Category Archives: Friends

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Paganism, Plants, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, The West, US History, Weather +Climate, Writing

Living. Not dying.

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. Her kindness. Amy. Her understanding. Cookunity. Colorado Coop and Garden. The Greenhouse. Gardening again. Korea. Malaysia. Australasia. Wisconsin. Saudi Arabia. The Bay. First Light. 10,000 Lakes. The Rocky Mountain Front Range. Where my people live.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Greenhouse

Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

One brief shining: Nathan and I wandered in my back yard, his app that shows Great Sol’s illumination searching for a good spot to plant my greenhouse, until we neared a spot close to the shed, that was it with decent morning Sun and an hours worth of afternoon Sun more than anywhere else.

 

 

That picture is not quite what I’m getting. Mine will have an outdoor raised bed on either side and shutters that move themselves as the greenhouse heats up and cools down. It will also have an electric heater for Winter and a drip irrigation system inside and out.

This guy Nathan, a Conifer native, started his business Colorado Coop and Garden to give folks like me an opportunity to grow things up here. Working a garden at ground level is long past for me. But Nathan can build the raised beds at a height where my back is not an issue.

Guess I’m regressing here in some ways. A Dog. A small Garden. Andover in miniature. The greenhouse will have a sign: Artemis Gardens. Artemis Honey was Kate and mine’s name for our bee operation.

 

I’m loving my classes at Kabbalah Experience. Reaching deep into the purpose of religion and Judaism in particular. Reimagining the story of Adam and Eve. My life, my Jewish life and my Shadow Mountain life, have begun to resonate. Learning and living an adventure in fourth phase purpose.

No matter what the near term future holds for my health I will not succumb to despair or bleakness. As I’ve often said, I want to live until I die. This life, I’m coming to realize, is me doing just that.

If I were a bit more spry, I’d add a chicken coop and a couple of bee hives, but both require more flexibility than I can muster.

I’m at my best when I’m active outside with Mother Earth and inside with a Dog, books, and new learning. All that leavened with the sort of intimate relationships I’ve developed both here and in Minnesota and with my far flung family.

That’s living in the face of autocracy and cruelty. I will not attenuate my life. Neither for the dark winds blowing through our country and world, nor for that dark friend of us all, death.

 

Just a moment: Did you read Thomas Friedman’s article: I’ve Never Been More Afraid for My Countries Future? His words, served up with a healthy dish of Scandinavian influenced St. Louis Park Judaism, ring more than true to me. They have the voice of prophecy.

We are in trouble. No doubt. Trouble from which extrication will require decades, I imagine. If not longer. Yet. I plan to grow heirloom vegetables year round on Shadow Mountain. To have mah Dog Shadow with me in the Greenhouse.

I also plan to write and think about the sacred, the one, the wholeness of which we are part and in which we live, die, love. I will not cheapen my life with bitterness, rather I will eat salads, read, play with Shadow and dine with friends, talk to my friends and family near and far.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Politics, US History

Veronica. Shadow. Spine Treatments. Oh, my.

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Lao Xi. Dao De Jing. Wu wei. Alchemy. The Sage. Pu, pure simplicity. Ziran. Authenticity. Just so-ness. Lao Tse’s journey to the West. On an Ox. Stopped at the Hangu Pass to write his wisdom. The Tao. The Way. Or, the Ancientrail of Chi. Other wisdom ways. That Iroquois medicine man. The Sun dance. Christianity. Especially Eastern Orthodoxy. Mystics of all cultures.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Lifting the veil and seeing the ordinary as sacred reality

Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

One brief shining: We sat there, the two converts who shared a mikveh day, who received new names on the same day, who did Bat Mitzvah and Bar Mitzvah at the same Shavuot service, both a bit cold as a Mountain Evening’s chill settled on Murphy’s, an eatery beside Bear Creek in Evergreen, and caught up about her impending divorce, her brother’s death, her father’s injury, my back and cancer and Shadow my new puppy, upon leaving I said Jews together, she said it back, and we hugged, then just before I got to my car she turned, came to me, and we hugged again. Veronica. Harmonica. Hanukkah.

