Category Archives: Writing

Acting, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain, The Move, US History, Weather +Climate, World History, Writing

A fascinating time to be alive

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Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Dinner with Tom at the Willows last night. Long time friends. Diane. A Mountain Wind. Snow knocked off the Lodgepoles. Snow and Ice on Black Mountain Drive. Advent. Sussex. The Jacquie Lawson advent calendar. Going to bed. Waking up. The Chrysalis Effect by Phillip Slater. CJ Box. Kep, the old dog. US vs. Netherlands. How to become a pagan. Acting class. Nitya. Teaching the Ancient Brothers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Holimonth

 

Acting class has been hit by illness. Tal, the teacher, has the flu or something like it. Nitya, a class member, spent several days in the ICU and is still recovering in the hospital. Not sure what will happen. Tal wants to hold a class on Friday, but I’m reluctant to go given the recency of his bout with the flu. A tough wind down for what has been an interesting and challenging experience.

I was ready. I’d gotten both monologues memorized and somewhat polished. I knew all the lines in my two scenes. Not wasted work. Good work. Helps the brain. Adds some literature to the bank.

Tomorrow morning I present in the Creativity class. Think I’m going to do my How to become a pagan piece. Wrote it yesterday. Gotta see how long it is when spoken. Going to lean into writing and art over the winter as I said yesterday. This was a start.

 

High Wind warning today. The Lodgepoles have begun to sway. Dancing with each other as Sunlight makes their tops glow. I haven’t written about it but the Mountains and their Trees and Wild Neighbors? I would have missed them. A lot. Couldn’t imagine being in a city environment where no Pine Trees framed the Nighttime Stars. Will not trade this beauty for a place with less. Hawai’i matches the Mountains with its Oceans and old Volcanic Mountains, its rich fauna. Someday. But right now. This wonderful place is home.

 

The world. Russia looking like a blind Bear in the Ukraine. Wrecking the place, striking out wildly. China finding that suppression and repression have their limits. Even with a newly anointed dear leader. The US struggling with divisions at home and new fractures among European allies. Not a great time to be a world power.

 

It is however a fascinating time to be alive. Talks of a moon base. Be still my John Carter, Flash Gordon little boy heart. The James Webb showing us more and more of the universe in which we live and move and have our becoming. A world shifting its long term basic rules. Climate change accelerating. Women growing in power. China and Russia and the upstart USA. All in flux.

Glad to have these years as my last ones.

Colorado, Dogs, Hawai'i, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Writing

Closing in

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Fall and the Simchat Torah Moon

Friday gratefuls: Darkness at 7 am. Sleep. Up before Kep. Acting. Dr. Artov. Monologue. Ground pork. Potatoes. Cheese. Eggs. Breakfast. Rabbi Jamie. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Honing in on a decision. Ruth and Gabe. Those Foxes. Ode. Tom. Bill. Paul. My Ancient Brothers. Hawai’i. Emily. Michelle. Robin. Diane.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: See’s Candy

 

Forgot to write yesterday. Got up at 10 till 8, fed Kep, talked to Diane, worked out, went to mussar, then talked to Rabbi Jamie. Home. Cooked. Spaced out till bed time. Not often, but yesterday I just plain forgot. Back at it right now as you can tell.

 

Wednesday was a very productive day. Robin came with Michelle. Michelle was the muscle, a younger woman with work gloves and a plaid shirt. A kind, caring person. We marked the things in the garage that I want to keep or that can be sold. Everything else will get picked up by Reid and Gone For Good while I’m Hawai’i. Also all the stuff Diane removed from the wood cabinets will be taken by Michelle and Robin for donation. I’ll come back to a spacious garage. Gotta get out that power washer for the floors.

They’re also going to move all the banker’s boxes in from the garage so I can sort through them. With Diane’s help last week and the work on Wednesday we’ve made real progress. It feels great. That large sack I’ve been pulling behind me since I lived in Irvine Park has begun to decrease in size. Significantly. Where ever I decide to go, whenever I decide to do it, I’ll have a move that’s both cheaper and easier. A new home setup that will go faster.

