Category Archives: Minnesota

Far Right, Minnesota, Politics, US History

Minnesota Proud

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Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers on books. Rams v Bears. Cold. A dusting of Snow. Field Guide to the Soul. Shadow, her joy. My joy. Mary’s pics of the Royal Show in Melbourne. (think State Fair) Mark’s conversation with Salman, his student. Joe back home. Ruth and her new car. Morning darkness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Books

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Daat.    The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

“If Chokhmah (Wisdom/Inspiration) is a seed and Binah (Understanding/Analysis)  is the soil that develops that seed into a plant, Da’at is the nervous system that carries the vital life force from the brain to the rest of the body. It is the point of transition from “thinking” to “being.””

Tarot: Two of Arrows, Injustice

“The scales of natural justice have been skewed by false judgments, ignorance, or arrogance. Sitting in judgment with unbalanced scales to an untrue premise, however ardently or sincerely, will not prevail. The bow is broken and useless through prejudice and misuse.” Parting the Mist

One brief shining: Martin Luther King would have stood with the protesters, blown a whistle, followed ICE agents, taken videos of their corrupt action; wherever the scales of justice stood unbalanced, weighted on one side by ignorance or arrogance or false judgments, his moral compass led him to the other side of the scale. Minnesota proud.

Gemini struggles with images, too. But you get the point.

Never felt so much pride in my home of forty years, Minnesota. Pushing back against corporate and government arrogance runs through the veins of Minnesota’s left, sure, but it also comes naturally to a Scandinavian influenced culture which believes the common good should drive decisions.

It does not surprise me that just folks have their whistles, neighborhood phone trees, and a willingness to stay in the fray. Nor does it surprise me that Tim Walz and Jacob Frey (mayor of Minneapolis) have called out the storm trooper invasion by red tie guy and that weasel, Miller.

When I first moved to Minnesota in 1970, the anti-war movement had a very strong presence. When police came to arrest a student at my seminaryfor draft evasion, a guy I didn’t know very well offered to ride along with him.

Howard Vogel, who became a good friend and would go on to win a landmark environmental lawsuit against Reserve Mining Company, surprised the arresting officers with his humble appearance and his knowledge. My friend came back to the seminary that same day.

I spent fifteen years organizing in Minnesota. It was never difficult to find ordinary citizens who understood why it was not a good idea for Control Data to run the Elliot Park neighborhood. Or, why General Mills didn’t belong in the landlord business in Steven’s Square Park.

The Democratic Farmer Labor party, the DFL, has its roots in radical left politics. A Minnesota third party, the populist and leftist Farmer-Labor party merged with the state’s Democratic party in 1944. Hubert Humphrey. Walter Mondale. Paul Wellstone. Al Franken. Standard bearers.

What a state.

Family, Far Right, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, US History

It’s Minnesota

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Yule and the waning crescent of the Moon of New Beginnings

Friday gratefuls: Joe. Ruth. Gabe. College. Andover. Tulips. Iris. Anemones. Grape Hyacinth. Daffodils. Wild Roses. Wild Grapes. Borage. Sage. Thyme. Rosemary. Leeks. Garlic. Red Onions. The Firepit. The Woods. All the Dogs. Canning. Drying. Harvesting Honey. A life close to Mother Earth.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.

“The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot:  Two of Vessels, Attraction

The Two of Vessels Wildwood Tarot asks us: In your life, what is attracting your attention? Is it worthy of your attention or a distraction?

One brief shining: “Goodnight, Joe,” I said; he returned, in words sweet to my one good ear, “Goodnight, Dad,” and in that familiar family ritual called back a childhood of stories and bedtimes, of meals at Mickey’s Diner, of playing catch in Irvine Park with the giant Oak as backstop, of silly plays and choral evenings, of attending Twins games, driving into St. Paul together.

 

Fathers and sons. Can go wrong. As it did with my Dad and me. Can be neutral as it is for some. Also can remain positive over all the years from first sight of that wicker basket to 44 years later. Joe was a stable, happy kid who made and kept close friends from elementary school through high school and college and in his work. Sang Yang. Zach White. Aaron Canner. David. Natcho. Jamie. Ken. Many others.

