Category Archives: Feelings

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

A busy day

December 7, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

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

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Phase Four

Tarot: Six of Stones, wildwood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faith and Spirituality, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Music, Politics, Tarot

The Lady and the Hermit

December 4, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Bonnie. Sefer Yetzirah. Rebecca. The Guardian. The New York Times. The Washington Post. The Denver Post. The Alexandria Times-Tribune of blessed memory. Kate, always Kate. Alan. Judy. Joan Nathan. Rigel, the sweet girl. Kep, the independent thinker. Ruby. (even though she is an internal combustion anachronism.)

Sparks of Joy and Awe: These Rocky Mountains

Tarot: Four of Arrows, Rest. Wildwood

The rhythms of our lives. A fascinating question posed by Ancient Brother Mario Odegard:

“The topic comes from one of the opening lines that Robert Bly said at one of his retreats that has stayed with me for many years. He talked about the absence of an inner rhythm in many men. He referred to this as not paying attention or listening to your inner flow. He asked what kind of “music” are you making with your life:

What is the inner rhythm deep inside you, that guides you, that swings you, that keeps you dancing with life? Do you need to create a new rhythm?”

Thinking about this sent me over an edge into the many rhythms that form the backbeat to our daily lives. Day and night. Heartbeat. Blood pressure’s rise and fall. Breathing in and out. Hunger and satiety. Thirst and refreshment. Weeks. Months. Years. Millennia. Birthdays. The Great Wheel’s seasonal changes. As it leaves, so it comes back.

There’s another rhythm in and down, out and about. That curious dance between introspection and agency.

Sleeping and waking. Punctuations. Semi-colons.

Music, too. Of course. Paradiddles. When I took to the inner rhythm that guides you, swings you, I went somewhere else. To the percussive driving beat of a snare, a fast and steady kick to the big bass drum. Justice. Always. A pushing rhythm, one to thrust me out of my inner fuzziness, my inner doubt and fear. Get out there. Boom. Boom. Boom. Crash. Whish. Go. Go. Go.

So here’s this archetype, the lady and the scales. The sword. Pillars of authority. A veil between her and the world. Let’s say she’s the one playing the drum set in my soul.

At the barest hint of unfairness I hear a faint brush of wire on cymbal. Attenhut! Is there more to this? Example. Got my haircut on Tuesday. Jackie. I’ve mentioned her before. A very sweet lady. Kate’s friend first, now mine, too. Jefferson County instituted a mask mandate last week for inside businesses. Jackie had her mask on. I did, too.

But. “Some of my clients just won’t wear a mask.” Puts her in the position of possibly alienating otherwise regular paying customers. And, does an omicron layoff lie just over the horizon? The combination of alienated customers and the financial cataclysm of a shutdown could ruin her financially.

Not. Fair. Jackie’s in her sixties I imagine. She’s worked hard, on her own, for forty years. Yet she now has to enforce a sensible, but to some, very unwelcome government rule; or, go ahead and cut their hair. Which is what she chooses to do for business and personal reasons. Some of these folks, outside the anti-vax madness are her friends.

Then my mind goes to other hair stylists, nail salons, barbers, mom and pop shops, shoe repair stores, anywhere one or two folks are both work force and proprietor. Lots of people. Especially in lower income communities, yes, but not only there.

I play out in my head the steps it would take to organize enough of these folks to demand some simple JUSTICE. Why? Because this rhythm has ruled my life since I was young. I let most of the situations I discover like this, and they are legion, go. Can’t be all things. Too tired and old. Don’t want to anymore. But there’s always the chance, in the operetta that is my inner life, that one will snag me, draw me in past the oh, I wonder what would happen stage.

It’s time for a new rhythm. One more to the tune of the Hermit. See what I did there? I’m thinking lutes and harps. Renaissance notes. Quiet. Seeking silence and contemplation like the drummer seeks justice. Justice has had at least 65 years to develop a presence, so I don’t imagine she’ll leave. But the Hermit has been around a long time, too. The guy on retreat. The guy who sought Christian mysticism, who studies Kabbalah and tarot. Astrology. The guy wanting to go in and down, not up and out.

Herme may be the balance to Justice, which pushes me up and out. Into the world. Maybe a battle of the bands?

