The Road to Diamond, Day 274: Redemptions and Deferments

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August 29, 2025- The two-year-old boy spotted me from his place on his grandmother’s chaise lounge and told Nana to look up. His smile could light up Grand Central Station and his enthusiasm could carry a rocket to the Moon and back. His younger and quieter sister gave a slight smile and a nod, but she is more Nana’s girl. I was at the house to tend to a small business matter, which will help two parties, while I am away.

The day was largely spent in bringing some unfinished business to fruition. Sportage has a new oil pan, so no more drips. The trade-off is that there is a countdown to the next regular oil and lube. The Beast will be spending 7 weeks in carport, though, under the watchful eyes of my neighbours, so there is no great rush to get that done.

Then, there was the above-mentioned visit, concerned with relieving another family’s food insecurity. “Nana” is a local small farmer, so she can help with that. Lastly, there is a friend elsewhere who needs assistance in getting through a medical procedure, so that needs periodic contribution. Mostly, though, I am tending to my own needs, so as not to become “a destitute hero”, who would be no hero at all.

The upcoming journey involves reaching destinations and fulfilling promises that are anywhere from seven to fifteen years old. In meditation, the answer came back to focus on these, and there would be time down the road to fulfill more recent pledges. In the interim, I have commitments to my little family and to someone else I love most dearly. Those will take precedence over anything else.

Clear as mud? Things will be explained, as they happen. For now, it is a matter of redeeming old promises and deferring those of more recent vintage.

Beaver Moon

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November 14, 2024- The wind whipped the clouds around, but there was the moon, nearing full, at the time of year when beavers start storing food in their lodges, for winter sustenance. Thus, one day early, a group held an online meditation about the Beaver Moon. The meditation follows a similar pattern, month to month.

A treasure vase one that is buried in places of significance, around the world. Treasure vases have been interred in locales such as The Cloisters, in New York City; Livermore Laboratories in Berkeley; Masai Mara, outside Nairobi and Uluru, in the Outback of Australia’s Northern Territory. Over 100 such vases have been interred, and each is mentioned in the circle. Then a foot to crown meditation, involving deep breathing and focus, takes place among those assembled.

The time chosen for this month’s event was 10 a.m., PST. By then, I was finishing placing honorifics of another sort in the ground. Three bunches of silk flowers now help mark the grave of Michele Smith, a Baha’i friend of thirty-five years. After dropping off a few other gifts at her daughter’s house, I headed back towards Home Base, from Carson City.

The drive back was uneventful. The moon, though, kept watch on me-as evening gathered. I was the sole customer at Cosmic Diner, Amargosa Valley, NV, as a young lady served a fairly good fried chicken sandwich and raspberry ice tea, with the same sense of honour as if she were working a dining room at Bellagio. I like that about rural Nevadans. Where they are is plenty good enough.

I make one stop to top off gas going north, in Las Vegas and another stop going south. Most service stations have rest rooms. The Rebel Arco on west Craig Blvd does not. Plan ahead. It was okay, as there is a Jack in the Box next door. End of TMI.

At the end of Beaver Moon’s watch, I found it necessary to drive through the back streets of Ash Fork, which I had not previously done. The occasion was the closure of the exit ramp for U.S. 89 south. So, I found that there were many more houses in the little town than I had realized. Every locale has its wonders.

Beaver Moon will be full tomorrow night, so I will walk to the Raven Cafe after a Zoom devotional, bathing in its light. Life is good, whether here or abroad.

Is Pressure Intended?

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January 11, 2023- Among the features of this blog site is Seven-Day Highlights. The daily, sometimes hourly, algorithm serves as a scold-showing comparative ratings of Visitors, Views, Likes and Comments. A red arrow shows the least little decline in any of those areas, as if how people react is within my power to “correct”. This ignores the fact that I write for myself, but capitalizes on the notion that not everyone does. Those who have monetized their blog site are likely to take this more seriously, and “up their game”. These are the people who join writing courses and fret over lost readers.

