All posts by Charles

Far Right, Judaism, Letters, Literature, Politics, Reimaging revelation, Torah

Permanent Things

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadowy kisses across my pillow. Vince as snowplower. Tom’s enucleation. That wooden bowl. Ruth’s wrist. American Beauty, Gabe and mine’s favorite Dead album. Mary in the upside down. Star Trek: Discovery. Yale Program for the Study of Anti-Semitism. T2V: Terrorism and Targeted Violence. C-REX, center for research on extremism.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Facts

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.                                                “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Two of Arrows, Injustice

“False conclusions and unjust decisions, based on disinformation and motivated by fear, greed, and prejudice, can cause innumerable problems. Either mistakenly or deliberately distributed to pervert the course of natural justice and the revelation of the facts by those who fear the truth and wish to manipulate the situation for personal control or gain, this propaganda will not survive honest, wise, and impartial scrutiny.”   Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Ana came cleaning, portable vacuum on her back, two twisted kleenex in each box, toilet paper folded to a point, careful dusting, a big smile, so many years now and we barely know each other since I’m gone when she comes, but, not yesterda;, not Kate’s way who got to know housecleaners as friends, me I prefer not to be home.

 

Funny how things come to you. Sometimes slowly. So slowly. Other times, sudden burst of insight. The stimulus can be Proust’s madeleine, or Leo Strauss’s desire to hunt down the esoteric message in classical texts of political philosophy.

In my ongoing pursuit to understand the true nature of forces opposing my own world view, a significant number of roads lead to Leo Strauss. You may not have heard of this twentieth century political philosopher. He influenced many far right intellectuals (no, that’s not an oxymoron) with his insistence that the roots of political philosophy be found in classic texts of Plato, Aristotle, Machiavelli, and others.

He and his students sought permanent things, or things in human nature that persist from age to age and effect us in the political sphere. “By “the Permanent Things” [T. S. Eliot] meant those elements in the human condition that give us our nature, without which we are as the beasts that perish.” The Imaginative Conservative.

When I read that Strauss insisted his students seek an esoteric or hidden layer of meaning in classical texts, my mind went immediately to the kabbalists. They look for occult meanings in the Torah.

Sure enough, the Straussian method could be applied to Torah study and undoubtedly has been. I offer this not strictly for how it ties conservative thought to the methods of the kabbalists, but mostly for its illumination of the inner world’s mysterious ability to sharpen our awareness in unexpected, intuitive ways.

 

 

Ancient Brothers, Dogs, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Seed Keepers

How Deep the Impressions

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Snow on the Ground. Shadow and her Dog run. Alan’s surgery today. Joanne. Marilyn and Irv. Joe and Seoah. Renee Good. Her wife and children. Jacob Frey. Minnesota resists. Bureau of Criminal Investigation. Rethinking liberalism, socialism for our time.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Bills/Jaguars

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.                                                “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Ace of Arrows, the breath of life

The card description emphasizes that the arrow is a “gift” from the universe. This gift provides the mental clarity, truth, and fortitude necessary to cut through deception and find a clear path forward. However, the Wildwood emphasizes that this clarity is not a passive attainment; it requires the “human element” of mastery, skill, and commitment.

One brief shining: Under the Moon of New Beginnings Shadow has returned home, my two primary Notebooklm notebooks have begun to fill up with research on Superior Wolf and political thought/action/news, resistance work continues (for my body and the body politic), and my confidence about my life and its fourth phase purpose has sharpened, gotten clarity, leading me toward a new role as shaman/metaPhysician.

 

Dog journal: Yesterday Shadow sat on her haunches, looking me in the eye, trying telepathy. Understand what I want, my human. I went over to the ottoman, sat on it. She came to me, put her paws on my knees, gave me a kiss. The leash clicked shut on her collar and we went outside for a walk. Well, that. Unexpected.

 

Ancient brothers on the Wild. We talked Tornadoes, Hurricanes, the autonomy of nature, Wild Neighbors, fear, and love. Ode wrote, “The wild is the source of my creativity.”

We all talked about the wilderness within, how emotions and thoughts, memories and sense data meet in our inner worlds. I’m taken with this idea. As inside, so outside. Or. As outside, so inside. The inner world where no other can enter. The source of dreams, visions, desire.

