• Category Archives Poetry
  • Taking Sides

    Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Ruth. Dazzle. Alan and a new car. The signs of aging. Come to us all. If we’re lucky. Mountain living. Shadow Mountain. Kep, no longer out in the Snow, still my sweet boy. Kate, my sweet gal. My son. His 77 on screen golf! Seoah. Murdoch. Okwga. Seoah’s mom and dad. Our wild neighbors. Aging in place. Fire insurance. Wildfire. Move or stay, my choice. Mountain Water. Mountain Clouds. Emunah.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wizard of Oz

    One brief shining: Oh the things we’ll see if we turn on the news, bombs bursting in air and on the ground, tanks and soldiers pushing, pushing, pushing, Gazans streaming toward the south, peace in shatters oh hallelujah says Hamas, Hezbollah and their Iranian allies, push, push, push until all Arabs push back, please please please stop all this.


    For today’s post, I’m offering this poem sent to me by my friend Rebecca Martin:


    Taking Sides


    Today I am taking sides.

    I am taking the side of Peace.

    Peace, which I will not abandon

    even when its voice is drowned out

    by hurt and hatred,

    bitterness of loss,

    cries of right and wrong.

    I am taking the side of Peace

    whose name has barely been spoken

    in this winterless war.

    I will hold peace in my soma

    and share my body’s breath,

    lest Peace be added

    to the body count.

    I will call for de-escalation

    even when I want nothing more

    than to get even.

    I will do it

    in the service of Peace.

    I will make a clearing

    in the overgrown

    thicket of cause and effect

    so Peace can breathe

    for a minute

    and reach the sky.

    I will do what I must

    to save the life of Peace.

    I will breathe through tears.

    I will swallow pride.

    I will bite my tongue.

    I will offer love

    without testing for deservingness.


    So don’t ask me to wave a flag today

    unless it is the flag of Peace.

    Don’t ask me to sing an anthem

    unless it is a song of Peace.

    Don’t ask me to take sides

    unless it is the side of Peace.


    Rabbi Irwin Keller

    October 17, 2023


  • Caverns Measureless to Man

    Fall and the Harvest Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: CBE. Israel Trip meeting this morning. Mary, my physical therapist. Exercises. Exercising. Jet lag. A day per time zone. 15 time zones on MST. Oh. Israel. Hamas. Hezbollah. Iran. Palestinians. Two-state solution. The Pacific. The Atlantic. They Yellow Sea. The Sea of Japan. The Korean Peninsula. The Islands of Japan. The Rocky Mountains. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. Conifer Mountain. The Night Sky. Darkness. The season of darkness. Samain. The Winter Solstice.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Night

    One brief shining: Nash from the Schneider’s will include bagels, cream cheese, onion, tomatoes, and capers for us while we try to digest the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in Ashkelon and Gaza and Tel Aviv, and civilians both Palestinian and Israeli dying in their homes as we assess whether our trip to Jerusalem is as over as we all imagine it is.


    So. The news continues to shock, dismay. Photographs of bodies, burned out cars, wrecked apartment buildings, fences, military vehicles. I continue to have double vision. With sorrow and grief for Israel, its promise and its failure, its dead. With sorrow and grief for Gaza and Palestine, people herded into narrow spaces, walled off, virtually imprisoned. No winners here. Only the eye of history scanning back and forth for that moment when things begin to change. Will this be it? I certainly hope so. For the dream that is a Jewish homeland. For the necessity that is a Palestinian state. For both to be true and friendly.

    The enmeshed politics of the U.S., Iran, Russia, even Ukraine now threaded more deeply into the bloodied tapestry of the current Middle East. We support Israel. We support Hamas and the Palestinians. We support our Sunni brothers and sisters. We support our Shia brothers and sisters. We support. But support really means we are willing to kill those we don’t. Or, provide aid and comfort while our proxies do it for us. This part of the world is a nightmare for all who call it home and for all who have interests there. Yet for those who call it home it is just that. Home. I feel linked in sadness with all those who care for these troubled lands. All.

