We all walk ancientrails. Welcome to the journey.

The Day Before

Written By: Charles - Feb• 13•20

Imbolc and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Thursday gratefuls: That I’m alive to renew my driver’s license. Bulgogi made by Seoah. Art Green’s Radical Judaism. Yet more snow. The cold. Sleep. Resting. Writing. The loft. Kate’s discernment. Joe and Mary in Singapore, Mark in Riyadh. The quarter Shadow Mountain Moon, brave and bright.

Yesterday I drove nowhere. Wow. Part of my exhaustion, driving. I like driving, but when I go everyday, then spend time waiting, then drive back home, it saps my energy. Today I get my license renewed. Ha. Colorado licenses are good for five years, so this is a ritual that will, as long as I live, mark our time here. 5 year increments.

Kate goes tomorrow to see a hand therapist and her surgeon. He wants to see me, too. My bite stayed infected in spite of an augmentin regimen. Kate added sulfa on top of the augmentin. The infection subsided, but the whole wound lingers, slow in its healing, much slower than the first bite. I imagine he wants to be sure this doesn’t happen to Kate’s fingers.

Tomorrow. Valentine’s Day. 73rd birthday. A celebration Sunday night with Jon and the kids, a celebration, too, of Gertie’s life. Kate’s idea, a German meal, wiener schnitzel, red cabbage, spaetzel seems right. Maybe German chocolate cake, too. German wire-haired pointer. Rascal.

Each year is precious, but as time ticks down past seventy, even more so. I’m looking forward to my 73rd. Or, is it my 74th? Calendars and daylight saving time. Challenges. Whichever, it’s the next year of my life. More time with Kate. With Seoah and Joe. Jon, Ruth, Gabe. Rigel and Kep. Even Murdoch. (but not in the same place or time as Kep. Nope. Not ever again.) CBE. Friends near and far.

I’m entering this new year with old expectations sheered away by grief and exhaustion. Putting a vision for my life in the trash bin. Going full Taoist. Let it come, flow with it. Watercourse way. No more hopes. No more career. This day, then the next one.

This is not, btw, resignation. It’s about entering each moment, hanging in it, not pushing for what comes next. Living until I die. My always intent. Kavanah. Hebrew for intent, direction of the heart. Jews prepare to pray by making their kavanah clear. I will live my life, not hide from it, not demand more from it. That is my kavanah.

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