Category Archives: Travel

Art and Culture, Asia, Family, Travel, World History

Knowledge Gaps

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Mabon and the Sukkot Moon

Saturday (Yom Kippur) gratefuls: Teshuvah. The Book of Life. Almost sealed. Sukkot starts on October 16th. Kol Nidre. Gaza. The West Bank. Palestinians. Israel. Israelis. Hamas. Hezbollah. Lebanon. Iran. Egypt. Syria. Jordan. Saudi Arabia. AI. Yetzer hara. Yetzer hatov. Yin. Yang. Polarities within the Unity. Darkness and the dawn. Solar storms. Auroras.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Magnetosphere

Kavannah: Patience  wait for it

One brief shining: As the darkness gives way to dawn and dawn to full day, I watch Black Mountain throw off its night time cloak, stretch its Rockiness up to the light as Great Sol appears again in the East, Mother Earth having spun round once again, this ritual of rituals, light to dark, dark to light, matches and feeds the turning of the Great Wheel as this tilted Earth dashes through space around our Star.

 

Cousin Diane should be in Tashkent by now. On tour with Overseas Adventure Travel after spending a few days with her Uzbeki friends. Sounds like quite a journey. A lot of it focused on the Silk Road, then and now. Bought a standing globe this week, something I’ve always wanted. Found Uzbekistan. Central Asia remains mostly a blank spot in my knowledge, its history and its contemporary, post Soviet Union reality. Perhaps Diane’s time there will educate me on her return.

Reminds me of where I was with China, Japan, and Korea, Southeast Asia before my trip to Singapore, Thailand, and Cambodia in 2004. Stimulated by a lecture in my Southeast Asia guide program at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Bob Jacobsen showed slides of Angkor Wat, including the quarter mile long bas relief on the most well known temple there. It had the churning of the sea of milk.

Bas relief from the 12th century Khmer civilization
Another rendering

That next year I entered docent training, a two year every Wednesday series of lectures on world art history. Given my recent trip to Southeast Asia and a trip with Joseph and Kate to China in 1999 I chose to focus a lot of my learning on Asian art, especially China and Japan. What I don’t know about Asia is still much vaster than what I have learned, but I do have a good baseline knowledge of Asian history, in particular the various arts of China and Japan.

Of course brother Mark and sister Mary’s long residency in various parts of Southeast Asia, mostly Malyasia and Singapore, Mary, and Thailand and Cambodia, Mark, meant I already had a face turned toward those countries. And India, too. Though not as much. Then Joseph got stationed in Osan, Korea, met Seoah, married, and returned there a year and a half ago. Kate and I went to Korea and Singapore in 2016 for Joe and Seoah’s wedding.

As China has rapidly developed, the world’s attention has belatedly turned toward Asia, too. When Joe, Kate, and I were in Beijing, the traffic was largely people on bicycles carrying charcoal briquettes and even refrigerators by pedal power. No longer. And only 24 years later.

Not sure Central Asia will ever have such a moment. But. Things change in geopolitics and they’re changing at a rapid pace right now without a world hegemon.

Family, Mountains, The West, Travel

The Realm of the Mountain Kings

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Mabon (Fall) and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls:  Mussar. Gabe. Pain. Quantum mechanics. The empty space on which I sit. Atoms. The creation of Solar nuclear furnaces. Vastness. In Space. In our Inner World. Consciousness. The Boundless. Things that never were and will never be. Faery. The Otherworld. The Multiverse. Heaven. Hell. Reincarnation. Books. Movies. TV.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Guanella Pass

Kavannah: Teshuvah

One brief shining: Been thinking about thinking, as us amateur philosophers often do, wondering if the thinking I’m doing is original, which is unlikely, or if it perhaps is an original reworking, more possible, always remembering that conservative cultures like China view originality and curiosity with deep, deep suspicion which of course makes both that much more dear to me.

