Category Archives: Weather +Climate

Asia, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Mountains, Plants, Travel, Weather +Climate

Mountains in the Cities

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Saturday gratefuls: A whole Chicken and Rice for each of us. Onions. Peppers. Pickled Peppers. Kimchi. Radish in squares. Side dishes. Dates. Mushrooms. Dinner last night in downtown Songtan. Screen golf. My son’s drives. Seoah calling  herself Bunker Woman after several sand traps. Walking in the Woods on the small Mountain behind Seoah and my son’s apartment building.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah’s relationship. Playful.

One brief shining: Black ceramic bowls with a whole Chicken, Rice underneath, Mushrooms and Dates in the soup, white bowls of pickled Radish, Cabbage, Peppers, Sliced Onions, and Green Peppers, cold Water in a jug, metal chopsticks and the long Korean spoon, a meal with my son and Seoah in neon intensive downtown Songtan on a Friday night.

 

Songtan, as most Korean cities and towns, has Mountains within its borders. Reminds me of the  Twin Cities with Lakes inside the city limits. Many not more than high Hills at this point in their geological journey, yet Forested and with changing altitudes.

Behind Posco the  Sharp’s building 111 where my son and Seoah live on the 12th floor a small Mountain rises. Walking trails covered with soft Vegetal mats, workout equipment at various sites, this Mountain goes up from building 111 and peaks, then descends to a small commercial area maybe 10 blocks away.

Murdoch goes on daily walks with his people there. Yesterday morning around 9 am the trails had many older Koreans out walking, using the workout equipment. Some swung side to side, some  hung on metal rings, others stretched their bodies while others turned a large wheel one way then the other or used a simple elliptical.

I walked for thirty minutes up one side of the Mountain down the other and back again. Worked up a sweat in the humid warming air. A prized amenity to have so close to their apartment.

Later in the day I went with my son and Seoah to screen golf. For $35 dollars they rented a room for three hours. Along the back wall was a large screen which had the ability to not only project various golf courses and their holes but to show the trajectory of a drive, the path of an iron shot, bunkers, roughs, water hazards. It could also show an instant video of your last swing, keep score, tell you the amount of backspin and side spin on your ball, where the ball struck your club face.

They played 18 holes. My son shot a 94. Seoah, who prefers outdoors golf, did less well. I had fun watching them, seeing them applaud each others good shots, help each other with kind advice, be with each other. My son chipped in on one shot and we all got up and high fived  him.

After returning to the apartment to feed and walk Murdoch, we set out again, this time on foot to downtown Songtan which is only ten minutes or so from the apartment.

Seoah had a found a place that met her two key criteria: first, clean. Second, delicious. We walked through narrow, most often sidewalkless streets, cars going around us, delivery motorcycles weaving in and out, the traditional Asian exuberance of neon signage. Past coffee shops, clothing stores, many different kinds of restaurants, a small traditional grocery where they made rice cakes, sesame cakes, and other delicacies on site. Clubs. Bars advertising soju (a Korean vodka and a favorite beverage) and beer. Fried chicken places.

Lively and interesting.

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Jefferson County, Korea, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Plants, Travel, Weather +Climate, World History

Softball, Korea News

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: Labor Day weekend. My son has Friday and Monday off. The Minnesota State Fair. A not so faded remnant of the Lughnasa festivals of the old Gaeltacht. A Minnesota Fall. Brilliant colors, blue Waters, trips up North. A Rocky Mountain Fall. Aspens gold against Lodgepole Green on Black Mountain. Clear cool Skies. A Korean Fall. Will find out.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Seasons

One brief shining: My son came home last night in a bright t-shirt with Aladdin 02 on the back and a Cobra on the front his left arm bruised at the bicep after he threw a pitch and a hard hit soft ball came right back to him full of joy at playing and having an injury.

 

My son plays on his squadron’s soft ball team. The Cobra signifies their squadron. His first time up a few weeks ago he hit a homer. Now he’s hooked for the season. He’s an athlete, has been since middle school. Cross country in the fall. Ski racing in the winter and track in the spring. High school. He also raced on the UofM’s ski team.

He and Seoah both have the athletic gene, now expressed most often in workouts and golf every weekend. Makes dad glad. Ha. Good for health and for their marriage.

