Category Archives: Commentary on the news

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

More Shadow and Faith

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow. Ruth. Diminished stamina. Mark(s). Snow. Cold. Skittishness. Gabe. Puzzles. Enigmas. Thoughtful resistance. Learning about the New Apostolic Reformation. Books. Poetry. Lodgepoles. Great Sol. The days of our lives. Our lives in days. Bananas. Pears. Apples. Mandarin Oranges. Subway

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My dispersed family

Week Kavannah: Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: Oh, Shadow, my Shadow, who chewed through my oxygen concentrator tubes leaving me breathless, who, when I figured out how to have them looped up high, then chewed on the cord of my electric blanket so it ceased working.

 

Oh. The dog. Challenging me. In good ways. Do I have the stamina for her? Still not sure. Can I, I mean, wait out her puppyhood long enough for her to be easier to care for? If so, then yes, I have the stamina. We’ll see. Ruth recommended I take the full three weeks for the trial. She’s right. And, I will. Honesty. So important.

I liked having Ruth here. So much so that I asked her if she wanted to commute. Free rent and food. Half her gas. No, she said. Too long a daily drive. Right at an hour both ways. Wise lady.

 

My son and Seoah will come on Wednesday. It’s been a year a half plus since I’ve seen them. I’m excited. Seeing them and having Shadow. A rich week in my life. Filled with love and caring.

Annual wellness checkup with Sue Bradshaw, too. And a visit to the medical oncologist’s P.A. A big week for this Shadow Mountain boy.

My peskyfowlatarian diet has proved easy to handle. Fish, other seafoods like shrimp and lobster, chicken. Gives me choices. Pushes me toward more vegetables. Plan to make chicken bean soup today or tomorrow.

Learning to love chicken subway sandwiches. A little tasteless. But o.k.

Shadow spent an hour in my lap, cuddling. I put her outside for about ten minutes, she came back to the door, pleased. I hear my own and others doubts and cautions. As Ruth suggested, three full weeks. Accepting input.

 

Just a moment: Super bowl. Nah. Too much fluff. Usually a bad game. But the two games leading up to it. Well, yeah.

More books coming on the New Apostolic Reformation. As I know more, so will you. This group is secretive, amorphous, and focused on political goals. Like creating a Christian nation.

For now, cue this:

“President Trump signed an executive order Friday to establish a White House Faith Office in an effort to empower faith-based entities.

The office will be part of the Domestic Policy Council and headed by a senior adviser tasked with consulting with various faith and community leaders in an effort to defend religious liberty and combat antisemitism, anti-Christianity and other anti-religious bias, according to the order.”  The Hill

Gotta fight all that anti-Christian bias out there. But, where is it? This is the thin end of the wedge for creating an autocratic, religion focused and dominated form of governance. Not democracy. Follow these bread crumbs. They’re more significant than they may appear.

 

 

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Politics

Shadow. One small bite.

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Ruth. Shadow. Loss. Grief. Joy. Close cousins. Mussar. Brother Mark, teaching in Al Kharj. Friend Mark, recuperating in Mexico. Colder, some Snow. Old age. Journalism. NYT. WP. Colorado Sun. Axios. Ground News. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Ruby.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Week Kavannah: Love  Ahavah

Limitations of AI on display here

One brief shining: Images of others, far away, Mark playing foosball with his Saudi Arabian ESL students, Ode in a deck chair in sunny, warm Mexico, Diane with her sling, healing on Lucky Street with atmospheric rivers overhead, Mary on campus in Melbourne, my son and Seaoh traveling today to Minnesota from Hawai’i while Shadow and Ruth and I enjoy the return of cold weather on the top of Shadow Mountain.

 

The Shadow puppy saga continues. Put her in the crate while Ruth and I went to Jackie’s for my haircut. After we went to Buster’s natural pet food store. Got a new leash, some treats, a few durable toys. Then, Subway.

I’m considering a raw diet for Shadow. She’s so small l could feed her a raw diet for what I paid for Kep and Rigel’s food. She’s still a puppy so not yet. More research.

That’s if I keep her. I’m pretty tired. Haven’t got back to my workouts. They will raise my energy level as my better nutrition already has. It’s a balance.

Having her here has already buoyed me up in ways I’d forgotten were available. That tail wagging. Her soulful eyes. Her learning curve, so rapid. Engaging my problem solver for another. Her cuddles.

