• Category Archives Holidays

  • Embodiment

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the Harvest Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Deep, vulnerable conversation. Healing. Colon back to on guard status and off active duty. Yay! Jet lag still dissipating. Blue day. Bright Sol. Green Lodgepoles. Scat in my driveway. Probably Fox. Olives. Simchat Torah. One of my favorite holidays. Dancing with the Torah. Friday: Forgot this yesterday. Mary, my physical therapist. Polio. Sister Kenny. Mary, my sister in Kuala Lumpur. Mark in Saudi. Seoah and my son in Korea. Diane in San Francisco. My close, yet so faraway family. Kepler. Kate, always Kate. Jon. Ruth, a young woman. Gabe. Rigel. My Star in the night Sky

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends in Colorado, good friends

    One brief shining: A shiny blue Sky shone through the Bamboo mats on the Sukkah children’s hand prints on cloth decorating its slatted wooden sides, my Thursday mussar friends smiling as I came back after a six week absence.

     

    Interesting. Yesterday I sat in the Sukkah with the other mussar folks, Rabbi Jamie giving me a hug when I sat down next to him. We began the conversation with a meditation as we always do. And I got this feeling of sitting in one for thousands of years. As if this moment, the one I inhabited also, simultaneously, inhabited other moments in serial regression. A sensation of at-one-ment. Sukkot is an ancient harvest festival, the sukkah supposedly similar to the temporary dwellings farmers used during the hectic last days of the harvest before the winter rains. Probably not originally Jewish in origin.

    Jews, who incorporated this festival long ago-and Rabbi Jamie says it used to be the primary holiday, not Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Days of Awe-imagine these sukkah as also representing the temporary dwellings used by the Hebrew slaves during their forty years in the wilderness.

    I love Sukkot and the holiday that immediately follows it, Simchat Torah, rejoicing with the Torah. Simchat Torah is tonight. I’m going even though it’s a second night out for me this week. During this holiday the Torah Scroll is removed from the Tabernacle, completely unscrolled, and the congregation, using prayer shawls to grip it, dances with the Torah. It marks the completion of the reading of the entire Torah in the old year and the beginning of the new year’s reading in Bereshit, Genesis.

    Not sure why I find Sukkot and Simchat Torah so meaningful, but I have for several years. I love the physicality of them both. The sukkah and the unscrolled Torah. The dancing. Eating in the Sukkah. An embodied way of celebrating our connection to the holy, to the divine that manifests whenever we open ourselves.

    Perhaps that’s it. The embodiment. The whole of me involved. Not just my head. I find the High Holidays very heady and so not as meaningful. Odd for me to say, I know. But maybe I need not an out of body experience of the sacred but an out of mind one. Take me out of the theological and the ethical and the political and let me dance with the Torah. Hey!

     


    Holidays Judaism Myth and Story Original Relation Reimaging revelation

  • Happy Birthday to the good ole U.S.A.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Summer Moon Above

    Tuesday gratefuls: Acting class tonight. First half of Israel trip paid for. Herme introduction rewritten. Parchment paper ordered. No Fireworks up here. Good for Dogs. Fire. Air. Thin air, melting into thin air. My feet and toes. Holding me up since 1947. My ankles and calves and thighs. Mobility. My pelvis, butt, penis and testicles. Sitting, twisting, elimination. No joy at this point in my life. My thorax. Holding important stuff in. My arms and fingers. Dexterity for all my needs. My shoulders and neck. Supporting my head. My head, mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. Eating, hearing (sort of), seeing, smelling, taking in oxygen, a case for my brain. All these years forgot to be grateful for that which is closest.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: My body

    One brief shining: Can you imagine the evolution of the eye or the slow changes necessary to create a thumb perhaps you are the one who can follow the path from our One-Celled ancestors to a beating heart maybe you grasp the folding and intricate interlacing of brain matter neurons synapses the marvel of language as it first sat on the first tongue to express a thought through sound oh this everyday miracle our body ourselves our home for life.

     

    I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy, a real live nephew of my Uncle Sam, born on the Fourth of July. Today is Seoah’s Yankee Doodle birthday. What a great birthday for a naturalized U.S. citizen. Seoah and my son. Ruth and Gabe. My immediate family. Mark in Saudi Arabia. Mary to return to Malaysia and South East Asia. They are my hope for this country. Them specifically and what they represent.

