• Category Archives Politics

  • Exuberance!

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: THC. Celecoxib. Erleada. Orgovyx. Vince. Alan’s opening night for Man of La Mancha. My son and Seoah in Okgwa. Her father. Her mother. And family. Chuseok. Teshuvah. South Korea. The U.S. Air Force. The wide Pacific. 15 time zones. Korean. Paul Wellstone. Tim Walz. Kamala Harris. We’re not going back. The politics of joy.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: My Korean family

    Kavannah: Exuberance

    One brief shining: When I choose an intention for the day, sometimes I crosscut the feelings I’m having, as this morning I’m feeling a little pressed down, not much but enough that it interferes with my joy, my willingness to embrace the day, squeeze some juice from it, find the yirah/awe in the ordinary that usually comes easily, sometimes I see the day ahead and want a kavannah that leans into it, focuses me, as I did with teshuvah yesterday.

     

    I’m finding this daily kavannah a powerful practice. I write the middah on my small slip of paper, put it into my pocket. The act of choosing it, writing it down, putting it in my pocket and carrying it with me throughout the day triggers an awareness that lasts till bedtime. I want to find things in this day, things that make me want to lift my arms up and shout with joy. With awe. With love.

    Exuberance carries over feelings from my zoom call with my son. As I wrote yesterday, they’re in Okgwa for Chuseok, a Korean harvest/fall holiday similar to our Thanksgiving. My son came on in one of the all white rooms at Seoah’s parents house, all concrete, and built for them a year or so ago by her brother. We chatted a bit, he caught me up on work. Showed me Murdoch lazing on the floor. And moved the laptop into the main living area.

    There was Seoah’s sister who will take over the farm from her parents starting in some fashion this fall. In the kitchen, her usual location when inside, Seoah’s mom ate from several small dishes in the Korean style. Her Dad, a joyful man and a very hard worker, wanted to say hi. He wanted to see the outside. Removing the camera, I aimed it out my window for a view of Lodgepoles and Black Mountain beyond.

    He got excited. I want to come to Colorado! Seoah translating. I got excited, too. Sounds like they may show up here on Shadow Mountain sometime next year. He loves Mountains. Climbs Mountains. Went to China to climb from the China side Baekdu Mountain*, an active strato-volcano on the China/North Korean border. He’ll love Colorado.

     

    Just a Moment: Buoyed me up to see Paul Wellstone’s name** back in the national political conversation. The quote and the article referenced below show how Tim Walz might bring the Wellstone spirit to a Harris/Walz government. May it be so.

     

     

     

    *”According to Korean mythology, it was the birthplace of Dangun, the founder of Gojoseon (2333–108 BC), whose parents were said to be Hwanung, the Son of Heaven, and Ungnyeo, a bear who had been transformed into a woman.” Wiki

    “The legendary beginning of Korea’s first semi-mythical kingdom, Gojoseon (2333 B.C.E.–108 B.C.E.), takes place here. Buyeo (2nd c. B.C.E. – 494), Goguryeo (37 B.C.E. – 668), and Balhae (698 – 926) kingdoms also considered the mountain sacred.” New World Encyclopedia

     

    **“I don’t represent the big oil companies, I don’t represent the big pharmaceutical companies, I don’t represent the Enrons of this world,” Mr. Wellstone said. “But you know what, they already have great representation in Washington. It’s the rest of the people that need it.” NYT article. 9/15/2024


    Asia Family Feelings Fourth Phase Holidays Korea Mountains Mussar Politics

  • Daily living

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Alan, king of recycling and innkeeper for the Man of La Mancha. Jamie. Luke. Ginny. Leo. Mussar. Contentment. Serenity. Equanimity. Falling toward winter. Palliative care. Diane. Rebecca on her way to northern India. Joanne. Irv. Marilyn. Sally. Darkness. Early morning. Celecoxib. Chili Cheese Dogs by Laurie. Turgid mind. Pale blue steel Sky. Ann McCullough.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mussar

    Kavannah: BEAUTY תִפאֶרֶת  Tiferet  Beauty, harmony, balance. Sixth Sefirah: Reconciliation, synthesis, integration; the Heart (between Chesed & Gevurah) [כְּפִישָׁה Kefisha: Uneven, asymmetrical, divided] [מְרִיבָה Meriva: Conflict, rivalry, division] brackets are antonyms

    One brief shining: Off 74 past Safeway in Evergreen Laurie has found a new home for her food truck, Chi-Town Stop, out of which she serves authentic Italian Beef sandwiches, chili cheese hotdogs, Chicago style hot dogs, Polish sausage and remembers her regulars like me who comes after mussar on the way home from Congregation Beth Evergreen, allowing myself two chili cheese dogs because, well, gosh, because they taste so damned good.

