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  • Israel

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Mabon (Fall) and the Sukkot Moon

    Thursday (Rosh Hashanah) gratefuls: Happy New Year, 5785! Sukkot. Mom. 60 years ago this month. Her death. Tom’s eyelid surgery. Mark in Georgetown, Malaysia. Visas. Soon to travel to Saudi Arabia. Fall. Harvests all around the world. Friends and family. Dogs. Wild Neighbors. Cecil’s Deli. Bill and Paul. Travel. AI. Playground by Richard Powers. Ocean.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ocean

    Kavannah: Teshuvah

    One brief shining: Wrestling with the angel of belonging, my own Jabbok Ford, why I chose the Hebrew name, Israel, no longer wanting to be in large groups no matter how significant the occasion, yet also knowing, as friend Paul says, that showing up is often all that matters, how to reconcile my covid/introvert/homebody/back pain inflected avoidance with my love of CBE. Acute on the High Holidays.

     

    Do not want to become a recluse. In no way. In no way either do I want to get sick or deny my nature. Aware attendance at High Holiday services (or, lack of) gets noticed by friends. Am I not committed? Am I not a Jew? So I struggle. Here’s another aspect of it. As a new Jew (ha), I don’t have a lifetime of memories about the High Holidays. I find the services long and, with the Hebrew and davening, often obtuse.

    Also, I didn’t suddenly release my pagan ways. Sukkot, Simchat Torah, Tu B’shvat, Passover, counting the Omer, Shavuot reflect my Judaism much more strongly than the heady and often patriarchal notes of the High Holidays. The month of Elul as preparation, chasbon nefesh. Yes. Taking a soul returned to its own land into a new year. Yes. Grieving at Yom Kippur. Yes. Human matters.

    And then, the reflection of the Great Wheel in Jewish colors: Sukkot, the fruit harvest. Simchat Torah, dancing with the Torah, the body itself in motion. Tu B’shvat, the new year for the Trees. And I might include Wilderness, Wild Neighbors, Horticulture. Passover. Spring planting. Counting the grain as it grows and gets harvested at Shavuot. This is my Judaism, an ancient celebration of humanity’s connection to the life-giving turn of the seasons and to Mother Earth.

    On a lunar calendar note, also a link for me with Judaism, lunar calendars rapidly get out of alignment with the seasons without leap months added. This year we added a second month of Adar. This means that yahrzeits get pushed out by a month or so from the actual death date. Though the yahrzeit rarely lines up with the actual death date, usually it’s within a week or so.

    This finds my mom’s 60th yahrzeit falling on October 31st this year. On Samain. On All Hallow’s Eve when the veil between the worlds thins. Judaism and paganism line up to make her 60th year in the Other World a special moment for me. Hard to believe she’s been dead 60 years. Never gone, of course, but fainter as a memory. On the 31st I’ll light a yahrzeit candle for her and look through the photo albums and photos I have of her. Remember, re-member, her.


    Family Feelings Friends Great Wheel Holidays Judaism Memories Plants Weather +Climate Wild Neighbors

  • Biker Chick

    Posted on by Charles 1 Comment

    Mabon (Fall) and the Harvest Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Joanne. Jamie. Susan. Rich. Tara. Marilyn. The Bistro. Its new owners. MVP. That Prius, stolen from Denver, that drove through the fence. Israel. Palestinians. Gaza. Lebanon. Hamas. Hezbollah. Iran. Yemen. The Houthis. The Ukraine. Russia. This violence soaked planet, warming around us. As a planet we are, to the universe, less even than the Mayfly life of a human compared to the Rocky Mountains.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

    Kavannah: Simplicity

    One brief shining: She got off the Triumph, its exhaust still hot, helmet in hand, as the Rabbi turned the key silencing the engine, this biker chick, this nonagenarian who had come from her home on Rainbow Hill via Squaw Valley Road, Winter Gulch, and Stagecoach Road before arriving triumphantly at the Bistro for a celebration of her 93rd birthday. Joanne last night.

