Category Archives: Feelings

Ancient Brothers, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

Not Yet

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Chocolate. Birthday presents. Canceling the Washington Post. Again. Five days of friends and family. Cold weather and Snow ahead

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tsundoku

Week Kavannah:   Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

Tarot: Page of Arrows, the Wren

ChatGPT writing coach has begun to tune my late stage craft. Like the Wren it relies on subtlety, less rather than more.

One brief shining: Shadow and I, alone again; Tom and Paul flew off in a jet plane, Ruth busy at work and school, a time now to focus on writing, Ancientrails and Superior Wolf, to gather myself for the start of my clinical trial, a few fancy chocolates left.

 

Bathing in the after glow of a long visit by old friends. Feeling their concern, Tom loading cardboard in my recycling bin. Their love, Paul recalling his daughter Kate’s first months. NICU. Angel nurses. A three way group hug before they left.

39 years. Half my life. Friendships built on dogsled trips in the Boundary Waters, clambering up wooden ladders, so many meals together. Deaths and divorce.

New memories. Three elder men squeezed into the booth that Ruth found for us to protect our hearing. Her sweetness. Drawing Paul out on his life. Remembering Tom was the electron microscope guy.

New memories. A Sunday dinner around my breakfast table. Dad’s fettucine, beloved by his daughter, Kate. Tom’s question, what do you expect in the next ten years? Birthday chocolates for dessert.

The Bistro. Where I found Kate’s pearl. Where we ate with Jon the day he moved out after his divorce. Where Kate and I would dine. Now where old friends from away and I dine. Log framing and a blazing fire, piano music.

Bread and roses. Feeling their hands on my shoulder

Robert Duvall. Jesse Jackson. dead

Bob Weir. Loved listening to Weir’s riffs. Ripple. Sugar Magnolia.

Another mark of aging. Lights going out one by one.

Kate and Jon’s deaths.

Why Tom and Paul’s visit meant so much.

While I’m alive.

Not yet a light gone out.

Cinema and Television, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

Habituated?

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Tara. Sally Jobe/Invision Imaging. The Dexa scan. Bone health. Shadow, her quiet strength. Irv and the CBE Men’s group. Luke and Leo. Rosemary and Thyme. Cozies. Tea. Chinese. Green. White. Yellow. Oolong. Red. (black). Pu-er (dark) Altitude and its effect on boiling Water temperature. Seahawks. Diversions and distractions.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Our skeleton

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

Practice acknowledging the positive, often overlooked aspects of life.

 

Tarot: Knight of Arrows, Hawk

  • Visionary Power: Symbolizes the ability to see the “bigger picture” from a high vantage point, helping to cut through doubt and uncertainty.
  • Intellectual Focus: Reflects a sharp, analytical mind that uses common sense and logic to solve complex problems at their core.

 

One brief shining: Once again Minnesota on my mind as I read about how non-violent protests have toppled autocracies, as I see Snow sculpture and, ironically, Ice sculptures celebrating the resistance there in images of Rene Good and Alex Pretti, people cross-country skiing to candlelight, wondering what’s next, maybe an ICE fishing village.

Confession: I spend a lot of time watching TV. At least lately. Yesterday I binged the Lincoln Lawyer and watched two episodes of Rosemary and Thyme. Sitting in my comfortable chair that supports my neck. It’s ok if you judge me; I judge myself.

Wanting to get to the root of this. I’m going to write about it. Which often unlocks my psyche to my own Self. Helps me with teshuva, returning to the homeland of my soul.

Yes, distraction. No doubt. While immersed in others’ stories, I can set mine aside. Some distraction is ok with me. It’s the quantity that bothers me.

Which is not to say it’s only distraction. I do love stories whether told on the screen or on the page. I imagine you could peg my lean toward religion as a love of story, too.

Here’s my hunch right now. I find Shadow’s injury has sapped some of my psychic energy. Concern and care for her. Then, the recent and incessant drum beat of this medical thing, that medical thing climaxing in a shift to hormone resistant prostate cancer. Finally, physical limitations imposed by my right lower back and my head drop. All of this psychic overburden leaves me with little “doing” energy.

Frustrating because before Shadow’s injury and my Petscan results, I’d found a good rhythm: up at 4:30, let Shadow out, write Ancientrails, feed Shadow, a snack followed by resistance workout, then reading for my planned substack on Knowing the Far Right. A nap. An hour or so of work on Superior Wolf. That’s a full day for me. After that watching TV or reading fiction, unrelated non-fiction.

