Sunday gratefuls: Hit and Run, Netflix. Sourdough toast. The freezer. Ruth at her first homecoming dance. Jon, Gabe, Sarah, BJ. Zooming. Jon’s antifungal meds. George Will. Whatta mind. Eggs at 8 pm last night. Max. All the babies, the true Replacements. Shelf pruning in the bedroom almost finished.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fall.
Tarot: The Lady, #3 of the Major Arcana. Again.
Moments. Decided to cook myself fried eggs last night about 8 pm. As I stood there waiting to turn them over, I had a sudden feeling of lonliness, of aloneness. I could cook myself dinner (breakfast?) late because I live alone. Oh, yeah. So I do. Without. Kate.
Grief seems more insistent. Rigel barks upstairs each evening. I think she wants Kate to come down and go to bed. Sometimes Rigel paces. Into the bedroom, around the coffee table, upstairs, back down into the bedroom.
Thought about equanimity practice. Name the context. Name the feeling(s). Choose whether to experience them.
Realized I’d zoomed with Sarah, BJ, Jon, and Gabe at 4. Oh. Yes. Churning the still soft soil of Kate’s life. So. Aloneness. A twinge of sadness. Real. True to my situation. I lived into it a minute, got out my spatula, turned the eggs over, waited. Plated them and had a late, quirky meal.
Also. wearing out toward the afternoon. One guy said, in essence, “No T, no energy.” Maybe. This feels like more. I’ll have a better idea this week.
Blood draw on Monday. PSA. Testosterone. A blood panel. A metabolic panel. I see Kristie on Friday. Orgovyx can raise blood sugar and triglycerides. In addition to hot flashes and fatigue.
Ordinary life now with the manageable cancer. The good cancer. Though from my perspective? Still cancer.
Once in a while I brush my left hip with my hand. Think of those prostate cancer cells in the lymph nodes. Weird having a predator living inside your body. Not a great feeling.
Oh, dude. Painting with the gloomy brush here, eh? Nah. Life and its permutations. Mine for now.
The news happens outside my awareness right now. Even though I read the Denver Post, the NYT, and the Washington Post each day. Not sticking. Like the Teflon Don, that crucial information slides right off.
A Mountain Path in Spring, Ma Yuan, Song Dynasty
Cancer. Grief. New life aborning. Tend to push attention inward, away from the blooming buzzing confusion. (W. James) Down into the realm of the Tarot, Kabbalah, the Ocean of our collectivity.
Again. OK. Not permanent, nor would I want it to be.
Agency is critical to life. Right now, my agency has an inward, personal bent. Makes sense to me.
Friday gratefuls: Michelle and David. Also prostate cancer engaged. Rabbi Jamie. The Sukkah. Getting my own plaque on the yahrzeit wall. Turning in my CBE legacy confirmation form. Chili cheese dogs and nachos at the Chi Town food truck in Evergreen. Workout, cardio. Fatigue. Orgovyx.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Thar’s gold in them thar Mountains!
Tarot: Four of Cups, Wildwood
Cardio yesterday. Joined a prostate cancer online site. Inspire. They asked what inspired me. Here’s my answer:
The sound of a Mountain Stream. The Wind through the Lodgepole Pines. That herd of Elk with the 12 point Bull. The love of Rigel and Kepler, my two old Dogs. The three Elk bulls who visit me each June to eat Dandelions. Ruth and Gabe, my grandkids. The Sun in the Day and the Moon at Night. My friends, lifelong and new. The sturdy Rock of Shadow Mountain on which I live.
More convinced now that cinching up my Soul into some dogmatic strait jacket makes no sense. See what you’re looking at. Admire and respect the 10,000 things. Walk tall and with others so you can go far. Be honest with yourself and with family, friends, and acquaintances. Wash dishes. Cook food. Celebrate.
If you want more on this Way, read Chuang Tzu’s inner chapters. Or, the Tao Te Ching. Or, Mary Oliver. Wendell Berry. Rilke. Thomas Berry. The Grammar of Animacy in Braiding Sweetgrass. Or, open yourself. Let the world in. Be part of it, be with it.
Maybe this is just a pragmatist’s Way. Truth is in what works for you. Not what you have to figure out through some sort of self-imposed Scholasticism.
Here’s a clue: if you have a adjust yourself to fit an ideology or a theology or psychology, think twice, three times. What do you understand? What do you see? What do you want?