 

Gabe and I made it to Guanella Pass while the Aspen retained golden glory. We were not alone. Not quite as good an experience, yet wonderful, amazing anyhow. Geneva Creek ran full, offering Water boiling over huge Boulders, spreading on flat Land, Watering Meadows of golden Grass, Lodgepoles and the Aspen providing color against 12,336 foot Geneva Mountain on the left and 14,049 foot Mount Bierstadt on the right, all against a Colorado blue Sky. Temperatures in the low to mid-60’s. Scented with pine resin and the Ozone smell of Water as Geneva Creek rushed toward the North Fork of the South Platte.

Talk about Yirah. About the sacred in the oh so not ordinary realm of the Mountain kings. Here are a few pictures.

Gabe amongst the Boulders at Geneva Creek
At the Shaggy Sheep
Gabe
Boulders and Aspen and Lodgepoles
Parking area at the Waterfalls

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Mountains, Travel

Shortie

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Mabon (Fall) and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Gabe. Celebrex. Tramadol. Ruby. Guanella Pass. The Shaggy Sheep. Bailey, the Bigfoot Museum and Store. Hwy. 285. Leaf peepers. Pain. Mountains. Aspens. Lodgepoles. Valleys. The North Fork of the South Platte River. Living where people come to recreate. Happy Camper. Edibles. Alan. Breakfast tomorrow. Sunrise Sunset Diner. Fall and its sad beauty.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Waterfalls

Kavannah: Yirah

One brief shining: In Grant, turned right off Hwy 285 onto Guanella Pass, 22 miles on to Georgetown on I-70, up hill to 11,669 feet then down hill to Georgetown; at the trailheads to Burning Bear Creek and Abyss trails, enough cars parked alongside the road to fill a football stadium parking lot; Gabe and I turned back not far from there and found the Waterfalls, spent time taking photos, enjoying the fast running Creek and its cascading flow.

 

Photos tomorrow. Short version of the trip. Fun, important with Gabe. Painful. Driving him home after a morning of sightseeing began to hurt as we got on Hwy 470 headed into Denver and continued from that point until I got back home. Don’t think I can continue to do this. I sang songs to distract myself from the painful hip. Worked surprisingly well.

Beat up and drug down by the time I hit my chair. More on this tomorrow.

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Reimaging revelation, Shabbat, Travel

Chuseok and Teshuvah. Double post. see below as well.

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Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Torah. Jamie. Mussar. Ruth and Gabe. Lighting the candles. The shema. CBE. Mary and Guru. Mark in Bangkok. My son and Seoah in Okgwa for the Chuseok Festival.* Alan and his busy weekend. Good sleeping. Kristie. Second opinions. Cancer. Spinal stenosis. Sally. Aging. Its joys and its struggles. Scott and Yin. Men. Women. UC Boulder.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

Kavannah: Teshuvah-“…the journey of teshuvah is not about “turning over a new leaf” or being “born again”; rather, it is simply finding our way back to the land of our soul…Every person possesses a core of inherent goodness whose integrity cannot be compromised. While outwardly, one’s actions may not always reflect this inner goodness…people always have the ability to shed their superficial facade and do teshuvah—returning to their truest, deepest selves.” chabad.org

One brief shining: Chuseok draws families together in North and South Korea, often back to the places of their birth or raising, like little Okgwa for Seoah, back for thanksgiving for family, for the harvest, for love between a brother and a sister, all over that land, a return to the place of your formation; we might say finding a way back to the land of your soul, which has an individual component, of course, but also and strongly a community, familial component, though, yes, the land of your soul and your homeland may be also be widely divergent.

Chuseok card

 

 

Sept 2023. Seoahs family

The key move here, from a Jewish perspective, lies in the neshamah, that essence of you, that buddha nature, that stainless and unstainable core to which one can always return, no matter how hamartia-missing the mark-has confused your nefesh, the outward facing portion of you that changes, grows, shrinks, expands depending on which of the many wolves you feed.

The month of Elul, our current month in the Lunar Calendar for 5784, encourages all Jews to chasbon nefesh, accounting of the soul. Look back over the last year and see if you got lost in moments of despair over an illness. Like I did. See if you judged others harshly, rather than judging them on their merits. Like I did. See if you neglected opportunities to act with loving-kindness. Like I did. See if you failed to discern again the purpose of your life. Like I did. See if you failed again to act on that purpose. Like I did. Take steps to amend those personal lapses that you can. Like I have. Take steps to open your lev to your true path. As I have.

