Category Archives: Health

Gettin’ Weird

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Rigel’s head on my pillow. Tom’s visit. Tarot and Kabbalah class. Blackened Red Snapper, heirloom Tomato and Onion salad, Sweet Corn. Salads. Diane. Mary. Mark. Eduardo and Holly, packing up. Pollen.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Old Friend.

Tarot card drawn: Strength, #7 of the Major Aracana, reversed

 

Achy. Even after workout. I told Rebecca I thought I was 90% better. 70% or 60% more like it. She gave me this time off to see. Wise for such a young woman. They’ve bought their first house, a townhouse, and moved in two weeks ago. A reminder that the cycle of life does not stop. Like Claire and her new person under construction.

This tarot stuff is getting a little weird. In the upright Strength card Mother Nature, garland and a belt of flowers, with the infinite compassion and acceptance of the natural world takes the lion as a friend and companion. His predatory strength becomes allied to a strong anima. They complement each other.

Reversed could be awful. That is, the lion could attack Mother Nature, even devour her. Infinity dies. I like the interpretations below because they are more subtle and more in line with what I’m sensing about myself.

At times I feel like I’m pushing myself too hard to get Kate’s stuff either donated or thrown away. At other times that I’m going too slow. At times I feel like I’m failing at cooking for myself. At times, when my body feels achy like it does today, I start ticking off the problems I have, rather than experiencing myself as in excellent health, as I normally do.

Overall I’m feeling a bit untethered, as if the will to move forward gives way to fatigue. When I move Kate’s stuff, sort it, I find I can only do so much, then I’m mentally weary.

Also, I’m feeling detrained and weak. For example there are two full boxes of canned feeding liquid I can donate to Mt. Evans Hospice and Health Care. But when I think about lifting the boxes… And, when I think that way, I feel generally weaker, emotionally and physically.

This reading of the card: “When Strength appears in reverse it does not indicate that you are not strong; on the contrary, it indicates typically that there is more strength in you and in your immediate situation than you are likely to be seeing at this time.” feels right. Underneath all of this I do feel strong, resilient, capable. It’s easy to forget though.

This why I think the Tarot stuff is getting weird. I needed to have this reading to counter my feeling of malaise this morning. Wouldn’t have had it had I not drawn the card. Strange. It feels like the deck has counseled me. Not sure how I feel about this. Grateful? Yes. Odd? That, too.

I suppose the cards are a way of taking me away from the immediacy of any one situation, taking me both away from it, but also offering a vantage point from which to consider it. Like a good therapist.

Why do they work? Uncertain. But so far, that is for a week, they have helped. When I needed it.

Felt a similar way about astrology a couple of years ago. Let that fall by the wayside. May pick it up again.

Releasing my flat earth humanism, my dogmatic empiricism. Letting it go. Even though it’s my first instinct, I’m learning to challenge it. I may not buy the woo-woo side of tarot and astrology, but I’m also honest enough with myself to see the good in them, at least for me.

Still learning. As Michelangelo said.

 

 

 

 

*”This can mean that you have forgotten all about your passions and the kind of joy, happiness, and fulfillment that came with doing what you love.” Labyrinthos

“Reversed tarot cards can also represent the excessive energy of a card. In the case of Strength, it could suggest an approach that’s way too aggressive. The Strength card represents a measured, gentle resolution to a conflict. Take a step back and see if you’re coming at this from a place of fear or anger. Forcing the issue with someone else isn’t going to move you forward.” Tarotluv

:The implication is that the strength and will are there, but something is preventing them from manifesting. I often think of someone constrained by courtesy or peer pressure from speaking up or doing the right thing. It is not that the person doesn’t want to take control, or can’t, but rather that something is keeping them from doing it (either something within or something without) and so the lion remains untamed.” Acletic

“When Strength appears in reverse it does not indicate that you are not strong; on the contrary, it indicates typically that there is more strength in you and in your immediate situation than you are likely to be seeing at this time. If you’re having trouble “feeling” where the strong points are at the moment, get with a trusted and honest friend and make a list…

