Category Archives: Minnesota

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Mind Blown

February 13, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Past lives. Near death experiences. Mystical experience. Reincarnation. Ode. Cooking. The meister chef, Tom. Cabbage and beef soup. Catfish. Chicken potpies. Rigel. Drinking. Ruth, so much better. Jon, too. Gabe, puzzling. My mind twisting round. The lamp, Ruth assembled. Swapping out coffee tables, the new one down here. The old one upstairs.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Reincarnation

Mind. Blown. Where to? Don’t know. That ship haha has sailed. Into the area of the map famously identified by: Here there be monsters. Or, angels. Or, Grandma. Or, the Otherworld.

My buddy, Ode, who has long insisted that reincarnation is a fact, long proven, as might a friend of both Terence and Dennis McKenna, has finally pushed me aboard the good ship Beyond. As most of the scientists in the video below claim, I don’t know where the ship has set sail for, nor how to interpret the evidence in a definitive way. But I’m aboard, maybe as a reluctant stowaway, but I want in on this journey.

No accidents. Not sure this idea and the idea of post mortem consciousness belong together; however, it is the case that for the last four years plus I’ve studied kabbalah, an ancient Jewish mystical philosophy that includes reincarnation as a reasonable and accepted part of its world (otherworld) view.

Astrology, too, as well. A brand of this even more ancient discipline called Evolutionary Astrology which presupposes reincarnation and strong hints about yours revealed by the nodes of the moon in your natal chart.

You might say, well, Kate’s dead so these ideas have more traction? Or, this is the day before your 75th birthday. What better time to throw on a sash that reads, Reincarnated! An escape hatch at last.

Those could influence me, I suppose, but all my life I’ve thought on my own, accepting ideas and rejecting ideas because they listen well in my inner chambers of judgment. Or, because they seem like nonsense. The video below listens well there.

An old and strong aspect of my thought could be called flat earth humanism, or as Ed in the video rightly calls it, physicalism. Materialism in its fancy philosophical dress clothes. Existentialist me, a Camus influenced college part of me, faced the darkness unafraid. Willing to make my own meaning. Living because I wanted to live, not because I had to and not because anyone told me how.

That Alexandria First Methodist guy, a young one, had some notion of the afterlife. My mother’s death at 47 took it to the grave along with her. Not fair. Not fair at all. Therefore neither just nor loving, both attributes of the one, the true, the mighty.

A while later I picked up the Christian mantle again and threw it over my shoulders, but this time I was not interested in the next world, but this one. How might we live here? Right here amidst war, the Vietnam War, economic injustice, racial and gender discrimination? I found answers in old Jewish notions of just kingship and a New Testament that demanded extension of love and compassion to the poorest and most despised among us.

Nowadays the Great Wheel, that pagan metaphor of life’s seasons, including the long fallow one in which we temperate folks find ourselves right now, guides my thinking. I can fold this post mortem idea into it.

This is a willed rejection of Wittgenstein in the Tractatus when he says: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. I shared this chivalric reticence, its honesty, for a long, long time. Now I feel it reveals fear rather than expressing a stoic truth.

Over the course of the next few years I plan to continue my study of kabbalah, astrology, and tarot. I ordered the three books of Edward Kelly. Gonna read them. I’m also reading two new anthropological books reassessing human development from physical, historical, and genetic perspectives. Taoism is in there, too.

The Rockies and the complicated textbook about life and change that they are teach me everyday. Pursuing these investigations because they interest me. I may have a book in there, some way of showing others how the natural world can teach us what we need to know about life, and now perhaps, death.

Gotta do something with this extra time the oncologists have given me. May as well be of some use.

And, happy birthday to me!

Anoka County, Beyond the Boundaries, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, General, Health, Jefferson County, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, The Move, The West, Weather +Climate

The Consolation of the Natural World

January 30, 2022 Charles 1 Comment

Yule and the Moon of the New Year, at 4% Crescent

The Webb in its L2 orbit:

“Telescope deployment is complete. Webb is now orbiting L2. Ongoing cooldown and eventual instrument turn-on, testing and calibration occur. Telescope mirror alignment and calibration also begin as temperatures fall within range and instruments are enabled.

The telescope and scientific instruments started to cool rapidly in the shade of the sunshield once it was deployed, but it will take several weeks for them to cool all the way down to stable operational temperatures. This cooldown will be carefully controlled with strategically-placed electric heater strips. The remaining five months of commissioning will be all about aligning the optics and calibrating the scientific instruments.” NASA

Monday gratefuls: Mental health care for teens. Jon’s care for Ruth yesterday. The tenderloin roast. Yumm. The blizzard in Maine. The cold in Minnesota. The mind numbing 45 degrees we had here today. Ode in Mexico. Peak TV. All the wonderful series on now. Righteous Gemstones. Pennyworth. Bulgasal. Hotel del Luna. Qin Empire. New Book-Becky Chamber’s, A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Life

Tarot:

Tom asked me this morning how I got along so well with prostate cancer. With grief. With living alone. OK, he didn’t ask those last two, but I figure he implied them.

