The Road to Diamond, Day 234: Identity

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July 20,2025- This evening, I spent a few hours watching all I cared to, of the 2010s series Blindspot. It begins with a woman who has been injected with drugs that lead to her total amnesia. Of course, nothing of the sort lasts forever, and through snippets of triggered memory, helped in part by her having been tattooed in specific manners, over her body, she is soon faced with two DNA paths, as to her real identity.

I may get back to the series at some point, but this week will be focused on three aspects of my own identity: Red Cross documentation, study of Baha’i guidance, and a friend’s need for transportation. Today was just focused on the leisure aspect of who I am. Breakfast with friends, exercise at Planet Fitness and light reading, followed by crossword puzzles and the aforementioned program.

I have a much firmer grasp of my identity and purpose now, than I did in certain parts of years past. There has never been any doubt as to my family, or the love of my late wife. Any gaps in understanding have more or less began and ended with my own being at peace with self. There are things that seem to have been kept from me, by extended family who have gone on-but none of that has any bearing on who I am now, so bygones are bygones. I’ve elaborated in other posts about the various parts of my life, and the people who are important in those elements. What matters most now is what I am going to do with those parts, as I approach the next quarter century, or whatever part of it I may be given.

There is no amnesia, or conflicting paths, as to who I am or what I represent. That’s what matters most.

The Road to Diamond, Day 182: Heaviness

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May 29, 2025- It was hard, somehow, to maintain focus during a meeting I attended this morning and through the noon hour. It wasn’t the fault of the presenter, or of the subject matter. The air was cool, so it was not that, either. There was just a heaviness today, that stayed with me, requiring a more concerted effort to get what I needed from the Red Cross training session-for which I was an assistant commentator, to boot. It lingered, even as I purchased a dinner item from a nearby pizzeria, for evening consumption, and as I later exercised on a recumbent bike at Planet Fitness. It wasn’t a physical issue-my blood pressure read normal and I was breathing easily. There had to be some deeper cause.

In this late hour, I am reminded that today would have been the 61st birthday of my late youngest brother, Brian, who died in 1994, just shy of his 30th. He would have been proud of my service to the community, albeit at a very rudimentary level, as his disabilities made communication difficult. Nonetheless, there was a very basic love about the child, and later, the man. It was in our interactions with him that each of his four siblings developed a compassion for those less fortunate. That has informed our social and community behaviours, as much as any experiences we each have had over six or seven decades.

Those who have left us will communicate in various ways. I think now that the spirit of my baby brother was reminding me that sometimes, life takes a gargantuan effort, just to get through an ordinary day. The heaviness lifted, as I sat and read some pages of a book on the ancient Mediterranean world. Brian liked to pretend to read aloud. He would surely have approved.

A Healthy Spine

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September 4, 2024- The kids guessed as to my age, early this afternoon: Base was 52 and top was 87. (One guessed closely-72.) These were ten-year-olds, so there we are. When I was ten, anyone older than my Dad (33) was over the hill. These children cut me a lot of slack.

More authoritative was my chiropractic exam-the spine and nerves are in solid state, from top to bottom. This is the last physical exam until next year, save a dental check in December, so with continuance of the current regimen, I will be just fine-as 74 approaches.

Also gratifying, on this short and sweet work day, were having my Home Base minders to dinner this evening, at a quality Italian restaurant; getting in a solid workout at Planet Fitness and learning how to edit a sent e-mail, and send the revision out to all parties, without starting from scratch. Son is back from his annual Reserve training, so there is one less item of concern.

The number of boxes left to check on the trip preparation list is down to three or four: Last day of work is tomorrow, Sportage pre-storage maintenance is on Friday and I will get a fresh haircut in the next day or so. There will be several social and semi-business gatherings, between now and Monday noon; then I will head to Phoenix and beyond.

Sour Into Sweet

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August 27, 2024- It was probably the overripe cucumber. I felt out of sorts, even had a tinge of self-pity, through the morning, after drinking a shake that had the cucumber and a few remaining blueberries, mixed with chocolate protein powder. The day had to go on, though, so I walked downtown and had half of a nice reuben sandwich and green salad for lunch. With the right, professionally cordial, but neutral, baristas, a meal at County Seat is always delightful.

That seemed to even things up a bit, and after a power nap, I took a bunch of things that I will never use again, and donated them to the DAV thrift store. Then I finally went over to Best Buy and picked up a CD player that actually works. That obviates getting rid of compact discs, many of which I have not heard since both computers and vehicles ditched their CD slots.

After a workout at Planet Fitness and a take-out taco meal, (I can eat one per serving this way), the day has ended sweetly. It must have been the overripe cucumber.

Frizzle-Frazzle

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June 18, 2024- I saw the word ‘paradise’ on someone’s post, this afternoon, and was moved to play Bruce Springsteen’s “Paradise”, from his album, “The Rising”, his 2002 response to the attacks on September 11, 2001. He sings three verses, depicting three different souls. Yet, when I first listened to the song, I thought of my wife, Penny, even then living under a cloud. Somehow, we’d have one another, for another nine years. She died in 2011.

