Category Archives: Feelings

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Mussar

Dream Time

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Big Snow. Shadow, the good Dog. Murdoch. My son. Seoah. Vince and Snow plowing. Feeling well rested. Pain doc. Chocolate. Hawai’ian dark chocolate with Macadamia Nuts. Chocolate coffee beans. Mary in Oz. Diane, healing. The rise of autocracies. King Donald. A third term. Prostate cancer.

BTW: If you are new to Ancientrails or have forgotten, we Jews are grateful for everything that happens since it is all part of the One. Doesn’t mean we like all of it or don’t want/need to change it. But even King Donald is part of our wonderful, amazing, grace filled World.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My sacred community of family and friends

Week Kavannah:  Persistence and grit.  Netzach.

One brief shining: I looked up and noticed Shadow returning to her food bowl, first licking up crumbs, then trying to eat the yellow and purple Crocuses off the Portmerion pattern, digging her puppy teeth into the porcelain with a grinding sound, going after those flowers, puzzled by their intransigence. I will get her a raised set of stainless bowls, but not right now, so she’ll have to deal.

 

Here is your illuminated manuscript-style illustration, capturing the essence of the Stable Rock of Shadow Mountain, Maxwell Creek, and the sacred wildlife in a medieval bestiary aesthetic with golden detailing.

Dream last night: I had moved to a new city and decided to follow a long dirt road that wound far away from town, visible for a long way until it turned right around a low hill. Didn’t get very far because I hadn’t checked the gas gauge. E. I pulled to the side, got out and walked over to a rocky cliff.

Began to climb. I got the top after some effort and found a place that looked like it would have a gas can. When I went in, grandson Gabe was with me. Together we looked through a lot of different shelves, finally locating a gas can which I bought.

We walked back outside to fill it up and where I thought there would be gas pumps, there were none. Oh, well. We began walking, asking people if they knew where we could get gas. That’s all I remember.

 

Saw the pain doc on Wednesday. Rode up in the elevator with a guy saying he was heading in for the pain and torture spot. Turned out we were both going to Mountain View Pain Medicine. He to p.t., me to an initial consult.

When I explained my lower back pain, how it drastically limited my mobility and gave me excruciating pain after my drives to Boulder and back, the P.A. went into a dialogue that confused me at first.

I’m a rule follower, she said. If we’re going to work with you, you’ll have to do conservative therapy and come in here once a month. Then, I tumbled to it. Can my primary care doc manage my tramadol? Oh, yes. All the hesitation dropped away. This was a continuing, and welcome, echo of the oxycodone addiction crisis. No pain doc will risk their practice by giving away narcotics.

She suggested an MRI which I agreed to. Sometime in the next two weeks. Get to the root cause of my pain. Yes. What I’ve wanted for a while now. Admit to a little anxiety about incidental findings with this so careful an imaging tool since the source of my pain and the areas of my metastases coexist. Might find more cancer. Hope not.

 

Just a moment: Got into a funk yesterday. Ached. Pain less well controlled after no more Celebrex. Maybe a little tired. Fatigued by whatever: uncontrolled hyperthyroidism, very low testosterone, the effects of my cancer drugs. Wondering if the shortness of breath, weakness meant (against current evidence) my cancer was advancing. Thought about not going to mussar, too tired. Too much effort.

Nope. My kavannah, netzach, said, get up and go anyhow. What a good choice. I’d only missed two sessions, but I got some glad you’re backs. Geez. Also, my funk disappeared in the solvent of friendship, study, seeing and being seen.

Had a time afterward with Rabbi Jamie looking for a text to use for MVP in two weeks. We laughed a lot together. A good friend.

On the way home I remembered, as I sometimes have to do, that I am alive and loved today, in this February 21st life, no matter what the future holds. Be gone, funky thoughts!

 

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

A Shadow

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Amy. Clean, fluoridated teeth. Dentists. Shadow. Buster’s for treats and food. Trying out new ways of getting my nutrition. Diane’s microwaving Vegetables. Ensure. Canned chicken. Fish. Training Shadow. Working out again.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That scraggly Blue Spruce with all the new growth

Week Kavannah: Persistence and grit.  Netzach.

