Sunday, 16 June 2013

  • Chapter Two of My Heart's Story

    Chapter Two

    posted Jun 13, 2013, 10:31 AM by Gary Boivin

     This is the third of posts from my Google blog, which has been placed on comments-lock, by Google, but which I want to share with others and get their feedback, regardless of what Google's overlords think.
    In the course of my life, I have been constantly infatuated, "crushed" or otherwise overcome with attraction to one girl or woman, after another, from the time I was four.  The rubber didn't really hit the road,though,until my Penny came on the scene.  As I told another friend over Skype last night, it mattered none that she had an unsteady gait, or that I was mildly autistic and had attachment issues- we just connected on several levels.  We went through Hell and High Water together, raised a child to manhood, endured insane medical expenses, and the resulting bankruptcy, made good decisions and bad, and in the end, we remained committed.  She is my soul mate forever and the angel on my shoulder.

    So, what was this that happened recently?  I have met several fine ladies, over the past several months.  They are all between 40-65 years of age.  For one reason or another, they will be as sisters to me- some are fellow believers in Baha'u'llah; others are supporters of the American Legion, the Red Cross or Slow Food USA/International.  Their presence keeps me happy, focused and alive, as does the presence of all my brothers in spirit.
     
    I never expected, though, that one  would come along who would occupy my heart  and mind, the way Penny did, from the moment we met in December, 1980.  Yet it  was the angel on my shoulder who told me it is okay to have these feelings, that I should feel free to love this person, just as long as I take things one step at a time.  So, here I go again.  I have to say, the woman is spirited, full of joie de vivre and has a full life of her own.  She just captivates me, and I will love her forever, as I do Penny.  Some may say that's impossible, but I trust in the All-Merciful God, to give each of us what we need, in this world and all the worlds to come. My feelings in Chapter Two do nothing to extinguish Chapter One.  I have lots of room in my heart. 
     
    I will not put my new love's name out there, yet, because our ties are tenuous.  I will take my time with this.  There is a lot I don't know about her yet, her hopes, dreams, fears and expectations.  All I know of her is what I knew of Penny in the first few weeks and months of us- that her life spirit was irrepressible and irresistible.  
     
    I did not know, until, several months later, that Penny was being pursued by at least one other man.  With some sadness and trepidation, I backed off and let that relationship run its course.  We had nearly twenty-nine years of marriage, once it did.
     
    So, maybe things will work out; maybe they won't.  I know one thing, though, my life has already been blessed, forever, just for having met this wonderful lady.  Onward goes the heart in its journey, through Chapter Two.
     
     
  • Journeys

    This the second of three posts extracted from my Google website, in hopes others can view and comment, if they wish.

