All posts by Charles

Wrasslin’

Summer and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: A complete first draft of the Trail To Cold Mountain by Herme. A good sleep. The internet. Computers. Smart phones. Tablets. Hearing aids. Kindles. AI. Vegetables. Fruits. Eggs. Beans. Truffles. Pork schnitzel. Potatoes. All food. Great Sol. Giver of energy, life, light. The lesser light, the Moon. Giver of tides. Illumination at night. Reflected glory. The sacred. The holy. The divine. Revelation. Seeing. Hearing. Tasting. Touching. Smelling. Our bodies. Our souls. Our selves. The distinctiveness of each thing on Earth.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Writing

One brief shining: Wrestled to the bear to the ground yesterday produced a completed first draft of the Trail to Cold Mountain, a playlet, twenty minutes of dialogue and poetry, half written by me and half written by Han Shan Cold Mountain, the ninth century Tang dynasty recluse poet who lived for thirty years on Cold Mountain.

 

So much satisfaction in having a first draft of my first script. Far from finished. I’ve already made edits in the first paragraph, but I have a beginning, a middle, and a surprising end. By the 19th of August, our showcase, I’ll have a finished draft. Whether I’ll have it memorized? Doubtful. But I’m gonna give it my best.

I backed into this project with the poetry of Cold Mountain. Got most of the ten poems memorized. Tal says I sink deep into the role when I’m reading the poems. I may have mentioned that my fellow acting class members have applauded me several times. Not so much with what I’ve written.

Four of the characters have speaking parts. Herme, The Seeker, Gaius Ovidius, and Han Shan. The fifth, a helper, does not. I feel confident about Herme and Han Shan. But the Seeker (an Asian woman) and Gaius, a Roman Centurion, need a lot of work. Defining them clearly and separately while finishing revisions of the script. That’s my task over the next three weeks.

 

More and more leaning away from October 8th. Too much to do before I leave for Korea (see above and below) and too little time after I get back on September 27th. Thinking about 2024. Either on my birthday, my 77th, or in the late Spring. Still focused on celebrating aging. On aging men. In this divided country of ours.

 

On August 17th I have my first of ten sessions with Rabbi Jamie’s Introduction to Judaism. Perspectives on Jewish Identity. Here are a few of the 9 questions. 1. What is Judaism? Is it a religion? A culture? A set of observances?  2. What does it mean to be Jewish? 9. Consider these four dimensions of Jewish identity:

Cultural/Ethnic – cuisine, dress, calendar, etc.

National – ties to land and country, political affiliations, etc

Communal – Circle of extended family and friends, synagogue membership, etc.

Spiritual/Religious – personal beliefs, rituals, values, etc.

Profile your own identity using these four categories. Now use them to profile a Jewish Israeli.

I look forward to digging into these and the other questions, then discussing them with Jamie.

 

 

 

No people

Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Cold Mountain. The path to Cold Mountain. Tom’s journey. The flaming sword that guards the entrance to Eden. Myth. The myths we live by. Odysseus. Achilles. Priam. Troy. Helen. Homer. Zeus. Hermes. Hera. Apollo. Poseidon. Hercules. God. Jesus. Mohammed. Mark. John. Matthew. Luke. Moses. Joshua. King David. King Solomon. Rebecca. Jacob. At the Jabbok Ford. Baucis and Philemon. Aphrodite. Lycaon. Cadmus and the dragon teeth warriors. Paul Bunyan. Babe the Blue Ox. Johnny Inkslinger.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Myth

One brief shining: Took a can of cold seltzer Water out of the fridge it cooled my hand while I went upstairs to my home office where my computer waits always on for me to sit in that Herman Miller chair Kate bought me for a long ago birthday clicking on the keyboard the screen comes to life and I’m ready to get started on another post for Ancientrails.