 

Used the apartment’s gym again yesterday. Feel better already. More limber and a regular dose of endorphins. The same three buff middle-aged Korean women were in the weight room. Seemed like chatting had as much to do with their reason for being there as the weight machines.

Noticed, again, that I tilt to the left. Scoliosis. Polio. Beginning to have some soreness in my right hip and lower back. Not often, not always. Usually after a lot of time on my feet.

Still not sure how it will affect my stamina when I get into serious sight-seeing. May be limited to mornings. Maybe less than that. Or, maybe rest at intervals will be enough. I’m sure to find out this weekend since we’re going to Seoul for the first time.

 

Big news here. War games held for both North and South Korea. Every year a war game called Freedom Shield unites South Korean and U.S. militaries in a display of force designed as a response to a hypothetical North Korean invasion. Such exercises enhance the ability of two command structures to blend when faced with actual conflict.

North Korea launched an unsuccessful spy satellite last Wednesday in response. Then two more short range ballistic missiles this week. Today North Korea announced military exercises simulating the occupation of all of South Korea. Tit for tat.

This annual saber rattling makes both sides a bit nervous, jumpy. My son has had some extra work as a result.

On the streets of Songtan this causes no reaction whatsoever as near I can tell. The taxis pick up passengers. Folks go into the coffee shops. Buy meals in restaurants. It’s not that people don’t care. All Koreans want unification. Just not through military means. It’s more that the specter of war hangs so heavy here that it has become a backdrop to daily life. Not ignored, but not engaged daily.

Sort of like having cancer it just occurred to me. You can’t pretend it’s not there. And, yes, it could kill you. But, if it occupies your heart/mind all the time  you give up life. Which doesn’t make sense. So  you make an uneasy peace and go on about your day.

Asia, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Travel, Weather +Climate

A Babette’s Feast of Sushi

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: The gym. A workout. Rain. Typhoon Haikui. Sushi place. Lunch with Seoah. Tripping the circuit breaker. Murdoch. Soil, a classic Korean novel. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory. The USAF. Osan AFB. Sim cards. Smart phones. Computers. Zoom across the waters. From Songtan to downeast Maine.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Humid Korea

One brief shining: That lunch with Seoah yesterday first came miso soup, kimchi, pickled onions, water cress, seaweed packages, creamed corn (I know.), then udon noodles in soup, after that a large serving platter of sashimi, beautiful fresh Salmon, Tuna, translucent Fish, a buttery cut, all thicker than U.S. sashimi slices, later tempura a sushi roll and a dish of Fish entrails.

 

This was the Babette’s Feast of sushi. The food kept coming on the little serving trolley. The smiling waitress unruffled as she sat down dish after dish. I quit before the sushi roll and the Fish entrails. Full. Seoah ate on. Not much in the way of carbs, mostly protein and vegetables.

The restaurant had a second story perch over the same ro (street) on which Seaoh and my son’s apartment building sits. A delightful time with Seoah talking and eating, sharing. Making more memories together. Due to rain we took a cab both ways, oddly the same cab driver both ways.

 

Got back to workout routine. Treadmill and resistance. In a room of eight treadmills I had one to myself until a Korean man came and chose the one right next to me. An American would have chosen one in the rank of treadmills facing the other direction. We ran together for a bit.

In the weight room were three buff middle-aged Korean women and an older Korean man. I felt slightly self-conscious as the only old guy, only white guy, and the only one lifting lighter weights. Got over it. I know my weight lifting, my lower body work with the exercise ball, planks. Did shoulder presses, chest presses, concentration curls, flys, crunches, plank, dips, and squats.

Felt good to get back in the gym. My body had been feeling sore and I am demonstrably weak. I can cure most of that with regular gym time here and back home. Our bodies are meant to move.

 

Jet lag is in the past. Normal bed time. Up at 5:30-5:45. Joe gets up around the same time. He checks up on baseball, other sports. We talk a bit. He gets ready and leaves between 7 and 7:30 in desert camo with the oak cluster of a Lt. Col. prominent. Sand colored boots.

 

It’s the end of the rainy season here but typhoon Haikui has pumped up the cloud systems, sending more and more water over Seoul, Osan, and most of South Korea. The Mountains on the way to Okgwa and Gwangu over the weekend looked like Jungles with Vines overgrowing road signs, Trees green and healthy and numerous.