     

    Yep. Not sure whose idea it was but Joanne Greenberg arrived by motorcycle wearing her usual long pants, self-made, a top likewise, a plaid fleece-lined snap up jacket, and a motorcycle helmet. She and Jamie took a scenic drive before getting to the Bistro where Rich Levine generously hosted the 7 of us, Ron as often away on a business trip.

    This was an unusual meeting of the MVP group, occasioned both by Joanne’s upcoming 93rd birthday today and Rich’s need to move away from our usual Wednesday evenings. Colorado School of Mines gave him again an honors class to teach on Wednesday nights for this semester. The middah for the evening, led by Tara, was simplicity.

    We got special attention from the chef and his partner/wife because Rich is their lawyer. Of course. Small town. The last time I ate there, on August 18th, I found the pearl. Becoming magical for me.

    The time around the table, again, underlines relationships. With other humans, core to life. With other beings. Core as well. With other living parts of the natural world, the Mountains and Streams, Lodgepoles and Aspens, Rock and Soil. The Sky. Where and in and on which we live. How could they not be core, too.

    Eating. Well. We had Salmon, Mahi-Mahi, Shrimp, Ahi, Scallops, Filet in a salad, dumpling soup, pate, bread, lettuce, tomatoes, creme brulee, vanilla ice cream, chocolate melt cake. Coffee. Wine. All offered to us not only by the Bistro but also by Great Sol whose light shone on the Plants eaten by the food eaten by the Fish, the Scallops, the Shrimp. And on the Plants themselves that we ate: Tomatoes, Potatoes, Lettuce, Radish, Herbs of various kinds. Grapes that were drunk. Water that came from a nearby aquifer, replenished by the summer’s Rain. Is food not necessary? Essential. Oh, yes.

    All this and we hadn’t talked yet. We batted around contentment. Simplicity. What is the feeling you get with simplicity. What is freedom from desire, attachment for? To live your imago dei, your buddha nature, your neshama soul. Your I am. We touched on love and gratitude for each other. Saw and were seen. Touched and were touched. Heard and were heard. Tasted the chef’s delicate work and smelled the cool Mountain air as it drifted in through the open window.

    We were, each of us, as fully present, in that ichi-go, ichi-e moment as we ever could be.

     

     

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Judaism Mountains Mussar Plants

  • Go, Elementals!

    Posted on by Charles 1 Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Sabbath gratefuls: Zoom. WordPress. My computers. Starlink. The Internet. My links to friends, family, shopping. Solar panels & C.O.R.E. Sources of electricity. Mini-splits, electric heat pumps for heating and cooling. The induction stove for electrical cooking. LED bulbs for longlasting, low-energy consumption light. Arts and Crafts style furniture, lighting fixtures, upholstery cloth.

    Sparks of joy and awe: Electricity

    Kavannah: Yirah

    One brief shining: Give me an H, Give me an He, Give me an Li, go elementals! Let’s go 1,2,3. Now entering the big top in the first ring, give me a hand for that most abundant, simplest, colorless, odorless, yet flammable guy, and the lightest element in the whole universe: Hydrogen! Keep putting those hands together as another odorless and tasteless gas, second only to the Big H in abundance in our whole cosmos, floats gracefully to ring number 2, she floats, she stays aloof, there she is: Miss Helium! Finally, plunking himself into our third ring, that healer of manic-depression, that key to batteries for electric cars, that old soft metal guy, the lightest of the solid elements: Mr. Lithium!

     

    Blame it on Tom. He’s having us present three of the naturally occurring elements as our Sunday theme for the Ancient brothers. He had us pick three numbers between 1 & 94, then wrote us an e-mail revealing that our numbers were the atomic numbers for our elements on the periodic table. I picked 1,2,3.

    Here’s his charge to us: “What you were choosing is the Atomic Number of the element you can read about, research, write poetry about, combine with other elements to compound your effort, discuss the philosophical underpinnings of the origin of your chosen elements (or the universe itself), draw pictures of your element as it stands alone or as it combines with others. In other words, the usual Ancient Zeitgeist applies.”

