Category Archives: Mountains

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The Summer Solstice. And Acting.

June 21, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Learning. Acting. Felix. Alfieri. The Black Box. Low friction theater. Tech night. Showcase. Summer Solstice. Beltane, leaving. Growth. Green. Pollen. Mountain trails. Black Mountain green, Lodgepoles and Aspen. Very cool morning, 43. Blue Colorado Sky. Pure yang. Today only. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Needing to work harder at learning lines.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Our Showcase on the 27th, all scenes go up

Tarot: Two of Arrows, Injustice

“Two of Arrows, Injustice, encourages us to be less judgmental and critical of the motives of others. We rarely know what is going on and why someone is doing what they do. Today the Two of Arrows asks us to step out of time for a moment. Orientate ourselves with the Wildwood: question our beliefs and seek out the truth of a situation.” tarotx.net

How about that Summer Solstice? See Deng Ming Dao’s comment below.* I love the feeling of growth and abundance that shows all around me. Lush Grasses in the Meadows. (the pollen, meh) Green Pine Needles make the Lodgepoles look Spruced up. (lol) The Aspens sway in the wind, their Catkins beginning to emerge. The Mountain Streams have slowed as the Snow melt and Spring Rains have receded.

Coming home last night I saw a young Mule Deer Buck, his small rack still in velvet. He dined on the tall grasses growing up from the edge of Brookforest Drive. Munching as I drove past, he looked up for a moment to acknowledge my passing.

The sun had set but still cast light on the Western horizon. The longest Day. As Deng Ming Dao notes though, this marks the apotheosis of Yang for the year. From this point on it declines until we reach the Yin moment of the Winter Solstice.

Beltane to Lughnasa. The growing season in its most vigorous, summer marking its middle. Corn has long since jetted past the old cliche of knee high by the Fourth of July. New hybrids grow faster, yield more. But? Better? Well…

The Midwest throws a party for the Summer Solstice. Corn and Beans pushing toward harvest. Cows in the fields and in the barns. Pigs getting fed. Chickens roosting, finally, at home. Farmers hard at work from sunup to sundown. The remnants of the Big Woods in full leaf and flower. Grasses green and plentiful. Alfalfa. Timothy. Almost to first cutting.

Without this season the whole world goes hungry. Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music!

Acting. Alan and I met for breakfast then went over to the synagogue where we ran lines for the Odd Couple. Four times. And screwed them up at tech night. Tech night means final blocking and working on the lights. Tal said this was low friction theater. Minimal stage dressing.

Learning lines has proven more of a challenge than I expected. I’ve not put in enough time and plan to remedy that this week. I’m going to learn how to read my partner’s lines into the computer so I can toggle it on and off while repeating my lines. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. As long as it takes.

At this point I do know the lines for both The View from a Bridge and the Odd Couple. What’s hard is remembering them on cue. Odd Couple is 97% there. View from the Bridge maybe 40%. One of my big ahas from this first acting class is to start learning lines earlier and put more time in run throughs with my acting partner. After 50 years it makes sense that I’d have a few things to learn. Oooh, boy.

I’ve got Macbeth down. 100%. I’m the announcer. I say at the beginning, “The Tragedy of Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Act One.” Then I go out four more times announcing act two, so on. That’s it.

This is a much shortened version of Macbeth. The script is two pages long. To give you the flavor, the final lines are: Alan as a soldier: Stab, Stab, Stab. Macbeth: Ow, Ow, Ow. Macbeth dies.

I’m excited for the showcase, but still have a bunch of work to do. Starting with the computer work today. Alan and I are going to run our scene again. I go to Hamish’s on Sunday to work on View from a Bridge.

Turns out acting lessons require real work.

*”The Daodejing speaks of the valley spirit, of the importance of the female character, and of Tao as the mother. That doesn’t negate the opposite: pure yang. It is also a concept in Tao.

Today is a time of great yang. The daylight is longest.

As we contemplate that, we can see that it took a year to get here, it lasts a day, and the time will move toward darkness and yin.