Ruth came up last night in her green Subaru SUV. She got most of the money to pay for it from the insurance payout after she totaled Ivory, our old Rav4 which we gave to her. She loves her car.

She’s a sweetheart. Feels so good having her here. We talk a lot. She apparently took Shadow up to sleep with her last night. When I got up… No Shadow.

Glad I stayed here, didn’t go to Hawai’i. Although, I do find myself watching NCIS: Hawai’i and Hawai’i 5-0. As much for the scenery and the memories as any plot.

No, my travel bug has not gone dormant. When I see Sue next week, I’m going to ask for an orthopedic consult on my back and right hip, maybe a pain doc. See what I can do further to become mobile enough to fly.

Though. Moving to the Rocky Mountains has been a journey, a travel experience of long and wonderful duration. Kate felt like she was always on vacation up here. I feel grateful each day to see the Mountains, Wild Neighbors, Trees and Streams. And for the unexpected and improbable Jewish journey unveiled by the Mountain Jews of Congregation Beth Evergreen.

 

Just a moment: I’m appending the first paragraph of a New York Times editorial with which I am in agreement.

Ginny, of Ginny and Janice, heard a woman who suggested taking a small bite out of the huge wormy Apple. For example, become an expert on one small field of the Trump mess. Really dig in. Something that interests you, or you have expertise in already.

I’m picking the New Apostolic Reformation. It’s deep background, yet it forms a large mass of his hardcore base. Something I have knowledge about with seminary education and having been in the ministry.

Start communicating with others about it. In conversations, blogs, e-mails, letters to the editor, phone calls and e-mails to members of Congress.

Together there are enough of us to rock this sucker back on its heels. Separately? We’ll get steamrolled.

 

*”Don’t get distracted. Don’t get overwhelmed. Don’t get paralyzed and pulled into the chaos that President Trump and his allies are purposely creating with the volume and speed of executive orders; the effort to dismantle the federal government; the performative attacks on immigrants, transgender people and the very concept of diversity itself; the demands that other countries accept Americans as their new overlords; and the dizzying sense that the White House could do or say anything at any moment. All of this is intended to keep the country on its back heel so President Trump can blaze ahead in his drive for maximum executive power, so no one can stop the audacious, ill-conceived and frequently illegal agenda being advanced by his administration. For goodness sake, don’t tune out.” NYT, Feb. 8, 2025.

 

 

 

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Politics

Caring for the other. Writ small and large.

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Ruth. Alan. My son and Seoah, headed to Minnesota. Shadow. The beginning of our life together. Ginny. The Granby Shelter. Puppies. Learning to navigate life. Old men. Learning to navigate life. Rascal. Tom. Ruby, her inner beauty. The Night Sky. Space Station. Visible satellites. Mussar online.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Night Sky

Week Kavannah: Curiosity.  Sakranut

One brief shining: Shadow, Moon Shadow, Shadow Mountain, my Shadow sits beside my chair here, her black and tan nose thrust over the arm, brown eyes looking to me for affection, a hand on her small soft head.

 

Realized yesterday as I moved around the house with purpose, doing things relevant to Shadow like water for her water bowl, checking her food, trying to find her, oh there she is, between the coffee table with the cd player on it and the outside wall, that my inner world has changed, grown less self-centered and more outward focused. Not a distinction between selfish and other oriented. Rather a distinction between self-focused and other focused.

I love being alone with my books, writing, television, thoughts, Shadow Mountain, I do. Not lonely. Yet. That is a world with me and my inner life at its center. And one I could have happily continued.

Introducing Shadow, whose head I just petted, however returns me to a state of living I’ve experienced for most of the last 35 years. A life with Dogs. With the relationship that only a Dog can bring into your life. Like a marriage it is a relationship of love and caring. Caring for the other and wanting what’s best for them. A two way relationship, too.

Now there will be a rhythm on Shadow Mountain that includes her needs, her desires, her life as well as the single human life I live.

This shift is welcome.

 

I continue to read the news. I know many have given it up, too depressing or upsetting. I get it, too. With the mélange of old man Trump signing, as one pundit put it, bigger and bigger pieces of paper, while brah Elon engages in a search and destroy mission aimed at dismantling the small l liberal consensus in place since FDR, and investigations of investigators become front page news, the US seems to be, maybe is, losing its center.

