Category Archives: Feelings

Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase

Aging and its cultured despisers

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Phonak. Amy. Mile High Hearing. All body workout today. The Outpost. Emunah. Snow. Cold. A Mountain Winter. Still light on Snow. The Churning of the Sea of Milk. Angkor Wat. Siem Reap. Cambodia. The Mekong. Brother Mark on his way to Saudi. Eleanor, the Dog. Tara. Friendship. Men. CBE.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Eleanor, fluffy kind energy

Kavannah for 2025: Creativity

Kavannah for this January 7th life: Understanding. Bina

One brief shining: How many moments of wind carrying cold air over my bald head have to happen for me to have a good night’s sleep; or, how high do I have turn up the electric blanket which pleases me for reasons I cannot define; or, how much peace in my stomach and in my heart leads my mind into slowing down and slipping away into human sleep mode.

 

Here is the illustration inspired by Hokusai, depicting the essence of aging and Elderhood in a serene, nature-filled setting.

OK. Here’s a new pet peeve. Super agers. No, I’m not dissing them, whomever they are, for having won a genetic or geographic (blue zones) or good luck lottery. Good for them. Banners and candles and whatever else goes with it. Huzzah! Might we learn something valuable from their lives? I suppose so.

No. The peeve I have lies in the way we valorize certain individuals, lift them up as exemplars for what aging can be. That can have the effect, like all the hoohah about diet and exercise, of diminishing the perfectly normal aging most of us will experience.

The vast, vast bulk of us, somewhere north of 99.9% I imagine, live our lives doing the best we can, making decisions that impact our overall health in many ways, some good some not so good and often living out the consequences of a genetic heritage in which we had no choice.

Super agers. Centenarians. The tail of the bell curve, the one sloping to the right. Are they our role models? What about the poor bastards on the other end of the curve with disabilities of all kinds. With limited resources to realize the dreams of the American Immortal.

I do not consider myself poor because I have less money than Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk. And more importantly I don’t want to have that money. It’s not a perfect analogy of course.

Would l want to have the supple brain and over-70 Olympian’s body of these wunderkind of the Sun City set? Yes. I would. Didn’t happen for me. Am I a less good person, is my aging somehow less than? No. I’m at 77 and-here’s the comparison I like-above ground and taking nourishment.

What I’m pleading for here is a way to accept and celebrate aging in all its varieties, all its super and non-super manifestations. There’s no one way to do aging right. There’s your way and my way and, yes, the way of the .001%. Everybody who manages to slip past, say 65, deserves the honor and recognition of Elderhood, something our society, our individualistic, youth oriented, success infested society has drained away from us. To its peril.

End of rant.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Holidays, Judaism, Woolly Mammoths

Men. In their awkwardness. Beautiful.

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Yule and a beautiful crescent of the Quarter Century Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Torah study. Men’s group at CBE. Flat bread with lox and onion. Pescatarians. Ruth skiing. Such joy. Gabe and his puzzles. 9 degrees. New Snow. Driving in the dark. A boost. Diet. Changing. Matt. Rob. Bill. Jamie.  The mesh bag. Neck weakness. January 20th.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Men, struggling with their hearts

Kavannah for 2025: Creativity

Kavannah for this January 5th life: Persistence

One brief shining: Drove back last night from the men’s group at CBE graced by the waxing crescent of the Quarter Century Moon; its soft light radiated by a Mountain Fog illuminating the Arapaho National Forest and the curves of Brook Forest Drive, then Black Mountain Drive until Shadow Mountain Home appeared out of the mist, welcoming me.

 

Got a boost yesterday. Community working its magic. During Torah study in the morning I still felt pressed down, disengaged. Distant. But Luke came up and gave me a big hug. Ginny smiled to see me. I felt seen. Though. Still coasting at a slow low place when I left.

Came back and did nothing until 5:30 when I left to go back to CBE for the first meeting of the men’s group. Buzzed the door. Got let in by a guy I didn’t know. Then I let in a  couple of other guys, neither of whom I knew. One of them, Matt, turned to get his nametag. Oh, good idea, I said. I’m usually good for one a day he said.

