Category Archives: Our Land and Home

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Natural Healing

June 11, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Friday gratefuls: My journey over a lifetime. Kate. Always. That trail. With the Creek, the Mountain Stream. The fallen Trees. The tall Pines. The Wild Strawberries. The Rocks. The steep valley walls. Wild Rose. Primrose. Those yellow Flowers I can’t identify. A place of great sanctity. A holy place. A sanctuary. Friends. Near and far.

Saturday gratefuls: Stephanie. That trail again. Happy Camper. Aspen Perks breakfast. Salad. Apples. Peanut Butter. The Continental Divide. Mt. Rosalie. Mt. Evans. Black Mountain. Staunton State Park. Richard Power’s Orfeo. Learning lines. Mini-splits. Jon. Money.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That trail.

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing. And, Again.

Key words: “Give our minds a break, Calmness, Meditation, Stillness, Healing, Reevaluation, Patience, Perseverance, State of stability, Attentive care, Take time to relax and unwind, Connection to the source energy.” tarotx.net

Forgot to finish this yesterday. A busy day. Over to Aspen Perks for breakfast: Salmon Eggs benedict. Reading Orfeo. After a morning with what people especially beyond Richmond Hill (think Pine, Bailey) call the camper and RV races. Or, the RV assholes. Or, those bastards. Folks from down the hill invading, driving too fast. Often with trailers in tow. Passing on curves. Generally being jerks. After Richmond Hill 285 goes from a four lane divided highway to a two lane, no dividers. That’s when things get clogged.

At 9 am I was still a bit ahead of the bulk of it. But I had a guy towing a trailer behind me, a BIG RV ahead of me for much of the way. Irritated locals often try to pass early. Not waiting for the passing lanes that come after the road to Staunton State Park. It’s a recipe for accidents. And, they happen. And, they kill people.

I was on my way to the Happy Camper for my every two months or so cannabis run. 25% off! for the whole month. Still digesting a Stanford study that says thc can increase inflammation in the veins and arteries around the heart. Gonna consider genistein to counteract this effect. Sleep is critical and my thc use has made 8 hours every night possible. Gonna contact my docs to see about safety and dosing.

As my avanah (humility) practice for the month, I’m using a focus phrase: ichi-go, ichi-e. Every moment is once in a lifetime, unique, precious. Trying to use it every time I encounter a living entity: Kep, Myself, Rocks, Lodgepoles, Elk, Friends, Waitress, other Diners, Birds, the Sun, Black Mountain. All the time. Sort of like the Jesus Prayer. Trying to make it subliminal, yet also present as I move around through my day.

In this way I can learn to take up the right amount of space in my life. Not too much, not too little. Not minimizing my gifts, not over emphasizing them. Making sure I remember to bring my whole self to each precious moment. Since it will not be repeated, it’s the only chance I have.

I have now hiked what I’ve begun to think of as my trail, at least when I’m on it, three times since Gabe and I were on it last Saturday. I may go again this morning. Yesterday after my time with Stephanie, Dr. Gonzales’ PA and a sweet lady, I hiked it with the ichi-go, ichi-e focus phrase.

I saw that patch of Wild Strawberry blooms and thought of Ingmar Bergman’s film of the same name. A favorite. The Mountain Rose Bushes are in full Flower, too, five white Petals brightening the trail. They will give way to Rose Hips as the Wild Strawberry Blooms will to Strawberries.

The little Stream, I don’t know its name, flows a bit less vigorously as the Snow melt and Rains subside. Still it sings, dancing over Rocks, falling down the Mountainside, continuing its creation of this holy Valley.

Oddly, as I thought about this trail last night, I realized I’ve done just this, exercised outside in spots that became favorites for a very long time. I used to hike the trail along the Mississippi down by the Ford Avenue Bridge. Then I moved on to the Crosby Nature Farm, also along the Mississippi. When I worked for the Presbytery, I often exercised or walked at the Eloise Butler Garden and Wildlife Sanctuary.

In Andover I went to the Rum River Regional Park and snowshoed a trail through Woods behind the new library in the Winter, spent other times at Boot Lake SNA. Now I’m on my trail just off Brook Forest Road. Up here though the options are much more abundant. I’ve also been on Upper Maxwell Falls, The Geneva Creek trail outside of Grant, and plan to hit the Mt. Rosalie Trail soon.

