All posts by Charles

Art and Culture, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Kate, Always Kate

November 18, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Laurie Knox. Kate’s piecing. Joan Marshall. Others who quilted Kate’s tops into quilts. I now have four new, whole quilts pieced by Kate and quilted by her friends in the Baily Patchworkers. Two I will keep, a lovely batik quilt in purples and greens and a friendship quilt block one with squares from Kate and others in the Patchworkers. Women. Cold weather. Sleeping in. Snug as a bug in a rug.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gospel music at CBE

Tarot: I’ll cover this spread in its own post

Those folks at Phonak. New hearing aid a cut well above the last one I had. And, they let me buy a new Roger for only $200. Picked it up yesterday. Will use it today at mussar. And, working on a memory technique for not leaving it behind. Ever again.

Talked with Cousin Diane yesterday morning. She’s out there in the Bay area where the temps are usually in the 50-60 degree range. Ideal. She had her book group coming, which meant furniture rearrangement and cooking a whole meal. Hope it went ok. I’ll find out next Wednesday.

Mark is in the house. The house being his home country, the good ole U.S. of A. He’s currently living in Fairfax, Virginia and touring D.C. At some point he heads out to Minnesota to connect with a new driver’s license. After that he may come up here. First time he’s been in the U.S. since Covid began. Three years in Saudi.

Slept in this morning. Felt so good to have a cold bedroom and my electric blanket turned up high. The dogs didn’t object.

While talking to Diane I had a modest epiphany. Part of my aversion to headlines and news stories these days, maybe a most of it, stems from being triggered. The Trump years come up. Biden’s poll numbers, the fractious nature of the Democrats in Congress. The Rittenhouse trial. The trials of the insurrectionists. An Atlantic article about the rise of autocracy titled, “The Bad Guys Are Winning.”

History happens. And some of us have to be alive during the bad bits. Interesting times continue for Baby Boomers.

It all seems so far away from Shadow Mountain. Solid, steady, dependable. Mountains. The one I’m on and Black Mountain that I see out my window. Just two of hundreds, thousands of peaks in the Rockies. The Elk, I saw a harem of over thirty Cows and one Bull the other day when I went into Evergreen. The Mule Deer. A few miles further I saw two Mule Deer Bucks locked in horny battle. All along Bear Creek.

That beautiful black Fox photographed by a neighbor. Holly Bailey and her husband telling of a four hundred pound Black Bear on their deck yesterday. Their last dog died in September and now the Wildlife has begun to return to their home.

What of this cares about Mar a Lago? What of this cares about Manchin? What of this finds the dismal state of politics in our country worth mentioning?

A large part of me sides with Rocks, Creeks, Elk, Fox, Mule Deer. Snow, Clouds. The Sky. The Sun. That part of me wants only to sleep, eat, watch the Lodgepoles sway and Maxwell Creek tumble down Shadow Mountain. That part of me lives on no matter the craziness, the injustice, the climate degradation. And is happy.

The other part, smaller these days, knows about interdependence. Acid Rain. Drought. Wildfire. Human encroachment on the wild. (yes, guilty) Toxins and pollutants in our air. That brown scuzz filtering the sunrise over Denver. The draining of Aquifers. The dwindling snow packs. That part knows there is no corner of the earth unaffected. It also knows the silly politics of humans matter, matter in a life or death way to our species and thousands of others.

But here’s the truth. They don’t own me. I’m not just one of their silly toys. They can’t make me go out with them, can’t put me on display. (on their side). Which also means I still have that responsibility to act. To stake my claim in this world while I’m here. In spite of how interesting it may be.

Anoka County, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Honoring Ancestors

November 17, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Bi-weekly trash and recycling. Holly Bailey. Lauri Knox. Quilts. Kate’s many gifts. Her long arm quilter. Her stash. Now helping others. A slight veil of Snow on the solar panels. 18 degrees this morning. Blue Sky. Red flag day yesterday. So dry. Derek. Neighborly. Journeymen. The Guild.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth’s Yay! when she saw the quilt Holly brought over

Tarot: The Ancestor, #5 of the Major Arcana, Wildwood

A wonderful Tarot card from the Wildwood Deck. Which I’m coming to like a lot. Reminded me that Kate is now with the Ancestors, is an Ancestor.

We’ll get back to the card, but I wanted to comment on how Kate continues to weave the tapestry of our lives. Holly Bailey and her husband came over last night. Holly got Kate’s long arm quilter. She finished the quilt that was on it.

When I texted Ruth a picture of it, she said, “oh yay!! that one’s mine. I helped grandma pick the fabrics and the pattern and I think I sewed parts of it.”