 

About that. In mussar we talk about a balance. A midpoint between say pride and meekness. Humility. A midpoint between anger and passivity, assertiveness. A midpoint between apathy and co-dependence, loving-kindness. A mid-point for this move it turns out is staying in Colorado. In particular the Golden area.

Advantages: Cheaper. Quicker. Easier. New place, yet familiar. Gabe and Ruth seen through high school. Easy access to Evergreen and CBE. A college town. My oncologist and Kristie. Personal growth. A chance to see Colorado, which I still haven’t done. Utah. Taos. Santa Fe. Four Corners.

Neither the all out adventure of a move to Hawai’i or a return to the forty years familiar Twin Cities metro. In some sense Colorado is like both. There’s still a lot of Colorado (most) that I haven’t seen. Like Hawai’i and California Colorado is a place people from all over the world travel to see. Like Minnesota I have good friends here.

Definite top of my list right now. We’ll see after Hawai’i. I’ll make a decision then. A major factor in where and when I go, too, is Kep. A lot of places won’t take Akitas, Minnesota, Hawai’i, Colorado. With his recent blindness and deafness I may choose to stay in place until his death, an earlier plan I scuttled when I learned about the tax consequences of selling the house after April 12th. Money is far from everything.

 

Have delayed thinking about the trip to Hawai’i with all the stuff going on. Gotta check my meds, pack, get ready. Every thing is set up. Dog/house sitter. Parking spot. Airline tickets. Should be straight forward. Still needs to get done.

 

 

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

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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.

Colorado, Coronavirus, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Our Land and Home, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot, The West, US History, Weather +Climate, World History, Writing

Erev Beltane

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Spring and the Beltane Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Pete and the chandelier. Better than I thought. More exercise. Call from Ode. Breakfast with Alan on Monday. No Mouse in the kitchen Rat zapper! Cool night. Wild dream. New Acorns. Still reading Amanda Palmer. Qin Empire: Alliance. TV. Outer Range. TV. High Country News. P-22, the Mountain Lion of Griffith Park in LA.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The predator eating the Mice

 

I throw the dead Mice over the fence. In a very short time they’re gone. Gonna watch this AM. See who this critter is. Glad to feed somebody. Makes this less onerous. A circle of life thing.

 

Presentation tomorrow for Groveland. Zoom. Quite the thing. Something I couldn’t have done otherwise. Devolution. Trying to follow David Sanders advice. Write as I talk. Still working on reimagining faith after all these years. Getting very close to what I saw originally. The key move may be asking why privilege faith in the unseen when the seen has as much power in our daily lives? Our whole lives. I will post Devolution after I’ve presented it. Happy for critiques, thoughts.

 

Ode called from the road yesterday. On his way to Taos. Blown away by the West. His sketchbooks, my blog. A daily discipline. Influenced by life in the moment. A confidant. To whom we tell our story. While other people listen in. Or see. Native to each of us. Over many years. A friend. He saw this similarity.

A legacy of a sort. Maybe a legacy in reality. I’ve ensured Ancientrails’ longevity past my death in my trust. Not really a bid for immortality or legacy, but a way for grandkids and kids to remember Dad or grandpop. What was he like? Oh, yeah. Kate’s quilts, mug rugs, shirts, dresses, wall hangings. A bit of us hanging over in the visible world: stitches, color and ink, words.

 

Healthspan. Asked Kristie about it. She said I could live 10 plus years with the treatments available for prostate cancer. Kristen, my PCP, said 90 was reachable with my current health conditions. Both positive and sobering. I mean, geez, even fifteen years. That would get me back to only 60. Not that long ago.

Still. Able to live, love, write, travel. Tomorrow is not promised. Only this moment is sure. Gonna keep at it until I can’t. Unafraid. Except about getting Covid. Damn that disease got under my skin. Stephanie, the PA I see at Conifer Medical said, “Covid’s weird.” She had a tone of respect in her voice. Wu wei.

 

The world. Odd things. Why my gratefuls include items like prostate cancer, death, grieving, illness, war, climate change. We see only dimly, though that darkly glass. Putin invades Ukraine. Awful. Ukraine stands up to Putin. Amazing. The fractured EU and Nato begins to heal, the West remembers itself. Wonderful. Ukraine pushes Russia out of Kyiv and begins to carry the fight to them. Wow. Biden’s handling of our response elevates him in world leadership.