     

    Palliative care Denver will send Ann McCullough to Shadow Mountain a week from today at noon. I already feel lighter knowing I’ll have someone to talk with about the manageable but still troublesome aspects of my daily life. I love Sue Bradshaw and Kristie, but their focus is on what’s wrong with me. Palliative care’s focus will be how to make my daily life better while assisting me in managing my medical care from my perspective, not as a patient but as a guy living his life.

    Run by nurse practitioners. Like Sue, but not in general medicine. Rather they specialize in what will make life easier, less burdensome while also lending a hand with managing multiple meds and doctors. When Kate was alive, I had my on in-house doc. Also, my back wasn’t giving me fits. I’m grateful to get someone to talk to about this stuff who can also help me handle it all. Alone but not lonely, Yes. Do I miss the comfort and love of Kate. Also, yes.

    Ann won’t replace Kate, but she will offer an ear about how my life is going at home. When pain makes unloading the dishwasher a problem. Or, when standing becomes painful enough to discourage cooking. How to get more vegetables into my diet. What to do about my trash cans this winter. She’ll also offer another eye on my meds, look for possible interactions others may have missed. The more pragmatic, domestic side of life. Should help me stay here on Shadow Mountain.

     

    Just a moment: My son serves in the U.S. Military. War is, in that intimate sense, real for me. No matter how one valences the Ukraine/Russia conflict or the Israel/Hamas conflict they’re dangerous for the rest of us. What happens if Ukraine strikes Moscow with missiles? What happens if Israel decides to degrade Iran’s nuclear weapons program by a direct strike? These, or any of several other conceivable scenarios, could hurtle us all into a third World War. Do we want that? Does anyone want that? No. Could it happen? Oh, yes.

     


    Fourth Phase Health Politics Shadow Mountain World History

  • Maybe this time, maybe this time we’ll be lucky

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Orange implosions. All over the web. Kamala, Democrats. Invigorated. Diane in Indiana. Cousin Melinda. A better interior political mood. My interior. Great Sol. First commercial space walk. Taylor Swift. Voters registering. Shorter days. Longer Nights. Cool temps. Shadow Mountain. Its bulk. Its support. Its altitude. Mussar.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kamala

    Kavannah: Contentment

    One brief shining: Oh, the flutters of maybe now, maybe this time as Kamala’s picture appears above the fold, storylines advancing her victory over the orange moron, attacking him by laughing at him, look at the silly stupid man who believes immigrants eat pets in Springfield, Ohio, who believes he gave a perfect answer on abortion, who believes all the polls show he won, one by 92-8. Who cannot separate propaganda from reality.

     

     

    I’m beginning to believe. Allan Lichtman’s 13 keys. Kamala’s debate performance. 45’s big reveal of himself as unable to handle himself under pressure, not even for 90 minutes. When he needed to for his own self interest. Maybe he can get a shadow cabinet of his buddies Orban and Putin, Kim Jong Un, to say nice things about him. Make him feel better.

    In the race to election day, as the time grows shorter, momentum counts. Even though the polls say the race is as tight as it can be, that’s today. The big mo is about the longer game and with that longer game being only 54 days in length, I believe the energy Democrats got from Kamala’s debate will serve her well. Might be enough to push her past the one who even former appointees call stupid. Kamala demonstrated that he’s emotionally unfit to be president.

    I know a win by Kamala will inject us into another round of I won, really. I won! See where they screwed me. Cousin Diane asked a good journalist’s question this morning when I talked to her. What do the higher echelons of the Democratic party have in mind to counter claims of election fraud and other techniques for disrupting the will of the electorate? Saw in the NYT today that the Department of Homeland Security has elevated January 6th to a security level equivalent to the Superbowl and other highest profile target moments on the American calendar. That’s a start.

    Expats and deployed military are often the first to vote. My son got his ballot last weekend. Don’t know about Mary and Mark. Point is the election moment has already begun its extended rollout with absentee ballots for those faraway. Some states will mail their ballots, Colorado included, well in advance of Election day. Election day is no longer the sole day for most to cast their votes. A certain amount of the votes will have already been made before November 5th. What’s happening now can be determinative for those.

