• Category Archives Holidays

  • Men. In their awkwardness. Beautiful.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and a beautiful crescent of the Quarter Century Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Torah study. Men’s group at CBE. Flat bread with lox and onion. Pescatarians. Ruth skiing. Such joy. Gabe and his puzzles. 9 degrees. New Snow. Driving in the dark. A boost. Diet. Changing. Matt. Rob. Bill. Jamie.  The mesh bag. Neck weakness. January 20th.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Men, struggling with their hearts

    Kavannah for 2025: Creativity

    Kavannah for this January 5th life: Persistence

    One brief shining: Drove back last night from the men’s group at CBE graced by the waxing crescent of the Quarter Century Moon; its soft light radiated by a Mountain Fog illuminating the Arapaho National Forest and the curves of Brook Forest Drive, then Black Mountain Drive until Shadow Mountain Home appeared out of the mist, welcoming me.

     

    Got a boost yesterday. Community working its magic. During Torah study in the morning I still felt pressed down, disengaged. Distant. But Luke came up and gave me a big hug. Ginny smiled to see me. I felt seen. Though. Still coasting at a slow low place when I left.

    Came back and did nothing until 5:30 when I left to go back to CBE for the first meeting of the men’s group. Buzzed the door. Got let in by a guy I didn’t know. Then I let in a  couple of other guys, neither of whom I knew. One of them, Matt, turned to get his nametag. Oh, good idea, I said. I’m usually good for one a day he said.

    Steve brought flat bread with lox and onions. Made by his wife. I brought my go to mandarin Oranges in my new mesh bag. Joe brought miniature rugalach and date bars. Jamie tossed a handful of leftover Hanukkah gelt on the table. Chips and dip appeared. Finger food. Manly interpretations.

    The conversation had that awkward I don’t know you tone, things held back, laughing. I only knew Jamie and Steve. Steve just a little. As we navigated telling bits and pieces of our stories, wondering who resided behind the careful words, I felt myself easing onto familiar ground.

    When it came my turn, the Woolly Mammoths came out naturally. 40 years of learning how to get behind the careful words, the fear of vulnerability, with other men. Men trained by American culture and in this case reinforced by Jewish culture that feelings were at best anti-competitive. At worst they could…well, you know, don’t you?

    Sensing the journey ahead and enjoying the tender feelers put out, an occasional smile, a sad look, a story that told more than intended, my downward emotional Dog began to shift to a Sun Salutation. I didn’t expect that to happen, but it did. Not all the way back to normal, no, not at all, but buoyed up all the same.

     

    Just a moment: Tomorrow some Christians celebrate the Magi’s visit to the lowly manger in which the Son of God was born. And Trump will trumpet the day of love which the bulk of us call insurrection. MAGA or Magi? Even as a Jew I’m going with the Magi.


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Holidays Judaism Woolly Mammoths

  • Yesterday’s Lives

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Reconstructionist Judaism. Judaism as jazz. My White Pine companion at Boot Lake Scientific and Nature Area-Minnesota. Those elms I had to cut down and debark in Andover. Emma’s fallen cottonwood. The Seven Oaks out my study window. The dead Ash Tree where the Morel’s grew. The Ironwood that was so tough to cut. Honeycrisp. McIntosh. Plum. Pear. Cherry. Trees in our Orchard.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mountain Winds

    Kavannah for 2025: Yetziratiut  Creativity

    For this January 2nd life: Netzach  Perseverance and grit

    One brief shining: A hand on her back, a flinch, you scared me, oh wondering what could have made her flinch since she knew I was there, right behind her, sad that touch took her into flight mode, the snow blew busily across my driveway.

     

    We’re almost done with Holiseason. I count January 6th, Epiphany as the end of this wonderful time of year that began on Samain, October 31st. Here’s a connection I’d not made before. January 6th, day of the insurrection, when MAGA stormed the Capitol building carrying weapons and looting like vandals. January 6th, day of the Epiphany, which celebrates the visit of the three Magi bearing gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Sorta different, eh? Now wedded by history.

