Category Archives: Minnesota

Anoka County, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Hermitage, Holidays, Jefferson County, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

When I’m an adult, I’m going to live up here

December 30, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Winter and the Wolf Moon

Friday gratefuls: Gabe. Shoveling. His comment about the Mountains. Driving into Denver. Freddie’s Steakburgers. Cheap down the hill gas. A waning 2022. Alan. 14 inches of Snow plowed. The Mountains in their Snowiness. Jeffco road crews. Garbage folks. Mail folks. School bus drivers. Tolls waived on I-70. Ruth seeing Gabe and Jen today. A pass. Cold. Good sleeping. The Snowiest months still ahead of us. The Rocky Mountains. The Laramide Orogeny.

Sparks of joy and awe: Kep in the snow

Vince, in spite of Covid, cleared my drive of its 14 inches of wet Springlike Snow. Not an easy job even with a plow. Folks with Snow blowers complained. Clogged chutes. Almost an inch of moisture. Helpful at this point in the season. Grateful.

Gabe offered to shovel the Snow off the deck. He took weightlifting last semester. Stronger than me by far. I usually push it off the deck. When it’s powder, no problem. But 14 inches of wet snow. Hard. Gabe took it care of it with young muscles, lungs.

He came up Wednesday afternoon. Had to go back yesterday because of the visit to Ruth today. As we went down the hill to his house in far northwest Denver, near the airport, we counted cars in the ditch. Only 9. Probably because the storm came at night and over a holiday week.

When I’m an adult, I’m going to live up here. He said on the way down. He loves the Mountains. Gabe will spend New Year’s Eve at a friends house. Go out and bang pots and pans at midnight. Forgot about doing that. You could stay up this year Grandpop. I could. But I won’t.

Kate and I never went out on New Year’s. Drunks on the road. Noise. Too many people. A quiet evening though we did make a point of watching the Vienna Philharmonic’s New Year’s concert the next morning. We always had a nice meal and stayed up a little later than usual. Occasionally I would make it all the way to midnight.

Not sure what my solo New Year’s routine will be. A nice meal for sure. Something from Tony’s. Maybe a movie (on TV) and a book afterward. Stay up till 10?

I remember one cold Minnesota New Year’s day. Sorsha a one-hundred and fifty pound IW bitch coal black and stubborn and I went up to Lake George for a walk. We went out on the Lake to the deserted Ice fishing houses, walked around and through them. Guessed the Ice fisherpersons still lay snug in their beds trying not to wake up. Hangover.

Sorsha pulled on the lead. We rarely walked our I.W.’s. Back then I was strong from the gardening work and regular workouts. I could handle her. Now. It would have been a sled ride with me as the sled. The quiet. The isolation. Solitude. A wonderful memory. She was such a sweet dog. And a stone cold predator. Anything furry that crossed her path, including neighborhood cats.

Brings up the memory of Anoka County. The unsung jewel of the Twin Cities metro. Scientific and Natural Areas. Carlos Avery Wildlife Preserve. The Cedar Creek research facility of the UofM. Various regional parks. I loved having access to all those places. Usually nobody was there.

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, GeekWorld, Great Wheel, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Talmud, The Move, The West, Torah, Travel, Weather +Climate

So much to see. To learn.

December 27, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Winter and the Wolf Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: 8 years in Colorado. On the Solstice. The long dog ride with Tom. Memories. Challenges. Family. Death. Divorce. Mental and physical illnesses. Beauty. The Rocky Mountains. The Wild Neighbors. Mountain hiking. Deep snow. Sudden. Then, suddenly gone. Living at altitude. Becoming a member of CBE. Elk and Mule Deer visiting our back. Blue Skies. Black Mountain. Vega. Gertie. Rigel. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Who loved the Mountains.

Sparks of joy and awe: That dog ride 8 years ago. Talking story.

Back of the car anthropology. Two vanity plates. YAHWEHS. ODACIOUS. The first on a jet black fancy Audi. The other on a Lexus sedan. Also. Stickers. I heart Aging and Dying. No baby on board. Feel free to ram me. Toyoda. With yoda ears on the T and the a. I love the way we express ourselves on the back of our vehicles. So revealing. Full disclosure. I have a large decal of Lake Superior on the back window of Ruby. And, an ADL Dissent is Patriotic on a side window. There are too the cars seemingly held together by stickers like the occupants got started on the project and just. couldn’t. stop.

