Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Doug. Making real progress. Ruth and Gabe and Mia coming up tomorrow. While Doug’s painting. Labs. The phlebotomist. Radiation. Still pending. Kep sleeping in this morning. Still Cold. 8 degrees. Good sleeping. Psilocybin. Hallucinogens. 11 offers on Jon’s house. Taxes. Jon’s, too. A low Snow March winding down. Spring down the hill. Flowers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A fresh look for Shadow Mountain


Gettin’ into a groove. A solid Monday workout. Rest day. Solid Wednesday workout. Then I pick up what other minutes I can on the other days. Always over 150, most recent weeks over 250. Still, however, no resistance. Gotta get back to that.

Also. Reading in the mornings now. Feels right. Finished Swerve, the story of the reintroduction of Lucretius’ On the Nature of Things into Western culture. A big influence on the Renaissance and on today. Got another book in my wtf is going on with the USA reading program. Undertow, by Jeff Sharlet. Subtitle: Scenes from a Slow Civil War. That’s next.

Only three books to go in the CJ Box Joe Pickett series. A partial window into how Wyoming fits into the far right splintering going on right now. Includes the tensions outlined in Billionaire Wilderness which focuses on Jackson Hole and other areas where wealthy folks have begun to buy up ranches and turn them into second homes.

Add this new routine into the lunches and breakfasts with friends old and new, zoom with others. Shadow Mountain Home.


Kep’s pain. Managed. A concerning cough showing up though. He’s sleeping more. His life is winding down. Right now he’s sitting in the doorway to the bedroom, a little confused, coughing. Sad to see.

Talked to my son and his wife last night. Told them. Kep was Joe’s dog who ended up staying with us. He just passed up his food. Which is not a good sign. He went outside. Still mobile. Oh. My. My heart. This could be his last days.

So. Much. Death. Here on Shadow Mountain.

Natural. Yes. Hard, so hard. Yes.


About an hour and a half later than the above. Went to Evergreen to get blood drawn for lab tests. Thryoid and lipids. The phlebotomist said I was one of her favorites. I liked that of course. Yet who wants to be well known to their phlebotomist?

Had breakfast by myself at the Parkside. Started reading Undertow.  Sounds like it’s going to be good. A series of interviews with folks of the far right. A road trip. I like to take myself out to breakfast once in a while. Feels special. Calming.

On the way back I stopped at Walgreen’s to pick up some Prilosec for Kep. Doverspike thinks we can at least slow down whatever’s going on. Glad.


Reflecting on Kep on the drive home, a new meaning for Shadow Mountain came to me. Mountain of the Shade(s). Vega. Gertie. Rigel. Kate. Jon. These are deaths close to the bone. I hope Kep won’t join them soon though I suspect he might.


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Talking Story

Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. Not sure how he’s doing. The Ancient Brothers. Luke. My son. Cold nights. Good for sleeping. Snow showers. The Swerve. An education about the Renaissance. Trump. In a rut. And, possibly a jail cell. The far right. Undertow by Jeff Sharlet. Hamnet, recommended by Kate. Painting continues today? Mia and Ruth, best friends coming up on Wednesday. Gabe, too. Teenagers in the house. For three days.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: LBMs


The Ancient Brothers told a story. Mark suggested it. He started, spoke for a bit, then passed the story to me. I passed to Tom, Tom to Paul, and Paul to Bill. The story telling brought out another facet of each of us, one not previously visible. The improv persona. Each of us had a different style and it was obvious. One more cerebral. Another more interior monologue. Another on advancing the plot. Bet we’d be better at it if we did it more. Fun.

Mark’s in a veteran’s writer’s group that focuses on story telling. Where he got the idea. Reminded me of the even more difficult drinking game played in Wales where one person starts a poem and the next person adds a stanza, then the next.

Tom had an interesting thought. What if, instead of artificial intelligence, we sought artificial consciousness? What would we be after then? What would it look like? Sound like? The idea has taken up residence. Not sure where to go with it, but the notion intrigues me.