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Holidays, Judaism, Memories, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Thanks

November 26, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Friday gratefuls: Thanks giving. Kate. Who was always prepared. Ruth, who did not want to talk about Grandma. Then, did. Good stories, well told, bringing Grandma to Thanksgiving. The Ham. The Stuffing. The Pecan Pie and the Cranberry sauce, both made by Ruth. The Texas Toothpick Gabe got me served the ham. “It was the best present ever for you, Grandpop.”

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The kitchen remodel

Tarot: doing a spread later

It has come and gone. The first major holiday without my wife, without Grandma, without the oldest sister, without Kep and Rigel’s and Jon’s mom. These are holes in the fabric of our family, dug by Azrael. Left to be filled in as we knit together a new family, one without her physical presence.

Since I have long cooked the holiday meals and since Kate’s presence as an active participant in the holidays began to fade a couple of years ago, it was not as painful as it might have been for me. Ruth, less so. Jon, too. Gabe seems pretty level.

We spent time talking about Kate. Jon remembered when she brought the makings for pizza when he was in rehab. Ruth remembered Kate and her cooking. Gabe said he didn’t remember much. I told about the time in the Galliard Cut of the Panama Canal when a woman sitting with us pulled out wet wipes, just like Kate always did, and I gave in to her be prepared way. Then there was that time in Pizarro’s house (really) in Lima, Peru. She leaned her head on my shoulder. So much more.

On our honeymoon I got pneumonia and spent most of the time in Vienna recovering. Thanks to the antibiotics Kate had packed. Kate as the ninja weeder. Her name for her dogged attention to the plants out of place in our garden. A bandana around her forehead, a spading trowel in her hand. She gave so many things all she had. The ski bags she made for Jon. That dress she made from six-year old Ruth’s sketch. The shirts she made for me. Her medical practice. Her quilts. What a woman. So lucky I met her and got to love her. Be loved by her. May her journey be what it needs to be.

Slept in for an hour this morning. Cooking and cleaning up after a big meal. Whew. I find myself now able to do all that, not cringe. Just do it. What I’m not is a great host. Kate had that gene though neither of us enjoyed the role. Wonder if I could learn? Not sure. The introverted me finds shepherding an event and cooking/cleaning for same just too much. Not sure if I want to learn though it is an ancient and honored part of entertaining. Making folks feel welcome, seeding good conversations, maybe a game or two.

Whenever reading books about the Middle East, especially historical works, the rules of hospitality are so prominent. No matter who, even an enemy, deserved and received at least three days of food and shelter and freedom from attack. Don’t know whether that reflects actual practice, but they did lift hospitality to a prominent social norm, for sure.

Sunday night, the first night of Hanukkah, Jon and the kids return. I’m making brisket, traditional, and Jon has the making for latkes. We got a gift from Schecky and BJ, a box of lox (hah), latkes, apple sauce, sour cream, Hanukkah candles, and gelt. The presents from the sisters, the wrapped ones, are on the downstairs table. Not sure yet how we’ll handle the 8 days of present giving and candle lighting. We’ll decide on Sunday.

Another first without Kate.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Some days…

November 22, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Monday gratefuls: Mark Horn. Tree of Life spread reading. Ancient Brothers. Siblings. TJ Henry. All-Clad 12″ skillet. Induction cooking. The Ham. Ruth, Jon, Gabe coming up Wednesday night for Thanksgiving. Mark going to Minnesota. The beautiful Holiseason moon. A splendid morning. Life with Kate. Now. A corner I need to turn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tree of Life tarot spread

Tarot: Eight of Stones, skill. wildwood tarot.

What a day. Ancientrails. Journeymen. (Ancient Brothers?). TJ Henry. Derek and the air conditioner. Late nap. Tarot reading by Mark Horn, Gates of Light Tarot. Lots of love on this day.

The Journeymen. Or, the Ancient Brothers. Yesterday morning Paul, Bill, Mark, and I. We spoke of siblings, how we felt about them, how they were in our lives now. A heartfelt hour plus. In the end we recognized the truth. That we are, and have been for many years, true brothers to each other. Including Tom, absent with Roxann for her mother’s funeral on Saturday. Siblings are not solely about blood.