This morning Laurie Knox, yet another engineer, will bring three quilts that she’s been working on, also Kate’s piecing. Holly has two more to finish. I will, over time, offer these quilts as gifts, especially to folk who knew and loved Kate. I’m not in a hurry.

I sleep on a library, a pillowcase fabric Kate found and turned into a pillowcase for me. Her work hangs in our living room and in her sewing room, too. In my loft I have two quilted small pieces, one with squares of moose, my totem animal, and one with old post card images of Rocky Mountain National Park. There are, too, rug mugs that she got into for a while. Curtains. A brick doorstop up here has a crocheted cover.

Shirts she made for me hang in my closet. Joseph’s robe of many colors is up here in the loft now. I also have two stoles that she made for me to wear over my monk’s robe. Her memory. My blessing.

The Ancestor #5 in the Wildwood Major Arcana. (Replacing the traditional #5, The High Priest)

Here’s some material from Wildwood’s book on the Ancestor.

“The Ancestor is linked to the part of our soul that is most ancient and most closely related to the archetypes that represent nature. She is a guardian of the sacred heart of the land and summons you by beating the drum to the heartbeat of the Earth. It is the part of you that unconsciously heard the drum and stirred the first desire to walk the path that is at work here. It is the overpowering strength and patience of nature, it is the awesome and relentless turning of the cycle that brings spring and warmth, an end to hibernation and the reawakening of abundant life.

The Ancestor stands before the gateway of nature that leads into the far forest. This is another beginning. Once you pass through the gateway you must strive to stay on the path and see the journey through to the end.”

Later on: “You have made the leap and started a new cycle. Your instinctive spirit has felt it necessary to lead you to the gateway and a new path…Your inner Ancestor is strong, patient and wise. Let them lead you into the forest with new eyes and a joyful spirit.”

This image, a female deity with a deer’s head, with antlers, is Elen of the Ways in a probably pre-Celtic faith. The Ways referenced in her name are the wild paths created by Deer and Reindeer. The hypothesis is that early hunter gathers used the Deer ways, too. Hunting the Deer, yes, but also following their seasonal migrations and gathering food where Deer browsed.

Elen honored this travel, honored the Deer who made it possible. She could be the goddess of paths and journeys, the hunt, fertility. The goddess of nature’s abundance and hence nature itself.

As the Ancestor in the Wildwood Tarot, she precedes in time and worship the more well know gods and goddesses of the Celtic pantheon like Bridgit, Lugh, Arawyn.

A new cycle is underway here on Shadow Mountain. The Hermit cycle. I will see it through to the end. Whatever, whenever, and however that may come.

Memories, Politics

Lucky

November 16, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Ruby. Her Blizzaks. Her synthetic oil. Her seat warmers. A good ride, well-made. But. Carbon based transportation form. HIIT workout. Marina Harris’ crew. Great house cleaners. Color. Carnelian. Davy’s Gray. Canary. Prussian Blue. Titanium White. Magenta. Sea Green. Brown. Gray. Pop. On Rothko’s canvases. A whole realm. Snow, maybe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The World Without Her

Tarot: Page of Bows, the Stoat Wildwood Tarot

Oh. Remembered. When the electrician taking power to the mini-splits was here Friday before last, he encountered an additional task at the end of the day. His boss offered to come help.

They finished. “Gotta get this guy home for Friday night,” the boss said. A man in his late sixties, slight pot belly, florid, genial.

“You’re a good boss, guy. Glad I don’t have to work anymore.”

He looked at me with a tinge of wistfulness. “Oh, you’re one of the lucky ones who got to retire?” A white male. Blue collar. Electrician. Owns his own company, Omega Electric.

I nodded. But his comment stuck me in my place. Fixed for a moment to the cultural corkboard like a rare specimen.* A frisson of guilt. Not long lasting, but there nonetheless.

Carried me back to high school. To Alexandria. To those good jobs at Delco Remy and Guide Lamp. Medical. A pension. 25/30 dollars an hour back in the day. What a union can do. The American Dream. And this guy, whose name I did not get, a tradesmen with his own shop, stood on my driveway at 6 pm on a Friday evening helping out his employee.

White privilege. Yes. It’s real and it’s pernicious. In oh so many ways. But. Caste privilege is real, too. Those born into educated families who educate themselves may still find the American Dream. [which is a pretty damned shallow thing if you have it, but a shiny object on a hill if you don’t] At least the English own it. India, too.

This is to question, again, the financial superstructure we have constructed where money flows up and trickles down like the Colorado River in a bad Snow year. Those of us who live upstream, we’re ok. Those others, who need water just like we do. Not so much.