When first diagnosed in May of 2015, six months after we moved to Colorado, cancer hit me hard. I sat there in Eigner’s office listening. Who me?

When I got in the car to drive back home, the first thought was: Don’t drive when in the grip of strong emotions. Oh. Yeah. Sat there for a minute wondering if it was a good idea to pull out of the parking lot. But. How am I gonna get home?

The mountains were still new to me then. Amazing me each time I went somewhere. Still true, yes, but then my amazement was new, too. I chose to drive back Deer Creek Canyon Road, a sort of back way from Littleton to Conifer.

Turning left about three miles north of the Denver Botanical Gardens, I began the trek up the site, millions of years ago, of the Rocky Mountain Orogeny. Rocky Cliffs rose from the Earth and the road began to climb as Cliffs and Streams and Boulders began to dominate. Colorado Blue Spruce, Ponderosa Pine, Lodgepole Pine. Aspen. A few Willows and Dogwoods along Deer Creek

Numb. Yes, numb. But then. These Mountains. The layer cake of their formations. One strata on top of another pushed up, up, up out of the Bedrock during the Laramid Orogeny, 80 to 55 million years ago. This Rock was ancient then, resting in place, awaiting the slow changes that come even to the seemingly obdurate.

These facts were fresh with me because, as is my way, I’d been reading a lot about the Rockies before and after our move. I like to know where I am. And how it got to be there.

Huh. It hit me. I’m such a Mayfly. Even my cancer is such a small thing. Big to my life, sure, but in the scope and sweep of these Mountains, Granite and Gneiss and Marble and Shale exposed after a long, long sleep. A sweep of the second hand.

As is also my way my Body went out to the Mountains, following them as I drove. Embracing them as teachers, as guides on this Planet we share. I gradually became calm, understanding that my life and the life of the Mountains are not separate, but joined. Now and forever.

There is a Great Wheel not wedded to the Seasons of temperate latitudes, but one wedded to the creation, life, and inevitable doom of this Rocky, Watery place we call home. I am part of that Great Wheel’s turning. As are each of you who read this.

Before what I have long called the Consolation of Deer Creek Canyon, I experienced the Consolation of the Great Anoka Sand Plain, the shore of the Glacial River Warren. There in Andover I planted, Kate weeded. Flowers and vegetables grew. Dogs ran here and there in the Woods. Bees flew in and out of the Gardens, the Orchard.

Each fall I would find Folk Alley radio on the internet, turn it up so I could hear on our small brick patio outside the lower level. There I would replenish the soil with compost and other nutrients. Digging out onto a tarp, then shoveling it back in. When that was finished I would open the boxes of Bulbs, Corms, and Tubers and Rhizomes. They would go in the Soil, with a bit of fertilizer, at the right depth, then get tucked in with a hard pat. Next Spring there would be Lilies, Tulips, Iris brightly signaling a new growing season.

I loved that work on those fall afternoons. I’d often hear the Andover Marching Band practicing. The Garden of course had its rhythms. It was finishing as I planted the perennial Flowers.

The Garden fed us all year. Fresh veggies, canned veggies. Fruits, too. Raspberries, Honey Crisp Apples. Plums. Cherries. The Bees gave us Honey.

The Garden was part of me and I, after the eating the produce and the Honey, was part of it. I call this the true transubstantiation.

In all Seasons I would hike to my Tree in the Boot Lake Scientific and Natural Area. I would sit with my back against it, looking at all of its Children who grew in an irregular circle around it. I sprinkled Tully’s ashes there. She was a sweetheart and I wanted to honor her.

I’ve gone on too long. The point is, I long ago found my place in the Natural World, its bounty, its death, its ongoingness. And as the Mountains along Deer Creek Canyon reminded me, that was and is enough.

Aging, Anoka County, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, permaculture, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Impermanence

January 15, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb? 791ooo miles from home. 108000 miles to L2 insertion. 88% of the way. .1769 mps. Sunshield: 131 F. Primary Mirror: -328 F.

Saturday gratefuls: Snow. Fresh and white. A friend’s Dog, cancer. The house changing, transforming. The Hermitage. Brown. Color. Kep’s abundant, luxuriant, always growing fur. The Mountains in Winter. The Lodgepoles with heavy bows. The Arcosanti bell has a white fairy cap. The outdoor table has a round, snowy table covering exactly its size. Medical Guardian. Uncertainty.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The love we have for our Dogs. And the love they have for us.

