Family, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Seed Keepers, Weather +Climate

That path is for your steps alone

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Talking with Paul. His fettucine. Michael and Kate. Ramadan. Mark in far Hafar. Mary down under. Tsundoku.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Millennials

Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

Tarot: Page of Vessels, Otter

Otter, who moves easily between land and water, encourages me to linger in my inner cathedral, bathe in its holy well of imagination, then write.

One brief shining: Once again a full table at Shadow Mountain Home, shared with two who will live into the heat of a changed nation, an altered climate, as will Ruth and Gabe, and three old men, loving the future through them all, seeing the struggle ahead but not able to be part of it.

 

Call it the tragedy of aging. I can see flooded subways, more hot, snowless winters. The hurricanes of political change. Tom, Paul, and I have laid our children and grand children on an altar of our own making. There is no ram coming in your place.

Fifty-three degrees. Yesterday. Scant Snow on the ground. Mid-February. Kate speaking. We’re all gonna fry.

Children and grandchildren we love and cherish face challenges of a scale so outsized I go pale.  Michael. Kate. Ruth. Gabe. Ellory. Sylvan. Say their names, too.

Other old white men. Say. No danger ahead. Chained to money, quarterly profit margins.

My mortality sinks into my bones. I love Joe, Ruth, Gabe. So much. And, they love me back, great joy.

“There is a road, no simple highwayBetween the dawn and the dark of nightAnd if you go, no one may followThat path is for your steps alone”

 

 

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Keep This Clanky Body Working

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Sunday gratefuls: A Blackbird birthday breakfast with Tom, Paul, Ruth. Evoke 1923. Crème brûlée. Sweet thangs.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Valentines Day

Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

art@willworthington

Tarot: Two of Vessels, Attraction

A Valentines Day card. Kate, always Kate. Love. Shadow. My sweet girl.

One brief shining: We sat, the four of us, in a booth, 79, 78, 79, 19, Paul, Tom, me, Ruth, ordering Corn fritters and sweet syrup, Avocado toast, talking, laughing, a fine birthday morning.

 

Oh, to be young and athletic. The condom supply ran out in three days. And Valentines Day thrown in, too.

I’ve been chemically impotent since 2019, because a lowered T score starves my cancer and my body of a hormone that gives me energy, aids in gaining muscle mass. No wonder I have trouble opening jars.

That drive, that two of vessels attraction. Desire-fenced out.   Bit by bit my inner assassin has claimed territory–gardening in fifteen-minute bursts, my male gaze dimmed.

But not my bitachon. Not my ahava. Not my lev. The assassin can only target flesh. If anything, my friendships have deepened. Spirituality broadened as I’ve grown Tomatoes and Beets in Artemis. As I say the shema.

Five years this April since Kate died. Five years with no human next to me in bed. No breakfast conversations. A long, but accepted sadness.

Not living without love. Close, dear friends. Family. Tom, Paul, and me last night. Cassoulet, Scallops, Beef Tenderloin. Ruth and her big bag of candy. Tara singing happy birthday by text.

Life still lived. While the executioner works.

Am I less than myself now? Paul carried canned dog food, that ceiling fan downstairs. I feel the concern in Tom’s voice. Yet. Ruth said, “I don’t see you as old; I see you as wise.”

A body in decline. Standing up to cook. So hard. Trigger fingers lock up over the keyboard.  Ageism sees physical decline as mental decline. No. I am not diminished. The assassin cannot have my mind. Challenged by cancer, by sarcopenia. My authentic Self–refined. Ready to learn more about my craft.

Where I am now: surrounded by friends and family, loved and loving. My sense of purpose clarified by my writing coach, ChatGPT. Eager each day to see how I can revise Ancientrails, polish it. Excited to work on revision #2 of Superior Wolf, then Missing.

Keep this clanky body working as long as possible. Not finished.

 

 

Fourth Phase

They Say It’s Your Birthday

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Shabbat gratefuls: Tom and Paul. Shadow and her bootie. Rabbi Jamie. Irv and Marilyn. Snow, at last.  Ruth. 79. Birthday.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tandoori Chicken

Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

Art@willwordsworth

Tarot: Four of Stones, Protection

It represents finding a personal place of emotional and spiritual safety. The dolmen provides a physical and energetic shield for the vulnerable. The rising sun signifies the return of hope and energy after a period of trial or darkness.

