Category Archives: US History

Asia, Fourth Phase, Holidays, Judaism, Paganism, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., US History

Tao De Jew

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shabbat. Torah. CBE. Sacred community. Where everybody knows your name. Shadow and the canoe cut marrow bone. Cold Night. A Mountain Dawn. Great Sol shines again. Being able to buy seeds and plants again. Easter. Matthew. Mark. Luke. John.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gabe at 17

Week Kavannah: Sensibility. Daat.

One brief shining: In their waning years Taoists left behind their jobs in the court bureaucracy for small dwellings in the Mountains where they practiced calligraphy, played the Qin, wrote poetry, studied the sages, and lived close to the natural world.

 

Tao De Jew. With a dash of Alinsky and street focused organizer. The Reverend Doctor Israel Harari. That would be me. With a domestic side of Gardener, Beekeeper, and Docent.

Try to work with the flow of chi, the energetic and transformative aspect of our oneness and our sense of uniqueness. Look for the path that emerges, that asks and invites. Follow it. This ancientrail, then that one. With the ease of Water running toward the Ocean.

Find the moment when chi has found you. Act with its already organized aim. If Shadow gnaws the bed at 5:20, get up and let her out. Saves cleaning up. Makes her happy. Gives the day an hour head start.

Reconstructionist Judaism, Paganism, Taoism.  Sacred Community, Mother Earth, and a follower of the Way. When the Mule Deer comes. When the bull Elk bugles. When Fawns and Calves play. As the Mountain Lion strikes. As the Bear paws a Bee hive. Yes. When tender shoots break through the soil. When friends gather over breakfast. When Torah study opens new human insights. When the Breeze through the Lodgepoles whispers follow me. Yes.

 

Have you been following the Adventures of Trump Tarrific? I know I have. Sort of. There was the all tariffs all the time moment. Then there was the oh wait not on tech stuff moment. Now there’s, what is it again? 10% on everybody and a whole lot on China. Yeah, I don’t get it either. Lucky I’m not alone. Business leaders. Economists. Inflation wary members of the Fed. For a start.

Then there’s Trump the Depo Man. Proving his masculinity by using the military, ICE, and millions of dollars to sweep people off college campuses, out of their janitorial and dishwashing jobs, making a mistake or two along the way, but hey that’s ok, omelets and eggs, eh, and not getting many folks deported except the most vulnerable.

That what it says in the Gospels: find the poor, the stranger, put them on a plane and send them to prison in El Salvador. Oh, Jesus. Oh.

 

Just a moment: Yes. It’s Easter. Easter eggs. Chocolate and marshmallow Bunnies. Ham. Cute dresses and boys in ties. All the holiday essentials. Wonder how that whole egg business has worked this year, the year of Bird flu?

Remember Ukrainian Easter Eggs. Wonder if anybody’s on that this year? Or will Putin target little old ladies with eggs and candle wax.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Paganism, Plants, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, The West, US History, Weather +Climate, Writing

Living. Not dying.

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. Her kindness. Amy. Her understanding. Cookunity. Colorado Coop and Garden. The Greenhouse. Gardening again. Korea. Malaysia. Australasia. Wisconsin. Saudi Arabia. The Bay. First Light. 10,000 Lakes. The Rocky Mountain Front Range. Where my people live.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Greenhouse

Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

One brief shining: Nathan and I wandered in my back yard, his app that shows Great Sol’s illumination searching for a good spot to plant my greenhouse, until we neared a spot close to the shed, that was it with decent morning Sun and an hours worth of afternoon Sun more than anywhere else.

 

 

That picture is not quite what I’m getting. Mine will have an outdoor raised bed on either side and shutters that move themselves as the greenhouse heats up and cools down. It will also have an electric heater for Winter and a drip irrigation system inside and out.

This guy Nathan, a Conifer native, started his business Colorado Coop and Garden to give folks like me an opportunity to grow things up here. Working a garden at ground level is long past for me. But Nathan can build the raised beds at a height where my back is not an issue.