Afterward over to Evergreen Comfort Inn Suites. A woman had posted on Nextdoor about being forced out of her house with her two dogs. The guy she lived with shut off the electricity to her area, cut her wifi, and did other things she chose not to mention. Some thought it was a scam, but it felt genuine to me. And, besides, I’d rather take a chance and be scammed rather than not take a chance and leave somebody in need without help.

Even after I met TJ and her two fluffy snack-sized dogs, I couldn’t tell for sure. Came home wondering.

Then, I found this posted on Nextdoor this morning.

Strong and Powerful Evergreen Community.

Thank you all so much for your help and support in my blight of late. I cannot thank you all enough. I am putting together a list of all the resources sent to me for someone else who may need them in the future. I will distribute.

Charles Buckman-Ellis, who recently lost his wife, left me with these kind words today. “Thank you for allowing me to help you today!” A beautiful man with a amazing soul. Rich Wyatt. Thank you for the ride to Walmart. Greatly appreciated. 🦋

Not a scam. My heart. Went full.

Later in the day Derek, a true neighbor, came over and helped me remove the single room air conditioner from my front window. It had cooled Kate while she sat in her place working crosswords and playing solitaire. With the mini-splits in place it had become a source of cold air leaking in from the outside and unnecessary. Into the garage.

Also Derek.

Couple of trees, one dead, too close to the house. He also took down dead trees further back on our lot. A decent symbiosis. He heats with wood. I’ve lost the strength necessary to do my own logging. (which, btw, I don’t like) Even when I was able to do it these particular trees seemed beyond my amateur arborist skills. Didn’t want to drop them on my roof. Derek tied ropes to them and felled them away from the house.

He also offered to build a bench using one of the logs and the two stumps. I said, sure. That’d be great. Think he’s doing it right now.

Then, in the evening I had my first ever tarot reading. Mark Horn, of Gates of Light tarot. Gonna go more in depth on this later. Tarot works. How? Not a clue. Well, some clue, but not much.

Here’s the big takeaway. In order to move into my next life, next phase, I need to embrace Kate as a presence in my life, a positive, support presence. I need to end the paradox of feeling remorse for feeling good. When I can pull this off, my next life will emerge on its own.

Art and Culture, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Kate, Always Kate

November 18, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Laurie Knox. Kate’s piecing. Joan Marshall. Others who quilted Kate’s tops into quilts. I now have four new, whole quilts pieced by Kate and quilted by her friends in the Baily Patchworkers. Two I will keep, a lovely batik quilt in purples and greens and a friendship quilt block one with squares from Kate and others in the Patchworkers. Women. Cold weather. Sleeping in. Snug as a bug in a rug.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gospel music at CBE

Tarot: I’ll cover this spread in its own post

Those folks at Phonak. New hearing aid a cut well above the last one I had. And, they let me buy a new Roger for only $200. Picked it up yesterday. Will use it today at mussar. And, working on a memory technique for not leaving it behind. Ever again.

Talked with Cousin Diane yesterday morning. She’s out there in the Bay area where the temps are usually in the 50-60 degree range. Ideal. She had her book group coming, which meant furniture rearrangement and cooking a whole meal. Hope it went ok. I’ll find out next Wednesday.

Mark is in the house. The house being his home country, the good ole U.S. of A. He’s currently living in Fairfax, Virginia and touring D.C. At some point he heads out to Minnesota to connect with a new driver’s license. After that he may come up here. First time he’s been in the U.S. since Covid began. Three years in Saudi.

Slept in this morning. Felt so good to have a cold bedroom and my electric blanket turned up high. The dogs didn’t object.

While talking to Diane I had a modest epiphany. Part of my aversion to headlines and news stories these days, maybe a most of it, stems from being triggered. The Trump years come up. Biden’s poll numbers, the fractious nature of the Democrats in Congress. The Rittenhouse trial. The trials of the insurrectionists. An Atlantic article about the rise of autocracy titled, “The Bad Guys Are Winning.”

History happens. And some of us have to be alive during the bad bits. Interesting times continue for Baby Boomers.