Steve brought flat bread with lox and onions. Made by his wife. I brought my go to mandarin Oranges in my new mesh bag. Joe brought miniature rugalach and date bars. Jamie tossed a handful of leftover Hanukkah gelt on the table. Chips and dip appeared. Finger food. Manly interpretations.

The conversation had that awkward I don’t know you tone, things held back, laughing. I only knew Jamie and Steve. Steve just a little. As we navigated telling bits and pieces of our stories, wondering who resided behind the careful words, I felt myself easing onto familiar ground.

When it came my turn, the Woolly Mammoths came out naturally. 40 years of learning how to get behind the careful words, the fear of vulnerability, with other men. Men trained by American culture and in this case reinforced by Jewish culture that feelings were at best anti-competitive. At worst they could…well, you know, don’t you?

Sensing the journey ahead and enjoying the tender feelers put out, an occasional smile, a sad look, a story that told more than intended, my downward emotional Dog began to shift to a Sun Salutation. I didn’t expect that to happen, but it did. Not all the way back to normal, no, not at all, but buoyed up all the same.

 

Just a moment: Tomorrow some Christians celebrate the Magi’s visit to the lowly manger in which the Son of God was born. And Trump will trumpet the day of love which the bulk of us call insurrection. MAGA or Magi? Even as a Jew I’m going with the Magi.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase

I sense you’re slipping

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Yule and the Quarter Century Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Candles. Snow. Torah study. CBE Men’s group. Feeling low. Workouts going well. 2025. Brother Mark. Mary. Seoah. My son. Murdoch. How do I feel? Acting. Erleada. Orgovyx. Medicare drug policy. Orcas. Sadness. Mountain dark Morning. Black Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: AI

Kavannah for 2025: Creativity

Kavannah for the January 4th life: Yirah. Awe, amazement, wonder.

One brief shining: Had a strange moment at breakfast with Alan, my tone and demeanor was soft, repressed, as if I were muted emotionally; nothing to do with Alan, whom I delighted to see after he had been gone a month, the strangeness coming in my lack of awareness that I felt this way, as if I had to have an old friend as a mirror to see myself.

 

Here is the image you requested, capturing a melancholic atmosphere inspired by Breughel’s style, blending positive and negative emotions with a surreal touch

Depressive genes run in our family. And, for Mary, Mark, and me the epigenetics after mom’s early death  pushed us each in different directions, yet pushed we were in unwelcome and unexpected ways. The Myth of Normal, an interesting if difficult read, says we all grow into adulthood with trauma overlaying our development, no matter our family of origin. There is, in its conceit anyway, no normal developmental path, only paths damaged in ways unique to each human.

Kate had a task set her by John Desteian, my former Jungian analyst. When she felt it, she was to tell me, “I sense you’re slipping into melancholy.” That she needed to do that helps explain the strangeness I felt at breakfast with Alan. That was me channeling Kate back to my self.

This might explain, too, my veering toward the past of late, and veering not toward its joyous times, rather those instances of loss, of failing to achieve the goal. Why this happens, much like my brother Mark’s much more intense struggles, is not clear. I can  find no particular precipitating event in my recent past.

Challenges, I just realized, my practice for this month in which I say to events I first valence as negative or bad: This too is for the good. This mussar practice forces me to pull the lens back, see an event in a broader or deeper context. How does melancholy fit into my life as a whole? Into what I need, really need, right now? Can it serve a purpose not evident in the way it makes me feel? What might that purpose be?

I’m not sure. The start of a New Year, even if you eschew resolutions as I have, can bring introspection if only by looking back on the year just past. Or, maybe I have it backwards and the fact that the past has come to visit me is the cause rather than the effect.