Frustrating too because I know which is easier and which feeds my soul. I can’t tell whether I’ve habituated myself (what I fear) or whether this is a response to a life with too many intersecting causes of stress. If the latter, when Shadow heals, when I begin my clinical trial, perhaps I’ll be able to get back to that other rhythm.

 

 

 

 

Aging, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

All Joyful

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Wednesday gratefuls: Art Linkletter, Kids Say the Darndest Things. Rimadyl for Shadow and her Halloween themed booties. Tara and her life. Costa Rica maybe. Shirley Waste. Tom, Roxann. Paul and Washington County, Maine. Cool night. Prostate cancer treatments. Joe and Seoah. Thugees. Melting ICE. Minneapolis. Minnesota.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Deep Friendships

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Tikkun  Olam. Repairing the world.

  • Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
  • Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights.

Tarot: Ace of Vessels, The Waters of Life

“When nearing the heart of a sacred quest, motivation and integrity of human desires are challenged. Ancient wisdom demands the seeker be humble and forgiving. Respect for others and for the environment is required to proceed along the path to enlightenment. There is no completion without overcoming the challenge.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: This last Petscan may have revealed the heart of my prostate cancer journey, a final goodbye to the treatment that has worked for me for years following the failures of surgery and radiation, ushering in a moment poised between androgen deprivation therapy and a time of greater uncertainty, more exotic treatments.

 

I’m aware my posts of late have veered from the dread fallen on my once and forever home state of Minnesota to difficult medical news-Shadow and me-with only a sprinkling of other, less dire topics. The realities of my life right now. For some close friends as well. Life in the old age zone.

Yet. It is still just that. Life. One filled with joys like a Dog sleeping next to me. A good friend visiting. A poetic movie, Train Dreams. Sausage and sauerkraut and sweet peppers. Yogurt, eggs, and a protein bar. Sleeping in a cold room. Making my own decisions. Finding new friends like Dr. Josy, Natalie. Reading. Dreaming.

And, some humor. I used to love watching Art Linkletter’s show, Kids Say the Darndest Things. An example: “ear wax is hands that slab your brain and you won’t be able to talk anymore.”

Thinking about it reminded me of a “60 Minutes” segment from the same period on childproof pill bottles. In the segment the host handed some kids pill bottles with “childproof” caps. At first they tried to open them the usual way. The caps worked. Then, one kid threw the pill bottle on the ground and stepped on it. Voila!

Never thought I’d use that bit of knowledge myself. Shadow has begun holding her right leg up, the bandaged one. Dr. Josy called in a prescription to King Sooper and I went to the pharmacy. Sure enough, an old guy proof cap. Guess what I did. Yep. Learned it from TV.

A friend yesterday asked me if I had a bucket list. Not really. Well, what brings you joy? I get up at 4:30 with Shadow. Let her out and back in. Write Ancientrails. A light snack and a workout. Breakfast. Reading for my project on explaining the new (and old) far right. Some work on Superior Wolf. A nap with Shadow. Lunch. Watching some TV or reading fiction. A light supper, feeding Shadow again. Throw in some zoom sessions with friends, family. Perhaps a mussar session, a torah study, breakfast or lunch with friends. All joyful.

Cancer, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Minnesota

The Land of Lake Woebegone

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Dr. Bupathi. Prostate cancer. New mets. Joe and his work. Shadow of cone and bandage. Dr. Josy. Her journey. Youtube. Kate, always Kate. Artemis in Winter. Her Garlic. The Dog run. Epstein files. Kennedy center closing. Minneapolis. Cool weather. Hard Rock Medical. Tu BiShvat.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Living

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Tikkun  Olam. Repairing the world.

  • Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
  • Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights. 

Tarot: Seven of Arrows, insecurity.

“…this card focuses on the psychological state of vulnerability…”

One brief shining: In the winter of my life I live beside a hearthfire built over the years from the warmth of deep friendship, the stable power of family, a lev calmed by meditation and acceptance, a soul anchoring me in the interconnected web of Lodgepoles and Grasses, Dogs and Elk, Mountains and Rivers, and in a loving, sacred community.

Health: Petscan results have come back. They show new metastases. Not what we’d hoped. Not what I want. But the case anyhow. Puts me over into the hormone resistant phase of stage four prostate cancer. I see my oncologist today and expect that he’ll start me on some new protocol.