Spirituality: The reversed Strength card does not mean that you are weak or weak spiritually; on the contrary, it is a reminder that you have strength within you that likely goes far beyond what you would tend to imagine. If you have difficulty seeing and sensing that about yourself and your life, spend some time in nature. Find a natural thing that you find awe-inspiring, whether that’s a beautiful vista, a waterfall, or an old tree. Then remember that the strength and beauty in that scene or object is an integral part of who and what you are as well. Keep getting in touch with your strength.   Psychic Revelation

Still Changing

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Rigel’s bad leg. Her sweetness. Fire mitigation and a moderate Smoky the Bear wildfire risk. Staples. Envelopes. Colorado Furniture. Subway. Radiation induced proctitis. Cool mornings. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Black Mountain, stolid.

Tarot card drawn: Reversed Ace of Wands*

 

Rigel and Kepler

Low energy. I get up, feed the dogs, go up to the loft, write Ancientrails, workout, eat breakfast. After that, errands or pruning. The usual nap. After the nap, sometimes nothing. Just. Don’t. Feel. Like. It.

My five days a week, seven weeks worth of radiation created an inflamed and bleeding lower bowel, radiation proctitis. Most of the time it’s not a big deal. Last couple of days has made me wonder if I need to see my G.I. doc.

An odd circumstance makes me hesitate. When Kate was alive, I could ask her opinion at times like this. Should I wait for it to declare itself? A doctorism of Kate’s. Or, perhaps abate on its on? I trusted her and almost always followed her advice. She would laugh reading this, I know, because she’d say I never followed her advice.

Our 20th, I think

I have to revert to the situation all of us find ourselves in, at least those without a doctor in the house. Does this rise to a level of concern? Or is it a nuisance? My own sensibility is my guide now. And, I don’t trust it as much as I did Kate’s.

Added to this is a desire not to start down the path Kate found herself on. This one is irrational. This is about a bleed, an intestinal bleed. Which marked the beginning of Kate’s long decline. I’m not Kate. I know that. But I do not  want to follow her into a long, slow deterioration. No indication that I will, but I worry about it anyhow.

Also, Rigel’s been a bit down the last couple of days, not eating as well. She’s been holding her right rear leg up, as if it hurts too much move it or it’s too weak to use confidently. Same issue. In the past I would ask Kate. Should Rigel be seen? And, by whom, a neurologist or an orthopedist?

Me

Together these questions and conditions put me in a low state for a while yesterday. Low energy. Proctitis flaring up. Rigel’s leg. No Kate. All on me. That’s the downer insider thinking. Untrue. Not all on me. I have choices and support with physicians and veterinarians.

Just fussin’. I’ll make a decision tomorrow morning about both.

Not a surprise then to draw a reversed Ace of Wands. It fits with the general direction of life right now as the other cards I’ve drawn have underlined, too.

Reshuffling. Reimagining. Reconstructing. Me. Me alone. Me without Kate. Learning how to be me without her counsel, her love (well, no, not without her love, without her physical, loving presence), her support. The task of grief.

Tiring. Dispiriting. Exhilarating. Exciting. Back and forth. Some fear, too. Will I ride this out, find another path? Or will I wander, like Dante, in the dark wood lost?

I’m trying to move forward and rest at the same time. Tough. Taoism has some insight here. Let it be. Flow with the uncertainty, the challenges. Neither try to stop them, nor hurry them to resolution. Live in the reversed Ace of Wands space. It will not last.

This is evident in the illustration. Both upright and reversed the ace of wands has a wand with leaflets. It’s alive and growing, not stopped, not dead.

The cards let me see my psyche in a mirror, to reflect on it from a perspective I might have not noticed, or avoided. And, I admit, they’re doing a damn good job. Yes, a major change. Yes, perhaps the deep grieving is past (mostly) and, perhaps, yes, it is a time when I can close off the Kate (a living Kate) chapter of my life. Perhaps it is a time of big change. Yes.