Tarot: Page of Arrows, The Wren

A friend’s dog diagnosed with inoperable cancer. A friend on her third or fourth round of chemo for ovarian cancer. Kate dead. My own, more tractable cancer. Life. Then death. The way of the animate world. It says something about our need, our lust for permanence that disease followed by death exacts such a toll. But it does. Death is no more, no less prevalent than birth and life; but, it insults us, destroys our fabricated lives.

When the snow fell today, all day, as it hasn’t in a while, it covered the driveway, my solar panels, this Shadow Mountain. Even our daily views are impermanent, changing often in the temperate latitudes where I’ve lived all my life.

Ichi-go, ichi-e. Every moment, every encounter is once in a lifetime. The tea ceremony is a beautiful expression, a reminder of this oh, so important truth. Kate will never be here on this plane again. Unique and significant in her quick intelligence, her dry wit, her chesed, her love for me, for Jon, Ruth, Gabe. My friend’s dog, whom I’ve met many times, likewise. Stolid. Built low to the ground. Attentive, but mostly arranging himself near Rich. Each time I met him was a whole moment. Complete and wonderful. As was each day with Kate.

This summer my friend with ovarian cancer made home-made strawberry ice-cream and we shared it at a table in Mt. Falcon Park, near Morrison. We both had the brand of the impermanent burned into our bodies with blood draws, sleepless nights, worry, treatments. If we could, as the Buddhists I think recommend, lean into the impermanence, grant it the piquancy it brings, the poignance of ichi-go, ichi-e as a home truth, if we could, we might still mourn and grieve, but we might also find room to celebrate the passing of each once-in-a-lifetime instance.

Each spring in Andover plants would push up from the cold, cold Earth. The Grape Hyacinths, the Daffodils, the Crocus, the Anemones. The Spring Ephemerals. Those plants whose strategy is to store food during a burst of growth before Leaves on Trees and Bushes, taller Flowers block them out. Such a joyous, brilliant, hopeful life. Yet, brief. Ephemeral. Gone in a couple of weeks, three, four at the most.

Oh, how I miss those delights of the cold, wet days of late Winter, early Spring. I no longer miss caring for the Gardens, but I miss them nonetheless. Those gardens were an immersion, like foreign language immersion, in the ongoing lives of plants, in the dance of life and the inevitability of death. Each fall we composted the dead stalks that delivered food to the roots of vegetables and flowers. They had more to give even though they were now lifeless.

The Earth gives us daily lessons in impermanence, but we rationalize, smooth over, just don’t see them. I’m writing this now in the 10th month after Kate’s death. Her memory blesses me every day. Her lessons, the things she taught me. The same. I leave the door open on the washer so it won’t mildew. I trust my doctors. I love Judaism and the Jews that I know. Impermanence has permanently changed me.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Jefferson County, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Our Land and Home, Science, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

That Small Town Feeling

January 5, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the New Year Moon

Where is the Webb? 2/3rds of the way to L2! 597000 miles from Home. 302,000 to orbital insertion. Still slowing at .2964 mps. Secondary mirror deployment begins. Mission day 11. Full mirror deployment scheduled for mission day 15!

Wednesday gratefuls: Small towns. Stephanie. My urology referral. Evergreen. The breakfast burrito. Kep and Rigel. Bowe. The cabinets. Getting there. Grief. Mourning. Kate, always Kate. Yellow Irises in the new kitchen. Cold coming today. Snow. Snow rake here. Gonna use it today. Ruby, riding down the mountain and back up. A sweet ride.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Small town feeling.

Tarot-January spread, Health: Page of Arrows, the Wren.

“Wren urges us to be the sort of person who keeps the curiosity of youth, to be attentive to our surroundings, and ready to learn when the opportunity appears.

The Druids considered that the wren, the smallest bird, was the wisest. So, wrens remind us to listen.” wildwood book

Simple things that make me happy. Moved my doc to Conifer Medical Practice’s Evergreen location. So, so happy. I drive a familiar road, down Black Mountain Drive and then Brook Forest Drive to 73. Into Evergreen to Stagecoach Boulevard. Stephanie, the PA I saw today, was chatty, friendly, unguarded, knowledgeable.

Didn’t have go down the hill, into suburban Littleton to a bigger physician’s group. When I got done, I found a breakfast burrito and coffee at the same place I buy the occasional chili cheese dog on my way home from mussar.

I’ll still have to down the hill for my ophthalmologist and urologist, gastroenterologist. But those are occasional appointments.

When I see Jackie in Aspen Park, my hairstylist, I get the same feeling. She knows me. I know her. We both live up here.

Going to Congregation Beth Evergreen expands the number of folks I know who live up here, too: Alan. Marilyn and Irv. Michele and David. Rebecca. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Ellen. Elizabeth. Rich. Tara.

When I worked on the West Bank in Minneapolis. Same. I got to know residents, business owners, street people. We said hi. Sometimes stopped to talk. Seeing and being seen.