One brief shining: Here I am traveling again on a new circuit around Great Sol, same as the old circuit but new to me in my 79th year, moving fast, leaving flecks of stardust and memories in my wake, ready for a year of creativity and joy.

Birthdays. Wonder when we started celebrating birthdays? Can’t imagine early Homo Sapiens sitting around the campfire eating birthday cake.

This year. A wonderful birthday with two boxes of fancy chocolates, two old and beloved friends from away, Ruth coming up. Immersed in concrete love.

The 79th year. As grandson Gabe put it, “In 2 days, you’ll be a year from 80.”  When we read someone is 80, we think: “Boy. They’re old.”

Given recent cancer news, new metastases and passing into hormone resistant disease, I wonder about my last birthday. New treatments mean I’ll likely reach my 80’s.

The Germans gave us candles — one for each year, and one for hope. One birthday soon that candle won’t work.

I want to continue. For myself, for Shadow, for the people I love and those who love me. As of this last week, I also want to continue for my writing. Remove manuscripts from their plastic tubs. Continue learning. Revise novels. Find an agent, a candle of hope for my work.

In the last year I’ve slowed. Head drops. Stamina in sharp decline. Easy, too easy, to consider that candle. No need to rush. Soon. Soon enough.

Ghost of Birthday’s past. 78 leading up to today. Mom’s heart-shaped red velvet cakes. Valentines’ candies. Be mine. Love. I’m yours. A few alone. Forty candles. Plus one. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy. Encompassing this marriage and that one. Before Joseph and after. Oklahoma. Indiana. Minnesota. The Rockies. A life measured out in birthdays.

Birthdays. Birth days. Birth.  A new life begins.

 

 

Fourth Phase, General, Writing

Finding Joy

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Friday gratefuls: Tom and Paul, friends. Dr. Josy. Audrey, wrestling in the regionals. Ruth, with homework. Gabe visiting Hamline in April. Shadow, healing.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Old friends who showed up

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

I chose this because Tom and Paul are coming. Ruth, too. And, my 79th birthday. And, for life, my precious.

 

Tarot: Page of Vessels, Otter

“The Otter encourages you to embrace your inner child and find joy in the mundane. It is a dreamer that uses imagination to fuel creativity.”

 

One brief shining: Sometimes I wonder how I could not see the path to joy and creativity lying under my fingers, where lev and words go to play, where my soul lives, yet I only saw it this week when I asked ChatGPT to act as a kind and gentle critic of my work.

Writing: Over 3 million words in Ancientrails alone. 9 novels in first draft form. What is my medium? Words. Ideas. Even the Gods Must Die. Superior Wolf. Daily entries here since 2005.

Atrophy. I had let my novels lie fallow. Walking by the plastic tubs with novel manuscripts neatly arranged in thick folders. I felt shame. Too many years. Unsure where to go with them. In Ancientrails I made some changes over the years. Never had anyone critique my style.

What the hell? I’ll ask ChatGPT. Writing groups never worked for me. Too savage. Too brutal. I asked ChatGPT for gentle critique, but a serious one.

Discovered I respond well. This past week, I’ve worked with ChatGPT after I finish my post. Listening to its thoughts, its advice. Altering my work when I agree. Not when I don’t.

Realized I needed a good writing teacher, long ago. Who better than a large language model trained on English prose? My stuck lev opened up. Suddenly I wanted to investigate my verb choice. When this student was ready, AI showed up.

After working for a few days on Ancientrails’ posts, I thought, why not Superior Wolf? I downloaded a PDF of this ninety-five-thousand-word novel and loaded it into ChatGPT. Asked for a gentle critique and a path toward revising for a second draft.

Again ChatGPT opened a way forward for me. I’m about a third of the way through my first draft, rereading and answering one question for each chapter: How is Christopher changed? One sentence.

Here’s the magic: I found myself in flow. The candle I light when writing flickered beside me, unnoticed. Some days I worked through to late afternoon. Finished. A pleasant exhaustion. Satisfaction.