It makes my heart sing to see the man he has become. An excellent husband, a caring boss, a thoughtful person. A Godparent who actually had to step into that role. How he parents Ruth and Gabe, even from afar. A person in your life  you can trust.

 

Just a moment: I know. I feel like I should be saying more about Renee Good. ICE in Minnesota. Still sorting through feelings of dismay, anger, sadness, pride. Dismayed that red tie guy’s brownshirts have descended on my old home ground. Angry that I’m not there to work with protesters, stand against this insult. Sad for Renee, her wife, her kids, her friends.

Yet also proud. I know Minnesota at a heart level. I know Minneapolis streets, parks, neighborhoods, people. I know the government and how it works. I know Renee’s death will not go unanswered by street politics. I know the state will investigate her death, even if the Federal Government tries to paper it over with lies and ignorant propaganda.

Will Ross be brought to account? If it was up to Minnesota’s Attorney General, Keith Ellison, I know he would be. Whether the complicated network of laws and jurisdictions between states and the Federal Government will allow that, I don’t know.

If any state in the country can stand against this abuse of Federal power, it’s Minnesota.

 

Memories, Minnesota, Politics, US History

Renee the Good. Is dead.

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Friday gratefuls:  Shadow, the awake. Cold night. Snow. Morning darkness. Light-headedness. Mussar. Altitude. Distracted. A bit dizzy. Working my scheduled review of newspapers, websites, podcasts. Doing further research on Pan. On the luparii. Reimagining Superior Wolf. Minnesota. Proud to have lived there forty years. Colorado. Proud to have lived here eleven years.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Minnesota

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Patience.  Savlanut.  “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tarot: Back at it soon

One brief shining: Rene the Good died at the hands of an ICE firearms trainer after another ICE agent had threatened her by trying to open the door of her Honda Pilot and shouting in her rolled down window, “Get the fuck out of the car.” As she turned her vehicle away to leave, she received a bullet to the head.

 

Don’t cry for me, Minnesota. The truth is I never left you. How I felt when I saw the familiar setting in Powderhorn Park. That maroon SUV parked diagonally on Portland. The so-out-of-place government provocateurs with masks-masks!-hiding their identities. ICE. A Trump militia spreading fear and chaos in American cities.

In Minneapolis. Wrong place to kill an unarmed woman. Minnesotans. Will. Not. Stand. For. This. The Federal government, Kash Patel’s oh so trustworthy FBI, took over the investigation. Minnesota’s criminal justice system would have arrested and charged the ICE agent with first degree murder. No wonder the FBI stepped in.

I would rather have local authorities investigating. Especially the state attorney general’s office. Though. Based on video and eye-witness testimony I don’t see any wiggle room. While Renee had disregarded an order, she turned her SUV away from the agents to drive from the scene. That’s clear from the video examinations done by the New York Times. There was nothing in her movements that warranted gun fire.

My heart leapt back into Minnesota on seeing this news. Became one again with the street level politics I knew so well there. Powderhorn Park has an active political community, many leftists, anarchists, co-op folks.

The glaring, searing contrast between masked agents of fear and the community oriented spirit of Powderhorn Park struck me forcefully, enough to make me gasp.

I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling. Minnesota and its politics of the common good has been my North Star. Flawed, sure. Full of humans. But there I found the arc of the moral universe bent a little further toward justice than most places I knew. Minnesota shaped me into the man I am now and I like who I am now.

This brutal, senseless killing shows the moral sinkhole that hate and bigotry have created in our national spirit. This is not how Americans are. Is it?

A shining city on the hill. A beacon to other nations. No longer. We will, if we have not already, become a pariah state, only engaged in actions in our perceived self-interest. Not my America.