When I create Shadow Mountain Hermitage, it’s a hermitage embedded in a nest of familiar places and people. Alone, but not lonely. Grieving, not mourning. Life without ennui or angst. Small town, rural life.

Some folks might feel suffocated in such a small circle of people. Not me. Feels just right. Family comes from time to time. Friends, too. It has the emotional quality for me as walking downtown in Alexandria, Indiana. Indiana as a state appalls me. Yes. But growing up in a small community where seeing and being seen was a gift freely and often unknowingly granted to everyone imprinted me.

I’m speaking for myself. You might be an urban guy or suburban gal. I’ve lived in both and know they both have terrific aspects. When it comes to where my heart feels best though. I’m living in it.

A real afterlife exists in the mailing lists and databases of companies and institutions. Kate continues to get mail. Now 9 months after her death. The most peculiar one was this one and it made me think Kate may have been paying attention to Moira:

The kitchen remodel grows closer and closer to the finish. Bowe put up cabinets, got water to my dishwasher. Brian still owes us two cabinets, a few doors, and shelving for installed cabinets. He did the take the China display cabinet I’ve been trying to get out of our downstairs since we moved in here. Fist pump!

When I stood in the kitchen after Bowe left, I did another fist pump. Even unfinished it made me feel energy, desire to cook there. I’m excited. The new, hybrid space has begun to emerge from plans, boxes, waits.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Garden, Health, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Tarot

Forest Lovers and the World Tree

December 28, 2021 Charles 1 Comment

Yule and the Moon of the Winter Solstice

Webb at L2, all deployed. Launch + 29.5 days

Where is the Webb? Three days and two hours into its flight. Still slowing at .6555 miles per second. 296000 miles from Earth and 603000 miles to L2 insertion. 33% of its path behind.

Tuesday gratefuls: The cold. Some new Snow. A clear blue Sky. Water, a true holy trinity: liquid, solid, gas. And that unique property, the solid is lighter than the liquid. Makes life possible. Think about it. The Webb, traveling toward home. Science. The unseen. Life. Other humans, near and far. Prostate cancer. Jodi. The new backsplash, brick-like tile. Caution. Slippery Mountain roads.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jamie’s Road Trip

Tarot: The Year Spread

Was gonna get my blood work done today. Nope. Icy Shadow Mountain Drive. 285, not as bad, but not good. Moved my trip till tomorrow. I’m also getting shot #1 of the shingles vaccine. No, I don’t know why I’ve never gotten it.

I hope the Orgovyx has pushed my T-score, testosterone, further down, and my PSA to undetectable. I’d like to let go of thinking about this for at least a few more months. A little nervous, yes. These quarterly blood draws ratchet up the excitement. Will it be down or won’t it? Not as bad now as the ones a few months ago when I still thought I could be cured. Now it’s a numbers game. PSA down. All good. PSA up. New treatment time.

A friend, Jimmy Johnson, has a PSA of 9.4. His doctor said not to worry about it, he’d die of something else. He’s 80. Made me wonder if I can back off the treatments when I reach a certain age. Whether I’d be comfortable with that.

Jodi came yesterday. She brought tile samples, the brick veneer. This time we could look at them with the counter top in. Made choosing easier. Went with a buff-gray. She says she can get those by early next week. If Brian does deliver the cabinets this week, it means Bowe can finish next week.

The sink works fine. The dishwasher not so much. Since Bowe came on Christmas Eve morning to hook them up, I’m ok with waiting a bit longer for the dishwasher. Will buy paper plates and bowls. Wash pans and cutlery in the sink.

Usually have my window wide open at night. Had to close it. My down comforter and electric blanket couldn’t keep up with the chill breeze. 3 am.

Love Helje’s work. Sweet. Evocative of a hidden world. Wintry. Scandinavian.

With Kep and Rigel next to me I was a Rocky Mountain version of this print.

The year spread. I’ve discovered these spreads with more than three or four cards are hard to summarize. I’ll try to condense the surprising and upbeat feelings I had after pulling twelve cards, one for each month, and an additional card, the first one I drew, for the year’s energy.

Seven of Bows “This is the time to make decisions and select your priorities. Focus on what you really need in life and things that it’s time for you to drop and cut down, especially if it’s old and broken, no longer fulfilling your needs on a life journey.” Not hard to see how this energy will fill the entire next year.

Already underway with the kitchen remodel and the rest of the redecorating. What else in my life needs pruning? What needs to be added?

Other information from this spread: I’ll post these cards as the months change and comment them then, but I want to focus on two this morning, the cards for April, when Kate died, and August, when she was born.

The April card is the Forest Lovers, number 6 in the major arcana. The August card is the final card of the major arcana, The World Tree.