    Not sure where I’m going with mine yet though I like the circus metaphor. Probably will have to touch a bit on Lurianic Kabbalah and the tzimtzum*. Perhaps the Tree of Life as well. Going to have fun with this today.

     

    Feeling lighter after Ann’s visit. I have the Celebrex and tramadol to help with pain. That helps, too. Still ouchy, I’d say a 3 most of the time except when I’m sitting, rising to a 7 or 8 if I stress my back. That’s with the pain relievers on board. Why it doesn’t bother my workouts, I don’t know. Must be isolation of muscle groups though I also don’t usually experience pain even on the treadmill. Unless I go past 20-25 minutes. Odd, eh?

    I also feel lighter because even though the presidential race is close at least we have a good chance. Looks like the North Carolina GOP candidate for governor is gonna give us a boost in that important state. A Black Nazi? Posted on a porn site. Dude!

    I’m also feeling the faint stirrings of a new novel. Something I want to get going. Just a spark right now, but we know sparks can lead to wild fires of creative power. Shiva energy.

     

    Time for a workout after breakfast. I’m in contact with a couple of guys who might come to the house, help me with my workouts. I need to freshen mine. Get them targeted even more on my core to help my back. Might even return for another round of physical therapy with Mary.

     

    *The term zimzum originates in the Kabbalah and refers to God’s contraction of himself before the creation of the world, and for the purpose of creating the world. To put it another way, the omnipresent God, who exists beyond time and space before creation, withdraws a part of his infinite presence into himself. With this divine gesture, God restricts himself in zimzum, clearing the empty space that is necessary for creation. The emanation and the creation of the world are then able to occur in the center of God following this act of zimzum. In this process, God limits his omnipotence, so that a finite world can exist within finite contours. Without zimzum, there would be no creation.    wiki

    NB: I would not use the word God here. What I’m after with the tzimtzum is the process of earliest creation and how we might understand it.

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Judaism Kabbalah Science Writing

  • Navigation

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Ruby and her gps. Alan. Sunrise/Sunset. Breakfast. Our waitress and her shadow. Getting lost. Getting found. Teshuvah. Tikkun. Tzedekah. Aspen gold on Black Mountain among the larger swathes of green Lodgepoles. Blue Sky. Yirah. Hyperphagia. The Rut. Marmoset Days at Staunton State Park. Books. Literature. Writing. Excited.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Writing

    Kavannah (for Elul): Yirah. Teshuvah.

    One brief shining: Got off I-70 at Kipling, turned up the frontage road expecting to find at the end of it the Sunrise/Sunset diner with buddy Alan waiting there, drove past Caliber Collision, the United States Truck Driving School to the end of the road which featured a concrete mixing plant; hmmm, I stopped, looked at the map and found that, oh, I meant to get off on 6th Avenue, the six lane feeder highway going into Denver, gave up and plugged the address into my gps which gave me a route no human would have offered, but which had the advantage of finding the diner and Alan.

     

    The Sunrise/Sunset diner. Birth and death. A very wholistic spot. Apparently a chain. One item on the menu. Roll Out the Bed. A cinnamon roll. Another. Cornhusker. Eggs with creamed corn poured over them. Maybe another time. Found Alan well at the back after an adventure in navigating. See above. I like to use my own sense of direction but am relieved that if and when I fail, there’s a handy backup plan.

    Alan runs the Rotary’s big recycle day in Evergreen. That was last week and went smoothly. If you plan ahead, it’s easy, he said. He’s in the second weekend of his biggest role so far, Governor and Innkeeper in the musical the Man of La Mancha. Says it’s going well. Seeing it on Sunday.

     

    Ann McCullough came by today. She’s a nurse practitioner with Optio palliative care. I liked her. She’s a backup plan. More personal. Comes to my house once a month, more if needed. She’ll focus on pain management all along and had some helpful ideas today. How to use Celecoxib and tramadol together. How to manage travel. A bit. Mostly she’s available, a level of care that has home as its focus. If and when needed, she can pass me over to hospice care in the same system. As she said, that’s not anywhere near, but it is comforting to know there’s a continuum of care.

