Category Archives: Friends

Fourth Phase, Friends

Elder

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Sunday gratefuls: A Saturday morning with Ruth. Bacon. Strawberries. Bananas. Shadow, who loves Ruth. Our poor, benighted nation.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Granddaughters

 

Kavannah: Groundedness. Yesod.    Yesod is about establishing oneself in reality, refusing to rely on comfortable illusions.

Tarot: King of Arrows, Kingfisher.   The Kingfisher dives with precision. Cut away what is unnecessary to find the truth. Edit. Revise. Edit. Revise

One brief shining: Young people in old men’s lives. Granddaughter Ruth. Mikveh buddy Veronica. Friend Luke. Links to a future I will not see. Connections to a contemporary world I do not know. As I link them to a past before their births.

 

Granddaughter Ruth in tears. “I didn’t do anything to deserve this!” She looked into her future: heated, politically unstable, education expenses stretching through medical school

“What would you do if they told you you had to come back in the office or else?” Veronica, “I’d quit.”

Luke. His art. His music. His conversion. An assistant professor of Chemistry. “Chemistry is about transformation.”

These three I know well. Ruth, my granddaughter. Veronica, with whom I converted. Later, we became b’nai mitzvahs together. Luke: art, love of the Beatles, his quick scientific mind.

All Jews. Two converts and Ruth, born to a Jewish mother.

Ruth turning 20 this April. Leaving childhood. I’ve known her longest. Since infancy. At 3 I took her to the National Western Stock Show. On the bus to get there, she turned to me, her eyes flooding with tears, “I want my mommie.” A reassuring call.

I took her to museums: Colorado History. Denver Museum of Nature and Science. Wings over the Rockies. To the planetarium in Boulder. To eat sushi.

Yesterday she came up here. To make me French toast and bacon with strawberries and bananas. To talk. To tell me the story of how she met David. How she took his hand. A sweet story. An old story. Yet always new.

No longer 3.

Veronica and I were going to have our conversion in Jerusalem. Submerge in an ancient mikveh.  However. October 7, 2023. Israel goes to war.

We had our immersions in a modern mikveh off Alameda in Denver. On Shavuoth of 2024 we read our torah portions, Veronica fluently, me not. Gave our d’var torahs. Led a small bit of the service. Bar mitzvah. Bat mitzvah.

Luke, for a time executive director of the synagogue. Not a great job for him. We became friends. A couple of difficult years after Beth Evergreen. He comes to Shadow Mountain to do laundry while Leo plays with Shadow.

Chemistry has transformed him. Confident, eager. Loved by his students. So happy to see this.

No Sun City. No adults only living situations. No going to the home. Staying in my home. Having a vital social life. Including these three.

This is how I remain alone, but not lonely.

How I can be a steady, stable point for these three. Young adults finding their spot. Living into themselves.

May it continue to be so.

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Korea, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Travel, US History

Is it time to go?

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Tuesday and the Moon of Tides

Monday gratefuls: Tara and Eleanor. Arjean. Costa Rica. Iran. U.S. Israel. Gaza. Lebanon. War and peace. Mark in Hafar.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara

Kavannah: Shleimut. My lev, calm. Clinical trial decision made. Living into the next.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, Eel. My spirit, strong. My decisions, made. Old, not dead.

One brief shining: While I sit in peace on Shadow Mountain, Shadow gnaws a toy, asks for breakfast. Mary roasts in summer heat. Joe and Seoah shiver in a cold Korea. Everyone seems further away.

 

A conversation U.S. Jews. Is it time to leave? Is this a Weimar moment after Adolf took power? Friends Marilyn and Irv looked at land in Costa Rica. Decided not to go. Irv said he loved the mountains. Too old to leave.

Tara and Arjean. Have hired a property manager. Are cleaning out 27 years of stuff.  Move to Costa Rica sometime in June. Stay in AirBnBs as they scout for a place to settle. A year or so experiment.

Two times when I almost left the continental U.S. 1969. Got the call for my draft physical. To Indianapolis with all of my money and all my possessions. (not much) Would have moved to Canada like my old friend Mike Hines.