Colorado, Dogs, Far Right, Minnesota, Politics

Shhh

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

New Year’s Day gratefuls: Nathan. The Dog run. Beef tenderloin. Broccolini. Seasoned Potatoes. Joe. Murdoch. Seoah. Solid wood cutting boards. Cooking. Shrimp and cocktail sauce. 2026. Morning darkness. 250 years, USA. The Hummingbird. Dandelion. Bread Lounge. Wildflower. The Black Bird. Primo’s. Aspen Perks. Conifer Cafe. Lucille’s. The Cow. Breakfast, the friendship meal.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My Shadow pillow

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah   strength, discipline

Creating Space: “Gevurah is the strength to create space and to hold space… it’s what helps us nurture our passions.” — Renee Fishman

Tarot: Doing a Celtic Cross spread for the New Year

One brief shining: Laid out in ten foot runs the six foot tall chain link fence with a gate will enclose Shadow in a smaller space, one with an igloo Dog house and outdoor heater, making her world more manageable for me, more confining for her, yet necessary if we’re to continue living together. Nathan comes today.

Dog journal: Ruth’s Hannukah present to me. A Shadow pillow. Very sweet.

Been a month full of Shadow related matters. Finding Nathan to build the Dog run. Natalie picking up Shadow for boarding school. Dr. Josy checking her over and prescribing prozac. Shadow learning how to cross thresholds and have a leash put on. Staying connected with Shadow as she learned new behaviors. When she returns this Saturday, she will have been with me exactly eleven months.

Not an easy first year. For either of us.

 

Just a moment: Proud to live in Colorado and to have lived in Minnesota. Targets of he who shall be named bad man, very bad man. Down, bad man.

That guy stopped funding for an Arkansas River diversion project conceived during JFK’s presidency and about to deliver fresh water to 50,000 Coloradans who have to buy bottled water for drinking and cooking. Funny thing. Everybody’s favorite gun-totin, companion groping female member of the House of Representatives, Lauren Boebert, has pilloried red tie guy over the decision.

Why? For starters, those Coloradans are in her district. Yep, Colorado’s ruby red 4th district. Those same Coloradans? Trump voters most likely. But, the paw of the large animal inhabiting the White House reached down and vetoed Boebert’s legislation.

Trump has targeted Minnesota and Colorado as blue state enemies. “I wish them the worst,” said far right Christianity’s lode star. He’s mean, cruel, vindictive, and petty. Oh, right. And, President. Almost makes me wish for the second coming. Get a righteous judge down here.

He’s gone after Minnesota’s Somali community and the country from which they came. Now he’s suspending support to Minnesota child care. I wish he was a bull in a china shop. We’d be experiencing far less damage.

Wait till he finds out that Phillip Weiser, our attorney general who has sued Trump’s administration over 30 times in the past year, is a favorite to replace current Colorado Governor Jared Polis. Not just those lawsuits, no sirree. Weiser is a Jew. So is Polis. Shhh.

Ancient Brothers, Cooking, Memories, Men, Minnesota, Myth and Story

Santas

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Cold Hafar. Mark invigilating. Cold night, good sleeping. Your favorite place. Mine is right here on Shadow Mountain. Ruth, skiing A-Basin. Gabe sorting through Jon’s art. Shadow’s last week in boarding school. Sue Bradshaw. Ana. Sheetpan meals. One of my own. Working out again. The Hummingbird.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah   strength, discipline

Creating Space: “Gevurah is the strength to create space and to hold space… it’s what helps us nurture our passions.” — Renee Fishman

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Cutup the Spring Onions, added brightly colored strips of Bell Peppers, some Garlic, Olive Oil, Salt, Pepper, stirred them together to coat everything, all spaced evenly in one of my Nordicware quarter sheetpans, baked at 425 for ten minutes, then put Andouille and Italian sausages on top of them and baked 30 minutes more and soon I had at least five meals ready.

 

Cooking: Beginning to understand how to build my own sheetpan meals. Their virtue lies in their short prep, ability to accommodate diverse ingredients, ease of cooking, and limited cleanup. Just the sheetpan and whatever prep left over.

Once finished, I eat one meal right away, then portion out the rest in containers, pop them in the fridge, and I have my own meal service. Today I’m making Salmon fillets with baby potatoes and perhaps broccoli florets.

