Category Archives: Memories

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Judaism, Memories, Paganism, Plants

Not Even Past

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Summer and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: Ruth and Gabe. Nathan. Tarot. Morning Darkness. Cool morning. Shadow the mover of toys and socks. The sleeper. Alan and Joanne. Dandelion. RTD. Japanese lanterns. Red tie guy. His allies and facilitators. The rest of us. The most. Our long, slow slide into a third-rate country.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Japanese Lanterns for Artemis

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The eight of Vessels-rebirth. How can I enhance my joy in the Tarot.

One brief shining: Ruth drives her pale green Subaru up the hill to Conifer, to Shadow Mountain Black Mountain Drive and she brings Gabe, Jon, Kate, Merton, Rebecca, BJ, Sarah, Annie with her, the living and the dead who occupy our memories and still shape our lives. Family.

 

Family: Its many branches planted here and in the here after. Jon and Kate. Tanya. Leisa. Rebecca and Merton. Of recent and sometimes blessed memory.

Not gone. Not at all. Haunting or supporting. Often both in the same moment. A remembered moment of hearts spread out on a restaurant table. A father watching movies with his son. A hostile mother demeaning her children. A hand held gently. A smile and a hug just when needed. Those quiet, small moments when love flashed between the two. Or among the three.

Mothers and fathers. Daughters and sons. Brothers and sisters. Grandfathers and grandmothers. Cousins. Kin.

Mark works in the desert of the Arabian Peninsula. Mary starting a new expat life as a permanent resident of Australia. Melbourne. Guru in K.L. My son in Osan along with Seoah and Murdoch.

Mom and dad. Long dead now. Yet not absent. No. Following Faulkner: “The past is not ever dead; it’s not even past.”

The stories. Of Charlie Keaton. Of Mabel. Of Aunt Mary and Aunt Mame. Aunt Nell. Uncle Riley. Aunt Virginia. All ghosts now, all hidden from earthly view yet still alive, still shaping us in ways we sometimes know and in ways we often do not.

How will we dance in the minds of our family after our deaths? Will it be a slow, graceful gavotte. A passion fueled tango. An elegant waltz. Perhaps a rock and roll moment, abandon and energy. Something we cannot predict, nor ever know.

 

Artemis: Nathan brought by two Japanese lanterns yesterday. Adding to the koi already on the door and his wooden accessories. Artemis has a distinct Asian inflection, appropriate for this guy whose family long ago fled west across the Pacific to Korea, Malaysia, Thailand, Singapore, Australia.

Artemis is, in that way, a family shrine as well as a temple to my mixed pagan and Jewish spirituality. Her Tomatoes have many spiky yellow blooms, her Squash Plants have begun to throw vines over the raised beds, while the seeds of her fall salad garden right now take in moisture and heat, have located Great Sol’s path above them and will soon emerge above ground.

Still to plant: Herbs, flowers. And, later, in October, garlic.

Dogs, Dreams, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Memories, Minnesota

Shadow and Artemis Add Them Back

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Wednesday gratefuls: Halle. P.T. ending. Forced to decide my own workouts. Overnight Rain. The darkness of early Morning. Shadow sleeping beside me. Her life outside. The Wren. Again. Planting the Fall garden. Artemis. Great Sol still hidden. His consort, Mother Earth, wrapped in nurturing Night. World Whale and Dolphin Day.

Sparks of Joy and Earth: Soil with Seeds

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Page of Arrows. The Wren. What can I do to reinforce my exercise routine?

One brief shining: Poured seeds into my hands, delicate Lettuce, spiky Beets, tiny Arugula, round Chard, pushed them down onto the Compost/Top Soil with Horse manure, wrote small signs and placed them at the end of rows, got out my copper Watering can and poured a thin stream over each of the furrows, Mother Earth impregnated. Now we wait.

 

Dreams: I don’t remember the full dream as I often don’t. We’d gone north on a highway that  appears in my dreams on occasion, this time all the way, to a land of Boreal Woods and Lakes far past the small towns where I often end up, past my dream world Chicago and its complicated highways and ports.

A retreat with several friends including Kate. While there we made places to sleep out of Buffalo hides. The rest of the time we wandered in the Forest, went to the Lakes, split off into dyads often.

Then someone came, maybe three days into our stay, and said, “Rabbi Jamie’s dead.” This confounded us all, sent us into shock. Nobody had any details.

