Category Archives: Feelings

Commentary on Religion, Feelings, Myth and Story, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Nudges

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Friday gratefuls: Kristen. An honest doc. And, sweet. Sammie, her nurse. A sweet young woman. Quest Diagnostics. My phlebotomist there, 50 years in the business. Also a sweet lady. Lucky me to have such a great team, along with Kristie and Dr. Eigner, looking after my health. Mussar. God is Here. Myths to Live By. Joseph Campbell. The book that made Jamie choose to become a rabbi. Tal. Herme. Janet. Rebecca. Ellen. Ann, a wonderful artist. Alan, breakfast at Joe Mama’s later this morning. Marilyn and Irv. Good friends. Brunch at their house yesterday. Licks and Lila, their two pups.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends

One brief shining: Influences come into our lives often quietly unbidden sometimes unknown until they blossom into a nudge, a gentle tap on the shoulder or a dramatic push like Myths to Live By or that verse from Micah do justice love mercy and walk humbly with your God which took me from Appleton, Wisconsin to seminary.

 

Got some insight on the two Charlies from yesterday’s post. Turns out I’ve become anemic since my last round of labs. Combine that with low T and my chemo drug. No wonder I’m dragging by mid-afternoon. No clear reason for it either. More labs drawn yesterday. The phlebotomist and I have become friends. I see her that often. Medical stuff. Necessary, but also a nuisance.

 

At mussar yesterday Jamie talked about the one book that made him want to become a rabbi, Myths to Live By. A Joseph Campbell work. Haven’t read it so I ordered it. Put that book together with a Reconstructionist background and Rabbi Jamie comes into clear focus. A man driven by myth, the truest expression of human reality. A better and more solid, more lasting influence than mine. For sticking with the choice.

Made me reflect on my own choice to go into the ministry. It wasn’t just this verse from the prophet Micah: Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God, but it was the core of the push. It was the beginning of the 70’s. The Vietnam War still raged its ugly way across that divided nation. While dividing ours, too.

I met the Reverend Curtis Herring in Appleton. An insistent voice against the war in a very conservative section of Wisconsin [Joe McCarthy once represented this area in Congress and is buried in the Appleton Cemetery. As is Harry Houdini, btw] Reverend Herring convinced me to give seminary a try. I did.

Like, I imagine, Rabbi Jamie once the decision to attend rabbinical school or seminary is made, no matter the original impetus, a certain amount of occupational socialization begins to occur. Yes, United Theological Seminary had a distinct and active left political student body. That drew me there and got me started, but the intellectual heft of a two thousand  year old tradition also captured my attention.

Twenty years later I wandered out of the ministry in a haze, blessing the universe for having Kate show up at just the right time in my life. My initial impulse, a justice oriented ministry, had proved a great fit for me until I began to focus more attention on the church side of the equation. I no longer believed in the resurrection, the power of God, or the staying power of the church as an agent of social justice. In the Christian world that meant get out.

Had I entered the ministry from Rabbi Jamie’s mythic impulse I might have stayed longer. Reconstructed the resurrection. The God metaphor. Found a way to ground the justice work more in local congregations. As it was, I had no choice but to leave an institution in whose root ideas I no longer had faith.

Asia, Feelings, Fourth Phase

A tale of two

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Thursday gratefuls: Marilyn and Irv. Their two pups. Heidi. Psilocybin. Dr. Gonzalez today. Mussar. My wedding ring Kate bought in Taos. Amazing changes in my sense of self. Dogs. Kep and Rigel, their memories a blessing. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory. Our Planet. Its travels with us as passengers. Shorter travel to Korea and Israel. An open heart. A clear mind. Tara. Luke. Leo. Vastness. Wildness. Wilderness. Ocean depths.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The World Ocean

One brief shining: A moment to remember the Titan and its now dead passengers perhaps we could call them explorers who lost their lives on the real final frontier a watery realm extending all the way round Mother Earth and little known in any detail yet why I wonder pay to risk your life in this way. Why?

 

Understanding Whitman more and more. I am large, I contain multitudes. Sometimes I don’t recognize the person I was moments or hours before. Sure my twenty year old self and I are different in substantial ways. But my morning and afternoon selves? Oh, yes. Morning Charlie has energy. Readiness. Eagerness. Writes. Makes breakfast. Works out. Takes on challenging chores like calling United Healthcare for the seventh time to deep six that ghost bill of $429. Makes a typhoid vaccine appointment. Visits friends. Opens himself out to the world.