I used to be like that, wanting to increase my readership. The fact is that few of us can set aside the time to read dozens of posts, each day. So, my posts have become more vehicles of self-expression and almost journalistic in content. That should be okay-and it is with my friends, even those who used to be close, but are now separated from me by schedules, temperament, divergent views of life and the vagaries of Nature. People are not commodities, as much as some would like that to be the case.

This brings up the larger question: What does anyone really gain, from putting pressure, intentional or not, on others? It basically, as someone recently pointed out to me, is a reflection of pressure one puts on self. We like to share what’s in our life, and so the bitter comes along with the sweet-ignoring the age-old adage: “Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you weep alone.” (This, also, is a rather distasteful view of life; but it does serve as a forewarning of how we might manage our well-being.)

I am better able to manage both internal and external pressure, through meditation and the act of bringing self to account, several times each day-not in an accusatory manner, anymore, but with a more neutral view of my own actions and motivations. I was asked by someone dear to me, a while back, to maintain a “neutral love” towards her. I know what she was implying, and the fact is that Agape was already in the driver’s seat, vis-a-vis our friendship. Pressure, coming from a misdirected and unrealistic view of interactions, is brought to heel by a mature view of their ebb and flow.

So, if you, or the systems you employ, are making life harder on self and everyone else-consider taking things down several degrees, decibels or ergs.

Treasure Vases

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January 5, 2023- The prayers went up, the meditation was focused and the didgeridoo sounded, long and with urgency-in the mournful way that only a “didge” can sound.

An Earth Treasure Vase can be placed anywhere, and many have, over the past several years. The focus is on setting peaceful energy in a given space, on fostering both resilience and a renewed spirit of co-operation, across all manner of divides.

It strikes me as less than coincidental, that a 36-hour truce has been called, between Russia and Ukraine, ostensibly for the Eastern Orthodox Christmas holiday. Fatigue, on both sides, is surely a factor, as much as the holiday itself and the energy set forth by gatherings such as this. There are thousands of such meetings, large and small, in-person and online, as we the people, globally, are increasingly sick and tired of conflict-and are seeking ways to move past its root causes.

There are Earth Treasure Vases placed in Utqiagvik, AK; Antarctica; Argentine Patagonia; southern Sweden; the Outer Hebrides; the Swiss Alps; the Bay Area; northwest Australia; in the waters off the Trobriand Islands of Papua-New Guinea; in the mountains above Fukushima; South Island, NZ; New York City; the Flint Hills, KS; Liberia; Palestine; Hiroshima; various points in New Mexico (where the first Treasure Vase was placed) and the Demilitarized Zone of Korea-among dozens of places, worldwide. More will be dedicated and stewarded to other places across the globe.

Concrete action, of course, will be the only real guarantor of peace on Earth, yet let us remember that action rises from radiant energy.

Flex Time

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January 8, 2022- This was one of the weekends in January, when I was planning to be away from Home Base. The schedules of those I had planned to visit changed, and made any visiting inopportune, so this time is being used to tend to matters closer to home. I am also using a couple of meditation Zoom calls to consider the course of future journeys planned for this year and next. Things became clearer to me, during the meditations. Making initial practical information checks, on a couple of aspects of these journeys, made things clearer still.

There is always a way to make good use of time, when plans have to change. Even being mostly in retirement mode, I find there are not enough hours in a day for everything that might be accomplished. Flexibility also seems to be the order of the Universe, at least in terms of how elements of Creation interact with one another. The fact that the Universe is unlimited, infinite, helps with that flexibility. Besides, that infinitude means there are far too many variables for one to go about life in a rigid manner.

In the end, I actually was glad to be finishing the day by completing a reading of “White Fragility”-coming to the conclusion that I am not fragile, in my ethnic and racial identity, and can learn from others about microaggressions and other elements of my own thoughts and actions that might drive a wedge between me and those around me.

