06/29/2025
Master's Message (June 26, 2025)
“The stars incline us, they do not bind us.” – William Shakespeare
Brethren,
Lately, I’ve found myself drawn more often to the night sky. Not just as a student of astronomy, but as a traveler in search of quiet answers. There’s something profoundly grounding about standing beneath that vast expanse—witnessing stars that have burned for millennia, their light reaching us across time and space. Even the chaos of the universe follows a pattern; even the darkness is full of meaning.
I find comfort in that.
There are seasons in a man’s life when the heavens seem overcast, when familiar constellations shift or fade. In recent weeks, I’ve felt the tremors of such a season. Not all storms are visible from the outside, but their gravity can be felt within. These moments test the strength of one’s internal compass—calling us to rely on the truths we hold most sacred.
The constellations that once gave us a sense of direction—Orion, Ursa Major, the Southern Cross—are not fixed as they appear. They drift slowly over centuries, and even the brightest stars can slip below the horizon. In life, too, the people and principles that once guided us may seem to shift, to dim, or to move beyond our reach. But if we hold still long enough, if we study the heavens with patience, the map realigns. The stars, though distant, remain.
Freemasonry has long taught us to labor in silence, to act with integrity even when misunderstood, and to offer compassion without condition. I’ve leaned heavily on those lessons lately. I’ve also come to cherish the quiet dignity of the Craft more than ever—the idea that we are never truly alone in our trials, even when we cannot speak them aloud.
In astronomy, there is a concept called "apparent retrograde motion"—when a planet appears to move backward in the sky. It’s an illusion, of course, but a powerful one. Life often feels the same. Sometimes progress is masked by pain. Sometimes doing what’s right feels like standing still—or even moving against the current. But we press on, trusting in the larger design, knowing the Architect does not err.
This year has been an interesting one—a year of deep reflection and difficult lessons. I’ve experienced the quiet unraveling of things I once thought were unshakable. I’ve wrestled with the sadness that comes when our efforts to help are misunderstood. And I’ve seen how even pure intentions can be caught in the tangled webs of perception. Yet through it all, I’ve tried to remain true to my square, my plumb, and my level.
I share this not to cast shadows, but to remind us all: we are Brothers not just in ritual, but in real life—in its triumphs and trials, its clarity and confusion. And even when one of us walks through a darker part of the journey, the Lodge remains a place of light.
Let us continue to build with love. Let us speak with gentleness, judge with mercy, and remember always that each Brother’s story holds unseen depths. Thank you for walking beside me on this path.
Fraternally and faithfully,
WB Alexander Bautista
Worshipful Master
Mt. Hood Lodge No. 32
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