Category Archives: Literature

Art and Culture, Astrology, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Humor, Jefferson County, Judaism, Letters, Literature, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

You’re Joyful

Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

art@willwordsworth

Friday gratefuls: Tiredness. Long sleep. Denver Mountain Parks. Trail off Brookforest Drive. Mussar. Feelings shared. Luke’s hug. Acting. Felix. Learning lines. Reading. Zweig. Powers. Meisner. Tal. Out of the head, into the heart. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Diane. These wonderful Mountains. Shadow Mountain. Herme. Kep. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Denver Parks Mountain Trail

Tarot: Ten of Bows, responsibility

“To tackle the challenges that come with responsibility here requires resilience, endurance, and assertiveness. The burden may be overwhelming and disordered, but the task given to you is aiming for a good, great goal, not only for yourself but also for your family or tribe.” tarotx.net

 

OK. Second time in two days for the Ten of Bows. Psyche telling me. Pay attention dude. Responsibility. Those bows weighing me down. Keep moving. Be assertive. Yes. Endure. Yes. Be resilient, yes. Figure out a way to hold a relationship without giving in to hurt or immorality. Or, figure out a way to let it go altogether.

 

More learning of lines. Reading about Meisner. “Renowned American actor and acting teacher Sanford Meisner developed his groundbreaking technique to guide actors in behaving instinctively and getting in touch with their emotions instead of getting trapped in their own thoughts.” NFI  “The Meisner Technique is a brick-by-brick process designed to get you out of your head and into your gut.” Meisner Technique Studio.

A great way to move myself beyond the last period of my life and into the new one. Didn’t take the class imagining this reward, but there it is. Thanks Alan and Tal.

 

Mussar yesterday. A sweet time. These folks have my back. And my front. Getting to know Luke better. Leo, his dog. A sweetheart. Sweet. A word I reuse. Means I often see the world as precious. Most of the time. Life, too.

 

Acting class on Monday. Kabbalah and the Stars on Tuesday, zoom. Diane on Wednesday zoom. Mussar on Thursday. A lunch or breakfast with Alan or Luke or Rebecca. The Ancient Brothers on Sunday. An occasional service, a visit from the grandkids and Jon every couple of weeks. MVP once a month. That’s plenty for me. I wouldn’t want much less and certainly not much more. The Hermit in a Crowd. Living alone with a crowd.

 

On the way home from mussar I stopped for the lovely Denver Mountain Park Trail near the bottom of Brook Forest Drive. About 30 minutes. A Stream. Valley walls covered with Ponderosa. Green Grass along the Stream bed. Going in and out of Shadow. Lodgepole. Dogwood. At the end of the trail the reward is Water falling over a graduated step of Rock, the Stream not yet finished wearing them down. The sound, soothing. On a small Pond I saw Water Wtriders. Picked up a Pine Cone that had a new Pine growing from its tip, a chartreuse baby Tree. Overstory on my mind the whole hike.

 

During an acting exercise aimed at getting us to our feelings Tal said of me in succession: you’re patient. I am patient. You’re kind. I am kind. You’re joyful. I am joyful. That last one. Yes. At last.

 

Aging, Art and Culture, Astrology, Cinema and Television, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Humanities, Latin, Letters, Literature, Music, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Translating Metamorphoses, Travel, Writing

Oh, the Wonders We’ll See

Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Deb. Robbie. Tal. Gretchen. Alan. Terrence. Jill. Nights. Lunar red. The full red Moon. Cloudy skies. Skipping Sefer Yetzirah. Learning things in astrology. Not enough. Reading plays. Loving it. Art is not only sculpture, prints, paintings, metal work. Literature. Theater. Music. Oh. Remembering.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Alfieri and Felix

Tarot: #8, The Stag

 

“The Stag shows our connection to the universe and…organic life on this planet. The hatchet is a symbolic image of the human will to alter the environment. In order for the environment to change more positively, we need not only more effective actions but also (to accept) our responsibility to nature. On the shield, the picture of a great Oak tree reminds us that we must preserve and protect natural resources.” tarotx.net

 

Wow. Up at 9:22 am this morning. To bed at 10:30 pm. Acting class and pre-bed routine. Woke up and felt great. I went, huh? No time to write Ancientrails before Astrology class. No time to exercise so I skipped Sefer Yetzirah. Skipping class. For me? Hardly ever. I loved doing it this time.