 

Three days in a row with no in person human contact. I needed it after last week. Left me tired, wrung out. Rode hard and put away wet. I did talk with my son and Seoah on Saturday night [AM Korea time] and BJ and Sarah on Sunday late afternoon. Other than that working out, reading about Korea, working on what is now titled The Trail to Cold Mountain, that sorta thing. Thinking about revelation, about faith as a secondary characteristic of revelation. About what is sacred. Holy. Divine. A full three days but quiet, peaceful. Restorative.

Could go another two based on no class tonight and nothing on the calendar on Wednesday. But. Nope. Going out for breakfast. See some real people. Then back home for a day with The Trail to Cold Mountain. Herme is still the main character and it’s still his story, but I’m modifying it a lot thanks to Tal and Joan’s ideas.

 

My son wants me to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering before I get to Korea. I’m doing that. It’s a very popular strategy game played around the world in person and online. He’s excited about a new batch of Magic cards that have just come out based on the Lord of the Rings. There’s an online tutorial. My next lesson is on Creature Combat. I remember when it was Zelda and Mario Brothers on the Nintendo. Long time ago.

 

Reading about the Far Right has taken a back seat lately to Korea. Now some ways into Two Koreas. It’s a very different read from Korea’s Place in the Sun. Written by two journalists it has a more first person you were there feel to it. Will give me a different perspective on the war and postwar years. Enjoying it so far.

 

Feeling the outwash from the jet engines on my plane to Incheon. Figuring out adapters and transformers. Smart phone and sim cards. How I can keep myself connected and charged while in Osan. Also learning a bit about the Seoul subway system. Probably will revisit my Korean lessons starting soon. Have to get spare keys made. Reserve an Uber for the airport. Check my drugs to make sure I have enough for a month away. Stop mail. Buy gifts and send them soon to the APO address for my son. No sense carrying them. Figuring out the lightest possible packing plan. All that stuff.

 

Considering holding off on the crossing the threshold ritual until next year. Might be more than I can handle with Korea, conversion, Israel.

 

 

Joy

Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Herme. The Seeker. Gaius Ovidius. Han Shan. Writing a very short play. Acting. Distractions. Procrastination. Writing again. Working on revelation. Sacred. Divine. Holy. Spiritual. Religious. Worship. Inspiration. What do these words mean? Are they still important? Judaism. Sarah. BJ. Family. Ruth and Gabe. Marina Harris. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Korea. Adapters. Travel. Love. Burning it all away but love. Life’s purpose.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: the religious life

One brief shining: Here it is the Lodgepole out my window I look at it and see all its Branches arranged towards the East where Great Sol becomes seen each morning no need for western facing Branches due to the shade of others those Branches toward Great Sol right now hold Needles and Cone, survival and reproduction of the species, unseen but known to me is that most magical and necessary of all transformations/transubstantiations photosynthesis gathering in the nuclear fusion power of Great Sol, combining it with carbon dioxide and water, then stepping it down into sugars and oxygen and fixed carbon. A miracle of the ordinary. The ordinary as miracle.

 

Oh. Speeding into my mind since last Tuesday night Herme and the nature of revelation. Prompting a creative torrent can’t keep up with it. Have to slow down. Stop. Read. Watch television. Burning through my photosynthetically captured energy reserves. Glad my thyroid stimulating hormone has given me the ability to use the energy as long as I can. More than glad. Joyful.

 

This is so much fun. Considering how to lace lines from Han Shan into my own written dialogue, stage directions, settings. Imagining how to advance the plot, how to have a smash bang ending. Yippee! Having to figure out how to represent each character distinctively. When I have trouble having to do that for one character. Gotta thank Alan for suggesting acting classes. I’ve learned so much about myself. About talents and skills long buried. Not gone. Which makes me happy.

Acting combines the intellect and the emotions, the lev heart/mind, into a sharpened tool with the whole body. The voice. Movement. Posture. Cadence. Emphasis. Volume. All important. Plus memory. Putting it all into the mind and retrieving it as necessary, remembering per Meisner how to live truthfully in an imaginary situation.