One brief shining: Reaching my hand in the kibble I draw out a quarter cup of food, then another, and another, and another while Shadow waits, it sprinkles into the bowl, making a noise she will learn to associate with feeding, her alert mind always working.

 

Two weeks into Shadow’s life with me. And mine with hers. Following the three day, three weeks, three months recommendations for bringing a rescue dog into the house. Three days: orient, go slow. Three weeks: bonding, socializing, some simple training. Three months: Training, bonding, socializing more.

Amy taught us both sit and down yesterday. How to lift the treat up while saying, Shadow, sit. She looks up, which tends her toward a sitting position. Good, Shadow. Down. Treat. All her knees on the floor. Palm down, Shadow down. Shadow, down. Good Shadow. Treat.

That’s the good. The not quite there yet. I’ve been letting her out every three to four hours, sometimes sooner. She runs around in the yard, clearly having a great time. No pooping inside so I thought she was doing it outside. Good Shadow.

Nope. She’d been holding it. Left presents for me near the door. A lot. Fortunately well-formed. More work to do. Before you go ick. Ask yourself how long it took to potty train you!

She goes outside with no prompting. For two days or so she came right back in when I opened the door. Now we’re back to one foot in, two feet in, back up and move away. Forward. Backward. Learning, retreating into fear.

We’ve made good progress together. Look forward to yet more.

 

Birthday celebration with Tara today. Golden Stix. Our friendly neighborhood Chinese restaurant. Where I’ve only been once, long ago. Unimpressed. Others say it’s improved a lot. Birthday celebration with Alan on Saturday. Not sure where. Maybe Sushi Win. I like this strung out birthday. Feels good.

Tom Crane sent me a new Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures, and a helluva an interesting Northshore card with a waterfall and trees jigsawed as a frame. A sweet guy.

78. Making steady, incremental progress toward 80. Now I notice every time someone reaches out to help me. Geez, what do I look like? 78. Makes me feel cherished and cared for, also want to push it away and say, hey, I can do this on my own. A balance, a gradual change from those truly independent years. Not an easy or welcome transition.

 

Just a moment: Oh, yeah. Russia is our buddy. Ally Comrade Putin. Come on, Don. Read your history. Look at Ukraine, Crimea. The USSR. Reagan said tear down that wall. GOP Reagan. Strange and foreign policy that.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Travel

Gathered, then dispersed

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Monday gratefuls: The big questions. The Ancient Brothers. Barb Bandel’s funeral. Murdoch getting groomed. Seoah and my son back to their Korean lives. Ruth and Gabe. TV. Picard. FBI. Morality plays, the 3rd millennium additions. Shadow. Her calm nights. Her waggy tail. Heading into the Snowy weeks.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jet travel. Time zones.

Week kavannah:  Persistence and grit. Netzach.

One brief shining: Walking through the bedroom door on my way to bed, my hand brushes the mezuzzah, and after I’ve said the shema, I say, I’m comfortable with what I have and I’m comfortable with who I am .

 

Gathered, then dispersed. Family. Ruth staying in Boulder in her dorm. Gabe back to his room at Jen’s. My son and Seoah traveling across the big Waters, back to Asia, Korea, Songtan.

Shadow and I stay here on Shadow Mountain. Getting to know each other better. Learning to love each other. A still point, high and lifted up, for far flung family. For us.

A weekend of longing for more time with my son, Seoah, Ruth, Gabe. An awareness of absence, of what was near now gone. A sadness, a sense of loss. Normal for me. A way of saying how much they all mean to me.

Then, too, a sense of joy for the new memories. Casa Bonita. Birthday lunch at Snarf’s with Ruth and Gabe, my son and Seoah. Boulder. My son’s big hugs. I love you, Dad. Seoah’s hands in mine, saying that when the two years in Korea are up, they want me to come live with them. Whether I do or not, being wanted filling my soul with warmth. Gabe coming up on the commuter bus. Ruth greeting us outside her dorm across from the planetarium. Where we used to go on Friday nights when she was younger.