    Seoah, a Korean by birth and a citizen of Korea until two years ago. She married my son, a Bengali by birth. Both now naturalized citizens of the U.S.A. My son serving this country in the military. Both abroad, in Korea, protecting not only the U.S.A. but much of Asia as well. This is, in these two people, the most fundamental promise of America. That you can come here from wherever you were born, no matter the circumstances, and become a citizen, a full-fledged participant in the colorful tapestry of American life.

    Or consider Ruth and Gabe. On their mother’s side Jewish, their grandfather a Romanian Jew from Bucharest and their grandmother of an immigrant Jewish family as well. Third generation. On their father’s side Norwegian ancestry four generations removed from Bergen. They are also both Gen Z, the most politically aware generation since the Boomers. They will need to be with the crushing weight of adaptation to climate change they will have to carry.

    Mary and Mark. The expat life. Being American on foreign soil. Contributing to the lives and welfare of Saudis, Thais, Malaysians, Japanese, and Singaporeans. Representing the American ideal of a world known for its inclusion rather than its chauvinism. Representing our country to other cultures. Being the good American rather than the ugly American.

    How can I not be hopeful when I can see in my own family the very America I hold so close and dear. Especially on this day.

     


    Asia Family Feelings Fourth Phase Holidays Judaism Korea Politics Travel US History

  • Oh. Huh.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and Kepler’s Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Alan. Doug. Nearly done. Snow melted. Low fire danger. Tara. Ofer. Jack. Adam. Cheka. Andrew. Savannah. Robbie. Arjean. Tara’s seder. The Cyberknife. The CT. Diane. Kim and Patty. Carmela. The medical physicist. Norbert, Tara’s dog who died suddenly. Julie and Sophia. Jayden. Safeway pickup. A blue Sky early morning.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cheka and Andrew

     

    Patty, a sweet lady and the lead radiation therapy tech, told me yesterday, as I left the CT room zipping up my jacket. Have a good Easter. I smiled. Jolted. No I said in my head I’m more of a passover guy now.

    A strange moment. My reaction, that of an outsider to a cultural norm assumed so easily it’s not checked, surprised me. I didn’t realized how far down the Jewish path I’d traveled in my heart. This was not intellectual, it was visceral. Nope, wrong holiday.

    When I mentioned it to Tara last night at her seder, she nodded. Yes. And it doesn’t get easier. Sometimes you smile. Sometimes you say something. Sometimes you’re just frustrated.

    Tablet Magazine is an online magazine for Jews. I read it off and on. Yesterday I took a quiz titled what kind of Jew are you? For a goof. With little variance from my truth, that I’m not Jewish, I answered the questions. Are most of your friends Jewish? Certainly here yes. Have you attended a Jewish function in the last week? Of course. Do you belong to a synagogue? I do. I came out an affiliated Jew. Huh.

    Still don’t want to convert, but I may have already. I thought of the old ways of becoming a lawyer, a physician. You read the law, worked in a lawyer’s office until you grew proficient enough to set out on your own. Same with physicians. I may have read Judaism as I’ve attended mussar, gone to shivas, been part of one for Kate, have two Jewish grandchildren.

    Certainly there’s a deep reality in me now that identifies with Jews. With Kate’s loved faith. With the people and the community I’ve come to know as a result.

    Hope you have a good Easter. Unless you’re more of a passover sort.

     

    First radiation treatment yesterday. Cyberknife again. The same place where I had 35 sessions in 2019. Lone Tree. Anova Cancer Care. Chose The Band for my music. The Weight. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down. Up on Cripple Creek. Music to be radiated to. An atomic playlist.

    Afterward I drove over to Sally Jobe and got another CT. This one to facilitate the planning on my T3 met.

    When I left the room after my session, my images were still up on the computer screens. I asked Patty what they were. She showed me my hips, my femurs. A blue grid with small squares over lay the area just away from my left hip. On the grid were brown marks. The points the Cyberknife uses to follow the medical physicist’s plan.

    I’m at the start of this journey, ending now on April 19th. Probably eight sessions in all. I don’t know what might occasion another session or two.

     

    Doug has begun painting my bedroom. The final piece of his work. He may finish today. Furniture rearranging after. Then some time to take art out, find the right places for various pieces. After that some help to hang it.

     

    Tara’s house, 6060 Kilimanjaro Road, accessed off Jungfrau Drive, overlooks Mt. Blue Sky (formerly Mt. Evans). A steep driveway that I would not want to have to plow or have plowed. But a beautiful location.