Is it really this simple? Yes, I think it is. Another way of saying the same thing, “Living until you die is to live long enough.” Lao Tze
Four of Cups
“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself” – Zen Proverb
“The Four of Cups can also indicate a time when you are turning your attention and your energy internally, to realign to this new phase of your life. You know that you need to be standing on terra firma before you can decide your next steps…You are creating the space within yourself so that you are ready to accept new opportunities later and give them the best possibility of success. Use this time for inward reflection, grounding, and contemplation before accepting the next ‘big thing’.” Biddy Tarot
Sunday gratefuls: Susan. The Woolly Retreat. Pruning. Yet more of Kate’s jewelry. Satisfaction at getting things done. Subway. Stinker’s gas. Lodgepoles. Black Mountain. That one forerunner Aspen. Golden. The Stars. The blackness of Space. Four amateur astronauts. New hearing aid. Roger.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: The house on Shadow Mountain
Tarot: Ten of Swords, Druid. King of Stones, Wildwood. (not sure about these two. for the first time. maybe it’ll hit me later.)
Rigel and Kepler
Met with Susan yesterday. She’ll house sit for Kep and Rigel when I drive to the Woolly retreat the first of November. We had a long chat. Dogs. Drivers in the mountains. Cars. She’s a Mountain type. Making a living anyway she can. She cleans houses and dog sits, lives in a rented room in King’s Valley. Almost 70.
Living in the Mountains has a strange and strong attraction for certain folks. Kate was one. She refused to consider moving. I’m one, too. Though. Once in a while, recently, I get twinges of, oh, this might be too much for me someday. Usually in the morning when I’m still sleepy, still not warmed up. But that worm is there.
Still remember the first days up here in the loft. I’d write, then look out the window at Black Mountain. Write. Look. A sense of being in the right Place. Yirah. Awe. When I’m down the hill, hot and bothered by all the traffic, I can turn the car West, head back up into the Front Range. I become peaceful again.
BJ, Kate, Anne at Kate’s birthday party apres eclipse
Kate’s here now. Forever. In the Iris bed. In Maxwell Creek. On the Yahrzeit wall at CBE. In my heart. In the bones and stones of this place. She died a Mountain Woman. Fits with the Earth Mother persona she nourished for over 20 years in Andover. A powerful attractant for me. Keep the memories, the torch for her going.
The running of the fence line is underway. Zeus. Boo. Kep. Thor. Rigel. Rigel. Boo. Thor. Kep. Yip, yip, yip, yip. Neighbors kept friendly by a fence. Yup, Robert Frost.
The day got away from me. I had to change the sheets on the bed, always a good workout. That damned Tempurpedic weighs 120 pounds and concentrates all of its weight right where you’re trying to lift it. Got it done so I laid down for a nap.
In my zoom meeting with my ancient buddies Paul, Tom, Mario, and Bill I checked in. Well. As near as I can tell, I have no tale of woe. For the first time in six months. They all laughed and clapped. Me, too. Yeah.
Of course. Cheer up, things could be worse. I cheered up and sure enough things got worse. Hope not though.
This is six months later. After a lotta upset. Kate’s death, grief, and the return of my prostate cancer. Jon’s various illnesses. Which continue. Sorting through the necessaries after Kate’s death occupied more time than I would have thought. Normal, though. Still not quite done.
As I’ve written, I can feel the tidal forces running with me now rather than pulling me out sea. Provided I can stay well, I think that will continue. Gonna get a flu shot and a vaccine booster in the next couple of weeks.
I also contacted Elisa Robyn’s, my astrologer friend from CBE. She’ll do a new reading for me on Monday, September 27th. I’m leaning in to the Tarot, astrology, Kabbalah world. Letting it speak to me. Call to me. Challenge me. Inspire me. That old skeptic me would pooh pooh all this. Showed him the door. What helps is what helps.
Tom had an interesting exercise for us this morning. He gave each of us a poem earlier in the week. We read them aloud and told the others what we thought.
Here’s mine:
The Phoenix Again
On the ashes of this nest
Love wove with deathly fire
The phoenix takes its rest
Forgetting all desire.
After the flame, a pause,
After the pain, rebirth.
Obeying nature’s laws
The phoenix goes to earth.
You cannot call it old
You cannot call it young.
No phoenix can be told,
This is the end of the song.
It struggles now alone
Against death and self-doubt,
But underneath the bone
The wings are pushing out.
And one cold starry night
Whatever your belief
The phoenix will take flight
Over the seas of grief
To sing her thrilling song
To stars and waves and sky
For neither old nor young
The phoenix does not die.
