Category Archives: Mountains

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

It’s a New Day

March 11, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Friday gratefuls: Jon’s ok. Ruth, growing up. That weird sandwich. Not so ok with my stomach. The anniversary. The people who helped me through it. Chicken soup. Soul. Mine. Trying to find it. Searching for soul. Lev and the mouth. Tom’s 74th. Astrology. Tarot. Kabbalah. Jon’s art. My writing. Water from the Chalice Well. Carolyn Levy. Seoah and her interview this morning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grief and its depth

Tarot:

Kep’s raggedy look. I brush him and brush him and brush him. Taking off as much fur as any dog probably has on them at any one time, yet he has still more. And yet more comes. The second coat of a cold adapted dog breed. A damned nuisance.

On the other hand. He doesn’t slobber. Which both Vega and Rigel did. Their Coyote Hound inheritance. Both the constant shedding and the slobber were new to Kate and me. Irish Wolfhounds and Whippets don’t have either. We had to adjust. Still adjusting.

5 degrees again this morning. This last couple of weeks have reminded me of Minnesota, creating the sort of icy conditions better suited to flatland. Colorado drivers don’t understand it. After 40 years in Minnesota, my instincts are intact. Won’t say an icy curve can’t catch me off guard, but I’ve got a better chance than most of the folks I routinely drive with.

Made it through yesterday. Remembering. Loving the remembering and being saddened by it and gladdened by it. I did what I said I would. Moved Kate’s ashes and her signature red glasses to a niche behind my computer, behind me right now. Rigel, too. Both weighed about the same. Rigel’s big paw print in plaster of paris and a sweet card from the folks at Sano, acknowledging Rigel as a very sweet dog who will be missed. By us all. My two ladies, now elsewhere, gone from here. Not from the soft squishy thing in my skull however.

I can feel yet more plate tectonics in my soul. Subduction pushing up long buried hopes and dreams while carrying surface worries and false paths below. Something about writing going down. Something about people and this house rising. The grief orogeny changing the once flat plain of my old life. New peaks and valleys coming into existence, old ones disappearing.

Cousin Diane said something that stuck with me. Sounds like prioritizing exercise is important. Yes. Broke a logjam in my thinking that kept pressing writing and exercise into a face off for my time. Health comes first. I should know this already after watching Kate’s steady, sad decline. But, I didn’t have it. I’m going to get my 30 minutes plus in five days a week. We’ll see how the rest of the schedule takes shape with that as the priority.

Realizing right now that I have lived through a major life crisis with the folks at CBE. They knew Kate well. And, me. They knew we came as a pair. If she was there, I was there, and vice versa. Except for board meetings and when I did physical work. They were with us through her long illness and are now with me in my grief. Holding me in love and kindness.

Told David again, I don’t want to convert. Might be a little bit repetitive on that one. But, I said, I’m so drawn to the people, the tribe. Not the torah or the kabbalah or the talmud or even the regular services, but the community. I told him about dating three Jewish women at the same time after my divorce from Raeone. Not sure why, just happened. Well, probably not.

He said something very interesting. Sometimes those kind of things happen after events in a past life. Oh. That felt oddly right. Something to explore as this new life, this new day, makes me feel good.

This video surprised me by being a prompt, a hope, a dance I want. Not there yet, but on the way. A new ancientrail.

“Dragonfly out in the sun you know what i mean dont you know
Butterflies all havin’ fun you know what I mean
Sleepin’ peace when day is done that’s what I mean
And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me” Nina Simone

Kate loved dragonflies and butterflies, so here you go:

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Mountains, Plants, Tarot

Knowing My Limits

March 8, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Luke. Rabbi Jamie. New Snow. March. The second month of Adar. Leap year in the Jewish calendar. Kate, my sweetheart, always Kate. The cleaning crew. Vince. My infrastructure folks, as Tom calls them. Becky Chambers. Ada Palmer. Ed Kelly. Psilocybin. THC. Cold Weather. 8 degrees on Shadow Mountain. Fatigue. Weakened stamina. Prostate cancer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Orgovyx and Erleada

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, the Eel

House cleaned. New workout proceeding. Back to five days a week. Still fatigued. Started thinking about this last night.