 

Dog journal: Shadow’s back to training with me now. Except for the leash. She runs when she sees it. Gotta get her leash trained. I want to take her with me places. To the vet. To a groomer. As the weather warms, she’s blowing her coat. To mussar to meet my friends, see the synagogue. Over to the Happy Camper. On grocery pickups. Wandering around. Maybe a hike if the injections work.

Shadow loves her toys. I bought her a miniature tire and she hasn’t played with anything else for a couple of days. Her playfulness makes me smile.

 

What injections you might ask. On April 22nd at 11:00 am, I’ll have needles inserted into four foramens on my lumbar spine. Steroids. Could take two weeks to start working. Typically lasts less than three months if it works at all. Partial relief at best since it will not treat the arthropathy, arthritic damage. A more modest first step. Plus, only ten minutes or so, requiring no anesthesia.

After this there are two other possible procedures: radio frequency ablation of the nerves, and peripheral nerve stimulation. Both are more involved, yet offer the potential for longer term relief. One set of needles at a time.

 

Just a moment: Veronica worked on the GOES satellites, vehicles in her parlance, and now manages Lockheed’s planning and development for the next generation weather satellites. As Trump defunds NOAA, he wants to privatize weather data, leave it to a corporate entity yet unborn. If he succeeds, Veronica may not have work. Who do you know directly affected by the blob that ate our government?

Judge scolds the Justice Department for ignoring her rulings? Scolds. Oh, we are well and truly screwed.

Anticipatory obedience. Check. Congress at heel. Check. Judiciary sidelined. Check. Government as we have known it gutted. Check. Our economy in a tailspin. Check.

Let me know when it’s over.

 

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Passing on Passover? The Jangs.

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Second day of Passover. Kate, always Kate. Shadow the toy mover. Her zooming in the back yard. Liberation. Freedom to choose. Egypt. The many Egypts we are heir to. Tara. Arjan. Robbie and Deb. Sandy and Mark. Eleanor. Kilimanjaro. Jungfrau. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. A Mountain night.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Liberation

Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

One brief shining: The Haggadah had wine stains; the seder plate had a kiwi because we can; we dipped the parsley into salt water, tears for the suffering of the slaves, of all oppressed people, spread dots of wine or in my case grape juice for each plague, retelling each part of the passover story as if we were there, as our story.

 

Talmud Torah in the morning. (Torah study) A focus on the maggid, the telling of the passover story in the Haggadah. Complete with midrash, interpretation and expansion.

Later, around 4, over to Kilimanjaro Drive. Tara’s house. Steep driveway with cars parked at various spots along the way. All the way up to the top where I found a spot in front of a Tesla.

Thirty minutes before I had almost chosen not to go. Coming home in the dark. General inertia. A long standing aversion to parties. But this was Passover. At Tara’s. I’d be happy once I got there.

So I went to the liquor store, picked up a bottle of mid-range red wine and drove past Evergreen Meadows and past Evergreen Funeral Home where both Jon and Kate lay after death, down curvy N. Turkey Creek Road to the Mountains and roads leading to her house.

And I was happy to be there. Until we sat down to the table. Then the noise level, the angle of the voices, the general clash and clamor of a meal with eighteen other people. I began to recede. Off in my own quiet room of acoustical challenge. Nodding and smiling. Trying to keep up. Too often failing.

Now having to rethink even Passover, at least in people’s homes. Where it means the most. Where my friends want me. Where I want to be. The congregational Passover has round tables, more distance among the guests. Kate and I usually attended. I may need to go to it just so I can hear.

 

Talked to my son and Seoah on Friday night. Murdoch’s getting crate training. Seoah’s running, happy. We talked about Kate, her death, her wonderful life.

My son and I discussed details for the Jang family visit this summer. Money is, as you can imagine, an issue. 5 adults and two children. Seoah’s Mom and Dad, her brother, her sister and her two kids. Airfare, lodging, transportation. Food. That’s what we’re working out now. Need to make some decisions soon because Air BnB’s begin to fill up for the summer in this time frame.

Will be the trip of a lifetime for the Jang’s. The U.S. The Rocky Mountains. Deepening connections with my son’s side of the family. Myself, Ruth, Gabe.

Stay tuned.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Holidays, Judaism

Shadow. Yet again. Passover.