May Sarton
My reaction: I can feel, underneath the bone, my new wings pushing out. And I await the cold starry night when my new Phoenix self will take flight.
Tuesday gratefuls: Bailey. Bailey Patchworkers. Sewing, quilting. Kate, feisty and adorable. From so many cards I got yesterday. Drawing the Death Card. Gratitude. Gabe. Ruth. Jon. Kep and Rigel. Rain yesterday. Kitchen remodeling. Greg Lell, house stainer. Moving forward, into the fourth phase.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tarot and Kabbalah
Tarot: Eight of Pentacles
285 west to Bailey. A favorite journey, usually made to the Happy Camper. The Continental Divide shows up after Pine. The tone becomes more Western. This time though to Platte River Community Church. Upstairs to the social hall where older women sat around round tables, eating off paper plates with plastic forks. Piles of cloth sat on other tables, parts of Kate’s stash now on its way to other sewing rooms, her taste distributed.
I said very little. Kate met you when we moved up here. She loved you and felt loved by you. You encouraged her and were her friends. Thank you.
Oh. And, I took off my shirt. This is not a strip tease. Lots of hands went up, encouraging me to keep going. Flattering at 74. I had on the Love is Enough t-shirt and showed it off because it featured a counted cross-stitch familiar to them.
As I drove away the North Fork of the South Platte River roared over Rocks on its way to Denver’s Water system. I passed the somewhat dilapidated office of the Bailey Flume, a six trailer trailer park, and a home next to the River with a Horse paddock. Bailey is in Park County, no longer the Denver metro and much poorer than Jefferson County where I live.
Been pondering the cards. Again. Still. Drew the eight of pentacles*. Again. Key words from the Druid Tarot Book: Steady progress. Apprenticeship. Training. Makes sense to me after the High Priestess and Death.
I’m in my fourth phase of life, a new path, a new ancientrail has appeared before me. The High Priestess has blessed me and Death holds the gate open. What do I need to do? Work methodically, steadily. Stay on the trail.
What is this trail? Some of it is much clearer now. I need to dive into the tarot, astrology, and kabbalah. Learn about them, keep my head down until I can do readings, cast charts, count the Omer. Bring all of this into conversation with the Great Wheel and Taoist strains of my own thought and practice.
Will I do readings, cast charts? No idea. But that’s the level of learning I want and it will require my attention. I will count the Omer
This trail adds research and study to my already existing writing and painting. Up here in the Shadow Mountain hermitage we have plenty to do. Time now to get at it. The destination is unknown, yes, but it’s end is certain.
“In a general context, the Eight of Pentacles Tarot card indicates a time of hard work, commitment, diligence and dedication. The effort you put in will not be in vain as your hard work will pay off and lead to results, rewards or the accomplishment of your goals. When this Minor Arcana card appears in your Tarot reading, it indicates that you are methodically working towards something you want. It may seem boring, mundane or even relentless at the moment but you are on the brink of achieving great success, so don’t give up. The skills you are learning at the moment will stand to you later in life and you will come away from this experience not only with the inner wisdom you’ve gained but with a sense of pride and self-confidence from achieving your ambitions.” tarotguide
Monday gratefuls: Tara. The Ancient Ones, holding space for my eventful life. Peregrenatio. Rigel, lying down with me last night. A long night asleep. Orgovyx. Exhaustion. Hot flashes. Cousin Riley, his wife. Diane and Mary in Indiana. Bailey Patchworkers. Kitchen remodelers. House stainer. Jon, Ruth, and Gabe.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Death
Tarot: Death, #13 of the Major Arcana
So many help me. Jon, Ruth, Gabe came up Saturday. We had chicken pot pie and I sent them home with two. They also went to Upper Maxwell Falls to scatter some more of Kate’s ashes. I didn’t feel quite up to going and I wondered if it might be better anyhow. Allow them their own time, their own way of saying goodbye.
And, it was so. Here are Gabes’s (correction) words about it:
Gabe
“Grandma’s metaphorical ashes. The ashes that stuck to the bottom were the parts of grandma that will stay with us forever. The cloudy ashes that eventually dispersed to go to the Atlantic Ocean were the parts of grandma that were temporary and that we don’t need to remember like pain and suffering. And, the glass was the vessel like our bodies, useful but not permanent.”
