Category Archives: Feelings

Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Tarot

Keeping it real

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Synthroid. TSH. Thyroid gland. Shadow, coming in more often, more easily. Who knows? Good workouts. Cook unity. Chewy. Natural Balance. Rabbit Bites. Dog treats and toys. Lidocaine. Mitzvah committee. Luke. Susan. Steve. Dr. Vu. Mountain View Pain Center. Increasing darkness. Artemis.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Magic of the Ordinary

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut.  Wonder. “Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.” Socrates

Tarot: Gonna take a rest here. Has become too routine.

One brief shining:

 

A life in full: Still struggling, beating my soft moth wings against the window of my soul, trying to see if it’s enough, this time, these days. But from the outside looking in. How to sense, how to live from my nefesh rather than looking in, wondering if its purpose has become real. Velveteen Rabbit real.

Have I loved my nefesh enough, carried it in my five-year old arms from bedroom to living room, into the car, often onto the playground. Have I told it the stories of my five-year old heart which wondered about dogs and spiders and Mom and that new baby. Do I listen to it now, a grown and old man, for the wisdom of its unique path?

Only to live my tao. My way. That is it. To follow the watery course of my buddha nature as it flows downward from the peak altitude of my birth, through the canyons and valleys of my life, to the wide ocean of our collective unconscious, where it becomes one again with the tao.

You know, I have. My velveteen soul has expressed itself often, guided my neshama as the world of experience shaped me against the anvil of my true self. However I feel about myself in one joy filled or angst filled moment, however you may feel about me, peering in from the abyss between us, I have remained true (of course not always which is nonetheless also part of my tao) to that five-year old’s tender, wonder-filled embrace of an often puzzling and frightening world.

Which means, I feel, that this time filled with the dog, the greenhouse, books and movies, study and esoterica, friends and faraway family, ancientrails, medical this and medical that, is  on that path. Is not a deviation but a continuation in the idiom of today’s possibilities.

So. Why not let it be. Mother Mary, come to me. Whisper words of wisdom. Let it be.

 

Just a moment: I’ve let the activist go dormant while l dealt with cancer and sick, dying Kate, then mourning followed by Jon’s death and a close group hug with Ruth and Gabe.

The rhythm of a life lived in love and in awareness. The activist cannot return, not as he was. Again, a rhythm.

And yet. I see this: He got an entire country running on clean energy. Can he do it again?. My commitment to the Great Work, creating a sustainable presence for humans on Mother Earth cheers. Wants to duplicate, triplicate, over and over and over until we walk again with the sun, the wind, the tides, the heat of Mother’s inner core.

 

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Friends, Men

Women, you have my awe

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow, the pillow kisser. Night sky. Morning darkness. Mark and the Texas land. Mary and the marauding Magpies. My son. In for Hep B scans in Oct. Seoah training for a half marathon. Shadow, the huntress. Tom’s procedure. Days of Awe. Gershon Winkler. Rami Shapiro. Dog treats. No King’s on October 18th. Action against Hulu and Disney.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Shema

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Malchut. Wonder.    Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.  Socrates.

Tarot: Five of Wands, (Druid Craft)

  • Overcoming inertia: Following the stability of the Four of Wands, this card represents a breaking of that stasis. It is the raw, fiery energy needed to spark change and move a project or idea forward. 

One brief shining: The Beets have grown, plumping out, the Spinach continues, a healthy green, Kale flourishes as the Carrots need thinning again, meanwhile, I’ve had no salad because I keep eating the Cherry Tomatoes as I pick them, maybe when the next Cucumber matures?

 

Dog journal: Fingers crossed, the evening coming in seems to have to come back to the most recent norm. Perhaps a bit later, but that’s ok.

Yesterday I went outside for some play time with Shadow, bearing treats as I usually do. She came up, wagging her tail, but when I offered her the treat she refused it. Odd. I dropped it on the ground. Sniff, sniff. Nope. Then she trotted away, done with all that. Huh?

She went up beside the house and picked up something. What’s that? At first I thought her long vigils on the back deck had paid off and she’d killed a Chipmunk. No. That’s not it. What is it?

As she came closer, I saw grayish fur. A Rabbit’s foot! No wonder there are no Mice. I looked for the rest of the carcass, but the backyard is grassy and just under an acre.