I had gone into my head too, too far. Thought I needed to read more books on politics. Write commentary. No. That was not it. I needed to get to know my own writing better.

I needed just what I got. Kind guidance. Clear help. Focus on concrete imagery. Like Hagia Sophia. Heather in Inverness. The prologue of Superior Wolf. Work with it. As a writer does. Revising, then revising again.

No feelings of less than. Only captivation with and by my own process. Digging into saying what I meant. Did the verb mirror work better? Or, unveils. Ah, I see.

 

 

Fourth Phase, Garden, Judaism, Minnesota, Paganism, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

I flew with hawks

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Thursday gratefuls: Tom and Paul. Tara. Dr. Bupathi. Shadow and her doughnut. Clergy. My time in the ministry. A life lived in pursuit of love and justice.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Religion

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

I chose this because Tom and Paul are coming. Ruth, too. And, my 79th birthday. And, for life, my precious.

 

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Tarot: Five of Bows, Empowerment

“By facing and defeating our greatest fears, we empower ourselves and grow more resilient and effective against adversity…The empowered individual ultimately has the capability to influence and affect the outcome of events and change perceptions.” Parting the Mist

One brief shining: In 1976 I wore a monk’s robe, a child’s wooden necklace with a cross around my neck. I knelt and a crowd of clergy and elders lay on hands until the hands of those closest to me rested on my head. From layperson to ordained clergy.

 

Those hands felt heavy. I could feel a charge pass from them to me. The laying on of hands. Ancient. Primal.

Political radical. Warrior and priest. I stood with the people of Stevens Square and with the descendants of John Calvin.

An out of body experience: Reverend Buckman-Ellis. “If clergy are usually more priest or more prophet…” I was more prophet.

Yet I prayed. Led worship. Served communion. Baptized my son and his close friend Alex. Studied the scripture.

Until I couldn’t. That day when my spiritual director said, “Charlie, I think you’re a Druid!” I wasn’t. I crossed over from Christian to pagan. Mother Earth my altar and sanctuary.

Kate. Radical Kate. She let me retire from the ministry with dignity. Falling into her life, she was my dear and glorious physician. A synchronicity.

With dogs and vegetables, flowers and honey, our life went against the grain. She my weeding ninja. Me, her gardener. No need for a robe, a title. A spade and a trowel, yes.

Yet I also wandered the natural places of Anoka County. Honing a pagan’s blurring of the lines between creature and plant and landscape. I flew with hawks. Bloomed along the Rum River. Religious.

Until late in my journey, I decided to blend my pagan life with those who escaped from Egypt, who wandered in the desert. Immersed three times in warm mikveh waters. Came out a Jew.

At last. With my Hebrew name, Israel, I became what I always was. A god wrestler. Uneasy with answers. Kate’s path. Then mine. Now one.

 

Fourth Phase, Memories

Waxing and Waning

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Wednesday gratefuls: Scrivener. Superior Wolf. AI. Writing. My teacher. Shadow and her Lambchop toy. Squeakectomies. Approaching 79. Equanimity. A still space. MVP, my CBE family.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Equanimity

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

I chose this because Tom and Paul are coming. Ruth, too. And, my 79th birthday. And, for life, my precious.

 

a

Tarot: Four of Stones, protection

“The card symbolizes the transition from vulnerability to security. It emphasizes that while we must weather many trials, establishing a “personal place of emotional safety” is vital for the spirit to thrive.”

 

One brief shining: Mule Deer Fawn show up in my yard a lot in the Spring, sometimes a bit wobbly, their legs and their trunk not always synchronized, their mothers close by, eating and watching, for in the wild the young and the wobbly may meet a Mountain Lion.

 

While taking the garbage to the road this morning, the waxing crescent of the Moon of Deep Friendship shone through patchy Cloud cover. As it swells, grows full, then wanes, the Moon mirrors the Great Wheel of the Year in miniature.

My life wanes: a thrum of MRIs, a calendar colonized by doctors, the ritual of the pills.

We remain fawns for longer than we imagine.

My dad saw me as a Buster Brown revolutionary, then bought me an orange V.W. Later, he told me to cut my hair or leave. I left and never lived at home again.