There is, for us old folks, a rhythm of gain and loss when loved ones visit or when we visit them. A knowing of that ultimate departure embedded in the Thanksgivings, Hanukkahs, short and long trips to see each other.

In this we are unlike the families of the past. We stayed in our villages, lived our lives in extended families, perhaps never knowing long absence.

Today we pursue individual dreams. Off to Boulder for college. Over to Malaysia for a stint teaching ESl, then never really going back. A time as a bicycle messenger, then 20 years or so in Bangkok, more years in Saudi Arabia. Breckenridge for 3 three years, after that Maxwell AFB, Georgia, Hawai’i, Singapore, Korea. 40 years in Minnesota traded for a new life in the Rocky Mountains.

Strong moves for us, weakening moves for family, for that sense of home only the rooted can know.

Sure, I’m a globalist, a man of the world, not just my own nation. And I love the adventure of  a new life in a new place. Always have. A wanderer at heart like my sibs.

Yet sometimes. The cost can feel too high. When love becomes primary, not achievement or travel or the shiny new thing offers that. I miss my dead and my far away family.

I also love my life here on Shadow Mountain. Now with Shadow, the growing puppy. Yes. And yes to my CBE friends. Yes. All yes.

Ancient Brothers, Dreams, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Torah, Weather +Climate

A Day in the Life

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Torah study. Luke and Leo. Joanne. Ron and the Purim spiel. Shadow. Her wiggly, happy self. My son and Seoah safely back in Korea. Barb’s service today. Family. Of choice. All ways, always. Big problems to solve. Ancient brothers. Raising a puppy. Sarcopenia. Workouts.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Week kavannah: Persistence and grit. Netzach.

One brief shining: Grappel pelted down, small pellets of snow, fog shrouded the route between Evergreen and Conifer, driving on and out of it on my way to the Happy Camper, more joint relief edibles for night time.

 

After sleeping through the leaving of my son, Seoah, and Gabe, I got up to a happy Shadow. We played a bit. Wrote Ancientrails, fed her, then got ready for Torah study.

Eleven people. A minyan. A lively and learned discussion. The tests of the Israelites on their way in the wilderness. Our family history. Also a family of choice for me. Lots of new voices.

Afterward, I drove to Bailey and picked up edibles for sleeping. Stopped at Buster’s and got a 12 pound bag of Natural Balance puppy food. Found even that bag heavy. I mean. Geez. Gotta get that resistance work back. Gassed up Ruby in a windy storm of grappel, then back home.

More cold weather. 10 when I got up. Not Minnesota cold but still… After 10 years of Coloradification, cold to me.

My son and Seoah spent 2 years plus in Hawai’i and a year in Singapore. They prefer the moderate heat of Hawai’i. Korea has its share of cold, snowy weather in a maritime climate. Tougher.

 

This last week, with Shadow and visiting family and my birthday. Exhilarating. Filled with love. Also exhausting.

I have decided to skip my son’s promotion ceremony in May. I will focus my energy and resources on the Jang family visit in late June or early July.

Seoah’s mom and dad, her brother, and her sister, possibly her sister’s husband, and three kids coming to the Rockies, to Conifer.

A once in a lifetime trip for them. I’m excited for them to be here. Seoah’s dad, in particular, loves Mountains. 8-10 days

 

Just a moment: The Ancient brothers theme this morning-what big question would we like answered. I have two.

How do we restore the flawed, yet wonderful government and culture we had only a month ago? What are the things that I can do to make that happen? Who are my allies?

How do we continue the work necessary for a sustainable human presence on Mother Earth? With climate deniers in the ascendancy around the world, at this critical juncture for global warming.

A second part of the topic responds to this Mike Nichol’s quote: “The only safe thing to do is take a chance. Play safe and you’re dead.” When did we last take chance?

Adopting Shadow is this year’s main chance. Can I do it? Will I be good for her? Can we create a life together?

 

 

 

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Friends, Politics, US History, World History

Love

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Ginny and Janice. Gabe. Happy Camper. Shabbat. Talmud Torah. Kabbalah. Cold weather. Snarfs. Ruth. CU-Boulder. Integrative Physiology. Jetplane to Incheon. The Jang family visit. My son’s promotion. Treats. Dogs.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Families of choice

Week Kavannah: Perseverance and Grit    Netzach

One brief shining: At 3 am while I slept Shadow Mountain emptied out with my son and Seoah headed to the airport, Gabe back home with his student I.D., Shadow sleeping outside the bedroom for the first time.

