Category Archives: Great Wheel

No Rage Against This Machine

Lughnasa and the Chesed Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Rocky Mountain Cancer Care. Tarot. Kabbalah. Positron Emission Tomography Scans. In a trailer. Axumin. Drugs. Benzo. Air purifiers. Purified Air. Rarified air. 8800 feet. Living in the Mountains. On a Mountain. Alan. Tesla.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Axumin tracer

Tarot:  Eight of Pentacles

 

Boy did I relax. Took the benzodiazepine. Slept 3 hours and 40 minutes when I got home. Got up at 7 pm and the dogs hadn’t been fed. They were lying in the family crate with me, willing to let me sleep. Calmed me way down.

Not sure it helped much with the scan. I’d read the wrong information about the scan. I read the information for a PET scan where the wait after injection of the radioactive tracer is an hour. In the case of the axumin scan? No waiting. After injection the axumin travels to the prostate bed, the most important site for the scan. Right away. They want you in there soonest. Oh.

I popped the small pill and waited. I think they had mischeduled my scan. The main tech was in a bit of a hurry. She slipped the butterfly IV in my right arm. Said she’d be back in a bit. She was. About five minutes later she injected the axumin and I went into the bed of the trailer for a lie down.

Oh. Yeah. This is the newest PET scan machine. The latest and greatest according to the tech. Just got it in April. We had to walk through the receiving bay for ambulances, out into the parking lot. Sure enough, a long white tractor trailer sat on a stretch of asphalt behind the main building.

Watch the stairs. The handles are loose. They were. It felt like going up the steps to a carnival attraction. Step right up, see the amazing, the latest, the greatest, PET Scanner!

Lying on the curved bed of the scanner, knees up on a naugahyde triangular pillow, after the techs had left the room, I remembered. Hey, hey. My hearing aid! They came and got it. No metal in the machine.

The bed wiggles a bit when it moves but otherwise goes forward and backward smoothly and precisely. Gotta get the right parts to the scanner. I closed my eyes, the benzo had not yet taken affect. The bed moved. I opened my eyes.

Oops. Closed them again. I was in the middle of the tunnel, surrounded on all sides by curved metal. Just the thing that triggers my claustrophobia. I’m ok. I’m ok. I’m ok. I talked myself down though the urge to crawl out of the tunnel and run away was strong. Gradually the drug began to work and I calmed down. Took about twenty minutes, maybe a bit more.

Now, somewhere, stored in bits and bytes, the current story of my prostate cancer has visual imagery. In the next couple of days a radiologist trained in the dark art of reading such images will make a report. If there’s nothing urgent (I don’t know what that would be.), I’ll get a telemedicine call from Kristie, Eigner’s PA, to go over the results next Tuesday am.

After that, I imagine, will come a referral for radiation. Probably back to Anova Cancer Care in Lone Tree.

I drew, again, the eight of Pentacles. “A time for slow and steady work to fulfill a vision. Focus on one step at a time rather than the final goal.” And, “Whatever your health concern is, right now you need to take a step back and look at the process you are taking.”

A holistic look, a vision for my health, not just cancer, not just post-polio, but my healthspan.

The cancer path has clear steps now and I’m following them: orgovyx comes today. Had the PET scan, await the results and what they suggest. Nothing more to do now. My bone scan is today. See what I need to do for my bone health. The new hearing aid and microphone come on Friday. That will help me, especially as  mask mandates return.

I’ve restarted my exercise routines, gradually building back up to three sets a workout, 15 reps, three days a week. Longer cardio on off days.

My spiritual life (I don’t like the word spiritual, gotta find a better one. It has no there there.), for lack of a better term, continues strong. I am part of the world, part of the natural world, ensnared by entropy. I will return to the earth, dust to dust. That is certain and ok. The Great Wheel turns and I turn with it. Rejoicing in the seasons: of the earth, of my Kate, of myself.

The place I could improve the most is diet. Want to get that kitchen remodeled so I’ll want to cook in it. I need to get better at preparing food for myself rather than going the easy routes of frozen meals or take-out.

One foot. Then another. And, another. The path? The ancientrails? Life. Health. Creativity. Friendship.

 

 

 

 

I am

Lughnasa and the Chesed Moon

Monday gratefuls: Helen Reddy. I am Woman. The Women’s movement. Cancer. Its sequelae: pet scans, orgovyx, friends reaching out, fatigue, persistence. Shortness of breath. Family. T-shirts. Living in the moment. The Day. A Day. This Day.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The voice of the 1960’s

Tarot:  Prince of Pentacles

 

Watched I am Woman. A biopic about Helen Reddy. Got drawn in by a snippet of the movie in which Tilda Cobham-Hervey sings Delta Dawn. Didn’t know that was Helen Reddy. I’ve been listening to it in my head for weeks now, since I thought about a parody featuring the Delta variant.