Guess I’m regressing here in some ways. A Dog. A small Garden. Andover in miniature. The greenhouse will have a sign: Artemis Gardens. Artemis Honey was Kate and mine’s name for our bee operation.

 

I’m loving my classes at Kabbalah Experience. Reaching deep into the purpose of religion and Judaism in particular. Reimagining the story of Adam and Eve. My life, my Jewish life and my Shadow Mountain life, have begun to resonate. Learning and living an adventure in fourth phase purpose.

No matter what the near term future holds for my health I will not succumb to despair or bleakness. As I’ve often said, I want to live until I die. This life, I’m coming to realize, is me doing just that.

If I were a bit more spry, I’d add a chicken coop and a couple of bee hives, but both require more flexibility than I can muster.

I’m at my best when I’m active outside with Mother Earth and inside with a Dog, books, and new learning. All that leavened with the sort of intimate relationships I’ve developed both here and in Minnesota and with my far flung family.

That’s living in the face of autocracy and cruelty. I will not attenuate my life. Neither for the dark winds blowing through our country and world, nor for that dark friend of us all, death.

 

Just a moment: Did you read Thomas Friedman’s article: I’ve Never Been More Afraid for My Countries Future? His words, served up with a healthy dish of Scandinavian influenced St. Louis Park Judaism, ring more than true to me. They have the voice of prophecy.

We are in trouble. No doubt. Trouble from which extrication will require decades, I imagine. If not longer. Yet. I plan to grow heirloom vegetables year round on Shadow Mountain. To have mah Dog Shadow with me in the Greenhouse.

I also plan to write and think about the sacred, the one, the wholeness of which we are part and in which we live, die, love. I will not cheapen my life with bitterness, rather I will eat salads, read, play with Shadow and dine with friends, talk to my friends and family near and far.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Politics, US History

Veronica. Shadow. Spine Treatments. Oh, my.

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Lao Xi. Dao De Jing. Wu wei. Alchemy. The Sage. Pu, pure simplicity. Ziran. Authenticity. Just so-ness. Lao Tse’s journey to the West. On an Ox. Stopped at the Hangu Pass to write his wisdom. The Tao. The Way. Or, the Ancientrail of Chi. Other wisdom ways. That Iroquois medicine man. The Sun dance. Christianity. Especially Eastern Orthodoxy. Mystics of all cultures.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Lifting the veil and seeing the ordinary as sacred reality

Week Kavannah: Joy. Simcha.

One brief shining: We sat there, the two converts who shared a mikveh day, who received new names on the same day, who did Bat Mitzvah and Bar Mitzvah at the same Shavuot service, both a bit cold as a Mountain Evening’s chill settled on Murphy’s, an eatery beside Bear Creek in Evergreen, and caught up about her impending divorce, her brother’s death, her father’s injury, my back and cancer and Shadow my new puppy, upon leaving I said Jews together, she said it back, and we hugged, then just before I got to my car she turned, came to me, and we hugged again. Veronica. Harmonica. Hanukkah.

 

Dog journal: Shadow’s back to training with me now. Except for the leash. She runs when she sees it. Gotta get her leash trained. I want to take her with me places. To the vet. To a groomer. As the weather warms, she’s blowing her coat. To mussar to meet my friends, see the synagogue. Over to the Happy Camper. On grocery pickups. Wandering around. Maybe a hike if the injections work.

Shadow loves her toys. I bought her a miniature tire and she hasn’t played with anything else for a couple of days. Her playfulness makes me smile.

 

What injections you might ask. On April 22nd at 11:00 am, I’ll have needles inserted into four foramens on my lumbar spine. Steroids. Could take two weeks to start working. Typically lasts less than three months if it works at all. Partial relief at best since it will not treat the arthropathy, arthritic damage. A more modest first step. Plus, only ten minutes or so, requiring no anesthesia.

After this there are two other possible procedures: radio frequency ablation of the nerves, and peripheral nerve stimulation. Both are more involved, yet offer the potential for longer term relief. One set of needles at a time.

