April 9, 2015, Prescott-  I purchased my 2005 replacement vehicle this morning.  After a ten-mile test drive revealed the Nissan Altima to be everything I had been told about it, I completed the relatively short purchasing ritual, drove it home and got the insurance in order. I also arranged renter’s insurance, for good measure. Life is returning to normal.

I am midway through my Traffic Safety Systems online course.  Hopefully, the 3/4 point will be reached tomorrow afternoon, and the course will be finished by next Wednesday, leaving me to schedule the proctored final examination, pass it, and so inform the Justice of the Peace.

April still saw a slight loss of income; the Pacific Northwest and southeast Alaska await, in summer;  the real push for financial recovery will begin in August, and I will have until November, 2016, before another non-family-related journey looms.  The Nissan will help me through the bulk of it.

Inside myself, that’s where the growth is happening.  I reflect that so many mental and spiritual toxins are being removed, have been shed, since 2011. I am far more cognizant of where I need to proceed. Last year, an apologist for the Santa Barbara shooter accused me, in rather vile terms, of being one of the underlying causes of the misogynist’s actions.  I had to give even his baseless invective a measure of consideration.  None of us are crystal-pure.  Yet,  I have to say that my desire for the women in my life is to see them, first and foremost, realize THEIR dreams and map out THEIR futures. This was where I arrived, after five or six years of marriage- and it is here that I comfortably remain.

The accident, my only one in 48 years of driving, has proven a fulcrum for moving forward with growing spiritually all the more intensely.  That, and I have re-learned several salient points, about driving and about life, that were imparted to me, all those years ago, by Coach Len Wall.  Saturday evening, I had no “out”.  Now, I have several.

April 8, 2015, Prescott-  It was cold all over the place today.  Snow was reported on the East Coast, and we shivered a bit, here in northern Arizona. North America is past being ready for warm weather.

It’s time to consider that warm weather has its price:  Storms happen, as anyone in New Orleans or Miami can attest.  Tornadoes have already swiped Oklahoma and Arkansas, this spring.  Even Dubai had a wicked dust storm, last week.

Typhoons, though, are in a league of their own.  Being cyclonic in nature is bad enough, when the storm is an Atlantic or eastern Pacific hurricane.  In the islands of the western Pacific, from Borneo and New Guinea to New Zealand, and on up to Japan, the deadliness of a Category 5 Typhoon, hitting a low-lying island community, seemingly from three directions at once, defies the imagination.  The Philippines have had two such killer storms, this year alone. Vanuatu, which used to be called New Hebrides, is slowly inching forward in recovery from a massive typhoon, a few long weeks ago.  Small countries nearby, named Kiribati and Tuvalu, also got hammered by the monster.  These are not places with an unlimited store of resilience, but they will come back from that one.

Word has reached us, this evening, of yet another Category 5.  This one is hitting Micronesia, a vast federation of atolls, stretching nearly 1,000 miles from east to west.  There was a civilization in western Micronesia, when Europe was shaking from the Dark Ages. The villagers of the  low-lying islands had much to impart to the Spanish and Dutch, who came seeking a quick route from China to the Americas, in the Sixteenth Century.

We used to have an image of Pacific Islanders, as happy, carefree dancers and singers, who were always glad to see boatloads of tourists.  There was a warrior segment, also, of course, but they got reduced to an entertainment contingent as well- savagely tattooed and grimacing, to the delight of the squealing audience.

It was never thus.  South Sea islands, to my mind, are harsh places, in terms of having enough fresh water; in terms of surviving monster waves, tides and gale-force winds; in terms of not being forgotten by the wider world.  We who are concerned with rising seas, point to places like Kiribati, Tuvalu and Nauru, in the Pacific, Anguilla in the Caribbean, and the Maldives and Seychelles, in the Indian Ocean, as victims of climate change, “in the not-to-distant future”.  This year’s experience, though, suggests that the world had better keep an eye on nature’s “dry runs”- the three Category 5 typhoons that have leveled the homes of good-hearted and long-struggling human beings.  Mankind is one, after all.

April 7, 2015, Prescott- Often, on Tuesdays, I feel a sense of foreboding or ennui.  I’m not quite sure what has brought that on.  Today, however, I felt a very strong sense of purpose.  The idea was to make the search for another vehicle front and center. So, after clearing my calendar for the day, I headed over to a lot, not far from my home.