Therefore, as much as we might want to celebrate pure yang, it is a brief state. The rest of the time, everything is far more mixed.” Deng Ming Dao, a facebook post

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Backwards through the day

June 18, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Sarah. Jon. Gabe. Ruth. Jamie. Luke. Cheri. Laura. Alan. Steve. Sally. Kep. The Beatles. All You Need Is Love. Imagine. Hey, Jude. Shabbat. Evening in the Mountains. The Yellow Peril, Lodgepole Pine Pollen. The Mule Deer and the Dandelions. Acting. Oscar and Felix. Knocking them dead.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Laughter

Friday. Let me go backwards. When I left before oneg a social moment after the evening service and the saying of kiddush a blessing over wine to welcome the sabbath, I told Sally, “I go to bed at 9:00. You know, these services starting at 7:30…” Sally, of my age or so, nodded yes, she understood.

When I got home, there was no Kep at the door. He usually greets me when I come home. I called to him. No Kep. It was a bit past 9. Downstairs I looked through the bedroom door and Kep looked up at me from the bed, tail thumping. It’s bedtime, Dad. Made my heart melt.

Jon, Ruth, Gabe, and Sarah came up for the Beatles Shabbat. It was a sweet moment. Sarah the classical violinist loved the CBE band and the vocalists. “I feel Kate here,” she said. I don’t get those sensations, at least not very often, but I knew what she meant.

Kate inhabited CBE. She wasn’t just a member. She lived, in her last seven years, the full Jewish life that she had dreamed about since converting at 31. If her presence would be anywhere, it would be at CBE or home. Her presence was there in the flesh of Jon, Ruth, Gabe, and her sister Sarah. And my love for her.

Continuing toward morning, I took a short nap. Picked up food to make three special June salads at Safeway. A melon salad. A shrimp salad. And, a quinoa salad for vegetarian Ruth. Took all that home and put it away.

I drove to Safeway directly from treading the boards again for the first time in 50 + years. For the Senior Wellness gathering at the Church of the Transfiguration. Alan and I as Oscar and Felix from the Odd Couple. A lot of laughs. We had good chemistry and the audience could feel it. Forgot the rush when an audience responds to something you’ve done. In person. Right then, in the moment. Oh, my, ichi-go, ichi-e.

There were four other scenes and they were all well received. One solo performance by a woman dressed as a fiery Greek with a sword. Rebecca. She looked like an actress with some experience. She was from the class for more experienced actors working on solos.

Back home that morning, we performed at 1:00, I did another hour and a half with the script. Learning that I need to work harder than I have been at this. Memorization feels harder than I remembered. Maybe it is. Maybe I don’t recall the past accurately. Whichever I now see that I have to put in more time to do well. To flourish at acting. And, I want to.

The usual early morning. Ancientrails and a workout, hitting my goal for the week in terms of minutes.

Friday. A new day, a resurrected self, ready for what presents itself.

Acting, Art and Culture, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Needing a Refresh Button

June 15, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living In the Mountains Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Sarah. Gabe. Chinese food. Richard Powers. Jerry. Jon and Ruth. Tom. Durango. The railroad. Winds. Heat. Sealed driveway. Susan Taylor. Alan. Tal. Working on the Odd Couple. Kep. Mini-splits. Kate. The redoing of the house. My health. Evergreen Medical Center. They give a damn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sarah

Tarot: Page of Stones, Lynx

There are the seven seals in the Book of Revelations and one petroleum based seal on my driveway. John came by yesterday and worked for three hours. Cleaning, then putting a rubber based liquid in the cracks. Spraying a black sticky coating of some sort of petroleum over the whole driveway.

John had a Louisiana phone number. I asked him about that. Oh, we’re seasonal. We work up here during the summer and early fall, then back to Louisiana. When I asked what he misses about Louisiana, he says, quickly, “The food.” He recommends Pappadeaux’s. No No’s is ok, but Pappadeaux’s is the real deal. I’ll try it soon.

Sarah (sister-in-law Sarah) came up with Gabe last night. Stayed until ten. Another late night. Late nights being defined as any night I can’t get to bed by nine. I tried going to ten but my body wouldn’t put up with it.

Sarah is here to help Jon get some necessary work done and items for his house. Sarah retired a few years back from a long and successful career as a classical violinist. She did solo work, trios and quartets, and taught for several years at Congress College in South Carolina.

Now she has become a key figure for the Johnson clan. I think she was third after Annie. Kate being the first born. I gave her a couple of books: Orfeo by Richard Powers, and I’m OK, You’re Not OK by Linda Budd, itself a gift to me from Tom.