Even, said the undefeatable solipsist, the outer world rises from our inner world, mine so different from the one you project. So different. Heidegger’s dasein, or being-thereness.

This whole notion frightens me right now because we’re all living in the outer world projected by red tie guy’s “own morality.” A world where yesterday’s up is today’s down. I do not want to live in his dasein, yet I have, we have no choice.

In the struggle between my dasein and his, our dasein and his lies the future. The best outcome I can imagine lies in a new world made possible by the wreckage of his blundering Brontosaurus movements. Yes, I know this huge animal had a brain the size of a walnut, yet look how deep went the impressions of its feet.

There will be no new world if we abandon the field, leave him and his obsequious crew to their stumbling, capricious paths.

 

Memories, Music, Politics

We contain multitudes

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Sunday gratefuls: Wild neighbors. Wilderness. The Wildland/Urban Interface. Going wild. That was wild. Wilding. Into the Woods. Fairy Tales. The Veldt. Hominins. Hominids. Australopithecus. Lucy. Neanderthals. Homo sapiens. Boundary Waters. Pukaskwa. Lake Superior. Isle Royale. Bob Weir.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wild

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.

“The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: #1, The Shaman  This was the result card for my Celtic Cross on New Year’s day. I feel an attunement with him. A sense of life purpose.

One brief shining: The Arapaho National Forest surrounds Shadow Mountain, just across Black Mountain to my southwest lies Staunton State Park, all sorts of Critters live in both of them, their daily comings and goings dictated largely, though not completely, by their wild nature.

 

 

Bob Weir died. Jerry Garcia a while ago.  Levon. Robbie. Jimmy. Janis. Jim lies in a grave in a famous Paris Cemetery. Hit me today that as a generation ages so do the icons of youth. Bob made it to 78. We know that age, many of us I count as close friends.

As movie stars, novelists, members of the bands, poets, and athletes, spouses and friends begin to drop away, the world can seem paler, less than it was. Yet I find listening to Sugar Magnolia a magic carpet ride. Not back to the Sixties. No, they’re gone. To what then? To the person I am now,

The one whose heart still burns with a need for a just and loving world, whose voice can still sing the protest I feel in my chest when each piece of a world and a country I once knew gets taken apart, shelved or discarded. We don’t go backwards, life moves frontward in a way I don’t understand. Linear, when I want it to be, even believe to be, cyclical.

I wish the New Right understood this. Just because you resurrect gun boat diplomacy, imagine a world of homogeneity, enshrine Gordon Gecko as a prophet in your prosperity cult, and swagger astride the world like a drunken, ignorant colossus, doesn’t mean any of those things are good or true.

Many, perhaps most of us believe in our core that imperialism as policy died out decades ago. We also believe that our nation becomes richer in knowledge, cuisine, innovation when we embrace the other, not shun them. Greed is not good, as Gecko illustrates, it distorts values and priorities in inhuman and inhumane ways. We also know, as fellow passengers on spaceship earth that wild grabs for power: Venezuela, Greenland, the Nobel Peace Prize only delay the day when we learn what all kindergartners know. We need to share.

As I move closer to my last year in my 70’s, I feel confident that we will, in time, prevail. And when we do, we can put a little Hendrix on the headphones, some Janis, Stones, or The Band and remind ourselves of how we came to be the people we are now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dogs, Family, Travel, US History, World History

I mean, really?

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow of the morning. Snow at last! Cold. 10 degrees. Winter. Vince. Joe coming this week.  Ruth and her wrist. Dean’s list again. Gabe. Starting his last semester of high school. Ginny and Janice. Luke and Leo. Minnesota. Colorado. Blue state resisters. My homes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Minnesota

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, butten-bows-wildwood-tarot it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.                                                “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Ten of Bows, responsibility.

  • The central meaning of the card is shouldering a significant weight of duties, obligations, or stress, either for yourself or others. Although the burden is heavy, the card also suggests that you are close to the finish line of a major project or life cycle. The end goal is in sight, and persistence is needed to reach it.

One brief shining: Shleimut and the ten of bows resonate with each other since another meaning of shleimut involves tikkun olam, or repair of the world; the joining of these two ideas in these, the years of devastation and degradation of a once great nation, remind us that though the path winds ever upward and our burden can seem unbearable, our journey toward wholeness, restoration demands much of us, perhaps all of us.