As does his handling of Covid. Which we may now find ourselves sort of out of. As a pandemic anyhow. Not gone. Probably never gone. Like the flu. Will we need Covid shots, boosters now? Like flu shots. Annually? Maybe. Fine.

Covid has changed the nature of work. Created an economic recovery which has raised wages for the working class. Has cost us so many lives. So much time together. Made us realize how precious community is, even for solitaries like me.

We often see well only in what Kate used to call the retrospectoscope. Why we need history. So much. I love history. And art. And religion. And writing. And people. And Shadow Mountain. And Arapaho National Forest. And Maxwell Creek. And whatever eats my dead Mice. Even the Mice. And life itself. Death, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cinema and Television, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Every Single Day

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Spring and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Friday gratefuls: Therapy. David. A new way of choosing what to eat. (not a “diet”). Ukraine. Putin. Russia. The Russian Orthodox Church. The Presbyterian Church. Reconstructionist Judaism. Taoism. Animism. Paganism. March Madness. How about St. Peter’s! Playing the Boilermakers. Santayana. Unamuno. William James. My always friend, philosophy. And, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Energy

 

David’s going to write up some material based on the work we’ve done over the past month or so. We’ll discuss it next week. Still eye on the ball. What’s this new life? What does this 75 year old man want to do next?

wallup.net

An odd feeling drives my interest in it now. Boredom. I’ve argued often that boredom is a good thing. Doesn’t feel good, but the purpose vacuum lures creativity. The boredom grows from my new found energy. I find the late part of the afternoon excruciating. Bored. Too much energy to sit still. Too much habituation over the last three plus years and this last year in particular to sitting, watching TV.

The blank space in the afternoon has become my prod, a goad. What follows from here? Yes, wu wei. Yes. Still, I want to have some things to flow with, to carry me along toward that great ocean beyond this reality. I don’t want to get caught in meaningless productivity or pointless “hobbies”. I also don’t want to continue as I am now. A good sign, I think.

David’s work is part of that. An outside observer, skilled in the psyche. Looking forward to what he has to say.

 

Today was write Ancientrails. Breakfast. David. Workout. Mussar. That got me to 2:30. Kep starts looking at me with those adult doggie eyes around this time. Dinner, dad? Now? No, not yet. 3 pm. Dinner, dad? Now? This is a minute later. Nope. You have to wait. He waits, slumping down on the floor, almost a sulk but not quite.

After that? Not much. TV. Reading Amanda Palmer. Working the Wordle and the Spelling Bee. Looking out at the backyard, wondering when it will hit me. This. Is. The. Way. Considering that may never happen. A little frightening. Forced to live a life of food, reading, friends, and family. Travel. Oh. The horror.

Life is a cabaret, old friend. May it never end.

 

Damn. Those Ukrainians! A counter punch. How bout that? I’ve thought of Paul Wellstone’s buddy, Al Franken. It takes brains to be a good comedian, a talent for observation, for understanding how people’s psyche works. Not a surprise that Zelensky has done well. That he’s done much better than well? A big surprise to Putin and the Russian Army. He may end up having the last laugh.

Saw this on Facebook and can’t resist sharing here:

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Writing

Melancholy Knocking at the Door of my Heart

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

The Webb is at L2! Friend and Engineer Tom Crane says this is the best illustration of L2 and the Webb’s orbit he’s seen. Easier for me to understand full screen.

BTW: A Webb scientist said the fuel saved by an efficient launch and insertion will extend the projected life of the Webb from 10 to 20 years!

