Of Love, Rain, and Conspiracy Theories

"Not another weekend of rain!" I said to George. We looked at the images on the Weather Channel, with reports about mud slides, flooding pastures, and raging rivers. Two inches of rain fell in some parts, and light snowfall blanketed the high moun- tains. Last weekend we had a long hike, in the rain, and we really did not want another one. As magnificent as the forests can be to provide a canopy, there is nothing like open country and vista.

George suggested that we drive over to eastern Washington, and head south toward toward Richland and the Yakima River.
This is an area we've never hiked or canoed, although we've explored it a few times. It is exquisitely vast and dramatic. But, to get there is an ordeal of significant proportions for me - I simply cannot sit for long periods anymore.

George plied all his usual assurances, and attempted to sell the idea as we packed our gear, got our breakfast at McDonalds, and then headed over Snoqualmie Pass. He was full of chicanery: The task was to keep me preoccupied in conversation for two hours, followed by my favorite music for another two hours, followed by hours and hours of Robert Anton Wilson's futurist psychology on the return drive home.

We drove further and further away from civilization. The scab- lands of eastern Washington became more dramatic and more spooky! Huge thunderclouds loomed overhead.

The wind blew alkali dust in swirls that dissipated upwards toward the mountains. The mood was heightened as Wilson explained the eight stages of consciousnes, the origins of language, guerrilla ontology, the paranormal, and 'real and imagined political conspiracies'.

The mix of topics was astounding! I looked at the DVD jacket cover: Six Hours of Listening for Adventurous Minds Only! Lectures on The Acceleration of Knowledge, The New Inqui- sition, and Religion For the Hell of It, all fashioned in a most comic fashion for the 'mystically inclined'. Or, it was added, "Old Bob Exposes His Ignorance".

We didn't need Bob's existential predicaments to add on to the one we already had - namely, it was too windy to canoe. That left only hiking, so we back-tracked to a well-known favorite, Lake Nunnally, and did some bluff climbing.

The weather was just wonderful - warm, T-shirt weather, and sunshine. The views were great, but the wind was so brutal we had to brace ourselves just to stand up. We hiked for about three hours, returning back to the car about an hour before sunset.

Looking back, we'd spent most of our day driving - about eight hours. It seemed like a lot of effort just to stretch the vision and avoid the rain. But, looking back, we're always glad we did it.

And A One-Two-Three!

~ From a photo by Kathy Hall ~

"Ev'rything Is Satisfactual " - Zip-a-dee-doo-dah

For more years than can be remembered, Tim and Debbie Olsen have been hosting a 10:30 brunch for Naw Ruz, the beginning of the Baha'i New Year. They bake a ham, and the rest of us bring the trimmings.

Every year the youth gather in the parlor to await the words, "It's ready!"

Here, Mauricio is playing the guitar and we all sang along. It has become a tradition for George to sing "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah". After all these years you'd think he'd get the words right. But, after he sang a few bars, lo and behold, he forgot some of the lines, mid-way. No matter, it was still a zippity-doo-dah day as we ziz-zaged up to Seattle to spend some time exploring.

Taraz and Rahmat joined us for the day up in Seattle. We drove over to Lake Washington for a hike on Foster Island and Marsh Island. Floating bridges connect the two islands. There are observation decks and spongy cedar-chip trails that wander the length of the islands.

One has to stay on these walkways because the islands are pocketed with standing water in the shallows. Mallards nibble in the grass, and moss covers old beaver-nibbled logs.

The guys ambled on ahead, without me, as I examined new willow shoots, fungi and water iris.

About four o'clock we picked Megan up at the University of Washington, where she works in the Immunology Lab. Megan has had this job for several years, but is looking to change course. She plans to attend graduate school in the fall.

Megan's boss gave us a tour of the lab and described the experiments in molecular biology that they were doing. Currently, they are probing the complex factors of a protein called T-Bet, which regulates DNA transcriptions. At the time I completely understood all of it as she explained it. I also got a grasp about it as Megan elaborated on it.....something about splitting molecules and separating lines of DNA, then looking for irregularities or mutations. But, for the life of me, I can't remember much about it now! Poor George. Poor Me. We can't seem to remember things like we used to. Now it is 'in one ear, out the other'.

