Category Archives: Commentary on the news

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Health, Politics

Made My Heart Glow

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Hanna at Panorama. (Ha) Driving. Sitting with no neck support. Seeing Alan there, too. Forgotten. Tom and Mayo. Hold the ketchup. Mary and the creatures of Oz. Swooping Magpies and the horned Lucifer Bee. Among many others. Gabe’s beautiful photograph. Ruth and her A-basin ski pass. MVP w/o me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hanna

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Chesed.  Loving Kindness.  “Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind see.”  Mark Twain

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: A forty-five minute drive from home, back and hip flaring, to Panorama Orthopedics across from the Taj Mahal (Jefferson County Building), using my still new handicapped placard to get a bit closer to a clinic devoted to folks with bad knees, arthritic hips, and bum shoulders, only to find that the medical assistant who made my appointment failed to register it in the scheduling system.

 

It was that sorta afternoon. Got sorted by putting me at the end of Hanna’s patients for the day. Which left me sitting in a waiting room chair, no neck support for an hour. Called back. Another waiting room chair. So achy I crawled up on the exam table while I waited and took a nap.

Hanna came in. The third beautiful, young well-dressed woman P.A. I’ve met through Dr. Patel’s practice. I’ve never met him. Her silk blouse and gold bling, watch, bracelets, fancy engagement ring all working well for her.

Very kind and candid. Probably nothing to be done except hip injections. In 80 year olds (and 78 year olds, too) labrum tears are common, wear and tear of old age and exacerbated by arthritis. Surgery usually not done. Same for my hip. The plan: a second steroid injection, see if we can eke out four/five months instead of three. If not, we’ll have to revisit it. Next Tuesday after my visit to Evergreen Orthotics for my neck brace. A long day on the road.

Too exhausted after all that to make it to MVP. And, I cooked the Cabbage and Butter Beans sheet pan meal! First time in a while I’d made something for the potluck. I missed going because I love that group. Too knackered.

 

Just a moment: Caving. Here’s what I think. The Democrats had proved their point. Republicans don’t care about affordability. Of health care premiums. Of food for the poor. Of food. Trump and his Republican sycophants do what they damn well please with no regard for the rest of us.

So the Dems chose Senators not intending to return and said, end this. We’ll kick and scream, but this way we restart payments to Federal employees and SNAP recipients, plus we get a vote on extension of health care premium subsidies.

 

Dogs: Yesterday, after a long day outside, Shadow came in, laid down and went to sleep. Her legs moved as they will in sleeping dogs. But this time, every so often, her tail would wag softly, briefly. Made my heart glow.

Commentary on the news, Far Right, New Apostolic Reformation, Politics

Free Exercise

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow. Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Tara and Eleanor. Gardening. Artemis. Her Carrots sprouting. Her Beets beginning to thicken. Her Cucumbers close to finished. And, all those Tomatoes! PSA. P.E.T. scan. Good care. Jane and the Mitzvah Committee. Paul and his hospice work. Mark and his care for his friends. Bill in his in the moment life. Tom and his caring. Ancient Brothers, good friends.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Darkness

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev. The inner strength to move forward

Tarot:  #5, The High Priest (Druid Craft)  “The card represents a bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds and emphasizes the importance of following a spiritual tradition, leaning on collective wisdom, and seeking community.” Gemini

One brief shining: As my friendships at Congregation Beth Evergreen broaden and deepen, as the Torah becomes my story, as mussar shapes my character, as having a Rabbi provides a backstop to life’s difficult moments, I know the wisdom for me of “leaning on collective wisdom and seeking community.”

 

Just a moment: Back to Hazony and his Conservatism Rediscovered. When last we left this story we had finished discussing principles 1 and 2: Historical empiricism and Nationalism. Today we’ll investigate #3, Religion.*

Here is Hazony’s summary of #3:  “The state upholds and honors God and the Bible, the congregation and the family, and the religious practices common to the nation. These are essential to the national heritage and indispensable for justice and public morals. At the same time the state offers toleration to religious and social views that do not endanger the integrity and well-being of the nation as a whole.” p. 30-31, Conservatism Rediscovered, Yoram Hazony

I gave you the complete summary so you could see the glaring problems in it.  First and most dissonant with American history and tradition is the opening sentence. Our constitution provides for the free practice of religion and forbids the nation to take action favoring one religion over others. Here’s an excerpt from the Bill of Rights: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…”

In Hazony’s conservative fever dream of a “restored America” the state upholds God and the Bible. Hazony intentionally inflects his third principle with Christian language. This dovetails, can you see it, with the New Apostolic Reformation’s concept of making disciples of all nations.

