Moving Parts, in the Land of Lincoln

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February 12, 2024- Lincoln’s Tomb is closed on Mondays. That gives the spirit of the nation’s 16th President a break from the mostly reverent, but sometimes excited visitors, to the extent that spirits need a break from mortals. Today was a day, for those who do such things, to recite the Gettysburg Address. Time was, when memorizing that speech was required in school. For some reason, that went away, before I got to the grades where it was in the curriculum. My late godmother, and eldest maternal aunt, taught me what she remembered:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.“ 

The middle of the speech was missing from her remembrance. One reason might be that her father, a native of St. Louis, who had moved to Saugus, MA to raise his family, was quite opinionated against anything Southern. So, it fell to me to later learn that missing part: ”Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.“ 

Papa, from what I heard, felt that the two-tiered system that was segregation had made of the Black man a dissolute and shiftless burden. He remonstrated with men of colour whom he encountered, to quit standing around and follow him into work. He blamed everything on the Jim Crow laws, but thought the Blacks should stand up for themselves-and not seek handouts. I wonder what he’d have made of the Civil Rights movement, had he lived to old age. (He died in 1935, at age 53). 

Abraham Lincoln was well-regarded, by both sides of my family. In 1979, I visited his boyhood home, in Knob Creek, KY. In 1997, the three of us, Penny, Aram and I, saw what was free of the National Historic Site dedicated to him, in Springfield, IL. In 2011, I went back to Springfield and visited the National Historic Site, and New Salem State Park,, more extensively. The Tomb, though, was closed that day.

We have, as a nation, gone through several spurts of revisionist thinking, in which Lincoln’s flaws have been advanced by some, as a reason to topple him from the pedestal. He made a grave error, in sanctioning the execution of 30 Dakota men, in Mankato, MN-as the Civil War was at its zenith. He may have been influenced by lingering memories of his time in the Army, during the Black Hawk War of 1832. That would be ironic, though, as the Dakota people supported the United States, in its dispute with the Sauk. It is true that he reduced the number of people to be executed, commuting the sentences of over 60 people, but the thirty who were killed constitute the largest number ever put to death in the United States, by Presidential fiat, outside of a declared war.

It is also true that Lincoln once expressed the view that an enslaved Black person was legally 3/5 of a white man. He wrestled with that, especially after meeting and holding conversation, at length, with Frederick Douglass, a freed slave who had made good of his life. Ultimately, as we see, he determined that freeing enslaved people, first and foremost in the Confederate States, and a bit later, in the border states that were still loyal to the Union, was both the moral and the practical economic right thing. He lived to see the first, but the second occurred not long after his assassination.

I thought of both my maternal grandfather, and Mr. Lincoln, while contemplating the movement of people across national boundaries. There is, no doubt, an order to be followed, in admitting people to a nation. The common people who already live in the country need to feel that their needs are not being sacrificed for the sake of newcomers-and yet, those newcomers should not have their needs sacrificed for the comfort of the wealthy or of large corporations. This is as true of the United States as it is of any European nation, of Japan, of Canada, or of Australia, to say nothing of emerging economies.

It is, in fact, most important to help those economies to continue to emerge, if a real solution is to be found to the mass migration issue. Most people I’ve met, over the years, in countries like Mexico, Guyana, the West Bank and the Philippines, want to stay where they were raised, where their roots are-just as people in developed nations do. Most who move are fleeing lack of opportunity or lack of safety. So, the true solution, as my grandfather would probably have said, is to provide meaningful work and a safe environment, in every part of the world. THAT, rather than investment in guns, bombs and deadly chemicals, would serve to reduce the numbers of people on the move from country to country. There is much to be done, and it will likely far outlast my lifetime, but it is worth starting the process.   

Yes, It Matters

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April 22,2020-

In the midst of confusion,

in the heart of despair,

I hear you say

“This nonsense about all lives matter

is not how we live”.

You spoke differently,

apparently indifferently,

when others said

“Black Lives Matter”.

Then, you said,

ALL lives Matter!!”

Friend, life matters.

It matters, because

God gave it to all

His creatures.

It matters, because

each form of life

has purpose.

Each form of life

serves its Creator.

Humans, without respect

to colour, gender, status,

stature, age,

level of cognition,

level of hormonal balance,

progress on the Spiritual Path,

progress on the path of knowledge,

progress on the path of gestation,

are the highest form of material being,

ever to live on Planet Earth.

It is always wrong for individuals

to kill one another,

whether in the name of vengeance,

or in the name of fear,

or in the name of science.

It is always wrong for individuals

to diminish one another,

whether in the name of superiority,

or in the name of  possession,

or in the name of  revulsion.

Killing, diminution,

are the province of God,

for only He knows the hearts

of His children.

Only He has complete

knowledge of True Justice.

There was a time

when my maternal grandfather,

in the heat of frustration,

threw up his hands

and said he was through

with anyone who was

spending their days

lazing about.

Papa was no teacher

or counselor,

though he taught,

and listened to,

his children.

He was a shoemaker,

a gardener,

and tireless in his labours.

Genetics passed his ethic on,

to twenty-nine grandchildren,

whom he never knew,

in his brief earthly life.

He watches us yet,

and makes his lessons,

his regrets,

his triumphs,

known to me

through dreams

through waking visions.

He tells me

that all life

matters,

more than

the living realize;

more than many

even want to know.

In the midst of confusion,

in the heart of despair,

God’s love for us all

glimmers,

through the fog

and through the clouds,

just as Christ foretold.

