Tag Archives: Hopi

The Great Platinum Circle

2
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

December 20, 2025, Clarendon, TX- I spent last night at the marvelous SouthWest Motel, in Grants, NM and am this evening at the equally lovely Western Skies Motel, in this northern anchor of the Northwest Passage. In both places, the reception has been warm and I sense little way stations are already being established, as they were in southern California, western Nevada and across the U.S. and Canada, over the past fourteen years.

I mused, whilst driving, about the awesome ambiance that encompasses the entirety of Arizona and New Mexico, as well as significant parts of California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Texas and a fair swath of northern Mexico. The commonality of these areas as that they lie within a Platinum Circle, of great natural majesty-the interplay of desert, mountains (Sky Islands, as well as the Rocky, Wasatch and Sierra Nevada ranges).

I have been greatly blessed to have spent so much of my adult life within this Circle and to have enjoyed so many of its wonders. So many visits: To the Grand Canyon, both North and South, as well as to the bottom of the Canyon, at Boat Beach and Supai; to the summit of Mount Humphreys, Arizona’s highest peak and up so many of the state’s other mountains- Camelback, Piestewa Peak, Mount Baldy, Harquehala Peak, Kendrick Peak, A1 Mountain, Mount Elden, Mount Union, Mingus, and Granite Mountain; to have been welcomed at Hopi, Navajo(Dineh) and Zuni ceremonies; to have floated out into Baia Cholla and made it back safely, to the raucous laughter, and inward relief, of onlooking Mexican fishermen; to have enjoyed so much heritage, mixed with natural beauty: Mesa Verde, Wupatki, Joshua Tree, Valley of Fire, Carlsbad Caverns, Aztec Ruins, Chimney Rock (both of them), virtually all of Sedona, Organ Pipe Cactus, Palo Duro Canyon, Black Canyon of the Gunnison (CO), Black Canyon National Recreation Trail (AZ), Santa Fe, Taos, San Diego Old Town, Tucson Old Pueblo, Pioche (NV), Ruby Mountains, Lake Lahontan, Great Salt Lake, Bryce Canyon, Arches, Capitol Reef, Natural Bridges, Lake Tahoe, Mono Lake, the beaches from San Diego to Santa Barbara. I have only scratched the surface with this list. There are easily two dozen others.

Prescott, though, has been amazing, both as a jumping-off place for so much, but also as a comfortable, welcoming Home Base. I have left there twice and returned, this last time for fourteen beautiful years. I recovered my equilibrium there, and because of that, feel confident in this next, unfolding chapter of my life.

As the Prairie becomes my new Home Base, let it be a Circle in its own right. I can already see that there is much to admire here-as there is in the Southwest-and in the Northeast, my original Home Base.

The Road to Diamond, Day 279: Heart Letter 1

2
Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

September 3, 2025, Keams Canyon- The hill we used to climb,and lay on blankets under the stars, is still alluring. It seems diminished somehow, though, with the campground having been taken up for house lots and a fenced in playground . The park is a nice idea for the Keams community, though.

I could have bushwhacked a bit and gone up the hill, just to reminisce about those first fleeting days of our acquaintance, which became an enduring, if sometimes harrowing, love story. It wasn’t far from this spot that your trailer sat, and where I camped out in the snow, the first time I visited you. It was all to keep up a sense of propriety, for your Hopi and Mormon neighbours. It was worth the hassle, though, and I felt akin to the small Dineh children who were traditionally thrown out in the snow, to toughen them up.

Tonight, though, there is no snow or cold, just a light rain. I am not sleeping outside, but in the comfort of some new friends’ apartment. We had a lovely dinner of cod fillets, cauliflower over rice and steamed avocado/cucumber salad. I gave them a set of books about the Hopi and one about Dineh. They are resuming the work we did in the ’80s and ’90s, and will take it to the next level.

Hopi will always be special, even if my time here is fleeting, and only occasional. The people have shared their wisdom with the world, and deserve all our support and understanding. You knew that, back then, when you sought to calm my peripatetic self and got me to devote weekends to attending ceremonial dances, instead of going off into mountains and canyons.