    I’m eager to get my ballot. I know that. It will go back the same day.

     

    Just a moment: How about the Indiana Fever and Caitlin Clark? Women’s sports having a minute. Maybe women in a U.S. presidential race, too?

     

     

     


    Politics US History World History

  • A serene and joyful cluster

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Orange one v. Harris. Harris by a knockout. Great Sol. Tara. Ariaan. Vincent. Julia. Sophia. Mystical awareness. The sacred within and as the ordinary. Politics. Life at home. Muir Woods. Joshua Trees. Bristlecone Pines. Coastal Redwoods. Sequoia. Lodgepoles and Aspen. First gold beginning to appear. 9/11.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Accepting life as it comes

    Kavannah: CONTENTMENT הִסתַפְּקוּת Histapkut     Contentment, simplicity, moderation; from ספק to divide/apportion (נַחַת Nachat: Satisfaction, gratification, comfort) (קִמּוּץ Kimutz: Minimalism, frugality, thrift; related קוֹמֶץ closed hand/fistful)  [קִנְאָה Kinah: Passion, envy, competition]  brackets are antonyms

    One brief shining: Great Sol comes in at wider angle now, Mother Earth’s tilt having brought us round to Fall, headed toward Winter and the fallow times, my Lodgepole Companion has begun to settle in for the cool weather and heavy loads of Snow that lie ahead; the Aspens have sensed the changes, too, and auxin proliferates which triggers the revelation of gold that lies below the chlorophyll green; soon the Mountains will become a brilliant minimalist work of art, gold and green against the steel blue of a Colorado Sky.

     

    I’m looking at a cluster of middot that are key to my life right now: contentment, serenity, equanimity, balance, beauty, joy, patience, peace, stability, wisdom. There are turbulent factors in my life, all medical at this point, that rise up, break the surface releasing noxious gases of agitation, sadness, worry, sending my moods into dark places. I don’t want to overstate this. I’m still essentially stable, balanced in the way I react to these miasmic intrusions. But it takes greater effort these days.

    The two major sources of swamp gas are uncertainty about my current cancer reality, back pain and the methods to treat it. Having untreated metastases, as I do now, meaning I have active cancer growth until or if the orgovyx/erleada combination drops it to zero again, makes me feel untethered, floating free of effective medical care. The celexcoib has tamped down my back pain, though I’m now noticing break through pain right after I get up and in the late afternoon, early evening. Which might mean I need to increase my dose which increases the possibility of negative side effects.

    So I need more joy, patience, peace, and serenity. I plan to focus on these middot over the next few weeks with the overall intention of keeping me here and now, in this 9/11/2024 life. Also holding uncertainty as the truth and constant that it is. Merely the overall state of all things, not a purveyor of doom.

     

    Just a moment: I tried to watch debate. I saw orange guy bloviate. I watched Kamala rehash lines from her CNN interview. I thought about the observation that wanting to be president should disqualify you from the job. Realized both of them were distasteful to me in that sense. Nope, I don’t to watch preening and attacking. The world has enough of that. And it doesn’t enhance my serenity.

    Wish I’d hung on a bit longer. Apparently Kamala got the orange one to twist himself into the negative, thoughtless, witless person that he is. Go, Kamala.

    Will it be enough to turn the tide? Not on its own. But it will energize the Democratic troops for a marathon push to election day. Probably good enough.


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Judaism Mountains Mussar Plants Politics

  • Well. All right!

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: A.I. Drugs. Ruth in her grief. Rain. 44 degrees. Fall. Slowly recovering from Monday. New kicks, colorful Hoka’s. A new chair, a Morris chair. Asset Framing. Stickley furniture. Celebrex. I think. Old age. The Fourth Phase. Tom and Joy. Bellingham. The railroad tracks. Irv. Paul. Tom. Zoom. Travel. Feeling safe, secure. Kristie.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Arts and Crafts movement

    Kavanah: WISDOM חָכְמָה Chochma   Wisdom, learning, scholarship    Second Sefirah = intuitive/revelatory ideas; creative flow state; right brain (opposite Understanding/Binah)  antonyms [הֶדיוּט Hedyut: Blank, undifferentiated state]

    One brief shining: Found parking behind the Modern Bungalow, entered a rear door, and immersed myself in the Arts and Crafts movement yet again, this time searching for a chair, one with a back that will support me in a more upright position than the recliner we bought for Kate, since my spinal stenosis makes me slump at an angle, found one, bought it, and left. Like this one, but with straight arms.