Why do I continue being fatigued? Well. Testosterone as low as it can go. Sarcopenia from meds and aging. Lower o2 saturation due to post-polio and high altitude. Hypothyroidism. Outside of that I’m full steam ahead. For three or four minutes.

My stamina has improved. Still not great, but better. Fatigue, too, for that matter. They’re related, of course. I’m working out and that does help. It’s counter intuitive for sure, but yay moving and challenging those muscles. I’m hoping treatment for the hypothyroid condition will give me a boost. March 14th with Kristine.

When Kate was sick, my principle with her was that I would do for her anything she could not do, but I would not do for her anything she could do. Sounds simple, but it’s not.

I do not have all these. But many. No heavy menstruation for example. Or, any for that matter. But, I do have a lot of them.

I apply the same idea to myself. If I can increase my stamina on my own, I’ll do that. But. I can’t make my thyroid right. Or, deal with my prostate cancer without drugs that make me tired. I can stave off some of the sarcopenia with resistance work but I can’t make my bones strong without plyometrics and my artificial knee makes them contraindicated.

Or, I can move furniture around on one level, but not between levels. So, Vince. I can’t hold heavy things up anymore. So, Vince. I could clean my own house, yes, but I’ve proven to myself over and over that it feels burdensome, even loathsome. Better to hire Marina’s crew.

The kitchen remodel. Very far from my thing. Staining the house. Putting in mini-splits. Oh so far away from my thing.

Living alone. I like it. But it does require honestly acknowledging my limitations and finding solutions when necessary. Fortunately, I have adequate resources. Not unending, but enough.

Be like a Lodgepile Pine Branch. When the weight gets too heavy, slough it off and spring back. Be like Maxwell Creek, allow gravity to take you back to the World Ocean. Be like Black Mountain. Stand firm in the midst of Storms, give some of yourself that others might grow, stand out on the horizon of your own life. Be like the Mule Deer, find nourishment up high and down low. Be like the Mountain Lion, hunt carefully and unceasingly for what you need. Be like the Black Bear, when what you need is scarce, slow down, way down and cut back your needs.

Anoka County, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Charlie’s Difficult, Wonderful Week

February 18, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Rigel. Her death. Kep. That hole in my heart. Tom. Here. Cannabis. Leah. Marilyn and Irv. Susan Marcus and Thoreau. Rich Levine. Dr. Palmini. VRCC. The new kitchen. The new furniture and lamp. Snow. A good bit. Stopped early morning. Plowed Black Mountain Drive. Bright Sun. Robin Egg’s Sky. White Lodgepoles and a white Black Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rigel’s death. And, her life.

My life flows on in endless song,
above earth’s lamentation.
I catch the sweet, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation. The Hymnary

Yes, it’s surprising, but this is how I feel. Eager for the new creation while sad about Rigel, about Kate, about the life that included them in the body. No, I’m not moving out of the present moment. I anticipate nothing. I regret nothing. I yearn for nothing.

Part of this equilibrium I have Tom Crane to thank for. He came here, to Shadow Mountain. And cousin Diane Keaton, my best person when Kate and I married. I speak with her once a week. Part of it has to do with the Great Wheel which has turned for Kate and Rigel and will one day turn for me. Part of it has do with the loving and loved members of Congregation Beth Evergreen and the Ancient Brothers. They hold me in a fine net of their care, mystic cords of love.

And, of course, part of it lies within me. One now turned toward the earth rather the heavens of the old three story universe. One reading the torah of mother nature, listening to midrash about her. Her oral torah loosed in the songs of birds, the bugling of the elk, the silence of snow falling.

Leaving now for breakfast with Tom. More in a while.

No, the deep sorrow has not left me. If someone says something kind about Kate or the conversation turns to death and dying, sometimes tears will press up, coming from a holy well of honor for her, for us. This will, I imagine, lessen over time. It did with my mother. It has with each of the dogs. Vega’s death took the longest to assimilate because she died suddenly and after we had been gone for four weeks.