That, ironically, is why I am here tonight, absorbing the gentle spiritual energy that lies within these mesa lands, just prior to my embarking on journeys of homage and transition. Soon, our first grandchild will be joining the world. I will not be surprised if she looks up and smiles at a space where no earthly being can be seen. I will know that she is looking at you.

The Road to Diamond, Day 109: Cultural Markers

2
Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

March 17, 2025- I wore a teal-coloured shirt today. It was the closest I had to green, which many in the U.S. wear on St. Patrick’s Day, which is today. There is a plethora of chlorophyll about-green punch, green beer, even green eggs. No one wants green beef or chicken, of course, so red and white still colour our meats.

We honour a variety of cultural markers in the United States, a testimony to our status as a nation built by immigrants-some here since ancient times and others descended from those who have arrived since the establishment of a settlement in Pensacola, in what is now Florida, in 1559. We have evolved as a nation that has welcomed people from every other nation on Earth-as have several others in their turn: Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Mexico, South Africa, Argentina, Chile, Peru and so on.

In today’s world, one can go to virtually any nation and find people from just about any other country. There is no real homogeneity, in terms of “ethnic purity”. We are in a place of sharing, yet there is a curious notion, among some, that cultural markers belong only to those who claim ownership of that culture. There is a view that “cultural appropriation” takes place, whenever those outside a cultural group show too much interest or enjoyment of its markers.

No one wants to lose their identity, and this is hardly the point of cultural sharing. It is wise to note when anyone, either in or out of the cultural group, tries to turn its practices into a mere money-making venture or combine it with some sort of unicultural mish-mash. It is best to resist such ersatz practices. Culture is best seen as an expression of the heart, and further as a voice to the identity of a people.

I do have Irish ancestry, on both sides of my family. My father’s paternal grandmother was pure Irish. My mother’s paternal forebears migrated from Ireland to Germany, during the Hanseatic Era, then came to the United States in the early Nineteenth Century. I also have French, English, German and Penobscot Nation ancestry. Some cultural practices could flow authentically from me; others, not so easily.

I have spent much time among Dineh and Hopi people, as well as Koreans and Filipinos. I have enjoyed a great deal of these four cultures, especially food and the arts. I have subsumed little of the outward cultural markers of these peoples; that is not my place. I do, however, honour the deeper energy behind their cultures and have put the most honourable features of their heritage to use in my own service to mankind. For example, the tendency of Dineh or Hopi to listen, deeply, to someone, without jumping into an argument or engaging in one-upmanship, has stood me well, on a great many occasions. The fastidiousness of Koreans and the gentle patience of Filipinos have also imparted lessons to me, in my daily life.

Man has always been on the move, and encountering those with different ways of conducting daily life is the lot of us all. Cultural markers need not be a barrier between groups.

Erin go bragh!

The Light That Beckons

4
Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

August 5, 2024, Flagstaff- The ample supply of food, that I brought to the Soup Kitchen this evening, was distributed by the kitchen staff and the diners themselves, in short order. It always turns out that way. When there is a gathering on Saturday or Sunday, with lots of food left over, there is ever a place for it, on Monday evening. The unhoused can always divide it into portions for the week, and most of them have coolers, keeping the food safe from contamination. Some have access to hotplates that they can plug into their vehicles, or random locations that give grace to people who want to warm up their meals.

Much was made, in some circles, of the summer swoon that the global financial markets experienced, Thursday through today. I have learned to let the traders do their thing, and that the nest egg will recover, usually in short order. It’s best to do what I have to do, day to day, being frugal when necessary (which is much of the time) and being gracious to the people in my heart, whenever possible.

Today started with a short hike, truncated by the presence of mosquitos and by our respective schedules. The heat was not a factor, as early morning sprinkles and cloud cover kept things mild. Fain Park is fairly muddy in spots, but has some interesting connections between neighbourhoods, a pleasant fishing pond and a display of mining equipment from the 1900s-30s. One can get a good workout there, with a proper time allotment.