     

    I mentioned the primal in relation to Luke’s snake, Sacha. It got primal up here on Shadow Mountain. Cracks of Thunder rattled the windows. Flashes of Lightning bright enough to read by. Rain. Easy to see a God or Goddess behind them. A clash of divine swords in sacred battle, thunderbolts heaved into the fray. Tears for the fallen. An angry deity might throw a bolt of Lightning and split a tree by mistake, start a fire. Where’s that sacrificial lamb?

    Did make me consider that in the immediate area, here on top of Shadow Mountain, my house could be the highest point from some directions. That Starlink antenna’s sitting out there. Never had an issue. Still. Storms of this power are rarer here in the Arid West, so when they come they get our attention. Reminders that we exist at the sufferance of Mother Nature, not the other way around.

     

    Talked to Ruth twice yesterday. Jon’s yahrzeit, being away from home for the first time. Tough. I had the same experience in my first year at Wabash. Mom had not even been dead a year. The loneliness that moving in with a whole new group of people can occasion only intensifies the feelings. And this is only her second week on campus. She had good strategies. Call people that knew and remembered Jon. Eat. Don’t be alone. Tough, but manageable. Kudos to her.

    Jon’s yahrzeit candle burned out.

     

    Just a moment: Well all right! Allan Lichtman and his 13 keys. You can find a fun graphic article about this professor and his keys that have correctly predicted almost all Presidential elections since 1984. He predicts Kamala Harris will win. Worth viewing the article to understand how the keys work and the way he uses them.

    Glad to hear this. This has been such a-oh, gosh, what words are right?-unpredictable, strange, bizarre, unprecedented, historic, confusing, off putting, gut wrenching, sad, joyful election season. Definitely historic. The specter of fascism and bigotry and stupidity again lifted high. The drama of Biden’s difficult decision. Kamala and Tim swooping in to, I hope, save the day!

     

     

     


    Family Mountains Politics Shadow Mountain Weather +Climate

  • Dried Up

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Harvest Moon

    Labor Day gratefuls: Gabe up here. 47 degrees this morning. Seeing my son with Gabe yesterday evening. Zoom. The Ancient Brothers on poetry. Weakness. Sarcopenia. Coffee. Mac and Cheese with flayed, grilled Shrimp and Japanese mayo. Ode in Glacier Park.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Scrolling through pictures with Gabe

    Kavanah: Love Ahava

    One brief shining: Ruby pulled over to the side of Brook Forest Drive, Gabe got out, I did too, locked her, and we began a familiar hike up Kate’s Valley to its outlet at the Pond where I distributed Kate’s ashes; it took us a minute, we were so used to it being there, the Creek, Kate’s Creek, had dried up.

     

    This bummed us out. Both of us. The Creek filled the Valley with the gentle sound of Water rushing over Rocks. It carried Kate’s ashes quickly away from the Pond, heading toward the Gulf of Mexico and the World Ocean. Plants thrived along its banks and it made Rocks slippery where we needed to cross. The Valley felt empty, deprived of its soul.

    Partly because I’m not as strong as I used to be, mostly because we both felt it wasn’t worth the effort without the Creek, we turned back well before the Pond. A treasured friend had gone missing, a friend who gave music, the laughter of Water spilling over Rocks, a sense of vitality with its rapid flow.

    The Creek’s Bed laid bare, the Rocks in it seemed ordinary, no longer mysterious beneath its surface. Further up we did find trickles of water, as if the Creek wanted to return, wanted to offer itself as it once had, but that Water died out, too.

    I’ve gone up and down Kate’s Valley, along Kate’s Creek for five or six years. Never once was it dry. Until yesterday. Denver Parks has done Fire mitigation along its sides. Did something they did plug up its source? We didn’t get far enough back to hazard a guess.

    Hard to describe how distressing this was. Left both of us sad. We’ve had Rain this summer, we’re not in drought conditions. A puzzle.

    After, back at Shadow Mountain, I heated up the Mac and Cheese, divided the remains of the Shrimp entree from my visit to Luke’s. Gabe and I ate together.

     

    Just a moment: How bout those former East Germans voting in a far right bloc? Talk about irony. They’ve gone from fascism to communism to democracy back to fascism.