Had brunch, then exercised. Felt and feel great. Pay attention to accidents. Like the fall, yes, but in this case a late night, late morning. Well. I could do this, I guess. Just because for the last 30 years I’ve gone to bed early and gotten up early does that mean I still have to? No. It doesn’t

If my acting lessons take me anywhere, which I’m not expecting, but if they do, rehearsal? At night. Performances? At night. Services at CBE? At night. It would open up a different lifestyle for me.

On that note. I got stuck. My Minneapolis Institute of Arts experience led me to a Johnny-one note approach to the arts. Painted. Sculpted. Printed. Sewn. Splattered. Photographed. Videoed. Yes. If I couldn’t regularly see high quality art of this kind, well…

Then my buddy Alan suggested I take an acting class. Sure. Why not? At the very least a reminder of a different art form. One I’d engaged in the long ago far away. Whoa. Heart work. Body work. Get the mind out of the way work. Reread some contemporary work like The Odd Couple, View From the Bridge, next American Buffalo. Act scenes from them. Develop the Self in a new way.

I mean. Like the proverbial 2×4. Oh. Yeah. And music, too. Gotta get somebody, maybe Alan, to help get my audio world turned on here on Shadow Mountain. Will begin again to read classical literature. Metamorphosis first, I imagine.

As Ode said, routines. The only difference betweeen a rut and a grave are the dimensions. Yeah.

So I may become a later to bed, later to rise guy. For art’s sake.

 

Here’s a realization I had today. When I take something from Taoism, I take it as a Taoist.When I take something from Christianity, I take it as a Christian. When I take something from Judaism, I take it as a Jew.When I take something from Islam, I take it as a Muslim. When I take something from Hinduism, I take it as a Hindu.

Furthermore. When I take something from Japanese culture, I take it as a Japanese. From Colombia as a Colombian. From the Celts as a Celt.

Syncretism and appropriation are dirty words in most intellectual circles. I’m not trying to create a new, smashed together religion, nor am I lifting ideas from their living culture to reorient in mine.

Nope. When I say I’m a follower of Shiva, which I am, I mean I’m aware of and beholden to the cosmic dance of creation and destruction and Shiva is its name. When I say ichi-go ich-e is important for me, I’m saying this moment, this one while I’m typing on the keyboard, throwing these ideas out into the cyberether, will never happen again. And, is precious for that reason. When I say I follow the Great Wheel, I’m an ancient Celtic thinker noticing the stars and the changing of the seasons, tying them together in a long, yet repeating spiral.

I don’t pick and choose. Nope to that either. Some ideas and concepts that come to me as I read, listen, see change my way. When they change my way, they become part of me, part of my ancientrail.

Neither striving for nor hoping for a neat package tied up with a bow. Nicely systematized. Not important to me. Insights into life and how to live it? Very important to me.

Aging, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Humanities, Literature, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Travel

A Change in the Mind

Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

art@willwordsworth

Tuesday gratefuls: Dead Mouse. Felix in the Odd Couple. A lawyer in View From the Bridge. Dinner at Robbie’s early. Back much better. Melancholy. Back. The Sun. My Rocky patch of Mother Earth. Kate fertilized Iris pushing up into the Light. Kep. A real sweetheart. Happy to see me last night when I came home from acting class.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A script

Tarot: Knight of Stones, Horse

” Healthy activity and independence adorn your path.  Boldness, pride, and love for the land lead you… Let the Horse take you away.

Mentally, you may suddenly find yourself overwhelmed for no specific reason. You can try to control each issue at a time. You are going through a mental change when this happens. Remember that you change for the better.” tarot.com

 

Suddenly overwhelmed. As the Knight of Stones says. A response to exhaustion from Saturday, then last night. An hour late getting to bed because of acting class. Still a bit achy from the fall. Body not quite right. Exercised hard yesterday as well.

