Category Archives: Travel

Art and Culture, Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Travel

ah. Art

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Monday gratefuls: Asian Art Museum. Diane. Uber. Street cars clanging on Powell. Good night’s sleep. Sears Fine Foods. Chancellor Hotel. Its lobby with popcorn, coffee, water, apples, cookies. Learning my limits. Travel. Union Square. Fitting at Bonobo’s.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Song dynasty ceramics

One brief shining: Lunch at the Asian Box in the Asian Art Museum, the old main library transformed into a temple of the arts of Asia, riding its elevator to the second floor, finding the gallery with Chinese ceramics, locating the Song dynasty pieces, falling in love again with the skill and simplicity of that era’s potters, the delicate beauty of their work.

 

My first destination after the hotel. The Asian Art Museum. Why? I’ve missed wandering from vitrine to case to special exhibits, seeing the mark and choices of ancient hands. Especially the work of the Song Dynasty potters whose work is not only beautiful in its own right but had a lasting influence on Japan, teaware in particular. Temmoku especially.

Korean Moon Jar

These Korean Moon Jars represent the same aesthetic, simple, not perfect and in their case not even necessarily utilitarian. Just objects of clay, built on a wheel in two halves then joined. Coated with a white glaze, fired and finished.

The Song dynasty ceramicist’s influenced artists in Japan and Korea and now influence a new generation looking back at the choices made by these skilled potters. In my own preferences for ceramics the careful glazing, uncluttered designs, and muted colors say well made, well made.

 

I’m in the fourth day of my trip already. Second full day in San Francisco. The back limited me yesterday. After my morning session with the Ancient Brothers on what does your soul hunger for, I felt sleepy. Emailed Diane that I was going to take a nap. Thought it would be an hour. Nope. Two and a half.

Compressed our day which had originally included breakfast at Wise and Son’s deli, a visit to Diane’s home and her jogging hill. Instead she came here and I called an Uber.

After a tasty lunch at the Asian Box cafe at the museum, Diane had glazed salmon and I had pork with noodles, cabbage, bean sprouts, and tiny shrimp, we wandered the Chinese, Japanese, and Korean collections for three hours or so.

So happy to be there. My soul also hungers for art, needs it. My joy at being in a museum proved that.

The other hungers I identified were, like the one for art, mostly met on this trip. The others were travel, being in that place I do not know, seeing and experiencing things different from home, and seeing family. Aside from my brother and sister, Diane is my longest continuous relationship. She’s a first cousin on my mother’s side.

My family is far flung. Diane here in S.F. Mary in Malaysia. Mark now once again headed for Southeast Asia. My son, Seoah, and Murdoch in Korea. Interesting, to be sure, but the logistics of love and caring… Made difficult.

Health, Travel

April 26 and April 27 posts

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Friday gratefuls: Lidocaine patch. Amtrak. Honeybee rides. Waking up at 5. Shower. Finishing last of the packing. Some coffee. Then in the car. A true start to the trip. That first transport. Breakfast at Union Station at Snooze. Boarded train on time. Overcoming inertia.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Train in the Rockies

One brief shining: The fork at Snooze had curved tines, used them to pick up delicious chunks of corn beef, hash browns, washed down with a Blackberry Limeade, just right; after I sat on the traditional railroad benches, sooo uncomfortable.

Boarded on time, but left about 20 minutes late. I’m in my roomette,#21 on car 540. On this part of the trip I face south. Well, my window faces south. I actually face in the direction of travel. Right now, west.
We’ve been rolling now for an hour and a half. A long stretch out of Denver went north, then a wide sweeping turn found us inching up a grade, slow into the Front Range. We’ve been in the Mountains for a long while now. Passing through, on my side, walls of Rock, 17 tunnels, and lots of Evergreen. Some Snow remains, patches on the northern slopes which are out my south facing window.
Wherever we are now Winter remains. Deep Snow. Probably near a ski town. As we rode through the Denver metro, the dogwoods were in bloom. The yards were green. Spring had taken over. Not up here. However high we are.
Though the Creek running along side the tracks is full, not frozen. Something’s melting somewhere.
Snow topped Mountain Peaks, a fast running Mountain Stream, a herd of Elk, still in Colorado for sure. Guess we’re near Steamboat.
9,200 feet they just said. Only 400 higher than me. We’re in a really long tunnel right now.