     

    Not sure why, but yesterday’s lives have begun seeping into my present. Not in a regret or shame or guilt way, but as a remembrance of time’s past. Could be the stories I’m writing in the Storyworth application. Maybe not though. At breakfast with Tara I told Ball State movement stories that I rarely tell. Today in my gratefuls Trees I had known in Minnesota kept coming to mind. A few days ago I took the Artemis Honey jar out of the cabinet and went into a combination of grief and joy, of remembering life with Kate and the persistent joy then which brought grief about its loss and about Kate’s death.

    Most lives, like mine, are ordinary. Most lives, like mine, are extraordinary. Ordinary because they will sink under the burden of history, little known and less remembered. Extraordinary because only I could live my life which makes it, like yours, wonderful, another full-on, head down, legs moving experiment in what it means to be human.

    May as well lean into it, the onrush of old lives. Seems to be what’s happening in my psyche.

     

    Just a moment: That truck. Near Cafe du Monde. Jackson Square. ISIS? Geez, guys. Read the room. So yesterday. And the irony, the maybe intended irony, of an ugly Tesla cybertruck blowing up in front of a long red tie guy hotel in Las Vegas. Why can’t China or Russia be the great Satan? Or at least share the honor.

    I can already feel the aggrievement wheels turning in cousin Donald’s meanness machine. What if he decides to turn the full weight of the U.S. military against Muslim terrorists? He’s capable of that. And trust me someone in his sphere of malevolence has probably recommended it already. What if?

     

     


    Commentary on the news Holidays Memories Minnesota Politics US History World History

  • Merrily we roll along, roll along, roll along

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: This too is for the good. 2024 and 2025. And this December 31st 2024 life. 8 degrees this morning. Good sleeping. Von Bek. The War Hound and the World’s Pain. The Psalms. Bob Dylan. The Band. Ain’t No Grave. The Blues. Jazz. Jefferson Airplane. The Doors. Led Zeppelin. Ginger Baker. John Coltrane. Thelonious Monk. Slipping quietly into the next year.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara

    Kavannah: Persistence and Joy

    prompt: A vintage father time with sickle and an infant new year

    One brief shining: How to encapsulate a year in one sentence, a challenge, perhaps remembering a Bar Mitzvah with friends and family present, a changed arc for cancer, a couple of months of low feeling, many breakfasts and lunches and zoom calls, visiting Ruth in Boulder, Gabe solving puzzles, many visits from my Mule Deer friends, the Mountains remaining-steady, solid, reliable-Great Sol and Good Night, Orion’s return, all while turning 77. Whee!

     

    As the Zen calendar from Tom says:

    This year,

    yes, even this year,

    has drawn to its close.   Buson

     

    Here is the illustration inspired by Japan’s Kano school, visually interpreting your evocative paragraph.

    Though age and wrinkles compared to that slender hipped 28 year old in his silly multi-colored suspenders and shorts would suggest definite linear time, no, I say no to that. I say live by the Great Wheel. By the telling and retelling of the story in the five books of Moses. By Sukkot and Mabon, Samain and Shavuot, the Winter Solstice and Passover. All repeating in a yearly cycle, spiraling through the heavens of time’s confusing paradoxes. Always ready to leave behind the hell of human insistence on seeing the profane where only the sacred-ONLY THE SACRED-exists.

    I confess I don’t understand how time can seem so linear yet reside all the while in an ever repeating, glorious parade of seasons and holidays, all of which may in some future Samain-see the problem, all of which may in some future Samain, be harvested for a final time as our universe slips into its own Winter Solstice. Only, if I have an understanding of it, to experience its own rebirth as a cosmic Great Sol, a Phoenix, rising again, still?, from the depths of a cold forever.

    All this to say happy new year! Let’s hear it for the calendar, for aging, for yesterday and tomorrow, all the while knowing we can never live anywhere but today. And not even today, but in this ichi-go ichi-e moment. Which will never repeat yet is eternal, never gone from the roiling, boiling mix of creation in which we live and move and have our becoming.

    God. I sound like a bad fortune cookie. Nevertheless. Yes. To all this. To however we are, whomever we are, whenever we are. Bouncing along jostling each other, holding each others hands, walking each other home, living with the thereafter, somehow, even if it’s only in molecular hand me downs.