    Primary good point for me. Will probably make it possible for me to stay here on Shadow Mountain. She sees that as realistic. With some assistance, I do, too.

    This is thanks to Sue Bradshaw’s referral. Another plus for Sue.

     

    Today is Luke’s birthday. I’m taking him out for dinner, probably tomorrow night. An older grandson or very young son. That’s how our relationship feels to me. And I like that.

     

    Just a moment:  Exploding pagers? Sounds like a plot device. Like a candidate who claims immigrants eat pets. Or, my crowds are bigger than yours. Not sure reality can sustain that name much longer. Heading toward fantasy and illusion.

     


    Commentary on the news Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Politics

  • Asset framing. Judging on the side of merit.

    Posted on by Charles 1 Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Luke. His birthday. Leo. Cooler nights. Golden Aspen Leaves. Guanella Pass. Gabe. Helium. Hydrogen. Lithium. Elemental, my dear Mendelev. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Shadow Mountain. The Sky above it. Wildfire. Maxwell Creek. The journey home. Our mutual journey. Walking each other along the trail. If you want go fast, go alone. If you want to far, go together.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tesuvah

    Kavannah: Teshuvah

    One brief shining: Inner work right now, drawing two cards for the week, this week’s question-What do I need to do to further Herme’s Journey-answered by the Weasel and Pine Card from the Woodland Guardians deck by Jessica Roux and the Ace of Bows from the Wildwood Tarot, Introspection and the Spark of Life; yes, I understood, stay on the inner path for Elul and beyond, that remains the true path for this journey, the gathering, the harvesting of ideas and feelings and moments of yirah and teshuvah.

     

    Then, Elul, this month of chasbon nefesh, accounting of the soul for the purpose of returning the soul to its native land, means even more attention to the moments of hamartia, of missing the mark, that are, as a wise article I read suggests, the guideposts leading back home. But not only that. I also include in my chasbon nefesh an idea granddaughter Ruth found on Krista Tippet’s show featuring Trabian Shorter, A Cognitive Skill to Magnify Humanity. Asset Framing. And Its Jewish equivalent: judging on the side of merit. That is, not only finding the debits but also the credits.

    Asset framing is a simple, yet profound idea. When encountering yourself or another, first find your/their assets. Their skills and strengths. Your/their dreams and aspirations. What gets them up in the morning? Keeps them going when the work gets hard?

    A brilliant young black scholar and activist, Trabian uses this example. Instead of seeing inner city black kids as in the school to prison pipeline, as troubled kids, first find out their existing skills, their strengths, what they hope for, reach for in their hearts. Focus on those, while not ignoring the difficulties and challenges. Perhaps the cliche, play to their strengths.

    Judging on the side of merit. When judging another, which Judaism recognizes we do all the time, and does not condemn, start always by judging on the side of merit. Which I think fits nicely with the idea of asset framing.

    So. While engaging chasbon nefesh, always start with your merits, your assets. What in the last year did you do well? Where were you using your skills, your talents? Where did your advance your dreams and aspirations or those of others? Where were you a positive and helpful presence in the world? Then, and only then, proceed to those moments where you missed the mark. Where you judged harshly. Where you were too fearful to act. Or, like me, where your own troubles turned you in on yourself, away from the world. Or, like me, where you chose to give in to an easy way to spend the day, rather than a fruitful one. Or, like me, where you turned away from a person in need because of the time and energy required.

     

     

     


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Holidays Judaism Politics Writing

  • Oh, my

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Full Harvest Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: New credit card. Tom in Omaha. At the Air and Space museum. Good workout. Isaac coming today. Possible personal trainer. Ginny and Janice today. Cooling nights. Gold popping up here and there on Black Mountain. My son. His commitment. Palliative care. Sharpe. Salisbury Steak. A vegetable smoothie. Bad dreams.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Protein

    Kavannah: Teshuvah   Returning to the land of my soul

    One brief shining: Geez, ever have a night where the dreams stuck with you and you wish they hadn’t; last night I bought a used Porsche that had bald tires and rust, tried to preach in a synagogue bare foot which they said was ok, but couldn’t find my sermon, woke up agitated, out of sorts.