On December 20th, 2014 Tom Crane and I loaded Rigel, Vega, and Kep in Ivory. All three trazodoned. Tom drove straight through. We talked the whole way. Talking story. The conversation continues now, eight years later. Gertie rode with Kate in the rental van filled with stuff we didn’t want the movers to take. I remember Kate telling me she bought Gertie a hamburger at one of their stops. A satisfied dog.

These have not been easy years. No. They have been fulfilling, satisfying years though. Deep intimacy between Kate and me, especially as she began her long decline. Putting cancer in the chronic illness box. Being here for the kids and Jon after the divorce. Now for Ruth and Gabe after Jon’s death. Becoming part of the CBE community. Making friends. Learning from the ancient civilization of the Jews. Kabbalah. The Torah. Mussar. Talmud. Mitzvahs.

The Wild Neighbors. The Mountains. The Streams. The hiking. Mountain adjustments. Four Seasons. Eight Seasons. The Mountain Fall. Golden Aspens. Against green Lodgepoles. Black Mountain punctuated with gold, then green. Snow flocked in Winter. Wildflowers in the Mountain Spring. Fawns. Kits. Cubs. Elk and Moose Calves. The long Summers. Beautiful in their own right, yet also angsty with the ever present threat of Wildfire.

Living here has been, is an adventure. In relationships. In deep learning. An immersion in the world of Mountains. After the world of Lakes and Rivers and rich Soil.

So much more to see. To learn.

Visited Carmax yesterday. The Jeep. Prepared to sell it, then Uber home. A first for me. But. Can’t take a North Carolina power of attorney. Colorado makes it difficult. Do you want me to get you the necessary papers? Yes. Talked to Sarah while the nice lady in the blue Carmax smock did that. Took fifteen minutes. Many pieces of paper. Post it notes. Sign here stickers. OK. Thanks. Back up the hill.

Got two calendars as presents. Aimed at different parts of me. A Zen Calendar from Tom. A New Yorker Cartoons calendar from Sarah and Jerry. Yep. I recognize both of those guys as resident within me. Wonderful to be seen.

Colorado, Dogs, Hawai'i, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Writing

Closing in

October 21, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Simchat Torah Moon

Friday gratefuls: Darkness at 7 am. Sleep. Up before Kep. Acting. Dr. Artov. Monologue. Ground pork. Potatoes. Cheese. Eggs. Breakfast. Rabbi Jamie. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Honing in on a decision. Ruth and Gabe. Those Foxes. Ode. Tom. Bill. Paul. My Ancient Brothers. Hawai’i. Emily. Michelle. Robin. Diane.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: See’s Candy

Forgot to write yesterday. Got up at 10 till 8, fed Kep, talked to Diane, worked out, went to mussar, then talked to Rabbi Jamie. Home. Cooked. Spaced out till bed time. Not often, but yesterday I just plain forgot. Back at it right now as you can tell.

Wednesday was a very productive day. Robin came with Michelle. Michelle was the muscle, a younger woman with work gloves and a plaid shirt. A kind, caring person. We marked the things in the garage that I want to keep or that can be sold. Everything else will get picked up by Reid and Gone For Good while I’m Hawai’i. Also all the stuff Diane removed from the wood cabinets will be taken by Michelle and Robin for donation. I’ll come back to a spacious garage. Gotta get out that power washer for the floors.

They’re also going to move all the banker’s boxes in from the garage so I can sort through them. With Diane’s help last week and the work on Wednesday we’ve made real progress. It feels great. That large sack I’ve been pulling behind me since I lived in Irvine Park has begun to decrease in size. Significantly. Where ever I decide to go, whenever I decide to do it, I’ll have a move that’s both cheaper and easier. A new home setup that will go faster.

About that. In mussar we talk about a balance. A midpoint between say pride and meekness. Humility. A midpoint between anger and passivity, assertiveness. A midpoint between apathy and co-dependence, loving-kindness. A mid-point for this move it turns out is staying in Colorado. In particular the Golden area.

Advantages: Cheaper. Quicker. Easier. New place, yet familiar. Gabe and Ruth seen through high school. Easy access to Evergreen and CBE. A college town. My oncologist and Kristie. Personal growth. A chance to see Colorado, which I still haven’t done. Utah. Taos. Santa Fe. Four Corners.

