Category Archives: Memories

Health, Korea, Memories, Travel

The Ancientrail of Pain

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Dr. Do Vu. Injections of lidocaine. Relief on the left side. Pretty good. Susan. Who drove me. Her kindness. Today, the right side. The Night. Shadow. CBE and its Mitzvah Committee.  Lone Tree. Fairplay. Troublesome Gulch. Pine. Conifer. Evergreen. South Park. Kenosha Pass. Guanella Pass. The Shaggy Sheep. North Fork of the South Platte.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jews

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut.  Wonder.

  • “Wonder rather than doubt is the root of all knowledge”.  Abraham Joshua Heschel

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: When the first of the six needles went in, a numbing one, I said, “Fuck me!” as I lay face down, head supported by a leather pillow with a hole in it, much like a massage table, but this was no massage and I could tell that right away, not a fan of pain-who is-yet this was pain in service of pain reduction, an irony no one needed to point out.

 

Slowly, slowly: The Joseon Palace, Gyeongbokgung, Seoul. Two years ago last month. A tourist day in Seoul, driven by Daniel and Diane. Daniel interpreted for me at my son and Seoah’s wedding in 2016.

Earlier in the day we had visited the fish market with Diane’s dad, a professor of communications at a university in Busan. They asked me, at a particular stall, to point to a Fish. I did. Oh, my. The stall owner gaffed the big Snapper and we took pictures as it flopped around. I did not feel wonderful.

After seeing a few more of the stalls, we took an elevator to the top floor of the market, went into a restaurant, where we had sashimi and fish head soup. Yep. That Snapper I condemned.

We dropped Diane’s Dad off at the train station for the high speed train that runs from Seoul in the far north to Busan in the far south of South Korea and followed my interest in seeing historical sights. The first one we visited, Gyeongbokgung. 

A huge place. I loved it. Yet somewhere along the way my back no longer wanted to hold me up. I started sitting outside spots where my son and Seoah, Daniel and Diane, went inside. Finally, the pain got bad enough that I asked to leave, to return to Songtan.

That began a two year long journey. Massage and various machines in a Korean orthopedist’s office. Meds dispensed in small cellophane made units. Back home 29 total sessions of p.t. Celebrex until it bothered my kidneys. Acupuncture which only yielded a nice nap for ten sessions. Tramadol and acetaminophen, which help some, but not nearly enough.

Yesterday, the first of four appointments hopefully leading to substantial relief. Nerve ablation. Burning off the fatty sheath around the offending nerves. Plus a butrans patch which may knockdown any residual pain. May it be so.

I so want to return to Korea, maybe even visit Mary and Guru in Melbourne. Go on another cruise. You know, get outta the house a bit. Fingers crossed.

 

Art and Culture, Colorado, Humanities, Literature, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Music, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain

Art Years. Mountain Years.

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Luke at 34. Bella Colibri. Rabbi Jamie’s Rosh Hashanah sermons. Shadow, the morning kisser. Artemis’ Cucumbers. Pizza and Burger plants in my son’s garden. Seoah’s half marathon. Mary’s political neighborhood. Mark and West Texas. From afar in Hafar. Ruth and Gabe, students. The Never Ending Story. Fourth Wing. Iron Flame.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Harvest

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder.    “Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.”  Socrates.

Tarot: Five of Pentacles. (Druid Craft)

  • Focus on internal resources: For a querent, this version is a powerful reminder that sometimes the help we need is within us, but our focus on the problem prevents us from seeing the solution. It is a prompt to shift perspective, recognize internal resources, and understand that our perceived limitations may be an internal block rather than an external lack. 
Festival Theater, Stratford

One brief shining: Trumpets blaring we would file into our seats at the three-quarter round thrust stage of the Guthrie Theater when it stood attached to the wonderful Walker Art Center, find our seats, and wait as the Gospel of Colonus, or the Bacchae, or the Christmas Carol came to life, poor players strutting and fretting upon the stage until they were heard no more. Applause!