In all the confusion the dream came to an end.

 

Artemis: The Fall Garden. Awaits the awakening of leafy Chard, Spinach, Arugula, Lettuce, and well-Rooted Beets. (Just remembered I need to plant Nasturtiums and Marigolds.)

Before the nights grow too cool, Nathan will have added cold frames and overlapped the thin Cedar planks. Artemis should be able to grow Vegetables outside into mid to late September, while continuing to grow Herbs and Lettuce, Chard and Arugula inside over the Winter.

Walking outside to Artemis I realized I missed having physical tasks outside. How limited I’d allowed my outside world to become until I started with Shadow and now Artemis. Again directly in touch with this Land, with growing things: Puppies and Vegetables. How I’ve missed it.

 

Neshama/Nefesh: The Neshama connects us to, is our connection with, the One. Realized yesterday something about my Nefesh, which connects me to and is my connection with the world outside my body.

I’ve always considered myself primarily an intellectual, working with ideas and words. Reading. Learning. Studying.

When I wrote about my life review yesterday, it became clear that no, that’s not my primary way of being in the world. I have been, as far back at least as high school, a doer, an actor. Whether as a literal actor in “Our Town” or as class president in high school. As part of the movement in the sixties. As an organizer in the Twin Cities. As a Gardener and Bee Keeper in Andover.

Colorado is another chapter, different. It’s been more about care-taking, about dealing with illness and death. About facing the final chapter.

Yet I also need those doing roles, too. Shadow and Artemis have added them back into my life.

Memories, Minnesota, Politics

That Time I Worked As a Minister

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Tuesday gratefuls: Home. Artemis. Shadow. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain Drive. Conifer. Evergreen. The Jangs. The mini-splits. Lodgepoles. Aspens. Blue Bells. Pentstemons. Tomatoes. Beets. Lettuce. Ruby. Ruth and Gabe. Joanne and Alan. Halle. Jake. Generator maintenance. Kate’s chair. My serious reading chair. Minnesota Council of Non-Profits. MICAH. Jobs Now. Stevens Square Community Association. Loring Park Community Association.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Work, well done

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Ten of Stones. Home. How can I celebrate my garden and my life?

One brief shining: Pick up a book, an old technology I know, open it and let your eyes fall on the first page, the first sentence, the rest of the pages still thick in your hand; in the good ones adventure lies in that thicket of words, or information, maybe enlightenment, maybe inspiration or self-criticism, a world made in the covenant between author and reader, so old, so old.

 

Life: I lay in bed this morning doing a little life review. In conversation with Paul yesterday I remembered the Philanthropy Project which morphed as organizing often does into something else, becoming the Minnesota Council of Non-Profits. That led me to MICAH. Last week I wrote about the Jobs Now Coalition.

These three organizations still have significant roles to play in Minnesota’s political life. I had a lead role in organizing each of them. In some real sense they are a part of my legacy.

Then, I thought. Let’s review some other wins. We kicked General Mills out of the Stevens Square Neighborhood and Control Data out of Eliot Park, denying corporate feel-good missionary work that would have taken control of their communities away from their residents.

On the West Bank we built five hundred affordable housing units, a 200 unit apartment building, and a parking ramp. We also funded the start up of a worker owned drug store, bike shop, and hardware store.

With Bea Swanson we found funding for her ministry in Little Earth of United Tribes, a grandmother helping mothers. Started Sin Fronteras, without borders, to get money to the undocumented who needed to apply for green cards.

With Leadership Minneapolis we created a definition of leadership as love, justice, and compassion which got us all fired by the Downtown Council. Odd, in a way, since I led the Minneapolis Planning Commission’s plan 2000 which involved all key downtown players in creating a guide for planning decisions in downtown and its nearby neighborhoods.

The nature of organizing, of course, means no one person can take credit for this or that achievement. Even so, I know that in each of these instances I played a central and significant role.

There was also the unseating of a long time Hennepin County commissioner and replacing him with a progressive. Working the DFL convention to get Paul Wellstone nominated in his first run for the Senate.

All of this work I was able to do because of the Presbytery of the Twin Cities Area which funded the West Bank Ministry. A ministry shaped around these verses from the gospel of Luke:

18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
19 to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Memories, Minnesota, Politics

It still exists

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II (Full)

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow, the outdoor girl. Artemis ready to receive plantings for a fall garden. Halle. Capybaras. Marmots. Nutria. Mice. Cool morning Breezes. Mezuzah. The ritual for hanging them. Monism. Squirrels. Tarot. The Forest Lovers. Wild Neighbors screeing. Rain incoming. What did the idiot do today?

