Category Archives: Friends

Family, Friends

A Way of Life

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Overburden. Cancer. Conversation. Its healing power. Diane, healing. Mark in Al Kharj. New computer. Being healthy while dying. Great Sol. Hidden by the spin of Mother Earth. Orion. Vega. Rigel. Antares. Betelgeuse. Polaris. Hokusai. Ukiyo-e. The Hudson School. The School of 7. Abstract Expressionists. Rothko. Whistler.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Art

Kavannah 2025: Creativity

Kavannah this week: Wholeness and Peacefulness

One brief shining: Conversation with Kristie, my urological oncologist, supportive and kind, always leaves me with one phrase kicking around in my skull, my psyche, my heart and the last one was: This disease will run its course. Oh. Yeah.

 

No. I’m off the cancer dance right now. Staying on the floor with that partner for too long? Like one of those 1920’s dance marathons where I end up with my arms slumped over him, my card with the number on it creased from hanging on too long. Better to sit down, drink some water. Come back in three months.

 

Yesterday. Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv. We always talk a long time. Like a dorm room discussion. Yet also heart felt. I don’t remember my college long conversations being very focused on feelings. Always in the head. Or, mostly. As an adult, I find mixing the two, the rational and the emotional, the most fruitful, the most healing.

A good time to talk about conversation. What Ancientrails is, in my mind. A long ongoing conversation with whomever happens upon it. I don’t get as much feedback as I expected when I started, but no worries. It’s also a conversation with myself. Often therapeutic. Putting my thoughts down on, well, a computer screen. As long I’m honest.

Chatbot offers this etymology for conversation: “The word conversation has its origins in the Latin word conversatio, which means “a turning about” or “a living with.” It comes from the verb conversari, which means “to live with” or “to associate with,”…” The online etymology dictionary has this: “mid-14c., “place where one lives or dwells,” also “general course of actions or habits, manner of conducting oneself in the world,” both senses now obsolete; from Old French conversacion “behavior, life, way of life, monastic life…”

I’m plucking out to live with, place where one lives or dwells, and way of life to emphasize. This more contemporary definition hangs around the word’s surface meaning in my opinion: “a talk, especially an informal one, between two or more people, in which news and ideas are exchanged.” Oxford languages.

Here is the illuminated breviary-style illustration inspired by your paragraph. The image features intricate medieval manuscript-style designs, a natural setting, and two figures engaged in heartfelt conversation.

To converse with someone, or with a group, happens not only in the moment of a conversation, but also through the impact that conversation has on your/my daily life. If I tentatively see myself as a writer and a friend says, you’re an author, I’m reinforced and heartened. If I see a friend experiencing depression, I’m not only there for them in the moment of discourse, but the in the relational tie built and strengthened by that conversation.

Done well conversation is a sacrament of human communion. I go to mass many times a week only for the eucharist of seeing and being seen. It sustains me as a person and heals stress and worry. You know who you are in my life. My world would shrink up if you were gone from it.

Commentary on the news, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Mussar, Politics, US History

Toxic. What else can you say?

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

New Year’s Day gratefuls: Tara. Ron. Ruth and Gabe. Veronica. 5 degrees this morning. Good sleeping. Snow. A new year. Kinda. The Realm. Von Bek. The Grail. Snowplows. Another Mountain Day, another Mountain life. Ruby in her winter shoes. MVP tonight. Family. Love. A new Zen calendar. Enlightenment. Not hard. Not easy. See what you’re looking at.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The feel of a fresh slate

Kavannah for 2025: Yetziratiut  Creativity

For January 1 life: Wonder, Malchut

One brief shining: Sitting with Tara over sausage patties, home fries, eggs over easy, and sourdough toast, coffee steaming, the noise almost too much, I felt yet again love, again chesed, again the presence of one who sees me as I am and accepts me, as I see her and accept her.

 

I promised something less abstruse today. Here it is.

