• Category Archives Science

  • Mind Blown

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Past lives. Near death experiences. Mystical experience. Reincarnation. Ode. Cooking. The meister chef, Tom. Cabbage and beef soup. Catfish. Chicken potpies. Rigel. Drinking. Ruth, so much better. Jon, too. Gabe, puzzling. My mind twisting round. The lamp, Ruth assembled. Swapping out coffee tables, the new one down here. The old one upstairs.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Reincarnation

     

    Mind. Blown. Where to? Don’t know. That ship haha has sailed. Into the area of the map famously identified by: Here there be monsters. Or, angels. Or, Grandma. Or, the Otherworld.

    My buddy, Ode, who has long insisted that reincarnation is a fact, long proven, as might a friend of both Terence and Dennis McKenna, has finally pushed me aboard the good ship Beyond. As most of the scientists in the video below claim, I don’t know where the ship has set sail for, nor how to interpret the evidence in a definitive way. But I’m aboard, maybe as a reluctant stowaway, but I want in on this journey.

    No accidents. Not sure this idea and the idea of post mortem consciousness belong together; however, it is the case that for the last four years plus I’ve studied kabbalah, an ancient Jewish mystical philosophy that includes reincarnation as a reasonable and accepted part of its world (otherworld) view.

    Astrology, too, as well. A brand of this even more ancient discipline called Evolutionary Astrology which presupposes reincarnation and strong hints about yours revealed by the nodes of the moon in your natal chart.

    You might say, well, Kate’s dead so these ideas have more traction? Or, this is the day before your 75th birthday. What better time to throw on a sash that reads, Reincarnated! An escape hatch at last.

    Those could influence me, I suppose, but all my life I’ve thought on my own, accepting ideas and rejecting ideas because they listen well in my inner chambers of judgment. Or, because they seem like nonsense. The video below listens well there.

    An old and strong aspect of my thought could be called flat earth humanism, or as Ed in the video rightly calls it, physicalism. Materialism in its fancy philosophical dress clothes. Existentialist me, a Camus influenced college part of me, faced the darkness unafraid. Willing to make my own meaning. Living because I wanted to live, not because I had to and not because anyone told me how.

    That Alexandria First Methodist guy, a young one, had some notion of the afterlife. My mother’s death at 47 took it to the grave along with her. Not fair. Not fair at all. Therefore neither just nor loving, both attributes of the one, the true, the mighty.

    A while later I picked up the Christian mantle again and threw it over my shoulders, but this time I was not interested in the next world, but this one. How might we live here? Right here amidst war, the Vietnam War, economic injustice, racial and gender discrimination? I found answers in old Jewish notions of just kingship and a New Testament that demanded extension of love and compassion to the poorest and most despised among us.

    Nowadays the Great Wheel, that pagan metaphor of life’s seasons, including the long fallow one in which we temperate folks find ourselves right now, guides my thinking. I can fold this post mortem idea into it.

    This is a willed rejection of Wittgenstein in the Tractatus when he says: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. I shared this chivalric reticence, its honesty, for a long, long time. Now I feel it reveals fear rather than expressing a stoic truth.

    Over the course of the next few years I plan to continue my study of kabbalah, astrology, and tarot. I ordered the three books of Edward Kelly. Gonna read them. I’m also reading two new anthropological books reassessing human development from physical, historical, and genetic perspectives. Taoism is in there, too.

    The Rockies and the complicated textbook about life and change that they are teach me everyday. Pursuing these investigations because they interest me. I may have a book in there, some way of showing others how the natural world can teach us what we need to know about life, and now perhaps, death.

    Gotta do something with this extra time the oncologists have given me. May as well be of some use.

    And, happy birthday to me!


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  • Blessings and Curses

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Moon of the New Year

    Where’s the Webb?: Fully deployed the Webb has come 684000 miles from home and has 214000 to go to reach L2. This is 76% of the journey in distance. However this is Mission day 15 and it won’t reach L2 for another 14 Earth days. Slowing still at .2358 mps. Sun shield temp: 131F. Primary mirror: -289.