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wind and Rain

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Hearing on the side of merit

Tarot pick: Forest Lovers, #6 of the major arcana

One brief shining: This morning I shuffled the Wildwood deck, cut it three times, and asked the deck what I needed to do about Shadow, my mystery girl, and it gave me this card, the Forest Lovers, the male and female energy present on Beltane, the start of the growing season.

 

Dog journal: A hot night. Mid sixties. Shadow outside yet again. Once again challenging my vision of our relationship. How it should go. At night in particular.

Last night we were having a hug on the small patio stones outside my back door. We shifted our stance a bit and I stepped on her left rear back paw. She yelped and ran off. No way she was coming in last night. No words, no apologies. I hurt her. She left. Fast.

Better this morning. I think she knew it was an accident, but her love of freedom and being her own Dog wouldn’t allow an immediate reconciliation. Damn it! Neither of us needed that.

The Forest Lovers. Drawing this card made me see that as I’ve wondered and as Tom suggested yesterday the wu wei here, the flow of the chi, may entail letting her stay outside at night.

I need to get an assessment of how much danger Natalie believes Shadow is in at night. From Mountain Lions. I believe the threat is low, but the consequence of being wrong is catastrophic.

We are yin and yang. I need her feminine energy in my life and she needs my masculine energy. Together we can bring out parts of ourselves that would lay dormant otherwise. The most confounding experience I’ve ever had with a Dog.

 

Life insights: A family of teachers. Mom. Mary. Mark. Several cousins. I’ve often wondered why I didn’t become a teacher, too. When graduate school slipped out of the picture, I never pursued teaching again.

Except. As an organizer, it was my job to teach people how to live into their power. When unemployment had reached crisis levels in 1988 Minnesota, I along with others recruited church leaders, union activists, and unemployed people across the work spectrum.

Once in a room together, with an 18 month old Joseph on my hip, I drew from them their anguish, their anger and frustration. This was the fuel for them to come together against a common foe: an unfair labor market.

Once we identified those emotions, we moved to  using our various strengths. The moral power of the church. The organizing power of the unions. And the willingness to put it all on the line of the unemployed.

The Jobs Now Coalition came into existence. Together we convinced the Minnesota Legislature to pass M.E.E.D. The Minnesota Emergency Employment act which funded half of a new hires pay for their first six months.

It still exists:  Jobs Now Coalition.

 

Garden, Greenhouse, Memories, Minnesota

The Great Work

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Tuesday gratefuls: Paul. Findlay. Sarah. Max. Claire. Kate. Michael. SPRINT referral. P.T. Halle. Shadow, outside again last night. World Allergy Day today. Morning darkness. Ukraine. Iran. Israel. Palestinians. Artemis. Planting. The fan. The heater. A full Moon in two days.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Clouds

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. the watercourse way

Week Kavannah: Hearing on the side of merit

One brief shining: That first bitter taste as coffee hits the tongue, the body remembering, starting to unveil itself from the gauze of sleep, knowing from experience though not yet this day, the effect of caffeine on the eyes and ears, the mind as it changes attention from the realm of dreams to the realm of ever becoming apparent reality.

 

Artemis: Awaiting a couple of garden tools before I plant my midsummer seeds. Probably fussing too much but I want to do it my way.

Planting seeds during the hottest month of the year is new to me. I’ve discovered a guide to planting a fall garden which might involve cold frames over my outside raised beds. Perhaps new seeds.

I did order two bulbs of Music Garlic. I have to reserve space for them when I plant because they go in the ground in late September/early October. Love Garlic’s against the grain ways.

Artemis must live, mostly, according to the rhythms of seasonal change. And I love that. I say mostly though because the greenhouse part of Artemis allows me to push the outer limits of first and last frost.

Starting seeds early in Spring inside the Greenhouse will allow for transplanting as soon as a particular plant can tolerate Spring temperatures outside. Keeping the greenhouse warm and within a fairly tight temperature regime will give my Tomatoes the full growing season that they need to produce fruit. That means extending the growing season beyond the likely date of the first frost.

When living in short growing season climates, certain vegetables are unobtainable without a greenhouse. Now I have one and will able, in a very limited manner, to grow things year round.