     

    What dreams may come. Must have been feeling insecure last night. Perhaps because I got a Groveland UU e-wire announcing their dissolution. Kate and I were a part of Groveland from the beginning and I preached there off and on even after we moved to Andover, then the Rockies. I tried to help them grow. Didn’t have much luck. A feeling of failure. Though I never was their minister except for a brief period. Guess it is a feeling of failure. As I write this, I feel bad. Sad. Inadequate. Groveland was the place Kate and I landed after I left the Presbyterians.

    Moods. As I’ve written. Need to return to the land of my soul. Which is here, today, this September 19th life of 2024. Shadow Mountain. Seeing friends. Living. How do I feel? Down. How do I feel? Grounded. How do I feel? Anxious. How do I feel? Sad. How do I feel? Inadequate. How do I feel? In my body. How do I feel? Grateful. How do I feel? Gathered in. How do I feel? Anxious. How do I feel? Surprised. How do I feel? Glad. How do I feel? Here. How do I feel? Sad/OK. How do I feel? Ashamed. How do I feel? Oh, yeah. How do I feel? In myself. How do I feel? Knowing. How do I feel? Back. Mostly

    What I learned here was why I never served as a pastor. Not me. I’m a political activist, an organizer, but never a minister. Even though I tried on the role briefly. Twice. Kate told me it wasn’t me. She was right. I wanted to work. To mean something. Sure, that’s fine. But I couldn’t get to that being someone I wasn’t. I didn’t have the right skill set to help a congregation grow unless I was a consultant, not of the congregation. And I was not meant for a pastoral role.

    I found work that mattered, that was me, in Andover. Gardener. Bee Keeper. Dog wrangler. Lumberjack. Cook. Husband. Writing. Learning. Oh, the joy I felt. We felt. How much time I wasted trying to fit into square holes when I was a plant shaped peg. A lover of dogs, plants, bees, writing, Kate.

    Here in Colorado I have a new focus. The Mountains. Judaism. Friends and Family. Writing. Learning. All about love.

     

     


    Cooking Dogs Dreams Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Garden Great Wheel Judaism Memories Minnesota Mountains Plants Shadow Mountain

  • Chuseok and Teshuvah. Double post. see below as well.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Shabbat gratefuls: Torah. Jamie. Mussar. Ruth and Gabe. Lighting the candles. The shema. CBE. Mary and Guru. Mark in Bangkok. My son and Seoah in Okgwa for the Chuseok Festival.* Alan and his busy weekend. Good sleeping. Kristie. Second opinions. Cancer. Spinal stenosis. Sally. Aging. Its joys and its struggles. Scott and Yin. Men. Women. UC Boulder.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

    Kavannah: Teshuvah-“…the journey of teshuvah is not about “turning over a new leaf” or being “born again”; rather, it is simply finding our way back to the land of our soul…Every person possesses a core of inherent goodness whose integrity cannot be compromised. While outwardly, one’s actions may not always reflect this inner goodness…people always have the ability to shed their superficial facade and do teshuvah—returning to their truest, deepest selves.” chabad.org

    One brief shining: Chuseok draws families together in North and South Korea, often back to the places of their birth or raising, like little Okgwa for Seoah, back for thanksgiving for family, for the harvest, for love between a brother and a sister, all over that land, a return to the place of your formation; we might say finding a way back to the land of your soul, which has an individual component, of course, but also and strongly a community, familial component, though, yes, the land of your soul and your homeland may be also be widely divergent.

    Chuseok card

     

     

    Sept 2023. Seoahs family

    The key move here, from a Jewish perspective, lies in the neshamah, that essence of you, that buddha nature, that stainless and unstainable core to which one can always return, no matter how hamartia-missing the mark-has confused your nefesh, the outward facing portion of you that changes, grows, shrinks, expands depending on which of the many wolves you feed.