For those of us post WWII kids, now staring down the barrel of death’s cold never misses armory, all this disorients us. Who are we in this strange new place? What is ours to do? Do we consider the old ways, the ones of our youth, as permanent and try to wrest political reality back in that direction?

The FDR consensus that included government as a backstop for its citizens-think Social Security, Medicare, the Affordable Care Act, welfare, regulatory apparatuses to contain and restrain the excesses of our capitalist religion-came out of a time when the Great Depression had scarred all but the most wealthy. Something needed to change and FDR’s vision for an expanded Federal Government, boosted of course by the concomitant challenge of WWII, fit the desires and needs of many of us, our parents and theirs.

Those challenges have long ago receded into movies and books and history. What should the Federal Government look like today? What is its role? These are legitimate and timely questions. Necessary. Perhaps even urgent.

We are not, however, having a debate. We have become witnesses to a planned execution with no vision for the future, no rationale other than burn baby burn.

We must engage the debate. See what new vision fits this new world with a weakened US. What challenges face us now, and what must the Federal Government look like in response to them.

 

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, US History

Shadow and Shadows on the Country

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow (formerly known as Nugget). Sleeping with Shadow under my bed. Her struggle to adapt. Mine. The coup. Feeling alive. Purposeful. Elon Musk. His yetzer hara. Luna and Annie. Leo. Shrimp. Subway. Snow. Vince and Levi. Stable PSA. Shadow’s pooping and peeing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Week Kavannah: Curiosity  sakranut

One brief shining: All last night when I awoke, I heard Shadow moving beneath the bed, occasionally hitting the wooden slats, once a hard thwock of her head, often moving, then for awhile asleep, repeat.

 

Felt like a bad doggie dad. I thought Shadow and I were making progress. Then, my nap. I left the bedroom door open as I had the previous night when she slept under me on the floor beneath the bed. She came out that morning and I let her out. She roamed for a while. Came back in. We did this twice.

Meanwhile she put a tentative paw on my leg, licked my hand. Smiled. Ah, now we’ve gotten somewhere.

This continued until my nap. Exhausted from the drive to Granby and back I slept two and a half hours. When I got up, I saw Shadow had gone back under the bed. Didn’t think much of it. Then, she wouldn’t come out.

And, she’s been under there most of the time since. I lured her out with hamburger, but she slipped back under the bed. That was yesterday afternoon and evening.

This morning I noticed she had two well formed poops and had peed on an old yoga mat. Good girl, missing the Oriental rug. While I slept she got out from under the bed, but she was back there before I woke up.

Ginny’s going to come after mussar. Shadow responded well to her. I want to get Shadow out from under the bed and into a space where we can interact. I have a dog trainer coming next Tuesday for puppy 101. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

It will be well, all manner of things will be well.

About a minute after I wrote this she came out. On her own. The best way. Now she’s in here with me. We can continue the process of getting to know each other.

I will crate her later today so I can go to mussar.

BTW: I did close the bedroom door.

 

Just a moment in oligarch world: First of all. Visit the Egyptian/Israeli Riveria! Swept clean of Palestinians. Home to Trump properties like mega Mar-a-Lago. Adult themed. Rides. Classified documents. And no libtards allowed!

Have fun in the Sunny Middle East. Visit scenes of actual slaughter and mayhem!

Or come to D.C. Play with Federal disbursements. Knock your old high school bully off Social Security. Remember that frigid blonde? You can cancel her Small Business loan.

Never a dull moment when you play Crash the Government. Bring the whole family. Especially the kids and the dogs.

 

 

Aging, Commentary on the news, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., US History

Aging Resistance

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Yule and the 78th Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Diane, healing. New computer getting setup. New ottoman. Studying parsha Bo. With Zohar and Zornberg. Finished reading Conclave. Now another Gray Man. PSA stable. Kidney functions a bit off. A1-C a bit high. Nothing too concerning to me. Vince. Alan coming to Conifer this morning. Talking with Tom. My life as a conversational flaneur. Moods. Emotions. Art Green. My son and Seoah coming. A birthday this month. Year of the Snake.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mussar friends

Kavannah 2025: Creativity

Kavannah this week: Rachamim, compassion  practice-listen for the melody of the other

One brief shining: Aging resistance, a less frenzied, hot breath sorta response, a more relaxed, we can survive this attitude, yet still feeling to me like my way is to call out certain actions, especially those injurious to the planet and vulnerable people, while also tending these seed packets: pluralism, globalism, economic and racial justice, feminism, importance of the common good, support for the individual and individualism.