    Sunday gratefuls: Modern Bungalow. Cheap sunglasses at Target. Down the hill and back. Ruby, still less than 32000 miles on her. Iris kitchen. The Turtle clock. A new living room waiting. Early February, after the kitchen reentry. Feeling energized and excited. The Webb fully deployed, now cruising to its spot on L2. Quantum mechanics. Natal  charts. Kabbalah. A new way.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: New furniture

    Tarot  me, current path, potential: eight of stones, skill; three of bows, fulfillment; six of vessels, reunion

     

    On the drive down to the Modern Bungalow in Denver I took the time to consider my schedule. My bête noire of the moment. Wipe the slate clean. What’s my schedule like at its barest? My day has four anchor points: 6 am, get up and feed the dogs. 6:30 or so, up to the loft and write Ancientrails. 3 pm, feed and water the dogs. 8:45 pm, go to bed. I have to get up and go to bed. I have to feed and water the dogs. I do not, however, have to write Ancientrails in the morning.

    Of course, I’ve done that for almost 17 years, since March of 2005 while recovering from my Achilles tendon repair. That’s a pretty long streak. Still, I could do it another way. I can write it later in the day. Which I’m doing right now, at 5:30 pm. I’ll still post it in the morning, but my experiment with my time will be this: 6:30 or so, up to the loft and write 1,000 to 1,500 words. Fiction. Jennie’s Dead or my new work which will feature Lycaon again.

    Exercise will still be important, but a shade less important than all the writing. That is, I will finish my word count for fiction before exercising. And, I will tailor my exercise to the time I have. Gonna consult with somebody to work out the minimum necessary to maintain my health. Two to three HIIT sessions. At least one, preferably two longer, slower cardio days. At least two days of resistance. That will be the goal, but it will be subordinate to writing.

    Appointments in the early afternoon if possible. Weekends and Wednesdays exercise free zones. Wednesday still D3 day.

    For many years I wrote 1,000 to 1,500 words a day, day in and day out. That’s how I have 9 novels finished at least through the first draft. I lost that rhythm and I’ve felt the loss every day since. Want it back.

     

    At the Modern Bungalow I picked out a rocker, a coffee table, a chandelier, and a standing lamp. Found an Arts and Crafts clock with a Turtle in ceramic tile and bought that, too. Kate’s totem animal was the Turtle, slow and steady. The clock will give the new living room a definite Kate accent. I scheduled delivery for early February, a birthday present to myself and well after I’ve reestablished myself in the new kitchen.

    I plan to ask Jon if he will stencil yellow Irises above my new cabinets in the kitchen. I want it to be the Iris kitchen. Another Kate acknowledgment. Irises were her favorite flower. The kitchen will need a splash of color since the brown of the cabinets will give it a darker feel. Why I splurged on the counter top, to have a large light surface against the dark cabinets.

     

    The Webb. With all of the turmoil and division roiling the political landscape it sure felt good to see a BIG project like the Webb get through launch and deployment. So many of my friends also seem enthralled with this new tool for deep space observation. A lot of its work will be in spectra of light that human eyes cannot see.

    I noticed from a NYT space notice on my google calendar that this week is the earth’s closest approach to the sun in its orbit. I don’t know if that had anything to with the timing of the Webb launch, but it seemed apropos anyhow.

    We not only live the curse of the Chinese, May you live in interesting times, but we also live with the blessing of a visionary, pioneering space program.

     

    Gotta admit I’m excited to be alive right now.

     


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  • That Small Town Feeling

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the New Year Moon

    Where is the Webb? 2/3rds of the way to L2! 597000 miles from Home. 302,000 to orbital insertion. Still slowing at .2964 mps.  Secondary mirror deployment begins. Mission day 11. Full mirror deployment scheduled for mission day 15!

    @willworthingtonart

    Wednesday gratefuls: Small towns. Stephanie. My urology referral. Evergreen. The breakfast burrito. Kep and Rigel. Bowe. The cabinets. Getting there. Grief. Mourning. Kate, always Kate. Yellow Irises in the new kitchen. Cold coming today. Snow. Snow rake here. Gonna use it today. Ruby, riding down the mountain and back up. A sweet ride.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Small town feeling.