Turns out psoriasis worsens when wearing wool and in hot, humid climates. Army uniforms. Wool. Vietnam.

As I left the place where I’d had my physical, a serious man told me: “You cannot enlist in the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, or the Marines.” I asked him, “Are you sure?” When he said yes, I said, “Thank god.”

Second time. After Kate died. Joe and Seoah. Planned then to retire after Korea and move back to Hawai’i. Cleared out the house and garage. Researched places on Oahu where Kepler and I could live. Checked out synagogues. Studied my budget.

Jon died. I couldn’t leave Ruth and Gabe.

My sister and my brother, Mary and Mark. Long time expats.  Mary now in Melbourne and Mark teaching ESL to young Arab men. Joe and Seoah: Hawai’i, Singapore, and Korea. Nine years

State Department urges Americans to leave the Middle East. Mark stays. Hafar has no military targets. He lives among the Saudi citizens. Not in an Aramco US compound. An old Saudi hand at this point.

I’m the stay at home of a far flung family.

When is it time to leave?

 

For me. Not yet.

Ancient Brothers, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Politics, US History, World History

Holding Opposites

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Monday gratefuls: Ancient Brothers. Shadow, my downward dog. Iran. Israel. U.S. Gaza. Hezbollah. A cool, dark morning.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  The Deep Blue Sea

 

Week Kavannah:   Shleimut.   The alignment of the inner self with outer actions, bringing a sense of completeness to life.

 

Tarot: Three of Bows, fulfillment       Teshuva, alignment between neshama and the Self, a power that flows through me.

One brief shining: Fulfillment. Satisfaction. Not happiness. Joy in writing with more precision. Nouns. Fragments. Revising, a process with which I still struggle. My Shadow life. My Ancient Brothers life. My Jewish life. Engaged with Iran and with Mark, close by in Hafar.

 

Painful. To see Iran and my Ancient Brothers. The same day. Mary, down under. Joe and Seoah far away. Mark far away from me but near war. Grocery shopping and day care. A man pets his dog. While death races along the streets of Tehran. The One, yes, but. Pain and love, together again. Always.

A danger. Exhaustion from the steady, too steady beats of killing, of government acting in Iran and not acting at home. Epstein files. Rising health insurance costs while medical care disappears. Hospitals close. Cost of living rises. The cost of war.

So easy to turn away from accelerating drought in the Rockies. From those who need the Mountain Resource Center. ECHO’s food bank. Easier to launch Cruise missiles, Tomahawks. Drop bombs.

Ruth coming up to make me breakfast. Her specialty, French toast. This Saturday morning. Gabe sharing the poems he wrote in Oregon. Ruth in college, Gabe getting ready. Their lives full with preparation. Classes. Applications. Learning. Testing. Readying themselves for a future with dramatic climate change, increasing acts against Jews and Blacks and Latinos. What they have been thrown into.

I work. My candle is lit. These words. Those words. A Hansel and Gretel trail leading to, leading to what? A record of an Alexandria boy grown into a man. A man who acted. In theater. On the streets. In the soil. On the page.

A man whose life unfolded in the shadow of war. Whose maturation, delayed, came when conservatives began to gain ground. In 1981 Joseph’s plane landed. The wicker basket. Reagan inaugurated.

Fatherhood. Joyous. Daunting. Inspiring. Joe turns 45 this year. Seoah 48. I turned 79. Ruth will be 20. Gabe 18. That thin, yet strong line of love expressed as Ruth masters chemistry, Joe watches North Korea. I learn to write.

Too late?

We braid our lives into each others. French toast. Sunday morning themes. Breakfasts at Aspen Perks. Eleanor and Shadow playing hard. Parallel. Our braids. Their braids. The wider world. Iran. Israel. Minnesota fighting ICE.

Ruth goes to class. Bombs drop. Joe goes to work. ICE leaves Minnesota. I write. Cartels ship fentanyl. No life independent of another. The web of life woven by photosynthesis, by kisses and hugs, by acts of war.