 

Minnesota: Though now a Coloradan, a Rocky Mountain guy, a Jew, a widower, I once was a Minnesotan and happily so. Especially when it came to the arts. Those trumpets I mentioned? Oddly, when my family vacationed in Stratford, Ontario I had encountered them years before. Why? Because Michael Langham, the director of the Guthrie when I first attended on a student discount, had been the director of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival during those long ago family vacations.

The Walker allowed all of us tucked into the rarely visited Upper Midwest of the Heartland access to the latest and the greatest of modern and contemporary art. What a gift. The MIA, an encyclopedic museum, covered art from ancient Chinese ceramics and bronzes through impressionists and abstract expressionists and had its own contemporary art exhibitions.

I spent twelve happy years guiding tour groups through the Asian galleries discussing the Jade Mountain(s), the Japanese Tea Ceremony, Song dynasty ceramics, and Korea’s amazing celadon glazed pottery. Yes I also led tours that included Goya and Rembrandt and Kandinsky, Chuck Close and Egon Schiele, but my heart remained always in the Asian collection.

It was a distinct privilege to immerse myself in the thousands of years of art in the MIA’s collection, to have my understandings of the modern world upended at the Walker, to have the Western world’s best playwright’s effort brought to life while I attended the Guthrie.

Too, there was and will always be for me: The Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra. Decades of attendance acquainted me with Mozart, Teleman, Bach, Ives, Copeland, Fauré. And, ta dah! Kate.

Today my chamber music is the golden swathes of Aspen Leaves on Black Mountain. My Guthrie is the rain swollen Maxwell Creek while the Arapaho National Forest recapitulates the MIA and the Walker. So be it.

Far Right, Memories, Politics, US History

For a Trump Sick Soul

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, her downward dog.  Diane in Indiana. Seeing Judy, Marilyn and Irv’s friend. My son. His work. Seoah. Murdoch. Dog treats. Liberals. Under siege. The Ford Foundation. George Soros. Hungary. Italy. France. Germany. The Netherlands. Great Britain. Denmark. Norway. Sweden. Finland. Spain. Austria.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the Land.

Tarot: Seven of Pentacles, (Druid Craft)

One brief shining: Body creaky, aching at the joints, meds of little help, so very tired of this, not being able to bend over, finish tasks; yet, I watched a movie yesterday afternoon: Deaf President Now-Apple TV-and the power, the real and always power of folks shunted aside was so beautiful, so moving, I cried remembering my days of awe at the confidence and bravery of ordinary people.

 

Days of Yesteryear: Denim jacket on, hair beginning to get long, my ever present Pall Mall in my hand, jeans and workboots, green book bag slung over my shoulder. The microphone. Hell, no, we won’t go. Fists in the air. Electricity on campus. Hundreds, then thousands. Against the war. Against in loco parentis. For student power. As those Gallaudet students found when confronted with the choice of yet another hearing president.

Those were the days my friend. I thought they’d never end. But, they did. With the ominous prescience of National Guard Troops firing live bullets into an anti-war protest. With the Moral Majority and the immoral president, Richard Nixon. The rise of Movement Conservatives. A gradual gathering of grievance and indifference to derech heretz, the basic decency expected of all people.

As the conservatives gradually slowly, thanks Lee Atwater, Karl Rove, Newt Gingrich, the New Apostolic Reformation, National Conservatism, became a tide, a tsunami of hate and bitter feeling. As this once powerful nation began to insist on pulling back from the world, declaring National narcissism as our raison d’etrê. As a nation began to split itself apart, dragging the poor, the immigrant, the disabled, the unhealthy, persons of color and LGBTQ+ persuasions across a sharp bed of nails- oligarchic indifference.

That world. Then. Gone. A distant memory of hope and justice. Subducted under a tectonic plate of fear and repressed anger with guns and Gadsen flags flying.

So often. Can we last four years of this? Among Jews. Is it time to go? But, where? Sadness and confusion among those I love. Glad in that strange way Mary and Mark, my son and Seoah live faraway. It is a sad time to be an American.