Thanks to dramatic advances in dealing with just this situation there are still many effective treatments left. Not sure which direction we’ll go, but I’ll let you know when we decide.

The seven of arrows speaks to the feeling of vulnerability I experience each time new test results come in and especially when, like these results, they have unwelcome news. Yet, well into my eleventh year of prostate cancer, I have this reaction. OK. This is where I am. What do we do next? Not resignation, not OMG, but a desire to stay in it, be present.

I’m grateful for each of you who care about me, love me. This journey would be bleak without you. With you it’s just that, a journey that is part of my life, hardly all of it.

The Wild: When writing last week about my White Pine guide in Boot Lake SNA, the natural world of northern Anoka County came flooding back. The early mornings I would spend doing cardio by the Rum River, following a county park trail beside it. The bitter cold mornings on Snowshoes in the woods behind the new library.

Time spent in the Helen Allison Oak Savannah among its Bur Oaks, tall Grasses, and Wild Flowers. Hawks, Songbird, Frogs. Afternoons at the Cedar Creek Ecosystem Science Reserve.

Winter days taking Sorsha, our 150 pound Irish Wolfhound bitch, for a walk in the Ice fishing village on a frozen Lake George.

Beautiful and precious moments in the land of Lake Woebegone.

Feelings, Writing

En-Theos

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Yule and the 1% Crescent of the Moon of New Beginnings

Shabbat gratefuls: Joe’s visit. Ruth, too. Shadow. Tom and his week. Cold. 11. Prostate cancer. Its many treatments. The Dog run. Nathan. Natalie. Dr. Josy. Broncos v. Bills. Oh, my. Minnesota proud. Melt ICE. Politics. Poetry. Mary Oliver. Billy Collins. Rilke. Longfellow. Yeats. Eliot. Coleridge. Whitman. Dickens.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah: Daat.    The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

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

Tarot: Four of Vessels, Boredom

I take this as a caution, a yellow light. As I’ve been doing research for both Superior Wolf 2.0 and trying to figure out a cadence and a method for political research, it’s easy for me to get caught in the paralysis of analysis. Or, stasis. i.e., boredom.

One brief shining: Interesting, the dynamic tension between da’at and the four of vessels; if anything can connect inspiration to understanding, it’s da’at, linking the mind to the heart, ensuring the electricity of inspiration does not dissipate, become blocked, a blockage we could call boredom, “He’s lost in thought.”

I may have mentioned before that I get enthusiasms. Can be an idea, a person, a political movement, a poem, a book, a line of thought.

In using notebooklm, for example, I started out with two notebooks: political commentary and Superior Wolf. I meant to focus my thinking, my inspiration in those two areas, creating two channels which both limit my reach and give me space to expand within those boundaries.

Worked for a week or so. Then, I thought, hey, I could use a notebook for Talmud Torah, so I made one. Then, why not one for managing Shadow Home. OK. Opened that. Well, there’s always the Great Work. Yep. One more. And, hey, mussar, too. While I’m at it, let’s throw in one for Ancientrails. See what I mean?

En-theos. Enthuse. To find a feeling of godly grace, curiosity. Chinese culture and other tradition oriented cultures, too, I imagine, see curiosity as a danger, drawing us away from daily life, from the proven path and into the unknown. Uncertainty. Resulting, in this cautious view, either in stasis, boredom, or more seriously, rebellion.

My library contains a literary record of my enthusiasms. Latin. Ovid. The Classics. Poetry. Minnesota. The Civil War. The Arts. Travel. Fiction. Celtic history and myth. Horticulture. Military history. Philosophy. Christianity. Judaism. Dogs. Depth Psychology. And, more.

I have often gotten stuck at the en-theosing stage. Too much learning, analysis. Too little action. The result is a time of stasis, of stuckness. Or, boredom. In these moments da’at could have helped me, yet I never consciously focused on this character trait, how to bridge enthusiasm and planning, understanding.

I’m glad the four of vessels showed up on the day I switched my week kavannah to da’at. It encourages me to not get stuck in the ideas, the inspiration. And, it gives me a character trait I can practice for doing just that.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Writing

Lord Willin’ and the Creek Don’t Rise

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Thursday gratefuls: Joe. Coming on a jet plane. Star Trek. Strange New Worlds. Vast distances. Space. The Milky Way. Discovery. Hubble. Webb. ISS. Tian Jian. Saturn. Atlas. SpaceX. Blue Origin. NASA. The Moon. Mars. Asteroids. Mother Earth, our spaceship. Terranauts. Great Sol.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

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

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.