    Journeys

    posted Jun 12, 2013, 12:20 PM by Gary Boivin

    As I mentioned earlier, wander lust has been in my heart, since I learned to walk, and maybe before.  I probably went to every part of my little town of Saugus, by the time I was ten.  Going to nearby Lynn, either on foot via the abandoned rail bed (even before Rails to Trails) or by bus, was also a fairly frequent occurrence.  Some of my paternal cousins lived there, there was a cinema that showed horror movies and I would occasionally do a bus run to "downtown" (central Lynn) to pick up hairdressing supplies for my hairdresser mother.
    Dad and I went up Mt. Chocorua, NH a few times, and he took me to the Freedom Trail, in Boston, when I finished eighth grade.  He didn't especially share my love of history, but he did enjoy nature, and we were always doing things, as a family, outside.
    Our journeys in summer were fairly regular: A week or so in one part, or another, of the White Mountain region of New Hampshire; a weekend in Mashpee, on Cape Cod, where an uncle and aunt had a lovely cabin, on Johns Pond; and a lakeside gathering of various relatives and neighbours, at different state parks in northeast Massachusetts or southern New Hampshire.  My mind went on a few journeys of its own, when one of the families (which shall remain nameless here) showed up with three beautiful daughters.
    I only gradually branched beyond the comfort zone. I remember one time I helped Dad on a paperhanging job in Bristol, RI and another time we visited relatives in Stamford, CT, but those were the only forays outside Massachusetts and New Hampshire, until I was 18.
    My first airplane ride brought me to Columbia, SC, via Newark, for Army Basic Training.  That whole growing-up experience introduced me to discipline, lively communities that were mostly Black folks ( sections of Washington,DC,Columbia and Atlanta), a huge strand beach (Myrtle Beach)streets run by pimps (Midtown Manhattan), the Indianapolis Speedway, the public monuments and buildings of our nation's capital, the glitz of Tokyo, the chaos and struggles of Saigon (today's Ho Chi Minh City) and Manila, and the mix of relaxedness and formality that was Sydney, AU in 1971. I was sojourning on two planes, and made it through on both levels, more or less intact.
    In summer, 1972, I shucked it all, for about three weeks, loaded a back pack and sleeping bag (but no tent) and headed to Montreal, by bus, then across to Edmonton and the Rockies, by thumb.  It was a beautiful blitz, but I often wonder what I gained from the time, with the return trip, except for three days in Baltimore with my Army buddy and his family, being a waste.
    A spiritual journey began just outside Baltimore, though, as I was introduced to the Baha'i Faith by a gentle old man in a pick-up truck.  That journey of baby-step investigation took nine years, ending when I met Penny and began to pick up the pace.  The spiritual quest since then has had the power of Divine Assistance, and I will treasure this spiritual path, for all eternity.
    I've been to a lot of places since then, by all manner of transport, and sense there is a lot more to come. Whether I go alone, or with a friend or three, I know my angel is on my shoulder and my maternal grandfather, whom I never met, physically, is always looking out for his wandering grandson.
     
  • Love

    This is one of several posts I wrote for my Google website, on which Google refuses to allow others to post comments.  I am therefore bringing the posts to Xanga, WordPress and Facebook, so that my friends CAN read and comment, if THEY wish.

    Love

    posted Jun 11, 2013, 6:36 PM by Gary Boivin

    There are basically four elements that have defined my life, up to now:  Curiosity, Intuition, Introspection and Love.  As Jesus the Christ and Baha'u'llah have each said:  "The strongest of these is love."
     
    There are basically for kinds of love- 'Abdu'l-Baha explains that these are the Love of God for man, the love of man for God; the Love of God for Self (reflected in Creation) and the love of man for man.  This last kind of love, ideally, reflects the others.
     
    The more time I spend on this plane, the more I reflect back that the only things of consequence I have ever done have been those stemming from love.  Anything done from avarice, hurt, ignorance or anger has ended in naught.
     
    In childhood, I wanted to protect my mother from anyone that might have hurt or upset her, especially when Dad was at work.  It didn't matter how big the person was, I was not going to let her suffer.  It was the same with my siblings, but meekness on my part didn't really bring that out so much, once we were in school.  I saw the best in even the roughest character, among my school mates.  Yet, as I recall, my sister and brothers did not get picked on very much.
     
    Junior High was what it was- little good, for anyone, but most of us made it out okay, except for a kid named George who burned down a few schools, when we were in eighth grade.  He went into treatment.  For my part, I started to really make the connection between love and pleasure, as soon as I hit Grade 7.  Girls were no longer just cute;  they were nothing short of amazing.  I was just shy of twelve, when that connection was made.
     
    In high school,and through early adulthood, love showed several forms.  I started to pray more fervently.  I saw my female classmates as complete human beings.  I felt loyalty to my neighborhood.  I saw my parents more as allies than as overseers.  Alcohol clouded things, alot, from ages 15-26, but more on that another time.  In my thoughtful moments, I had concerns for my youngest brother, for my sister in a time of pain and for those around me- especially for my fellow veterans, after we came back from the war in the jungle.
     