My apprehension has now turned to observation. Using the p.t. exercises, the lidocaine patch, sitting down. So far not impossible. Struggled with my suitcase up the stairs to the level of the rooms. Expected that.
A really, really long tunnel.
The journey. The ancientrail of travel, of the Fool’s path. Something I need every once in a while. This may be a good alternative. Lower to the ground, no long airport walks. Slower. Which I like.

I’m using my laptop keyboard. Didn’t want to pack my ergonomic keyboard because I’m carrying rather than checking my bag. It’s heavy. Right now I’m finding this keyboard mostly ok. To my surprise. A pleasant surprise.
Writing on the tray table.
This is a very long tunnel. Did I mention that? I think I heard 9 miles long. We’ve been dark for a while.
Lunch is at noon. First come, first served. May skip. Probably got my day’s calories at breakfast.
Out of the tunnel at Winter Park near Granby where Rabbi Jamie sometimes lives. Got a quick photograph of a lift.
So far, so far. Still many miles to go. And I’m glad.

 

Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Sabbath gratefuls: Sleep. Ibuprofen. Lidocaine. Dennis. Roomette #21. Northern Nevada. Salt Lake City at midnight. Thin milk Sky with Great Sol riding the Southern passage. Snowy Mountain Peaks just beyond I-80. Greening landscape. Mesquite and Scrub grass. Breakfast between Battle Mountain and Winnemucca.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Vacating ahead of another 16 inches or so of Snow

One brief shining: Roomettes are small, but private, two seats, two nighttime beds, an outlet on the wall, only one, designed before personal electronics became more and more of our lives, most important a large window, a porthole as this long metal passenger ship presses its bulk forward, in this case to the Ocean, the wide Pacific and its bays in California.

Woke up around 5 am after off and on sleep until I took an ibuprofen, previously forbidden to me. Kidney disease. Since my labs have indicated no kidney disease for the last three years-it’s a mystery, Sue decided I could chance the occasional dose when things were, well, not good.
Trying to sleep last night as my hip said, hey, I’m here! I’m here, I reached a point where things were not good. Pain made it hard to sleep longer than an hour. So I reached for my first nsaid in many years.
Hammered that pain back into the hole it crawled out of. I didn’t feel bad. I’ve done p.t., which helps. Used the lidocaine patch, but 12 hours on, twelve hours off. Tried acupuncture, no relief. Seen a physiastrist. Increased my resistance work to strengthen my legs and core.
Two nsaid’s? NBD. Now that I know how much more effective they are than acetamenophin for back pain, I’m going to press for greater clarity about kidney disease.
All in all though, painful moments have not prevented me from boarding the train, walking around, going on vacation. Mixed conclusion, but right now travel trumps pain.
Part of the trick is to avoid over stressing my back. I did that yesterday walking around Union Station and to the train itself. Had I been a bit more circumspect I may not have had the pain I did. Learning curve

Yesterday the route of the California Zephyr followed the Colorado River for a long way. As I watched its muddy, ordinary flow, I wondered how something so mundane could be so important to millions of people. It is. The Water that flowed toward the Baja collects and channels Snow melt from Mountain Tops and Valley Floors, rushing it on south toward Las Vegas, Phoenix, even Los Angeles. Agriculture is the largest user though, not metro areas. Setting up a current struggle between population focal points and fields.

Just a moment: Student protests. Then and now. This 77 year old veteran of the war against the war knows the power and the fury of going over against the war machine. Against death from the Sky, death decreed by old white men, usually, too often, the death of those seen as other, be they North Vietnamese or Palestinians.
Yet this time. Anti-semitism is in the mix. Hard.

Memories, Minnesota, Politics, Travel

Arriving

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Sunday gratefuls: Steve, the Uber driver. The Chancellor. Powell Street. Cable cars. The Moon of Liberation standing over the Hyatt Regency. Amtrak. My back and its pains. A good night’s sleep. Diane. Her town. Mission and Fremont. Traveling. Vacating. Seeing the U.S. West, then the Pacific.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Uber

One brief shining: Left Roomette #21 behind pushing my bag, down the stairs, off the train, pushing bag again, show ticket to shuttle bus driver, board the bus, cross the bridge from Oakland to San Francisco with the Bay rippling underneath us, Alcatraz brooding off to my right, get out at Mission and Fremont, call an Uber, get in and ride to the Chancellor on Union Square.