It is a clean, well-appointed business, with a large and clean office that is brightly-lit.  There is nothing seedy about the establishment, or its owner.  I walked around and looked at a dozen or so vehicles, finding none that particularly suited my fancy- except one.  A gray Nissan Altima, the second vehicle I examined, drew me back for a second look.  There was an energy coming from this inanimate creation, if one can believe such a thing.

The remorse and sadness I have felt, over losing my Kia, has started to melt away.  I know it is all because of all the memories and the service that automobile gave me.  It’s also because I let myself down, and did not maintain my regimen of safe driving.

Seeing a vehicle that is in fine repair and has  a good maintenance record is cathartic.  I am re-energized and back on track.  The energy that seemed to take a negative turn, with the accident and the Blood Moon, has returned to an upbeat level. Later this afternoon, I did laundry.  The antagonistic people who are there earlier in the day, had left.  A young man, who was not familiar with the dryers, put too many coins in his.  As his clothes were finished, with over a dollar’s worth of time left on the machine, he asked for a refund, from the manager.  This, of course, was not possible. The kid offered me the dryer, and went to leave.  I gave him the quarters for the time that was left.  Adults do not take advantage of their juniors, or of anyone else, for that matter.

Today was Arizona Gives Day.  I did send a small amount to a Yavapai County children’s fund.  We have more youngsters suffering here than one might think.  I find them constantly on my mind.

Well, there is something about just getting up, moving past ennui and getting the big stuff done.  The cathartic effect of something as small as mailing an envelope, my first order of business today, generated energy to get the car search underway, which in turn made the rest of the day reveal random opportunities for service.  Life means rolling, ever so carefully, over the speed bumps.

April 6, 2015, Prescott-  I am off work for a few days, mainly to complete the disposition of my old vehicle, which will be greatly missed, and to tend to things, like laundry, which are no longer a routine drive down the street.  Today’s retrieval of my camping gear and other items from the Kia, and a trip to MVD for a document, had to be coordinated with friends.  This will be a “new normal” for a few days.  I have to make time to visit a dealership on Sheldon Street, tomorrow, and price/select a vehicle which I can buy with cash, then get the cash, and hopefully be back in wheels by the weekend.

Not everyone is so lucky.  My person was not badly affected by Saturday’s accident.  I have the sturdy design of the Kia to thank for that.  My high school driving instructor, the late, great Len Wall, would have been aghast at my driving, at that short point in time.  He’d have railed at me, as he did, to my ultimate benefit, on a few occasions when I was under his tutelage.  The result of his passionate instruction was forty-eight years of safe driving, with only one previous accident, which was a slide on ice and did not result in any appreciable damage.  I am determined, I will resume that record.  An AARP safe driver class will supplement the court-ordered Traffic Safety class that I will take online, over the next few days.

I have to get to work again, and thanks to a few good friends, I won’t have to turn down work, after tomorrow.  Then, too, are the various meetings and gatherings, which may be easily taken for granted, as to accessibility.  It is good to be in touch with what so many have to face, each day, without a vehicle of their own.

One other thing:  As I was walking back from downtown, this evening, I greeted a street person who was sitting forlornly on a bench.  A well-dressed man approached and offered the man a room for the night, at the nearby Hassayampa Inn, a well-appointed establishment.  There are so many fine human beings in this world, and we do well to acknowledge them, as they appear.

April 5, 2015, Prescott-  Easter was important to me as a child, for two reasons:  The first was that it meant the end of hearing of Christ’s suffering, which I could not understand until my teen years and the second was that there was lots of candy.  The first part bothered me because Jesus, to me, has always been the Epitome of Love. I could not see any good reason for either the chief priests’ persecution of Him, nor for Judas’ betrayal.  The second part had a relatively brief shelf life.  My parents never bought Peeps, preferring jelly beans, Jordan almonds, creme eggs and chocolate bunnies.  I outgrew all except chocolate, and occasional Jelly Bellies (during the Reagan years, especially).

Nowadays,as a Baha’i, I recognize spiritual truth as being progressively revealed, across human time.  Christ brought a focus on letting God deal with peoples’ iniquities, on overcoming tribal affiliations, on loving others in spite of their shortcomings.  He also brought the Sword of Truth, not making excuses for one’s behaviour, but challenging oneself to rise higher on the spiritual plane.