The economy is the battleground. Those with college degrees have what appears to be an earned advantage. But, it’s not true, is it? Intelligence distributes on a bell curve like all human characteristics. Should we imagine a political economy where the brightest get all the good toys?

Look at another bell curve. Athletic prowess. Those on the .001% end of the curve, with good luck and hard work, can make more money than a King. But the rest of the curve, folks with little or no athletic gifts, like me, for example, can’t cash in.

Dexterity and mechanical intelligence. Also distributed. Those with these gifts suffer from our cultural obsession with intelligence of the sort used for a college education. They’re blue collar workers. Not quite good enough to make it into the office, to the C suites. Obvious they should make less, right?

Again, could I earn a living working with my hands? Nope. Did I need an electrician? Yep. Did I need a boiler guy? Yep. A mini-splits installer? Yep. A cabinet maker? Yep.

This is the point to remember the shameful covid circumstances of grocery store workers, convenience store clerks, truck drivers. All those “front line” workers who had to show up. No remote stocking of Safeway shelves. Who would take the cash for a tank of gas? How was the food that we all needed gonna make it from farm to table? Who drove the ambulance? Worked in the intensive care wards as a cleaner, a med tech?

And how do we pay them? As if their work were a casual necessity. As the economy improves the front line workers go to the back of the line for wages and benefits. Again. Still. Right where they’ve been all along.

It might be different, might be, if we had paid child care, universal health care, paid family leave, education for all when they need or want it, social security with amounts adequate for this economy. Might be. At least then a job as a Kroger checkout clerk wouldn’t consign you to perpetual poverty if you developed a chronic illness.

So. Yes. I am one of those lucky enough to retire. Lucky. DNA lucky. Demographically lucky. Bell curve lucky. Is luck really the way we want to organize our common life?

How much various age groups have saved for retirement.

*Age 50-59

37% have less than $50,000 saved
16% have $50,000 to $99,000 saved
32% have $100,000 to $500,000 saved
6% have $500,000 to $999,000 saved
8% have $1 million or more saved

Age 60-69

28% have less than $50,000 saved
10% have $50,000 to $99,000 saved
36% have $100,000 to $500,000 saved
14% have $500,000 to $999,000 saved
12% have $1 million or more saved

CNBC.com

Tarot

a pathway spread

November 14, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Moon of Holiseason

Sunday gratefuls: Bean and cheese burritos. They’re what’s for breakfast. Jon. Struggling again. Shared steaks last night. Gave him my pre-induction pots and pans. Rigel is in the house. Won’t bug me until lunchtime. Kep wanders the yard. He’s outside more these days. Also getting a bit weird about coming inside. ? Tarot. Deeper. Astrology. Stranger. Kabbalah. Mystical.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Steak

Tarot: This week pathway spread: Three of Vessels, Joy. Six of Stones, Exploitation. The Hooded Man, #9 of the Major Arcana. Wildwood Tarot.

The Wildwood book has sample spreads, one of which they call, The Pathway. It’s tree cards laid out in a row: middle first, left second, right third. The middle card is the issue. The left card is what to avoid. The right is action to take.

You might imagine my puzzlement when the left hand card, the action to avoid, came up Joy. Well, still puzzled. Though. The central card, the issue for the week, Exploitation, puzzled me, too, until I read the Wildwood’s explanation. The exploitation refers to our ruination of the planet as a human home. The action to take made sense to me and is one of multiple times I have drawn the Hermit/Hooded Man in the last few weeks.

Let’s take one shot at it, then I’ll leave it for you to ponder, read.

The three of vessels, Joy, focuses, in its explanation, on family. But, it also recognizes “From time to time, we need to relax in order to fully enjoy and experience inspiration again. From there, there is enough strength and patience to go through all the trials and sorrows as well as the blessings and gifts of life.” I believe this card cautions me to restrict my out of the house time, encourages me to stay home, nourish myself and others from home base.

I’ve been considering a limit on outside of the house activities, a quasi-rule to guide the making of appointments, agreements to do something. I said two at one point, now I’m looking at four, maximum. And, if I have five, eliminating one. Two is optimum. The key is to not wear myself out. Introverted me finds appointments, lunches, even shopping tiring. Good, but tiring. To maintain Joy I need to restrain myself. Avoid energy drains in too great a number.

The week’s issue: The six of stones. Exploitation. Points the finger at me, interrogates my reaction to the Glasgow conference. Underscores the induction stove decision. Makes looking for an electric vehicle a higher priority. Encourages me to reconsider my engagement in the Climate fight. Given my current circumstances, my moving toward a hermit’s life, the fourth phase of sannyasa, what makes sense for me?