April

“The Forest Lovers represent balance in the relationship and the gender link between the two heterosexuals. This Wildwood Tarot card contains the love of nature for humans, of both the ecosystem and each individual. We are the mysterious fractions of the universe.”

We lived in Andover as the Forest Lovers, eager for Spring and the growing season. Now Kate stands hand in hand with my anima, the three of us around the birch with green life reaching up toward the Sky. Her death transformed her from a mate to a spiritual presence in my inner garden. We tend it together.

August

“As a symbol of the bridge of consciousness between the great universe in outer space and the small universe inside every human mind. The World Tree marks the end of The Wanderer’s trip and the starting point for another journey. The Wanderer began his journey around The Wheel with an innocent, passionate curiosity. It is the journey that has brought wise experiences, along with the gift of knowledge. Now, The Wander is taking the final steps along the path of the maze of life, entering the heart of The World Tree to become an integral whole with the cosmic memory.”

In the month of Kate’s birth, her 78th birthday, the Tarot deck offers both of us the completion of our journey together, one we lived as guardians of the earth and seekers of justice. I’m imagining my grieving will change in August of next year. A fullness, a celebration of our life together. She has gone through the small door in the World Tree as I will one day. We are physically separate, but spiritually one.

Enough for now. Look for the first card in the spread, The Ace of Bows, for January on Saturday.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Torah

Vayigash and Gaetanos

December 12, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the waxing Winter Solstice Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shabbat. The Morning Service. Rabbi Jamie and his grief. The Minyan. The Snow. The cold. Rigel and Kep try to understand the kitchen remodel. Jon. His long nap. Gabe. Ruth. Sarah and Annie. BJ. Tom. The Ancient Brothers and the gift. Herme. The kitchen. Lower Gas bill.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A teachable moment. Maybe.

Tarot: Seven of Bows, clearance. wildwood

No chicken pot pies. Yep. Not at Conifer Safeway or the Evergreen Safeway. My favorite. Marie Callender. Confirmed this on the way home from CBE after the Shabbat morning service. Laying in a supply of frozen entrees as the kitchen remodel goes into a caesura while more cabinets get made and the quartzite fabricated.

Jews read, then reread, then reread, then reread the Torah, the first five books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. After Sukkot in the fall comes Simchat Torah, joy of the Torah. The reading of the five books ends, then picks up again at Bereshit, Genesis.

This is a qualitative difference between Judaism and Christianity. Christians parse up the “old testament” and the New. Often three short readings readings on a Sunday morning. The result, and I did it for years, is a disjointed sense of the scriptural narrative. The power lies in the hands of the liturgical calendar makers.

Even in progressive synagogues like Beth Evergreen a new parsha is read every Sabbath, in a regular sequence. Parsha’s are long. For example, the December tenth parsha was Genesis 47:28–50:26. Vayigash. The result of this reading and reading is to create a shared story, a shared mythology, a tradition that joins all Jews. Cain and Abel, Babel, the Reed Sea, Pharaoh, the Golden Calf, Mt. Sinai, the 631 mitzvot, Moses watching from Mt. Pisgah as others enter the promised land. Each character from Abraham to Aaron has a lesson or lessons to teach, not as dogma but as human choices made in contexts that we still find in our contemporary humanness.

The morning service which I attended yesterday had some wonderful and memorable moments. After six years I still have almost no Hebrew so the chanting and singing in Hebrew appeals to me as music mostly. Rabbi Jamie’s haunting chants take me to a deep place whether I read the English translation or not.

At one point a note suggested we think of a person who loves us and imagine ourselves loved by them. I chose Kate. It helped me. Seeing myself through her eyes gave me a sense of breadth to my life, a sense of what loyalty means to a woman betrayed, a sense of my possibilities as real, rather than hoped for.

Jamie talked about Tony Haas, his mother-in-law, her death last Sunday, the work she did in rural education policy. He lived with her and she died with him and the grandkids around her bed. His love and affection for her was clear, as was his sense of loss. Even 9 months later, today actually, that early grief is so present and available to me. I was with him and his family.

After my unsuccessful journey to the frozen food aisle, I drove back home, up the Snowy and Icy road. Going up is so much easier than going down in those conditions.

At 4:20, after feeding the dogs, I took off for Gaetano’s and Jon’s 53rd birthday dinner. Still feeling a little rough, but much better than Thursday night and Friday. Got there about 5:10 after a puzzling traffic delay on i-70 and surprisingly good memory about how to get to the restaurant without navigation aids.

Jon never came. Later he texted an apology. He had gone to sleep around 2 pm and didn’t wake up until 7 in spite of having set the alarm. His medications and illnesses have variable affects on him. This may have been one.

I had a nice meal on my own, testing something I had not realized I needed to. Eating a nice meal without Kate. I enjoyed the food, but the combination of her absence and the cacophony made me not want to repeat that anytime soon.