While late afternoon and evening Charlie. Sits. Watches TV. Reads. Often chooses, most often chooses, to stay home. Do little. Much more passive. Has less energy. I wonder if this is habit, some of it surely is. I wonder if this time of day could be different? Could it be a creative time? My buddy Ode works hours at his art each day. How I admire that. Not sure who this Charlie is. Not really. Sometimes I feel like I’m living my life in the mornings and observing my life in the late afternoons and evenings.

Or, am I just testosterone challenged? Using up my available energy in the morning? I don’t have that same disturbing fatigue I had until my thyroid stimulating hormone got right. Even so, I become smaller, less somehow. Is it age? An effect of my cancer drugs? I think back to Kate’s long illness when I had to be on literally 24/7. Did I use up some story of energy or will or ambition then?

You’ve guessed by now that I’m uneasy with this tale of the two Charlies. As if one is right and the other wrong. Yet. Is that just the American curse of worth by achievement? Who you are is what you do? Han Shan says: A thousand clouds, ten thousand streams, here I live, an idle man. That’s a Taoist perspective with which I largely agree, or think I do. Han Shan wanders the green Peaks by day and sleeps by the cliffs at night. There was a whole tradition of Chinese scholars who found this life way not only ok, but valorous. After the working life, come to the Mountains and live with the Tao, letting life and nature flow over you.

Perhaps the way to integrate the two Charlies is to accept both of them, not as better or worse, but as different responses to the Tao as it flows here on Shadow Mountain.

Acting, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

A Shortie

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Wednesday gratefuls: Hail. Rain. Cool weather. Again. Acting class. Tal. You’ve got such a great presence. Joan. Police. Being flushed. Erleada. Herme. Cold Mountain. Poetry. Mountains and Rivers. The Tao. Chi. A great workout. Again. My home. My son and his wife. K-dramas. Tom. Diane. The Ancient Brothers. Zoom keeping us together. Alan, into the city for breakfast this week. Fog. Dewpoint. The mist on the road last night.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The mind/heart. Lev

One brief shining: Alfred North Whitehead a favorite metaphysician [what? you don’t have a favorite metaphysician? Hurry. They’re on sale this weekend!] developed a metaphysics based on becoming a process view of reality rather than a static one suggested by a metaphysics of being so he knew to begin with that the heart and the mind, the body were not separate but a dynamic whole sending sensory data in and pushing actions feelings thoughts out.

 

Late night last night. Not in bed till 9:45. Acting class. I spent a good part of the day continuing work on Herme, my character study. 2 edits of my introduction established Herme and Gaius Ovidius as key figures who introduce the themes of Mountain life, chosen seclusion, and Chinese Rivers and Mountains Poetry. Right now it’s at about 15 minutes. Probably enough for the class and our showcase. Not long enough for presentation to larger audiences. Tal’s excited about Herme and would like to help me develop it into a one person show.

Got up late, too. 7:55 for an 8 o’clock call with Tom. That’s shaving it close. Combine a late night and a workout day, 100 minutes. Result? A slow afternoon and evening.

 

That’s all I got. Morning’s a better time all round for me.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Holidays, Judaism, Korea, Politics, Travel, US History

Happy Birthday to the good ole U.S.A.

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Tuesday gratefuls: Acting class tonight. First half of Israel trip paid for. Herme introduction rewritten. Parchment paper ordered. No Fireworks up here. Good for Dogs. Fire. Air. Thin air, melting into thin air. My feet and toes. Holding me up since 1947. My ankles and calves and thighs. Mobility. My pelvis, butt, penis and testicles. Sitting, twisting, elimination. No joy at this point in my life. My thorax. Holding important stuff in. My arms and fingers. Dexterity for all my needs. My shoulders and neck. Supporting my head. My head, mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. Eating, hearing (sort of), seeing, smelling, taking in oxygen, a case for my brain. All these years forgot to be grateful for that which is closest.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My body

One brief shining: Can you imagine the evolution of the eye or the slow changes necessary to create a thumb perhaps you are the one who can follow the path from our One-Celled ancestors to a beating heart maybe you grasp the folding and intricate interlacing of brain matter neurons synapses the marvel of language as it first sat on the first tongue to express a thought through sound oh this everyday miracle our body ourselves our home for life.