Action to take: The Hooded Man. Move more deeply into my hermitage, into my role as hermit. Get clearer about what it means. How it can enhance joy, maintain a lifelong thread of activism, one focused on Mother Earth and her pain.

Aging, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Memories, Mussar, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate

8 months

November 12, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Friday gratefuls: Cytopoint. VRCC. Chewy. Earth Venture. Veggie Dent. The Star show. Every night! The Winds of late Autumn in the Rockies. I am; therefore, I think. Thanks for that one, Tara. Tired Jamie. Jon. Winter tires back on Monday. Oil changed. Thanksgiving. Last holiday in the old kitchen. The mini-splits. Working. Lodgepoles bending. 25 mph Wind. Not breaking.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate’s Tiara for her 75th

Tarot: Seven of Bows, Wildwood Tarot

Kep into the VRCC for an allergy shot. Bought the next two doses so I don’t have to go back until February. His allergies are bad. Without cytopoint he scratches, bites himself. On his tail and his right rear haunch he gets below the skin, creates hotspots. Plus, he’s got the double coat for winter. That means when he scratches the fur literally flies. Doggy allergist to the rescue.

8 months ago today. Some day I might not notice the monthly anniversaries of Kate’s death. Not now. Those last days replay from time to time, not each minute, but significant moments.

Kate at Hwaesong, 18th century walled city, Korea

Like the time I asked Rabbi Jamie to buy me a ham and cheese at the deli. Seeing the ski runs on Black Mountain from a Swedish 10th floor window. Kate and I signing I love you. Her telling Kenton he’d done a good job on the arterial blood draw. When she said, in a cracking voice, “Death with dignity.” I nodded. “What do you think of my decision?” I hate it. It means I’ll lose you; but, I think it’s the right decision for you. Mozart minus Bach =’s Brahms. That call. She’s gone. As with Mom’s death and Joseph’s arrival, a stimulus for major change.

Re-membering her as a factor, now in memory, as I live. Wondering, what would Kate think? Taking her into account. Would she approve of the mini-splits? Yes, she would. The kitchen remodel? Probably, though she’d flinch at the cost. My decision to stay on Shadow Mountain? Oh, yes. Reorganizing the kitchen, the living room, downstairs, her sewing room? Not so much. What about Jon? Listen, empathize. Support. Within limits. Yes. Stay close to Ruth and Gabe. For sure. This will go on as life goes on.

Climate change. Glasgow. Climate pessimism. Nihilism. 47% of Republicans don’t believe we should regulate greenhouse gases. Why? Oh, just the planet going through a regular cycle. Or, made up by the elites. Or, don’t give a damn. And they may win the 2022 elections. An election that could doom the planet and human life as we know it. Talk about high stakes.

Even so. Can’t find the legs to get back into it. Distracted. Still working on the day-to-day. Feel guilty. The only thing necessary for evil to win is for good folks to do nothing. Not saying I’m good, but I have been willing to fight. Not right now. Or, Rabbi Tarfon: “You are not duty-bound to finish the work, but on the other hand, you have no right to waste time from it.” Not wasting time, me. So, ok.

Considering a new calendar rule. No more than two events of any kind outside of the house during the week. In spite of having a solo life I find distractions like appointments disturb my rhythms. I prefer alone time. A lot.

Astrology, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, GeekWorld, Jefferson County, Kabbalah, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Energy

November 10, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Orion and his dog. The Zodiac. Our star canopy. The unimaginable size of the universe. Our unimaginable place in it. Life. The animator. Total mystery. Darkness. The holidays of Light. And that wonderful one for the Night. Thanksgiving. Jon. Ruth. Gabe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hermit. Sannyasa.

Tarot: The Lord, #4 of the Major Arcana

As I write, the upstairs mini-split’s fan has a gentle sound, pushing out heat, using my solar panels for juice. Well, sorta. They’re on, pushing electrons into the grid, and turning my meter backwards. I love that. But the electricity powering the mini-split comes from the grid. If I understand it right. It’s a trade. And during the day the trade is in my favor. At night. IREA’s.

David, who turned on my system yesterday and walked me through how to use it, told me something interesting. “In seven years or so, we’re anticipating no gas appliances in Denver.” He called that a shitshow. Because of the scramble to install mini-splits or other electrical modalities. But, also. What a business opportunity.

I now have mini-splits, an induction stove, and solar panels. Already have 220 in the garage. Might start looking for an electric vehicle. I can’t afford a Tesla, so something else.

My boiler should run a lot less. Water heater, primarily. Colorado Gas is not cheap. We’ll see how the two play against each other. I’m willing to eat some difference if the mini-splits prove more costly.

Not gonna solve the climate crisis. No. But makes me feel better.