It all seems so far away from Shadow Mountain. Solid, steady, dependable. Mountains. The one I’m on and Black Mountain that I see out my window. Just two of hundreds, thousands of peaks in the Rockies. The Elk, I saw a harem of over thirty Cows and one Bull the other day when I went into Evergreen. The Mule Deer. A few miles further I saw two Mule Deer Bucks locked in horny battle. All along Bear Creek.

That beautiful black Fox photographed by a neighbor. Holly Bailey and her husband telling of a four hundred pound Black Bear on their deck yesterday. Their last dog died in September and now the Wildlife has begun to return to their home.

What of this cares about Mar a Lago? What of this cares about Manchin? What of this finds the dismal state of politics in our country worth mentioning?

A large part of me sides with Rocks, Creeks, Elk, Fox, Mule Deer. Snow, Clouds. The Sky. The Sun. That part of me wants only to sleep, eat, watch the Lodgepoles sway and Maxwell Creek tumble down Shadow Mountain. That part of me lives on no matter the craziness, the injustice, the climate degradation. And is happy.

The other part, smaller these days, knows about interdependence. Acid Rain. Drought. Wildfire. Human encroachment on the wild. (yes, guilty) Toxins and pollutants in our air. That brown scuzz filtering the sunrise over Denver. The draining of Aquifers. The dwindling snow packs. That part knows there is no corner of the earth unaffected. It also knows the silly politics of humans matter, matter in a life or death way to our species and thousands of others.

But here’s the truth. They don’t own me. I’m not just one of their silly toys. They can’t make me go out with them, can’t put me on display. (on their side). Which also means I still have that responsibility to act. To stake my claim in this world while I’m here. In spite of how interesting it may be.

Anoka County, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Honoring Ancestors

November 17, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Bi-weekly trash and recycling. Holly Bailey. Lauri Knox. Quilts. Kate’s many gifts. Her long arm quilter. Her stash. Now helping others. A slight veil of Snow on the solar panels. 18 degrees this morning. Blue Sky. Red flag day yesterday. So dry. Derek. Neighborly. Journeymen. The Guild.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth’s Yay! when she saw the quilt Holly brought over

Tarot: The Ancestor, #5 of the Major Arcana, Wildwood

A wonderful Tarot card from the Wildwood Deck. Which I’m coming to like a lot. Reminded me that Kate is now with the Ancestors, is an Ancestor.

We’ll get back to the card, but I wanted to comment on how Kate continues to weave the tapestry of our lives. Holly Bailey and her husband came over last night. Holly got Kate’s long arm quilter. She finished the quilt that was on it.

When I texted Ruth a picture of it, she said, “oh yay!! that one’s mine. I helped grandma pick the fabrics and the pattern and I think I sewed parts of it.”

This morning Laurie Knox, yet another engineer, will bring three quilts that she’s been working on, also Kate’s piecing. Holly has two more to finish. I will, over time, offer these quilts as gifts, especially to folk who knew and loved Kate. I’m not in a hurry.

I sleep on a library, a pillowcase fabric Kate found and turned into a pillowcase for me. Her work hangs in our living room and in her sewing room, too. In my loft I have two quilted small pieces, one with squares of moose, my totem animal, and one with old post card images of Rocky Mountain National Park. There are, too, rug mugs that she got into for a while. Curtains. A brick doorstop up here has a crocheted cover.

Shirts she made for me hang in my closet. Joseph’s robe of many colors is up here in the loft now. I also have two stoles that she made for me to wear over my monk’s robe. Her memory. My blessing.

The Ancestor #5 in the Wildwood Major Arcana. (Replacing the traditional #5, The High Priest)

Here’s some material from Wildwood’s book on the Ancestor.

“The Ancestor is linked to the part of our soul that is most ancient and most closely related to the archetypes that represent nature. She is a guardian of the sacred heart of the land and summons you by beating the drum to the heartbeat of the Earth. It is the part of you that unconsciously heard the drum and stirred the first desire to walk the path that is at work here. It is the overpowering strength and patience of nature, it is the awesome and relentless turning of the cycle that brings spring and warmth, an end to hibernation and the reawakening of abundant life.

The Ancestor stands before the gateway of nature that leads into the far forest. This is another beginning. Once you pass through the gateway you must strive to stay on the path and see the journey through to the end.”