    It is strange to have a personal stake in these events. But I do. A couple of weeks in Israel beginning on October 25th. Doubt it now. Meeting at CBE this morning with a representative of Keshet, the Israeli travel agency organizing the group part of the trip. Probably will start to unwind. I didn’t buy travel insurance so I’m not sure what the financial impact of a cancellation will be for me. Whether the airline will let me have a refund or a credit. Also strange to consider personal finances while people are dying. I need to, but it’s still strange.

    Have to go get ready for the 8 am meeting at CBE. Our Keshet rep lives in Jerusalem so this will be first hand about what’s happening there. Keshet sent an e-mail to all of us yesterday outlining the financial commitments they’ve made to relief work as an organization. The needs are great and if you feel like donating there are many opportunities.


  • Love

    Lughnasa and the Waning Crescent of the Herme Moon

    Sunday and Monday gratefuls: The Trail to Cold Mountain. Off book. Kristie. Off meds? Sunday’s Ancientrails, forgotten. Unusual. The Ancient Brothers on love. A morning with Rich and Ron. Also about love. Burn away everything but love. Study today. Jewish identity. Cool and Foggy morning. Good sleeping. Ready for packing. Cable organizer. Reinforcing off book for the Trail to Cold Mountain. So many wonderful people in my life. Korea and Israel. Same continent. 5027 miles apart. [Osan to Jerusalem]

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Good friends

    One brief shining: A bowl filled with strawberries, blueberries, black berries, and slices of mango sat by a wooden cutting board with lox heaped upon it next to a lazy susan with cream cheese, capers, cut onions, almonds warm cut bagels on my plate as Ron and Rich and I sat together talking mussar, parenting sons, writing, such a good morning.


    I have now a surfeit of riches. Wealthier than I could have dreamed possible. And, yes, in terms of money, too. More important than money though friends and family who love me. Whom I also love. Who will open themselves to me and I to them. A wonderful morning yesterday as an example.

    The Ancient Brothers gathered on zoom to talk about love. Ode talked about Robert Bly’s connected universe, all atoms linked to each other in a grand chain of becoming. As are the atoms in each of us. Bill added Buckminster-Fuller’s Cosmic Plurality:

    “Cosmic Plurality”

    Environment to each must be

    All there is, that isn’t me

    Universe in turn must be

    All that isn’t me AND ME


    Since I only see inside of me

    What brain imagines outside me

    It seems to be you may be me

    If that is so, there’s only we

    Me & we, too

    Which love makes three


    Perme — embracing

    It-them-you-and we


    Paul offered Rilke:

    Widening Circles

    I live my life in widening circles
    that reach out across the world.
    I may not complete this last one
    but I give myself to it.

    I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
    I’ve been circling for thousands of years
    and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
    a storm, or a great song?


    Tom reminded us of the love we learn from the dogs in our lives, the angels of our youth and of our old age. Of kindness. Of the sweetness of vulnerability.


    I spoke again of the gift given to me between Mile High Hearing and Dave’s Chuckwagon Diner: The purpose of life is to burn away everything but love. If we perfected a just society, we could live only in love with each other. So to burn away everything but love, seek justice. If we could see the ohr [the shard of sacredness, divine light] in each other, in all Trees and Rocks and Roads and Flowers that love Great Sol and Mule Deer and Elk and Mountain Lions and Bears and all Mountain Streams and all Rivers and Oceans and in the Air we breathe, we would cry out in revelation like Mohammed, like the writers of the Torah and like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, there, the sacred, it’s right there! And we could/would love it all.


  • Who can leap the world’s net?

    Summer and the Super Full Summer Moon Above

    Sunday gratefuls: Sundays. Ancient Brothers. The Fire This Time. Jude. Jessica. Neighbors. Derek. Mark in Camel Land. Mary in Friday Night Fish Fry Land. Me in the Land of Mountains and Dogs. Mountain Wild Flowers. The spike Mule Deer Buck eating dandelions. The Doe who came again. A day of small chores, reading, Han Shan poetry. Releasing.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Letting go of the to do list

    One brief shining: The Mountain Streams have calmed down only running now as they might after a wet Spring that ended in early June temperatures though remain cool a couple of hot days as a reminder but we hope for the Monsoon rains to start to tamp down the remaining fire risk and give us a low Smokey sign for an entire year which would be a first for me.