What these cards have helped me see is that this is not an on/off time. I’m neither done completely with life with Kate, nor am I ready to move into a fully realized life without her. I’m in the transition space. Draining, hopeful. Energizing, scary.

Conclusion? Be easy with myself. Work at things in increments, but keep working. Pruning. Don’t get stuck in the mud.

 

*”The reversed Ace of Wands indicates trials and tribulations that you will face in the near future. You might not have any direction, which leads to being uninspired or unmotivated. At this point of your life, you might not know what you really want to do. You don’t know how to get out of the slump.

…When you draw a reversed Ace of Wands, you should consider taking some time off to allow inspiration to come to you. You feel so weighed down by your current commitments and responsibilities that you can’t come up with new ideas, or muster the passion to push forward in your projects.” Labyrinthos

The Death Card

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan and the Parkside breakfast spot. Rabbi Jamie, Ellen, Marilyn (x2), Carol, Sally, Diane, Rebecca. The hot dog lady. The drive up Brook Forest to Shadow Mountain. The still rapid Maxwell Creek along the roadside. The Rock faces, the Ponderosa and Lodgepoles and Aspens and Willows and Dogwoods. The Cow Elk that sauntered across the road in front of me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Getting up only one time last night.

Tarot of the Morning: Death, 13th card of the Major Arcana

 

We’ll get to the Tarot later, but let me say before we do that it’s good news to me.

Yesterday I met Alan for breakfast at the Parkside. A large patio offers outside dining. A cool morning when I got there at 9:20, the Sun crept around until, as in the parable, I took my jacket off and hung it on the chair.

Before I left for Evergreen, the boys of Grant Property Medic came to weed whack the lawn. That’s the way they do it. A little strange, but ok. They were only response I got to a request on Nextdoor Shadow Mountain for lawn mowers.

Not cheap. But, it’s done. The grasses in some spots were thigh high thanks to the rain we’ve gotten. They had gotten ahead of me while I was in Hawaii. Gotta get my own mower repaired, but I needed to get the place mowed once before I do that. Only two, three times a year anyhow and done for fire mitigation, not for house beautiful.

Still hacking away at budget stuff. A busy week, busier than I thought it would be. Knowledge level about the budget, our assets, cash flow increasing. Not there yet though. Have to keep weed whacking my way through the underbrush. As I often say under my breath, you’re getting there, Charlie. You’re getting there.

At 7:30 this morning I have another round of p.t. Rebecca has me gradually ramping up my exercise routine. My leg feels much better, about ready to get back to cardio. Want to include at least a hike a week. I’ve wanted to do this for years, literally.

Mussar, Thursday afternoon version, met. Good to be back there on a regular basis. As with Alan, I enjoy seeing folks, being with them, thinking with them.

Before the meeting I went over to the yahrzeit wall and found Kate’s plaque, newly installed. A bit of a shock, seeing it there, even though I expected it. I still have the occasional, oh, I gotta tell Kate moment, so it’s good to have the reminders that she is dead. That may seem weird, but it’s true. Acceptance is a process, a learned state, and it takes repetition.

For example, Eduardo told the other day that he’s sixty. Wow. Would not have guessed that. I immediately thought, Kate will be surprised. Who knows, maybe she is.

Had to break off writing this morning. P.T. at 7:30 am. Rebecca furloughed me next week based on good progress. We’ll see how I do and adjust if necessary the week after. A rational choice. Not a maximum revenue approach. Salute Rebecca.

Down the hill to Hwy 470 to Kipling, up Kipling to Chatfield, Wells Fargo. Safe Deposit box. Hunting for our marriage license which I will need to finish my application for Social Security survivor benefits. Also picking up the remainder of Kate’s jewelry connection to pass on to Jerry Miller, Sarah’s husband. Kate’s wish.

