An Amazing, Unique Day

Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Judy Sherman, her life. The celebration of it. Bowel trouble. Diane’s mild covid. Mark’s job hunt. Mary’s time in Kyoto. David Olson. Ruth. Gabe. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. A cold Night. Dogs. Love incarnate. God spelled the right way. The drive from Shadow Mountain to Evergreen. Its Mountains and Valleys and Streams. Its Mule Deer and Fox. Its curves. Kate’s Creek and her holy Valley. Often traveled. Always admired.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mountains and Streams


Haven’t mentioned the probate situation in a while. Because it was dormant. Now Jon’s father, David, has entered the picture. He’s the first heir by law. He has e-mailed Joe with some questions. We’re all hoping that if Joe’s answers satisfy him that he will sign the renunciation of rights and allow Joe to be appointed as Jon’s personal representative for taking care of the estate. No timeline.

In the meantime the cleanout crew, the realtor, the car, the trailer. On hold. Jon’s money held in a pension account and some mutual funds. Unavailable. This is three months after his death. Glad Joe’s holding the reins here. I did not need the hassle.

Closure or its equivalent can’t come until the estate has been settled. It’s a cloud of uncertainty, financially for both Jen and me. She has Ruth and Gabe full time now. Full responsibility. I have the cleaner to pay and possibly Jon’s mortgage due. Also the rental of a storage place for the stuff from the house that we want to preserve. Not to mention legal fees.


Speaking of bills. I got my first bill from Robin of Space Wranglers. More than I expected, but worth it. I also have my 20% of the tracer’s cost for my PET scan. Another grand or so. Not sure about painting the main level right now. Might be a bit of a strain. We’ll see. I want to do it.

The Hermitage has returned to its spot in my life. As that. My retreat as a Mountain solitary. After all of the self-inflicted sturm and drung of a possible move, I’m settling back into this house, these Grounds. The Mountains. Painting and moving furniture, perhaps acquiring a definitive piece of Western art will add to it. Home as I would have it.


Waiting on news from Georgia. Will Republican evangelicals continue selling their souls for policy victories? They are the whited sepulchers of Matthew 23: “…whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead and everything unclean.” Blasphemy reveals true values. Vote blue Georgia. Vote blue.

Deaths in the news. Kirstie Alley. She’s of my generation. On Cheers. Cancer. Not like a family member, not at all. But a marker of where early Baby Boomers stand in the near to the end sweepstakes. Also. Jiang Zemin, a 96 year old former President of the People’s Republic. Xi Jingpin memorialized Jiang by encouraging the Chinese people to rally around himself. They’re not as enamored of Xi as he is.


Following the World Cup. A bit. Beginning to understand the beautiful game. Not well. But some. Also diving into Formula 1 with its websites, Motorsports Magazine and Road and Track. YouTube. A bit of my past regaining a toe hold in my old age.

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An Amazing, Unique Day


Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Monday gratefuls: David Olson reaching out. Jang-Joe. Golfers. Murdoch. Hawai’i. A dream delayed, but not denied. Kep, his morning eagerness. Trump suggests suspending the Constitution. Ode on knee replacement. Tom on the sacred and peaceful lands of Lake Minnetonka. Bill on the Jesuits. Paul on the Wabanaki confederacy. Me on mussar. Christmas. Jacquie Lawson Advent Calendar. All the festivals of light. And the one festival of darkness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Winter Solstice


Teachers all. Ode asked us each to teach for 12 minutes. Any topic. The Ancient Brothers. He said he modeled his idea on the TED talks which promote his less is more philosophy. The longer someone speaks the less the audience retains. So. Shorten up and be heard. Anyone who’s listened to their minister drone on past the 20 minute mark knows this to be painfully true.

Less is more is also Ode’s design philosophy. He produces clean, beautiful designs, so it works for him. Not sure it’s true always, but when faced with a decision, concision is always a good first thought. Fewer classes. Fewer ingredients. Less travel. Fewer ornaments. Fewer rooms. Maybe. But what about shorter life? Less health. Less justice. Less love. Probably not.


Yesterday was a laundry and small chores day. Take recycling out to the garage. Trash compactor contents. Break down boxes. Run the dishwasher. Clean up the clutter of laundry baskets and drying racks here on the lower level. Put down that long runner. That sort of thing. Feels good.

