Fall and the High Holidays Moon
Sunday gratefuls: Erev Sukkot. Jen. Ruth. Gabe. Trees of gold flame. Early Sun. Cool night. Open Window. The Move. Leaving Shadow Mountain. Kep, the non-seeing eye dog. Warm against me last night. Creativity. Poetry. Sumi-e. The Night Sky. Ruth Gendler. Sad. Tal. Wendy’s. Rarely. Ukraine. Putin. Nuclear weapons. Anarchy at the international level of world affairs
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Flexibility
I do not know how the mid-terms will turn out. And, neither do you. That’s a good thing because it means there are some statistical scenarios where the far right gets pushed back and the sane Americans retain control of at least one house, possibly two? Dreaming, I know. But a fellow can hope.
What I would like to put this thought over against is this article in New York Times: In California, Where Trees Are King, One Hardy Pine Has Survived for 4,800 Years. You know this tree, no doubt. Methuselah. Named after the Biblical Patriarch who lived 969 years. 4,855 years this Tree has kept its streak of living going. It follows its chi better than any other living creature. Wu wei all the way. Adapting to changing seasons, climates, insects. Poor soil and limited moisture.
Methuselah and its fellow Great Basin Bristlecone Pines grow only in California, Nevada, and Utah. There are Bristlecone Pines here in Colorado but they live less long, some only 2,000 years. Only. I wonder what they communicate to each other over the depths of their millennia?
These Trees. They exemplify the tao. If you live your life within the limits all lives have, you will flourish. Against this the hubris of oil. The tragedy of MAGA. The disaster crashing down on our only Planet. Even the simple problems that occur among us humans like probate, or loss of a partner. We must choose a life way that wends around and through the challenges that living presents.
One way to do that is to stay engaged with life, but to not take detours from your desired outcomes as bad or good, frustrating or stressful. Just detours or the path going a different way. The old military cliche, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy, sounds the same precaution.
In my instance right now the Fed has pushed interest rates up and will likely go higher. Mortgage rates follow. This will impact the sale of my Shadow Mountain home. Probably negatively. The changes in Kep’s eyesight have created doubts in me about putting him through a long flight and adaptation to a very foreign environment.
My move off Shadow Mountain needs to happen sometime in the mid term future. I’ve already said why many times. But when and to where? Uncertain right now. That’s ok. I have many options and will look for the one that offers the best for myself and for Kep. As well as I can understand it. I have no worry that we will land in a place that’s right for us for now. You could call this the Great Basin Bristlecone Pine way.
Meanwhile I will continue to prune, to deaccession, getting ready for a move when the time and place present themselves.
Those Native Coloradan bumper stickers? Three thumbs down. Not native. At least none of the ones I’ve seen driving cars with these attached. Always white. Not Ute, Cheyenne, Apache, Arapaho, or Comanche. Just boat people like the rest of us white folk. Most likely with “native roots” in places like Ireland, England, Germany, Norway, Sweden, France…you know. Nothing wrong with loving where you live. Not at all. But claiming to be a native when you’re obviously an Ole or Lena come lately? Poor taste at best.
Midwesterner, at least not as a corrective to whatever outsider ways you might have brought with you.
Gonna spend at least six months testing the financial aspects. How much will I net if I sell the house for different amounts? How much will it really cost per month to live in Honolulu. Should I take my car or sell it? Use public transportation and rentals. Will entail some further time in Hawai’i visiting rental agents and rental properties. Looking at hidden costs. Potential hidden savings. How much will getting Shadow Mountain ready to sell take? That includes eliminating what I wouldn’t take with me. Most of the stuff I own. How much will it cost to move what’s left?
Found it. The trailhead to Burning Bear Creek Trail. Surprised myself by walking uphill for some ways without huffing and puffing. Fist pump. Two months ago I drove past the trail head and found other beautiful vistas including the huge beaver dam and pound. Also the hillsides with beaver cut tree stumps.
Friday gratefuls: Mussar. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Bear. Kohler generator. Maintenance. Kaspersky. I still trust them. Helped me recover my password manager. Why I couldn’t post earlier. Rain and a cool down. Pride Shabbat tonight. View from the Bridge. Learning lines. Tal. Hamish. Sunday. Kep.
Oh, the learning I had. Followed Ode’s blue SUV south on Hwy 285, stopping before Del Norte at Cty. road D. A right turn to littlebear Akitas. 3 hours plus from Conifer. Another hour or so and I’d I’ve been in Taos. This trip was for Kep though. Finding him a girlfriend, a companion. Kya.
Taking no for an answer. Rachelle is a 35 year old Mennonite woman, as strong and resolute as the High Plains on which she lives. Kya, the 9 year old Akita female she thought might be a good fit with Kepler was as sweet as she described. A real keeper. Except for Kepler.