I’m holding back two pieces, one an emerald ring I had made for Kate when she had a breast cancer scare 20 years or so ago. I’m going to wear it in memory of her. Also, a gold and lapis lazuli necklace Kate bought in Santorini on our cruise of the Aegean. Again, a memory piece.

After sifting through the papers and boxes, throwing out some no longer needed, like my receipt for Blizzaks from TireRack.com (no idea why it was there in the first place), I concluded that the marriage license was not there. Have to get one from Ramsey County vital records.

On the way home I stopped in to see Jackie, my hair stylist, and changed my appointment to the next week. Tom’s coming and we’re gonna be out doing things.

Time to revert back to the death card. The most feared card in the Tarot deck. This came up on many of the commentators websites. For example: “First things first, don’t be afraid if you’ve pulled the death tarot card! Along with the Tower and the Devil, Death is one of the most feared cards in a Tarot deck. This is normal since most people fear dying and any card representing such a thing would naturally be viewed as negative.”  A little spark of joy. 

The same website offers these words to describe the significance of the upright Death card: “Ending of a cycle, transitions, getting rid of excess, powerful movement.” If you put this together with the six of cups I drew yesterday: “With the Six of Cups reversed, you can finally close accounts with the emotional undertow that has been part of your life.“. it’s not tough to recognize the pattern.

We’ll go into the major arcana/minor arcana distinctions once I’m clearer on them, but for now it’s enough to observe that the Death card is one of the Major Arcana, the 13th of 22. My life since Kate’s illness and decline finished on April 12th with her death. A long, difficult, and often painful journey. A shift in life style to one more reclusive and focused on medical matters, uncertainty, angst. Around 3 years or so total. A distinct intensification over the last year.

As the last three months have passed, a month for each year?, a storm of emotions has crossed my inner world. Horror, terror, fear. Abandonment, loss. Tears and a heart rent by anguish. Mourning. Beautiful and rooted rituals, most from the Jewish perspective, held me in an alembic, a place where the fire of those emotions could drive away the dross and leave me with the gold of Kate’s memory, not as a source of torment, but as a source of sustaining wisdom and love.

That gradual change has brought a punctuation to the last three years, a period, or perhaps better, a semicolon, not jettisoning it as too awful, but making it an and. There were those three years; and, there is the next phase of my life. The Death card and the six of cups underline that change for me. I see it in them and they, somehow, see it in me.

What the effect of that transition, the end of the Kate cycle of my life, means is not yet apparent. Nor could it be. I’m a new born. A different life will grow from the fertile soil of this change. I know it. And, I trust it will be a good one.

So. Yeah, Death card! Thanks six of cups.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Post Covid. Or, not?

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Rebecca of Conifer P.T. Stretches. New exercises. Shirley Septic Trash. Goodbye Mountain Waste. Bread Lounge Sourdough bread. Evergreen farmer’s market. Grant Property Medics. Money. Ruby. Kepler and Rigel.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Good bread.

 

Goya’s, Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls  Institute of Art

Post-pandemic life. For those with vaccines. In countries where vaccines exist in large numbers. Getting back to it. Mussar without masks. Dinner at a friend’s sans masque. Going into the grocery store. Talking with Eduardo yesterday evening. Feeling good.

Not really post-pandemic though. The Delta Variant (a movie thriller title?) will chew through red states where enforced ignorance has replaced any need for public policy. Just say no to the 2020 election results. Support your local klan.

Ignorance of the law, the laws of epidemiology in this instance, will not be an excuse when the virus comes to call. Sickness and death will follow. A sad story in the Washington Post a couple of days ago about nurses in Appalachian critical care units. Patients dying of covid saying it was the flu. Their families devastated, not sure what happened. The nurses standing in grocery store lines hearing people joke about the hoax of covid. Unmasked. A woman quoted in the article saying that it was public knowledge covid was really a way for doctors and hospitals to make more money.

And those countries that can’t afford the vaccines. Poor India. A quote from today’s New York Times:

Another wave of the pandemic is hitting many parts of the world, with countries in Asia, Africa and Latin America experiencing their highest caseloads, driven in part by the highly contagious Delta variant of the virus.