Melancholy. Things bite that wouldn’t have a week ago. Shorter fuse. Not my favorite state of being, but one that recognizes a truth. I’m going through a change, maybe the one I’ve been seeking, that new life I’ve perseverated about.

Lots of clues. The Inner Work of Aging reading. This reply from my oncologists about my future.* That fall. The house nearing completion, Vince on tap for some more work inside and out. The acting class. Wondering if I’d be able to learn lines. My waning interest in kabbalah and astrology. Reluctance about travel.

Mortality behind me. Mortality ahead of me.

 

Got cast as Felix in the Odd Couple for a scene with Alan. And as a lawyer in a scene from Arthur Miller’s A View From the Bridge. This is scene study, the purpose of the class. It helps us develop an approach, a process for taking on a role. It was fun, but when I had to improv the Odd Couple scene, I felt out to sea. Like my memory had deserted me. Not true, yet it added a layer to the melancholy coming on the night air.

After the class I stepped off a high curb, unlit, stumbled, hit a sewer cover, and tripped. Righted myself. With a quick FUCK! Another vulnerability message. Pay more attention at night, Charlie.

An inner journey underway, headed to the shadow side on Shadow Mountain.

 

*You have had a great response to Orgovyx/Erleada combo thus far and could continue this way for years to come. Individual response varies incredulously. Regardless, there are a multitude of additional modalities beyond this to treat you. I believe you could live 10+ years but in what state of health is hard for me to say because I am also not as privy to the rest of your medical history as your primary care.” Kristie

 

“I agree with Kristie. You are responding quite well and we still have plenty of ammunition unused for the future if needed. And we continue to make great progress with time. So for now you are good. What happens years from now we don’t know…so it is possible this does effect your longevity, but I am not willing to say that for sure at this time.” Dr. Eigner

Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Humanities, Literature, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain

Noh Mask At All

Leave a comment
How I knew it was Ravens taking the Mice

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Acting. Old chops coming back. Found the third mouse from yesterday. Ravens. Achy. Feeling old, a little miserable. Back sore from banging against the deck. Note to self: don’t do that again. Bear. The generator repair tech. Really, his name was Bear. Pete. Centering the chandelier. Ana and Letty, a clean house. Acting class.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Acting

 

Found the third dead mouse from yesterday. Downstairs on my level. Did Ana and Letty accidentally move him? Or, did Kep find him and mouth him only to drop him far from the scene of his execution? I’ll never know. But, it does mean no mouse resurrections. No smart mouse.

 

Did not slip this morning when I tossed the dead bodies over the fence for the Raven clan. Man am I sore. Neck, back. Even intercostals on my left side. Quite a back whack. The good news? I slipped so quickly I didn’t have time to brace myself so avoided a broken wrist or other arm bones. Could use some how to fall training.

Not only did this make me sore. It also made me scared and sad. Remembering Kate’s bleed. The start of the long downhill slide. Not ready for my equivalent. Yesterday could have been it. I don’t want to think like that, but I also have to face the fact. Could happen in a flash. Want to shake this but the pain keeps reminding me. Coming on the heels of that damned cold. Grrr.

To add to it. See this: THC increases heart attack risk. Well, damn. Gotta back off the edibles until I know more. Sounds like CBD oil might help. Last night first without an edible in a couple of years. Maybe a bit more. Went ok. Pain might have influenced it a bit.

 

Well. As usual, writing it. Setting it out on the page in black and white. Better. Dispels demons. Easier. When life throws you lemons, throw’em back.

 

Reeling in my travel ambitions a bit. Gonna start slow. Road trip to Del Norte with Kep. See how that goes. About 3 hours down, 3 hours back. Then, a short road trip. Maybe three days. Hawai’i in late June for Seoah’s birthday. Have to choose between Iran or Taipei. Old bones. Thinking about checking on the Road Scholars. Used to be Elder Hostel. Might be time for some group touring. Or, maybe I’m being more conservative following my slip. We’ll see.