Tom’s willingness to be here and his actual presence has, as my Jewish friends say of the deceased, been for a blessing. We know each other. Pain. Flaws. Joys. Anguish. Inner compasses aligned.

Kep and I have begun to negotiate life after Rigel. Just us boys. He comes up to the loft, but he’s not eager to stay. He likes to roam. Gertie would lie down on her bed, from time to time gaze up at me, and leave with reluctance.

Today is body-mind-spirit day. Breakfast with Tom. Therapy with David Sanders. Annual physical with Kristine Gonzalez. New workout with personal trainer, Deb Brown.

Did not finish this yesterday. So, I’ll just go on from here.

David Sanders called me an exceptionally intelligent person. Nice to hear. In these tough days a few compliments help. He also noted my breadth of knowledge. OK. Enough back patting. He convinced me to send him some of my work. I sent him the first fifty pages of Superior Wolf. And, I admitted that I probably had a book in me about the Great Wheel, tactile spirituality, the ur-religion. Feels like he moved the meter in my head back toward creative work.

Saw Kristine Gonzalez, my new primary care provider. What a delight! She loves taking care of folks over 65, listened to me, discussed my health with me like an adult. To my Bill Schmidt inspired question about what I needed to do to love (meant live, but this works, too) until I’m 90, she said, “Just do it. Your prostate cancer is under control. You should be able to.” A big sigh of relief to be in a smaller medical practice and with a competent, caring doc. I told her Kate would have liked her a lot.

Dave and Deb, owners of On the Move Fitness

Then, over to On the Move Fitness for a kick start to my workout routines which I’d let slide. Deb is the person who lost her husband David to glioblastoma in June of 2020 as the Covid pandemic began to wrap its coils around our lives. Dave and I bonded over cancer recurrences and now Deb and I have over grief. She gently guided me back to a new routine. Slowly, slowly.

By the time I got home I was exhausted. Called Tom and said so. He graciously agreed to let me rest. He’s coming here for breakfast before his board meeting, then we’ll probably head over to the Happy Camper. Might go to Scooter’s for lunch.

One of the upsides of all the angst this last year has been an immersion in love. Folks from all parts of my life from high school to college, family to friends, Minnesota to Colorado, Evergreen to Conifer, Judaism to Christianity have reached out, offered or given me support. It’s had the result I’ve needed. I’m not alone. I’m both needed and accepted as I am. Good to know at 75.

Asia, Astrology, Cooking, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Great Work, Health, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Mind Blown

February 13, 2022 Charles Leave a 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!

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

This Will Pass

February 12, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Saturday gratefuls: That Urbandale rocker. The new coffee table. The new lamp. Here at the Hermitage. Many items put in cabinets, fussing will be required. A plan slowly coming together. Feels wonderful. Rigel did not eat today. Her footpads. The two delivery guys from Modern Bungalow. “Do you have wildlife up here?” Looking at 4 Mule Deer in the front. Kids. Ruth’s first day back after the hospital. Snow coming down gently. Night fell.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Salmon a la Ode

Tired of feeling tired. I get only a few things done. Sit down. Nap. A few more. Not enough. I imagine it’s either the Erleada or the Erleada/Orgovyx combo. So hard to suss out though. Sarcopenia from not working out. Other meds. Getting good sleep so that’s not it.

Next week, two days after my 75th, David Sanders and the question, what’s this guy gonna do with the rest of his life? 11 am. At 1 pm I have my annual physical with Cynthia Gonzalez. First time I will have met her. Fatigue high on the list. At 3 pm Deb Brown at on the move fitness. Need to get moving, doing resistance work. Balance. Flexibility. I’ve never felt the need more.

This 74th year, February 14 2021 to February 14 2022, on the planet has had more than its share of challenges. For all of us. Some have added a few more. Like me. Widower. Single guy living alone. Remodeling, refurnishing. Rigel’s health. Jon’s. Ruth’s. Life. As it flows on in endless song.

Feeling it all today. Ruth’s struggles. Jon’s. Rigel’s. They could add to the fatigue, too, of course. My response to them, that is.