    Though I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the election here, a chance exists, a good chance, I believe, that we’ll turn away from far right populism and its odors of fascism, a movement giving off the stench of bigotry, hatred, and outright stupidity. The festering wounds of our Trump infected years.

    I know. Even if we elect Kamala and Tim, there will still be stores selling red hats eager to promote a lost America that never was. There will still be people to purchase them. The flags won’t come off the pickup trucks. There’ll be one more shot at overturning the election. I hope the last.

    But maybe, maybe we’ll turn the corner and drive like hell away from Mar-a-Lago.


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Mountains Politics

  • The Flyover

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Dreams. Irene. Mnsaves. 529’s. Cash. Sue Bradshaw. Great Sol. My Lodgepole Companion. The sweetness of life. Alan and Joanne. Tom. Joy. Diane. Indiana. Morristown. Alexandria. Muncie. Ball State. Wabash. The liberal arts. Ruth and the UC-Boulder library. Coach Prime. Finding a jeweler for my Pearl. Whippets. Irish Wolfhounds. Sight hounds. Wolf-dogs.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The lessons of pain

    Kavanah: HOLINESS קְדֻשָּׁה Kedusha   Holiness, dedication, specialness   (רוּחָנִי Ruchani: spiritual, cognitive function = intuitive/abstract)  On this one I part company with tradition. I do not consider these antonyms poles of this midot. [גוּפָנִי Gufani: physical, earthly; literally “bodily/fleshly”; cognitive function = sensory/concrete] [חִלוֹנִי Chiloni, Common, worldly, secular] I specifically seek-and find-the holy, the sacred in the physical, the earthly, the body. In the ordinary and the common.

    One brief shining: Long ago my journey veered away from any notion of transcendence, of anything spiritual that took me away from my body, from my deep interconnection, even interpenetration with the world as I experience it daily; the Celts taught me that yes there is an Otherworld, but that it does not distract from, rather it enhances the holiness of Animals, Plants, Water, Fire, Air, Mother Earth so that this world and that world meet, in my case often through the wonder of my own body or the gentle swaying of the branches of my Lodgepole Companion or the fawn, already losing her spots who dines in my backyard.

     

     

    Since Tim Walz’s nomination for Vice President on Kamala Harris’s ticket, the Midwest is having a moment. Having lived in the Midwest from the age of one and a half through sixty-eight, I’d say I qualify as a Midwesterner. I now have both the experience of those sixty plus years and the kind of clarity that ten years and nine hundred miles distance provide, having lived in the Rocky Mountain West since late 2014.

    Here are the states I consider Midwestern: Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan-the Upper Midwest and Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Ohio-the lower Midwest. The U.S. government includes Missouri, North and South Dakota, and Kansas, but they fall, in my thinking, in another category. Perhaps the Plains States. My criteria is neither demographic nor geographic, rather it is what I felt was the Midwest all the time I lived there.

    Though raised and schooled through undergraduate work in Indiana, the Lower Midwest, I spent my adult life after college in the Upper Midwest, first Wisconsin, then Minnesota. The distinctions between Lower and Upper are real, yet so are the shared realities.

    I find these stereotypical “finds” by those writing about the Midwest at least mildly insulting. Hotdish. So, casseroles. So what. Found in church basements and kitchen tables all across the U.S. Friendliness. Maybe more a surface congeniality rather than the surface grumpiness of New England? Both conceal a wariness about strangers I find usual rather than unusual. There’s a wholesomeness in the Midwest. Check out any Midwestern high school, bar scene, the back pages of a big city’s free newspaper. Look at this silly article and see other stereotypes like Midwesterner’s say jeet (?), have never worn a proper Halloween costume, and wedding photos are taken in fields. Come on, guys.

    My Midwest has a distinct and often apposite combination of heavy industry and agriculture. Beans and corns vie with Detroit, Akron, Gary. Both have taken heavy hits over the last part of the last century and into this one. The Rust Belt. Corporate farming. My Midwest has Chicago as its big city though Cincinnati and Cleveland, Detroit, and the Twin Cities are also major urban areas. My Midwest does have an emphasis on county fairs and state fairs that does mark it out, primarily due to the strong agricultural sector in all these states. My Midwest may have been more religious once, but that has changed rapidly in past decades.

    My Midwest shares with other regions systemic ills like racism, sexism, classism. Witness George Floyd, for example.