Life. Lived in paradox and irony. Always. Holding opposites.

 

Family, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, Politics

Close. Yet. Unaffected.

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Shabbat gratefuls: Class with Jamie and Luke. Cardio. A transformation grid. Shadow, a sweet girl. Iran. Israel. Gaza. The West Bank. War and peace.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  The Night Sky

 

Week Kavannah:   Yetziratiut. Creativity.   Feedback on my new writing style.

 

Tarot: King of Vessels, Heron

One-legged I stand beside my inner river, feeling joy, fear, inspiration. Purim. Starting the trial. Writing.

One brief shining  Life pushes things together: Warren’s sister dies. We celebrate Purim.  Explosions wrack the Middle East.  Iranians die. Dawn comes to Shadow Mountain. YHWH echad.

Shadow Mountain continues its snowless winter.

Trump strikes Iran. Executive power abused as royal decree.  He uses, like the neo-royalist he is, American fighter jets and bombers, aircraft carriers, to enforce his personal grievances. No checks. No balances. The sound of bombs shattering ears.

My brother, Mark, in Hafar, Saudi Arabia, lives 156 miles from Iran. Just across the Persian Gulf. He says there are no military targets nearby.

A similar situation. In 2005 I helped Joseph move. Late August. While we carried boxes into his Breckenridge apartment at 9,000 feet in the Rocky Mountains, Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans. I felt lucky. 9,000 feet above sea level. In the heart of the continent. Lucky and a bit, what? Guilty. Privileged. Distant.

Close. Yet. Unaffected.

This sabbath I write at my own mountain retreat. Far from D.C. Far from the Persian Gulf.  In my country’s name ordnance falls from the sky. Persians seek shelter in Tehran. Jews seek shelter in Tel Aviv. Jerusalem.

I seek shelter. From my own government. Find it in the One.

Warren’s family grieves. His sister died this week. Pneumonia. MS. A creative heart stilled. I’m far from that, too. St. Paul.

This Monday evening. Purim. Drink until you can’t tell the difference between Haman and Esther. A celebration of a female hero who stood up to Haman, the Persian royal vizier who would destroy the Jews.

Kate loved dressing up for Purim. She would wear a coat she made for Joseph, a coat of many colors, and a floppy hat. Our first Purim at Congregation Beth Evergreen, 2016, my mouth dropped open.

Dan Herman, then president of the board, came in carrying a case of beer on his shoulder. Others brought several bottles of wine. A bar in the sanctuary. All through the service congregants would go to the bar for another beer or more wine.

Groggers, noise makers, sounded every time Haman’s name came up in the megillah, the scroll of Esther. Their grating sound joined with boo’s.

This sabbath, this Rocky Mountain day, I watch the candle burn. Will study Torah at 10. Relax.

Persia. Iran. Jews. A long, long story.

Mark teaches English to young Arab men. Close. Yet. Unaffected.

A scribe adds to the scroll.

 

Friends, Music, Politics, US History, Writing

Bodies

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Friday gratefuls: Rich on Wall Street, the national anthem. Wild Flower. Downtown Evergreen. Dr. O’Leary. No skin cancer.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Breakfast with Rich

Week Kavannah:   Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

Tarot: #6, The Forest Lovers

In my writing I’m learning to balance animus and anima, listening to both, especially as I link my work to the natural world.

 

One brief shining: Wall Street. More wicked than I knew. Built by slaves of Dutch owners, the first Wall Street. A stockade. In 1711 a slave market there, a city slave market. Rich taking his honors class from Colorado School of Mines. The Body Politic. Politics of the body.

Early breakfast with Rich Levine. The Wildflower’s door was open, so I went inside, sat down. Noticed on the menu: 7:30-2:00. It was 7:20. Oops. Owner came out of the bathroom, started. “You scared the shit out of me. Want a cup of coffee?” I did.

When Rich showed up, laundered and starched white shirt, blue Patagonia vest in 12 degree weather, I greeted him as a Minnesotan. Cold weather proof.

He ordered the Athena, a vegetarian omelet.  A Mountain Skillet for me, eggs and chicken-fried steak, wild potatoes, and pancakes.