Not a great movie, but a good one. My anima is strong, perhaps even dominant. Movies which feature women overcoming obstacles and flourishing speak directly to me.

Many tears. Why? Well, sixties music almost always moves me, reminds me of the passion, the wonder, the promise of those magical years. Speaking truth to power. Yes. Especially when the vulnerable do the speaking.

Remembering Kate. Her determination to go to med school. The Dean who tried to turn her away because “You’re already married to a doctor.” Her determination to conquer the obstacles in her life: back pain, sexist managers, a lost voice, her final illness. A strong, smart woman. Ill-used by many of the men in her life. But always, always getting back up and going on.

Cleansing, the lacrimae. Sacred waters. Draining pain and sadness and nostalgia. Bringing me into the present after a trip through the past.

Got a lot done over the weekend. Money stuff. Pruning. Cleaning. Writing.

What is a good use of time? A key question for those raised in the success obsessed American culture. I still clip articles about improving my productivity. Why? That ancientrail, my highest potential, trapped me in a long and narrow tunnel, one I’ve struggled against, embraced, knelt down and crawled through on my hands and knees.

All those novels. Unpublished. Kate wanted me to publish before she died. All that injustice. Still there, seeming deeper and more entrenched now, after all the work. That damning number, carbon in the atmosphere. Still rising.

And then we die. Leaving behind an unjust world, a world heating up behind human endurance, creative works birthed but never raised into adulthood.

Tarot cards speaking to my anima, encouraging her, telling her to dive in, create, dance, sing-the High Priestess, the Lady, even the eight of Pentacles. Today, again, the Prince of Pentacles. That’s the patient, methodical, practical approach guy. Speaking to my animus.

Animus and anima working together, literally yin and yang, vibrating, humming, feeding each other, feeding off of each other. My neshama emerging, cheering them both.

I am Woman. I am Man. I am. Both.

The Moon

Lughnasa and the Moon of Chesed

Sunday gratefuls: New neighbors. Rigel, slow. Kep, eager. Workout yesterday, 20 minutes of cardio. Treadmill. Mac and Cheese. Vacuuming. Video on Akitas. Bad air. Shortness of breath, sleep.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Breath. Ruach.

Tarot: The Moon, #18 of the Major Arcana

 

 

We’re #1! Denver topped the world list of most polluted cities yesterday. Smoke. Bad. Today, also bad. A level of 172 on a scale where 300 marks the start of I can’t breathe! weather. Not a spot we cherish. Better in the Mountains, but not by a lot. Smells like a clothes closet full of worn bonfire apparel.

Not to mention pollen. High yesterday. Fun times in the Arapaho National Forest.

Makes sleeping a challenge for me. I wake up consistently in the early morning with clogged sinuses. I can unclog them with saltwater, but the effort tends to wake me up so far that I have trouble returning to sleep.

Got a glimpse of the new neighbors yesterday. They brought their mountain bikes. Then, left.

Went 20 minutes on the treadmill yesterday. My IT band and the knot over my hip have begun to loosen. Still tight, but better. I can see a return to my old exercise habits in the not too distant future. This has been a tougher recovery than I had imagined. Slow and painful.

Friday and yesterday were domestic days. Doing chores like vacuuming Kep’s hair, brushing him. Again. Still. Making Rigel flee as I came toward her with the brush. Put some more soil in the road divot after traffic pounded down the initial batch.

Attended a session on kosher rules and regs. Virtual. Rabbi Jamie. He’s kosher at home, not necessarily so out. Mordecai Kaplan suggested this. Kosher at home for Jewish tradition, flexible out so dining with others doesn’t stigmatize Judaism.

The kosher rules don’t appeal to me though the notion of conscientious eating does. Hard, though. I find my meat and potatoes Midwestern diet stubbornly persistent. Long ago I added a fruit and a vegetable at most meals, but cutting down on red meat? Not so much. And, I have the vascular disease to prove it.

Big day tomorrow. PSA time. Appointment with oncologist on the 16th. As I’ve written before, this is an important one. After that, I go for a hearing exam. Maybe new hearing aids? Also, house cleaning.

The next day Coyote HVAC comes out to give me a bid for mini-split air conditioning. As pollen and smoke interrupt my sleep, heat, too, this feels like a logical step. At least for the two downstairs rooms. Might get pricey for the rest.

Elul, which begins this evening, is the sixth month of the Jewish lunar calendar. The New Year, Rosh Hashanah, is the first day of the next month, Tishri. It gets two nights of celebration. On the tenth day of Tishri the high holidays end with Yom Kippur, the feast of atonement.

Nissan, the first month of the Jewish year, is in March-April, the beginning of Spring. But. The Jewish year number changes on Rosh Hashanah. Not sure why.