    The seder began at 4 pm. I left at 8:30. Tara presided over a teaching seder. Being the former director of religious education at CBE. We retold the Exodus story. Learned the symbolism of the objects on the Seder plate. Dipped parsley in salt water and ate it. The tears of oppression. Put horseradish, maror, on matzah and tasted the bitterness of slavery.

    Every year Jews not only celebrate, but relive the experience of the Exodus. The moment of their birth as a free people.

    Powerful.

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Hermitage Holidays Judaism Mountains Shadow Mountain

  • 76 Earphones

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Valentine (Day) Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: 76 Valentine’s days. And counting. E-cards and e-mails. A day of celebration and pulmonology. Gettin’ old. For the most part. Ruby. Running. Kep, the unseeing. Marina Harris. Furball Cleaning. Ana and friend. Luke. Snow on its way. Winter Storm Warning. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. That Aspen out my window. The Lodgepoles waiting for the Snow. Down the hill and up again before it comes.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: 76 birthdays

     

    As our earthly Chariot speeds past the February 14th spot in the sky, the clicker strikes up another year for me and all of us with Valentine Day birthdays. And the Solar System rushes outward, away from the great Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way. While the Milky Way itself speeds on its way as well. So much high speed motion literally all around us and we feel nothing. Strange.

    Yesterday was another 90 minute workout. Doing what I can to ride this bad boy as long as possible. Ate the Shrimp and Grits from Pappadeux’s for lunch. Better. Still far away from the Savannah restaurant where it was so good I went back twice on the same trip.

    Got a gift card from the Johnson sisters. To Pappadaeux’s. Gonna order off the Cajun menu the next time. Lean into their strength. Besides Sarah, who lives in North Carolina, says she never orders Shrimp and Grits outside of the Carolina’s or the coast of Georgia. I get it.

    Several sweet Jacquie Lawson cards. I like to send them and receive them. Sister Mary introduced me to her long ago. It’s fun to be recognized on my birthday. Especially at 76. Although there’s something to be said for the thoroughbred and Korean way, too. January 1st for the horses of the Northern Hemisphere, August 1st for the Southern. During the spring festival all Koreans turn over a year after eating a special soup. Everybody can celebrate together. It’s a big family holiday as you might imagine.

    All of my septuagenarian days. A Coloradan and a Westerner. My Mountain decade. A great place to get old. er.

    Celebrating this morning with a trip to Rocky Mountain Pulmonologists. Gonna check out my fitness for a few more years at 8,800 feet. I need four. Time to go. Short one for now.


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Holidays Shadow Mountain

  • Connected

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Monday gratefuls: A day into the New Year. Talking to Ruth. Who comes home Friday. Bit of Snow. So far. Limits, differentiation, integration. Functions. Two youtube calculus lessons. Back to Korean. Another thousand word plus day. Content rich Ancientrails archives. Annual physical tomorrow. Flagged off Robin until April. Prepping the house for interior painting. Car insurance. Bill for my PET scan. The Ancient Brothers. Mark’s interview. Mary’s introduction to me of the god Toshigamisama, a Shinto deity. the God of the New Year-he brings good luck.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Toshigamisama, may he bring you good luck

     

    Talked to Ruth last night. Said Happy New Year. Asked her if she had gotten what she needed at Cedar Springs. More than what I needed. I’m coming home Friday. That was big news. Maybe a week earlier than anticipated. I plan to take the two of them for regular Saturday morning breakfasts every two weeks. Hope we can get back to some of the normal things like the Planetarium in Boulder. The Zoo. Science Museum. Might start taking Ruth to Dazzle Jazz. Gabe to the Rockies.

    Gabe texted me with the rules to a card game called tycoon. All the rules. It was a long text. He wants to teach it to me when he comes up next. I look forward to it. As I wrote before, my relationship with both Gabe and Ruth has deepened since Jon’s death. Grateful for that. Feels like it will continue.

    As we discussed on the Ancient Brothers Sunday morning, relationships are a key to good health. Especially in old age. Zoom has opened more venues for retaining friendships. As somebody said, I think Paul, 2D is great. Though 3d is better. When possible.

    With my buddy Alan set to move to downtown Denver I told him how important our breakfasts were to me. Why’s everybody so worried about our moving to Denver? We go down the hill four times a week. This just reverses the trip. We might have to meet in Morrison, but we’ll make it work. glad for that.

     

    I did restart my Duolingo Korean lessons. I was rusty, but also pleased with what I had retained. The trick with both Korean and calculus is to work at it daily.