 

Acting class. Huh. Enjoyed. In an exercise, How do I feel, I said I feel like a school boy on the first day of class. I feel exhilarated. I feel exhilarated. Even though ouchy and unable to bend as easily as usual (the back owie) I find myself intrigued and engaged. Next week we get a scene from a play. Start digging into it with the five questions:

1. Who am I? details of the character’s life: name, age, gender, economic status, social status, parents, siblings, birth order. Things like that.

2. Where, when am I? Where: Like Jane Crofut’s address in Our Town.

“Jane Crofut; The Crofut Farm; Grover’s Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire; United States of America. GEORGE: What’s funny about that? REBECCA: But listen, it’s not finished: the United States of America; Continent of North America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; the Universe; the Mind of God.”

When: Day, month, year. Also. when in life is the character?

3. What do I want?

Objective-Super Objective-Spine

Objective-what do I want in this scene

Super objective – what do I want in the whole play

Spine – what do all the characters in the play want?

 

4. How do I get what I want? Actions I take.

5. What do I do when I do or don’t get what I want?

 

Questions 3 and 4 have the most weight, but all are important according to Tal Arnold, Rabbi Jamie’s oldest son. He’s an actor himself and a director. He directed the play I mentioned a while back: Dementiaville. Alan was in it.

I’ve done some acting, but never learned acting in this way. The bones of it. The how. This has touched my heart, given me a new way of moving forward. Even if I go no further than this class.

 

 

Cooking, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Literature, Shadow Mountain

Life. Changing.

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. Beside me right now, my new loft dog. And my bed warmer. Furniture moved, clutter being forwarded to new, organized locations. Peter coming to hang Herme. Vince who will hang much of my very big art. A whole wall dedicated to Kate, art she loved. The Ukraine. Resistance to tyranny. Always. The way the world was. The way it might yet be. Kate, always Kate. Our 32nd anniversary on Thursday, March 10th.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow

 

Spent yesterday moving furniture. Boxes. Bongs. Dog toys. Judaica. Electronics. Purposeful piles of paper. Collections of recipes not yet put in binders. Oh, and books. Always, books. Five more boxes for donations are beside the door ready to load into Ruby. These will go to Goodwill in Evergreen. Easier.

Scoping out the hanging art situation. Vince will be back.  These suckers are heavy. An antique map of the Big Island, a gift from Kate. The second of two of Jerry’s large landscapes. Four or five pieces including Love is Enough, Kate’s retirement present, and her 75th birthday present. Not yet. Not quite. Have to shim up the bookcase. Do a little more kitchen work. Peter will come for Herme. Hopefully this week.

I can see it now. The bones of the new look are in place. Things may require re-organizing as time goes on and as I see how the spaces get used. The kitchen still has a long way to go. The pantry needs creating. With storage containers and spots for all the appliances, large pots and pan. Winnowing and replenishing. I can finish by mid-March.

It will rock my world in a good way when all the pieces are in place. Including the loft. I’m going to have Marina’s crew clean the loft next week, then dive into finishing the re-organizing I started after Kate’s death. Spring. Renewal and rebirth. New life.

Almost done with the Becky Chamber’s series that began with A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet. This is character work at its most ingenious, fleshing out-as it were-not only human personalities, but Aeulons, Harmagians, and Aandrisks. Read the books to see what they are. Worth it.

Next up is Beginner’s Magic, then Ada Palmer’s work. Or, maybe Overstory by Richard Powers. Ruth’s reading that one so I may break out of my sci-fi thing for lit fic. Now that the common room and my level have achieved near lift off I’ll get to reading more. Including non-fiction. Back to the Irreducible Mind. Breathe. The Werewolf in the Ancient World.

I’ve cut my TV watching in half or more. Reading. Glad. However I do have favorites: The Qin Empire: Alliance, Juvenile Justice. Hotel del Luna. Vox Machina. Pennyworth. The Righteous Gemstones. The Book of Bobba Fett. I love access to tv shows made by different nationalities with their own cultural biases and ways of telling stories. Talking story, as the Hawai’ians call it.