 

This political disaster feels different from the first Trump infection. Even though he may be sort of more organized with Plan 2025 held in his French fry greasy hand, his Burger King kid’s meal crown slouched rakishly on his orange haired head, and even though he and his cronies have-who can pass up the sports metaphor, football!-flooded the zone; as someone I read in the Washington Post said this is the imitation of competence. In reality it’s a scatter shot series of nods to the base: no to birthright citizenship, freeze all Federal money going out, hammer General Milley, Hegsteth, Kennedy, Gabbard.

This is not governing. It’s the politics of petty revenge. We’ll have to wait for days, those famous first hundred days, to see the metamorphosis, if any, of our nation’s institution. At some point the executive order Sharpie, a Sharpie!, will have to rest and cousin Donald will have to try for legislation. Court fights will be ongoing. We don’t know what’s happening quite yet.

This much I do know. My world, a world in which meanness and cruelty have a bad connotation, a world where the American dream of a people joined together by adherence to the idea of equal opportunity, equality before the law, of a nation that welcomes the poor, the huddled masses yearning to be free, will not perish.

We will tend with care the seeds of this remarkable and yes flawed experiment. Seeds like the Constitution. Also flawed, yet a reminder in its amendments and in the expansion of its protection through the courts, that it is our flawed document. Seeds like FDR’s New Deal which expanded the Federal Government’s role as protector of the least of those among us. Seeds like our liberal Christian churches, synagogues, mosques, Buddhist temples and retreat centers. Seeds like our academic institutions, like the NIH and the CDC. Seeds like our real history: slavery, slaughter of the indigenous, colonialism and those who have stood against these sins of our fathers and mothers now passed down to us the third and fourth and fifth and sixth generations.

And we will tend to ourselves and each other. Not allowing despair to take hold for too long. Encouraging the forms of declaring our dream still alive and vibrant. Supporting those who take up direct action. Donating funds. Showing up at protests and marches. Maybe forming bookclubs that focus on American history, on the American renaissance, on American authors of all colors, gender preferences, and religious backgrounds.

We are not down. We are not out. Our dream still guides this nation. We just have to  help people wake up to the chances to embrace it.

Commentary on the news, GeekWorld, Politics, US History

Bearing Witness

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rabbi Jamie’s translation of chapter 2, Humility. Orchot Tzaddikim. Mussar. All my Jewish friends. One last night of very cold therefore very great sleeping. Winter in all her cold, frosty, white, Snow-packed glory. My Lodgepole Companion. The psyche, a delicate and fungible place. Breakfast with Ruth on Saturday. Boulder.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Memories of Gertie

Kavannah 2025: creativity

Kavannah this week: Appreciation of opposition

One brief shining: The spirit of Winter barren Meadows filled with Snow while Lodgepoles gather it on their Branches until it weighs too much, then bending the Branch sloughs it off, I see the curved, cloven hoof marks of Mule Deer hunting for Grass, imagine the Black Bears snug in their beds dreaming not of sugar plums but that Hive filled with sweet Honey and the cold Water of Maxwell Creek, tasty Larvae dug out of a rotten Log.

N.B: I asked chatbot to illustrate this in the style of the Pre-Raphaelites. These two images are what I got. Not even close. Notice, too, how similar they are in design. I’m having fun with this, not always liking what I get, but fascinated by it anyhow.

I could, I suppose, ride out the pardons and the gender bashing and the crashing noises from DEI initiatives by watching Shadow Mountain even more closely. As in John Muir Law’s nature journaling for example. Or, I could lose myself in the study of Torah and the Zohar, kabbalah’s central text. There are, too, so many books to read. So many good TV programs to watch. Movies. Zoom calls to attend. Friends to dine with. Family to visit or who come visit me. Sure. Those kind of blinders appeal to me because I want to do them all.

There is, too, the writing of another novel. Haven’t gotten traction with that work for a while, but it could happen. I would delight in sliding off into a different universe, a world of my creation. Where I have real influence. Not saying it won’t happen.