The nerve ablation has removed my back pain on my left side, so I can stand longer while prepping and cooking.

Still weak though, stamina sucks. I wanted to add sauerkraut to the sausage meal, but I’m too weak to open the f*!#&ing jar. Same with the Sour Cherry preserves I wanted to put on my toast. Geez. My modest goal is to get back enough grip strength to manage these simple tasks. I’m working on it.

Glad to be back in the kitchen, cooking for myself. I prefer my own food and the nerve ablation plus my new resistance work regimen enables me to get back at it.

 

Santa: Ancient Brother Mark told a great Santa story yesterday morning. Worth sharing.

When he lived in Marine on St Croix, Mark contacted a Santa to come for a pre-Christmas gathering at his house. Christopher was young, 3 or 4, and Mark invited a few other families with young kids. It was a Christmas party and the children had not been told Santa was coming.

After the party was underway, a pickup truck pulled up in the driveway and a man with a real great white beard got out, came around to the backdoor, and walked in, saying nothing. The kids stared.

Still saying nothing he went over to the fireplace and shined a flashlight up the fireplace chimney, checked the damper by opening and closing it.

“I’m one of the Santa’s.” he told the by now confused and wondering kids. “We have to go out and check chimneys to be sure Santa can get down them.” He went on to explain that there were many, many Santa’s. “Making Christmas happen is a big, big job.”

Mark and his friends tried to pay him, but he refused the money. “Don’t blow it for me, man. It’s for the kids.”

Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Blowin’ In the Wind

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Samain and the waning crescent of Shadow’s Moon

Thursday gratefuls: High winds. Mini-splits out. Generator on. Kylie, pain doc today. Shadow on her leash. Making progress at boarding school. Rachel, my Alabama gal palliative care social worker. Her Cat and her Christmas Tree. Trash containers stayed stable until pickup. 80433, my zip code, 98% effected by power outage.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Generator

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Netzach   “Endurance and Tenacity: Netzach represents the inner strength and fortitude required to pursue a goal or a passion over a long period, especially when faced with obstacles.”

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Winds have howled like lonely Wolves since yesterday morning, rattling windows, threatening to up turn trash containers and share our leftover stuff with our neighbors, predicted to last now until tomorrow, Friday, morning; the Wind wants to come inside, find a crack, a slightly open window, an unsecured door, a real force of nature.

On one sweaty Andover, Minnesota afternoon Kate and I sat at our long kitchen table, talking about how good the air-conditioning felt. Kate got serious. We need a generator. I knew what she meant. If the heat went out in a frigid Minnesota winter, Kate could cope. If the air-conditioning failed us because of our common summer Thunderstorms, she could not. A hot-blooded Norwegian gal, my Kate.

We gritted our financial teeth and bought a Kohl whole-house generator. These generators connect to gas lines and have automatic transfer switches that sense a power outage. The transfer switch turns on the generator and switches its output to the house’s electrical panel. Happy Kate. Happy me.

We got satisfaction out of being “on generator.” Its two cylinder engine’s thrum proof that we had made a wise decision. When we moved, I decided we’d take the generator along. Not easy, it had to be strapped to a pallet and lifted into the moving van by four very strong guys.

It got off-loaded to the garage and there it sat for over a year as I learned how to deal with a paucity of trades people in the mountains. Finally found Altitude Electric who agreed to install it. The generator sits today on the western side of the house, beside all the electrical panels and the transfer switch. Yes, up here all of the electrical panels live on the outside of the house. Surprised the hell outta me.

Yesterday around one p.m. I read on Next Door Shadow Mountain that one guy’s weather station had recorded a Wind gust of 116 mph. I found it  hard to believe until I looked this morning at reports of wind speeds across the Front Range. Several in the 100, 102 range. So. Could be.

Around that time my lights flickered, my zoom call with Paul crashed and we had to switch to our phones to finish our conversation. Not long after I got off the phone, I heard that thrum again.

Hey, Kate. We’re on generator.