We walked down to a little Mexican restaurant along the waterfront, and sat down in an enclosed patio over-looking a marina. This time of year they zip up the windows with heavy plastic and provide a bit of heat with an overhead heater.

Students packed the little eatery. With notebooks open and backpacks under the tables, they enjoyed issues of academia with seriousness and playful banter.

We had chosen a nice little corner that had a good view of the Marina below. People were loading up their kayaks and placing gear into their vehicles, obviously pleased with their excursion and the accommodating weather... "It's the truth, it's actual... Ev'rything is satisfactual. Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay...Wonderful feeling, feeling this way!

Naw Ruz Greetings - First Day of Spring

Our neighbor Myong brought over these several dozen roses last night. They are certainly a delightful and fragrant celebration of Spring, and of Naw Ruz, the Baha'i New Year. Tomorrow will be a day of celebration for us, a day of gathering with friends for brunch, and of 'letting the day unfold'. Weather permitting, we'll be finding gentle water, hoping for sunshine, and awakening to the beauties of the first day of spring.

A Persian Confection - Phyllo Crisps

Our son-in-law, Mehran, gave us these delightful light confections for Naw Ruz. They are made with phyllo dough, an old Turkish pastry that has been used in Anatolia for many centuries. The dough is traced back to the Assyrians around the 8th century B.C. The sheets are paper thin, and made from flour, water, and oil. Powdered sugar and finely ground nuts are often inside. I put these in a little dish, and they are smaller than they appear here. They melt in your mouth!

A New Spring Arrival - Zoie Belle

And, I had to post this of Zoie Belle, Veronica's new arrival. Zoie arrived 3 weeks early, and would have been born just a few days ago. Happy birth-day, Zoie Belle, the sweetest bloom of spring. (photo by Kathy Hall)

A Gathering of Friends and Family

Our daughter Ruhiyyih flew in from Washington D.C. to spend time with friends and family on the weekend. Shown here are our neighbors, who had come over for breakfast, and some members of our extended family, who came for lunch. You can see Taraz and Megan on the far right, Rahmat, Rue and Annie, Tim (Annie's dad), Ruhiyyih, and my grand-daughter Daisy holding my hand; George is on the far left next to our neighbor Meyong who brought her exchange students from China.

While I was busy in the kitchen, Kathy Hall (Annie's mom) took photos of the gathering, which I will share here. It was a wonderful day of visiting and gift-giving. We wanted to wait until Ruhiyyih came home to enjoy our Ayyam-i-Ha celebration.

Here, Myong's students are enjoying Nintendo's Wii that Rahmat set up in the den. He set up the bowling alley, and strapped the remote control device on Daisy's arm, so she could play. (These devices have to be strapped on, or sometimes the player accidently throws them at the TV, forgetting it is a virtual game.)

Ruhiyyih has several close friends who just had babies, and she couldn't wait to hold them! Here she is pictured with Daisy, my oldest daughter Laurel, Veronica with new baby Zoey Belle, Annie, and myself. This was little Zoey Belle's first social outing. She is 3 weeks old and was a very good little gal, given all the noise we were making during her nap.

I took this photo of Ruhiyyih and Brynn on Saturday. Brynn has been a good friend of Ruhiyyih's for many years. She will be leaving for a counseling position in a mental health facility down in Mississippi in a few weeks. Brynn seems like a member of our family. She has attended so many of our family events, and our camping and hiking excursions.

Ruhiyyih flew back to Washington this morning. Her visit was 'short and sweet', just a brief 'hello', but she managed to see all her friends, family, and even some of the members of our Ruhi Study Circle on Sunday. She loves her job in D.C., and all the new experiences she has there, but, there is 'no place like home'!

She plans to return in late May for our family's annual camping trip over to eastern Washington. Then, she will have a chance to hike and canoe, and just relax again with her extended family.