No. It may seem like a post-pandemic world for those of us with our filled out vaccines cards and the Pfizer or Moderna or Johnson and Johnson shots ramping up our immune responses, but we’re experiencing a privilege of the developed world. Of course, 45 did try to match our treatment of the virus to the worst places in the world: Brazil, India, South Africa, Chile, Mongolia. An election intervened and a determined 46 has put us in a much better place. Thank him and mRna.

Intersectionality. Often the study of race, class, and gender bias as they interweave. Covid’s intersections add another to the mix: the politicized anti-science response to the politicized pro-science response. With mask policies in retreat around the country the guidance is that those unvaccinated need to wear masks. The rest of us, the vaccinated, the saved, no.

Does anybody believe those unvaccinated by choice will wear masks? I don’t. Which makes it hard to impossible to know who’s unmasked thanks to immune responses and those unmasked due to Trump induced brain trauma.

An interesting graphic from the Economist suggests that being out of the house and shopping has edged close to pre-pandemic levels in a sample of 50 countries. On the other extreme attendance at sports events, flying, and movie going remain severely affected.

We will never regain the old normal. A new normal, yes, but not the old one. What will change? Hard to know for sure but it’s clear the nature of work and where work happens will be one. Grieving families, nations will have to reorient themselves after great loss. Travel may change, too. Some believe business travel will never resume its former pace. mRna vaccines may provide a new frontier in the fight against viral illnesses, especially the seasonal flu.

I want to know what you think. What will change, what will remain the same?

 

Reimagining Home

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste Removal. Mountain Waste Removal. Jon, Ruth, and Gabe. Up here at last. Diane on Zoom. Mary and Seoah English classes. Rebecca at Conifer P.T. A muscle strain. Stretches.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family.

 

Cleared out that closet next to the boiler area. Gave luggage to Jon, Ruth, and Gabe which, it turns out, they’ll use this Thursday when they fly to Minnesota.

They’re going on a road trip with Annie’s new Jeep, which she’s giving to Jon. Annie, who lives in Waconia, moves to North Carolina sometime in the next month. An assisted living center near Sarah and Jerry, who live in Bellews Creek. Their trip includes Falling Waters and other destinations TBD. Including a stop in Bellews Creek. Sounds fun to me.

Jon is still having trouble with panic attacks. His whole endocrine system seems wobbly, this affecting that, then that affecting something else. No fun at all. Impacting his sleep, too.

Into the cleared out shelving will go comforters though I plan to prune them, too. With the luggage I’m keeping consolidated there is plenty of room for storage there. After I finish that, I’m going to clear off the long arm, which has accumulated stuff. Also going to get Kate’s quilting and sewing stuff ready for Ruth, Jamie, and Laurie.

When that’s done? The closets around the TV, then the clothes in the bedroom. Plan to move the Teak chest of drawers upstairs into the guest room. Leave two drawers empty. Storage in the rest. Keeping at it until the house has the Stickley table upstairs in the sewing room, the Stickley couch out there also.

At Domo

Considering moving the two chairs downstairs up in front of the fireplace, buying a smaller couch to replace them. Perhaps some William Morris wallpaper. Not sure where, but I love his stuff. Stay roughly in the Arts and Crafts aesthetic. If I’m going to live here long term, I want the house reflect me.

Kate’s stuff will not be gone. Jerry’s paintings, her quilts and counted cross stitch, her sculpture, her retirement present, the Granlund, the work I bought her for her 75th. Plus a lot else will remain.

I do want to erase the feeling of the house as an assisted living facility. That phase of its use is over now and it felt less like home than it did a functional, medically oriented dwelling. Which worked well while we needed it. And, I’m glad it did. Still, not the world I want to live in now.

