The Road to Diamond, Day 297: Clear, with Still A Chance of Meatballs*

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September 20, 2025, Nynashamn- The ferry here from Visby left bright and early. I was the first one to order breakfast on board, and chose Swedish meatballs, which were served along with a bed of beet salad on French bread. It was a cold plate, but that was okay. I am used to cold meats in warm or mild weather, and it was not cold at all on the way to the ship.

I arrived in Nynashamn at 10:30 and made my way quickly to the train, which brought me to my friends’ house. I received a hero’s welcome from the kids and warm greeting from their parents. It was easy to hang out there until mid-afternoon, watching a K-Pop video that actually had a nice life lesson for the kids-and for the rest of us: “Rather than try to hide our flaws, gear ourselves to recognize them and work to transcend them. Hiding them just opens the door for manipulation by others.”

I went back to briefly get checked into First Camp, for a short rest, then returned to my friends’ place for a delightful dinner of….Swedish meatballs. This time, though, they were hot, with flavourful gravy and boiled potatoes. I can never get too much ground meat-so this was a welcome turn of events.

*The day reminded me of a children’s story,”Cloudy, With a Chance of Meatballs”, by Judi Barrett. It, too, offers a message: “Change, even drastic change, is not the end of the world.” I have experienced both having to recognize and work on my flaws-and to embrace change and build a new way of life.” There is also a use for sameness and routine, especially for toddlers, so I bid my friends good night, after dinner, and made plans to see them tomorrow.

The Road to Diamond, Day 214: Proactive

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June 30,2025- A year ago, I was sitting aside the woman who gave me life, as she took her last breath. The moment was a bookend. She had worked very hard to make sure that I survived a rough birth, and that I overcame many obstacles, some self-imposed, in order to at least enjoy a long and fairly well-lived life. Her overriding instructions were “Don’t take yourself too seriously” and “Stay ahead of the game”. Mom’s approval mattered far more than either of us sometimes realized, and the struggles I had with self and others, over the year, largely were brought to a close when I reverted to what she had tried to instill, so often and so selflessly, over the decades.

I can never think of a time when her rejoinder “Poor baby” was callous or misplaced. A child of the Depression, who lost her father to cancer in its midst, and saw her four oldest brothers off to war, in the 1940s, and her younger brother as well, in the Korean conflict, was nonetheless shaken when I headed off to VietNam, for what was a mercifully non-troubling ten months of rear echelon duty. She was a paragon of persistence.

In a generally love-filled marriage, that lasted 37 years, she would often find herself facing her fears about her youngest son, alone. It took some constant communication to get her loved ones to understand just how much she wanted for the little boy, who became a disabled man. We each grew into compassionate adults, who would ourselves fight for the well-being of the least among us-and who would give anything for our children and, in my siblings’ cases, grandchildren. I know the latter now, anticipating a grandchild’s birth with a heart that is bursting with love.

Mom is now with so many of the souls she loved, and is looking out for the rest of us. I can count several times, in the past year, when there has been that one extra push to get me over the threshold. It has made some rather tall orders shrink down to hurdle level.

I only hope I have continued to make her proud. God knows, a reciprocal pride has welled in me, for as long as I can remember.

The Fighter Still Remains

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March 22, 2024- Dad would have been 97 today. So, I spent a fair amount of time remembering what he taught me, of life, survival and responsibility. He himself was not a physically rough man, and discouraged any such behaviour in his four sons. He was a traditionalist, with regard to Mom working outside the home, but never stood in her way, when it came to her running a hairdressing and cosmetology practice, with the kitchen as her shop. He also let her handle the household budget, while in his own right, he was sensibly frugal. He taught us to figure out what the unit value of what we were selling was-whether it was the family newspaper route, which I had for two years and passed on to my middle brother, and he to brother # 3, or retail offerings. He showed us three oldest boys, and our sister, how to change a tire and change the motor oil and filter. I also watched as he gapped spark plugs. When the horn beeped, on a Thursday evening, all hands were on deck, going out to carry the groceries into the house, and we helped Mom put them away.