 

No Wifi on train so my first trip posts will be above this one. Wrote them on Scribener and will import them when its update gets finished. Write now I’m in room 1304 of the Chancellor, a boutique hotel on Union Square. Writing now, too.

The back is an issue, but not a deal breaker for travel. Slower and with more management of pain. Sorta like home.

Steve, my Uber driver, was from Phoenix, now married to a S.F. gal. He drove a white Tesla and showed up within a minute of my booking. A critical move for my back. In times past I would have preferred to walk the 19 minutes to the hotel; now I know that level of effort would stress my hip and set me back.

My original flaneur idea, when the back flared for the first time in Korea, is the right one. Go slow and easy. Keep up the exercise. Do pain management.

That’s ok. The buzz of the new and the different still feeds my soul.

 

Yesterday as the train made its slow, delayed approach through poor suburbs, boulevards and underpasses filled with the makeshift homes of the unhomed, I got that sense of unease that always accompanies evidence of our failed political economics.

Then we came to Grizzly Island Wildlife Area. Egrets and Blue Heron. The Marsh. A Fox loping along for an evening meal. Wild Neighbors for San Francisco and its burbs. Calm returned to my soul. Not because there were no trailer parks, burned out cars, Target shopping carts, but because this felt like my place, a home away from home. Here I knew what to notice, how to exist.

In the so sad introduction to a major world metropolis my heart clogged up, the scenes of poverty’s devastation boiling my blood. Agitating me. Wanting to make me scream. So much so that I looked up M.I.C.A.H., the Metropolitan Interfaith Coalition for Affordable House. Yes, still there, almost 40 years now. And the Minnesota Council of Non-Profits. Fancy website. Couldn’t find Jobs Now though it may have morphed into something else. It was there the last time I wondered if what I’d done really mattered.

Yes, economic injustice and its tragedies are and will be with us. But so will those whose lives are spent trying to change them and if change can’t happen right now, ameliorate their effects.

Travel

The Travel Jones

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Thursday gratefuls: Travelin’. Truckin’. Grateful Dead, thanks Mark. Diane. Great Sol, out and proud. My Lodgepole Companion performing, as I write, the oh so necessary miracle of photosynthesis. The 60’s and San Francisco. Flowers in my beard, maybe? That day before leavin’ feelin’. Lots to do. Lidocaine patch on. Ready for the day. Living.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Amtrak

One brief shining: That Travelpro lies on its back right now thrown open, zippers dangling, ready to receive that which I decide I cannot buy in Union Square and that which I’ll need until my new clothes arrive from Bonobo’s, my meds all ready for their placing in those plastic containers so familiar to those geriatric others out there, electronics and their necessary cables, charging apparati are still in place doing their work and will be snatched up last.

 

Oh the things we’ll see and the places we’ll go. As this, the last day before vacation, has arrived my mood has that pre-trip lift. No fussing around. Stop the mail. Get a pedicure. Text Marina about the key for Ana. Gather Hebrew pages. Run the dishwasher. All that kind of thing.

I have some pro-travelers in my life. My brother Mark has lived most of his adult life on the road, out of the country. Hopping from Southeast Asia to Saudi Arabia depending on work and his whim. My sister Mary has lived most of her adult life in Southeast Asia. She’s made the most of it, not thinking twice about traveling around the world to visit friends and family, for work helping the educational systems of various countries, teaching in Japan. My son travels internationally many times a year, currently lives in Korea, before that Singapore and Hawai’i. My buddy Mark (aka Mario, Sam) Odegard has made of travel an art form, a venue for taking risks, for learning about new cultures, for adventures with Babbet. Friend Paul Strickland has visited many countries, gone round the world. Tom traveled for work, a lot. Me? I look at them and marvel. How they can decide just what to take. Make all the arrangements,handle the inevitable snafus. They are my role models.

Well, two more. Mom and Dad. Mom made the daring decision to join the WAC’s in WWII, getting sent to Europe and north Africa with the Signal corps. She saw Algiers, Capri, Rome, London. The first of our small family to leave the country for points beyond these shores. Dad though. He was the ur traveler even though he only got beyond North America once as far as I know. He just loved to go. We went to Oklahoma a lot. His birthplace and mine. We went to Canada, to Stratford, Ontario. We went to state parks in Indiana, to Air Force base museums. After his sort of retirement, he and his then wife, Rosemary, traveled Indiana going to places with curiosities that Dad wanted to see for himself like the really big ball of twine or the river that disappeared.