    I never did, in all that time,find one who was close enough to me that the name soul mate applied.  The girls I dated were nice enough people, but the chemistry needed to bring out the love that had started to bury itself, only came when Penny entered my life.  I knew something was up when, a few weeks before we met, I had this thought that I was ready for a relationship.  The person with whom I was talking at the time was not the one of whom I was thinking.  
     
    She appeared in the middle of a stormy night, at the Shalako (a house-blessing ceremony) of Zuni, New Mexico.  I was there as part of an anthropology course; she, out of personal curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.  That last quality, and a gentle concern for the well-being of children, defined the love of my life.  We were together for thirty years, three months- twenty-nine of those as husband and wife; twenty-three, as parents; all of them as best friends.
     
    Penny taught me unconditional love- not a day went by that we didn't affirm it at least twice.  Not a night came that we hadn't resolved any differences in the name of love, before going to bed.
     
    The love of man for woman- an outgrowth, among many, of Mankind's love for his fellow humans- kept me at her side through all the aches and pains, and declines, of her last eight years on this plane.  There is something more, though- the love of spirit for spirit.  She has been with me constantly, since March, 2011.  Whether appearing in dreams, wafting a light current of air or gentle feeling on my skin, or giving me a sense of where to go or how to go about a given task- the love remains, constant and unconditional.
     
    Recently, I have met many new friends. I take each person as he or she needs to be taken.  Penny has seen to it that I don't follow any sort of false lust, or give in to momentary urges.  Those have nothing to do with love, anyway.
     
    I have felt another tug at my heartstrings, over the past few weeks.  I don't know for sure who this is about, but my angel tells me it's okay and that she and I will have plenty of time for each other in the Great Beyond, and that whoever this new woman is will be well-cared for also.  See, Penny knows who I am moving towards.  She will only say it's someone I don't know very well yet.
     
    I will stay tuned-in.
     

Monday, 10 June 2013

  • Heirlooms, Presidia and The Oneness of Us All

    Some of my finest adventures happen “close to home”.  This past watershed weekend was a prime example.  One of the organizations that has drawn me into itself is Slow Food Prescott.  This is part of a larger organization, founded in Italy in 1989, which seeks to revitalize the interplay between nutrition and socialization- a counterpoint to the phenomenon of eating in one’s car, or otherwise taking a meal “on the fly”.

    This past weekend, several things happened.  Friday night, I attended a gathering at the American Legion Post, in Prescott, enjoying a well-prepared meal in a relaxed atmosphere, which we do several times each month at the Post.  This set the stage for the weekend of food that was to come.

    Bright and early Saturday morning, I headed to Prescott Farmers Market, purchasing enough food to get me through the coming week, before heading out on my two-weeker, either to Colorado or Oklahoma/Texas, or both.  Prescott’s Farmers Market is balanced between produce and freshly-prepared foods, such as baked goods and artisan tamales.

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    After getting the food home and into the fridge, it was time to head to Bill’s Grill for the lunch which launched the 2013 meeting of Slow Food USA’s Southwest Region (Arizona and New Mexico).  Bill’s features organic beef, much of it from locally-raised cattle.

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    The Slow-Food group was well-nourished, and ready for an afternoon of agricultural tourism, by 12;30.

    We first headed to Whipstone Farm, in the hamlet of Paulden, about 20 miles north of Prescott. This establishment raises a variety of vegetables, fruit and livestock,  from arugula and asparagus to raspberries and tomatoes,using organic methods.

    SAM_4955

    SAM_4960    SAM_4972

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    There are many theories as to how we ought approach the task of feeding our numbers.  Genetic modification of crops is advanced, by industry, as the most efficient way to do this.    The organic methods, which I witnessed here at Whipstone, represent another, less-intrusive method.  Certainly, it’s more work to farm organically.  I have to say, though, that there seem to be fewer health issues arising from organic farming, than from other methods.  It’s noteworthy that the group with whom I spent much of the weekend look, almost to a one, about ten-twenty years younger than their chronological age-mates in the generality of society.