    You out there. To a less abstruse post next year. Tomorrow.

     

     

     

     


    Asia Fourth Phase Great Wheel Holidays Kabbalah Paganism Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Reimaging revelation

  • Cough and Wheeze

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Yule Moon

    Friday gratefuls: This too is for the good. Even this cold. Good sleeping. Third day of Hanukkah. Creativity. Ron. Alan is home. Ruth and Gabe. Veronica and Luke. Handmade Hanukkah candles. Light Snow. Kate, always Kate. Earth. Air. Wind. Fire

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: My immune system

    Kavannah:  PATIENCE   Savlanut סַבְלָנוּת  Patience, endurance, holding space; literally to “bear a burden”

    One brief shining: Sometimes your body signals trouble ahead, Kate called it prodrome, an early symptom(s) that catches your attention, and I had one yesterday, stuffiness and a bit of an ache here and there, uh oh, approaching cold, take care, rest and take plenty of fluids, don’t celebrate Hanukkah on Friday night.

     

    No harmonica for Veronica on Friday night’s Hanukkah. Had to cancel. So far a mild cold, but chills and thrills. Lower energy, distracted attention. No buzz. Back to meh, but this time with a physiological referent. Taste thrown off. Not something I want to share with others.

    Good thing I made that batch of Senate navy Bean soup. Gonna have some for breakfast when I get done here. Navy Beans. Ham hock. Carrots. Onion. Celery. A Bay Leaf. Turmeric. Chicken stock.

    Lying low today. Read. Michael Moorcock’s Von Bek. A Grail quest ordered by Lucifer. Yep, you read that right. A little bit of a spoiler, but not much. Probably some TV. Maybe movies from the Criterion Channel.

    What do you do when something gets you down?

     

    Slow writing today. Clogged up neural circuits. Colds do that to me. Mind wanders. I find myself looking at the New York Times instead of hitting the keyboard.

    Talking to Ron yesterday inspired me. Former script writer for TV. Actor. Singer. Entrepreneur. He told me that his brother is the most creative person he knows. And, he’s a physicist. Ron has a company he created that he’d like to sell so he can get back to writing.

    Something about him makes me want to get back to writing myself. He’s a supportive guy, kind. Ron’s in the MVP group and we’ve intended to get together for almost four years but somehow never did it.

    Relationships matter. Alone but not lonely. Wrote about that a couple of days ago. Having folks like Ron in my life is why.

     

    Just a moment: Still having fun with chatbotgpt. Reading a lot about A.I. It’s not a genius, NYT. If you’re a certain sort of knowledge worker, like a business analyst, for example, A.I. might be coming for your job. This Federal Reserve article mentioned the dramatic change in work A.I. will probably introduce. Veering away from the factory floor and into realms once considered untouchable by automation. Maybe radiologists? I wonder about paralegals, even some lawyers.

    I even found, but could never access, an AI Jesus that was created and deployed by a Protestant church in Switzerland. I remember also reading about an AI monk in a Japanese Buddhist Temple.

                                                               


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  • Hanukkah Veronica Harmonica

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Yule Moon

    Thursday (Boxing Day) gratefuls: Ron Solomon. Bread Lounge. Jamie. Nate and Laurie. Hanukah. Veronica. Harmonica. Diane. Vancouver, Washington. Bangkok. Brisbane. Songtan. Conifer. Shadow Mountain. Snow. Slick Mountain roads. Friends and family. Ruby with her Winter Blizzaks on. Grippy. Minnesota winter weather drivers ed. 40 years.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The power of conversation

    Kavannah: Creativity

    One brief shining: Went up the ridged metal stairs to the second story restaurant in Evergreen, walking with Ron, got in through the exit as a departing customer opened the door to the Breadlounge, and we passed through it, on in where we ordered.

     

    Hanukkah. Now has Holiseason all to itself, having snuck in on Christmas evening with its menorah and its candles and its lets imitate Christmas so the kids don’t feel out  left out tone. A pile of cardboard boxes overwhelms an easy chair in my living room. Gifts from all over for Ruth and Gabe. Tomorrow night. Quite a haul. No Santa. Just family and friends.