 

Friends: Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv. Their friend from Massachusetts. The joy. The here and now healing of laughter. Shared exasperation. Shared dreams and acknowledged fears. Over a Salmon blt, two drag it through the garden omelets, and a flatbread with cheese and pepperoni.  At Primo’s in Kings Valley.

When I left, I felt buoyed up by conversation. By seeing and being seen. By hearing and being heard. The balm of Gilead for a Trump sick soul.

Family, Far Right, Jefferson County, Memories, Mussar, Politics, US History, White Supremacy

A Culture Dying of Lead Poisoning

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Teshuva. Accounting of the soul. Shadow on my pillow. Sleeping. 9/11. My son’s decision on account of it. Seoah. Murdoch. Jangs. Singapore. Time with Mary there and in Hawai’i. The anguish of our Middle East actions. Of Israel’s. The Evergreen Shooting. Columbine. Guns. Gun control. Our poor benighted nation. Charlie Kirk.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tara’s hot tub garden bed

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ometz Lev. Strength of the heart. A middah I wish for all parents and school children in Evergreen this day.

Tarot: Ten of Cups, (Druid Craft)

  • Domestic Harmony: Suggests a stable, secure, and happy home environment. This card often points to a desire for or achievement of an idyllic country life.
  • Gratitude and Blessings: A call to recognize and appreciate the blessings you have. The cups are a reminder of the rewards that come from love and connection. 

One brief shining: This Shadow Mountain home with its three levels, the guest level and the home office, the main level with Arts and Crafts furniture and lights, the fireplace, the breakfast nook built by Jon, a remodeled kitchen, a pantry, an exercise room, the downstairs level with its oriental rugs, comfy chairs, television, bedroom, and laundry room, Shadow’s food and toys, the fenced in backyard filled with Lodgepoles, Grasses, Groundcovers, Wild Flowers, and now Artemis, a place of memories with Kate, with Vega, Rigel, Gertie, Kepler, with guests over the years, its solar panels, its four car garage and library above, a front with no lawn, more Lodgepoles and Aspens, Kate’s Iris bed and her Lilacs in back has been my refuge, my hermitage, my home of eleven years come this Winter Solstice. Yes to the Ten of Cups.

Oh, my: Gabe and Ruth both sent texts. Gabe: “So today Charlie (Kirk) got shot and killed. And evergreen highschool got shot up. Today is strange.”  Ruth: “One of the things I don’t get is how you can be so set on defending a fetus and its life yet guns are more of a right than life is for students.”

Rabbi Jamie opened our sanctuary to any in town who might need it. Ironically he presented a program last night on teshuva. “While often translated as repentance, its deeper meaning is about taking action to return to one’s true, divine self…” Gemini The Jewish month of Elul, in which we are right now, encourages a time of reflection-of cheshbon nefesh, an accounting of the soul-with the aim of teshuva before Rosh Hashanah.

How can we as a nation, as a culture, return to, as one sage put it, the landscape of our soul? Not just the shooter(s) in the 47 school shootings to date this year (Ruth’s numbers), no, but our  culture dying from lead poisoning.

Where is the landscape in which I grew up? Flawed in many, many ways to be sure, but at least one in which gun owners hunted, did not demand their “second amendment rights” and the only duck and cover was to shield ourselves (ha) from a nuclear explosion.

Holidays, Humanities, Memories, Retirement

A Curse on All our Houses

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow of the morning darkness. Nerve ablations scheduled. Artemis. Mythic Quest. Apple TV. Tenderloin, sweet Corn, sliced Peppers. Lunch. All labor. Robots. A.I. The cloud. Desktop and laptop and handheld computers. Nividia. AMD. Intel. Spending on AI data centers. The environmental cost of AI. Life. Death. Mystery.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tzelem elohim. All made of the same stuff.

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ometz Lev. Strength of the heart. The inner courage to move forward. Courage.

Tarot:  #4, The Lord (Druid Craft Deck)

  • Stability and structure: Creating a solid, secure foundation for a project, family, or business. This card suggests a time to build and organize.