Looking forward to the cooler and drier weather of September. Cool back home, I noticed.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Hawai'i, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Travel, Weather +Climate

Lucky and Privileged

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Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Cybermage Bill Schmidt. The Ancient Brothers. Alan. Joan. The Bread Lounge. Jamie and Benji. Rich and Ron. My son. Jon’s estate. Leo. Luke. Tal. CBE. The Parking Spot. Checking off my before Korea list. Close to done. Gray Skies before Great Sol has come above the horizon. Mountain Streams now running lower. That fourteen point Mule Deer Buck on Black Mountain Drive. Gracie and Ann. Janet. Metaphors, shaping our world. Shaping our metaphors, shaping our world. The brain. Consciousness. The sacred.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rain in the Mountains

One brief shining: Pre-trip excitement beginning to rise, packing Artemis honey in bubble wrap (the last large jar), that Breckenridge tumbler, too, rolling up the t-shirts with Mountains and Buffaloes on them, the dish towels with Beavers and Mountain Goats, the children’s books about the Rocky Mountains, Colorado and Mountain stickers, carefully placing them all in that Chinese box that brought something here a while back, then packing tape, packing tape, packing tape along with an APO address and it’s off to Korea ahead of me.

 

Feeling lucky and privileged this morning. Healthy enough to travel at 76. Money enough to travel. Family I want to see living in a place I’m excited to explore further. Korea. Feeling the collision of four big events coming in this next week: the showcase on my first ever play script on Saturday plus Tuesday class and Thursday dress rehearsal, my first lesson with Rabbi Jamie for my conversion on Thursday, finishing up my travel plans by counting my drugs and ordering what I need if any, talking to Vince, Luke, nailing down how much money I’ll need in my bank account, and my appointment with Kristie where my drug holiday will probably be officially begun.

It’s been a while since I’ve traveled. Last time was to Hawai’i. My son and Seoah. I’ve not done any international travel since Kate and I went to Korea in 2016 for my son and Seoah’s wedding. This time I’m going radically light. Only a backpack with meds, electronics, one t-shirt, one pair of socks. I’ll buy socks, t-shirts, underwear when I get there. I already have some pants and shirts there as well as a split keyboard and a mouse. There’s been a lot of lost luggage this summer travel season and I want to travel light. Also, no direct flights. I don’t mind checking a bag onto a direct flight, but if there’s even one stop? Nope. Not sure yet what I’m going to do for Israel. Probably the same.

My whole family travels much more than I do, so this would be no big deal for them, but for me it feels like quite the adventure.

 

Looking at the devastation in Lahaina. Found my heart sinking, wondering most about the fate of the Banyan Tree around the court house. Relieved to see it was damaged, but not killed. A picture of a woman who spent five hours! in the ocean. So, so sad. 60 deaths. Knowing someday it could be Shadow Mountain captured by the news.

Politics, Science, Weather +Climate

Under the Mushroom Cloud

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Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Oppenheimer, the movie. Gabe. The last revision of The Trail to Cold Mountain. Acting. Cool night. Closed caption contraption. In and Out. Euphemisms. Driving. In rush hour. On I-70. With the express lanes functioning. God is Here, the book. Metaphors. For the sacred. Mussar. Leading mussar today. Getting back into the Mountains after having been in the city.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Movies

One brief shining: Trinity on the White Sands of New Mexico, a tower alone, an old fashioned motor and chain lifted a ball with electrical wires coming off of it, like a head connected to a neural mapping device, only this was no head, rather it was the first atomic bomb moving slowly link by link to its moment of explosive truth.

 

Baby boomer? Yes. They’re talking about my generation. A massive number of births following a long and bloody war. Which, at its end, changed the world forever. The movie Oppenheimer gives us a glimpse into the work, the pragmatic scientific bloody-minded work, that made that change. It shows us, yes, the story of the Chief Executive Scientist behind the bomb’s completion, Robert Oppenheimer. A complex man filled with paradox and living a life always on the knife edge of tragedy. Yes, an American Prometheus chained ever after to the rock of fame and infamy, governmental vultures stopping by to pick at his liver, healing up and then starting over again.

What it does not show is the mushroom cloud hovering over us baby boomers, the first generation to grow up with the knowledge that humanity held the awful power to eliminate itself. An anti-evolutionary device, the A-bomb. Too easy but I’ll say it anyway. Our sword of Damocles. Mutually Assured Destruction. MAD. ness. What else can it be?