    I started a youtube series on calculus. Gonna hunt around for a bit to find the best series for me. I felt a little used (recently) portion of my intellect wake up. That strictly logical part. It was fun to try to figure out how the first derivative might work before the lecturer explained it. I wasn’t right but the muscle used in thinking it through? Oh, yeah. I remember that.

    Languages. Mathematics. Music. Not my strong suits. Ever. Means I can stretch myself, torque the mental engine into the red zone. Like visiting a foreign country. Seeing how different disciplines solve problems. How working in them helps me see the world from a different perspective. Very much looking forward to the journey in both instances.

    And, when I take that trip to Korea late this year, I’ll have some ability to read signs and menus. Speak. Or, at least understand some.

    Maybe calculate the area under the flight path? I’m kidding on that one.

    Till tomorrow.

     

     

     


    Asia Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Hermitage Holidays Korea Mathematics

  • When I’m an adult, I’m going to live up here

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Gabe. Shoveling. His comment about the Mountains. Driving into Denver. Freddie’s Steakburgers. Cheap down the hill gas. A waning 2022. Alan. 14 inches of Snow plowed. The Mountains in their Snowiness. Jeffco road crews. Garbage folks. Mail folks. School bus drivers. Tolls waived on I-70. Ruth seeing Gabe and Jen today. A pass. Cold. Good sleeping. The Snowiest months still ahead of us. The Rocky Mountains. The Laramide Orogeny.

    Sparks of joy and awe: Kep in the snow

     

    Vince, in spite of Covid, cleared my drive of its 14 inches of wet Springlike Snow. Not an easy job even with a plow. Folks with Snow blowers complained. Clogged chutes. Almost an inch of moisture. Helpful at this point in the season. Grateful.

     

    Gabe offered to shovel the Snow off the deck. He took weightlifting last semester. Stronger than me by far. I usually push it off the deck. When it’s powder, no problem. But 14 inches of wet snow. Hard. Gabe took it care of it with young muscles, lungs.

    He came up Wednesday afternoon. Had to go back yesterday because of the visit to Ruth today. As we went down the hill to his house in far northwest Denver, near the airport, we counted cars in the ditch. Only 9. Probably because the storm came at night and over a holiday week.

    When I’m an adult, I’m going to live up here. He said on the way down. He loves the Mountains. Gabe will spend New Year’s Eve at a friends house. Go out and bang pots and pans at midnight. Forgot about doing that. You could stay up this year Grandpop. I could. But I won’t.

     

    Kate and I never went out on New Year’s. Drunks on the road. Noise. Too many people. A quiet evening though we did make a point of watching the Vienna Philharmonic’s New Year’s concert the next morning. We always had a nice meal and stayed up a little later than usual. Occasionally I would make it all the way to midnight.

    Not sure what my solo New Year’s routine will be. A nice meal for sure. Something from Tony’s. Maybe a movie (on TV) and a book afterward. Stay up till 10?

    I remember one cold Minnesota New Year’s day. Sorsha a one-hundred and fifty pound IW bitch coal black and stubborn and I went up to Lake George for a walk. We went out on the Lake to the deserted Ice fishing houses, walked around and through them. Guessed the Ice fisherpersons still lay snug in their beds trying not to wake up. Hangover.

    Sorsha pulled on the lead. We rarely walked our I.W.’s. Back then I was strong from the gardening work and regular workouts. I could handle her. Now. It would have been a sled ride with me as the sled. The quiet. The isolation. Solitude. A wonderful memory. She was such a sweet dog. And a stone cold predator. Anything furry that crossed her path, including neighborhood cats.

     

    Brings up the memory of Anoka County. The unsung jewel of the Twin Cities metro. Scientific and Natural Areas. Carlos Avery Wildlife Preserve. The Cedar Creek research facility of the UofM. Various regional parks. I loved having access to all those places. Usually nobody was there.

     


    Anoka County Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Hermitage Holidays Jefferson County Memories Minnesota Mountains Shadow Mountain Weather +Climate

  • Thanksgiving

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Holimonth Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Tom. Mary Jane. Jen. Barb. Gabe. Ruth. Green bean casserole. Sweet potatoes and marshmallows. Tenderloin. Sugar cream pie. Thanksgiving. A gathering of the grateful. The Ancient Brothers. Books: 1001 Arabian Nights. Poems: Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction. Movies: Spirited Away. My sustaining friend, Shadow Mountain. Alan. The Warrior Nun. The new P.E.T. scan. Urology Associates. Prostate cancer care.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep. Or. he who sleeps most.