This is as far as I want to go with juking soil and seeds. The only unnatural aspect lies in controlling, to the extent possible, temperature. Hence, the heater and the exhaust fan. I could work with humidity, too, but I choose not to. At least right now.

 

Great Work: Thomas Berry’s little book, The Great Work, identifies our era’s Great Work as developing a sustainable presence for human beings on Mother Earth.

On a trip to Denver from Minneapolis several years ago, I went north to Cody, Wyoming to visit the Buffalo Bill Center of the West. I finished the Great Work at night in the Holiday Lodge. Berry convinced me that rather than focusing on economic justice work as I had done most of my life that I needed to shift my energy, right then, to the Great Work.

A climate change conference put on by PSR, Physicians for Social Responsibility, at the University of Iowa, gave me even more reason. That conference inspired Kate and me in our Andover years, growing vegetables, fruit, nuts, and flowers. Taking care of bees.

Now the clown car that is MAGA and Trumpeting not only ignores climate change, but actively denies it. Right in the time period when drastic and difficult action must happen. Very. Bad. Timing.

Colorado, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains

249 Years

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

4th of July gratefuls: Cousin Donald. Hyper Masculinity. The Commander’s Cup. Seoah. Murdoch. Songtan. The United (?) States of America. Oklahoma. Indiana. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Colorado. Judy. Raeone. Kate, always. Shadow. Her chewed leash. Work yet to do. Planting. Seat cushion for Ruby. CBE Men’s group. Suffering. Luke. Rebecca. Leo. Tara. Eleanor.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Long time friends

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. Find the flow of life’s force, follow it

Week Kavannah: Savlanut. Patience.

One brief shining: Walked up the slight rise past the wonderful Ponderosa and the jagged Granite Boulder, pre-schooler rendered chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and pressed the doorbell necessitated by the oldest hatred to join my friends discussing the mussar virtue of self-confidence.

The 4th of July. On the 249th birthday of this country I sit on Shadow Mountain, in purple Mountain majesty above the fruited plains. Somewhere below amber waves of Grain ripple in a morning Breeze.

Meanwhile, faraway in the land of broken toys a mean-spirited tyrant and his too loyal minions prepare concentration camps for immigrants who came here seeking a better life: ICE prepares detention blitz with historic $45 billion in funding.

The Elk Cow and her Calf that crossed the road in front of me Wednesday night do not know this. Their world continues, following a thread of ongoing life rooted millions of years in the past, honed to the ways of Mountain life, to seasonal change, to knowing the ways of predators.

Nor does Shadow know. As we work out our life together, a struggle and a joy for both of us, she too follows a path begun thousands of years ago when friendly Wolves joined human encampments for shelter, food, and joint protection.

How I wish I could be a non-human animal, wild or domesticated. I could live according to the ancient rules of nature. Eat. Reproduce. Play. Rest. Die. Not live according to the cruel rules of human society, the unnatural ways of my often thoughtful, loving, compassionate species.

The Elk do not shun their own, round them up and move them out. Sure, animals may contend over territory for survival, but we humans contend over territory for power and for purposes driven by fear and hatred.

This fourth of July I join many Americans who no longer find great pride in their country. National Pride in the U.S. Sees Dramatic Decline. Or maybe not quite.

The Mountains and the Plains. The fertile fields of the Midwest. The great Boreal Forests. The Atlantic Coast and the Pacific Coast. Redwoods. Sequoias. Bristle Cone Pine. Wolves and Grizzlies. Wolverines and Lynx. Squirrels and Marmots. Fishers and Pine Martens. Rabbits and Chipmunks. All the Wild Neighbors. I take great joy and, yes, pride in living among and with all of these. America the Beautiful.

I also stand with all the humans, all of them, who live here with love, justice, and compassion in their hearts. Who know that the word neighbor has no color, no gender, no religion, no national origin. Who know that the warm and beating heart of this historic experiment in self-governance cannot be stilled by the cold dead hands of those without mercy.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Memories, Plants, Seed Keepers

A Family Tragedy

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Monday gratefuls: Keaton Cousins. Tanya. Kenya. Carla. Lisa. Cathy. Diane. Richard. Kristen. Ikie. Melinda. Annette. Sibs. Mary and Mark. Joe and Seoah. Ruth and Gabe. Shadow. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. The Greenhouse. Tomatoes. Squash. Planting today. Seeds. Beets. Radish. Lettuce. Kale. Chard. Salmon for fertilizer for the Tomatoes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tiny irrigation system

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei. Work with the chi.