Carried the three largest split Oak logs in with the intention of burning them last night, starting a new tradition, burning Yule logs on New Year’s Eve since I missed the Winter Solstice. As in love with the night as I am, I no longer experience as much of it. I go to bed early, too early I felt for burning the Oak. Or, maybe I’m just too set in my ways. Whatever. I didn’t do it. Again. That’s twice.

On a related note: I was gonna go upstairs and hit 30 minutes on the treadmill. Thought about it right after I got back from breakfast with Tara. Almost. Knew it was my yetzer hara, my selfish inclination saying nah. You worked out yesterday. You can work out tomorrow. Take a rest already.

I read instead.

We make these sort of decisions at bechira points, choice points, and whichever way we decide we reinforce the likelihood of making that same choice again. I had two bechira points yesterday and chose the easy way. The good news here is that the yetzer hatov, the generous inclination, the possibility directed yetzer, will always have a chance to change that decision at the next bechira point, reinforcing the way that nurtures becoming.

Mussar expresses a medieval psychology, yes. But. Clyde Steckler, professor of pastoral care at United Theological Seminary, said you can explain the workings of the mind using any system of thought you want and still come up with useful, meaningful ways to understand it. Mussar exemplifies this idea.

I no longer live in a world of bad and good, right and wrong, but in a world of possibilities and potentials reinforced or thwarted. Maybe it’s that field that Rumi talks about. The one out beyond right and wrong. Where we can meet. My practice this month helps reveal this reality: this too is for the good.

 

Just a moment: Driving a pickup truck into a crowd of revelers on Bourbon Street. These newer pickups look like weapons to me. Their massive grills. Cabs high above the rest  of us tooling along in our SUV’s and sedans. And aggressive driving? Speeding. Impatience. Road rage. Seems baked into the I’m bigger and stronger than you are toxic masculinity cast in steel and named Ram. About to get stroked by the red tie guy. Who will attempt to make normative an unthinking, insensitive, domineering version of maleness.

 

Friends, GeekWorld, Health, Holidays, Judaism, Writing

Cough and Wheeze

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Yule and the Yule Moon

Friday gratefuls: This too is for the good. Even this cold. Good sleeping. Third day of Hanukkah. Creativity. Ron. Alan is home. Ruth and Gabe. Veronica and Luke. Handmade Hanukkah candles. Light Snow. Kate, always Kate. Earth. Air. Wind. Fire

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My immune system

Kavannah:  PATIENCE   Savlanut סַבְלָנוּת  Patience, endurance, holding space; literally to “bear a burden”

One brief shining: Sometimes your body signals trouble ahead, Kate called it prodrome, an early symptom(s) that catches your attention, and I had one yesterday, stuffiness and a bit of an ache here and there, uh oh, approaching cold, take care, rest and take plenty of fluids, don’t celebrate Hanukkah on Friday night.

 

No harmonica for Veronica on Friday night’s Hanukkah. Had to cancel. So far a mild cold, but chills and thrills. Lower energy, distracted attention. No buzz. Back to meh, but this time with a physiological referent. Taste thrown off. Not something I want to share with others.

Good thing I made that batch of Senate navy Bean soup. Gonna have some for breakfast when I get done here. Navy Beans. Ham hock. Carrots. Onion. Celery. A Bay Leaf. Turmeric. Chicken stock.

Lying low today. Read. Michael Moorcock’s Von Bek. A Grail quest ordered by Lucifer. Yep, you read that right. A little bit of a spoiler, but not much. Probably some TV. Maybe movies from the Criterion Channel.

What do you do when something gets you down?

 

Slow writing today. Clogged up neural circuits. Colds do that to me. Mind wanders. I find myself looking at the New York Times instead of hitting the keyboard.

Talking to Ron yesterday inspired me. Former script writer for TV. Actor. Singer. Entrepreneur. He told me that his brother is the most creative person he knows. And, he’s a physicist. Ron has a company he created that he’d like to sell so he can get back to writing.