Closeness to the Light has had its place in the hearts of men for a multitude of millennia.  There have, however, been limits to awareness, and a tendency to revert to the mores and customs that pre-date a Spiritual Messenger, as soon as that Messenger has departed this earthly life.  So it was with Moses, with Krishna, with Gautama Siddhartha (Buddha), with Christ and with Mohammad.  Those outside a given religion, or with a perfunctory understanding of it, see mythology as creed, hearsay as doctrine.

When Christ was crucified, the Romans reported that He had cried out:  “My God,My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”  In fact, an examination of the Aramaic and Greek, shows an affirmation of His role as Saviour:  “My God, My God, for this I was kept”.  His Rising, then, is a spiritual act, a confirmation that the Word of God can never be silenced.  Baha’u’llah tells us as much, in The Hidden Words:  “My Light can never be extinguished.  Why dost thou dread extinction?”  The Creator does not abandon His Creation, or the creatures that comprise it.

Easter, then, is a day to be universally celebrated, a key point along the collective spiritual journey of Mankind.  Without Christ’s ultimate sacrifice, we would have no way to comprehend the Call to Nationhood, of Mohammad, or the Summons to the entire human race, of Al-Bab and of Baha’u’llah.  Without His having resurrected the despairing souls of His Disciples, by appearing to them after the Crucifixion, there would have been no Christian Faith, and the journey of mankind would have been a more immediate, and far deeper, descent into the Dark Ages than it actually was.

These are only my own measured opinions, yet no matter how much I ponder this most essential of processes, I arrive at the same conclusion I drew as a teenager:  The Spiritual Teachers are vital to our overall well-being and there is no daylight between any One of Them, in comparison to the Others.

April 4, 2015, Cherry, AZ-   On any given day, there are hundreds of possibilities, for both good and ill.  I set out this morning for Tonto Natural Bridge, looking to explore the northern approach to the Bridge, via Pine Creek Trail.  I had gone the southern route on my first visit, last Fall.  The link between the two is a six-inch wide ledge, that is navigable by hugging the rock face, for about three feet of trail.  I have declined to so navigate.  My purpose in hiking is never bravado or machismo, but understanding.

I spent about an hour there, looking at the remnants of a waterfall, above Pine Creek, and walking along the creek, going through the small caves above it and marveling anew at the Natural Bridge.

The slight sprinkle of fluid, at the “waterfall” is not done justice by a mere photograph.

Pine Creek Trail, on the other hand, means lots of boulder hopping, along the creek bed.

The basalt, which makes up much of the area, may be examined up close.

This is the consummate Southwest- constant interplay between rock and water.

Small caves abound, north of the Natural Bridge.

You may see the first of my confirmations, as the two ledges meet.

Segments of the Bridge show escape hatches for the light.

I stood, contemplating the Natural Bridge, for about ten minutes, while encouraging those who had selected to traverse the narrow ledge between the north and south sides.  I can’t see the thrill, but they felt it.

After a satisfying lunch at Early Bird Restaurant, in Pine, I headed over to Pine Trailhead, for a five-mile roundtrip intro to the Arizona Trail.

Actually, I have walked about three miles or so of the Trail, in Davidson Canyon, near Tucson.  The Trail itself runs 807 miles, 795 of which go directly from the Mexican border to the Utah state line.  The other twelve miles circumnavigate Flagstaff.

I chose Oak Springs Trail, which takes one across Highway 87, over to a Reservoir and up to a ridge line.

Spring is springing!  These looks like houndstongues, but I could be mistaken.

There was no mistaking the horned lizard, however.

I rested at this little nook, just east of a reservoir, called Bradshaw Tank.

I did not go all the way to Oak Spring, choosing to save the majority of this magnificent trail for another time.  There were some anomalous sights on the way back:  A memento of a previous hiker’s visit;

A scene of life that is emerging;

and finally, my second confirmation of the day.

I headed back down towards Camp Verde and Prescott, after that.

There is an interesting pullout, on the way up to the Mogollon Rim, at Mile 13 of the General Crook Highway.  This area is closely associated with the unfortunate conflict between the U.S. Cavalry and the Tonto Apaches, as I have explained in a 2012 post on  Fort Verde State Park.