 

Also going to sleep thinking about revelation. What does it reveal? How? When? How do we know it when it’s happening? Waking up with revelation still on my mind. Seeing revelation through my window.

The book of Nature, of super nature, always open to one page or another. Great Sol in the Sky. The Lodgepole out my window. The first six inches of Top Soil. Feeling the Oxygen breathed out by the Lodgepoles going into my lungs. Another miracle. The transfer of Oxygen into my blood stream so the energy gained from Plants and Animals can transubstantiate into my organs, flesh, bones, lev. How marvelous! How wonderful.

These are the ordinary encounters, yes, but still inspirational. Perhaps they don’t rise to the level of revelation. The line between revelation and an ordinary miracle is still not clear to me. Perhaps an ordinary miracle involves the intellect more. I can look up photosynthesis, read about it, yet its role in our life of very life is so intimate, so critical, and so ignored that seeing where it is happening, right now, opens my heart in wonder.

Yet it does not have the jolt, the jitterbugging of the Rainy Night Watcher. That was a hairs on the skin rising up goosebumps moment. I take from those indicators that my body/lev responded holistically. No mental processing. No slotting of the experience or wondering about Elks. Rather an oh this is happening to me right now! Wow. What? Gosh. A frisson of fear. I can still see him dimly lit at the side of the road, watching, his Antlers spread wider than the space of the two Lodgepoles just behind them.

Loving this, too. Reimagining revelation. Yes. That’s the key.

 

 

Super Nature

Summer and the Herme Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The sacred. The holy and the divine. Supernatural? Yes, if you mean super natural. Finishing Korea’s Place in the Sun. Starting Two Koreas. Wanting to pare down my home work to focus more on my own work. Reading more. Writing more. Seeing friends more. My friend Tom going on a trip tomorrow. Bon Voyage, Buddy. Diane. Seoah. Murdoch. My son. Rising, rising insurance rates. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. My wild neighbors

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Convergence

One brief shining: I set down Korea’s Place in the Sun after finishing began to wonder how many books I’d read in my life must be in the thousands by now and where the knowledge I gained is in my inner world and how it affects my day to day life you know all those stories all those facts all that poetry crammed into the tiny space neurons and synapses and blood vessels needed to keep it available and pertinent.

 

Wanted to pick up today on the definition I posted about revelation. Here it is again:

In religion and theology, revelation is the revealing or disclosing of some form of truth or knowledge through communication with a deity or other supernatural entity or entities.”wiki

Even when I posted it I wanted to edit out the word supernatural. In some ways it’s a nonsense word. Doesn’t pass the how would we know it when we saw it test. It might though if you unpack the portmanteau into super natural. After the post about the Bull Elk and considering other similar experiences I’ve had over my life I began to wonder about the true nature of revelation. What, in other words, does it reveal? And why is it different from ordinary experience? Why do some experiences fit Rudolf Otto’s definition and why don’t others? Posting Otto’s definition of the holy again below.*

I once again insist on my own turn with his definition, not the transcendent, but the incandescent. What lights up your inner world? Not supernatural, but super natural. That is, experiences that reveal the mysterium tremendum et fascinans of the natural world. I’ll return here for a moment to that Bull Elk on the Rainy night. He stood quietly, watching, lit only by the dim light cast sideways by my headlights.

It was a natural moment. Yes. Earlier that evening I’d seen a Bull Elk pass by the amphitheater at CBE. Also a natural moment. And an inspiring one as all encounters with our wild neighbors tend to be. But. It was not super natural. The difference. The second Bull, lets call him Rainy Night Watcher, made my heart jitterbug. He exposed a sight which I rarely have. A Bull Elk oblivious of the Rain positioned in his Forest habitat as a Watcher from the other side of nature, super nature, revealing in his brief appearance the holiness inherent in wildness.