 

Tuesday gratefuls: Kep at Sano. Rigel tolerating her meds somewhat better. Susan saying you are a lovely human being. What a nice thing to say. Gabe has all his books except 1984. I told him I remembered 1984. Languishing. May be. Gray and overcast. Me, not the weather. Snow. Cold. (by Colorado standards. 15F) The Webb at its home away from home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Orbital dynamics

Tarot: 1. The Wanderer (the Fool), 0 of the major arcana.  2. Ace of Stones, the foundation of life. 3. Page of Arrows, Wren.     Past Self-Present Self-Future Self

Brief interpretation: In the near past I had to leave my old life for the life of a wanderer, a peregrinatio seeking a new way of being in the world. I’ve reached a point where the foundation for that new life has begun to emerge, one as much in the Otherworld as in this one. This next life aborning will have study, the hooded man, chesed, imagination, and love as its guiding values. I’m going with this one.

 

Dropped Kep off at Sano at 7:30 this morning. Drove down Shadow Mountain in a medium intensity Snow. Those Blizzaks grip the Snow. Much better than that damned Ice. Which I avoid even on level Ground. Up here, I just don’t move when it’s icy.

Kep’s abscess did not reduce much with the antibiotics. Might mean it’s a tumor rather than an abscess. He has x-rays and a biopsy if necessary at 1 pm. Prostate cancer has taught me to not get ahead of myself with disease. Right now I know nothing. So, I’m not worried. Very much.

Rigel and a bull Elk in our back a day before my first radiation treatment.

Rigel’s meds have not helped in any obvious way, but maybe a bit more time with them? At first they increased her wobbliness. Not what we wanted. Now though she seems to tolerate them. She’s begun eating again. Very sensitive tummy, my Rigel.

Having both of my companions with potentially severe medical issues does push me toward despair. I try not to stuff it nor get overwhelmed by it. Let it in. Yes, that makes sense you’d feel that way, Charlie. But. Going further with it will complicate rather than solve anything. So. Let it go now.

I had a lot of chances to practice this attitude during Kate’s long illness. Don’t stuff. Don’t hang on. Let those potentially negative feelings pass on by. Wave as they exit.

Giovanni Battista Ciolina – Melancholy Twilight (1899)

Perhaps related to the mood alterations of these passing clouds I have felt melancholy knocking on the door of my heart, asking for permission to enter. Not working out. Not writing. Closing the day down around noon. Conclusion-hopeless asshole. Oops.

Then I remember, judge yourself as whole person, and favorably. Love yourself, then your neighbor. I try to look at myself as I would look at someone else going through the same situations, thoughts. What would I say then?

Hell, melancholy dude? You have a right to be depressed. It’s been a tough fucking year. Melancholy would fit the facts. But you’re not really melancholic. Pre-melancholic. And there’s no need to go there.

Start working out again. That’s body level prozac. Keep learning, keep studying. That’s mind level prozac. Lean into wu wei, that’s spiritual level prozac. And call me in the morning.

I want to be a “lovely human being.” That’s as good a goal as I can imagine. I also want to be me: authentic me. And have those two as the same. Could happen.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Writing

One Clear Path

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb: 809000 miles from home; 90000 miles to L2. 90% of the distance. Mission day: 22. Arrival at L2: Mission day 29.

@willworthingtonart

Sunday gratefuls: That the hostage situation at Congregation Beth-Israel ended. Anti-semitism. Bias. Racism. White Supremacy. All flavors of the human heart, bitter though they may be. Ruth and her vibrancy. Gabe and his willingness to help. Jon feeling much better. Josh for plowing my driveway. The Snow. And, ta day, the Fire hazard warning sign finally dipped into moderate for the first since I got back from Hawai’i in early July.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker, even the hostage taker liked him

Tarot: Five of Arrows, frustration

“Look at where your own impatience and frustration have prevented you from reaching your goals. Do things differently. Moving forward focus your energy in one clear direction. Let go of your frustrations. Stay the course. Listen to your intuition.” TarotX

 

Oddly, this card, the Five of Arrows, speaks to me. In a way I might not have recognized; but, I finished reading Jonathan Franzen’s new novel, Crossroads, yesterday. I sat down with the intention of finishing and I did it. I felt more like me at the moment I turned the last page than I have for a long while.

Oh. That was strange. What was it? I’m a reader. I like to lose myself in books of all kinds. But. I’ve not been doing that, staying with reading long enough to finish whole books. Which I used to do all the time. And. I’d forgotten that.