Neither the all out adventure of a move to Hawai’i or a return to the forty years familiar Twin Cities metro. In some sense Colorado is like both. There’s still a lot of Colorado (most) that I haven’t seen. Like Hawai’i and California Colorado is a place people from all over the world travel to see. Like Minnesota I have good friends here.

Definite top of my list right now. We’ll see after Hawai’i. I’ll make a decision then. A major factor in where and when I go, too, is Kep. A lot of places won’t take Akitas, Minnesota, Hawai’i, Colorado. With his recent blindness and deafness I may choose to stay in place until his death, an earlier plan I scuttled when I learned about the tax consequences of selling the house after April 12th. Money is far from everything.

Have delayed thinking about the trip to Hawai’i with all the stuff going on. Gotta check my meds, pack, get ready. Every thing is set up. Dog/house sitter. Parking spot. Airline tickets. Should be straight forward. Still needs to get done.

Colorado, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The Move, The West, Travel

Jerseys. Drug Holidays. Golden.

October 18, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Simchat Torah Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Memories. Friability. Dreams. The same. Mini-splits. Warm when and where I want it. Cool, too. That back I never had mowed. Beautiful and dangerous if a Fire came through. Sigh. New options for the move. An obvious one, missed until now. Diane. Robin. Tal. His turn at the Creativity Class. Acting class tonight. Chekhov. The Seagull. Uncle Vanya. Ivanov. Will read the Cherry Orchard today. Growing. Right here in Colorado. Change. Stability. One inevitable, the other pleasant while it lasts.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Lead time yields multiple options

Whether a correction is in order or not about yesterday’s post, let me be clear: my cousin Diane prefers Jerseys. Always has. Always will. In fact she wore a t-shirt while here that read: Zike Jerseys. Morristown. Higher butterfat than those run of the mill Holsteins. At first she thought my memory might have been wrong, but then she remembered Uncle Riley often bought Holstein bull calves to feed out and sell for slaughter. Could have been some of them. Or, my memory could be faulty.

Still eating through the collection of See’s chocolates Diane brought. A real treat. Ramping up my yogurt and fruit game, too. Told you she was a good influence. Bean and cheese burrito plus yogurt and raspberries for breakfast.

Televisit with Kristie. So. Once a month urology oncologists, radiologists, and other specialists and their physicians assistants have a round table dicussion. Each one who wants gets up to two cases to present, then the gathered group provides advice and thoughts. Since Dr. Eigner. my oncologist, and Dr. Simpson, radiation oncologist, differ on their view of the bony sclerosis on my thoracic spine, Kristie will present next Wednesday.

A presentation consists of an overview of treatment from diagnosis through procedures and lab work up to the present day. In my case it will span the time from May 2015 to October 2022. The particular issue in my instance is whether I have metastases causing the swelling on my spine. Dr. Simpson wants to radiate it; Dr. Eigner wants to ignore it.

The most likely result of the conference will be some earlier scans and if felt necessary an MRI to determine the exact nature of those sclerosis. This is good for me because my case is getting reviewed by many docs. Sorta like a fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth opinion.

Kristie gave me some other news, too. If my numbers continue the same PSA undetectable and testosterone low for the next 10 months, I’ll go on a drug holiday. Not sure how long. The reason? These drugs lose their effectiveness over time and a holiday from them reserves some of their capacity so I can still use them. I forgot to ask what the cancer does during the holiday. Lives it up I suppose.

Kristie is a caring doc. I like her and she likes me, a good deal for both of us. We discussed the fatigue I have in the early afternoon. She suggested I check myself while in Hawai’i. If I don’t have it there, it could be psychosomatic. Which was one of my thoughts, too. Good idea.

Seeing Kristie brought to the fore a third option for the move, one I’d neglected to consider. Move down the hill. I’ve neglected it because I thought of it as moving to Denver, a place I don’t want to live. But I’ve begun looking seriously into Golden. Once I get to down to 5 600-5 800 feet my O2 sats return to normal.

I’d thought about moving to a college town if Hawai’i didn’t work out, then Minnesota got on my list. Golden has the Colorado School of Mines. That means cultural opportunities. It’s also closer to Boulder with its cultural opportunities and restaurants. Also, it’s right at the base of the Foothills and abuts Interstate 70, a quick shot up to Evergreen and CBE.