 

I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy, a real live nephew of my Uncle Sam, born on the Fourth of July. Today is Seoah’s Yankee Doodle birthday. What a great birthday for a naturalized U.S. citizen. Seoah and my son. Ruth and Gabe. My immediate family. Mark in Saudi Arabia. Mary to return to Malaysia and South East Asia. They are my hope for this country. Them specifically and what they represent.

Seoah, a Korean by birth and a citizen of Korea until two years ago. She married my son, a Bengali by birth. Both now naturalized citizens of the U.S.A. My son serving this country in the military. Both abroad, in Korea, protecting not only the U.S.A. but much of Asia as well. This is, in these two people, the most fundamental promise of America. That you can come here from wherever you were born, no matter the circumstances, and become a citizen, a full-fledged participant in the colorful tapestry of American life.

Or consider Ruth and Gabe. On their mother’s side Jewish, their grandfather a Romanian Jew from Bucharest and their grandmother of an immigrant Jewish family as well. Third generation. On their father’s side Norwegian ancestry four generations removed from Bergen. They are also both Gen Z, the most politically aware generation since the Boomers. They will need to be with the crushing weight of adaptation to climate change they will have to carry.

Mary and Mark. The expat life. Being American on foreign soil. Contributing to the lives and welfare of Saudis, Thais, Malaysians, Japanese, and Singaporeans. Representing the American ideal of a world known for its inclusion rather than its chauvinism. Representing our country to other cultures. Being the good American rather than the ugly American.

How can I not be hopeful when I can see in my own family the very America I hold so close and dear. Especially on this day.

 

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, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Mountains

Too Much Chocolate and Brain Fog

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Saturday gratefuls: Han Shan. His poetry. Shadow Mountain. The green green Mountains of home. China’s Mountains. Korea’s Mountains. Mt. Fuji. The sect in Japan that worships Mountains. The Mule Deer Doe eating Grass and Dandelions in my back last night. Joan and Alan. The Bread Lounge. Evergreen. The everlasting construction along its Lake. All detours, everywhere. Tom’s old fashioned thank you note.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joan’s house and property

One brief shining: Never had French toast like that six Texas toast sized slices stuffed with Nutella and chocolate small drops of chocolate on the top and syrup even syrup it was the chef’s choice for stuffed French toast and oh my I ate about a third and gave up turned it back over full.

 

Yeah. Alan and I had breakfast at the Bread Lounge and I ordered the stuffed French toast. Not gonna do that again. Thought I wanted something sweet as a counterpoint to my usual savory breakfasts with Eggs and chicken fried steak or bacon or tamales, a few too many potatoes. Maybe hot sauce.

We got caught up on this and that. CBE news. His life in the vertical cruise ship as he calls his apartment complex in central downtown Denver. Many puns later, he can’t stop, we left with a bag of pastries for Joan’s.

I’d never been to Joan’s house before though I’ve heard often about its daunting driveway. Which I thought was not so bad. Not curvy, not even that long compared to others. Anyhow her house sits on the crest of 27 acres of prime Colorado Mountain real estate looking west toward Evergreen, Mt. Blue Sky (formerly Mt. Evans), Mt. Berrigan and beyond. It’s a lovely and special location.

Her home is a beauty, too. All polished woods and black rafters, black painted wood here and there for contrast. Plate glass windows with the view toward Evergreen. A perfect house for a writer. I think Joan’s on her 18th or 19th published novel now.

Her husband Albert died last year at 96. Not sure exactly but 68 years of marriage. Somewhere in that range. We talk about grief from time to time before acting class begins. Yesterday she asked me brain fog.

I’ve only come to realize now, two and a half years after Kate’s death, I told her, how much brain fog I’d had. And that’s an exact metaphor. When it began to lift, I could see life again. With clarity. Before there was always a scrim, one I was not aware was there until it began to lift.

Jon gave the best metaphor for it. Recovering from the fog of grief mimics the slow rebounding of the North American Continent from the last Ice Age. It’s still underway, measurable especially in the Canadian tundra.