Something about him makes me want to get back to writing myself. He’s a supportive guy, kind. Ron’s in the MVP group and we’ve intended to get together for almost four years but somehow never did it.

Relationships matter. Alone but not lonely. Wrote about that a couple of days ago. Having folks like Ron in my life is why.

 

Just a moment: Still having fun with chatbotgpt. Reading a lot about A.I. It’s not a genius, NYT. If you’re a certain sort of knowledge worker, like a business analyst, for example, A.I. might be coming for your job. This Federal Reserve article mentioned the dramatic change in work A.I. will probably introduce. Veering away from the factory floor and into realms once considered untouchable by automation. Maybe radiologists? I wonder about paralegals, even some lawyers.

I even found, but could never access, an AI Jesus that was created and deployed by a Protestant church in Switzerland. I remember also reading about an AI monk in a Japanese Buddhist Temple.

                                                           

Feelings, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, World History

Hanukkah Veronica Harmonica

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Yule and the Yule Moon

Thursday (Boxing Day) gratefuls: Ron Solomon. Bread Lounge. Jamie. Nate and Laurie. Hanukah. Veronica. Harmonica. Diane. Vancouver, Washington. Bangkok. Brisbane. Songtan. Conifer. Shadow Mountain. Snow. Slick Mountain roads. Friends and family. Ruby with her Winter Blizzaks on. Grippy. Minnesota winter weather drivers ed. 40 years.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The power of conversation

Kavannah: Creativity

One brief shining: Went up the ridged metal stairs to the second story restaurant in Evergreen, walking with Ron, got in through the exit as a departing customer opened the door to the Breadlounge, and we passed through it, on in where we ordered.

 

Hanukkah. Now has Holiseason all to itself, having snuck in on Christmas evening with its menorah and its candles and its lets imitate Christmas so the kids don’t feel out  left out tone. A pile of cardboard boxes overwhelms an easy chair in my living room. Gifts from all over for Ruth and Gabe. Tomorrow night. Quite a haul. No Santa. Just family and friends.

Going to Tony’s tomorrow morning to buy a big salmon fillet, small round potatoes or mashed potatoes from the deli cabinet. A vegetable side dish from the deli, too. An easy shabbat meal. Veronica plans on coming, too, since she has no one to light candles with.

One of my friends suggested I buy her a harmonica so I could give a harmonica to Veronica on Hanukkah. Ordered a cheap one from Amazon just for that purpose. An alliteration celebration. Ha.

 

How about this Washington Post headline? “Israel strikes Yemen airport as WHO chief prepares to board plane.” What would you say? Oops. The face of Middle East politics has changed often and significantly since October 7 of a year ago. In unanticipated ways. The shakeout after all this calms down will last for years. Realignments. Held grudges. Blame and shame to go around.

While I’m pro-Palestinian and pro-Israel, I’m not pro-Iran or Hezbollah or Houthis. I have no real clue about the new boss, same as the old boss? in Syria. And how do Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt fit into this puzzle? They don’t like the same people Israel doesn’t like. Shia’s.

Or we could look at Ukraine. An old fashioned war of territorial expansion by a former great power. That keeps going, and going, and going. Now with North Korean soldiers and arms. With China in the bleachers cheering on Russia while we’ve gotten down close to the action on the field along with our allies in NATO.

Is there a graceful or peaceful solution in either center of conflict? Not in my mind.

Throw in then the America First sorta agenda of Donald Trump. He says end Hamas, Hezbollah, and damage Iran. Go, team Israel. He also backs the Putin machine bearing down on the Ukrainian people.

Can you say fuel to the fire?

We’re in a world without a hegemon and regional actors have begun to take their shots. Russian in Ukraine. Israel and the Shia in the Middle East. Will China restrain itself in the instance of Taiwan?

