Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon
Tuesday gratefuls: Acting. Tal. Marilyn. Alan in his Rockie’s hat and shirt. 70. Deb. Gretchen. Hamish. Jill. Terence. Kep, who finally came back up on the bed last night. Herme. Overstory. Sanford Meisner. Connie Zweig. Richard Bresnahan. Kate, always Kate. Lana Harris. The fat waddly Animal that scurried off the road last night and up the Mountain.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Playwrights
Tarot: King of Bows, the Adder
“Adder asks us to step into our own power and to face our challenges (as individuals as well as groups and nations) with maturity and strength. We can choose to heal instead of poison. We can learn to exercise our authority without striking out in fear.” tarotx.net
Even though I’ve time shifted to a 10 pm bed time, the morning after acting class is still brutal. Up at 8:15 this morning. Practically the afternoon for my old schedule. Got home last night at 9:30 after dropping Deb off. Bed at 10:40.
A good but long and difficult workout in the morning, too. Puts the body through its paces. Add that to three hours of sitting on metal folding chairs at the Evergreen Players… Oh, my.
Worth it though. Gonna continue with acting classes. I know how to think about complex, abstruse matters. Probably past time for me to start writing about them, getting my truth out there.
Working with my emotions, performing, following a new art form, being part of it. All need burnishing. Time. Also. New people.
Next to last Astrology class. Upper Maxwell Falls right after because snow on its way. Yep. Right now it’s snowing puppies and kittens. All moisture good. About 4:30 pm.
OK. Dominating my life right now. A beeping sound. It’s on my level. I’ve gone around the room four times stopping, waiting. Dividing the walls in half. So eight stops. One sided hearing makes this a maddening enterprise. Somewhere. Somewhere. Not the usual suspects. Nothing’s blinking. Living alone with this is a real nuisance. It’s not an alarm signal from a CO2 alarm or a smoke alarm. It’s not my oxygen concentrator. Grrrr. Not sure what to do.
Gonna ignore it right now and hope it goes away. Not an adult solution, but the only one I come up with right now. Chirp chirp chirp. Aarggh.
Ok. Plot thickens. I take off my hearing aid and I can’t hear it. I know what you’re thinking, but no, I can still hear without my hearing aid. I don’t think it’s the hearing aid, rather I think it’s picking up a bluetooth signal from something else. But what? Tough when you have sensory assistance to know how you know.
Could get all philosophical here, but I won’t.


Christmas eve eve. Can’t wait. The 

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Orion and his dog. The Zodiac. Our star canopy. The unimaginable size of the universe. Our unimaginable place in it. Life. The animator. Total mystery. Darkness. The holidays of Light. And that wonderful one for the Night. Thanksgiving. Jon. Ruth. Gabe.

With Mars in the same house I found my work life adequately explained. I will fight for progressive ideas. Mars. And, I will do it with folks I know well. Have done. That part of my life feels over now.
Tuesday gratefuls: Amy, at Mile High Hearing. The Roger. Loss. Kate, always Kate. And, her quilting. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Mark. Rigel, her insistent, loud barking at 3 am. Kep, who slept through it. Julie and AARP Advantage plan #1 with premiums. Electronic signing. Marina Harris’s Furball Cleaning.
Felt a little like I was on my way to the Principal’s office while driving into Mile High Hearing. It’s not often I face a relative stranger and have to acknowledge a failure. I could not keep Roger safe.
Got the art for my Hermit neon sign. I like it. Not cheap, but it will be a signature piece for the Shadow Mountain Hermitage. Gonna put it on the inside wall that can be seen through one of our front windows.
Climate change. The Whigged out GOP. The Gump Trump. The Pandamndemic. Democrats shooting themselves in the foot. I know. All still underway. As for me, I will remodel my kitchen, hang some neon art in my living room, utilize my mini-splits, pet my dogs.
Last day of Summer and the Lughnasa Moon




Golden Solar picked yesterday morning to come and replace two microinverters that have been dead since our solar installation. The inverters report to the makers of our solar panels and we can download the reports through our own webpage. They have nothing to do with actually producing electricity. I’ve been asking them to do this for almost five years. Why now? No clue, but I’m glad it’s done.
Unless it died in the radiation bath I had over 35 treatments. With the Lupron now gone, the cancer could have begun to grow again, but this test results suggests that it didn’t. That could mean that the radiation did in fact kill the cancer that had reemerged.
I’m planning a celebratory meal anyhow. Probably Sushi Win. I’m cured until I’m not. That’s the way I want to think. Not always possible, but it’s my goal.
Life continues, no matter. Until it doesn’t, of course. That is, even when an evil bastard like Trump is in office, we still have to eat. When a rampant virus rages, we still have to sleep. When a family member is ill, we still love each other, support each other. Life is a miracle and wasting it, well, please don’t.
No matter how proximate or distant disturbances in the force, science goes on, literary folks write books and articles, the past remains a source of inspiration, and the future a source of hope. No matter whether life has meaning or whether it is absurd (as I believe) the secondary effects of this strange evolutionary push into awareness persist. And, yet they persisted.
Mt. Evans and its curved bowl continues to deflect weather toward us here on Shadow Mountain. The light of dawn hits Maine first, as it has for millennia. The polar vortex slumps toward Minnesota.

But the whole ordeal had wiped her out. Understandably.
Not to mention the newest superspreader event, the storming of the US Capitol by thousands of unmasked domestic terrorists. Seditionists. Acts of treason. These are the blasphemy equivalents for a democracy.