Under The Influence of Water

The Puget Sound area was heavily impacted by a warm

storm-front on the weekend, called the 'Pineapple Express'. It dumped a torrent of rain, but pulled in some great warm weather. In spite of the rain, we packed up our gear and drove to Deep Lake, in Millersylvania State Park, for an afternoon of canoeing. This time of year is quite dreary, and shorelines can look drab and uninviting. I often do not film in winter, partly because of the drab greys and partly because I do not want my camera to get wet. Yet, we pack a lunch and a thermos of cocoa, and the day usually has something of a redeeming value.

Canoeing in winter is much like 'first appearances' with people. Get beyond the drizzle of rain, cold fingers, and the uncertainties lying under the water or around the next bend, and you will glide peacefully without much incident. In winter, that is the goal, to read the weather and water, and determine that the movement will take you to a good destination. It leaves the crush of adgendas and the fast paced schedules behind. It promotes pauses and gentle conversation.

At this time of year, all the reeds are a brittle tan, and spotted with fungus and decay. Eventually the waves and water rot them, and new spring shoots rise up. Branches and trees hang over the water, and a number of lures and lines were hanging from overhead branches. Probably a good fishing spot. We were the only paddlers on this lake. Come summertime, the nearby camping and picnicing areas will be filled, and children will be swimming, bird-watching, mountain biking, and throwing horseshoes around the firepits. Interpretive trails and an environmental learning center are also part of Millersylvania State Park. As George loaded up the canoe, I wandered along the boat-ramp, and this friendly couple greeted me. They are also from Tacoma, and had spent the afternoon enjoying the park. The soft music from someones CD player lilted across the lake, and laughter and conversations broke out among the visitors here. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine summertime, sunshine, and the aroma of hotdogs on the grill.

Manchester State Park

This is the Torpedo Warehouse at Manchester State Park on Puget Sound. It dates back to the turn of the century when the site was a U.S. Coast Artillery Harbor Defense installation for nearby Bremerton.

The park is not far from George's office, and offers excellent beach-combing, hiking and picnicing. Over the years, we've come to enjoy the old buildings, including the gun battery and mining casement. It is a poplular spot.

Wintertime is an excellent time to explore, as wintering over wildlife are in the area. American Widgeons were abundant, bobbing close to shore. We heard the barking of seals on rocky outcroppings. Protected wildlife areas are abundant along this stretch of Puget Sound.

George and I were watching four eagles when Taraz snapped this picture. The eagles were slowly soaring in circles, enjoying the warm currents of the 'Pineapple Express', a warm storm front from Hawaii. The conditions of this storm make for some dramatic, pounding rain, then sunbreaks. (We got our hike in during the sunbreaks.)

This area has wonderful rocks and sand. All the embankments were quite steep down to the water, and slick from the rain. I was a little reluctant to slide down this embankment, as I wondered if I could get back up - my boots were the wrong kind, and I couldn't get a good grip. We told George we were going to give it a try, but really needed someone on solid ground to help us up if we got stranded. George stayed put, and Taraz and I slid down the embankment, just delighted we could get down there. I took lots of photos of Taraz, some of him jumping in mid-air from boulders, or turning over the big boulders to watch the crabs scurry. He was like a kid again, and it reminded me of all the fun we've had together on the beaches of Puget Sound. When it was time for us to climb back up the embankment, Taraz got up ok, but, my feet kept sliding and I couldn't get a good footing, so he had to grab my hand and pull me up. I braced my other hand on a tree-branch, and up I came, but not without a goodly amount of crackles in my arm and shoulder. Gettin' old, I guess, but I still love to explore just like a kid!

We completed our leisurely hike in about an hour, getting home just before the rain started up again.

Digging For Treasure

When Taraz and Megan came back from Israel, they gave me a little white box. Within, were two small rocks, the large one from Mt Carmel in Haifa, and a small one from the prison city of Akka, where Baha'u'llah was exiled after he left Adrianople, Turkey.

Both are a speckled tan, with some white and grey stratifications. The smaller of the two could be a fragment from an old stone wall in Akka. The larger looks like a praline candy with a molten center.