On her death bed Kate and I finalized her bequests. Sewing stuff to Ruth, the Bailey Patchworkers got her stash, Ruth got most of her jewelry, but I remembered the jewelry she’d put in the safety deposit box. “Give it to Jerry.” That would be Jerry Miller, Sarah’s husband and a painter of landscapes in his version of the Group of Seven tradition.

Somehow boxing them up and getting the rings, necklaces, and raw gems mailed became a chore I couldn’t get done. I also had a moment when I thought. Hey, this stuff could be valuable. I should keep it. That didn’t last long. Kate was clear. And I have plenty of money thanks to Kate. So, no greed, please.

Glad to hand them over to Sarah and get them out of the house.

This morning I rolled out of bed at the crack of 7:30. About an hour, hour and a half after my usual time. A bit groggy. Two long nights and a third, the Beatles Shabbat this Friday still to come.

At 9 I talked to Cousin Diane of Clan Keaton as I do each week. This morning we veered into family territory. Could Grandma and Grandpa have been married after Grandma became pregnant? Gosh, gee whiz. This conversation started around a baby who died in his first month, Kenneth, and included a gold ring engraved 1905, Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding in 1910 (or, did they have a secret wedding).

The Keaton Clan, my mom’s family, had a lot of secrets and tragedies. Some engendered by manic-depression, some by rigid mid-century values about pregnancy, some by early death, and still more by genial criminal behavior. It’s a rich story that could fill a novel with ease. One spanning the Belle Epoque to Y2K and beyond. Family, eh?

At ten I drove to Evegreen Players for a meeting with Alan and Tal. Tal wanted to help us with our scene. Read: we’re not ready for prime time just yet. It was a difficult hour plus for me. I felt I was letting the side down. I kept dropping lines. Alan and Tal both reassured me that this was part of the process. Oh. Well. O.K.

In the end we got close to a finished scene. That is off book, blocking, scene dressing all working together. Still, I left with a headache. Feeling low.

Found a trail I haven’t used in a while and hiked it. Thought it would hit refresh for my spirit, but I spent too much time on it worrying about sunburn. OK, guy. This is getting silly.

An hour plus nap did hit the refresh button and I’m feeling much better as I write this around 4:30 pm. Yeah.

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Her Last Journey

June 11, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Grateful: for 33 plus years with Kate

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Her life and her death

Sometime after celebrating Kate’s yahrzeit at CBE, May 6th, a small voice began to say, It’s time. Time for what? It’s time. Time for what? It’s time. Oh. I see.

Whatever lies in the deep of me, the soul. My self. Inner wisdom had decided it was time to spread the rest (most) of Kate’s ashes. Yes, I put some around the Irises in her memorial Iris bed. Yes, I gave some to Jon, Ruth, and Gabe which they spread in Maxwell Creek at Upper Maxwell Falls, but I had retained most of them. They sat behind me along with Rigel’s ashes. For several months.

Niggling in the back of my mind was something Seoah had said, “Koreans believe until the ashes are spread the person isn’t free.” My take was that the person who held the ashes was the one who wasn’t yet free.

That was me in this case. Yes, but not free of what? Certainly not her memories. I will not ever let them go. Certainly not her momentous presence in my life. I cannot let that go. Free, I think, of a physical tie to yesterday. Free, I think, of any delusion that she’s gone away somewhere but might come back. Free, I think, of the life we had together. Free so that my life can move forward on its own.

So almost exactly a year and two months after her death (the 12th is tomorrow), on a clear blue Colorado day, the temperature in the mid-sixties, I strapped the urn with the flame narrative, the one shaped by Richard Bresnahan and fired in the Johanna Kiln into the passenger seat, and Kate rode with me one last time. To my trail.

Carrying the urn, heavy for this sarcopeniaed old guy, up the small hills and across the rocky stream, I walked. Burdened. Which was the point, after all. Her ashes and the urn were a counter weight when I walked on slanting parts of the trail.

I had decided that if I fell and broke the urn that would be where she needed to go. But, I didn’t. I crossed back and forth as the trail moved from the north side of the Stream to the south. Catching Rocks with my hiking boots, not dead yet, able to leverage myself from one bank to the other.

When Kate and I arrived at the small pond at the base of the waterfall, I set the urn on the ground. A moment. Letting it sink in. What I was about to do. Say good-bye. Let her go. Send her to the World Ocean via this tiny, unnamed Mountain Stream.