Torah and the Stars yesterday. The houses in a natal chart. These are arenas of our lives for action. My sun, Aquarius, is in the eleventh house, as well as Mars. In the eleventh house lie “Ideals and aspirations for humanity as a whole. Friends of like mind bound together for a common cause. Movements, humanitarian concerns, group associations. Activities on the cutting edge of change. Colleagues and associates. Progressive ideas, hopes, altruistic acts.”

Since Aquarius rules the eleventh house, as well as the planets Saturn and Uranus, I get triple Aquarian energy here. Sun, ruler of the house, and ruled by Uranus.

With Mars in the same house I found my work life adequately explained. I will fight for progressive ideas. Mars. And, I will do it with folks I know well. Have done. That part of my life feels over now.

Now my ideals and aspirations for humanity have a more inward focus. This blog. Work with kabbalah, astrology, tarot. Read. Write. Paint. Stay in the hermitage. Visit family and friends.

Forgot Kep’s cytopoint (allergies) shot yesterday when David came. Gonna go into VRCC tomorrow, transfer this to Sano. I’ve had some doubts about Sano, but they know Kep and Rigel. Probably stick with them. The VRCC is in Lakewood, quite a hike. I prefer the vets there, and for diagnosis and treatment recommendations, I’ll still lean on them. For shots and general physicals, Sano. Which is only 10 minutes away.

Iron Roots play at amphitheater soft open last Saturday

MVP tonight. Marilyn and I will carpool again. I meet her at the parking lot for Flying J Ranch, a Jeffco County Park.

A good point to say that Kep, Rigel, and I have decided to stay on Daylight time. I get up at 5:15 am MST and go to bed at 8 PM MST. Satisfies my crankiness about time changes and keeps the dogs’ schedule steady. It does mean that meetings like MVP, night meetings, will be more challenging for me.

Otherwise I abide by the chronoconsensus.

Painting, Tarot, Writing

What do I need to do to get back to the creative life?

November 8, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

This is a spread I did on Saturday. The question is in the title. The cards I drew correspond to certain responses to that question. That’s the first phrase in the descriptions below. The conclusion is my summary of what I learned.

Queen of Pentacles
The Lord
Six of cups
King swords
8 of cups
8 of wands

?What do I need to do to get back to creative life?

One. The conscious issue is my work, my career. In effect extending the idea of work into my fourth phase. Perhaps unnecessarily.
Two. The point of tension is the Lord. This resonates with myself as a man, a worker who finds worth in the work.
Three. The way to resolution lies in the emotional realm. In this case a deeper connection with the Arapaho National Forest, Shadow Mountain, Black Mountain. Maxwell Creek. And a deeper connection to the Hermitage. The mini-splits, the kitchen remodel, furniture rearrangement, and repair.
Four. The unconscious inner block. Yes, it’s my intellect. My analytical side. The animus of swords sits in tension with the anima of pentacles. Kept problematic by the Lord.
Five. The pivot of change. Let go of the old path to creativity. Not sure what it was. But let it go anyhow. I may need to take a holiday, rededicate myself to my work. Recharge.
Six. The key to harmony lies in attuning myself to a natural flow, rhythm.

Conclusion (for now):

Wait until the Hermit sign is here. The kitchen remodeled. The couch reupholstered and refinished. Furniture moved. Hopefully by the Winter Solstice.

On the Winter Solstice let go of the ways of the past, as many as I can: the way I used to cook and eat, the way I exercise, even when I

write ancientrails.

X out the old routines and rethink them with a new life in mind, one more focused on the natural world up here, on the house and life within it.

Then, wu wei myself forward or sideways or backwards. Following the water course way.

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Great Wheel, Great Work, Holidays, Memories, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Sierra Club, Weather +Climate

Radical, man

November 8, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Monday gratefuls: Rigel. Her head on my pillow most of the night. Kep, so happy to get up. Orion of the morning. Skeletal Aspens. Lodgepoles waiting with spring loaded Branches. For Snow. Shadow Mountain. Solid Rock beneath my house, my feet. Black Mountain. Which tucks in the Sun.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mitzvah

Tarot: See notes from my hexagram spread next post

Holiseason. A primer. I discovered holimonth 15 years ago. That was December with its abundance of holidays. Then I extended the idea to holiseason. (discovered later that this was a word anyhow. But, hey.) Holiseason by my reckoning runs from Samain on October 31st to the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6th. [A Kate aside here. She left Sunday School for good when one of her teachers, 4th or 5th grade, kept pronouncing the holiday epi-fanny.]