The two young guys who delivered the Modern Bungalow order. A handsome 20 something Black man and a handsome 20 something Latino. Felt like they’d been cast in a movie, the new diversity sensitive films. Just guys. Friendly and helpful. Awed, as we all are, by wild Life. This delivery will remain in their minds, perhaps later draw them to the mountains.

With weariness comes a touch of melancholy. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t erase.

Snow means low Fire danger. Yeah. Also, beauty. 6-9 inches. Means Vince will be here. He might try the Snow raking.

Lots of moving parts in caring for a house, dogs, a life. Called the home call vets. Will get word tomorrow am about a visit. Rigel’s lethargic. I bought stick on pads for her paws which should help improve her mobility, but she’s hardly moved since I put them on. I got XL, but they’re not big enough. If they seem to help, I’ll go XXL.

At this moment life feels a little hard, a little too much. Ruth. Jon. Rigel. The fatigue, the lack of stamina. This will pass.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

The Hermitage Common Room

February 11, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and The Moon of 3/4’s

Friday gratefuls: David Sanders. You’re the most articulate person I’ve ever met. Another person the night before, someone I admire: you’re the man I want to become. Geez. Yet. Nice, too. Therapy. Again. For me. For Ruth. Therapy Nation. Languishing. Mourning. Grieving. Bright Sun. Blue Sky. Black Mountain. Wireless mouse and keyboard. Wow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth and Seoah

Living. As far as I know, it beats dying.

Noticed my ax sitting near the window. Behind it is a painting, a Renaissance replica, in the shape of a cross. Jesus crucified. Above them hangs the red dragon on a green and white background, the flag of Wales. All the way on the bookshelf’s top is a human skull, an anatomy lesson tool. Up there, too, is a seven candle menorah, a replica of the Temple Menorah from the First Temple.

The ax I can no longer wield. Too weak. Poor stamina. The painting I love as art and appreciate as metaphor. The flag is a roots thing. Captain Ellis from Denbigh,Wales. Our Welsh forefather. Though. None of my genetic work has teased out any Welsh blood. The skull. Not the only one. A beaver, a black bear, a Sabre tooth tiger (faux, but still cool). What lies beneath.

Ruth returned home. Spent the last two days with me. She looks much better, less stressed. Medication changes. More knowledge about how to self regulate. A volunteer turn on her part which suggests a much higher likelihood of benefit. She was nervous about going back to school today. As she often says, Makes sense.

Took her, Gabe, and Jon to Katsu Ramen. Was gonna be Domo, Ruth’s favorite, but it’s closed due to omicron. This was her 15th birthday meal. From last year. I took Gabe to his favorite, Benihana, last month. This little family. Sweet and, it seems, taking steps to heal from years of trauma physical and trauma emotional.

A good time together then I drove back home, all the way across the Denver metro and up the hill to Shadow Mountain.

Rigel. Not eating. Won’t let me give me her pills. I called a different vet, a local home call vet who does acupuncture, other things. We’ll see if she can help. Rigel also occasionally retches, like there’s something stuck in her throat. I don’t know what’s going on. She’s gone to the door to the Otherworld many times and always turned around and walked back. I’m neither hopeful nor despairing. Today, she’s alive. I’ll do what I can today.

Had my first therapy appointment in many years yesterday. Dr. David Sanders, who founded the Kabbalah Experience and teaches the class on the Sefer Yetzirah that I’m taking right now. We met on zoom. Which I preferred to going in, wearing masks. Trying to hear.

Some tears. Talking about Kate. About our life together, our love, our commitment to each other’s growth. Focusing on life after Kate. As David asked, “What does this 74 year old man have left to do with his life?” Exactly.

I’m paying the bill myself. No insurance. Because I want to. May be weird, but it makes me feel good. And I can. Feels more like its mine, not mine and the damned Advantage Care. No pleading for help. Getting it.

All boxes of kitchen stuff off the common room floor. Ruth won the contest. Common Room. A good one. The Common Room is a spot where we can gather, enjoy a fire in the fireplace, have a meal. Be together. Congratulations to Ruth!