    Tarot-January spread, Health: Page of Arrows, the Wren.

    “Wren urges us to be the sort of person who keeps the curiosity of youth, to be attentive to our surroundings, and  ready to learn when the opportunity appears.

    The Druids considered that the wren, the smallest bird, was the wisest. So, wrens remind us to listen.”  wildwood book

     

    Simple things that make me happy. Moved my doc to Conifer Medical Practice’s Evergreen location. So, so happy. I drive a familiar road, down Black Mountain Drive and then Brook Forest Drive to 73. Into Evergreen to Stagecoach Boulevard. Stephanie, the PA I saw today, was chatty, friendly, unguarded, knowledgeable.

    Didn’t have go down the hill, into suburban Littleton to a bigger physician’s group. When I got done, I found a breakfast burrito and coffee at the same place I buy the occasional chili cheese dog on my way home from mussar.

    I’ll still have to down the hill for my ophthalmologist and urologist, gastroenterologist. But those are occasional appointments.

    When I see Jackie in Aspen Park, my hairstylist, I get the same feeling. She knows me. I know her. We both live up here.

    Sukkot, 2016, Beth Evergreen

    Going to Congregation Beth Evergreen expands the number of folks I know who live up here, too:  Alan. Marilyn and Irv. Michele and David. Rebecca. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Ellen. Elizabeth. Rich. Tara.

    When I worked on the West Bank in Minneapolis. Same. I got to know residents, business owners, street people. We said hi. Sometimes stopped to talk. Seeing and being seen.

    When I create Shadow Mountain Hermitage, it’s a hermitage embedded in a nest of familiar places and people. Alone, but not lonely. Grieving, not mourning. Life without ennui or angst. Small town, rural life.

    Class of 1965 float, 2015

    Some folks might feel suffocated in such a small circle of people. Not me. Feels just right. Family comes from time to time. Friends, too. It has the emotional quality for me as walking downtown in Alexandria, Indiana. Indiana as a state appalls me. Yes. But growing up in a small community where seeing and being seen was a gift freely and often unknowingly granted to everyone imprinted me.

    I’m speaking for myself. You might be an urban guy or suburban gal. I’ve lived in both and know they both have terrific aspects. When it comes to where my heart feels best though. I’m living in it.

     

    A real afterlife exists in the mailing lists and databases of companies and institutions. Kate continues to get mail. Now 9 months after her death. The most peculiar one was this one and it made me think Kate may have been paying attention to Moira:

     

     

    The kitchen remodel grows closer and closer to the finish. Bowe put up cabinets, got water to my dishwasher. Brian still owes us two cabinets, a few doors, and shelving for installed cabinets. He did the take the China display cabinet I’ve been trying to get out of our downstairs since we moved in here. Fist pump!

    When I stood in the kitchen after Bowe left, I did another fist pump. Even unfinished it made me feel energy, desire to cook there. I’m excited. The new, hybrid space has begun to emerge from plans, boxes, waits.


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  • Tarot, Astrology, Quantum Mechanics

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Winter Solstice Moon

    Webb gimbaled antenna deployment

    Where is Webb? Now at a sedate .7860 miles per second, the Webb is 2 days into its journey to L2. 232000 miles from Earth and 667000 miles from orbital insertion.

    Monday gratefuls: The Webb’s long journey. Boyish wonder. Our own long journeys. Adult enthusiasm. Jodi coming today to settle on backsplash. Ode and his positive covid rapid test. May he be well. Elizabeth, too. Snow. Sort of. The end of this wretched year approaching. Kep nudging me this morning. Money in the bank. Cooking. A bit.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tarot

    Tarot: 2022 spread. More later.

     

    Herme and me

    The Mayans had five useless days at the end of each calendar year. Unlucky, too. Don’t start new projects. Be careful. When I worked as a Presbyterian church executive, I took these days off. Had a research theme. Did that. Nobody wants somebody from the Presbytery (think Roman Catholic diocese) around the week after Christmas. My theme for this week: Tarot and Astrology and Quantum Mechanics. No, really.