No time need be wasted.

The Pyramid

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January 15, 2021-

I closed my eyes during meditation, a few moments ago, and saw the image of a shining pyramid. The message came to me that I was positioned in the lower left angle of the pyramid, and those whose presence challenges me, were in the lower right angle. The Creative Force was at the pinnacle of the structure. I thought of all those who impose themselves in my life, with requests and comments that are just reasonable enough for me to not be inclined to dismiss them from this life. It occurs that this is part and parcel of wanting to be able to choose with whom I associate and to what extent.

The message further stated that such feelings on my part are merely a sign of mental fatigue, and that, if I don’t indulge those impulses, my mental stamina will get stronger. Those who seem to impose themselves on others are often coming from a place of serious abandonment issues, which have nothing to do with the people to whom they are attaching themselves now. Further, the message said- Look at what happened with Adolf Hitler, bruised and battered from childhood; in a different manner, this also seems to have happened with Donald Trump-and, in turn, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama- indeed many who have risen to prominence have overcome abandonment issues, but the scars have led to the less-laudatory aspects of their lives.

I draw some such people into my life, still-mainly children, but occasionally, severely scarred adults, as well. It has only been recently that I have gained a semblance of how to properly communicate with such adults, in a helpful manner. So, the Pyramid cautioned me, it is best to neither jump when summoned, nor to ignore them at length, but to set aside a few minutes and address their concerns in a succinct manner. If it is merely a message of routine greeting, return the courtesy and go on with my flow of activity.

Simple images, coming in a meditative state, can offer a lot of information.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 63: Mental Health

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August 2, 2020-

It turns out that the individual who torched the Arizona Democratic Headquarters, over a week ago, is mentally ill. Republicans, and others, who read only the part about his being a member of the Democratic Party are, predictably, chortling about how this just goes to show that it’s a big farce, orchestrated to bring down President Trump-because, hey, what else is there in the world?

The individual is mentally ill. I know, firsthand, how that feels. Everything is about “MEEE”. Imagined slights take on a reality that knows no bounds. Good people become viewed as monsters-for any number of reasons-most of which are contrived by a mind in pain. So, it came about, that an individual acted to destroy that which he deemed inperfect, and, thus, expendable.

There were all those times, in my distant past, and in more recent years, when autism led to the bouts of self-centeredness, mild delusion and not a little paranoia. It took a good deal of self-work to separate my mother’s high bar of expectations, itself grounded in love, from the blistering criticisms of some of my peers, who left no room for error-or in a few instances, even humanness. Through meditation, correcting my diet, my wife’s love, and adoption of a Faith that actually lived the love prescribed by Jesus the Christ, but ignored by so many of His followers, I achieved a sense of equilibrium.

There have been relapses, and setbacks, mostly in times of high stress. There are those who were present during those times-and who remember, all too well, how things went down. I am grateful that forgiveness, and securing my word that such behaviours will not be repeated, were their responses.

Conversely, I have striven, when confronted with other mentally-ill people, to do right by them. In one case, the person was able to get a leg up and straighten out his life. In two other cases, that was not the result, as of the last time I heard from either one. I felt the need to cut one loose, for personal safety reasons and the other, because of an increasing stridency and level of verbal harassment on his part.

It’s taken time to begin to overcome the tension I have felt, when seeing a small, older model of RV driving around or when starting up my phone, and getting more than one Instant Messenger “ping”. Realizing that these are left-over post-traumatic reactions has helped greatly.

I am ever grateful to all who have, either consciously or unconsciously, helped me put my own demons to bed. In all this time of relative aloneness, I have been able to soothe those ills, and make myself a far more useful person, amenable to this comforting society around me.

The Summer of the Rising Tides, Day 54: Cumulosity

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July 24, 2020-

For days, this week, thick cumulus clouds have circled around our town, dropping some precipitation on outlying areas, but skipping Prescott and the other towns closest to us.

