Category Archives: Politics

You Fool

Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Susan. My ride. Shadow. Looking at me with her is it time to feed me yet eyes. Nope. The Night. Great Sol shielded by Mother Earth. Cool days and cooler nights. Blue Skies with scattered Cumulus Clouds, Black Mountain in its gold and green autumnal garb. Even the Asters have begun to die back. The rut. Black Bear pre-hibernation hunger. Yosemite National Park turns 135.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Fall

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Today, later on, a physician’s assistant will put a blue sheet of paper over my lower spine, Dr. Vu will swab it with alcohol and delicately (I hope.) insert needles filled with lidocaine there as I lay face down on the procedure table, testing which nerves need to have their sheaths burned away. Tomorrow repeats on the other side.

 

Dog journal: Shadow of Shadow Mountain. A dog of legend already and still a puppy. We’ve had a life affirming, difficult few months, eight as of today, yet neither of us willing to say no, this won’t work. Two months or so ago the biggest barrier, her nighttime return to the house, gave way. That calmed down life for both of us.

Now, instead of barking at every Tree Branch rustled by the Wind, every noise from our Wild Neighbors, she goes round about in the way of dogs, then settles nose to tail, not two feet from my head. In the morning she lays her head on my pillow and waits for me to turn around and face her. Then, kisses. My heart melts. I scratch her belly, run my hand over her body in affection and inspection. Any ticks, other bugs, wounds?

When we finish that, I throw back the covers and put my legs over the side of the bed. She jumps up on my legs with her front paws and we cuddle, make the day start with signaling how much we mean to each other. Can’t beat that. Well, we could do it at six instead of 4:30, but, hey…

 

Just a moment: The mice have spoken to the mighty. Never in my lifetime has the gap between authority and competence been so limned as yesterday’s narcissistic and feeble king of the mountain played by “our” Secretary of “War” and the Commander in Thief.

800 of the highest ranking members of the military sat and listened to a National Guard major and a never served fatty address them on how to fight, how to be warriors, how to be lethal, how to take down American citizens in American cities. Donald McBurger King (DMK) even suggested we should use American cities to train our military. Nope. Never. Posse comitatus, you fool.

DMK gave almost the same speech he gave at the UN, a garbled, non-cohesive, often incoherent diatribe against enemies near and far, the splendor of his own majesty, sprinkled here and there with remarks that seemed to recognize this was not a campaign rally.

Ready for your spot at Alligator Alcatraz?

Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Veronica. On her way to Brooklyn. Nono’s. Catfish Po’ Boy. Barbecued Shrimp. Shadow’s patience. Ruby. Fiction. Non-fiction. Money. The rollover. My pension. Social Security. An I-Bond. Vanguard stock and savings. Home equity. Enough. More than enough. Adolescence. The Netflix series. Iron Flame.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joanne

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.  Awe and wonder.

Tarot: #4, The Lord (reversed) Druid Craft       Abuse of power: A person in authority is acting tyrannically, enforcing rules without logic or compassion, and refusing to listen to others.

One brief shining: Abuse of power thy name need not be spoken for your actions and your words reveal what a small man with great power can do to wreck history, destroy alliances, oppress the poor, ruin a nation, and bring shame to its citizens.

 

Friends: “We’ll always have the mikveh,” I said to Veronica as we hugged one last time after our dinner at Nono’s, a New Orleans style restaurant. She came back a week or so from a month and 700 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, hiking alone.

She told me she’s moving to Brooklyn on October 4th. Surprised me. “I’ll miss you!” “I’ll miss you, too!” In the way of today’s labor force for some, she’s arranged to do her work at Lockheed-Martin remotely from a Brooklyn one-bedroom apartment that formerly belonged to her brother, who died in March.

She has her second mom, cousins, aunts and uncles nearby. She’s returning home. Family draws us from place to place.

Joanne called me yesterday, wondering how I’m doing. I haven’t seen her in a couple of months. We talked for a while. She sang me songs, satirical ones that she makes up. Her birthday on Wednesday was number 93.