Here these two ascendant political movements declare not only their willingness to abrogate freedom of religion, but to in fact establish a state religion. Which in turn abrogates the second part of the freedom of religion clause which ensures just that- the freedom to practice your religion. Full stop.

The last sentence in his summary, so necessary, since Hazony himself is an Orthodox Jew, tries to leave a bit of wiggle room. But its full intent reveals itself in these words: “the state (read The conservative Christian state) offers toleration to…views that do not endanger the integrity and well-being of the nation as a whole.”

This invites a political calculus into religious freedom that is, pardon the word, anathema to the first amendment. Muslims. Politically active black churches. Pagans. Hindus. Who knows what might be considered dangerous to the state?

No, this principle is not about religion. It’s about power, giving the state a rationale to quash dissent, no matter its source. The second sentence unveils its true purpose since this state sponsored religion is “essential to the national heritage and indispensable for justice and public morals.”

The ten commandments on school walls in Louisiana. A conservative evangelical definition of when life begins. Dismissing LBGT+ folks as unnatural. More capital punishment. These ideas and their like already shape policy in U.S. states and at the Federal level. Imagine what comes if a group like the New Apostolic Reformation gains more, much more, than its nascent power. Which is their intent.

Just say no to principle number three.

 

  • *National conservatism has, according to Hazony, five main principles:
  1.  Historical empiricism
  2.  Nationalism
  3.  Religion
  4.  Limited Executive Power
  5.  Individual Freedom

Hazony, Conservatism, p. 33-34

 

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Health, Shadow Mountain

Tragedy grown from tragedy

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Teshuva. Candles. Ellul. Morning darkness. Shadow, my sweet girl. Kate, always Kate. Artemis, aglow with her heater. Which also illuminates the Japanese lanterns. Cool night. Fog. Dew point. Humidity. Monsoon Rains. Winds. Great Sol still hidden by Mother Earth. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Coffee. A morning delight.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei (and my mentor in it, Shadow)

Week Kavannah: Ometz Lev. Inner strength to move forward. Courage

Tarot: Seven of Swords (Druid Craft deck)

  • Intelligence over Brute Force:

    Rather than aggressive action, the Seven of Swords advises using your intellect to navigate difficult situations smartly. 

  • Truth-Seeking:
    The card encourages looking beyond the surface and discerning the real truth of a situation, avoiding self-deception or being deceived by others.

One brief shining: Next week another blood draw, my quarterly instance of true high stakes testing, a titch of anxiety already making its way into consciousness, roiling slightly the calm waters of my inner world, while I go through the now well worn ruts of it will be what it will be, life is short and I’m old, a good run so far, wonder what happens in the new territory if and when I get there.

 

Cancer: Stable so far. PSA next week. I’ve responded well to androgen deprivation therapy ever since the last dose of my long radiation. Over six years. In other words Orgovyx and Erleada have kept my cancer in stasis through Kate’s illness, through my second visit to Korea, through my son’s taking command of his squadron, through Covid, through the deaths of Gertie, then Kate, Rigel, Kepler, and Jon, through my conversion, through adopting Shadow, through the building of Artemis. I bow my head to the scientists who developed them. True life savers.

When looked at from that perspective, gratitude comes unbidden. In this odd case looking backward soothes the soul, while anticipation stains it with worry. An important lesson in living in the moment, in this August 30th life, on this Shabbat.

 

Dog journal: Murdoch, now eight years old, rests a lot. Whenever my son and I talk, he turns the camera to the side or under his desk and there lies a sleeping tan and white Akita, happy with the people he loves.

Murdoch has traveled more than most people. From his birth home outside Macon, Georgia to the not so far away Warner-Robbins AFB. From there to Colorado, Conifer. From Conifer to Loveland. From Loveland to Hawai’i. From Hawai’i to Korea. Throughout he has loved the Sun in spite of his breed’s double coat developed for the Mountains of the Akita prefecture in Japan where Akita’s originated.