Perhaps I need, for some deeper psychic reason, to explore this ancientrail I have walked since February 14th, 1947 when I first saw the light of day. Melancholy pauses life, slows it down, turns it inward. Is it something I need to find a way to change or is it something I need to listen to, understand its role in my life right now? I don’t know.

These turns of heart can run toward danger if they get too far into the realm of regret or shame, but that’s not what I feel. I feel as if my heart has had a dark molasses poured over it, obscuring the present, making the now less immediate. Privileging then the look inward.

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Literature, Memories, Minnesota

The Skein of our Lives

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Yule and the 2% crescent of the Yule Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Honesty. To others and self. Yule darkness. The days between the Winter Solstice and the New Year. 5th day of Hanukkah. The Maccabees. The oil in the Temple Menorah. Good workout yesterday. Chatbotgpt. Ruth and Gabe. Mark and Mary. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Rich. Ron. Alan. Diane back home. That long dive into the deep end of my mind.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Lev

Kavannah: Love (ahavah) and Persistence

One brief shining: Reading Michael Moorcock’s The War Hound and the World’s Pain I followed von Bek through Hell, through Mittlemarch, or Middle Earth, out to the world as we know it always hunting for the cure for the world’s pain until finally at the edge of the forest near heaven he receives a clay cup that signals his oh, so ordinary enlightenment while representing the culmination of human striving.

 

I have these threads weaving through my life and my heart as we head toward the quarter century mark of the first century of the third millennium. In no particular order: kabbalah, mussar, friendships, family, writing, the nature rights legal movement, Mountains and Shadow Mountain, Wild Neighbors, reading for Herme’s Journey, exercise, cancer, back pain, books of all sorts, travel, Seed-Keepers, telling my story, Ancientrails. AI. Judaism. Paganism.

And, of course, there is the wider context for all these: Kate, politics, organizing, Christianity, paganism, alcoholism, Jungian therapy, the Wooly Mammoths, Minnesota, the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra, Raeone and Judy, Tina, seminary, Alexandria, the Andover years, the Peaceable Kingdom, all those dogs.

There is the third place of the lev, as well. Or, perhaps better, the lev as a third place in which all these coexist, influence each other, reaching over and shaking hands, embracing. Pushing away. Denying. Erasing. Recreating. Nothing is static. All effects All. Moving not necessarily forward or backward, up or down, but in and out, releasing new energy with each penetration, impregnating the moment so something novel can grow, reach out for something else and keep the whole underway.

 

Yes. We loved each other.

Let me give you a modest example. Last night I decided to have an English muffin with peanut butter plus the last bit of the unfrozen Senate navy bean soup. As the English muffin toasted and the soup warmed in the microwave, I got out the peanut butter and thought. Hmm. Honey.

Reached into the cabinet, moved a box of sugar, and there sat a small canning jar with a handwritten label: Artemis Honey. In Kate’s beautiful cursive. She came. Standing there with the uncapping knife, honey super in hand, looking beautiful and engaged. The Andover years where we worked as one. Dogs. Vegetables. Flowers. Bees. And the chamber quartet we commissioned for our wedding. The honeymoon. Living in the move as we prepared to come to Colorado.

For a long moment I stood there. Before I reached in. Should I eat this? As if it were the last piece of her, of our life together. The honey harvest. Of course I can eat this now, a holy communion, a eucharist. Her body and mine together again if only for a moment.

I spread a bit of the wonderful thick amber colored honey over my peanut butter. And ate it.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health

There, there Charlie. You’re ok.

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Yule and the Yule Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shabbat candles burned clean. Joseph and the famine in Egypt. Self-delusion. Seeing the World as it is, neither through dogma nor ideology. Allowing the news to penetrate but not instigate. Living this day, this December 28th, 2024 life, to the fullest. Without worry for tomorrow or regret about yesterday. Patience with my self; perseverance held lightly.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Honest introspection

Kavannah: Patience (savlanut) and perseverance

One brief shining: Going from this formerly small household task to the next, let’s say emptying the dish washer or cleaning off the cutting board, making an easy breakfast, filling the coffee maker with water, and often having to stop between them, out of breath, tired, needing to sit down, not dispirited, but pushing myself into an old realm of self-knowledge, a lesson learned again and again, exercise: cardio and resistance. Exercise.