 

Too short a visit. In on Wednesday after a full day of travel, Casa Bonita, then Boulder with Ruth yesterday, home around 7 pm, then gone in the wee hours. My son and Seoah whom I saw last in September of 2023.

Here is your family portrait in the style of Hindu temple art with a Valentine’s Day theme

And yet. Yes to any amount of time. Hugs. Quiet conversations. Laughing. Creating new memories together. This all American family in which I have no blood connection. I was Jon’s step-father, so no blood with Ruth and Gabe. Joseph came into my life 43 years ago by plane from Calcutta. Seoah in 2016. Yet we love each other as any family does. Blood ties and love have no necessary connection. Just as ties with no blood and love have no necessary connection. Only the love we develop and nurture over years and decades.

My life has been rich in loving. And expands even now. My friend Luke. My friends Ginny and Janice. Shadow. Leo. Annie and Luna. Always Mark, Mary, Diane. The Ancient Brothers. The MVP group. Alan.

Not sure how I got so lucky. Found Kate. Together we loved so many dogs. Gardens. Bees and Trees. Places on this wide earth. From Gwangju, Korea to Inverness, Scotland. Each other.

A Valentine’s Day life in so many ways. And so grateful for each love. Every love. All of them.

 

Shadow would not come out of the bedroom yesterday. Too many people around? A regression? Both? Don’t know. Anyhow she slept outside the bedroom last night for the first time. I want/need to be able to interact with her and if we’re playing hide and seek all day that’s very hard.

Right now she’s comfortably beside my chair as I write this. We’ve greeted each other, nuzzled. She’s gotten treats and awaits her 8 am feeding. The consensus from my son, Seoah, Gabe, and Ruth is that she will be happy dog once she settles in. How long that will take? Uncertain. I’m willing to go the distance.

 

Just a moment: So. The American Vice-President, JD Vance, sits down with Germany’s Nazi’s OK! far right party, the AfD. Even pushes for them to be included in Germany’s parliament. The German chancellor said this: “A commitment to ‘never again’ is not reconcilable with support for the AfD,” NYT, 2/15/1025

That’s a spectacle that beggars history. The head of a German government chastising an American Vice-President for support of Nazi sympathizers. WTF?

No wonder American Jews feel threatened and American white supremacists feel emboldened. Putting a substantial nick in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

78

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Casa Bonita. Seoah. My son. Gabe. Shadow and her fears. 78 years. Happy birthday greetings from friends and family. Still upright and taking nourishment. Valentine’s Day. Duncan, Oklahoma. Mom. Dad. WWII. Baby boomers. Talking about my generation. The training of Shadow. Alan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah and Gabe and Ruth

Week Kavannah: Love  Ahavah

One brief shining: The Spanish Mission architecture, the bell tower, the hot pink facade with lines of diners snaking towards the doors, Casa Bonita, newly refurbished by makers of the South Park cartoons, improbable sources of English instruction for Seoah through her online English class, which brought us to our table deep in the Silver Mine section of this combination restaurant and amusement park, occupancy 2045.

 

78 birthdays. Median age of death for men in the U.S. 74.8. For the population as a whole 77.8. Whew. Just made it. Have had many conversations over this last year in which this oddity occurs. Geez, when I read about somebody that’s 80, my first thought? They’re old! Then. Wait a minute. I can see 80 from here. It’s just. Right. There.

In the first episode of Picard Jean-Luc looks out over his vineyard and says, “I’ve not been living; I’ve been waiting to die.” 3 years of episodes follow as he demonstrates what a retired Starfleet Admiral can do. My own motto is this: I intend to live until I die.

Sounds easy. A tautology even, right? Well, no. With TV, zoom, kindles, smart phones and tablets it’s simpler now than ever to push pause at a certain point and recede behind a wall of easy. To take on no new challenges. To forget about the world beyond illness and onrushing decrepitude. Have medical visits become the raison d’etrê for getting out of the house.