Shadow sleeps on her “place.” A towel I’ve been training her to lie on until I say “free” and throw a treat away from it. A calming spot. Good for anxious dogs like her. Shadow Mountain is my place. Hers, too.

 

Just a moment: Read about Robin Westerman’s diaries. Her secret plans and grievances. Her admiration for school shooters. Her careful planning. Makes me sad, not even angry. Tragedy grown from tragedy.

Ancient Brothers, Asia, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Friends, Health, Politics, US History, World History

How Will It End?

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Spice Fusion Ranch. Swerve toward cooler after Saturday heat. Red Tie Guy and the MOP. One hour movement breaks. Back and leg pain. Ortho consult. Harvard Medical on back pain. The Bird of dawn. Make firm a person’s steps. Shadow and Annie playtime. Our rocky Soil. Wildflowers. The Greenhouse. Finished on Tuesday? Planting on Wednesday! Horticulture. Wild Neighbors.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Close friends

Week Kavannah:  Roeh et hanalod. Foresight. Knowing what will be needed in the future.

One brief shining: Annie and Luna came out of the car with Ginny on leashes, Janice carrying the food from Spice Fusion Ranch in a brown paper sack, Shadow waited in the backyard since visitors put her in OMG, I’m so glad to see you, jumpy mode while I opened the door glad to greet Mountain friends who’d come to play.

 

Dog journal: Annie, sleek and brown and all puppy, came from the same Granby shelter as Shadow. Ginny and Janice adopted her a month or so before I adopted Shadow. She’s taller and a bit longer than Shadow, but roughly the same age.

It took a while for them to establish their power dynamics, then they played and ran, ran and played while Ginny, Janice, and I ate food from the new Indian place, Spice Fusion Ranch.

Ginny and Janice had stories from Champagne-Urbana where they formerly lived and where they still own an Air B’n’B. Janice created the first Costume degree program in the U.S. there while Ginny directed a social issues theater company.

Luna, their second Dog, is tiny. I’d be surprised if she weighed 5 pounds. Sweet and in the past a bit jumpy, she seemed much calmer, more herself yesterday.

Mountain friends. Ginny and Janice live in Kittredge, a very small town east of Evergreen about five miles.

 

Ancient Brothers: Just to say. We went around telling each other, one at a time, positive characteristics we saw in each other. A little love never hurts, eh?

 

Back and leg pain: With the movement breaks and physical therapy I’ve achieved a significant lessening of my pain. Also, with the evidence of the labrum tear in my right hip I no longer conflate its pain with the rest. Different etiologies.

I’m working back to regular exercise with my physical therapy exercises as a starting place. Feels good. P.T. plus tramadol finds my daily pain load enough lightened to help with my mood. A very good thing.

Cousin Diane found a Harvard Medical e-book on back pain and its treatment. I’m reading it now since I have decisions to make about what happens next.

 

Just a moment: Now, as the saying goes, we wait. What will a weakened Iran do in response to the MOP drop? Close the Straits of Hormuz? Attack U.S. military bases in the region? Send out assassins? Perhaps all three.

We’ve staggered from conflict in Ukraine to conflict in Gaza to conflict on the West Bank to conflict in Lebanon all the while bombing the Houthis and now to outright war against Iran. Where, when, how can it all end?

 

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Greenhouse, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History

Celebrate

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Beltane (last day) and the Greenhouse Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Paul. Tom. Diane. Luke and Leo. Marilyn and Irv. Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Panentheism. The Bird of dawn. Set people free. Make firm a person’s steps. The Shema. Rabbi Jamie. Rich. Tara and Eleanor. Ruby covered in Lodgepole Pollen. Yellow everywhere. Great Sol. A slow unmasking. The vastness of space. The cosmic void.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Koi on the greenhouse door.

Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.  “A feeling of self-assurance arising from one’s appreciation of one’s abilities or qualities.”

One brief shining: Long ago in the history of evolution Lodgepole Pines developed a simple method of spreading Pollen from male Cones to female cones, blanket the air with yellow sperm, bound to hit a female cone with the aid of Mountain Winds; those of us who live in Lodgepole forests get to share in this sexual ritual each June. Right now.