Last year I drove up to the Bistro as she climbed off Rabbi Jamie’s motorcycle, removing her helmet just like a biker chick. That was just before our celebration for her 92nd. She’s an amazing, talented, funny friend.

 

Just a moment: Nothing quite like using the U.S. Justice Department as your Bond villain vengeance instrument. My mouth cannot gape any further or I will dislocate my jaw.

I thought the U.N. speech was, well, a certain nadir. But, no. Always one rung lower on the step ladder to Hell for the Burger King. Much more than his politics, if he has any, I find this juvenile desire to punish perceived enemies as repugnant. What was it Jesus said? You know, the one about enemies.

He and the gang that can’t shoot straight have put this once respected and mighty country, not so long ago the world hegemon, through a shredder leaving us with only strips of our dignity, self-respect, and world reputation.

Send us your huddled masses yearning to be free and we’ll give them a free plane ticket to the South Sudan. Been a long term, loyal U.S. ally? Here’s your new tariff.

We used to be real live nephews of our Uncle Sam. Now? We’re the red-headed step cousin ready for our spot at Alligator Alcatraz.

 

An Overly Medicalized Life

Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Close friends Tom, Paul, Mark, Bill, Alan, Tara, Marilyn and Irv, Rich, Ginny and Janice, Luke. Shadow. Artemis. Rain, Rain, come again. Monsoons. Yes. Cool nights. Days of Awe. Mark with the Camels, Goats, and Sheep. In Hafar. The Burger King at the U.N. “…it was foreign affairs journalist Ishaan Tharoor who captured the larger story of Trump’s speech. “A senior foreign diplomat posted at the U.N. texts me,” Tharoor wrote, “‘This man is stark, raving mad. Do Americans not see how embarrassing this is?’” quoted by Heather Cox Richardson

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Long, cool Rains

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and Wonder

Tarot: Five of Pentacles, (Druid Craft)

  • Endurance of personal hardship: The card focuses on the endurance of the solitary journey through a desolate landscape. The message is to face and acknowledge the difficulty of the situation rather than ignore it. 

One brief shining: The five of pentacles recommends facing and acknowledging the difficulty of my situation rather than ignoring it; sound advice, I’d say, yet when the situation requires constant acknowledgment, persistent recognition a resilience fatigue can-and at times-does manifest, a weakening of resolve, of the head down, keep pushing attitude I try to maintain.

 

The Burger King and the U.N.: Hangs head in shame. In case you haven’t seen this, I’m appending a youtube collection* of clips from his remarks at the U.N. Thanks, Mark.

“I hate my opponents. I do not wish the best for them.” DJT at Charlie Kirk’s memorial service. “Out of control migration is ruing your countries. Your countries are going to fail.” Speaking to representatives of the world’s nations at the U.N. “I’m really good at this,” he said.

Dear leader needs to get on a heavily armored train, build a bridge across the Bering Sea, and go visit his buddy Kim Jong Un whom he praised to South Korea’s President during a recent visit. Then we can blow up the bridge and leave him in the Hermit Kingdom.

 

Feelings: A long gauntlet of medical matters. Next week the lidocaine injections that will guide the nerve ablations two weeks later. Four appointments in all. On October 8th a P.E.T. scan to see what might have caused my PSA to move up a titch. Follow up appointments with my pain doc and my medical oncologist.

When these matters have been handled for now, I plan to move on to the neck brace for my wobbly head. Also, Maddie has follow-up calls with Panorama Orthopedics about my torn labrum.

At times, like last night, I push myself into a dark corner. I compare myself with others my age, what they’re doing with their lives. Tom and ESI. Bill and his present moment approach to life. Paul with his hospice work, political organizing, and Maine Humanities Council. Mark visiting his friends, working on his art. I’m not doing anything comparable.

That sends me into a tailspin. Not self-berating, rather a wistfulness for the time when I had the energy to get out there. Sadness about the truncated, overly medicalized life I’m living. That’s why the message from the Five of Pentacles lands with a thud.