 

Here’s an oddity. When I went to bed on Thursday night, my head was stuffy. I’d had bouts of feverishness and felt achy. Oh, I said. A cold. So I sent a note to my Friday night Hanukkah visitors saying I might have a cold, might need to cancel. When I got up yesterday morning, I still ached and my nose was stuffy. Wanting to give Ruth, Gabe, Veronica, and Luke plenty of time to make other plans, I sent out a note saying yes I had a cold. That I did not want to share. So Friday night was off.

Finished up Ancientrails and went downstairs for breakfast. Hmm. My nose was clear. I was not achy. I did not have a cold. Okay. Weird. But, good, right? Well, no. I’d ruined the evening already. So I felt a brief pulse of regret, maybe even a slight wash of shame. False pretenses, eh?

Result: I spent Friday trying to convince myself I did in fact have a cold. I rested and drank plenty of fluids. Yes, in order to slough off the regret and the shame, I lied to myself for awhile. Finally, I thought, this is stupid. You’re not sick.

So now I had doubled the problem by misidentifying a cold and then trying to convince myself I hadn’t been wrong. I know. I know. Convoluted, eh? The lengths…

Sat myself down. You did think you had a cold. You did what you thought was responsible. The only problem here is the regret and the shame. Oh, well, when you put it that way. I took myself off the hook. Said there, there. You’re still a good person.

This too is for the good. My practice this month. For perceived negative, “bad” things that happen. In the healing rush of honest introspection I also looked at my shortness of breath. Yes, I’ve let things slide, tried to do exercise my way and it’s not working.

What’s the solution? Back to cardio and resistance. 30 minutes, five days a week. Might move my treadmill downstairs. Gonna measure spaces and the treadmill today.

This is why my kavannah for the day are patience and perseverance. I need to be patient with myself while persevering in my exercise.

Feelings, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, World History

Hanukkah Veronica Harmonica

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Yule and the Yule Moon

Thursday (Boxing Day) gratefuls: Ron Solomon. Bread Lounge. Jamie. Nate and Laurie. Hanukah. Veronica. Harmonica. Diane. Vancouver, Washington. Bangkok. Brisbane. Songtan. Conifer. Shadow Mountain. Snow. Slick Mountain roads. Friends and family. Ruby with her Winter Blizzaks on. Grippy. Minnesota winter weather drivers ed. 40 years.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The power of conversation

Kavannah: Creativity

One brief shining: Went up the ridged metal stairs to the second story restaurant in Evergreen, walking with Ron, got in through the exit as a departing customer opened the door to the Breadlounge, and we passed through it, on in where we ordered.

 

Hanukkah. Now has Holiseason all to itself, having snuck in on Christmas evening with its menorah and its candles and its lets imitate Christmas so the kids don’t feel out  left out tone. A pile of cardboard boxes overwhelms an easy chair in my living room. Gifts from all over for Ruth and Gabe. Tomorrow night. Quite a haul. No Santa. Just family and friends.

Going to Tony’s tomorrow morning to buy a big salmon fillet, small round potatoes or mashed potatoes from the deli cabinet. A vegetable side dish from the deli, too. An easy shabbat meal. Veronica plans on coming, too, since she has no one to light candles with.

One of my friends suggested I buy her a harmonica so I could give a harmonica to Veronica on Hanukkah. Ordered a cheap one from Amazon just for that purpose. An alliteration celebration. Ha.

 

How about this Washington Post headline? “Israel strikes Yemen airport as WHO chief prepares to board plane.” What would you say? Oops. The face of Middle East politics has changed often and significantly since October 7 of a year ago. In unanticipated ways. The shakeout after all this calms down will last for years. Realignments. Held grudges. Blame and shame to go around.