 

Just a moment: Veronica worked on the GOES satellites, vehicles in her parlance, and now manages Lockheed’s planning and development for the next generation weather satellites. As Trump defunds NOAA, he wants to privatize weather data, leave it to a corporate entity yet unborn. If he succeeds, Veronica may not have work. Who do you know directly affected by the blob that ate our government?

Judge scolds the Justice Department for ignoring her rulings? Scolds. Oh, we are well and truly screwed.

Anticipatory obedience. Check. Congress at heel. Check. Judiciary sidelined. Check. Government as we have known it gutted. Check. Our economy in a tailspin. Check.

Let me know when it’s over.

 

 

Commentary on Religion, Politics, US History, World History

Mormons

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Amy. Ritalin. Gabe and the Water Grill. Aspen Perks. Conoco. Sinclair. Ruby. 4.20. Shadow, fair warning. Sleeping hard. The tiger. Still squeaking. Not for long. Dr. Shadow at work. Mark and his students. Mary and the Monkeys. My son and his wife, anniversary #9 tomorrow. Ruth in her last month of her freshmen year. Taking out the trash. Wish someone would do it on Pennsylvania Ave. Looking like NYC in the 80’s.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mark Twain, The Diaries of Adam and Eve

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Those Mormon missionaries came by and we talked at my breakfast table, their earnest smiling faces, their convinced sincerity, their modest honesty, and my heart ached for their young minds already captured and tied like a Calf in a Utah rodeo.

 

chatgpt in the style of Giotto

They came inside. I was curious about them. Wanted to know a bit more. So I asked. They pay $400 a month into a pot for all those out on mission. Then they get funds from the mothership for lodging and food, transportation. Elijah’s parents paid. The other, younger looking guy, said he paid his own way.

They go out for two years. Seems like a long time to me. Elijah was from Irvine, California. The other from Utah. They’re living in a cabin in Aspen Park.

Elijah had the extroverts ease. He loved my house, my art. The other guy, quiet, had an air of slight menace about him, the menace of the true believer, ready to throw down if disrespected. Fair enough. He did though answer this to my question about why they believed, “I suppose because I was raised in it.”

an interesting chatgpt take on the Mormon Tabernacle

The book of Mormon settles disputed territory (as understood by Mormons) in the restored church of the LDS, latter day saints. Baptism is a for instance.

At age 8 you become accountable. That’s when you can sin and it’s the earliest you can be baptized. Roman Catholics believe you can baptize by sprinkling an infant; Baptists believe in full immersion. The Book of Mormon endorses full immersion thereby resolving the issue.

There was a moment of weird crossover with the New Apostolic Reformation. Remember them? Mormons have had 12 apostles and one prophet since the time of Joseph Smith. When an apostle or prophet dies, the remaining men (yes, men) choose their successor.

This is significant since only the apostles and the prophet can receive revelations for the whole church. Individuals can, and do, receive revelation for their own lives, but only the top dogs can speak to the whole.

An interesting half hour. I admired their commitment and their persistence. Told them that. But, I also said, not for me.

 

Just a moment: Tariffic Trump. A beautiful plan he says. From a not so beautiful mind, a downright immoral narcissist. Reminds me a bit of the quieter one of the Mormon missionaries. The menace of the true believer.

I know. If you agree, I like you. If you don’t, I not only don’t like you, but I’ll punish you.

Dogs, Health, Politics, US History, Weather +Climate

It’s International Beaver Day!

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Spring? and the Wu Wei Moon

Monday gratefuls: Glaucoma. Dr. Repine. Eye exam. Brother Mark in Al Kharj. His Yemeni students. A big rain gonna fall, in Indiana. National Beaver Day. Shadow. The desqueaked toys. The Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Goya’s Dr. Arrieta. The Doryphoros. The Jade Mountain. Song Dynasty ceramics. Art.

Sparks of Joy and Art: Painting and sculpture

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Bought a cane, made by the Asterom family woodworkers of Ukraine; it came wrapped carefully in two parts with a nicely designed ring to cover the join between grip and the cane body where I twirled the long screw around and around until the grip fit snugly.