I have not been triggered by this song, or anything else-not even anniversaries, until today. This afternoon, hearing those words hit me hard. Part of it is the aloneness that I choose, so I can’t point fingers. Yet, it is made harder by the silence.

Silence has always bothered me, after a week or so, from those to whom I feel especially close and after a month or two, from everyone else I love. I guess that’s why I am online so much, especially since Penny passed. It is also why I treasure living in a town where I can walk to where there are people whose companionship I value. Today, it was Planet Fitness and Wildflower Bakery. Other times, it is Raven Cafe, , or Zeke’s,or the Farmers Market -or Rafter Eleven, if I feel like a short drive.

When I was a teen, there was a cartoon about a time traveling wizard who sent his protege to distant places. When it was time for the episode to end, the wizard’s mantra was “Frizzle-Frazzle, Frizzle, Frome, time for this one to come home”. So often, I have faced the “frizzle-frazzle” of grandiose plans falling apart, and have “come home” to reality, with a straight face. I am sensing that my latest grand, feelings-based plans may be “frizzling” and “frazzling”. It’s that silence again. We’ll see, in a few days, or a few weeks.

Here, and There

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March 24, 2024- I dreamed of Penny last night. Nothing new about that; she appears when I need to figure out what I should do, in a particular situation. The dream’s ending showed that I am on the right track, about certain matters. The spirit, on whom I depend for guidance, is always present. Any doubts or qualms are on me.

Today, Palm Sunday in Christendom, started off cold and with light snow. It was nice in the afternoon, and when I went over to work out, it was overcast and snowing lightly, again. The rest of the country is going through winter’s after market misery, and may everyone get through it safely.

While I was on the stationary bike, I was a captive audience for a troubled woman, who let out all the frustrations she has had, with certain employers and other people, for about fifteen minutes of nonstop chatter. I just kept on pedaling, and felt worse for the guy on the other side of me, but after she ran out of vitriol, she left. (If you wonder why I didn’t cut her off, we were in a public place and it would have been worse than if I just kept silent. That’s how it is, dealing with certain mental illnesses.)

Two Baha’i Zoom calls were well attended, and starting off the week when Jesus the Christ is especially honoured with our own spiritual focus will release a lot of positive healing energy. There will be other events, tomorrow and Tuesday, that will add to that energy. With the penumbral lunar eclipse on the occasion of a full moon, I suspect a lot of people will need that energy. I know I will.

Blessed Holy Week, everyone, and may you be safe.

The Beads

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February 13, 2024-Laissez les bin temps rouler”. The good times are no doubt rolling, in New Orleans, in Mobile and way down south, in places like Rio de Janeiro and Port of Spain. In the Big Easy, there’s a lot of tossing beads at those lining the parade route, but that’s just the throwaway part, and there are those whose first concern is the content of the stringed glossies.

I have been on the periphery of Mardi Gras, twice. The first time, the bus I was riding rolled into NOLA, early on the morning of Ash Wednesday, 1987. Piles of stringed beads, leftover jambalaya and crawfish pila were all over downtown, but I was told the French Quarter was already clean as a hound’s entire mouth-never mind a single tooth. The second time was on the little sister of Mardi: Lundi Gras, in 2015, as good an excuse as any to extend les bon temps to four days. Things were already red hot in the French Quarter and a woman tossed a string of beads to me, from one of those balconies that could easily have featured a t-shirted Marlon Brando calling for Stella, at the top of his lungs. I think I made do with a large slice of pizza for lunch, and had my jambalaya later, in the evening, at a nice spot in Lake Charles.

Getting back to the beads, I gave mine to a granddaughter of the heart, that summer. Now we hear that the beads themselves may contain varying amounts of lead. By now, she has probably long since tossed the cheapo stringed glossies. What appeals to a four-year-old is an eye roller, when she reaches the age of twelve. Needless to say, if I have it to do over again, I’d graciously accept the beads, and find that algae pond that an intrepid high school freshman in, I believe, Missouri, said he’s using to break down the lead-infused beads.

My Mardi Gras today consisted of a spirit walk, checking out the end of downtown Prescott’s easternmost north-south street. Cortez Street goes up a short hill, and ends as a cul-de-sac, where there is an apartment complex. Things didn’t get much more rapid fire after that- A Mexican chocolate latte, a walk past the Granite Creek mural (will video that rather charming masterpiece, on Thursday) and a workout at Planet Fitness, rounded out the good times. My Mardi Gras meal was four small Buffalo Chicken empanadas. The times, though, are good enough. I learned a lot, this evening, from a community activist’s presentation on urban gardening. There is much good afoot, in Columbus, OH.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. It is also the beginning of Lent, for Christians. I guess that means I should not eat chocolates, when walking by a church that’s letting out. Since Mom taught us not to eat while walking outside, I’m good. Valentine’s Day, this year, feels different. More on that, tomorrow. For now, here’s Ric Ocasek, with another take on Les Bon Temps.