Over the last several years, even before Kate got sick, I had begun to torture myself. Only of late have I begun to realize it. My self-torture comes like this: write a new novel, or finish the current one, Jennie’s Dead. OK but right now I have to exercise, because illness and death. Or, I need to exercise right now, but buying groceries. I could paint, right now. In a bit. After I vacuum. I had so many high priority things to do: lunch or breakfast with Alan. The grandkids coming up. Zoom with the Ancient Ones. With Diane.

Everything became important. Necessary. Valuable. I’d shucked off the useless and the frivolous. Pared my life down to the critical.

Then Kate got sick. And her needs trumped everything else. I hung on to the exercise because I needed the strength and stamina. Let everything else jangle together in a constant cage match for my attention and time and resources.

As a result, I rarely feel easy. Like I’m not in this moment. That’s not to say I’m highly anxious, not that either. Sort of a netherground between anxiety and languishing. When I’m writing, I feel grounded. When I’m reading, I feel grounded. Sometimes when I’m cooking. When I’m in a class. Too often, though, something always seems just out of reach, dealing with the insurance company. Getting the dishes back into the kitchen. Sleep. Workout. Follow the news.

I’m not describing this well because I don’t mean I’m constantly bombarded by a to-do list. The things that clash for me now all seem important, good, necessary. And I have trouble figuring out a way to include all of them. That’s the rub. That’s the frustration. That’s the four arrows missing the ram. What about that fifth arrow? If he keeps it where it is, it’s gonna miss. Well off the left rear hoof.

“Moving forward focus your energy in one clear direction.” I want to do that. I need to do that. But only one direction? Just not sure I know how.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art and Culture, Asia, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Our Land and Home, Science, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Writing

Blessings and Curses

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb?: Fully deployed the Webb has come 684000 miles from home and has 214000 to go to reach L2. This is 76% of the journey in distance. However this is Mission day 15 and it won’t reach L2 for another 14 Earth days. Slowing still at .2358 mps. Sun shield temp: 131F. Primary mirror: -289.

Sunday gratefuls: Modern Bungalow. Cheap sunglasses at Target. Down the hill and back. Ruby, still less than 32000 miles on her. Iris kitchen. The Turtle clock. A new living room waiting. Early February, after the kitchen reentry. Feeling energized and excited. The Webb fully deployed, now cruising to its spot on L2. Quantum mechanics. Natal  charts. Kabbalah. A new way.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: New furniture

Tarot  me, current path, potential: eight of stones, skill; three of bows, fulfillment; six of vessels, reunion

 

On the drive down to the Modern Bungalow in Denver I took the time to consider my schedule. My bête noire of the moment. Wipe the slate clean. What’s my schedule like at its barest? My day has four anchor points: 6 am, get up and feed the dogs. 6:30 or so, up to the loft and write Ancientrails. 3 pm, feed and water the dogs. 8:45 pm, go to bed. I have to get up and go to bed. I have to feed and water the dogs. I do not, however, have to write Ancientrails in the morning.

Of course, I’ve done that for almost 17 years, since March of 2005 while recovering from my Achilles tendon repair. That’s a pretty long streak. Still, I could do it another way. I can write it later in the day. Which I’m doing right now, at 5:30 pm. I’ll still post it in the morning, but my experiment with my time will be this: 6:30 or so, up to the loft and write 1,000 to 1,500 words. Fiction. Jennie’s Dead or my new work which will feature Lycaon again.

Exercise will still be important, but a shade less important than all the writing. That is, I will finish my word count for fiction before exercising. And, I will tailor my exercise to the time I have. Gonna consult with somebody to work out the minimum necessary to maintain my health. Two to three HIIT sessions. At least one, preferably two longer, slower cardio days. At least two days of resistance. That will be the goal, but it will be subordinate to writing.

Appointments in the early afternoon if possible. Weekends and Wednesdays exercise free zones. Wednesday still D3 day.

For many years I wrote 1,000 to 1,500 words a day, day in and day out. That’s how I have 9 novels finished at least through the first draft. I lost that rhythm and I’ve felt the loss every day since. Want it back.