Later in the day, when she had rediscovered her interest in treats, I lost her attention again as she sprang for a Grasshopper. He got away. She pounced a second time and had a Bug snack.

My little girl has become a backyard predator. Rigel’s spirit lives on in Shadow.

 

Women: After 78 years as a cisgender male who loves women, I’ve come to the conclusion that being a woman is, well, complicated. Much more complicated than being a man.

Women, you can stop reading here. You already know this. Unless you want to check my work, see what I’ve left out.

No, it’s not about dolls instead of trucks although there’s truth there, too. I’m talking about periods, about sexual dimorphism, about pregnancy and child birth, about the male gaze, about having to make your way among bigger, stronger often denser males, about motherhood, about sexism in all its pernicious forms, about usually being more emotionally intelligent in a world dominated by the logical and the rational as pinnacles of wisdom.

Women, you have my awe for your journey.

 

 

Aging, Far Right, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics

An Overly Medicalized Life

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Close friends Tom, Paul, Mark, Bill, Alan, Tara, Marilyn and Irv, Rich, Ginny and Janice, Luke. Shadow. Artemis. Rain, Rain, come again. Monsoons. Yes. Cool nights. Days of Awe. Mark with the Camels, Goats, and Sheep. In Hafar. The Burger King at the U.N. “…it was foreign affairs journalist Ishaan Tharoor who captured the larger story of Trump’s speech. “A senior foreign diplomat posted at the U.N. texts me,” Tharoor wrote, “‘This man is stark, raving mad. Do Americans not see how embarrassing this is?’” quoted by Heather Cox Richardson

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Long, cool Rains

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and Wonder

Tarot: Five of Pentacles, (Druid Craft)

  • Endurance of personal hardship: The card focuses on the endurance of the solitary journey through a desolate landscape. The message is to face and acknowledge the difficulty of the situation rather than ignore it. 

One brief shining: The five of pentacles recommends facing and acknowledging the difficulty of my situation rather than ignoring it; sound advice, I’d say, yet when the situation requires constant acknowledgment, persistent recognition a resilience fatigue can-and at times-does manifest, a weakening of resolve, of the head down, keep pushing attitude I try to maintain.

 

The Burger King and the U.N.: Hangs head in shame. In case you haven’t seen this, I’m appending a youtube collection* of clips from his remarks at the U.N. Thanks, Mark.

“I hate my opponents. I do not wish the best for them.” DJT at Charlie Kirk’s memorial service. “Out of control migration is ruing your countries. Your countries are going to fail.” Speaking to representatives of the world’s nations at the U.N. “I’m really good at this,” he said.

Dear leader needs to get on a heavily armored train, build a bridge across the Bering Sea, and go visit his buddy Kim Jong Un whom he praised to South Korea’s President during a recent visit. Then we can blow up the bridge and leave him in the Hermit Kingdom.

 

Feelings: A long gauntlet of medical matters. Next week the lidocaine injections that will guide the nerve ablations two weeks later. Four appointments in all. On October 8th a P.E.T. scan to see what might have caused my PSA to move up a titch. Follow up appointments with my pain doc and my medical oncologist.

When these matters have been handled for now, I plan to move on to the neck brace for my wobbly head. Also, Maddie has follow-up calls with Panorama Orthopedics about my torn labrum.

At times, like last night, I push myself into a dark corner. I compare myself with others my age, what they’re doing with their lives. Tom and ESI. Bill and his present moment approach to life. Paul with his hospice work, political organizing, and Maine Humanities Council. Mark visiting his friends, working on his art. I’m not doing anything comparable.

That sends me into a tailspin. Not self-berating, rather a wistfulness for the time when I had the energy to get out there. Sadness about the truncated, overly medicalized life I’m living. That’s why the message from the Five of Pentacles lands with a thud.