Holiseason contains multiple holidays, many of the holidays of light like Divali, Christmas, Hannukah. Thanksgiving. Posada. Advent. Kwanza. Winter Solstice. Gregorian New Year. Dia de los muertos. All Saints. And, of course, Samain. It’s my favorite time of the year. Lots to celebrate.

Reflecting on my radical career. One thing in particular. A long time ago, either 1975 or 1980, I attended a conference. Liberation Theology in the Americas. There were two and I can’t recall which one I attended. Cornel West. Harvey Cox. Lettie Russel. My roommate was a priest from Guatemala. Lots of impassioned speeches. Marxist analysis. Great meal conversations. Bus tours by a Detroit Socialist party that had made some political progress.

At the time I thought the conference was important for the clergy and theologians. Only later did I realize that the most radical moment came from a member of the Iroquois Confederacy, a medicine man in a 700 year lineage of medicine men.

At the end of the conference he performed a ritual typical of the Confederacy, planting a pine tree as a sign of peace. In the original rituals tomahawks and bows and arrows and knives would have been placed into the hole, covered in soil, the tree planted on top of them.

Afterward, and this part of the story I’ve told many times, he gave a long prayer. I listened carefully. You can read it below.*

When he finished, I went up to him and asked, “I noticed you didn’t mention the two-leggeds.” Oh, he said. Yes. The people are the most fragile of all. We need all the other spiritual forces healthy if we are to survive. So we pray for them. If they are well, so are we.

That was the radical moment at this most radical of all theological gatherings. I see it now. I carried on with work for economic justice: affordable housing, supporting unions, worker owned cooperative businesses like food co-ops and grocery stores and drug stores. Restaurants. Direct financial aid to the unemployed seeking work. Until.

Kate and I attended a Physicians for Social Responsibility conference in Iowa City. On climate change. This was in the mid-1990’s. A national conference they had now well-known figures in the climate change movement presenting. Each day we would go back to our hotel and express wonder that this science was not public. And, it wasn’t then. At least not enough for anyone to notice.

No habitable planet. No need for justice. I decided then that the remainder of my political work would be on climate change. And so it was. But, I could have made the same realization back in 1975 or 1980. Had I listened to the Iroquois medicine man.

Reimagining Faith: Tree of Peace

Spring Bee Hiving Moon

The essence of the Peacemaker legend follows as told by Mohawk chief Jake Swamp at the planting of a Tree of Peace in Philadelphia in 1986. “In the beginning, when our Creator made humans, everything needed to survive was provided. Our Creator asked only one thing: Never forget to appreciate the gifts of Mother Earth. Our people were instructed how to be grateful and how to survive. But during a dark age in our history 1000 years ago, humans no longer listened to the original instructions. Our Creator became sad, because there was so much crime, dishonesty, injustice and war. So Creator sent a Peacemaker with a message to be righteous and just, and make a good future for our children seven generations to come. He called all warring people together and told them as long as there was killing there would be no peace of mind. There must be a concerted effort by humans for peace to prevail. Through logic, reasoning and spiritual means, he inspired the warriors to bury their weapons and planted atop a sacred Tree of Peace”

It is said that the Tree of Peace given by the Peacemaker symbolizes the Great Law of Peace. The symbol is a great white pine, and it is said to shelter all nations who commit themselves to Peace. Beneath the tree are buried the weapons of war of the original five nations. Above the tree is an eagle that sees far. Also, four long roots stretch out in the four sacred directions, and they are called the white roots of peace. The Peacemaker invited any man or nation desiring to commit to the Great Law of Peace to trace the roots to their source, and take refuge beneath the Tree of Peace. The Peacemaker’s teachings stressed the power of reason to assure righteousness, justice and health. Faithkeeper Oren Lyons, an Onondaga, states that the Great Law of Peace includes freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the right of women to participate in government.

The seed-idea underlying all Iroquois philosophy is that peace is the will of the Creator, and it is the ultimate spiritual goal and natural order of things. The prayer below comes from the people of the Iroquois Confederacy. The prayer is based on the tradition of interconnectedness that the Iroquois or Haudenosaunee possess. This prayer is said to be the backbone of the Iroquois culture. The prayer expresses the belief that rather than take the world for granted, it must be respected, and that we must thank all living things in order to align our minds with creation and the Creator. Usually, a faithkeeper is selected to share the prayer of thanksgiving at the opening and closing of social, government, and ceremonial events. The prayer is comprised of three levels:

Spiritual Forces on the Earth, Spiritual Forces in the Sky, Spiritual Forces beyond the Sky

The Spiritual Forces on the Earth are:
the People, our Mother Earth, the Waters, the Fish, the Grasses, the Plants,
our Sustenance, the Animals, the Trees, and the Birds.
Throughout the year we bring our minds together as one
We give thanks to one another
All year long she gives us all that we need