 

At the Modern Bungalow I picked out a rocker, a coffee table, a chandelier, and a standing lamp. Found an Arts and Crafts clock with a Turtle in ceramic tile and bought that, too. Kate’s totem animal was the Turtle, slow and steady. The clock will give the new living room a definite Kate accent. I scheduled delivery for early February, a birthday present to myself and well after I’ve reestablished myself in the new kitchen.

I plan to ask Jon if he will stencil yellow Irises above my new cabinets in the kitchen. I want it to be the Iris kitchen. Another Kate acknowledgment. Irises were her favorite flower. The kitchen will need a splash of color since the brown of the cabinets will give it a darker feel. Why I splurged on the counter top, to have a large light surface against the dark cabinets.

 

The Webb. With all of the turmoil and division roiling the political landscape it sure felt good to see a BIG project like the Webb get through launch and deployment. So many of my friends also seem enthralled with this new tool for deep space observation. A lot of its work will be in spectra of light that human eyes cannot see.

I noticed from a NYT space notice on my google calendar that this week is the earth’s closest approach to the sun in its orbit. I don’t know if that had anything to with the timing of the Webb launch, but it seemed apropos anyhow.

We not only live the curse of the Chinese, May you live in interesting times, but we also live with the blessing of a visionary, pioneering space program.

 

Gotta admit I’m excited to be alive right now.

 

Aging, Art and Culture, Cooking, Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Latin, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Translating Metamorphoses, Writing

Intense, Dude

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Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Cincinnati Chili. Cooking. Learning how to again, on induction. Mini-splits at work. Experimental month with the hot water heat all off. Kate. Missing her sweetness. Holiseason well underway. Exercise finally back all the way. Core exercises. Diaphragmatic breathing. Kabbalah. Tarot. The Eel. Alan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Seeing Jon, Ruth, Gabe today

Tarot: The Knight of Vessels, the Eel.  Wildwood Tarot

 

Parkside in Evergreen for breakfast with Alan yesterday. Took my new Roger with me. Had Alan clip it to his clothing. At least if I forgot Roger he would go home with somebody I know. Alan’s having cataract surgery in December. He drove me to mine last October. Seeing a friend in person, two actually, since Rebecca Martin was there, too, is so important.

I told Alan about my Hermit neon sign that is underway. We got a good laugh out of the Master Benders. He wanted to know why. Because I see myself a hermit now, I said. We can fix that, he said. No, thanks, but I appreciate the thought. Maybe I should have gone with the Fool. The beginner’s mind. Setting off on the journeymen’s pilgrimage. Each morning. Maybe that will be one for the loft next year.

Honey baked ham. Drove over to their shop in Littleton, near Tony’s. Lots of hams in the coolers. Just one of hundreds of these shops. Had an instant vision of all the Pigs. A moment of sadness. Bought half-a-ham. Sealed in gold foil. Sitting in the frig.

Put in a pick-up order with Safeway. All the ingredients for chili. Now including chili powder for the first time in three years. I love Cincinnati chili. Chili on spaghetti with sour cream, shredded cheddar, and sliced green onions. And, of course, oyster crackers.

Bought some fancy spaghetti at Tony’s for the chili. Also some salted caramel tiny beignets for dessert.

Back home for a nap. Then, workout. I have, at last, gotten back to my old intensity. Been going at reduced speed and intensity since late June when I pounded my IT band into high tension on the sidewalks of Hickam Air Force Base.

Probably a bit more than the old intensity. Two HIIT sessions with lower body resistance and core. Two cardio sessions with upper body and core. Over 5 hours a week now and I can tell the difference. My stamina’s better as is my breathing.

Here’s the conundrum though. I know I need this level of exercise to keep myself healthy, or as healthy as I can be. But that means it has to be routine.

I plan to reduce my week total to four days since I can get all the exercise I need in that time. I’ve had trouble when going for five days a week since I’ve kept the weekends exercise free. With exercise five days a week and writing Ancientrails I use up my mornings.

After I workout, I go downstairs, eat lunch, have a nap. Often I don’t feel like doing anything after the nap. Easy, you might say, stop napping. Yeah. Except. Started napping in 1989. Continuous then to now. That’s what, 32 years? Pretty much a habit.