Leaving for Durango, Bill not pictured. Tom, Paul, me, Mario
The next morning I take a walk with my Ancient friends: Paul, Mario, Bill, and Tom. We spoke to each other in our minds, through the spirit air waves as Mario suggested. We gathered afterward. They’ve allowed me a lot of time to process my ongoing, eventful life. And, I love them for it.
Afterward I went over to an organic breakfast spot, Taspen’s. Been here almost seven years and it was the first time. Meeting Tara, my friend from CBE.
Marilyn, Tara, the Burning Bush
We talked. Tara is a great listener and an empath. When I told her I felt I’d expressed self pity when Jon and the grandkids left on Saturday, she said it sounded like love. Ruth had said, See you, grandpop. And, I said, my voice catching, I hope so. Sounded needy and self-pitying to me at the time.
After talking with Tara, I thought. No. I was vulnerable, sadly hopeful. And I don’t experience vulnerability with them too often. Maybe that’s changing now.
Today I’m going to the meeting of the Bailey Patchworkers. Kate’s stash and other sewing accessories will be given away to her friends there. I asked for a couple of minutes to speak. I’ll tell them that Kate loved them. That they gave her friendship and motivation for sewing. And, right after we got here. She went faithfully as long as she could.
They were a very different crowd from her ordinary social circles. She spoke her political truth often, to folks who didn’t agree. As Lauri, her engineer friend said, “I should have disliked her, but I adored her.” That was Kate.
These are those who helped me just in the last three days. A lucky guy, I am. And, of course, Rigel and Kepler.
Tarot: Death, # 13 in the Major Arcana
I’ve been drawing cards in what some call a daily oracle. Pick out one card, see how it speaks to the day. Oracle is a poor choice of words in that it has a predictive connotation. I don’t find the tarot useful as prophecy. I’ve found it astonishingly useful as a mirror to my inner world. It shows me things I ignore, or overlook, or diminish, or things I didn’t know were there.
Let’s see. I’d call it, I guess, The Daily Mirror. Ha.
Anyhow my point here is that I’m doing my own thing with these daily cards and I’m not only reading the day, but the trends. I’ve had so many cards that spoke to my anima. I’ve remarked on this before. I’ve also had cards like the Hanged Man that speak to a transformation in values, in beliefs, in life way.
The Death card is the apotheosis of that trend. Yes, indeed, it refers to death. But, to death as transition, as transformation, as a severance with the ways of the past (including life, eventually. for Kate, already), an entry way to the new. If you recall the High Priestess from yesterday, she blocked the way on the path. She encouraged waiting, going down into the depths. I’d call it wu wei.
The death card opens the way, suggests I embrace the changes that the anima cards have hinted at, the inner knowledge that the High Priestess wanted me to attain before going on. It also suggests letting go.
Let go, Charlie, of the flat-earth humanism of your post-ministry years. Let go, Charlie, of the old life you had with Kate. (note: this does not mean an end to grief or a diminished view of life with her.). Open yourself to the tarot, to astrology, to kabbalah, to the other world. Open yourself again to the creative life of writing and painting. Live into it. Live with it. Live. Let go of the caregiver, let go of the inner skeptic, the inner editor, the inner cynic. Embrace the mystical, the soulful, the beautiful. Let go.
Die to the old ways and be born again into a fourth phase of life. One focused on creativity and the other world. Let go.
“Meaning: Initiation and transformation. The core structure of initiation involves an experience of death followed by an experience of rebirth…We often have to die to our old ways of thinking, feeling, or behaving before we can open to our new life.” DTB
* “After a period of pause and reflection with the Hanged Man, the Death card symbolises the end of a major phase or aspect of your life that you realise is no longer serving you, opening up the possibility of something far more valuable and essential. You must close one door to open another. You need to put the past behind you and part ways, ready to embrace new opportunities and possibilities. It may be difficult to let go of the past, but you will soon see its importance and the promise of renewal and transformation.
Similarly, Death shows a time of significant transformation, change and transition. You need to transform yourself and clear away the old to bring in the new. Any change should be welcomed as a positive, cleansing, transformational force in your life. The death and clearing away of limiting factors can open the door to a broader, more satisfying experience of life.” biddy tarot
Sunday gratefuls: Jon, Ruth, Gabe. Chicken pot pies. Kep and Rigel. Another cool night and morning. Dish soap and dishwashers. Permanent press shirts. Orgovyx. Fatigue and hot flashes. Rain. Grief. Kate’s ashes. Always, Kate. Sadness. Tears. Vulnerability. Mortality.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grief. And, Kate.