Seeing Kristie brought this to mind. I really appreciate her attention to my situation and I wouldn’t have to change oncologists. Medical care in Hawai’i and Minnesota is excellent, so I don’t imagine there would be any degradation of care, but I know Kristie and Dr. Eigner. Eigner since May of 2015. And Kate thought him a good doc.

Not to mention that it would save some money on the move. Quite a bit probably. And retain that link to Gabe and Ruth. All three have strong arguments. Now we’ll see where the different factors begin to move my heart as we get closer to a pruned house and and a sold house.

Oh. And one more thing. Over the last year especially I’ve found my personal growth accelerating with CBE and mussar, with the Kabbalah Experience classes, and with my CBE friends. A move to Golden would preserve those. Not an insignificant consideration.

Coronavirus, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Memories, Minnesota

Buttery

August 23, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Durango Moon (oops. Lughnasa. Not Imbolc. My bad.)

Tuesday gratefuls: Not on a ventilator. Vaccines. Boosters. Omicron. Living in pandemic times. Caring friends. Who’ve kept touch. My body. Its immune system. A blue Colorado Sky. Hawai’i. Minnesota. The Soil. Here. In Minnesota. In Indiana, the best of the Hoosier State. The Volcanic Soil of the Hawai’ian Islands. Pele. Kiluaea. Mauna Loa. The great mystery of the World Ocean. the Kep. Dreams. Doubling down on moving. Back to it tomorrow. Ode’s hippy days. And, nights. Life after a harsh Covid slap. Sweeter, more precious.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Immune response

Today I feel only tired. Brain fog lifted. No residual symptoms except for a slight cough. Amazing. Tomorrow will be a full week since I got so hammered by the virus that I could barely drag myself around. Memory of that Wednesday, wiped. Now, less than a week later, I’m on the up ramp toward feeling good. Virologists. Immunologists. Pharmaceutical workers. Pharmacies. Pharmacists. It takes a metropolis and lotsa labs to beat a virus. I’m thankful for all of them.

This is a misery through which millions and millions have passed. And many succumbed. What better evidence do we need for our essential sameness? The virus doesn’t recognize skin color. Nationality. Ethnic origin. Religious preference or sexual preference. It recognizes the human body. The one we all share. Perhaps our mutual suffering can teach us what reason seems unable to.

Suffering is as much a human common denominator as love. When our body sinks into pain, to illness, to fragility caused by a microscopic organism, we experience what others of our species experience. The agony of existence, its rough edges, its limits. When we feel love, we experience what others of our species experience. Its sublimity. its comfort, its infinite possibility.

Find the wisdom about our common life in these most basic, universal and real shared moments. We all get sick. Suffer. We all fall in love. Rejoice. Let’s reach out to each other in both.

On the last day of quarantine my doctor said to me, “Wear your mask if you go out. Stay away from crowds and crowded places. After next Monday, you’re good.” Gonna stay in for the next week anyhow. Nap. Gradually start exercising again. Eat more. She also said, get a flu shot as soon as you feel better. I will.

Not said much about Lughnasa this year. But. Just read an NYT article about Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Got me going. Unless you live in Minnesota or are particularly attuned to its state fair traditions, you’ll not have heard of Princess Kay. Or butter sculpting. Let me explain.

Each year (asterisk for the pandemic years) before the Minnesota State Fair begins its August through Labor Day run, a young woman leader of the state’s dairy industry is chosen. She becomes Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Since 1965 a full-sized bust of Princess Kay and the other four finalists has been sculpted in the butter booth of the Dairy building. Yes, that’s right. 900 pounds of butter, salted, gets shaped into the likeness of all five young women.

You wouldn’t believe the ice-fishing on Lake Mille Lacs either. Minnesota has some strange traditions. That Winter Festival, too.

The relationship to the Celtic holiday of Lughnasa (not Imbolc, that starts in February) is this: On August 1st the Celts began a market holiday for the first fruits from the field. Corn dollies. (wheat=corn) A parade with the first shock of wheat. Loaves of bread from the first harvested wheat. Thus, btw, the Catholic feast day of Lammas, or loaves.

This agriculture celebration with feasting and games and display of farming’s first fruits of the year kicks off the three season harvest holiday that includes Fall on the autumnal equinox and Samain, or Summer’s End, on October 31st. It’s resonance continues in county fairs and state fairs in Great Britain and the U.S.

