Category Archives: Third Phase

Aging, Asia, Beyond the Boundaries, Commentary on Religion, Great Wheel, Holidays, Humanities, Mountains, Myth and Story, Original Relation, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

Courage and Sadness

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Mabon (Vernal Equinox) and the RBG Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Kate resolving the missing $5,500.Rigel eager to get up this morning. Orion in the south. Mars in the west. Venus in the east. Sirius in the southeast. Small bursts of color. The Great Wheel, turning.

The vernal equinox. When the night hours increase. Daylight shortens. Crops come to fruit. The Earth begins to gather back to itself the plants that grew in fields and meadows.

The Elk rut. That strange strangled cry of the bugling bull Elk. The cough of the mountain lion as they hunt in the dawn and twilight. Bears in their hyperphagia phase (a new word for me), 20,000 calories a day. Preparation for hibernation. Upturned trash cans, detritus on the roads.

Orion returns to the night sky. Getting the paper while feeding the dogs. In the dark now. Seeing the stars. Or, rather, their cataract driven explosions of light.

Earth/Sky, a favorite website, has a fascinating short article about the Chinese sense of autumn. This observation I found significant: “…it’s part of Chinese culture to maintain and add to ancient wisdom. In contrast, we in the Western world tend to replace old ideas with new ideas. So – although our Western way of thinking encourages advances in things like technology and economics – the Chinese understanding of natural cycles remains far deeper than ours.”

The emotions associated with autumn for the Chinese, courage and sadness, rise in full measure this 2020 harvest season. Sad. The feeling of Leaves falling, Grasses withering, light diminishing, the Sun’s angle shortening. RBG’s tzaddik death. The pandemic. Our beleaguered and chaotic nation. Isolation and its discontents. Courage. Facing the election, doing what’s necessary. Mourning, then fighting. Going on as the Vegetative world dies, changes. Living with the pandemic instead of in spite of it. Leaning into the third phase for those of us old hippies and radicals still here.

The Great Wheel is ancient Western knowledge. I have chosen to maintain it and, I hope, add to it. As the Earth/Sky article notes: “To the Chinese, nature means more than just the cycling of the seasons. Nature is within and around us…” It used to meant that in the West, too, but our emphasis on reason, on results, on arriving at destinations, on a monotheistic creator who controls nature, have become mature cataracts for us, occluding our vision.

We see what we believe useful. We find the laws of nature, then proceed to own them, use them. This gives us the impression that, like magic or miracles, we can control nature. The rapid warming of our planet gives the lie to that.

I’m neither a Luddite nor anti-reason, anti-science. I am sad about what we’ve lost in our rush to understand and after having understood, manipulate.

I find comfort in knowing as autumn comes to the Rockies, it has also come to me. My life has matured, has headed for the fallow season, the long season in which I return those borrowed elements, become again one with the universe. Though of course I’m one with it now, too.

Which makes me feel the turning of the wheel, it tugs on me, pulls me toward not only death, but also spring. The cyclical renewal. Who knows? Maybe autumn prepares us not for annihilation, but transformation and renewal. It does for Mother Earth. Why not us?

Family, Feelings, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Third Phase

Over the Hills and Through the Woods

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Lughnasa and the RBG Moon

Monday gratefuls: RBG, social justice warrior. The American people. We won’t get fooled again. Our flawed democracy in all its tattered glory. Surgery eye drops. Kate’s several good days. Rigel and her healing. Orion right at the end of the driveway at about thirty degrees. The equinox tomorrow. This bittersweet quote: “We’re still able to do all the things that need to get done without pumping biofuels into a beautiful, beautiful fading world.” Kate Winslet, Vanity Fair

Visits now. Somewhat fraught. Will they bring the virus with them? Should we wear masks all the time, inside and out? A frisson of doubt.

But God how good it was to see Jon cooking Salmon in our kitchen. Cutting up heirloom Tomatoes from his own garden. Zucchini’s, too. Ruth helping. Gabe wandering around.

Gabe took off with Grandma’s phone and Ruth’s assent. Just don’t killed, ok? Big sister love. When he returned, he had photographs of two mule deer bucks with big racks. They let me come close.

Ruth talks, an adderall influenced pace. Fast. Chatty. Engaged. They’re all excited to be here, to be with Grandma and Grandpop. This soup is good, Grandpop.