They also brought back a small shell and some fine sand from the beach at Tel Aviv; when I opened the small plastic bag and felt the sand, it was still slightly damp, and cool. Later, I realized that I could have breathed the air within this bag, that of the Mediterranean!

Hearing their stories about Akka, Bahji, and Haifa, and especially seeing some of their photos, made me wish that I could have seen these locations when Baha'u'llah was there. (Flickr photo by Raz).The images we see in present-day journeys - the transportation, luxury hotels, the clothing - is vastly different from how things were then. I tried imagining a walled fortress, a citadel, the ancient caravanseri for travelers, (pictured here). I hungered for older images of Persia and Turkey, the ancient hills and cave dwellings.

With that in mind, I made a trip to our local library, and to my good fortune, I acquired a guide who offered me her services with a simple question, "Are you finding what you are looking for? Oh, she had no idea, the journey the two of us would take! Fortunately, this is her specialty, this digging for treasure, and she didn't bat an eye. "Jenny" is one of the oldest librarians I've ever seen - stooped, round shouldered, and with a gait that one would see on a war veteran. She had to pause to accommodate injuries, age, and breath.

"Well, I'm looking for images of Persia, Turkey and the Holy Land, before the turn of the century. " I said. Then, I thought, I'd better be more specific..... "before 1900".

She calculated for a moment, considered that probably the camera had been invented by then, and proceeded to show me a goodly number of books that I've already read. "The Culture of Islam" by Lawrence Rosen; "A Traveller on Horseback in Eastern Turkey and Iran" by Christina Dodwell; "Mirrors of the Unseen: Journeys in Iran" by Jason Elliot; "Persian Pilgrimages: Journeys Across Iran" by Afshin Molavi; and "The Mantle of the Prophet: Religion and Politics In Iran" by Roy Mottahedeh. As she pulled them all out, one by one, I had to inform her that most of them were too recent for what I was looking for.

So, this devoted Librarian logged onto her computer. She researched our topic, and with only ten minutes of repairs and paper-tugging to the printer, we got another itinerary, and traveled over to another part of the library. By this time, she was in the lead, resolute. When she answered my questions, she'd take a half-breath every couple of words, like she was climbing uphill. She adjusted her bifocals and squinted at book titles on the list. "Ah, YES! There's 'Ten Thousand Miles In Persia' by Major Percy Molesworth Sykes! 1867 - 1945. That's SIR Percy Molesworth Sykes."

But, his book was not on the shelf. She jotted down a reserve for me, and then another. It appeared that most of the books on her list were not on the shelves. They'd been pulled and were in storage - in the basement.

Now, at this point I was truly feeling sorry for my guide. But, no matter. She made a phone-call from the special services desk, and within ten minutes, a book was at hand. Abraham Valentine William Jackson's "Persia Past and Present: A Book of Travel and Research. 1862 - 1937".
I was looking at a book that was over a hundred years old! His credentials: "Professor of Indo-Iranian Languages, and sometime adjunct professor of the English language and Literature at Columbia University." He began his travels in 1903, and his book contains exactly the kind of illustrations and photographs that I'd been looking for. He is a delightful writer, using the antiquated courtesies of an older linguistic style that is part of a bygone age. I perused the list of over 200 illustrations and a map, looked up and thanked her.

She was delighted, grabbed her little yellow post-it pad and pen, and without further adiew, she was off. I browsed the DVD's and brought home "Daughter of Keltoum" by Mehdi Charef, a story about an Algerian woman on a quest to find her mother in the Atlas Mountains. Wonderful! I had my treasures for the weekend.

The Journey Will Take You There

Taraz and Megan are shown here in front of the Centre for the Study of the Texts on Mt Carmel, in Haifa, Israel. The Centre is for scholarly research designed to assist in translations and commentaries relating to the authoritative texts of the Baha'i Faith. They are on Baha'i Pilgrimage.