 

 

*“the transcendent [the holy]) appears as a mysterium tremendum et fascinans—that is, a mystery before which humanity both trembles and is fascinated, is both repelled and attracted. Thus, [God] sic can appear both as wrathful or awe-inspiring, on the one hand, and as gracious and lovable, on the other.” Rudolf Otto, the Idea of the Holy.

Religious Life

Summer and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Erica, Yolanda, Nancy, Sophia. Helen. Stacy. Jamie. Alan. Ann. Gracie. The Bread Lounge. Evergreen Market. Sugar Jones. CBE. Evergreen. The Muller Retaining Wall company. Gettin’ the job done at Evergreen Lake. The detour. All detours. Hunting for the sacred. Finding the holy. Walking with the divine. Racial justice. Economic justice. The Ancient Brothers. My convergence. That Bull Elk. Still imprinted and present. Korea. Israel, a land of revelation.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Revelation

One brief shining: CBE filled up with members of For His Glory church last night a project of Rabbi Jamie’s to advance racial justice by partnering with a black church, sharing services, gospel music, and friendship first through that most religious of human activities, a potluck, then a kabbalah shabbat service with traditional music.

 

I went for the potluck. Met Erica, Yolanda, Nancy, and Sophia. We had a long conversation. In a difficult setting for me. The Sun shone in my face and the babble of others filled my one hearing aid. Talked with them about my conversion. About their lives. Erica manages corporate relocations internationally. About Kate. They wanted to know if I could remarry. Yes, I said, but it would have to be a very special woman and I haven’t met her. At least not yet. Tithing and the synagogue’s dues structure. Tzedakah. Yolanda wanted to know what questions the rabbinic court (beit din) might ask. Hmm. I said. That’s a good question. I’ll have to ask Rabbi Jamie.

My sense of politics wants to move faster, engage quicker. Do something. Always. But this approach may work over a longer time. Building friendships. Shared experiences. Then let the political grow organically. Grow out of a common life nurtured over potlucks and joint services.

 

News of my conversion has begun to leak out. Not that it was in hiding. More and more people know. And the warmth I’m experiencing makes me feel good. Mindy came up last night and said I hear you’re going to have a very special moment in Israel. Yes, I am. She offered to help me with my Hebrew or anything else. Her husband David said later as I was leaving, one thing I love about Judaism. We’re not evangelical, but if you decide you want to join we’ll find a way to include you. Over lunch on Thursday Rebecca, on hearing my news, said, Welcome. Alan wanted to know about my bar mitzvah.

 

Revelation has begun to loom much larger in my thinking since the Bull Elk and the conversations stimulated by God is Here. Here’s a wiki definition: “In religion and theology, revelation is the revealing or disclosing of some form of truth or knowledge through communication with a deity or other supernatural entity or entities.” As I’ve begun to think about it more, I realized that revelation is at the base of most if not all religious truth claims. In other words revelation can be seen as the core religious experience, the one from which all others grow. Think of Joseph Smith and his golden tablets. Moses on Mt. Sinai. Mohammed and his angel. Jesus in the desert.

The problem comes when we ossify and/or reify the revelations of others. When we stop hunting for or opening ourselves to revelation. More to come on this. Much more.

 

 

Revelation

Summer and the Herme Moon

Friday gratefuls: Rebecca. Diane. Mussar. God is Here. Metaphors. Revelation. That Bull Elk, the face of God? Speaking to me of the world I do not know, but in which I live. Ruth and Mia. Introversion. On display last night and this morning. Slept long. More Rain and Hail. Computer Chip with built-in human brain cells. !!? Mountain life. Cool while the World burns.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Revelation to us, not the history of theirs

One brief shining: Convergence beginning to happen for me after a lifetime of religious and spiritual orienteering revelation it may all come down to revelation the revealing of the sacred in this life in my presence and palpable to me.