Over coffee, while we waited for our food, Rich told me of his pending trip with his class, the Body Politic, to New York City. Most interesting to me? Wall Street.  Built by the enslaved.   Later a city slave market.

The owner of Wild Flower delivered Rich’s omelet, my Mountain skillet. “Ready for a refill?”

We ate.

Plantation cotton fed Wall Street’s growth. Eerily, I also discovered mortgage backed securities sold to foreign investors. The collateral? Enslaved people. Aetna insured the enslaved as property.

Rich also pointed me to later stanzas of the national anthem which include these verses:

“No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave”

The British armed the enslaved. We sang, “Sweet land of liberty.”

A couple more cups of coffee later Rich told me his Ob/Gyn daughter was pregnant. His second grandchild, a sister for one and a half year old Felix.

Bodies feeding. Bodies about to be born. Bodies aging.

We parted ways. Love you, Rich. Love you, Charles.

Started up a begrimed Ruby. Drove away smiling. Energized.

Rich wants to collaborate on Even the Gods Must Die, my first novel. Vulnerable. My first.  Not confident it shows skill. He says that doesn’t matter. It matters. To me.

Admission. I plan as many revisions to Superior Wolf as necessary to make it sing. Then. I’ll use ChatGPT to help me find an agent. A place I got stuck a while back.

 

Aging, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

All Joyful

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Wednesday gratefuls: Art Linkletter, Kids Say the Darndest Things. Rimadyl for Shadow and her Halloween themed booties. Tara and her life. Costa Rica maybe. Shirley Waste. Tom, Roxann. Paul and Washington County, Maine. Cool night. Prostate cancer treatments. Joe and Seoah. Thugees. Melting ICE. Minneapolis. Minnesota.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Deep Friendships

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Tikkun  Olam. Repairing the world.

  • Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
  • Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights.

Tarot: Ace of Vessels, The Waters of Life

“When nearing the heart of a sacred quest, motivation and integrity of human desires are challenged. Ancient wisdom demands the seeker be humble and forgiving. Respect for others and for the environment is required to proceed along the path to enlightenment. There is no completion without overcoming the challenge.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: This last Petscan may have revealed the heart of my prostate cancer journey, a final goodbye to the treatment that has worked for me for years following the failures of surgery and radiation, ushering in a moment poised between androgen deprivation therapy and a time of greater uncertainty, more exotic treatments.

 

I’m aware my posts of late have veered from the dread fallen on my once and forever home state of Minnesota to difficult medical news-Shadow and me-with only a sprinkling of other, less dire topics. The realities of my life right now. For some close friends as well. Life in the old age zone.

Yet. It is still just that. Life. One filled with joys like a Dog sleeping next to me. A good friend visiting. A poetic movie, Train Dreams. Sausage and sauerkraut and sweet peppers. Yogurt, eggs, and a protein bar. Sleeping in a cold room. Making my own decisions. Finding new friends like Dr. Josy, Natalie. Reading. Dreaming.

And, some humor. I used to love watching Art Linkletter’s show, Kids Say the Darndest Things. An example: “ear wax is hands that slab your brain and you won’t be able to talk anymore.”

Thinking about it reminded me of a “60 Minutes” segment from the same period on childproof pill bottles. In the segment the host handed some kids pill bottles with “childproof” caps. At first they tried to open them the usual way. The caps worked. Then, one kid threw the pill bottle on the ground and stepped on it. Voila!

Never thought I’d use that bit of knowledge myself. Shadow has begun holding her right leg up, the bandaged one. Dr. Josy called in a prescription to King Sooper and I went to the pharmacy. Sure enough, an old guy proof cap. Guess what I did. Yep. Learned it from TV.

A friend yesterday asked me if I had a bucket list. Not really. Well, what brings you joy? I get up at 4:30 with Shadow. Let her out and back in. Write Ancientrails. A light snack and a workout. Breakfast. Reading for my project on explaining the new (and old) far right. Some work on Superior Wolf. A nap with Shadow. Lunch. Watching some TV or reading fiction. A light supper, feeding Shadow again. Throw in some zoom sessions with friends, family. Perhaps a mussar session, a torah study, breakfast or lunch with friends. All joyful.

