Category Archives: Third Phase

Springtime of the Soul (& the Equinox)

Fall                                                                                       Harvest Moon

“Just as we can experience the Death and Resurrection of the God in the Easter season in spring, so can we experience in the autumn the death and resurrection of the human soul, i.e. we experience resurrection during our life on earth…”  Festivals and Their Meaning, Rudolf Steiner

The Archangel Michael (left), Gabriel (right) and Raphael accompany Tobias. Francesco Botticini, 1470; Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence. Source: Joachim Schäfer
The Archangel Michael (left), Gabriel (right) and Raphael accompany Tobias.
Francesco Botticini, 1470; Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence.

Today is Michaelmas, the feastday of Michael the Archangel. British universities start their terms today, the Michaelmas term. Following Steiner, I have, for some years, seen Michaelmas as the beginning of a long period for soul cultivation. It is not, I think, an accident that the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, falls in the same period.

These are, too, harvest festivals, falling near the autumnal equinox. It makes sense to me to begin the New Year as the growing season ends.  Samain, Summer’s End, in the Celtic calendar, marks the finish of the harvest festivals and the beginning of the fallow time. It is also the Celtic New Year.

Last night at Congregation Beth Evergreen I waited for Kate while she took Hebrew. Where I chose to sit filled up with religious school kids, bouncing with tweeny energy. Rabbi Jamie Arnold came down to talk to them about the shofar and the upcoming New Year. He talked about Rosh Hashanah and described it as a moment when the creation can begin anew. It is possible, he said, for each of us to start life anew on Rosh Hashanah. I like this idea and the question it poses: Who do you want to be in the New Year?

Marc Chagall, Shofar
Marc Chagall, Shofar

I’m going to consider this question over the next few days before Kate, Jon and I attend the Rosh Hashanah service on October 2nd at Beth Evergreen.

Another way to pose this question is, how do I want to nourish my soul in this, its springtime? What practices can I use? Kate and I have begun to seriously wrestle with the Jewish spiritual practice of Mussar, as I’ve mentioned here before. It will be one lens through which I approach the possibility of a new being, a new me.

Yet. That new me will have a strong relation to the man who harvested years of friendships over the last week in Minnesota. He will have a strong relation to the man who hears, Grandpop!, from Ruth and Gabe. He will have a strong relation to the man who loves Lynne Olson, and Kate, too. He will have a strong relation to the man who is several dogs’ companion. He will have a strong relationship to the man who writes novels. He may be a new man, yet still the old one, too.

Acts of Creation

Lugnasa                                                       Superior Wolf Moon

20160808_151614_001Just to let you know that the Superior Wolf Moon daily reminder has been working. I’m over 17,000 words into this new novel. It feels like some of the best work I’ve done. Of course, I always think that at the beginning of a project.

Kate’s birthday is tomorrow. 72. She works as hard now as she did when I first met her though she may not be able to sustain the work as long as she could. Neither can I. She’s remarkable and I’ll have a birthday post for her later today.

On Friday, buddy Mark Odegard has his “Bridges of the Mississippi” opening. He’s been working for the last year or so on this wonderful print series. It’s a contemporary, jazzy look at these important connectors. We think of crossing the Mississippi every day as a non-event, usually. And that’s because of these bridges that he has memorialized. They’re the often ignored civil engineering projects that make the Twin Cities possible. He’s made a unique contribution to our seeing them, an artist’s true task, sharpening and nuancing our perceptions of the world around us.

On a similar note, Jon Olson, step-son and art teacher, has developed a unique print making style that utilizes found, crushed metal objects. He picks them up from the sides of highways and streets, brings them here or to his art classroom in Aurora, inks them up and runs them through a press. In this way he’s printing directly from the object, like Mark, sharpening and nuancing our perceptions of the world around us.

Shadow Mountain Journal August 5th

Lugnasa                                                                Superior Wolf Moon

fire ban cropped

County officials lifted the fire ban, a level II, which bans all fires in Jefferson County, at midnight last night. We’ve had a few cool, wet days in a row. As August continues, the fire danger tends to decrease, though doesn’t fade until sometime in September.

Jon’s back in his art room, getting ready for his students. The grandkids come up today for the day. The divorce continues to rake its nails across all our lives. How to be gracious is a challenge. But, a good one.

Kate and I went over to Bear Creek Designs in Evergreen yesterday. We made an appointment for Monday to pick out materials for the bathroom remodel. “Oh, aging in place renovation?” Molly asked, “Getting out ahead of it, eh?” Yes, the work over the next few years will take into account the fact that after February we’ll both be in our 70’s. Just part of the third phase.