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Friday grateful: So. It has come to this. The Supreme Court, remember how big it used to loom over our culture, has to say no, you cannot leave an immigrant you deported by mistake in an El Salvadoran prison because you claim you have no authority to undo it, to the President’s lawyers arguing against bringing him home. The Supreme Court. Involved in fixing a bureaucratic travesty any decent person would have scrambled to fix on their own.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Puppy energy. Even at 5:30 am.

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: No more night time excursions for Shadow, for whatever reason darkness transforms her from Shadow into Nightshade the ornery, unwilling to come in, happy to wander in the dark well beyond my bedtime.

 

Dr. Shadow is in the house

 

Dog journal: She’s nose deep in a new toy for aggressive chewers. Sharp teeth and not afraid to use them. By turns amusing and frustrating.

She’s house-trained. Loving. Self entertaining. Willing to train. Sometimes. Her eyes contain the lives of Dogs around the campfires in the Veldt. Domesticated, but not quite.

Part Dingo. Part Kelpie. Part Dalmatian. All Australian muster Dog. Alert and ready to herd.

No, Shadow. It’s not yet time for breakfast. She’s looking right at me, putting in her order.

 

Got back to mussar yesterday. First time in a month or so. Maybe a bit more. Though I’ve been on zoom. Still working on anavah: humility.

Odd moment. I wore my new round Raybans, my trademark plaid flannel, and my Grateful Dead dancing bears hat. One of the women said, after class finished, that I was the sexiest man in the room. Only three of us: Rabbi Jamie, Luke, and me, so there’s that…

Still. It surprised me. Made me think of days long past. BP. Before prostatectomy. 2015. Yet the affirmation made me feel good. Even at 78.

We all need the occasional validation of others. No matter the reason. When validation comes unexpectedly and in a manner that delights us, all the better.

Here’s the big takeaway. You can be the source of that kind of validation for another. Elevating others is a kindness always available to us. Worth doing.

 

Dawn has come to Shadow Mountain. An hour plus after Shadow gnawed me awake. Another Mountain Morning. Grateful for that.

Going to Evergreen this morning. The Dandelion. Breakfast with Alan.

 

Just a moment: Yesterday was anniversary #9 for my son and Seoah. Today’s my brother’s 66th birthday. Tomorrow’s Passover and the fourth anniversary of Kate’s death and my father’s birthday: #112 had he lived.

A lot of big moments for a three day period.

I’ll be heading over to Tara Saltzman’s for her seder tomorrow afternoon at 4 pm. My contribution is red wine.

We’ll sit around the table and celebrate the origin story for our people. Remember that time back in Egypt, so long ago. That night when we spread the blood of lambs on our doorposts and lintels. When the angel of death passed by our first born sons. Remember?

Remember the Reed Sea. How it made way for us?

This festival of liberation. Of the freeing of slaves. This is now my story, too. And a wonderful story it is. To have at its root the struggle against an oppressor, one who would diminish slaves through harsh labor. Of a people who listened to the sacred inner voice calling out for freedom and, most important of all, acted on it. Gained their release. An ancient story, yes, but one that needs reliving in every decade, every century, every millennia.

 

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mussar

Something’s gnawing at me

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Desire. Jealousy. Will. Willingness. Ron. Rich. Joanne. Marilyn. Susan. Laurie. Kaathe. Tara. Loving friends. The crescent Wu Wei Moon with Jupiter below. The Night Sky. Shadow. Ana. Clean House. CookUnity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Cosmic Void

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Gnawing, chewing, Shadow announces the coming of early morning, still dark, still fast asleep until the grinding of wood on Dog teeth, what is that, that noise, I want to sleep, no she says, stopping only for a moment, oh fine you win and I stumble out of bed after a late night.

 

Dog journal: Yes, I have a new alarm clock. Not a welcome one at the hour she chooses. Yet I left her alone last night while I went to the synagogue and she was fine.

She doesn’t clock the lateness of the hour when I return. Doesn’t adjust her waking to my sleep deprived brain.

She’s throwing her weasel in the air, squeaking it, chewing, twisting her head and the weasel in the predator’s death grip, breaking the spine. Mine aches in sympathy.