Tarot: The High Priestess, #2 of the Major Arcana
On October 2nd I’ll begin a four week course on the Tree of Life tarot spread taught by Mark Horn. He’s the founder of Gates of Light Tarot. He spoke to the one class of the Tarot and Kabbalah course I missed. Rabbi Jamie recommended him and I wanted to keep my Tarot learning underway.
He asked for 250 words for an introduction to theothers in the class:
Charles Ellis (Rev. Dr.) has studied mysteries since the garden spider wove its web outside his kitchen window 66 years ago. All of the natural world, including us two-leggeds, has fascinated me ever since. Religion, first Christian, then Unitarian-Universalism, Taoism, and now Judaism are gateways of mystery and to mystery. Philosophy, too, especially process oriented philosophy and existentialism.
I’m more pagan than anything else, a Celtic influenced follower of the seasons, the Great Wheel explains so much.
At the Denver Kabbalah Experience and at my home congregation of Beth Evergreen I’ve studied Kabbalah for four years with Rabbi Jamie Arnold. I recently completed his Tarot and Kabbalah class, learning of Mark and this class through that. If you asked my place on the journey, I’d say I’m the Fool, always ready to take the first step, happy to have my dog and the road ahead.
Looking forward to the class. In fact, I seem to be in a sop-it-up mode right now. I’m also looking for an online cooking class. That will fit in with the kitchen remodel and my new life as chef for a single client, me. So many things I want to learn, so many ancientrails I’ve already followed. Thinking about going back to Ovid and Dante, too.
This evocative article. Last Glimpses of California’s Vanishing Hippie Utopias. Memories of the Peaceable Kingdom, the most poorly named commune of all. Judy and me. Then, Johnny Lampo. Then, the mechanic and his wife. Steppenwolf. Psilocybin. A long, very cold northern Minnesota Winter. I fled one of the least well-conceived and executed ideas in my life.
Ancientrails. The old days when most folks didn’t understand the difference between hippies and radicals. Most hippies were radicals, but fewer radicals were hippies. I made a mistake and added myself to the hippie/radical lifestyle. Nope. Plain old radical me.
Although. With Kate I was able to revisit the back to the land idea. She was my Earth mama and I was her worker companion. We dug and planted and harvested and tended. Raised dogs and two sons. Artemis Honey. A sweet life. And in the ‘burbs at that.
Ruth printing her spoon
Yesterday. Made chicken pot pies. Ruth wanted them and Jon was happy. “Your pot pies are delicious.” I started them on Friday night, making the chicken soup. Mirepoix. Mine was celery, carrots, red onion, and garlic deglazed with sherry cooking wine. Then, water and a whole chicken in the wire insert for the stock pot. Simmer for an hour and a half. Bag of frozen green Peas. Bag of frozen Corn.
Wore. Me. Out. Friday I had energy. Wednesday and Thursday I struggled. Yesterday. Struggle. Realized I had begun to force myself up the stairs with the same doggedness I felt when caring for Kate. Not a pleasant touchstone.
Jon, Ruth, Gabe came up. Jon still much clearer, less edgy and angry. Beta blockers, he says. I had them take Kate’s ashes to Upper Maxwell Falls by themselves. Too weary, too short of breath. And, I also thought it would be good for them to have their own good-bye to Mom and Grandma.
I prepared some of Kate’s ashes for them. Put them in the Ball jar I used on August 18th.
As they left, beginning to move things from the sewing room, I got a rush of sadness. She’ll never be in the sewing room. Standing at the kitchen window I watched them load. That window has become a place for calling Kate back from the Other World to come stand beside me. Watch it rain, snow. Consider the house, the life we built together.
Tarot: The High Priestess
from the DTB: Present yourself before the mysteries of life and before the Goddess in humility and with reverence. Open to the stillness and the depths within you to gain strength and wisdom.
Entering the Stillness The High Priestess seems to bar our way forward-don’t be in a rush to move onwards. True passivity is strong and fertile, and shouldn’t be mistaken for weakness or inertia. Be open to your dreams and intuitions.”
Friday gratefuls: Orgovyx. Biologic Pharmacy. The Roger. Phonak. Cheaters. All the little accessories that make aging so much fun. Pulmonologist, too, of course. And, Kate. Always. Jon and the kids. Coming tomorrow. Chicken pot pies. Fatigue. Cool nights in spite of warmer days.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kabbalah and the Gates of Light, by Mark Horn
Tarot: King of cups
What a difference. Yesterday Biologic Pharmacy called and said they were shipping my first prescription of Orgovyx for which I have to pay. Co-pay, $10. Boy, that assistance fund really whacked away at that $800 number.
