August 4, 2025- Another cancer patient of long-suffering winged his flight to the Spirit Realm, this morning, as I was preparing for a day of service. Like my friend who died yesterday, this man had been receiving the emotional, spiritual and material support of many, who were hoping against hope for a cure. Like my friend, he was simply suffering too much and called to the Divine for release.
Each day brings a passage of sorts to each of us. One either gets stronger, or weaker, or holds the line, in the course of the passage. Each change in body, mind and spirit happens according to which life lessons have been absorbed by the soul. Sometimes, as the body has earned its rest, the spirit goes on to a higher realm. Other times, as there are still life lessons to be absorbed and actions that must be taken by the individual, physical life continues. This is my limited understanding of the process.
I, like Robert Frost’s protagonist, in “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”, “have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep”. The promises kept today were serving as Blood Donor Ambassador at a Red Cross drive in Prescott Valley and serving at the Monday evening Soup Kitchen. There will be several others, locally, that encompass this month. September and October’s promises go further afield; November’s will be fulfilled back here; December’s will be a mix; next year’s fall between the Philippines, Texas and Arizona. “Promise not that which ye don’t fulfill”.
We essentially engage in passages, so that those who paved the way for us might feel fulfilled and those who are following after us might see an illumined path. If I can do both, this life will continue to be well worth each day. My forebears watch from the next world and my progeny look on expectantly. I feel a lot of encouraging energy.
July 24, 2025- There are days when a common thread wiggles its way through the ether, and draws in other threads, which become fastened to it, through a process not immediately comprehensible. Today was such a day. The common thread was my task of getting documentation for possible shelter venues for the American Red Cross.
I had completed the first visit, to Page Unified School District, yesterday, and had made it back to Flagstaff, after a stop at Cameron Trading Post for a Navajo Taco meal. Saving about half of it for a second meal, later today, involved some positioning of the container in what is arguably the world’s smallest refrigerator. American Motor Hotel, where I spent last night, is a space-themed gem, looking somewhat like the brightly- painted lodging establishments now fairly common in the Los Angeles area. The in-room refrigerator is, well, unique and “interesting”. It is designed to hold maybe one or two cold beverages, and a couple of sandwiches. I got the meal container in there, by temporarily removing the shelf and inserting the container vertically.
All in all, though, Americana is a great place to spend a night or two, or even make a vacation of it, as there is an outdoor pool, a funky Mexican restaurant on site, a large outdoor patio area with shaded round tables and room decor that is both amusing (a blue orb that shines and rotates, when plugged in) and thought-provoking (framed posters). The congenial desk staff seals the deal, with cheerful attention to every guest and offering reusable metal water bottles as welcome gifts. Thus, my overnight in Flagstaff became a mini-break from the business at hand. Breakfast at an old East Flagstaff favourite, Miz Zip’s, was a further delight, with homemade corned beef hash as a well-enjoyed choice. Sedona, the lone server when I first came in, was cheerful and attentive to all, even as nearly twenty people showed up after I came in and sat down. Mz. Zip’s has lost none of the ambiance it had when I lived here in 1980-81.
East Flagstaff has its share of fun places, but it was time to head out towards Native American Baha’i Institute, a three-hour drive eastward. The ride was smooth, and traffic moderate, especially once I got past Winslow. I got there, greeted those present, in the Navajo way, with a handshake and “Yaa’tey” (Good day), and went over the requisite forms for a Shelter Survey. Then, it was time for a mini-birthday celebration for one of the elders, with cake. A discussion followed, about non-Navajos hunting elk on the Reservation, by using helicopters. It doesn’t surprise me that this is being done, but I expressed my view that the Navajo Nation Council should be the arbiter of such practices. The elders agreed, and one of them has already filed a complaint with his councilman.
Wanting to get back to Home Base by early evening, I bid farewell to the Dineh friends and drove back towards I-40. Close to the entry point, I encountered a lady who said that a car was on fire up ahead. Lo and behold, a Navajo Police officer had parked near the vehicle that was indeed on fire. Saying a silent prayer for the safety of all concerned, I thanked the lady and turned around, being able to warn another driver about the situation, before taking the detour to the highway. A fire truck and water tanker came by, just before I hit the road.