And. It is tempting. Especially for an introverted, mildly monastic temperament such as mine. I love being alone, on my own. Reading. Studying. Watching movies and TV. Cooking. Shopping. Following the world through newspapers and magazines.

Yet. Last year I finished my conversion to Judaism. This year so far I’m working with Shadow, a rescue whose fears make her a distinct challenge. I cherish my calls with friends and family on zoom. My breakfasts and lunches out with them.

I’m studying the Torah, parsha by parsha, using several modes of learning that are new to me. I continue to write Ancientrails, now in its 21st year.

My view is in this moment and ahead. Not looking back, except to write stories in Storyworth.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: I will not look away. Pretend that this delusional twit is not twisting the norms and purposes of our government to match his own paranoid fantasies. That best buddy Elon is not systematically destroying, breaking, tearing at the tissue which makes us who we are.

I continue to dream the impossible dream of a country true to the poetry on the Statue of Liberty. Of a country that is a place the world admires for its commitment to the rule of law and the health and welfare of its citizens.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

A Broken Heart, not a Hardened One

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Day 7, the Shadow trial. Cold. 4 this morning. My son and Seoah come tomorrow! The coup. The New Apostolic Reformation. Shadow. Rethinking politics. Resistance. Is powerful. Aging. Sarcopenia. Cancer. Puppy learning. Me learning puppy. Tired.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah here tomorrow

Week kavannah:  Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: At times I feel old, and by that I mean losing a sense of capacity, agency, as fingers trigger, my back says walking any distance is too far, the steady drumbeat of this medicine, that doctor, and at times I know that’s only my carapace, certainly part of my journey, the bearer of my soul, yet not my soul, not my mind, not my lev, other parts of my eternal journey that feel mature, enriched by years of experience in this most wonderful of worlds.

 

Margaret Renkl is one of my favorite NYT columnists. Here are two paragraphs from a column yesterday titled Tenderness as an Act of Resistance:

“Fury is a powerful motivator of resistance, but there is only so much rage a person can harbor without nurturing something cold and still and hard in the place where a warm, living heart once beat. Already I am exhausted by my own fury, and the second Trump presidency is only three weeks old…

Anger lets in too little beauty, but heartbreak? A tender heart feels the fury and the fear, the sorrow and suffering, the beauty and the bravery alike. In the years ahead, we will need them all.”

This reminded me of parsha Bo where Pharaoh’s heart hardens as Moses and Aaron confront him. Note: Pharaoh’s heart. The learning I’m taking from Renkl and Pharaoh is this: hardening the heart, though it may make taking action seem easier, ultimately leads to defeat.

What does that mean for us right now, in only the third week of an assault on our democracy? First it means we can’t look away. We need to see and feel the wrongness, understand and know the slings and arrows of outrageous politicians.

And we must allow our dream, a nation made of many, and of difference, and of laws, and of equity and fairness from sea to shining sea to crash into that wrongness and break our hearts.

The way of the open heart is not easy. But a tender heart, not a hardened one, is the only response that carry us through these next few years as Seed-Keepers of the American Dream.

In that way, when this storm of cruelty and avarice has blown out, we or those we have influenced with our tender hearts will still be strong, still be true, still be ourselves.

 

Just a moment: Got Shadow out of the bedroom once again. Her skittishness remains an inscrutable problem for me. She’s afraid of my voice, movement, things in her way. A fearful doggy. And, in touch with the thoughts above: it breaks my heart.

Still in it though. Working for a breakthrough to her trust.

Boulder, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, GeekWorld

Loss

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Monday gratefuls: Barb. Jen. Ruth and Gabe. Rabbi Jamie. My phone. My most asked question (to myself): where is my phone? MVP. CU-Boulder. Sushi. Pain. Back. First World Problems. Technology. Uncanny valley. AI. Wi-Fi. CPU’s. Graphics chips. Internet.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Electricity

Kavannah this week:  Curiosity. Sakranut

One brief shining: Sunday I got up and wrote Ancientrails, signed on to the Ancient Brothers to talk about love, got a text from Vince saying he could come with Levi to move my workout equipment which he did as Bill, the last of us five, still spoke, so I went downstairs to help Vince who stayed until nearly eleven when I had to leave for Boulder to pick up Ruth.

