Category Archives: Friends

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.

 

 

Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Torah

Livin’ in a small town

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Cold nights. Tramadol and Celebrex. Jackie. Her friends. Studying Torah with Rabbi Jamie. Sisyphus. Zeus. Hades. Holy Wells. The Elk Bull in the Rain. Seeing the sacred where you are. Beth-el. Cairns. Wrestling with the angel. Israel. Jacob.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Celebrating Luke’s birthday

Kavannah: Joy (simcha) and Enthusiasm (zerizutz)

One brief shining: Walked into Aspen Roots yesterday, Jackie had another customer’s hair folded into aluminum foil squares-hair coloring-and a man with a bald head, dressed casually in jeans and new shoes, a blue shirt not tucked in, everything neat, sat in Ronda’s chair facing his wife as Jackie worked her hair stylist magic.

 

Jackie called me on Wednesday and said she needed to reschedule. A funeral. The two in her shop yesterday had also attended the funeral. Of all of us, Jean said, I didn’t think he’d be the first to go. Jackie and Dave nodded. What followed was the usual funeral chatter. Who was the blonde with him? Oh. Him? He has issues, said Dave, I love him but he has issues. Did you know his brother Jim? No. I knew of Jim, but never met him.

One task of grieving and funerals is reordering the social structure of a group. Acknowledging the loss of a member of the group, remembering their story. Seeing people, perhaps even family members who live at a distance, either geographically or relationally. Recalling how things were. And in the process redefining how things will be now without the deceased.

When it was my turn in the chair, Jackie schedules me sandwiched between the  application of coloring and its slow baking in time, I had a chance to chat with Dave. He had retired two weeks ago from a fire department in Highland Hills. I asked him how it was going. Oh, he said, not well. When I offered that he couldn’t expect to get retirement in two weeks, his wife, now sitting in a chair festooned with aluminum foil, said, I did! We all laughed.

When Jackie began her work on my beard and hair, I asked about the guy who died. He just had to clean the gutters, she sighed. Fell off the ladder and landed on his head. I felt so sad. What a way to go. She leaned into me and said, Don’t climb on ladders. I assured her I wouldn’t. They scare me now. I even gave away my chain saw.

As I left Jackie gave me a big hug and Dave jumped up from his chair, shook my hand, “Good to meet you, Charlie.” Enthusiasm and Joy at Aspen Roots. Life in a small community. I love it.

 

Just a moment: Earlier that morning I signed onto the Bagel Table, which had to be online because Rabbi Jamie didn’t feel well. There were 12 of us, 13 including Jamie. We had a spirited and deep conversation about struggle, about family-the parsha was about Jacob’s ladder and his long negotiations with his father-in-law Laban, the nature of God or divinity. I loved it. It was fun and profound. Luke and Ginny were on.

 

Friends, Health

Some (like me) might call it murder

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rich Levine. Irv and Paul. Zoom. Dandelion. Ruth. Gabe. My Lodgepole Companion. Tom’s note. Paul’s 78th. Life. This December 5th, 2024 life. Dilating Aorta. Living high. Happy Camper. Evergreen. Beth Evergreen. Mussar. Rabbi Jamie.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kippur

Kavannah: Perseverance and love (ahavah)

One brief shining: Old friends can remind us of who we are when we forget-as we all do from time to time-as two friends recently did for me; “…your greatest teaching is your deeply personal sense of wonder and curiosity.”; and, when asking to go to my next oncology appointment with me: “You don’t have to go alone.” Oh.

 

If you were given the job of decorating the sitting room for Cardiology Now, where I went for my echocardiogram on Monday, would you choose this? Somebody did. It’s the only art there, a heart made by skeletal fingers. I mean, come on guys. A little respect.

Got news back from my echo already. Aortic artery dilation has apparently increased. My doc has made an appointment for me at a cardiac/thoracic surgeon to consult. Guess this is a test of my personal GPS after writing about the feeling of enough only yesterday. Who needs all this?

A worry? I don’t want to go into the hospital, have surgery at 77, possibly need rehab. Kate’s journey informs my own in this case. Each time she went into the hospital she took a step or two further down the stairs leading to death. Don’t want to start that journey.

Unless, of course, I have to. The question is how much dilation is actually dangerous? Am I at that point? Or, is watching and waiting the best strategy. TBD. This I know is true. Aortic dissection=bad. A situation as Kate used to say: “incompatible with life.”

If it needs doing, I suppose I’ll do it. Stay tuned.

 

Breakfast this morning with Rich. A good friend. A sweet man with a big heart. Mostly catching up, but I did hand off to him transferring Ruth and Gabe’s 529 money. And I asked him about another pot of money that could be available for them. Business.

We also discussed, as you might expect, the hard problem of materialism v. idealism. Rich is a philosophophile. As am I. Not too many folks you can go down that particular rabbit hole with.

A privilege and an honor to know him and count him as a friend.

 

Just a moment: The murder of the United Health Care executive. Caveat: I say no to murder no matter the instigation.

However the two bullet casings with deny and delay reminded me of a long ago lesson in seminary about forms of violence. A decision to deny and delay treatment can be the bureaucratic equivalent of murder. Please note: I’m not saying it’s like murder; I’m saying it’s exactly murder. That is, if an insurer denies or delays treatment for a member of its plan and that denial or delay results in their death, that’s murder.

Perhaps beginning to investigate and prosecute insurance malpractice with criminal charges as the goal might push matters in a, shall we say, healthy direction?