Same on the way home. I drove back up Brook Forest and Black Mountain. It was cold and there was snow on the ground. Returning from Evergreen at night in the first couple of weeks we were here. Kate and me. I reached over to her seat, held her hand for a while, felt sad.

It was good to get back home to Kep and Rigel, to the new life I’m making here on the mountain.

Seven of Bows

“This is the time to make decisions and select your priorities. Focus on what you really need in life and things that it’s time for you to drop and cut down, especially if it’s old and broken, no longer fulfilling your needs on a life journey.” The Wildwood book

This is my journey right now. Pruning. Reshaping relationships. Leaning into the good ones. Ameliorating the effects of the not so good ones. Remaking the physical space here. Refining my life over all.

Cinema and Television, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Minnesota, Tarot, Travel

A busy day

December 7, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Colonoscopy prep. Jon last night. Cancer worries. Jon’s 53rd on Friday. At Gaetano’s. Ruth and Gabe putting their Hanukkah gift mugs in my cabinet. Our cabinet. Cabinets emptied. Whew. Bowe starts demo today. The new cabinets, the bottom ones needed for the quartzite fabricators are here. Bowe installs those on Thursday. The plan anyhow. Herme is home. Neon. Noble gases. Elements. Sulfur. Helium. Carbon. Uranium. Lead. Potassium.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Phase Four

Tarot: Six of Stones, wildwood

Dove off of always under construction Highway 70 at the Peoria exit. Then spent an interesting 15 minutes searching for Identgo, the TSA contractor for my TSA prechek appointment. 39th Street is a boundary line. On its south flank Aurora extends into its eastern suburbs. On its north it serves as an artery for capillary streets that end at the freeway’s fence. Concrete buildings with truck bays facing the street. A few RV’s parked in what look like permanent positions. Lots of extended chain link topped with razor wire. The faceless underbelly of small companies or the warehouses for big ones.

Identgo, also the site of Unicorn Drug testing, sat at the end of one of eight rows of sad, buff colored small offices. Christ-Ministry. Gospel Church. Mountain Stone. Identgo.

I had a thick sheaf of documents, divorce decree, marriage licenses, a birth certificate. They stayed in their envelope. This was a much more casual process than I had imagined. The gender fluid person who checked me had on outrageous boots. Made of brocade with thick laces and standing on 5 inch heels these were uncommon.

“Those are some boots” started a longer conversation. They showed me photos of other cool boots. A Canadian designer was their favorite. He also had high boots that looked like cows hooves. Dress shoes in yellow. Or, fading from yellow to purple.

They had been in Tokyo and NYC working for Identgo. In spite of the cheesiness of the office, the process itself was high-tech and quick. A handheld computer did most of the work. A blue screen for a photo, $85 and Bob’s your uncle.

Hopped onto 70 listening to a CPR program about Westside Story and why Puerto Ricans felt a remake was overdo. Short answer: Rita Moreno was the only PR in the first version though she did win an Oscar. Also, it reinforced Puerto Rican’s as an immigrant group somehow involved in teen delinquency. Might not have been so bad if it didn’t go on to become the best musical and fourth favorite movie of the Oscars.

Turned off I-25 near Bronco’s Stadium and into another, more upscale warren of businesses. Zuni Street. At 13th, near the brand new and strange Meow Wolf, I turned left into a newer, snazzier business mall. Morry’s Neon.

When I got there Tina, Glen, and one of the master benders were eating Mexican food off paper plates. Probably food truck fare. Glen took me back in the shop, plugged in the Hermit. I said. Wow. He smiled. Showed me how he would hang it. Clean it with a soft brush. The transformers good for about ten years. Other than that. No maintenance.

Tina took my money. Glen loaded Herme in the back of Ruby. Onto a moving blanket I had positioned there for that purpose. Back up the hill. And, none too soon.

Since Kate’s illness, the pandemic, and her death, I’ve not gone down the hill much. I find myself overstimulated in the city. Traffic. Exits. Navigating. Too many people. Lights. Police. Just. More. Than. I. Need. Strange for a guy who did nothing but urban work for over 25 years. But, true. Exurban, mountain me.

When I got back, the remainder of the cabinet cleanout. Though I had a huge stack of boxes in the living room on Saturday, I used all of them except one. I did the last few jars while I fed the dogs this morning. Lots of evidence of mice. Wish I could have a cat.

This whole process got hard. Oh, I remember Kate using this cherry pitter. Who owns a cherry pitter, anyhow? Her canning stuff, pressure cooker, water bath. Empty Ball jars. The mustard yellow fondue pot. A relic of the sixties. Her sixties.

There’s a dark beauty in grief. As it deepens feelings, it opens me to more feelings, to the wonder of our time together. Cooking. Harvesting honey. I came across a quart jar of Artemis Honey with the Ode made label still on the lid. Peaches. 2016. 2018. Western slope peaches. Canned right here. There was currant jelly, too. Ground cherry, wild grape. All by her hand. So much. Quilts. Mug rugs. Runners. What a life we had.

