• Category Archives Jefferson County

  • That’s Sick!

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the waxing Winter Solstice Moon

    ©willworthingtonart

    Friday gratefuls: Tom’s visit. Happy Camper. Cutthroat Cafe. Tradition! Lunch with Marilyn and Irv at Aspen Perks. Bowe and his helper. Lower cabinets in place. Microwave up and plugged in. Sink in but non-functional. Appliances back in place. Stove and frig working. Herme is in the house. It will be a while before he gets hung. Snow. Maybe an inch or so.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship. Ancient brothers.

    Tarot: Ten of Vessels, happiness. wildwood

     

    Goya’s, Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls Museum of Art

    Feeling crummy. Tom flew all the way out here and I couldn’t go to dinner last night with him. Slight nausea, mild headache, and felt like headed toward more and worse. Stayed in, went to bed early. This morning a bit of a stuffy nose, a little off. But not worse. Maybe a stomach thing, a bit of food poisoning? Or, something I got from grandson Gabe?

    I’ve not been ill since a round of pneumonia in 2019. Well, except for the persistent cancer and post-polio and… That’s significant when you consider the stress of caring for Kate over just those intervening years. I consider myself a pretty healthy person, bracketing the afore mentioned, of course.

    Before I skipped dinner though, Tom and I had a full morning. After Bowe and his helper got here to finish installing the bottom cabinets, Tom came. We decided to go to the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey for a small breakfast since we were meeting Irv and Marilyn at 11:30 at Aspen Perks.

    Met a nice former Wisconsin resident who drives to Bailey from Denver to waitress. She had a kind smile and a happy temperament. We ordered off the Senior menu, which, as Tom pointed out, we were over qualified for since it started at age 65. We spoke as long time friends will, of things near and far in time, of journeys and other friends, family. Hopes and dreams. Fears. The food came and went, more coffee.

    The Cutthroat

    During the week the Cutthroat is the only breakfast place in Bailey. Locals and tourists alike. On the weekend the Rustic Station has breakfast and its fabulous heavy cream pancakes. But the Happy Campers’ Happy Hour, with 20% off all purchases, is only available during the week. That means I rarely get to the Rustic Station.

    Tom and I bought Cheeba Chews Indica and a new Cheeba Chews product, Sweet Dreams. Indica plus cbd and melatonin. Tried it last night and it worked well for me. I needed the sleep, too.

    Pine Junction (about half way between Conifer and Bailey)

    The drive from Conifer to Bailey goes up and down Mountains, through Valleys with Mountains in front and in back, down other Valleys with Mountains filling the view, often covered in mist or clouds far away. As 285 runs past King’s Valley, where Marilyn and Irv live, the Continental Divide comes into view. It’s far away, in South Park, past Fairplay. At this time of year it is often, as it was yesterday, Snow covered.

    We had a delightful lunch with Marilyn and Irv. Bringing together the two important friendship groups in my life: The Woolly Mammoths and Congregation Beth Evergreen. We talked about Robert Bly and the men’s movement, the formation of the Woollies, its endurance over time. Multiverses, too. Quantum mechanics. Books. Like the Midnight Library which Irv had listened to.

    Home of the Master Benders who created Herme

    When Tom and I got back to Shadow Mountain, we opened the back door of Ruby and took Herme out. Downstairs on the Stickley table. I lit him up for Tom. Rigel and Kep looked on wondering what those silly humans are up to now?

    I had Tom clip on Roger. Sitting in the passenger seat presents my left ear to the driver, my nonfunctional left ear. With Roger clipped to Tom’s vest I could hear him. When I clip it on somebody now, I joke saying at least this time Roger will go home with someone I know if I forget him. As I did at Gaetano’s.

    Sure enough. As Tom pulled out of the driveway, I heard a familiar ping. Roger was getting away! I ran out after Tom, but he didn’t see me. Fortunately, a guy in a pick up saw me and flagged Tom down. Roger came home.

    After I got up from my nap, I began to feel off. Just not quite right. Stomach, head. That dissonant sense when the body’s no longer in homeostasis. I held off messaging Tom as long I could, but finally I had to say no. I can’t do it tonight. A shame since he’s here and I see him in person rarely. Still. Illness is no respecter of persons or calendars.