Went to P.T. yesterday. Rebecca poked and prodded, had me bend and twist. Her conclusion? My long walks on Hickam were too much for my right leg. I strained a muscle and the result can be felt, a knot over my femur head which radiates pain in several directions. Her therapy? Stretches, then a gradual reentry to my exercise routine. About 4 weeks.

Life flows on, in endless song, how can I keep from singing.

 

Back in the Mountains Again

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Franny and the Jets. Alan, proud poppa. Jon, calmer. Downtown Denver. The 16th Street Mall. The new breakfast place. Beignets. Feeling a bit lost yesterday afternoon.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Front Range last night with the Sun setting behind it as I drove home.

 

June, 2019, our backyard

Back now, reabsorbed into the Mountains. Surprised yesterday to see a for sale sign on Holly and Eduardo’s house. They’re moving to Palm Springs, close to it. Eduardo got a new job with the same company, a commercial laundry. Sad to see them go.

Holly told me that Jim and Roberta, who live next to them, got divorced and their house will be up for sale, too. We’ll find out how accurate the (seemingly) inflated estimates are for our house prices.

Drove over to Evergreen yesterday AM and had breakfast with Alan. Cheri, his wife, has organized a big July 4 music festival for Evergreen. She also did one for Memorial Day. A lot of work. Good for the town.

The continuous rains we’ve had have greened up the Mountains. All the Plants look happy, watered, vibrant.

Elk Meadow, which I passed on the way to breakfast yesterday, was the first tract of land protected by a community land trust based in Evergreen. It’s big. The namesake Animals lay down in the grass, others wandered, eating. Highway signs say Watch for Elk. Scan the Roadside.

Got my x-rays back. No cancer, at least in these views. Whew. In the dry and matter of fact way of these reports: “X-rays show no acute changes; just old degenerative changes to lumbar spine and right hip.

That’s me. An old degenerate. P.T. starts next week.

Still busy with this and that. Mostly. Yesterday afternoon though I’d paid all the bills, had breakfast with Alan, napped. Nothing really to do until 5 pm when I would leave for Dazzle Jazz in downtown Denver. Got to feeling displaced, a bit down. X-ray findings, while not terrible, reminded me of my own mortality. Which seems more real now with Kate’s death.

Also, Dr. Thompson told me not to take anti-inflammatories because of “your vascular disease.” Oh. I haven’t taken them for years, but that was because of kidney disease. I have atherosclerosis, my Midwest U.S. diet hasn’t helped. Since mom and dad both had strokes a reminder of the vascular disease sent me down a short rabbit hole.

Steadied. Sure, I’ll die. When? Don’t know. Today? Well, if so…

Jon and Kate in his new house. The kitchen looks very different now.

Alan’s daughter Franny is a jazz singer with a band called the Jets. They played an Amy Winehouse set yesterday. Dazzle Jazz @ Baurs. I saw her there three years ago when she decided to give up music and had a farewell show. Felt like I’d seen the end, so I wanted to see the beginning. She’s young.

Invited Jon. We had dinner, enjoyed the show. The band took a while to gel, but when they got there, it was good. Being there was therapeutic for me. Saw a lot of CBE’ers and had time with Jon. He’s on a beta blocker now which seems to have calmed him down. A good thing.

I can now find my way out of Denver without GPS. That feels good. It’s taken a while since I’m not in Denver often. The Mountains, as Jen pointed out long ago, line the western horizon. Angle toward them and you get outta town.

As I drove home last night, the setting sun backlit the Front Range, giving it a paper cutout look with jagged peaks in black against a blueblack and white sky. Beautiful, poignant.

When I turned off 470 onto 285, my favorite sign shone up ahead: Watch for Rocks and Wildlife. That’s home.

 

 

Life Incidental

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Conifer P.T. Hearing care. Leigh Thompson. Health Care Imaging. Jon and his pain. Ruth and Gabe. Kep and Rigel, who couldn’t wait. Happy Camper. Widower, being one. CBE.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: X-Rays. Medical care.