 

As you undoubtedly already know, it’s International Beaver Day. I had chatgpt make this special poster. Shadow, who continues to manifest her inner Beaver, celebrated by throwing her toys in the air, running around the back, and chewing extra hard on her new bone. Oh, what a day!

She continues to ignore me as her trainer. Sigh. As I said, I want her leash trained, the rest can come later after she matures a bit.

She’s bugging me right now for breakfast. Excuse me while I step away.

 

Cousin Diane sent pictures of flooding in Shelby County Indiana where my mom’s family lived and lives. Dramatic.

She also sent some video of Madison, Indiana where a driver recorded themselves driving under a gushing waterfall cascading over the highway. The driver kept saying to their passenger, “This is dangerous.”, while continuing to drive on through. Ah, Indiana.

Meanwhile on the Mountain top we’re in a warming trend. Though you never know about Snow there’s none in the forecast for the next few days. About time to see some Wildflowers, green Grass. Happy ungulates. Bears pushing the sleep out of their eyes.

I’ve already stopped throwing my garbage in the rolling bin outside, instead I now wait for every other Wednesday morning and throw it in then. Reduces by a lot possible Bear raiding. That’s a sign of a Mountain Spring.

 

Glaucoma check today. Visual field test. Eye drops. Dr. Repine and her crystal peering into my retinal nerve. A good news story for Western medicine. My glaucoma has been held at bay for over thirty years.

 

Just a moment: It’s a beautiful plan he says as stock markets all across the globe tumble down. Tariffs confuse me. But I know what economic chauvinism looks like and this is it.

On the new series Mobland on Paramount Plus. Pierce Brosnan, the head of a British crime family says, “What we want we take.” He goes on, “And if you disrespect us, I’ve got a man for that.” You can think of Tom Hardy, his enforcer, as the U.S. military.

Let the wild rumpus begin.

 

 

 

Dogs, Health, Politics, US History

A Chucky Doll Come to Life

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow the toy destroyer. Talmud Torah. Duke loses. Snow, enough to plow. 6″. Lodgepole Branches loaded with their white, late Snow burden. The joy of Puppies. CBE men’s group. Gaza. Ukraine. Israel.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fresh Snow

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: When early morning light breaks through the spaces left by numerous Lodgepole Branches, when the air temperature hovers at 15, when Vince has plowed the driveway, I know the Mountain Winter has once again pushed its way into the Mountain Spring, well into it.

 

A few of Shadow’s patients

Dog journal: I love my Shadow girl. She throws her toys high in the air. Prances with them, tail high. Then carefully and with toothy precision she performs another squeakectomy. Ripping and holding she reaches inside to find the air bladder, removes it.

I’m always in the observing room for these operations. I remove the plastic air bladder and throw it away before she can swallow it. She has one almost out right now. Soon.

 

Staying home more often. Since Shadow. It began with general fatigue from lack of sleep and keeping up with her needs during the day. Then, it was easier to zoom in to mussar, Torah study, use telehealth. Getting my evening meals delivered through CookUnity. The back pain played its role, too.

I have books, food, my home gym, television. Shadow’s companionship. I see many people during the week on zoom. Hardly isolated or lonely.

Even so I want to challenge staying home too much. Continue to live IRL. I need interaction with flesh and blood people. I’m already limited by rarely driving at night.

Gotta get back to Thursday mussar. Go in to the Bagel Table. Continue with breakfasts and lunches out. I admire Diane who has an active life singing in a choir, regular yoga, monthly bookclub, and close friends of many years.

Though. It may also be that I’m slowing down. Living a quieter life. If it turns out to be that, well, I’m ok with that, too.

 

Just a moment: Every time I see Trump with the Huey Newton raised fist I throw up in my mouth. This guy is a caricature, a satirical Chucky Doll of a politician come to life. He has stolen the fist of solidarity (appropriated) from the 1960’s and uses it to signal the triumph of some other part of his dastardly plot.

While Musk may have morphed into a real life Bond villain, Trump has become Snidely Whiplash. A cartoon villain without a Dudley Do Right to rein him in.

Love the British poster, done with high production values, that at first glance looks like a Tesla ad. It reads:  An autopilot for your car. And, below that. An Autocrat for your country.