The urn, upended, began spilling out the off-white, grayish remains. As they hit the Water, the dustier material fanned out in the Stream, while bone fragments sank to the bottom. The whole Stream, that part visible to me from the Waterfall, clouded.

Then, in a bit the onrush of new water had cleared the Stream back to its usual state. Like life. We live, clouding the Water, then we die, and the great Stream of Life itself moves on, clears the Waters, and it’s as if we were never there.

I said two namastes to Kate’s disappearing presence, then slowly raised my arms, palms up. Crying.

Not long after I felt a release, a brightening.

This was something I needed to do and something I needed to do alone. Most of the remembrances for Kate have been communal, at CBE or with family. This was for the two of us. Us.

After a bit, I collected myself, picked up the much lighter urn, and walked back to the car.

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Natural Healing

June 11, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Friday gratefuls: My journey over a lifetime. Kate. Always. That trail. With the Creek, the Mountain Stream. The fallen Trees. The tall Pines. The Wild Strawberries. The Rocks. The steep valley walls. Wild Rose. Primrose. Those yellow Flowers I can’t identify. A place of great sanctity. A holy place. A sanctuary. Friends. Near and far.

Saturday gratefuls: Stephanie. That trail again. Happy Camper. Aspen Perks breakfast. Salad. Apples. Peanut Butter. The Continental Divide. Mt. Rosalie. Mt. Evans. Black Mountain. Staunton State Park. Richard Power’s Orfeo. Learning lines. Mini-splits. Jon. Money.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That trail.

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing. And, Again.

Key words: “Give our minds a break, Calmness, Meditation, Stillness, Healing, Reevaluation, Patience, Perseverance, State of stability, Attentive care, Take time to relax and unwind, Connection to the source energy.” tarotx.net

Forgot to finish this yesterday. A busy day. Over to Aspen Perks for breakfast: Salmon Eggs benedict. Reading Orfeo. After a morning with what people especially beyond Richmond Hill (think Pine, Bailey) call the camper and RV races. Or, the RV assholes. Or, those bastards. Folks from down the hill invading, driving too fast. Often with trailers in tow. Passing on curves. Generally being jerks. After Richmond Hill 285 goes from a four lane divided highway to a two lane, no dividers. That’s when things get clogged.

At 9 am I was still a bit ahead of the bulk of it. But I had a guy towing a trailer behind me, a BIG RV ahead of me for much of the way. Irritated locals often try to pass early. Not waiting for the passing lanes that come after the road to Staunton State Park. It’s a recipe for accidents. And, they happen. And, they kill people.

I was on my way to the Happy Camper for my every two months or so cannabis run. 25% off! for the whole month. Still digesting a Stanford study that says thc can increase inflammation in the veins and arteries around the heart. Gonna consider genistein to counteract this effect. Sleep is critical and my thc use has made 8 hours every night possible. Gonna contact my docs to see about safety and dosing.

As my avanah (humility) practice for the month, I’m using a focus phrase: ichi-go, ichi-e. Every moment is once in a lifetime, unique, precious. Trying to use it every time I encounter a living entity: Kep, Myself, Rocks, Lodgepoles, Elk, Friends, Waitress, other Diners, Birds, the Sun, Black Mountain. All the time. Sort of like the Jesus Prayer. Trying to make it subliminal, yet also present as I move around through my day.

In this way I can learn to take up the right amount of space in my life. Not too much, not too little. Not minimizing my gifts, not over emphasizing them. Making sure I remember to bring my whole self to each precious moment. Since it will not be repeated, it’s the only chance I have.

I have now hiked what I’ve begun to think of as my trail, at least when I’m on it, three times since Gabe and I were on it last Saturday. I may go again this morning. Yesterday after my time with Stephanie, Dr. Gonzales’ PA and a sweet lady, I hiked it with the ichi-go, ichi-e focus phrase.

I saw that patch of Wild Strawberry blooms and thought of Ingmar Bergman’s film of the same name. A favorite. The Mountain Rose Bushes are in full Flower, too, five white Petals brightening the trail. They will give way to Rose Hips as the Wild Strawberry Blooms will to Strawberries.

The little Stream, I don’t know its name, flows a bit less vigorously as the Snow melt and Rains subside. Still it sings, dancing over Rocks, falling down the Mountainside, continuing its creation of this holy Valley.