    Not sure how much further I want to go with this today. Thought it would be more fun to write, but it kind of brought me down. Why? Don’t know.

     

     


    Memories Minnesota Politics US History

  • Got it now

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Diane. Ruth in Willville. Taking college classes. Eating dorm food. Gabe, coming up this weekend. My son and Seoah, a year ago yesterday in Songtan. Travel. Celebrex will help. Affirming life. Not waiting on death. Greeting Great Sol. The new fan in my bedroom. Keeping me cool. Electric blankets. Eyes. The occipital lobe. Frontal cortex. Amygdala. Hippocampus. Gray matter. White matter. Limbic system. Sloshing around in our skulls.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mark’s new job!

    Kavanah:  PEACE  שָׁלוֹם Shalom   Peace, quietness, wholeness (קוֹר רוּחַ Kor Ruach: Calm, composure, literally a “cool spirit”) [בֶּהָלָה Behala, beh-ha-LAH: Fear, alarm, panic]

    One brief shining: The blue Sky silhouettes the gentle curve of Black Mountain, its stony bulk covered by green Lodgepoles and clonal colonies of Aspen, at ten thousand feet it rises another twelve hundred feet above my home here on the top of Shadow Mountain, yet does not lord it over us, rather graces us with a neighborly, oh, there’s another Mountain feeling.

     

    Sometimes I read more into what people say than they intend. I’m not the only one, I’m pretty sure. Let me give you an example. In conversation with my long time and dear friend Tom he made a casual comment about my application to get a Whippet puppy. “That’s a life affirming choice.”

    He meant, I now believe: “That’s a life affirming choice.” I heard: I’m relieved you’ve finally made a life affirming choice after several weeks focused on death or disability. Which, of course, reflects my immersion, partial, yes, but tangible nonetheless, in matters cancerous over the last few weeks.

    Since, in fact, that day after my bar mitzvah, when he and Paul listened in on my telehealth visit with Kristie. I try, and most of the time believe I succeed, in living a balanced life when it comes to cancer. That is, I acknowledge its existence, keep up with my blood draws, doctor visits, take my meds. Do what’s needed, what I can do. After that let it lie as a complex fact of my existence, not really at the level of consciousness most of the time.

    Over the time since my PSA went up during my drug holiday, sooner than Kristie expected, I’ve been up and down, a shortened life span, wrestling the lesser demons in my body, mostly in an unhappy stew of uncertainty about where things stood. I felt Tom had ridden through my cover and seen the other side. Now, he may have. But in this instance he was not talking about that, but instead he was giving me a thumbs up for doggy possibilities. Sorry, Tom. Got it now.

     

    Just a Moment: The asshole snuck above the fold with his usual gauchity, douchebagness. Doing politics in Arlington Cemetery. Flouting military rules designed to prevent it. I suppose this falls under the there’s no such thing as bad publicity rule. I’m so, so tired of him, of his disregard for decency, for the rule of law, for his support of white supremacists, his misogyny, his overall creepiness. So tired.

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Mountains Politics

  • Eternal True Love

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Monday gratefuls: UC Boulder. Willville. Dushanbe Teahouse. The Flatirons. Starting out on her own, Ruth. The liberal arts. Studio arts. Philosophy. Political science. 50 degrees. Good sleeping. Dogs. Whippets. Home. The temperature differential of altitude. 31 degrees yesterday! 84-51. College. Learning. For its own sake. Hillel. The sweetness of seeing a girl grow into a young woman.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Boulder

    Kavanah: BEAUTY  תִפאֶרֶת Tiferet  Beauty, harmony, balance. Sixth Sefirah: Reconciliation, synthesis, integration; the Heart (between Chesed & Gevurah)

    One brief shining: Ruth sat across the small metal table from me, eagerness and doubt flowing through her like Boulder Creek which ran beside us, advice from her uncle, struggling with her mom, excited for a U.S. political history class and her first class in her major studio arts the next day, and ordered genmaicha, a tea approved by the Tokugawa Shogun, its history recounted to her by me, showing that first burst of undergraduate sophistication. She hoped. Oh, the places she’ll go.

    Took the first step to get a Whippet. Well, first two steps. I applied to adopt a Whippet/Australian Cattledog mix and sent an e-mail to Horsetooth Whippets. Sent this with slight modifications to both of them:

    “My wife died three years ago. Over the years we had 6 Whippets and 9 Irish Wolfhounds plus two IW/Coyote Hound mixes. Sighthounds appealed to us with their independent, yet loving manner.