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

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, Eel

“With purity of intent, your destiny defined, you are able to bring wisdom and maturity to your tasks. Embarking on a quest of personal revelation, your vision leads you onward. Your deep feelings are expressed at every turn.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Plane landed, he said, getting a car, leaving the rental, about 1.5 hours out; Joe had come to Colorado, the Godfather whose godchildren eagerly awaited him texting, buzzing, Ruth sending pictures of her new-to-her car, a Subaru Forester that Joe helped her find from afar, like a good Dad; when he got here lugging his usual duffle bag full of books, another Master’s degree underway, Shadow surprised us both and barked at him.

OK. Nobody comes to our house at night.  I’ll give her that. And, he’s a he. She definitely prefers women. Still. So. Joe closed the door and went back upstairs. When we went upstairs, Shadow and me, she relented, only backing away.

Joe came in for a hug, a muscled 44, smelling faintly of soap, bigger than I remembered. Though in reality it’s me that’s smaller. That affection. Borne of 44 years in each other’s lives, of so, so many memories. Of so much love.

All the longing. As I get older, I need to see him, and Seoah, too, so much more; yet, distance and the arc of a career, a successful career, mean I’ll probably never have what I need. Makes me sad.

It’s not like I need to see him every day, though that would be great, but having him and Seoah closer than 9,000 miles… Would be better. Not likely to happen.

I love my life on Shadow Mountain.  Great and good friends. Shadow. Wild Neighbors. Aspens and Lodgepoles. A house I know, that works well for me. Living in the Mountain West exhilarates me. A life that works. No regrets. Even so, I feel what I feel.

On an adjacent matter. Talking with Rachel, my social worker, (ok. yes. It still feels weird to say, my social worker.) I did resolve one bit of tension. My walking limitations and my head drop issue have left me near home bound. I can and do go out, but I fade quickly. Energy and stamina both limited.

I’ve felt, maybe for the past year, an unidentified need to do more, be more while at the same time thoroughly enjoying my at home life. A vague guilt, yet real. And, it taints my pleasure in a life of reading, Shadow, cooking, writing, watching TV.

I’d always pegged the feeling as pushing in from the second phase of career, family busyness. Rachel suggested it might also come from building a new life after Kate’s death. In two distinct, but, I feel, significant ways.

First, we had a life together, Kate and me. Attending CBE. Going to see the grandkids, Jon. Special evenings out, theater and jazz. Drives in the Mountains. Caring for each other.

Second, I was Kate’s 24/7 caretaker for almost three years, always on, always going to this appointment or that procedure or cooking or doing the laundry. Constantly busy.

There’s the proximate source of the guilt. I have a life of fewer obligations, either as partner/soulmate, or caregiver. I should be doing more, like I did for all those years. Well, no I shouldn’t.

My life, a more abbreviated one than it was in those years, does not have that level of relationship and duty. That’s a fact. Too, these physical limitations are real. I can ameliorate them some with exercise and diet, but I’m no longer capable of living the life I once lived even six months ago.

Which is oh so, so far from saying I’m not living a life of purpose and agency, a fulfilling and satisfying life. I am. And, I intend to go on doing it Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

The Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari

Feelings, Fourth Phase

Fallacies

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Wednesday gratefuls: Luke and Leo. Snowpack Pizzeria. Safeway pickup. Sheetpan meals. Climate change. Being a Jew, a son of Avram and Sarai. The Shema. The Far Right. Democratic socialism. The whole, wide world. Everywhere and everyone. The blessing and grace of the one. This darkness. This light.  Purpose. Meaning. Love. Joy. Compassion. Angst.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Ninth Wave

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.    Radical amazement, awe.

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs.  Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”  ― Howard Thurman

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Natalie sent a video of Shadow crossing her threshold with no hesitation, tail up, ready to sit with the other dogs for her come in the house treat, then running upstairs with the other four, headed off to bed, in her third week away from home, away from me. An ache in my heart.

*The Ninth Wave” by Ivan Aivazovsky
Year 1850

I suppose most of us, if we felt so inclined, could document the thousand doubts our mind is heir to. I know that.  I’ve shared mine the last couple of days. So here’s another vantage point, a perspectival shift.

The philosopher Alfred North Whitehead warns us against what he calls fallacies of misplaced concreteness. That is, taking an idea and removing it from its context as if it were a thing sui generis. For example, imagining that there is such a thing as intelligence, justice, love instead of understanding that they are all part of a process of ongoing life, embedded in persons and situations and never existing in any other sense.