My equivalent of the Celtic Christian practice of peregrinatio. The Skunk Cabbages are probably blooming right now at Eloise Butler. I miss seeing them and the bright yellow of the Marsh Marigolds. The power of the mighty Mississippi, too. Though a Mountain Valley is equal to them in its own way. Love the one you’re with. Eh?

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

They’re Back!

June 9, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Anavah. Humility. Spanakopita. Cancer. Chemo. Rich. Jamie. Judy. Susan. Heart moments. Acting class. Mussar. Ancient Brothers. Ancientrails. The trail. Walk slow one way. Fast both ways. Slow back. Kate’s memorial garden about to bloom. Orfeo by Richard Powers. Learning lines. Reading.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Greening of the Mountains. (can the pollen be far behind?)

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The 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 forward. Your deep feelings are expressed at every turn.” The Wild Wood Tarot Book, p.113

So excited! Been meaning to say here I expect the return of my Elk friends to eat the Dandelions. They first came the the day I started radiation now four years ago. Each year since three have come, one with a single horn. He’s back this morning! And he’s gotten bigger. A lot bigger. The other two aren’t here yet, but I imagine they will be if they’re still alive.

I love the rhythms of the natural world, especially when they happen so close to, or rather, at home. This, too, is Living in the Mountains. If this house were abandoned, these Elk would still come here. Wild. On their own. Living as they have for over 25 million years. About 8 times longer than humans. Maybe they’ve learned something we haven’t?

A solid workout yesterday. Cardio and resistance.

Learning lines. Scene from View from a Bridge. Alfieri. I have his lines down now, need to run them with Hamish for cues and rhythm. Odd Couples lines are off-book now, I think. Alan was sick Monday, so we didn’t run through them at class.

Later, MVP at CBE. Anavah. Humility. Taking up the right amount of space. Knowing yourself required. Neither too much of you, nor too little. Neither shrink away from what you can do, nor do more than you should. The practice: a slip of paper in each pocket. The right: “For my sake the world was created.” The left: “I am but dust and ashes.” When you feel a little low, less than, reach in the right pocket and pull out that slip of paper. When you feel over confident, reach into the left.

Driving back from Evergreen last night, the greening of the Forest splashed itself across Meadows and up Mountain sides. Beautiful. A sense of abundance.

They will, of course, soon begin to desport themselves in wild pollen orgies. Which will, of course, make me sneeze, gasp, itch. The mini-splits will get a chance to shine as I close the house, insisting on no plant sexual activity inside.

I’m all for it. Just not in my house. Do it out there in the Forest where Mother Nature intended.

Herbivore heaven right now. Succulent Grasses. Flowers. Green Shrubs. Aspen Leaves. Easy to reach.

Gonna go now. Take a few pictures of my one-horned friend. Hope his buddies come, too.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Kabbalah, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Oooh, a puppy!

June 5, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. For whom my heart aches. Gabe. For whom my heart sings. Jon. For whom my heart waits. Rebecca. A kindness. Alan. A fullness of friendship. Seeking the whole lev-the heart mind. Wholeness. Kep, my companion. The Denver Mtn. Parks Trail with Gabe. Covid. Grief. Kate, always Kate. Shavout.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth.

Tarot: Queen of Stones, Bear

“Grief is a heart-wrenchingly painful problem for the brain to solve… to live in the world with the absence of someone… ingrained in your understanding of the world… For the brain, [they are] simultaneously gone and also everlasting, and you are walking through two worlds at the same time.” from the Grieving Brain by Francis O’Connor. Marginalia

This quote explained grief to me. In a way nothing else has. Since the experience is still fresh, I thought I’d pass it along. Grief lasts forever, grieving does not, O’Connor says. My experience, too. Grieving is over for me. At least in the main. But grief? No. Still sad and wistful. Still missing Kate. Still walking through two worlds. A beautiful phrase.

Had breakfast with Rebecca Martin yesterday at Parkside. Rebecca is a fellow kabbalah and mussar student. She’s 80, but very vital. Each year she makes a months long journey to a Tibetan Buddhist nunnery near Dharamshala in northern India.