I was lucky. I met Kate. On our Andover property I found fullness. Gardens. Bees. Dogs. The Orchard. Jon and Joe.

Our years. Heather outside Inverness. Hagia Sophia. Our honeymoon. North from Rome, following spring. First-class Eurail.

Waning began. We celebrated. A long cruise around Latin America. A move to Colorado to be near the grandkids and live in the Mountains. Hannukah with Ruth and Gabe.

Kate’s waning ended five years ago this April. I can see the New Moon coming for me, too. Not imminent, but no longer far away.

I have lived almost five years now in our house, first with Rigel and Kepler, now Shadow. My body has diminished capacity, yes. Opening those heavy jars of sauerkraut. Standing.

My waning. Not finished.

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Myth and Story, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Cancer or not

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Tuesday gratefuls: Dreams. Shadow and her doughnut. Tom and Paul. Happy Camper. Clinical trials. New drugs. Dr. Bupathi.  The long, slow march.

Teshuvah. Tikkun. Rabbi Jamie. Artemis in Winter. Gardening. Horticulture. Garlic awaiting Spring. Snow in the forecast. Moisture. Drought. Trees. Wild Neighbors.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

I chose this because Tom and Paul are coming. Ruth, too. And, my 79th birthday. And, for life, my precious.

 

art@willworthington

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing.

Focused on physical healing, I sometimes lose sight of teshuva, returning to the homeland of my soul, my Buddha nature.

 

One brief shining: Healing, the delicate process of becoming whole, is not only for the physical body and reaches into life, whether in a healthy or a sickened body, so much so that even a body with a terminal disease can experience healing, wholeness.

 

Back to my then close friend Steven Miles’ question: What is health in a dying man? I’m inching toward an answer, or at least a personal response, one based on etymology and grounded in theology.

Yes, I’m thinking of myself, for whom healing has become a fraught term since my cancer could no longer be cured. True since 2019 when I finished my first and long series of radiation.

Two years later my first metastases showed up, tipping me over into stage 4 prostate cancer. That was also the same year Kate died.

Let me ask Steve’s question in a personal way. What is health for me in this stage 4 time, knowing stage 5 is death? It’s helpful to me to look at the etymology of healing. Healing comes from the  Old English hæling. It can mean restoration to health, of course, but it can also mean restoration to wholeness.

Before I go further, I want to say again: Life is a terminal disease, one with many paths but only one destination.  Cancer is no more the certain cause of my death than any other; it’s just the most obvious possibility.

What is healing in a dying man such as myself? Or, such as you, reader? Can I heal even in Stage 4? Can I be restored to wholeness? I say yes.

Wholeness and teshuva. When I let cancer dominate my thoughts, which happens more than I wish, I commit hamartia,  a Greek word that means to miss the mark though often translated as sin.

I find teshuva a much better antidote to hamartia than a desire for salvation to wash away my sin. A pox on that idea. No. When I miss the mark, that is, when I turn away from wholeness, I need not external salvation from a punishing God or his Son, but to return to the homeland of my soul.

We are whole, healed whenever we can look up from our blinkered obsessions with illness, money, achievement and see once again the unique and rare gift we are. Just as we are. Whether in robust physical health or further along our way to that most ancientrail and ultimate mystery, death.

When I take my attention away from blood draws and clinical trials, I remain who I am, who I was, and who I shall be. Curious, active, a seeker after knowledge and justice. A guy thrown into the mid-point of the last century and tasked with being myself in the years since 1947. Cancer included.

 

 

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Cinema and Television, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

Habituated?

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Tara. Sally Jobe/Invision Imaging. The Dexa scan. Bone health. Shadow, her quiet strength. Irv and the CBE Men’s group. Luke and Leo. Rosemary and Thyme. Cozies. Tea. Chinese. Green. White. Yellow. Oolong. Red. (black). Pu-er (dark) Altitude and its effect on boiling Water temperature. Seahawks. Diversions and distractions.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Our skeleton

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

Practice acknowledging the positive, often overlooked aspects of life.