When Alan and I left, Joan told me she was going to mail me one of those rocks over there. She pointed to a rock wall she or Albert had built near her front door. It was what, she said, I had lifted from her mind. I reached back for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Travel, Woolly Mammoths, World History, Writing

Guests

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Monday gratefuls: Tom. Roxann. Lodgepoles. Aspens. Sunlight. Another blue Sky day. Ruth and Gabe in North Carolina. Joan. Tal. CBE. Israel. Trip payments. Fixing the wireless keyboard. Dead hearing aid. Marilyn and her award. The Bread Lounge. Quiet days, cool nights.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Guests

One brief shining: Sentences can run from harsh to gentle, grating along the tongue of the mind or softly caressing it, making the tongue recoil or roll over in delight sentences can be funny or serious delighting the mind or causing it to work carefully and sentences can confound the mind throwing it into utter confusion what power sentences have!

 

Tom’s visit comes to a close with our final breakfast out this morning. It’s been a real delight to have him here, continuing our Colorado conversation begun on December 19th, 2014 when he drove Kepler, Vega, Rigel, and me out here. We slept on the floor in sleeping bags that night. Gertie came with Kate in a packed rental van. She fed Gertie cheeseburgers along the way.

He returns to the heat and humidity of a Minnesota Summer. Different from the arid West.

It’s been a season of visits for me. Ode and Dennis in May. Mary a week ago Saturday. BJ and Sarah that Sunday night. Tom last Thursday until today. Nice to have folks in the house for a bit.

Tom has noted it feels strange for there to be no welcoming dog here. And it’s true. I’m dog identified. Yet I don’t feel their absence in the same way. I would love to have another dog, but I’m also enjoying having no one to care for but myself. So easy to contemplate travel, staying longer somewhere in the afternoon. Getting up at any time. Perhaps it’s the memories of so many dogs that keeps me company. Iris and Buck. Celt and Sorsha. Scot and Morgana. Tully and Tira. Bridget and Emma. Tor and Orion. Hilo and Kona. Rigel and Vega. Gertie and Kepler. 18 dogs. All still alive in memory, each one’s memory a blessing. As is Kate’s.

 

How bout those Russians, eh? Can’t fight a war, didn’t stop a rebellion. Putin’s looking a lot less like a strong man since the weekend. Instead of putting down the Wagner group when it seized a military HQ in Rostov-on-Don he allowed Prigozhin to slip away into Belarus and Prighozhin’s troops to stand down with no penalties in either case.

May they both get what they deserve.

 

Lots of ideas still floating around for Herme and Cold Mountain. Enough for a one act play? I won’t know unless I try to write one. The idea gives me energy. I like the idea of a one person play: Herme and Cold Mountain.

I also like the idea which resurfaced as Tom and I talked about cooking yesterday afternoon. A serious class in cooking basics and maybe one on a particular cuisine. At a cooking school. Realized I’ve taken all these other classes, why not one that will positively affect my daily life?

 

 

 

Family, Feelings, Friends, Travel

Hmmm…

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Sunday gratefuls: Tom. Friendship. My son and his wife’s parents, sisters, nieces and nephews. On zoom yesterday evening. Mark in the sands of Araby. Mary in Eau Claire. Diane in San Francisco. Alan in Denver. Marilyn in Cincinnati. Irv in King’s Valley. Israel. Korea. A bright blue, cool Colorado Morning atop Shadow Mountain. Jamie. Ellen and Dick. Luke and Leo. Kat at Aspen Perk’s.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Korean family

One brief shining: Zooming to Korea from Shadow Mountain my son’s wife’s family gathered in his and hers new apartment excited to talk to the American living in the Rocky Mountains his wife acting as translator while her father happily gesticulated, smiled and surprised me by asking me how old I was, 76 I said, 81 he said and I bowed to him and called him kangim (elder, I think. If I have that word right) much to the amusement of all.

 

My visit to Korea will have me deeper in a foreign culture than I have ever been. I’ve visited many but not stayed for long and never had the level of personal contact I will with Seoah’s family. I admire both Mary and Mark for their long term ex-pat experiences in Malyasia, Singapore, Thailand, Japan, Cambodia, and Saudi Arabia. It takes a certain level of inner flexibility and sensitivity to live life, your everyday life, in a culture not your own.