 

Irony: The teflon Don (thanks, Mark) put his hand on the Bible and swore his oath on Martin Luther King Day. Now he considers whether to bomb Iran into the Stone Age on Juneteenth. The power of holidays.

No matter the resident of the Whitehouse these two holidays give all Americans a chance to reflect on our actual history, not the whitewashed, fact unburdened history the right wants taught in schools.

I didn’t know what Juneteenth was until it became a national holiday. Oh, I’d learned about it at some point, sure, but the details? No.

In case you don’t know the history well either here’s Heather Cox Richardson’s explainer published today on her Substack, Letters From an American.

I found her writing on the 13th and 14th amendments to the constitution especially helpful since the racist U.S. government has begun a full assault on many of their provisions. Birthright citizenship. Equality under the law. Federal level enforcement in all states.

Celebrate, celebrate. Dance to the music. And never forget.

 

Greenhouse: Nathan got back to work yesterday. The side insulating panels went on, as did metal Koi on the door, a special Japanese touch he added for me. Today he’ll work on the outside raised beds.

He told me he wasn’t one to dwell, that he preferred working, doing something after a shock like Takota’s death. My son has the same attitude.

I honor their intent while knowing grief will not be bound by choice or will. Grief works in its own way, on its own schedule, doing its work of reconciling absence with continued existence. Never, never easy.

 

Dog journal: Shadow now comes inside, lets me close the back door when it’s cooler outside without attempting to dive back out.

She routinely joins me in the bed sometime during the night. Her jumping up to be noticed has gotten softer, less frenetic so my skin has begun to heal.

The house and all its stairs pose no barrier for her. She roams at will inside and out. A curious doggy. A difficult journey for both of us, not over, no, yet so so much better.

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Garden, Greenhouse, Health, Wild Neighbors

A World of Difference

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow, barking. At night. Outside. The Mule Deer Doe. Nathan. The Greenhouse. Framed up. Seed order. Great Sol. Another blue Sky Colorado morning. Altitude. Maxwell Creek full. Kate’s Creek full. Lodgepole Pollen making driveways and car windshields yellow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Harry Dresden

Week Kavannah: Gratitude. Hakarot Hatov. (recognizing the good)    “Who is rich? Those who rejoice in their own portion.” Perkei Avot: 4:1

One brief shining: A Mule Deer Doe, human habituated, entered the yard yesterday which excited the herding Dog, Shadow; she approached barking, the Doe did not flinch, had me worried since Mule Deer and Elk can kill a Dog with a swift kick, Shadow persisted, but kept a reasonable distance.

 

Dog journal: This proved a longer story. Both Nathan and I tried to convince the Doe to leave. Harassing Wild Neighbors comes with living up here. Feeding Deer, Elk, Bears creates situations where animals may need to be euthanized. Somebody has fed this Doe. She would not be harassed out of the yard.

Shadow took her role in all this with such seriousness that she would not come in last night, preferring to remain outside in case the Doe tried something funny over night. Apparently she did because Shadow barked, loud and long, at three separate times during the night.

Oh, god. That was my Dog disturbing the peace of a Mountain night. She would not come in, nor be silenced. She was at work.

Not my best sleep as a result. Hope the Doe goes on to literally greener pastures. And, I also hope the Bull Elk who have come for the Dandelions don’t return this year.

 

The Greenhouse: The framing is done. Nathan says it goes faster from this point. Since he learned that I’m a Japanophile, especially when it comes to design, he’s going to toss in a few Japanese flourishes to the door and other spots.

Nathan is a good man. Strong work ethic. Loves Dogs and the Mountains. A serial entrepreneur he’s owned a trucking company, a handyman business, and now Colorado Coop and Garden. His partner runs a pet-sitting business.

They live in Conifer to the south and west of Shadow Mountain.

My seed order is in the mail. Better get myself a new houri knife. Soil under my fingernails again. Looking forward to it.

 

Cancer: No, not mine. Generation C. Millennials. Read a heart-rending story of a 25 year old man in Utah with stage 4 colon cancer. He held on until his daughter was born. Article did not say whether he died. 25!