 

 

The Harvest Season Is Nigh

Summer                                                                    Park County Fair Moon

Jon, Ruth, GabeInto Denver for the Denver County Fair today with Jon and the grandkids. Our county and state fairs, stocked with canned goods and quilts and wholesome teenagers with Guernseys and prize boars, are in the Lughnasa spirit. Lughnasa, starting on August 1st, is a Celtic holiday of first fruits. Also called Lammas in the Catholic tradition, villagers brought bread baked from the first wheat to mass.

Each of the cross quarter days in the Celtic calendar: Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasa and Samhain were the occasion for weeklong market fairs. Goods were sold, contracts for marriage and work made and broken, dancing happened around bonfires, general merriment abounded as individuals tied to the grinding daily labor of subsistence agriculture found themselves with time free for fun.

In our hearts we are a rural country still and there is something deeply satisfying about seeing sheep, cows, chickens, rabbits in competition for some mysterious (to city dwellers, now the dominant fair goer type) prize. Yes the number of family farms is at its lowest point in the nation’s history, but we have a communal memory of the time when most of us lived on the small farms that used to dot the land. In fact that small farming culture was often subsistence farming, very similar to the sort of rural life in the Celtic countries of Ireland, Wales, Scotland, Breton, and Cornwall.

It is this underlying sensibility of lives lived close to the land that seems so absent from our political discourse in this election. We are a people of the plow, the barn, the hay rick. We masquerade as global sophisticates, but in truth the itch to grow tomatoes or to have a small herb garden is as American as, well, apple pie, which we will see on display at the Denver County Fair, I have no doubt.

Lughnasa begins the harvest season which continues through the feast of Mabon at the autumnal equinox and ends on Samhain, or Summer’s End. It is one of my favorite times of the year, only the dead of winter is better for my soul.

 

Becoming Vishnu

Summer                                                           Park County Fair Moon

Bhagavan_VishnuVishnu is the Hindu god of stability, the preserver and protector. When I look at the Hindu pantheon, my eye has always gone to Shiva, the god of creation and destruction, the whirling vibrant energy of the universe. Were I Hindu, I would be a Shaivite. But as we’ve aged, as we’ve become the members of our family and, for that matter, of our generation, at the edge of extinction, it has become clear to me that Vishnu defines us better.

When we stand, as we do, between life and death, life itself takes on a different color, a different valence. That’s not to say that we don’t always stand between life and death, life is fragile and death, in its entropic way, more natural. But as we veer past the mid-60’s, the path from birth to death has grown long and its terminus closer.

We stand, too, at the end of our ancientrail, able to look back over the days and years with gathered wisdom. At least sometimes. Shiva forces are at work in our children’s lives and especially in the lives of our grandchildren, creating careers, destroying dreams, unfolding the future. Our reach now extends into those lives as a somewhat distant, but sometimes intimate force, offering stability and protection. We have become the avatars of Vishnu.

natarajThe role is unnatural for me, having been more of a bomb thrower in my youth and in my middle-age, too. The Vaishnavite forces, always there, for we are a mix of all these fundamental powers, have gradually strengthened, gained more purchase. It’s possible, I suppose, to see Shiva as the radical, willing to take apart received wisdom, to burn institutions to the ground, to start over and over and over, and Vishnu as the conservative, or at least conservator, the solid, steady hand needed when Shiva’s work has gone too far.

The Hindu trinity of Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma, the God of origins, the creator force who lives now distant from the work of his creation, constitutes, like the Christian trinity, an expression of the one god in three manifestations. Like the Great Wheel it is a poetic, a metaphorical expression of the nature of reality. You may choose to believe that these gods are real and I wouldn’t argue the choice, but in my maturing understanding of religious belief, all the world’s religion are artistic renderings of the subtle and not-so subtle forces set in motion at the big bang. No, they are not all the same, hardly; but they are all attempts to give expression and coherence to the context of this temporary, wonderful miracle we call life.

So, it’s not surprising to me that in this third phase of my life, I find a purpose defined by a Hindu god. We arrive at this moment shaped and pulled by the paths we have chosen. Our ancietrail is now more experience than future. As Vishnu rises in our lives, that experience becomes his form, the vital energy that allows us to serve as anchor for our family, for our community, for the world we’re passing on to our children and grandchildren.