    Covid. The first thing that ran through my mind. Nope. No fever. No respiratory involvement. An intestinal critter of some sort, I guess.

    Quartzite fabricator comes today. Measuring. Then, a lull in the action while Brian finishes the upper cabinets and the cabinet doors and the quartzite gets cut. It will be close, but I think we’ll make Christmas. I’m excited about reorganizing the kitchen, cooking in it. An ongoing treat.

     

     

     


    Cooking Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Jefferson County Judaism Memories Mountains Our Land and Home Park County Shadow Mountain Tarot

  • Energy

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Holiseason Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Orion and his dog. The Zodiac. Our star canopy. The unimaginable size of the universe. Our unimaginable place in it. Life. The animator. Total mystery. Darkness. The holidays of Light. And that wonderful one for the Night. Thanksgiving. Jon. Ruth. Gabe.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hermit. Sannyasa.

    Tarot: The Lord, #4 of the Major Arcana

     

    Solar installation, 2016

    As I write, the upstairs mini-split’s fan has a gentle sound, pushing out heat, using my solar panels for juice. Well, sorta. They’re on, pushing electrons into the grid, and turning my meter backwards. I love that. But the electricity powering the mini-split comes from the grid. If I understand it right. It’s a trade. And during the day the trade is in my favor. At night. IREA’s.

    David, who turned on my system yesterday and walked me through how to use it, told me something interesting. “In seven years or so, we’re anticipating no gas appliances in Denver.” He called that a shitshow. Because of the scramble to install mini-splits or other electrical modalities. But, also. What a business opportunity.

    I now have mini-splits, an induction stove, and solar panels. Already have 220 in the garage. Might start looking for an electric vehicle. I can’t afford a Tesla, so something else.

    boiler

    My boiler should run a lot less. Water heater, primarily. Colorado Gas is not cheap. We’ll see how the two play against each other. I’m willing to eat some difference if the mini-splits prove more costly.

    Not gonna solve the climate crisis. No. But makes me feel better.

    Torah and the Stars yesterday. The houses in a natal chart. These are arenas of our lives for action. My sun, Aquarius, is in the eleventh house, as well as Mars. In the eleventh house lie “Ideals and aspirations for humanity as a whole. Friends of like mind bound together for a common cause. Movements, humanitarian concerns, group associations. Activities on the cutting edge of change. Colleagues and associates. Progressive ideas, hopes, altruistic acts.”

    Since Aquarius rules the eleventh house, as well as the planets Saturn and Uranus, I get triple Aquarian energy here. Sun, ruler of the house, and ruled by Uranus.

    With Mars in the same house I found my work life adequately explained. I will fight for progressive ideas. Mars. And, I will do it with folks I know well. Have done. That part of my life feels over now.

    Now my ideals and aspirations for humanity have a more inward focus.  This blog. Work with kabbalah, astrology, tarot. Read. Write. Paint. Stay in the hermitage. Visit family and friends.

    Forgot Kep’s cytopoint (allergies) shot yesterday when David came. Gonna go into VRCC tomorrow, transfer this to Sano. I’ve had some doubts about Sano, but they know Kep and Rigel. Probably stick with them. The VRCC is in Lakewood, quite a hike. I prefer the vets there, and for diagnosis and treatment recommendations, I’ll still lean on them. For shots and general physicals, Sano. Which is only 10 minutes away.

    Iron Roots play at amphitheater soft open last Saturday

    MVP tonight. Marilyn and I will carpool again. I meet her at the parking lot for Flying J Ranch, a Jeffco County Park.

    A good point to say that Kep, Rigel, and I have decided to stay on Daylight time. I get up at 5:15 am MST and go to bed at 8 PM MST. Satisfies my crankiness about time changes and keeps the dogs’ schedule steady. It does mean that meetings like MVP, night meetings, will be more challenging for me.

    Otherwise I abide by the chronoconsensus.