Oddly, as I thought about this trail last night, I realized I’ve done just this, exercised outside in spots that became favorites for a very long time. I used to hike the trail along the Mississippi down by the Ford Avenue Bridge. Then I moved on to the Crosby Nature Farm, also along the Mississippi. When I worked for the Presbytery, I often exercised or walked at the Eloise Butler Garden and Wildlife Sanctuary.

In Andover I went to the Rum River Regional Park and snowshoed a trail through Woods behind the new library in the Winter, spent other times at Boot Lake SNA. Now I’m on my trail just off Brook Forest Road. Up here though the options are much more abundant. I’ve also been on Upper Maxwell Falls, The Geneva Creek trail outside of Grant, and plan to hit the Mt. Rosalie Trail soon.

My equivalent of the Celtic Christian practice of peregrinatio. The Skunk Cabbages are probably blooming right now at Eloise Butler. I miss seeing them and the bright yellow of the Marsh Marigolds. The power of the mighty Mississippi, too. Though a Mountain Valley is equal to them in its own way. Love the one you’re with. Eh?

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They’re Back!

June 9, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Anavah. Humility. Spanakopita. Cancer. Chemo. Rich. Jamie. Judy. Susan. Heart moments. Acting class. Mussar. Ancient Brothers. Ancientrails. The trail. Walk slow one way. Fast both ways. Slow back. Kate’s memorial garden about to bloom. Orfeo by Richard Powers. Learning lines. Reading.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Greening of the Mountains. (can the pollen be far behind?)

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The Eel

“With purity of intent, your destiny defined, you are able to bring wisdom and maturity to your tasks. Embarking on a quest of personal revelation, your vision leads you forward. Your deep feelings are expressed at every turn.” The Wild Wood Tarot Book, p.113

So excited! Been meaning to say here I expect the return of my Elk friends to eat the Dandelions. They first came the the day I started radiation now four years ago. Each year since three have come, one with a single horn. He’s back this morning! And he’s gotten bigger. A lot bigger. The other two aren’t here yet, but I imagine they will be if they’re still alive.

I love the rhythms of the natural world, especially when they happen so close to, or rather, at home. This, too, is Living in the Mountains. If this house were abandoned, these Elk would still come here. Wild. On their own. Living as they have for over 25 million years. About 8 times longer than humans. Maybe they’ve learned something we haven’t?

A solid workout yesterday. Cardio and resistance.

Learning lines. Scene from View from a Bridge. Alfieri. I have his lines down now, need to run them with Hamish for cues and rhythm. Odd Couples lines are off-book now, I think. Alan was sick Monday, so we didn’t run through them at class.

Later, MVP at CBE. Anavah. Humility. Taking up the right amount of space. Knowing yourself required. Neither too much of you, nor too little. Neither shrink away from what you can do, nor do more than you should. The practice: a slip of paper in each pocket. The right: “For my sake the world was created.” The left: “I am but dust and ashes.” When you feel a little low, less than, reach in the right pocket and pull out that slip of paper. When you feel over confident, reach into the left.

Driving back from Evergreen last night, the greening of the Forest splashed itself across Meadows and up Mountain sides. Beautiful. A sense of abundance.

They will, of course, soon begin to desport themselves in wild pollen orgies. Which will, of course, make me sneeze, gasp, itch. The mini-splits will get a chance to shine as I close the house, insisting on no plant sexual activity inside.

I’m all for it. Just not in my house. Do it out there in the Forest where Mother Nature intended.

Herbivore heaven right now. Succulent Grasses. Flowers. Green Shrubs. Aspen Leaves. Easy to reach.

Gonna go now. Take a few pictures of my one-horned friend. Hope his buddies come, too.

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Gracie and the Momma Elk

June 7, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Acting lessons. Kep. No puppy. Proctitis. Radiation. The gift that keeps on giving. Prostate Cancer. Medical care. Dr. Gonzales. Kristie. A little low. Possibility of a recession. Blue Sky. Rain yesterday. Last day of Astrology class today. Disorientation. Sadness. A bit. Will to live. Orfeo by Richard Powers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Evergreen Animal Protection League

Tarot: Queen of Stones, the Bear

“You are an inspiration, a mentor, and a positive role model for those around you. Share what you have and know that the Universe will send more.