In an hour I’m leaving to take Jon to his colonoscopy. Sarah and BJ, two of Kate’s sisters, may have convinced him to let them help him sort out his house. That would be a big deal. He might get the stimulus to finish the kitchen, other rooms. That would be so good.

Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Week Ahead

December 6, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ancient Brothers. Da rhythm. Of our lives. Kep and Rigel, a two dog snugged close night. Brian bringing the new cabinets. TSA prechek. Herme coming home. Jon’s 53rd birthday this Friday. Going to Gaetano’s. 20 degrees this morning. Still no Snow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cabinets, new

Tarot: three of bows-fulfillment

henry moore nuclear energy. I spent a mescaline evening crouched inside this monument to Enrico Fermi’s splitting of the atom. 1969.

A full week. Learning to husband my energy. Stamina still less than pre-androgen deprivation therapy. Though. I think grief takes its toll on energy, too.

Decided to take not liking the security line at the airport off the table. Going to TSA Prechek this morning to apply. Lot of documents required since I changed my name when I married Raeone. That’s in downtown Denver at 11:40.

After that it’s over to Morry’s Neon to pick up Herme. Where will I put him while the remodel is going on? Maybe in the garage.

TSA is the exit before Pena Blvd which heads into DIA. A long ways from here. Guess it makes sense it would be close to the aeropuerto.

While emptying kitchen cabinets yesterday I got briefly overwhelmed with sadness. A few tears. BJ said that when she talked with Kate in the hospital last April, Kate told her we intended to remodel the kitchen. It was the we that got me. I no longer have that we.

Our we lived in those conversations. Remodel the kitchen? Pizza for dinner? How can we help Gabe and Ruth? What book did you like best? Do you remember when you were 6? And the memories of those conversations held in the others bank of the past. For retrieval if somehow forgotten by one of us.

Drains a lot of energy. Those moments. Yet I welcome them. I feel her with me. The vitality and presence of our time together. Palpable. Almost. So if you walk in on me and my eyes are a bit red and puffy, you’ll know Kate’s come for a visit.

Though. If you see me smile, grin with no seeming referent, you’ll know she’s come, too. I’m widowed to Kate. Forever more.

Tom Crane comes on Wednesday. We’ll hang out, talk about life and love, death and life phases. We’ll also have brunch with Irv and Marilyn Saltzman at Aspen Perks.

Tomorrow I take Jon for his colonoscopy/endoscopy. Searching for reasons behind his loss of 40 pounds over the last few months. On Friday I’ll take him to Gaetano’s. I may take Roger with me, but I’ll clip him to Jon if I do. Not gonna give’m two.

Bowe comes tomorrow to remove the old cabinets. Thursday to install the ones Brian delivers today. Then, a three week wait while the quartzite fabricator measures twice and cuts once, delivers and installs. After that, another wait because the backsplash decision is going to wait on the Taj Mahal slab. To check colors with the new counter in place. Maybe up to three weeks, but better to have it right than to guess.

Hanukkah is done. The menorah’s cleaned out. Candles put away. Presents distributed. Next up. The Winter Solstice. The holiday of holidays in my world.

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Kabbalah, Minnesota, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Leverage

October 18, 2021 Charles 1 Comment

Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Monday gratefuls: Kep and Rigel, my companion dogs. Mark and Mary. Diane. The folks at Groveland. The Ancient ones who attended. White privilege. Allies. Justice. Paul and Christmas. Holiseason not far off. Darkness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Check Your Privilege

Tarot: Two of Wands, Druid

Got my presentation, Check Your Privilege, before Groveland UU yesterday. It went well. The discussion afterward was on point about racism and what a group of privileged white folks might do. It felt like mild redemption to me since the last presentation I gave on Zoom for them got scrambled and hashed. I’ll post Check Your Privilege someday this week.

The pandemic and zoom have changed so much. It’s now conceivable to a congregation in Minnesota to ask a former member to present on a Sunday morning. And, just as conceivable for them to say yes. Plus, my friends, including one in Maine, could attend if they so chose. And, they did.

Office work. As I noted here after talking to Mike and Kate, virtual first or remote only organizations have already begun to take shape. Her organization no longer has a headquarters.

Connecting with friends and family. I communicate with a cousin in San Francisco face to face each week. Four old friends from Minnesota every Sunday. I can and have had sessions with my brother in Saudi Arabia, my cousin in San Francisco, and my sister in Singapore.

Huh. Just thought about a Keaton Zoom reunion. Mary? Diane? Mark? What do you think?

Education. I’ve taken several classes, live, through the Kabbalah Experience and now one with the teacher in NY and the students as far away as Australia. There are many more such classes.