Elul is a month of preparation for repentance and atonement, the central theme of the High Holidays. Chesed, loving-kindess, matters when a period of self-examination like this comes. Especially for your own soul. Treat yourself honestly, but gently.

 

The Moon:  A path runs from the sea, past a Dog and a Wolf howling, through two Stone Monoliths, and on beyond the rise. Perhaps to the Moon itself?

The Moon in a crescent phase shows itself between two curtains of Clouds and above the Monoliths. Mountains are visible in the background. The Coast goes on for some distance beyond the Monoliths and, to the left, a Crab crawls up on land, near the path but still partly in the water.

The overall effect is mysterious, lonely, and eerie. The howling adds to it.

With the Wolf and the Dog evolution has a prominent role, ancient ancestor and modern descendant showing how close they still are. The wild does not leave us. Consider fight or flight. Fear. Peripheral vision. Vasovagal response. Lust.

Both the Sea and the Moon can be metaphors for the subconscious or the unconscious. Perhaps life emerges from the unconscious, travels the path of evolution while retaining a rootedness in the past, then passes on through the gates of death back to a post consciousness existence.

Here’s what the Druid Craft creator says about this card:

Keywords: Psychic awakening. Dreams. Deep revelation of feminine mysteries. Facing Fears. Change. Imagination. Creative work.

“A difficult emotional journey ahead. Any loneliness or confusion you feel will pass as this phase reaches its natural conclusion.”

This feels like one with those cards of last week or so, ones suggesting a time of sadness, perhaps grief, will change in this next phase of my life. The August 18th celebration of Kate’s life will, I hope, mark a change. The retreat idea for the Michaelmas time sits gently in my mind as a time to integrate and incorporate that change into a new life.

May it be so.

 

 

 

That Bear!

Lughnasa and the Lughnasa Moon

Friday gratefuls: That bear. Fantastic Fungi. The workout. The fall. Mussar. Chili cheese dogs. A Friday with no appointments. Domestic chores. New neighbors coming. Three in a row. The Tarot. Kabbalah. Shan-shui poetry.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Liberation

Tarot:  Cernunnos, #15 Druid Craft Deck

 

Six and a half years later. Three or four years after Kate. I saw a Bear! A big one. On the same road as I was. And, I was on foot.

Yesterday I did another of my outside cardio workouts. I chose to go around the “block” across Black Mountain Drive from me. A pretty long block as it turned out, about 30 minutes worth. Supposed to be 10, but I had a bad image in my head of the length of the roads.

Krashin went down hill. I’ve recently discovered all the side roads from my stretch of Black Mountain Drive go downhill. Hmm. Must live on the top of Shadow Mountain, eh?

Downhill in Krashin’s instance is toward a deep valley that runs between Shadow Mountain and Black Mountain. The forested valley has no roads, no homes, past the end of a short lane off Krashin. Wild. One or two homes on Black Mountain, perhaps a few more, then over the top of its 10,000 foot peak is the large Staunton State Park. Plenty of critters.

As I shook my head at how little I knew of my own neighborhood, I looked up. The road curved further away from a route back to Black Mountain Drive. A big black Bear ambled across it. Way big. Healthy with lustrous black fur, not in a hurry. Off on a morning errand hunting for food. Then it was gone.

A car came by from the Bear’s direction, slowed to a stop. “Yep. I saw him.” “Good. Just wanted to be sure.” No fooling around when it comes to either Bears or Mountain Lions. Either one can create havoc with the human body.

Being on foot made me vulnerable. I had no bear mace, no bells to ring. I was in shorts and a t-shirt, tennis shoes. Not fighting shape.

So I went on anyhow. Curiosity. That thread I mentioned a few posts back? Often helps me make decisions that are not in my immediate best interest. Where was the Bear? I wanted one more glimpse. Perhaps he hadn’t gone far into the woods. There are homes on both sides of the road, but their properties have many trees.

Couldn’t find him. (I say him because of the size.) I did keep looking, realizing I couldn’t outrun a Bear, they’re fast. Frisson.

During stretching I had started watching Fantastic Fungi, a documentary Tom Crane recommended quite a while ago. What a treat. Made me interested, yet again, in Mushrooms, Lichens. I’ve gone through phases. Ready for another one, I believe. Not only finding edible ones, but becoming more familiar with their roles in forest decomposition, communication. Also, psilocybin. (btw: the documentary is on Netflix.)

Just looked up the Colorado Mycological Society. Looks like fun. Birding? No. Not me. Hunting for Mushrooms? Learning more about them? Yes.

Point here with the Bear? The radical interconnectedness that Mycelium, the underground part of a Mushroom,  a fruiting body for the organism, offers. Mycelium, threadlike, growing one cell at a time, dominate the rich soil layer near the surface. They carry nutrients back to the fruiting body, sure, but they can also transport nutrients between and among groves of trees.