When I look at their faces, I wish I could describe what I know of these two, but, where to start. Megan is so sweet, capable, and strong, and Taraz is so refreshing, sensitive, and dear. In this photo, I see my son as I experience him, gentle, ready to break into a smile, and eager to see people happy. Megan is the one who helps keep him steady, giving direction to their lives. She was also the one to keep abreast of all the details of their new adventure.

A pilgrimage has all kinds of agendas. The object is not rest and recreation (to get away from it all). To set out on a pilgrimage is to test and challange, to expand the perimeters of our inner thought and resources. In 'The Art of Pilgrimage' by Phil Cousineau, Huston Smith, Professor of Religious Studies at the University of California, writes: "Nothing matters now but this adventure. Travelers jostle each other to board the train where they crowd together for a journey that may last several days. After that there is a stony road to climb on foot - a rough, wild path in a landscape where everything is new. The naked glitter of the sacred mountain stirs the imagination; the adventure of self-conquest has begun. Specifics may differ, but the substance is always the same."

The reality of pilgrimage is that there are a multitude of details, many of which can be overwhelming - like dealing the the intensity and clamor of a busy Israeli city, with taxis and buses and people. Airports. Baggage. Currency exchanges. Customs. There is an itinerary - the Shrines of the holy figures within our Faith, the monument gardens on Mt Carmel, the dwellings, barracks and prison where Baha'u'llah and his family spent 40 years of exile and imprisonment, and lectures and tours within Akka, Bahji and Haifa.

Taraz and Megan took time to enjoy all of it, some of it (for Taraz) at their own pace. One of his most enjoyable days was spent sitting on one of the terraces of Mt Carmel, enjoying the gardens and the vista over the bay of Haifa. Israel....so different from their lives here in Tacoma. Why, just a little over a half a year ago, the city was being bombed with rockets from Lebanon, and residents were hiding in their hallways, waiting for the night-time attacks to stop. When Taraz sat in quiet reflection, he felt the long, arduous history of this ancient land.
There is the need in all human beings to seek a sheltered spot, a refuge, where they feel at home and where they feel fulfilled in all the dimmensions of what it means to be human. Some people go somewhere, on a journey to a place; others go exploring within. Some go alone, others travel like the Baha'i pilgrims - 300 for the 12 day journey. Taraz and Megan came home stronger for the journey, filled with lots of stories. I told him, "Going on a pilgrimage is similar to the pioneers on the Oregon Trail. They had a vision of the promised land, green pastures with grazing deer, helpful neighbors, and a secure destiny for their children and grand-children. In reality, they suffered the sudden attack of Indians, wagons breaking down, children getting sick, and burying loved ones along the trail where their graves were dug up by wolves." In other words, it is both a vision of sublime possibilities and the hard reality of a journey.

Taraz and Megan returned to their home, after hours cramped on flights, and checking baggage, and getting reacquainted with the bustle of busy Seattle traffic at Sea-Tac airport. Taraz was so jet-lagged, that when his alarm went off in their apartment the next morning, he thought he was still in Haifa, in the hotel. He thought that room service was calling!

The Security Patrol

We were just considering unloading our canoe on American Lake when this concerned group of local citizenry warned us that the lake was 'tainted' with a toxic algae bloom. No boats were in the water. I thought, "how could that be possible in such cold weather?" (At least I thought it was cold; they look like they were dressed for summer!) But, the boys were right. It was pretty quiet at American Lake.

So, we drove through Thurston County down to Offutt Lake. The drive is one of my favorites, through open country with quaint farms and pastures. Grazing cattle browsed, and the sun was shining, making quite a display of the new tufts of green grass.

Offutt Lake is a tiny fisherman's lake, rimmed with older homes, cabins, and a sprinkling of constr- uction (as is always the case on these lakes). Every home had its dock out into the water and boats stored up on the shore, overturned. This was definitely a canoer's lake. Not too many extravagant powerboats here, or gizmos for speeding across the water.

There were oodles of fishermen, taking turns loading and unloading fishing boats with tiny electric motors that are snapped onto the back. I watched them assemble their rods, pack their gear into the boats, and gently putter into favorite spots. Then, they'd hunker down, getting to the business of catching a fish. We made a point of making a wide circle, avoiding their lines. But, we were still close enough to inhale the scent of cigar smoke, and to ask how the fishing was going.