The Qin Empire Alliance is one of those. An historical epic, which I also enjoy, about the Warring States period in China. Serialization of a really long book by Sun Haohui. Same title. Five million words. I mean, wow. He wants the series to run up to a 100 episodes. Hope it does because it’s fascinating. I’d read the book, but it has no English translation yet. The longest book I’ve ever read was not War and Peace, which I have read, but The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a key classic in Chinese literature with several English translations, most of them bad.

At the most demanding time of Kate’s illness I didn’t have much energy for study or writing. So, I watched TV. My favorite in that time period was Resurrection: Ertugrul. It has five seasons and varied in number of episodes from 76 to 90 per season. It calmed me down to revisit this world for several weeks in a row. I could watch TV and be close to Kate who slept nearby.

Wondering now if writing is my thing, or is study? If it is study, to what end? Or, does there have to be an end? A goal beyond learning. Judaism prizes scholarship with no purpose, no reward. I do, too. Might be another reason why I like Judaism so much.

On to making a Container Store order. Organizing kitchen stuff, cabinet by cabinet, shelf by shelf. Fun.

 

Art and Culture, Fourth Phase, Humanities, Letters, Literature, Memories, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Book-Wrapt

Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of the Winter Solstice

Where is Webb? At this moment it is 157000 miles from Earth, 742,000 miles to its orbit, and cruising at a stately 1084 miles per second.

Sunday gratefuls: The Webb. 17% of the way to L2. Our white Christmas. The Power of the Dog. Whoa. Jane Campion. Microwave. Sink, working. Dishwasher, working. Heart, working. Kate, always Kate. Travel. Jon’s prints. Kep’s bounteous fur. Rigel’s pique. Termination Shock, Neil Stephenson. Finished. Barrow spread. Finished. New life. Begun.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Barrow Spread

Tarot: Winter Solstice spread. The Barrow. My question: How can I replenish my fire? A second post, today or tomorrow.

 

Book-wrapt. A new term invented by a neighbor of Toni Morrison’s, a computer scientist who wrote a book on private libraries. Reid Byers: The Private Library. As those of you who’ve seen my loft know, this topic has a personal interest to me. If you clicked through, you’ll know this is a pricey volume. Uncharacteristically, I didn’t buy it. Yet.

“Entering our library should feel like easing into a hot tub, strolling into a magic store, emerging into the orchestra pit, or entering a chamber of curiosities, the club, the circus, our cabin on an outbound yacht, the house of an old friend,” he writes. “It is a setting forth, and it is a coming back to center.”

Mr. Byers coined a term — “book-wrapt” — to describe the exhilarating comfort of a well-stocked library.” NYT, Dec. 24, 2021.

The loft is such a place. It’s not an architect designed space. It doesn’t have the coherence that a purpose built private library might, but it is book-wrapt. Book-full. Book-stacked. A book place. When I come up here, the world shrinks away and I’m in book world, thought world, the Other World of my lived existence. The house is This World where food gets cooked, sleep happens, dogs lounge. A sick wife got cared for.

I have often commented on the strength of Rigel and Kep’s support during my grieving. And, it’s so true. Something I’ve forgotten, or perhaps not recognized until this article, is the support of my library.

Libraries are my happy place. While in Seminary, I had a favorite carrel on the third floor of the library. It overlooked the Seminary grounds, Highway 694, and the forested land across the freeway to the north. My heartbeat slows down, my mind concentrates. I find flow in libraries.

Perhaps that’s the key to my version of a hermitage. In addition to housing the hermit on a mountain top, it also holds books and art, a place to create art, a place to sustain the body. A place to write. A place to read. The library, the loft, is on the grounds, but not of the house. It is its own place, space.

I sit with my back to this when I write

When the living room area gets finished, an Arts and Crafts feel should permeate the house.Without knowing why, that era of design gives me a feeling similar to being book-wrapt. Something about its rich colors, floral patterns, sharp-edged furniture, stained glass. Maybe it’s the Victorian evocation? The Bloomsbury group? Not sure, but I am trying for some level of integration between my book-wrapt space and the This World focus of the house.

