Category Archives: Health

Back Pain, Cancer, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Post Polio, Shadow Mountain

A Life Transition

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Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Tuesday gratefuls: Gloriana frangipana! (first line of the Indiana University school song) Jane Pauley. Dick Pauley. Uncle Riley. Diane. The farm. The Blue River. Hancock Cemetery. Morristown. Milan. Bobby Plump. The Indy 500. The Indiana Republican party. Turkey Run State Park. Spring Mill State Park. The Alexandria Times-Tribune. Muncie. Wabash. Ball State.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: I.U.

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Daat.    The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

“If Chokhmah (Wisdom/Inspiration) is a seed and Binah (Understanding/Analysis)  is the soil that develops that seed into a plant, Da’at is the nervous system that carries the vital life force from the brain to the rest of the body. It is the point of transition from “thinking” to “being.””

art@willwordsworth

Tarot: Ten of Bows, Responsibility

  • Overextension: Pushing yourself too hard, sacrificing well-being for responsibilities.
  • Perseverance: The strength to continue despite heavy loads, finding inner resolve.
  • Completion/Release: As a “10” card, it signals the end of this phase, often with the potential for release or freedom after enduring the trial.
  • Prioritization: A call to assess what truly matters and learn to say “no” or ask for help.

One brief shining: Eleanor bounded down the stairs, Shadow twirled at the scent of her friend, Tara hollered we’re here, and the Shadow/Eleanor run, twist, smell, wrestle all the time day began when I opened the door, Eleanor pushed through Shadow greeting her with a jump and a play bow.

 

Sport: Pride of place belongs to I.U. football. National champions. Undefeated. Bringing gloriana frangipana to the nation’s attention. I listened to an all red chorus sing the I.U. school song and it washed over me, redolent of nineteenth century American higher education. Made me wish, again, that I’d chosen I.U. over Wabash.

Jane Pauley, married to Gary Trudeau and former host of the Morning Show, made this tribute piece: Hail to Indiana. Cousin Diane found it. Jane often came to our family reunions since her dad, Dick Pauley, and Diane’s father, my uncle, were like brothers. If you watch this piece, Uncle Riley is to the left in the old photograph shown near the beginning. Family.

 

Soul Work: This year, let’s start it on February 4th, 2025 when I adopted Shadow from the Granby Shelter, has been a humbling one, physically. Over the course of a long, loving, difficult time developing a relationship with a traumatized puppy, I’ve had multiple diagnostic procedures followed by several courses of varied treatments ranging from radiation to nerve ablations. The whole process exhausted me.

Since the last meeting of our Mussar Vaad Practice group a month ago, one I had to leave in the middle due to extreme discomfort from a hernia, I’ve grappled with a persistent issue: if I go out, even on small jaunts, I come home drained. A combination of my head drop from post-polio, right lower back and hip pain added to a general weakness due to sarcopenia and the energy my body has to expend making up for the resources cancer steals from it.

The soul work has been around accepting that I have become almost home bound. Here, in a chair that supports my neck, with my home gym, I achieve a normal day without depleting myself. When a day on my calendar is clear, my lev is happy.

I don’t like this, but I’m increasingly unable to live the life I developed after Kate’s death. Question. Can I still live a significant, loving life under these conditions? My answer is yes, of course I can. As I said a week or so ago, recounting my talk with Rachel, my social worker.

I’ve come to this conclusion. My life is now mostly here at Shadow Mountain Home. That means no traveling, fewer trips out and those more calibrated than before. Leaning on my friends for help when I need it. Beginning to think about some more paid help around the house.

A life transition, not one I sought, but one to which I have to adapt. See the ten of bows.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Writing

Lord Willin’ and the Creek Don’t Rise

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Thursday gratefuls: Joe. Coming on a jet plane. Star Trek. Strange New Worlds. Vast distances. Space. The Milky Way. Discovery. Hubble. Webb. ISS. Tian Jian. Saturn. Atlas. SpaceX. Blue Origin. NASA. The Moon. Mars. Asteroids. Mother Earth, our spaceship. Terranauts. Great Sol.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.