She started out teaching English there but has become a part of the community. Though she still teaches English. She had to take a break during Covid and isn’t sure when she’s going back. Have to admire that chutzpah. The plane ride alone. Yeah?

A good conversation.

While there, I met a Leonberger/Bernese Mountain Dog mix. A really big dog. Odin. Ten months old, still very much the puppy but almost Wolfhound height and weighing in at 140 pounds. Not mature. He was so funny and loving. Wagged his whole body. Made me want one.

Realized when Ruth and Jon came up later that my life has shifted again. I’m the Grandpa with a Mountain home and love that needs nothing in return. Which is not to say I don’t appreciate being loved. I do.

But they feel comfortable here because I’m comfortable here and with them. And with their individual dramas. Most of the time. A role shift from Jon’s mom’s husband and sorta grandpa to a key life figure for all three of them. Not really grandpa, not really father, just a guy who loves them and is willing to hang in there with them.

I’ve struggled with this, but have chosen to lean into it, make it what I’m here for until the kids are through high school. Doesn’t mean I can’t travel, be other places, but I’m staying here for now. Probably as long as I’m able.

Dogs have closed minds. As do other humans. We can’t see inside and know what’s going on. It occurred to me a week or so ago that Kep may not have gotten up on the bed with me because it reminded him of Rigel. May have smelled like her, too. The last few nights he’s gotten up on the bed and stayed through morning. I’ve asked him to, and, yes, I believe he understands. It feels like he’s decided to push past his grieving to comfort me. Feels like a treasure.

I’ve also decided to get a puppy. Gonna do it. Kep will bond with the puppy over time, not be mean to it. A female. And, I don’t care what the breed is. Just filled out an application for Kahlua, a German Shepherd mix. We’ll see out what happens. Oooh, a puppy!

Aging, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Park County, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Travel

Introducing Herme

May 19, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Burning Bear Creek. Park County #60. A clean Kep. Geneva Creek. The hike. Good exercise. Outside. In the Mountains. The scent of Lodgepole Pines. Sweet. The sound of Snow Melt throwing itself down Geneva Creek. The Marmoset. The Raccoon. Those molting young Mule Deer Does near the Lariat Lodge. Hamish. Working on Alfieri and Eddie in View from the Bridge. 9:30 to bed. Up at 7:10. Shift already happening.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Marmosets and Raccoons

Tarot: #8, The Stag

“The Stag is a metaphorical image for the treasure of knowledge in the universe, where the energy of creativity awakens every human soul.” tarotx.net

Kep emerged from Award Winning Pet Grooming shiny and sweet smelling. Grinning. He jumped up on me. Thanks for not forgetting me, Dad! He’s the sweetest Akita I’ve ever met. The longtime owner there. He’s the sweetest Akita I’ve ever met, too, but my experience is limited to Kep, Murdoch, and for a moment, Kya.

Living in the Mountains continues today. Exercise at Maxwell Creek. I’ll see what it’s like at 9 am or so. Probably nobody. Which is what I want. Gonna start checking for lonely trails somewhere nearby. Even when working out I’m an introvert. A big reason I have my own home gym.

Shedding, like an Akita blowing his coat, my old Self. Letting him go, rushing toward the River feeding the Collective Unconscious. He’ll always be there if I need him. He served me well over the last seven years, but it’s time to let the fourth phase me, the post-Kate me have his day.

He’s a dig-in to this world deeper guy. A Living in the Mountains guy. Really see this wonder in which I live. He’s a Traveling Alone with a Crowd guy. Herme is his name.

Instead of looking to go far he’s looking to go in and down, as has been my journey since I left the church over thirty years ago. Slipped away some in the Colorado years. Renewing that journey while rethinking transcendence. I get the need to move beyond ego, but I’m not sure transcendence is the right metaphor. Rolling this around right now.

Rather than looking to go far Herme wants to investigate the close-by, the near. In his heart. In his inner world. In the Mountains near his home. In Evergreen and CBE. In family and friends. On Shadow Mountain. In his sumi-e brush.

Herme wants to move on the Elder’s path. Finding his power. Communicating his truth gathered. No longer pounding the world with his fist. No longer seeking distant lands unless inhabited by family. Not seeking success in anything. Living in the World as he lives in the Mountains as his World.