One brief shining: The inner world, a place of dreams and memories, emotions and intuition, Progoff’s inner cathedral, Jung’s shadow and the collective unconscious, the nefesh and the ruach and the neshama, where the outer world of materiality has no foothold, blends and develops our experience with our gifts, creating an I am.

 

Labor day: A bit late, but hey, I’m retired.

From my 50’s Indiana childhood I imprinted a steadfast rule. School starts the day after Labor Day and ends the day before Memorial Day. Anything else violates my understanding of a proper childhood. Colorado schools, for example, start in mid-August and end in mid to late May. Beep! Wrong. No kid should have to go back to school before the State Fair is done. I’m just sayin’.

Labor day returns our focus, however briefly, to labor unions, the working class, blue collar folks. The citizens of Alexandria, Indiana. My home town. Workers who made batteries and alternators at Delco Remy. Workers who made headlights and taillights for Guide Lamp. Who worked one of the three shifts: days, evening, nights. Yes, in that time General Motors required enough batteries and headlights to require factories that ran twenty-four hours a day.

No longer. What is the future of this kind of labor? Bleak. Even with red tie guy’s tariffs. The return of manufacturing to US soil? Unlikely in any substantial way. Global trade will not go away and the benefit (?) of cheaper labor will always land somewhere around the globe.

Then, of course. A.I. What will it do to the labor force? It may extend the leveled sites of Delco and Guide to paralegals,  lawyers, doctor’s offices, newsrooms, and classrooms. So called knowledge workers. No one really knows.

But, disruption for workers of all sorts has been the norm in the not free for all of capitalist economies. Whatever AI and robotics can do will shuffle the deck of work, of that I have no doubt. But how much? Hard to predict.

Work, if you recall your Bereshit, Genesis, is a curse laid on Adam and Eve for eating of the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil. A curse. We pretend it’s ennobling because we need to. We have to justify our need to leave a warm bed, a lover or spouse, the kids and the dog to, what, win bread? Move up, gain status? Do something worthwhile? Yes. A curse on all our houses.

 

Memories, Men, Minnesota, Politics, US History

The Heart of Darkness

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Paul. Tom. Naps. Shadow and her new Lobster. Nylabone. Her morning sweetness. Rain. Smoky the Bear on Low Fire Danger. The family in South Korea. In Denver. In Saudi Arabia. In Australia and K.L. In Longmont. Planting Carrots. Watering them in. Irv and his new tooth. Rumi. Kabir. Hafiz. Basho. Cold Mountain. Woodsworth. Coleridge. Blake. Keats. Thomas. Harris. Berry. Whitman. Dickinson. Oliver. Collins.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mountain roads

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Rodef Shalom. The desire to generate well-being for ourselves and others.

Tarot: The Greenman, #4

  • “Creative fertility and power: Represents the abundant, regenerative, and vibrant male energy of the natural world.
  • Assertive dynamism: Signifies a new and thriving drive to begin projects, relationships, or new ways of living.”  Gemni

One brief shining: Morning darkness now greets Shadow and me as we get up, covering the back yard, obscuring the Lodgepoles, the Aspen, Artemis except for the glow of her heater, all the toys and socks and bones Miss Shadow has relocated there, the Bluebells, the invasive Mullein, those sawtooth Ground Covers I don’t recognize; the same darkness obscures 10,000 foot Black Mountain as if its Massif did not exist. What does your inner darkness obscure?

Minneapolis: Forty years of my life were spent in Minnesota. Most of them in the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. Cities I loved and love still. My heart breaks for Minneapolis, a city with flaws, sure, it’s a place inhabited by humans; yet also a place committed to a diverse citizenry, to beauty, to citizen based planning, to justice for all. Does it fall short on all of these? Of course it does, yet no more so than most, probably a lot less.

And yet.  The Annunciation shooting yesterday. Melissa Hortman and her husband. Gilbert. Only two months ago. George Floyd.