Like Mycelium, the wildlife here are mostly invisible. Once in a while, a sighting. Usually Elk or Mule Deer. The occasional Fox. Marmot, Woodchuck. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Rarely, Bears, Mountain Lions, Lynx, Bobcats. We moved into their habitat and they’ve learned, more or less, to live around us, out of sight, wild. Like the vast underground networks of Mycelium, there are large populations of wild things all around us. At least up here in the Mountains.

We Humans live such sheltered lives, huddled in our right angled dwellings, getting our food from refrigerators and grocery stores, evading the fall of night with electricity. We, at least most of us, know little about how to sleep outside, find food, evade predators. Yet that is the way of wild things.

Cernunnos, #15 of the Major Arcana in the Druid Craft deck.

Cernunnos is the great horned God of the Celtic pantheon. “…the Gaelic god of beasts and wild places. Often called the Horned One, Cernunnos was a mediator (between humans) and nature, able to tame predator and prey so they might lie down together. He remains a mysterious deity, as his original mythos has been lost to history. A God of the Wild.

Given my brief encounter with the Bear and seeing Fantastic Fungi, this card calls to the deep in me. Joseph used to call me nature boy. My mystical feelings run not toward the ineffable, the distant God, but toward the Mycelium that connect us to the Wild life all around us. Cernunnos is the God of those tiny threads, often invisible to us.

People stop their cars to see Elk harems, Mule Deer fawns, a Fox warming itself on asphalt. Why? We don’t stop for dogs, cows, chickens.

That Bear. What a gift I felt seeing him. Why? Rising up from this Elk, that Fox, the Bear is the numinous presence of Cernunnos, the Wild as a dangerous and alien place. We shiver at the sight of creatures who navigate the wild in their daily existence. They are not of our world.*

Tarot commentators find this card intimidating, warning us against dark impulses, becoming enslaved to our wild passions. Not to me. In our sexuality, in our pairs, in our procreation we become one with the wild, perhaps only during the small death of orgasm, but perhaps also through bonding with another human, one of our own species.

These are not dark impulses, rather they are the wild portions of our own soul. Yes, they can scare us, make us do things we regret. Sure. But they can also show us the animal within us, the one who recognizes Cernunnos as its embodiment.

I celebrate the Wild. Cernunnos. Love making. That Bear.

 

 

*We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth. Henry Beston

Sannyasa

Lughnasa and the Lughnasa Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: HVAC mini-splits. Tom. His HVAC guy. Diane. Cousins. Family. Extended and virtual. Claire and her new life. Social Security. Cool morning. Allergies. Ragweed. Chenopods: amaranth, pigweed, waterhemp, russian thistle, lamb’s quarters. Washing machine. Dishwasher. Stove. Refrigerator. Sink. Well. Pump.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The trouble small bits of plant sex can cause

Tarot: Justice, #11 of the Major Arcana

 

Beginning, slowly. Sensing. Too much time in the afternoons. I take this as a good sign. I’m getting what I need to get done in the mornings, my best portion of the day, then I have a larger chunk of time in the afternoon where I feel a bit aimless. Over the last three years, the afternoon and evenings involved caretaking for Kate. So, filled up, always something else to do.

The pruning, the planning for the 18th, the administrative side of taking over all responsibilities, have all begun to yield. Hardly finished, but none of them weigh on me, pushing me, as they had even this last month.

The Musician and the Hermit – Moritz von Schwind

In my life change often comes because I’m bored. Oh, I’ve got time for this, now! Or, what could I be doing with this time? I have a few go to’s: reading and writing at the top of the list every time. Travel, especially close to home. Hiking. Museum going. Eating out. More time with friends.

There is, too, a niggling sensation that I could be doing more. Something more in a justice/climate change/political activism way. And, yes, I could.

But. I’m trying to lean into the life of the sannyasa, the fourth stage of Hindu life, a stage of renunciation, of pursuit of spiritual matters. And, the life of a mountain recluse in the shan-shui tradition of China. Perhaps, for now, a semi-hermetic life. Focused on reading, learning, writing. Self-awareness. Deepening my inner journey.

I’m going to mark September 29, Michaelmass, as a time to focus on whether this will remain my path. A retreat, perhaps. Three days somewhere in the mountains. Seems like a good idea.

Drew the justice card. No big insights today.

But. I did get a letter from Social Security yesterday explaining why they can’t pay me right now. My mistake. I didn’t give a new routing number after I closed the Health Care Credit Union account.

However, I have a call with them on Thursday, long awaited. This will be the one where I claim survivors benefits which will bump my social security up a grand plus. I started this process in April when I informed them of Kate’s death. Lots of getting put off, turned over to someone else.