Herme appreciates the lessons of suffering. But no longer wants to live with them as a primary identity. Cancer will be what cancer is with the treatments available. Jon and the kids will resolve their issues from the divorce or not; Herme will remain in their lives. Kate will be of blessed memory.

Farewell old man. You served me well, but it’s time for a new phase.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Holidays, Memories, Minnesota, Myth and Story, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain

Beltane: You are alive!

May 1, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Beltane. The growing season. Fire festival. Life renewed. Again. Still. My voice. Jon. Better. More insight, moving forward. Three dead mice. 2nd night, none in the kitchen. Edward Abbey. Mario. Taos. Road trip. Iran. Possible tour in the fall. Taipei, winter. Energy back. Got a lot done yesterday. Closing in on a finished downstairs. Feels so good. Jon’s idea about centering the chandelier. Smart guy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jon, taking hold

Beltane. Yes. The season I need. A Fire festival. Those crazy Scots and Swedes. All naked today, bonfires. Probably a lot of making love in the tall grass. Sympathetic magic. Maybe a few year and a day handfast marriages. The maiden goddess lying with the Greenman, with Cernunnos. Persephone with Pan. Ceres waving her hand, seeds unfurling, heading toward the sun.

A celebration of the Garden, the Prairie, the Pasture, the Woodland. Life giving. Soaking in the Sun. The Rain and the Snow melt. Mountain Streams full. Trout loving the cold Water. It’s Beltane. Ring out the fallow season for real. Ring in the season of plenty.

In the old days, the farthest away of the Celtic times, only Beltane and Samain. The growing season and Summer’s End. One or the other. Fertility or waiting, decomposition, getting ready. Resting. For this. The time of green. Of yellow and brown.

Oh, I’m so ready. I’ve had a long, long fallow time. Maybe since 2018 or so. Life with Kate had hit its late fall, early winter. The Covid. Her decline and death. Grief. Kate, always Kate. Now less Kate and more me. Alive still.

Beltaned. My Seed beginning to unfurl, blast its way through the Soil. Drinking in the Rain. Basking in the Sun, gaining power. My own Photosynthesis. Hands out, palms up, neck back, face lifted to the warmth of a new life season. Probably my last one. The fourth phase. Joyful. Rich. Headed toward joy.

Leave no bit of juice in the tank. Spill it all on the road, running the engine as long and as far as possible. Like Ode on his long road trip. Like Neal Cassidy and Ken Kesey. Like Walt Whitman and his powerful Yap.

That’s the message of the Great Wheel. Until you fall into the soil, become one with the next generation of life, you are alive. An agent. A whole universe swirling with galaxies of love, nebula of knowledge, Big Bangs of creativity.

Contra Dylan Thomas I do want to go gently into that good night. Not as one passive and resigned, but as one filled with experience. One who took the moments and lived in them, loved in them. Shouted. Danced. Acted. One who knows the night is nothing to rage against, rather something to embrace. These element’s fallow time after their long journey as me.

So. Take off those clothes. Throw away the inhibitions and the ambitions. Open. Spread out. Jump and twirl. It’s the Beltane festival. For you and for me.

Colorado, Coronavirus, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Our Land and Home, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot, The West, US History, Weather +Climate, World History, Writing

Erev Beltane

April 30, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Spring and the Beltane Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Pete and the chandelier. Better than I thought. More exercise. Call from Ode. Breakfast with Alan on Monday. No Mouse in the kitchen Rat zapper! Cool night. Wild dream. New Acorns. Still reading Amanda Palmer. Qin Empire: Alliance. TV. Outer Range. TV. High Country News. P-22, the Mountain Lion of Griffith Park in LA.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The predator eating the Mice

I throw the dead Mice over the fence. In a very short time they’re gone. Gonna watch this AM. See who this critter is. Glad to feed somebody. Makes this less onerous. A circle of life thing.

Presentation tomorrow for Groveland. Zoom. Quite the thing. Something I couldn’t have done otherwise. Devolution. Trying to follow David Sanders advice. Write as I talk. Still working on reimagining faith after all these years. Getting very close to what I saw originally. The key move may be asking why privilege faith in the unseen when the seen has as much power in our daily lives? Our whole lives. I will post Devolution after I’ve presented it. Happy for critiques, thoughts.