Her life and mine, intertwined and growing closer by the day, the hour. She will not chew on the bed, the nightstand, and the baseboard forever. Thank Dog.

 

Got my ears lifted, as we used to say in Indiana. Jackie’s letting her silver sneak out of her blondeness. Just a bit in front.

Rhonda sat cross legged on her chair, eating a lollipop, and laughing at meme’s on her phone. A budding thespian cured under the hair dryer, having asked Jackie at the last minute for a twenties hair-do. With finger rolls, whatever that it is.

I’m seeing Jackie every three weeks now, keeping my hair and beard under tighter management. Plus I get to see Jackie and Rhonda every three weeks.

(The weasel squeaketh yet. Now the skunk.)

 

MVP: To get at will and desire as core to our soul and our growth, I invented an exercise. After asking folks to use their best centering techniques to get into a calm place, I offered two instructions: first, pick a time period of significance: might be a day, a month, a year, a decade. Consider what challenges, barriers, joys it presents. They had time to settle into that.

Then. Imagine you are in a white room, sitting in a chair. A long wooden table is in front of you. I’m asking you to imagine five objects on it: a pile of cash, a book and a pen, a thread, a pair of scissors, and a tiny globe.

Once you have those objects clearly in mind, pay attention to which one attracts you. After you’ve done that, as you wish come back to the room.

When every one had returned, I asked them to imagine how the object they chose might help them during the time period they selected.

One person had chosen the time period between now and high school graduation for their grandkids. Their object was the thread which they saw as connecting them to their grandkids and to their extended family.

Another had chosen retirement and the book and pen. He talked about the challenge of getting to retirement so he could once again focus on his creativity. His writing.

Surprised the hell out of me that the exercise worked so well. Everybody enjoyed the explanation of it, too. The table was a doljabi table which Koreans use on a child’s first birthday to gauge the child’s future. I wrote about this a few weeks ago.

An evening of deep, intimate conversation. I felt so good when it was done.

 

 

 

 

Dogs, Friends, Health, Politics

A Shadow in my Life

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Zornberg. Golden Calf. Talmud Torah. Luke and Leo, coming for a visit. Cool night. Shadow. Regression. Filling the swamp. Mastery. Death. Cancer. Back pain. Ruth, turning 19. Gabe, a junior. Mussar. Kavannah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Equanimity

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire. [jealousy, envy]

One brief shining: How do you count the feeling, fleeting, that carries the mood of joy at Great Sol rising from behind the turning Earth; or, the pulse of emotion as light fades behind Black Mountain, another Mountain night suddenly upon you, one carrying a nostalgia perhaps for the light or a long ago yesterday.

Dog journal: I’ve spent the last few weeks majoring in Shadow. Shadow life. Shadow food. Shadow training. Shadow exasperation. Shadow induced laughter.

A lot of progress in so short a time. From chewing my oxygen tubing and my electric blanket cord to tossing socks in the air, tearing them apart. From hiding behind the coffee table to moving about the downstairs freely. Eating well. Alert.

Ears now flopped over in front, no longer pinned back. Our communication level advancing. Then, regressing. Training with Amy. Ginny and Janice’s kind help.

One bed destroyed, each bit of soft material wrenched out through holes made with sharp puppy teeth. One bed yet unpacked, awaiting a less violent reception.

A Shadow has come over my life and brought me joy.

Glad she’s here. Fretting about weight loss, 7 pounds in a few months. Brings those intimations of mortality, always close, up into my day. Shadow shenanigans making me look up. Not today, dark master. Not today.

Maybe I should try throwing a soft rabbit toy high in the air with my teeth. Works for her.

Had breakfast with Alan yesterday at the Bagelry. A Grateful Dead themed joint. The Evergreen Chorale in which he sings will do performances of Aaron Copeland’s American Songs next week. They also travel in June to NYC to sing, with other Chorale’s, in Carnegie Hall. Hooyah.

Discovered that the drive, breakfast, and getting gas for Ruby tweaked my back enough for an unusual midday Tramadol. Mistake. A two hour nap and a fuzzy afternoon. Pain is better than that. At least so far.

Also discovered that my MRI referral had been received, but to a provider that only had closed machines and claustrophobic me requires an open one. Sigh. Back to the beginning on that one.