One brief: She was my age, Tanya, one of the five Steffey girls who lived in Arlington when I was young, slender and delicate, pretty in a country girl way, married to David, a farmer, and she died two nights ago trapped in the garage during a house fire.

 

Family: Got an email from Diane yesterday with the news that Tanya, a first cousin also born in 1947 like me, had not escaped a house fire in her home in Rush County, Indiana.

We are close, we Keaton cousins. My mom convinced my dad to move back to Indiana from Oklahoma so she could be closer to her family, the Keaton side.

While I’ve not seen most of them in a while, except for Diane, all those Thanksgivings, summer family reunions, overnight visits, we knew each other well. And care about each other.

We lost Lisa, the youngest Steffey, a while back to a stroke. Ikie to complications from a spinal problem and Annette to the end of a tough life. Now Tanya in a house fire. A large extended family withering away, one by one, as the seasons come and go.

Sadness, loss, disbelief. Faraway from the Rockies, yet so close in my memory. My heart.

Since moving to the Mountains, I’ve not made it home much. The last time September of 2015, my 50th high school class reunion. Not long after my prostatectomy. Don’t remember if I saw Tanya on that trip or not. Mary saw her this summer while visiting.

I’ll miss her.

 

The Greenhouse: Planted the Tomato Plants yesterday. In the Greenhouse because they like/need heat. Had a large Salmon fillet I had cut into portions and frozen too long ago. Unthawed them and put Salmon beneath each Tomato Plant.

Nathan came later in the day and topped off the outside raised beds with compost, installed a nifty irrigation system, picked up his trash. We shook hands, wished each other well.

He’ll be back because he has to install the black mesh fencing to keep out the Deer and Elk, the heater for the winter, and Cedar lap boards to seal the bottom of the greenhouse. I enjoyed working with him, getting to know him.

This morning I plan to Plant seeds in the outside raised beds. More salad fixings. Radish. Beets. Lettuce. Arugula. Kale. Chard. Nasturtiums. A few Marigolds for companion planting.

The Greenhouse has come to life.

 

Dog journal: My Shadow spent her fifth night in a row outside. Protecting us from marauding Mule Deer who would eat our Grass during the night. She protected us all. Damn. Night.

 

 

Dogs, Memories, Mountains, Politics, US History, World History

He could not resist

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. Gabe. Shabbat. The Morning Service. The Bird of Dawn. Shadow, my sweet girl. Kate, always, Kate. Getting up every hour for movement. We’re made to move and to rest. Halle. Motion is lotion. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Great Sol. The Monsoons. Dead Mice. Derek. Chorkies. (Chihuahua and Yorkie mix) British Columbia. Writing. The Ancient Brothers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Mountains

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

One brief shining: Talking over the fence with Derek as neighbors do his new Chorkie running around with his older Sheltie, Shadow watching with interest, a too hot Mountain day headed for  a cooler evening and night, a light wind blowing through the Lodgepoles, setting the Aspen leaves aquiver.

 

Hot. Not humid though. 90’s! Unusual for the Mountains. Did. Not. Like. It. Ran the mini-splits for air conditioning for a while. Shadow stayed in the shade while outside. A Shadow in the shade.

Found Ruth’s wallet here yesterday afternoon. Texted her. She went rafting on the Arkansas River through Royal Gorge. Canon City. Where Tom and I rode the train a couple of years ago. When I reached her, we agreed to meet at the Fort Restaurant, down the hill outside of Morrison so she could retrieve her things.

Did that. Drove down there around 7 pm with Great Sol still blazing above the Front Range Foothills, occasionally making Sun blindness a thing even with Raybans. Since I rarely drive down the hill at that time of day, I saw the Mountains in a new perspective, shade falling from the West. The green of a wet Spring making them look fresh, vital in the twilight.

When driving in the Mountains at twilight or dawn, we all have to pay special attention. Critters of all sorts move around then, sometimes choosing to cross the road in front of you. Requires care.

 

Just a moment: I was off by a day. He could not resist. It was too big a moment in the spotlight, potentially in the history books. MOPing up after Israel, eh?

Admit to conflicted feelings. Just before a Saudi Arabian peace deal seemed likely, Hamas invaded Israel. Just before negotiations with Iran were to have begun, Israel stole that idea and invaded Iran.