Teshuvah is not about guilt, however. It is about sweeping away the barriers in your life to being who you most truly are: a sacred becoming, a moment in the ever expanding tapestry of novelty that is the universe and everything. A unique and irreplaceable soul, a unique, never to be repeated, ishi-go ishi-e self awaits your joyous return.

No stains that lead to damnation. No sins even God could not forgive. Only you and the land of your soul. To which, at any time, you can, with exuberance and calm, return.

 

 

 

*”It’s the other time of the year in Korea besides Lunar New Year’s Day, aka Seollal (설날), when family members gather together.  Usually, this means traveling to the home of the head of the family, often one’s grandparents.

According to legend, an ancient king of the kingdom, Silla, started a month-long weaving contest between two teams.   The team who had woven the most cloth won, and they were treated by the losing team with food, drinks, and other gifts.  Thus starting the tradition of Thanksgiving almost 2000 years ago.

Some scholars also tie Chuseok to Korea’s history, wherein agriculture was a big part of daily life.  Koreans commonly offered rituals to ancestors to give thanks and celebrate the harvest moon.

Traditionally, the purpose of Chuseok was for family members to gather together during the full harvest moon. This usually appeared in the sky on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Families wanted to celebrate and show gratitude to their ancestors for the fruitful harvest.

Chuseok is very much a traditional holiday where many of the customs from the old days still stand.”

Chuseok in Korea

 

 

 

Family, Judaism, Travel, US History, World History

Antisemitism and Distant Family

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Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Chesbon nefesh. Accounting of the soul. Elul. The Shofar. Dawn. As light returns. Dusk. As darkness falls. The long, slow move toward the Winter Solstice. The Torah. Parshas. CBE’s Jubilee year. Shabbat. More kisses on the head. The Mule Deer Doe and her Fawn. The Asters in my back yard. Diane and her Hoosier pilgrimage. Mark, soon to be in Sakakah, Saudi Arabia. My son. Seoah. Murdoch.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ginny’s voice

Kavannah: HONOUR כָּבוֹד Kavod    Honour, respect, dignity; literally “weight”  (יְקָר Yikar, yee-CAR: literally to regard as “valuable/precious”) [זִלזוּל Zilzul, ZILL-zool: literally to treat as “cheap”]

One brief shining: At each service over the Jubilee weekend, at all the High Holiday services, we have armed and uniformed deputies of the Jefferson County Sheriff at the synagogue, looking out of place with their bulky gear, the shoulder radio, the baton, the gun who double as door openers, greeting us with their paramilitary smiles, and reminding us as we leave to return our name badges. Anti-semites.

 

All day, everyday, the synagogue’s doors require a buzzer and a familiar face to open them. Our windows have a special bullet resistant film that once applied makes it harder for an assailant to easily break them with a weapon. We also added air conditioning when the furnaces had to be replaced. So we wouldn’t need to prop open doors.

I want to believe that it can’t happen at Congregation Beth Evergreen, but of course that’s naive. We’re in gun rich Colorado where the far-right white supremacists and anti-semites hunt or bow each evening to the altar of the gun. If they’re out there in Colorado, they’re armed.

Not a new reality, but a persistent one. From yellow stars to pogroms to the holocaust violence against Jews has been a hallmark of the diaspora since at least Roman times. Never ignored. Never stopped. Much like cancer, it occurs to me. We can’t pretend it’s not there. We do what we have to do. Yet we cannot, will not live our lives in fear.

 

Talked with my son and Seoah last night. They’re starting to golf again as the weather has begun to cool. Though it’s still hot in Songtan. Seoah’s sister has begun preparations for planting in this, the first season she begins to take over from her parents. Seoah’s mom and dad own a good deal of land in their small village of Okgwa. All of it under cultivation from rice to peppers to tomatoes and whatever else can be sold to grocery stores, restaurants, or kimchi factories. Seoah’s mom works making kimchi when the growing season is over.