So when I place my finger on the doubts, the fears, the weariness and conclude from that I am melancholic or even depressed, I commit just such a fallacy. Yes, those doubts, fears, and weariness are part of me, yes. The key word in that sentence being part. Over the last couple of days I’ve obscured-through a fallacy of misplaced concreteness-my whole self. Imagining that the map I’ve written with those words is the true territory of my soul.

It is not. As Whitman wrote, I am many, I contain multitudes. I am no more explained by doubts and fears than I am by my knowledge and compassion. Probably less so. Why? Because the doubts and fears are more like flotsam and jetsam in the ocean of my Self. Sometimes certain currents swirl around, collect them, force them to the shore, to consciousness.

Oh, yes, I am these, too. No, wait. They are all I am. I cannot see beyond them. Never ever true.

Always a part of larger, more complex and wonderful whole. Not to be ignored, not to be pushed away in fear or pushed down in frustration, but to be felt and known and embraced and then put back out to sea, their work done. For now.

Not quite ready to stop listening to and learning from my doubts, my I can’ts. But I will be. Soon, I hope.

*Ninth Wave (Russian: Девятый вал, Dyevyatiy val) is an 1850 painting by Russian marine painter Ivan Aivazovsky. It is his best-known work.[1][2]

The title refers to an old sailing expression referring to a wave of incredible size that comes after a succession of incrementally larger waves.[3]

It depicts a sea after a night storm and people facing death attempting to save themselves by clinging to debris from a wrecked ship.   Wikipedia

 

*

Feelings, Fourth Phase

I Can’t Quite

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Tuesday gratefuls: Ruth, who sees me. Joe coming in January. Shadow in her third week of boarding school. Going to public spaces. That old debble melancholy. Deep darkness, nurturing. Now more light, let the growing season show its first tiny shoots. The dance of light and dark. Shadows. Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Self

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.    Radical amazement, awe.

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs.  Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”  ― Howard Thurman

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Can you feel the trembling heart of children, ones who await not gifts but special dispensations from the holy Santa Claus who once a year accomplishes the miraculous, Reindeer powered sleigh landing on rooftops, finding a way in even to non-chiminied homes, eating millions of cookies and drinking gallons of milk, knowing what each child’s heart needs, and bringing a present that speaks love and caring.

 

And so. I’ve mostly said it out loud. I can feel, often feel, boxed in by my choices, living a tentative life with medicine offering temporary balms, welcome, yet always with the awareness that this drug, that ablation, will fail.

Chips away at my sense of self, my fantasy of permanence. I feel myself too often sliding into no, I can’t, rather than my usual, from a life I remember well, I can. I can’t travel. I can’t take care of this dog. I can’t engage large tasks. I can’t stand long enough to cook. I can’t.

When I can’t takes over, the self does not lose agency, it relinquishes it. No wonder sadness follows. What a pitiful excuse for a human being. Who’s old enough to know better.

Ah, as Shakespeare wrote, there’s the rub. I do know better. But knowing is a weak cousin to action and an even more distant relative to healing a wounded heart. From this well, I look up and see others handling their lives, doing this and that, keeping their life going while I languish. The one who can’t.

I know. For sure and certain.  This view flows from a crippled heart. And yet, I can’t seem to find that Archimedean lever to move my inner world.

It’s not for lack of love. Not at all. Friends and family, yes. Who see me. Care for me. It’s not for lack of self knowledge gained the hard way over years of analysis and honest self-reflection.

Then, what is it? I think, sometimes, that I should sell the house, move into a condo or an apartment, or assisted living where the burdens I feel in this independent, introverted life I lead would fall away. Then I remember AA, wherever you go, there you are. No to geographic escape.

I need to figure this out living in this place I love, with the Dog and human family I love, with my friends, with my wild neighbors both of whom I love. With Mother Earth, from her I  came and to her I will return.

Feelings, Fourth Phase

Seeking Joy

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: No fire during the high winds. No downed Trees. Nathan starts work on Friday. Will finish before Shadow comes home. Ruth and Gabe, my empaths. Joe, too. Hannukah. Food in the fridge. Water from the well. Septic system. Generator. Internet. Friends checking in. Mother Nature and her powerful ways. Pagans at Stonehenge and Glastonbury Tor. The Winter Solstice. Light returns. Slowly.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Melancholy, my old friend

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.    Radical amazement, awe

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ― W.B. Yeats

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Those moans and sighs, the pulsing of windows, the generator’s gentle music have seized; but this day, a day when the sound of the chain saw will dominate, more high winds, yet all the while neighbors and businesses have barely begun to set things right again, squaring up life today with what’s left from yesterday.