The Yam soup I made a couple of days ago. Do you want to see a picture of the Yam? Sure. That is huge! It was the biggest Yam I’d ever seen. Part of the produce basket from Easy Entree’s. The recipe called for two and a half to three pounds of Sweet Potato. This one Yam sufficed.

Jon had roasted Salmon, cut up Butternut Squash, ravioli, Zucchini, and Cherokee Purple heirloom Tomatoes. A meal together. Our Colorado family. Sweet.

Ruth and I went up to the loft. She sat in my reading chair and I sat in the one I’d put together for her. Both from Ikea, the same.

Tennessee Grandma and I go to Ikea a lot. I saw these chairs there. They even have rocking ones. I bought a lime green rocking chair for my room at Stapleton Goodwill. $15.

Is this at your mom’s? Yes.

Tik Tok’s a big part of the culture right now. I spend hours on it every day. I decided to rearrange my room at night late. It took me two hours because I couldn’t make any noise. At your mom’s? Yes. She recorded some of this for Tik Tok. I only have four pieces of furniture, but it’s a small room.

Let’s cut up that oil painting paper. O.K. We bought a large roll of paper sized for oils a few months back, pre-Covid. I put the paper up on the art table and Ruth held one end while I cut with an exacto knife. Oh, you’re scoring it? As it turned out, yes. Maybe a three foot, four foot long piece. Good enough for several paintings.

After they left, I got out a new canvas and set it on the art table. Have you started painting again, Grandpop? No, I hadn’t. Why not, I wondered?

All three of them are at ease here. Jon takes a nap. Gabe plays with Kep, walks in the backyard. Ruth sits with Kate and talks sewing, cooking.

Before we went to sleep last night I said to Kate: I feel our family’s doing well. Like it’s whole. That makes me happy.

She agreed.

Cinema and Television, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Friends, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, US History

An Age of Wonders

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Lughnasa and the 1% crescent of the Labor Day Moon

Thursday gratefuls: A better day for Kate yesterday. Chewy prescription order shipped. Mahi-Mahi in tomato sauce. Easy Entrees. Mary, Mark, Diane. Generous, kind. Tom and his knotty gift. Knotical. The Ancient Ones, my FFs, friends forever. Alan. The compounding pharmacy for my surgery eye drops. Rigel, the Yipper. Kep, the Snuggler.

An age of wonders. Peak TV. There has never been so much good television, ever. And, there might not be again since Netflix spends money as fast as the Mississippi flows into its delta. Right now I’m watching the Turkish series, the Gift, an English limited episodes drama, The Third Day, and the Sony production, Away. The Gift and the Third Path fall in the folk horror genre, like the movies Midsommar and the Wicker Man. Away stars Hilary Swank as commander of the first expedition to Mars. Great Britain and Korea also make compelling television.

Every Tuesday morning I speak with cousin Diane in San Francisco, sister Mary in Singapore, and brother Mark in Riyadh. At the same time. With video. On Sundays I speak with the Ancient Ones, my FF’s, friends forever, in Minneapolis and Maine. Every other Thursday Alan Rubin and I have a video chat. Without Zoom the pandemic would be so much worse.

Another wonder. I wonder who will rid us of this troublesome President? Several million of us, I hope. Gotta work to make it happen. Encourage friends and co-workers. Family. Vote! Make phone calls. Send e-mails.

I’m reading Rage, Bob Woodward’s book. It’s the only Trump era book I’ve read, finding my Trump box always filled to overflowing and not wanting to add that last word. It’s not revelatory so far, except for the big news of Trump’s early understanding of the nature of Covid. That’s a major item. He goes back to the beginning of Trump’s administration to put this story in context.

Early in the book Woodward tells the story of Trump’s tariffs on steel and aluminum. He told his cabinet, after they tried to dissuade him, that he wanted the tariffs. Just implement them and we’ll see what happens, he said. His finance cabinet folks said the U.S. economy is nothing to play with. Do it anyway.

This after they pointed out that we’re no longer a steel producer or an aluminum producer and tariffs would therefore have the result of raising prices on imported products, not invigorating our once dominate foundries.

He went ahead.

An early signal of Trump’s discounting of experts and privileging his gut response.

I also read, yesterday, this troubling article by NYT columnist, Thomas B. Edsall. Most of us know, I think, that we live in partisan bubbles these days. Our friends, our news sources, our own analysis of the political. Even families. We don’t talk politics on Thanksgiving or at the reunion. Our lives are hermetically sealed from the other.