 

Tarot: Knight of Arrows, Hawk

  • Visionary Power: Symbolizes the ability to see the “bigger picture” from a high vantage point, helping to cut through doubt and uncertainty.
  • Intellectual Focus: Reflects a sharp, analytical mind that uses common sense and logic to solve complex problems at their core.

 

One brief shining: Once again Minnesota on my mind as I read about how non-violent protests have toppled autocracies, as I see Snow sculpture and, ironically, Ice sculptures celebrating the resistance there in images of Rene Good and Alex Pretti, people cross-country skiing to candlelight, wondering what’s next, maybe an ICE fishing village.

Confession: I spend a lot of time watching TV. At least lately. Yesterday I binged the Lincoln Lawyer and watched two episodes of Rosemary and Thyme. Sitting in my comfortable chair that supports my neck. It’s ok if you judge me; I judge myself.

Wanting to get to the root of this. I’m going to write about it. Which often unlocks my psyche to my own Self. Helps me with teshuva, returning to the homeland of my soul.

Yes, distraction. No doubt. While immersed in others’ stories, I can set mine aside. Some distraction is ok with me. It’s the quantity that bothers me.

Which is not to say it’s only distraction. I do love stories whether told on the screen or on the page. I imagine you could peg my lean toward religion as a love of story, too.

Here’s my hunch right now. I find Shadow’s injury has sapped some of my psychic energy. Concern and care for her. Then, the recent and incessant drum beat of this medical thing, that medical thing climaxing in a shift to hormone resistant prostate cancer. Finally, physical limitations imposed by my right lower back and my head drop. All of this psychic overburden leaves me with little “doing” energy.

Frustrating because before Shadow’s injury and my Petscan results, I’d found a good rhythm: up at 4:30, let Shadow out, write Ancientrails, feed Shadow, a snack followed by resistance workout, then reading for my planned substack on Knowing the Far Right. A nap. An hour or so of work on Superior Wolf. That’s a full day for me. After that watching TV or reading fiction, unrelated non-fiction.

Frustrating too because I know which is easier and which feeds my soul. I can’t tell whether I’ve habituated myself (what I fear) or whether this is a response to a life with too many intersecting causes of stress. If the latter, when Shadow heals, when I begin my clinical trial, perhaps I’ll be able to get back to that other rhythm.

 

 

 

 

Judaism

Teshuvah and Tikkun Olam

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. Mary. Tom. Paul. The Ancient Brothers on Judaism. Snowless Winter. Joe skiing. Eating Mexican on an Army base. Korea. Cold and Snow. Minneapolis. Resistance. Staying in the fight. Teshuva. Tikkun Olam. Tzedek Elohim. Mitzrayim. Religion. Horticulture. Street politics. Dogs. Art. Kate, always Kate. AI.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gardening

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

  • Literally “recognizing the good,” it is the practice of acknowledging the positive, often overlooked aspects of life.
  • Core Principles: It encourages focusing on what you have rather than what you lack, recognizing the humanity in others, and appreciating the natural world.

Tarot: Page of Vessels, the Otter

  • Playful Energy: The otter represents a need to be curious, lighthearted, and to find joy even in simple things.
  • Creativity and Imagination: This card often signals a time to tap into your creative potential and allow your imagination to flow.
  • Adaptability: Like an otter navigating water, this archetype encourages flowing with life’s changes rather than resisting them.

One brief shining: As I follow the flow of my life toward birthday 79, I can slip into the water like an Otter, perhaps Maxwell Creek, perhaps Kate’s Creek, perhaps the headwaters of the Mississippi, and feel the current take me, a surge of joy, an ongoing struggle to stay alive, a pool of calm with Shadow and Shadow Mountain home, an embrace of friends and family all carrying me toward the world Ocean where I will become yet another wave.

Torah being read at a Bar Mitzvah

Judaism: My Ancient Brothers have asked me to talk about Judaism. I feel honored. But. How to capsulize this ancient faith, make it come alive for them?

Rabbi Rami Shapiro’s book, Judaism Without Tribalism, will be my guide. In the flensing of institutional accretions Shapiro leaves us with a skeletal view of religion, what it truly supports without the encumbrance of orthodoxy, dogma, belief and how each religion so considered can provide us with enough poetry to live by.