Under the mushroom cloud spies snuck here and there, covertly hunting for nuclear secrets. The US and the Soviet Union locked in a standoff made Velveteen Rabbit by the missile silos in Siberia and in the fields of Wyoming and South Dakota. That same mushroom cloud hovers still. Only now the so-called nuclear club has many members: China, Russia, India, Pakistan, Israel, the U.S, North Korea, France, the United Kingdom.

Ironic that in the early winter of the baby boomer generation the great threat to the world is no longer that mushroom cloud but an early industrial age blanket made of carbon. Not to say the nuclear threat does not remain. It does. Yet so far the MAD notion of self-destruction in an instant has held fingers away from the buttons.

All the while we drove our cars, buses, trucks and turned on our air-conditioners, joined the electric revolution.

Apocalypse now is not a movie anymore.

Acting, Korea, Travel, Weather +Climate, Writing

Changes

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rebecca. Mussar. Hail at 5:30 AM. 48 degrees. Living at altitude. That Bull Elk Tuesday night. Wildness. Wild neighbors. Fox. Moose. Marmot. Robin. Magpie. Abert’s Squirrel. Red Squirrel. Ravens. Crows. Lodgepoles. Aspen. Various Grasses. Judaism. Sadness. Acting Class. Herme. Taking shape. Writing. Creating a short play.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wildness

One brief shining: Wham wham wham woke me up as Hail pounded against my bedroom window followed by driven Rain Thunder and Lightning all the old familiar sounds from my Midwestern days not so welcome in the Arapaho National Forest with all its Lodgepole Pines.

 

Breakfast with Dick Arnold, my roommate in Israel. He says the Tomatoes in Israel are the best anywhere. Something about irrigation with slightly salinated water and the Tomatoes compensating by producing more sugars. Looking forward to that. Israeli restaurants divide up by dairy or meat. He’s lactose intolerant so as long as he’s in the right restaurant, he can eat anything. Handy. Kosher, I’m sure. Dick was a therapist specializing in kids and abused women.

Talked to him about Ruth a bit. He gave me a tip. When I told him I felt sad about her situation, he said it might be empathetic sadness. In other words a feeling I’m getting from her, too. Might help guide me when I’m with her. He said something else that surprised me, but made sense. After that all caregiving, you’ve been opened up. I understood what he meant immediately. I knew I’d changed over the last few years but I thought it was just aging. Not only that. A welcome opening of my heart.

 

Came back from breakfast, read some more from Cuming’s Korea’s Place in the Sun, felt sleepy and took a long nap. Over to Jackie’s for a hair cut. The estrogen was flowing. Jackie, I said, you run a friends central salon. Friends, mostly women, stop by, give her a hug and kiss. Same for Rhonda. A warm, loving space. We could use more of them. And. My hair looks great.

 

Thinking about Herme, the short play. Four characters: Herme, Gaius Ovidius, the Seeker, Cold Mountain. I have Herme and Cold Mountain down. I need to work on Gaius and the Seeker. That is, I have to create their characters as distinct from Herme and Cold Mountain. Not only voice, but posture, attitude. Guess that’s why they call it acting. According to Meisner, I have to find a truthful way to be them in an imaginary situation. I also have to write more dialogue, edit some of what I’ve got. The challenge is real, but I’m getting there.

Feel like I’ve found a strong ending by changing the way the last poem will be read. In the voice and character of the Seeker. Signalling that she has joined Herme and Cold Mountain. Joan came up with the idea that Herme and Cold Mountain are the same. I liked that idea and I’m using it. Tal has helped me see how I need to shape the characters and the dramatic arc. I like the collaboration.

My first time writing a play and I find the help supportive. Mostly. I’m a little defensive. Hey, that’s my work we’re talking about. Maybe it’s the changed nature of my nature that Dick helped me see. Allowing help in.

Acting, Feelings, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate, Wild Neighbors

See the Wildness

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Dick and Ellen. Ann. Gracie. Lid. Joan. Tal. Deb. Abby. Alan. Those two Elk Bulls. Experiencing a cool summer in a heating World. The World Ocean. Mountains. Acting. Writing. Herme. Gaius Ovidius. The Seeker. Herme and Cold Mountain. Judaism. CBE. The synagogue. Lightning. Rain. Wabi Sabi. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Cold Water. Coffee.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Bull Elks

One brief shining: Lightning crashed down from the night Sky, Rain poured on my windshield as I drove the curves and increasing altitude back home from acting class, a twelve point Bull Elk looked at me from the side of the road near Maxwell Falls his face and antlers framed by Lodgepole Pines.