Ode called from the road yesterday. On his way to Taos. Blown away by the West. His sketchbooks, my blog. A daily discipline. Influenced by life in the moment. A confidant. To whom we tell our story. While other people listen in. Or see. Native to each of us. Over many years. A friend. He saw this similarity.

A legacy of a sort. Maybe a legacy in reality. I’ve ensured Ancientrails’ longevity past my death in my trust. Not really a bid for immortality or legacy, but a way for grandkids and kids to remember Dad or grandpop. What was he like? Oh, yeah. Kate’s quilts, mug rugs, shirts, dresses, wall hangings. A bit of us hanging over in the visible world: stitches, color and ink, words.

Healthspan. Asked Kristie about it. She said I could live 10 plus years with the treatments available for prostate cancer. Kristen, my PCP, said 90 was reachable with my current health conditions. Both positive and sobering. I mean, geez, even fifteen years. That would get me back to only 60. Not that long ago.

Still. Able to live, love, write, travel. Tomorrow is not promised. Only this moment is sure. Gonna keep at it until I can’t. Unafraid. Except about getting Covid. Damn that disease got under my skin. Stephanie, the PA I see at Conifer Medical said, “Covid’s weird.” She had a tone of respect in her voice. Wu wei.

The world. Odd things. Why my gratefuls include items like prostate cancer, death, grieving, illness, war, climate change. We see only dimly, though that darkly glass. Putin invades Ukraine. Awful. Ukraine stands up to Putin. Amazing. The fractured EU and Nato begins to heal, the West remembers itself. Wonderful. Ukraine pushes Russia out of Kyiv and begins to carry the fight to them. Wow. Biden’s handling of our response elevates him in world leadership.

As does his handling of Covid. Which we may now find ourselves sort of out of. As a pandemic anyhow. Not gone. Probably never gone. Like the flu. Will we need Covid shots, boosters now? Like flu shots. Annually? Maybe. Fine.

Covid has changed the nature of work. Created an economic recovery which has raised wages for the working class. Has cost us so many lives. So much time together. Made us realize how precious community is, even for solitaries like me.

We often see well only in what Kate used to call the retrospectoscope. Why we need history. So much. I love history. And art. And religion. And writing. And people. And Shadow Mountain. And Arapaho National Forest. And Maxwell Creek. And whatever eats my dead Mice. Even the Mice. And life itself. Death, too.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Our Land and Home, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Four Dead Mice

April 28, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Spring and Kate’s Yahrzeit Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Trash pickup. Four dead mice. See how they lay. The new chandelier. Astrology. Sefer Yetzirah III. Luke. Leo. Kep. Findlay. Supermax. Snow mostly melted. 55 yesterday. Sunny. Cold waning, not gone. VRCC. Kep’s allergy shots. Recovery. Exhaustion. Illness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Road Trips

Four dead mice. All in the trash. Zappers zap. Four d-batteries. Interestingly it says you can still use the batteries when the indicator shows they don’t have the oomph necessary to kill a mouse. Will kill 60 rats with fresh batteries, so I imagine many more mice. Still makes my heart sore, but a little less so this morning. Desensitization. Don’t like that. Taking a life should never be casual.

Still. All that evidence of mousey invasions. Chewing dog treats. Eating in to my new loaf of sourdough bread. Which I, for some reason, did not put the bread box. Gnawing the flap on the dog treat box. And all those turds. They must walk and poop at the same time.

Cold. Hanging on. Fatigue. Stuffy nose. Feeling blah. Head stuffed with cotton. Hard to think around it. Yecch.

Chandelier came. Custom made. Expensive. Not sure I like it. No. That’s not right. I love it. Not sure I like it for the place I wanted it for. Sigh. Gonna get it hung anyway. See how it looks. Might play with its location if I don’t like it over the common room table.

I need a week or two of feeling healthy, energized. Then I can dive into the last of the inside work. Discovering how much my workouts do for me. A lot. Especially the cardio.

Sewing Room area has more work. The chandelier needs to get hung. Kitchen. Still infrequently used items to put in high spots. Shelving to finish installing. Like that. The bookcase downstairs. The rotating shelf. A few items that need to find new homes. Either here or elsewhere. At least one more visit to Goodwill.

But already functional. Usable. Comfortable, as somebody said. A good word, happy to hear it.