    The Tarot has already begun. My year of digging deeper into Tarot. Using the Wildwood Deck. Its associations with the Great Wheel. Reading. Doing spreads. Reading for others. Email or text me if you want a Tarot card reading. I’m learning and would appreciate the chance to practice.

    I created a Barrow spread for the Winter Solstice. It said I needed to remain rooted in my solitude, my hermitage, until the fire returns. I accept that as wisdom from my inner guide. Probably means I’ll stay here through the winter, getting the house finished, getting back to work on Jennie’s Dead or a new writing project. Maybe another take on Lycaon.

    A new Tarot year calendar has suggested a 12 card spread for the year 2022. Going to do that one today. When I’m finished writing this.

    Astrology. Though I’ve read more and done more with astrology, I fell much further behind on the learning curve than I do with Tarot. Signed up for the next Torah and the Stars class. We’ll focus more on our birth charts. I’m working on a friend’s chart, too, though I don’t feel comfortable doing much with it yet.

    In the same spirit of Tarot, if you’d like me to look at your birth chart and give you some feedback, let me know your time of day, location, and date of your birth. I’ll run a chart for you.

    The quantum mechanics is for the Sefer Yetzirah class I’m also taking next term. Quantum mechanics and so much of what has been called occult may have connections. I say may have because I’m too ignorant of either quantum theory or the occult to have an opinion. Talk to me in three months and I might have something to say.

    My buddy Ode has Covid. He’s boosted and I hope its Omicron. Still, he’s 77. In good health, yes, but… This whole damned thing has gone on way too long. Way too long.

    I’ve got a year spread to do, then I’m going downstairs to straighten up a bit before Jodi and the housecleaners come. Jodi and I still have to decide on the backsplash but wanted to wait until the counter top was in place.


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  • A Good Oncology Visit

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the Michaelmas Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Mark Horn. The sephirot. The Tree of Life. Zoom. Kabbalah. Astrology. Alan. The Parkside. Breakfast out. Jackie. Oyama. Kristie. Quest labs. Golden Trees. Tall Mountains. Water falling down the Mountainside. The new trail. Evergreen.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Tarot

    Tarot:  The Moon, #XVIII of the Major Arcana

     

    Guess this is good news. I didn’t remember my visit to my oncologist when I wrote yesterday’s post. Anyhow, I’m remembering it now.

    The route I took so often with Kate. To Swedish Hospital. Down the Hill to 285 and go on until morning. Well, at least to the Safeway just past Broadway. Urology Associates has an office at the Swedish campus, one of three.

    Saw Kristie. Whom I like. She shows me my reports, prints them out. Explains things. She’s an advocate for her patients. Will listen to whatever question I have and answer it as well as she can. She’s never in a hurry. “I want to be your cheerleader.” From a lot of folks that would make me bristle, but with Kristie, I hand her a pompom.

    In less than a month Orgovyx has taken my PSA down from 7.4 to 1.0. “That’s a great result.” Two bits, four bits… The side effects have begun to diminish. The debilitating fatigue is gone. The hotflashes are intense but shorter and less frequent than the Lupron induced ones. It did not raise my blood sugar. Somehow the lipid panel got missed, but I’ll find out next time if it’s pumping up my triglycerides.

    I’ve achieved castration level testosterone reduction. Gosh. Isn’t that good! …a dollar. All for vanished testosterone stand up and holler!

    My location in the prostate cancer trajectory has changed. I now have advanced prostate cancer. In essence this means it can no longer be cured. But, it can be managed as a chronic disease. Androgen deprivation therapy, ADT, can work, does seem to be working for me right now. However, ADT often finds its utility waning after it has been used for a while. Some kind of resistance builds up.

    And so. I had a blood draw at Kristie’s request. Well, Aster tried twice to draw my blood, said “I failed! I’m gonna get Paula.” Aster told me the story of her first for real blood draw. “The guy forgot to tell me he was terrified of needles. He jerked when I poked him and the needle went in, under the skin, and came out further on. I think I was more upset than he was.” I bet that’s a memory that will last. Paula succeeded.