 

 

Aging, Family, Far Right, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, Politics

Teshuva

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow’s regression. Her sweetness. Cool, Rainy, Dark morning. Rosh Hashanah. L’shana Tova. The beauty of Shadow. Rain. Sweet Tomatoes. Great workout yesterday. Working out. Prolia. Bone health. Tramadol and acetaminophen. Yum. Beavers, nature’s engineers. Lodgepoles. Aspen gold. A Mountain Fall well underway.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Fourth Wing

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and Wonder

Tarot: #17, The Star

  • Connection to intuition: The imagery encourages listening to your inner guidance. In the Druid Craft deck, this is an act of “coming home to yourself” and being true to your core essence.
  • Renewed purpose: This card can signal a deep spiritual awakening or a renewed sense of purpose. It reminds you that you are connected to the greater cosmic and natural world. 

One brief shining: Rain has pelted down overnight, the Air cool and moist, temperature in Artemis down to 55, outside the comfort range for Tomato ripening, the Rain though, the Monsoons, have given us surcease from Fire, made the Mountain Meadows and Lodgepole covered slopes green, and given the Aspens reason to respond to its Midas touch.

 

Tarot and Rosh Hashanah: Teshuva, often translated as repentance, is the main point of the Jewish new year. We greet the new year with a soul refreshed and cleansed. I prefer the word return as its translation.

In that sense of teshuva the major arcana of the Star correlates well: “an act of “coming home to yourself” and being true to your core essence.” When we perform teshuva, we return, as one sage put it, to the landscape of our soul. To do that we have to clear away the schmutz, accretions to our self that block our nefesh soul from shining through.

Nefesh, buddha nature, true self. Who you are as an extension of the sacred. Your core essence. I love that the Star showed up for me on the 1st day of Rosh Hashanah.

I’m coming to believe that my life as I live it now is my core essence. Time with family and friends. Intentional conversations each week with those I love. Seeing the ancient friends on Sunday morning. Reading. Studying. Playing with Shadow. Co-creating with Great Sol, the soil, and Artemis. Living in the Mountains. Living a Jewish life through mussar, the men’s group, Talmud Torah, saying the Shema, touching the mezuzahs, celebrating holidays. Also through my many friendships at CBE. Writing Ancientrails. My ancientrail.

In other words my teshuva snaps me back to this Shadow Mountain life. One lived with kavannah, intention, connected to the past, alive to the present, accepting of the future. A good feeling and one on target for this 5786th Rosh Hashanah.

 

Just a moment: We need to call out red tie guy’s lies. At every opportunity. No tip toeing around this Burger King tyrant. Kick him in the shins each he says crime is out of control. Each time he says stealing money from the poor to give to the rich will make America great. Each time he demeans transgender folks. Each he claims the insurrection was a peaceful protest.

No Kings. October 18th.

The left Reverend Dr. Israel Herme Harari

Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase

My life. Now.

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Monday gratefuls: Mark in Hafar again. Writing with his students. Shadow, bone lover. Rabbi Jamie. CBE. Evergreen High School. Marilyn and Irv. Artemis. Her children. Hello darkness, my old friend. Mystery. Awe. Sacred. Divine. Everyday life. The Shadow Docket. The Fed. Red Tie Guy. Our poor benighted nation.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cooling temperatures

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the land

Tarot: Seven of Pentacles, (Druid Craft)

  • Patience and perseverance: While you may not see the final results yet, the card affirms that your consistent effort will pay off. 
  • Harvest and reward: The card signals that a significant, long-term reward is coming. 

One brief shining: A Druid in a green cloak takes his golden sickle to harvest mistletoe from a standing oak, embracing the mistletoe, green even in winter, as evidence of eternal life, dropping it on a white cloth below the tree before offering it up in rituals for healing, fertility, and protection.

 

Life review: Constant, chronic pain and carrying my own personal assassin push life review into bleak moments. When bending over or playing too hard with Shadow or standing too long cooking, or when an intense hot flash brings nausea with it, pain or the side effect from medications make me pause. Is this the day, the moment, when life goes into full decline?

What follows. A quick look back. If this is an inflection point, what have I done? What could (sometimes should) I do with the time I have left?

These are common questions for those of us in our late seventies and eighties. I’m telling you what brings them up for me. Of late I’ve wondered if I’m doing enough (of what?) right now. Is there work that could/should fill those empty afternoon hours?

Mornings start around 4:30 to 5:00 for Shadow and me. We do some training. She goes outside. I write Ancientrails which takes around two hours with illustrations and revisions. Sometimes I finish before I feed Shadow at 6:30, sometimes not.