 

 

The Peak of the Canyon-Part II

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October 6, 2019, Jacob Lake-

I made a silent promise to my long-departed maternal grandfather, whom I never met in this life, but who has appeared to me, a few times, that I would not give in to a more irrational level of acrophobia.  He has been one of my spirit guides, all these years, exhorting me to face life and overcome obstacles.  He and Grandma imparted that message to my mother and her siblings; an examination of their lives bears out  that exhortation’s fruits.

So, as I readied for visits to three of the overlooks at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, there was no trepidation at engaging the heights of this wondrous place.  The North Rim exists at the highest point of the western Colorado Plateau. Had the canyon never been carved, one would face a 2,000 foot increase in elevation, from Tusayan to  the site of Grand Canyon Lodge.

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My first order of business, after looking around the Lodge for a bit, was a walk out to Bright Angel Point.  As today was one of the most gorgeous Sundays in quite a while, there were dozens of people, of all ages, walking about or at least lounging on the Lodge’s patio, which also offers views of the canyon below.

Here are a few of those scenes available to the sedentary.

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I then availed myself of a couple of overlooks, close to the Lodge.

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Bright Angel Point involves a fairly strenuous hike, mainly due to the elevation.  Those with pulmonary issues do best to stick to the Lodge area. An intrepid woman using trekking poles made it half-way, before concluding it would be a mistake to continue.  There were several of us late middle-agers who made the walk, though, along with folks as young as five.

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It was at the above guard fence that a little girl wanted to climb up, for  “a better view”.  You’d best believe her mother’s hands were firmly on her, for that exercise in bravery!

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The various striations in the sandstone clearly show the levels it has taken, to build this most magnificent of geologic records.

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In the next post, Point Imperial and Cape Royal offer a northeastern perspective of the Canyon’s wonders.

 

 

Falling, Gently

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May 21, 2017, Prescott-

Yesterday could have been seen as somewhat of a bust.

I didn’t spend all that much time at a memorial picnic.

I felt there were some serious issues of trust,

coming from some of the people closest to the man,

in whose memory we were gathered.

Earlier, I had been at a place where trust HAS been earned,

and, in honour of my maternal grandfather,

enjoyed a Chicago-style Polish Sausage.

I never met Papa, in this life,

but his forebears hailed from Silesia,

when it was German turf.

There was, then, as now,

a great deal of interplay between German and Pole.

So, Polish sausage, with sauerkraut and Dusseldorf mustard, it was.

There was great food at the picnic, as well,

and the Mariachi were heartfelt in their performance.

It was a magnificent tribute,

frayed only by that lack of trust,

something that the honoree would never have countenanced.

I moved on, and read, just this morning,

a horoscope that told me,

those who hurt you were doing the best they could,

under the circumstances.

None of us, really, are ourselves,

in the wake of shattering loss.

I wasn’t, from 2011-14.

A lot of people were hurt,

in the wake of my mourning.

Some have never forgiven;

most have moved on.

Last night,

I happened on a troubadour.

Her message, sung across the miles,

to the one man she loves with every ounce of her being,

was just how lucky he made her.

The audience, mostly late middle-aged couples,

heard it in their hearts, too.

I know that feeling, so well.

My spirit angel was one of a kind.

She said to us, to me, if you’re struggling,

hang on.  It’ll all work out.

She sang of falling gently,

as she did for the man who waits for her,

back in Cape Cod.

Enjoy the accompanying message, from Monica Rizzio,

and if you’re ever in Cape Cod, catch one of her gigs.

Inklings

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February 2, 2017, Prescott-

Many people gathered today, in Punxsutawney, PA, and learned from Phil, the Groundhog, that there will be six more weeks of winter.  I’ve heard it’s been a mild one, back east, so six weeks of rain would be a tad dreary, but not insurmountable- unless the rain comes in torrents.

Here, we seem to have had our winter.  SoCal is due for more rain, tomorrow, but not so our neck of the woods.  Of course, Mother Nature has this month and March, during which to send surprises our way.  I remember the year that St. Patrick’s Day saw snow, atop the White Tanks, west of Phoenix.

A few years ago, I read a book called “Awakening Intuition”, by Mona Lisa Schulz.  I learned that the “inklings” that I had, regarding what I was to do, during the years 2011-2015, were fairly clear.  Most of those were accomplished, with considerable help from unseen forces.

I am reading “The Standing Stones Speak”, by Jessica Hoffman and Hamilton Hill, which has what some regard as a “New Age” tone to it.  Since childhood, though, I have felt, strongly, that I am guided by both angels and my own ancestors, including my maternal grandfather, whom I never met, in this life.  What I have received from him, holds me to a high standard, both socially and spiritually.  Penny, in the last year of her life, told me that she saw my Native American ancestors, gathered around me, while I was napping.

I don’t doubt any of this, though some of my hard-headed friends would call it “Woo-woo stuff”, as there seems no practical or tangible value to it.  I have a different view, and we’ll leave it at that, for now.  Nonetheless, the spirit world is flexible, and some of the inklings I’ve had, have been changed.  In 2013, instead of going to Newfoundland, I stayed in the Boston area, and spent more time with my family, especially with my second brother, who was involved in Sail Blind, at the time.  Considering that I went through tortuous emotional issues, earlier that summer, it was probably best.  Last year, instead of going to Chile and Peru, I opted to go, domestically, East and South.  Considering that I got a message, in the middle of the trip, saying that my Nissan was making its last ride, the choice was apt.  As you all know, the Nissan did expire.

I’ve now been advised to work, full time, until either December, 2020 or May,2021.  There are other messages I’ve received, but those are best left for a later date.