“The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, Eel

“With purity of intent, your destiny defined, you are able to bring wisdom and maturity to your tasks. Embarking on a quest of personal revelation, your vision leads you onward. Your deep feelings are expressed at every turn.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Plane landed, he said, getting a car, leaving the rental, about 1.5 hours out; Joe had come to Colorado, the Godfather whose godchildren eagerly awaited him texting, buzzing, Ruth sending pictures of her new-to-her car, a Subaru Forester that Joe helped her find from afar, like a good Dad; when he got here lugging his usual duffle bag full of books, another Master’s degree underway, Shadow surprised us both and barked at him.

OK. Nobody comes to our house at night.  I’ll give her that. And, he’s a he. She definitely prefers women. Still. So. Joe closed the door and went back upstairs. When we went upstairs, Shadow and me, she relented, only backing away.

Joe came in for a hug, a muscled 44, smelling faintly of soap, bigger than I remembered. Though in reality it’s me that’s smaller. That affection. Borne of 44 years in each other’s lives, of so, so many memories. Of so much love.

All the longing. As I get older, I need to see him, and Seoah, too, so much more; yet, distance and the arc of a career, a successful career, mean I’ll probably never have what I need. Makes me sad.

It’s not like I need to see him every day, though that would be great, but having him and Seoah closer than 9,000 miles… Would be better. Not likely to happen.

I love my life on Shadow Mountain.  Great and good friends. Shadow. Wild Neighbors. Aspens and Lodgepoles. A house I know, that works well for me. Living in the Mountain West exhilarates me. A life that works. No regrets. Even so, I feel what I feel.

On an adjacent matter. Talking with Rachel, my social worker, (ok. yes. It still feels weird to say, my social worker.) I did resolve one bit of tension. My walking limitations and my head drop issue have left me near home bound. I can and do go out, but I fade quickly. Energy and stamina both limited.

I’ve felt, maybe for the past year, an unidentified need to do more, be more while at the same time thoroughly enjoying my at home life. A vague guilt, yet real. And, it taints my pleasure in a life of reading, Shadow, cooking, writing, watching TV.

I’d always pegged the feeling as pushing in from the second phase of career, family busyness. Rachel suggested it might also come from building a new life after Kate’s death. In two distinct, but, I feel, significant ways.

First, we had a life together, Kate and me. Attending CBE. Going to see the grandkids, Jon. Special evenings out, theater and jazz. Drives in the Mountains. Caring for each other.

Second, I was Kate’s 24/7 caretaker for almost three years, always on, always going to this appointment or that procedure or cooking or doing the laundry. Constantly busy.

There’s the proximate source of the guilt. I have a life of fewer obligations, either as partner/soulmate, or caregiver. I should be doing more, like I did for all those years. Well, no I shouldn’t.

My life, a more abbreviated one than it was in those years, does not have that level of relationship and duty. That’s a fact. Too, these physical limitations are real. I can ameliorate them some with exercise and diet, but I’m no longer capable of living the life I once lived even six months ago.

Which is oh so, so far from saying I’m not living a life of purpose and agency, a fulfilling and satisfying life. I am. And, I intend to go on doing it Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

The Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari

Aging, Ancient Brothers, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Mountains, The West

Glad I’m Old

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Wednesday gratefuls: Joe, coming today. Dr. Josy. Healthy Shadow. Paying bills. Tom in recovery. Alan, too. The great American medical contraption. Books. Leads for books. Notebooklm. Pan. Lycaon. The enchanted world. Zeus. Athena. Hera. Poseidon. Hephaestus. Hermes. Hades. Arcadia. Ancient Greece.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dr. Josy

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.                                                “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot:  Eight of Arrows, Struggle

“…profound personal struggles require calm, decisive and resolute action. Reach down into the very core of your being and summon all the reserves of your courage and wisdom. See honestly what the issue will require for you to resolve it…View this necessary sojourn with clear eyes and a resolute heart, for to overcome these tests of life makes us stronger.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Old age is an eight of arrows life phase, a time when the cycle of an individual life nears its end, yet also when  a lifetime of contemplation and courage and love drives a personal distillation, the alembic of a lived life able to transform the dross of work and care into the golden fleece of wisdom and self-compassion.

Old age presents its insults. Those of us in our late seventies and eighties know. Could be maturing cataracts. Might be regrets. A certain hitch in the step. Maybe balance uncertain. All those family issues, good and troublesome. Of course, some sort of physical decline, could be serious illness.