I am, of course, happy. But. My friend Judy says big pharma wants to cover all of our co-pays for these expensive drugs. Why? So they can charge medicare or insurance companies a higher price without resistance from patients. Don’t know, but seems possible.
When I get into any thought process about medical costs, insurance companies, and medical professionals including hospitals, my brain goes hunting for Ariadne’s thread. So far I’ve not found it. Getting back out from the maze of deals and restrictions and downright cruelty has so far eluded me.
In my second week plus of Orgovyx. It’s kicking my butt right now. The hot flashes have become more frequent, though not too bad. At least not yet. Cheer up, eh? Fatigue, however, has literally laid me low. Backed out of MVP last night after resting most of yesterday. Shortness of breath and no stamina.
This may sound like complaining, but it’s not. I’m grateful for the opportunity to use Orgovyx since it has fewer cardio-vascular risks, lowers testosterone to castration levels in the first month, and has become affordable. We’ll know more at the end of the month after blood work. It can create anemia and I’m wondering about that as an explainer for the fatigue.
Gotta say this was all simpler when I got cured after my prostate removal. Wish it had been true. The journey. My life’s ancientrail from birth to transformation, reincarnation, mortality.
So much happening in the world. That damned Texas abortion law. The possible cessation of the Gulf Stream. Hurricane Ida’s aftermath. Trying to get people to avoid death with an easy vaccine. These painful divisions in our body politic. Trouble passing voting rights legislation. Voting rights! Rights. Trouble getting the second large infrastructure bill through the Senate.
Where to put any inflection, any thumb on the scale I can manage? Seems difficult right now. And, I feel sad. Work other than staying alive feels so hard right now.
Although. I keep drawing Tarot cards that push me toward creative work, art. To get back to it. Example: King of Cups. Three of Stones, Wildwood Deck. Bear, the Animal Oracle deck.
King of cups: Druid deck
A well fed, calm man, a Celtic king, looks out over the ocean, possibly the Irish Sea or the North Sea. His feet, planted on bedrock, show some eagerness to get moving. The bard’s harp behind him speaks to his creativity, his status as king to Fire, a creative element, and the Irish Wolfhound behind him to his character as a compassionate, loving king who will nonetheless protect his subjects. Dawn has begun to rise over the forest behind him and a salmon, the salmon of knowledge, I imagine, jumps in the sea to his left. The small crab at his foot connects him both to the unconscious and to the Zodiac sign of the crab.
The king of cups represents a well-balanced man with his emotions and intellect working together. A great resource for the creative life. Cups as a suit focuses on the emotions so this card is the animus figure, the male energy associated with emotions.
Three of Stones: Wildwood Deck
A Green woman leans against three large standing stones, two pillars and a cap stone. Her hands rest on an Auroch, her right, and an ancient Horse, the Przewalski, her left. Her body has become rooted to the Earth, Wood and Stone and human flesh embrace each other.
The Holy wells of inspiration, of creativity are ancient and eternal like the three standing stones. They are vital and nourishing, like the Green woman and her rootedness. They feed to and from the animal energies of the Horse and the Great Auroch.
This card speaks to my anima, as have several I’ve drawn over the last week.
The Bear: Animal Oracle
Again, a focus on creativity. The Bear suggests a time to relax, to let inspiration and the muse rise to the surface on their own. He’s the monarch of the animals, no need to hurry, to rush around hunting for sustenance. Take a nap.
I’m going with the Bear for right now, going to ease back into writing Jennie’s Dead. But, I am headed there.
Thursday gratefuls: New hearing aid. A Phonak. And, the Roger. Gonna try the Roger today at mussar. A small microphone that looks like a flying saucer. Hearing folks on my left side! Hope it works as well as promised. New noises, sounds. Good workout. Harry Potter.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Chicken Pot Pies
Tarot: Ten of Wands
A full day yesterday. Went through my workout, still at two sets but I’m up to 15 reps on the first exercises Rebecca gave me, still ten reps on the new ones. 15 minutes of cardio. Tired. Didn’t get much nap because I had to go to Mile High Hearing.
Amy fit my new hearing aid, calibrated it. The machine she used for calibration was called, The Aurical. Get it? Lots of static and one guy talking about a rainbow over and over and over again. Weird.