Zoom provides the medium and Covid the rationale.

Many articles agree that the office/workspace will never be the same. That will impact many central cities which rely on downtown office workers as during the week, daytime customers. What will happen to all the unused offices? To all the small businesses? Will rush hours become less crowded? What will happen to the tax revenues from office towers?

We’re moving into a future never anticipated, with tools still a bit raw. And learning happening on the fly.

Still no joy with my friends at Social Security. Had I fewer resources I would not be feeling socially secure right now.

Tomorrow and Wednesday will see a wrap to the mini-split installation. Only the kitchen to go after that. Once that’s settled I’m going to take another break. Of some kind.

I’d like to travel a bit in Colorado, but I’m feeling anxious about hotel/motel rooms. Not clear to me whether that’s safe or not. I’m really tired of this whole viral dome over my life. And, I imagine you’re tired of it over yours. Not to mention it’s flu season.

Lunch with Marilyn and Irv at Aspen Perks. Then, a zoom (see!) consult with Julie Freshman about getting a new insurance plan and a new medical practice for an internist. Tired of New West and AARP Secure Advantage.

Aging, Art and Culture, Fourth Phase, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Myth and Story, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Travel, Woolly Mammoths

Fourth Phase Life

October 6, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Moon of the Thin Veil

Wednesday gratefuls: A stained house, newly painted garage doors. Daniel. Alvin. Greg. Sandy, coming up to be with Kate’s ashes. Kate, always Kate. The Woolly retreat in November. The Mountains. The Rocks, Lodgepoles, Aspens, Creeks, and Wild Critters. Deep peace.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Roadtrip!

Tarot: Ace of Pentacles

Daniel stained my whole house in just over a day. A sweet man. The 3M window coverings reminded me of St. Paul, of the Twin Cities. Alvin, his partner yesterday, took down my blue lights. Think I’m gonna leave’m down. Lots of neighbors complaining about lights ruining the dark Sky, a true Mountain amenity. They’re not wrong. Does mean I gotta dig out the box of solar lights I ordered. I need something to identify our house at night. So easy to drive right past it.

On Monday, Coyote HVAC. Then, choosing between bids for remodeling the kitchen. Probably won’t happen until later in the year. May seem strange, my doing all these things, spending a bunch of money. Not to me. They represent another phase of grief, one in which I celebrate what Kate and I had together while creating my fourth phase life. Hence, I’m enhancing the house she found and in which we shared our last years together.

Got a note from the Assistance Fund, the one that pays down my copay for Orgovyx from $800 a month to $10. I have to reapply for coverage on December 1st. Won’t miss that deadline.

Greg Lell, owner of the painting company, came by yesterday to get his check. We got to talking. He was, he said, a dairyCatholic.* He ran the words together. His parents figured out a three to four year gap system that resulted in six siblings for him, and, crucially, a new farm hand growing into the job as one left it. Oddly, he has a distinctive Texas accent, but he grew up in Colorado. Over 15 years in Texas he began to sound like a native.

Many Woolly brothers, Tom, Mark, Paul, have decided not to attend the retreat. Excellent reasons, probably ones that apply to me, but I need to get outta here, get on the road, be somewhere else. Not new, forty years a Minnesotan, but also not Colorado.

Largest wood fired kiln in the U.S. Bresnahan in sportcoat

I will be staying in retreat lodging at St. John’s Monastery in Collegeville. I have done retreats there before and visited many times. The ceramic urn which holds Kate’s ashes came out of the Johanna Kiln, shaped by Richard Bresnahan from clay dug not far from the monastery. The firing of the Johanna Kiln is a major event as it’s a dragon kiln with several bays snaking up a hillside. When it’s firing, volunteers feed split Wood into its firebox 24 hours a day until the ceramics finish their ordeal. Maybe I’ll finally buy a teapot.

Drew the Ace of Pentacles this morning. The aces are potential, the essence of their suit. Pentacles represent mother earth, malkut, this world, this physical world. In many cases this card may signal success in business, an inheritance, making progress in a career. It also can suggest deep peace, well being in this world. Feeling calm.

As I’ve entered this new phase of grieving, a great calm has settled within me. A deep peace. I’m more in my life than regretting, mourning Kate’s death. As I said yesterday, my life with her is the foundation for this phase, what I’m calling my fourth phase. I’m modeling this fourth phase idea on the Hindu life phase of renunciation and a focus on the spiritual.

The Ace suggests I’m on the right path. Let’s call it a new ancientrail. Though the road that led here connects to it, this ancientrail has made a sharp turn toward the West, toward the setting Sun. It is the final phase of life and one I want to walk intentionally. To walk it like a Celtic Christian saint. Peregrenatio.

*Yes, I did mention the other dairyCatholic I know, Mr. Bill!