 

 

 

 

Aging, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Literature, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Writing

Tireder

Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

Friday gratefuls: Orgovyx. Biologic Pharmacy. The Roger. Phonak. Cheaters. All the little accessories that make aging so much fun. Pulmonologist, too, of course. And, Kate. Always. Jon and the kids. Coming tomorrow. Chicken pot pies. Fatigue. Cool nights in spite of warmer days.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kabbalah and the Gates of Light, by Mark Horn

Tarot: King of cups

What a difference. Yesterday Biologic Pharmacy called and said they were shipping my first prescription of Orgovyx for which I have to pay. Co-pay, $10. Boy, that assistance fund really whacked away at that $800 number.

I am, of course, happy. But. My friend Judy says big pharma wants to cover all of our co-pays for these expensive drugs. Why? So they can charge medicare or insurance companies a higher price without resistance from patients. Don’t know, but seems possible.

When I get into any thought process about medical costs, insurance companies, and medical professionals including hospitals, my brain goes hunting for Ariadne’s thread. So far I’ve not found it. Getting back out from the maze of deals and restrictions and downright cruelty has so far eluded me.

In my second week plus of Orgovyx. It’s kicking my butt right now. The hot flashes have become more frequent, though not too bad. At least not yet. Cheer up, eh? Fatigue, however, has literally laid me low. Backed out of MVP last night after resting most of yesterday. Shortness of breath and no stamina.

This may sound like complaining, but it’s not. I’m grateful for the opportunity to use Orgovyx since it has fewer cardio-vascular risks, lowers testosterone to castration levels in the first month, and has become affordable. We’ll know more at the end of the month after blood work. It can create anemia and I’m wondering about that as an explainer for the fatigue.

Gotta say this was all simpler when I got cured after my prostate removal. Wish it had been true. The journey. My life’s ancientrail from birth to transformation, reincarnation, mortality.

So much happening in the world. That damned Texas abortion law. The possible cessation of the Gulf Stream. Hurricane Ida’s aftermath. Trying to get people to avoid death with an easy vaccine. These painful divisions in our body politic. Trouble passing voting rights legislation. Voting rights! Rights. Trouble getting the second large infrastructure bill through the Senate.

Where to put any inflection, any thumb on the scale I can manage? Seems difficult right now. And, I feel sad. Work other than staying alive feels so hard right now.

Although. I keep drawing Tarot cards that push me toward creative work, art. To get back to it. Example: King of Cups. Three of Stones, Wildwood Deck. Bear, the Animal Oracle deck.

King of cups: Druid deck

A well fed, calm man, a Celtic king, looks out over the ocean, possibly the Irish Sea or the North Sea. His feet, planted on bedrock, show some eagerness to get moving. The bard’s harp behind him speaks to his creativity, his status as king to Fire, a creative element, and the Irish Wolfhound behind him to his character as a compassionate, loving king who will nonetheless protect his subjects. Dawn has begun to rise over the forest behind him and a salmon, the salmon of knowledge, I imagine, jumps in the sea to his left. The small crab at his foot connects him both to the unconscious and to the Zodiac sign of the crab.

The king of cups represents a well-balanced man with his emotions and intellect working together. A great resource for the creative life. Cups as a suit focuses on the emotions so this card is the animus figure, the male energy associated with emotions.

Three of Stones: Wildwood Deck

A Green woman leans against three large standing stones, two pillars and a cap stone. Her hands rest on an Auroch, her right, and an ancient Horse, the Przewalski, her left. Her body has become rooted to the Earth, Wood and Stone and human flesh embrace each other.

The Holy wells of inspiration, of creativity are ancient and eternal like the three standing stones. They are vital and nourishing, like the Green woman and her rootedness. They feed to and from the animal energies of the Horse and the Great Auroch.

This card speaks to my anima, as have several I’ve drawn over the last week.

The Bear: Animal Oracle

Again, a focus on creativity. The Bear suggests a time to relax, to let inspiration and the muse rise to the surface on their own. He’s the monarch of the animals, no need to hurry, to rush around hunting for sustenance. Take a nap.

I’m going with the Bear for right now, going to ease back into writing Jennie’s Dead. But, I am headed there.

 

 

 

 

 

Family, Health, Literature, Myth and Story, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Writing

The Other World. My True Home.