 

Dog journal: Shadow now trots inside as if the threshold, what threshold, dad?, were no longer a vampire-like barrier which she had not been invited to cross. Oh, happy day! Well, most of the time. Sometimes she needs a bit of encouragement. But only very occasionally. Thank you, Natalie, Dr. Josy, prozac, and those pheromones. Oh, and Nathan, too.

Her life and mine. Again, together.

 

Family: Set up a zoom call with my sister, Mary, in Melbourne, and my brother, Mark, in Hafar, Saudi Arabia. Not many time slots when we’re all awake. To make it work, I agreed to start the call at 9 pm, MST. Well past my bedtime. 3 pm for Mary and 7 am for Mark.

If you draw a triangle using Shadow Mountain, Melbourne, and Hafar as its points, it would almost be an equilateral with 8,000 miles on each side. That’s sibling dispersion. Little bits of Alexandria, Indiana spread apart from Alexandria and each other.

After looking up those distances, I decided to look for Shadow Mountain’s antipode. According to this website, antipodes map, tunneling straight through Mother Earth from here would land me under the waters of the Pacific, somewhere east of the main island of New Zealand. So, I won’t do that cause I’d drown.

 

Just a moment: So the only limits on red tie guy’s foreign policy is, in his own words during an NYT interview, “My own morality.” Oh, my.

Yeah. This from the guy who’s said he would “accept” the Nobel Peace Prize if Venezuela’s winner of this year’s prize, María Corina Machado, offers it to him. Managing to combine ignorance (of who gives the prize) with narcissism, greed, envy, and lust. I mean, really?

 

Memories, Minnesota, Politics, US History

Renee the Good. Is dead.

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Friday gratefuls:  Shadow, the awake. Cold night. Snow. Morning darkness. Light-headedness. Mussar. Altitude. Distracted. A bit dizzy. Working my scheduled review of newspapers, websites, podcasts. Doing further research on Pan. On the luparii. Reimagining Superior Wolf. Minnesota. Proud to have lived there forty years. Colorado. Proud to have lived here eleven years.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Minnesota

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: Rene the Good died at the hands of an ICE firearms trainer after another ICE agent had threatened her by trying to open the door of her Honda Pilot and shouting in her rolled down window, “Get the fuck out of the car.” As she turned her vehicle away to leave, she received a bullet to the head.

 

Don’t cry for me, Minnesota. The truth is I never left you. How I felt when I saw the familiar setting in Powderhorn Park. That maroon SUV parked diagonally on Portland. The so-out-of-place government provocateurs with masks-masks!-hiding their identities. ICE. A Trump militia spreading fear and chaos in American cities.

In Minneapolis. Wrong place to kill an unarmed woman. Minnesotans. Will. Not. Stand. For. This. The Federal government, Kash Patel’s oh so trustworthy FBI, took over the investigation. Minnesota’s criminal justice system would have arrested and charged the ICE agent with first degree murder. No wonder the FBI stepped in.

I would rather have local authorities investigating. Especially the state attorney general’s office. Though. Based on video and eye-witness testimony I don’t see any wiggle room. While Renee had disregarded an order, she turned her SUV away from the agents to drive from the scene. That’s clear from the video examinations done by the New York Times. There was nothing in her movements that warranted gun fire.

My heart leapt back into Minnesota on seeing this news. Became one again with the street level politics I knew so well there. Powderhorn Park has an active political community, many leftists, anarchists, co-op folks.

The glaring, searing contrast between masked agents of fear and the community oriented spirit of Powderhorn Park struck me forcefully, enough to make me gasp.

I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling. Minnesota and its politics of the common good has been my North Star. Flawed, sure. Full of humans. But there I found the arc of the moral universe bent a little further toward justice than most places I knew. Minnesota shaped me into the man I am now and I like who I am now.

This brutal, senseless killing shows the moral sinkhole that hate and bigotry have created in our national spirit. This is not how Americans are. Is it?

A shining city on the hill. A beacon to other nations. No longer. We will, if we have not already, become a pariah state, only engaged in actions in our perceived self-interest. Not my America.

Dogs, Friends, Judaism, White Supremacy, World History

Time to Leave?