Family, Friends, Holidays, Shadow Mountain

Twas the Night Before Christmas

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Yule and the Yule Moon

Tuesday (Christmas Eve) gratefuls: Marilyn and Irv. Three Victoria’s. Carne Asada. A favorite. Hanukkah. Late. Latkes. Apple Sauce. Sour cream. Brisket. Horse radish. Those Hanukkah candles from the Kabbalah Experience. Shabbat. MVP. A family gathering. Oz. Bangkok. Songtan. The Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The Ellis clan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Santa on NORAD

Kavannah: Persistence

One brief shining: Friends at a table, in this instance Three Victoria’s, puzzling over the Spanish on its day of the dead themed coffee mug, translated by chatbotgpt as: “Some well-dead Vickys to toast to the well-alive living.” which makes me scratch me my head and wonder what’s up with that? Eh?

 

Had lunch with Irv and Marilyn yesterday. At Three Victoria’s. Always a treat. They both read Seed-Keepers and returned the book yesterday. They loved the way it discussed the Dakota’s relationship with land, the details of Native life in southern Minnesota.

Tom sent me a note today: Dakota Exiles commemorate Mankato hangings. These hangings, signed off by Abraham Lincoln, occurred on December 26th, 1862 and presaged a removal of most of the Dakota’s from their traditional home in southern Minnesota. Well, sort of their traditional home. This history informs all of the Seed-Keepers.

Their traditional home was in northern Minnesota until Anishinaabe clans drove them south. History is complicated.

The Seed-Keeper idea, stimulated by my reading of this book continues to bounce around, won’t lay still. As I said a couple of days ago, it may be calling to me.

 

Every Christmas Eve I read Twas’ the Night Before Christmas to Joseph. Haven’t done that in a while. I asked him if he remembered the Christmas Eve he had me set out money for Santa so Santa could go to Mickey’s Diner. “Of course I do. Still a smart move.”

 

Ana just came. Cleaning the house. It’ll be clean for Hanukkah. I like that. Time for me to skedaddle upstairs, workout, maybe fiddle around with some art. A shortie today.

 

 

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Writing

With Love to Each of You

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Yule and the Yule Moon

Monday gratefuls: Altitude Electric. Ana. Furball Cleaners. Mark, my postman. Mark, my friend. Mark, my brother. Christmas, fading in my attention. Hanukkah. Yule celebrations. Evergreen Trees. Holly and Ivy. Mistletoe. Yule Log. Wassailing. Apple Trees. And the Apple Lord. The Maccabees. Hanukkah candles. Menorah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Herme and his journey

Kavannah:  JOY  Simcha שִׂמְחָה  Joy, happiness, celebration (עֲלִיזָה Aliza: Lightheartedness, playfulness, fun)

One brief shining: Imagining the millions of children in Christian homes and in the homes where only secular capitalism drives the holiday, all one in their fervent faith that Santa Claus somehow will find their home, bring them a wrapped box of dreams and a stocking filled with hope.

 

Ruth did so well. 3.94. Dean’s List. A victory for her, one she earned the hard way. Having your first semester go well paves the way, makes college important and joyful, not something faced with dread. Makes me smile, feel happy.

She and Gabe will be up here Friday night for a sabbath meal, Hanukkah, and a fire in the fireplace. I hope Veronica and Luke will join us. I’m planning to serve salmon, boiled potatoes, and a vegetable side dish from the deli. All from Tony’s.

 

I often tell people that I’m alone but not lonely. Why is that? Because of friends and family. And zoom. Three times during the week I spend an hour with Paul in Maine, Tom in Shorewood, Minnesota, and Diane in San Francisco. Once a month Tom, Paul, and I zoom with Irv for an hour. On Sunday morning the Ancient Brothers Tom, Paul, Mark, Bill and I meet for an hour and a half on zoom.

Here in the Mountains of Colorado I attend a weekly hour and a half of mussar taught by Rabbi Jamie at the synagogue. Once a month I attend a second mussar group in the evening. On most Fridays I have breakfast with Alan Rubin, often with Joanne Greenberg. Every two weeks I have breakfast or lunch with Irv and Marilyn, Ginny and Janice. Tara and I get together irregularly, but often. On occasion Rich Levine and I have breakfast. Luke and I share a meal now and then. Veronica and I do, too. I even saw Scott Simpson, a Woolly brother, in Evergreen this summer. Tom and Paul came for my bar mitzvah. Tom comes out when the mood strikes him.