 

Ruth gave me a spiral bound calendar of positive affirmations. When I asked her if she thought I was depressed, she hesitated, then nodded. Later on I told her that yes, sometimes I wonder if I’ve just had too much. Too much loss. Too many medical interventions. I guess the word, better than depressed, might be melancholic.

If I’m honest, and I try very damn hard to be nothing but, I’d have to admit that I’ve often shrugged off exercise. Often spent most of my day watching television. Something I despise. I have three major projects I could work on: Seed Savers, a new Superior Wolf novel, a regular schedule of reading, then commenting on the news. But I only get to the planning. Eating enough has become a challenge.

Perhaps I’ve been  down a long time. Longer than I’d like to admit. Am I coping? Oh, yes. Handling things, even or especially in tough times, I consider a strong part of my character. Yet handling things, too, can take its own toll.

Judaism holds joy to be a religious obligation and I agree. Perhaps my most necessary task this Yule and in the new year will be to focus more on the joy that surrounds me and is within me. To both see it and feel it, let it in.

Like what, you might ask? The generator. Ruth and Gabe’s love. Shadow. No pain in my left hip and back. A constellation of friends, near and far. This delightful house now molded to my life. Great Sol rising. Seasons changing. Family who love me. Memories of a great life with Kate. A mind that continues to sharpen itself on the whetstone of experience. Prostate cancer treatments to keep me alive. More than adequate money. Each Lodgepole and each Aspen. Each species of Moss, Ground Cover, each Wildflower at Shadow Mountain Home. Artemis. Ruby. Electricity. Positive affirmations, eh?

Joy, joy, joy to the fishes and the deep blue sea, joy to you and me.

Dogs, Dreams, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Politics

Again, Recess Is Over

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Samain and the Shadow Moon (3 sessions to go)

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, doing her work. The now working Clinac. My life, worth living. Fencing companies. Building a dog run with heated dog house for Shadow. Joe’s willingness. Early Winter. The coming of Hannukah, Yule, the Winter Solstice, Christmas, New Year’s. Holiseason at its peak.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fences

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Malchut  Wonder.   A feeling of surprise mixed with admiration caused by something beautiful or unexpected.

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Joe, my son, offered to come and build the dog run for Shadow, to set aside for a few days his serious duties and help Dad and his Dog, to do that after a fifteen hour flight from his home, a son a man can be proud of, yet I won’t let him come because this wonderful place where I live often experiences sudden, mighty Snowfalls and if one happened before or when he got here, he would have come 9,000 miles out of love and I would have no dog run. Doesn’t make sense for either of us. Damn it.

 

Shook off the OMG I make bad things happen feelings like Shadow shakes off rain. Still a little wet, but dry enough to feel ok.

When negative feelings crop up, they feed on themselves, multiply like Rabbits. This one begets another one and suddenly a whole life has come under scrutiny, memories retrieved to bolster the black mood.

When I drank, I often followed this spiral: I didn’t go to graduate school. I married stupidly, twice. I’ve not taken a direction in my life, rather let life carry me along like flotsam or jetsam. No agency. Woe is me and my sad, woe begotten life. And all because my mommy died young.

Nope. I’d been making choices all along. Many of them poor: Judy and Raeone, seminary. The Peaceable Kingdom. Not my woe begotten life, a Charlie begotten life that did not synch up with my values. No wonder I felt miserable much of the time.

After sobriety. Still plenty of work to do, to grab life in my own hands, shake it until it made sense, expressed who I saw myself to be. John Desteian helped me through it.

That dream. The pivotal one. I had a sword, held it high in the air over my head, lightning crackling around it while a crowd chanted, “He has the power. He has the power.” Yes, in fact I did and had had it all along. The power to change, to redirect my life.

And so I did.

 

Just a moment: Trump pardons convicted narcotrafficker, Juan Orlando Hernádez. Then, surprise! Honduras issues an arrest warrant for him for money laundering and fraud. Too bad for him Trump is not president of Honduras.

Now let’s play Where’s That Video? Oh, the guy it might indict has control over its release? OK. Will he at least release his actual orders, then? Like Federal Law requires? Again, recess is over. Time to pretend we’re adults now.