    The month of Elul, our current month in the Lunar Calendar for 5784, encourages all Jews to chasbon nefesh, accounting of the soul. Look back over the last year and see if you got lost in moments of despair over an illness. Like I did. See if you judged others harshly, rather than judging them on their merits. Like I did. See if you neglected opportunities to act with loving-kindness. Like I did. See if you failed to discern again the purpose of your life. Like I did. See if you failed again to act on that purpose. Like I did. Take steps to amend those personal lapses that you can. Like I have. Take steps to open your lev to your true path. As I have.

    Teshuvah is not about guilt, however. It is about sweeping away the barriers in your life to being who you most truly are: a sacred becoming, a moment in the ever expanding tapestry of novelty that is the universe and everything. A unique and irreplaceable soul, a unique, never to be repeated, ishi-go ishi-e self awaits your joyous return.

    No stains that lead to damnation. No sins even God could not forgive. Only you and the land of your soul. To which, at any time, you can, with exuberance and calm, return.

     

     

     

    *”It’s the other time of the year in Korea besides Lunar New Year’s Day, aka Seollal (설날), when family members gather together.  Usually, this means traveling to the home of the head of the family, often one’s grandparents.

    According to legend, an ancient king of the kingdom, Silla, started a month-long weaving contest between two teams.   The team who had woven the most cloth won, and they were treated by the losing team with food, drinks, and other gifts.  Thus starting the tradition of Thanksgiving almost 2000 years ago.

    Some scholars also tie Chuseok to Korea’s history, wherein agriculture was a big part of daily life.  Koreans commonly offered rituals to ancestors to give thanks and celebrate the harvest moon.

    Traditionally, the purpose of Chuseok was for family members to gather together during the full harvest moon. This usually appeared in the sky on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Families wanted to celebrate and show gratitude to their ancestors for the fruitful harvest.

    Chuseok is very much a traditional holiday where many of the customs from the old days still stand.”

    Chuseok in Korea

     

     

     


    Asia Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Holidays Judaism Korea Memories Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Reimaging revelation Shabbat Travel

  • Bonus post: That’s Life, that’s what all the people say

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Friends. And, family. Seeing them. Hearing them. Touching them. Being seen, heard, and touched. Equals life itself. We are, for better and worse, social creatures. Go without contact and even the self begins to deteriorate, turn in on itself, push itself further away from health and wholeness.

    This morning I drove the thirty minutes to Evergreen, constant thoughts about the middah of beauty coming to mind. The green card with the single word, beauty, in my pocket. Those Lodgepoles covering Black Mountain. The occasional golden Leaf. Black Mountain and Shadow Mountain themselves. Tall, firm, reliable. Vishnu.

    I came close to Kate’s Creek and started talking to her as has become my habit. How beautiful, eh, Kate? These Mountains you found. Shadow Mountain Home. You. I do miss the beauty of your presence. I’m heading to see Alan, breakfast at the Dandelion.

    Into the charming downtown of Evergreen, beautiful in its Mountain town way. Already filling with tourists. A 70 degree, bright Sun, blue Sky day. Lake Evergreen, a small jewel amongst the Mountains here. Bear Mountain. Berrigan. Others whose names I do not know, but whose features are familiar. This rock outcropping around the Lake. That spot where the Elk herds cross, causing Elk traffic jams.

    Past Elk Meadow, the huge open space saved by the Mountain Land Trust. Past the Hiwan Hills Golf Club. Right at the light. The main Evergreen Fire Station with its statuary, one a huge bronze circle with a man riding it at the very top. Another, smaller meadow and valley. Another right turn. Beautiful meadows. Sculptures. Even the main Evergreen Fire House. All pleasing. Offering their own glints of knowledge, of truth sent straight to the heart, no analyzing. Appreciation of the sculptor’s hand. The green of the meadows.