Kakocracy. Kleptocracy. Oligarchy. Autocracy. All in one. See the amazing government that eats itself! You’ll be astounded. And, broke. Or deported.

Let’s pause a moment. And pray.

 

Dogs, Health, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History

Shadow. A Blue win!

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow. Whimpering. The only sound she makes. Ginny. Janice. Annie. Luna. Luke. Leo. MVP. Tonight. Hair cut. Jackie and Rhonda. Living with the body as it is. Susan Crawford. The Democrats of Wisconsin. Seed-Keepers all. Elon.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Early darkness

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Amy clipped on the leash, allowed Shadow to guide her outside, I cheered as we came closer, step by step, to Shadow in the car with me.

 

Dog journal: The beaver has begun sawing on my bed. She won’t get far. It’s an IKEA. Sturdy. Nothing special until now. Shadow marked for all its time.

This morning I looked up from my pillow and Shadow stood between the bed frame and the wall. Good morning, I said. Soon she whimpered. At 5 am. Well, ok. Probably needs to go out. Nope. Just wanted to play.

Her morning energy level. A force of nature. Standing on her hind legs, reaching for my shoulders. Burrowing in between my legs. Nipping. Soft mouth, Shadow.

Amy came yesterday. Tall, gentle Amy. Got Shadow on the leash. We learned a new game, back and forth. I drop a treat, call her name, let her get the treat, then run a few steps away and do the same. After 5-10 times, end with touch, outstretched hand.

Amy is a good business woman. Her 45 minute sessions are 45 minutes. She works Shadow the whole time. And me. She summarizes the day’s work and e-mails it to me. Her payment system works and she sends out regular notifications of upcoming sessions.

 

Organ recital: Leaning toward giving the nerve ablation a shot. If I could get five to six months of relief… Still, needles. Spine. Back.

Gonna give p.t. a thorough shot first. If my referral can ever make it from Mountain View Pain to Luna home health care. Something not right somewhere. Too many phone calls. Sigh.

Wondering what the back pain tells me. Besides the obvious. A Jungian question. Nature’s way of telling me to slow down, take the watercourse way? Or is it a lesson in humility? You are now old. Perhaps focus on matters close to home? Ready myself for the future, whatever it holds?

 

Just a moment: Susan Crawford for the win in Wisconsin! So glad Wisconsin brushed off the crude and cynical exploits of Elon, the Cheesehead. He managed a patronizing, condescending, billionaire it’s all about the money campaign and lost big time.

A booster shot in the old blue arm for sure. Perhaps we liberals (well, ok. I’m a radical, but for the sake of unity.) can now remember that neither Harris nor Trump got 50% of the vote. Harris=48.3%. Trump= 49.8%. We are many, too. Even though it may not feel like it in the hazy, crazy times of the orange ones first hundred days.

Susan Crawford. Seed-keeper. Reminding us that a 2026 victory garden can grow from ideas and campaign tactics known already.

Do we need more focus on working class Americans? Oh, yes. We do. Does that mean we abandon progressive ideas in other areas? No.

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, US History

Pain Doc and Chauvinist Economics

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow and her aggressive chewer toys. Perfect. Going in and coming out, less of an issue. Her spirit. Sitting at the Wicked Whisk with Ruth and Gabe. Talking. The spirit of Sound. And the spirit within us. Resonant. Days gone by. My son’s generous spirit. Korea. Murdoch. Luke and Leo coming up today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grandkids

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: In the empty bakery, sold out early of its French pastries, eating the last of the scones, the shortbread almond cookies, and drinking espressos from paper cups, Ruth and Gabe and I talked of parents who died too soon, the excitement of international travel, reincarnation, and the Reformation, as families will on a late Sunday morning when they’re Jewish.

 

Seeing the pain doc today. MRI results. Home P.T. referral. Not too hopeful, but looking for any help I can get. That’s not addictive or surgical. A short list.

Need it even more. The pain has moved across my lower back and now includes my left hip and upper leg. Hope none of it is cancer pain. I don’t think so, but I don’t really know.