Luke came over at 2. I’d taken a nap and got up at 2. Woops. He didn’t leave though. I found him.

I started a fire. We talked for a couple of hours. He’s started a new job with Judaism Your Way. Learning a new software program for handling contacts for this innovative model. No fees. No dues. No building. Three rabbis and a large staff. They’re holding a Passover Seder at the Denver Botanical Gardens. Last year they had 8,650 folks present or online. An interesting place to work.

Intentionally very inclusive. Luke and and the Executive Director, who is not Jewish, are gay. Judaism Your Way was the first Jewish organization in Denver to have a presence at the Pride Parade.

Luke’s still having a tough time after having resigned from CBE. His job at Judaism Your Way is only part time so he has financial tensions. He’s a super bright, artistic, sensitive soul. Glad he sees me as a friend.


I imagine Doug will be back today to continue the Garden Pathing of my walls. Excited. Getting the inside, especially the main level, painted and the art hung will make Shadow Mountain home a more welcoming and inviting place. For guests and for me.

After lunch with Mike and Kate Saturday I went to Pangaea Carpets at the Evergreen Design Center. Picked out a Nepalese carpet, 5×7, for my upstairs home office. It needed warming up and its own feel. This one has Cypress Trees and is in greens that compliment the new main level look.

Not sure whether Doug will have time right now to do the downstairs level. I hope so.

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Eros. Agape. Philia. Storge.

Spring and the Painted Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Mike and Kate. Campfire Grill. Ruby on the Mountain roads. Pastrami. Truffled Mac and Cheese. Luke coming up today. My son and his wife. BJ and Schecky. Gettin’ hitched. Kep the early riser. Sleeping in after that. Myth. Ovid. Artemis. Lycaon. Philemon and Baucus. Lucretius. The Nature of Things. Metamorphosis. The Arabian Nights. CJ Box. Richard Powers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Ancient Brothers


On the nature of love. Eros. Of course. I remember. Though prostate cancer long ago canceled out experience. Agape. Reserved for a person better than me most of the time, but still a destination, part of the long journey.

Philia though, affection among friends, friendship. Sustains me now. Whether it be the Ancient Brothers with our decades of memories or members of CBE or Kat, the Aspen Perk’s waitress. Mike and Kate. Luke. High school and college classmates. Even Kristie, my oncology PA, and Dr. Gonzalez, my PCP. Affection rules these relationships.

Here I would also add my wild neighbors, the Lodgepoles and Aspens, Shadow Mountain, Black Mountain, Maxwell and Bear Creeks. All that is around me in its wildness.

Love is a many layered reality. I discovered just today that there is yet another Greek word for love, storge, which means love and affection especially of parents and children. I’ll put that into this post, too. Not only for my son and his wife, Jon, Ruth, and Gabe, but for cousins like Diane whom I’ve known almost my whole life, Mary and Mark, each dog I’ve had the privilege to share my life with, and each person who might experience me as a mentor.

Storge also sustains me and helps me see my role as a sustainer of others. Realizing our importance to others is sometimes difficult as self-abnegation is often taught to us as a substitute for true humility. I’ve struggled with this over the years as you might have, too. But of late I’ve come to see that I add something valuable to the relationships I’m in and if that’s the case it probably means I am someone valuable. In my own unique way. As you are yourself, unknown reader.

How important it is to reach out and keep these relationships alive and vital. I find myself saying now to various folks, as I did to Mike and Kate yesterday, it’s your turn to send up a smoke signal. Don’t know how that entered my mind, but I’ve liked it because it points to the mutuality of relationships. After meeting with others after they’ve given me the honor of an invitation, I say, I’ll send up the next smoke signal.

I’ve had trouble realizing that mutuality requires me as well as the other. I’ve often thought of myself as interchangeable with others and if I don’t nurture a relationship that the person will get what they need elsewhere. Which is, of course, partly true and necessary to know. Yet. I also have to recognize myself as one of a kind, a person who brings to a relationship what only I can bring. In other words I have to see my own part in a relationship as important, as important as what the other/others bring.