 

 

Teshuva

Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow’s regression. Her sweetness. Cool, Rainy, Dark morning. Rosh Hashanah. L’shana Tova. The beauty of Shadow. Rain. Sweet Tomatoes. Great workout yesterday. Working out. Prolia. Bone health. Tramadol and acetaminophen. Yum. Beavers, nature’s engineers. Lodgepoles. Aspen gold. A Mountain Fall well underway.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Fourth Wing

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and Wonder

Tarot: #17, The Star

  • Connection to intuition: The imagery encourages listening to your inner guidance. In the Druid Craft deck, this is an act of “coming home to yourself” and being true to your core essence.
  • Renewed purpose: This card can signal a deep spiritual awakening or a renewed sense of purpose. It reminds you that you are connected to the greater cosmic and natural world. 

One brief shining: Rain has pelted down overnight, the Air cool and moist, temperature in Artemis down to 55, outside the comfort range for Tomato ripening, the Rain though, the Monsoons, have given us surcease from Fire, made the Mountain Meadows and Lodgepole covered slopes green, and given the Aspens reason to respond to its Midas touch.

 

Tarot and Rosh Hashanah: Teshuva, often translated as repentance, is the main point of the Jewish new year. We greet the new year with a soul refreshed and cleansed. I prefer the word return as its translation.

In that sense of teshuva the major arcana of the Star correlates well: “an act of “coming home to yourself” and being true to your core essence.” When we perform teshuva, we return, as one sage put it, to the landscape of our soul. To do that we have to clear away the schmutz, accretions to our self that block our nefesh soul from shining through.

Nefesh, buddha nature, true self. Who you are as an extension of the sacred. Your core essence. I love that the Star showed up for me on the 1st day of Rosh Hashanah.

I’m coming to believe that my life as I live it now is my core essence. Time with family and friends. Intentional conversations each week with those I love. Seeing the ancient friends on Sunday morning. Reading. Studying. Playing with Shadow. Co-creating with Great Sol, the soil, and Artemis. Living in the Mountains. Living a Jewish life through mussar, the men’s group, Talmud Torah, saying the Shema, touching the mezuzahs, celebrating holidays. Also through my many friendships at CBE. Writing Ancientrails. My ancientrail.

In other words my teshuva snaps me back to this Shadow Mountain life. One lived with kavannah, intention, connected to the past, alive to the present, accepting of the future. A good feeling and one on target for this 5786th Rosh Hashanah.

 

Just a moment: We need to call out red tie guy’s lies. At every opportunity. No tip toeing around this Burger King tyrant. Kick him in the shins each he says crime is out of control. Each time he says stealing money from the poor to give to the rich will make America great. Each time he demeans transgender folks. Each he claims the insurrection was a peaceful protest.

No Kings. October 18th.

The left Reverend Dr. Israel Herme Harari

Free Speech. Unless.

Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Monday gratefuls: Mini-splits. SnowPack Pizzeria. Aspen Perks. Conifer Cafe. Spice Ranch Fusion. Primo’s. Oyama. Three Victorias and Three Garcias. Brooks Tavern. Golden Styx. Thai 202. Safeway. King Sooper. Stinker’s. Ace Hardware. Wicked Whisk. Ripple. Big R. The Borgata. Natural Foods. Liks. Subway. Colorado Furniture.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mabon/ Erev Roshanah

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Yirah. Awe and Wonder.

Tarot: Nine of Wands, (Druid Craft)    “The landscape: In contrast to the figure’s fatigue, the landscape behind her is green and fertile, often with a river or body of water. This represents a sense of hope and the promise of new life, suggesting that the struggle is nearing its end and the rewards are still protected.” Gemini

One brief shining:  The darkness remains long and longer, Mabon marks the day when we have darkness and daylight in balance, a halfway point to the longest night, the Winter Solstice, and a Wiccan holiday marking the main harvest that told the fate of the village in the fallow time beginning at Summer’s End.