With my creativity class project presented and acting class over I can take to this kind of work without feeling the pull of completing an assignment. Which is very powerful for me.


After that work I watched Avatar again on the Disney channel. Getting ready to see Avatar: Way of Water. Gabe and I are going over his Christmas break. During the day. Matinees. That’s the deal these days. I’ve already got a Christmas concert by the Evergreen Chamber Orchestra on my schedule. Plan to add readings of the seasons by the Evergreen Players, too. Done.


Today is an amazing, unique day. It’s Monday, the 5th of December, 2022. I enter it with eyes wide open, heart ready to embrace what comes. And fingers limber. That book will not write itself.

Ordered bankers boxes for the various items and objets d’art now on my art table. Gonna sort them into keep and stay, then get back to my sumi-e. Ha, ha.



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Join me on a journey through the human heart

Samain and the Holimonth

Sunday gratefuls: Mark and the Post Office. And Battamabang. And warehouse work. Mary. In German influenced Kobe. No showcase. Tal. A great teacher. Chekhov. Stars seen through the Lodgepoles from my bedroom window. Alan. Dealing with First World problems. Tatiana and her portrait of the Bear. Evergreen Center for the Creative Arts. Parkside breakfast. Mussar. Neshama. Ruach. Nefesh. Kep, an old doggy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Stars


Had breakfast with Alan yesterday. He and Cheri have a listing contract, selling their house. A neighbor’s house burned down adding, pardon me for this, fuel to the fire of their concerns. They also have an offer in on a place in downtown Denver but they’re on their third offer. It’s the only place they’ve found that they both liked in months of looking. Moving is tough. As Alan said over breakfast, “I’m dealing with First World Problems.”

After breakfast I went next door to the Evergreen Center for the Creative Arts which is having an open house and Christmas fair this weekend. Bought some treats for the Kep. Fell in love with a painting of a Bear by Tatiana. She also had a wonderful small painting of a girl crying with Kyiv in the background. Her mother was Ukrainian. Tough people, she said. Also, Putin is fighting Ukraine, not Russia.

I’d not been to the Center before but the quality of the local artists surprised me.  A lot of highly competent artists living up here. Not much I would have bought for myself but the quality is high.


Brother Mark has a possible job in Watonga, Oklahoma. Mail carrier. Oddly, I lived in Watonga for a brief while at the age of 1. Mom and Dad moved to Alexandria from there after Dad got a job at the Alexandria Times-Tribune. Mark’s also thinking about moving to Battambang, Cambodia. He likes the pace of life there. It’s warm. And cheap. Decisions. Moving, changing jobs. Hard parts of life.

Mary told me about the German influence in Kobe, Japan. There’s a German area with German restaurants and pastry shops, folks of German descent. Kobe, Yokohama, and Nagasaki were the first Japanese cities to open to the West. Surprised me.


Last week. Eventful. The end of Acting class. The penultimate (a word Kate loved) creativity class with my presentation. Getting the PET scan results. Tom’s visit. Two trips to the Happy Camper. Speaking with both Mark and Mary.


Now we head deeper into Holiseason, into the Holimonth. Hanukah. Posada. Advent. Christmas. New Year’s Eve. The Winter Solstice. I celebrate them all with the exception of the Posada, which remembers the difficult search for housing of Joseph and Mary just before the birth of Jesus. A Latin American specific holiday. Read the wiki page for some interesting information about its origin.

I find myself renewed and invigorated by this Holiseason and especially this Holimonth. The birth of an incarnate god. A miracle of Jewish resistance against oppression. The arrival of a New Year. And, the longest Night. Since my own spirituality emphasizes going in and down, the long Solstice night is a perfect metaphor for a pilgrimage to the interior of the Self. To the Neshama. That of the Holy which resides within us, is us. But I like Christmas, too. Mostly the family celebration with its pagan origins. The Trees. The lights. Gift giving. Meals and parties. Wassailing.

Join on me a journey through the human heart as we celebrate these holidays.