    Going to Tony’s tomorrow morning to buy a big salmon fillet, small round potatoes or mashed potatoes from the deli cabinet. A vegetable side dish from the deli, too. An easy shabbat meal. Veronica plans on coming, too, since she has no one to light candles with.

    One of my friends suggested I buy her a harmonica so I could give a harmonica to Veronica on Hanukkah. Ordered a cheap one from Amazon just for that purpose. An alliteration celebration. Ha.

     

    How about this Washington Post headline? “Israel strikes Yemen airport as WHO chief prepares to board plane.” What would you say? Oops. The face of Middle East politics has changed often and significantly since October 7 of a year ago. In unanticipated ways. The shakeout after all this calms down will last for years. Realignments. Held grudges. Blame and shame to go around.

    While I’m pro-Palestinian and pro-Israel, I’m not pro-Iran or Hezbollah or Houthis. I have no real clue about the new boss, same as the old boss? in Syria. And how do Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt fit into this puzzle? They don’t like the same people Israel doesn’t like. Shia’s.

    Or we could look at Ukraine. An old fashioned war of territorial expansion by a former great power. That keeps going, and going, and going. Now with North Korean soldiers and arms. With China in the bleachers cheering on Russia while we’ve gotten down close to the action on the field along with our allies in NATO.

    Is there a graceful or peaceful solution in either center of conflict? Not in my mind.

    Throw in then the America First sorta agenda of Donald Trump. He says end Hamas, Hezbollah, and damage Iran. Go, team Israel. He also backs the Putin machine bearing down on the Ukrainian people.

    Can you say fuel to the fire?

    We’re in a world without a hegemon and regional actors have begun to take their shots. Russian in Ukraine. Israel and the Shia in the Middle East. Will China restrain itself in the instance of Taiwan?


    Feelings Friends Holidays Judaism World History

  • Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Yule Moon

    Christmukkah gratefuls: Many happy Christmases. The complete severance of Christmas from Christ’s Mass. All of the childhood induced fantasies drifting up and out of bedrooms all over the world. All of the Jewish memories of resistance triggered now for 8 days. Holiseason peaking with Christmas, Hanukkah, and Yule all resonating, vibrating with each other. It is indeed the most wonderful time of the year.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Holiseason

    Kavannah: AWE Yira יִרְאָה  Awe, reverence, fear (פְּלִיאָה Plia: Wonder, amazement)

    One brief shining: I hear the rattling of old Marley’s chains this morning, looking at a world about to devolve into a Christmas Carol with a different ending, where the Scrooge’s of our country like Trump, Bezos, Musk, and Gates join oligarchs from around the world to ignore even the Ghost of Christmas future and forge for themselves heavy chains and money boxes that will haunt them into their unredeemed future.

    Here is the image representing “Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ” in the style of socialist realism, emphasizing interconnectedness and harmony.

    And even so, let me say a word for yirah. For wonder, amazement, awe, reverence. Paul reminded me of the Lakota phrase, all my relations. I asked chatbotgpt to give it to me in Lakota and what it means in the Lakota worldview.

    The answer* made me realize that I’ve spent decades deconstructing theological and philosophical and even scientific ideas, trying to swim down and through them to the core of what matters. Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ matches my current conclusions though I had to get through years of seminary, meditation, horticulture, dogs, loving Kate, to find the final ingredient I needed, the unitary metaphysic of Judaism. The Tree of Life in Kabbalah maps on to this native worldview, too.

    Wish it was as easy as reading this years ago and being able to integrate it, but that wouldn’t have worked. I needed to live the struggle. Judaism with Kabbalah contains this wisdom and expresses it without dogma. Makes me feel even more like a member of the tribe. Or, a tribe.

    When I talked to the Mule Deer Doe last week, when I spent time with the three Mule Deer Bucks on my first day here on Shadow Mountain ten years ago, when I planted tulips and iris and crocus and garlic and heirloom tomatoes, when I removed honey supers to carry to Kate for our honey harvest, when I sat with a Wolfhound’s head in my lap and another’s in Kate’s, I engaged the embodied learning of Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ.