Gabe comes up and spends a weekend every six weeks or so. This last semester I drove over to Boulder to see Ruth almost every other Sunday. I talk to my son and Seoah every other week. Of late I’ve spoken with my brother Mark and Mary on zoom. These last three are literally thousands of miles away. On an irregular basis I zoom with Sarah and BJ Johnson, Kate’s sisters, too.

Why I’m alone but not lonely.

Friendships are precious, fragile. They require nurture and regular time. Quantitative time. Not the mythical parenting quality time. Same with family. Sitting with each other. Going to a movie. A planetarium show. Hiking. Doing psychoactive substances together. Eating a meal.

I count myself blessed that I have both friends and family. And ones who want to share my life. It could be otherwise.

With love, to each of you. I write this.

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Friends, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The Move

Ten Years ago on a cold dark Night

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Friday gratefuls: Winter Solstice at 2:21 am tomorrow. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. Walt Whitman. Jim Harrison. Billy Collins. John Berryman. Marge Piercy. Mary Oliver. Louise Gluck. Amanda Gorman. Langston Hughes. Emily Dickinson. Maya Angelou. Wallace Stevens. “Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction”

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Poet’s Lev

Kavannah: Chesed

One brief shining: Ten years ago a long ride through the day, then well into the night, sleeping dogs huddled in the back of the white Rav4, Tom at the wheel, Snow already coming down, several inches, welcome to Shadow Mountain.

 

Here’s a memory sliver from that day:

OK. Now can we go back home, please?

“The moving moon has waned, a sliver this early. It will go dark tomorrow, the Winter Solstice. Our first full day and night here at Black Mountain Drive. Tom Crane, Rigel, Vega, Kepler and I pulled into the garage about 12:15 am this morning. We drove in over several inches of snow, so a first task will be getting the driveway clear for the moving which comes on Monday.

The three dogs slept or rested quietly the whole way. I gave them a trazidone dose at the kennel at 8:30 am yesterday. That calmed them for the first few hours and after that the buzzing of the tires and the constant motion lullabyed them. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one.

Tom drove the whole way, 14 hours in one whack, stopping only briefly for food and gas. It was a great treat to be able to watch the miles roll away.

When I left Anoka after getting the dogs yesterday morning, I crossed the Mississippi at 9 am, realizing as I did that this time I would be not crossing back over it for some months. The Mississippi was now a dividing line between my former homelands east of it and my new one west of it. An American narrative, for sure.

                                 Where’s Gertie?

We passed over the Minnesota state line at approximately noon. The state sign, which reads Thank you for visiting made us laugh. Yeah, a forty year visit. But it is now over.

Kate stopped for the night in Lincoln, finding a place where she and Gertie could sleep. She’ll be getting in later this afternoon. Then, the unloading of the cargo van. New tasks in a new place but tasks which, with the exception of clearing the driveway can wait until we’re ready. We have the next several years to get settled here on Shadow Mountain.”

Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Mountains, Mussar, Politics

Night Driving. Mountains

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Salam. Marilyn and Irv. Ruth. Great Sol. Eleanor (Tara and Arjean’s new Dog. A real sweety.) Love and Hate. Tara’s house. Tara. Vincent. MVP. Rabbi Jamie. Air tight wood stove. Mussar. Friends. Mark. Mary. My son. Seoah. Murdoch.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Eleanor, a bundle of black fluffy puppiness

Kavannah:  MINDFULNESS   Metinut  מְתִינוּת  Mindfulness, presence, intentionality (literally to “move slowly”)

One brief shining: On dark Mountain roads curves everywhere, tumbling down always possible, night time creates challenges even for the most seasoned, no street lights on  Kilimanjaro or Jungfrau, driveways black with asphalt, yet I found my way to Tara’s house with only one misstep, caught by Marilyn, a journey I can make without thinking in the light of day. A metaphor here somewhere.

prompt: An image in the style of Carvaggio that shows how dangerous it can be to drive in the Mountains at night

There are two different seasons of driving in the Mountains, Day and Night. In the day landmarks and familiarity make the usual routes easy. Roads to places not yet visited can be a challenge though even in the light. Only one way in and one way out, no connecting, linking roads. Signs often obscured.