 

Mabon: The Fall Equinox. A moment of equal light and dark. The growing season at an end. Combines in the Wheat fields of Nebraska and Kansas. Corn Pickers in Iowa and Indiana. Combines, too, in the Soybean fields. This is the Big Ag that has taken us out of balance with the practices needed for healthy soil and adequate water.

Artemis, sown late this year, in July, has already yielded Cherry Tomatoes, Roma Tomatoes, Kale, Spinach, and Cucumbers. Her Carrots have sprouted well, too. I harvested enough Tomatoes, Spinach, and Cucumber for a first Salad. It takes some discipline not to eat the Cherry Tomatoes. So sweet.

Mabon can help us remember the need for organic gardening and farming, for regenerative farming, for perennial grains and other food crops. No till farming. We can only continue to harvest from Mother Earth if we treat her well. May it be so.

 

Just a moment: Free speech. Unless. It criticizes Charlie Kirk. Or, the Burger King. Or, his manipulation of the military into roles for which it is not intended. Or, his elimination of the food insecurity report done annually at the Dept. of Agriculture. Or, his firing of the head of the Bureau of Labor Statistics for numbers he didn’t like. Or, you’re a court jester on a late night TV show who dares make people laugh at his expense.

This, my friends, is real and true tyranny. The suppression of speech. Not to mention the Burger King’s weaponizing of the Justice Department to go after his enemies. His enemies, yes, but servants of the truth when seen from another perspective. Dictators punish their enemies, tailor information to make themselves look good, and govern by whim. Red tie guy ticks all these.

How has he gone so far, so fast? First, shamelessness. No act too mean, no decision too cruel, no choice too dangerous. Second, a movement conservative agenda printed in advance in Project 2025. Third, minions who preen and praise no longer offering analysis critical of our dear leader.

No Kings on October 18th. Remember.

 

 

A Paper Crown Burger King

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tom. His visits. Our friendship. Indivisible. Scott in Minnesota. Paul in Maine. Standing up to the tyrant and his Zombie Mean Guys. Jimmy Kimmel. Comedy. Comedians. Concentration camps. Alligator Alcatraz. Shadow, her patience last night and this morning. Artemis. Her Kale. The Cucumbers. The Tomatoes. The Carrots, Spinach, and Beets. Salads. Well, maybe two salads.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Old, deep friendships

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the land

Tarot: King of Swords, (Druid Craft)  “The King of Swords upright signifies intellectual power, authority, and clear-headed judgment, rooted in strong ethics and a connection to nature.” Gemini

One brief shining: The No Kings mobilization on October 18 gathers Seed-Keepers across the country-Ginny and Janice at the Genesee Overpass, Scott in Minneapolis, Paul and Sarah in Maine-millions over against the rise of the zombie mean guys and their tyrant don who’s really just a Burger King with a paper hat from a fast food restaurant.

 

Just a moment: I’m feeling the power begin to percolate upward, the No Kings’ map available on their website has those early days of the anti-Vietnam protests vibe.

Checked out where it began. Oddly, it looks like Boulder and a guy named Carlos Álvarez-Aranyos who founded a group there called American Opposition. If you look at the partners page on the No Kings website, you’ll see it’s grown way, way past that initial effort. Other notable groups involved are Indivisible, Moveon, and 50501.

October 18th, the next mass gathering across the country, will be, I imagine, massive. As these will need to be, so the longer term work of rooting out the rotten core of movement conservatives now engaged in shredding our derech eretz, the way of our land, and attempting to replace it with medieval authoritarian governance that brooks no difference and no opposition, can flourish.

The 18th is two days after my last ablation. I hope I feel good enough to head over to the Genesee Overpass for our local event straddling I-70. Ginny and Janice went the last time. If you can join the event in your area, you would add one more body to what must become a pyroclastic cleansing of the Donald’s illusion that this is his country. Nope. It’s ours, too.