    Yes, mitákuye Oyás’iŋ comes most vividly into our whole life through direct experience. Yet for me the life of the mind is important, too, and I wanted always to be able to clarify, to say in words the truth my body already know.

    In a way I sense my life is now complete. I made the swim all the way to the bottom and down there was the Holy Well of the collective unconscious, linking me to all my relations through the world of Judaism.

    Reincarnation? Could be. Death a transformation? Without a doubt. Life a continuous amazement and wonder. For sure. May as well celebrate.

    BTW: I like this image from Chatbot’s Dalle, too.

    Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!

     

    *”Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ” reflects the interconnectedness of all beings and entities in the universe. It embodies the belief that everything—humans, animals, plants, stones, water, air, the earth, and the stars—is interrelated and part of a sacred whole. This worldview emphasizes:

    1. Unity and Kinship: All beings are regarded as relatives, forming a vast web of relationships that must be honored and respected.
    2. Reciprocity: The phrase underscores the importance of balance and mutual care among all entities, fostering a sense of responsibility toward the natural world and its cycles.
    3. Sacred Connection: Life is seen as a continuous, sacred circle in which every part has its place and purpose, contributing to the harmony of the whole.
    4. Humility and Gratitude: By acknowledging “All My Relations,” individuals express gratitude for the interconnectedness of life and humility in recognizing their place within it.

    In ceremonies and prayers, “Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ” is often used to close statements or invocations, serving as a reminder of this profound interconnectedness and the sacred responsibility it entails.

                                                    Herme Harari Israel


    Bees Dogs Garden Great Wheel Hermitage Holidays Jefferson County Judaism Kabbalah Memories Minnesota Mountains Paganism Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Reimaging revelation Shadow Mountain Wild Neighbors

  • Twas the Night Before Christmas

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Yule Moon

    Tuesday (Christmas Eve) gratefuls: Marilyn and Irv. Three Victoria’s. Carne Asada. A favorite. Hanukkah. Late. Latkes. Apple Sauce. Sour cream. Brisket. Horse radish. Those Hanukkah candles from the Kabbalah Experience. Shabbat. MVP. A family gathering. Oz. Bangkok. Songtan. The Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The Ellis clan.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Santa on NORAD

    Kavannah: Persistence

    One brief shining: Friends at a table, in this instance Three Victoria’s, puzzling over the Spanish on its day of the dead themed coffee mug, translated by chatbotgpt as: “Some well-dead Vickys to toast to the well-alive living.” which makes me scratch me my head and wonder what’s up with that? Eh?

     

    Had lunch with Irv and Marilyn yesterday. At Three Victoria’s. Always a treat. They both read Seed-Keepers and returned the book yesterday. They loved the way it discussed the Dakota’s relationship with land, the details of Native life in southern Minnesota.

    Tom sent me a note today: Dakota Exiles commemorate Mankato hangings. These hangings, signed off by Abraham Lincoln, occurred on December 26th, 1862 and presaged a removal of most of the Dakota’s from their traditional home in southern Minnesota. Well, sort of their traditional home. This history informs all of the Seed-Keepers.

    Their traditional home was in northern Minnesota until Anishinaabe clans drove them south. History is complicated.

    The Seed-Keeper idea, stimulated by my reading of this book continues to bounce around, won’t lay still. As I said a couple of days ago, it may be calling to me.

     

    Every Christmas Eve I read Twas’ the Night Before Christmas to Joseph. Haven’t done that in a while. I asked him if he remembered the Christmas Eve he had me set out money for Santa so Santa could go to Mickey’s Diner. “Of course I do. Still a smart move.”

     

    Ana just came. Cleaning the house. It’ll be clean for Hanukkah. I like that. Time for me to skedaddle upstairs, workout, maybe fiddle around with some art. A shortie today.

     

     

     


    Family Friends Holidays Shadow Mountain

  • No Title

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Yule Moon

    Shabbat gratefuls: Esau. Israel. Jacob. Joseph. The Angel. The struggle. Parsha. Genesis. Rabbi Jamie. Gordon. Luke and Ginny. Tanakh. Torah. Torah study. Shabbat. Lox. Bagels. Capers. Cream cheese. Onions. Chai. Sisyphus. Ancient Brothers. The W.U.I. Shadow Mountain Home. Well within the WUI.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Stories of long ago

    Kavannah: Bimah and Ahavah

    One brief shining: Under a covering lay a dozen bagels, lox and smoked salmon, by those platters a tub of cream cheese and a small container of capers, Gordon sat beside me as did Ginny, Luke and Rabbi Jamie across the wooden table, Tanakhs in the middle of the table, and we began to talk about Jacob and his struggle with the Angel/Himself/God.