    I don’t partake of alcoholic beverages, but I tagged along to Granite Creek Vineyards, on the north side of Chino Valley.  Here, several of the group members enjoyed six varieties of fruit of the vine, attended by a well- versed sommelier.   Afterwards, we retired to the lawn, enjoying live music and the company of a peacock.

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    SAM_4984           SAM_4986

    Now, it was time for the main event.  We bundled into various cars, around 3:30, and headed to the hosts’ residence, just east of the vineyard.

    This is another of the homes which have been carefully, lovingly refurbished and made resplendent by astonishingly handy owners, across the country.                  SAM_4989  SAM_4990

    So here, we enjoyed an Ark of Taste dinner. Arc of Taste alludes to Noah’s efforts at animal husbandry, and directly speaks to the effort to preserve and foster many local ingredients, which would otherwise risk being squeezed out, for the sake of monoculture.  Thus, we have the term Presidia, Italian for “fortress”.  A Presidia item, such as the Churro sheep being raised in the Four Corners region, on the Navajo Nation,   is one of the major focal points of Slow Food International.  Variety in our diet improves digestion, diet and overall health.  Many might differ, but may I say their sentiments are along the lines of “Been down so long, it looks like up to me.”

    We thoroughly enjoyed a well-balanced and varied bill of fare, both on Saturday night and at the buffet-style breakfast, the next morning.  All was prepared from scratch.

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    On Sunday morning, after breakfast, we were honoured by a traditional Navajo blessing. I have missed this, for some time.

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    Richard McCarthy, the new director of Slow Food USA, is an accomplished gastronome, from New Orleans.  His efforts are creating sure order out of chaos and he has built a highly-functioning team at the New York headquarters.  Richard was honoured by our Dine (Navajo) friend.

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    Sunday, June 9, was Race Unity Day, so this blessing was particularly auspicious.  The Baha’i Faith has the Oneness of Mankind as its basic tenet.  Several of us gathered in mid-day, at Goldwater Lake.  I briefly took leave of my fellows at the Slow Food gathering, for this equally worthy event.  Spirit and body must surely work as one.

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    It was here that I learned a steadfast friend of 32 years had passed on, two days earlier.  This was a saddening, yet also comforting backdrop to the events of the weekend.  We now have one more angel pulling for us in the Divine Light.  Meanwhile, here in the Earthly frame, I can take comfort in have made several more friends:  Richard and his assistant, Aimee; the spirited Slow Food team of Santa Fe; and engaging, creative members of the Phoenix, Tucson and Flagstaff  Slow Food groups.

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    I look forward to so much that is good in life and to working through the challenges that lie ahead of us all.

Sunday, 09 June 2013

  • Arizona's Mini-"Rain Forest"

    It doesn’t rain any more intensely on Pine Mountain than it does anywhere else in Arizona.  I did find, though, that the trail to Nelson Place Spring and onward along Beehouse Canyon Trail is intensely green.

    It attracts the same intense wildlife as the Mazatzal Range, some forty miles to the southeast- including mountain lions, bobcats and bears.

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    So, here are a few scenes near Nelson Place Spring, where there are but remnants of some stone walls to show the vibrant life that people had here, 100 years ago.

    SAM_4919       SAM_4921

    SAM_4922       SAM_4924

    Not far along Beehouse Canyon Trail, I got a fine view of Beehouse Mesa.

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    Going in and out of the forest, I got fine views of Pine Mountain itself, which will be the focus of another hike, sometime in the next year or two.

     

    SAM_4928 SAM_4931 SAM_4935 SAM_4938

    On the way out of the Wilderness, I enjoyed views of Sycamore Creek Gorge, not to be confused with Sycamore Canyon, which follows the same body of water, but lies several miles north of here.

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    SAM_4947      SAM_4944

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    So went my mini-adventure, on what would have been our 31st wedding anniversary, June 6, 2013.

     

RighteousBruin

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    • Name: RighteousBruin
    • Location: Prescott, Arizona, United States
    • Member Since: 5/31/2011

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