Memories, Minnesota, Myth and Story

By the Shores of Gitche Gumee

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Samain and the Radiation Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Cold. A bit of Snow. Shadow, the mystery dog. Rabbi Jamie. CBE. Joanne. Marilyn and Irv. Prostate cancer. Mayo. RMCC. Football. Vikings. Bears. Lions. Packers. Wu Wei. Taoism. Chuang Tzu. Lao Tzu. Mencius. Confucius. Emerson. Thoreau. Mary Fuller. Emily Dickinson. Hawthorne. Melville.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: College Football

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  SERENITY   Menucha     Serene, carefree, literally “at rest/comfortable”                         “In Jewish tradition, ‘menucha’ (מְנוּחָה) signifies a profound state of spiritual and physical rest, tranquility, peace, and fulfillment, going far beyond merely ceasing work. It is a core concept tied to the Sabbath (Shabbat) and the ultimate spiritual destiny of the soul.” Gemini

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Look up to Ursa Major, the Great Bear, and follow the arc of his tail to Arcturus or the pointer Stars to Polaris, the North Star, cradling in your mind, if you can, the distances, so so far apart, and the backward clock those bright diamonds of light represent, your eye deceiving you telling you what you see is there, right there, when it might have been gone, dispersed, for a million years, leaving behind only its light still traveling because it must through the void of space and time. Like you, after death.

When Kate was alive, she did the crosswords. Two of them every morning. On paper, first in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, then the Denver Post. Because I got up early, I went out to the mailbox and collected the newspaper for her. That meant I saw the seasonal change of the Stars. Each late Fall I looked forward with anticipation to the return of Orion whom I consider a friend.

In Andover, Minnesota I would, too, often see the Northern Lights dancing over the Perlich’s house across from us. When Orion or the Northern Lights were in the sky, I would stop and watch, no matter how bitter the cold. We live in a world of wonder and sometimes it reaches out and grabs you.

Up here on Shadow Mountain Orion rises over Conifer and Black Mountain, trailing Starry memories of early Minnesota mornings and tales of the ancient Greeks, whose imagination informs, even now, what we see.

My friend Tom Crane and his wife Roxann went up to Duluth last Friday to celebrate Roxann’s birthday by the big Lake. I remember how many times Kate and I went up there, too. How every time, if the sky was clear, I would wander down from our rented town house to the rocky Shore and look out across the dark stillness of Lake Superior, a mirror to the night sky, catching the Stars.

By the shores of Gitche Gumee, by the shining big sea waters, all its ancient Glacial past reverberates. And not only its ancient past but also it would whisper in its somber voice a well-known folk song, the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

“The legend lives on from the Chippewa on downOf the big lake, they called Gitche GumeeThe lake, it is said, never gives up her deadWhen the skies of November turn gloomy…”

 

 

Memories, Minnesota, Plants

Wood Heats You Five Ways

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Joanne. Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Annie and Shadow wrasslin’ outside. Derek cutting down dead Lodgepoles. Ginny and Janice’s expansion project. Janice as the general contractor. Her Apple Crisp. Garlicky Shrimp sheet pan meal. Torah study with Luke. Chayei Sarah. American History.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Good Friends

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Hakarat Hakov   Gratitude.    “Who is rich? Those who rejoice in their portion.” Perkei Avot 4:1

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Derek fells my dead Lodgepoles with his electric chainsaw, bucking them, then moving lengths of the downed Tree on his shoulder or on a dolly to the side of the house he rents; where he cuts them into lengths suitable for splitting, carries them inside, and uses the wood to heat the house, smoke often wafting in through my bedroom window.

Wood heats you five times. When you cut it. When you buck it. When you carry it. When you split it. When you use it in your stove.

Carries me back to the Peaceable Kingdom outside Nevis, Minnesota. 80 acres of less than sterling Soil, a house, a couple of outbuildings. A woodstove for cooking and airtight for heating. And a woodlot.

My old International Harvester pick-up and I would bounce down the lane to the Woodlot with my Jonsered chain saw in the back, a can of fuel and a smaller one of chain oil rattling as we bounced up and down the swells and potholes.