Though I’ve been more modest in my getaways, I’ve had my share. What I do have though is the travel jones. Every once in a while, I need to go somewhere. Of late, I’ve let inertia tamp that down, but like any jones it’s never really gone. It awaits only a pretty picture of somewhere far away, or a lecturer mentioning the churning of the sea of milk to get me on Kayak or the Amtrak website.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Travel

My revels are not yet ended

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Taking out the trash. Pine Martens. Otters. Sea Lions. Platypuses. Echidna. Cassowaries. Emus. Ostriches. Dinosaurs. Velociraptors. T-Rex. Brontosaurus. Mitochondria. Organelles. Life. Its emergence. Our participation in it. A true and undoubtable miracle. Consciousness. Life observes itself. The Universe observes itself. And celebrates itself.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Life

One brief shining: A morning thing gripping the plastic bar across the back of the trash bin, giving its plastic tire a kick so the bin shifts back onto the tires, then dragging it, making the sound of Thunder across the asphalt cracks headed toward not a curb, no not here, but the edge of Black Mountain Drive where it will wait for the truck to come, embrace it, lift it, shake it, and return it to the ground, goodbye trash, goodnight recycling.

 

In at least two different places at once. An improvement over times past when my self lay fragmented over my calendar and its scribbled appointments, its crossed out engagements and the repercussions of both filtering out like tiny fingers, tearing open the envelope of the next day and the day after, contaminating them with worry.

Today I’m pushing myself, challenging myself. Do the trip. Discover new limits. Or, discover that the worry, this not so tiny finger has no business in my heart. Yes. The trip.

Second place. The new Jew. Still learning Torah portion. Perhaps needing to learn some more for the service. Reading to finish the last session of Jamie’s ten lessons for conversion. Finding myself oversaturated, filled past the brim with so much new information, behavior, language, worldview that I feel weary. Not weary as in on my Eloheinu this was a mistake. Not at all. Weary as in enough for now. Like nearing the end of a period of study. Bachelors. Master of Divinity. Doctor of Ministry. Enough for now. Don’t tell me what to read. Don’t put me on display. There is though, as there were with each of these degrees, still a bit more to do. Have the bar mitzvah ceremony. Read my Torah portion. Have my last class with Jamie. Then. Ahhhh.

So travel as personal litmus test and pushing through the last days of my year of living Jewishly. Working to continue life with eagerness and depth. That’s what these represent for me. Both of them.

Reshaping my days and my commitments to a new, 77 year old form.

Want to be clear. It delights me to have these two places to become. A trip and a new identity. My life is not over and I’m living it full out or at least as full out as my 77 year old body and energy level will allow. I talk to Kate most days, know she walks this part of my ancientrail with me. A joy.

From the calendar, the Zen calender: Joy is being willing for things to be as they are. Charlotte Joko Beck.

And, just because Tom (who sends me the Zen calendar each year) put this out yesterday on Shakespeare’s 400th birthday:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

 

Art and Culture, Asia, Mountains, Music, Myth and Story, Poetry, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Reimaging revelation, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Cabin Fever Trip

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Tuesday gratefuls: Great Sol. Brightening our day. Counting the Omer. Begins tonight. Traveling readiness day. Delayed, but happening today. Diane’s great work on setting up an itinerary. Museums, as Ode says, temples of creativity. The Artist’s Way. My Jewish immersion. The Three Body Problem trilogy. Fall Out on Prime Video. High quality television. Kindle.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Artists-painters, writers, playwrights, musicians, poets, actors, sculptors, architects, composers

One brief shining: With awakening I’m in a new life, a multiverse reality based on the day before yet new as the dew on a spring ephemeral, in that day my many breaths each constitute life breathed out and back in, new lives each breath, how can I keep from singing?

 

Feeling the welcoming breath of a travel day exhaling from the end of the week toward me. Inspiring my activities today. Finalize packing. Stop mail. Get a pedicure. Collect myself for a journey.

This is mostly a cabin fever trip. A way of escaping a place I love because the snow and the cold stayed a bit too long. And for most folks I’ve talked to. A way to refresh the joys of home by vacating its presence for a bit. Enjoy the graces and beauties of San Francisco, see Diane. Live in a hotel for 7 nights, 2 nights in a sleeping car there and back. Write. Read. See the Rockies, the intermountain West, the Sierra Nevadas, canyons and deserts.