    Sat down in my upstairs chair yesterday. Finished memorizing my fifth Cold Mountain Poem:


    I’m on the trail to Cold Mountain

    The trail to Cold Mountain never ends

    Long clefts filled with rock and stones

    Wide streams buried in dense grass

    Slippery moss, but there’s been no rain

    Pine trees sigh, but there’s been no wind

    Who can leap the world’s net

    And sit here in the white clouds with me?


    After this I realized I’d paid all my bills, had food in the fridge, no urgent chores. I was caught up. A twinge of anxiety. Searching for something that needed my attention right now. Nothing. Well now. How about that? I could leap the world’s net and sit in the white clouds with Han Shan.

    So I did.


    In case you need some slivers of hope in this benighted decade here are a few I’ve found of late.


    Miss Texas Averie Bishop. Read this Washington Post article about an Asian Miss Texas who is shaking up the majority-minority state that is current day Texas. We don’t know yet how the demographic changes that have slowly edged their way closer to reality will affect us politically but if Miss Bishop is any indicator watch out Far Right and moderate Right.


    Déjà News by Rachel Maddow. Alan suggested this podcast by the MSNBC news personality. Here’s the podcast’s description from its website: ” In each episode, Rachel and co-host Isaac-Davy Aronson seek a deeper understanding of a story in today’s headlines by asking: Has anything like this ever happened before? Would knowing that help us grapple with what’s happening now… and what might happen next?”


    Consider this very strange NYT story. A ‘Cage Match’ between Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg? Yes. There is a current discussion on the details of a cage match between these two titans of American commerce. Need I say more?


    My own reading over the last six months or so has made me aware of the sine wave nature of extreme right wing politics dominating either states or the Federal Government or both, then being pushed back by an onrushing tide of progressivism. I admit it looks bleak in many ways right now, but consider the end days of the KKK in Indiana as evidenced by Fever Dream in the Heartland. Or, consider the Reconstructionist pushback against a wave of nativist sentiments before and just after the Civil War. Consider the demise of the Joe McCarthy era and the liberal era of civil rights and anti-establishment politics that followed.

    We’re overdue for a liberal backlash and I hope women, minorities of all kinds, and those who would move up our socio-economic ladder link hands and throw the capitalist, white supremacist, homophobic, misogynistic minority back on the trash heap of history where they belong.


  • Summer, the American Season

    Summer and the Summer Moon Above

    Friday gratefuls: Mini-splits cooling. A cool night. Good sleeping. July 4th. Seoah’s birthday. Sending her a Jacquie Lawson card. Mary in Eau Claire. The most recent CJ Box book. K-dramas. Stranger. Sky Castle. Itaewon Class. Cod. Potatoes. Collard greens. Herme.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Our Earth

    One brief shining: Geez Tom passed on an image from JPL that showed all the asteroids that could strike the Earth and they wove in and out of the Solar system creating a web of white that looked like doom doom doom for the Planet but no JPL says not this century.


    Learned another one:


    I traveled to Cold Mountain,

    Stayed here for thirty years.

    Yesterday looked for friend and family

    More than half had gone to the Yellow Springs

    Slow burning, life dies like a flame,

    Never resting, passing like a river.

    I stand in my lone shadow,

    Suddenly, the tears flow down.


    Summer feels like the American season to me. The 4th of July. The Indianapolis 500. NASCAR. Baseball. Family reunions in city parks and on family farms.

    For many years I would take the summer to read American history, political philosophy, political analysis. Haven’t done it for a while but recent reading about the far right was the sort of thing I would do.