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the waning Megillah Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Easy Entrees. Kate on the vaccine hunt. Vaccines. Covid. Diane. Mary. Mark. Changing Kate’s bandage. Psalms. Poetry. Writing. Leaning into Kate’s changes. The Sun. The Blue. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. The road. The Creeks.

Sparks of Joy: Kep eager to eat. Rigel throwing herself on the bed, back next to mine. Vaccines and the vaccinated.

 

Forgot this. So back at it today, Wednesday. Gratefuls and joys will stand.

Kate had a better day yesterday.

I told her I don’t know what to say when folks ask me how she’s doing. “She’s holding her own,” she replied. There you have it. True.

We spent a long time talking about death. It’s our turn, soon enough. What do we want? How will we live if the other dies first? What do we need in that case? We’re not finished with the conversation. Perhaps we never will be.

Next to me right now I have a stack of books. No surprise. On the bottom of the stack is my yellow Westminster commentary on the Psalms. A gift from Bethlehem-Stewart Presbyterian church where I interned for a year. Above it is Emerson’s Etudes by Cavill. Above Cavill is the Murmuring Deep by Avivah Zornberg, a brilliant Jewish commentator on the Torah. Above that, the Tanakh. On the Tanakh, the Viking Spirit, a new book on Norse Mythology, and a very good one.

I mention them to illustrate what keeps pulling me back in, what is never far from my consciousness. The Other World. That place where the human mind goes when it tires, grieves, no longer knows any answers. Or, when it feels buoyant and joyful. A place that can seem hidden and faraway. At other times so close.

Next to these books are two small collections I purchased recently. Both of JRR Tolkien’s work. One is familiar: The Hobbit. The Fellowship of the Ring. The Two Towers. The Return of the King. The other less so: The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, Farmer Giles of Ham, Smith of Wooton Manor, and Roverandom.

See what I mean? My heart swings toward the fantastic, the religious, stories of the sacred, of gods and men and women and boys and kings and faeries. Where I live when not doing other things like cooking and taking the trash out.

Guess I’m not gonna get on with adulthood. Too late. Somehow though. I’m glad.

These places are not escape for me. That Other World gives us all, has given me, so much. What justice is and why it’s important. What love and loyalty and duty are and why they matter. What adventure and risk and danger offer. How humans transform into creatures and creatures into angels.

They even explain 45 and all his bullshit. Why he’s so unimportant, yet so damned troublesome. Think Sauron. The one ring. There will always be a Bilbo and a Gandalf, a Frodo and a Samson. A Joshua and Jesus. A Thor and an Odin. So much more than the darkness that always threatens to engulf us.

In my own way I write about and inhabit that Other World as much as possible. Not because of its metaphysics, not because of its promise about what we cannot see. No, not that. But because of its impact on the heart, my heart and yours.

Art and Culture, Cinema and Television, Literature, Media, Myth and Story, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Travel, US History, Writing

Acts of Creation

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the crescent Wolf Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Beau Jo’s pizza. Easy Entree’s Chicago beef sandwiches. Keepin’ me sane. Kate. Somewhat better days. Trying new things with her nourishment. That crescent Moon. Sleeping through the night. Invisible City, a short Netflix series featuring Brazilian folklore. Latin American magical realism. 100 Years of Solitude. Marquez.

Folklore. Legend. Fairy tales. Mythology. Religion. Art. These are some of my favorite things.

Just finished the short series, Invisible City, on Netflix. It features Brazilian folktale creatures like the Saci, the Cuca, the Cucupira, the pink River Dolphin. Green Frontier, a Colombian series from 2017, focuses on the Amazonian forest and the supernatural.

Netflix and to a lesser extent, Amazon Prime and HBO Max, keep offering films and television series from all over the world. I love this, especially the original programming on Netflix produced by local creatives in their own language and in their own thought worlds. The supernatural dramas draw me in though they vary a great deal in quality.

I also love dramas and mysteries that show life in different places. Gomorrah, organized crime in Naples. The Alienist, turn of the century (19th to 20th) New York, Monarca, contemporary Mexico City, Wild District, contemporary life in Bogota and the lives of guerillas. Many others.