Family, Far Right, Friends, Minnesota, Politics, White Supremacy

Sad. Yes. Despair. No.

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Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Sunday gratefuls: Minnesota. Each whistle. Each winter garbed protester. Each person of brown skin living there. Each act of defiance. The wonderful spirit of all those out in sub-zero weather melting ICE. Shadow, who comes inside. Work outs. The haiku writing glass lady of Bernal Hill. Its owls, coyotes, dogs. Counterrevolutionaries. Against radical reactionaries.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: America

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Rachamim. Compassion.

While chesed (lovingkindness) often refers to a choice of action, rachamim is deeply tied to visceral emotion and empathy—feeling the pain of another. 

Tarot: King of Vessels, Heron

The King of Vessels (Heron) encourages you to trust your intuition and move through life with the calm assurance of someone who understands their place in the natural world.

One brief shining: Shadow goes out and comes in, rolls her red Kong ball, eating treats as they fall out, picks up her Barkely bone with the marrow now licked out, grinds it in her strong jaw, grating her teeth, flops over on her back still holding the bone, another Mountain morning well underway while the America we once knew lies broken, a ravaged bone beneath the feet of oh, so sad delusionaries.

Here’s my letter to the editor on an NYT article: Watching America Unravel in Minnesota.

Yes, the American government has revealed its dark, dystopian nature and how this ugly chapter can only worsen. It is unraveling.

But not America. As a 40-year resident of the Twin Cities, I’ve never been more proud of my adopted home state. America has shown up on the streets of Minneapolis, in a thousand acts of protest, in a general strike!

Bend no knee. Blow a whistle. Organize your neighbors. Say no to tyranny. That’s my America. And, my Minnesota.

I wish I had a lighter side to offer this morning, something to whisk away the descending darkness, reveal the ohr that I know lies hidden under the masked, jackbooted thugs, yes, even them. All I’ve got is a faith in the millions and millions of Americans who know in their heart that shooting civilians, killing them has never been acceptable. Who know that the deaths create martyrs for the cause of liberty and justice for all.

I cannot tell you the depth of my sadness. My ongoing grief as this, this tawdry simulacrum of democracy, continues to lay waste to American cities, laws, norms of decent behavior. At how it feels to near my 79th birthday and find my home shaken to its core, divested of harmony, all in service of long discredited ideas: xenophobia, white supremacy, oligarchical greed, and a devastating lust for power.

Yes, sad. Despair, no. My Wild Neighbors continue to thrive. Shadow sleeps after her morning’s play. I have family I love. Friends I love. Artemis has Garlic Cloves ready to send up Scapes in the warmth of Spring. Tara and I will plan our gardens this Tuesday. My birthday present to her. Ruth has begun her training to become a phlebotomist. Gabe feels life beginning to change as he enters the last semester of his senior year. Roxann had a successful procedure. Tom and Jessie supported each other. Alan has a new left knee. Life continues.

 

Aging, Far Right, Fourth Phase, Friends, Politics, US History

Transformations

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Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Thursday gratefuls: Rich. Dick. Tara. Laurie. Susan. Ron. Marilyn. Jamie. Joanne. Roxann. Tom. Shadow and her bone. The Dog run. Nathan. Kalispell. Dreams. Visions. Growing with the soul. Tarot wisdom. Furious Minds. The alt-right. The far right. DJT, wrecker of a nation. Rebuilding our country. NATO. Allies and enemies. Kong.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Minneapolis

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Daat.    The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

“If Chokhmah (Wisdom/Inspiration) is a seed and Binah (Understanding/Analysis)  is the soil that develops that seed into a plant, Da’at is the nervous system that carries the vital life force from the brain to the rest of the body. It is the point of transition from “thinking” to “being.””

art@willwordsworth

Tarot: Ten of Bows, Responsibility

  • Prioritization: A call to assess what truly matters and learn to say “no” or ask for help.