    I also have a modest Civil War jones. I love to visit battlefields. Again, like the summer reading, it’s been a while since I’ve set out on a road trip to visit Civil War sites. Thinking I might do it next year. Visit Sarah and Jerry, Paul and Sarah. This year’s occupied with Korea and Israel.

    Let me see. I’ve been to Manassas, Antietam, Shiloh, Ft. Sumter, Stones River, Vicksburg, Ft. Donelson, and Andersonville. Still missing Gettysburg and several others. Enough for a long trip.


    Guess I could also visit Trump era proto-Civil War sites like the Capitol Building and Richmond, Virginia.

    With the Extremes dismantling  years of liberal policy and law trying to take us back to their own future, a dismal and cruel place, learning what the far right wants has become more and more important.

    They want no special treatment for African Americans. Even if the special treatment of slavery skewed not only the politics of our constitution but embedded racism in the very interstices of our law and governance. Even if the special treatment of slavery ginned up the falsest of lies, white supremacy. Even if we know all of this for sure.

    They want all life held sacred. Except the children born to poor parents or the children of immigrants. Or the victims of mass incarceration who end up dying needless deaths in prisons across the U.S. I mean not only, not even primarily, capital punishment, but deaths of despair, of under treated illness, deaths of families living without fathers.

    They want to be left alone in their enclaves of Christian Nationalism or survivalist paranoia or anti-globalist, America first isolation. They want to treat all Federal lands as personal property and suffer no accountability for their actions.

    They want guns to protect their liberty from the fascist Federal government while supporting the actual fascists who will certainly take their liberty and impoverish them even more.

    They want the libtards to stop trying. We cannot, must not. Ever. Stop.


  • Cold Mountain

    Summer and the Summer Moon Above

    Thursday gratefuls: Great workout. Learning Cold Mountain, one poem a day. A good night’s sleep. Protein. Carbs. Veggies. Fruit. Eat the rainbow. Exercise as a mood lifter. Challenges. Developing Herme. Cloaks. Psilocybin. Spores. Growing my own. A gray day. The Monsoon. Korea. The Hermit Kingdom. The Land of the Morning Calm. Chaebol. Kangim. Keshet. Beit She’an. Good food. Cod.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hooded Man

    One brief shining: Writing again beyond Ancientrails this time a one man short play enjoying dialogue as the only tool well stage directions too beginning to soar again feeling the sun under my wings the air over my head timeless now while I dive into the deep pool below cast a net bring out a flopping sentence or two to advance the story. Landed it!


    Happy to say I’ve sidewised myself back to writing. This Herme project. Rolling, rolling, rolling. Dialogue advances. The idea emerges.

    Second Cold Mountain poem from memory: (well, mostly)


    One thousand clouds, ten thousand streams

    Here I live, an idle man

    I roam green peaks by day

    Back to sleep by cliffs at night.

    One by one, springs and autumns go,

    Free of heat and dust, my mind.

    Sweet to know there’s nothing I need,

    Silent as the autumn flood.


    Plan to weave together a Celtic backstory, throw in a bit of magic, and a Tarot major arcana archetype-the Hooded Man-with the Chinese Rivers and Mountains school of poetry. Liking the idea of turning it into a one man show. Still.


    On top of Shadow Mountain sits my home

    Lodgepoles and Aspens, Bunch Grass and Spruce,

    Cedar siding and Solar Panels outside

    Inside I ride out my days alone, yet not alone

    Accompanied by the dead and their living souls

    By the words of poets and writers, movies

    By words from my own hand, written

    Yet often unbidden. A man untroubled.

    Rock beneath stays quiet, unmoving.


    Playing now. Having fun. What creation can bring into a life. My life and yours. Who cares about legacy? Not important. Who cares about today, this wonderful only ever never again day? I do! Ichi-go, ich-e.


    Purple Haze. Nope. This time. Rust colored, apocalyptic sunseen and sungone. Bad air for all. Courtesy of the Ancient Brother’s Sunday topic: Fire. Yet this is also true. Those burning parts of Canada will resurrect, become green again. Yes, their carbon dioxide has gone up in, well, smoke. But the recapture of it on Mother Earth’s own schedule has already begun. We may not be around to experience that rebalancing. But it will happen.