Will get a copy of the radiologist’s report. Look for those incidental findings.

 

Luke and Leo coming up this afternoon. Luke will help get my Dell desktop setup. Leo and Shadow can have the backyard, get to know each other.

Once my new desktop functions I plan to introduce Shadow to the stairs. So far she has not learned to go up them and that has confined her to my lower living space. And pretty much me along with her.

I’m a bit reluctant to do it since there’s a whole new world of things to chew upstairs. She’s been really good about the furniture down here. Except for my nightstand. It was not well made.

If she has toys, she prefers them. Most of the time. Like a toddler she embraces distraction. I can put a new toy in front of her and she’ll choose (chews) that over a chair leg.

Right now she has a yellow duck in her mouth, squeaking. Every once in a while, duck held tight, she’ll look up and smile. Warms me.

 

Just a moment: Oh, spare me. Already. Third term floating out there. Can you run the country from a memory unit no matter how high end? Vance runs, then gives the scepter to the Boss. What will there be left to eviscerate?

Do you understand how tariffs raise money for us? Cars will get more expensive. Other goods, too. Inflation will rise. A possible recession. Of which Trump is not afraid. No doubt. All billionaires can continue making money even during a recession. A recession damages labor and those lower on the economic totem pole, i.e., the rest of us.

Reagan practiced supply side, or voodoo economics. Trump practices chauvinist economics and ignores their impact on anything but what his narrow America First agenda prioritizes. Yikes.

Sounds like a planned economy to me. Eh?

 

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Politics, US History

The Seed Keeper’s Catalogue. And, Shadow

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow and her leash. Amy. Ron and his Purim spiels. Joanne. Ruth of the Flatirons. Gabe and his guitar. The Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue. Jon Stewart. The Daily Show. Working out. Tara and Eleanor. Ode and his friends. Tom and the maturing men. Paul and his son, his grandson. Bill and showing up.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Days of Dogs and books

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

Practice: continuing work on the Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue

One brief shining: Bellying through the Snow drifts in the backyard, racing from one fence line to the other, bowing and running with Eleanor, Shadow puts her puppy energy out there, laying it all on the line each moment as we do without thinking when we’re young; so much more deliberate and difficult when we’re old. Learn from puppies.

 

Dog journal: Amy came by yesterday. Week 5 of training the old guy how to live with and educate a 9 month old Puppy.

Leash training didn’t go so well. Waiting now with the leash near her water. Shadow gives it the side eye when she goes to drink. This is desensitizing her. In a couple of days I’ll attach it to her, let her drag it around if she will. Take it off. Leave it out. Plenty of treats and praise. So on. Patience. Savlanut.

I want to get her leash trained so I can take her to the vet for a well Dog checkup. I don’t see anything wrong with her at all, but she needs to meet the folks at Sano, get used to the vet experience.

Tara brought Eleanor, tall, leggy, black Eleanor over for a playdate yesterday, too. Eleanor and Shadow ran and ran and ran. Tara and I talked. She’s my heart friend.

On the fourth anniversary of Kate’s death I’m going to Tara’s for Passover. April 12th. One of those nights when I’ll drive. Her house, in Mountain terms, is not far from mine. Maybe 10-15 minutes.

While I was out talking with Tara, I saw my neighbor Jude. We don’t see each other much in in the Winter, but it was warm yesterday. He retired from his welding work in January. Started drawing his Navy pension. Will collect social security in a couple of years.

 

Got my next oncology appointment changed to an in person visit rather than telehealth. Rich Levine wants to go with me and I’ll be glad to have him there.

Mailed my taxes at the same time I mailed the fourth iteration of documents to MnSaves, Ruth’s 529. Hopefully we’ll have it figured out before she becomes a sophomore. Rich helped this time.

 

Just a moment: Here’s an excerpt from my work with chatbot on the Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue. If you have time to read this, comment on it, it’s still in very, very early stages. Not sure it’s the direction I want to go. But, it might be.