The Cuna Islands off Panama

What I call the medical stretch of Co. Hwy. 470, heading south from 285. Went on it yesterday for the first time since Kate died, alone. To see my (our) doc, Leigh Thompson. A pang of remembrance that our outings for the last year plus came along this stretch of road and the one leading to Swedish Hospital.

Dr. Thompson said she was sorry about Lynne’s death. And, she was. She tried to help, but Kate’s situation had progressed too far for successful intervention. She didn’t even know her well enough to call her Kate. Dr. Thompson also probed me for signs of depression, complicated grief. Do you have a good support system? Yes.

Where does it (did it) hurt? Here, here. Along my right leg, upper thigh, above my sacrum. How much better is it now? 60-80%. Why was I there? I wanted to get back to exercise, but not aggravate, worsen the pain. And, I didn’t know how it happened.

We agreed on physical therapy. Which I love. Targeted and helpful. Clear instructions. I’ll get a path back to regular exercise. Which I want and need. Also, X-rays.

I admit. Incidental findings. Often the punch behind the actual reason for the imaging. Hope they don’t find metastasized cancer. David and Charlie both have prostate cancer growing in their sacrums. Don’t want it in mine.

Jon had another panic attack bringing Ruth and Gabe up here. He didn’t get out of the city. Called an ambulance. Went back home. Jen picked up the kids. Not sure what’s going on, but I imagine grief playing a large role.

Now I have p.t. to schedule and a hearing exam. Yes, I got right on that hearing issue I had at the airport in Hawai’i. Approach the problem and deal with it. Keep moving.

Waiting on a call back from social security.

Today I’m going back to mussar for the first time in over a year in person. Looking forward to resuming that study. I also signed up for another Rabbi Jamie class through the Kabbalah Experience. A focus on the kabbalistic roots of the Tarot. I’ve had a long time interest in the tarot, waxing and waning. Wrote one book that featured chaos magic. I used a lot of tarot card lore in it. Starts mid-July.

Keep moving. Stay in the present, but keep moving. Is that an oxymoron? Xeno’s paradox in modern psyche help shorthand.

 

Agency

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Friday gratefuls: A boy and his dog, asleep together on the carpet. Cool morning Air off the Ocean. Korean burgers prepared as a joint Korean-American enterprise. Readiness to return home. Kep and Rigel. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of joy and awe: Dawn. The North Shore of Oahu: surf’s up!

Closing days on this journey. Monday night, 9:30 pm. Colorado, 8:30 am Tuesday. Back up the Mountain. I’m a different man than the one who landed here on May 14th. Less jagged, less fraught. More peaceful. A time for which gratitude seems inadequate.

It’s the first time I’ve been to Hawai’i without Kate. During the first months I’m without Kate. Bittersweet? Yes, but good, too. On my own. As I’m learning how to be on my own. Again.

She would not have liked Oahu. Too urban, too distanced from the native Hawai’i. It’s still here, of course, its echoes in the Sunrise, the Palm Trees, the Trade Winds, the Outrigger Canoes, the native Hawai’ians. But it’s also noisy, paved, car-ridden, and cluttered with houses and shops and buildings. The built Oahu contradicts the Island itself. I can see why the Ohana folks want to kick the haoles off the Island.

Last Hebrew alphabet class today. Read the piece I wrote about language. Well received. Made me smile to see its effect. I’ve needed that affirmation, especially now. Part of the healing in this time here. An accident of timing, but a good one.

All during the class the Mourning Doves called. Mourning has its beauty, its capacity to call in the Dawn. Which rose as the class progressed and the Doves sang. Helping me call in the dawn of a new, changed life.

The need for agency is a powerful one, perhaps the defining characteristic of life itself. I’ve been very passive here. Sitting, watching TV. Some exercise but stopped now due to a painful something or other in my right upper leg or hip. Not able to leave the base until I got my pass, then feeling too settled in. This blog, a few meals, walks. That’s about it.

