Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil
Saturday gratefuls: Kep and Rigel. Kep’s cytopoint shot. Mark in Saudi Arabia. Mary in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Diane still in San Francisco. The Ancient Ones: Maine, Minnesota, Colorado. Jon. His suffering. Ruth, her depression. Coyote HVAC. Possible fancy cabinet maker for the kitchen. At a reasonable? price. The new hearing aid and the Roger.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Corned Beef and Eggs at New York Deli
Tarot: Eight of Cups
Mini-split installation proceeds. David and his helper were here until 3 yesterday. Heat pump installed next to the chimney on the outside wall for the main splits. Heat pump installed on the east (or so) facing side of the garage for the loft unit.
Excited for them to go operational next week. Though. I won’t use their heating function much. At least I don’t think I will.
It may be that they’re cheaper to use than my boiler. Wouldn’t be difficult. Gas up here is so expensive. I’m considering getting an induction stove to cut down on the escaping gas, a contributor to climate change. Doing the kitchen, so, hey!
Had lunch with Jon yesterday at the New York Deli. He’s in rough shape. As he walked toward me, he limped a bit, looked like an old man. He has cellulitis on his skin and goes in and out of low blood pressure as his cortisol replacement wanes. I’m worried about him.
Not a lot I can do given the distance, but I’m ensuring that he will not lose his house in the short term and hiring an electrician to fix a problem that causes certain appliances to go off if another one turns on.
When asked how his emotions fared, he replied, I’m doing ok. And, I believe him. He has a new possibility, being on permanent disability, and will probably get approved at least for medical leave through January.
He’s making prints, developing children’s books. Being creative is a happy place for him and I believe that’s keeping him sane right now. That and the kids. Ruth and Gabe are supportive when they’re with him.
Jon would really like to talk to Kate, get her advice. She was so smart, caring, and objective. A tough combination to find. Plus she knew his medical history. She worried, from the time I met her, that she would outlive him. She knew the ravages diabetes alone can wreak. Now he has the Addison’s which complicates his situation.
Seeing him made me sad, took me down a bit. I’ll cop to compassion fatigue from caregiving and grief. However. I’ve gained back a lot of strength, gotten good rest in the 7 months since Kate died. 7 months!
Put in a request to look at new Medicare advantage plans. New West has screwed up one too many times for me. United Health, too. I need a new internist at least. In an organized practice that’s not bleeding providers. Found a great insurance broker who will help me look.
Eight of Cups:
Cups are the suit of the emotions, symbolized not only by the cups but the water swirling around them in this card.
I relate this to the Watercourse Way of Alan Watt’s, an explanation of Taoism and wu wei. Soft wins over hard. The water has cut a path down the mountainside and around the shelf of rock on which the cups, empty cups, sit.
The moon is in eclipse as the hooded figure, a druid?, a hermit?, climbs a steep trail up into the mountains.
The eights represent harvest, abundance, manifestation. The eight of cups suggests emotional closure, wrapping up an ongoing project, a phase of life that has come to an end. It suggests moving on, taking a new direction, leaving the old life behind.
Yesterday’s Moon, the 18th major arcana, told me I would have to go deep with Jon. Get into the parts of myself that have blocked me from him. I did that, saw him as he is right now. In part I’m leaving behind my old understanding of him.
Also, I’m leaving behind the most difficult parts of grieving for a new life. At least I feel that I am Symbolized by the Hermitage. Contacted a neon sign company for a bid on the neon hermit. They will get back to me soon.
Still flailing a bit, tough finding a regular schedule, one that will allow consistency in my workouts. Ragged, not fully there yet. Partly due to taking two classes at once. I privilege time for class work. As I always have. And, there’s that damned Ikea bed which keeps losing its slats when Rigel climbs up on the bed. Gonna get some plywood to put under there. Should solve it.

Not to bury the lede. Lisa, my pulmonologist’s p.a. equivalent, ran a spirometry test on me yesterday. If you haven’t had one, they’re simple. After clipping my nostrils shut, she gave me a device, see above, into which I inhaled a deep breath and then blew out for six seconds. Harder than it sounds.






Monday gratefuls: Greg Lell, starts today staining the house. Susan, who will care for the dogs when I go to Minnesota, comes at 10:30. Marina Harris and her crew coming today to clean. RJ working on how much money I can spend. Coyote HVAC next Monday. Kate, always Kate. Those two Mule Deer Bucks. The beginning after the ending.
Bubbling and churning. My life a cauldron, happily. Eye of house stain. Leg of house cleaning. Fingernail of dogsitter. Horn of Mule Deer Buck. Feather of mini-splits. Bits of redo and redesign of kitchen. A dash of Orgovyx. One major arcana. A pinch of the ayn sof. A sprinkle of Stars. A slice of Woolly Mammoth Tusk. Two measures of Aloha. Tears of grief. Stir with family and Congregation Beth Evergreen. Simmer for a season or two.