Later on: “You have made the leap and started a new cycle. Your instinctive spirit has felt it necessary to lead you to the gateway and a new path…Your inner Ancestor is strong, patient and wise. Let them lead you into the forest with new eyes and a joyful spirit.”

This image, a female deity with a deer’s head, with antlers, is Elen of the Ways in a probably pre-Celtic faith. The Ways referenced in her name are the wild paths created by Deer and Reindeer. The hypothesis is that early hunter gathers used the Deer ways, too. Hunting the Deer, yes, but also following their seasonal migrations and gathering food where Deer browsed.

Elen honored this travel, honored the Deer who made it possible. She could be the goddess of paths and journeys, the hunt, fertility. The goddess of nature’s abundance and hence nature itself.

As the Ancestor in the Wildwood Tarot, she precedes in time and worship the more well know gods and goddesses of the Celtic pantheon like Bridgit, Lugh, Arawyn.

A new cycle is underway here on Shadow Mountain. The Hermit cycle. I will see it through to the end. Whatever, whenever, and however that may come.

Aging, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Memories, Mussar, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate

8 months

November 12, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Friday gratefuls: Cytopoint. VRCC. Chewy. Earth Venture. Veggie Dent. The Star show. Every night! The Winds of late Autumn in the Rockies. I am; therefore, I think. Thanks for that one, Tara. Tired Jamie. Jon. Winter tires back on Monday. Oil changed. Thanksgiving. Last holiday in the old kitchen. The mini-splits. Working. Lodgepoles bending. 25 mph Wind. Not breaking.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate’s Tiara for her 75th

Tarot: Seven of Bows, Wildwood Tarot

Kep into the VRCC for an allergy shot. Bought the next two doses so I don’t have to go back until February. His allergies are bad. Without cytopoint he scratches, bites himself. On his tail and his right rear haunch he gets below the skin, creates hotspots. Plus, he’s got the double coat for winter. That means when he scratches the fur literally flies. Doggy allergist to the rescue.

8 months ago today. Some day I might not notice the monthly anniversaries of Kate’s death. Not now. Those last days replay from time to time, not each minute, but significant moments.

Kate at Hwaesong, 18th century walled city, Korea

Like the time I asked Rabbi Jamie to buy me a ham and cheese at the deli. Seeing the ski runs on Black Mountain from a Swedish 10th floor window. Kate and I signing I love you. Her telling Kenton he’d done a good job on the arterial blood draw. When she said, in a cracking voice, “Death with dignity.” I nodded. “What do you think of my decision?” I hate it. It means I’ll lose you; but, I think it’s the right decision for you. Mozart minus Bach =’s Brahms. That call. She’s gone. As with Mom’s death and Joseph’s arrival, a stimulus for major change.

Re-membering her as a factor, now in memory, as I live. Wondering, what would Kate think? Taking her into account. Would she approve of the mini-splits? Yes, she would. The kitchen remodel? Probably, though she’d flinch at the cost. My decision to stay on Shadow Mountain? Oh, yes. Reorganizing the kitchen, the living room, downstairs, her sewing room? Not so much. What about Jon? Listen, empathize. Support. Within limits. Yes. Stay close to Ruth and Gabe. For sure. This will go on as life goes on.

Climate change. Glasgow. Climate pessimism. Nihilism. 47% of Republicans don’t believe we should regulate greenhouse gases. Why? Oh, just the planet going through a regular cycle. Or, made up by the elites. Or, don’t give a damn. And they may win the 2022 elections. An election that could doom the planet and human life as we know it. Talk about high stakes.

Even so. Can’t find the legs to get back into it. Distracted. Still working on the day-to-day. Feel guilty. The only thing necessary for evil to win is for good folks to do nothing. Not saying I’m good, but I have been willing to fight. Not right now. Or, Rabbi Tarfon: “You are not duty-bound to finish the work, but on the other hand, you have no right to waste time from it.” Not wasting time, me. So, ok.

Considering a new calendar rule. No more than two events of any kind outside of the house during the week. In spite of having a solo life I find distractions like appointments disturb my rhythms. I prefer alone time. A lot.