The Light of the Divine beckoned me all day, and after the hike, I headed to a coffee group, enjoying the company of the group of seniors who gather each Monday, to kibbitz and weigh in on affairs, local and global, large and small. From there, I checked in with the crew at Wildflower, for a late breakfast. All is well in that “Happy Place”, to which all are welcome. Back at Home Base, I got as good a set of directions as can be expected, to two places where I will make stops tomorrow: Gravesites of two long-time friends, whose funerals found me elsewhere, and so still deserve honour and gratitude for all the friendship and advice they gave, over four decades.

This evening, after my soup kitchen duties were done, a drive to Bellemont let me drop off a couple of items for the good of the order, and ascertain that all is well on the property. No animals being encountered, I was a half hour, there and out.

Thus do I find myself at Relax Inn, in the midst of Old Route 66, reveling in the fading light, writing a message to my most beloved on Earth and showing grace to the Internet that keeps going on and off. (Such is the way, in days of monsoon activity.) The light of the four sacred peaks beckons, for the next few days, so I will rest well tonight.

Tonalea

2
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

March 27, 2024- “You don’t need to leave a tip. We didn’t really DO anything.” The cashier thus made her appeal to the dignity of one and all, as I paid for a couple bags of freshly ground coffee. I thought how refreshingly decent this woman is, and how sentiments like hers give the lie to the notion that Gen Z is collectively self-centered and always has its generational hand out. (The Greatest Generation, once upon a time, expressed similar sentiments about us then-youthful Boomers, but I digress.)

One of the bags was going to the old friend I was en route to visit, and to his family. C lost his wife of 40 + years, a few months back, and so I was heading up to Tonalea, to offer condolences and emotional support. The community’s name in the Dineh (Navajo) language, means, essentially, Red Lake. There is, in years of heavy winter and spring precipitation, an actual lake, off U.S. Hwy/160, on the community’s north side. This year, I saw no lake.

It was a smooth ride from Prescott to Flagstaff, where I bought the coffee from Macy’s European Coffee House and Bakery, owned by another old friend. Traffic in and around Northern Arizona University reminds me a bit of Manila-everyone is doing their own thing, and gridlock is not altogether a rarity. My upbringing helps me transcend that, as a motorist here and as a pedestrian in my second favourite big city (after San Diego). Looking out for others makes for a longer journey, but for better self-esteem, at day’s end.

Driving from Flagstaff to Tonalea was even smoother. Dineh and Hopi people are quite orderly and civil, in their driving habits, and the area is sparsely polulated, to boot. As the two Elephant’s Feet (grey sandstone rock formations) looked on, from across the highway, I turned on the graded dirt road that winds around, towards Black Mesa, and reached C’s homestead, five miles inward. There he stood, as I arrived, at about the same time as planned.

C reminisced about his wedded life and what had led to his wife’s passing. Her suffering, it seemed, was mercifully short. We then talked of the connection between those of us in the flesh and our departed loved ones. Years ago, as Penny and I lay together, she told me she had seen my Penobscot ancestors standing over me, as I slept. I was not surprised by that. The ties that departed souls have to this world are very, very strong. Everything that has happened to me, both the serendipitous events that have transpired and my protection from malevolent forces, over the past thirteen years, or even before, has been due to those who have gone before me, and who make up a bulwark of energy that lets me do the bidding of the Divine.

After a two-hour visit, and my reassuring him that all will be well, even with the swirling changes that seem to bother him so, it was time for C to get back to tending to his family, working on his fences, and keeping livestock from eating his trees. It was also time for me to head back to Prescott, with a “halfway stop” at My Pita Wrap, a small Mediterranean restaurant on Flagstaff’s main drag. Going back up to Dinehtah, with its otherworldly rocks, grounded people and mystical energy, is always a reset for my own personal energy.