Better learned late than never.

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Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Luke. My son. Doug. Kep. 8 degrees and Snow. A good night. Slept well. A fresh look for the main level. On its way. Alan and his joy. His move to a castle in the sky. John Porter, co-owner of the Bread Lounge. Evergreen. My Mountain town. Fixing the walkway around Evergreen Lake. The Elk dining on exposed grass along Hwy. 74. ChatbotGPT4. AI. HUMINT.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Luke


Down the hill to Evergreen yesterday. The Bread Lounge. Alan. Came up in a rental Polestar from his new place high above the mean streets of Denver. His Tesla is the shop for expensive body work. The skin of the Tesla costs. He backed into a truck last year but this was the first time he could get it in a place he trusts. The Polestar he says doesn’t do everything his Tesla does. How could it?

He had some concerns about his move. Waiting for the elevators. The noise of a forced air system. And from the outside. The Mountains are quiet. Has had good elevator conversations and not long waits.The forced air came on with a whump but after building maintenance replaced the filter, a whu. So that’s good. He said he can tell the place is quiet because when he opens the patio door it’s noisy.

A good gym with everything you’d want. Hot tubs. A movie room. A dining room for guests on the top floor. A view to the southeast with Pikes Peak. And a nighttime view that’s spectacular. Cheri posted a picture of it on Facebook. Very urban. Going down and walking to restaurants, to get food, go to a jazz club. Plus everybody’s calmed down now the move is over. Alan was in fine spirits.

Met the owner of the Bread Lounge, John. Shook his hand. Oh. A very strong grip. Made me feel a bit fragile. He’d been on the Evergreen Fire Department Board. And, I imagine, a volunteer. Strong like bull. Alan knows lots and lots of people. He comes up every Friday for Rotary breakfasts at the Country Day school. We meet after that.

A bit of Snow made the drive down what I call technical. Had to use all my Minnesota driving knowledge. Plows had not been out and the light Snow had become icy. All those years of seeing Snow on roads in the Gopher State have trained me. I can see what I’m looking at.


Right now it’s single digit temps and high winds up here on Shadow Mountain. The Lodgepoles swaying. Snow blowing up in whorls. A cold blue Sky.

Going into Evergreen again today to have lunch with Kate Strickland and Michael Banker at Campfire Grill. Looking forward to that. I saw them last at the Dushanbe Tea House in Boulder.

Speaking of younger friends. Luke’s coming up tomorrow. Kat’s reading the book I gifted to her. I like that I have these links to the upcoming generation. And to Ruth and Gabe’s. Makes me feel like an elder.


Doug worked yesterday. Got started in the kitchen. Says he may come back today. Getting closer. Not sure yet if he’s going to do the downstairs right now or later.



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Vive la difference

Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. Bread Lounge. Mussar. Thursday. Kep with pain resolved. Doug. Colorado Cold. 14. Snow showers off and on. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Lab tests. Thyroid. Plus a few. Nichie. Kristie. Dr. Gonzalez. Ruby. Ivory. Ruth. Gabe. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Ukraine. Russia. China. India. USA. Liberals. Socialists. Communists. Belize. Marilyn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Dawn


Another good workout yesterday. Hitting 200 + minutes a week this last month. 11 more to go this week. Feels good. No resistance work though. Need to get back to it, but I’ve found a reluctance that I don’t understand.


Doug didn’t show up yesterday. That’s what he had said on Tuesday. That he wouldn’t be working Thursday or Friday. Then he said he would be here. Guess whatever it was came up anyway. Might be Snow. He could be a skier. Folks in the Mountains prioritize matters differently. Dr. Doverspike has changed two appointments with Kep due to sudden outbursts of Powder. Makes sense to me. Even if I can’t do it.


In Mussar yesterday Sally, a Trump supporter who lives this half of the year in Ecuador but comes in through zoom, said she doesn’t understand all the emphasis on differences. We should be emphasizing how we’re alike, she said. She’s been a good friend to Anshel, a trans man at CBE, and to Luke, the gay former ex-executive director of CBE. And they appreciate her for her friendship.