That’s why four days. The HIIT makes getting my exercise quotient in quick. Wednesdays I plan as my off days. Then, I’ll be able to get phone calls, errands run on Wednesday, necessary work for the admin side of life. When I use up my mornings, and feel done in the afternoons it is not so easy to handle that stuff.

Brother Mark asked in an e-mail this morning if I’d gotten back to my Latin. No. I haven’t. But I appreciated the nudge. I want to get back to Ovid, to Latin, to the writing that flows from it. Painting, too. Slowly, slowly. Taking life at a pace that works. Wu wei.

Well. Just drove over to Evergreen, to CBE. Was going to attend a Torah study session with Rabbi Jamie. I love studying scripture. It’s fun. And, sometimes insightful. However. I need to learn close reading. Of the invitation to the Word and Deed time. Which clearly said, when I brought it up on my phone in the empty CBE parking lot: Zoom only. Sigh.

Back in the car. Over to Safeway to get chili makings. Pickup. Back home now. A day of work inside the house. Moving this and that. Starting to clear out the kitchen for the remodel. Making chex mix, chili.

 

The Knight of Vessels: The Eel

©willworthingtonart

Promoting harmony. Welcoming. Coming Together.

Perhaps a key part of the Hermitage will be welcoming, coming together, even hosting. My idea of cooking family dinners at 5 pm every Saturday, y’all come, feels good. Today will be the first and already Ruth wants to come early to make cookies. Yes!

The eel, according to Caitlin Matthews, see below* for more information, is a protector. One who could, in Celtic myth, be transformed into a sword.

As a protective animal in the suit of the emotions, vessels, and living in the water way, the knight of vessels is welcome in my home as family comes. Help us realize love and unity as we gather, eat.

 

 

 

*Eels have the most mysterious life cycle and make the longest journey of any of the court card beasts. Spawned in the Sargasso Sea near the Bahamas, the young, transparent elvers make their way across the North Atlantic to European river-mouths. Making their way between water-courses, they often wriggle overland to find another waterway. When they are mature as silver eels, they return to the Sargasso Sea to spawn.  The birch tree was one of the first native British trees to emerge from the ice after glaciation.

Caitlin Matthews, Wildwood Blog

 

 

 

 

Painting, Tarot, Writing

What do I need to do to get back to the creative life?

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This is a spread I did on Saturday. The question is in the title. The cards I drew correspond to certain responses to that question. That’s the first phrase in the descriptions below. The conclusion is my summary of what I learned.

  1. Queen of Pentacles
  2. The Lord
  3. Six of cups
  4. King swords
  5. 8 of cups
  6. 8 of wands

 

 

 

?What do I need to do to get back to creative life?

 

  • One. The conscious issue is my work, my career. In effect extending the idea of work into my fourth phase. Perhaps unnecessarily.
  • Two. The point of tension is the Lord. This resonates with myself as a man, a worker who finds worth in the work.
  • Three. The way to resolution lies in the emotional realm. In this case a deeper connection with the Arapaho National Forest, Shadow Mountain, Black Mountain. Maxwell Creek. And a deeper connection to the Hermitage. The mini-splits, the kitchen remodel, furniture rearrangement, and repair.
  • Four. The unconscious inner block. Yes, it’s my intellect. My analytical side. The animus of swords sits in tension with the anima of pentacles. Kept problematic by the Lord.
  • Five. The pivot of change. Let go of the old path to creativity. Not sure what it was. But let it go anyhow. I may need to take a holiday, rededicate myself to my work. Recharge.
  • Six. The key to harmony lies in attuning myself to a natural flow, rhythm.

 

 

 

Conclusion (for now):

 

Wait until the Hermit sign is here. The kitchen remodeled. The couch reupholstered and refinished. Furniture moved. Hopefully by the Winter Solstice.

 

On the Winter Solstice let go of the ways of the past, as many as I can: the way I used to cook and eat, the way I exercise, even when I

write ancientrails.

 

X out the old routines and rethink them with a new life in mind, one more focused on the natural world up here, on the house and life within it.

 

Then, wu wei myself forward or sideways or backwards. Following the water course way.