I said above that the Vishnu role is unnatural to me. Perhaps I should say that it was unnatural to the younger me. Now, it seems natural, necessary, good. The maintainer and protector.

 

 

Fraught

Summer                                                        Park County Fair Moon

rudbeckia ReynoldsFeeling the pressure of the divorce. So many tensors pulling this way and that. Jon and his understandable anxiety about his immediate and near term future. Kate’s tough position as mother, mother-in-law and grandma. Court hearings with deep consequences. The fate of Ruth and Gabe as their mother and father fight over them. The friable nature of our extended family as it goes through a wrenching alteration, one with permanent implications. Trying to stay centered and available. All difficult.

This is life at its most fraught, perhaps the only analogue being serious illness or an unexpected financial crisis. All of us become frayed, our best persons fighting to remain present, but often submerged in our collective anxiety. A good time for Mussar, the Jewish spiritual practice Kate and I have taken up through Congregation Beth Evergreen.

If there were a red flag warning for families, we’d have one on our flagpole right now.

Yet. The immersion in each others lives at increased intensity also has positive implications. We get to know each other better, perhaps most possible when the day-to-day gets set aside and we become more vulnerable, more accessible. If we listen to our inner life, we have a chance, too, to learn more about ourselves.

A friend going through a difficult period refers to it as graduate school for self-awareness, for learning what truly matters. Yes.

This, that

Beltane                                                                       Running Creeks Moon

Front, May 6th
Front, May 6th

The snow is mostly gone in the front, south facing yard. In the back though there are still long drifts of snow punctuated by even larger patches of soil, rock and the tufty grass we have up here on Shadow Mountain. The days are warmer but the nights remain cool. They will remain relatively cool and dry even during the summer.

I’ve had a time consuming blog related project that has eaten up days of time and is not done yet. It has given me an opportunity to go back over all the wordpress entries: 2016-2007, which has been fascinating. Some 8,000+ now.

Back, May 9
Back, May 9

Kate has Bailey Patchworkers, a sewing/quilting group, today and will make a run to the Happy Camper for cbds. My elliptical comes this morning. I’ll be able to get back to working out at a high intensity with the elliptical’s knee joint friendly motion. The treadmill will stay for walking at a moderate pace.

Once this blog project is over I plan to start regular hikes in the woods and a return to the fire mitigation work I began last fall. Kate is currently doing cross stitch for a very cute baby blanket. The baby blanket comes, naturally, after the wedding quilt.

Much to my chagrin, since I stopped adding salt to my meals, my weight has dropped, my blood pressure has dropped and I’m sleeping much better. Of course, I’m happy with the improvements. Still. Imagine me slapping my forehead with my hand.

Too Much Salt?

Spring                                                  Wedding Moon

Ruthandgabeuppermax300The snow has been less than predicted, a good thing. Still, it’s the wet, heavy, slushy stuff that makes snowblowers clog up.

Jon, Ruth and Gabe are coming up tonight. Jon and Ruth will go skiing tomorrow and Gabe will stay with us. Ruth and I plan to take in a Fiske Planetarium (Boulder) show on black holes this evening. Kate’s making Mississippi Pot Roast. This is the sort of thing that, no matter how much we might have wanted to do it, was impossible when we lived in Minnesota.

Got rid of 4 bookcases bought long ago at Dayton’s warehouse in Minneapolis. They’d seen me through the house on Edgcumbe and in Andover. Most of these got sold off in Minnesota, but the remaining four held some books while the built-ins were under construction. That opens up space in the garage. It’s a priority as soon as the weather warms up. Would’ve been last year if it hadn’t been cancer season over the summer.

saltOK. I have a confession to make. I’ve been putting too much salt on my food for years. Big surprise, I’m sure, to all of you who have witnessed it. In fact, I was following an approach suggested by my internist, Charlie Petersen. His opinion was that once you passed a point where a problem, blood pressure in this instance, required treatment, you didn’t need to modify your behavior if the treatment worked. And it did. For many years. But, not now.

Over the course of the trip to Asia I stopped adding salt to my food. My blood pressure, which had been labile before the trip, suddenly fell into line. Damn it. Empiricism is such a bitch. And, not so small side benefit. It’s easier to sleep through the night since my fluid retention has significantly decreased.

Yamantaka 13 Deitykat1

There is no doubt that I have a self-destructive homunculus in residence. Smoking and drinking took me several unpleasant years to put into the past. Just why this little guy is so interested in my demise, I don’t know. Maybe he’s the death wish that Freud believed we all have. He doesn’t give up. If I start one of these activities again, I quickly go back to the maximum use. I learned this while quitting smoking, several times.