Sunday gratefuls: Mark Horn. The sephirot. The Tree of Life. Zoom. Kabbalah. Astrology. Alan. The Parkside. Breakfast out. Jackie. Oyama. Kristie. Quest labs. Golden Trees. Tall Mountains. Water falling down the Mountainside. The new trail. Evergreen.
Guess this is good news. I didn’t remember my visit to my oncologist when I wrote yesterday’s post. Anyhow, I’m remembering it now.
I’ve achieved castration level testosterone reduction. Gosh. Isn’t that good! …a dollar. All for vanished testosterone stand up and holler!
A good visit. As good as you can have at your oncologist’s. Cancer losing. More losing expected. Other treatments available.
The Moon. #18 in the major arcana. Again. I keep drawing major arcana. The Lady. The Moon. The Hermit. The Devil. The Chariot. A lot of energy swirling around me, in me. Feels right.
Friday gratefuls: Mussar. Women friends. CBE. Kep and Rigel, my loft dogs. David and his prostate cancer journey. New schedule. Better. Mike Rogers from Bear Creek Design. His expansive (read: expensive) vision. A fun one. Cardio at 4:30 pm.
Talked with David yesterday. At 63 his PSA, after a long stretch in the 2.0’s (perfectly ok for a healthy guy, jumped to 17! Yikes. Then, by the time he saw an urologist, it had hit 43. Double yikes. This was three years ago.
Realized this last month. I’ve had prostate cancer for over six and a half years. Seems like a long time when I say it like that. And, now, I’m never getting rid of it. However. If I can achieve undetectable over a long span of years, well, ok then. Cancer as a chronic disease. Wow.
Signed up for Astrology and Kabbalah at the Kabbalah Experience. Taught by two CBE’rs: Elisa Robyn. My astrologist. (oh. never thought I’d write that) and Luke Colaciello, the new Executive Director at CBE. He co-taught the Tarot and Kabbalah with Rabbi Jamie this summer.
Fall and the Michaelmas Moon
Pushed myself last evening to get out of the house and over to CBE for Simchat Torah. This is the holiday that ends the sweep of holidays that include the High Holidays and Sukkot. It marks the reading of the last parsha, Torah portion, and beginning again with Bereshit, Genesis.
Knowing this story is, in my outsider opinion, more important than circumcision, the kippah, the chuppah, or ketuba in Jewish identity.
After the dancing the entire Torah scroll is unrolled and congregants take up prayer shawls, put the shawls around their hands so they won’t get oily hands on the scroll itself and hold it up. It becomes a physical never ending story as a circle is formed and the end comes next to the beginning.
Wednesday gratefuls: Coyote HVAC. Starting next Thursday. Greg Lell, starting tomorrow on house staining. Mussar. Tarot. Kabbalah. Astrology. Elisa Robyn. Rabbi Jamie. Alan. David Jordani. Tom Crane and his colleague who recommended the mini-splits. Shirley Waste. Frozen dinners. Cool nights. Rain and snow on the way. Ruth and her first homecoming. Max. Claire and Patrick, his mom and dad. Paul and Sarah, grandpop and grandma. Kate, aunt.
And so this day comes round at last. Michaelmas. The feast day of the Archangel Michael, defender of heaven, God’s most fierce warrior. Tom and Roxann celebrate their wedding anniversary on this day, usually on the North Shore, sometimes with a cooked goose. Jen, mother of Ruth and Gabe, celebrates her birthday. And Rudolf Steiner thought of this day as the springtime of the soul.

According to the Druid Craft Book, the message is: “You hear the call and awaken to the new light of day. You have entered the darkness and drunk of the cup of silence. You have chosen life and emerge reborn.”
IN the midway of this our mortal life


Back home I ate, finished up some tasks on the computer. Including my third consecutive call to Social Security, Lakewood. It became my third consecutive call to timeout in their system. Maddening. An armed security officer prevents entrance to the Social Security building in Lakewood. I can’t get to them by phone. WTF!
But. That raises a money question. Can I afford both the mini-splits and a remodeled kitchen? Don’t even know how to answer the question. But, I’m gonna check with RJ. Maybe.
Monday gratefuls: Quest lab. Blood draw. PSA. Testosterone. Metabolic panel. CBC. Safeway pharmacy: flu and third Covid push. Down the hill in Lakewood. Closest. Albuterol. Frozen dinners. HVAC, mini-splits. Going ahead. House staining. Starts Wednesday. Bear Creek Design on Thursday. Painting.