 

 

*”It can also suggest a frustrating encounter with bureaucracy. If it shows up in your reading in this context, be prepared to navigate some red tape. Get help or advice from someone within the system you’re working in. Stay patient and persistent. This card in a positive position and upright indicates a good outcome.” tarotluv

Kindred Spirits

Last day of Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Mini-split air con units. Thanks, Tom. Mark’s suggestion for a topic on Sunday. Lotta sleep last night and this morning. Feeling good. An excellent meal with Jon yesterday evening. Rain. Cooler weather. Smoky on High. Lush mountain meadows, filled with waving stalks of pollen.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sashimi. Japan.

Tarot card: Ace of Wands, Druid Craft Deck

 

Good news. At dinner with Jon we talked about our new relationship, one with Kate no longer physically present. Though she remains a psychic presence for us both in powerful ways. We agreed we wanted to continue, be family. Over sushi, sashimi, and crab wontons. Uplifting.

I spent yesterday handling various matters. Groceries. Bills. Emails. Workout. The dinner with Jon. Must have worn me out because I slept 9 hours +. Also, rain and a cool night helped.

Tom helped me find the mini-split air conditioning system. It will work for my downstairs. Just have to find a contractor and get it installed. Too late, unfortunately, for Kate.

Taking this Saturday as a rest day, a travel day as Kate and I called it. We always took a rest day after long travel.

It was a big week. Ruth and Gabe here Sunday night through Tuesday evening. A lot  of pruning work with Ruth. House cleaners on Tuesday. Kep into VRCC for his allergy shot. P.T. on Monday and Wednesday. Tarot and Kabbalah on Wednesday. Alan for breakfast, Jackie for a haircut, and mussar on Thursday. Donating the wheelchair and the rollator. Errands yesterday and the time with Jon and the evening. Not to mention laundry, folding clothes, cooking, feeding the dogs. You know, all that ordinary homestuff.

Pruning goes well. I’m on a hiatus from it until Ruth makes up her mind about all the sewing related things. Still hoping to have it complete, or almost, before the 18th. Get furniture moved around over that time period. Try to get a new feel for the house sorted out by Thanksgiving.

Have had to modify the 18th because we learned this week that Ruth and Gabe’s first day of school is the 18th. Shifted activities to late afternoon and evening. Only possible wrinkle? The Delta variant. If it continues to rage, as it has of late, it may interfere with travel. If that happens, we’ll push this out to 2022. See this from this mornings Washington Post:

“The newly resurgent coronavirus could spark 140,000 to 300,000 cases a day in the United States come August, fueled by the highly transmissible delta variant and the widespread resumption of normal activities, disease trackers predict.”

Thomas Cole and William Cullen Bryant, Kindred Spirits Painting by Asher Brown Durand

Ace of wands. Rather than go to the Rider-Waite interpretations, I’m going to read this one on my own. The Druid Craft deck speaks to me as one grounded in Celtic lore and myth.

A bull elk with an 8 or 10 point rack stands on a rock that reminds me of the Pulpit Rock in Strand, Norway. It also reminds me of a painting by Asher Durand.

A steep cleft in the mountains separates the bull from another precipice, one shaded by an autumnal aspen grove.

Above the mountains the blazing sun sends fire to the tree, the elk, the mountains, the sky while a full moon hangs, almost invisible in the fiery presence, above a small spire of rock behind the elk.

Bull with water lily, 2015, Lake Evergreen

The wand lays itself over the sun, perhaps having summoned its energy. Or, in the process of summoning it? The wand has reddish bark that seems still living, as if the wand had only recently been cut from a tree, or somehow remains alive anyhow. Perhaps a rowan? The wand as alive seems confirmed by the green leaves, eight in all, mysteriously falling away from it.

The whole scene is peaceful. Some key words that come to mind: majestic. natural. communal. creativity. fire. determination. mountainous. lone elk. aspen grove. single wand.

Black Mountain, 2015

Perhaps the wand has become a conduit between the sun and the natural world at its fall change. The push of the sun’s fire has caused the wand to send its green leaves, which it needs to continue living, on a mission, as angels, messengers of the sun’s creative power.

The elk and the aspen grove, animal and plants, both salute the sun. A bull elk with a rack like that is ready for the rut, the annual fertility rite for all elks. The aspen grove, with its just turning toward gold leaves, has begun to prepare for winter, a time when it will have to live off foods stored in and around its interlocked root system.

The positive session with Jon last night, the on pace pruning, Tom’s visit a week ago, the Tarot and Kabbalah class have me feeling grounded, yet still transforming. Moving toward the creative energy of the sun, soaking it in with the Bull and the Aspen Grove. In the mountains. On my Pulpit Rock, where I stand with my kindred spirits, the river and mountain poets of Chinese history.