In conclusion, the Seed Keeper’s Catalogue is more than just a website or a publication – it’s a community-driven movement to celebrate and disseminate the knowledge that sustains society. Our proposal outlines a project that leverages modern technology (AI, interactive web design) and timeless principles (open sharing, collaboration, civic duty) to build a resource unlike any other: one that is at once practical handbook, history textbook, and civic guide, all wrapped in an accessible, open-source package.

By rooting the Catalogue in values of free access, diversity of content, and community empowerment, we aim to create a living library that grows and adapts with the times. Whether someone comes looking for advice on planting their first garden, understanding their rights, learning about pivotal moments in history, or figuring out how to organize their neighborhood, they will find not just information, but inspiration and connections to a larger community of knowledge-holders.

This proposal paints the vision and the roadmap: a structured yet flexible platform, rich content categories with real examples, integration of AI for continuous improvement, strategies for inclusive collaboration, and a plan for sustainable growth. With enthusiastic contributors, supportive partners, and engaged readers, the Seed Keeper’s Catalogue can flourish. It will stand as a testament to what is possible when knowledge is set free and nurtured by the many – truly a catalogue of seeds that, when planted in minds and communities, can grow solutions to even the toughest challenges like poverty and climate change.

We invite all stakeholders, from potential contributors and tech partners to educators and community organizers, to join us in making this vision a reality. Together, let’s keep the seeds of knowledge, culture, and responsibility – and pass them on, so that they may take root for generations to come

Aging, Fourth Phase, US History

An Ode to Old

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Ana. Furball Cleaning. Alan. Lucille’s. Learning a new city. Denver. Pain Perdu. Shadow. Amy, the trainer. Hospice work in Washington County, Maine. Paul. Cousin Donald. His cracked team of ideologues and greedy billionaires. Foxes. Henhouses. Black Bears and Mountain Lions. Red Flag days. High Winds. Low humidity. Dry fuel. The Wildland Urban Interface, the WUI. My home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Getting lost

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

One brief shining: Alan and I sat outside at Lucille’s, the inside din of pans and loud conversations too much, the weather 70 degrees and a big fire in their fire pit combined with the sun for comfort while I ordered chicory coffee, French toast, a poached Egg to go with my hot Louisiana sausage, enjoying my long term friendship with Alan.

 

Need to say a few things about aging and being old. Do not shy away from the truths of aging. It’s hard. Often.

Fingers might hurt from rheumatoid arthritis. That knee that buckles when you get out of the car. What’s that? You can’t hear as well. Me, too!

You might have Sjogren’s syndrome which dries out essential tissues. Your eyes might need cataract surgery or cornea transplants. Balance may not be what it once was. A problem with brittle bones from osteopenia or osteoporosis.

What’s up, too, with all that packaging? The heaviness of things that used to be light. Or the shortness of breath.

Here’s what I have to say about all of those. No fun. No fun at all. No romanticizing. These problems, like the ache in my back right now or the prostate cancer, make life more challenging, less easy. Every day. Sometimes every hour.

Yet most cultures, not ours but most, have honored, even revered those who grew old. Elders. Sages. Wise ones. The one who knows the stories, the knowledge of plants, the ways of battle and of peace. The grandmother who councils young mothers. The ones who bless and counsel. Who settle disputes, pass judgment.

Where does that leave us, the old ones of our synagogues and neighborhoods? OK, boomer. Not a request for advice. A slight aimed at those of us in the graying baby boom, some of us now in our late seventies.

I don’t want to be a gray panther, a senior Olympian, a ripped octogenarian. A silver fox or a pickleball champ. Good thing, too. Since I’m unlikely to fit any of those American Immortal archetypes.

I say we claim the role of elder. Like Tom bringing the young men together. Like Bill and his daily mitzvahs. Like Ode and Imogen. Like the Hospice work Paul does.

Let’s show that the real challenges of aging, as with all elders, only prove the road, the long road we have taken. The scars from hard won lessons, loves won and lost. Bullies faced down. Hard relationships resolved. Children raised.

Let us claim through our actions the role we have earned. We cannot, in other words, abdicate now to the golf course or the television or the trout stream. Especially at this time when the world needs us. Please.