Thus was the interplay between light and shadow.  Little did I know, driving down the switchbacks and along I-17 towards Hwy 169, and home, that this drive would likely be the last, for my trusty Kia Optima.  Its brakes locked, as I approached the stop sign at the 169 just a bit too fast, and ended in a ditch.  Two hours later, my car, shattered windshield, deployed air bag and all, was in a tow yard.  I was at home, explaining to those closest to me, by phone, what had happened, as my client listened and offered his own support, while organizing his possessions for Monday’s move.  The State Patrol and the judge in Mayer are sympathetic, but still say I need to take an online Traffic Safety course.  Yes, indeed,  officers, and Your Honour.  I will take the course, treat my scrapes and scratches, work with the insurance company, get back to mobility and not take anything for granted, ever again.

Happy Easter.

April 3, 2015, Prescott-  In this evening’s episode of “Hawai’i Five-O”, the great Chi McBride took up the questions of both marital and fraternal fidelity.  His character, a captain on a Hawai’i State Police task force, finds himself facing the possibility that a close friend is being duplicitous, while re-affirming his own love for his wife.  The heartbreak he faces, in the first instance, makes him hauntingly vulnerable and very much in need of the second.

All my thirty years of closeness to Penny, and the years of unity with her spirit that have ensued, I have kept a fidelity, a loyalty of purpose.   I have female friends, now, whom I adore as people, and as helpers in many aspects of my life.  The time could yet come when I am in a friendship that turns romantic, but that’ll happen if it is meant to be.  My soulmate remains watchful, I know.

Today, millions of people around the world observe, commemorate and mourn the result of duplicity.  1, 982 years ago, money trumped loyalty to the Light of the World. At the same time, fear clouded the judgment of the man who would be the first Pope, and led to abandonment, however temporary.

The Paragon of Fidelity forgave His tormentors, His killers and His duplicitous friends.  Jesus the Christ set the example, to remain steadfast in the face of its opposite behaviour.  How many were the false ones who called “Lord, Lord”, in His wake, yet walked the dark path!  How many the devoted ones who gave their all for Him, Whom they loved completely!

Fidelity and duplicity are choices we each make, in matters great and small, and in all relationships, both secular and divine, both committed and casual.  Which shall be the goal, as this Good Friday draws to a close?

April 2, 2015, Prescott-  Yavapai County Angels is an ad hoc group, which was formed last November, to bring holiday cheer to disabled veterans and other shut-ins, in the Quad Cities (Prescott, Prescott Valley, Chino Valley, Dewey-Humboldt) and outlying areas of our county.  Thirty-nine households ended up receiving much-appreciated solace from the initial group.

This morning, with help of various sorts from 133 members, several members of YCA, including me, assembled Easter baskets for distribution to residents of a Veterans Housing facility, and several extras, to be given to homeless veterans outside that facility.  Puzzles and word search books were also brought to the Arizona Pioneer Home, a senior living facility here in town.

YCA is a grassroots group, not beholden to any creed or political agenda.  This makes it doubly attractive to me, as the mission statement, so to speak, is simply Love Thy Neighbour.  My own halo may have prongs on it, but it still feels good to have the means to make a small difference in the lives of the disadvantaged.  On this Maundy Thursday, what else is there?

April 1, 2015, Prescott-  I spent the day with Second-Graders, enjoying the silliness of April Foolery, at the elementary level:  “Look, your shoes are untied”  So much innocence, and underlying trust that things are basically okay, fuel the basic sense of relaxed fun.

It doesn’t last, and more’s the pity.  I fielded a phone call from my landlord, who lives in another state.  He learned of my client’s lingering presence on our compound, and gently-for now- expects me to bring the situation to a close.  I gave my client two more days to move along.  My eviction is neither a joke, nor an option.

His reaction was predictable, and after finding him a motel room, in lieu of his sleeping under the stars, in a forest not far from here, I formulated a plan to keep his belongings safe, should he revert to a passive- aggressive abandonment of them.  That may well be how the situation “ends”.

That’s the thing about endings; they are usually hiatuses, breathers that are designed to give the tormented soul a chance to regroup his/her thinking, in light of a reality that is hard to comprehend.  Here’s the rub, with my client:  He was never really parented.  Raising oneself, even in the rather tame world of the 1950’s, leaves lots of gaps.  One only learns to consider others if one has a mother and/or father, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, who is modeling such relative selflessness.

So, I would find room in my storage closet outside, for the dozen or so boxes he has organized, and when he, or his adult children, show up to collect them, the stuff and nonsense that have played out over the past four months will have not caused any harm.