They’re coming here in December and want to connect with Marilyn and Irv, Alan. My friends are now their friends and vice versa. When I go to Korea, I see Daniel and Diane. Daniel interpreted at their wedding. He’s now a food importer/exporter. I also catch up on Jamie, Nacho, Kevin and other of Joe’s buddies from his many deployments and stationings. Not to mention connecting again with Seoah’s family.

Meanwhile Mary and Mark continue their expat lives, touching down in Southeast Asia, then heading to Australia or Saudi Arabia. My distant family.

 

 

 

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Travel, US History, Weather +Climate, Wild Neighbors

See. Feel. Taste. Hear. Smell.

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The Off to College Moon

Monday gratefuls: Seeing with the lev. Charging the lev. Dow down. Orange one weakening. Kamala strengthening. Heat. The Quarry Fire. 35% containment 14 hours ago. The Ancient Brothers. Bill and Moira. Tom. Paul. Ode. On the best book, movie, music, airplane, art. Yeah, Tom snuck in airplanes. Finishing books. Books. Light-Eaters. Numbers. Reconstruction.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The life of August 5th, 2025

One brief shining: Three weeks ago a junior college student outsmarted local police and the Secret Service to send a bullet or shrapnel pinging off the Orange one’s right ear and Joe Biden saw himself as the eventual victor, today we await the Vice-Presidential pick of sitting Vice-President Kamala Harris in a presidential race turned shall we say, on its ear, showing that the Wizard of Odd pulling the strings behind the curtains of 2024 has yet more strange and wonderful events for this year of years. On the edge of my chair.

Kavanah: Kavanah: PERSEVERANCE  Netzach (NETS-ach)  נֵצַ

 

A bit more on the playing cards in the spokes of my lifecycle.* Not going with the three-story universe in the Emerson quote, I imagine he didn’t either, otherwise, yeah. Though. I find less hiddenness. More ordinary sacred moments, events, discoveries. Both in my lev and out there in my Lodgepole Companion, Great Sol, Wild Neighbors, even the physical stuff that makes up my house. All there as Annie Dillard says, holiness holding forth in time, a husk of many colors visible on lifting the eyelids after a night and the 1/60th of death.

Each life a holy life lived by us among and with gods of all times and all sorts. That so young fawn on its wobbly legs. The toddler racing toward her mommy. The Dog smiling at his human partner. Rascal. Findlay. Leo. The beating of my heart. The Quarry Fire. The sacred is not always safe. Thunderstorms. Hurricanes. The Atlantic Oscillation.

And how about this one. People I love living their lives on this spinning Planet so far away: Melbourne. Bangkok. Songtan. San Francisco. Minnesota. Maine.

The older and more clear eyed I become I wonder how wonder cannot be seen. Wonder dances in front of us, behind us, beside us, within us. Right now. In this god, August 5th, of the pantheon we name 2024.

How about hand/eye coordination. Consciousness. Love. Breath. Tides and Tidal Pools. Mountain Streams and Trout. Skyscrapers and elevators. Cars and bridges. Airplanes and rocket ships.

Do we have to make it so hard to know awe? No, we do not. We can and often do because our gaze slips away toward the next chance. We split ourselves out of this moment, this day by focusing our attention on a yesterday we regret or a future we fear. We sigh and turn away from the Dog’s thumping tail, the Fish that has swum up to the aquarium glass, the child that has gripped our hand in theirs so self-involved that what is present does become hidden to us. We, like Pharaoh, harden our hearts. That last plague no longer in our awareness.

The remedy? See what you’re looking at. Feel what you’re feeling right now. Taste with your whole body. Smell the coffee. Yes. Smell the coffee. Hear the Downy Headed Woodpecker pounding on your home.