 

Another evening of Mountain magic. During acting class Alan had moved us outside to the amphitheater for his piece on aging. While he read Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, a twelve point Bull Elk wandered near the Grandmother Tree eating the luxuriant Grass occasioned by the persistent Rains we’ve had. He still had his Velvet. Alan went on reading. The Bull went on munching, collecting energy from the Great Sol. Thunder rumbled in the background, a cool Breeze came ahead of it. When Alan finished, the Bull had wandered on.

CBE occupies a plot of land not far from the large Elk Meadow Park, the first effort of the Mountain Land Trust many years ago. They bought up all the land east of the Mountains behind the synagogue and west of Hwy 74  for some miles to the north, put it into a permanent land trust to keep the Meadow wild. Especially in the Fall harems of Elk come through the Meadow, stopping to rest there.

The wildness of these magnificent Animals shows in their confidence around humans. They neither approach us nor steer away from us. We are in their domain, but of it in a manner similar to the marmot, the fox, and the rabbit. If the Elk wish to cross the highway, they cross the highway. If they want to lie down for a while in your front yard or come to my back yard and eat my dandelions, they do it. Moose are the same. Healthy Elk and Moose can defend themselves against predators so they have no reason to fear.

All very sweet

Driving home after class though. A Thunderstorm roiled, Lightning lit up the night sky. A heavy Rain fell cooling the air. I had passed Upper Maxwell Falls and begun the final climb toward the top of Shadow Mountain. When. I looked to the left. Slowed down. There. Right at the edge of the road, but in the Forest stood another Bull Elk, equal in size and rack to the one I’d seen earlier in the evening. He looked at me and I looked at him. A guardian of the Forest wildness. Not my friend, not my family. A wild neighbor checking up on a domesticated neighbor as he drove by.

I’m not saying this well. Imagine yourself on a black night driving through the Rain high up in the Mountains. You see faintly illuminated by your headlights a large Bull Elk standing still, watching as you pass. A Mountain Spirit, rarely seen, offers you a chance to see. See the wildness all around you gathered into the eyes and Antlers of one Animal.

 

 

 

Acting, Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Literature, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Travel, Weather +Climate

Learning my lesson. Again. And, yet again.

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Monday gratefuls: Tal. Lid. Luke. Leo. Dick. Ellen. Rabbi Jamie. Laura. Lisa. Sagittarius Ponderosa. Roaming Gnome Theater. Aurora. Bad memories. Not blessings. Angry Chicken. Korean hot pot. Sundays. Shabbat. Seoah. Murdoch. Storms coming. The wettest June on record here. Keeping that Fire risk low. Traveler’s insurance. Allianz long term care insurance. Kristen. Travel medicine. Travel. Welcome to the journey.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shakespeare

One brief shining: Read some of the Tempest and Midsummer Night’s dream this morning reminded of the packed and punchy nature of Shakespeare his plays and his poems words all tight ricocheting off each other building meanings until like a Han Shan poem one line changes the meanings of all that came before a genius so luminous I feel like kneeling down before him to say, Master!

 

Ooh boy. I keep learning and relearning the same lesson. Which I suppose means I’m not learning at all. Anyhow. Drove into Denver yesterday, then into Aurora near Jon’s old house. Left here about 11:45. My plan. Go to Stanley Market, eat at Rosenberg’s deli, then make the short trip from there to Roaming Gnome theater for the matinee performance of Sagittarius Ponderosa.

About half way down the hill on 285 I saw all the cars streaming west, latecomers to the usual Friday boat and camper show headed to South Park and the interior of the Rocky Mountains. What’s this? Oh. July 4th traffic. Folks taking the week, leaving late to avoid the Friday afternoon traffic jams so common here. Wait. July 4th weekend.

Oh. Stanley Marketplace. Will be packed. I might not get served in time. I had given myself an hour to eat after arriving. Began to run through alternatives. The Bagel Deli just past I-25. That could work. Pulled into their parking lot. Nope. Folks waiting outside. Confirmed my hunch about Stanley Marketplace. Well. New York Deli not far from that spot. Will be too busy, too. A holiday weekend.