Because dogs (and me) like routine, I stop at 6:30, scoop three half cups of Natural Balance Lamb and Brown Rice into her bowl, then sit down and feed it to her by hand, a practice recommended by Natalie. After that, my pre-workout routine, then a half an hour to forty-five minutes of cardio and resistance.

Around 8 am four days a week I have zoom conversations. After those, I may have a doctor’s appointment, lunch with a friend. On Friday mornings, most times, Alan or Alan and Joanne. Breakfast.

Some weeks Tara comes with Eleanor, or Ginny and Janice with Annie and Luna. Thursday at one is mussar, either zoom or in person. Shabbat mornings, often Bagel Table to study Torah or the Morning Service.

I spend some time each day with Artemis, checking on Kale, Spinach, Beets, Carrots, Nasturtiums, and Tomatoes. At least twice a day I go outside and play with Shadow.

The rest? The news. NYT. Washington Post. Substacks. Heather Cox Richardson. The Atlantic. Reading, both serious and not. Some TV. Perhaps a movie. Food preparation, too.

As I wrote this, realizing I have full mornings, other times during the week with friends, with study both in groups and in private, with the routines of self care, my life feels full.

My looks back tend to be brief. First, I know I can’t change the past. Second, I long ago decided my life has had plenty of oomph. I was able to work always within my principles and values. I had concrete accomplishments. Raised a son. Loved three women enough to marry them. A couple of others, too. Worked on my damaged psyche well enough to point myself forward.

So. Enough. Enough. Daiyenu.

 

Feelings, Great Wheel, Holidays, Mountains, Paganism, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

The Springtime of the Soul

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Road trips. Telluride. Ouray. Silverton. Durango. Shadow, rising in darkness. Morning darkness. Electricity. Artemis. Tomatoes nearing maturity. Very cool morning. Authoritarian playbooks. 2025. May you grow old in interesting times. TV. Books. Computers. Mini-splits. Fall come early. Aspen gold. CBE. Gabe and Gordonzeo. Ruth in her sophomore year.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Bubble gum and baling wire

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz lev. Inner strength to move forward. Courage.

Tarot: Ten of Arrows, Instruction

Generational Wisdom:
The card emphasizes the transfer of knowledge from elders to youth, ensuring that traditional skills and wisdom are not lost.

 

One brief shining: Shadow is in the house, goes straight to her Nylabone Lobster, begins to chew with what dog toy makers call aggressive chewing, the kind that shreds toys made for softer dogs, ones whose chewing gentles the toys, treats them like Velveteen Rabbits, not Shadow for she demands resistance, counts on toughness.

 
 

Seasons: A cool morning. Forty-three. The greenhouse heater either can’t keep up or turned itself off. I’ll find out later this morning. These late August days and all of September mark a gradual transition from growing season weather to the bleakness of the fallow season. Sometimes cold, even frosty, sometimes warm.

 

Soon the Aspens on Black Mountain will begin to turn from green to gold. Jackie who lives above 9,000 feet in Bailey said they’d started to turn a while back where she is. Kenosha Pass, too, said a friend of hers. The whispered reports we share. Knowing seasonal change for what it is. Life-changing.

 

When to put on the Snow tires? Will my cold frames be done before the first frost? When will the Garlic come? Do the mini-splits need cleaning? How’s my supply of firewood? How about that first Snow? When will it come? Homes become refuges from the cold. Shadow loved the Snow in February. How will she react when it comes again? With delight, I imagine.

 

Mountain roads. Become more challenging. Technical. Call on forty years of Minnesota winter driving experience. When these Blizzaks lose their tread, I’m buying Hankook quiet studded tires.

 

Holiseason lies only a couple of months away. Starting on Samhain and running through the Epiphany. My favorite time of the year. Family and friends. Festive days and long cold nights.

 

But. Not yet. First the corn-pickers and the combines. Reaping the harvest as the mad colors of a Midwestern Fall bloom, red Sugar Maple leaves floating down, down onto Lakes and Ponds. Boaters heading out to see the colors on Lake Minnetonka. College football underway. Can the NFL be far behind?