I’m guilty. I see the Trump base, the MAGA reactionaries as I think of them, as both deluded and obedient. Edsall shows that this sort of us/them thinking might end in violence around and after the election. Our descent into Banana Republic status has gained momentum.

What do we do? It’s not as easy as “having conversations with those with whom we disagree.” First of all, most of don’t know many with whom we disagree, at least not well enough to start a civil, literally, conversation. Second, even if we do know a few and engage them, our minds tend to be as made up as theirs. Where’s the gap, the space, for understanding each other. It’s thin at best.

My admittedly partisan notion is that we first need to lower the intensity of public discourse. I believe electing Biden will do that. Then we need to do a careful, honest, and serious review of our own attitudes. Push white supremacist ideologues back to the fringes where they belong while opening ourselves to the pain and anguish of Trump’s base.

This does not mean denying our own convictions. I won’t give an inch on eliminating racism, providing health care and food and housing for the neediest in our nation. Even so, I need to consider the sort of policies that would also benefit the white working class, would address the fears of white suburban women that their safety and their children’s is at stake, would reassure the small business owner that we care about their survival.

An anti-big business conversation might yield interesting results, for example. Debt relief. Job protection and job education for those below middle class income. Higher pay for “essential” jobs since we know how essential they are.

Aging, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Health, Holidays, Judaism, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

Getting to 5781

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Kate. Always Kate. The night sky. Venus. Life on Venus? Rigel. Kep. Deb from on the move fitness. Her grief. The new workout. Cool morning. Mountain Waste. Rage, by Woodward. The internet. DSL. The Gift on Netflix. Borgen, too. Dark sky spots in Colorado: Dinosaur National Monument. Great Sand Dunes. Westcliffe. Black Canyon of the Gunnison. More.

Up early for the Clan call, forgot to post yesterday. Forgetting is rare, but it happened. Mary, Mark, Diane. Singapore, Riyadh, San Francisco. The wonders of our age. In real time, no lag other than the one I understand Zoom introduces to create smooth conversation.

Kate didn’t feel up to it. The pleura effusion continues to create problems for her. She now has some pain in her right chest, the side of the effusion. No imaging study scheduled yet, but she’s going to call today. It makes her shortness of breath worse, restricting her movement.

Some sleeplessness for me Sunday night. Wondering where things were headed with Kate. Rumination. Not my usual fare at night. Not for a long time.

We decided not to see Amber this week at Advanced Wound Care. We needed a quiet week. No medical appointments. With my upcoming cataract surgery I’ll have a few of my own.

As the Labor Day Moon wanes, it moves us toward the High Holidays. The Jewish lunar calendar starts each new month on a new moon, Rosh Chodesh. The head of the month. Rosh Hashanah, head of the year. Each new year celebrates the creation of Adam and Eve according to legend.

Since 2020, based on the Gregorian Calendar, has sucked, I recommend choosing 5781. No more of that 2020.

Got a new workout yesterday from Deb Brown. She lost her husband, Dave, to glioblastoma in the midst of early lockdown. I hear Dave’s voice often, I told her. I love to teach deadlift technique. Hold that band out from your chest as long as you can. She hears it, too, she said. Only louder and a lot.

We met on Zoom. A little clunky for this purpose, but it worked. The exercises: goblet squat, flat bench press, dipper, staggered stance row on stability ball, bicep curl, skullcrusher, stability ball prone back extension, plank, 1 leg balance with transverse step.

I like switching up my workout every six to eight weeks. It helps keep me interested, but more important, it changes up muscle use. Muscles don’t become acclimated to the routine.

Easy Entree tonight. Cod in a white wine and tomato sauce.

And, a trip to Happy Camper this morning.

Aging, Dogs, Family, Health, Politics, Third Phase

Marriage is stronger

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Lughnasa and the crescent Labor Day Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kate’s better day. Rigel’s bland diet. Kep snuggling with Kate last night. Jon bringing up Ruth and Gabe this Saturday. Finally, the appointment with Taryle. The crescent moon with Venus in the eastern dawn sky. Lengthening nights. Instapot and rice.

Kate was in much better shape yesterday. Breathing easier, color better, more chipper. Her Friday in emergency mode while I drove Rigel to the VRCC for her antibiotic overdose drained her battery. She has few reserves. Saturday was struggling to get back to some equilibrium. She made it.