 

Whee! Heading down the slide toward a big splash in the World Ocean of consciousness. Or, the Waters of the Collective Unconscious. Or, the inner cathedral. Anyhow. In the book God is Here by Tobia Spitzer we’re discussing metaphors for God. Her contention being that we’ve hung on to a few metaphors-King, Judge, Warrior-and neglected or ignored many others all found in Torah. God as Fire that does not consume, God as pillar of Smoke, God as living Water, God as Whirlwind, God as Malakh or messenger, Angel to name a few. Also Spitzer recounts recent work in cognitive linguistics that discusses how language shapes our world and therefore how the metaphors we use determine what we can see, hear, taste, touch, and feel. Let alone consider. Which is a secondary or mediated process after sensory input.

Not sure that the word God is worth rehabilitating, but I’m finding the thought process while engaged in this conversation fascinating. Part of Spitzer’s point is that we often thrown out the Torah with the King/Judge/Warrior bath water. So we turn away from understanding God because we don’t like those metaphors, but that there are many others perhaps more compelling. God as lover for instance in the Song of Songs. Or God as the still small voice. Or God as Justice.

Here’s what keeps buzzing through my head though. Why do we insist on trying to fill up the metaphor God with new wine, putting new wine in an old wineskin which means it’s likely to burst?

Reminded me of Emerson’s line in his Introduction to Nature: “…(why should we not have) a religion of revelation to us, not the history of theirs.” This pushed me to what I now consider the essence of this interesting conversation. How do we know revelation when we see it?

In other words, by dropping away from the Torah and/or the New Testament, too, we have also dropped away from considering how Emerson’s dream might come true: a religion of revelation to us, because we’ve rejected the history of their revelations as past tense, never to be repeated.

Well, that has to be wrong. If we can accept that their revelations were real and profound, as centuries and millennia of folks like us have found them to be, then there must be equivalent experiences available to us right now. Of course you can deny the whole notion of the sacred or the holy or the divine, then there’s nothing more to consider. However, if you have even a small inkling that there is more in this world than is dreamt of in your philosophy… Well.

What experiences might we have that conjure Rudolf Otto’s definition of the holy:

“the transcendent [the holy]) appears as a mysterium tremendum et fascinans—that is, a mystery before which humanity both trembles and is fascinated, is both repelled and attracted. Thus, [God] sic can appear both as wrathful or awe-inspiring, on the one hand, and as gracious and lovable, on the other.”

I have these experiences. As recently as this week. When thinking about Otto’s work and the concept of using new metaphors for God, I can easily call to mind the Elk Bull observing me from the Forest in a driving Rain. That was the face of the Holy, I’m sure of it. Holiness as Wildness. Holiness as the life of the other, the non-human. Holiness as a shock, an amazement. But here’s where I diverge from Spitzer’s work. Why call that God? Why not say it was a window, a moment of seeing into the numinous, a sacred moment which can inform my life long after the experience. Why not say the Holy is beyond our understanding, but accessible to our senses. Yes, by all means let’s use metaphor to describe it but do they have to point back to the Middle Eastern notion of a God? No. I say no.

On the other hand. Yes. Let’s look to Torah to the New Testament for clues about how experience revelation. Let’s examine and learn from all the metaphors for God. Without having to use God as a reference point. Can we experience the Holy, the Sacred in Fire? Yes. In Water? Yes. In a Tornado? Yes. Does that mean there’s an entity which ties all these experiences together in a quasi anthropomorphic whole? No. Not at all. It means rather the world as we know it is only a sliver of the whole, a whole filled with wonders and treasures we can find. But only if we choose to see what we’re looking at.