When I worked on the West Bank in Minneapolis, I conducted a memorial service for a long time resident of that then counter-cultural neighborhood. I don’t remember her name, but I remember how she died. Standing on the back porch of her second floor apartment, a bullet so spent it didn’t pierce the back of her coveralls, did shatter her heart. She had children, was in her early thirties.

I do remember saying in my eulogy for her that the only sense that could be made of her death lay in one place. The need to control gun violence. I don’t recall if we did anything about that then, I suspect not or I would remember. This would have been in the mid-nineteen eighties.

In the same time period I counseled a young Black man from the Southside to give evidence against a known gangster. Another young Black man who had committed more than one murder, his violence keeping others in the neighborhood quiet.

To show the complexity. He did give evidence. And then was harassed at his job at a local pharmacy by friends of the man he’d sent to Stillwater Prison. So often that he eventually moved to Florida. His sister, too.

I think of Joseph Conrad’s, The Heart of Darkness.

Family, Memories, Travel

She would have been 81 today

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Her 81st birthday. Memories of her. Her retirement cruise. Finding Shadow Mountain home. Her feeling of always being on vacation up here. Her love for Jon, for Ruth and Gabe. For my son and Seoah. For our dogs. For me. Her work with children. In Minnesota and in Guatemala. Her pacifism. Her love of chamber music. Of seeing the world.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.

Tarot: The Pole Star, #17

One brief shining: That evening after the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra had finished its program, the last of the season, the last chance I had to invite the woman who had sat next to me all those months out for coffee, would I overcome my discomfort around dating? Yes.

Pensive Kate. Also a big part of her personality

At the Capitol Grille, across from the Ordway Theater, a short walk through Rice Park, we had coffee. She thought I was a lawyer. I thought she was a teacher. Nope. Wrong on both. Clergy. M.D.

A week or so later we had our first date. A walk around what was then Lake Calhoun, now Bde Maka Ska, or White Bank Lake in Dakota. I had on a brand new Lands End checked shirt which I would much later tear for sitting shiva. She wore a new dress. We ate at a small French restaurant not too far from the lake. I don’t recall its name.

We got serious in a couple of months. Both happily divorced. Both still enjoying life and work. Kate soon had my son clomping up and down my Irvine Park condo stairs in ski boots and off on Saturdays for ski lessons. He was eight years old.

I got to know her 21 year old son, Jon, an art major drop out at the time. Our relationship developed more slowly.

When Kate and I decided to get married, we chose the Landmark Center in St. Paul close to both the Ordway where we met and the Capitol Grille.

Our March honeymoon was epic. We followed spring north from our first stop, Rome. We loved Italian food, coffee, and croissants. Our hotel, the Internazionale, was at the top of the Spanish Steps.

We visited Pompeii and Florence from Rome, then took our first class Eurail Pass to Venice. Venice to Vienna. A long ride with no food.

When we got into Vienna, it was 10 pm. The concierge had our bags taken up to our room while we went across the Ringstrasse to a restaurant he recommended. Red checkered table cloths and wiener schnitzel. Some cabbage and spaetzle.  Ah.

On then to Paris and the Angleterre Hotel on the left bank. Paris to London. London to Edinburgh. Edinburgh to Inverness. Inverness to London on the sleeper.

At Pizzaro’s place in Lima

Kate and I bookended that trip with our cruise around Latin America for her retirement.

In between we raised my son, vegetables, fruit, bees, dogs and a life of joy and abundance. We had 32 years together, each of them an adventure, each of them in a mutually supportive relationship that I still miss.

Asia, Family, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Paganism, Plants, Sport, Tarot

Variables

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Morning darkness. Cool. Shadow and her toys. The flight to Incheon. 9:30 am, MT today. Korea. The Jangs. My son. The Giants. Baseball. A six year old and the World Series. 1987. Kirby Puckett. Randy Johnson. Bert Blyleven. Kent Hrbek. Fathers and sons. Memories, the scaffolding of identity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Metrodome

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Recognizing the good.

Tarot: The Three of Arrows, Jealousy

One brief shining: Stubble darkened his golden brown face as he listened, focused, a commander, a lieutenant colonel, yes, but here with me, my son hearing my doctor, Sue Bradshaw, discuss my health.