Inextinguishable

2
Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

December 15, 2023- ”I told the truth, I didn’t come to fool ya“- Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah

The young boy, who I hadn’t seen in over a year, came up to me at the end of the school day, and with quiet confidence that I don’t recall him having, a year ago, asked if I remembered him. I did, and by name as well as countenance, though he said his name, for good measure. This has happened repeatedly, especially the past few years, as teenagers who studied under me as children, come up, remind me of who they are and recount their memories of elementary school, or middle school. Their stories are fresh in my mind, as well.

Going back further, I have met some of the people I knew as children, in Hopi and Dineh, now in their thirties and forties, over the past five or ten years. One, who recently passed on, after a long illness, was man of great integrity, in addition to being a talented artist, producing colourful and detailed prints, even whilst bedridden. Each of them, even after enduring unbelievable heartbreak and personal setbacks, one after another, have kept the flames of hope and of love for family alive, in their inextinguishable hearts. These are the true heroes in my life.

This notion may be extended now, across the Pacific Ocean, to the friends I met in October. Each of them has also experienced more heartache and loss in a month, at some point in their lives, than I have endured in a decade. Yet, they still go forward, and largely in acts of service to others. Their spirits, too, are inextinguishable.

I am ever grateful to the Divine, and to my spirit guides, for all those who have come my way, and for those yet to appear.

Touching Bases

6
Posted by on in collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

December 18, 2021- I frequently refer to Prescott, AZ, where I live, as Home Base. There are several other “bases” that mean the world to me: Grapevine, TX, where my son and daughter-in-law live; Dineh Bikeya (Navajo land) and Hopi, where I came of age, spiritually; Flagstaff, where I was “birthed” (my term) as a Baha’i; Saugus, MA, where I learned basic life lessons; Arlington, VA, where I learned intermediate life lessons; Rouen, FR, from whence several of my paternal ancestors came and Jeju, Korea, where I learned patience, fortitude and the right way to face adversaries.

There are whole regions where I feel at home- virtually all of Arizona; northern New Mexico; southern and central Colorado; northwest Nevada; coastal California; the entirety of Oregon and Washington; southeast Alaska; the western and eastern areas of Canada; New England and the Appalachian Crest. Then, too, there is no place where I’ve been that seems truly foreign or hostile. In that sense, Mother Earth is a Base unto herself.

So, as this calendar year fades, slowly but surely, I feel a deeper connectedness with each of the elements that make life not only possible, but meaningful: Air, water, fire and mineral, on the physical side; Reverence, emotion, intellect, curiosity and proactivity, on the spiritual side. A great spiritual plan is in process, from the Universal House of Justice, and spanning nine years (2022-2031). With that, my own bases will become both deeper and more numerous.

May the coming Solstice, Christmas and Kwanzaa be fruitful and fulfilling to all who cherish them.

Evolution

2
Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

December 5, 2021- There was a lot of sameness about today: Breakfast at Post 6, the Sunday paper, and getting the laundry done, for another week. That set me to thinking, though, about what has changed, over the years, in a “then” and “now” fashion.

Then, I knew only people who looked, more or less, like me. I had little sense of how people of different backgrounds, who lived in other places, really thought, felt and acted. There was always a curiosity, though, and while interacting with people of other backgrounds, as I grew into manhood, was sometimes tough, we made it through to the other side as friends.

Now, I am blessed with so many people I love, our respective backgrounds, beliefs and affiliations mattering little.

Then, I knew the small area of Saugus and the surrounding towns and cities. Up north was New Hampshire, where we went on the first part , if not the entirety of every vacation. Down south was Cape Cod, which saw the second part of vacation, when times were good. Places like Providence, Rhode Island and Stamford, Connecticut were rare to our family itinerary, as was Martha’s Vineyard. Now, I have seen parts of all fifty states, have lived near, and walked all over, our nation’s capital. I have lived in Maine, during one of the worst blizzards that New England experienced during the late ’70s. My home, from 1978-86 and again, since 1992, has been Arizona. It was here, in the Southwest, that I met my darling wife, found my true Faith, and came to grips with the state of mind that set me apart from others, for so long.