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Cancer Today

Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Tom. Ruth. Diane. Mary. Mark. Alan. Jen. The Night Sky. Each Star. Each Galaxy. All the Dark Matter. The mysterious and ineffable Universe. Life. All my wild Neighbors. Kristie. My P.E.T. scan. The Ancient Brothers. Kep. Finding his way. By feel at times. The House on Shadow Mountain. Herme. Family. Friends. This Day, this amazing unique Day.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Blood


P.E.T. scan. Kristie and I talked late yesterday. It was a little confusing, but my big takeaway from it was that the news was good. Compared to the axumin scan I had last year almost all the sites that had uptake of the tracer showed what she referred to as healed cancer. There were no new areas of concern though one spot near my left hip and one spot of my T3 vertebrae did have uptake which means active cancer. This confused me a bit because I didn’t remember any spot on my spine being of concern after the axumin scan. Might have forgotten, or not been told.

I also say confusing because I don’t know what healed cancer means. Kristie said she thought of it as cancer cells that have been starved to the point of inaction. As long my testosterone is low they will not be able to reignite.

I don’t know what they’re going to want to do about the two sites of still active cancer. Might be radiation. I’ll have a call with Dr. Simpson again. He’s the radiation oncologist. The other option would be to continue letting the Erleada do its work. It has improved my situation a lot over the last year. See if it can knock out or down these remaining active sites. Maybe there’s an option I don’t know about.

Drug holiday. In 9 months or so I will be taken off both Erleada and Orgovyx. This is because being on them too long means my cancer might develop resistance to them. During the drug holiday my testosterone will return and the “healed” cancer cells will once again have a food source. Kristie said sometimes patients are off the drugs for years before the PSA rises. Sometimes months. Very individual. Not predictable.

Anyhow. That’s the cancer story as it stands today on the third day of Advent 2022.


Yesterday was a busy day. Talked to Tom in the AM. In the creativity class my How to Become a Pagan was a hit. As I said yesterday, you can read it on the Reimagining Faith page of this blog. Made me feel good. Pumped me up for my writing. A priority for me.

Lee from Morris Autobody brought the Jeep back. And I drove him back to his shop. You may remember Lee from my conversation with him about the problems in his business.

Ruth called but the connection was never made. I called her back. The same. Kristie’s nurse, Michelle, called and asked if I could reschedule till Monday. No. I want to know the result of that scan. Mark called me and Mary wanted to zoom. All of this communication happened over the space of an hour and a half.

Leave for breakfast with Alan at 8:30. The Parkside. A slow weekend. Looking forward to it. House chores to get started. Groceries. R&R.



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Samain and the Holimonth Mon

Friday gratefuls: Friends and family. High Winds in high places. Falling boxes. Kep eating Snow. Going slow. Friday. Joe and Seoah. Moving toward the Winter Solstice. Winter Sun. Low in the sky. Acting. Memorizing. Call with Kristie today. Creativity. How to become a pagan. The Ukraine. Russia. China and its Covid protocols. The Proud Boys. Sedition convictions. Democracy. Water. Fire. Earth. Air. Diane. Covid.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Advent


Tom and I made a now familiar drive to Bailey yesterday AM. Saw Mt. Blue Sky dusted with Snow. The Continental Divide was not white. Folks at the Happy Camper. Budtenders. That security guy who reads Schopenhauer. Says a man should maintain a balance between solitude and engagement. The balance would be different for each of us, I imagine.

A good conversation here at the Hermitage, then we went over to Aspen Perks for lunch. Tom left for the airport from there. We both had Reubens. I went on to the Natural Grocers and picked up two large containers of Strauss’ European style yogurt, blueberries and blackberries, lip balm. Filled up at Stinker’s and went back home to feed the Kep.


Creativity class today. Going to do my How to Become a Pagan piece. Might share it here once I polish it. Did it. I posted it under Reimagining Faith.


Not feeling it right now. Write now. No. So. The end.

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A fascinating time to be alive

Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Dinner with Tom at the Willows last night. Long time friends. Diane. A Mountain Wind. Snow knocked off the Lodgepoles. Snow and Ice on Black Mountain Drive. Advent. Sussex. The Jacquie Lawson advent calendar. Going to bed. Waking up. The Chrysalis Effect by Phillip Slater. CJ Box. Kep, the old dog. US vs. Netherlands. How to become a pagan. Acting class. Nitya. Teaching the Ancient Brothers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Holimonth


Acting class has been hit by illness. Tal, the teacher, has the flu or something like it. Nitya, a class member, spent several days in the ICU and is still recovering in the hospital. Not sure what will happen. Tal wants to hold a class on Friday, but I’m reluctant to go given the recency of his bout with the flu. A tough wind down for what has been an interesting and challenging experience.