Maybe I cancel my subscription to the New York Times, the Atlantic, the Washington Post. Listen only to tech and philosophy podcasts. AI is a rabbit hole I can happily run down for hours at a time.

I could switch my sleep schedule, stay up only at night. Become, once again, an astronomy nerd. Invest in a fancy Celestron. Send my mind and heart out to distant galaxies.

And yet. I won’t. Perhaps I should. For the peace of my soul. But. I can’t. I will not look away. Will not say I did not know. Did nothing when they let insurrectionists, convicted seditionists go free. Did nothing when they came for programming aiming for a Federal Government whose employees come from all sectors of our population. Did nothing when they came for work to realize the Great Work: creating a sustainable human presence on Mother Earth. Did nothing when they came for the poor, the wretched yearning to be free. Those who believe so much more in the dream that is America than we can fathom. Did nothing when they came for the citizens made so by birth. As was I.

You might ask. What then will you do? I will bear witness. Though I can appreciate the opposing forces in our own body politic, I do not have to let sympathy, which is the best I can manage, cloud my judgment. And, I won’t.

 

 

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Judaism, Politics, US History, World History

New Apostolic Reformation. Oh my.

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: 1 degree. 3 inches of new Snow. Talmud Torah on Zoom. Tech meets that baby in the reed boat. Joseph and Moses. Compare and contrast. That hygge feeling as Snow falls and the temperature sinks. Love it. NFL playoff games. Another Gray Man novel. Zohar volumes. The sacred world as we see it. Everyday.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah, visiting next month

Kavannah 2025: Creativity

Kavannah this week: Appreciation of Opposition   Haarecha shel machloket

One brief shining: As the calendar rolls on toward the inauguration of cousin Donald, the movement of his big day inside the Rotunda shows who rules this country and the world, Mother Earth.

 

Expect a long Ancientrails sometime in the near future about the New Apostolic Reformation. After reading the Atlantic article about it, which came just after the Anti-Social Century article I talked about on the 16th, I found what might be a purpose for me over the next four years. Being in opposition to it. Partly why I chose appreciation of opposition as my kavannah for this week. The other one being so, so obvious.

Here is the illustration in the style of a National Parks poster, reflecting the contemplative and thematic connections of your paragraph.

If you look at the Wikipedia article about it, you’ll find that it references C. Peter Wagoner as its founder and chief influence. Hard for me to believe but I studied with this guy back in the 1980’s. In Pasadena at Fuller Theological Seminary. At the time he was a guru in the church growth movement and one of my tasks as an Associative Executive for the Twin Cities Presbytery involved consulting with churches on just that topic.

I discovered in the Atlantic article that part of their work began as a counter to the Liberation Theology movement then ascendant in many Latin and Central American Catholic churches. In 1974 I attended a weeklong conference focused on bringing Liberation Theology to North America. Cornel West was part of the conference. My sentiments were then and are now with the spirit of the Liberation Theologians, not the New Apostolic Reformation, yet I seem to have connected with key figures in both movements. Odd. To say the least.

Just a moment: A hostage deal. Back home in the Hoosier State we’d say, day late and a dollar short. October 7th 2023 is a long way back. 94 hostages remain alive and in the hands of Hamas. The cease fire? Bout time. I hope this leads to a full stop to this horrendous chapter in Israeli and Palestinian history.

At some point the pieces have to get picked up, if they can be found, and a new era in the Middle East will slowly emerge. What will it look like? No one really knows. A weakened Iran. Syria without Bashar and with a new government of Islamic jihadists. Houthis still firing missiles toward the Persian Gulf. Lebanon with a weakened Hezbollah. Israel with Gaza and the West Bank still Gaza and the West Bank. Hamas weakened.

I’d like to see a Saudi Arabia/Israel brokered diplomatic initiative, though I don’t expect one. And of course, cousin Donald now enters. What could possibly go wrong?