 

I love this transitional time. A joy of living in the temperate latitudes where we have four seasons, more or less. And this change from the heat of summer to the crisp weather of fall? The best. All poignancy and anticipation.

 

As Rudolf Steiner said, the springtime of the soul. That’s why cheshbon nefesh fits so well here. An outer change enhances, encourages an inner one.
Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Men, Shadow Mountain

Waking up

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Professor Luke. Leo, the old. Tuscany Tavern. Rabbi Jamie. Irv. Joe. CBE men’s group. Rain. Hard Rain. Mountains Green. Those forty plus Elk Cows eating Grass in Elk Meadow. Three young Elk Calves crossing with their Mothers. Waiting on them to cross the highway. Mountain Life. Shadow inside when I got home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Elk of Evergreen

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, the Eel

One brief shining: Rain pelted down as I drove up Shadow Mountain last night, the Air heavy and cool, while the waning light from Great Sol’s shabbat appearance outlined Conifer Mountain and Black Mountain in the mist. Shadow was inside and dry.

 

Yesterday was busy. By my standards. These days. Even though my breakfast with Alan canceled. He has a cold.

At 11:30 into Evergreen. Tuscany Tavern. Professor Colaciello, He starts teaching chemistry tomorrow at Metro Community College. This was a congratulatory lunch. At his choice of spots.

He explained his plans. “I’m going to open with, Chemistry is the science of transformations!” He has five demonstrations to follow that sentence. One using oil and water. Another using a combustible powder that he holds in his palm. A lighter. Why didn’t it flame up? Then he sprinkles it over the lighter and whoosh. Oxygen.

Dry Ice in Water. With a ph strip. The water becomes acidic as the dry Ice dissolves. Showing his dental hygienist students why carbonated liquids can destroy tooth enamel.

Later in the week, in a mildly ironic moment, he will teach his first class in the Chemistry of Cannabis. It’s an industry here and the industry requires educated workers. Part of the track for budding professionals.

Leo sat on the patio with us as we talked, ate our lunch.

 

Home for a nap with my Shadow girl.

Out to King’s Valley and Bear Park Road to pick up Irv for the CBE men’s group. Turn around and drive back to Evergreen to the Synagogue.

Only four of us. Joe Greenberg. Jamie. Irv. And myself. The topic. How to be with someone suffering from depression.

The smaller group allowed us to go deeper than we might have otherwise. Each of us had either been depressed or had a close family member who was, or had been. Not surprising.

Accompanying. Being with the person. Not trying to cheer them up or fix them, but acknowledging their pain. Letting them know you care for them. Realizing that depression has its own logic, never visible to those on the outside.

I shared my experience of waking up a couple of months ago to my dysthemia over the early months of this year. Chronic pain. Struggles with Shadow. Uncertainty about what was going on with my cancer.

When Kate was alive, she had this job, given to her by my analyst, John Desteian. She would say to me, “I sense you’re slipping into melancholy.” That would help me wake up, earlier. Kate’s gone now. Had to wake myself up. Harder.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, Shadow Mountain

The Second Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, looking at me across the pillow. At 4:30 am. My son, working. Seoah and her sister. Shopping. A warm morning. The Tomato fruits setting. Kale, Spinach, Beets growing. Having my son and Seoah under my own roof. Family. A strong, dispersed family. The view from Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sharing pizza with my son

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The Eel

One brief shining: A quiet, gentle feeling with my son and Seoah sleeping above me as I type; a joy that comes from deep within, neither from a happy place, or even a place of satisfaction, rather a connected and comfortable spot, one where no expectations other than love lies.

 

The Jangs: Jet lag saw yesterday a quiet day with my son staying here, drafting personnel reviews while Seoah went to be with her family at the Air BnB.

Apparently it was an emotional Sunday evening with tears and alcohol at the BnB. Not sure what  triggered all that except Appa’s jet lagged yearning for a life in the U.S. he was not able to live. He fought for and with U.S. soldiers in the Vietnam War so I imagine this is a long nurtured dream.

He never went past elementary school, yet learned and successfully applied the principles of organic farming as a grower of vegetables and rice. He’s also been village headman for Seoah’s home village, Okgwa, for many years. Education does not equal intelligence or reveal skills.