     


    Astrology Cooking Dogs Family Fourth Phase GeekWorld Jefferson County Kabbalah Mountains Mussar Our Land and Home Shadow Mountain Tarot

  • My Cauldron

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the waning crescent of the Michaelmas Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Greg Lell, starts today staining the house. Susan, who will care for the dogs when I go to Minnesota, comes at 10:30. Marina Harris and her crew coming today to clean. RJ working on how much money I can spend. Coyote HVAC next Monday. Kate, always Kate. Those two Mule Deer Bucks. The beginning after the ending.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The World, #21 of the Major Arcana

    Tarot: The World

     

    Bubbling and churning. My life a cauldron, happily. Eye of house stain. Leg of house cleaning. Fingernail of dogsitter. Horn of Mule Deer Buck. Feather of mini-splits. Bits of redo and redesign of kitchen. A dash of Orgovyx. One major arcana. A pinch of the ayn sof. A sprinkle of Stars. A slice of Woolly Mammoth Tusk. Two measures of Aloha. Tears of grief. Stir with family and Congregation Beth Evergreen. Simmer for a season or two.

    Not sure of much these days. Which suits me just fine. My path has companions worthy of Chaucer. A location worthy of poetry. A destination unknown.

    My ancientrail, my life, has begun to reknit itself, reconstruct. The base of this reknitting? The love and life I had with Kate. Her smile, her laugh, her sharp insights, her deep knowledge and compassion. Her kindness. Not gone, here, right here in my soul. Her hand in mine until the end of time.

    She found this house. She earned most of the money I receive monthly. She encouraged me to leave the ministry and take up writing. We were brave together. Adventurous. We loved each other and left imprints on each other’s souls.

    Now I have to walk this ancientrail without her physical presence. I wish it were not so, but it is. As I put a few touches on the house, learn methods to access the occult, manage my cancer, exercise, spend time with friends, read, write, paint, I’m living forward, not looking backward.

    Changing the house a bit will help me say, yes, this is my place, too. It will never be other than our place, but no ghosts allowed. Only good memories.

    The whole Tarot, Kabbalah, Astrology, Judaism journey has me on a strange side road from that of the skeptic. Where it leads is to mystery, of that I’m sure. How it will affect my life? Unclear. Maybe a lot. Maybe only some. Tincture of time. (a favorite phrase of Kate’s)

    When I came up for closing on this house, October 31, 2014, three Mule Deer Bucks greeted me in the back. We stood with each other for a long time, not moving, seeing each other. After they left, I knew the Mountain Spirits had welcomed Kate and me to their realm. Samain.

    Yesterday, two more came.

     

    They came on a day when Black Mountain was aflame.

    I got up this morning and let Kep out and he chased one of the bucks who had stayed the night. The buck cleared the five foot fence as if it wasn’t there. Kep was pretty damned proud of himself. He never barked.

    Back to that pot. Double, toil and trouble, cauldron burn, cauldron bubble.

     


    Astrology Beyond the Boundaries Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Great Wheel Health Jefferson County Judaism Kabbalah Mountains Myth and Story Original Relation Our Land and Home Plants Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Shadow Mountain Tarot Weather +Climate

  • A Picture Show

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the Michaelmas Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Kristie. Paula. That other nurse who couldn’t make the poke. Orgovyx. Swedish. A lot of bad memories. Full workout. Long sleep, again. Jon, struggling. Cool rain. Coming home to the mountains. Gates of Light and the Tree of Life.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tarot

    Tarot: Devil, #15, The Chariot, #7, and the Hermit, #9 of the Major Arcana. This is a homework spread for my Tarot and the Gates of Light class.

     

    Left early this morning for breakfast with Alan at the Parkside. The waitress told me she’d look for my breakfast partner. We’re known there. And, Rebecca Martin came in, too. More of that casual connectedness that I described last week. Love it.

    And, the Aspen have turned, lighting up the Mountainsides like deciduous Bonfires. Cool days. The glory of a Mountain Autumn. It’s different up here from the Midwest where the Forests are a riot of colors, Some folks find our Fall less attractive, but I’m not one of them. I find its simple abundance of gold wonderful.

    After Alan and I had breakfast, I drove back saying, under my breath, so beautiful. I love it here. These Mountains, so beautiful. Talked myself into checking a second Denver Mountain Parks trail that I’d noticed only after a recent round of work by Jeffco creating a small pullout parking lot.

    One problem I’ve had with hiking recently is that most trails have altitude gain or loss (which translates to gain on the way back) and my post-polio lungs work too hard. Thought about taking the Inogen with me and I may have to do that some day, but, not yet.