I’ve missed seeing good art on a regular basis. I’ve not found the Denver art scene at all comparable to the Twin Cities and I’ve let that attitude, plus the drive, keep me from seeing much at all. That’s on me. This trip will allow me to visit at least three of the country’s great collections: The Legion of Honor, the De Young, and the Asian Art museum. I plan to see them slowly. Taking as much time as I need. Reenter the world of Zhou and Han, Song and Tang, Picasso and Hokusai, Rodin and Giacometti.

Yes. You could say of me. Religion, politics, and art. The subjective, the debatable, the aesthetic, the aspects of culture not manageable by STEM. Sure I like a good scientific discovery as much as the next nerd, but to examine an ancient text for the message it carries down the millennia to this day, to stand in the street and face down an oppressive economy, to join the conversation of those for whom shape, color, and language create whole worlds and dizzying perspectives, yes. That’s my journey.

That and one other thing. The wild spots outside my door, up the flank of Black Mountain. Here on Shadow Mountain I can integrate the seeker, the advocate, and the artist with the world around me. My Lodgepole Companion and I see each other each morning. I said hello yesterday to those Mule Deer Does munching grass along Black Mountain Drive. Within them lie the same message as the Torah portion I will read on June 12th, the same spirit of over against oppressive structures, and an equivalent beauty to the best of Monet.

 

Art and Culture, Health, Politics, Travel

Soon to be on the road

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Friday gratefuls: Pesach. Counting the Omer. Tarot. Astrology. Luke and Leo. Rebecca. Marilyn. Irv. Ginny, Janice. Rabbi Jamie. Conversion. Bar Mitzvah. Hoarfrost again on my Lodgepole Companion. And as far as I can see on other Lodgepoles, too. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. The Ancient Brothers. Alan. Joanne. My tallit. The morning service. The Shema.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Lidocaine patches

One brief shining: Using scissors, I cut open the thin pouch that contains the Lidocaine patch, pull it out of its airtight container, taking care to remove only half of the covering of its working side, place the open half on my lower back, then peel back the rest of the covering, letting it settle into place over the spot where my back hurts.

 

The road so far. P.T. and sitting help my back. Acupuncture. Not feelin’ it. However, the lidocaine patch. It definitely helps. 12 hours off, 12 hours on. So can use for a day of touring, being out and about. Then take it off at night. If I need to, I can try the ibuprofen at night. Suppose I could use the ibuprofen and the patch. Don’t want to. Minimal treatment. Local if possible, not systemic. Beginning to see a path forward here. Most of the time I don’t need the patch or meds, but when I do. I have them. Comforting.

 

This weekend. Travel planning in serious mode. Try packing my carry-on as my one bag. I.D. all the must take with me like meds and electronics. Clothes. Go over Diane’s comprehensive list of possible things to do and establish some priorities. Must does are easy: Asian Art, the de Young, and the Legion of Honor. The Japanese Tea Room. Chinatown. Muir Woods. Eating out fancy at least once. Other museums, tourist sites, maybe Japantown, I’ll have to sort through, put on a list of if we get to it. If not, another time.

I’m no longer an I’ve got to tick off this sight and that one to feel like the trip was worth it. I prize much more these days quality time with a place. I also know that life is short and I’ll never see everything. Mostly in that stance anyhow, by nature and inclination. I’m the guy that reads the plaques in the museum. Listens to the audio. Stays in one place awhile.

Getting excited for the trip. The journey will be an important part of it. I love traveling by rail, going slower and at ground level, being able to saunter up to the dining car, the snackbar car, the viewing car. Or, sitting in my roomette watching the terrain go by. (unintentional) Maybe reading, maybe writing. Doing nothing at all.

 

Just a moment: Looks like Israel at least for now has not screwed the pooch in its response to Iran’s flight of the drones. Thank yod-heh-vav-heh. Maybe the calculus of the Middle East can change. Maybe Israel, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, UAE, Jordan, even Egypt can make a pact of some part. An anti-Iran coalition similar to NATO. One for all and all for one. Probably unlikely, but any joint presence that stiff arms Shia Muslims operating in the Middle East would be quite an advance over the current reality.