 

*Heaven walks among us ordinarily muffled in such triple or tenfold disguises that the wisest are deceived and no one suspects the days to be gods.    Ralph Waldo Emerson

Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god. I praise each day splintered down, splintered down and wrapped in time like a husk, a husk of many colors spreading, at dawn fast over the mountains split.   Annie Dillard.
Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Politics, Travel, US History

International Dialogue

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The Mountain Summer Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Stien. Koontz. Ootz. The Netherlands. Arjean. Tara. Susan. Irv. Marilyn. Cade. Vincent. Eleanor. Kilimanjaro. Zugspitz. Jungfrau. Olympus. Conifer. Evergreen. Labcorp. Great Sol. Data. Mussar. Neshama. Nefesh. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Leo. Paulaner N.A. Kate, always Kate. Ruth and the Inspire Concert Sunday. RTD. Uber.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara

One brief shining: Could I have a short spade, please; Tara handed me a gardening trowel and I knelt down in her curved bed of Carrots and Beets, plunging the trowel in beside the missing Beet plant and felt the Earth give way, yes, there was a tunnel there, something, maybe a Vole, had burrowed in and eaten it from below.

 

Interesting lunch at Tara’s. Met Arjean’s family: Stein, Ootz, and Koontz. And, his mother whose name I didn’t get. They’re visiting from the Netherlands. BTW: Don’t rely on those spellings. They’re phonetic, which means based on my hearing. Always a risky basis for sounds.

Asked Koontz, Arjean’s brother, about how American politics looked from Europe. Next question, he quipped. He went on to say what I’ve heard in many other places including Korea and Singapore. In essence, it really matters to us, but we can’t do anything about it. As an example, he mentioned NATO. Well, yeah.

Koontz also said there was some talk in Europe about deserving a vote in American elections since they impact Europe in such critical ways. Made me think of the Chinese taxi driver I talked to in Singapore in 2004, the day before election day. He shook his head and said, “When America sneezes, we get pneumonia.”

Stein, Arjean’s nephew, is in his third year of university pursuing a business degree. He’s also starting a clothing business as a middleman between Chinese garment manufacturers and a European customer base. When I asked him about the stresses of doing both at the same time, he looked over at his dad, Koontz. A bit sheepishly. Oops, I said. I withdraw the question.

After the meal Tara and I went downstairs to look at her garden. She’s had vegetable eating animals taking out Beets, Lettuce, Raspberries, and Tomato plants. She wanted to get my opinion about what was going on. That was when I asked for the trowel. I found the tunnel right away. Some critter has dug their way to a meal, perhaps several meals. She also has rabbits, I think. Her fence keeps the Deer out. They’re the animal that can really devastate a Mountain garden. They’ll eat everything down to the ground. Well, Elk, too.

Had no solution for her save putting in raised beds for next year’s garden. Would help her back, too.

 

Just a moment: A lighter heart. Some hope. Kamala wouldn’t have been my first choice, but she’s sooooo much better than Biden. Since I’ve long thought this election would hinge on turn out, I feel good since she will be able to energize the Democratic base.

Diane and I talked politics this morning. She feels lighter, too. That feeling alone may be enough to swing the election our way.

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Wheel, Hermitage, Holidays, Humanities, Kabbalah, Latin, Letters, Mountains, Myth and Story, Plants, Poetry, Tarot, Travel, Weather +Climate, Wild Neighbors, Writing

Herme’s Journey

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Summer and the waning Bar Mitzvah Moon

Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Great Sol. Shadow Mountain. TV. Books. CD’s. Jazz. Mozart. Telemann. Bach. Coltrane. Monk. Parker. Gregorian Chants. Rock and roll. CD player. K-dramas. Netflix. Amazon Prime. Mhz. Starlink. Conversation. Listening. Seeing. Really listening. Really seeing. The Aspen out my bedroom window. The dead Lodgepole.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The lesser light-the Moon

One brief shining: When I go now to an airport, when I even imagine going to an airport, I recoil, seeing the old Native American punishment, running between rows of TSA employees, airline boarding agents, and crabby fellow sufferers all diminished by the experience, yet needing to pass along, like some fraternity hazing ritual, the same misery to the pledges not yet seated in their too narrow and too jammed together seats. And paying often thousands of dollars to do it.