We linked my new aid to my phone. Another part of weirdness. I can tap my ear, a double tap, and my hearing aid will answer my phone. Another double tap and I hang up. When I got the tap the first time, I told Amy I was always good at hitting myself in the head.
Amy has blond hair and blue eyes, built like a shield maiden. Not fat, muscled, dense. Didn’t ask but I strongly suspect Viking ancestry.
On the drive back I decided to hit Scooter’s Barbecue for takeout. Ranked the best barbecue joint in Colorado and it’s in Conifer. How bout that? Got a half-rack of ribs, Texas toothpicks (fried onions and jalapeno), pinto beans, and some corn bread. The owner is a good ole boy. Tall, built like a linebacker. Smiles a lot.
By the time I got home my body was crying uncle. Stamina has begun to wane, I believe. Sat down and watched the last Harry Potter film, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, pt. 2. Yes, I watched them all.
Magic, fantasy. Well done. Not great movies, not great acting, but good movies and good acting. Emma Watkins kept up with Alan Rickman, Gary Oldman, Ralph Fiennes, Maggie Smith. Over the course of these eight movies they used many of Britain’s most prominent actors.
Part of breaking in a new hearing aid is a new fit. It’s bugging my ear right now. I hope that lessens as I go on. If it doesn’t, it’s a deal breaker. Another part is my new voice. The new hearing aids pick up my voice differently than the old ones. Is that me?
Wrasslin my way through assistance forms and phone calls for Orgovyx. Hope they can get the price of the co-pay down. Also got a bill for medicare. $750 bucks. A bill for medicare? Whaaaa? Then I remembered that I closed my old Minnesota credit union account. That’s where my social security payments used to go by direct deposit.
I didn’t give social security new routing numbers until I had my phone interview for survivor’s benefits. That got delayed until August. H.O.G., the guy who handled my claim said I would get a makeup check with the larger amount figured back to April. But, not until the third week of September. That means I’ve not gotten any checks from social security since June. And, medicare payments get subtracted from social security payments. Oh. So, gotta call social security today and get that straightened around.
A few hot flashes, gentle, at least for now. Unwelcome, sure. But, they do signal the drug has reached therapeutic levels. Both Eigner and Kristie, his PA, have this corny thing, “Imagine the cancer cells dying with each hot flash!”
Had to remove my new hearing aid and put on my noise canceling headphones. Cancel culture. I’m canceling that damned yappy dog that will not stop. Of course, the hearing aid amplified those barky, barky, barky sounds. Sigh.
The Ten of Wands:
“Key words: Demands. Burdens. Overwork.
Carrying the weight of responsibility or obligations on your shoulder…Uncomplaining acceptance of your perceived burden. Reassessing priorities and values.” DTB
Exactly how I felt last night and feel this morning. Needing to find money to help with the Orgovyx co-pay. Adjusting to a new hearing aid and the Roger. A strenuous workout. Having to deal with social security. Hot flashes. Again. Physically tired. Close to too much.
But, not. I may need to rest today after my cardio. Skip afternoon mussar since it’s MVP tonight. Yirah, or awe, is the character trait, the midot, for tonight.
The Orgovyx may be draining my energy. Seems like it. Even more important to keep working out. Counter intuitive, I know, but it really does help.
Wednesday gratefuls: Tarot. Kabbalah. CBE. Rabbi Jamie. Downton Abbey. High level schmalz. Sadness. Grief. The occasional desolation. Lymph nodes. Orgovyx, stretching itself. Rigel and her persistent communicating. Even when I don’t understand. Kate, always Kate. Ruth’s healing.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jackie, my hair stylist, a sweetheart
Tarot: Two of Cups
I miss this woman. So much.
Inner weather: cloudy with a chance of tears. Using my mussar practice for the month: what’s the context? what are the feeling(s)? how do I choose to experience them?
The immediate context includes graduating from p.t. on Monday morning, doing doggy things like nails and getting Kep’s allergy shot, getting my own hair cut, taking out the trash, getting groceries, having cancer in my left pelvic lymph nodes. And, five and a half months of grieving. Finishing up the Tarot and Kabbalah course. The imminence of the High Holidays.
What are the feelings? Sudden desolation. Mourning. Sadness. Frustration. Joy. Attaboy. Resignation.
How do I choose to experience them? The mourning, sadness, desolation. I embrace them, say yes to them. They are my psyche’s tools used to carve and paint and write a new vision for my life while honoring Kate. Visit a while. But, don’t overwhelm me. Unless, of course, you just have to.