Flexible

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January 28, 2024- The account that a fellow Legionnaire gave, of his ailing wife’s situation, was achingly familiar. He has arrived at the conclusion that he needs to cultivate a hobby. I heartily concurred with him on that. When one has lived and loved one person, for so many years, it is hard to prepare to change course. It took me three long years to get myself together. Even afterward, there were times when brief relapses happened-but when an ill-wisher challenged my judgement, I knew I was over the hump. Blocking and deleting people who attacked me, after 2014, came a lot easier, as did bringing myself to serious account. A far more peaceful environment has been the result.

I am on the cusp of a life change, still in the realm of possibility, that would rest on flexibility. That, in turn, depends upon inner tranquility. The centered soul can be flexible, prioritizing the needs of the one(s) that are loved the most. That’s all I will say, for the time being. Great changes, like Penny’s illness and death (2003-11), the sale of our house (2011), and the sale of a second home, due to the vagaries of double taxation (2014) have come and gone. I have survived, because there are other things that I have had to do, and have yet to accomplish.

One thing that I have re-started is to walk to places that are within two miles of Home Base, unless time is tight, or the weather is just plain awful. Today, I walked to a friend’s restaurant, connected with a neighbour the next street over from me and watched a bit of a football playoff game, and walked back to HB 1, about an hour later. Exercise at Planet Fitness followed. It’s time to continue my fitness pattern. I can’t be a support to another human being, if I slack off in my own space. So, onward and upward, it is.

Immersed

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December 27, 2023, Santa Fe- As I left my car this morning, to visit one of my favourite Santa Fe establishments, Henry and the Fish, a woman was strolling through the parking garage, singing Abba’s I Have A Dream. What a lovely start to the morning, I thought, and a rarity in American life! Joe and the kids will be on vacation, when I get back here in two weeks, en route to Ghost Ranch, so I’m glad to have visited HATF, this morning.

I’ve felt immersed in love, all in all, over the past few years, but at no time more so than in these last three months. It’s not just the romantic feelings I have for someone, but the general tide of love-from friends and family. This month has brought an estranged friend back into my life-and a realization that the estrangement would not have happened, had both of us communicated better. Isn’t that usually the case?

This evening, after exercising at Santa Fe’s Planet Fitness, I happened upon a Vietnamese restaurant, Pho Ava. I haven’t had pho in a while, so in I went. A number of the other guests were Filipinos, so I was transported back to Manila, in my mind. A pleasant random gesture was that, as a Filipino-American family was leaving, the father wished me a good evening-though we had not otherwise communicated. It’s been that sort of a visit, thus far. That, to me, is Santa Fe-ever a third or fourth Home Base, after Prescott, Grapevine-and Ocean Beach. The pho at Ava is excellent, if you are in Santa Fe and want a nice, large bowl of hot soup. (Pho Ava is in the 2400 South block of Cerrillos Road.)

Now, I will join a Full Moon meditation site, and get centered for tomorrow, which may or may not mean a drive up to Taos- depending on a friend’s situation. In the meantime, here’s that song that the lady in the garage was singing.

“You Are Your Choices”

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December 1, 2023- So said a line on the bottom of a rear license plate, offered by the driver of a truck in front of me, as I drove back from Planet Fitness, this afternoon. The situation at the club was a bit chaotic, with two older mother-daughter pairs, and a nervous lady of about the same age, all converging on the massage bed/lounges at about the same time-but without telling the front desk person what they wanted. He ended up having to go back and manually reset the devices. I had signed up for a massage lounge, and was waiting for the gentleman who was on it, to finish his time. The ladies looked like they had been waiting, so they got on first, then the whole manual reset thing was needed.

I chose to use a massage chair, if for no other reason than to save the poor kid’s sanity. We are the results of our choices. I have written on this subject before, and have at least gotten pretty good at living with my choices, by first making them more carefully, then by actually running them by those who might just be affected by them, rather than running over them. The last step is not gloating over them, lest someone else’s heart be hurt. It is best to include an acknowledgment that not everyone has a good experience with certain situations, or areas of life. That’s not patronizing, it’s honouring the one who has faced a different set of outcomes.

It’s a good place to note some choices I’ve made for December. This evening, I chose to attend a dinner that honoured those of us who volunteer for the Homeless Assistance Program, at a local church, rather than attend the annual Christmas Dinner at Post 6. Tomorrow, instead of hanging out downtown, during the Christmas Parade, I am choosing to help break down the Farmers Market, then go up to Chino Valley, for a Slow Food planning session. Tomorrow evening, I will choose to visit a friend I’ve not seen in a while, over watching the Christmas Lighting, for the eighth time. On ten different weekdays, between now and Christmas Break, I am choosing to fill substitute positions. You get the drift. There are days of service and days of self-care; days of honouring friends and days of making now traditional visits to places like Santa Fe and Tucson.

Choices fill our lives, from when one gets up in the morning, to how one fills a day, to how often a friend is contacted, and by what means. Hopefully, as I mentioned above, choices will be made that hurt no one, or are at least made in a way that if a person is hurt, it’s because of how the choice made is taken by that person. We can’t control other people’s experiences, but we can control ourselves.

Most choices are almost automatic, after a while, but they should always have an element of presence, in being made.