…you are magnetic and will attract the right people and opportunity will come to you…set your intention to be for the Highest Good. Others will be drawn to your inner authenticity, abilities, and strength. There is sensuality at play here too. You are most attractive when you are just being you. Know this and show it…fully. Unleash the need to be anything else but exactly who you are.” tarotx.net

Well. Well. Well. Three times in a row. After three shuffles of the deck each time and three cuts. Guess the Wildwood deck has a message for me. Be a mother Bear. Be a mother Bear. Be a mother Bear. OK. OK. I’ll be a mother Bear. Third time is a Bear, too. If she shows up tomorrow, I’m going to invest in a set of claws.

Not really sure what to make of this. In the year since I learned about the Tarot I may have had the same card come up twice though I’d have to check. I know I’ve never had one come up three times in a row.

Feeling a little low today. Might be anemia. Proctitis, an unpleasant sequelae of 35 sessions of futile radiation, has flared. Blood loss. Taking steps. Not a serious issue, but not one to take lightly either. Feels like my medical stuff has become more and more complicated. Getting treatments for the secondary effects of my treatments. Geez.

Trusting my doctors, Kate. You were right. It relieves anxiety to put my trust in those trained to care for me. And, I will, assuming I feel they do care for me. Both as a person and a patient. Kristie and Kristen? For sure. As usual just laying this down on the page here, saying it out loud, calms me.

Started my new doubled dose of thyroid hormone replacement. Today. That should give me a boost of energy when it kicks in. Something I could use.

Felt off at acting lessons last night. Hard to focus. Seemed everyone had a nadir, too. Jill and Alan weren’t there. The Rock of Ages rehearsal in the other Evergreen Players space kept coming through the wall. Cold rain. Sort of a blah.

I give a ride to Deb to acting class. She and Robbie have a dog, Gracie. I mentioned her before. Gracie is thirteen and a very sweet dog. I always talk to her when I pick up Deb.

Robbie’s out of town and Gracie is in Bergen Bark Inn. A Cow Elk and her newborn took up residence in Robbie’s yard. The Cow charges cars and people. And, Gracie. It scared Gracie so much that she refuses to go outside while the Cow is there. Hence, Bergen Bark Inn. I saw the Elk last night when I picked up Deb. She did not charge my car.

Living in the Mountains requires adjustments. Our wild neighbors live here, too. Most of us try to interfere with them as little as possible. Aside from the roads, houses, lights, and noise we’ve already brought into their home.

So the Cow Elk stays and the dog goes to the kennel for a while. Reasonable choice up here.

In other doggy news. My application for Kahlua was denied. They did not agree with my answer about how to treat growling/biting behavior. No, no bad dog. Step on front feet. First lightly, then harder if necessary. They said, rightly I think, that they never support hurting an animal. I was too hasty in filling out the form, didn’t give a thought to how that answer might be read. In fact that was the cure to a Wolfhound jumping up on you. Never had to do it more than twice. Still. I take their point.

Maybe I’m meant to wait. Kep’s leg stopped bothering him. Grateful for that. Also, he’s back in the bed at night, even for naps. He may be moving through his grieving. I get it.

This mother Bear is hungry. My stomach is growling. Gonna get breakfast.

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In the stranger we discover humanity

June 3, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Friday gratefuls: Yesterday’s zero on posting. Hike on the Denver Mountain Parks Trail. Mussar and sadness around gun violence. Gabe here. Jon calmer. Ruth in the hospital again. Snow all gone. 7.5 inches. Wow. Bewilderment, Richard Power’s latest. Hawai’i. Money. Travel. Cumulus Clouds white over Black Mountain. Sol. Life-Bringer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gabe

Tarot: Page of Vessels, Otter

“As a person, Page of Vessels represents someone with an open and youthful approach to life. They are imaginative and playful characters. Otters may be mischievous, but their hearts are not malicious. Expect a surprise when Otter shows up to say hello!”

The page of Vessels, the otter, reminds me to play, use my imagination for fun, enjoyment. Get some more mischief in my life. More surprise. More oneg, pleasure. More simcha, joy. Let my hair, what there is of it, down. Shake it all about.

Like most late season Snows, this one on June 1!, mostly gone yesterday. The rest will disappear today. Already 55 at 9am. All Moisture is good Moisture. Up here. Though. The Boundary Waters and Rainy Lake? Not so much. Water is not always where its needed. Watch for the Water wars to ratchet up here in the West.