But at night. Whoa. Wild Neighbors cross the road. Curves bend and twist, often out of sight of headlight illumination. No street lights. At all. None. Driveways disappear. House numbers may be difficult to impossible to read. In the first couple of years we lived here, I would often drive past our own driveway after returning from a night out.

Then, throw in ice and snow. Nope. Not doing night driving under those circumstances except for desperate times, desperate measures. During the day snow is no problem for me; though ice, well, just say no to driving on ice.

You might think. Well. C’mon, dude. Why live there? I find the Mountains and the Wild Neighbors, the quiet and the beauty more than compensation. If I’m honest, the difficulties of night driving in the Mountains adds a note of wildness to the stew of Mountain life. A pleasing note, too.

 

I got home about a quarter of eleven last night. OMY! That’s Oh my, yhwh. Then I decompressed from the drive and our session on love and hate. To bed around 11:30. Last time I was up that late? Maybe New Years?

My good friends. Close as family. Rich. Jamie. Tara. Joanne. Ron. Susan. Marilyn. Now Laurie and Kaathe.

Seeing them once a month makes even Mountain driving at night worthwhile. The conversation, the food, hugs and smiles. Seeing and being seen. Hearing and being heard. Kate was part of this group. So was Judy Sherman. Both now dead. We’ve been through death, divorce, mental illness, and family dysfunction together. The bond is tight.

 

Just a moment: Luigi Mangione. Pharmacy Benefit Managers and the opioid crisis. NYT, 12/17/2024. Again. No to murder. Also again: WTF health system actors?! Money over health, conscience, decency. No wonder we shake our heads and hope our disease or condition will get treated fairly.

 

Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Paganism

Israel ben Avraham v’Sarah

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Samhain and the Yule Moon

Monday gratefuls: Veronica. Our first conversion anniversary/birthday. The mikveh. Evoke 1923. Bonding. Her birthday on Feb. 13, mine on the 14th. Kismet. The magic of the mikveh. A world filled with friends and family, Dogs and art, peace, silence, stillness, an openness to learn and to perform good and worthy deeds. In a word: Love.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Veronica

Kavannah:  WISDOM   Chochma חָכְמָה Wisdom, learning, scholarship.  Second Sefirah = intuitive/revelatory ideas; creative flow state; right brain (opposite Understanding/Binah)

One brief shining: At the table of Kate’s pearl, Tom and mine’s hearing challenged delicious meal, of other solo meals, I sat with Veronica discussing life and sex and Judaism until after the fish and we had both ordered dessert, Rebecca, our waitress brought my creme brulee with the small candle in the shape of a number 1. Our birthday as Israel and… I forgot to ask for her Hebrew name.

 

prompt: A mikveh as a Celtic holy well using Celtic design

I was ready for the mikveh though I didn’t know it. My time researching holy wells in Wales. Visiting St. Winnifred’s. Learning about the holy well as a portal, a liminal space between the worlds. This one and the Other World.

My pagan and Jewish selves stand adjacent in my lev, or maybe more, interpenetrating each other. I love Sukkot, the sukkah, a harvest holiday. I love Simchat Torah when we dance with the Torah, all the while knowing that Torah is anything from which we can learn, i.e. all things, for me especially the world of Wild Neighbors and hidden Mountain Streams. I love Shavuot, when all Jews stood at the base of Mt. Sinai and received the Torah. It also celebrates the barley harvest. I love Passover, the spring planting holiday and the holiday of liberation. I also love Yule and the Winter Solstice, Mabon and Samain, Beltane. The phases of the Moon, especially new and full.