On a personal note. In 1971 while an intern in Ada, Minnesota I participated in the wedding of the just chosen Princess Kay of the Milky Way. It was considered quite a privilege.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Plants, Quotes, Shadow Mountain, US History

My America

July 5, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Summer and the Aloha Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: The USA. America. The Rockies. The Great Lakes. The Great Dismal Swamp. The Appalachians. The Okefenokee Swamp. The Big Woods. Northern Minnesota. The Cascades. The Smokies. Blue Ridge Parkway. Natchez Trace. Mississippi Delta. The Bayous. The East Coast and the West Coast. The Mississippi and the Missouri. Hawai’i. Kilauea. Mauna Kea. Kauai. The Big Island. Bison. Elk. Mule Deer. Black Bear. Grizzly. Trout. Haddock. Lobster. Bass. Walleye. Muskie. The Tetons. The Great Plains. The High Plains. Denali. Tongass. Kodiak. Salmon. Seals. Otters. Sea Lions. Walrus. Lichens. Mushrooms. Douglas Fir. Lodgepole Pine. Ponderosa. Oaks. Maples. Ironwood. Woodchucks. Turtles. Grasses. Elms. Chestnuts. Hickories. All the wild things. All.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The soil of the Midwest.

Tarot: Going to do a full spread

I offer three long quotes from three different Americans. Tom Crane sent out the first a week or so ago. The other two have a central piece in my own thought and I’ve now added the Whitman piece. I present them to you after this 4th of despair and chagrin.

They reflect, are, the America in which I still believe, of which I am a citizen, and for which I shall fight.

Preface to Leaves of Grass

by Walt Whitman

“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”

From the Introduction to Nature, by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

“OUR age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, and criticism. The foregoing generations beheld God and Nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe? Why should not we have a poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition, and a religion by revelation to us, and not the history of theirs? Embosomed for a season in Nature, whose floods of life stream around and through us, and invite us by the powers they supply, to action proportioned to Nature, why should we grope among the dry bones of the past, or put the living generation into masquerade out of its faded wardrobe? The sun shines to-day also. There is more wool and flax in the fields. There are new lands, new men, new thoughts. Let us demand our own works and laws and worship.

Undoubtedly we have no questions to ask which are unanswerable. We must trust the perfection of the creation so far, as to believe that whatever curiosity the order of things has awakened in our minds, the order of things can satisfy.”

Henry Beston, The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod.

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate for having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein do we err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with the extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings: they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.”

Anoka County, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Park County, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, The West, Weather +Climate

Natural Healing

June 11, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Friday gratefuls: My journey over a lifetime. Kate. Always. That trail. With the Creek, the Mountain Stream. The fallen Trees. The tall Pines. The Wild Strawberries. The Rocks. The steep valley walls. Wild Rose. Primrose. Those yellow Flowers I can’t identify. A place of great sanctity. A holy place. A sanctuary. Friends. Near and far.

Saturday gratefuls: Stephanie. That trail again. Happy Camper. Aspen Perks breakfast. Salad. Apples. Peanut Butter. The Continental Divide. Mt. Rosalie. Mt. Evans. Black Mountain. Staunton State Park. Richard Power’s Orfeo. Learning lines. Mini-splits. Jon. Money.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That trail.

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing. And, Again.

Key words: “Give our minds a break, Calmness, Meditation, Stillness, Healing, Reevaluation, Patience, Perseverance, State of stability, Attentive care, Take time to relax and unwind, Connection to the source energy.” tarotx.net

Forgot to finish this yesterday. A busy day. Over to Aspen Perks for breakfast: Salmon Eggs benedict. Reading Orfeo. After a morning with what people especially beyond Richmond Hill (think Pine, Bailey) call the camper and RV races. Or, the RV assholes. Or, those bastards. Folks from down the hill invading, driving too fast. Often with trailers in tow. Passing on curves. Generally being jerks. After Richmond Hill 285 goes from a four lane divided highway to a two lane, no dividers. That’s when things get clogged.

At 9 am I was still a bit ahead of the bulk of it. But I had a guy towing a trailer behind me, a BIG RV ahead of me for much of the way. Irritated locals often try to pass early. Not waiting for the passing lanes that come after the road to Staunton State Park. It’s a recipe for accidents. And, they happen. And, they kill people.