I was ready. I’d gotten both monologues memorized and somewhat polished. I knew all the lines in my two scenes. Not wasted work. Good work. Helps the brain. Adds some literature to the bank.

Tomorrow morning I present in the Creativity class. Think I’m going to do my How to become a pagan piece. Wrote it yesterday. Gotta see how long it is when spoken. Going to lean into writing and art over the winter as I said yesterday. This was a start.


High Wind warning today. The Lodgepoles have begun to sway. Dancing with each other as Sunlight makes their tops glow. I haven’t written about it but the Mountains and their Trees and Wild Neighbors? I would have missed them. A lot. Couldn’t imagine being in a city environment where no Pine Trees framed the Nighttime Stars. Will not trade this beauty for a place with less. Hawai’i matches the Mountains with its Oceans and old Volcanic Mountains, its rich fauna. Someday. But right now. This wonderful place is home.


The world. Russia looking like a blind Bear in the Ukraine. Wrecking the place, striking out wildly. China finding that suppression and repression have their limits. Even with a newly anointed dear leader. The US struggling with divisions at home and new fractures among European allies. Not a great time to be a world power.


It is however a fascinating time to be alive. Talks of a moon base. Be still my John Carter, Flash Gordon little boy heart. The James Webb showing us more and more of the universe in which we live and move and have our becoming. A world shifting its long term basic rules. Climate change accelerating. Women growing in power. China and Russia and the upstart USA. All in flux.

Glad to have these years as my last ones.

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Staying in Place

Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Prednisone. Tom. A Winter wonderland. Kate loved the snowy days. And I loved her loving them. Mary’s pictures from Kyoto. Also, Godzilla has Japanese citizenship! Nitya. Healing. Acting class. US National Forests. Parks. Historic Sites. Osher lifelong learning center. Elk Creek Fire Department. My neighbor’s Christmas lights. Ruth in Colorado Springs. December. Winter. Good sleeping.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow flocked Lodgepoles


Gonna take a hiatus from the Kabbalah Experience classes and acting classes. The first because I want some less personally focused learning. The second because I’m limiting drastically my night time driving during the winter months. MVP. And that’s it unless something necessary comes along.

The Kabbalah Experience classes focus on personal growth. Right now I want to put my personal growth into writing and making art. Found the Osher lifelong learning Institute. More traditional college like classes. One fee per year or term. Take as many as you like. Most just lectures. I signed up for one called the Origin of North America. Probably will pick up another one. Just for fun. Online classes and in person. I’m doing online for the Winter. Might go in person for one in the Spring. Meet new people.

Continuing to enjoy the fruits of having made a decision about moving. I feel at home, nurtured by my space. I will hire a painter in a couple of weeks. Marty, the interior decorator, comes next week on the 7th. She’ll help me think through color choices for the main level. I plan to get her thoughts on furniture arrangement upstairs and down. Maybe, too, on a piece of Western art that would locate my space in its region.

I have friends and family, near and far. I stay in touch. Alone, but not lonely.


How ’bout those American men soccer (football) players? Huh. Into the knockout round. Took Christian Pulisic’s sacrificial dive into the Iranian goal keeper. 1 goal. A little excited about this.

Not sure what’s going on here, but I also bought subscriptions to Motorsports and Road and Track. Gonna take my following of F1 to the next level. Coming from Indiana motorsports were part of my childhood. Not NASCAR. The Indianapolis 500. Too, car culture was a big part of growing up in an industrial area that made parts for Detroit.

Joe’s influence to some extent. He’s remained loyal to baseball after I took him to Twins games the year they won the World Series. A  hobby.


Last note for today. That sedition conviction. A big deal. Sedition is just a step away from treason. The national equivalents of blasphemy and anathema. I’m glad Biden’s in office so we have an Attorney General committed to these trials. Another Lincoln Log in the rebuilding and reinforcing of our democratic norms. The January 6th panel will shutter now that the crazies have won the House, but the work they did advanced that cause, too. Feeling better about our country.