    All along this new trail (new to me) I kept saying, again to myself, This is great. This is great. The trail follows a small Mountain Stream through a steeply sided Canyon with rocky, Tree lined walls. And, it’s roughly level. We are at 8000 feet or so, so it’s hardly sea level, but that’s not as much problem for me. It’s the exertion that makes me huff and puff.

    Anyhow, I’ll finish with something I haven’t done in a while: a picture show.

    The Trail Begins

     

     

    Grandfather Tree

     


    Fourth Phase Friends Great Wheel Jefferson County Mountains Tarot

  • Underneath the bones, my wings are pushing out

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Susan. The Woolly Retreat. Pruning. Yet more of Kate’s jewelry. Satisfaction at getting things done. Subway. Stinker’s gas. Lodgepoles. Black Mountain. That one forerunner Aspen. Golden. The Stars. The blackness of Space. Four amateur astronauts. New hearing aid. Roger.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The house on Shadow Mountain

    Tarot:  Ten of Swords, Druid.  King of Stones, Wildwood. (not sure about these two. for the first time. maybe it’ll hit me later.)

     

    Rigel and Kepler

    Met with Susan yesterday. She’ll house sit for Kep and Rigel when I drive to the Woolly retreat the first of November. We had a long chat. Dogs. Drivers in the mountains. Cars. She’s a Mountain type. Making a living anyway she can. She cleans houses and dog sits, lives in a rented room in King’s Valley. Almost 70.

    Living in the Mountains has a strange and strong attraction for certain folks. Kate was one. She refused to consider moving. I’m one, too. Though. Once in a while, recently, I get twinges of, oh, this might be too much for me someday. Usually in the morning when I’m still sleepy, still not warmed up. But that worm is there.

    Still remember the first days up here in the loft. I’d write, then look out the window at Black Mountain. Write. Look. A sense of being in the right Place. Yirah. Awe. When I’m down the hill, hot and bothered by all the traffic, I can turn the car West, head back up into the Front Range. I become peaceful again.

    BJ, Kate, Anne at Kate’s birthday party apres eclipse

    Kate’s here now. Forever. In the Iris bed. In Maxwell Creek. On the Yahrzeit wall at CBE. In my heart. In the bones and stones of this place. She died a Mountain Woman. Fits with the Earth Mother persona she nourished for over 20 years in Andover. A powerful attractant for me. Keep the memories, the torch for her going.

    The running of the fence line is underway. Zeus. Boo. Kep. Thor. Rigel. Rigel. Boo. Thor. Kep. Yip, yip, yip, yip. Neighbors kept friendly by a fence. Yup, Robert Frost.

    The day got away from me. I had to change the sheets on the bed, always a good workout. That damned Tempurpedic weighs 120 pounds and concentrates all of its weight right where you’re trying to lift it. Got it done so I laid down for a nap.

    In my zoom meeting with my ancient buddies Paul, Tom, Mario, and Bill I checked in. Well. As near as I can tell, I have no tale of woe. For the first time in six months. They all laughed and clapped. Me, too. Yeah.

    Of course. Cheer up, things could be worse. I cheered up and sure enough things got worse. Hope not though.

    This is six months later. After a lotta upset. Kate’s death, grief, and the return of my prostate cancer. Jon’s various illnesses. Which continue. Sorting through the necessaries after Kate’s death occupied more time than I would have thought. Normal, though. Still not quite done.

    As I’ve written, I can feel the tidal forces running with me now rather than pulling me out sea. Provided I can stay well, I think that will continue. Gonna get a flu shot and a vaccine booster in the next couple of weeks.

    I also contacted Elisa Robyn’s, my astrologer friend from CBE. She’ll do a new reading for me on Monday, September 27th. I’m leaning in to the Tarot, astrology, Kabbalah world. Letting it speak to me. Call to me. Challenge me. Inspire me. That old skeptic me would pooh pooh all this. Showed him the door. What helps is what helps.

    Tom had an interesting exercise for us this morning. He gave each of us a poem earlier in the week. We read them aloud and told the others what we thought.