The quotidian. Necessary for the soul to feel calm. What I want and need. Like most of us, I imagine.

Feel like I had made good progress, then got derailed by this cold. Have to start over again. That I can make progress is, I suppose, the point. Read the Mayo Clinic website and they counsel waiting until your body is ready to get back to exercise. Then, gradually. Feels like the story of my exercise over the last year or so. Get started, get feeling good. Injure something. Start over. Repeat.

Finished Matt Rose’s book on philosophers of the far right. It’s last chapter is interesting. In it Rose offers an apologia for Christianity against the critiques leveled by these extremist thinkers. Not sure why the chapter is there. Maybe the book was too short. Anyhow I noticed that some of their critiques and mine share a common theme. But not one that I would ascribe only to Christianity, but all major religions except one, Taoism.

Aging, Anoka County, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Self Compassion

April 10, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Spring and Kate’s Yahrzeit Moon

A bit blurry, but it shows Kate’s grace in any situation. Seoah’s mom has on traditional Korean wedding wear. April 10, 2016

Sunday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Sarah. Her gift. Jon fixed my window! Ruth on a date. In her new realm now. Boygirl land. Gabe. Being Gabe. Scattered Snow. A dusting of white on the Lodgepoles. Kep. My loft Dog. This crazy, awful, wonderful grief. Kate’s yahrzeit coming up. Acting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wind

Alan has finished three plays now with Evergreen Players. A couple of Irish plays and Dementiaville. He’s an actor. His role in Dementiaville called for emotional depth. It was there. His wife went down the memory gradient into dementia. Just like his now dead brother Dan did not all that long ago. This play was personal for many of the cast members.

I admire his willingness to take on a difficult transition from corporate manager to community theater actor and singer. It keeps him meeting new people and exercises, as Hercule Poirot says, ze little gray cells.

Rabbi Jamie’s son Tal is one of the principals in Evergreen Players.

We had breakfast at the Bread Lounge where I picked up my Pullman loaf of Sourdough bread. It’s gone up in price. Way up. Inflation hits the bread line. I chose yogurt parfait in my ongoing journey to shift slowly toward a Mediterranean diet. I assured Alan that I had a filet mignon the night before so I wasn’t leaving carnivore land in toto. He seemed reassured.

After breakfast the stop at Nellybelle’s General Store did result in a couple of purchases, but no center piece for my mantle. The large wheel like object is a cool work and the price was right, but the color’s too dull for the rest of what’s on the mantle. It’s going to go up here in the loft.

Jon and Gabe came up yesterday afternoon. Jon fixed my bedroom window which didn’t quite close. It’s a casement. No problem during the winter months when I like cold in the room, a gift of Kate’s. But. In the late spring and early summer the allergens come out. Why I bought the mini-splits. So I could close all the windows and still sleep in a cool room. I have two air purifiers purchased and ready to go as well. That window had to close all the way.

Pollen season in the Mountains has made me miserable every year I’ve been up here. Don’t need it. So, I took action. I hope this works. Also, the Pine Pollen, Lodgepole sex, is a yellow nuisance as well. It sifts inside, coats everything. I understand. Wind and Pine Cones and Pollen make Lodgepole Pines. And I love them. I just don’t want their fun times on my kitchen counter. Geez.

Haven’t gotten as much done as I planned. We’ll see later today. People intervened. And, I’m glad. There’s time to finish. Goal is by next weekend. I want to have a larger dining room available for holidays and times like the week of the 18th. I’ll make it.

I would say the major shift for me, opening itself right now, is just that. There’s time. Wu wei suggests there is always time if we allow the flow of chi to guide us. Things will get done. No need to push. Or resist.

The imminence of Kate’s yahrzeit has affected me. Feelings more variable. Intensity increasing. My one shard of guilt, not being there when Kate died, blossoming in full force as the anniversary of that night approaches. Sarah wrote me a very sweet and powerful email which has allowed me to gain perspective.

Here’s a bit of it:

“You WERE there, Charlie. Kate could feel you I know. Don’t forget too that just 20 minutes more or less before she left she heard me say Charlie is going to be ok – Seoah’s coming on Tuesday, BJ came back from Idaho so we sisters are all here together until Wednesday for him, Jon and the grandkids are there for him too. Your love and dedication to her is enough. As she wrote.