Feeling on the cusp of change. But, I’ve felt that way for a while. Even so. A sort of forward leaning, yet in the moment feeling.

May sit in my new rocker a while today. Read. Maybe even light a fire. I want to read even more and I hope this new furniture arrangement in the Common Room will encourage that for me.

Enough for today. See you on the flip side.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Award Winning Pet Grooming. Happy Camper. Shaggy Sheep.

February 4, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Friday gratefuls: Racism. Anti-Semitism. Sexism. Caste consciousness. Hate. Love. Justice. Resistance. Struggle. Le lucha. The long dureé. Vince. Snow. Ruth and her commitment to herself. Jon and his love for her. Betty Whiteout and Ctr Salt Delete, names for Minnesota Snowplows.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Container Store (for my new kitchen organizing)

Tarot: Nine of Bows, Respect.

Started putting things in cabinets and drawers. Gonna have to get creative since I lost two drawers in the remodel. Going to the container store tomorrow. Pots, pans, dishes, bowls, cups, infrequently used items like soup tureen, large serving dishes, punch bowl, even appliances will have plenty of room. Towels and dishrags, too. Often used items like forks and spoons and steak knives, spatulas, tongs, wooden spoons, as well. But the not so often used things like thermometers, Kate’s extensive collection of single use kitchen devices, e.g. cherrypitter, pomegranate deseeder, not so much. I look forward to solving this problem. Seriously.

Rescheduled my appointment with Deb Brown for Zoom.

Talked to Ruth again yesterday. She’s pleased with her care at Denver Springs. Music therapy, group therapy, regular individual therapy sessions. It makes me happy that she wants to call me to talk. Sad that she calls me from a psych unit.

That’s the roof with the solar panels. See the problem?

Sent Vince, new snowplow guy a note. Would he be willing to rake off the bottom foot or so of my solar panels when he plows? This would pay for itself if he’s willing. Then, the snow slips off as the sun comes out and I get back to electricity generation. Especially important since the mini-splits are electric.

I did turn the hot water heat on in Kate’s sewing room because I’m going to be rearranging the pantry and bringing things back into the kitchen from there. It’s still a point of chaos in some areas, too. Not gonna deal with that until it’s warmer, too expensive to heat all year round.

Becky Chamber’s, A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, is an interesting read. Her characters and world-building are very strong. The plot maybe not quite as important. Recommended. Like being back in the reading groove.

Lots of positives right now. May they continue.

Abraham Lincoln died. Rich made a digital picture file.

Got to take Rigel to Bailey today for Award Winning Pet Grooming. Gonna go first to Happy Camper for Cheeba Chews, then on into Bailey to the groomers and on past them to the Shaggy Sheep, near Grant, for lunch and to wait on Rigel. Shaggy Sheep is fun. A New York City chef wanted the quiet life so he moved to Colorado and put a restaurant together on Hwy. 285 between Bailey and the Kenosha Pass.

Coronavirus, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate

A Master Class. Kitchen. Erleada. Ruth.

February 3, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Thursday gratefuls: That below zero crunch in the Snow. Minnesota. Abraham Lincoln. Rich. Judy. Marilyn. Tom. Irv. Fresh Snow beauty on Black Mountain. On the Lodgepoles. On the Hermitage. Master Class in Black History. Back to reading. Loading coffee cups in the new shelving. Figuring out how to use the Speed Brew Bunn. (for high altitude)

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Money

Tarot: The Hooded Man, #9 of the Major Arcana

Loaded coffee cups into the pantry cabinets, smaller than the old ones, but probably better this way. While feeding the dogs. I’m getting underway. More this morning.

Vince came to plow the driveway. He has a six wheel ATV. An odd-looking thing. But powerful. He did a great job, including eliminating the small ridge of snow in front of the front door that both Josh and Ted left. I think Vince is a find. He also does landscaping.

Connected with Ruth yesterday. She’s in the Denver Springs psych hospital. Voluntarily. She sounded good. Joking, asking me to give Rigel and Kep a hug for her. She wants, really wants, to get her psyche calmed down. I hope she’s able to do that. I love her so much and it makes me hurt to see her in trouble.