Then there is the end of this story, once infinitely far away, now looming not far out of sight. Even with a death-friendly outlook, which I have, I’m still with Woody Allen: I’d prefer not to be there when it happens. Kate knows. Regina knows. Jon knows. Mom and dad know. All ancestors know. Death loves us all.

When I couldn’t open the jar of sauerkraut or the sour Cherry preserves, it hit me hard. Weak, so weak. When back pain constantly gnawed at my day, my composure, I let myself fall, often, into the slough of despond. Cancer’s various moments of deep uncertainty had the same power.

Yet. I’ve been reading. No surprise. My mind follows the threads of political change, for example, from a unique vantage point. One earned in years, decades of action and reflection. Or, as I research Pan, the great Arcadian God of the natural world, my heart and my imagination open up, seeing connections, linkages from other years of reading, learning.

Or, I have the insight, as I did yesterday, that I’ve stayed the course in many difficult situations: with Jon and his troubles, with Ruth and Gabe, with Kate in her final years, with so many Dog’s in their final weeks, with Shadow through our mutual angst. Even with myself.

Yes, old age has its insults. It sure does. It also has depth of compassion earned. Love emboldened and strengthened. Knowledge gathered, connected, created. A calm that comes from kicking the hamster wheel of achievement to the side. I’m glad I’m old. How bout you?

Dogs, Far Right, Health, Politics, White Supremacy, Writing

Matters Ascendant

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Shadow at home. Cooler weather ahead. Wildfire. Mitigation. The birthday boys. Rigel. Vega. Betelgeuse. Antares. Polaris. Andromeda. Milky Way. Crab. Red. Horsehead. Great Sol. Luna. Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn. Uranus. Neptune. Pluto. (I know. Still.) Oort Field. Pioneer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Notebooklm

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: She still hesitates, sometimes, on occasion I have to go outside and shoo her in, yet I can always get her inside, a marked improvement; on the leash yesterday we walked up stairs, out the door, and into the front yard, where Shadow strolled easily beside me until I decided to get the mail and tightened the leash because of the road. She panicked.

 

Dog journal: With prozac Shadow reacts less to sudden movements, sounds. She doesn’t seem to play as much, but that might be reacclimation, moving from four Dogs and a more frenetic day, Natalie calls it chaos, to the quieter reality of our home. She does seem more subdued, less the bouncy girl. A balance I know. I’ll ask Dr. Josy what she thinks about a smaller dose.

Shadow had begun taking over Natalie’s pack, herding them. I worry the isolation with this old guy might weigh on her, especially with the limited outdoors of the Dog run. Natalie pulled back on her recommendation that I get another Dog when her pack didn’t influence Shadow’s behavior. Pondering.

 

Notebooklm: I had three things, well, really four that began to push themselves forward after I got done with radiation and into a somewhat free time. Fewer, much fewer appointments and procedures.

The first and most urgent was exercise. Diane helped me crack that one by suggesting I focus only on resistance work. At least for a while. I’ve combined her recommendation with an easier on myself self-talk, not carrying guilt if I miss a session. I’ll add cardio back in when it feels right.

The second thing pushing forward, Shadow, had a built in delay since she was at Natalie’s until Saturday. I still had to get the Dog run built and stay checked in on her progress. Now she’s home.

The third matter pushing its way into awareness concerned the question of politics, culture, and my role in this, my fourth phase. After joining the Democratic Socialists of America, it became clear.  I need to continue my learning about the new (far) right, adding in attention to topical news, but considered from a progressive socialist perspective.

I’ve combined Notebooklm and AI to produce a daily, weekly, and monthly research pattern that feeds what will initially be two columns of political commentary a week on my Substack site. I’m still in the setting up and learning phase, but I anticipate getting started writing later this month.

The fourth? Long has it waved. Superior Wolf. Unzipping it, separating out its tech bro immortality storyline from the story of Lycaon, the first werewolf. I want to focus on Lycaon’s story from his time as the King of Arcadia in a time of myth and legend to the present. Again, Notebooklm and AI have helped me get a running start.

I’ve already devoted time to each of these, regular time, so I can follow Picasso’s thought: “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

There is, to be fair to the process, a fifth that does not have traction for me right now: the nature’s rights, or earth jurisprudence movement.

