire was flat. He was having difficulty removing the lug nuts, with his rather small tire wrench. I offered to give it a try, and after several toggles between my stepping on the long part of the wrench and his adjusting his car jack downward, we managed to get the lug nuts removed, the tire off, spare tire on and lug nuts returned and suitably tightened. His drive to a speaking engagement, some distance eastward was assured. The gentleman turned out to be a former councilman from the capital city of Ottawa, whose focus was on public transportation. He is also a poet, and in gratitude, he gave me a copy of his latest book of verse. So, it matters little whether one is prince of pauper. I will help anyone in need, to the best of my ability.

I drove on, through Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, stopping only in New Glasgow, to pick up a couple of items and here, the home of Magnetic Hill, to rest at a lovely Amsterdam inn & Suites.

Sunset Pioneers

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April 13, 2024- Last night, I pondered what role medication has played in my mother’s recent health woes. A friend here has had his medication adjusted, at his daughters’ insistence, and the barely cognizant soul, who had us all concerned , has resumed being his relatively feisty self. Apparently, Mom’s doctor had similar thoughts, and the resulting adjustments have made her a bit more like her old self.

This is good news for us all, and while we are not under any illusion, as to the long-term, being able to follow her instructions, that I not give short shrift to my obligations here, will be true to both her steadfast insistence over the years, that our word should be our bond and to my own sense of integrity. So long as her condition is stable, I will keep on with activities in Home Base I, both Baha’i and secular, and will head out across the continent, in the evening of April 28.

We are each pioneering our sunset years: Mom, my siblings, most of my cousins, surviving aunts, a good many of my friends, including my dearest, and yours truly. That means as many different things as there are of us. It means varying health challenges, of which thankfully I have very few, to date and which most have faced with a great deal of fortitude and resilience. I am proud of each one who has faced down aching joints, diabetes and macular degeneration, with corrective surgery, both natural and allopathic cures and a steady regimen of physical therapy. It means having a can-do spirit.

This most recent scare has reminded one and all that family comes first, then community and after that, the wider humanity. I stand firm on each of those counts. This pioneering life will continue in good stead.

Happy Places

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April 6, 2024- As I drove into the parking lot of Mayer Fire Department’s central station, a day-glo sign on a house above the road proclaimed “This is My Happy Place”. A similar notice, “Welcome to Our Happy Place”, greets visitors to the Wildflower Bakery, on the edge of Prescott’s Pine Ridge Marketplace. This led me to once more reflect on my own happy places.

The list starts with Home Base I, the cozy one-bedroom apartment where I’ve lived for the past ten years, and by extension includes Prescott as a whole. Within its confines, the city offers other happy places: Raven Cafe, Peregrine Book Store, Yavapai College’s Sculpture Garden, Wild Iris Coffee House, County Seat Restaurant, Prescott College,Lazy G Brewhouse (I stick to their Non-alcoholic IPA), Lifeways Book Store, any one of four Mom and Pop pizzerias, which I visit sparingly, these days and any one of several Baha’i and other friends’ homes. In the periphery are Zeke’s Eatin’ Place, Highlands Nature Center, Thumb Butte, Watson Lake and the Granite Dells, Willow and Goldwater Lakes, Dharma Farm and Granite Mountain.

Once outside HB I, there are the Happy Places on the road-and over the ocean: Samesun Hostel and Ocean Beach; Copper Sands Motel and Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument; Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery-and the San Francisco Peaks; Brewed Awakenings Coffee House and Grand Canyon’s South Rim; Jacob Lake Inn (coming back in June, my friends) and the North Rim; every last one of the First Nations Pueblos; any number of Orange County beach towns; Santa Fe, with The Pantry and Henry & The Fish; Taos; Cuba (NM) and Ghost Ranch; Manitou Springs; Monument Valley; Tucson’s Old Town; High Desert Bakery and Coronado National Monument.

There are the Baha’i House of Worship and Wilmette Village’s center; Mishawaka and the Crisenberry Family Farm, in nearby Goshen; all of Massachusetts’ North Shore-and downtown Boston; Boothbay Harbor, Green Acre Baha’i School- and the entire coast of Maine; Cape Breton Island; Newfoundland; Vancouver Island; Amarillo, with the Fun Zone and Palo Duro Canyon; Gram’s Place-and all of Tampa Bay; Tonopah and Beans & Brew; Carson City and the Tahoe Region; Portlandia; the Olympic Peninsula; Crossville and the Cumberland Plateau; Aiken and Full Moon Coffee House; Osceola Tiger and Big Cypress; Philly’s Old City, and the Museum of Art in Wood; the ‘burbs west of Philadelphia and Glick’s Greenhouse.

There are Vannes and Daily Gourmand, in Bretagne; Makati, and Manila’s Rizal Park; Daet’s Bagasbas Beach; Luxembourg’s Old City; Frankfurt-am-Main’s Dom; anywhere on Jeju-do; Busan’s Gold King Coffee House.

Happiness, though, is in the mind and heart. The people in the above-mentioned places are what make each of them special. A few would call themselves acquaintances, most would count me as a friend and one has my heart, as no other person save my late wife, Penny, had it. Each of them, and their surroundings, bring me solace. Their list will, no doubt, grow.

Each substitute teaching job that did at least one child or teen some good, each volunteer shift that produced some good, each errand of mercy to needful friends accomplished, each hike done safely and each trip that was not a waste of time is also a happy place.

I salute everyone who offers their home or business in like manner.

It All Happened

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April 5, 2024- Quite a deal, that New Jersey earthquake. It didn’t seem to bother any of my extended family, at least those on social media. It also didn’t seem to have inured anyone. Still, it was an earthquake, in New Jersey. What’s next? Snow in San Diego’s Gastown?

A lot happened here, also, but it was all related to making flight arrangements for autumn-and paying a huge bill for something else. The weather was rather wonky, so it didn’t bother me to stay in, most of the day and evening. I learned of another connection between my Baha’i friends and the local Red Cross team. A friend was helped and I got in a workout. Otherwise, it was me, my spirit guides and the keyboard.

As fulfilling as my full-on days are, I enjoy a day of relative solitude, now and then. So, even when it all happens, all at once or in short order, as long as there is a breather in there somewhere, I am good for another three or four decades-God willing.

As I write this, more snow is coming down. Maybe San Diego isn’t out of the woods yet.