While we were paddling back to the boat-ramp, nine (!) helicopters skimmed the sky overhead. They were on a mission back to Fort Lewis and flying very low. I joked with George that maybe they were out to get us as we've encountered aircraft at least five other times while canoeing. They are always looking for someone who is reported missing, or violating the rules of a wildlife sanctuary. Once we accidently entered protected water on Woddard Bay, a seal habitat, and a helicopter was scanning the area, flying very slow. We headed upriver, out of danger. When we got back to our 'put-in-place' we noticed that someone had mangled the warning signs. When we paddled back, we saw the warning signs. We had been paddling in a protected zone all afternoon!

This little finger on Offutt Lake was about the only place where I could find a spot with a little color. Otherwise, it was a typical lake in western Washingon this time of year, quite dull and grey, with just a flat sheen to the water. It made for some very peaceful paddling along the shoreline, though.

At the far end, where the lake gets a bit of wind, there was a reedy area with lichen-covered trees along the shoreline. The red-winged blackbirds were calling back and forth, and the frogs were busy too. There was almost a hint of spring from all the racket and I suspect in a few weeks this little lake will become even more charming as the residents start puttering out in their yards, coming out of hibernation. Yesterday, the temperature in Tacoma was 65 degrees. That may bode well for the weekend.

What Does Peace Feel Like?

We picked up Baily, Dolly, and Vaneda, and drove over on Saturday to the Purdy Baha'i Children's classes. It is only a short 15 minute drive over the Narrows bridge. George assisted with the class for the pre-readers, with puppets, drawings, and snacks. I took photo- graphs. I'll post a few here, just to highlight the occasion.

The class starts out with a round of prayers, consul- tation and singing. The lead teacher, Carla Jo, was organizing a round of songs that will be presented to a local nursing home for one of their daily activities. The children were told what to expect when they go into the nursing home, and, of course, to encourage conversation and affection.
The children break up into classes, and the adults attend a Ruhi Class while the children are in class. The group here were doing Book 4, on the greatness of this day and the promises it holds for humanity. They were working on a memorization: "This is the Day in which God's most excellent favors have been poured out upon men, the Day in which His most mighty grace hath been infused into all created things. It is incumbent upon all the peoples of the world to reconcile their differences, and, with perfect unity and peace, abide beneath the shadow of the Tree of His care and loving-kindness. It behooveth them to cleve to whatsoever will, in this Day, be conducive to the exaltation of their stations, and to the promotion of their best interests." ~ Baha'u'llah

This little guy was a lot like me, doing his own thing, sitting by the window. We exchanged a few whispers after awhile, and I found him to be quite charming and endearing, despite his limited vocabulary. It was amazing what a few fluttering eyelashes and a shy smile can do.

I picked up one of the children's books during the snack-time, called "What Does Peace Feel Like" by V. Radunsky, and one of the chapters was on what peace sounds like. One child said, "It feels like a growling bear of war who gets shot by a love arrow and the fighting stops."

Another child said, "It sounds like everyone's heart beating, making one big sound together."

And, another child wrote that peace " looks like a cloud high up in the sky that just happens to be there, giving happiness to everybody, white and fluffy peace."

A number of other books were on the shelf, one of which was "Ordinary Mary's Extraordinary Deed" by Emily Pearson: "Can one good deed from one ordinary girl change the world? It can when she’s Ordinary Mary—an ordinary girl from an ordinary school, on her way to her ordinary house—who stumbles upon ordinary blueberries. When she decides to pick them for her neighbor, Mrs. Bishop, she starts a chain reaction that multiplies around the world. Mrs. Bishop makes blueberry muffins and gives them to her paperboy and four others—one of whom is Mr. Stevens, who then helps five different people with their luggage—one of whom is Maria, who then helps five people—including a man named Joseph who didn’t have enough money for his groceries—and so on, until the deed touches every single person on the planet and finally comes back to Mary."