Commentary on the news, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., US History, World History

Solitude in the Public Square

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Great Sol. Finishing the Warhound and the Pain of the World. The Outpost. Weakness. Exercise. The Move. Good night’s sleep. Diane, healing. Mark, teaching. Mary, waiting. My son. Working. Conversation. Chatbotgpt. My Lodgepole Companion. Nature Journaling. John Muir Laws. The privatization of Space. Blue Origin. New Glenn. Falcon Heavy. Starship. NASA.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Letting matters become as they will

Kavannah 2025: Creativity

Kavannah this week: Wholeness and Peace

Here is the revised WWII patriotic poster-style illustration emphasizing regionalization and the rise of different global powers, with a diminished focus on the United States. This was a second try. Chatbot has trouble with words in illustrations. Maps, too, apparently

 

One brief shining: Our divided and war worn World, regional powers rising, taking advantage of the retreat of the American Titan back to its homeshores, invading Ukraine, Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Iran, threatening to enclose and absorb Taiwan, claiming the South China Sea, while we, the once world hegemon want Greenland, the Panama Canal, and, for gods sakes, the Gulf of America.

 

No. Not starting a political rant. Just making an observation about the volatile and dangerous turn the World has taken. How in two generations, my parents and their children, us, the US has gone from savior to policeman to super hegemon to coming isolationism. With, of course, those weird exceptions. Maybe First Friend Elon will buy Greenland and the Panama Canal and gift them to us? Could happen, right?

Still pondering how or whether to engage with the new post-January 20th America. That Seed-Keepers idea. Retreating into the world of the American Renaissance. I am going to study the Zohar, get up close and intimate with Kabbalah again. That’s for sure. Put this odd inflection of humanity’s history in a wider and deeper context.

 

An interesting article in this month’s issue of the Atlantic. The Anti-Social Century by staff writer Derek Thompson. Here’s a link to the February issue. In some ways Thompson’s argument is an extension of Robert Putnam’s famous monograph: Bowling Alone. In that Putnam found increasing social isolation a definite problem Thompson’s essay seems to part ways in his acknowledgment that many people prefer solitude and now have a home environment that nurtures it. Challenges the notion of a lonlieness epidemic. Thompson though, like Putnam, finds this diminution of the public space a disturbing trend and pushes for changes that might result in a social century.

Here is the WPA poster-style illustration based on your paragraph. It emphasizes new social dynamics while nodding to traditional third places.

Without going study to study, graph to graph in the article I want to raise another possible perspective. Perhaps, like the recent acknowledgment of neuro-typicals and neuro-divergents, what Thompson has really done is limn the rise of a new way of being social, a different way that honors the individual over the community. Perhaps we can find a way to be responsible citizens without as many third places like churches, bowling alleys, cafes, sports fields.

I know this may sound like, may even be, an oxymoron, solitude in the public square, but I know my life is as rich now as it has ever been and I spend the bulk of my life alone. Many older people, especially women, find living alone freeing. A space in which they can grow and develop in their own peculiar ways.

The evolution of solitude could also be a revolt against the too many press of urbanization, perhaps even a desire to return to the more solitary ways of the early American rural life. Without having to leave the convenience economy behind.

It could be that the whole Trump/MAGA/ascendance of the id represents the last gasp of an older American culture that wanted to dominate and control the public square. Make it toxic enough that only they could stand to be in it. For now.

 

 

 

Commentary on the news, Holidays, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, US History, World History

Yesterday’s Lives

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Reconstructionist Judaism. Judaism as jazz. My White Pine companion at Boot Lake Scientific and Nature Area-Minnesota. Those elms I had to cut down and debark in Andover. Emma’s fallen cottonwood. The Seven Oaks out my study window. The dead Ash Tree where the Morel’s grew. The Ironwood that was so tough to cut. Honeycrisp. McIntosh. Plum. Pear. Cherry. Trees in our Orchard.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mountain Winds

Kavannah for 2025: Yetziratiut  Creativity

For this January 2nd life: Netzach  Perseverance and grit

One brief shining: A hand on her back, a flinch, you scared me, oh wondering what could have made her flinch since she knew I was there, right behind her, sad that touch took her into flight mode, the snow blew busily across my driveway.

 

We’re almost done with Holiseason. I count January 6th, Epiphany as the end of this wonderful time of year that began on Samain, October 31st. Here’s a connection I’d not made before. January 6th, day of the insurrection, when MAGA stormed the Capitol building carrying weapons and looting like vandals. January 6th, day of the Epiphany, which celebrates the visit of the three Magi bearing gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Sorta different, eh? Now wedded by history.