So the group went off on how everyone has a divine spark (Lurianic kabbalah), is made in the image of God. I agree with the conclusion though the metaphysics for me are different. We’re all children of the stars made of atoms passing through this phase of their existence.

Sally has a wedge issue here and she’s not wrong. We need to emphasize our commonalities. What’s beneath this though is a right wing attack on identity politics. In order to get justice we have to recognize that though we are all one in the eyes of God or the universe differences do exist and they matter when the favors of our civilization get distributed.

For example, we also discussed deed covenants in Denver. No Negroes. No Latinos. No Jews. I’ve mentioned before the first house I bought in Minneapolis had similar covenants. These covenants were legal until 1964 when the Civil Rights Act passed. So here’s the problem. Folks with the power to enforce injustice recognize differences. Ask any gay man or woman. Any trans student forced to choose between gendered bathrooms. Ask any Jew. Any Latino working in the fields of California’s Central Valley or on the lawn of homes of any gated community in the U.S.

That’s not all though. The differences matter in a positive way, too. The richness of a world with Tex-Mex food. With Chinese bronzes from an ancient civilization. With folks among whom you feel comfortable. With hamburgers and pizza. With Italian and Hmong and Tagalog and Arabic and Latin and Korean. With sons from India and daughter-in-laws from Korea. With genders recognized along the continuum that has always existed. With bulgogi and moo goo gai pan. With sushi and a full Scottish breakfast. With tartans and kente cloth. With black skin and white skin and yellow skin and brown skin and red skin. With skiers and snowboarders. With Olympic athletes and amateur golfers.

We need difference. Vive la différence.

Yet we also need to recognize our dependence on the Sun and on Mother Earth. We eat. We laugh. We bark. We cry. We wail. We hurt. We experience awe. We roar. We swim in the ocean depths and fly high above the Lodgepole Pines. We are one as travelers through the vastness on this tiny blue marble.

Are we all one? Oh, yes. Are we all different? Oh, yes. Can we merge these two truths? Oh, yes.



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Down the Garden Path

Spring and the Painted Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Benjamin Moore’s Garden Path. Doug. A sweet guy. Kat, interested in philosophy, psychology, psychedelics. Nichie. Kep. Changing colors. Shadow Mountain. Firm beneath me. Black Mountain. The Sun. The Moon. The Lodgepoles and the Aspen. Those Mule Deer Does on the road yesterday. The Black Bears beginning to roll over and shake their paws. Ah, time to get up, it’s Spring. Ramadan. Allah. The Prophet Mohamed. Jesus, the Messiah. Abraham, the father of them all.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Spring Snow


Had a grocery order to pick up yesterday morning. Took myself out to breakfast at Aspen Perk’s. How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan went along. Pushed open the door, looked inside. One person at the bar. Nobody in the booths. Just right.

The cheerful waitress with a lot of tattoos on  her right arm came up. She has round glasses, blond hair, and a smile. Always. Can I look at your book? Sure. I’m interested in self help, psychology, philosophy. This is about psychedelics. Those, too. Some of the best insights I’ve had came from taking LSD.

When Tara and I had breakfast there a while we back, we’d speculated that this same waitress might be a Ph.D. student. Obviously bright and engaged, she makes an impression. Maybe late twenties.

I’d noticed a y’all the last time Marilyn and Irv and I ate there and asked her about it. Yes, originally from Texas. Ah.

We chatted for a bit after she brought my coffee. She’s struggled with depression and has some good results with psychedelics. I told her about the Plant Magic Cafe. She got excited. Just by the name!

Two eggs, crisp bacon, country potatoes, sour dough toast. Breakfast out. After dinner at Three Victorias last night. Livin’ high on the hog.

Michael Pollan took me through his conclusions gleaned from his study of psychedelics, his interviews with researchers, guides, and promoters, his own trips. He was of the opinion that legalization would take a while. And would need careful thought and guidance.