 

Still enjoying a post bar mitzvah push sense of opening, of new possibilities. Herme’s Journey, which I imagined after the dream workshop last month, got sidelined a bit by the week of the ritual, guests, celebration, and the week of physical recovery that followed that one. Though. Kavod for the Trees (Honoring the Tree) has kept it alive.

Herme’s Journey followed thoughts and feelings triggered by my Wabash dream. That dream encouraged me to reenter the life vision I had when I started college almost 60 years ago. To embrace that dream of a long period, lifelong in my hopes of those years, as a student, then a scholar. With libraries and writing instruments my primary tools. With ideas and their expression as my life work.

Herme, you may recall, is the name I gave to the neon sign I had made of the Hooded Man Card* from the Wildwood Tarot Deck. The name I gave to myself in the wake of Kate’s death, of a mourner then a griever, then… I wasn’t sure what.

Herme’s Journey blends the Hooded Man Card with the first card of the Tarot Deck: The Fool. The major arcana of a tarot deck tells a story of the Fool’s journey, begun blithely, a bindlestaff over one shoulder, a dog alongside, stepping off into the unknown. In the Wildwood deck** the Wanderer’s journey is through the Wildwood. Yes. My journey, too.

The Wanderer is a beginner, the beginner’s mind at play in the fields of the psyche. Herme’s Journey is my Wanderer’s path, a beginner’s path, but one begun with the age and experience of an old man. So, Herme’s Journey.

What lies along this path? Still unclear though Trees play a central role. As does the Great Wheel of the Year and the Jewish Lunar Calendar. As the pilgrimage unfolds, I plan to explore Kabbalah, my long period of work with Ovid’s Metamorphosis, poetry and literature, myth and legend, fairy and folk tales, religion, and the arts: music, painting, sculpture, theater, dance, opera.

What will come? Again, unknown. It will be the path, not the destination. What I will do is read a lot, write, travel, think, listen, see, taste. Talk.

 

*The Hooded Man stood at the winter solstice point on December 21, along with the earth and the sun in the night. This is the time to be alone and contemplate life. This card describes the gates of death and rebirth, deep inside the Earth.  Hooded Man

**A central theme of the Wildwood Tarot is the interconnection of humans with the wild, with animals, and with the calendar cycle.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Hebrew, Judaism, Memories, Science, Travel

Teshuva. Bar Mitzvah. Earth Rise.

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Beltane and the Bar Mitzvah Moon

Shabbat: Shavuot. Moses. Torah. Rain. My Lodgepole Companion. Great Sol. Photosynthesis. Chlorophyll. Trees. Ruth and Gabe. Tom and Paul. Joanne. Clouds. The West. Less than 20 inches of Rain a year. Climate change. The Great Work. The Great Wheel. Shekinah. The Sabbath Bride. Caitlin Clark. Angela Reese. Sports. Election 2024. Reading

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Narrow mind, spacious mind

One brief shining: Fear leaked out of some antediluvian part of my subconscious, reminding me with the certainty born of angst and nail-biting that no you can not sing, you can not chant, you will never learn the Hebrew, you are not able to, remember that time, what time, oh you know that time.

 

Still turning over the toxic combination of cabin fever, melancholy, and little boy acculturation. It had me. For maybe March and April. Did not lift until I rode the train to San Francisco and back. Finally, like a dog shaking off water after a swim, I woke up.

Teshuva accomplished. I had returned to the confident, can do it Self. The one I had moved away from in a subtle way, missing the mark of who I really am. This is a constant cycle for most of us. Forget, Turn away. Sink down. Somehow submerge the gift that you are to this world. Then, a moment of felt love, of self compassion, of changing perspectives and there. you. are. Welcome home prodigal Self. Here is a feast for you!

Perhaps today is a teshuvah day for you.

 

Practice for the Bar Mitzvah. This morning at ten. A run through for us all. The whole morning service. After meeting with Rabbi Jamie on Thursday, I now know what my parts are. And I’m able to handle them.

I have a couple of introductions to make. One to the Mah Tovu. A prayer said on entering the sanctuary. It was a lesson about the Mah Tovu that prompted my conversion. I’ll read it in the transliterated Hebrew. The second to the Shema. The daily prayer said on rising and on going to bed. Also the prayer said when you are dying. Each mezzuzah contains the text of the Shema. Here’s one way of saying it in English:

Hear, God-Wrestler. What was/what is/what will be is God. What was/what is/what will be is one.