    The blood draw is for a genetic test that identifies 32 genetic mutations known to cause prostate cancer. Kristie, “This is not only for research. We now have targeted drugs for some of these mutations. If you have one of them, we may able to give you a specific therapy for your cancer.”

    Thinking to that day when ADT no longer works.

    A good visit. As good as you can have at your oncologist’s. Cancer losing. More losing expected. Other treatments available.

    Told Kristie I realized the other day that I’ve now had prostate cancer for six and a half years. Glass half full Kristie said that means mine is less aggressive because I went for some time with lower PSA’s. True. But. Aggressive enough to keep coming back after the two gold standard treatments: prostate removal and radiation.

    Even so. It was good.

    Not going into it today, but I started my Tarot and the Tree of Life Spread class. Mark Horn is a good teacher. Organized. Thoughtful. Kind. Responsive.

    The Moon. #18 in the major arcana. Again. I keep drawing major arcana. The Lady. The Moon. The Hermit. The Devil. The Chariot. A lot of energy swirling around me, in me. Feels right.

    Will just note here that I’m having a push/pull experience with my Kabbalah, Tarot, Astrology learning. The skeptic, a key part of my mental habitus, keeps screwing up his face. C’mon, Charles. Whatcha doin?

    Another part says, yeah, I know. But the way these cards have spoken to me, I can feel an inner world value, an introspective assist that helps me. Same with the Kabbalah. Astrology still kicks in the skeptic, but I’m trying to figure out how it fits with the archetypal insights from Kabbalah and Tarot. I’m holding all this in my alembic, believing that the fire of continuous practice will decide how I really feel.

     

     

     

     


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  • Dead Would Feel Better

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the waning Megillah Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Rigel and Kep, here with me. Kate and her struggle. Swedish E.R. Lea, Kate’s nurse yesterday. Ruby, dutifully moving me up and down the mountains. Roads. Vaccines. The stimulus bill passing the Senate. My ancient friends and a soulful Sunday morning yesterday. Kate’s sisters.

    Sparks of Joy: Thor, Jude’s (next door neighbor) Australian shepherd puppy. In fact, I’ll give Thor two sparks. A Dalmatian puppy I saw sticking its head out of a pickup on the way home. My own sanity.

    When I saw Kate yesterday, she was still in pain, a headache adding to the mix. Unusual for her. At one point she thought she might be in Andover or Conifer. I was to sleep on Rigel’s couch, which was right there, she said. That got me concerned so I called the nurse.

    A CT scan of Kate’s brain showed no clots, bleeds. No stroke. Conclusion was that an anti-nausea med, stronger than her usual one, caused temporary confusion. Good to know. She is, the nurse said later in the evening, oriented, normal now.

    When I last communicated with the hospital, the scan for a possible clot in her lungs had not been done, though scheduled later in the night. Sometime around 11 am MST, there should be word on what the plan is. I’ll let you know

    I’ve gotten good sleep the last two nights, feeling better rested. Though tired anyhow.

    This hospital visit has me concerned. Not that the others didn’t, but this feels different. The ambulance and the paramedics. The confusion in the hospital. The inability of the docs to find a cause for her distress on Saturday. She said while in the E.R., “Dead would feel better.”

    I intend to keep putting one foot down, then the other. Not to get lost in maybes and what ifs, stay in the present as much as possible. Do what needs doing. Come up with some more cliches to describe keeping on with keeping on.

     

    Stimulus plan passed the Senate. That’s a win for Biden, for Dems, for the U.S. I wish Democrats could wield the sort of party discipline McConnell achieves for the GOP. In a 50-50 Senate the whip is the most important figure. Dick Durbin is important.

    The Chauvin trial is imminent. That should give a boost to the voting bill, the police reform legislation. What will it be like in Minneapolis? Don’t know. My old home metro. 40 years. Feels weird to be gone during such an important moment in its history.

    Meanwhile, SpaceX landed a Starship. It exploded afterward, but the landing was enough to declare a success. Perseverance has begun to roll across Mars, sending back spectacular photographs.