Life on a different, yet familiar ancientrail.

 

 

 

 

Movement

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Tony’s Market, always a treat. The receptionist at Hearing Aid Associates who fixed my hearing aid. A walk around my neighborhood. Kate, always Kate. Tom, coming for a visit. The Post Office. Mail. Money. Sarah and her organizing for the 18th. Rigel. Her funny character. Cool mornings.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tony’s.

Tarot card drawn: Seven of Pentacles

 

 

I’ve been intending to get out and hike more. Decided to try a walk around the neighborhood. Could have done this a long time ago, but hadn’t. Nice homes. Meadows with white, yellow, and blue Wildflowers. Green thanks to the Rain. The route goes up and down with good variety, past my neighbors’ properties. Some with Horses. Most with Dogs. Views of Black Mountain. By the time I got back I was worn out and my leg, the p.t. focused right upper leg had begun to complain. That’s ok. Cardio.

Hearing aid stopped working a couple of days ago. Nothing. Happened once before. Tried to clean it, but my tools were inadequate. Over to Hearing Aid Associates. “We have a little vacuum tool. That’s how we clean them. Try it out.” Ah. Words came into focus.

Thought about aging. Lenses in my eyes to replace my cataracts. A hole through my iris to drain fluid creating pressures. Glaucoma. An aid to my hearing. That five-year old titanium knee on the left side. The repaired Achilles tendon on the right. A missing prostate. This old car’s been in the shop many times, but keeps on running. May it last for a while longer.

Mailed out money to Sarah for the Beatle’s cover band tickets. Red Rock. Kate’s family celebration. Checks to Diane, my cousin, to send on to Mark. Checks I mailed to him in Saudi Arabia last December. Got them back last week with a note in Arabic from the Saudi Postal Service. Maybe it said, Return to Sender? Also $9 to Ramsey County Marriage Records to get a certified copy of Kate and mine’s marriage license. Need it for Social Security. Can’t get spousal benefits unless you’re the spouse. And, yes, I have a copy. I know I do. But where?

An errandy day.

2014, Andover

Pine pollen still driving me nuts. Sneezing, dripping, clogging. Ick. A gift from my father I forgot to mention last Sunday morning.

Red snapper, salad, and sourdough bread for dinner. Or, lunch. Depending on.

Seven of Pentacles. As you can see, a gardener. Leaning on a stave as I leaned on a hoe or rake many times in Andover. I felt an affinity for this guy. He’s admiring, with some fatigue, the results of his work. A healthy vine, heavy with Pentacular fruit. He’s harvested one as a reward to himself, but knows that the better wisdom right now is to let the bush or vine grow.

Each minor arcana suit: pentacles, swords, wands, and cups has an association with one of the four elements. Wands Fire. Swords Air. Cups Water. Pentacles Earth.

This particular card sends a slight tingle up and down my arm. One of my avatars, horticulturist Charlie. An avatar I love, with whom I spent a lot of time, and an avatar who shared with Kate the wonder of Plants and Bees. To see a horticulturist, leaning on what could be, probably is, a gardening tool, admiring the plant. I know that guy!

Gardening, like marriage, only flourishes with cooperative relationships. The plants, like spouses, need tending, nurturing. With thoughtful, regular care amazing things become possible. It allows for the wonderful moment depicted in this card where the work has gone well and the Plant flourishes. The relationship between Plant and gardener has succeeded. Will succeed. That’s the message of the six pentacles remaining on the vine. Further growth will come. A bigger harvest.

Guess I’m an Earth guy. At least this avatar of mine is an Earth guy. Following the Great Wheel has made me sensitive to the changing of Earth’s seasons, what they mean, can mean, will mean.

Song dynasty

In the flow of cards over the last week we’ve come to a culmination. The seven of pentacles suggests investment and effort pays off. Or is about to. I don’t think it’s in my immediate future, but perhaps in my near term future. My investment in Kate’s life, in our relationship. My efforts with her up to and after her death. My investment in my own worldview, nurturing a pagan, earth-centered way, one influenced by the ten thousand things. My willingness to learn, to adapt, to change, to transform.

Worth it. Even with the struggles that the transition has created. Not yet finished, but the seven of pentacles suggests the next phase may not be far off. May it be so.

 

 

 

 

*”The meaning of the Seven of Pentacles relates to investment and effort. It follows the Six of Pentacles which refers to the end of financial or material hardship. If you have been putting in time and effort in your work, it signifies that your efforts are paying off and they are going to pay off in the future as well.