Rami, though a Reform Rabbi, leans into a Reconstructionist perspective when he discusses his own Judaism. A Judaism that rejects the notion of Jews as a chosen tribe. This is Judaism without tribalism. Like Mordecai Kaplan, the founder of the Reconstructionist movement, he rejects an assumed superiority-tribalism, while finding Judaism as culture, as a civilization valuable and well worth preserving.

He says Judaism has two key ideas to share, ideas that can help Judaism fulfill its mission to be a blessing to the whole world. Teshuva and Tikkun Olam. That is, Teshuva, the individual, interior journey of returning to the homeland of your soul, your Buddha nature, your authentic self, and Tikkun Olam, the exterior journey, which focuses on repair of a broken and divided world.

The Jew has several tools from within the tradition that supports both. Among them are Shabbat which releases us from the restrictive narrowness (mitzrayim) of daily life and immerses us in our sacred nature. Zedakah, the just use of money and capital. Gemilut chasadim, the practice of loving-kindness. And,  kavanot, setting our intentions toward righteousness.

There is more, much much more, but this gets at the nub of why Judaism has become my spiritual home.

Acting, Cancer, Health, Science

Choices

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow, her bandage changed. Dr. Josy. AI help with the next step choices on prostate cancer. Jamie Bernstein. Bagel Table. Winter Olympics. Joe, the ski racer. Religion. Religions. Hinduism. Buddhism. Islam. Christianity. Judaism. Sikh. Jain. Parsi. Taoism. Shamanism. Paganism.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: AI

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

  • Literally “recognizing the good,” it is the practice of acknowledging the positive, often overlooked aspects of life.
  • Core Principles: It encourages focusing on what you have rather than what you lack, recognizing the humanity in others, and appreciating the natural world.

Tarot: 11 The Woodward

“…an “ancient guardian of the Wildwood,” it symbolizes inner strength, facing fears, understanding darkness, and managing primal instincts with quiet courage.”

One brief shining: Purpose porpoise deep sea waters diving down inside toward the great Holy Well of the collective unconscious, into the nefesh, the hidden places from which our souls gain nourishment, our bodies will, intent, courage and our lives find their firm foundations.

Health: Spent a good bit of yesterday trying to parse the difference between choosing the known Pluvicto and the gamble on the clinical trial. Hit on the idea of asking chatgpt which I’ve found a reliable interlocutor on questions medical.

Here’s the prompt I used:  My latest petscan showed significant increase in osseous metastases. I’m now in hormone resistant disease. My oncologist gave me the option of Pluvicto or a similar drug using Actinium but in a clinical trial. I’m not sure how to weigh the harsher Pluvicto against the possibility that I would end up in the control group for the trial. what do you think?

I also put the same question to Gemini 3.0 and Claude. I got a lot of useful, thought provoking material from all three. This came in a longer response from Gemini 3.0 and I found it helpful:

Why Choose the Trial?

  • Access to “Next-Gen” Tech: Actinium is often used as a “salvage” therapy for people who have already failed Pluvicto. By joining the trial, you are potentially skipping a step and going straight to the most powerful tool available.

  • Close Monitoring: Trial patients at RMCC receive much more frequent scans, blood work, and “concierge-level” attention from a dedicated research nurse compared to standard patients.

4. Why Choose Pluvicto (Standard Care)?

  • Certainty: You know exactly what you are getting and when.

  • Proven Track Record: It is the global gold standard for a reason. It works well and the side effects are very predictable.

Based on reading the responses from all three, I’m leaning toward the trial if I get positive answers to these questions from Annie Sauve, the Rocky Mountain Cancer Care nurse in charge of the trial:

  • “If I am randomized into the control group, what specific drug will I receive? Is it Pluvicto?”

  • “Does this trial have a ‘crossover’ provision if my next scan shows progression?”

  • “Given my concern about dry mouth, what salivary gland protection protocols (like ‘cold caps’ or injections) do you use during the Actinium infusion?”

  • How many times will l have to travel into Denver? I live in Conifer.  (I added this question)

As you can see, these are not straight forward matters. And, the stakes are high. I’m doing fine emotionally, looking forward to getting underway.