There have been other places that made me grow. Jeju, Korea taught me the value of looking at life, through other cultural viewpoints. It was there that a son came into our lives, and where he would be hard-wired to seek his own helpmate, thirty years later. Life among Dineh and Hopi further expanded my sense of looking at the world through different lenses. Travels to places like Israel, the West Bank, Guyana, Taiwan, England, France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Germany showed me, time and again, how much we can all learn from one another.

There was a time when I was of a warrior mindset. People abroad could only be saved by us mighty Americans. Then, I went to Vietnam, and found out differently. There was a time when I was of a very exclusive mindset. It was best for others to assimilate into mainstream American culture. Meeting people who are Black, Brown, Indigenous to this continent, East Asians, speaking Spanish, Navajo, Apache, Korean, Mandarin, Creole and yet, going about their lives in ways that taught me volumes, and showed how much assimilation is a myth. There was a time when I had little use for homosexuals. Then, I kept meeting people whose sexual orientation differed from my own, and found they are, in many other ways, the same as I am. Then, too, I saw how some friends underwent the hard process of gender reassignment, and I saw just how these steadfast and forthright friends of mine, one of whom was my rock, when I was at the low point in the grieving process, struggle in very fundamental ways, with aspects of life that those of us who are straight and cisgender handle in de rigeur fashion. I see that no one is pressuring me to adapt to a lifestyle to which I have no attraction; nor should I exert pressure on those who are not drawn to mine.

There remains one “blind spot” of sorts: Grifters, beggars, takers.. Is it true that, being “kind to all who cross my path”, and “if someone asks for your coat, give him your trousers, as well”, should be taken at face value? I am generous in prosperity, and yet, I do not see that having limits to largesse, lest I become a ward of others, means that I lack trust in the Creator. The Prophet Muhammad spoke, “Trust in God, but tie your camel.” I have been homeless, albeit briefly. I have been destitute, also for a very short time. The key to rising out of penury has always lain in being proactive, open-minded and resilient.

Thus have I evolved.

Penny Said….

2
Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, Family, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving

October 22, 2021- I looked up a student, from long ago, and she had some searing things to say, on her social media page. All of it is true-and is unfortunate. We ignore these messages, to our peril. She was one of Penny’s favourite people, and I link her messages to what my dearly beloved wife told me, when we first met, forty-one years ago in December.

Penny said, “Hit me, just once, and we’re done.” I wouldn’t have hit her, anyway, but the message stayed in my heart.

Penny said, “Cheat on me, just once, and I’m gone.” I wouldn’t have cheated on her, anyway, but the message took.

Penny said, “Go and get those girls, and bring them home to their parents.” She did not have to say it twice. I got in my car, found the girls and brought them home, where they belonged. No Native child disappeared on my watch.

“N” said, “Treat all children like they are your children.” This was in reference to the hundreds, nay thousands, of Native women and girls, gone missing and unaccounted.

“N” said, “Where is the concern for all my missing sisters?” It is a continental disgrace, the epidemic loss of sheer human talent that is in a state of limbo, or loss, or suspended animation-maybe just left to rot, by others who took their own lack of self-worth out on women, girls-and male humans, cutting their lives short, then just walking back into the community, as if nothing has ever happened.

The case of Gabby Petito has brought renewed attention to the missing Indigenous women-and countless other people of colour whose fate is unknown. Ms. Petito’s family has it right: Every missing person, every abused soul, deserves the same energy and attention that has been directed towards justice for their daughter and cousin. Her likely abductor is himself dead. Other perpetrators are living in shame.

What of a young man, whom I knew as a boy, and who has been missing for over a year? What of the three dozen or so Dineh teenaged girls, whose posters one may see in any trading post, convenience store, post office or truck stop on the Navajo and Hopi Nations, or in any border community? What of Latinas, missing from even the smallest barrios, across Arizona and New Mexico?

I know that every child matters. That is precisely why it’s imperative to listen, when a fierce woman like N, or J, or T-or my ferocious late wife, comes forward, puts up a straight-ahead message: “PAY SOME *#@!! ATTENTION!” I would have paid attention, anyway-but the work still lies ahead.

If you see, or hear, something, say something. Better yet, DO SOMETHING!