That brings me to the next unanticipated thread. I gave a ride to a Dineh man who was heading, via circuitous route, to his granddaughter’s birthday party, far to the south. Turns out, he has been working for a modular home manufacturing company, which closed its factory in Page, just this week. The situation is complex, but here is a man, one of many, who is being left high and dry. This is the first I had heard of the situation, but it would not be the last. I heard him out, and got him to a location, south of Holbrook, from where he could catch a further ride. The rest of the drive home, via Winslow, Clints Well and Camp Verde, was serene and in fairly light traffic. I enjoyed the rest of the Navajo Taco in the comfort of Home Base I.
Thus did the thread of my main effort, getting the process going for Red Cross shelters in two more localities, find itself interwoven with wildlife conservation and protection, the housing industry’s woes and their effect on workers and their families and the pleasurable lodging and dining options on Flagstaff’s east side. It was a good 48 hours.
July 23, 2025, Flagstaff- I opted not to stop at Horseshoe Bend, following a fairly successful foray up to Page, meeting the school district’s Maintenance Director, for a walk-through of its shuttered Middle School, which we agreed would make an ideal shelter site, during the time when the property is up for sale. Such sales take quite a bit of time, and in the meantime, Red Cross would be able to house a couple hundred people, in the event of a major disaster in the area north of Grand Canyon and close to the northwest corner of the Navajo Nation.
The smoke from two not-too-distant fires is hard on the residents of Page and western Dinetah. Those with whom I spoke, in the school’s offices, were not even sure of how much protection they had, from being inside. Amazingly, the parking lot at Horseshoe Bend was still packed, with tourists braving the smoke and haze, for the chance to perhaps see the iconic twists and turns of the Colorado River, at this spot, which has been characterized as “the East Rim” of Grand Canyon. If that overlook is anything like the view of nearby Waterholes Canyon, the smoke is a perfect screen. A flagger for a nearby road construction project (more misery on the job) was pacing back and forth, near the Waterholes “viewpoint”.
Despite the outward environment, the Maintenance Director was glad for my visit and quite upbeat for the prospects of the Middle School being useful for us, and for the possibility that lack of disaster might obviate such use of the campus. He was also glad that his part in the tour was mostly indoors. I took the parking lots on by myself- getting a count of spaces. It was worth the drive, and the smoke, to cultivate another friend.
After leaving Page and the smoke behind, I enjoyed a lovely Navajo Taco, at Cameron Trading Post, then found my way back here-spending the night at Americana Motor Hotel, before a second Red Cross mission, tomorrow, hopefully establishing a firm connection with Native American Baha’i Institute.
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.
July 17, 2025- I decided to take an early morning breakfast at the newly-opened Gurley Girl Bakery, just up the street from HB 1. The problem was that this is a late-opening establishment (9 am), and it was 8:30. Breakfast came from across the road, at Scooters, which actually has rather good burritos, that remind me a bit of the fare at Glenn’s Bakery, Gallup.
Many times, I have found that being proactive needs to be scaled back, in the face of forces that just aren’t ready for what I have had in mind. I had been thinking that it might be useful to go to the Native American Baha’i Institute today, and conduct a survey for its use as a secondary Red Cross shelter, then return back here this evening, Prudence led to changing the game plan to combining this with a journey up to Page, for a similar effort, next Wednesday and Thursday. It is not often wise to get ahead of the game.
In the late afternoon, I spent some time listening to two men who hold slightly different views form one another, but who have become friends by hearing one another out. Their take is that the nation will do best by taking a Big Tent approach, as has been the case in the most successful years of our nation’s history-indeed of the heritage of most nations. Those who exclude people with whom they disagree are also getting ahead of the game. I have been happiest when among those who can express various points of view, so long as they do not advocate violence against those who disagree with them.
In cases of oppression, those who seem ahead of the game invariably end up finding themselves behind.