The frustration, an outgrowth of my now 6 and a half year experience with prostate cancer, prostate cancer treatment, tests, side effects. Cut it short. It’s past oriented and unhelpful. Resignation. Resist this one. It’s a road I do not wish to travel. Acceptance? Yes. Resignation, no. Joy. Come on in, dude. Make yourself at home. Stay a while, a long while. I sure need you.
It’s been a tough week and a half. The PET scan, the bone scan, waiting on the results, the results themselves. I’m feeling vulnerable because of them, mortal. Also the strange road of the cancer that can be managed. A 2 year course of androgen deprivation therapy. Off and on for the rest of my life. Prostate cancer has become part of me, literally, and as an identifier. Oh, he’s the one with prostate cancer.
On Friday I’m going to have homemade ice cream with a friend who has ovarian cancer and is on her third recurrence. Cancer is a bastard, and still too often a homicidal bastard. A lot of progress has been made, that’s true, but not enough for the word cancer to lose its bite.
I’m achy, my body adjusting to the new med, Orgovyx. Even though I graduated from p.t. (no hat, darn it), I’ve not yet got my exercise routine back to, well, a routine. I keep scheduling things in the morning and by afternoon I’m too tired. Gotta change my scheduling practices. I’m part way there.
The first impulses to prune, to reorganize have hit a temporary seawall. Cancer, my need to exercise, feeling low. I got a lot done, a lot. There is still more to do and right now I have no energy for it. Makes sense. A lot going on physically and emotionally. Still, it frustrates me.
I want to get to a new life, a new way without Kate’s physical presence; but, I feel ground down, worn down with lots of steps between today and that new way of being. Whatever it will be.
When I took the garbage out today, recycling and trash, I felt weak. Wondered what it will be like lugging them through the snow. Then, I remembered I lost my snow plow guy and have to find a new one. Another task to add to the list.
It feels like I’m dog paddling, making a little progress with a lot of thrashing around, when what I want is the Australian crawl. Fast, crisp, leaving a wake behind.
Tarot: Two of Cups Druid
I continue to draw cards that focus on my anima. This one, though, may refer to the energy available when my anima and my animus work as one, focus together as lovers and creators.
I sure need this sort of energy right now. It reminds me to not follow only one inner path, watch the one the anima takes, then the animus, find where they intersect. Stay a while. Enjoy the heat and the power.
Tuesday gratefuls: Doxy.com. Telemedicine. Waiting for Kristie. Prostate cancer. Orgovyx. Pet scan results. The Mountains. The Blue Sky. The fresh Air. Sun. Oxygen. Emily and her nail clippers. Graduating from p.t. Rebecca.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mortality
Tarot: Ace of Cups (again)
Waiting on Kristie for a telemedicine appointment. She’ll give me my PET scan results and, I imagine, my bone density, results, too. Feels uncomfortably like sitting for a final exam. Did I study hard enough? What if she asks questions I don’t know the answer to? Oh, well. I’m as prepared now as I’ll ever be. I always was a good test taker, that might help.
Emily came by yesterday and clipped Rigel and Kepler’s nails. Rigel allowed it, sort of. Kep surprised by both of us by being skittish. He’s had a bad experience somewhere. It was good to see her again after the Hawai’i trip. When I go to Hawai’i in February(probably), I’ll use her again if she’s available.
Oh, my. Here we go.
OK. The results. Left side pelvic lymph nodes lit up. A suspicious area in the bone of the right hip. And, a doubtful reading of something in the cervical spine. That means I do have metastasized cancer. Kristie, whom I trust, says this is very treatable. We can manage this for twenty years, she said with a very confident tone of voice.
I’m a bit less sanguine since I’ve had my prostate removed, Lupron, and 35 sessions of radiation, yet here I am with an elevated PSA and cancer in my lymph nodes. Kristie says, as does Eigner, that of all the cancers, prostate cancer is one they can manage.
I want to believe and I know the truth is out there.
Taking Kep into the VRCC today for his allergy shot. Afterwards, a haircut with Jackie, whom I always like to see.
Had a sad day yesterday. Sorta outa the blue. Although waiting on my PET scan results probably figured into it. I was missing Kate, feeling lonely and isolated. Didn’t feed it, didn’t ignore it. Experienced it and the sadness dissolved.
Need to go for breakfast, get ready to take the Kepster into Lakewood. Ta for now.