Decided I’ll schedule the Modern Bungalow delivery for my birthday. A way to celebrate with a major change in the front room. I don’t know what to call that room. Great room sounds pretentious. Living room doesn’t feel right. It has a breakfast nook and a fire place. The area around the fire place is a separate space. I don’t know. Any ideas out there?

Been watching a Master Class in Black History on Amazon Prime. It’s excellent. I got to know Cornel West a bit at the 1974 Liberation Theology Conference in Detroit. I also met Angela Davis when I worked on the West Bank. There were a few members of the communist party who lived on the West Bank and were active in neighborhood politics. I can’t remember the couples name right now, but they held a do for Angela and invited me. This would have been in the mid-1980’s. Very much worth watching.

BTW: I agree with everything I’ve heard so far on the program. Knew some, but also learned a lot.

Felt a sag in my excitement about the new kitchen as I start to reorganize it. Realized it was the midday blues. Gonna get back to exercising, starting today. Better energy when I work out. Was gonna go to On the Move Fitness, but wrote Deb a note and said, “I’ve got the Omicron jitters. Let’s schedule a zoom session.” Probably over cautious. But. I’m not now, nor have I been sick for the last two years. In less you count prostate cancer, of course.

The Erleada, which I’ve been taking for 6 days now, did drop my energy level at first but that seems to have waned. Also a few hot flashes. Not bad. Not good. Oddly, just as I typed Erleada, the phone rang. McKesson Biologic Pharmacy. They’re the folks that handle my Orgovyx script, too. Kind and competent. My favorite combination.

And, ta dah! $10 a month rather than $3,000 or $650.

-30-

Astrology, Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Kabbalah, Mountains, Myth and Story, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, US History, Weather +Climate

Education and Snow and Drugs

February 1, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: David Sanders. Rebecca. Claire. Bonnie. Elisa. Snow. Coming down hard. Shingles vaccination. Safeway pickup. Rigel’s meds. Kep’s good appetite. Kabbalah Experience. Their classes. The kitchen. Mostly remodeled. The Mountain roads in the Snow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Language, mediator or creator? Or both?

Tarot:

Today. Trash out early in advance of snow too deep to move the bins through. First push for Vince, tomorrow. See how he’ll do. I’m hopeful.

Talked about soul mates in Torah and the Stars. Is there some one, perhaps only one, who can complete you? Kate considered me her soul mate and I considered her mine. Took me a lot of relationships to find her. Worth it. In the class following Torah and the Stars, Sefer Yetzirah II, David Sanders quoted Eric Fromm: love is being committed to the growth of another. Excellent. Kate and I fit that definition in so many ways.

It also allows for the sort of love I have with Kep and Rigel, with my ancient brothers, with Jon, Ruth, and Gabe. The sort of love that CBE has shown to me.

I felt energized after the two classes. I needed it because I still had to go back to Safeway, after a jaunt there around 8:30 am to pickup groceries and drop Rigel’s prescriptions at the pharmacy. After Mark Odegard’s bout of shingles, I committed myself to getting the vaccine(s). Did it. Got the first one. Two months later, the second one.

Picked up Rigel’s meds, muscle relaxant and oxy, got a poke in the right arm. Which hurt, btw. Came back home.

Next up tomorrow: getting started on kitchen reorganization. I plan to savor the opportunity to organize plates and silverware, herbs and spices, bread box and coffee maker. Getting them in places that will not recreate the clutter I had before the work began. When I see how long that will take, not long I imagine, I’ll call Modern Bungalow and schedule the furniture delivery.

Ellen Arnold, Jamie’s mother, served on a subcommittee of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) vetting the new social studies standards for Colorado Schools. She asked those of us in the Thursday mussar group to read the ADL’s positions and to comment to the school board.

This is what I submitted:

As an old man who’s seen the changes in our country since the early 1960’s, I’m proud to be part of a state that takes history seriously. But.

The ADL’s comments on these revisions, which I have read and with which I agree, make me remember the adage that history is written by winners. While this may be true in the short term, the job of historians and educators is to balance the winner’s version with the facts of how others were affected by the winner’s victories.