    I see the Extremes knocked down affirmative action at Harvard and UNC. Expected. Never been sure how I felt about affirmative action. Its intent? Sure. Necessary. How it actually worked? Always wondered how those who were considered admits by affirmative action felt. I know for sure how some white parents and students thought. A toxic mix at best. We’re not done with this work and this sets us out on a different road to achieve results. Perhaps California’s reparations?




  • A Do Anything Day

    Summer and the Summer Moon Above

    Wednesday gratefuls: Tal. His new play. Learning Cold Mountain’s poems. Writing more for my character project. Acting. Acting class. Coffee beans. Coffee grinder. High altitude coffee maker. Writing. Ancientrails. A long road from my past through today. Bill Schmidt for helping me set it up. Allergies. Tree sex. Pollen, Pollen, Everywhere. Ruth. Gabe. Another bright blue Sky. Warm to hot days. The green. All the green. Everywhere the green. Mountain living. BJ. In her own personal Idaho.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

    One brief shining: Life rises from thermal vents, creates itself in tidal pools, wanders onto Land, Seeds allowing Plants to walk away from the Shore, moving and changing as it stretches itself into new shapes, new ways of being until Animals big and small, until humans, now able to look back, all the way back to its beginnings, life looking at itself, wondering about its own meaning.


    Tuesday. Writing. Finding out more about Gaius Ovidius. About the Hooded Man. About Cold Mountain. Deciding to memorize one poem a day. Here’s the first one. From memory:

    Where’s the trail to Cold Mountain?

    Cold Mountain! There’s no clear way.

    Ice, in summer, is still frozen.

    Bright sun shines through thick fog.

    You will not get there following me.

    Your heart and mine are not the same.

    If your heart were like mine,

    You’d be there, already.


    Called the gas company. They wanted to change out my gas meter. Turned out they’d already met their quota. Why would they change it out? Each year a random number of meters get swapped out for identical ones and sent to a testing facility to determine their accuracy. I found that interesting.

    Then, Nielsen ratings called. You know, the famous one from the old days of ABC, CBS, and NBC. They’re still doing their thing. But since nobody here was in their target demographic I got a pass from them, too. I found it oddly reassuring that they were still in business. As if the 1950’s will never die.


    Plunked down some more hard cash to ensure aisle seats on my flights from Denver to Heathrow, Heathrow to Ben Gurion. Easy access to the bathrooms trumps a window seat every time at my age. Couldn’t do the same on the return for some reason. Maybe later.


    I’ve not written about the Summer Solstice. My favorite part. It means the nights grow longer and the days grow shorter. I do not like hot nights, nor do I like hot days. Some warmer days after the cold of Winter feel good. I’m enjoying the ones we’re having on Shadow Mountain right now, but as they get hotter? Not so much. Why I enjoyed Minnesota and its short summers. Shadow Mountain, too. Cool nights are the difference between a good night’s sleep and a bad one for me. Last night stayed warm for a while and disturbed my sleep in spite of my fan and my mini-split. Feeling a little loggy this morning.

  • Mountains

    Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Rock fish. Panko. Mixed vegetables. Potatoes. Cooking. The Ancient Brothers. Psychedelics. Colorado. Leaning into the new psychedelic era. My green back yard. Vince. Pine pollen on the driveway. The start of allergy season for me. Cold Mountain. My character for acting class. October 8th. Men and aging. Men and grief. A high blue Sky. The curve of Black Mountain. The solidity of Shadow Mountain underneath me. Maxwell Creek and Shadow Mountain Brook carrying water off of Shadow Mountain.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The treadmill

    One brief shining: A deep sadness on reading in the Colorado Sun of the huge numbers of Elk, Mule Deer, and other wild neighbors who died over the winter due to starvation caused by the very snows which we all celebrated with the Colorado mantra we need the water and yes we do but at this cost I don’t know.