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Thursday gratefuls: Tramadol. Snowblower away. Eleanor playing with Shadow. Shadow, “What threshold?” Tara and Sinterklaas. Puerto Rico dreaming. Vincent and the politics of youth. Veronica. Francesca. CBE’ers in NYC. Mamdani. Democratic Socialism. Greenland. Cuba. Colombia. Mexico. Can Canada be far behind?

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Arjean’s bread

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: Opened the Dog run door to let Eleanor and Shadow out into the larger backyard, Shadow’s first time out there since her return, each chasing the other, around and around, Shadow leading, Eleanor behind, then some wrestling, going their separate ways for a bit, coming back together,  jumping on the Dog run fence, wanting back in and after being let in, needing to go back out. Kids, eh?

 

Tara and Arjean may move to Puerto Rico. Arjean, a dual Dutch/naturalized U.S. citizen, has had it with being associated, even by residence, with Trump, et al. The nature of his work requires him to stay within the U.S. and Puerto Rico feels as far away culturally from the mainland U.S. as he can get. Tara loves beaches, so…

Makes me wonder how many others have fled or are considering it. I know the conversation has happened among many Jews across the U.S. To be clear Arjean is not Jewish. Friends at CBE have looked at property in Costa Rica. Many others wonder when the tilt toward sanctioned bigotry becomes dangerous enough to force a move.

Jews have had to have these conversations often throughout the centuries. In Russia. In Spain. In Germany. Austria. Hungary. Poland. Even France. A CBE friend’s great-grandfather, a rabbi in Warsaw, had three sons. In the 1930’s he sent one son to South Africa, one to Brazil, one to the U.S. Over time he dispersed his congregants to the places where his sons had gone. Prescient.

This long history of forced removal, whether by governments or fear for personal safety, remains a key, a defining part of the Jewish experience. My older friends here have decided, as have I, that we’re too old to flee, start over. We’ll remain and do our part in resisting.

What about Ruth and Gabe though? Their generation. Their Jewish life has been upended by something else, the Israel/Hamas war. Many of them have taken the side of the Palestinians against at least the IDF and the Israeli government. Some have gone further, declaring themselves anti-Zionists, some even questioning Israel’s right to exist.

Here though is the always paradox. When the anti-Semites come, they don’t care if you’re Orthodox, Reform, or secular. They don’t care you’re anti-Zionist or pro-Palestinian. All they care about is Jewishness. Very like ICE and people who look somehow Mexican. This is the old, old story.

 

Politics, Seed Keepers, US History, World History

Seed-Keepers

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Wednesday gratefuls: Tara and Eleanor. Vince and Arjean. The snowblower finds a new home. Dangerous Fire weather. The Dog run. Shadow, the snuggle bunny. Ruth learning a new job. Gabe finished his jigsaw puzzle. My boy comes on the 14th. MVP.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shrimp and White Bean Soup

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: In the first week of January-January!-we have no Snow, down the hill Denver temperatures have been in the seventies, as the onrush of a changing climate washes over us even in the mid-continent and high up in the Mountains while sea level cities and nations watch salt Water fill municipal Water systems, subways flood, and the center will not hold.

Hard to sort out the emotions. Despair as the World burns, Carbon emissions continue to hit record highs. Anger and deep sadness at the politicians spinning the clock backwards, disorienting even the most optimistic. Frustration and rage at matters like economic injustice, bigotry, infrastructure side lined while science and medicine lose momentum due to budget cuts. Melancholy over a life’s work shunted into a back alley of history. No need for doom scrolling when reading the front page of any newspaper accomplishes the same task.

Yet. Shadow returned home a more snuggly, biddable Dog. Our relationship strengthened. I made a White Bean and Shrimp soup yesterday. My son has a short visit planned this month. Paul and Tom have a visit planned for my birthday. Pain is gone from left hip, lower back, and leg. Shadow Mountain home is warm and book filled.

Yet. My sister Mary has a chance to return to her first love, library science, in a special project for the University of Melbourne. She’s settling into a diverse neighborhood along Sydney Road. My brother Mark has worked his first full calendar year in the sands of Araby.

Yet. The Lodgepoles grow. The Aspens clone. Mule Deer and Elk Cows carry the next generation of their species. Maxwell Creek rests, frozen for now, waiting for Spring. The Mountains hold us all in their valleys, slopes, and peaks.