I had wanted to eat lunch at Rosenberg’s, then pick up some dinner at the Angry Chicken after the play. I love their Korean fried chicken, but it’s way too far to go unless I’m close by. Turned north as 285/Hampden became Havana. An Asian inflected part of the Denver metro. H-Mart nearby. Lots of pho shops. A Korean hot pot and barbecue restaurant. Hmm. May not be as invested in the holiday weekend. Could be easier to get in and get out.

It was. I had never had hot pot before though it’s similar in nature to Khan’s Mongolian barbecue in the Twin Cities. Tables with induction coil wells over which a pot of broth sits. You pick up soup ingredients on your own, take them back to the table, and put them in the heating broth. Waitress delivers the meat in thinly sliced rolls on long platters. Spent more than I wanted to but I learned how to do it. Will be useful when I hit Osan. Could have been tasty but I was in a hurry and didn’t really realize the potential of the hot pot.

Got to the theater a bit late. They had waited for me. But not long. Sag was already underway. In the small darkened space I fumbled my way toward a seat. Dick and Ellen Arnold were seating in the same four chair row.

The play itself. Can’t tell whether my hearing made it difficult to follow or whether it was the script. Or, the direction. Anyhow it had funny moments, tender moments, and commentary on the difficulty of communicating our selves as we know them to others, especially family members. Perhaps my expectations were too high?

Anyhow I left quickly after the play was over at 3:30. Not before greeting Luke, Leo, Tal, Dick and Ellen, Jamie and Laura. Realized I leave things early because the hubbub afterward makes it impossible for me to hear.

Drove to the Angry Chicken on Havana. Blessedly on the way home. Put in my to go order. Ten wings and some corn salad. Waited twenty minutes. Plastic bag in hand I left.

Then drove back across the south Denver Metro in 90 degree heat, AC blasting. This is the lesson. I left the Angry Chicken at about 4:30. With the hard part of the drive ahead of me. I’d already been gone from home for almost five hours. Exhausted. Still in the city. The drive wasn’t torture. Not exactly. But it was uncomfortable, unpleasant. I was worn out, wanted nothing more than to be home. In my chair. At 8,800 feet. Cooler. Quieter. Way less busy.

I can’t drive that far anymore for that long and not get exhausted. Just can’t. I know it. But not well enough. Not sure what to do about it either. Stay home? Nope. Need human connection, some out of the house moments. Go with others? Maybe.

Acting, Asia, Poetry, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History, Weather +Climate

Who can leap the world’s net?

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Summer and the Super Full Summer Moon Above

Sunday gratefuls: Sundays. Ancient Brothers. The Fire This Time. Jude. Jessica. Neighbors. Derek. Mark in Camel Land. Mary in Friday Night Fish Fry Land. Me in the Land of Mountains and Dogs. Mountain Wild Flowers. The spike Mule Deer Buck eating dandelions. The Doe who came again. A day of small chores, reading, Han Shan poetry. Releasing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Letting go of the to do list

One brief shining: The Mountain Streams have calmed down only running now as they might after a wet Spring that ended in early June temperatures though remain cool a couple of hot days as a reminder but we hope for the Monsoon rains to start to tamp down the remaining fire risk and give us a low Smokey sign for an entire year which would be a first for me.

 

Sat down in my upstairs chair yesterday. Finished memorizing my fifth Cold Mountain Poem:

 

I’m on the trail to Cold Mountain

The trail to Cold Mountain never ends

Long clefts filled with rock and stones

Wide streams buried in dense grass

Slippery moss, but there’s been no rain

Pine trees sigh, but there’s been no wind

Who can leap the world’s net

And sit here in the white clouds with me?

 

After this I realized I’d paid all my bills, had food in the fridge, no urgent chores. I was caught up. A twinge of anxiety. Searching for something that needed my attention right now. Nothing. Well now. How about that? I could leap the world’s net and sit in the white clouds with Han Shan.

So I did.

 

In case you need some slivers of hope in this benighted decade here are a few I’ve found of late.

 

Miss Texas Averie Bishop. Read this Washington Post article about an Asian Miss Texas who is shaking up the majority-minority state that is current day Texas. We don’t know yet how the demographic changes that have slowly edged their way closer to reality will affect us politically but if Miss Bishop is any indicator watch out Far Right and moderate Right.