This would include at least the facts about Native American deaths and cultural cancellation by the United States Government. It would include at least information about slavery congruent with the information in the New York Time’s 1619 project. It would include factual information about the Yellow Peril era and the subsequent incarceration of Japanese Americans during WWII. It would include factual information about US colonialism in the Philippines. It would include information about the Holocaust, Nazi’s, and other genocides that have occurred, e.g.the Armenian, the Rwandan, and the Cambodian.

This is far from trivial. The history that we learn in school becomes the bedrock against which we measure the veracity of competing claims in political campaigns, in discussions with friends, in making business decisions.

The trust given to you is not only to the truth, although it should first be that, but it is also a trust given to you by those not educated, by those not born, by all of us who need informed fellow citizens to make our democracy work. Don’t put the shackles on young minds. Set them free with the truth. Please.

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Imbolc

February 1, 2022 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon (that’s 3/4 of a century for me on February 14)

Tuesday gratefuls: Winds. Swaying Lodgepoles. Cold and Snow coming. Polar Vortex slumping all the way down to Shadow Mountain. Bowe and his work today. Fatigue. Erleada. Mighty chemicals fighting prostate cancer on my behalf. The Assistance Fund. Cheese curds from Wisconsin Cheese Brothers. Night. Sleep. Electric blanket. Pillow. Kep and Rigel with me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Kitchen. Almost remodeled.

Tarot: Nine of Bows, Respect

Bowe installed all of the hardware, my magnetic knife holder, a light can in place of a fan, and noted the still unfinished parts of Brian’s work. There are a couple of glitches, but I think they’re minor. Will be fixed. I love it. The hardware makes the whole. If I’m honest, what I love best are the under cabinet lights. I can see!

The kitchen invites me in. Says, work here. It’s your space. I’m proud of the design and the work to realize it. I plan to start loading the cabinets tomorrow. Too tired tonight. Even modest labor like putting things in cabinets does wear me out right now. I go slow.

This is so exciting to me. A part of the new life comes into reality. Chef mois. A lot of self-education over the next few months.

Time learning more about South Nodes and North Nodes. South Nodes present our “karmic” past. Things unfinished, things done wrong, things involved in tragedy or heartache, things that tip over into this life. Unfruitful reactions to circumstances. Spots of difficulty in career or marriage or self-awareness. This hinges on your ability to believe in past lives, of course. Tough for me. But, I’m learning it anyhow.

The North Node is the “cure” to the troubles of the South Node. If, like me, you have a South Node in Sagittarius, the North Node, directly across the face of the natal chart clock, is in Gemini. If I came into this life trailing wispy baggage of dogmatism, dark magic, rigid certainty, (all likely as dark sides of Sagittarius) then, the Gemini positives of listening and learning from others will help free me from that baggage. I’ll become a more well-rounded, healthy person.

Still unsure about all this, but over the last couple of weeks the houses, the planets, and the Nodes have become clearer to me. It’s a complex, maybe overly complex, art form, astrology. It does help me to remember that astrology and astronomy were one pursuit in ancient times.

And, too, learning something has its own value. The kabbalistic frame for astrology remains elusive for me. I’ll get there with it.

Ruth remains under Children’s Hospital’s psychiatric care. She’s been there since dinner Saturday night up here. I’m not sure the exact nature of her crisis, but her being there still underscores its seriousness. I can’t visit. I’m not on her list. I’ve got a call in, but the psych folks have not called me back.

No idea when, or even if, this will resolve. Having a grandchild, Ruth especially, with severe mental health problems. Sad. Hopeful. Puzzled. Loving. How can we help her right the ship? I don’t know.

Rigel’s getting new drugs, or rather, more of the recently prescribed drugs: oxycodone and a muscle relaxant. They help some. As Dr. Palmini said, “We’re not trying to get her into Division I athletics.”

Final note: These Winds have blown all the time I’ve been writing. I saw 35 mph on my anemometer. Some gusts higher than that, I’m sure. The Winds of change. A cold weather system is on the way and these Winds are its harbinger.