Yet. Democratic socialists have won Mayoral races in Boston, NYC, Seattle. The No King’s movement has grown. Approval ratings for Red Tie Guy’s command of the economy, his gunboat diplomacy, even his immigration policy have tanked. His own Presidential ratings as well.

While those of us who embrace economic fairness, ethnic and  gender and religious pluralism, globalism, a sustainable human presence on Mother Earth have neither given up nor backed away from the hard work of readying ourselves for the next era.

If you’re one of us, a Seed-Keeper, I hope you can live your best life right now. And. That part of it be sustaining the vision of a world ruled by love, justice, and compassion rather than greed, lust, and the will to power.

Far Right, Politics, US History, World History

Shriveled

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, crosser of thresholds. Ginny and Janice, Annie and Luna. Colder. Red Flag Day. The rise of neocolonialism. Gunboat diplomacy. The ravaging of our nation. Never waste a crisis. A dusting of Snow. Notebooklm. The Great Work. Thomas Berry. The Nature rights movement. Crooked media. The Bulwark.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Furious Minds by Laura K. Field

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: More snuggle and cuddles, this less reactive Shadow wants more hugs, more together time; she also takes the threshold as a much less absolute barrier, sometimes prancing in, most often coming with a bit of cajoling, less often I have to go out and she follows me in, Natalie having done the difficult work at her home and the Dog run limiting Shadow’s options. All good.

“We live in a world, in the real world, Jake, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power,” he said. “These are the iron laws of the world since the beginning of time.” Stephen Miller to reporter Jake Tapper of CNN, NYT, 1/6/2025

Oh, Stevie. Go back home and embrace those guys who bullied you. Don’t imitate them. Not very evolved. This naked claim about history, from everybody’s favorite xenophobe, lays bare, like a copper wire exposed under a far too thin insulation  of civilization, the motive force for Trump’s reign. Power begets might. Might begets right.

Want Greenland? We’ll just take it Miller said in the same article, who’s gonna stop us. Here is the rationale for changing the name of the Defense Department to the War Department. For changing the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America. For scooping up human beings striving for a better life and depositing them in countries, any country, that will take them. For ignoring Federal Judges, how many divisions does the Pope have. For ignoring norms, allies, decency.

Let Trump be Trump. Let Miller be Miller. Let RFK by RFK. Let Vought be Vought. No guiding mission or vision necessary. The only question, can we make it happen? If we can, that makes it the right choice.

It is not lost on me, or on you, I imagine, that this brazen claim by a Jew who ignores the reality of the holocaust, gets front page placement on this, the fifth anniversary of January 6th’s insurrection. Remember that word? And, treason? And, the convictions, in our courts, following legal investigations and trials with juries and judges? The pardons proof Miller’s claim. The big guy understands.

I’m sorry Miller and his kin missed out  on love, justice, and compassion as guiding forces in their lives. How shriveled and withered they must be inside.

Dogs, Far Right, Health, Politics, White Supremacy, Writing

Matters Ascendant

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Shadow at home. Cooler weather ahead. Wildfire. Mitigation. The birthday boys. Rigel. Vega. Betelgeuse. Antares. Polaris. Andromeda. Milky Way. Crab. Red. Horsehead. Great Sol. Luna. Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn. Uranus. Neptune. Pluto. (I know. Still.) Oort Field. Pioneer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Notebooklm

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: She still hesitates, sometimes, on occasion I have to go outside and shoo her in, yet I can always get her inside, a marked improvement; on the leash yesterday we walked up stairs, out the door, and into the front yard, where Shadow strolled easily beside me until I decided to get the mail and tightened the leash because of the road. She panicked.

 

Dog journal: With prozac Shadow reacts less to sudden movements, sounds. She doesn’t seem to play as much, but that might be reacclimation, moving from four Dogs and a more frenetic day, Natalie calls it chaos, to the quieter reality of our home. She does seem more subdued, less the bouncy girl. A balance I know. I’ll ask Dr. Josy what she thinks about a smaller dose.

Shadow had begun taking over Natalie’s pack, herding them. I worry the isolation with this old guy might weigh on her, especially with the limited outdoors of the Dog run. Natalie pulled back on her recommendation that I get another Dog when her pack didn’t influence Shadow’s behavior. Pondering.