One brief shining: One scoop, a cup, prozac in a pill pocket, crunching sounds, check her water, listen to her lapping it up until she comes next to me, asks to go outside, open the door, and Shadow disappears into the morning darkness.

Aging diary: No, not mine this time. Others.

Thinking about Dick’s sudden, unexpected death. A gut blow to his family and friends. Yes. As a way to die, which is something those of us in our golden years have to consider. And do, from time to time. Yes, please. Now I lay me down to sleep.

A friend, recovering from his own no good, terrible week, has his beloved suddenly scheduled for surgery. Aging demands so much of us at times. Collapses matters that would bring us to our knees in midlife into days and weeks of insults. Calls on reserves, resilience, often more than we may feel we have. When friends and family can step in, shore up the wave punished dock of our soul.

Another friend. Finally sold his business. This last month! So happy for him. A creative guy. Musician. Actor. Playwright. Scriptwriter. Author. Married to his best friend for forty years. Released now.

Go with your soul in all these instances. Link life changes to the deep purpose you and only you can fulfill. Then we can die with grace, console and comfort each other, once again let our soul free to create.

Just a moment: Our elected agent of chaos gives voice to and puts the unparalleled power of a waning hegemon behind racism, xenophobia, downright madness. An unwanted wrecking ball to years of liberal hubris. Imagining we could proceed with half measures, leaving out this constituency for the next one, not paying attention to the realpolitik of our nation.

We remain a creedal nation, one devoted to the dream of a place where many peoples have a chance, and only a chance, to learn how to live with each other in spite of the abysses of otherness. Somehow gaining strength and joy from staring right into the chasms between us, then eagerly building bridges across them.

I see today and yet hold fast to a new nation, one reimagined and committed to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. For all.

Back Pain, Cancer, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Post Polio, Shadow Mountain

A Life Transition

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Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Tuesday gratefuls: Gloriana frangipana! (first line of the Indiana University school song) Jane Pauley. Dick Pauley. Uncle Riley. Diane. The farm. The Blue River. Hancock Cemetery. Morristown. Milan. Bobby Plump. The Indy 500. The Indiana Republican party. Turkey Run State Park. Spring Mill State Park. The Alexandria Times-Tribune. Muncie. Wabash. Ball State.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: I.U.

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Daat.    The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

“If Chokhmah (Wisdom/Inspiration) is a seed and Binah (Understanding/Analysis)  is the soil that develops that seed into a plant, Da’at is the nervous system that carries the vital life force from the brain to the rest of the body. It is the point of transition from “thinking” to “being.””

art@willwordsworth

Tarot: Ten of Bows, Responsibility

  • Overextension: Pushing yourself too hard, sacrificing well-being for responsibilities.
  • Perseverance: The strength to continue despite heavy loads, finding inner resolve.
  • Completion/Release: As a “10” card, it signals the end of this phase, often with the potential for release or freedom after enduring the trial.
  • Prioritization: A call to assess what truly matters and learn to say “no” or ask for help.

One brief shining: Eleanor bounded down the stairs, Shadow twirled at the scent of her friend, Tara hollered we’re here, and the Shadow/Eleanor run, twist, smell, wrestle all the time day began when I opened the door, Eleanor pushed through Shadow greeting her with a jump and a play bow.

 

Sport: Pride of place belongs to I.U. football. National champions. Undefeated. Bringing gloriana frangipana to the nation’s attention. I listened to an all red chorus sing the I.U. school song and it washed over me, redolent of nineteenth century American higher education. Made me wish, again, that I’d chosen I.U. over Wabash.

Jane Pauley, married to Gary Trudeau and former host of the Morning Show, made this tribute piece: Hail to Indiana. Cousin Diane found it. Jane often came to our family reunions since her dad, Dick Pauley, and Diane’s father, my uncle, were like brothers. If you watch this piece, Uncle Riley is to the left in the old photograph shown near the beginning. Family.