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Beauty Nearby

Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Snow. Cold. No pee on the rug. Kep, my official nudger. Osher Lifelong Learning. Herme. The Hermitage. Warm for the Winter. Dr. Astrov. A Chekhovian humanist. National Forests. Arapaho. Pike. Chippewa. Grand Mesa. Rio Grande. Superior. Mauna Loa. Erupting. Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park. Haleakala. Mt. Etna. Black Mountain. Bear Creek. Cub Creek. That six point Mule Deer Buck. Rabbit tracks in the Snow. Phonak.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mauna Loa


Colorado Cold. 10 degrees. Sparkling white Snow. The Snowpack. Lagging a bit here but good in the Colorado River Basin. An old fashioned Winter shaping up for Shadow Mountain.


Over to the Happy Camper yesterday after working out. The lady at the cash register surprised me by saying after I gave her my birthday. That was my husband’s, too. I missed a chance to make a solid connection with her. Too focused on my purchase. Another 8 packs of Indica Cheeba Chews. Edibles. A word that has morphed its meaning over the last ten years.

The drive to Bailey featured a Snow capped Continental Divide and Mt. Blue Sky (formerly Mt. Evans). Always a beautiful drive. If you drive beyond the Happy Camper into Bailey, you come to the 7% grade known as Crow Hill. It levels out into the Platte Valley where the small town of Bailey begins.

The Platte Valley has steep Mountains on both sides and a roiling North Fork of the South Platte River. This is Park County, no longer Jefferson in which I live. Bailey is the only town with a downtown in the Valley and it’s a modest one. Shawnee and Grant have names, but no there there.

As Hwy 285 rises toward Kenosha Pass, the 11,000 foot pass separating the Platte Valley from South Park, the Valley ends. About half way up this incline is Park County 61 which leads to Burning Bear Creek Trail and a beautiful camping area in the Pike National Forest. I posted pictures of a large Beaver dam and Beaver felled Trees earlier this summer.

I write this to illustrate how much beauty there is within an hour or less of Shadow Mountain. Including Shadow Mountain, Black Mountain, Conifer Mountain. The drive down to Evergreen on Black Mountain/Brook Forest Drive.


Gee, guys. Headline in the New York Times: Jewish Allies Call Trump’s Dinner With Antisemites a Breaking Point. You think?


Today at 2pm MT the US Men’s soccer team plays Iran. And it’s a must win for the US if they hope to advance.



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Death and Authoritarianism

Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Monday gratefuls: Holimonth. Thanksgiving. Advent. Divali. Hanukah. Winter Solstice. Christmas. Kwanza. New Years. Posada. Cold Air. Snow coming tonight. Kep who navigates in new ways. Hamish. Running lines. Tom coming for a quick visit. The Happy Camper. Airline miles. Joe and Seoah. Ruth in Colorado Springs. Gabe. Jen. Sunseen and Sungone. Luna. Kabbalah. Tarot. Astrology. Acting. New classes. An old wineskin.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate’s Creek, headed toward the World Ocean


A voice last night. Not mine. In the bedroom. A short phrase, garbled. Then nothing more. Gave me a start. I felt afraid then, no. Listen. What if it’s Kate? No more. An auditory hallucination? A creaking door? Didn’t seem like it. Looking around I saw nothing. Went back to sleep.

There is still a mystery with death. Once past the veil the way seems closed forever. Yet. So many have tried to pierce it one way anyhow. The whole spiritualist movement of which Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a big part had real prominence, even among the literati in the Belle Epoque. The Christian Spiritualist camp in Chesterton, Indiana where I often stay when going to reunions has its roots there, too.

I suppose it boils down to this. 1st. Does my loved one exist after death? Are they ok? 2nd. Will I? Will I be ok? Understandable questions raised by the sudden and awful pain of grief. As my friend Bill often says, I don’t need to make up a story about what happened to Regina. I don’t feel that need either for Kate. Having said that would I communicate with her across the veil if I could? Of course. Since we know nothing, I’m open to anything being the case.

A former version of me saw death as only extinction. Gone. Outta here. This version, who knows less than that one, allows what ifs. Especially what ifs that follow the butterfly analogy. Could any caterpillar imagine themselves a butterfly?


Authoritarian regimes beware. China has on display a key weakness. If you make a draconian policy, it had better produce results. Zero tolerance for Covid has not worked. There have been rolling breakouts which are then dealt with by stay at home orders. And not in trivial numbers but in cities where millions and millions of people live. Take Shanghai for example.