     

    Up early (5 am) to get Thanksgiving underway. As in many households across the land. First thing I did? Build a fire. I rarely have a fire but it made the day feel like a holiday. Right away. With those fast burning chunks of pine afire I fed Kep and right afterward made a sugar cream pie. Though. As I recalled during my nap. Oops. Forgot the butter and the nutmeg. I added both back in, but later than the recipe calls for. Turned out ok. Sort of.

    At noon I got the tenderloin out of the refrigerator. Warming up for the skillet at 2 pm and the oven right after. All in my cast iron pan. Which I love. Jen, Barb, and Gabe came right at 2 with a pumpkin pie, green bean casserole-the traditional kind with canned onion rings-be still my Midwest culinary heart, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, salad, a relish tray, and a box of candy cane coated chocolate. A good feed was had by all.

    We ate in the new dining room, aka The Sewing Room. I mentioned as we began the three empty chairs: Kate, Jon, Ruth. Sadness. But the true nature of family. As one generation hits high school, the other finds the hospital and the funeral home. Gabe’s gotten taller, more lean. Jen’s now working for the school district as a systems support person, one of four for the whole Aurora district. Gabe’s a freshman at Northfield High School where Ruth is now a junior. Barb’s still living in the same senior living building where she’s been for almost ten years albeit in a smaller apartment.

    We had a good conversation over the meal.

    When we finished, we retired to the common room where I got the fire going again. Jen called Ruth. We spoke to her over speaker. She sounded good. I said we missed her and loved her.

    They left around 6:15 and I cleaned up. A quick process with the dishwasher. Settled into rest after a long day.

    Hope each of you who read this had a wonderful and warm Thanksgiving.


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Hermitage Holidays Judaism Shadow Mountain

  • Well…

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Decision Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: No red wave. Judy’s courage. Tal. A fine director. Astrov, a wonderful character. Memorization. Rebecca. Georgeta. Nittya. Hamish. Emily. How do I feel? Relieved. Chekhov. Kate’s courage. Always Kate. Jon, a memory. Ruth and Gabe. Cold weather coming. A property manager. Vince. (have him handle appliances, too?) Hawai’i. Such a fine place to be. CBE, home turf. Shadow Mountain, home. Kep, dogged. Dan, who brought me home grown marijuana and honey from his own hives yesterday. Past president of the congregation.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Democracy’s faint pulse

     

    First. My friend Judy died yesterday. If she followed the path she had explained to me, she took the medication with a trusted friend by her side reading the Psalms. Her shiva minyan is tomorrow night. I’ll be there. Kate, too, chose her own death. This kind of courage needs celebration. It says we can choose to leave life with honesty, with compassion for ourselves and for those we love. It will never be an easy choice which insures its integrity. Judy leaves behind a collection of recipes for the foods she often brought to our meetings. I’ll make at least one this next week in her memory. May her memory be for a blessing.

     

    Second. No red wave. Odd, isn’t it, it just occurred to me. Who’s the red menace now? Dr. Oz will have to go back to celebrity medicine. Sad Stacey Abrams lost. I’ve not done a deep look at the results but when a Fox news commentator and Washington Post columnist says: “…the Republican Party has some major soul-searching to do following the 2022 midterm elections,” (Marc Thiessen reported in The Hill.) I’m encouraged.

    Gulled by Republican propaganda and Democratic whining to expect the worst, I opened the news this morning to find a horse race. Yeah, horses. Still could tip to Repub control I know. Yet. The fact that there’s a struggle suggests the Extremes and the Trumplicans have not prevailed. Our democracy may not end up in the political intensive care ward. At least not yet.

     

    Third. Acting class last night. A lot of memorization ahead of me. A lot. I’m going to devote hours each day until Thanksgiving. I can and will do it. The experienced actors are already off-book for their monologues. I could have been but I vacationed instead. Back to the books now. Literally.

     

    Fourth. The decision. Yes, I said I’d make it after the trip. That’s now. I’m leaving a small crack in the door but here are a few new reasons for remaining in place. I put in the mini-splits and remodeled the kitchen. I moved furniture and rehung art. This is my place now. And I worked hard to get it here.

    Do what brings you joy, RJ said. Funny how I’d missed that part of the equation in my logical and careful delineation of this and that. It brings me joy to go to acting class. It brings me joy to cook in my kitchen. It brings me joy to live in the Rocky Mountains, in spite of or because of the challenges. It brings me joy to see Hawai’i as the place I choose to live next. It brings me joy to exercise in my own small gym. It brings me joy to host Thanksgiving for my shrinking family here in Colorado. It brings me joy to light up Herme and think of the Hermitage. It even brings me joy to be so much a part of Judy’s life that her shiva minyan is important to me. So. Oh? See where I’m going with this?