 

Soul Work: This year, let’s start it on February 4th, 2025 when I adopted Shadow from the Granby Shelter, has been a humbling one, physically. Over the course of a long, loving, difficult time developing a relationship with a traumatized puppy, I’ve had multiple diagnostic procedures followed by several courses of varied treatments ranging from radiation to nerve ablations. The whole process exhausted me.

Since the last meeting of our Mussar Vaad Practice group a month ago, one I had to leave in the middle due to extreme discomfort from a hernia, I’ve grappled with a persistent issue: if I go out, even on small jaunts, I come home drained. A combination of my head drop from post-polio, right lower back and hip pain added to a general weakness due to sarcopenia and the energy my body has to expend making up for the resources cancer steals from it.

The soul work has been around accepting that I have become almost home bound. Here, in a chair that supports my neck, with my home gym, I achieve a normal day without depleting myself. When a day on my calendar is clear, my lev is happy.

I don’t like this, but I’m increasingly unable to live the life I developed after Kate’s death. Question. Can I still live a significant, loving life under these conditions? My answer is yes, of course I can. As I said a week or so ago, recounting my talk with Rachel, my social worker.

I’ve come to this conclusion. My life is now mostly here at Shadow Mountain Home. That means no traveling, fewer trips out and those more calibrated than before. Leaning on my friends for help when I need it. Beginning to think about some more paid help around the house.

A life transition, not one I sought, but one to which I have to adapt. See the ten of bows.

 

 

Family, Far Right, Friends, Politics

A Political Culture That Defeats Them

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Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Sunday gratefuls: Broncos. Shadow, crosser of liminal spaces. Ruth, the kind. Joe back home in Korea. New Moon, dark Sky. Moon phases. Waxing, Full, Waning. Like a life. Tom in recovery. Books. Where do we find them? Drought. Snow. A-Basin. Jon. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Daat.    The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

“If Chokhmah (Wisdom/Inspiration) is a seed and Binah (Understanding/Analysis)  is the soil that develops that seed into a plant, Da’at is the nervous system that carries the vital life force from the brain to the rest of the body. It is the point of transition from “thinking” to “being.””

Tarot: Ten of Arrows, Instruction

  • Passing on Wisdom: It asks what legacy or skills we are leaving for the next generation. It encourages moving beyond past struggles or frustrations to share the beauty of inspiration and dedication.
  • Focus on the “Why”: Connect your current hard work or training to a larger guiding principle or long-term goal, much like following a “Pole Star”.

One brief shining: She displayed her new-to-her Subaru Forester with a Vanna White sweep of the hand, pointed out the heated mirrors and heated wiper blades, the all-weather car mats, the three, yes, three screens, the manual handbreak, the shifter that was not a dial, and started Frances to give me a quick ride around the neighborhood so I could get the full experience.

 

Ruth did it right. She had a pre-purchase inspection of both the Mazda she liked and the soon-to-be Frances. Detailed reports on each at $200. The Mazda, a Wisconsin gal, had rust and eight pages of mechanical problems. Frances had only minor notes.

She bought a two-year warranty. Joe suggested that. As a college student she doesn’t have cash reserves adequate for a large repair bill.

 

Tarot: I’m focusing on two aspects of the Ten of Arrows. What inspiration and dedication am I modeling for the next generation and what is the pole star for my commentary project?

First, I’ve written Ancientrails, a bread crumb trail to the forest of my life. In my will a codicil ensures it will remain available in case Joe, Ruth, or Gabe want to consult it.

Second, modeling. I spend time each week with friends, in person and on zoom. Also with members of CBE through mussar and Torah study. I love and care for Shadow.

I greet Ruth and Gabe with joy each time I see them, encourage them, assist them when I can. Make sure they know Grandpop loves them.

I maintain close contact with Joe and Seoah. Even with 6,000 miles between us. Also with Mary and Mark, 8,000 miles away.

My commentary project needs tighter ratcheting to find its pole star. Even with the narrow parameters I established as I started, it’s too broad, not specific enough to make it distinctive. Probably headed towards a focus on the far right since I see very few folks doing regular reporting on it and I love the subject.

Know the opposition, build a political culture that defeats them.