The same article shows the rate of cancer for young people rising while, paradoxically, it’s falling for those over fifty. I don’t know what to make of this. Neither do the medical folks. Something is happen’, but we just don’t know what it is.

At 78 I’d prefer not to have cancer. Of course. Yet at my age life has been mostly lived. A son out in the world on his own. A career or two finished. Loves and Dogs and Travels.

Worlds apart. Stage 4 cancer at 25, stage 4 cancer at 78.

 

Art and Culture, Cinema and Television, Commentary on the news, Family, Humanities, Travel, US History, World History

The Maker and the Made

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Beltane and the Wu Wei Moon II

Tuesday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Luke and Leo. Shadow. Happy to be with Leo. Cool night. The last for a while. Tom and Rascal. That Lodgepole leaning. Rain. Possible Monsoons. Traveler’s Insurance. Ruby.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Art Green

Week Kavannah: Zerizut. Enthusiasm. ?How do I reignite my enthusiasm for working out?

One brief shining: I went and got coffee; it’s cool to be independent in a place that is completely new says American Ruth on the streets of Songtan, Korea;  a spot I knew well from my time with my son and Seoah.

 

Ruth’s on day 2 of her Korean trip. Sleeping in the same bed I slept in two years ago. Probably jet lagged, but leaning way in to the new world, Asia, so different, yet fully human.

Travel expands the range of the possible. Nope, knives and forks and spoons? Not everyone uses them. The language. The way of writing it. The gene pool. Sloping tiled roofs in the Asian manner. Food with all the sides typical in Korea. A world of difference. What the MAGA folks miss in their cultural chauvinism.

Here’s to Ruth. Adventuress.

 

A conundrum. Me, too, and art. And thought. And friendships. Do you still watch Woody Allen films? How about Roman Polanski? Attend Catholic mass? Do you admire Bill Clinton? How about Picasso? Art Green? Believe Anita Hill? Weinstein? Kevin Spacey? Bill Cosby?

Here’s the conundrum. Do bad acts taint everything a person has done? Is Kevin Spacey less good in American Beauty because he’s a sexual predator? Is the Catholic church defiled in toto by its wayward priests? Does Picasso’s notorious philandering make his painting less than?

I come down with confidence on all sides of this issue. Woody Allen slept with, then married the adopted daughter of his former wife, Mia Farrow. Does this make his films less funny?

Can we separate the maker from the made? Yes. No. First of all, look at the long history of art now represented in museums. Most of the works in any museum come with little information about the artist’s private life. Especially those works from antiquity.

Since we admire these works without knowing the peccadillos of the sculptor of the Doryphoros  or the carver of the Jade Mountain, the potter who made the roku tea cups, it is possible, probably likely that some of them were miserable human beings.

Is that Greek athlete, a spear-bearer, any less magnificent if we would find his maker was a pedophile? Or, the potter a wife beater? Would the graceful and beautiful scenes on the Jade Mountain be less so if the maker were a thief?

In other words in cases where we have no idea about this information we find no impediment to our appreciation of the work on its own, distinct from the hands and the heart that created it.

This suggests to me that the work is independent of the maker, of the maker’s biography, whatever it includes.

On the other hand. Bill Cosby. I can’t see anything he’s made without carrying to it his drugging women for sexual predation. Even Woody Allen. Though less so for some reason. Picasso? I don’t consider his private life at all when I see his art.

What are the criteria we use? Do we condemn the bad act(s) and draw a clean line between, say, Polanski and The Fearless Vampire Killers, a favorite comedy?

I guess I come down on separating the made from the maker. Yet a taint on it, a principled revulsion, a pulling away from the work made also makes sense to me.

I do know this for sure. I would not want my work judged by the worst mistakes I’ve made in my life.

Commentary on the news, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Korea, Mussar

Awe

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Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow. Night. Day. Leaves of Green. Lodgepoles. Regret. Remorse. Teshuvah. Parasha Tetzaveh. Jon. Kate, always Kate. Willows along Maxwell Creek. Osier Dog Woods, too. Rascal. Vince and his two girls. The heart. The liver. The pancreas. The bladder. The kidneys. The brain. And all the others that keep us alive, rebuilding us as necessary.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Vince as a friend

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe.