 

Tom’s visit: Breakfast. Conversation. Nap. Dinner. Conversation. Sleep. Old guys, old friends. Together. Again. Still.

Health:  Some thoughts on cancer. Cancer does not change the journey. That is, the journey from birth through life to death. It only illuminates a possible game ender if, as Kristie said, the disease runs its course. Could be something else. A car accident. A fall. Heart attack. Stroke. In that significant sense cancer has no more valence in anyone’s life, including mine, than any of the numerous ways we can, as my father use to say, shuffle off this mortal coil. Not sure he knew he was quoting Hamlet. Probably did.

This goes along with another observation that nothing can be finally determined as either bad or good. The ripples, the tendrils snaking out from any one particular event require seeing it not only as it seems in the moment, but how it impacts contiguous and/or future events.

Sure, the second election of Donald Trump was a disaster, a catastrophe for our republic and a focused blow to our democracy. However, his reign as a paper crown Burger King will clarify for his opposition what America means. What’s worth fighting for. It will cause other nations to form new alliances, become stronger than they were when the U.S. was world hegemon. It may even disclose ways in which we need to restructure, rethink our government.

He may be a disruptor and a weasel, but he. does. not. control. us.

 

Rise of the Zombie Mean Guys

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Tom. Here. (I think.) Ruth and her chemistry test. Gabe and Gabe knowledge. Maddie. Palliative care. Shadow and her toys. Aggressive chewers. Artemis and her children, headed for a coming frost. The attempt to ignore the first amendment. A world changing so, so fast. Labrum tears and steroid injections. Back pain relief coming in October. Golden Leaves among the green. A Mountain Fall.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow’s head on my pillow

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the land.    “A natural, moral order that exists independent of formal Torah law. This is reflected in the saying, “Derech Eretz preceded the Torah,” and speaks to the innate decency that human beings should possess.”

Tarot: #4, The Lord, reversed. (Druid Craft)

Abuse of authority
This card can signal that someone is abusing their power, whether that’s you or another person. The positive, protective authority of the upright Lord has become a negative, domineering, or overly critical force. This person may be a tyrant rather than a strong leader.
 
 

One brief shining: The reversed Lord read the newspaper this morning, the suppression of free speech by censoring Jimmy Kimmel, the cancellation of Stephen Colbert’s show, the promises to “take down” liberal organizations like the Ford Foundation and the George Soros Open Societies Foundation; he’s signaling the Rubicon of tyranny crossed with deliberate, feral intent. 

Health: Maddie, my palliative care nurse, drove up from Westminster yesterday. I like that at least every other visit with her is in person in my home. Like Dr. Josy, the in home vet. Ha.
 
She’s a sweet person. A Hoosier from da region, that cluster of hard blue collar cities and steel mills tucked up in the extreme northwest corner of the state. When I recounted sister Mary’s line: “Living in Indiana is like living in the Deep South without the benefit of a warmer climate,” she laughed and said, “Oh, that’s so true!”
 

Maddie believes I’ll get good relief from my nerve ablations and the Butrans patch. May it be so.

 

Just a moment: A chill. No, a near absolute zero blast went down my spine when I read about Jimmy Kimmel pulled off the air indefinitely. Talk about unamerican. Roger Cohen and Joseph McCarthy and Father Coughlin have risen from their graves. Ain’t no grave that can keep their vile opinions down.

 

Rise of the Zombie mean guys. Only this time, this second coming of nativist, white supremacist vitriol has the power of a “unitary” President, a self-castrated Congress, and a toadying  Supreme Court. How will we ever climb out of this well of despond?

 

A serious question. First, by not forgetting who we are and who we can still be. Seed-keepers who hold the promise of a welcoming, caring nation. Second, by taking those actions that we can to stand up, right now. To make as clear as possible that this is our country, too. That we will not capitulate, will not bow down in anticipatory obeisance.