 

Notebooklm: I had three things, well, really four that began to push themselves forward after I got done with radiation and into a somewhat free time. Fewer, much fewer appointments and procedures.

The first and most urgent was exercise. Diane helped me crack that one by suggesting I focus only on resistance work. At least for a while. I’ve combined her recommendation with an easier on myself self-talk, not carrying guilt if I miss a session. I’ll add cardio back in when it feels right.

The second thing pushing forward, Shadow, had a built in delay since she was at Natalie’s until Saturday. I still had to get the Dog run built and stay checked in on her progress. Now she’s home.

The third matter pushing its way into awareness concerned the question of politics, culture, and my role in this, my fourth phase. After joining the Democratic Socialists of America, it became clear.  I need to continue my learning about the new (far) right, adding in attention to topical news, but considered from a progressive socialist perspective.

I’ve combined Notebooklm and AI to produce a daily, weekly, and monthly research pattern that feeds what will initially be two columns of political commentary a week on my Substack site. I’m still in the setting up and learning phase, but I anticipate getting started writing later this month.

The fourth? Long has it waved. Superior Wolf. Unzipping it, separating out its tech bro immortality storyline from the story of Lycaon, the first werewolf. I want to focus on Lycaon’s story from his time as the King of Arcadia in a time of myth and legend to the present. Again, Notebooklm and AI have helped me get a running start.

I’ve already devoted time to each of these, regular time, so I can follow Picasso’s thought: “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

There is, to be fair to the process, a fifth that does not have traction for me right now: the nature’s rights, or earth jurisprudence movement.

Dogs, Politics, US History

Shadow at Home

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow at home. The Dog run. Shadow crossing the threshold. Shadow on a leash. Shadow. Cooler weather ahead. Ruth skiing A-basin. Joy at seeing Shadow play. Dr. Josy. A certain liveliness in Shadow Mountain Home. Natalie and her holistic pet training.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow crossing the threshold

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining:  Natalie led Shadow toward the front door on a yellow leash, handed it to me, and Shadow froze, sat down, unwilling to follow me inside, c’mon baby girl, she got up and trotted inside like that was her intent all along; once downstairs in her home, Shadow gently rose up, put two paws on my leg, I leaned down and she nuzzled her head against my cheek, kissed me, nuzzled again. She was, finally, home.

Dog journal: February 4th. Up Berthold Pass, through Winter Park and into Granby Ginny, Janice, Annie, Luna, and I headed to the Granby Shelter to meet Nugget, an Australian Cattle Dog puppy rescued from a house fire in faraway Trinidad, Colorado. On the way up I decided to go with the stream of events. Perhaps I’d come home with a puppy. Maybe not. Depends.

I sat in a metal folding chair when Heather, Ginny’s niece, brought Shadow out from the shelter kennel and left us alone. We did not, as these stories often go, bond immediately. She was shy. Reluctant to be touched. Yet. My heart said, this is my dog.

Later, when she wouldn’t come out from under my bed. When she refused to come in from outside. When she resisted the leash by running away as if it contained poison. When it was 12 degrees outside and she would not come in even for her evening meal something in me broke. My heart. I couldn’t keep her safe so the loving thing to do was to give her away.

After 10 months of affection. Of her play with the rubber tires and the Kong lobster and the treat puzzles. Of downward Dog, her smiles, her gentle hugs. Of having her curl up next to my pillow, sleeping through the night. Of her chasing Butterflies and running circles with the yearling Mule Deer. Love is a terrible bond when things go bad.

Yet. The Mountain folk would not let me go through with it. Dr. Josy enlisted Natalie. I agreed for Shadow to be with Natalie for four weeks of training. In the interim I would have a Dog run added to the house. Nathan did it. It’s functional but not beautiful.

Now that respite is over and Shadow sleeps beside my chair while I write. She has come in, albeit reluctantly, each time I have called her from outside. She let me put the leash on her and we will go for short walks.

Shadow is home.

 

Just a moment: We will run Venezuela? Neocolonialism. How far back do the hands on this clock go? Will we restore the days of cavaliers in the deep South? Impress foreign sailors to serve in our navy? Perhaps we could conquer all of Latin America. Steal Greenland. Recover not just the canal, but Panama, too?

The mind, sorry for the cliche but it seems so apt, boggles.