The Year of Living Furtively

2
Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

December 31, 2020-

Some of the hardest losses of this voracious year were two of the last. It pains me, especially, when two people who are meant to be together are separated by death, however temporarily. Perhaps because I know, so well, how it feels. I know the self-doubts, the second guessing, the “if only” moments that dog the surviving spouse. I also know that the way to resilience, for the one left behind, is to embrace that which makes one special, as an individual, with double the intensity.

I learned, only this afternoon, of the passing of one half of such a pair. Jeff had struggled with his cancer, constantly surrounded, enveloped with the love that only his indomitable wife and daughters could offer. Others among us tried to help, some offering respite care; some, like myself, offering remedies and a listening ear for our friends, whose shop has become such a vibrant gathering place, in a town that is still in the throes of becoming a community.

Thirty-six friends and family members, ranging in age from 21 to 100, have passed to the next realm, in this year of living furtively, Some were fixtures of my childhood; others, I had the pleasure of knowing for only a few years. Some, I only met once or twice, but the empath in me let them make an indelible impression. That impression will last long. It comes with the nature of my beast.

It is now 6:15 p.m. , and it is still twilight. Solstice being past for over a week, daylight lengthens a smidgen at a time. That is fitting; this year has seemed at times to be made of a darkness that is interminable. Coronavirusdisease 2019 has dominated much of the time and energy of the vast majority of people across the globe. Most of us have not been stricken with the ailment, but far too many others have. Those who have not actually contracted it, have been suspect of such-every time we sneeze, or emit a wet cough, into the crook of our elbow, or appear somewhere without a face mask. All but four of those friends and family, to whom I alluded above, died of COVID-related factors-especially pneumonia.

Dealing with the pandemic became complicated, with racial incidents, some of which were exacerbated by crimes of ignorance and by people continuing to talk past one another. Demonstrations muddied the water of our national response to the pandemic, especially in light of bans on gatherings for worship or for bidding loved ones farewell. Too many of those loved ones died alone, after having spent their last days and months in solitude. Demonstrations were, in most cases, necessary to the public weal. So, too, however, were gatherings of worship, so deeply-rooted in the American psyche-and not just in Christian communities. Dineh and Hopi friends missed their traditional ceremonial gatherings. We Baha’is also have made do with virtual connection.

The two demonstrations upon which I happened, featured participants who were uniformly masked-even among counterprotestors. The two church-based memorial services I attended featured physical distancing and/or uniform face masking. In these instances, subsequent infection was either minimal or nonexistent. Needless to say, I have exercised extreme caution when out of Home Base, since having had bronchitis (non-COVID), in mid-February.

My usual taking to the open road took a back seat, for the most part, in 2020. There were two deployments with the Red Cross, to Louisiana and Dallas. Another journey took me back to the Dallas area, for Thanksgiving and my 70th Birthday, with care taken in airports and elsewhere, to not become part of the problem. The joy of just being with my small family unit was worth the trip, as was the drive to Phoenix, three weeks later, for a mini-visit.

Equally salubrious, however, has been the use of technology, in connecting with my Faith community, with the Red Cross community and with wider spiritual gatherings. I have learned much and shared much. This aspect of technology can only serve to enhance our direct physical encounters, post-pandemic. I know that I need not be isolated from those in this community, when further afield again, towards summer and autumn of the coming year.

Finally, in reaching seventy, I reached full social security, and look at the culmination of my teaching career. Five days a week, out of personal necessity, is in my rear view mirror. Work in the coming Spring semester, will be in view of service to the schools and more discretionary, in terms of schedule.

This year, now grumbling to a close, has accented the small-How needful it is to revitalize memory, when it comes to the humble password or the most routine of courtesies! How crucial it is, to rekindle acceptance of differences, reminding ourselves how dull it would be for everyone to be forced into the same train of thought or the same world view. Exclusivity, as much as its proponents tell themselves it is necessary, is a dead end.

Let not one’s conservatism, or progressivism, lead to that dead end. Let 2020 be what comes to an end, without one’s viewpoint joining it.