We had a powerful conversation at mussar yesterday about Uvalde and gun violence. Even our most conservative member, a Trump gal, was agin’ it. When will we ever learn?

“When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the stranger. ³⁴The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the stranger as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 19:33-34

The mussar text from yesterday quoted this verse and a comment on it by a German-Jewish philosopher, Herman Cohen. Loving God. Got it. Love your neighbor. Got it. A member of the tribe. Someone like you. Not stranger. Love a stranger? In this verse Cohen says we discover humanity and God’s disposition toward our species. Love is not merely tribal, but universal.

A strong rebuke to the gun worshipers who say, “Hate the stranger in your midst. And, if possible, shoot them.”

Gabe is up here for a couple of days. I’m recruiting him to help learn lines. Also, to find that annoying beep. He tried to find it but like me, could not. Jon? Nope. Gabe loves Kep and wants to see him, work on jigsaw puzzles, watch TV, hunt for deer antlers.

We’re going to a presentation on Israel at the synagogue this evening. I like getting the kids over to the synagogue as often as possible. Being Jewish is important to them, but that part of them is not getting fed right now.

Ruth comes home tomorrow. Jon and she will come up here for a family meal after she gets released.

There’s a Denver Mountain Parks Trail on the way home from Evergreen, maybe 3/4’s of a mile from 73. I talked about it last week. I’ve taken to hiking it after mussar. One of my two trail hikes during the week. After our conversation about loving neighbors and strangers we talked about saying hello to strangers and acquaintances alike when we’re out and about. Having just finished Overstory I suggested we include Trees and Flowers, Rocks and Streams.

Along I went. Hello. To the thick Ponderosa. Hello to the Bluebells peeking from the Grass. Hello to the great slab of Granite covered with Moss and Lodgepole Roots. Hello to the Stream running happily. Singing to me as I hiked. Hello to the Wild Strawberry. To the thorny wild Berry Canes. Hello to the tall Pine climbing up straight as a mast. Hello to the Rocky Stream Bed that gives the Water a crashing, foaming moment at the end of the trail. Hello to the small Pond and the Waterstrider on the Pond.

This was more than a casual exercise. It made me feel I was among friends, no longer strangers these Plants. These Rocks. This Water. It might feel silly at first. That’s ok. Silly is good. Otter already told us so. You could give it a try.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Literature, Mountains, Plants, Weather +Climate

Sweet sad laughter filled his head

June 1, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Afternoon gratefuls for Wednesday: Cold white tea. Glass. Fire. Peat briquets. Ireland. The Celts. Dry Pine split logs. A chimney. A fireplace. Overstory, the last pages. A day of resting, wondering, wandering.

You know. I sat there in my Stickley chair. Overbuilt with gothic trusses, slotting joinery, arms wide for books and tea and my blood pressure cuff.

Build a Fire. Go on. Build a Fire. But I have to get up. I know, build a Fire and put the Peat briquets on it. Sometimes I listen to this slice of Self. Sometimes not.

This time. Got an edition of the Canyon Courier from last year, crumpled it up and put the wads under the andirons. A few slick pages, clay paper I think, above them, on the metal. Twigs. Fatwood. Two thinner chunks of Pine, one fatter one across them. Four of the black briquets formed from the Peat beds of old Ireland. One match. Left the doors slightly open for the draft.

Went back to the chair, sank in, almost disappearing into its bulk. As Fires do, it was nothing special at first. A pop here. A tendril of smoke. Did it go out? No, a Flame. Soon it burned with the ancient mystery of a Campfire out on the Veldt. Like our ancestors then I watched mesmerized. This is knowledge known by the heart.

As the Flames licked up in the draft of Air, the Fire began to dance, pirouetting, pointing toward the Sky. And, as my favorite line in Beowulf goes, Heaven swallowed the Smoke. The scent of Peat, pre-Coal Lignite, leaked out. Smelling like a left over glass of single malt whisky. Aqua Vita.

Only a few pages left to go in Overstory. The denouement. Characters dying, being jailed, thinking back, imagining a brand new life ahead. Dissolution then reseeding.

The wood in the fire. Trees now dead, lighting the room, heating it. Disturbing the Air. Making Smoke. The Trees in the book, many dead, many dying. Seeds being saved. Wild plans to solve the crisis of stupidity invading our species.