 

Shadow Mountain, Travel, Weather +Climate

Out. And, all aboard!

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April 7, 2024

 

Spring and the last crescent of the Purim Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Generator. High winds. Lodgepole companion ok. Calm now. Travel plans in place. Art and San Francisco. Diane and her town. Internet down. Starlink available but no way to access it. Great Sol illuminating Black Mountain. A certain immediacy blocked. Another immediacy heightened.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Generator

One brief shining: Charging, charging, the docking station for my medical guardian said, going off and on twice, the oxygen concentrator quit, then turned back on, twice, I heard the rumble of the generator’s engine through my wall, those winds that chilled the house yesterday and last night stopped the free flow of electricity from the grid and the internet connection made through Centurylink, glad to have the Kohler generator doing its emergency service.

 

Rare. The DSL is down. So are my mini-splits. If it was colder, I’d turn on the gas heat. Not sure why the mini-splits are down but so are other electrical services on the west side of the house. Irony: the Starlink installation would bypass this problem, but I can’t access it without the internet.

Change of weather systems can be brutal up here, bringing high winds that break electrical transmission lines and sometimes the telephone lines as well. Apparently what happened last night.

Might make me reconsider Starlink. If you recall, I dropped it right after I had it installed because of Elon Musk’s anti-semitism. Still, if it’s the only way to have reliable internet…

 

An odd moment when I realized the Centurylink connection was down. How could I host the Ancient Brothers? I can’t. What’s going on in the world? No NYT or WP. Are others up here also without power? Can’t check Nextdoor Neighbor. It’s on the internet. Felt as if a sensory organ had gone quiet.

There is an apparent immediacy to the internet, one we rely on, one I rely on.

Yet it is only apparent. It is instead highly mediated, requiring electricity, servers, available transmission modalities. Even Zoom or Skype, the video phone calls of Dick Tracy’s wristwatch, take place in cyberspace with no skin in the game.

 

Odd. And telling. I can walk outside as I did a moment ago to get the mail. The Lodgepoles and the Aspen. The Granite and Gneiss. Right there. Great Sol warms me without need of electrical wires or gas piping. I move through space. While in the cyberworld no matter how it might appear we’re always seeing a two-dimensional screen. Even virtual reality doesn’t change that. The only movement for me is fingers on a keyboard or my hand on a computer mouse.

 

Just a moment: On April 24th I board Amtrak, find my roomette and settle in for a 34 hour overnight journey to San Francisco. There I’ll settle in to the Chancellor, a boutique hotel on Union Square.

Diane has a comedy night and a trip to Muir Woods planned. We’ll also avail ourselves of a fine restaurant or two. She also has memberships in the Asian Art Museum and two others.

My main intention, my kavanah, for this trip is vacating Shadow Mountain for a bit. After that. Spend time with Diane. Spend time with art, something I feel starved for. See some sights. Test my back.

Bon Voyage to me!

 

 

 

 

Holidays, Judaism, Science, Travel, Weather +Climate

Matters Astronomical

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Spring and the waning crescent of the Purim Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Joanne. My blue silk tallit that she made. With the shema on it. Lunch at Nana with her. Parsha Shimini. Kate’s Creek. High Winds today. My Lodgepole companion dancing. New workout. Going well. Zornberg on the Golden Calf. The Navajo. The Beauty Way. Joanne among the Navajo. Cernunnos. Candle lighting for shabbat, for writing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mountain Winds

One brief shining: Joanne handed me a blue silk bag with a drawstring, opening it I found neatly folded a tallit, a prayer shawl with tzitzit, knotted fringes, which I removed and unfolded, the shema hand-embroidered on its collar, but I did not know how to put it on and she showed me, a quick pull with the right hand crossing over the left shoulder so the shema turned inward against my neck.

 

 

Shabbat has changed with Great Sol. When I began observing it, the candle lighting ceremony, which happens eighteen minutes before sundown, took place around 4 pm. Yesterday it was 7:11 pm. Shabbat then extends until 8:11 pm on Saturday. Shabbat lasts 25 hours. I had not expected shabbat observance to ground me in seasonal change, but now I see that’s an inevitable and welcome part of it. Rosh Chodesh likewise. This is a monthly ritual which observes the coming of a new moon and with it a new Jewish month.