    Life continues, no matter personal circumstances. Though jarring, this fact is also reassuring.


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  • Space Boy

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Grilled cheese. Chicken. Snow Plows. Ted of All Trades. Snow. Cold. Like back in Minnesota. Holding Kate’s hand. Her feeding tube. 45 gone. 46 in office. Friends, ancient and new.

    Sparks of Joy: NASA. NASA employees at JPL. Perseverance on Mars. Perseverance landing on Mars.

     

     

    I watched it. Or, rather I watched as the scientists at JPL watched their instruments. One man’s leg jiggled the whole time. Up and down. Others went from screen, looking for information. A slight grimace there. What did that mean? All the more difficult to read because of the ubiquitous   masks.

    News about the parachute deploying brought cheers. Then, back to business. The heat shield disappeared. Perseverance was, according to a dial on the screen, 19 kilometers from the surface. Then, the dial read in meters.

    “Perseverance has landed!” Arms went up in the usual touchdown, goal post signal. A clenched fist or two. Smile wrinkles at the eyes. Cheering. Backslapping.

    How could they stand it? These folks work for years, in this case at least 8 years, to build a one-off machine, delicate and sturdy. A tough combination. Then they strap it to a tank of explosives and shoot it away from Earth. For a long, long journey. All of that can go perfectly. Did.

    But. There’s that final mile. Oh, yeah. Atmosphere. Gravity. The potential for 8 years of work and billions of dollars to crumple in on itself, a wrecked car on a distant planet. Parachute. Heat shield. Navigation. Sky crane. All points at which things could go wrong.

    As one NASA employee said, “Thousands of things have to go right. Only one thing going wrong could destroy all this work.”

    That same employee said, right after the landing, “This is what NASA does! This is what we can do when we put our brains together. This is what this country can do!”

    I was with them during the 7 minutes of terror as the lander went offline due to the extreme heat of entry into the Martian (get that, Martian!) atmosphere. Holding my breath, biting my lip.

    Yes! I teared up. All that complexity. All that work. All those things that could have gone wrong. All those things that went right! Captain Midnight. Buck Rogers. Sputnik. The Eagle has landed. We are a space faring nation. My 10 year old heart filled up with dreams, impossible dreams, and spilled over into a 74 year old’s reality.

    When we grew up, rockets were, well, not much in evidence. Sure there was Goddard. And, Von Braun. The V2. The winged bombs over London. John Carter was our Mars hero. But the thought of landing a machine on Mars. Any machine? Nope. Not in the mind of even the most space-crazed child of the ’50’s.

    To live through the Russian space program. Sputnik. Then, Laika, the one way space dog. Yuri Gagarin. Mercury. Apollo. That wonderful Apollo 11. One small step for Man, one giant step for Mankind. A footprint. A flag.

    My space eyes all along have been boy’s eyes. Eyes filled with wonder. Eyes filled with tears. Eyes that have seen things happen that were beyond even that boy’s hopes. It was his heart that leaped into the bodies of the NASA folks yesterday. His heart that felt the emotion. The success. The joy.

     

     

     

     


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  • Bearing Down

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Imbolc (Wolf) Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Caring Bridge. Kate’s community of friends. Story. The Ancient One’s theme this Sunday. Workouts. Deb, a new workout next Thursday. The Wind, 20/25 mph this morning. Our hardly wind tight house. Covid. Vaccines. Aging. The old homestead in Andover. The Lodgepoles, swaying, bending, waving.

     

    It’s been, overall, a rotten week. Kate’s been in bed, or wanting to go back to bed the whole week. This morning is better. We’ll see. A hard week emotionally for both of us, including one fight which had both of us admitting fault, sorry, no, it’s just really hard right now. Yeah, I know. Me, too. Then on beyond that one.

    This follows three weeks that have been no good, very bad weeks. Tubes in and out, in and out of the hospital, a new diagnosis of atrial fibrillation, hypoxia, failing oxygen concentrator, general icky feeling for Kate. Disheartening.

    As for me. Better rested. Lower expectations about what I can get done in a day. Taking care with fitness, food, sleep. Going with it.