Fourth Phase, Health, Holidays, Writing

Habits Old and New

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Shabbat gratefuls: Snow. Shadow here for a visit. Noon. Vincent and Julia home  for the holidays. Tara. The sixties. The anti-war movement. In loco parentis. Student’s rights. Civil rights. Philosophy. Anthropology. My 1950’s Chevy Panel Truck. Ball State. Wabash. Anti-draft movement. Second wave feminism. Judy. Fox River Paper. Appleton, Wisconsin

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Creole Food

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah   strength, discipline

In your daily life, practicing Gevurah might mean:
  • Setting Boundaries: Knowing when to say no to preserve your energy or integrity.
  • Ethical Discernment: Evaluating situations clearly rather than acting on blind impulse.
  • Discipline: Committing to a path and having the strength to stay on it, even when it is difficult. 

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: The deafening sound of silverware on porcelain, the normal conversations in a full restaurant, the kitchen with waiters coming and going overwhelm my hearing aid, placing me outside even the table where Joanne, Alan, Cheri talk to Josh, the happy Hummingbird chef, while I sit there smiling and nodding, the fool on the hill.

During the Moon of New Beginnings I plan to recapture old habits and pick up one new one. I have already begun resistance work as my primary workout. Leaving out cardio, at least for now. I have a modest, but important to me, goal. Opening the wrapping on a protein bar with ease. Hey, I said it was modest.

I will also continue Ancientrails, as if I could stop at this point after almost twenty-one years of regular morning writing. I hope to add a rewrite/revision of Superior Wolf to my day. My focus on the kavannah of gevurah includes setting aside time for this writing project.

The new habit I want to add? I have been active in and read about politics since my teenage years in Indiana. That reading has included newspapers, magazines, books, and websites. I mostly read to give shape and reason to action. With no gevurah, no discipline however.

Like most folks I’d look at a front page and read what struck me. Same with a new issue of a magazine or the offerings on a website. Part of the new habit involves adding gevurah to my reading about politics. Chatgpt and I have developed a beginning plan for daily, weekly, and monthly reading on specific topics important to me and, I believe, others.

Those topics are: Christian Nationalism, New Apostolic Reformation, granola conservatives, white supremacy, MAGA, post-MAGA far right politics, anti-Semitism, democratic socialism, strategy within democratic socialism and the Democratic party for winning elections, state and city level politics expressive of any of the above.

Disciplined reading and thinking about these topics will inform columns commenting on what I’ve learned and how I see that learning affecting both the present political moment and movement toward a more just, compassionate, and loving world.

I will probably write these columns in Substack where I already have a spot which I’ve hardly used.

 

Family, Health

Christmas Edition

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Christmas gratefuls: Children, all the children. Christmas Trees. Wassail bowls. Yule logs. Mistletoe. Holly and Ivy. The whole pageant of pagan appropriations. Merry Christmas, everyone. Snow. Ice. Wherefore art thou? Shadow of the morning. All those who are alone, bereft, unloved on this day in particular. Friends and family. Wild Neighbors and the Rocky Mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara, Marilyn and Irv

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.    Radical amazement, awe.

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Tara brings all black, curly haired puppy Eleanor and all white, curly haired Kingsley; they run down the stairs yin and yang on four legs, out the back door and into doggy freedom, while they play Tara and I talk. Humans, eh?

A Christmas edition of Ancientrails. Nostalgia carries me into Christmas, any Christian embers long extinguished. The pagan accretions, the family and friends celebrating. Yes. The incarnation. No.

Jacquie Lawson, the e-card company, puts out a fun animated Advent calendar and I buy one each year. It’s heavy on traditional Christmas themes like Snow, sledding, Santa, hot chocolate, with a soupcon of baby Jesus. This year’s version had an English village setting with the village gaining buildings as the days progressed. A sweet immersion in the parts of Christmas that still matter to me. Very well done.

Yule makes more sense to me with its Evergreen Trees, Holly, and Ivy. Its emphasis on Fire as the human imitation of Great Sol. Wassailing, feasting, singing songs. Celebrating the essential and inextricable relationship between humans and their parents: Mother Earth and Great Sol.

So throw that Yule log on the Fire, drink from a flagon made of Elk Horn, listen to the lute and the zither, and sing the night away into the coming of the light. You pagan you.

 

In saying my piece about the difficult realms of my inner world I put them out there, on the page, away from the clanging cauldron of my doubts. They no longer have the power of hidden things. Does not make them dissolve, no.