Changes

Summer and the Herme Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rebecca. Mussar. Hail at 5:30 AM. 48 degrees. Living at altitude. That Bull Elk Tuesday night. Wildness. Wild neighbors. Fox. Moose. Marmot. Robin. Magpie. Abert’s Squirrel. Red Squirrel. Ravens. Crows. Lodgepoles. Aspen. Various Grasses. Judaism. Sadness. Acting Class. Herme. Taking shape. Writing. Creating a short play.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wildness

One brief shining: Wham wham wham woke me up as Hail pounded against my bedroom window followed by driven Rain Thunder and Lightning all the old familiar sounds from my Midwestern days not so welcome in the Arapaho National Forest with all its Lodgepole Pines.

 

Breakfast with Dick Arnold, my roommate in Israel. He says the Tomatoes in Israel are the best anywhere. Something about irrigation with slightly salinated water and the Tomatoes compensating by producing more sugars. Looking forward to that. Israeli restaurants divide up by dairy or meat. He’s lactose intolerant so as long as he’s in the right restaurant, he can eat anything. Handy. Kosher, I’m sure. Dick was a therapist specializing in kids and abused women.

Talked to him about Ruth a bit. He gave me a tip. When I told him I felt sad about her situation, he said it might be empathetic sadness. In other words a feeling I’m getting from her, too. Might help guide me when I’m with her. He said something else that surprised me, but made sense. After that all caregiving, you’ve been opened up. I understood what he meant immediately. I knew I’d changed over the last few years but I thought it was just aging. Not only that. A welcome opening of my heart.

 

Came back from breakfast, read some more from Cuming’s Korea’s Place in the Sun, felt sleepy and took a long nap. Over to Jackie’s for a hair cut. The estrogen was flowing. Jackie, I said, you run a friends central salon. Friends, mostly women, stop by, give her a hug and kiss. Same for Rhonda. A warm, loving space. We could use more of them. And. My hair looks great.

 

Thinking about Herme, the short play. Four characters: Herme, Gaius Ovidius, the Seeker, Cold Mountain. I have Herme and Cold Mountain down. I need to work on Gaius and the Seeker. That is, I have to create their characters as distinct from Herme and Cold Mountain. Not only voice, but posture, attitude. Guess that’s why they call it acting. According to Meisner, I have to find a truthful way to be them in an imaginary situation. I also have to write more dialogue, edit some of what I’ve got. The challenge is real, but I’m getting there.

Feel like I’ve found a strong ending by changing the way the last poem will be read. In the voice and character of the Seeker. Signalling that she has joined Herme and Cold Mountain. Joan came up with the idea that Herme and Cold Mountain are the same. I liked that idea and I’m using it. Tal has helped me see how I need to shape the characters and the dramatic arc. I like the collaboration.

My first time writing a play and I find the help supportive. Mostly. I’m a little defensive. Hey, that’s my work we’re talking about. Maybe it’s the changed nature of my nature that Dick helped me see. Allowing help in.

See the Wildness

Summer and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Dick and Ellen. Ann. Gracie. Lid. Joan. Tal. Deb. Abby. Alan. Those two Elk Bulls. Experiencing a cool summer in a heating World. The World Ocean. Mountains. Acting. Writing. Herme. Gaius Ovidius. The Seeker. Herme and Cold Mountain. Judaism. CBE. The synagogue. Lightning. Rain. Wabi Sabi. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Cold Water. Coffee.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Bull Elks

One brief shining: Lightning crashed down from the night Sky, Rain poured on my windshield as I drove the curves and increasing altitude back home from acting class, a twelve point Bull Elk looked at me from the side of the road near Maxwell Falls his face and antlers framed by Lodgepole Pines.

 

Another evening of Mountain magic. During acting class Alan had moved us outside to the amphitheater for his piece on aging. While he read Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, a twelve point Bull Elk wandered near the Grandmother Tree eating the luxuriant Grass occasioned by the persistent Rains we’ve had. He still had his Velvet. Alan went on reading. The Bull went on munching, collecting energy from the Great Sol. Thunder rumbled in the background, a cool Breeze came ahead of it. When Alan finished, the Bull had wandered on.