    To that end I’ve contacted Vince. He’s coming by today. I may even have him take charge of all the stuff, including my appliances. If I have a need, he would contact the appropriate person and oversee their work. Maybe. Not sure about that. He will handle all the outside work. He’s excited about that and the handyman type work on the inside, too. This property is too much for me to handle. Alone. Might pay him a retainer against which he would bill his services. Then, I can let go of that stuff.

    When someone asked what did I want in a new place, I’d often say oh five years or so peace and calm. No drama. Knowing that wasn’t possible but really wanting some stability without headaches associated with home ownership. Yesterday I thought. Wait a minute. I’m upsetting a chance for peace and calm right here by going through this extended home selling, relocating process. Which will then entail a whole new period of upset and chaos. By definition. I can achieve what I really want most easily by continuing the work I’ve already begun here.

    By peace and calm I don’t mean stasis. The opposite in fact. I want to get back to writing every day. I want my daily life to flow, as I know it can. I want to see how my life unfolds, not keep putting new barriers in front of that unfolding.

    What’s the crack in the door? Health. I’ve got a pulmonology referral. When I meet with them, I’m going to investigate any lung related reasons I should move now. Or, sometime soon. If they exist, and I don’t think they do, I’ll recalibrate.

    Still gonna prune and paint.

     

     

     


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  • Remembering. Mililtary Veterans and Gun Violence Victims

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

    art@willwordsworth

    Monday gratefuls: Alan, turning 70. Veggie Burgers.  Kippas. The Wild Animal Sanctuary. South Koreans rescuing Moon Bears. Kep’s wooooah. Felix, wanting to be appreciated. Oscar, oblivious. Deb. Robbie. Tal. Acting lessons. Kura: The Prophetic Messenger. Eco-Mutualism. Adopting a grizzly. The Land Institute. Aldo Leopold. Ira Progoff. Life review.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wild Animal Sanctuary.

    Tarot: Page of Stones, The Lynx

    key words-study and scholarship, school, apprenticeship, starting out, reflection, meditation, observing other people

     

     

    Brett Sayles

    Just had a thought. How about making Memorial Day celebrations include all the people who’ve given their lives to gun violence? Veterans of all the violence in which our country plays a role. I actually think this could be a thing. How could we make this happen?

     

    Buddy and acting partner Alan turns 70 today. We’re almost off book with our scene from the Odd Couple. Got a long ways yesterday over veggie burgers at his place overlooking the Continental Divide. He did two turns as the Burgemeister in a ballet put on by the Colorado Ballet Academy on Saturday.

     

    Jon seems to have turned a corner for now. Makes me happy. Gabe’s coming up for a couple of days at the end of the week. Ruth’s struggling again.

     

    Kura: The Prophetic Messenger

    Still reading Overstory, almost done. Also the wonderful book Ode gifted to me, Kura: The Prophetic Messenger. This book details the conceptual and handwork by craftspersons and artists to create this sculpture. This article gives a precis of the project.

    Bresnahan is a prophetic messenger himself. This work combines three distinct cultures: Japanese, Benedictine, and First Nation. The latter two reflect the uses of the land on which the sculpture sits. The first represents Bresnahan’s roots in a four apprenticeship in Japanese style pottery making and thought.

    A kura was a storage building for precious items especially in the Edo period, but got its shape and function from structures used to save the rice harvest in ancient Japan. The Benedictines built St. John’s Monastery and college on land previously used by First Nation’s people.

    Inside the Kura Bresnahan placed seed jars containing seeds of the Three Sisters: beans, squash, corns. He also had a scroll created of the Rule of St. Benedict. By hand and illustrated. All of these reside in clay pots created and fired by the St. John’s Pottery. Once placed in the metal Kura, dried wild rice hulls went in as insulation and protection.

    The Prophetic Messenger is a symbolic horse Bresnahan uses on much of his work. “The carving of the Prophetic Messenger in my clay works is a reminder that asks me, Are you on the right path? I carve it in different clay forms and each time it reminds me of my own journey to all of this. Are you abusing the land? or materials? Are you abusing the community? It reminds me to work in a way that plans for generations into the future.”  p.17, Kura: The Prophetic Messenger.

     

     

     


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  • Beltane: You are alive!

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Beltane and the Beltane Moon

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

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jon, taking hold

     

    October, 2014 Andover

     

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     


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