He also taught me to stand my ground; again, not violently, but with resolve. It is that on which I have drawn, in a variety of situations, over the past five decades-more effectively some times than on other occasions, but as consistently as I knew how, at the given time. It’s easier now, though the challenges are more nuanced, slightly more muddled, than in my earlier life. As I have branched out, and traveled both domestically and internationally, people have, on occasion, pushed the boundaries of my dignity and worth. At other times, the fight has been within myself, and has required more focus, more resolve.

Looking back, I was not the greatest of fathers, in my own right, but I did offer my son the basics in how to value work, treat others fairly and to take pride in self. I could have been a better husband, but I never strayed and took care of Penny, in her time of infirmity. In her prime, I honoured and valued her as a full partner, a strong, productive human being in her own right. My filial devotion could have been more strongly expressed, even while Mom has been, and is, fiercely independent. I would be at her side in short order, though, if the call came, even if I am 24-hours away at the time it comes. My treatment of friends and family could be better, yet they know I am loyal and that I cherish their dignity and worth-and, from the woman I love most, to the most casual in my friendship circle, value their achievements.

Above all, when it is a matter of their safety, survival and basic well-being, I will stand with any of them-and all of them. No one messes with my circle. Not unlike the character in Paul Simon’s song, the fighter still remains.

Rising, and Being Raised

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May 13, 2023- The objections offered by the woman sitting in the next room, to the Disney versions of classical children’s stories, which her child, grandchildren-and yours truly were watching, were cogent and well-taken. A woman does not need a dashing man of means to swoop in and solve her problems. A human being does not need another, more “superior” human being to decide how life’s difficulties may be overcome.

Those problems and difficulties are best solved by the person facing them, though they are NOT always to be resolved by one soul, singly and alone. There are reasons why we have issues to overcome and there are reasons why we encounter the people we do, including the parents, children, siblings, friends and adversaries in our lives. Each person has something of value to impart, even if it comes in the form of a challenge or setback.

A couple of times today, I found myself admonishing the little boy in the house I was visiting-a place where I am regarded as a brother and as an uncle. His well-being, and that of his sister and cousins, is of great importance to me. So, I speak up, sharply when needed, and calmly the rest of the time. My lesson, though, was to remind myself that his understanding of life is limited-he’s only f our years of age, and controlling impulsivity is a work in progress. Still, keeping the little one safe from physical harm is a duty of every person older than he. Guiding him to not harm others is also a major concern.

There is a further consideration here. Each of us, in addition to (hopefully) raising the young people around us, is also raising self. Parents and nearby adults (again, hopefully) do the best they know how in raising us. The job is not complete, however, when one reaches the age of 18, 21 or 25. Most of the heavy lifting, from those milestones of maturity onward, falls to the individual soul. We can, many times, consult our elders on a continuing basis, but the final choice is our own.

I learn something new about my remaining challenges, both ongoing and novel, each and every day. How I deal with them, what I choose to do, is not on anyone else. I’ve never been Prince Charming, and have never known a Fairy Godmother, or a Sleeping Beauty. The joys and sorrows that have come from each of the friendships and familial ties I have known, though, are more than enough to inform what I need to do, going forward.

If I can offer the same to the children in my life, that is all that is needed.

Lesson Nine

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December 27, 2022- Seemingly everywhere, and handling five tasks at once-one for each finger of her hand-so to speak, the head barista caught me signaling out of the corner of her eye, saw the half- sandwich on my plate and went in the back for a take-out box. She then swept back into the ellipse, and put the box down in front of me, while directing her attention to the couple next to me, who were initially enjoying expensive drinks, but had decided they wanted what I had to eat. ‘E’ had been at work since 11 a.m. and it was now 6:30. Her boss, the restaurant manager, and her assistant barista, a slightly younger woman, were doing the best they could to keep up-but ‘E’ is a force of nature. Petite, brainy, proactive, highly energetic and absolutely gorgeous, she can name her ticket-and I would venture that by time she is 25, she will be her own boss.