When I immersed in the warm waters of the Denver mikveh, I went into a holy well, submerging my old self; then a renaissance, a rebirth after I visited the Other World of the long Jewish tradition and the Other World of the Celts in the same moment.

Did I say I was naked? As was appropriate. A holy well. A womb. Sacred Water. As all Waters are. We enter the world brand new from the womb and the mikveh, the holy well.

Sputtering a little. Hitting the wall with my head as I floated up. Surrounded by warmth and an Ovidian moment of transformation, of metamorphosis, from pagan to pagan Israel son of Abraham and Sarah.

I’ve had life changing moments before. I mentioned arrival day yesterday. My ordination. The move to Colorado. Marrying Kate. I love the multi-layered self each of those moments has created. And I look forward to having my life changed again. By what, you might ask? I don’t know. Not yet.

 

Just a moment: Oh, gee. A possible constitutional convention? What could possibly go wrong?

 

                                       Israel ben Avraham v’Sarah

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Meal Time

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Monday gratefuls: Rich and Doncye. That 529. Captive money. Jon’s 56th birthday tomorrow. Lunch with Ruth in Boulder. Lunch with Joanne today. Dinner at Evoke 1923 with Veronica on Sunday. Our year anniversary for our conversion. By the lunar calendar. Birthday brunch with Luke yesterday at Sassafras.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Regular workouts. Feeling stronger.

Kavannah: Persistence and Joy

One brief shining: Sassafras has a Cajun inspired menu and tables distributed throughout the rooms of two old Victorian homes connected to each other; when Luke came we ordered beignets with the usual heavy load of powdered sugar, then fried green tomatoes Benedict for him, grits and Shrimp for me, a nod to his southern roots and his 33rd birthday. We took a short walk afterward in this hipster neighborhood of Victorian and brick homes.

 

chatbot at my prompt. in the style of Botticelli

Beginning to find a calling in breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Eating out with friends. Keeps me fed, enhances and sustains relationships. Conversation over food, another hominid in the veldt experience. As old as humanity itself. Odd way to live, I guess, solitary and happy, yet also punctuated with laughter and deep talk. Visiting breakfast and lunch spots, fancier places for dinner. Adds 3-D moments to my zoom talks with other friends and family.

When I think about it, not too different from the way I worked while I did organizing out of my Minneapolis West Bank (Mississippi, not Jordan) office. I would meet people for breakfast and lunch, eat, discuss plans, get things started or nurture ongoing work relationships. One big difference: no agenda these days other than showing up, seeing and being seen.

 

chatbot image

Yin/Yang. Masculine and feminine. Man and woman. Gender fluidity. Animus and anima. Queer and straight. Non-binary. Trans. Thinking about all of these lately. Wondering how they intersect, influence each other. Not going to tread too far into these Waters, but I do find the animus/anima, yin/yang, masculine/feminine polarities provocative.

On the MMPI, which I took many times while in seminary, I always spiked the M/F scale. Here’s the summary of a high scores potential meaning for a man:

  • May indicate interests and behaviors that are traditionally considered feminine (e.g., interest in the arts, sensitivity, or gentleness).
  • Possibly challenges or discomfort with traditional male roles.

In times past this scale often identified such high scorers as either actually or potentially homosexual. Wrong. It did and does signal the influence of animus and anima, yin and yang energies in a person. In my case it correctly identifies what Kate called my androgynous personality. A straight male heavily inflected with anima. Probably the deep influence of Mom in my life. Not an unusual finding for men in the ministry, in helping professions.

I also scored high on the 4 scale for psychopathic deviation. This represented my unwillingness to conform to social norms and my ongoing political struggle with a racist, sexist, homophobic, classist culture. This was an unusual finding for men in the ministry, but it sure fit my personality. And, still does.