July 16, 2025- We each have a responsibility to investigate truth for ourselves. This is all the more urgent, given the generation of informational pieces, using artificial intelligence. While AI can be useful in graphic design and outlining programs, it also is woefully inadequate in writing factual stories. I have found several such tall tales, involving popular figures. I missed the fallacy in a story regarding a disabled person, until someone presented me with several similar stories about the same disabled person. Stories cannot really be written by algorithm.
This morning, I woke to see an angry emoji apparently sent by a dear friend, with no real context. Upon writing back and forth, it became clear that she had pushed the wrong button on her phone. No harm, no foul. The clearer message was that we were in a good place.
Following through on a plan to shelter concession workers from the North Rim, I was able to arrange tentative lodging. An hour or so later, word came that the employer was going to find more suitable housing for the workers, on its own dime. A shelter will not be needed. That also frees me to take care of other matters.
Procedural matters that were unclear around noon became transparent in mid-afternoon, through information provided by a third person in the discussion. In another context, procedural matters and someone’s dissatisfaction with my work will need further clarification. I’m sure those waters will get clearer, as time goes on.
What started out as “one of those days” actually became a good one. Happy conversation with a dearly loved person, across the ocean, being able to help another friend in the same region with concerns, getting the sheltering issue resolved, and pleasant visits with two friends here in town are not going to be negated by one rather terse encounter,at a business meeting later in the day. The waters of my river are running clear.
July 15,2025- My final feeding of and cleaning up after the cats was the quiet and easy part of the day. I was able to get past the road construction zone fairly easily as well. While heading to get coffee and breakfast, afterward, I came upon a fundraiser car wash, for a high school dance group, which is starting up this year. Sportage really needed it, and the girls did a great job. So, there was coffee, but breakfast waited until I got to my post as Blood Donor Ambassador. It was a bag of pretzels. I lived.
Once at the Red Cross Blood Drive, there was a steady flow of donors, most of whom were able to complete their donation. It was nice, though, that I was accompanied by a second Donor Ambassador. “Lunch” was a bag of Cheez-its. I still lived. The building was comfortable, even with the temperature of a meat locker, in the main donation bay. This is necessary, to keep the blood fresh. In the lobby, where I spent most time, the temperature was more conventional.
In a sign that the intensity of the past eight days will continue, I am now part of a plan to provide shelter for workers who were evacuated from the North Rim of Grand Canyon. If this works out, I will provide management for the shelter. It will be in Page, near Lake Powell, at the Utah border, and likely be from July 18 until the end of this month. Arrangements will need to be made tomorrow. On it goes. It is the least I can do, though, for people who have their livelihoods in the balance.
There was a prediction, not too long ago, that life would get more intense, after July 7. Looks like there may be something to that.
July 12, 2025- The cats began and ended my day, letting me know that they were not happy with the heat, even as it is mitigated by their comfy home’s AC. Animals can feel what lies beyond their enclosures. We all will get through the current heat wave, and will enjoy the rains, when they return in the middle of next week.
Two picnics, not far from one another, were planned to be simultaneous. They appealed to two different interest groups-and me. The Red Cross gathering was on the lawn of County Courthouse. The event was graced by the presence of a former President and First Lady of the Navajo Nation, and their two sons. This was auspicious, as RC has been strengthening its partnership with Dineh, supporting the Nation in its handling of a recent wildfire. Dineh handled the sheltering themselves, and we provided logistical support.
After twenty minutes with the Red Cross group, I headed over to a Slow Food gathering, in Granite Creek Park. This event was meant to highlight organic and heirloom foods. I brought spigarello, marinated in lemon lavender juice. Spigarello is an Italian green leafy vegetable, related to the broccoli plant. Its leaves are mild-tasting, lending themselves to being used in place of collards, or mixing nicely with tangy juices.
The Slow Food gathering was also a chance to offer healthful foods to some of the unhoused people, who have learned that many groups who hold events at Granite Creek are concerned for their welfare, and thus will include them in the gatherings. So it was today.