Art and Culture, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, GeekWorld, Health, Kabbalah, Our Land and Home, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate

Roger, Oh Roger

November 2, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the crescent of the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Tuesday gratefuls: Amy, at Mile High Hearing. The Roger. Loss. Kate, always Kate. And, her quilting. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Mark. Rigel, her insistent, loud barking at 3 am. Kep, who slept through it. Julie and AARP Advantage plan #1 with premiums. Electronic signing. Marina Harris’s Furball Cleaning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Astrology

Tarot: King of Pentacles, Druid Craft

Felt a little like I was on my way to the Principal’s office while driving into Mile High Hearing. It’s not often I face a relative stranger and have to acknowledge a failure. I could not keep Roger safe.

Amy was good about it. And, for reasons that make sense to me. I was out for a meal, the first fine dining moment since Kate died. At least here in Colorado. Using the Roger. And it helped me hear Alan over the very live restaurant. What she wanted. I want to open the world up for you.

She and I puzzled over how Gaetano’s could have lost it. I don’t know and at this point it seems moot. Roger is gone.

Amy will contact Eric, her rep for Phonak, and see if they can cut me some kind of deal. A much lower price on a new one. I hope she’s successful, because I’m ready to start ghost writing a book, Roger and Me.

Caspar David Friedrich
Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog (1818)

Fog covered 285 on the way down the hill. Dicy at any speed. Ice and fog are my two least favorite driving conditions.

Before that Julie got me into a new policy with better benefits. Amazing. We met and reviewed documents all over zoom and email. She sent me the documents to sign, which I did electronically. Much more efficient, carbon and time.

Julie also signed me up, in January, with Conifer Family Medicine which will open a satellite office in Evergreen in the new year. The Conifer practice has no opening for new patients. I don’t mind. Evergreen is my town and much closer than Littleton. I’m actually in an Evergreen precinct, CBE is in Evergreen, and most of my CBE friends live there or nearby. Conifer has no personal ties for me except my immediate neighborhood.

Got the art for my Hermit neon sign. I like it. Not cheap, but it will be a signature piece for the Shadow Mountain Hermitage. Gonna put it on the inside wall that can be seen through one of our front windows.

I go in to Morry’s Neon tomorrow. My only quibble was the red eyes. Too many movies where the vampires have red eyes. Glen and I will pick out a new color together.

Also got a Woolly Mammoth hoodie in the mail from Ode. Looks warm. Got here just as the weather has begun to cool down. Must be a Stefan/Mario collaboration. I plan to wear mine when I hit the speed bag. You know, Rocky. Woolly.

AWOL. That’s been me. From the news. I read headlines, rarely full stories. This has been a time of going inward, away from the world. Will continue for a while. The news draws me back, puts me in the maelstrom that is our era while I need time, quiet time.

Climate change. The Whigged out GOP. The Gump Trump. The Pandamndemic. Democrats shooting themselves in the foot. I know. All still underway. As for me, I will remodel my kitchen, hang some neon art in my living room, utilize my mini-splits, pet my dogs.

I am the King of Pentacles. In this world, peaking in my animus energy, staying steady, staying the course of grief’s long journey. Readying myself for, already in, the fourth phase of my life.

Beyond the Boundaries, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Garden, Great Wheel, Holidays, Kabbalah, Myth and Story, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Happy New Year!

October 31, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Sunday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Nearer to my heart as the veil thins between this world and the Otherworld. Rigel and Kep, good dogs. Xiola, that pit bull that showed up yesterday. Hope she got home ok. Low hanging Cloud this morning. Fog on Shadow Mountain. Samain, Summer’s End. New Year’s day for Celtic lands. Long ago. Glasgow. Needs all the power it can get. Then, to use it.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fog

Tarot: Eight of Cups, Druid Craft

Happy New Year! Feliz Samain! The season of light has fallen behind us. As I write at 7:30 am, the sky has only begun to lighten, a blue steel. As I feed the dogs in the afternoon, the sky heads toward late twilight. The temperatures are cooler and Snow is in the forecast. All Crops are dead except those few winter hardy ones like Winter Wheat, Garlic.

Up here the Aspens are naked. I found a skim of Ice on the Dog’s outdoor Water yesterday. This morning the shed and the roof of the house have a coating of Frost. I’ve begun layering with flannel shirts, fleece, and lined outer shirts. The boiler works harder now.