She was so concerned about your exhaustion and really wanted to ease the pain and fatigue she knew you were in for once she had passed. And it was not only a privilege for me to be entrusted with her last nights, Charlie, but it was also a profoundly deep and healing honor. I loved her so, too. Thank you to both of you. I hope this helps you let go of any feelings of guilt.”

A lot of tears after I read this. Good, cleansing rib heaving sobs. I feel like I can put that guilt aside. I couldn’t be at the hospital twenty-four hours. I had dogs to care for and I had to sleep. Being there during the day for hours over her last week or so then going home to feed Rigel and Kep, and sometimes going back to the hospital in the evening. It overwhelmed me physically and emotionally.

Family. So important.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Jefferson County, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science, Shadow Mountain

Wait

April 1, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Spring and Kate’s Yahrzeit Moon

Friday gratefuls: Luke. CBE. The Thursday mussar group. Gracie and Leo, two dogs also learning mussar. Kep, the sweet boy. David Sanders. Being where I need to be. Taking a breath. Or, two. To Speak for the Trees. Ancient Celtic wisdom. Relevant today. Thanks, Tom. The Lodgepoles and the Aspens on this property. The Willows along Maxwell Creek. The Bristlecone Pine on Mt. Evans.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Authenticity

Not quite done with David Sanders. Close, though. The result may be, probably will be, I’m doing fine. Things will be good with my heart and my life. This meshes well with my levothyroxine boosted energy level, the coming of spring.

Even Kate’s yahrzeit though a sad memory does signal a year’s worth of time to integrate her loss. Time I’ve used as best I can. The grief has not passed, nor do I expect it to. Or, want it to. That sudden welling of tears has a direct heart link with her, with our marriage, with our love. I imagine the intensity of those moments will continue to diminish, but I don’t expect them to disappear.

As I explained earlier, due to the Jewish leap year her Jewish yahrzeit will not happen until May 1st. This April 12th though I’m lighting two 24 hour yahrzeit candles, one for her and one for our marriage. There is that third aspect of our life together, our usness, our mutual decision making, the frisson of our days and nights, the interactivity and mutuality, that also perishes.

No longer do we have a money meeting that parses our financial life. No longer do we consider how to celebrate our anniversary. Whether to go on another cruise. Hold hands in the car. Sleep together. Agonize over illness, celebrate joyfully for our grandchildren, children, dogs. Dead, too. And, grieved. I lost my partner. My best buddy.

Ushuaia, Southern most town in the Americas. 2011

My soulmate. Yes, corny as that phrase is. Yes. We helped each other grow. Consoled each other in tough times. Had the best interests of the other at heart. When I made a bad turn right in front of an oncoming car, I dithered about whether I should be driving. “Any one could have done that.” Oh.

Death has such finality. No do overs. No matter how much desired. I thought I already knew that, but no. I had to learn it again.

Sorta strayed from the main point there. Though not without good reason. Part of my question about what comes next lies entangled with the process of grieving. But not all. Not even most. It is my life, no matter the thread of sorrow now woven into it.

Feeling more confident about emergence. That as I live into the redone house, a less restricted post-Covid life (will it ever be really over?), when I feel my way into new possibilities as they become apparent, that the new, an extension of the old, of course, how can it not be, will declare itself. Might be a quiet embrace. Could be a noisy clamoring. Look what I’m up to now! Don’t know. Will, as Seoah would say, wait and see. Wu wei.

A word about To Speak for The Trees. This book, which I discovered after reading an article forwarded by Tom Crane, feels like a hook, a wu wei moment. Oh, yes. Celtic thought. I’d forgotten. Laid it aside. Yet here is this woman, about my age, Diana Beresford-Kroger, recounting her immersion in the Celtic life in Lisheen, Ireland. And how that immersion fed her life as a scientist, as a keeper of rare trees. How it might still feed us all.

Stirrings. Threads. Links. Weaving themselves again, still, into my days. I await guidance. With no expectations. Giving it over to the days as they come and go. Waiting.