He hadn’t counted on Oregon and Colorado. A strange combination of libertarians, latter day hippies, and millenial/gen Z enthusiasts squeaked out a win in both states. Oregon first, Colorado last year.

I gifted the book to Kat. We’d exchanged names. She seemed surprised and delighted. Come back in and we’ll talk about it. Maybe I’ve made another friend in the younger age brackets. That would be nice. She’s going to visit the Plant Magic Cafe, too.


Brother Mark has Saudi on his mind. He got a job offer there for a position through August 31st. He’s been all over Saudi Arabia and this is a new spot. Something he relishes. Reminds me of Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, Ray Stevens and the Sheik of the burning sands. Back in the less woke day. As my sister Mary said, he’s keeping up the tradition of the traveling Ellises. Indeed.


Doug has Kate’s old sewing room almost finished. Garden Path by Benjamin Moore is a color that shows up in brother-in-law Jerry’s big painting of the Blue Ridge mountains near his house in Belews Creek, North Carolina. It’s a light green. I’ll post some pictures when thing are a bit further along.




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Painting Begins

Spring and the Painted Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Doug. Working hard. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Tom in Miami. Mark. Mary in Eau Claire. My son and his wife. 3 Margaritas, now 3 Victorias. Carne Asada. Marty, who helped me pick colors. Alan. Marilyn in Belize. Passover. Easter. Christian Nationalism. The dissident right. The Trumpian right. The moderate right. All spotlights on aspects of our culture in trouble. Trump’s legal troubles. The Fed.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Marilyn in Belize with her granddaughter


Doug showed up around 9:30 yesterday morning. Bandana tied around his head and a red striped shirt. Painter’s pants. We talked a bit. He complimented me on the work I’d done to get the room, Kate’s old sewing room, ready. He worked steadily until 4:30. Spackling holes, putting up the blue tape, using a brush where he needed to. He’ll be working in that room today, too.

Meanwhile the kitchen has boxes and a light stand and a bronze container for canes and umbrellas and my recycling container. Its floor is almost full. Makes it tough to cook. So I didn’t. Went out to Three Margaritas which is now 3 Victorias. Not clear why. I asked the waiter. He said, all the same, all the same.

I’ve been such a good boy on the Mediterranean diet. Fruit and nuts and fish and chicken. Vegetables. Had Carne Asada. Tasted good. I rarely go out to eat for dinner. Usually breakfast or lunch. It was a treat. Nice to have someone else cook. See other folks enjoying their food.


Been watching the Netflix series, Narcos. The rise and fall of Pablo Escobar. My first foreign travel other than Canada was to Colombia. In 1989. Just after Escobar had partnered with communist guerillas to invade the Supreme Court. He gave them two million dollars and in return they burned a whole roomful of evidence against him.

The Supreme Court building still had damage when we saw it. Watching the series I now understand why the Fodor’s travel guide warned against travel to Colombia. The State Department also recommended against. La Violencia ended in 1958, a period of violent struggle between the Liberal and Conservative parties. This period, the time of Escobar from 1976 when he formed the Medellin Cartel to his death at 44 in 1993, rivaled La Violencia and exceeded it in that Escobar brought the violence into urban areas.

Odd to see the turmoil roiling that country during the time of my visit. It was the first place I saw armed guards patrolling urban neighborhoods. That shocked me.


Speaking of Escobar how bout that Trump? Fantasizing about how to do the perp walk. Should he smile at the journalists? Or walk by with his head held high? Will his peeps show up? As long as the perp walk ends up with the Orange One in a jail cell, I don’t care at all how he comports himself.


Read an interesting opinion piece in the Washington Post about Xi’s visit to Moscow. According to this article by David Ignatius, Xi went to Moscow to prop up his western flank by creating an Eurasian bloc with China firmly in control. As Putin’s war in Ukraine has weakened rather than strengthened him, he needs the cover of Xi’s China. Worth reading.