 

That was when I discovered my phone had scuttled off somewhere secret. Here, I knew, because I’d used it that morning. Conundrum. Keep looking for my phone so I can call Ruth? What if I can’t find it and I show up late? Then she’ll get anxious. I decided to look for five more minutes. Nope. Not here.

Leaving the house I felt naked and irritated that I wouldn’t be able to listen to the Hardfork Podcast about Deepseek. Drove a bit fast to avoid showing up late. Ruth has anxiety issues, as I have had. So I get it. About a fifty minute drive.

Got to Boulder. Ruth was in tears. She had, she said, called me five times. Including this voicemail:

“Hey, Grandpop. I’m waiting outside and you’re scaring me to death, so just call me if you get this, or I don’t know if you left your phone, or I don’t know, but I’m outside, so I’m hoping you’ll get here in a few minutes. Just call me.”

I felt for her, frustrated that with all the available tech I had I still had no way of connecting with her. We had a good lunch. I’d already set this up in the middle of last week, not knowing that her other grandma, Barb Bandel, would die Friday night. That made me even more frustrated because Ruth didn’t need more on her mind. Barb had been in declining health, but her death came with no forewarning. Her death means Ruth and Gabe lost Kate in 2021, their Dad in 2022, and now Barb. That’s a lot of loss. A lot of grief.

Meanwhile my back began grouching while we ate. My walking limit seems to be about a block, two at the most. This with an extra Tramadol already on board. The ride back tested my pain tolerance.

Back home I began looking for my phone. I’ve still not found it. I’m going to have to do a sector search I guess. I know it’s here because I asked Ruth to call me at 5 to see if I could locate it. She did, but, in the first of many confounding situations, the call came to my hearing aid. Which meant it didn’t help me locate the phone.

Did three what I considered thorough passes through the house last night. No joy. Asked chatbot for help. Alexa has a find your phone feature. Oh. I rarely, rarely use Alexa, but here was good use. Nope. The internet is not usable Alexa says. Odd, since I’m on it right now. We had very high winds last night, power went out four times, generator worked, but apparently it reset Alexa. And the Alexa app, which I need to reconnect her to wi-fi is, guess where? On my phone.

As is my ability to connect to Google Voice, which required a setup code sent to my phone. Arrrgghhh.

So, blehhhhh.

 

 

 

Asia, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Poetry

A comma, not a period

Leave a comment

Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Jon Bailey. Detailing my car. Seoah is coming. Casa Bonita. Valentine’s Day. #78. Fitbit. Charlie H. Ruby clean inside. Avocado Toast. Lox and English Muffins. Ruth’s excitement about her new Astronomy class. Gabe. Coming up Saturday to interview Rabbi Jamie. Sue Bradshaw. Josh. Kai. Evergreen Family Medicine.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Marilyn and Irv

Kavannah 2025: Creativity

Kavannah this week: Rachamim, compassion.  Practice-listening for the melody of the other.

One brief shining: Looking about the same except for a moon face, wondered if it was prednisone, my fellow traveler on the ancientrail of cancer sat in his chair, bookcases behind him, his lake out the window, and exhibited compassion, his melody a bit jagged after a year of death and illness, yet still poetic.

 

First iteration. A recruiting poster syle illustration of Mary Oliver’s quote

When Charlie H. said he was in remission, his surveillance pushed out to four months from the usual three, a sign of dramatic improvement, I felt an uncharitable son of a bitch why him and not me? I didn’t begrudge him at all the good news. No. Happy for him, but wondering why my cancer has proved so damned intractable.

Especially wondering today because yesterday I had four vials of blood drawn, one of which goes for testosterone and PSA lab work.