I was on my way to the Happy Camper for my every two months or so cannabis run. 25% off! for the whole month. Still digesting a Stanford study that says thc can increase inflammation in the veins and arteries around the heart. Gonna consider genistein to counteract this effect. Sleep is critical and my thc use has made 8 hours every night possible. Gonna contact my docs to see about safety and dosing.

As my avanah (humility) practice for the month, I’m using a focus phrase: ichi-go, ichi-e. Every moment is once in a lifetime, unique, precious. Trying to use it every time I encounter a living entity: Kep, Myself, Rocks, Lodgepoles, Elk, Friends, Waitress, other Diners, Birds, the Sun, Black Mountain. All the time. Sort of like the Jesus Prayer. Trying to make it subliminal, yet also present as I move around through my day.

In this way I can learn to take up the right amount of space in my life. Not too much, not too little. Not minimizing my gifts, not over emphasizing them. Making sure I remember to bring my whole self to each precious moment. Since it will not be repeated, it’s the only chance I have.

I have now hiked what I’ve begun to think of as my trail, at least when I’m on it, three times since Gabe and I were on it last Saturday. I may go again this morning. Yesterday after my time with Stephanie, Dr. Gonzales’ PA and a sweet lady, I hiked it with the ichi-go, ichi-e focus phrase.

I saw that patch of Wild Strawberry blooms and thought of Ingmar Bergman’s film of the same name. A favorite. The Mountain Rose Bushes are in full Flower, too, five white Petals brightening the trail. They will give way to Rose Hips as the Wild Strawberry Blooms will to Strawberries.

The little Stream, I don’t know its name, flows a bit less vigorously as the Snow melt and Rains subside. Still it sings, dancing over Rocks, falling down the Mountainside, continuing its creation of this holy Valley.

Oddly, as I thought about this trail last night, I realized I’ve done just this, exercised outside in spots that became favorites for a very long time. I used to hike the trail along the Mississippi down by the Ford Avenue Bridge. Then I moved on to the Crosby Nature Farm, also along the Mississippi. When I worked for the Presbytery, I often exercised or walked at the Eloise Butler Garden and Wildlife Sanctuary.

In Andover I went to the Rum River Regional Park and snowshoed a trail through Woods behind the new library in the Winter, spent other times at Boot Lake SNA. Now I’m on my trail just off Brook Forest Road. Up here though the options are much more abundant. I’ve also been on Upper Maxwell Falls, The Geneva Creek trail outside of Grant, and plan to hit the Mt. Rosalie Trail soon.

My equivalent of the Celtic Christian practice of peregrinatio. The Skunk Cabbages are probably blooming right now at Eloise Butler. I miss seeing them and the bright yellow of the Marsh Marigolds. The power of the mighty Mississippi, too. Though a Mountain Valley is equal to them in its own way. Love the one you’re with. Eh?

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Holidays, Memories, Minnesota, Myth and Story, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain

Beltane: You are alive!

May 1, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Beltane. The growing season. Fire festival. Life renewed. Again. Still. My voice. Jon. Better. More insight, moving forward. Three dead mice. 2nd night, none in the kitchen. Edward Abbey. Mario. Taos. Road trip. Iran. Possible tour in the fall. Taipei, winter. Energy back. Got a lot done yesterday. Closing in on a finished downstairs. Feels so good. Jon’s idea about centering the chandelier. Smart guy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jon, taking hold

Beltane. Yes. The season I need. A Fire festival. Those crazy Scots and Swedes. All naked today, bonfires. Probably a lot of making love in the tall grass. Sympathetic magic. Maybe a few year and a day handfast marriages. The maiden goddess lying with the Greenman, with Cernunnos. Persephone with Pan. Ceres waving her hand, seeds unfurling, heading toward the sun.

A celebration of the Garden, the Prairie, the Pasture, the Woodland. Life giving. Soaking in the Sun. The Rain and the Snow melt. Mountain Streams full. Trout loving the cold Water. It’s Beltane. Ring out the fallow season for real. Ring in the season of plenty.

In the old days, the farthest away of the Celtic times, only Beltane and Samain. The growing season and Summer’s End. One or the other. Fertility or waiting, decomposition, getting ready. Resting. For this. The time of green. Of yellow and brown.

Oh, I’m so ready. I’ve had a long, long fallow time. Maybe since 2018 or so. Life with Kate had hit its late fall, early winter. The Covid. Her decline and death. Grief. Kate, always Kate. Now less Kate and more me. Alive still.