     

     

    The long night has fallen. The longest night. The night of the Winter Solstice. When darkness folds itself over and over again, deepening and spreading until it seeps into your heart, your lev, your nefesh.

    I intended to burn my Yule log(s) tonight, but the day wore me out. I’ll fetch them from the garage tomorrow, make a Solstice plus one fire. A little Pinõn thrown in for the nose.

    This is my favorite holiday. Solitary. Dark. Quiet. Perfect in Mountain stillness. All the Wild Neighbors either tucked into their hiding places or out on the prowl looking for food. No commercial hoopla. No bonfire. At least for me. Just an awareness, a tactile sense of the holy found in the nurturing Night. Fecundity. It’s the right time of the night for making love.

    For over two, maybe three decades, I’ve tilted my allegiance toward the long night, toward the occult, the below ground wonders, hidden from the light obsessed who thought it brave to burn candles, throw parties, dance in the face of imminent disaster. No more Great Sol. No more life. I defy them.

    And yet. The last couple of years I find myself moving back toward the full cycle, admiring and reveling too in the heat of the longest day, the one they experienced yesterday in Australia. Bringing them into balance, the yin and yang, black and white, yin in yang, yang in yin, light in dark, dark in light.

    Even so. My first love is this long blackness, the visible world obscured from view. The inner world gaining prominence. Perhaps because, as the Mexica say, life is a dream between a sleep and a sleep.

     

    Just a moment: A full ten years. A decade. 67-77. No longer adapting or adjusting, but now a Westerner, a Coloradan, a harari, a Mountain man. Also a man of loss and death, disease. Of Wild Neighbors. A member of the tribe.

    Two days ago I opened my front door to go get my trash bins from the end of the driveway. To my right, perhaps 10 feet away, maybe less, a large eyed mature Mule Door Doe looked up. Welcome, I said. I hope you enjoy the food.

    She looked at me, clear eyed, neither afraid nor desiring to come any closer. Mirroring my own feelings. I went on talking to her in a calm voice, then headed on out and got the garbage bins, rolled them back into their positions under the kitchen window. She and her four friends ate near my Lodgepole Companion.


    Great Wheel Holidays Judaism Paganism The Move Torah

  • Sleeping with the Enemy

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Yule Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Elements. Au. O. He. H. C. N. Li. Nk. Atoms. Molecules. Protons. Neutrons. Quarks. Leptons. The quantum World. The Universe. Galaxies. Local clusters. The Cosmic Void. Great Sol. Nuclear fusion. Solar flares. The magnetosphere. Earth. Venus. Mars. Our planetary neighbors. The Oort Cloud. Voyageur. Space flight.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gravity

    Kavannah: GOODWILL  Ratzon  רָצוֹן  Goodwill, friendliness, agreeableness  (קַבָּלָה Kabala: Acceptance, welcome)

    One brief shining: In time for the holidays my Murphy chair recliner arrived in a yellow Penske rental truck unloaded onto a rolling platform, its brown leather cushions in a large cardboard box, two young men one carrying the chair downstairs and the other the box, setup the chair with its three slots for dowels, enabling three different angles of recline, placed the cushions, maneuvered the chair underneath the violet themed Tiffany lamp and my arts and crafts lower level came one step closer to being finished.

     

    On my third Gray Man book. Allowing myself a long reading vacation, not ignoring serious reads, but letting my oh what the hell preferences dominate for a bit. The Gray Man books are the most realistic I’ve read about assassins. How would I know? Well… No. I read about the author and his meticulous research and I see it reflected in his work. Court Gentry, the Gray Man, slips in and out of various countries, scenarios, always on the run, also always finding a mission of moral worth in an immoral/amoral world. If you like such writing, the Gray Man books are top of the heap. IMO.