While I’m pro-Palestinian and pro-Israel, I’m not pro-Iran or Hezbollah or Houthis. I have no real clue about the new boss, same as the old boss? in Syria. And how do Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt fit into this puzzle? They don’t like the same people Israel doesn’t like. Shia’s.

Or we could look at Ukraine. An old fashioned war of territorial expansion by a former great power. That keeps going, and going, and going. Now with North Korean soldiers and arms. With China in the bleachers cheering on Russia while we’ve gotten down close to the action on the field along with our allies in NATO.

Is there a graceful or peaceful solution in either center of conflict? Not in my mind.

Throw in then the America First sorta agenda of Donald Trump. He says end Hamas, Hezbollah, and damage Iran. Go, team Israel. He also backs the Putin machine bearing down on the Ukrainian people.

Can you say fuel to the fire?

We’re in a world without a hegemon and regional actors have begun to take their shots. Russian in Ukraine. Israel and the Shia in the Middle East. Will China restrain itself in the instance of Taiwan?

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Meal Time

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Monday gratefuls: Rich and Doncye. That 529. Captive money. Jon’s 56th birthday tomorrow. Lunch with Ruth in Boulder. Lunch with Joanne today. Dinner at Evoke 1923 with Veronica on Sunday. Our year anniversary for our conversion. By the lunar calendar. Birthday brunch with Luke yesterday at Sassafras.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Regular workouts. Feeling stronger.

Kavannah: Persistence and Joy

One brief shining: Sassafras has a Cajun inspired menu and tables distributed throughout the rooms of two old Victorian homes connected to each other; when Luke came we ordered beignets with the usual heavy load of powdered sugar, then fried green tomatoes Benedict for him, grits and Shrimp for me, a nod to his southern roots and his 33rd birthday. We took a short walk afterward in this hipster neighborhood of Victorian and brick homes.

 

chatbot at my prompt. in the style of Botticelli

Beginning to find a calling in breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Eating out with friends. Keeps me fed, enhances and sustains relationships. Conversation over food, another hominid in the veldt experience. As old as humanity itself. Odd way to live, I guess, solitary and happy, yet also punctuated with laughter and deep talk. Visiting breakfast and lunch spots, fancier places for dinner. Adds 3-D moments to my zoom talks with other friends and family.

When I think about it, not too different from the way I worked while I did organizing out of my Minneapolis West Bank (Mississippi, not Jordan) office. I would meet people for breakfast and lunch, eat, discuss plans, get things started or nurture ongoing work relationships. One big difference: no agenda these days other than showing up, seeing and being seen.

 

chatbot image

Yin/Yang. Masculine and feminine. Man and woman. Gender fluidity. Animus and anima. Queer and straight. Non-binary. Trans. Thinking about all of these lately. Wondering how they intersect, influence each other. Not going to tread too far into these Waters, but I do find the animus/anima, yin/yang, masculine/feminine polarities provocative.

On the MMPI, which I took many times while in seminary, I always spiked the M/F scale. Here’s the summary of a high scores potential meaning for a man:

  • May indicate interests and behaviors that are traditionally considered feminine (e.g., interest in the arts, sensitivity, or gentleness).
  • Possibly challenges or discomfort with traditional male roles.

In times past this scale often identified such high scorers as either actually or potentially homosexual. Wrong. It did and does signal the influence of animus and anima, yin and yang energies in a person. In my case it correctly identifies what Kate called my androgynous personality. A straight male heavily inflected with anima. Probably the deep influence of Mom in my life. Not an unusual finding for men in the ministry, in helping professions.

I also scored high on the 4 scale for psychopathic deviation. This represented my unwillingness to conform to social norms and my ongoing political struggle with a racist, sexist, homophobic, classist culture. This was an unusual finding for men in the ministry, but it sure fit my personality. And, still does.

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism

Blah. Bah.