    Down a steep, short hill into the Hiwan Mall. Bivouac Coffee and the Dandelion next to each other. Alan already there. And I was ten minutes early. Remarkable.

    He smiled as I stood there arms outstretched, palms up. What’s this? Alan? Early?

    We ordered. Got our water and utensils, a napkin. Sat down.

    Let the healing begin. I know, all too well, the punishments laid on the body by disease, by malformed spines. And, yes, I want the ministrations of healing folks like Sue Bradshaw, Kristie Kokenny, palliative care. But they don’t have on offer the real healing, the true healing. Why? Well, they will always fail. Their job is to push death as far away from the present moment as possible. I want them to do that.

    Friends over coffee however heal the soul. Death is inevitable, despair and depression are not. Alan talked about the recycling day tomorrow. His solo in Man of La Mancha which opens tonight. I told him about palliative care. About Professor T, the excellent British mystery on CPTV. We challenged each other when we slipped into platitudes. This heath stuff doesn’t really bother me. Don’t lie to me. Oh, ok. His own lapses into self-denigration. No, dude. You exercise every day. You’re busy and able to be at 72. You go.

    When we finished, we both felt lifted up, held in each others care. Loved. You see, death is no match for love. Life’s real purpose? To love and be loved. Not immortality. Not fame or money. Friendship. Family ties. That’s life.

     


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends

  • A Busy Day

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Seeing long time friend, Scott Simpson. Dinner with Joanne, Rebecca, and Terry. Water treatment by Greg. Vaccine reaction. Early dark. Waking up in the dark. Stars through the Lodgepoles. Evergreen. Coal Mine Dragon Chinese. Los 3 Garcias. Tara. Ariaan. Eleanor, their new dog. Norbert, their old dog. Both very sweet. The Muddy Buck.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Scott in Evergreen

    Kavannah: Serenity Menucha

    One brief shining: Sat at one of the Muddy Buck’s white marble topped tables on the boardwalk in Evergreen, waiting for Scott, delighted to see Yin had come along, too, that special joy of greeting long time friends who’ve gone out of their way to see you, getting coffee with Scott and talking for an hour, knowing each other, seeing each other in the way only aged friends can, past the surface quickly and into things that matter.

     

    On Sunday at noon I got a flu vaccine and a covid vaccine. Left arm. Safeway pharmacy in the still novel to me experience of getting jabbed by pharmacy techs. I like it. No need to go to the doc. Collected my 10% off my next grocery order coupons, two, one for each needle. Sort of like the pediatrician’s lollipop for a good patient.

    Went home and about an hour later felt tired. 3 hours later up from my “nap.” Yesterday morning had to go back to bed, slept another two hours. I’ve never had a reaction to vaccines before, but I recognized this for what it was. Not a large price for protection from two diseases that can devastate the older body.

     

    The Geowater guy came, checked my water’s acidity, and swapped out my filter for a new one. Geowater has changed from its former aggressive upselling and now seems focused on customer service. A welcome change. Paid by check. Always feels anachronistic.

    Greg lingered, chatting. Couldn’t see why, but he must have liked me and/or had some extra time on his hands. We talked about the bike park, the spate of brutal wrecks a month or so ago on Hwy 285, Mountain living. After he left, I took another nap, a brief one, to be sure I would be rested for seeing Scott and for the later dinner with Rebecca, Terry, and Joanne.

     

    At 3:10 I hopped in Ruby and drove down the hill to Evergreen. Scott was kind enough to meet me in Evergreen at the Muddy Buck before a concert at Red Rocks. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, years for sure. Scott introduced me to the guide program at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. He talked about a recent Chinese tour he and Yin gave. Made me nostalgic for my docent days and the Institute’s Asian art collection.

     

    When the Muddy Buck closed at 5, Scott took off and I drove the short distance to Evergreen Lake and the Coal Mine Dragon Chinese restaurant. Where I met Rebecca, Terry, and Joanne. Rebecca leaves on Thursday for another four month stint at a Tibetan Buddhist nunnery near Dharamsala. She teaches English to the nuns and has become a beloved teacher over the last few years of her regular four month visits.