The four of us: Veronica, Kat, Lauren, and I will read two stanzas each of a Marge Piercy poem. I will read Psalm 118 as translated by Rabbi Jamie and another poem of my choosing.

I’m glad for the practice. I need a rehearsal. Going to wear my new clothes from Bonobo’s. Why I bought them.

 

Just a moment: Bill Anders is dead. Who, you may ask, is Bill Anders? An astronaut who took a photograph during the Apollo 8 mission. This is the photograph:

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Hawai'i, Health, Mountains, Travel

P.E.T. Scan

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: P.E.T. Scans. Radioactive tracers. Bar mitzvah. Torah portion. Service prayers and blessings. Thyroid blood draw. Euclid, a wide sky deep space telescope. James Webb. Hubble. Our local cluster. The Milky Way. Its outer arms. Our home there. Three Body Problem. Wild Trees. Trees as my way in. Colorado Trees. Shadow Mountain Trees.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Universe. (and, thanks for all the fish!)

One brief shining: Sometimes my mind wobbles when it considers the Universe, this vast interconnected web of all things to which we are intimately yet often over unimaginable distances connected, then I have to turn to the Lodgepole out my window, those Mule Deer munching on Dandelions, the astonishing human body, this Mountain on which I live and my mind says, oh, I see, and steadies itself.

 

June 2019

P.E.T.* scan today. An injection sends a chemical that binds to prostate cancer cells and carries a radioactive signal readable by the positron emission tomography machine. Where it lights up. Metastases. If it finds some, a new treatment plan will follow. Possibly back on the familiar Orgovyx and Erleada. Possibly radiation. Depends. Might find nothing right now though we know some cancer has begun to grow again due to my rising PSA. If nothing lights up, I’ll stay off the drugs for now. Probably another scan if and/or when my PSA goes up further.

Scanxiety. Who knew? It’s a real thing. Any cancer patient is familiar with it to some extent. That tingle that comes with another lab draw, waiting for the results. Or, imaging. Hunting for tumors. Mets. Like I’m having today. I have scanxiety. It’s mild. But not feeling something would seem weird to me.

Who wants to have metastases confirmed? Sure, it helps identify treatment modalities that will extend my life, but… Who wants to need treatment to extend their life? My rational self knows ignoring my cancer would bring certain death. Not soon, but certain. As a result, I’ll get in my car and drive to Sky Ridge Hospital once again. Wait 45 minutes for the tracer to circulate throughout my body. Lie down and let the highly sophisticated machinery take a look.

A week from Thursday I’ll talk to Kristie, see what the results mean. Whatever the scan shows, it will not result in a cure. That’s settled. But prostate cancer is manageable. And this is the way that happens.

 

June 4th Kilauea eruption and the Milky Way

Just a moment: Kilauea erupts! Again. It’s one of the most active Volcanoes on Earth. Kate and I stayed at Volcano House for two weeks, a National Parks Hotel in Volcanoes National Park. We became acquainted with this vast Shield Volcano, with Halemaʻumaʻu, the caldera home of Pele, the Hawai’ian goddess of fire, with the offerings native Hawai’ians left on its rim. Flowers. Alcohol. Shells.

May I say that this photograph soothes my scanxiety. This vastness and our living Earth. Together. As they and we are.

 

 

*How does it work? PSMA, short for Prostate Specific Membrane Antigen, is a protein found on the surface of prostate cancer cells. The “imaging agent” consists of a chemical that binds to PSMA, honing in on prostate cancer cells wherever they are in the body. Attached to this binding chemical is a radioactive “reporter.” Patients are given a one-time injection of this combination molecule into the bloodstream, “tagging” prostate cancer cells. The patients are then given a scan with an imaging camera that “lights up” areas where the molecule has accumulated—i.e., sites of prostate cancer (see photo above).

PSMA PET imaging may help guide your treatment plan.