Yet. Their power diminishes in the air. Looking back to yesterday’s post, I can see them as part of my larger whole, and only part. That alone puts them in conversation with the strength of my will, with the love of friends and family, with  the sacred energy of my nephesh which joins  my Self to the collective unconscious. In that broader, richer context the self-insulting and self-negating thoughts have to contend with years of reflection and self-understanding. Their obscurantism evaporates, sending them back to their subterranean homes in Kubla Khan’s caverns measureless to man (sic).

Also, when they’re out folks can raise them with me. Diane helped me today with two stuck places: exercise. I committed to resistance work only for the next few weeks. Being weak really bugs me. She also helped me see that reading and writing can indeed be my purpose now. Thanks, cuz.

 

Cancer, Far Right, Health, Politics, White Supremacy, Writing

Reading Right

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Samain and the Shadow Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Paul and Christopher. Findlay and Sarah. Kate and Clare. High Winds. Shadow away. Arrival Day yesterday. Joe. Working out again. Cancer. Dr. Bupathi. Kristie. Dr. Carter. Jenna and Alise. Andouille. Kielbasa. Shrimp. Pork. Sheetpan recipes. New York Times. Ground News. Washington Post. LA Times. Vox. ProPublica. Ezra Klein. No despair.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Protein

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Netzach   “Endurance and Tenacity: Netzach represents the inner strength and fortitude required to pursue a goal or a passion over a long period, especially when faced with obstacles.”

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Oh, these cancer days and cancer nights, long have they stayed, often indolent no worries, ordinary sleep, ordinary waking, once in a while, at least every three months, a bit fraught, will the numbers be good or bad, sometimes, like as of late, ordinary sleep, but some edgy days with moving numbers, m.r.i.s, pet scans, radiation.

 

Health: Got my new PSA numbers over the weekend. A big jump. Uh-oh. Couldn’t ask the question until Monday a.m. Sent a note and Hannah said she’d make sure Dr. Bupathi had seen those results. Thanks, Hannah.

Not long after, again from Hannah, “The team thinks this could be the result of inflammation after radiation. Recheck in six weeks.” That’s also the time frame for my next pet scan. So, ok. Part of the process.

What matters here is whether I have transitioned from hormone treatment sensitive cancer to hormone resistant which requires the next step in protocols, new drugs, stronger ones. If my psa goes down, that is below 0.3, I continue on androgen deprivation therapy-hormone treatment-as I have since 2019.

This has my attention. Not worried yet not placid. Things not definitive. Six weeks of this. I appreciated Hannah understanding my concern, following it down. There are no small roles in this personal life and death drama.

 

Just a moment: A continuing commitment. I will read and comment on the news, especially news originating from non-traditional sources like the conservative Bulwark, the liberal Vox and Propublica, Groundnews, the Atlantic, and the Guardian. For my own original reporting I will continue to take you inside texts like Yasem Hazony’s Conservativism Redefined and the Violent Take It By Force, Matthew Taylor on the New Apostolic Reformation.

This week I’ve purchased two that will occupy much of my time for a while. Abundance by Ezra Klein, a progressive political agenda for our time, and Furious Minds by Princeton scholar of the New Right, Laura K. Field, which analyzes the Making of the MAGA New Right.

This is a project I began a while ago when reading Patrick Deneen’s, Why Liberalism Failed, followed by a book on the John Birch Society, another on Christian Nationalism, and yet  another on thinkers who have impacted the New Right.  Renaud Camus, for example, the French political philosopher who developed Replacement Theory. That was 2023. Well before the return of red tie guy.

Replacement theory shows up in the recent Trumpian National Security Strategy as that document’s warning to Europe about “civilizational erasure.” It also shows up among America white nationalists associated with MAGA.

I’m beginning to trust my sense of what drives the new far right, now I want to understand how its rise will effect our future.

Cancer, Dogs, Far Right, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, US History, White Supremacy, World History

Link Arms Against This Sea of Troubles

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Samain and the Shadow Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Rising PSA. Shadow, seen. Natalie and Dr. Josy. Winter is coming. (next week) Hanukah. Ruth and Gabe. Joe. Seoah. Murdoch. What I want. Death. Other life punctuation points. Hawai’i. Nathan and the Dog run. Venezuela. Latin America. Central America. North America. The Gulf of Mexico.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Netzach   “Endurance and Tenacity: Netzach represents the inner strength and fortitude required to pursue a goal or a passion over a long period, especially when faced with obstacles.”