Today we see the pulmonologist. Try to get a handle on her pneumothorax. She could end up back in the hospital depending on Taryle’s assessment. She needs relief and I’m in favor of whatever will bring it to her. We’re packing a bag.

It’s a difficult time.

Rigel, recovering from her self-medicating, continues her interest in things on our table. Yesterday she chewed up the small pouch that holds our marijuana money. She ate a fifty, chewed up a twenty, and took a healthy bite out of a hundred dollar bill. And left no change. Geez.

Yes, we need to stop putting things on the table. She’s not done this before, at least not this persistently or comprehensively. We have to adjust to her. Otherwise she’s feeling perky. Ate all of her rice and hamburger, took her meds, seems happy.

Medicine and the medical took over our lives well over two and a half years ago. It continues and has gotten more pronounced in the last six months. Not unusual with aging, but still disruptive, heart rending at times.

Our marriage is stronger than ever, mutuality and intimacy at a peak. Love does not know illness or fatigue; it does not decline. Instead, it increases. Kate’s mental acuity and her composure during these troubles is a thing of wonder to me.

In less than two months, a major source of chaos and disruption will be gone. Trump will be dumped. That should mean a much better pandemic response, too. Eliminating one and reducing the other will help all of us.

BTW: No, I have no crystal ball. I’m stating my belief. Just a bit stronger than hope right now.

Commentary on the news, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Great Wheel, Health, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, US History

Unpopular Opinion

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Jon, working on his Subaru. Getting more and more stable. Kate’s tough week. Appointment tomorrow with pulmonologist. The beautiful blue Sky Colorado day. Snow lingering in the Forest, on our north facing roof. Alan, for agreeing to take me to my surgery, even at an unreasonable hour. Rigel, enjoying her bland diet: Rice and cut up chunks of stew Meat. Jackie, of Aspen Roots. A great haircut.

Kate. A very difficult Saturday. Breathing harder. Now even lying down. Her chest x-ray shows a larger pneumothorax, some loss of lung capacity. Doctors decided it was ok to wait until Monday morning. Based on her struggles since then, I’d say they were wrong. But here we are anyhow.

Rigel’s diet has become brown Rice and Beef. Which she seems to like. Seoah showed me how to dump a bunch of Rice in the instapot, wash it three times, then put water in up to my first knuckle. Hit Rice, wait about 15 minutes. Voila! Fluffy Rice. I used brown Rice because it was in our pantry thanks to Seoah.

Seoah influenced me a lot on how to take care of the kitchen. In a good way. I needed it. Put the dishes straight in the dishwasher. Simple, eh? Put the cutting board outside in the sun to disinfect after a vinegar rinse. Clean pots in the sink if possible rather than taking up space in the dishwasher. Keep wiping things down. Throw stuff out in the fridge before it goes bad. I probably learned all this from Kate, too, but this time it’s stuck. Much easier.

9/11. It’s time, I believe, to stop opening this wound. Each time we do, each year, it’s we who bleed. We bleed sons and daughters in a mistaken war against Islam, against terrorists. Yes, it was terrible. Yes, it was shocking. Yes, it’s an important moment in our history. All true.

But think about how different the last 19 years would have been had it become a criminal investigation rather than an excuse for military adventures. I believed then and believe now that that’s how it should have gone.

Go get the bad guys. But, just the bad guys. Not a whole region or religion. Instead the dark hearts of Wolfowitz, Cheney, and Rumsfeld put us in a war against terror. And gave Bin Laden his real victory. The action is in the reaction as Saul Alinsky says.

An unpopular opinion, I know. But, it’s mine.

Aging, Denver, Dogs, Family, Health, Jefferson County, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

Beyond the Twilight Zone

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Friday and Saturday gratefuls: Ruby. Air con and heat, needed in the same day. Hwy 470. Amber and Lizzie and Monique and Lisa. Dr. Gustave. Michelle Schmitz. VRCC. Dr. Timian. Dr. Rump. Vet techs. Rigel. The rascal. Kate’s support by phone. Kate’s staying calm, lying down. Broadband service. DSL. Century Link. That macaroni and cheese place on Wadsworth. Snow lingering in the forest and on the mountain sides facing north.