    Rigel, my last hound, died a year ago. I’m 77 and not strong enough to care for another big dog. But I have plenty of energy and love for a Whippet sized dog, plus obvious long familiarity with dogs. I speak dog.

    You may wonder about my age. I do, too, sometimes. I have two friends who are willing to sign a document as a friendly home if I die or become incapable of caring for a dog. I also have a codicil in my will gifting $10,000 to whomever takes over care of any animal living with me when I die.

    I miss the warmth and love that comes from having a canine companion.

    My wife and I always acquired litter mates. 3 x 2. For companionship. We found that made for a better doggy world for them. I’m open to purchasing two.”

    Partly a recognition of my more limited mobility. I won’t be traveling as much. And my related but different homebodiness. Mostly though. I miss having a dog. I am alone, but not lonely. That’s true as far as it goes and describes a state of becoming that satisfies me. Especially with all of my friends. Yet having a dog to care for, a dog that would care for me back, to have again eternal true love as is normal between a dog and their human companion would enrich my life. And, hey, I’m all for enrichment.

    Just a moment: Soon, maybe this week, the grind toward November begins. Harris still with momentum. 45 still off the front page or below the fold. (below the first screen?) His campaign has staggered away from Biden’s abdication, flummoxed it seems. Won’t last. However he can pull it off the orange one will, like the bad penny, turn up again. It’s still a close, close race. No certainty to either side.

    Sure, Kamala is ahead in national polls. But we’ve learned to our frustration that winning the so-called popular vote is too often insufficient. The electoral college is, as we used to say in the 60’s, where it’s at. That’s why her leads in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin matter more. Go, blue.


    Dogs Family Feelings Politics

  • What happens now?

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Ginny. Janice. Friends. Healing. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. A cool Mountain morning. Fall in the Sky as Great Sol’s angle changes. Elk Bulls clashing, ready for the rut. Bears a month or so away from hyperphagia. Mountain Streams at their shallowest points. Crowds from Denver, pre-Labor Day, at Upper and Lower Maxwell Falls. Story. Lake Evergreen. Paddleboarders. Kayakers. Canoeists. The Otherworld after the Jeffco 73 turnoff on Brook Forest Drive. My home world.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Seasonal change

    Kavanah:  Serenity    Menucha

    One brief shining: Sitting at an outdoor table at the Parkside with Alan and Joanne when a buzzing in my ear directs me to my phone, Evergreen Medical calling; Hello, Josh; Charlie, your PSA is .4; a bit of whiplash because it did not post on my Labcorps account and it had surprisingly and most thankfully gone down rather than up taking me out of the shortened life span version of my cancer.

     

    Later in the day when I spoke with my son he said I looked more relaxed, healthy. Oh. Well. Could I have been more worried than I thought? It takes a worried man to sing the worried song. After all.

    My chest had opened up, my head sat straighter on my shoulders. Ironically, knowledge taking back me to a welcome uncertainty about my future. No longer time limited, at least not with suggested parameters. Ye know not the day nor the hour. Back to that. Well, yes.

    Why serenity has topped my intentions for the last week and still does today. The residue of the Pearl along with the blood draw on Tuesday made me stand in love on one foot and trying to absorb a sooner than imagined death on the other foot. Not a recipe for inner calm.

    In this August 24 life I have passed through the waters guarded by Scylla and Charybdis, lashed to the mast of my trireme with wax blocking my ears. Removing the wax an act of bravery itself, but necessary. No wonder I looked healthier.

     

    Just a moment: What happens now? The buzz after Biden’s abdication and the week of the Democratic National Convention has shaken the race, put the orange one on his back foot. May he stay there. Though. Suspect he won’t. His usual blend of bluster and anger and white grievance commingled with not well crafted outright lies will push him back to the headlines. At least for some of the time.

    The question. Will he seem the smaller, meaner, unserious man that he really is or the norm-breaking, would be strongman idolized by so many who feel cheated out of their American dream? I hope Harris-Walz can keep the sad man behind blue eyes theme going. Frame the orange one as a pathetic loser not focused on freedom or liberty but on self-aggrandizement and bonus points for his billionaire buddies. If they can accomplish this, I don’t know how, then I believe they will be sworn in next January 20th while the red hatters (mad hatters?) foam and froth.


    Health Politics