    I admire her grit. She’s four years older than I am, also has spinal stenosis, and makes the trip there and back annually. Terry gave her an early birthday present, hers is in October and she’ll be gone. A purple floppy Octopus. Like Kate, Rebecca loves octopuses.

    The four of us talked books and politics and Judaism. Joanne told a funny story. She always packed lunch for her late husband, Albert. One day she had nothing for dessert, so she put in four marshmallows, a candle, and a single match. At his work Albert found them, took out the candle, lit it, and began to roast a marshmallow. Oh, one of his co-workers said, I didn’t know that was a Jewish ritual.

    As I drove back in the dusk, Elk Cows lounged in the front yards near Brook Forest Drive, occasionally going down to Maxwell Creek to take a drink, perhaps eat a late meal of Kentucky Bluegrass. The rut is near.

     


    Art and Culture Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Judaism Shadow Mountain

  • What a gift

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Shabbat & Jubilee gratefuls: Being with my sacred community: Veronica, Tara, Ariaan, Luke, Leo, Ron, Rich, Marilyn, Irv, Ginny, Elizabeth. Celebrations. A Mountain evening. A cool Mountain night. Gut shabbas. Absent friends: Alan and Joanne. The drive down Black Mountain Drive and Brook Forest, up past Lake Evergreen, Elk Cows eating alongside the road. The drive home at night.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Congregation Beth Evergreen

    Kavanah: Joy  Simcha

    One brief shining: The life of a semi-hermit with its openings into the lives of others like sitting with Tara and Ariaan and Luke and Leo while Veronica in her Moon and Stars covered scarf sang, then came over and kissed me on the head, Ron and Rich, strong long hugs, giving Luke the book of Beatle lyrics when we left a bit early, a chill in the air as three stars became visible overhead. Ad astra, Veronica said, as she kissed me.

     

    A week of depth and intensity. Beginning with Gabe on Sunday and the hike up Kate’s sadly dry Creek, the next day, Labor Day, driving to Boulder to see Ruth, eat sushi in honor of Jon, over to Denver to drop off Gabe, back home to Shadow Mountain. A quiet Tuesday, recovering. Breakfast at Primo’s with Marilyn and Irv and their friend from the Boston area, Judy. We talked about poor Rider and his blue algae experience, near death. Survived. Judy’s many travels. The Snow Leopard photograph she took in Tibet with a long telephoto. Talking with Ruth twice as she processed Jon’s death away from home.

    On Wednesday after my usual erudite conversation with long time buddy, Tom, Jackie cut my hair and we talked about her puppy, kidnapped in a gentle way by her son, stacking firewood, her wood-fired sauna. Rhonda showed us her gray hair. Barely visible underneath. Jackie remembered to the hour, 3pm, and the location, Hampden and University, and her age, 27, when she sat as the stoplight changed, her first gray hair in her hand.

    Leaving her salon I drove into Denver and turned north at, yes, Hampden and University, where I found Modern Bungalow in its new location further north. Sat in Stickley/Arts and Crafts inspired chairs and chose one. Over to Dardanos to buy a pair of colorful kicks. Hoka Speedgoats. Tired of white.

    Thursday found me talking to Tom again, with Paul and Irv. The Fantastic Four. Zoom. Though I usually go to Thursday mussar I took a nap and slept through. Knowing I was going to go to the Jubilee dinner the next night.

    Friday I talked to Diane in a Michigan motel. Zoom. Did stuff around the house.

    At 5:30 I saddled up Ruby and drove in my semi-sedate way to the synagogue. It was, for me at least, a night of long hugs, smiles, intimate moments with long time friends. A genuine celebration of this unique community rooted in the Jewish tradition while living into the 2nd millennium with creativity and profound relationships.

    Not done yet. A Torah study this morning at 10 and lunch with Alan afterward.

    This, then, is my life now. Rich and full, nourishing. Peopled. What a gift.

     


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Judaism