The Celts began their year today. The Samain festival marks the end of the growing season and the harvest season. Samain is the last harvest festival, preceded by Mabon in September and Lughnasa in August.

Through its influence millions of children will go door to door tonight dressed as Bob Ross (Gabe), candy bars, ghosts, celebrities, goblins, animals, witches. Whatever seems fun. Most will not know that the costumes mimic the Celtic belief that the veil between this world and the Otherworld thins on this day. That means the dead, those of Faery, other creatures like goblins can cross into this world more easily. In the ancient Celtic mind anything strange might happen or show up.

And, yes, it also means that the living can cross over into the Otherworld if they can find a portal, a place where the veil thins even more. Holy wells, caves, dolmens, sacred groves. A place made sacred by repeated worship. The living, though, have to be careful if they cross over because the return from Faery, or the Otherworld, may not be as easy. For sure eat no Faery cake nor drink no Faery wine.

Today is my first Samain without Kate; I feel her absence and her presence more keenly today. A family altar anchored by her ashes helps me place her both here and there. Wherever there might be.

The fog, the frost, the chill in the air underscore this day as one of a thinned veil. A day after which the strength of the growing season must see us through until Imbolc when the ewes freshen and milk becomes available. Even then we must wait until Ostara, the first day of Spring, to see the world once again as a place that can support the living.

To start the year here suggests an emphasis on the inner world, on life lived with family, often huddled around peat fires for warmth. Eating, being sustained, by the crops of the time of light.

A book dear to me, The Fairy Faith, written by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, recounts his several visits to the smoky huts all round Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Brittany. In those villagers’ homes he heard the stories that kept the family enthralled over the long nights following the New Year. Stories of elves, fairies, goblins and more. Evans-Wentz went on to become famous as the translator of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.

We have stripped the world of its magic with Enlightenment reason and scientific method. Many, most, are as I used to be: either/or folks. Either the scientific, logical worldview or nothing. I prefer, Yes science and logic. Yes magic and mystery.

Sure this is meteorological Fall. Yes. It’s also Samain and Mabon ends today. It’s true we don’t know what happens after death, but it’s also true we really DON’T know what happens after death. The second law of thermodynamics explains dissolution, decay, the inevitable crumbling of organic structures. As far as it goes. Yet it cannot imagine a world untouched by its rule. But, I can.

Having the New Year today suggests that there is a way of understanding that comes in the dark, in the midst of decay, in the inner reaches of our psyche. A way best accessed when the light recedes and time for reflection grows. A way that precedes the way of light both in time and in spiritual significance.

Remember Steiner’s Springtime of the Soul at the feast of Michael the Archangel? September 29th. I believe Steiner recognized the same wisdom as the ancient Celts. To become more of who we are we need to go inside, into the dark, into the fecund place where the imagination lives.

During the season of light we work and live in the outer world, coming to the dark and the inner life mainly at night. During the season of dark, the fallow time, we can more easily spend time in meditation, dreaming, listening to tales told before a crackling fire. Perhaps writing and painting and cooking to express for others our inner work.

Join me this Samain as we honor the dead, honor the pool of memories that bind us all as one, honor the subconscious mind, honor the mysterious and the immeasurable. Honor faeries, goblins, elves, Tarot cards, the Tree of Life, and astrology. Kabbalah. Everything that seeks to penetrate or contextualize the interesting, but limited world of science and logic.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Friday

October 29, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Friday gratefuls: Kep and Rigel’s waiting up for me. Alan and Gaetano’s. Being out at night. Fine dining. Without Kate. A bit sad. Supply chains. Coyote HVACS. Tesla. Lucid. Polestar. Mussar. Soul curriculum. The night sky. Orion, home again, home again. Diane and Mark. The Ancientones. Carol. May she improve. The city at night. Blue Mountain Kitchens. Jodi. Brian. Bowe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The night in the city and the night on Shadow Mountain

Tarot: Queen of Pentacles, Druid craft deck

Electrical panel. Not in. Supply chain issues plague many different components of our economy. When Brian measured for the cabinets last week, he made a point of saying he had hinges and drawer pulls, cabinet pulls in stock. I don’t have the alder, but they keep that in stock. So we’re good.