That time at the Peaceable Kingdom when Psilocybin sent tendrils of neural Fire through my consciousness. Lying in the Garden I watched the Potatoes grow. Amazed. One with the Soil and the vitality. This is the way.

On the Oak arm of the chair I had a glass of white Tea. A Leaf grown on a shrub in faraway China. Made cold in the refrigerator. Water. Fire. Air. Earth. Tea. Wood. Peat. Overstory. Lodgepoles and Aspen. Willows. Ponderosa. Bristlecone Pine. Aspen’s great clonal Communities.

Sadness crept up on me. Wish Kate could share this with me. No tears. Only that tweak of impossible desire. A longing to spend the last years like this. A book. Some tea. A Fire in the fireplace. Tea-saturated Water in the Water place. Shadow Mountain beneath me. The blue Colorado Sky above me. Why strive? Wu wei. Follow the Watercourse. Listen to the Mountain. See the Trees. Be with them. Warm myself from time to time in the way of burning.

The Arapaho Forest. I live amongst Trees and the Wild Neighbors they support. Amongst the Mountains the Trees change into Soil. I am a hermit, in a hermitage. A Chinese scholar fled to his Mountain retreat after the bureaucracy got too much.

Art and Culture, Astrology, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Humor, Jefferson County, Judaism, Letters, Literature, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

You’re Joyful

May 27, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tiredness. Long sleep. Denver Mountain Parks. Trail off Brookforest Drive. Mussar. Feelings shared. Luke’s hug. Acting. Felix. Learning lines. Reading. Zweig. Powers. Meisner. Tal. Out of the head, into the heart. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Diane. These wonderful Mountains. Shadow Mountain. Herme. Kep. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Denver Parks Mountain Trail

Tarot: Ten of Bows, responsibility

“To tackle the challenges that come with responsibility here requires resilience, endurance, and assertiveness. The burden may be overwhelming and disordered, but the task given to you is aiming for a good, great goal, not only for yourself but also for your family or tribe.” tarotx.net

OK. Second time in two days for the Ten of Bows. Psyche telling me. Pay attention dude. Responsibility. Those bows weighing me down. Keep moving. Be assertive. Yes. Endure. Yes. Be resilient, yes. Figure out a way to hold a relationship without giving in to hurt or immorality. Or, figure out a way to let it go altogether.

More learning of lines. Reading about Meisner. “Renowned American actor and acting teacher Sanford Meisner developed his groundbreaking technique to guide actors in behaving instinctively and getting in touch with their emotions instead of getting trapped in their own thoughts.” NFI “The Meisner Technique is a brick-by-brick process designed to get you out of your head and into your gut.” Meisner Technique Studio.

A great way to move myself beyond the last period of my life and into the new one. Didn’t take the class imagining this reward, but there it is. Thanks Alan and Tal.

Mussar yesterday. A sweet time. These folks have my back. And my front. Getting to know Luke better. Leo, his dog. A sweetheart. Sweet. A word I reuse. Means I often see the world as precious. Most of the time. Life, too.

Acting class on Monday. Kabbalah and the Stars on Tuesday, zoom. Diane on Wednesday zoom. Mussar on Thursday. A lunch or breakfast with Alan or Luke or Rebecca. The Ancient Brothers on Sunday. An occasional service, a visit from the grandkids and Jon every couple of weeks. MVP once a month. That’s plenty for me. I wouldn’t want much less and certainly not much more. The Hermit in a Crowd. Living alone with a crowd.

On the way home from mussar I stopped for the lovely Denver Mountain Park Trail near the bottom of Brook Forest Drive. About 30 minutes. A Stream. Valley walls covered with Ponderosa. Green Grass along the Stream bed. Going in and out of Shadow. Lodgepole. Dogwood. At the end of the trail the reward is Water falling over a graduated step of Rock, the Stream not yet finished wearing them down. The sound, soothing. On a small Pond I saw Water Wtriders. Picked up a Pine Cone that had a new Pine growing from its tip, a chartreuse baby Tree. Overstory on my mind the whole hike.

During an acting exercise aimed at getting us to our feelings Tal said of me in succession: you’re patient. I am patient. You’re kind. I am kind. You’re joyful. I am joyful. That last one. Yes. At last.