“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ….get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”

― Abraham Joshua Heschel

One brief shining: To live in this world my eyes must see the Tree and the Rock and the Stream; my ears must hear the Magpie, the burble of Water, a friend’s voice; my hands must feel the soft fur on Shadow’s neck, the keys on my laptop, the roughness of my skin; my nose must take in petrichor, the smell of coffee brewing, the fresh, cold Air after a Snow, and my taste must blossom at the lox and cream cheese, the bagel around it, the capers.

 

One thing no politician, no system of government can take from us: our awe. Even if Trump were to run for a third term, I can still wonder at the Mule Deer, the Moose, the Fox. Photosynthesis. Orion rising in the night Sky. Hugs.

If we can stand amazed while a gentle Snow covers the land, we can imagine and create. Subversive acts. Imagination and creation. The soul overflows with desire for the beautiful, the just, the kind. That cannot be taken from us either.

My predominant response right now to the Dance of the MAGAworld Faeries is sadness. A sadness arising from what could be and what is. He/They/It cannot have my memory of a world where fairness and kindness guided daily life. And he/they/it cannot make me live in a world where I don’t appreciate difference. I won’t let it happen.

 

Thinking about my MVP night where I present on ratzon, will or desire or pleasure. When my son and Seoah got married, they rented a hall in a ceremonial space called Bliss. Bliss had five rectangular halls, one right next to the other, that could be reserved. The hall next to my son and Seoah’s had a first birthday celebration. Very festive, but also with an air of mystery. A Doljanchi.

Classic doljabi set

At a Doljanchi the foods offered have symbolic meaning, for example, “…5-colored rice cakes called osaek songpyeon (오색송편) represent harmony with one’s surroundings and are a wish that the child will grow and get along with different kinds of people and places.”*

The part that captured my attention for thinking about ratzon, however, is the doljabi ceremony. “A variety of objects are put on a table or tray in front of the child and whatever the child chooses foretells his or her future.”* A table of traditional and contemporary items is below.**

Where our will leads us, our desire, there will be our lives. It occurred to me that the doljabi ceremony continues throughout our lives. Our desires leading us to choose now the pencil, now the money, now the microphone. That’s why the focus and the strength of our ratzon is a powerful character trait.

 

*The Soul of Seoul

** Items For A Traditional Doljabi Table

  • pencil/book (smarts)
  • food (won’t go hungry)
  • money (wealth)
  • thread (longevity)
  • needle (talent in the hands)
  • scissors (talent in the hands)
  • ruler (talent in the hands)
  • bow and arrow (military career)
  • Items For A Modern Doljabi Table
  • microphone (entertainer)
  • golf club/balls (athlete)
  • computer mouse (tech. adept)
  • gavel (judge)
  • stethoscope (doctor)
  • piggy bank/money (entrepreneur)
  • graduation cap/books (scholar)
  • science objects (scientist/inventor)
Cinema and Television, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Friends, Politics

Can find only sarcasm and satire

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Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Mussar. Tara. Eleanor. Shadow. Pain doc. MRI. Cool nights. The internet. Ukraine. Self-determination. Bullies, especially Russia. Now, the U.S. Banana Republic politics, USA might. Ensure. Mark in Al Kharj. His acquaintance. Murdoch. Annie. Leo. Rufus. Gracie.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: MRI

Week Kavannah:  Persistence and Grit. Netzach

One brief shining: After 17 dogs, I’m learning the basics of sit, down, potty training, with a rescue dog, Shadow, a 6 to 8 month old puppy who’s smart, wily, and more than a little traumatized by a house fire, a shelter in southern Colorado, then one in Granby, being taken from her siblings and brought to my house.

 

Shadow and I make slow progress. This week she has regressed some, hard to get inside after going out. Not drinking her water, but going outside to eat Snow. Pooping inside. Still a wiggly, happy girl when I get up. She sits beside me, nuzzles. Plays with her toys. One step ahead, one back.

 

So. Yesterday. Birthday lunch with Tara at a renewed and better Golden Stix. Adding it to my list of places to go. Always so good to see Tara. She’s a heart friend, honest and open. Her own woman and clear about that. Headed to NYC this morning to see her son Vincent who’s on his second bite of the big Apple, this time on what sounds like surer footing. In college, a job, a good place to stay.