Beltaned. My Seed beginning to unfurl, blast its way through the Soil. Drinking in the Rain. Basking in the Sun, gaining power. My own Photosynthesis. Hands out, palms up, neck back, face lifted to the warmth of a new life season. Probably my last one. The fourth phase. Joyful. Rich. Headed toward joy.

Leave no bit of juice in the tank. Spill it all on the road, running the engine as long and as far as possible. Like Ode on his long road trip. Like Neal Cassidy and Ken Kesey. Like Walt Whitman and his powerful Yap.

That’s the message of the Great Wheel. Until you fall into the soil, become one with the next generation of life, you are alive. An agent. A whole universe swirling with galaxies of love, nebula of knowledge, Big Bangs of creativity.

Contra Dylan Thomas I do want to go gently into that good night. Not as one passive and resigned, but as one filled with experience. One who took the moments and lived in them, loved in them. Shouted. Danced. Acted. One who knows the night is nothing to rage against, rather something to embrace. These element’s fallow time after their long journey as me.

So. Take off those clothes. Throw away the inhibitions and the ambitions. Open. Spread out. Jump and twirl. It’s the Beltane festival. For you and for me.

Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain, Travel

75

February 20, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Kep. BJ and the basket of fruit. The J.O.E. family gathering: Johnson. Olson. Ellis. Sara and Annie. Jerry. Schecky. Turning 75. Rigel. Now appearing in Kate’s personal heaven. Prostate Cancer. Erleada, currently kicking my butt with fatigue, low stamina, and maybe increased high blood pressure. Orgovyx. Kristie. Tom. The draft horse. (He’ll know what this means.) Roxann. Her struggles. Mornings.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Therapy

50th High School Reunion, Alexandria, Ind. 64

Haven’t written about turning 75. Too caught up in the doggie drama of Rigel’s death. Still sad. Like Kate’s death though Rigel’s had been coming for months, maybe a year plus. She pushed past the endocarditis but it could well have ended her. Also like Kate I’m sad she’s gone, but relieved she can run free, all legs working, appetite restored. No angels are ever destroyed. They just change location.

Last Thursday evokes what it means to turn 75. Fellow ancient wayfarer Tom Crane was here, helping me ease past the shock of Rigel’s death. Marilyn Saltzman and Irv had called the day before.

Tom and I had breakfast at Aspen Perks. Talked about life, our 35 year plus relationship. We’re brothers. Yes. Now and forever. 75 would be barren without him, without those other ancient brothers I see every Sunday. Without the other Woolly Mammoths.

In my therapy session David Sanders identified three issues he heard from our initial session: emptiness, potential future relationships, and creative work. The emptiness is there and will remain for some time. It doesn’t scare me or feel abnormal. I’m not ready for a new relationship, may never be, but certainly not now. That put us at door number 3.

David asked me to send him a copy of a novel I’d written. I sent him the first 50 pages of Superior Wolf. He sent me some interesting work sheets to fill out. I’ve done that. We’ll talk next Thursday. With the simple act of sending him that material, the stuff I’d sent out to agents, I felt ready to get writing again. Very soon. Maybe this week.

Also, had some ideas about emptiness and the Tao. In Taoism emptiness is what makes certain things useful. The void in a cup. The space of a door or window. The interior of a car. The room inside four walls in a house. The inside of a refrigerator, dish-washer, cabinet. Made me wonder if grief is an emptiness that lets us see through it to a new life.

2016, second from right, back row. Stillwater, Minnesota

In a class with Rabbi Jamie a while back (well before Kate’s death) I wrote a poem that had this line: Death’s door opens both ways. Perhaps grief is that door. Perhaps that emptiness is the vessel into which we pour all the ingredients necessary for a new life to emerge.

Therapy over, I waited for an hour and headed over to Evergreen to meet my new doc, Kristine Gonzalez. As I said in an earlier post, what a delight she is. As David took my now 75 year old psyche under his care, she listened to me about prostate cancer, post-polio syndrome, high blood pressure, radiation induced proctitis, peripheral artery plaque. And said, “Just live until 90. I don’t see anything in your way.”

At On the Move Fitness an hour after this Deb got that body back up out of the chair and onto the tread mill and the mat. Put weights in my hands. Had me huffing and puffing.