 

The Jangs: The Giants lost. 4-2. Beaten by the Nationals. Jung Hoo Lee got one hit. Root, root, root for the home team. If they don’t win, it’s a shame. Not in this case. Seeing Lee play center field, bat. That was the ball game for the Korean cheering section.

Their plane leaves this continent today at 10:30 am Pacific time, arriving in Incheon on Monday, the 11th, at 3 pm. The international dateline.

My son returns to work on Tuesday after a “vacation” spent as chauffeur and main problem solver for this Rocky Mountain Korean holiday. He’s confident, decisive, steady, kind.

His work phone kept him busy, too. The oddest problem? A geomagnetic storm, space weather, that could harm the instruments used in his job. Talk about force majeure.

 

The Tarot: Not often do the cards perplex me, but this one, the Three of Arrows, jealousy? Wha…? I left envy and jealousy behind, at least I think I did, years ago. Each night I touch the mezuzah on my bedroom door and say, “I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m comfortable with what I have.” I mean it, too. And feel it in my lev. So, jealousy?

Perhaps it comes to remind me of those days when I read many authors and wanted to write like them? Marion Zimmer Bradley. Herman Hesse. Ovid. Many others. I found my own voice.

Or. Perhaps it comes to remind me of the spiritual journey I’ve taken since those days of ambition. Toward acceptance of the Great Wheel as a model of life. Toward the Jewish insistence on constant questioning. Toward Yamantaka’s wisdom on death. Toward knowledge, intimate knowledge, of the One.

Or, perhaps it’s a random card with no particular resonance at all.

 

Artemis: Kale, Spinach, Beets, Tomatoes thrive. Arugula, Lettuce, Chard not so much. The east facing bed challenges me to learn how to plant it, water it. What unique gift does it have that I can’t quite see right now?

While I wait on the other vegetables to mature, I plan to try different things, see what might turn it from fallow to abundance. First, I plan to replant the Arugula, Lettuce, and Chard. Perhaps today. Then I plan to supplement the drip irrigation with my pretty green watering can. It has a flat copper spout with holes and produces a gentle Rain.

My goal is not so much a harvest at this point, but experimenting with variables to see what makes this bed a comfortable home for Seeds.

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Mussar, Travel, World History

New Ideas

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Bagel table. Sue Bradshaw. My son with me. The Jangs in San Francisco. Breckenridge. The oxygen concentrator. Shadow, barking in the early morning. Protecting Artemis from Mule Deer? The darkness. Shadow still barking. Ah. Stopped. Tactical flashlight. Artemis heater. Tomatoes fruiting. Evergreen Lake. Hot weather.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Walking in the Dark

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov.

Active Recognition: Hakarat hatov is not passive. It requires conscious effort to identify and acknowledge the good, rather than taking it for granted. Beyond Gratitude: While related to gratitude, hakarat hatov extends to recognizing the good in situations and people, even when they haven’t directly benefited you. Jewish Perspective: In Judaism, hakarat hatov is considered a fundamental value, encouraging a positive outlook and a sense of appreciation for the world and its inhabitants. Gemini

Tarot: The Green Woman, #3*

One brief shining: Out into the back yard tactical flashlight in hand, where is she and what has she seen to cause such a commotion, a lot of barking, barking, barking; the cool Mountain morning wraps around me as I see light reflected in two eyes looking at me, Shadow wondering what is he doing out here.

 

Parting words: When I left the Happy Camper a couple of weeks ago, the Gen Z latter day hippy clerk smiled and said, “Be high out there.” Altitude attitude?

Yesterday when I left Jackie’s after getting my ears lifted, Rhonda, her colleague, gave me a mischievous smile and said, “Don’t behave yourself!”

 

The Jang’s last day in Colorado: My son and Seoah packed up, loaded the huge Dodge Van they’ve used for transporting each other on this Rocky Mountain holiday, and headed for a morning in Breckenridge, my son’s post college home for three years.