In the space between Friday afternoon and late Friday afternoon, in a small house on a medium sized mountain, one dog and one package of meds took us out of the normal twilit zone in which we lived this week and pushed us: Beyond the Twilight Zone.

It started as an ordinary day. Up at 4 am to feed the dogs, catch a little extra sleep because the day had a lot going on.

Out the door around 10:15 for the drive to Corneal Consultants in Littleton. I met Michele, the surgery scheduler. Two Zeiss machines later, taking pictures of my retina, other images to help guide cataract surgery. On me. Pretty straightforward, all told out of pocket around $400. Worth it.

Got in the one of the new safe places, a maskless zone, hung my Katy Did It mask on the turn signal column, and headed to the bank on Kipling.

Safety deposit box. Put my passport in and retrieved the title to Ivory, which we have to transfer to Jon. Looked at the flash drive which contains photographs of our worldly possessions, divorce decrees, some jewelry, insurance documents, the deed to our house and to Ruby. This box is part of our emergency plan in case of wildfire.

Forgot the check for cash at home, so I couldn’t do that. Left the bank and got back on 470 for the 20 mile drive to Wheatridge and Advanced Wound Care. They made some bandages for Kate’s stoma site that I had to pick up.

A decision point. Rigel’s meds would be ready in two hours. Should I pick them up today, staying out a lot longer than I wanted, or should I go home, get them on Saturday? These were more antibiotics for Rigel’s endocarditis. I would run out of one after Saturday.

I decided to get some lunch at this place that serves only macaroni and cheese, drive over to VRCC through Denver on Santa Fe, eat lunch, then see if the meds were ready.

That worked. I got a paper bag with a plastic bottle of enroflaxcin and clavamox. Drove home. Put the bag on the dinner table. Kate had worked the phones to set up the meds and she was ready for a nap. Me, too.

Got up from the nap, maybe an hour plus later. Rigel had chewed up some paper. I bent down to pick it up, throw it away. Oh. The bag the medicine was in?

Yep. After getting the enroflaxcin only a couple of hours before, Rigel had chosen to self-medicate. She ate all 21 of the tabs. The clavamox, wrapped in foil, was harder and she left most of it.

I got Rigel in Ruby. Kate called Pet Poison Control. I drove my cautious fast way perfected getting Kate to the E.R. Activated charcoal, fluids injected under the skin, vomiting, diarrhea, and a new bottle of enroflaxcin, not cheap, later, we headed back home, arriving around 8 pm. Thus endeth yesterday.

Now I’m up, made rice for Rigel’s bland diet, cleaned out the dishwasher, and cleaned up the kitchen, got the newspaper, and am ready to relax for a couple of days. Haircut at noon, a short grocery store trip. Old buddies tomorrow morning. In between, books and tv, naps.

New workout on Tuesday.

Aging, Family, Health, Jefferson County, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

Ooff

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Amber. Lisa. Wheatridge Pharmacy and its wheelchair rental. Freddy’s Steak Sandwiches. Fries. Chocolate shake. Kate’s Inogen. The X-ray tech. Madame Curie. Roentgen. The snow. The ice. The cold. Colorado and its weather. The Rocky Mountains. Shadow Mountain. Kate, her toughness.

Ooff. Yesterday. Kate, very short of breath. So much so that we had to rent a wheelchair so I could wheel her in to Amber’s Advanced Wound Care and Dr. Gidday’s. Got some new powder for Kate’s stoma site, includes a crushed up Tum’s to counter stomach acid.

Dilemma then. Home was 45 minutes away. It was 12:15. Dr. Gidday was 45 minutes in the opposite direction from Amber, also about 45 minutes from home. Did we go home, get there around 1, wait 45 minutes and head out again, or do we go to Dr. Gidday’s, stop for some food, nap in the car?

We chose the food and nap option. That meant Kate’s Inogen battery became a limiting option. A while back we miscalculated and Kate’s O2 ran out before we got home. Not a whole lot before, thankfully. Made me a bit anxious.

When we saw Dr. Gidday, who had failed to get us on at 2:30 as she said she would, it was 3 pm. The exam and consult took a half an hour, 45 minutes. You need a chest x-ray. Umm. Oxygen?

Kate thought we had enough, so we went to the Imaging place on Coal Mine Avenue in Littleton. By this time Kate had an exhausted look, slumping a bit in the wheelchair as I wheeled her. Twice on this trip I started to go into a building without a mask on, my brain back in the long lost pre-pandemic era. This was one of them.