CBE occupies a plot of land not far from the large Elk Meadow Park, the first effort of the Mountain Land Trust many years ago. They bought up all the land east of the Mountains behind the synagogue and west of Hwy 74  for some miles to the north, put it into a permanent land trust to keep the Meadow wild. Especially in the Fall harems of Elk come through the Meadow, stopping to rest there.

The wildness of these magnificent Animals shows in their confidence around humans. They neither approach us nor steer away from us. We are in their domain, but of it in a manner similar to the marmot, the fox, and the rabbit. If the Elk wish to cross the highway, they cross the highway. If they want to lie down for a while in your front yard or come to my back yard and eat my dandelions, they do it. Moose are the same. Healthy Elk and Moose can defend themselves against predators so they have no reason to fear.

All very sweet

Driving home after class though. A Thunderstorm roiled, Lightning lit up the night sky. A heavy Rain fell cooling the air. I had passed Upper Maxwell Falls and begun the final climb toward the top of Shadow Mountain. When. I looked to the left. Slowed down. There. Right at the edge of the road, but in the Forest stood another Bull Elk, equal in size and rack to the one I’d seen earlier in the evening. He looked at me and I looked at him. A guardian of the Forest wildness. Not my friend, not my family. A wild neighbor checking up on a domesticated neighbor as he drove by.

I’m not saying this well. Imagine yourself on a black night driving through the Rain high up in the Mountains. You see faintly illuminated by your headlights a large Bull Elk standing still, watching as you pass. A Mountain Spirit, rarely seen, offers you a chance to see. See the wildness all around you gathered into the eyes and Antlers of one Animal.

 

 

 

The desiderata trap

Summer and the Herme Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Meds. Marina Harris. Ana. A clean house. Converting. Reconstructing. Reimagining. Paganism. The whole World in our hands. Kwangju. Osan. Incheon. Seoul. Murdoch. Seoah. My son. Itaewon. The DMZ. History. Geological time. Mountains. Their time. Humans, our time. Great Sol. Sukkot. Tu B’shvat. Simcha Torah. Shavuot. Purim. Rosh Hashanah. Yom Kippur. Holidays. Holy Days. Ordinary Holy Days. Every day. Spacetime. Eternity. Now.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Torah

One brief shining: Using morning energy today I will rehang my Chinese painting bought in Beijing, fight down the ghost bill haunting my mail box since late last year, check on flight information for Korea, get copies made of house keys, unlock my phone, find out about using credit and debit cards while on the road but not until I pour milk in my big pyrex bowl, add oatmeal peanut butter butter sugar, cook it and pour in blueberries, drink coffee, and read about the Kwangju rebellion. First things first.

 

Tuesday is a utility day. No workout. I can focus on the desiderata of my life. In my gratefuls a bit back I talked about the desiderata trap. Here’s what I meant. There’s always a problem bill I want out of my hair, a repair I need to get done, finishing a project like Herme, going to plays or music or museums or zoos, figuring out how to get more money, better hair, a better figure, a new career, planning a trip. Things I need or want that take time. Require me to turn my attention from the now and toward the future. When one is done, another pops up. Like whack a mole. This is the trap. We never finish desiring, wanting, projecting need onto the go board of our life. To use another rodent metaphor the hamster wheel never stops turning.

What if we gave ourselves a day a week when desiderata were off the table. Nothing to accomplish. A time to reflect, read, enjoy family, friends, self. What if we had, say, a sabbath? A day to go deeper into the ordinary. No cooking. No work. No planning. Has always sounded good to me, but I’ve never put it into practice. A friend of Tom’s, a high powered business attorney, said to me, “I tell my clients I’m available 24/6.”