    After reading that article the deep sadness came over me as I realized it might explain why the bull Elks have not been back for my Dandelions. Imagining them lying dead of starvation somewhere on Black Mountain. I hope I’m wrong, yet this is the first time since 2019 they’ve not shown up when the Dandelions were in bloom. It filled my heart to see their big bodies at rest after a meal. To watch them put their heads down and clip off the Dandelions and their greens. To stare as they jumped so easily from one side of the fence to the other. Perhaps some of their children will find my back. I’m leaving my gates open now, too. No more dogs to contain. Let the wild critters in.

    Watching those three grow from younger and smaller Bulls to their majestic full size made seeing them each year even more special. Like everyone one up here, well, most everyone, I want our wild neighbors to thrive, live their best lives. Seeing those Bulls over a period of years gave me a personal glimpse into their lives. Like cousins you see once a year at Thanksgiving I saw them grow, got to know which one was twitchy, which one would spend the night here, which ones would leave and come back the next day.


    Below are three poems attributed to Hanshan, or Cold Mountain. From this site

    Translated by A. S. Kline © Copyright 2006 All Rights Reserved.

    This work may be freely reproduced, stored and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.


    Where’s the trail to Cold Mountain?

    Cold Mountain? There’s no clear way.

    Ice, in summer, is still frozen.

    Bright sun shines through thick fog.

    You won’t get there following me.

    Your heart and mine are not the same.

    If your heart was like mine,

    You’d have made it, and be there!



    A thousand clouds, ten thousand streams,

    Here I live, an idle man,

    Roaming green peaks by day,

    Back to sleep by cliffs at night.

    One by one, springs and autumns go,

    Free of heat and dust, my mind.

    Sweet to know there’s nothing I need,

    Silent as the autumn river’s flood.



    I traveled to Cold Mountain:

    Stayed here for thirty years.

    Yesterday looked for family and friends.

    More than half had gone to Yellow Springs.

    Slow-burning, life dies like a flame,

    Never resting, passes like a river.

    Today I face my lone shadow.

    Suddenly, the tears flow down.

  • Entheos

    Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Curiosity. The Ancient Brothers. Mark and Dennis. Coming May 23rd. Yet more Rain. Even more swollen Streams. Ancientrails as a life project. Tom and his time with Charlie H. Bill and his time with Bella. Mark and his time at the gym. Anytime Fitness. My treadmill. Marilyn. Ginnie. Josh. Jane. Kat. A banker. Vulcan Centaur.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rocket Scientists

    One brief shining: A beautiful woman with a long braid dangling over her t-shirt down to her space themed spandex had, on the back of the blue t-shirt an outline of the Vulcan Centaur rocket, on the front ULA and I asked, I’m too ignorant to know but is that a real rocket ship?


    Yes. She answered. And I was working on it until I quit my job a year and a half ago. What was your area of expertise? Vibration and acoustics. Oh. I see. Not sure why I keep running into engineers. But I do.

    CBE is amazing. All these smart people. This was at the Dismantling Racism class yesterday afternoon. Looked up the Vulcan Centaur and it’s been under development since 2014. Supposed to fly for the first time in July. Had a setback a month ago though with a second stage explosion during preparation for a launch.

    The class has gotten better. Taking a mussar approach to the work. I like it for the inner work though I chose an opponent for my practice this week. Four areas of possible practice each week: with HaShem (God), with Self, with a fellow, especially a victim of anti-black racism, or with an opponent.

    My practice involved an e-mail to a person with whom I’ve had long standing differences. Sent it last night and got a reply this morning. A sweet one. Maybe there’s something to this approach. The middah this week is kavod, or honor. Honoring self and other. The theological idea is the all made in God’s image trope. Said another way, we’re all human, all riding this blue spaceship our only home together with all the other critters and plants. Honor it all.


    During the Ancient Brothers session on curiosity I identified curiosity as my defining characteristic. And naming what I call the valedictory lifestyle. As a valedictorian myself I’ve occasionally become curious (see!) about what happens to others who graduate first in their class academically. Turns out usually nothing spectacular. Sure a lot go into academics. Some have successful careers in business or the sciences.