I find Shadow and her care, right now, drains most of the remaining energy I have after domestic tasks like working out, prepping and eating meals, doing the taxes. That sort of thing.

This drain will not last as she matures, our relationship deepens, and our mutual understanding grows. For now though…

 

Just a moment: Blowing up Teslas, eh. I get it. I mean, Elon. Who is, as a Daily Show comedian reminded us all, an African American. An Afrikaner. With his fingers deep in the American Pie.

Want to say I disapprove. And the Midwest, middle class, nice white boy part of me-in other words most of me-does. Even so…

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Politics, US History

The Seed Keeper’s Catalogue. And, Shadow

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow and her leash. Amy. Ron and his Purim spiels. Joanne. Ruth of the Flatirons. Gabe and his guitar. The Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue. Jon Stewart. The Daily Show. Working out. Tara and Eleanor. Ode and his friends. Tom and the maturing men. Paul and his son, his grandson. Bill and showing up.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Days of Dogs and books

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

Practice: continuing work on the Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue

One brief shining: Bellying through the Snow drifts in the backyard, racing from one fence line to the other, bowing and running with Eleanor, Shadow puts her puppy energy out there, laying it all on the line each moment as we do without thinking when we’re young; so much more deliberate and difficult when we’re old. Learn from puppies.

 

Dog journal: Amy came by yesterday. Week 5 of training the old guy how to live with and educate a 9 month old Puppy.

Leash training didn’t go so well. Waiting now with the leash near her water. Shadow gives it the side eye when she goes to drink. This is desensitizing her. In a couple of days I’ll attach it to her, let her drag it around if she will. Take it off. Leave it out. Plenty of treats and praise. So on. Patience. Savlanut.

I want to get her leash trained so I can take her to the vet for a well Dog checkup. I don’t see anything wrong with her at all, but she needs to meet the folks at Sano, get used to the vet experience.

Tara brought Eleanor, tall, leggy, black Eleanor over for a playdate yesterday, too. Eleanor and Shadow ran and ran and ran. Tara and I talked. She’s my heart friend.

On the fourth anniversary of Kate’s death I’m going to Tara’s for Passover. April 12th. One of those nights when I’ll drive. Her house, in Mountain terms, is not far from mine. Maybe 10-15 minutes.

While I was out talking with Tara, I saw my neighbor Jude. We don’t see each other much in in the Winter, but it was warm yesterday. He retired from his welding work in January. Started drawing his Navy pension. Will collect social security in a couple of years.

 

Got my next oncology appointment changed to an in person visit rather than telehealth. Rich Levine wants to go with me and I’ll be glad to have him there.

Mailed my taxes at the same time I mailed the fourth iteration of documents to MnSaves, Ruth’s 529. Hopefully we’ll have it figured out before she becomes a sophomore. Rich helped this time.

 

Just a moment: Here’s an excerpt from my work with chatbot on the Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue. If you have time to read this, comment on it, it’s still in very, very early stages. Not sure it’s the direction I want to go. But, it might be.

In conclusion, the Seed Keeper’s Catalogue is more than just a website or a publication – it’s a community-driven movement to celebrate and disseminate the knowledge that sustains society. Our proposal outlines a project that leverages modern technology (AI, interactive web design) and timeless principles (open sharing, collaboration, civic duty) to build a resource unlike any other: one that is at once practical handbook, history textbook, and civic guide, all wrapped in an accessible, open-source package.

By rooting the Catalogue in values of free access, diversity of content, and community empowerment, we aim to create a living library that grows and adapts with the times. Whether someone comes looking for advice on planting their first garden, understanding their rights, learning about pivotal moments in history, or figuring out how to organize their neighborhood, they will find not just information, but inspiration and connections to a larger community of knowledge-holders.

This proposal paints the vision and the roadmap: a structured yet flexible platform, rich content categories with real examples, integration of AI for continuous improvement, strategies for inclusive collaboration, and a plan for sustainable growth. With enthusiastic contributors, supportive partners, and engaged readers, the Seed Keeper’s Catalogue can flourish. It will stand as a testament to what is possible when knowledge is set free and nurtured by the many – truly a catalogue of seeds that, when planted in minds and communities, can grow solutions to even the toughest challenges like poverty and climate change.