Got her in, parked, got my mask on, and returned. About 4:00, a little after. At 5:15 we finally heard her name. The tech led us back, me pushing, Kate so tired. Me, too.

She stood, gripping the bars on the equipment like a sailor in heavy seas. Hold your breath. Hold. Breathe. Turn to the side. Hold your breath. Breathe.

At last, toward home. Into rush hour traffic. O2 at 8% battery life. Gotta remember that extra, smaller battery next time. Going up Shadow Mountain Drive the Inogen beeped. Plug battery in to charger.

Kate went straight to bed, connected at last to the O2 concentrator at the foot of the bed. Lying down, which is her preferred position these days. She breathes easier.

Nothing bad happened. The battery held out until we were near home. A hard day nonetheless. I need to do better at remembering the spare battery, timing these days. No more 11 am appointments followed by 2:30’s. Just not good.

Aging, Family, Health, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

A New Chapter?

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Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Rommertopf. The Chicken that gave its life for our meal. Potatoes. Carrots. Onions. Our quirky bottom oven. 25 degrees this morning. Snow. The Clan meeting this morning. Rigel’s two week follow-up appointment this afternoon. Memories. Photographs.

It was 101 in Denver yesterday., 36 now. 25 degrees here on Shadow Mountain this morning. A Rain Snow mix began to fall last night, some Snow cover, but not much yet. Supposed to Snow all day today and into Wednesday. We’re in an 8-16 inch forecast blue blob on a Weather5280 map. As Seoah says, wait and see.

We’re shopping for wheelchairs. Pushing the rollator has begun to be too much for Kate. Two appointments on Wednesday, so we may have to rent one until we figure out how to handle Medicare. Shortness of breath has become an extreme limiting factor for her.

She’s beginning to talk about her old life. She still folds our clothes and likes doing it because it’s something she could from her “old life.” What? When I did the laundry. No idea whether this is a permanent transition or not.

Whether it is or isn’t, her essence, her keen intellect, her experience as a cook, her knowledge of medicine, her skills as a seamstress, her empathy, her roles as wife, sister, mother, grandmother, remains.

Of course, part of her life has been as the energizer bunny. Doing this. Doing that. Finishing a quilt for a friend or family member. Sewing shirts for me. Grocery shopping. Cooking. Working as a doctor. Gardening, especially weeding, her special skill. Honey extractor. Right now, those are part of her old life.

This is a new chapter for her and for us. We’ll adapt, get the most from it. The third phase continues.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Health, Our Land and Home, Painting, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate, Writing

Open to Ideas

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Lughnasa, the Labor Day Moon and Mars

Afternoon note:

In a curious mental place. I’m calm, not spending time worrying about results or outcomes. I’m busy cooking, shopping, feeding, pilling, driving, listening, changing bandages. Organizing crafts people for work here. Dealing with my own health. Working out. Getting sleep. Zooming with friends, family, CBE.

I want to write and paint. I don’t seem able to. That’s not my way. I believe we choose our reality, live into the life we want. Ergo, if I’m not doing something I want to do, I’m not choosing it. An effective and self-motivating belief. Normally. I’m accountable for my life, no one else.

Right now though my mind seems full. That’s the way I experience it anyhow. I’m trying to work on my Groveland presentation for the 27th, It’s Beyond Me. That’s the title, not my problem, btw. I go along, get a little done, find a set of definitions or some great examples, like the Chukchee in 19th century Sibera who would bare their buttocks in the direction of the wind and ask for better weather, then I wander away, no longer interested.

Not procrastination. Sure, I indulge from time to time, but it’s never been a defining feature for me. Not lack of sleep. I’m rested and exercised.

A similar phenomenon when I want to write, paint. When I say write, I mean work on Jennie’s Dead, my current novel about half done. I can’t put myself in the writing mental space. Can’t pick up a brush. Not blocked, Not afraid. My energy seems all used by life.

The other things I’m doing take attention to detail, regular action, compassion, endurance, imagination, follow through. Yes, I know that. But I’ve not had this trouble before that I recall.

When I want to do something other than domestic things, my mind goes fuzzy, unwilling to open, to wonder, to create. No space for it. That’s how it feels.

Might just be the way things are. Or, there may be a solution? Not sure. Open to ideas.