When we’ve done sight seeing, Joseph has driven. I chose the Nu’uanu Pali, the Bishop Museum, China Town and now Oahu’s North Shore but other than that we’ve gone where Joseph though would interest me. I’m proactive on a trip. Not this time. Not much.

Seems to fit with mourning and grieving. Letting the weight settle, feelings come back into balance. That’s not passive at all, my agency here internal. Tending to process, staying aware, listening to my heart.

As leaving approaches, my yearning for agency has risen. And there will be plenty of opportunity when I get back to Shadow Mountain. A few unfinished administrative pieces like updating the title of the car, settling with Social Security on survivor’s benefits, dealing with Evergreen Mortuary. Seeing friends, getting back to CBE. Shopping. Cooking. Writing. Dealing with my leg. Another PSA the second week of August.

Life as I will know it. Considering, gently, slowly, the future. Where to live. How to live. What to engage, what to prune. Feels exciting.

Visitor on my first day of radiation. 2019

 

Life and Death

Beltane and the Moon of Mourning

Tuesday gratefuls: Kate, head back, asleep in the car. Kate in t-shirts and shorts with Snow on the ground. Kate’s t-shirt, Though she be tiny, she be fierce. Rigel against me last night. Kep. Yet more Snow. Sleep.

Sparks of Joy: Rigel’s eating well. Chuang T’zu.

Back to working out. New work out, body weight. For Hawai’i. Felt good. Plan more walks, longer there. Increase cardio.

No word yet on the death certificates. I’m going to call today. It’s absurd that I have to shepherd this process, but I need to get on with it.

I have a list of pre-Hawai’i tasks and post-Hawai’i tasks. I want to get all of the pre-Hawai’i work completed so I can take my first vacation in quite awhile in peace. Especially need to get that IRA logjam resolved, get the money river flowing again.

As the shloshim continues, one more week plus a day, some of the grayness has begun to lift. The haze lightens. Not all the way, maybe not for a good while.

Yesterday I intended to do more than start working out again. Nope. I read. I napped. I watched TV. Fed the dogs. Made food. Ate it. A kind of fatigue, a languishing. As Deb said, some day are better than others. Just go with the way you’re feeling. Trying that out for now.

Always appreciated the New Orleans style funeral. Second-lining, trombones, dancers. Chuang-t’zu, after his wife died, sat on the floor banging pots and pans, having a good time. Confounded his friends.

Chuang Tzu Sings Upon his Wife’s Death (Written by You-Sheng Li )

 

When Chuang Tzu’s wife died, his friend Hui Tzu came to offer his condolences and found Chuang Tzu hunkered down, drumming on a potter pan and singing.

Hui Tzu said, “You lived with her, raised children with her, and grew old together. Even weeping is not enough, but now you are drumming and singing. Is it a bit too much?”
Chuang Tzu said, “That is not how it is. When she just died, how could I not feel grief? But I looked deeply into it and saw that she was lifeless before she was born. She was also formless and there was not any energy. Somewhere in the vast imperceptible universe there was a change, an infusion of energy, and then she was born into form, and into life. Now the form has changed again, and she is dead. Such death and life are like the natural cycle of the four seasons. My dead wife is now resting between heaven and earth. If I wail at the top of my voice to express my grief, it would certainly show a failure to understand what is fated. Therefore I stopped.”  (Chapter 18)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kate.

Ostara and Kate’s Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kate.

Sparks of Joy: Kate

Oh. How can I write this? Kate is dead. She died a peaceful death at 12:20 am this morning. Her sister Sarah was with her.

Soulmate. So over used as to be a silly notion. But we were each others. Loving into each others best life. Living into each others best life.

I’m so, so sad. Tears right there. Head spinning, denying, wishing. But, knowing.

The pain in my heart throbs. I ache, for her, for our life together. I rejoice for her peace. She can breathe freely now. No more nausea or fatigue. Her weight no longer an issue.

A tribute from a friend who got Kate right:

She seemed fearless, walked to her own drummer and if she wanted to do something she damn well did it.