After the last immigrant has left the country

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tom. Rascal. Paul. Findlay. Morning darkness. Cold morning. 36. Hail protection on Artemis. Shadow and her new puzzle. Her morning kisses. Maddie, coming today. Carol yesterday. The Sloan-Kettering trial. The killed comforter. Lashon hara. Words matter. Nerve ablation next month. P.E.T. scan. The never ending thrills.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Maddie

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the land, the essential human decency that came before Torah.

Tarot: Five of cups, reversed. (Druid Craft)

  • Finding opportunity in setbacks: You are starting to see the value in what you have learned from a painful experience.
  • Open to help: You may now be more willing to accept help from others.

One brief shining: Learning the lesson of accepting help, hard for this head-down, push forward in spite of guy, leaning on the kindness of friends for rides to procedures, appointments does not come without cost and does not come without reward, a cost in changed self-image, the reward understanding it needed to change.

 

Sport: Ohani. A baseball player for the ages. Our Babe Ruth. This Japanese pitcher, yes, that’s right pitcher, just hit 50 home runs in consecutive seasons. He hit number 50 last night against the Philadelphia Phillies. Whadda guy.

Though I’ve never taken to baseball the way my nerdy, statistics oriented son did, I’ll admit in this year, this particular year, a sport in which violence does not feature, in which all team members contribute, one where fans sing songs during the seventh inning stretch, and a sport, like basketball, home grown and oh so American appeals to my need for something of this country that makes me smile.

Just a moment: The Wrath of the already Wrathful. I fear we’ve entered a new, even darker phase of this already far too long presidency. Retribution. Vengeance. Punishment. We may as well have a dominatrix as our leader, one who sees the rest of us as masochists who delight in pain, grin at affliction.

As my friend Paul observed, protesting may carry a new risk. A president and Justice Department and an FBI without a moral compass. No longer constrained by such delicacies as the Bill of Rights, such niceties as habeas corpus. No longer held in check by the courts. Buttressed at times by the National Guard and the U.S. military.

Concentration camps: “Based on internal agency documents, overall detention capacity is projected to increase significantly. One document from July 2025 reported plans to add 10,312 beds through no-bid contracts alone. This was part of an effort to increase overall capacity to at least 100,000 beds” Gemini on beds for immigrant detainees to be added by building new facilities, opening shuttered prisons, and adding capacity like the tents for up 5,000 at Ft. Bliss (get the irony here?)

Here’s my question. Once the last immigrant has been detained and the last flight for South Sudan or Venezuela or Ghana has left the ground who will fill up those freshly empty beds?

Given the state of play after Charlie Kirk’s assassination? Any who deviate. From the good, the true, and the proper. As defined by angry, bitter people who see mercy and justice as weakness. Lordy, lordy.

For a Trump Sick Soul

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, her downward dog.  Diane in Indiana. Seeing Judy, Marilyn and Irv’s friend. My son. His work. Seoah. Murdoch. Dog treats. Liberals. Under siege. The Ford Foundation. George Soros. Hungary. Italy. France. Germany. The Netherlands. Great Britain. Denmark. Norway. Sweden. Finland. Spain. Austria.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the Land.

Tarot: Seven of Pentacles, (Druid Craft)

One brief shining: Body creaky, aching at the joints, meds of little help, so very tired of this, not being able to bend over, finish tasks; yet, I watched a movie yesterday afternoon: Deaf President Now-Apple TV-and the power, the real and always power of folks shunted aside was so beautiful, so moving, I cried remembering my days of awe at the confidence and bravery of ordinary people.

 

Days of Yesteryear: Denim jacket on, hair beginning to get long, my ever present Pall Mall in my hand, jeans and workboots, green book bag slung over my shoulder. The microphone. Hell, no, we won’t go. Fists in the air. Electricity on campus. Hundreds, then thousands. Against the war. Against in loco parentis. For student power. As those Gallaudet students found when confronted with the choice of yet another hearing president.

Those were the days my friend. I thought they’d never end. But, they did. With the ominous prescience of National Guard Troops firing live bullets into an anti-war protest. With the Moral Majority and the immoral president, Richard Nixon. The rise of Movement Conservatives. A gradual gathering of grievance and indifference to derech heretz, the basic decency expected of all people.