We invite all stakeholders, from potential contributors and tech partners to educators and community organizers, to join us in making this vision a reality. Together, let’s keep the seeds of knowledge, culture, and responsibility – and pass them on, so that they may take root for generations to come

Aging, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Seed Keepers, US History

Still Learning

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow. Cookunity. Cold night. Drinking the Golden Calf. Midrash. Torah. Religion and its ignorers. Ginny and Janice. Tethering. Salmon and white Bean salad. Battle Mountain, Joe Pickett. The many sided crystal of perspective. Lenovo laptop.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Midrash

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

Practice: Working on Seed Keepers, Seed Savers

One brief shining: Working with AI, an odd by which I mean new and novel experience, to give form to a Seed Keeper’s Almanac, a self-help manual to recreate an America always longed-for, yet never lived in, a hybrid format in paper and on the web, replenished and renewed by its users, focused on dreaming America as neither an utopia, nor as a replica of a faux golden age, rather as a stewpot where different ingredients in different amounts blend together into a powerful, compassionate whole.

 

An issue for me. How to reconcile my lower energy, dog-distracted, hermit favoring life with a steady felt need to stand upright in this most ridiculous and chaotic of times. Not be absent.

I write, yes. I talk with friends and family, reinforcing their desires to get out there and do something. I’m part of a religious community dedicated to a just and compassionate world. Yet. What is mine to do?

The more I futz with chatbotgpt, the more I find possibility in the idea, the bringing into reality of a self-help manual for that world I’ve worked for my whole life. A connected hermit. A dog-distracted but still alert old guy. Using my energy as I can.

 

Thinking about those isolated from this dystopian new world disorder. Trappist Monks in the Gethsemane Abbey. Amish families around Lancaster, Pennsylvania and Fort Wayne, Indiana. Subsistence farmers. Those of us old folks with adequate financial resources. (mostly. Though Social Security and Medicare…) Expatriates like Mary and Mark. Wilderness dwellers in the North Woods, in the Mountain Ranges of this great land. Oddly perhaps some Native American nations. Probably some recluses and communal living folks far off the grid.

And, of course, the oligarchs.

The rest, even cousin Donald’s base. Nope. Vulnerable. Without cover. That includes my son and Seoah. Ruth and Gabe. Luke. Ginny and Janice. Anyone unfortunate enough to be poor. Or different in a way that the oligarchs and their tattered army dislike.

This struggle will continue for the rest of my life. That alone means something to me. A need to not kneel. Not acquiesce. A need to do what only I can do. Now.

 

Just a moment: I had a no good week in part. Feeling down, dog defeated. Weak in body and mind. Took wrassling and seeing others to bring myself back to level.

That’s ok, though. Learning how to live through the troughs as well as the highs is a key lesson. OK. Learning to live through the occasional abyss as well as the getting along just fine days. Glad I’ve advanced enough for that.

Back to working out. For example…

 

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History, World History

Jewish Men Together

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Sunday gratefuls: CBE Men’s group. Orion. The Night Sky. The 1% waxing sliver of the Snow Moon. Ritalin. Ruth and the Flatirons. Gabe and college. And guitar. Tara and Eleanor. A Shadow playdate. Safeway Pickup. Silver Bistro. Cook Unity. Conquering the experience of pain. Back to working out.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow and Eleanor zooming

Week Kavannah: Patience.  Savlanut. When I rush, slow down. When I want to speak, wait. When my inner agonizer arises, calm him, move on.

One brief shining: Tara brought Eleanor over, leggy curly haired and full of puppy energy Eleanor, who sniffed Shadow, Shadow sniffed back and the playdate was on as the two circled each other, smelling for information, then running full tilt in the back through Snow drifts, chasing, quarreling a bit, Shadow rolled over bared her teeth after saying I submitted now stay the hell away from me, a long conversation with my heart friend Tara as they played.

 

Dog journal: Shadow had her first playdate here. Not her last. I have a large fenced yard, almost an acre with Lodgepoles and an Aspen. Snow drifts that last throughout warmups because it faces north. In the Spring there will be Rabbits and Mice and Voles and Squirrels to chase. The occasional Mule Deer and Elk for Shadow to herd. A good place for Dogs. No Rocky ledges for Mountain Lions. Fence keeps out Coyotes. Safe enough during the day.