In the Woodlot I would either fell a Tree, often a Burr Oak or a Maple, which would have to season, or a Birch that could be used green. Most days I would buck Trees that I’d felled the previous season, toss the logs in the bed of the truck and bounce back to the farmyard where I’d find my splitting maul, place the logs on the stump of an old Oak, and split until I had enough wood for the stove and the air tight. I was so much younger then, I’m older than that now.

A quarter of a log fit in the air tight so I’d load it full with three or four, close the door, and watch the embers of the previous Fire start a new one. If I had seasoned Oak or Maple, a loaded air-tight would burn six to eight hours after I choked down the air flow. This meant I could usually get a full night’s sleep and not wake up to a cold house.

The woodstove was a different thing altogether. It had to be fired up each time you used it. You got temperature variation by increasing or decreasing air flow, moving a pot around on the stove top or putting, say bread, in a warming compartment.

The smell of percolating Coffee often combined with the scent of burning Oak or Maple, maybe Bacon cooking in a cast iron skillet, a couple of eggs. I enjoyed those days and have no idea what I would do in that situation in this 78 year old body. That Charlie? A different guy in so many ways.

Friends, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Topophilia

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Mabon and the Samain Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Rich and Kim. Her delightful vegetarian soup and Rich’s delivery. Dodgers win game two. Shadow and her snuggles. Artemis laughing at the cold nights. Hip and back pain. Red Tie Guy in Korea. My son, his Korean life. Murdoch, sleeping. Cherry Tomato sheet pan recipes. Ruby’s Snow shoes, tomorrow. Joanne.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kim’s soup

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hochmah.  Wisdom.   “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”  Perkei Avot: 4:1  Making medical decisions this week.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Rich sat down yesterday after delivering Kim’s soup and we had a philosophical conversation about the difference between discoveries like Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity and creativity that results in patents since Rich will teach, for the first time at Mines, a class he and another professor are developing on intellectual property. Fun.

 

Rich: A dear friend who volunteered to be my medical emergency contact and my Colorado medical power of attorney since Joseph’s in Korea. Also a very bright guy who’s taught at the Colorado School of Mines for many years. First constitutional law, then an honor’s class, and now will co-develop the new class on intellectual property.

To give you a sense of Rich’s approach, the first place he took students who will be in this class? A company run by two CSU-Boulder engineers, a couple, who develop open source software (her) and open source hardware (her). He’s also reading a lot of Karl Marx.

Also, a bee keeper. Glad to have him as a friend.

 

Oddity: So I’ve told Rich, Tara, and Ruth about my as yet unscheduled MRI. All three want to take me, be there with me. Geez. I admit I don’t know how to handle this generosity. But. I do appreciate it.

 

Artemis: Didn’t get around to harvesting Kale, Spinach, Beets, planting Garlic. Too focused on finding a new fan, one that won’t wake Shadow and me up at night with sudden illumination. Found a fan with no light. Should work.

Maybe today.

 

Place: The Ancient Brothers topic for this morning.

I always referred to Andover, Minnesota as a place with no there there. From Hwy. 10, up Round Lake Boulevard to 153rd Ave. it was an unbroken chain of franchise restaurants, local businesses in malls, a Walmart, and a grocery store. Once I got home though, to 3122 153rd Avenue, there was a there there.

Partly horticultural artifice with Prairie Grass, Flower beds, Vegetable gardens, an Orchard, and a Fire-pit. Partly a Woods filled with Ash, Elm, Cottonwood, Iron Wood, Oak, thick vines and ground covers.

We created a place with a sense of place. The Prairie Grass harkened back to the original Oak Savannah. The Woods were a remnant of a larger Forest. Our various gardens flourished in the Great Anoka Sand Plain, a geological feature of the Glacial River Warren which drained the formerly vast Lake Winnipeg.

When the time came to move to Colorado, there was no question about where to go. The Mountains were calling. This Winter Solstice will mark my eleventh year on Shadow Mountain, a favorite place.

 

 

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.