I feel twinned feelings of excitement and intimidation. Mostly around language. Yes, I’ve been studying Korean but I’ve been hit or miss on it recently. I’ve learned to read hangul, the Korean alphabet, and have several words, both nouns and verbs. Yes. But. Pronouncing it? Oh, my. Very far from my capacity right now. On the call yesterday I asked Seoah’s sisters if they would help me learn and they nodded yes. After laughing at my pronunciation of elder and dog. They apparently want to teach me the Gwangju accent. I think so I won’t be confused with one of those Seoul types.

There was though even on this call a real sense that this was my family, too. That I was part of them and they included me in their visit too. Maybe with the exception of Seoah’s mom. Not sure about her. She seems a little distant. But, that could also be me misreading her.

Murdoch went happily from nieces to nephews, chewing on a small pink baby slipper that Seoah’s niece purchased for him.

 

Tom and I had a quiet day yesterday. We both exhausted our selves on the Royal Gorge trip. We’re no longer the young men we used to be. By a decade at least.

 

Ruth and Gabe are off to North Carolina this morning. Flying into Charlotte, I believe. They’ll be there for two weeks, helping move Annie into assisted living. Jerry and Sarah have a beautiful rural compound near Belews Creek. Jerry, a painter and builder, has built many buildings on it including a stand alone wine cellar, what is now a guest cabin, and their home. Sarah has many gardens.

 

Colorado, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Travel

A Thursday with Friends

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Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Friday gratefuls: Tom. Ellen and Dick. Hail. Again. Cool nights. Good sleeping. God is Here. Metaphor. Kathy. Luke. Vince. Gutters. Psilocybin. Flower. Weed. Red Rocks. The Bread Lounge. A Cuban. Evergreen. Gracie and Ann. CBE. High water on the fish ladder. Maxwell Creek running full.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

One brief shining: Life in its fullness comes running at you, with you like a Mountain Stream after a heavy Rain, crashing over barriers, not allowing any obstacles, where necessary spreading out, then calmly, gently flowing into the placid waters of a great River, headed to the World Ocean.

 

Yesterday. A full day. Talking to Diane, always a pleasure. Catching up on family news. A favorite cousin for all of us moved into hospice. We’re all in the aging range. This group that used to play with each other at Thanksgiving, during family reunions at Riley Park, on the farm outside Morristown. Family in its longue dureé as Ginny, daughter of Diane’s sister, Kristen, gives birth to a new generation of the Keaton clan as have children of other cousins. We will wink out one by one, but the family will continue.

 

Over to the Bread Lounge to read a bit before Tom got here from DIA. Instead ran into Tal and Alan talking to each other. Alan in his  usual I’m here to assist you mode trying to figure out how he can help Tal’s new company, All in Ensemble.

Alan’s decided to let his beard grow back. I’m glad. It was odd seeing him clean shaven. He shaved for his art, as he says. A role in Zorro!, the musical.

Together we talked about Tal’s character study class, about mutual friends and family. The Bread Lounge serves as the student union restaurant for Evergreen. Go there and you see folks you know.

After Alan left, Tal and I discussed my character Herme. He liked my idea of a one-act play to introduce the Rivers and Mountains Poets of China to Mountain audiences. He offered to help me in any way he can. He’s bringing an outline from a playwrighting class to our next Tuesday class. Who knows? Perhaps the Hooded Man will play up and down the spine of the Rocky Mountains. Could happen.

 

Tom got to the Bread Lounge after navigating an overly busy DIA filled with summer travelers. We ordered sandwiches, which came late so we had to pack them up and head over to mussar. Where we discussed the role of metaphor in our daily lives and the implications of metaphor for understanding what we might mean when we use the metaphor God. A good heart/mind conversation.

Following mussar Tom and I were hosted by Ellen and Dick Arnold, Rabbi Jamie’s parents. A wide ranging conversation which had as its focus the upcoming trip to Israel. Dick will be my roommate for the group part of the trip.

 

When we got back to Shadow Mountain, Vince was here mowing and weed whacking. In the rain. Vince is a good guy. Lucky to have him as my friend and property manager.

Tom and I were tired. We talked, then went to bed. Getting ready now for our trip this afternoon on the Royal Gorge Rail Road.