We give thanks to our Mother Earth
Everyday it quenches our thirst
We give thanks to the waters In winter it replenishes the lakes.
We give thanks to the waters

During the year they purify the lakes
We give thanks to the fish
When the wind turns warm a green blanket appears
We give thanks to the grasses
In early summer the flowers turn sweet
We give thanks to the medicinal plants
In early summer they help us survive
We give thanks to the food plants
In midsummer we dance for the green corn
We give thanks to our sustenance
In midsummer we dance for the red beans
We give thanks to our sustenance
During the winter their pelts warm the soul
We give thanks to the animal creatures
Since early times they have been our companions
We give thanks to the animal creatures
In early spring we are glad they reappear
We give thanks to the animal creatures
At one point in time it became a symbol of peace
We give thanks to the trees
At the end of spring the sap will flow
We give thanks to the trees
In early morning they carry messages
We give thanks to the birds
In times of danger he warns the people
We give thanks to the birds
In the summer they sing sweet songs

We give thanks to the birds Spiritual Forces in the Sky are:
the Four Winds, our Grandfather Thunder, our Elder Brother Sun, our Grandmother Moon, and the Stars
Throughout the seasons they refresh the air
We give thanks to the Four Winds
In early summer they bring the falling drops
We give thanks to our Grandfather Thunder
Every morning he brings light and warmth
We give thanks to our Elder Brother Sun
Every night she watches over the arrival of children
We give thanks to our Grandmother Moon
In the night their sparkle guides us home
We give thanks to the stars
The Highest Spiritual Forces beyond the Sky are: our Protectors, Handsome Lake, and the Creator
All the time they remind us how to live
We give thanks to our protectors
At one point in time he brought back the words of the Creator
We give thanks to Handsome Lake
Everyday we will share with one another all of these good things
We give thanks to the Creator.
– Prayer of Thanksgiving, Iroquois Confederacy

General

Transformations

November 6, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Saturday gratefuls: The electrician and his dog, Lulu. Omega Electric. The mini-splits with power. Jodi. Brought a copy of the quartzite Taj Mahal and some of the brick backsplash. Plus, cabinet samples. One with the stain. Which is very close to the Stickley. Missed workout with all the busyness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: New kitchen by Christmas

Tarot: Three of Swords, Druid Craft

Electricity out in the loft all day. Running conduit to the mini-split. Forgot to ask the electrician’s name, but we bonded over Rigel and Kepler. He has a Shibu Inu/Husky mix, Lulu. She’s a cutey. Looks like a miniature Husky.

I have a new, larger electrical panel in the garage. More space. David will come on Monday or Tuesday to walk me through operation and maintenance of the mini-splits. From Tom and his colleague to my walls in less than four months. The spring will be a much happier experience. And, perhaps, this winter, too. Though. Not counting on that.

The other project, the kitchen remodel, got a check written yesterday. That means matters have gotten serious. Right now it will be rich brown, espresso cabinets, a brick backsplash, and a slightly veined white cabinet top. And, a farmer’s sink. Jodi says it will be underway the week after Thanksgiving and finished before Christmas.

I’ve got boxes by the fireplace. I have to clear out the kitchen before the demolition begins. That will take awhile. Gonna look for a reupholsterer for the couch so it can be gone during the kitchen work. I’ll have enough money left over to buy an additional chair for the upstairs. Not sure if I will or not. Might just go with the Stickley and the leather chair I’ve used for several years.

Although I’ve not used the fireplace much, especially since Kate got sick and I got diagnosed with COPD (later changed to post-polio syndrome), I couldn’t resist ordering, from Ireland, a box of peat logs. Gotta get some firewood, too. The post-polio diagnosis means a little smoke from a fireplace is not gonna create a problem.

The reason for the peat logs? The Faery Faith, the book By Evans-Wentz. He gathered stories of the auld Celtic faith in Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and Breton homes. The Irish heated with peat and I want to smell it.

They came yesterday while I talked with the electrician. A heavy box, though not very large. Maybe 2 feet long and six inches square.

Kep and Rigel slept back to back with me. A cool night with warm dogs. Perfect.

Three of Swords:

“Keywords: Heartache. True growth. Wisdom from suffering.

Meaning: True growth and transformation. Heartache, out of which can come healing and emotional maturity.” DCB

Heartache? Oh, yes. Suffering. Quite a bit. Growth? Feels like it. Quieter. Calmer. The worst has happened. I’ve had to integrate Kate’s death into a new life. On the cusp. Learned to lean on those who love me. While loving them back. Perhaps that’s all the wisdom we need?