”E’ is, inadvertently, one of my life teachers. The lesson she has imparted, seared into my consciousness, is to reiterate that a strong woman, a strong human, needs no initial help from anyone, in reaching for the stars. The ladder is something she will devise herself, as is the team she is building and will continue to build. I have seen, and known, several people like her, over the years. Some have imploded, due to a latent inflexibility in the face of misfortune. Others have gone on and hit the heights. Time will tell into which category ‘E’ falls-but she is both gregarious and stone-faced practical, by turns. I sense she will face whatever comes along, with aplomb.

This is the ninth life lesson, along with several sub-lessons, that living on Earth has brought. The others:

  1. I am part of a family and cannot exist just for myself.
  2. Deciding to just up and walk away from home has its consequences.
  3. It is one thing to have an unusual personality and quite another to use it as an excuse.
  4. Self-loathing is a false modus vivendi. God created no junk.
  5. All the crap I absorbed in my community about People of Colour, and about women, is just that-BS.
  6. No matter how bad a situation is, walking through it will lead to greater strength and a place of peace.
  7. Every person on Earth has a place of truth in the heart. If someone hides their truth, it is on them.
  8. There is but one race: The human race.
  9. Every person on the planet, regardless of age, is capable of wondrous things-even singly and alone.

So often, just watching how people handle their lives is an object lesson in how I might deal with challenges in mine. I am grateful for all the people who have imparted life lessons.

Thirty-Nine, and Counting

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September 10, 2021- When I called Mom this afternoon, as it is her birthday, she asked me if I knew how old she was. Having seen a photo of the cake, on which the number 39 was placed, I answered appropriately. Her voice brightened further, and she said “Good boy! I can’t lie, though, I’m 93.”

She said her health is good, and I assured her mine is the same. She has made friends at her new residence, which I am sure accounts for her renewed good spirits, and good health. Having raised us to share, she will do the same with the yogurt-covered strawberries I sent with her flowers.

The best of parents convey life lessons, and she did plenty of that, over the years. Sharing was one of the first-and even my severely autistic youngest brother offered of his food and playthings to us siblings. Meanness was swiftly discouraged, and loving kindness instilled, in each of us. Loyalty and protection of one another has extended, over the years, to the next generations and to those around us. Responsibility has also been a binding expectation, and if one of us got self into difficulty, any money sent was to be paid back-either directly or to the next person who was in a bind.

Mom looks forward to the years ahead, and I applaud her for maintaining the same outlook on life that has gotten us where we need to be. I wish her many more.

The River Flows On

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May 3, 2021- Many times in our lives, there is a welcoming lull-a flow of sameness that seems like it could go on forever. Some of that sameness provides the essence from which a person’s life experiences flow. When the sameness comes to an end, or changes locus, those whose lives sprang from it must be mindful that it is merely a turning point- and it has taken nothing away from them, unless they choose to give it up.

There will, very shortly, be a change in the course of the river from which I sprang. For the foreseeable future, that river will continue to flow, even with that course being altered. I can’t be a whole lot more specific than this, right now. but the second part of May will most likely find me on an unexpected road trip, which will be carefully choreographed, so as to meet prior virtual commitments I’ve made for this month.

I will get more specific, as I become more at liberty to share the situation.

Anime Lessons

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February 8, 2021-

My special assignment, of last week and the present one, has given me continued observance of what matters to high schoolers, especially in the area of graphic arts. Several of the students are talented sketch artists and cartoonists. One of the springboards for developing this talent is the popularity of the Japanese graphic medium called anime (AN-ih-may).

Anime is also valuable for the considered life lessons it offers, with myriad examples of both positive and negative life choices, presented in a manner that is attractive to teenagers. There is an atmosphere of group decision-making, with interludes of individual soul searching.

In the four episodes presented during the course of today’s classes, a young boy wrestles with his guilt and desire to make amends, for a series of events that he regards as his own fault, whilst his friends and sister refuse to let him face matters alone. An older man shows that patience and perseverence, in his time of imprisonment, result in his maintaining a robust physique, while his jailers ignore him as a worthless, spent being. An egotistical village leader learns that mocking his suffering village’s benefactors does him no good, in overcoming an invading force of militaristic industrialists. Only cooperation with the group of helpers rids the community of the bombastic invaders, and humbles the elder. Humility is also the theme of a vain sword master’s comeuppance, at the hands of a his seemingly inept pupil.