If you are looking to invest, the Seven of Pentacles suggests that you are ready to put in a lot of effort, time and work into whatever you want to achieve. It reaffirms you of your long-term vision and helps to show that you are not confined to seeing results in the short term only. It shows how much you value the investment because of the effort that you are willing to put in.” Labyrinthos

Simple Gifts

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Monday gratefuls: Rigel eating and running. Mary’s pictures from the Van Gogh show and the Beach. Hsieh Ling-yun. Shan-shui poetry, creative sensibility. Wabi sabi. Fermented foods. Korea. The United States, as a vision. The United States, broken.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The cool Wind off Black Mountain yesterday afternoon.

Tarot card drawn: The Lovers, number 6 of the Major Arcana

 

The gifts of our parents. The Ancient ones theme for our Sunday conversation. As it happened, Bill and Ode went first. Happy childhoods, role model parents. Smiles and good feelings. Tom, a thoughtful assessment of what his parents inherited from their parents and how that made him more accepting of what they had to offer him. Paul found gifts. There must be a pony in there somewhere.

We described our mothers as gentle and well-liked. We recognized from our childhood the post-depression, post-World War II definition of motherhood, realized in the women who birthed us.

Fathers were different. More individual in our telling. More difficult, sometimes, but also more formative. My father, from whom I was estranged most of my adult life, gave me a willingness to express contrary opinions in the public square. A willingness to use analytics to solve problems, to understand political life. A tendency to wander, to find the curious and the unusual. A conflicted version of hard work. That is, he modeled hard work. Always. But he expected it of me just because he was my father.

My mom modeled compassion, a desire to meet each person without judgment. She supported me, honored my gifts, which my father challenged, belittled. To this day I don’t know why he did that.

Mom, Dad, Me

They were both conventionally Protestant; not overly affected by their faith, but committed to it. Both of them prized intelligence and learning though my father denigrated it in me. Why? Don’t know. They kept in touch with their extended families, Mom’s in Indiana, and Dad’s mostly in Oklahoma.

At 74 I love learning, love figuring out how and why things work, what the facts and the possibilities are. I try to meet each person without judgment and to exercise compassion for their journey. A radical analysis of our economic, educational, health, religious, and political systems, mine since college, represented a working out of my father’s liberal views carried to what I consider their logical conclusions.

My impact from both parents seemed less profound than any of the other four in our group. That may be because my mother died young. I never got to know her after I became an adult. And Dad and I never overcame the distance between us.

We all agreed though that whoever we are now, in the elder stage of life, came through choice, intentionality. We are not the sock puppets of our parent’s gifts or their curses. Yes, they shaped our lives, no doubt, but how we use compassion, a sense of humor, a genius for invention, gentleness, a hard-edged approach reflects how we have chosen to incorporate them in the now long stream of our life.

A touching conversation.

 

The Lovers. A sequelae. As a change, a transformative wave, pulses through my life, as it creates difficulties, struggles, it does point toward a new creation. What will that new creation be like? Not sure yet. My sense, if I have to choose between important and unimportant (see below), I’m thinking of the difference between the Chinese literati role model and the engaged political and religious life I have known. Perhaps between passive and active. Learning and doing. Which will inflect my next path more?

There is a distinct and strong part of me that would read, write poetry, paint, listen to music, dine with friends, go for hikes, travel some. That has always felt like a lifeway that needed to wait. Come the revolution, maybe that would be ok. Come publishing. Then. Yes.

Now. In the wake of Kate’s death I’m once again reexamining my primary inclinations. When I met her, I leaned into writing, a definite change from life as clergy/activist. Perhaps I could see that change as a step toward a more reclusive, monastic life, a way only partially taken.

Is now the time? There’s a Trappist/Benedictine soul in this body. With those words referring to lifestyle, not content. There’s a Taoist soul in this body. One which does not take up arms against a sea of trouble, but rather flows around them, with them. There’s a mystical soul in this body. One that finds nourishment in odd places: tarot, torah, astrology, astronomy, poetry, paintings, sculpture. There’s a Great Wheel soul in this body, one that desires only a place in the natural process, a moment of birth, a short life, a long death. There is, too, a Jewish soul in this body, one committed to others, to community, to justice, to learning.

Will I try to rebuild my past life, only at a different age and place? Will I listen to the murmurings in my soul? Will I follow what I believe to be the deeper path for me? Deeper at this moment in time. The Lovers card suggests I will need to choose. Are these the choices? Not sure. Are these the best choices? Again, not sure.