 

Déjà News by Rachel Maddow. Alan suggested this podcast by the MSNBC news personality. Here’s the podcast’s description from its website: ” In each episode, Rachel and co-host Isaac-Davy Aronson seek a deeper understanding of a story in today’s headlines by asking: Has anything like this ever happened before? Would knowing that help us grapple with what’s happening now… and what might happen next?”

 

Consider this very strange NYT story. A ‘Cage Match’ between Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg? Yes. There is a current discussion on the details of a cage match between these two titans of American commerce. Need I say more?

 

My own reading over the last six months or so has made me aware of the sine wave nature of extreme right wing politics dominating either states or the Federal Government or both, then being pushed back by an onrushing tide of progressivism. I admit it looks bleak in many ways right now, but consider the end days of the KKK in Indiana as evidenced by Fever Dream in the Heartland. Or, consider the Reconstructionist pushback against a wave of nativist sentiments before and just after the Civil War. Consider the demise of the Joe McCarthy era and the liberal era of civil rights and anti-establishment politics that followed.

We’re overdue for a liberal backlash and I hope women, minorities of all kinds, and those who would move up our socio-economic ladder link hands and throw the capitalist, white supremacist, homophobic, misogynistic minority back on the trash heap of history where they belong.

 

Poetry, Politics, Weather +Climate, Writing

Cold Mountain

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Thursday gratefuls: Great workout. Learning Cold Mountain, one poem a day. A good night’s sleep. Protein. Carbs. Veggies. Fruit. Eat the rainbow. Exercise as a mood lifter. Challenges. Developing Herme. Cloaks. Psilocybin. Spores. Growing my own. A gray day. The Monsoon. Korea. The Hermit Kingdom. The Land of the Morning Calm. Chaebol. Kangim. Keshet. Beit She’an. Good food. Cod.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hooded Man

One brief shining: Writing again beyond Ancientrails this time a one man short play enjoying dialogue as the only tool well stage directions too beginning to soar again feeling the sun under my wings the air over my head timeless now while I dive into the deep pool below cast a net bring out a flopping sentence or two to advance the story. Landed it!

 

Happy to say I’ve sidewised myself back to writing. This Herme project. Rolling, rolling, rolling. Dialogue advances. The idea emerges.

Second Cold Mountain poem from memory: (well, mostly)

 

One thousand clouds, ten thousand streams

Here I live, an idle man

I roam green peaks by day

Back to sleep by cliffs at night.

One by one, springs and autumns go,

Free of heat and dust, my mind.

Sweet to know there’s nothing I need,

Silent as the autumn flood.

 

Plan to weave together a Celtic backstory, throw in a bit of magic, and a Tarot major arcana archetype-the Hooded Man-with the Chinese Rivers and Mountains school of poetry. Liking the idea of turning it into a one man show. Still.

 

On top of Shadow Mountain sits my home

Lodgepoles and Aspens, Bunch Grass and Spruce,

Cedar siding and Solar Panels outside

Inside I ride out my days alone, yet not alone

Accompanied by the dead and their living souls

By the words of poets and writers, movies

By words from my own hand, written

Yet often unbidden. A man untroubled.

Rock beneath stays quiet, unmoving.

 

Playing now. Having fun. What creation can bring into a life. My life and yours. Who cares about legacy? Not important. Who cares about today, this wonderful only ever never again day? I do! Ichi-go, ich-e.

 

Purple Haze. Nope. This time. Rust colored, apocalyptic sunseen and sungone. Bad air for all. Courtesy of the Ancient Brother’s Sunday topic: Fire. Yet this is also true. Those burning parts of Canada will resurrect, become green again. Yes, their carbon dioxide has gone up in, well, smoke. But the recapture of it on Mother Earth’s own schedule has already begun. We may not be around to experience that rebalancing. But it will happen.

 

I see the Extremes knocked down affirmative action at Harvard and UNC. Expected. Never been sure how I felt about affirmative action. Its intent? Sure. Necessary. How it actually worked? Always wondered how those who were considered admits by affirmative action felt. I know for sure how some white parents and students thought. A toxic mix at best. We’re not done with this work and this sets us out on a different road to achieve results. Perhaps California’s reparations?