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Rich Levine. Small Estate Affidavit. The arcane lore of the law. The law itself. Making and enforcing laws. Judges. Lawyers. Police. Detectives. Canon law. Bishops. Diocese. Bishop Joe Strickland. Life in spite of. A good life in spite of. Seed-Keeping. Soil. Roots and Rhizomes. The Light-Eaters. Zöe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Boulder

Kavannah: Perseverance and love (ahavah)

One brief shining: As I drive down the hill, and everything is down the hill from my home on Shadow Mountain, the lights have gone up, pushing that holiseason instinct to brave the advancing darkness by illuminating it, brilliant tiny bulbs of all colors strung along eaves, up a forty-foot Colorado Spruce, on wires from a tall pole to form a tree of lights, we are still here they say, look at what we can do.

 

I have only one thing that carries a weight for me. You might think prostate cancer, but no. That’s not it. It’s transferring the money from Kate’s 529 accounts for Ruth and Gabe to my own. I want to start giving Ruth money. Since last August. My formophobia notwithstanding I have dutifully sent off three packets of declarations, forms, and certificates. Still no joy.

Dealing with it makes me tense, jaw tightens. Teeth clench. My emotional resilience plummets. Not good for problem solving. Especially over the phone, to call center employees. Some who can do this, but not that. Those who can do that are not available and will call me back. Right.

Reached out to Bond and Devick, my financial planners, since they’re in Minnesota and it’s a Minnesota program. They helped me. Sort of. Going to see Rich tomorrow. If I can, I’m going to hand it to him and ask him to finish this for me. I want it off my back.

 

Going to see Rabbi Jamie tomorrow after mussar. Twice in the past month I’ve encountered a barrier within that I didn’t know existed. I believe my flat affect stems from its grip on me. The barrier is enough.

My first encounter with it was on my second visit to my medical oncologist, Dr. Buphati. I’d gone to that meeting expecting clarity about the status of my advanced prostate cancer. When I discovered they did not have my PSA results, drawn in their office three weeks before, I hit the barrier.

As if a train of cars, each one carrying a different emotional cost levied over the whole of my nine year plus cancer experience piled up, each one pushing against the other with the force of inertia gained over time and distance.

Over most of those nine plus years I’ve tried to deal straight up with the news about this change or that, move on to the next step, treading that fine line between being informed and responsible as a patient and trusting my doctors as Kate asked me to do. Sure, I’ve had times when fear overcame me, uncertainty pushed me to my knees, but each time I got back up. In this moment, at that visit I could not get back up.

Though I left after that visit with a feeling of doom and sadness overwhelming me, I drove home without incident and did right myself later in the day.

For some reason I cannot recall the second time right now. Not the trigger that is. But the feeling? Oh, yes. Here’s a different metaphor. Have you ever worked in or been in a factory where they had heavy doors attached to a counterweight with a chunk of lead in the cable holding the door open? If there’s a fire, the lead melts and the counterweights engage pulling the door closed to protect whatever lies beyond it.

That sort of feeling. As if what has gone before has been so much, that my feelings slammed my inner world shut. Trapping those feelings that threatened to engulf me.

It doesn’t surprise me that these moments have come to visit. The last ten years have held more tough times than I can recall. Yet I feel I’ve learned how to navigate the grief and the fear neither ignoring nor denying it, while not being captive to it either. In spite of that I have had death, divorce, and disease as my constant companions over the last ten years. I have not forgotten that. I don’t dwell on it, but the memories and the feelings remain stored within me.

When I stepped into this new period of uncertainty about my prostate cancer, right after my bar mitzvah ironically, I’ve gone up and down. Sometimes steady. Sometimes not. The most current manifestation of these feelings has been a flat affect, not down, not up. Blah. Unmotivated. Slow. Tired. Very much like acedia.

The door to my inner world slammed shut. Bottling up my exuberance and joy.

I don’t like living blah. My life means more to me.