 

Reminded in that conversation of Paul’s online session with poet Jane Hirschfield. He reported two arresting sentences: Death is not a period, it’s a comma. And. Attention is your life.

second iteration after asking Chabot to correct the spelling of precious

A comma. “…a punctuation mark (,) indicating a pause between parts of a sentence.” Oxford Languages. Interesting to wonder about that sentence, the one in which your life this time might be an object or a subject, a life acted upon or a life acting on its own. What is the verb in the sentence? Verbs? Was there an adjective for this life of yours? Strong, passionate, weakened, vulnerable, clever, unusual? What is the cosmic sentence which the universe, in its polyvalent, multivalent way, has written that is yours and yours alone? It may be the work of a hundred lifetimes, learning how to read your own sentence.

One more thought on the comma. Learning to read each other’s sentence would allow us to glimpse the narrative line running through your time. A series of short stories, linked by the main character of your Self which, when combined, would be a novel in many volumes. Can you imagine the shelves in that Library of Alexandria?

What does that work require? Attention. To your own melody. To the melody of the other. To the moment, yes, of course. But also to the century, the year, the day, the hour. The millennium. Not different from the work of seeing. And hearing.

“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Mary Oliver’s “The Summer Day”

 

Just a moment: Welcome to the Year of the Snake. Although the Chinese zodiac correlates the snake as “simultaneously associated with harvest, procreation, spirituality, and good fortune, as well as cunning, evil, threat, and terror”, I can only see the last four in the American year of the snake.

 

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Mussar

Rachamim

Leave a comment

Yule and the almost full Quarter Century Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Vince and his friends. Their muscles. Moving day for my home gym. A couple of chairs. My new computer. The complete Pritzker Zohar. My classroom for the next few years. Year Tarot: The Archer, #7. Life Tarot: The Wheel, #10, and a shadow card, The Wanderer, #1. Wildwood Tarot. Going deeper, yet staying on the surface. Ruby and her Mountain ways. Talmud Torah

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Leaning in to mobility limitations

Kavannah for 2025: Creativity

Year card: The Archer, #7  “The Archer is located on the spring equinox, March 21. The time this card represents is sunrise. The Archer belongs to the Air element, bringing creative energy and inspiration. This Wildwood Tarot card makes meaning: the dawn of new life is beginning and a bumper season is coming.”  TarotX.net

Kavannah for this week: Wholeness and peacefulness  shleimut

One brief shining: Seeing my son over the thousands of miles, listening to him describe his life and work, hearing his melody loud and clear, a strong man, dedicated, caring, loving, thoughtful, a tune marked by doggedness and intelligence, commitment, warrior energy.

 

Here is the illustration in the style of an ukiyo-e print, visually interpreting the nurturing and generative qualities of compassion.

This new practice for the month, listening for the melody of the other, has proved challenging to recall. Its purpose is to train my rachamim muscle, my compassion, over against my din muscle, my justice muscle. Justice somehow got wired into my soul from a young age. Always ready to judge and enter the fight on behalf of others. Compassion came later, or at least in much smaller emergences than my desire to stop the war, further women’s rights, block capitalist greed, build affordable housing.

As I’ve aged, compassion (rachamim) has pushed its way forward. Perhaps because I have needed more compassion. Perhaps because aging can induce, and has for me, vulnerability. Life contains fewer and fewer chances, contains more and more tragedy and chaos. Reduced energy, at least for me, plays a role here, too. I don’t have the get up and struggle sort of vitality, physically, that I used to have. Also friendships and acquaintances have risen to top priority in my life. Following only family. To retain and sustain relationships compassion must show up first.

Did that shoulder slump? Is her head slightly tilted down? Is there a tightness in his voice? That foot tapping. Clock watching. Smiling without sarcasm. She leaned her head suddenly on to my shoulder. What do I know of the composer? What’s likely influencing this melody? Is it one I’ve heard before? Is it new? Is it shrill? Or is it like morning Bird song? My eye can be, must be my ear.

Both rachamim and the Hebrew word for womb share the same root. What can we imagine from this? Does compassion have a generative quality, creating a womb-like space for another’s soul to grow? Does compassion nurture over time, making it a necessary element of every interaction with another? Frequent exposure to your compassion may be the fertile Soil another’s soul needs to flourish.

Sometime I’ll write about din. Which sets aside compassion in the interests of equity, fairness, fighting oppression. Not today.