    But usually no stars. No one off achievements. No amazing inventions. Why? Because we’re generalists. We easily get sidetracked by something new and shiny. If purity of heart is to will one thing, we’re not at all pure.

    I call them enthusiasms. My enthusiasms can last a long time. Religion has turned out to be the longest lasting, but inside that broad category I’ve been all over the place. From existentialist atheist to Christian to Unitarian-Universalist to Pagan and wanderer with the tribe. There’s a piece of each of these, often substantial pieces that remain intact within me. All somehow glued together with Taoism.

    There’ve been many others. Art, my twelve years at the MIA. Politics, lasting almost as long as religion, but again all over the place in terms of action. Islam which I studied after 9/11. Horticulture. Cooking. Heating with wood. Beekeeping. Dogs. World travel. F1. Science. Tarot and Astrology. Cinema. Acting. Writing. Getting degrees. Tea. Korean and now Spanish. Oh, and one that actually has been lifelong, reading. Not sure when I learned but I’ve never ever stopped. Buying books, too. To feed the habit. I’ve dabbled in painting and sum-e.

    Enthusiasms in my life are more than dabbling but less than enough to gain full mastery. But I must admit it’s been, is being, a hell of lot of fun.





  • More medical stuff. Skip if not interested.

    Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Septic. Kristie. Nichie. Monty. Pam. Good lab numbers. Mets. No, not those Mets. Metastases. Prolia. For strong bones. Weight loss. Colorado River Compact. Snowpack. Water. So necessary, so scarce here. The West. The Rocky Mountains. Laurentian Shield. The Huronian Supergroup. Cratons. Erleada. Orgovyx. Award Winning Pet Grooming. Vascular Institute. Ultra Sound.

    Sparks of joy and awe: Urology Associates. Has my back.


    Whoa. 82 minutes for my workout yesterday. And, I mean whoa. Wore me out. In a good way.


    Over to Urology Associates in Littleton for my three month checkup. The Orgovyx/Erleada combination keeps me in the undetectable range. Still aiming for taking me off of them late summer, early fall. So they don’t lose efficacy for me.

    That last point may tip the decision about radiating my two active metastases sites. I don’t want to go off the meds with active cancer sites. Going to see Dr. Eigner on the 20th of this month. Will decide then. Kristie suggested I get his input, too, before I made a final decision. She said it’s a tough call. It is. I wouldn’t hesitate if it didn’t involve my spine.

    After my medical consult and my every six month shot of Prolia, I went to see Nichie. A Nurse navigator. Glad. Choppy financial waters. Her specialty. She handed me a bottle of Orgovyx and a month’s supply of Erleada. Samples. Then she took my information and started applying for other possible sources of aid. We’ll give you free samples until we find something. OK.

    Not sure how this whole thing turned around, but right now I’m paying very little. I think it’s the case that nobody understands the damned system. We’re all flying blind. Why we need a nurse navigator, I guess. Oops, mixed metaphors.

    By the time I got back from my appointment, after a brief stop at Tony’s, I’d been rode hard and put away wet. Got home when the phone rang. Nichie telling me she had my application underway. And a lot of other stuff I was too tired to take in, especially since I was also feeding Kep.

    After Kep ate, I sat down and felt overwhelmed. Tired and having necessary, but complicated information coming at me. Knew it would all seem less complex after a good night’s sleep. It does.

    Later today. Left leg arteries and veins. Keep those doctors gettin’ paid.


    I’ll close with this by Langston Hughes. Found by buddy Tom:

    Southern Mammy Sings

    Last week they lynched a colored boy

    They hung him to a tree.

    That colored boy ain’t said a thing

    But us all should be free.

    Yes, m’am!

    Us all should be free.

    Not meanin’ to be sassy

    And not meanin’ to be smart.

    But sometimes I think that white folks

    Just ain’t got no heart.

    No, m’am!

    Just ain’t got no heart.