 

Asia, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Wheel, Holidays, Judaism, Paganism

A Way Back

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Samain and the Yule Moon

Bush_turkey Jim Bendon from Karratha, Australia

Shabbat gratefuls: Body weight workouts. Brush Turkeys in Queensland. Lizards in K.L. Asia. Korea. Songtan. Beijing. Kate, my son, and I traveled there. 1999. Japan. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Ruth and Gabe. Mary and Mark. Oz and Malaysia. Black Friday. Advent. AI prompts. Yule. The 12 days of Christmas. Feeling flat.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Light-Eaters, Zöe Schlanger

Kavannah: Perseverance and chesed. Love.

One brief shining: Ever have that pit of your stomach feeling that something marvelous lay just out of reach, if only you could get yourself organized, find the time, open yourself fully to the possibility; I do each time I look at the green candle made by Vance Kitire, never lit since I bought it with the lovely throw rug years ago; and why you might ask, because whenever I begin and sustain a writing project I always light a candle before I begin writing for the day.

A Pagan Yule. Chatbotgpt

 

That candle contains the promise of an immersion in another world, a world of fantasy, one created by me in which I find life emerging in its own peculiar way, no less real than IRL. An embrace of another personality. Both within me and within the work itself. Yet the candle remains in its as created state. Untouched by flame. The flame that signals to me work has begun.

This does not, most of the time, feel like a burden. Most of the time it reminds me that I have another version of myself that I love. One committed to the daily work of writing a novel. I await his emergence again, his claim on my time, on my mind and heart, on my imagination. No, not waiting on inspiration, but on an inner consolidation of intention, idea, and joy.

How do I lift myself up? Find that small lever that elevates my mood? Not from the abyss, not from melancholy, but from, perhaps oh archaic sin, acedia*. I’m not a sin oriented guy anymore. Hamartia, missing the mark of my values, yes. Sin, no. But I do recognize the flat affect of acedia and when it dominates, as it does right now, I search for teshuvah. A way to return to the land of my soul. A way I’ve wandered off and for the moment have forgotten.

Mussar offers a way to adjust our inner life by acting as if. Acting as if we persevere, as if we have compassion, as if we experience joy. I’ve used mussar to get back to working out by working out. At first a bit at a time, then back to a full diet as my neshama “remembers” who I am, one who cares for his body.

Perhaps a writing schedule, as I have for Ancientrails. I long ago ritualized the writing of Ancientrails. It is the first thing I do after waking up, saying the shema, and taking my pills. I write until finished. Only then do I eat breakfast. BTW: Ancientrails will finish its twentieth year next February.

I could do Ancientrails, breakfast, write 500 to a 1,000 words on a project, then exercise. After that read. Commit to exercise during the day rather than a half-hour after breakfast. That could work. Think I’ll try it.

 

*The word acedia comes from the Greek word akēdeia, which means “an inert state without pain or care”.
Acedia is considered one of the seven deadly sins, or capital vices. It’s often described as a “noonday demon”. Some say that acedia can arise from the social and spatial restrictions of a solitary monastic life.

 

 
Feelings, Fourth Phase

The Deep End has little water

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Monday gratefuls: Israel. Palestinians. Hezbollah. Hamas. Iran. U.S.A. China. Korea. Japan. Taiwan. Hawai’i. Snow. Cold night. Good sleeping. Cooking. Mark, good self care. Mary. Pleasure. Sticking it out. Nexus. A.I. Small tasks to get done. Agency.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Coffee

Kavannah: Perseverance and Love

One brief shining: Silence when I go to bed, a Mountain stillness fills my property, peace radiates from the cosmic void punctuated by oh so tiny from my perspective Stars, Galaxies, and Nebulae, and I approach sleep with the attitude of a learner, what will my unconscious teach me this night knowing that in the morning I will awake refreshed and ready to live yet one more life. Love.

 

A feeling that dominated the end of the Ancient Brothers on love. For me. Enough. I’ve had enough. My emotional resilience has drained until the pool is nearly empty. Not enough of love, never enough of love. But of problem solving, of illness and death and the ascendance of cruelty and meanness in our country. I need to consider how to refill the pool in case I need to take a deep dive. Right now? Probably break my neck.