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Shadow cast her presence toward me, casually, too absorbed in other nearby dogs and her trazadone pall to greet her Dad when others of her kind, so many of them, were nearby, crossing behind Natalie’s FJ Cruiser with its DOGS4LIFE license plate, in the Flying J parking lot human companions holding leashes, some pulling toward Shadow to say hi, I’m here, too.

 

Dog journal: First I’d seen Shadow since a week ago Friday. She greeted me, but with little enthusiasm. A little bit of my heart broke. My hope for an enthusiastic smile, a jump, kisses set aside. I noticed, in a bit, that she moved a little slowly, that spark in her personality tamped down.

I’d forgotten the trazadone/gabapentin she was on while the prozac reaches therapeutic levels. Didn’t like it, but I understood the rationale. Reduce her reactivity and help her learn new behaviors. Like letting a leash on. Like easily crossing thresholds. Temporary. Similar to chemical constraints for humans in an agitated state. Shadow exists in an agitated state most of the time.

Natalie said Shadow acted the same at her place as she does at mine, vis a vis thresholds. Made me feel good. Not me. Some psychic gremlin gripping Ms. Shadow when faced with crossing from the outside to the inside.

Natalie, an empathetic and kind person, said she’d come pick up Shadow if I had appointments, keep her for the day and return her. How blessed am I. So many loving folks in my orbit.

We parted after about twenty minutes, Shadow with Natalie.

Good-bye.

 

Health: Yes. My labs showed my PSA jumped, in spite of the radiation, from 0.3 to 2.7. At first I saw the 2.7 and thought, yes! Only later wondering, opening the lab report again. Oh. Not 0.27.

Probably means new drugs. New side effects. Still many options between me and ordinary chemotherapy. Erleada is technically chemotherapy, says so on the pill container, but its side effects have been slight.

There again, blessed. A cancer with many treatments, slow progression. And, for me so far, no symptoms. Happy Holiseason to me!

 

Just a moment: Make Western civilization white again. A sad dream, a dream of the desperate, of the frightened and deluded.

Even the Asian civilizations with which I have some familiarity exhibit strong evidence of liberal ideals. Look at the young women of Korea on a virtual Lysistratan sex strike, wanting their autonomy. Or, young women and men in China. Many of the women rejecting traditional Chinese female roles, many men disillusioned by them and the job market, pushing back against their heritage of centralized control. Taiwan, too.

And here’s the paradox, the irony. Those of us strong with the force of liberal/enlightenment/renaissance ideas of no kings, individualism, small d democracy, individual freedoms and rights as human beings are the ones that recognize most the need to link arms against this tide of civilizational troubles and by opposing end them.

Yes, the liberal journey is not toward a fractious libertarianism, but toward a democratic socialism where the commonweal balances as best as possible with liberty and freedom for all. Not an easy project as our imperfect America has shown since its birth, but an inevitable one pushed forward by the creative tension between individuals and the collective. That’s what I see, what I have lived for.

 

Health, Politics

Relief All Round

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Samain and the Shadow Moon

Friday gratefuls: Done with Radiation. Ablation. Injection. Bracing. No procedures or diagnostics on the immediate horizon. Shadow at boarding school. Support over the last six weeks. NYT editorials on the military. Grief. Again. Still. The price we pay for love. Faraway and nearby friends and family. Shadow Mountain home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Finishing radiation

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Malchut   Wonder.   A feeling of surprise mixed with admiration caused by something beautiful or unexpected.

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Alise and Jenna seemed genuinely sad to see me leave their radioactive workplace; made me feel good about the relationship we established over the ten sessions spread out over three weeks; easy really, I smiled, said thank you and remembered their names, asked questions, and showed up early.

 

A palpable sense of relief. This long, medical march which began with a P.E.T. scan in May, saw three MRI’s, a CT scan, a new radiation oncologist, lots of needles and appointments all over the south metro has come, mostly, to an end. I have a follow up with Bupathi today and Kylie (pain doc) next week, but that’s it for now.