It’s tough getting him to just sit still. You would think that, having visited Yamantaka (the slayer of death) many times over the years, he would calm down. Yamantaka is the Tibetan God of death itself. To worship him one thing you can do is look your own death straight in the face, imagine yourself dead, meditate on your own corpse. In this way Yamantaka helps us to accept death for what it is, a natural and not to be feared part of human existence.

Seems like that would get this homunculus to quiet down. Oh, it’s going to happen anyway and it’s ok, so why do I have to speed things up? But, no. Doesn’t appear to work that way.

But You Can Never Leave

Spring                                                            Wedding Moon

20160415_121403

Kate and I have been to Nirvana. And even had lunch there. Hameed, our taxi driver, when asked whether it was a popular tourist attraction, shook his head. No, he had never taken anybody there. He seemed a bit bemused.

Nirvana has a website. And site duty agents who gave us an extended tour, explaining the entire concept, taking us through one of the three towers. Each one is five stories high like a pagoda with a circular ramp winding from top to bottom, a Guggenheim for the afterlife. Along the ramp, from top to bottom are rooms filled with niches and decorated according to the beliefs of those who choose to reside there.

20160415_111409

When the young Chinese man who gave us our tour referred more than once to “checking in”, the song Hotel California came immediately:

“Relax, ” said the night man,
“We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! ” The Eagles

When you check in you can also place replicas of, say, your living room, in front of the urn(s) for your cremains.

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The folks at Nirvana are pragmatic. We Chinese, the site duty agent said, take three joss sticks (incense) in when we pray with our ancestors. But, he went on, if three or four or eight or ten come in the room, then… So, we invite one person to go in and invite their ancestors outside. Problem solved.

There are, in a similarly pragmatic fashion, rooms for free-thinkers. In these rooms no statuary, no sounds of chanting, just sedate jade decorated niches. In this way the site agent said, if you’re a Buddhist and your child is a Christian, who might say, if you’re in the Buddhist room, I won’t come, the family can still be together.

Both Kate and I found the place oddly appealing. It’s quiet, respectful, out of the weather, air-conditioned. Instead of creepy it has a comforting feel. Not your usual tourist stop, but a fascinating one nonetheless.

Skygreens, the vertical farm, however, was not so welcoming. When we got there, we drove in to see the place no one was around. I had e-mailed them yesterday to see if we could visit, but received no reply. We took some pictures and I called the office. “We’re not open to the general public.” OK, then. Not quite the future of urban farming I’d expected. It looked run down and somewhat sad.

 

Living in the present, surrounded by the past

Spring                                                         Wedding Moon

Ellis and Jang
Ellis and Jang (Mary’s photo)

Yesterday we took a trip to the past. To Seoah’s family home and the village of the Jang family for at least four generations. The neighbor women sat at a low table eating from dishes and dishes of food. They looked up curiously as we came in the small traditional house, then went back to their meal.

(Kate took all the rest of these photos.)kids

The house had little furniture, mostly low tables and one chair, a massaging recliner that Mary (my sister) says is common in Singaporean households. Often the only chair in the house.

We met many black-haired children who ran around, curious and a little uncertain, Seoah’s two sisters and her older brother. Seungpil, husband of her younger sister, has been our taxi driver in a sleek, well-maintained black Hyundai, a Grandeur.

finding conifer
finding conifer

Seoah’s mother had charge of a compliment of women in the kitchen which had food plates and bowls and pans on all of its surfaces. Her father, a trim man, 71 moved with the grace of a 30 year old. He farms a large number of plots, some vinyl greenhouses, a rice paddie and several fields. I asked to see it and we walked around it all.

He proudly pointed to a tractor and said, in clear English, “John Deere!” He had a combine, a grain drier and a second Massey-Ferguson, older. He grows vegetables, hay and some fruit. Like any good farmer in the spring, after we left his home for the Bamboo Museum, he headed back into the fields.

john deere

Seoah’s home village nestles among low mountains that look (and probably are) ancient. They’re very beautiful, often mist covered and extending in ranges for some ways. Sangkuk is well beyond the metro region of Gwangju, in the country. As nearly as I could tell, the area around Sangkuk is only agricultural, no folks living the country life and commuting into the city.

fields and tombs
Jang family fields. Note tombs in forest clearing toward the right