Transformation. We’ll see. I feel different, my life feels like its contours have changed. But. Am I different? Hard to say from the inside. In many ways my life and I are the same.

I come home to 9358 Black Mountain Drive. Kep and Rigel get fed, cared for. I see folks from CBE, commune with my ancient friends at the electrical hearth. Family, too. I buy groceries, cook, pay bills. See to my own medical issues.

What’s different? Kate’s gone. And, my physical, in this world, relationship with her. It’s now Kep, Rigel, and me. I make decisions on my own, without my partner. Though. I do hear her voice. The responsibilities here are now all mine. To be fair, however, that was true for quite a while before now.

I’m not sure I can define the transformation well. At least this morning. Maybe later. I’ll ask others, see what they see. Some significant things have changed, I know. But what they are? Not sure.

Art and Culture, Commentary on the news, Denver, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Our Land and Home, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, US History

Master Benders

November 5, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tina at Morry’s Neon. Master Benders. Fun. Making the house mine. Finding Morry’s Neon, an urban pathfinding adventure. Jon. Cardio. Gut bombs. Jodi coming today. New washer coming on Monday. None too soon. Cities. I love them. But no longer want to live in them. The Pandamndemic. Orgovyx. Prostate Cancer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Master Benders

Tarot: King of Pentacles, Druid Craft

The Hermit neon sign. Quite the oxymoron. Let’s file it under ironic and enjoy it anyhow. Discovered the limits of my navigation software when it kept wanting me to turn left about a hundred feet beyond a chain link fence. The skiploader and men working would have protested, too.

Morry’s Neon, in the neighborhood near the Bronco’s Stadium. Felt like it kept moving as I made this turn and that. Going past construction, non-through streets that used to continue. A year or so back this area, largely Latino, got backing for a huge urban redevelopment plan. In the future you might be able to find your way. Not right now.

Morry’s sits between the Strange Craft Brewery and the Rising Sun Distillery. The Cream. Strange Brew. All the same flat storefronts in a long white business strip mall.

Tina. I’m Glen. I’ve been e-mailing you. Turns out she signed all the e-mails but all I saw was that they came from Glen, her husband, and with her, the owner of Morry’s Neon. He’s a Master Bender. No, not that. Bending glass tubes.

It’s hard to find Master Benders anymore. Eric has been with us for 30 years and Mario for 8. But Mario had been a bender for many years before that. All seasoned.

Master Benders. Who knew? Tina said she tried to learn it but kept burning herself. When I couldn’t even make a W, I decided bending was not me. I told her I took a week long potting class to conclude the same for me about throwing pots.

Tina wanted me to see the Neon color “chart.” Once there I could see why. Her color chart (see picture) had the colors in tubes, turned on. That way you get a sense of what blue means, or green, or red.

I had to decide on colors for hands, the staff, the beard, the lantern, and the robe. The robe alone may require as much as 14 feet of tubing. I made my decisions. We’ll see how well I did when I get the sign in a month.

Their shop fascinated me. I found it beautiful, a carny or sideshow vibe, but in a manufacturing setting. Long paper covered lengths of tubing sat under a long counters. Where Mario worked, further back, there was a flame he used to heat the tubing before bending it.

Then, when Tina flipped a switch, look what showed up. Could have been Times Square or the Vegas Strip. I love neon and neon signs.

The Hermit will go on the south facing wall above my breakfast table. Not sure how often I’ll turn him on. LOL. That we’ll have to see. They make a black box, plastic, for him, that will put the transformer behind the sign. My original idea was to have a sign outside but outside ups the cost about a grand.

I put down my deposit and Jon and I left for a burger joint. I wanted a place where he could get some calories.

Got in a strong cardio workout before I left. I have a half day plus of energy, then I need a nap.

Came home. Always happy to come back up the hill. One way streets. Construction. Narrow lanes. A sense of people reaching past themselves for a brass ring, hell, even a tin one.

King quoting Theodore Parker, Unitarian Clergy. early 19th century

Yes. I did read the newspapers. Complicated. Looking good for the GOP. 2022. When I met with RJ on Wednesday, he said he doubted he would ever see a normal market in his lifetime. He meant that central banks had interest rates set artificially low, bond yields are terrible, savings accounts stupid. Money has to go into stocks to grow. That keeps the market driving up.

After these elections, I’m inclined to say the same thing about the political realm in the U.S. I doubt I’ll ever see a “normal” election during my fourth phase. And when that ends I’m outta here. You can argue, in my mind successfully, that the old normal was no good anyhow. However, the new chaotic style of American politics bodes poorly for folks and issues I care about.

Makes me want to go live on top of a mountain in the Rockies. And, stay there.