This feeling surprised me. As most of you know, I’m a put my head down, keep the legs churning sorta guy. Switching metaphors here. Even a rushing linebacker would find me making a spin move and heading for open field. In this moment I’d get tackled just beyond the line of scrimmage. An odd word, scrimmage, eh?

I’m fine. Not down or feeling melancholy. Just aware that I need something to help me restore my soul. Refresh it. Not sure what I can do. Think I’ll ask Rabbi Jamie.

Here’s what chatbotgpt4.o has to offer.* Good advice. Not quite specific enough for me.

Perhaps the keys for me right now are 6 and 7. Maintain my new workout regimen, step it up as I planned to do this week anyhow. Positive outlook. I don’t have a negative outlook, but I don’t have a positive one either.

I do look forward to more Snow, Fire in the fireplace, to the many celebrations of Holiseason. I look forward to reading more, talking with friends as I regularly do. Going to mussar. Thanksgiving with Ruth and Gabe. Petting Leo. Continuing to see Ruth in Boulder. My son’s visit in January. A visit to Korea in May.

Self care never ends. Well, until it does. But how we do it, what we do has to be nimble, adaptive to changed circumstances.

Let’s see. Perhaps counting the ways could be helpful.

Practice self-compassion: The Ancient Brothers. Alan and Joanne. Marilyn and Irv. Ginny and Janice. Luke and Leo. Ruth and Gabe. Acknowledging the challenges I’ve had and how I’ve faced them head on, not blinking. Thrived.

Mindfulness and relaxation: I do box-breathing. I pay attention, close attention, to the sacred in the ordinary. If stressed, I pick out five things I’m seeing or hearing right then. Once in a while l use a mantra to deepen an experience or go deep in my psyche.

Maintain Social Connections: I’ve become so much better at this after Kate died. I talk to friends and family often.

Develop Problem-Solving Skills: Bandaged my gushing finger. Keep my home going. Write about problems, ask friends for help. Pretty good at this.

Goals and Actions: A little light on this one right now. Trip to Korea. Maintaining my circle of friends. That’s about it.

Seek Professional Help: May reach out to Rabbi Jamie. I feel essentially ok, just depleted.

 

Chatbotgpt4.o

*Replenishing emotional resilience involves adopting strategies that enhance your ability to cope with stress and adversity. Here are several approaches to consider:

  1. Practice Self-Compassion: Treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would offer a friend. This involves acknowledging your struggles without harsh self-criticism and recognizing that difficulties are a shared human experience.
    Wikipedia
  2. Engage in Mindfulness and Relaxation Techniques: Incorporate practices such as meditation, deep breathing exercises, or yoga into your routine. These activities can help manage stress and improve emotional regulation.
    Calm Blog
  3. Maintain Social Connections: Building and nurturing relationships provides emotional support and a sense of belonging, which are crucial for resilience. Engage with friends, family, or community groups to foster these connections.
    Wikipedia
  4. Develop Problem-Solving Skills: Enhance your ability to tackle challenges by brainstorming potential solutions and taking proactive steps. This approach can boost confidence in your capacity to handle adversity.
    Calm Blog
  5. Set Realistic Goals and Take Decisive Actions: Break down larger objectives into manageable steps and take action toward achieving them. This process can provide a sense of accomplishment and forward momentum.
    Verywell Mind
  6. Cultivate a Positive Outlook: Focus on positive aspects of your life and practice gratitude. This mindset can broaden your perspective and build psychological resources over time.
    Wikipedia
  7. Prioritize Physical Health: Regular exercise, adequate sleep, and a balanced diet contribute to overall well-being, which supports emotional resilience. Physical activity, in particular, has been shown to alleviate symptoms of depression and anxiety.
    Mindbodygreen
  8. Seek Professional Support When Needed: If you find it challenging to cope, consider consulting a mental health professional who can provide personalized strategies and support.