Now a fire in far western Xinjiang has become a rallying point. Protesters in Shanghai gathered at Urumqi Street, a street named after a Xinjiang city where 10 people died in a fire. Protesters believe the people died because of barricades set up for quarantines. NYT article

Remember the mandate of heaven? An Emperor had the right to rule as long as the people did well. But when famine or pestilence or war tore at city and village life the mandate of heaven could be broken. Once the Emperor loses the mandate of heaven all bets are off as far as who rules next. Might be a dynastic change. Let’s hope so. Maybe even a pro-democracy movement like the one in Hong Kong?


I admit I’m a bit interested in the World Cup. Partly due to Joe. The US has the next World Cup in 2026 and he’s started buying soccer cards in anticipation of money making opportunities. There’s better coverage, too. I’m sort of aware of how a team makes it to the knockout round. Ironically the US has to beat Iran to advance.

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Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Hamish. Uncle Vanya. Dr. Astrov. Ivan Petrovich. The Forests of Russia. Snow. A cold Night. Acting class. The Ancient Brothers. A good sleep. Stress. Mild. Dress rehearsal Tuesday. Judy, of blessed memory. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory. Ruth. Gabe. Kep. Artemis I. The James Webb. Lunar exploration. Arapaho National Forest. Gathered around Shadow Mountain. Ice on Maxwell Creek. The Lodgepole Branches that shrug off Snow. The silver bark of the naked Aspens.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth, her tough journey


Yesterday I focused on the longer Dr. Astrov monologue. I’ve got it down, working on energy, pacing, emotion, and playfulness. Today I’m going to run the Uncle Vanya/Dr. Astrov scene with Hamish. He’s coming over at 11:00. Later today I’ll focus on the Sofia/Dr. Astrov scene and tomorrow I’ll polish the shorter monologue. Getting ready for the dress rehearsal on Tuesday night. The showcase is Friday at 6 pm, so not much space between the dress rehearsal and the performance.

This class has stretched me. At points I’ve wanted to just bag it. Losing two full weeks of class and practice in Hawai’i didn’t help. Now that I’m getting closer to having the parts all memorized I’m feeling better about it all.

In most ways this is not an intellectual class at all. It’s more about emotions, memorization, working as part of an ensemble. The Chekhov plays have a nuanced view of human life, revealing through actions and interactions more than straight dialogue. It’s a pleasure to read them as scripts for the stage and not as literature in a history of drama. Though. It would be a pleasure to read them in that context, too.


I might take a break from classes next term. Or, maybe not. They’re part of my social interaction and I would miss that. On the other hand I want to focus on my own creative work. Not that they prevent that. Not really. Still I need to get back into a rhythm with my writing and I’ve found that hard. The classes. All the moving questions. Work. Jon’s death. Probate. Getting my energy level back to normal. Bah. Just excuses. If I want to do it, I’d be doing it.

When I find something I need to work on, it often starts like this. I could be doing X. But I’m not. Why? What’s in the way? No, what’s really in the way. Sometimes it can take weeks, even months, sometimes  years to get enough internal momentum to make a big change. I set aside my writing somewhere during Kate’s illness. Back in spurts. No constancy.

The Hermitage as a writing retreat. A studio. That’s what it was the first few years. Kate would sew and I would write. Slowly I let my regular writing drop away. On me, of course. Not Kate. Not this. Not that. Only me. I have the time. I’ve not committed the space in my day.

I also got away from the Korean after Jon died. Want to pick that back up so I can communicate when I visit Joe and Seoah in Osan. As long as I’m on this. Haven’t painted or done sumi-ye since Kate died. Well, once.

Just occurred to me that the whole move to Hawai’i, move to Minnesota, move to Golden, no, stay here process may have been grief work. Like the kitchen remodel and the mini-splits. Is this where I really want to be? Is it my space or is it too much our space? I have answered that question. It is our space, yes, but it is also now my space.

The difference between taking classes and creating on my own? Passive versus active. Although the acting straddles that line.

You might think it’s odd given my history that I’m not volunteering anywhere. Well, given my  history I’ve done my volunteering and a lot of it. A while ago. At least for now. Not interested.


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