    Scheduled a new workout with Deb. We’ll do it on Zoom because I don’t like to be away from the house very long. We have two red “need you” buttons and receivers placed in the loft, the kitchen, and near the stairs in the living room. Kate keeps one around her neck and the second one is in the bathroom downstairs.

    Oil and coal industry readies its fight back against Biden’s climate policies. Jesus H. Can’t they see this is over? Why can’t they be part of the solution? Could you really be a board member of a major oil, gas, or coal company and say, “Hey, it may the downward slope for us. That means we have to squeeze all the profit out. No matter what. Fuck the world.”

    The cynicism here is apocalyptic. I mean, literally apocalyptic. If we don’t throttle them, and ourselves, back, our grandchildren and certainly our great grandchildren will bake in the oven of our discontent. I’m Mad as Max and I can’t take it anymore.

    In cheerier news friend Tom Crane sent a note about the Mars rover Perseverance “bearing down” on Mars. That’s so exciting. It lands February 18th with a package designed to search for signs of life, new and old. One of things they will be looking for are Stromatolite formations. This ancient life form can still be seen on the west coast of Australia. A trip I’d like to make someday.

    I put bearing down in quotes because at the time of the article Perseverance was 4.5 million miles from Mars. I guess that’s the in dark cold of space equivalent.


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  • New Grange. Stonehenge.  Chaco Canyon. Goseck Circle. (Germany) Tulum.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Moon of the New Year (and the great conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn)

    Monday gratefuls: The Winter Solstice. 30 days. Cottagepie from Easy Entrees. Family. Friends. Lights. Jacquie Lawson’s Nordic Advent Calendar. Magic. In an old guy’s heart. Songs. Gifts. The wonder of children.

     

     

    Ah. Can you sink into the darkness? Feel its fecund cape wrap round your shoulders? Comforting. Nourishing. Deep. Deep as the depths of your soul. Deep as the depths of time, even beyond time, to the Hawking period before the universe began to expand. Deep as the love you feel for those close to you. Deep as the bounty of mother earth is abundant.

    The longest night. It comes to you. The sun low in the sky, the day shortened. Cold weather, perhaps. Early on in humanity’s adventure with the stars they knew. The sun had begun to flee. Even at the height of the growing season, on the summer solstice, the nights had begun to increase in length.

    This gradual, oh so gradual, slipping away of the light. Would it continue until the night became all there was? How would the crops grow? The animals get fed? The people stay warm and fed?

    But, yes, I imagine they also knew. Last year, too. And the sun returned. And the year before that. Let’s see if we can find the moment, capture the day. That way we can assure each other that the sun will not stay away. Let’s build monuments in stone and wood that capture the light of that day, or the position of the stars on that night.

    New Grange. Stonehenge.  Chaco Canyon. Goseck Circle. (Germany) Tulum.

    This suggests to me that far from being frightened on this night of nights, the ancients anticipated it, probably looked forward to it. But, they also wanted to be sure it would happen again and again, so they spent vast resources ensuring they would know its arrival.

    Can you imagine the celebratory feelings when, just as the stone alignments had predicted in the past, the sun came again through the slot, lined up with the stones? The shaman was right! We would get another growing season. See! Life could go on. Ancient science comforting the masses, just as contemporary science comforts us now with vaccines.

    Never in my lifetime have we needed the message of the winter solstice more than this year, this 2020 of cursed memory. As the virus claims more lives, infects more people, remains dangerous especially in the richest nation on earth, we need a sign. Tonight is that sign.

    Darkness need not lead to despair. These depths, this night, this virus, are not static. Just as fecund darkness enriches all plant life in the fallow season, so does the light of creation shine each year to enrich the plants in the green time. We know that because tonight teaches about darkness and its twin, the Summer Solstice, teaches us about light. Both necessary. Like the symbol of the Tao.

    Rising right now, in the Covid darkness, vaccines have begun to dispel the fear and show us that yes, this pandemic can and will end. We are victims neither of darkness nor the glare of a sun that will not set. The earth teaches us this lesson every year. The Great Wheel turns and so do all the vagaries of life.


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