Mark reports a friend has gone into a diabetic coma in Thailand. Made Mark reflect on the positives in his life now. He loves teaching, his students. Wants to see countries he’s not yet visited. Purpose is a mighty force in the psyche. As is, in the opposite way, lack of purpose.

 

Watching a later Startrek series, Picard. Written in large part by Michael Chabon, of Kavalier and Clay, the Yiddish Policeman’s Union, and many more books. Excellent TV. If you have Paramount Plus, watch Season 2, Episode 2. Chilling.

 

Just a moment: OK. Zelensky is a dictator who started a war against Ukraine’s poor neighbor, Russia. Bad Zelensky. Bad Ukraine. Yes, it’s devolved even further with the American President, let me say that again, the American President, who will remain shameless, speaks Russian propaganda to the press. Putin says he’d like to see Don again and hopes it will happen soon.

Lewis Carroll could not have written a parody of Wonderland that would have been more mind-boggling than the real world-this is the real world isn’t it-which we now inhabit.

Clean up the Ukraine mess, turn Gaza into a Riveria with Trump properties for the well-heeled. Palestinians welcome to return from their new homes in Egypt and Jordan if they have enough shekels. Now we’re making progress.

I’m glad others have serious analysis because at least for now, I can’t find anything other than satire or sarcasm.

My son. Serving his country, now 16 years in. And this is the country he spends all his working life trying to protect?

 

 

Commentary on the news, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., US History

The Center. Can it hold?

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Today! Ruth on Friday! -8 this morning. Snow. Red Lodgepole Bark against White Snow. Eating and drinking. Celebrex no more. Tramadol. Sue Bradshaw. Thyroid Stimulating Hormone. Kaylor. Prostate cancer. Spinal stenosis. Mark in Al Kharj.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Kavannah: Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: My son texted me from the airport, they’re about to board soon, and a thrill ran through me, those two, precious cargo on their way here to Shadow Mountain, my family.

 

Annual physical yesterday. Key learning. No more celebrex. My kidney functions showed deterioration. And, as Sue said, we need our kidneys. That leaves me tramadol and a referral to a pain management doc. Their options will be limited to. Next best treatment: narcotics.

The pain has grown incrementally since its break out moment in Korea a year and a half ago. Not having Celebrex will mean increasing limitations for my mobility. Not a happy thought. Will be adjusting to this for a while. Unsure what the future holds.

To complete a medical trifecta of dermatologist, pcp, and oncologist I have a telehealth visit with my medical oncologist’s p.a. Kaylor, today at 3. Big fun. PSA stable. Testosterone low. Should not be any surprises.

OK. Enough about me. How are you feeling?

 

Just a moment: Breaking heart. The specter of a President flaunting judicial decisions may happen this week. My head spins at that thought. I mean that.

All my life, 78 years tomorrow, I’ve lived in a rule of law society where courts arbitrate the most difficult, thorny problems and adjudicate between adversaries. Disrespecting a court decision? Unthinkable. Literally.

Never on my horizon. Now the President has spent a business career dodging and weaving from the courts. Even when finally cornered and convicted he trashes the legitimacy of the legal process. This from the leader of our government.

My inner gyroscope, the one that orients me to my place in the United States, has a serious tilt. My lev, too.

I prefer Margaret Renkl’s response. (see yesterday’s post). My America has begun to shatter. Its culture losing its moorings. This place, these United States, are my home and my home now feels like it’s built on a cliff soon to erode from a rising sea of political thuggery.

Maybe there’s help in the world of song lyrics about lost love.* Or, in poetry:

Yeats, The Second Coming

Here is your medieval illuminated manuscript-style illustration inspired by W.B. Yeats’ The Second Coming.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity…
now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”

 

*I can’t believe what i just heardCould it be trueAre you the (country) I thought I knewThe one who promised me her loveWhere did it goDoes anybody ever know
How do you heal a broken heartThat feels like it will never beat this much againOh noI just can’t let goHow do you heal a broken heartThat feels like it will never love this much againOh noTonight I’ll hold what could be rightTomorrow I’ll pretend to let you go   Chris Walker, 1993