The part of their stay which focused on things I’ve done many times, I stayed at home. Partly to preserve my energy. My stamina is not up to days away from home. Mostly I just didn’t want to go.

The evening meals I enjoyed immensely. We connected on levels beyond the need for language. Smiles. Hugs. Being together as family. Some conversation and some of it deep: the nature of government or the origin of Homo sapiens. Some of it silly. They liked Macgiver, Battlestar Galactica, American TV. I like K-dramas. Soft culture.

We left each other on the asphalt of my driveway. Hugs all round except for Umma, who shook my hand. Her way.

An important visit. Memories that build relationships. Relationships that can last over time and distance. My question now is how to nurture, how to reinforce them.

A few ideas. I pay Ruth’s airfare to Korea next summer if she gets an internship there. Maybe I go with her. Gabe’s graduation money could send him to Korea, too.

Perhaps we’ll all meet in Hawai’i. Vacation together in a spot between the Mountains and the Peninsula.

Emails and zoom. Gifts. I’m open to other ideas. Mary? Mark?

 

Just a moment: A new form of family, united across oceans and languages and nations, perhaps that’s part of the answer to Trumpism. An end around. Loosen the bond with any one home country, spend the released energy on building connection continent to continent.

 

*”…the Green Woman mediates the sacred sovereignty of the Earth’s soul and can show the path to understanding and communion with nature. But with this blessing comes responsibility. Remember that this glorious, magnanimous and generous spirit can live through you, radiated by the sacred breath of life and given to others who need guidance and healing.” Parting the Mists

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, Shadow Mountain

The Second Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, looking at me across the pillow. At 4:30 am. My son, working. Seoah and her sister. Shopping. A warm morning. The Tomato fruits setting. Kale, Spinach, Beets growing. Having my son and Seoah under my own roof. Family. A strong, dispersed family. The view from Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sharing pizza with my son

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The Eel

One brief shining: A quiet, gentle feeling with my son and Seoah sleeping above me as I type; a joy that comes from deep within, neither from a happy place, or even a place of satisfaction, rather a connected and comfortable spot, one where no expectations other than love lies.

 

The Jangs: Jet lag saw yesterday a quiet day with my son staying here, drafting personnel reviews while Seoah went to be with her family at the Air BnB.

Apparently it was an emotional Sunday evening with tears and alcohol at the BnB. Not sure what  triggered all that except Appa’s jet lagged yearning for a life in the U.S. he was not able to live. He fought for and with U.S. soldiers in the Vietnam War so I imagine this is a long nurtured dream.

He never went past elementary school, yet learned and successfully applied the principles of organic farming as a grower of vegetables and rice. He’s also been village headman for Seoah’s home village, Okgwa, for many years. Education does not equal intelligence or reveal skills.

Appa’s long sober so it was not him drinking but Seoah’s brother-in-law, the six foot green grocer, and her sister, Min Yun. I imagine the unexpected confluence of jet lag, altitude, and American beer led to stronger effects than anticipated. Travel, eh?

Seoah’s sister recovered well enough to convince her husband to drive her, Seoah, and their kids into Cherry Creek for some fancy, label focused shopping. My son was happy he didn’t have to go. Me, too.

I spent a quiet Monday here with Shadow as my son worked. In the evening I went out to Ripple, a new pizza and soft ice cream joint, picked up a large pepperoni and green olives which we ate together.

Sharing a meal, just him and me, called up the Irvine Park years when we lived in my condo. Irvine Park had a lovely square with a Victorian fountain, a bandshell, and great oaks, one of which played backstop for many evenings of catch.

Yesterday, talking about Hawai’i, Seoah said, quite casually, “Yes, we’ll all live there.” Indicating my son and me. If my son does decide to retire at the end of his twenty years, one year after he finishes in Korea in 2027, that’s been the plan.

A good goal for me. A Hawai’ian sunset.

 

Just a moment: I knew this was coming. Trump Administration Will Reinstall Confederate Statue in Washington. NYT, 8/5/2025. Gotta pander to that base with the Epstein files nipping at your MAGAmatic heels.