As a child of the Cold War era, nuclear weapons scare the bejesus out of me. No need to wait for climate change. We can eliminate humanity all by ourselves. Right now.

So. Bombing Iran’s nuclear enrichment facilities? I get it. As I wrote a day or two ago, one atomic bomb could level Jerusalem. If I was a radical Islamist with my back against the wall and I had one available to me? I’d probably use it.

Can you say chain reaction? Genie out of the bottle? Thank you 1001 Nights. The world would never be the same. India v. Pakistan. Israel v. the Arab world. US v Russia, v China. Radioactive dominoes falling, falling, falling. Not right away. No. But each time a crisis arose with nuclear armed powers contending theater nuclear weapons would have a precedent.

Having said that. No. It will not stop Iran from building nuclear weapons. Delayed, yes. Stop? No. Regime change? Maybe. To a better regime for Middle East peace? Doubtful.

Trump the warrior. Oh, god no.

Ancient Brothers, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Memories, Men, Minnesota

Living, not dying

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Israel. Iran. The Middle East. War and peace. My son. Father’s Day. Korea. Commander. Seoah. Murdoch. The Jangs. Shadow. Our relationship. Dogs. Kate, always Kate. Evergreen Rodeo. Tourists. Maxwell Creek.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: CBE Men’s Group

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

One brief shining: Touched the framing of the greenhouse, sturdy, and began to imagine the Garden beds filled with Lettuce, Radishes, Beets, Peppers, Tomatoes, Marigolds, a favorite salad ingredient, Nasturtiums, and standing inside a heated greenhouse in the Winter, Snow piled up outside and tending to the raised bed with Lettuce, Peppers, Radishes, Beets, Flowers growing in pots.

 

Life, tactile and warm, Shadow and the greenhouse, living, not dying. Nurturing life other than my own, right here at home. As I’ve been used to doing for the last 40 plus years.

This is walking upright in the world. For me.

Yesterday I attended the CBE men’s group. Rabbi Jamie said, “I’m seeing you in person.” I finished a ten session zoom class with him on Wednesday, and I haven’t been to the synagogue in several weeks though I’ve attended Thursday mussar on zoom many of them.

Driving has become such a literal pain that even a trip to Evergreen makes me uncomfortable. Working on it. SPRINT device in July sometime. A visit to an orthopedist on Wednesday for the tear in my right hip’s labrum.

Glad I have Halle and her spirited work, her sage advice. One hour then up. A walking meditation. Dog training. Making breakfast, lunch. Getting the trash ready. Yes. Agency.

 

Father’s Day: Talked to my son yesterday. His Sunday morning. Father’s Day. Being a father in my particular way began with my commitment to feminism. Doing my part for birth control. I had a vasectomy at age twenty-six. The Rice Street Clinic in St. Paul.

As a result, when the need, and that’s what it was, the need to become a father hit me, quite unexpectedly, at age thirty, I had to have a reversal. Which never woke my little guys back up. Low motility.

Which left adoption. Raeone and I worked with an adoption agency in Minnesota to find a baby who would die if they were not adopted. At the time, the late seventies, that meant India.

Women in rural Bengal would find themselves pregnant in their eighth month due to malnutrition. The would go into Kolkata to give birth, then the babies were discarded.

Unless. International Mission of Hope had arrangements with several of the “hospitals” that took in these women. In those instances the babies were taken to an IMH orphanage and made available for adoption.

Our first referral, a girl, died due to a salmonella infection that rampaged through the orphanage. It took another year for a new referral, little Jang Deep, four pounds and four ounces, delivered in a wicker basket by blue and white garbed nuns at the International Arrivals section of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Music

Aural Journal

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: CBE. Alan. Joanne. Marilyn. Irv. Tara. Arjan. Ginny and Janice. Dan. Rich. Ron. Jamie. Laurie. Veronica. Rick. Luke. Leo. Eleanor. Shadow. Gracie. Annie. Luna. Wild Neighbors. Great Sol. Colorado Blue Sky. Shadow Mountain. Rock. Soil. Trees. Creeks. Valleys. Clouds. Atmosphere. Seasons.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Songs that we love, that drive our hearts mad, dredge up detailed glimpses of experience past, send our souls into spiritual ecstasy, make our feet begin to tap and our body begin to sway, what is this strange hold sound has over us?