Probably a supply glitch associated with the kitchen project will occur. It has today with the mini-splits. A new electrical panel, necessary for the work in the garage. Not in. Will call. Stuff happens. I’m calm. I like their work, believe them. Trust. That’s the word.

I feel the same about Jodi. I trust her to wrassle the contractors and trades people, her supply chain at Blue Mountain. If things take a while, ok. I’m not in a rush. Still excited about both the mini-splits and the new kitchen.

As they proceed, so are other pruning related matters. Example. The Subaru leaves my garage this evening. On its way to support Colorado Public Radio. Jon’s coming up to manage the hand over of the car.

He feels better, but has lost a lot of weight and has trouble eating. Sound familiar? Yesterday he had gut issues, couldn’t eat. These aut0-immune diseases. Bad, bad news.

As a parent, Jon has made enormous progress with Ruth and Gabe. They’re both calmer, less reactive, more focused. Both sweet and loving. Yes, they have psychological matters, refractory ones, too. But Jon’s found a way to get the best out of them, to love them. Good to see.

His art, which I admire, sustains him. He finds pieces of metal crushed by traffic. Takes them home, cleans them up, then prints in the press he has in his studio. Cast off, crushed, found. Beautiful. A commentary on throw away culture and one way to fight consumerist capitalism.

The five years since the divorce have been hard, real hard, for him. Then Kate died. Since then, his auto-immune diseases have hammered at him with little let up. And, his mom, his medical advisor as she was mine, is gone. A tough, vulnerable spot.

Alan and I went into Denver last night to his old neighborhood, north Denver, east Colfax. He had a debate partner in high school named Smaldone. Think Gotti, Capone, Lensky. The Smaldone’s were Denver’s organized crime family in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

They owned and operated and worked out of an Italian restaurant at Tejon and 38th. Gaetano’s. I didn’t make this up. The information about the Smaldone’s comes from Gaetano’s menu. The men’s room, GUYS, had a picture of the Rat Pack playing pool and, over the toilet, a booking picture of a young Frank Sinatra in Hoboken. That sorta thing. Bonus points: guess the name of the women’s.

This was a thank you dinner for a ride to the Aurora campus of Rocky Mountain Cancer Care. Axumin scan. A long drive. Alan had chicken parmigiana and I had the special, polenta and shrimp. Italian shrimp and grits.

While there, I used the Roger microphone. Set it on the table in the very live dining area. And left it there when I got up to go. Uh oh. $1400. Called with worry tickling my throat after I noticed it was missing. Yes, we have it, sir. I’ll be by tomorrow for it. Have to figure out a way to not let that happen again.

Had the reinforcing experience yesterday of being able to go 3.5 mph at 3.0% elevation. I’m gaining cardiovascular conditioning. Also hit the inclined bench press and surprised myself by using 20 pound barbells. I thought they were 15’s, but went through the set anyhow. That was Wednesday.

My HIIT book came yesterday. High Intensity Interval Training. This time I’m gonna be serious about creating my own program, following it, pushing my performance. Not only is this good for heart health, but it’s also good for my compromised lungs.

OK. Last bit of news. Today my new cookware comes. At least I think it will. That means I’ll cook using the induction range for the first time. First heat. Tomorrow. Not sure what I’m gonna make. Something.

Queen of Pentacles

“Key words: Generous. Patient. Kind.

Meaning: You may need to care for your body, your finances, your possessions, or your land and property. Your relationship with the land and the earth.” DCB

The kings and queens of the Tarot suits represent manifestation of the suit’s essential meaning. Of the ancient four elements, pentacles resonates with the earth. Swords with air. Cups with water. Wands with fire. Pentacles has its focus on the body, money, possessions, the land, the earth. This reality. Malkut. The realm governed by the Shekinah, the Sabbath bride, and the estranged female principle of the divine.

This card is the anima apotheosis of pentacles, of energy and intention focused on here and now: prostate cancer, Jon, HVAC and kitchen remodel, meeting with RJ, my financial advisor. This card prods me to look into my feminine as I encounter today, to trust her when it comes to matters of this earthly reality. Be generous, patient, and kind. Especially with Jon. As I hear this card.