Even the process of getting resolution to back pain, head drop, and an outlier large metastases brings its own stress, its own Thank God that’s over. Not to mention the brace, the injection, the ablation, and radiation themselves. Organizing, scheduling, securing drivers when necessary, or just driving myself. A lot.

And, of course, the varying results. Brace, a C-. Ablation, an A+. Injection, C. Radiation, hard to know at this point, but given previous experience, most likely an A. Which means that the head drop and the labrum tear will require more work.

But not right now. I’m taking a rest, enjoying the surcease of pain from the ablation, and, I hope, the preservation of my hormone sensitive status thanks to the radiation.

I get to celebrate Hanukah, the Winter Solstice, Yule, and New Years without further efforts to keep myself mobile and alive. Yay!

This is the plastic mesh that they put on my bare chest for each radiation session, oriented by small black tattoos, and clamped tight with magnets. It served as the primary positioning tool for the extreme precision required by this extraordinary therapy. My chin rested in the smaller, cupped portion of the mesh.

 

Just a moment: Vultures of all sorts have begun to circle the front lawn of the Whitehouse, awaiting the bloated political corpse of red tie guy’s presidency. According to a New York Times political correspondent, Trump has achieved a rare status for a second term President. He’s a lame duck a year plus before the mid-terms. After the mid-terms normally marks this transition as the President’s party loses power in Congress and his own party begins to look beyond him a candidate for the next Presidential election.

You can read about it here:  Trump’s Coalition Cracking. What this means for the immediate future and the next three, long years is far from clear.

Aging, Cancer, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Humor, Judaism, Mussar, Politics

Humor as Moral Compass

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Samain and the Shadow Moon  (2 sessions to go)

Wednesday gratefuls: Rich. MVP. Shadow away at boarding school. Clement weather. Polska Kielbasa. Bananas. Tangerines. Celery. Baby Potatoes. Andouille sausage. Scallions. Cherry Tomatoes. Pork loin chops. Sheetpan dinners. Nathan and the Dog run. His next summer move to Kalispell, Montana.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rich

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Malchut   Wonder.   A feeling of surprise mixed with admiration caused by something beautiful or unexpected.

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Made a mistake, went to MVP, my only night out during the month; even though Marilyn drove, a combination of radiation fatigue, head drop, and this damned hernia acting up made me first lie down on a couch, then ask for a ride home. Geez.

 

I knew better. I’m exhausted from driving to radiation and getting radiated. But I love these folks: Jamie, Susan, Joanne, Ron, Marilyn, Laurie, Rich. Missed last month and missed seeing them all. When Marilyn asked to meet at the usual place, I said yes. Should have said no.

Rich drove me to my car, followed me home, shoveled my deck, and saw me into the house. What a kind and loving man.

Not the return to the group I wanted.

This just in. Marilyn texted me, offered to drive me to my radiation today. Rich must have gone back and reported to the MVP group. I feel blessed to have so many who love me, care about me.

 

Dog journal: Nathan came by from a project just up the road. We discussed the Dog run. He’s built many and has his tricks for working in the Snow on frozen ground. Relieved. Now if that doghouse I want will come back in stock…

 

Just a moment: Sleepy Donald. I can relate. I’ll be 79 in two months and I just had a night. Glad I’m not working hard to cancel the political work of the last century or so. Gotta be tiring, making up enemy lists, figuring which shithole countries to diminish and ban, which cities to occupy, deciding how you can gig the poor yet again. Not to mention acting as warmonger and peace maker in chief. The contradictions alone would level a lesser man.

Don’t know if you watch South Park. Don’t recommend it even though the real South Park lies only an hour’s drive from Shadow Mountain. A former Conifer resident is one of the pair who created it.

It’s gross. Over the top. And, yet. They’re satirizing Trump, Vance, Bondi, Stephen Miller in ways that do make me laugh. Especially Stephen Miller who is portrayed as a creepy, I may lead to your doom, sycophantic butler.

If you can stand it, the satire is spot on.

Humor has always had an uneasy, even dangerous relationship to power. I’m sure more than one court jester lost their head by taking a joke too far.

I admire the South Parks, the Colberts, the Jon Stewarts of our time. Laughing at tyrants exposes them for what they are: weak, petty, cruel leaders who seek power for power’s sake with no moral compass. Humor, oddly enough, is exactly that: a moral compass.