That’s all a window into my status as a 75 year old man, walking his ancientrail.

Anoka County, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Charlie’s Difficult, Wonderful Week

February 18, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rigel. Her death. Kep. That hole in my heart. Tom. Here. Cannabis. Leah. Marilyn and Irv. Susan Marcus and Thoreau. Rich Levine. Dr. Palmini. VRCC. The new kitchen. The new furniture and lamp. Snow. A good bit. Stopped early morning. Plowed Black Mountain Drive. Bright Sun. Robin Egg’s Sky. White Lodgepoles and a white Black Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rigel’s death. And, her life.

My life flows on in endless song,
above earth’s lamentation.
I catch the sweet, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation. The Hymnary

Yes, it’s surprising, but this is how I feel. Eager for the new creation while sad about Rigel, about Kate, about the life that included them in the body. No, I’m not moving out of the present moment. I anticipate nothing. I regret nothing. I yearn for nothing.

Part of this equilibrium I have Tom Crane to thank for. He came here, to Shadow Mountain. And cousin Diane Keaton, my best person when Kate and I married. I speak with her once a week. Part of it has to do with the Great Wheel which has turned for Kate and Rigel and will one day turn for me. Part of it has do with the loving and loved members of Congregation Beth Evergreen and the Ancient Brothers. They hold me in a fine net of their care, mystic cords of love.

And, of course, part of it lies within me. One now turned toward the earth rather the heavens of the old three story universe. One reading the torah of mother nature, listening to midrash about her. Her oral torah loosed in the songs of birds, the bugling of the elk, the silence of snow falling.

Leaving now for breakfast with Tom. More in a while.

No, the deep sorrow has not left me. If someone says something kind about Kate or the conversation turns to death and dying, sometimes tears will press up, coming from a holy well of honor for her, for us. This will, I imagine, lessen over time. It did with my mother. It has with each of the dogs. Vega’s death took the longest to assimilate because she died suddenly and after we had been gone for four weeks.

Tom’s willingness to be here and his actual presence has, as my Jewish friends say of the deceased, been for a blessing. We know each other. Pain. Flaws. Joys. Anguish. Inner compasses aligned.

Kep and I have begun to negotiate life after Rigel. Just us boys. He comes up to the loft, but he’s not eager to stay. He likes to roam. Gertie would lie down on her bed, from time to time gaze up at me, and leave with reluctance.

Today is body-mind-spirit day. Breakfast with Tom. Therapy with David Sanders. Annual physical with Kristine Gonzalez. New workout with personal trainer, Deb Brown.

Did not finish this yesterday. So, I’ll just go on from here.

David Sanders called me an exceptionally intelligent person. Nice to hear. In these tough days a few compliments help. He also noted my breadth of knowledge. OK. Enough back patting. He convinced me to send him some of my work. I sent him the first fifty pages of Superior Wolf. And, I admitted that I probably had a book in me about the Great Wheel, tactile spirituality, the ur-religion. Feels like he moved the meter in my head back toward creative work.

Saw Kristine Gonzalez, my new primary care provider. What a delight! She loves taking care of folks over 65, listened to me, discussed my health with me like an adult. To my Bill Schmidt inspired question about what I needed to do to love (meant live, but this works, too) until I’m 90, she said, “Just do it. Your prostate cancer is under control. You should be able to.” A big sigh of relief to be in a smaller medical practice and with a competent, caring doc. I told her Kate would have liked her a lot.

Dave and Deb, owners of On the Move Fitness

Then, over to On the Move Fitness for a kick start to my workout routines which I’d let slide. Deb is the person who lost her husband David to glioblastoma in June of 2020 as the Covid pandemic began to wrap its coils around our lives. Dave and I bonded over cancer recurrences and now Deb and I have over grief. She gently guided me back to a new routine. Slowly, slowly.

By the time I got home I was exhausted. Called Tom and said so. He graciously agreed to let me rest. He’s coming here for breakfast before his board meeting, then we’ll probably head over to the Happy Camper. Might go to Scooter’s for lunch.

One of the upsides of all the angst this last year has been an immersion in love. Folks from all parts of my life from high school to college, family to friends, Minnesota to Colorado, Evergreen to Conifer, Judaism to Christianity have reached out, offered or given me support. It’s had the result I’ve needed. I’m not alone. I’m both needed and accepted as I am. Good to know at 75.