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Love, Justice, and Compassion

Spring and the Painter Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Doug the painter. Starting today. Old age and cancer. A winning combo. Tom migrating the wrong way to the cocaine splattered streets of Miami. (I’ve been watching Narcos on Netflix) Kep. Moving better outside. Solly, now dead at 14. Ruth and Gabe’s dog. Jen’s. Ruth and Gabe coming up next week during Spring break. Another festival for the season. A fertility among rite college students also migrating to Florida. A bright sunshiny day.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A fresh look for the main level and downstairs


Doug starts today in Kate’s old sewing room. The ceiling. Spent yesterday afternoon and early this morning moving stuff out of the way. Have to do it in short segments, then rest. S.O.B. as the docs say. Shortness of breath occasioned by a bum diaphragm and low T. Plus that nasty bugger sarcopenia. Not a big deal unless I’m bending over a lot. Which this required.

Some stuff I can’t move. Heavy boxes, bookshelves. We’ll do that together when he comes. I explained my limits to him. He’s 69 himself, but fitter than I am because he’s kept up physical labor. Of course, at 69 I was in good shape, too. He said I looked good for 76. Liked that.

I’m excited. This is the capstone project from the days of figuring out I wanted to stay here. After this, art gets hung, furniture arranged in configurations that should last a good while. My home. With Kate’s memory imprinted everywhere, of course.


Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin. Buddies. Dear Friends. They said so on TV. Well. Remember that New World Order? It’s shaping up as Ukraine and its fight reshapes global politics. Pushing the US and Europe closer together. Solidifying strategic alliances for the US in Asia: Philippines, Japan, South Korea, Vietnam, Australia. And of course, most importantly, Taiwan. India trying to start punching at its weight. Africa a contested territory. Latin America, too. Big fun.

And meanwhile here at home. WTF? I mean, really. WTF! The right has become a many splintered thing. The far left hardly visible. Moderates trying to figure out why they can’t make policy. Good question. Look at Manchin. Sinema. Look at the Boeberts and Greene’s, the Rick Scott’s. Look at the Extreme Court. We’re a nation that has turned in on itself. Like a really bad ingrown toenail. And it hurts. Like a really bad ingrown toenail.

My passion project for this time period is understanding these dynamics. Looking for a way forward. Seems like something political elders should do. And, like it or not, I’m a political elder. Been thinking about politics, justice, freedom, and liberty. The American experiment. My. Whole. Life. Still committed to it. Still believe in it. Still see how very, very far we are from its realization. Yet. I also know that politics are dynamic, a living force in our nation, as in other nations.

My father talked about shuffling off this mortal coil. Don’t hear that phrase much anymore. But until I do, my hand and mind wants to stir the pot, put in words and ideas and actions for a world of love, justice, and compassion.


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The Great Wheel Turns

Spring and the Waiting To Cross Moon

Monday gratefuls: Good sleep. Kep, sleeping when I got up. A Mountain Night Sky. Sergio Perez. Won the Jeddah Grand Prix. A good race. The Ancient Brothers. Sarah, Annie, BJ, and Schecky. Pacific Cod for supper. Waiting to Cross still. Spring. Meteorological Spring on March 1st. All the Spring festivals around the world. Nowruz. Easter. Passover. Ostara. The Feathered Serpent at Chichen Itza. Family reunions in much of Asia.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Equinox


One of the solar holidays. When the earth receives sun light and experiences darkness in roughly equal amounts. The opposite of the solstices which feature the longest day and the longest night. The autumnal equinox south of the equator. Meteorologists do not use the solar holidays. The first day of meteorological spring was March 1st. Three months after the first day of Winter on December 1st. Beltane will be the next Great Wheel holiday, celebrating the start of the growing season.

What’s been on your mind over the fallow months? Perhaps a new project. A vacation. Mending some family relationships. Making new friends. Maybe you thought about learning a new language. Starting a family. Meditation. Going on an inner journey. This is a good time to begin. When the energy of the season pushes up the Daffodils and the Tulips, when the Robins return, and the Ice melts on the Lakes, when the Air warms. When spirits lift with the Sun. Build on the energy of Mother Earth, use her to help you get a solid start.