These character issues were well-conveyed by the lead teacher, and duly noted by the students. Anime is not a replacement for academic rigor, but it certainly does set young people to pondering about what matters.

A Pair of Visions

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January 21, 2021-

It’s my wont to lie down for a mid-afternoon nap, especially after working since early morning. Just before drifting off, this afternoon, a story I had heard early this morning, on BBC World News, came into my consciousness again. A rural Texan, speaking with a BBC correspondent, had, after a bit of hubris and expression of a desire for his state to become its own nation, showed his visitor a light cannon he had on his property. Loading the cannon, he then lit the fuse and, as the small gathering in his yard looked on, dry brush in his yard and his neighbour’s yard caught fire. The blaze was extinguished with a pair of garden hoses, but left the militia man feeling it just wasn’t his week.

I had a vision, recalling that story, of a tornado sweeping the area in question, and of relief coming to the disgruntled area residents, from the very same Federal government they presently regard as illegitimate. I wish disaster on no one, yet have the knowledge that misfortune is frequently, nay almost always, the bearer of a life lesson, which the learner’s soul needs, in order to get past a block that is preventing the realization of one’s true self. Time will tell.

About an hour ago, whilst listening to a replay of Cosmic Guide Elizabeth Peru’s weekly live broadcast, I heard her mention that one of our foci, this coming week, is to contemplate “What is Your Vision?” That vision thing, again-though it is constantly calling my head into alignment with my heart. I closed my eyes, and the image I saw was my young spirit self looking out over a lush, terraced hillside-which may have been Tuscany (the first word that popped into my head), or Cape Province, South Africa; Napa County, California; northern Luzon, Philippines; the Western Ghats of India-indeed anywhere with misty mornings and a somewhat “Mediterranean” climate, or at least lush, terraced hillsides.

My tendency, as regards my Home Base, has been a bit on the complacent side, of late, and though I know the current national and global state of affairs requires this, there is also a level of comfort I feel here. The trick has been, and will be, to internalize that comfort level, to no matter where I happen to be called. I felt that, late last year, when visiting the prairie of north central Texas (albeit being with family), and even when on the overnight walkabout in a remote area east of here, earlier this month, there was a degree of comfort and surety that stayed with me. I was, somehow, among friends- cattle, coyotes, an intrepid wolf spider that was braving the cold, under a juniper tree-none of them directed anything but caution towards me.

There are some indicators of a more fluid life, come May. I was recently blessed with a backpack that will serve as a one-size-takes-all travel bag, thus eliminating two of my customary luggage items. A routine medical appointment has been scheduled for early May, rather than it usual late-month date. COVID will be the ultimate determinant, of course, yet the vision I had this evening likely counts for something.

It will be, in the meantime, a fascinating rest of winter and early spring.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 9: And It’s Still So

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June 9, 2020-

I have had more energy, in the past three months, than in the previous ten years. It is likely a combination of things: Essential oil-based supplements, better sleep, being more present in the moment, paying more attention to celestial connections. COVID19 restrictions have kept me mostly around Home Base, but my activity levels have not dropped, appreciably.

Just a few other thoughts, about what I was taught as a kid, and how it has never mattered more than now.

I was taught to look beyond a person’s outer frame-and focus on his/her character.

I was taught that every person matters, ESPECIALLY if other people treat that person as if (s)he doesn’t.

I was taught to be kind to animals, and how much more to other people.

I was taught to stand up to bullies, try to understand their deeper message, make any changes in my behaviour that are warranted and accept a former adversary as a friend, once the tormenting behaviour has been outgrown.

I was taught to honour other people’s lifestyles and traditions, but not encourage those things that demean other people.

I was taught to respect my elders, but not to abide their foolishness.

I was taught to plan ahead.

Most of all, I was taught to love, unconditionally.

Had I not been taught these things, and held them close, I would not be alive today.