Part of my conversion will be about picking up certain Jewish rituals that I’ve only observed slightly or when Kate was alive. The sabbath is one I look forward to implementing. Not yet. I’m not ready, but I will be. Lighting the candles, saying the prayers, observing the full day, marking its end with the havdalah ritual. Learning how to slow way down. To break away from the desiderata. An anticipation of the time when everyday will be a sabbath day. When neither desiring nor wanting will have any place.

So, yes, I will change my life in certain ways. And I look forward to doing that.

This Old Man’s Life

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Monday gratefuls: Leo. Still here. Luke. Tal. Sagittarius Ponderosa. Herme. Ann. Parchment paper. Gracie. Korea. Becoming a Jew. A pilgrim life. Seeking truth in the moment. Life. Great Sol. Herme. Cold Mountain. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Herman Melville. Hawthorne. William Cullen Bryant. Emerson. Whitman. Dickinson. Frost. Stevens. Oliver. Rumpelstiltskin. Knickerbockers. Rip Van Winkle. Ravens. Corvids. Crows. Magpies. Poe. The American Renaissance. Thoreau. Unitarians and Universalists. Christians.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: American literature

One brief shining: I have three cast iron pans big skillet, little skillet, and a griddle on which I love to cook breakfast with a pat of butter sizzling, throw on sliced potatoes, a couple of eggs, maybe some olives stuffed with garlic if I’m feeling fancy a six on the induction cooktop until the potatoes brown nicely and the eggs firm up, slide them off onto my plate for a preworkout meal.

 

Not sure how I’ve done it but my days have begun to feel full, no holes like those afternoon doldrums of the last few months. As I prefer it. Part of it? Writing Herme. Reading Korean history. But I suspect also the gradual increase of my thyroid meds bringing me closer to where I need to be. I pay attention to how I live my life, both conscious and unconscious actions during the day, over time. Try to understand what drives me. Especially when a disturbance in the force knocks me off course.

Working out plays a significant role in my sense of well-being. As a mood lifter, which it always is, but also as a sign of self care. That I’m doing what I can for my health. It becomes a floor to everything else for that week. Oh, yeah. I worked out. Feels good on a physical and psychic level.

Reading, too. Serious reading. Doesn’t have to be for an enthusiasm, but it helps if it is. A workout for the mind. Right now serious reading includes research for Herme, Korean history, reading for conversion, reading for my Israel trip, going for a deep understanding of the American far right and our current political situation, mussar. When I’m keeping my intellect sharp, I feel good.

Taking classes. Right now acting class. Mussar. MVP. Various CBE opportunities. But the Korean, too. And I want to get back to calculus at some point. Challenging my overall skill sets makes me feel good. I still have traction, not just following familiar ruts. I’ve also got sumi-e and painting. Not trying to master any of these, going for the best I can do. Enough. Maybe they’re hobbies?

Cooking. Maybe breakfast 3 to 5 times a week. A full evening meal 2 to 3 times. Healthy snacks. Trying to stay close to the Mediterranean lane. Sometimes right by it, sometimes straying into the past. But taking care of myself. Laundry and picking up around the house. Book piles don’t count. Having the house cleaned. Having Vince come over and mow, do other outside chores. Paying bills. Keeping up with my docs and meds.

Planning travel. Offers some interesting changes to look forward to. Leaving home. Coming back.

Meals out with friends and family. Zoom connections on a regular basis with those faraway. Showing up.

Good sleep hygiene. Maintaining 7 to 9 hours of sleep a night.

There’s also a category of activity I’ll call inner work. Not prayer nor meditation. Though it can be either or both at times. Mostly it’s about being kind to myself, treating myself with compassion. Even my inner critic. There, there. I know how you can be, but look how far we’ve come anyhow. Accepting my own death. My own limits. Shrugging off moods if they get too grippy. Or leaning into them, unmasking the boogiemans my psyche insists on creating on occasion.

Perhaps I’ll find a way to encourage the burning away of all of these that aren’t love. As I still believe I did accidentally discover the purpose of life. Somebody had to. Why not me?