You might consider the Jewish and Christian big messages during this time, too. Look for the way out of any bondages, addictions, enslavements you may be experiencing. Look for the Red Sea moment when you can push away from what entraps you and set out looking for the promised land.

What deadens you? What part of you needs resurrecting? This could be the season of your great wakin’ up mornin’. Also a good time to work on your fear of death. See the evidence on Trees and Shrubs. The greening of the Grasses. The colorful emergence of Flowers from the long gray fallow times. You are no less a part of the Great Wheel than they are. Let its ever changing rotation carry you forward into new life.

Here on Shadow Mountain Spring always comes in the midst of our Snowiest month. No Flowers yet. Not much Snow either so far. April can also see heavy Snows. When Kate and I returned from our Asia trip for Joe and Seoah’s wedding, we had four feet of Snow in the driveway. April 16th.

A Mountain Spring is brief, but exuberant. The Streams run full with Snow melt. The Aspen’s and the Dogwood and Willows leaf out. Wild neighbors give birth to Calves, Fawns, Kits, Cubs, Kittens. Snow leaves from all but the most shadowed and north facing places.

When the Snow is done, a short window opens to the changes from Winter to Summer. Then we’re in Summer.

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Psychedelic Seniors

Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Jeddah Grand Prix today. Jen, Ruth, and Gabe. Final cleanout of Jon’s house. Probate nearing a wind down. Maybe another month. Kate, always Kate. Shiva Raja. Vishnu. Brahma. The One. Spinoza. Jane Bennett. CJ Box. That Mushroom quiche. Chai Latte. The Plant Magic Cafe. Keens. Taxes off. Going down the hill. And back up again.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mushrooms


What a day yesterday. Over to the post office where there was no line. Mailed my taxes off to my accountant. Told the clerk, clumsily, that though I may be one of the few I had no complaints about my mail. Mark, my mailman is excellent. I always have good experiences when I come in. Wish I hadn’t said I may be one of the few, though I know I am.

On from there down 285. Getting cheaper gas in Lakewood at Stinkers. Gas is twenty to twenty-five cents a gallon cheaper in the city.

Up Colorado Avenue to 1550. Dardano’s. An all things outdoors shoe store. Buying another pair of Keen’s. The same I’ve worn for years. This is my fourth pair.

I’ve gotten to a point of simplifying my clothing choices. White socks. Keens most of the year. Winter boots of course. And hiking boots when on a trail. Blue jeans for pants. Just got two new pairs of Levi’s 511’s. In the winter flannel shirts and LL Bean vests. Summer, Hawai’ian shirts and a small number of lightweight plaid shirts.

I’ve given away much of my clothes. All my suits and suit coats. Many shirts and other pants. Fancy shoes. Winter coats except for a couple. Feels good.


Followed the nice lady’s voice from Dardano’s to 935 17th Ave. There are two large Amanita Muscari mushrooms out front. Taller than me and gaily painted. The Plant Magic Cafe. Ground zero for the proposition that made Psilocybin and other hallucinogens legal in Colorado.

In the entry a big sign in book offered regular information about the cafe and its events including a column to leave a phone number for ceremonies. I left mine. There were items for sale in the hallway that led back to the spot where you ordered food. Tibetan and Hindu sacred objects. Selenite wands. A lovely beaded Elk. Buddha statues. Incense of various sorts. Lots of incense. Singing bowls.

At the counter there was Mushroom quiche and a bacon and cheddar quiche along with pastries. Also a long list of teas and other drinks. I got a chai latte and a mushroom quiche.

In conversation with the guy behind the counter who wore a Psilocybin t-shirt, white on black, I found out that the Plant Magic Cafe will soon open a psilocybin resource room. All things hallucinogenic out front and visible. With no law enforcement needed or wanted.

Found it humorous that there were three women roughly my age at a center table with the rest filled with millennials and gen-z’ers. 60’s kids grown old and the new generation that will not understand the transgressive joy of taking LSD.

Will keep you all tuned in as I work on becoming a psychedelic senior.

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