The three pilgrimage holidays of Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot also have seasonal significance. Pesach, which celebrates the Exodus, the liberation of the Hebrew slaves, corresponds to planting season. Shavuot, which celebrates the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai, is a first fruits holiday with loaves baked from new grains offered for sacrifice. Sukkot, the festival of booths, is a harvest celebration. Pilgrimage festivals were the high points of the Jewish year during the Temple periods when all Jews came to Jerusalem to offer sacrifices at the temple.

There is a profound resonance in Jewish festivals and our lunar calendar with the Great Wheel. One this pagan appreciates as a Jew.

 

Just a moment: Hawkeyes win! In a nail biter. Two close games in a row for Iowa. Now on to the championship.

On August 20th of 2017 Kate, Ruth, Gabe and I drove north to Driggs, Idaho in a motorhome. Kate’s favorite mode of travel. On the 21st we sat on BJ’s porch eyes covered with Great Sol strength dark lenses and experienced the last total eclipse in the U.S. One arrives again on Monday, almost seven years after our wonderment in Driggs.

Last one I can see here in the U.S. Unless I live another 21 years and make it to 98. Not impossible, but not at all probable. Glad I got to the one in Driggs. Good friends Tom and Bill will have a chance to see it in Dripping Springs, Texas at Bill’s daughter Moira’s home. Weather forecast does not look friendly.

I checked it out, but the local Holiday Inn wanted $859 for room rates on and around the eclipse. Nope. If I hadn’t been to Driggs, maybe. But I had.

 

 

Health, Judaism, Politics, Travel

Back to Travel

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Spring and the Purim Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Alan. Lucille’s New Orleans cafe. Down the hill. Visiting Spring. The Three Body Problem. Reading and forgetting. MVP. Colorado Eye Consultants. Talmud Torah with Gary. Working through Bereshit, the first parsha. Slowly. Clean house and loft. Snow in the back still high. Travel. Amtrak. BEI Wyndham. Asian art. Art.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Railroads

One brief shining: Feels like I have lifted myself up from my inertia, almost done with first phase of planning, booking Amtrak and San Francisco hotel, Diane suggesting other things to do, including Muir Woods, looking forward to challenging myself, seeing how this physical therapied, accupunctured, physiatrist scrutinized back holds up with lidocaine patches ready for the times when everything else fails.

 

Yeah. Finally. Money from my IRA plumping up my travel fund. And my fund for Ruth’s 18th birthday, graduation. Grease for the rails.

Frustration with myself, my reluctance fading. A long winter? Sure. Back issues? Yes. Homebodiness? Of course. Reasons to stay stuck? No.

As my friend Ode observed after his trip to Nice with Elizabeth, “Travel is hard work.” Yes, it is. Especially when stamina and various ailments intrude on the journey. Yet. We know hard work. And we know it’s worth the  end result. At least some of the time. In this case the hard work lies in lifting and walking and hurrying. In being on your feet more than in a normal day at home. In confronting challenges with food, sleeping, lodging in unfamiliar places. You know what they are. All amplified in magnitude by a weaker body.

The hard work of travel has always been worth it for me. I’ve faced times since Korea when I doubted whether it was still worth it. I’m not sure. If my back seizes up on me after a day out and I can’t sleep. If its pain brings me up short during a day like it did in Korea. If the exercises and the lidocaine patches don’t calm it down. Well. Then I’ll know and have to readjust. Reconsider. But if, as I imagine, I now know how to handle my back, not let it get away from me, then I’ll start looking at flights to Taipei and Incheon.

 

My taxes are done. That feels good.

I have MVP tonight. I’m presenting on bechira, choice points, and kehilla, community. What in your world creates a choice between this appetite and that virtue? How do those choices affect the people with whom you live?

Eye doc today. Glaucoma. Photos of my retinal nerve. Seeing Dr. Repine. Thorough. Quick. With cataracts and glaucoma I could have gone blind twice. Thanks for modern eye care Jane West and Dr. Repine. Easy to forget the things that haven’t happened as a result of good medical care. I’m not functionally deaf either. Nor am I dead from prostate cancer.

 

Just a moment: Israel. Digging itself deeper and deeper into everyone’s bad graces. When you’re in a hole, stop digging. Still pro-Palestinian. Still pro-Israel. Anti militarism as the only solution to Israel’s security. Sad beyond measure. So conflicted. Angry. Worn down. A troubled place.