Appa’s long sober so it was not him drinking but Seoah’s brother-in-law, the six foot green grocer, and her sister, Min Yun. I imagine the unexpected confluence of jet lag, altitude, and American beer led to stronger effects than anticipated. Travel, eh?

Seoah’s sister recovered well enough to convince her husband to drive her, Seoah, and their kids into Cherry Creek for some fancy, label focused shopping. My son was happy he didn’t have to go. Me, too.

I spent a quiet Monday here with Shadow as my son worked. In the evening I went out to Ripple, a new pizza and soft ice cream joint, picked up a large pepperoni and green olives which we ate together.

Sharing a meal, just him and me, called up the Irvine Park years when we lived in my condo. Irvine Park had a lovely square with a Victorian fountain, a bandshell, and great oaks, one of which played backstop for many evenings of catch.

Yesterday, talking about Hawai’i, Seoah said, quite casually, “Yes, we’ll all live there.” Indicating my son and me. If my son does decide to retire at the end of his twenty years, one year after he finishes in Korea in 2027, that’s been the plan.

A good goal for me. A Hawai’ian sunset.

 

Just a moment: I knew this was coming. Trump Administration Will Reinstall Confederate Statue in Washington. NYT, 8/5/2025. Gotta pander to that base with the Epstein files nipping at your MAGAmatic heels.

Asia, Colorado, Family, Feelings, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The West, Travel

Culture

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: Appa and Umma. Oon and his very tall father. Seoah’s sister, Min yun his wife. Their daughter. Seoah’s brother. My son. Seoah. Air BnB. Aspen Perks. Korea in Colorado. Nathan. John Wayne. Westerns. The American West and its cinematic distortions. Rivers. Elevation. Farming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son

Year kavannah: Wu Wei

Week kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The Pole Star, #19

One brief shining: In the midst of the Jangs at Aspen Perks I tried to follow Appa’s eager questions, his weathered Korean face alight with curiosity about John Wayne, rivers like the Colorado and the Mississippi, mechanized farm equipment harvesting, yet the languages we spoke landed in each other’s ears with little meaning save tone and willingness.

 

The Jangs: My son and Seoah came to Shadow Mountain around 8:30 am after having spent the night in the Air BnB with rest of Seoah’s family.

Seoah sniffed the air, said, “I remember this smell.” A smile on her face. She’s spent a lot of time here over the years, especially during Covid when she couldn’t get back into Singapore for three months.

We all hugged. This time with surprising force, missing each other in ways only the body knows how to say. Tactile spirituality, love. My son’s muscled back and arms, Seoah’s eagerness. Her affection. No zoom equivalent possible. Only sorry I couldn’t run my hand through Murdoch’s ruff.

Later, after my son got some work done and Seoah had done laundry, we drove over to the Air BnB. A nice space with four bedrooms, an updated kitchen, and a Mountain view to the south.

When I walked in, various pairs of shoes lay next to each other against the wall and Seoah’s sister came over, bent down, and helped me slip on the slippers they had brought for me. Culture reigns.

They had locked all the windows because of Bears and a television/movie driven sense of the American propensity for violence. Away from home in a strange, yet strangely familiar place.

The language barrier rose right away when I tried to explain the Continental Divide to Seoah’s brother, a mechanical engineer for Samsung. I did not succeed. Appa (father in Korean) motioned me into a chair and sat next to me on the couch. We rested while everyone got ready.

Appa and I met for the first time in 2016 when Kate and I went to Okgwa for my son and Seoah’s pre-wedding feast prepared by his and Umma’s neighbors. Served at a low to the ground table I’m not sure I could have gotten up from today.

They wanted to thank me for my contribution to the trip so Appa paid for the meal. Ten of us. Expensive with the conversion from wons to dollars.

After the meal, the party moved over to Shadow Mountain so every one could see my house, meet Shadow. Nathan was here, working on the greenhouse and my son recruited him to take a family picture in front of the house, similar to one we took during our 2016 visit.

Not sure whether it was  lack of sleep or my introverted battery drained dry by trying to communicate, but after everyone left to go to H-mart, I sat back exhausted. Really exhausted.

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

Not Even Past

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Summer and the Korea Moon

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

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Japanese Lanterns for Artemis

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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