The road trip. Hwy. 285 is a magical mystery tour. Leaving Conifer on it for points south with names like Fairplay, Saguache, Buena Vista, Del Norte, Taos, Santa Fe takes you first through the Platte River Valley, then up the 11,000 foot Kenosha Pass. While descending from that height, the High Plains of South Park spread out for miles ahead of you protected by ranges of Snow topped Mountains. South Park is at 9,000 feet or more.
Saturday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Pete and the chandelier. Better than I thought. More exercise. Call from Ode. Breakfast with Alan on Monday. No Mouse in the kitchen Rat zapper! Cool night. Wild dream. New Acorns. Still reading Amanda Palmer. Qin Empire: Alliance. TV. Outer Range. TV. High Country News. P-22, the Mountain Lion of Griffith Park in LA.
Presentation tomorrow for Groveland. Zoom. Quite the thing. Something I couldn’t have done otherwise. Devolution. Trying to follow David Sanders advice. Write as I talk. Still working on reimagining faith after all these years. Getting very close to what I saw originally. The key move may be asking why privilege faith in the unseen when the seen has as much power in our daily lives? Our whole lives. I will post Devolution after I’ve presented it. Happy for critiques, thoughts.
Ode called from the road yesterday. On his way to Taos. Blown away by the West. His sketchbooks, my blog. A daily discipline. Influenced by life in the moment. A confidant. To whom we tell our story. While other people listen in. Or see. Native to each of us. Over many years. A friend. He saw this similarity.
Healthspan. Asked Kristie about it. She said I could live 10 plus years with the treatments available for prostate cancer. Kristen, my PCP, said 90 was reachable with my current health conditions. Both positive and sobering. I mean, geez, even fifteen years. That would get me back to only 60. Not that long ago.
Tuesday gratefuls: Snow. Cooler. Cytopoint. Syringes. Home injections. Orgovyx. Erleada. Levothyroxine. Life. Living it. Well. Eudaimonia. Taoism. Travel. Short trips. Long trips. Boredom. Organization. Dullness. Joy. Chicken pot pies. Art. Music. David Sanders. Kate, always Kate. Rigel. Gertie. Vega. The Colorado dogs. With Kep. Who yet lives.
The days of our lives are sand in an hourglass. Do they still make soap operas? Is there still day time TV? I cut the cord so long ago that I have no idea. TV news is an oxymoron. Infotainment is not a thing. It’s a distortion of what the news was meant to be. The strait jacket of a show at one time. Escaped. Death by a thousand channels, most of them unwatchable? Escaped.
The shame comes in when I admit how much I’ve been loving it. More than I need. Less than I want. Not sure how to balance this as part of my day. I’ve made advances. I’ve taken back reading time from the TV.
Kavanah. Our hours need kavanah. My hours, the late afternoon hours, need kavanah. I’ve allowed myself to get into a rut. Intention can lift me out of it.
A slow process. Grief. For me at least. But, a needed process. Letting go of Kate yet keeping her close. Difficult inner work.
Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Thanks to folks we maybe never got around to. David Scruton, first anthropology professor. Bill and Gloria Gaither, high school teachers who’ve gone on to, well, glory. And lotsa cash. Bob Lucas, my boss at the Presbytery back in the day. Sent two off, the third later this morning. Gratitude is never out of time. Energy still good. Blood work tomorrow. Oncologist a week from today.
Energy remains up. And, surprisingly, the shortness of breath I would get from moving around without much exertion is gone, too. Guess that thyroid is pretty important. Getting things done.
It includes Marble, Gunnison, Dinosaur National Monument, Royal Gorge, Sand Dunes National Park, Grand Junction, and visiting hot springs. Not all on one trip of course. Four Corners is another. Then there’s hopping over to Utah.
Class reunion in September, maybe. Visit Minnesota on the way there or the way back.
Wednesday gratefuls: David Sanders. Rebecca. Claire. Bonnie. Elisa. Snow. Coming down hard. Shingles vaccination. Safeway pickup. Rigel’s meds. Kep’s good appetite. Kabbalah Experience. Their classes. The kitchen. Mostly remodeled. The Mountain roads in the Snow.
It also allows for the sort of love I have with Kep and Rigel, with my ancient brothers, with Jon, Ruth, and Gabe. The sort of love that CBE has shown to me.
Next up tomorrow: getting started on kitchen reorganization. I plan to savor the opportunity to organize plates and silverware, herbs and spices, bread box and coffee maker. Getting them in places that will not recreate the clutter I had before the work began. When I see how long that will take, not long I imagine, I’ll call Modern Bungalow and schedule the furniture delivery.
The ADL’s comments on these revisions, which I have read and with which I agree, make me remember the adage that history is written by winners. While this may be true in the short term, the job of historians and educators is to balance the winner’s version with the facts of how others were affected by the winner’s victories.
This is far from trivial. The history that we learn in school becomes the bedrock against which we measure the veracity of competing claims in political campaigns, in discussions with friends, in making business decisions.