As the conservatives gradually slowly, thanks Lee Atwater, Karl Rove, Newt Gingrich, the New Apostolic Reformation, National Conservatism, became a tide, a tsunami of hate and bitter feeling. As this once powerful nation began to insist on pulling back from the world, declaring National narcissism as our raison d’etrê. As a nation began to split itself apart, dragging the poor, the immigrant, the disabled, the unhealthy, persons of color and LGBTQ+ persuasions across a sharp bed of nails- oligarchic indifference.

That world. Then. Gone. A distant memory of hope and justice. Subducted under a tectonic plate of fear and repressed anger with guns and Gadsen flags flying.

So often. Can we last four years of this? Among Jews. Is it time to go? But, where? Sadness and confusion among those I love. Glad in that strange way Mary and Mark, my son and Seoah live faraway. It is a sad time to be an American.

 

Friends: Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv. Their friend from Massachusetts. The joy. The here and now healing of laughter. Shared exasperation. Shared dreams and acknowledged fears. Over a Salmon blt, two drag it through the garden omelets, and a flatbread with cheese and pepperoni.  At Primo’s in Kings Valley.

When I left, I felt buoyed up by conversation. By seeing and being seen. By hearing and being heard. The balm of Gilead for a Trump sick soul.

The Lost Boys

Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Jamie. Ty. Irv. Jim. Seth. Bruce. Joe. Matt. Lawyer guy. Will. Bill. Irv’s first time leading group. Evergreen High School. Its students. Seth’s daughters. Rain. 40 degree morning. A Mountain Fall begins. The Aspen’s, like Smaug, guarding still their gold. My son. His journey. A life led by principle. The Ancient Brothers on mystery.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Men, together

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz.  literally, the way of the land.

  • Natural law. In some interpretations, it represents a natural, moral order that exists independent of formal Torah law. This is reflected in the saying, “Derech Eretz preceded the Torah,” and speaks to the innate decency that human beings should possess

Tarot:  #2 The High Priestess Druid Craft

  • Patience and waiting: The High Priestess advises against taking immediate action. She represents a time of quiet gestation and reflection, encouraging you to wait for more clarity to emerge.
  • Spirituality and the subconscious: The card points toward a deeper connection with your spiritual side, meditation, and exploring the mysteries of your psyche. 
One brief shining: We sat in the sanctuary shofars evidence signaling the coming of Rosh Hashanah while we conversed quietly, a minyan; one of us, visibly shaken, spoke of picking up his daughter from Evergreen High School that day before the shooting started, she was not feeling well, and I recalled Gabe’s succinct thought: Today is a strange day.

 

Aftermath: We men discussed how to be seen, how to know one another, how to be known. Wondered if the world hungered for human connection and dared take the risk, what it would be like.

We didn’t discuss it yesterday, but we could have. Think school shooter. What comes to mind? Yes, a boy, a sad angry dismissed unhappy no right place in his high school world boy. Boiler Medic Ken and I discussed this. Ken said yeah when he was in high school you took it out back and settled things. Except. These boys would not have been the ones, Ken.
 
What responsibility do we adult men have to the shattered psyche’s of boys who would be, not men, but seen, heard, appreciated, and failing that go the way of the too, too easy to obtain gun? Surely something. But how to engage, how to be there?
 
I raised a boy. Just one. I know he needed love, boundaries, respect. My guess, but not much of a guess, is that these boys need those things, too. From someone who matters.
 
Two of our number yesterday, one long retired, one just beginning work(ed) with young boys, ones whose lives experienced the disruption of mental illness. There are those among us who walk that road. Perhaps they could guide us.
 

Just a moment: Meanwhile, one who should guide us, call us together, calls instead for revenge. Vengeance is mine saith the Donald. In poor imitation. I believe Donald is one of those boys. Still. An insecure, frightened, internally beleaguered man-child, still up against the school yard fence promising reprisals.