While I was occupied with a Zoom session on whale songs and meditation, I sensed that the whales aimed to give the Prescott area a good soaking. Whether there was a cetacean connection or not, we got soaked this afternoon, and as I write this, we’re getting soaked again.

There is a lot that is genuinely monsoonal, in the summer rains that usually bless the Southwest. There was some concern, with climate change, that the rains would be a thing of the past. That is not true, so far this year, though. The storms we’ve had have been doozies and have not been spaced as far apart, as they were in the past five years.

It set me to thinking, in the decades and centuries to come, perhaps the technology will become available to naturally seed rain clouds and/ or to have continent-wide canals that will move water from areas where it is in danger of causing regular seasonal floods, to areas constantly beset by drought.

Pipe dreams, I know, but as COVID concerns and the rain keep me in my cozy Home Base, it’s fun to dream big.

Knife’s Edge

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January 26, 2020-

I don’t have to live for adventure.  It finds me, in large and small ways-both close by and farther afield, nearly every day.  It’s likely that this happens because of my tendency, albeit fairly recent, to focus on what’s around me with intensity and alacrity.  The spiritual discussion we had this morning, for example, opened my mind to a much wider view of what constitutes meditation.  As many messages from my spirit guides come during intense meditation, it’ll be interesting to see which messages arise from some of the avenues that were suggested by participants in the group.

Jordan Peterson, in discussing the presence of hierarchy and of laws, in human society, points out that, with all the potential perils and thousands of stimuli that we face each day, multiplied over the lifespan of the human race, it would have been well nigh impossible for humanity to have achieved anything close to what we see in our historical-and “pre-historical” record, let alone what exists today, through human ingenuity, without some sort of organization.  It’s worth noting that most species of animals have some sort of hierarchy.

Life has, indeed, many aspects that play out on a knife’s edge, so to speak.  Just in my small sphere of existence- there is a 69-year-old body, that has remained quite healthy, give or take a few dental issues, some staph infections on my skin and a couple of joint inflammations, which have gone away, with treatment; there is my well-maintained car, which is likely to see me through local driving-and a long journey around North America, this summer-and more local driving next autumn, through winter.  My cars, when not the object of tampering, or abuse prior to my ownership, have lasted a very long time.  My work history has certainly played out, on a knife’s edge.  Each experience, though, has taught me a myriad life lessons-ditto, for my friendships, and other encounters.

So, the large and the small of it will likely long continue-relatively speaking.  20-30 years, if I have left what some have told me I have, is relatively short, but a lot can be packed into it.

 

 

Twelve Cypresses

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October 13, 2019, Arcosanti-

The account of last week’s travels has been pre-empted by revelations that came, duirng a meditation session, this afternoon.

Twelve cypress trees grace the outside of the Vaults.

As I lay in meditation,

gazing upward,

towards their midst,

the middle tree was swaying.

Responding to the breeze,

to the intonation

of a meditation master’s

spoken word,

to the positive thoughts

of those in the circle below.

Soon, the trees on either side

of the intrepid conifer

were swaying,

in unison with their peer.

Soon, I was chanting

in unison with the rest of the circle.

We brought the feeling,

the awareness,

to each of our body’s parts.

The trees brought the sense

that a change was taking place.

in the air,

in the sensitivity,

of those gathered

at their feet.

Those who were friendly

last year,

are somewhat less so.

Others have taken their places.

The twelve cypresses

tell those who are listening,

and watching,

that there is power

in proximity,

even while there is strength

in a short distance.

There is power in unified action,

but uniformity

of behaviour

can detract,

from community.

Those who led me to

a positive sense of self

are moving away.

Those  who are with me now,

are the beings

who will be at my side

for a  stage of growth

which I am only beginning

to understand.

The twelve cypresses

make clear,

that the flexible

yet firm

will endure.