 

 

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

Tears and Laughter

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Tuesday gratefuls: Susan. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Her house. Beautiful. Jamie. Rich. Elephant Company. Tara. Marilyn. Ron. MVP. Going to bed late. Dreams of travel. lodging. As some pundit observed, long tie guy has flooded the zone with too many bad picks all at once. Orion, my buddy. The Mountain Night Sky.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Habeas Corpus for Elephants

Kavannah: Perseverance

One brief shining: We sat in Eames chairs around a large Camelot table, a spotlight outside revealing a beautiful outcropping of Rock, 15 foot glass windows, the east facing wall, showing the glittering lights of Denver, down the hill and far away, while we talked about anavah and sinah: love and hate, trying to find purchase in our lives for growing both as soul traits, character traits.

 

Every once in a while, like last night at Susan Marcus’s architect designed home, I feel blessed, blissed to sit with people smarter than me as we try to figure out how to lead our lives in a soul-full manner. How we can we express the essence of ourselves as sacred beings, using the medieval practice of mussar as a guide.

In those conversations we move from our lives into learning, from learning back into our lives. We struggle with the usual things: parents, children, marriage, existential angst while trying to place them within the context of developing our ability to practice humility, enthusiasm, love, hate (or repulsion), our ability to let the light of our own divinity shine unobstructed. Not easy work, but done with love and compassion. Confidentiality. Honesty.

A lot of laughter, occasional tears. Befuddlement is common. And, admitted. Gotta say I love being a Jew and part of Congregation Beth Evergreen.

Also, food. Last night butternut squash soup, chicken wings, cowboy caviar, a fancy salad, hummus, carrots, and for those who drink, a red wine labeled, 7 Deadly Sins.

 

Just a moment: Harder than I thought it would be. Getting back into working out. Deciding this time to privilege weight training, resistance work over cardio. My heart rate has remained excellent, but my muscles have given way even more to that old devil, sarcopenia. Where once I opened jars and bags with practiced ease, I now often have to resort to tricks and accessories. Not acceptable. And remediable.

Plan to make sure my resistance routine is solid, making gains. Then, I’ll add back in the cardio on my treadmill. Self-care, it’s not just a river in Egypt. Oh, wait…

 

In spite of myself l find a habit gained during 45’s reign of error returning. Opening the New York Times to see what he’s done now. Who’s he appointed? Why? Of course the why question has no answer. Whim. Some strange political calculus. An indecipherable conclusion based on misinformation.

When the revolutionaries take over the government, they usually turn out to be same as the old boss. Since this is a revolution based at root on greed and fear, it may stretch things farther than any of us hope, certainly more than we want, but the U.S.A. has and will recover. That is my Seed-Keeper faith and one I will help make happen.

 

Art and Culture, Asia, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Judaism, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

Herme’s Journey

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Sunday gratefuls: Tom’s safe trip. My son, Seoah, and Murdoch coming January. Then, a trip to Korea in May. Followed by the Jang family visit here in late summer. Snow. Whippets. Irish Wolfhounds. German Wirehairs. Akitas. Breeds I love. Asia. Korea. Malaysia. Australia. Thailand. Cambodia. Saudi Arabia.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Leftist politics

Kavannah: Perserverance

One brief shining: A Mountain retreat, a home on granite, gneiss, and schist, raised above sea level by 8,800 feet, overlooking Black Mountain with its ski runs, Lodgepoles and Aspen colonies, in the Arapaho National Forest and drained by Maxwell Creek to the north and North Turkey Creek to the south, home to my day-to-day life in these middle years of the 2020’s.

 

On a lighter note today. Current TV favorites: Tracker, Sealteam, Fire Country. Reading anew Nexus by Harari. Also, Emily Wilson’s translation of the Iliad. Best movie I watched recently: hmm. None come to mind. Oh, Late Night with the Devil. Weird. I can no longer understand dialogue in movie theaters so I have to watch what’s available on streaming services with closed captions. Favorite meal last week, filet mignon with Tom at Evoke 1923 last Friday.

Herme’s Journey. Still on this path. I’ve finished another reading of Ovid. Also, the Odyssey. Am in the fourth book of the Iliad. I’m reading the parsha of the week most weeks along with commentaries. Also books that challenge me like Nexus. Keeping mental knives sharp.

My commitment to regular times with family and friends has increased. I zoom, breakfast, lunch, and on the rare occasion eat dinner with them. Also expanding my circle of friends, not by much, but adding Veronica for example.

The lunar calendar of Judaism meshes well with my pagan sensibilities and my focus on the Great Wheel. Trying to integrate the two in meaningful ways. An ongoing project.

Am working on a new meditative practice, focusing on a work of art for ten minutes or more, then reading art historical material about it. An NYT idea.

And more. All this is to stimulate, reinforce my lifelong journey. See what bubbles up.

 

Just a moment: Talked with my son and Seoah yesterday. There is a sweetness, a visceral joy in seeing them, hearing them. My heart lifts and my sense of well-being, already good, increases. Murdoch hears my voice, but does nothing. Nothing to smell here, so meh.

That sense of well-being. I’ve noticed Luke and Jamie initiate hugs when we see each other. There’s something about that that fills my soul, too. Ron and Rich. Tom. Ruth, Gabe. I hope the others feel the same way about my participation. Hugs are a way of claiming intimacy and saying yes to it.

Will not know for some time what the most abhorrent of adventures will look like, feel like. Cabinet picks? An unserious man taking an unserious approach to the job in the whole world that has the most economic and military power.

Committed to the seeds of decency, honesty, love for the other. Still and always.