Astrology, Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Learning Curve Trending Down

March 14, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. My phone, which reminds me when 6 am is now. Darkness again. Sadness. Ukraine. Russia. War. Peace. That Dragonfly lamp. The slowness of things just now. The Ancient Brothers. And their still more ancient fathers and grandfathers. Including the con man, the Irishmen, the one in green flannel underwear.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Finding the stock pot and the mixing bowls

Ah, the simple joys of kitchen remodeling. I put the stockpot up over the refrigerator, but when I first looked I saw only the second shelf akimbo. It was too heavy for me to lift into place. Can’t be there. Left hand cabinet door. Later, when I decided to look everywhere, I opened the right door and there was one of my favorite kitchen tools on a bias at the other end of the slanted shelf. Really? I did that? Yep.

And the mixing bowls. Determined I went through everything again. Then, there they were. Again, right where I’d put them behind the Pyrex measuring bowls, sort of hidden. Whew. Not crazy.

Bouncing between final moves on the furniture rearrangement and the kitchen reassemble. Both take time and energy. The end results I love. But still more slogging to go. A ways to go before I finish. At this pace? Maybe a month.

I took a big check over to Jodi at Blue Mountain Kitchens on Friday. Bowe still has to come out and finish a few things. Minor. Convince one drawer to glide easily. Some staining. A filler piece between the dishwasher and the sink.

Nausea has begun to get in the way, too. Damn. That’s no fun at all. This Erleada may be important, but it’s not very friendly. Hot flashes seem to have disappeared. Bowels a bit happier. Fatigue, stamina, and my tummy-not so much.

Wrote a piece about astrology for the final class tomorrow. I’ll append it here*. Feels like a fail for me. Might be, might not.

One similar tale. Long ago. Logic, my freshmen year at Wabash. I had done fine in Philosophy 101, all my other classes, too, except German. Which I dropped. Second semester I took Logic from Professor Larry Hackestaff, notable for wandering the green with a six pack of Bud dangling from his side, his belt run through an empty plastic ring. The beer looked like a large set janitor’s keys. Perhaps to the unconscious?

It wasn’t happening for me. I listened to his lectures. I studied hard. I flunked an early test. Oh, god. Was this going to be my first grade below a B ever? And maybe an F? How could this be? Couldn’t imagine. Shame. Fear. Anxiety. None of which helped me of course. It was around this time I got diagnosed with a spastic colon, now irritable bowel, I think.

And then. One morning in the library, in my favorite carrel, I pushed one more time and the world of logic opened up to me, blossomed. The law of excluded middle. Yes. Proofs. Yes. It was fun. A puzzle. Riddles within riddles. Aced the midterm and the final. Felt like I’d strapped myself to the mast like Odysseus, escaping the Sirens of doubt.

Maybe someday I’ll have a similar experience with astrology. Not now. Not sure when I’ll go back to it. Maybe soon, maybe never.

It’s weird because the Tarot has become a daily part of my spiritual practice. I thought astrology would, too. Apparently not.

Breakfast now. Then over to see Dr. Gonzalez, see if we can figure out the fatigue-stamina-nausea trio. Does make me feel a bit fragile. A feeling I don’t like.

*Astrology and me

A learning curve difficult to surmount. Not sure why. Usually. Fast into the wheelhouse of an idea. This subject. Not so much.

Part of it no doubt is my bedrock empiricism which can swing close to scientism, something I despise. Part of it is a lifetime of seeing the astrology columns in newspapers and reading them for amusement or entertainment. Part of it is a strong existentialism which finds it hard to give outside influence impact over my life. Part of it is the how. How can this be? How can this work? Maybe it’s the wrong moment in my life.

These classes have helped me. I now have a better grasp of the elements of astrology, still unable to put them together with any ease. Not even sure how I can advance. Perhaps I need to go back to work with Elisa on my chart. Learn it. Get it down.

Got to admit this troubles me. A strong part of me relies on intellect. Another strong part of me relies on the heart. At my current age I’d say they are in balance. When my intellect finds it hard to crack the code of a subject, I feel hesitant, reluctant to dig deeper. I had the same issue with languages. Just. Real. Hard.

I wish I had a better way of describing my journey. Yes, I’m intrigued that my chart seems to get some parts of me right. Yes, I’m intrigued by the idea of transits inflecting our lives as the planets move. But moving past intrigue into using astrology as a tool for my own journey? Still not there, after two private readings and two wonderful classes.

Leaving this path with way more questions than answers.

But, as Douglas Adams said, Thanks for all the fish.