There was scant daylight between the Slow Food event and my regular shift at Farmers Market, so I got to work off the meal, and managed to get most of the tents, furniture and weights put away, before a quick trip to HB and a change of clothes. Our Baha’i Feast took place at 2 p.m., and I was the last one to arrive. No matter, everyone knows of my work at Farmers Market, and the time frame it entails. The Feast of Kalimat (Words) was a full house, and a much-needed break from the activities of earlier in the day. Our fellowship afterwards ran the gamut from a friend’s visit to the Mid-Atlantic region, with some grandchildren, to the inner atmosphere of a nuclear submarine. The foundation of all this, though, is love.
It was that love, flowing towards me and back outwards, that got me through this frenetic day, and will see me through many more.
July 11, 2025- Cat # 1 uttered a mild hiss, as I got between her and Cat # 2’s food dish. Somehow, though, when I’m not there, he gets his food and water. It is also hot, and even with AC, the atmospheric doldrums affect animals, making them more sluggish and more testy. Dog Days aren’t just for dogs anymore. So Cat # 1 was fussy. Her housemate was merely listless and content to lie still.
This was my second day of going straight from there to Bellemont. We finished setting up camp and with the campers & crew helping, the process was pretty much done by 2 p.m. I left the operation in my successor’s capable hands and will just check in with him tomorrow. Saturday is a full day, but it is all local activities. It is also a lot less dusty here than at camp. The dust is much thinner than in the past three camp seasons, so there’s that.
There are fires in the area around the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and its market town, Jacob Lake. Our team is keeping watch on that, through app.watchduty.org, which shows major fires in the contiguous United States, west of the Mississippi River. If a shelter is requested, there will no doubt be some of us involved. I will stay close to Home Base until Wednesday, but will guide anyone who does go to serve.
I found myself a lot calmer and more centered today, than had been the case earlier this week. Kerrville/San Angelo had a lot to do with the agitation. It appears there is more closure for the families, but some victims may not be found for some time yet, if at all. For some, the closure will never be total; everyone mourns in their own way and to none is given the right to question their state of being. I continue to send waves of loving energy to those communities, and to Ruidoso, the earthquake-torn areas of Guatemala, the flood-ravaged areas of Nepal and Pakistan-we are all one people.
July 10, 2025- Cat 1 put her whole face in the food bowl, eating for about five minutes-and consumed about 1 1/2 out of 4 teaspoons of food. She would eventually take 2 1/2 tsp of the meal, during the course of the day. Cat 2 was full-on voracious, or maybe he had “help” from Cat 1, but his bowl was licked clean. He’s a “boy” after my own heart. I have been in the Clean Plate Club, 99.9% of the time, since I was about 8. I never had a helper though.
The day illustrated the complex, and at times chaotic, nature of the energy that has arisen since July 1. A fire emergency rose, got everyone’s attention, led to several calls to Red Cross team mates, then the fire was brought under control. I then was able to focus, fully, on setting up Bellemont Baha’i School for this weekend’s camp. Though I am not going to be on-site for more than a few hours tomorrow, the prep work involved counting and setting aside supplies, then running to a hardware store for extra push lights and strike plates for electrical outlets. All that was accomplished, with the help of a couple of team members.
In both the Red Cross and Baha’i matters, there was a blizzard of text messages and phone calls. Some of us reflected back on how such things were done, pre-cellular and Instant Messaging. It just took longer, with more time sitting by land line phones-and the use of telegraphs. Many younger folks have no concept of telegrams, or even of the FAX machine, which was the tool of the connected, in the 1990s and early 2000s.
The synchronicity continued this evening, as another fire emergency arose, just as I was headed into a community room to give a presentation on Red Cross to residents of a small village, 30 miles east of Prescott. The emergency waited until I could get back here and e-mail a group of about 18 people, to ask their help over the next several days. (Clarity: The fire is a long way from the village where I made the presentation.)
The heavy energy will continue, tomorrow and Saturday, even without the fire to face: Camp, the cats, and two simultaneous picnics on Saturday, along with the Market and a Baha’i Feast. Ah, the joys of retirement! 🙂
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A Sagittarian Seeker 