Since I can’t get out, get around, these days, travel comes to me. The anthropologist in me loves the folktales, the cultures, the different mores. And the ticket price is far lower.

Reading lately. Finished a few chess related novels after watching the amazing Queen’s Gambit on Netflix. Finishing Theodora Gossa’s European Travels for Monstrous Women and will pick up Kim Stanley Robinson’s, the Ministry of the Future next. Science fiction and fantasy also live in the fairy tale, folktale, legendary realm.

Writing. Jennie’s Dead. Ancientrails. Writing a Psalm for the Rabbi Jamie class. Not as much as I’d like, more than I’ve been doing. Just bought some Brazilian folklore books. Might be good basis for a new novel.

I have another novel idea I’ve been kicking around for years, one that would examine white supremacy, maybe militias. This one emerges not from the favorite things I mentioned above, but from my growing up years in Indiana. Like my buddy Mark Odegard this work sustains me, even though it may never see the light of day.

My birthday’s coming up and I’m playing with the idea of a podcast or a Patreon website on which I would read my own novels, figure out some sort of subscription service. Not a new idea, novels were sometimes published in newspapers, magazines, in serial fashion. Combine my speaking voice with my creative voice. The birthday part of this is buying items for a podcasting studio.

Friend Alan Rubin has a lot of experience in audio recording and has created a studio for himself to do voice overs and commercials. He’s advised me. I’ve watched Youtube videos and just bought Audio for Authors, a book about this sort of project.

So, yes, the creative me stays alive, is never far from my consciousness.

The only rule is to work. From a list of rules by John Cage. That’s the trick. Persistence.

Commentary on the news, Family, Friends, Health, Humanities, Judaism, Kabbalah, Literature, Poetry, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., US History, Woolly Mammoths

No More Checking on the Idiot

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the waning Wolf Moon

Friday gratefuls: Kate. Scott. Bill’s tough assignment for Sunday morning. Seeing into ourselves. And talking about it. Biden. Better than expected. He’s got momentum. And, public opinion. 45 fading out. His impeachment. Colder weather here. Sleep. The Psalms.

from 2016

No more checking on the idiot. Thank god. Still, for the duration of the impeachment his peculiar style of unthinking, thought garbling, strangled rationales is on display. Gee, his lawyers, the first group, didn’t think he could make a good argument that the election was a fraud. Hmm. The next set convinced him that a constitutional argument made sense. Doesn’t matter anyhow since Republicans (what does that word even mean) won’t calve a 17 vote iceberg to sink his Titanic. More’s the pity.

It’s important, I believe, to try him for inciting insurrection. No matter the political reality of judgement. If it were up to me, I’d have the Attorney General arrest him for sedition. Try him. Sentence him for as long as his unnatural life lasts. He likes orange so it shouldn’t be much of a hardship.

Rabbi Hillel

After some prodding by Rabbi Jamie, I’m going to pick up the study of Psalms this morning at 9:30 a.m. I’m three classes behind, but he assured me I could catch up, no problem. We’re going to work on the 23rd Psalm today.

One insight I’ve had in re-reading it, reading his translation, reading a couple of others. Walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Or, through death’s dark vale as another has it. I always imagined this as a personal confrontation with death, my death, your death. Not sure why I thought that, but I did.

Now, it’s clear to me that the issue is grief. Death’s dark veil thrown over life. Mom’s death. Regina Schmidt’s. 450,000 Covid deaths. We are in death’s penumbra as we have not been in my lifetime, save perhaps for the Vietnam War.

I shall fear no Trump, no matter what he doth.

Looking forward to this class. It’s been a long slog with Kate and with Covid, mostly life shaved down to workouts, sleep, cooking, shopping for food, TV. Not much intellectual challenge. It’s like meat and drink for me, learning.

When I look inside, as Bill has suggested we do for this Sunday, and define myself, I first see a student. A curious man. Not sure why I never moved from student to scholar, but I never did. I’m a fine student though and learning feeds my soul.

I’ll let you know how it goes.