     

    We may be seeing the future this week. Too many cooks in the kitchen. Mike Johnson creates a deal to keep the government at work. First Musk, then Trump step in and say no. Result? Chaos. Or the kerfuffle between Musk and Kennedy over how to deal with weight control: drugs or lifestyle change. This is all, mind you, a full month before Cousin Donald takes the reins of what already appears to be a runaway carriage.

     

    Yes. Next week’s Christmas day. The holiday has gradually receded from my notice, at least here at home. In its place Hanukkah gifts have begun to pile up on the bench around my breakfast table. This for Gabe. That for Ruth. We will celebrate with a meal and candle lighting on December 27th, the third day of Hanukkah, which starts on the date of its more consumptive cousin this year. The latest it can ever start. Lunar v linear calendars.

     

    Just a moment: That trial. 51 guilty verdicts. Gisèle Pelicot’s strength and presence. She impresses the hell out of me. Collected and authentic, leaning into her power. Each image I see of her shows a person at peace with themselves. A towering accomplishment considering the patriarchal abuse she took time after time from so many.

    If the patriarchy is not on your hit list, who are you, anyhow? Oh. Wait. You might have a red hat on your coat rack. A really long red tie in the closet. Be aware women of the right. You are literally sleeping with the enemy.


    Fourth Phase Holidays Literature Politics Shadow Mountain

  • Stories Worth Telling

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Samain Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: A Mountain Morning in Winter. Rich and Doncye. Brother Mark. Mary. A new Kindle. Hanukah presents. Jacquie Lawson Edwardian Advent Calendar. December cold and Snow. Magpies. Canadian Jays. Abert’s Squirrels. Red Squirrels.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow Flakes falling on Shadow Mountain

    Kavannah: Ahavah (love) and Bimah (understanding) Understanding, differentiation, deep insight; from בּוּן to split, pierce/penetrate; also בֵּין between

    One brief shining: I roll out the mat, kneel down in a posture not unlike a Muslim at prayer and do the push-ups I can do, then skull crushers with weights brought down near my ears, those silly calf raises, 15 goblet squats, bicep curls, wall angels, incline pushups, my upper body/lower body day.

     

    Fun with chatbotgpt. NB: I asked for skullcrushers which are done with dumbbells and got this guy. Part of the fun.

    BTW: If you’re new to Ancientrails, I want to explain. When I capitalize a noun like Rock or Mountain or Lodgepole or Mule Deer, I’m following a commitment I made after reading Braiding Sweetgrass. In Potawatomi everything considered alive gets capitalized out of respect. I’m not totally consistent, but I try to be.

    When I went into see Rabbi Jamie about feeling meh, he mentioned two things. One, getting back to making art. He means sumi-e which I did for a long ago Kabbalah class. I also paint. Both sort of. However I turned up the heat in the loft and intend to start again. It brings joy.

    Second he mentioned a website Storyworth. For those of you age peers who read this, it’s worth a look if you have kids or grandkids. Storyworth sends out a weekly prompt, you write in their software in response to them. My first two prompts were: How did you get your first job? and What was your father like when you were a child?

    At some point, I’m not sure when, you’ve written your story. It’s then printed and bound and shipped to you. Price determined by how many books you want. I’m getting four. Ruth, Gabe. Joe. Myself. A neat service. I’m having fun with it and it counts as getting back to writing.

    I’ve also begun writing my project of essays, ideas on observing each of the 8 Celtic holidays. Pretty far along on Yule.

     

    Just a moment: Still, like many of you, I imagine, marveling at the choices for cabinet leadership our new President, same as the old President has offered up so far. Sure, Gaetz got gone as fast as he deserved, but Hegseth remains in play. Kennedy, too. And Gabbard. Patel. Many of these vie to replace the old chestnut about the fox guarding the henhouse. Now: Patel guiding the FBI. That old drunk at DOD. Vax denier heads health and human services. Combine these choices with long red tie guy’s volatile, chaotic, grudge based style of, what? Can we call it governing? Sorta drains the meaning out of that word. The point is: matches. Gasoline. All over D.C. for four years. Four years.

     


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