 

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Hotel Shadow Mountain

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Beltane and the Herme Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Mary. Ruth. Gabe. A bright Sun shiny Day. 72 today. Three dry days in a row. Sarah and BJ coming in later today. The World. Cultures other than our own. Day off yesterday from Ancientrails. BJ and Sarah. On their way to Driggs, Idaho. In the U-Haul. With loads of books. Great workout. Great chocolate. Father’s day present from BJ and Sarah. 83 yesterday! After a month and a half of Rain and cooler Weather. Overcast this morning. Cooler again. Robin and Spacewranglers. Rebecca. Herme work today. Chores.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family

One brief shining: Oh, took Mary to the light rail in Lakewood in the morning on Sunday and the long way back through crowded Morrison and then the Bear Creek Canyon road which looks like a perfect setting for old fashioned Westerns, trying to find a place to eat breakfast but Sunday city tourists all over so passed through a crowded Kittredge and Evergeen back up the hill to Shadow Mountain Home and cracked open the frig because by that time hunger occupied my attention cooked ate napped and then began to wonder where BJ and Sarah were.

 

Charlie’s no-tel motel has shutdown for two days. Opening again on Thursday for a longer stay. Tom.

Here’s what happened. Mary misread her plane ticket as arriving at 11:59 am. Nope. pm. So she booked a hotel. Which told her when she arrived that they were overbooked. This very late at night. Obvy. They found another room for her, paid for a taxi and breakfast the next morning.

Ruth and Gabe had already planned to come up. Lucky. Because Mary’s hotel was not far from Galena Avenue where Ruth and Gabe live. On the second day of having her driver’s license Ruth picked up Mary and drove her up here. We all went out for breakfast at Primo’s and talked a lot. Ruth had to leave to make it back to work at Starbucks. She’s a barista now. Lots of positives with both Ruth and Gabe.

Mary and I spent the day talking. Catching up on her travels. Japan. Guru and Kuala Lumpur. Eau Claire. Her wonderful furnished apartment in an old factory.

Her trip to Indiana. All the cousin news. Age beginning to ravage the still close gaggle of Keaton cousins. Ikie Jones died a while back. The first cousin. Annette died this year, his youngest sister. Melinda, their remaining sibling now in a nursing home and refusing to eat. Lisa, the youngest Steffey of five, died also a few years back. A stroke. Her four siblings Kathy, Tanya, Carla, and Kenya all alive. Though Kathy couldn’t make the meetup in Muncie, Indiana due to arthritis. She’s the oldest of the five. Diane, the oldest of the Keaton sibs, was there on her used to be annual trip to Morristown for her school’s reunion and renewal of family/friend ties. Richard’s on the farm and Kristin is in Michigan. Both doing ok. Mary, Mark, and I round out the Keaton cousins. We’ve stayed in touch since childhood, sharing news and stories.

I don’t get back as often as Mary who has made heroic efforts to stay in touch with family, traveling thousands of  miles and crossing oceans each year to do so. Props to her. Due to the travel mix up her visit here was only Saturday.

 

BJ and Sarah had planned to make Denver around 1 pm on Sunday. Missed it by a couple of hours, then spent time loading Merton’s photographs into the U-Haul they’re taking turns driving from NYC to Driggs. In it is 90% of BJ and Schecky’s worldly belongings, mostly books. Huh. I know that routine.

We had a couple of snafu’s before we finally connected around 7 pm in the King Sooper’s parking lot. They left their truck there, Sarah bought some food, and we drove back to Shadow Mountain.

Sarah put together a salad, steamed asparagus, and set that out with some sushi rolls. A fine meal. We caught up on Johnson news. BJ and Sarah both saw me through the two weeks of Kate’s final hospitalization and death. She was their big sister.

The three of us went to the Conifer Cafe in the middle of the next morning for breakfast before they saddled up the U-Haul for the penultimate leg of their journey to Idaho. This is a big, big move for BJ and Schecky. They have lived in the same rent controlled rooms in the Beacon Hotel on Broadway since they were both students at Julliard. Well over 50 years. They’re letting go of the apartment and moving lock stock violin and cello to rural Idaho.

 

I drove back home to Shadow Mountain and took a nap.