 

*”This is one of the times when you figure out what you are going to stand for, and what your philosophy in life will truly be. You must start making up your mind about what you find important and unimportant in your life. You should be as true to yourself as you can be, so you will be genuine and authentic to the people who are around you.” Labyrinthos

“There is an approaching conflict that will test your values. In order to progress, you are going to have to make a decision between love and career. Neither will disappear forever, but the choice will shape your priorities.”  Trusted Tarot

 

Changes

Summer and the Moon of Lughnasa

Saturday gratefuls: Claire and her new life. Good sleep. Cool mornings. The Chrysalis of grief. Kep and Rigel, companions, angels. The six Mule Deer Bucks in the yard and across the road this morning. Sacred Shadow Mountain. Shan-shui. Maxwell Creek. Pollen. Marriage License, Ramsey County. Rebecca. P.T.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Tarot

Tarot Card drawn: Five of Wands

 

a photoshop effort of mine

Floods in Europe. A condo collapsing in Florida. Wildfires in the Pacific Northwest along with a crippling heat wave. Palm Springs 123 degrees when a friend visited. The 17 year Cicada emergence. The draining of Lake Mead. Diminishing Snow Pack. Not to mention of course, the pandemic.

Well. Biblical and climatological have begun to converge. Last week Tom suggested the Future as our topic for the Ancient Ones. When I spoke, I discovered an odd inner condition. I am not sanguine about the intermediate or long term future. Climate change and the seemingly impossible politics of grappling with it. But, I’m optimistic about the near term future as my life continues to go through changes.

Let me say it another way. “In the long term,” Lord Maynard Keynes once said, “We’re all dead.” Climate change may see to that in a more complete way that we’ve ever experienced. I suppose some adaptation will happen. Some rich people, rich nations will figure out ways to ameliorate coastal flooding, souped up Hurricanes and Typhoons, the wilting Heat, the advancing droughts, but most of us will find ourselves outside the wall, the compound.

I hope I’m wrong; but, when I look at the world’s response to Covid, a clear and present danger, it’s difficult to imagine a dramatic response to the Climate crisis, a more subtle one, though becoming less so every week.

We will try, are trying. The scope of the work and the scope of the results necessary to simply control the worst, bad is already “baked in”, seem beyond our collective decision making. As authoritarian regimes take hold. As democracy stumbles with the election of Trump-like figures. As simple justice for people of color, for immigrants lands in the media, but somehow evades public policy.

Geez. Debbie downer today. The 5 of wands might reflect this undercurrent: “Conflict, disagreements, competition, tension, diversity.” “The Five of Wands meaning could also be a personal struggle that you are dealing with on your own. This can be on a number of issues that affect you, hence you need to address them and find a solution for them.” Or, a more positive note: “…the Five of Wands in the present position is a validation of all your planning and confirms what you have earned.”

This feels true to me. And the potential meanings do not, in this instance, conflict. There is tension and conflict in my life, in my inner life too, since transformation, pupating, involves intense change. However, I also believe that my current reality does validate the spiritual path I’ve followed for many years.

Through immersion in the natural world as guided by the Great Wheel and through immersion in the ten thousand things as guided by the Tao, I have become nimble, yet solid. Able to feel a wave, even a tsunami like Kate’s death, wash through me and experience cleansing rather than high anxiety.

Perhaps when I break the chrysalis and get my wings, I’ll find a more optimistic way to understand the Climate crisis. I hope so.

Big Island. Miracles.

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

A year. Either I will make a yes or no decision about moving to Hawai’i at the end of it, or at some point during the year. That is, if I haven’t already.

When I went to the Ira Progoff workshop in Tucson, the inner work there made me see that being part of Ruth and Gabe’s lives would pass us by if we didn’t move. When I got home. Kate and I talked, agreed. Then we started working on the move. Took about a year, a little less.

I feel like I’m in the same spot about moving to the Big Island as I was when I left Tucson relative to Colorado. I want to do it. But, I need a conversation with Kate. Maybe I’ll write it out. Dialogical, as Progoff suggests. Put it in the workbook.

]In other words I feel confident. I want to go, though there are a lot of details to work out. Yet.  I need a talk with a confidant, a person who won’t let me blow smoke. Kate. The Ancient Ones. Maybe Jamie. Tara, Marilyn.

A year from now. Or, so. I may be writing Ancientrails from a spot near Mauna Kea, Mauna Loa, and Kilauea. Hope so.

Tom Crane alerted me to the Solstice. I had it in my head as the 22nd, so I wasn’t paying attention. It’s the triumph of Sol in the North. He stands above our lands longer than on any other day. The longest day. Spreads his power on the narrowest patch of Earth, too, so the energy concentrates, intensifies.

Me, though, I see it another way. Darkness moves in. The days begin to shorten. Can the Winter Solstice be far behind? Seasonal processions make me happy. Even here in Hawai’i Kau moves slowly toward Ho’oilo. Ho’oilo brings rain and somewhat cooler weather. Transitions.

The Great Wheel turns now toward Lughnasa, the festival of first fruits celebrated on August 1st. The growing season busily stores Solstice energy, converting nuclear fusion to stored carbohydrates. You want miracles? Try that one.

We only get so many seasons. Part of the deal. I’m celebrating this one. See you at the suntan lotion counter.