Like nanny’s at a Central Park Playground Tara and I let our Dogs run while we talked. Tara, like Marilyn, is part of MVP. She said yesterday that she and Arjan would take Shadow whenever I had to go somewhere. Limited prospects on that, but still, like the offer from my son and Seoah, appreciated.

 

CBE men’s group last night. We began to get down to it. We told some of our stories. Moving from Chicago. L.A. Florida. Minnesota. Buffalo. Dallas. To find our true home. Both in the Mountains and as Mountain Jews at CBE. Fleeing in-laws, a broken life, New York City. Looking for Mountains and trails. Quieter. Simpler. Often finding and not finding what we sought.

A question unique to this sort of group. How long can we stay here? Where will we go if things get bad? The question of 1930’s Germany. Of Babylon. Of Russia under the Tzars. Of the Inquisition era in Spain. As evil Donald continues to extend his poison from sea to shining sea and well beyond.

I felt for the first time that there may be a more important question than maleness, the nature of the masculine role in society for a men’s group. At least this men’s group.

Another factor. As Jamie observed, there aren’t that many Jewish men. In the world. What unique role might we have in a world bent on rushing headlong into a dangerous yesterday?

If these men commit, stay the course, this will be a fourth anchor point for me at CBE. Mussar/MVP. Torah study. Men’s group. Friends.

 

Denver, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Politics

My Aching Back

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Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Shadow. More out and about. Alan. Tupelo Honey. Ritalin. My aching back. Limiting. Good sleeping. 23 degrees. Some wind. Great Sol. Sunlight on the Lodgepoles. Taking out the trash. Vince. Marina. Ana. Sunny days.  The Mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow’s wiggly energy

Week Kavannah: Netzach with a dash of zerizut and simcha

One brief shining: Each night before I go to bed, my baby, I say the shema: Hear oh Israel, yod hey vav hey is (God), yod hey vav hey is One, touch my menorah and say I am content with what I have and I’m content with who I am, and immerse myself in this ancient faith made new by Reconstruction, by my own journey, by Kate’s, by its insights into the nature of this strange efflorescence of the universe knowing itself, humanity

 

Aversive conditioning. Wanted to try Tupelo Honey, a Southern restaurant in downtown Denver, a downtown I do not know well, having had few occasions to drive into it or park; I suggested it to Alan for my birthday lunch, he agreed; he could walk from his condo.

About noon yesterday my back ached. I didn’t know where I was. Mostly I wondered why the hell l had suggested a downtown location. Turns out I parked not too faraway from the restaurant, but my lack of familiarity with downtown Denver, and my silly attempt to use Google’s walking directions led me far away from my goal. Lunch with Alan.

I arrived after a tortuous route, twenty minutes late, my back screaming. No celebrex, remember? Turns out that part of downtown is known for its complexity. So, now I know, eh? Pain does not encourage a thoughtful or rational approach to problem solving. The body wants it to stop. That distracts the mental work necessary to, say, follow a confusing map in a no through streets part of the city.

Food was good. Not great. I expected the kind of fried Chicken my Aunt Mame used to make at the Copper Kettle in Morristown, my mom’s hometown. Nope. A thin skin with some sweetness in it. The rosemary and thyme crispy potatoes were good.

Walking back to the garage Alan went with me. I had already tumbled to the fact that it was much closer than my original route. My back had already gotten agitated and didn’t calm down until I was back home. If I go into Denver again, I may park, as Alan suggested, at a strip mall outside of downtown and Uber in.

Not gonna be anytime soon.

 

Just a moment: Talked to buddy Paul Strickland yesterday. He and his wife, Sarah, attended a conference in Camden, a Maine seaside town. Conference title: Democracy Under Threat. His thoughts after the conference have not yet congealed, but he did report some interesting facts.

One especially chilling number. Counting Russia, China, and India as authoritarian governments plus smaller countries like Belarus, Hungary and many others, some 71% of the people on earth live under authoritarian regimes. 71%. That means democracy serves less that 29% since some of those are monarchies, but not necessarily authoritarian. A sad day for our planet.