 

Not sure why, but yesterday’s lives have begun seeping into my present. Not in a regret or shame or guilt way, but as a remembrance of time’s past. Could be the stories I’m writing in the Storyworth application. Maybe not though. At breakfast with Tara I told Ball State movement stories that I rarely tell. Today in my gratefuls Trees I had known in Minnesota kept coming to mind. A few days ago I took the Artemis Honey jar out of the cabinet and went into a combination of grief and joy, of remembering life with Kate and the persistent joy then which brought grief about its loss and about Kate’s death.

Most lives, like mine, are ordinary. Most lives, like mine, are extraordinary. Ordinary because they will sink under the burden of history, little known and less remembered. Extraordinary because only I could live my life which makes it, like yours, wonderful, another full-on, head down, legs moving experiment in what it means to be human.

May as well lean into it, the onrush of old lives. Seems to be what’s happening in my psyche.

 

Just a moment: That truck. Near Cafe du Monde. Jackson Square. ISIS? Geez, guys. Read the room. So yesterday. And the irony, the maybe intended irony, of an ugly Tesla cybertruck blowing up in front of a long red tie guy hotel in Las Vegas. Why can’t China or Russia be the great Satan? Or at least share the honor.

I can already feel the aggrievement wheels turning in cousin Donald’s meanness machine. What if he decides to turn the full weight of the U.S. military against Muslim terrorists? He’s capable of that. And trust me someone in his sphere of malevolence has probably recommended it already. What if?

 

 

Commentary on the news, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Mussar, Politics, US History

Toxic. What else can you say?

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

New Year’s Day gratefuls: Tara. Ron. Ruth and Gabe. Veronica. 5 degrees this morning. Good sleeping. Snow. A new year. Kinda. The Realm. Von Bek. The Grail. Snowplows. Another Mountain Day, another Mountain life. Ruby in her winter shoes. MVP tonight. Family. Love. A new Zen calendar. Enlightenment. Not hard. Not easy. See what you’re looking at.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The feel of a fresh slate

Kavannah for 2025: Yetziratiut  Creativity

For January 1 life: Wonder, Malchut

One brief shining: Sitting with Tara over sausage patties, home fries, eggs over easy, and sourdough toast, coffee steaming, the noise almost too much, I felt yet again love, again chesed, again the presence of one who sees me as I am and accepts me, as I see her and accept her.

 

I promised something less abstruse today. Here it is.

Carried the three largest split Oak logs in with the intention of burning them last night, starting a new tradition, burning Yule logs on New Year’s Eve since I missed the Winter Solstice. As in love with the night as I am, I no longer experience as much of it. I go to bed early, too early I felt for burning the Oak. Or, maybe I’m just too set in my ways. Whatever. I didn’t do it. Again. That’s twice.

On a related note: I was gonna go upstairs and hit 30 minutes on the treadmill. Thought about it right after I got back from breakfast with Tara. Almost. Knew it was my yetzer hara, my selfish inclination saying nah. You worked out yesterday. You can work out tomorrow. Take a rest already.

I read instead.

We make these sort of decisions at bechira points, choice points, and whichever way we decide we reinforce the likelihood of making that same choice again. I had two bechira points yesterday and chose the easy way. The good news here is that the yetzer hatov, the generous inclination, the possibility directed yetzer, will always have a chance to change that decision at the next bechira point, reinforcing the way that nurtures becoming.

Mussar expresses a medieval psychology, yes. But. Clyde Steckler, professor of pastoral care at United Theological Seminary, said you can explain the workings of the mind using any system of thought you want and still come up with useful, meaningful ways to understand it. Mussar exemplifies this idea.

I no longer live in a world of bad and good, right and wrong, but in a world of possibilities and potentials reinforced or thwarted. Maybe it’s that field that Rumi talks about. The one out beyond right and wrong. Where we can meet. My practice this month helps reveal this reality: this too is for the good.

 

Just a moment: Driving a pickup truck into a crowd of revelers on Bourbon Street. These newer pickups look like weapons to me. Their massive grills. Cabs high above the rest  of us tooling along in our SUV’s and sedans. And aggressive driving? Speeding. Impatience. Road rage. Seems baked into the I’m bigger and stronger than you are toxic masculinity cast in steel and named Ram. About to get stroked by the red tie guy. Who will attempt to make normative an unthinking, insensitive, domineering version of maleness.