    Here’s mine:

     

    The Phoenix Again

    On the ashes of this nest
    Love wove with deathly fire
    The phoenix takes its rest
    Forgetting all desire.

    After the flame, a pause,
    After the pain, rebirth.
    Obeying nature’s laws
    The phoenix goes to earth.

    You cannot call it old
    You cannot call it young.
    No phoenix can be told,
    This is the end of the song.

    It struggles now alone
    Against death and self-doubt,
    But underneath the bone
    The wings are pushing out.

    And one cold starry night
    Whatever your belief
    The phoenix will take flight
    Over the seas of grief

    To sing her thrilling song
    To stars and waves and sky
    For neither old nor young
    The phoenix does not die.

    May Sarton

    My reaction: I can feel, underneath the bone, my new wings pushing out. And I await the cold starry night when my new Phoenix self will take flight.

     

     


    Astrology Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Great Wheel Health Jefferson County Kabbalah Mountains Myth and Story Poetry Shadow Mountain Tarot Travel

  • Country Roads. Pruning.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Zeus, Boo, Thor. Rigel, Kep. Running the fence. Happy. Susan, who will care for Rigel and Kep during my time at the Woolly retreat in November. Social Security. Orgovyx. The rolled over IRA. My pension. This house. This life. More pruning.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Alan in Fiddler. Taking Jon, Ruth, Gabe.

    Tarot: Ten of Wands, Druid. Queen of Stones, Wildwood. Question-what can I do today to move my new life forward?

     

    Happy Camper. On the way I pass King’s Valley where Marilyn and Irv live. The intersection of King’s Valley road and 285 is deadly. Each year people die. No light. No overpass. Left turns into heavy cross traffic.

    Fire mitigation, May 2016

    When I finished up my first round of fire mitigation, I hired a teenager from down the block. A good worker. On the last day of our work together he got a phone call. His Uncle John, a Harley rider, died in a wreck at the King’s Valley crossing.

    Further on 285 winds down into a Mountain Valley. A right turn takes you to Staunton State Park. I see the eastern Slope of Black Mountain out my loft window; its western Slope is the eastern boundary for the park. 45 mph down the Mountain to the Valley.

    Later, after a steep climb, up yet another Mountain, 285 snakes past Pine. It has a short shopping mall with coffee and gift stores at the intersection with Pine Valley road. Down the Pine Valley road winds the North Fork of the South Platte River, opening out into wide swaths of Pasture, boiling over Rocks. Tom and I drove Pine Valley road to Manitou Springs and the Pikes Peak Railroad.

    Up. Down. Colorado Mountain roads. At Pine the Continental Divide shows up in the distance, well beyond Bailey.

    Happy Camper has a narrow, bumpy, dirt road that winds up a Hillside. At the top is a metal industrial building where Happy Camper grows Maryjane and creates their own branded products. The retail shop is on the right as you drive in.

    When I went in yesterday, there were 8 men of my age, some with masks, some not. They’re all together, so I can help you, said one of the budtenders. Yes, that’s a thing.

    Eight of the Indica Cheeba Chews, please. The black ones? Yes.

    Back home for a full workout. A few tasks. Called Jackie and changed my October 2nd hair appointment. My Tarot and the Tree of Life spread class interfered. Lunch and a later nap.

    It’s been what qualifies as a busy week for me. Glad the weekend is here. It always amuses me that I feel different on the weekends, looser, less driven. I mean, I’ve been retired from a regular work week since 1992. But the weekend, even though I often worked on Sundays, still feels freeing. Yay. Friday’s over! Reminds me I want to experiment with keeping the Sabbath.

    Still working on cooking for one. Sometimes good. Sometimes not. Last night. Not. I had cheese and crackers.

     

    Ten of Wands, Druid.  Queen of Stones, Wildwood

    Until today I have not asked a question of the cards I turn over in the morning. It is usual to ask a question, but the daily “oracle” card can also be read in light of the general trends in your life.

    what can I do today to move my new life forward?

    The ten of wands has shown up a lot for me. It’s about carrying a burden, keeping on keeping on. Staying the course. The Queen of Stones in the Wildwood deck evokes a different, but complementary sensibility.

    The Queen is a Cave Bear, guarding the entrance to her home as dawn paints the near sky. The Wildwood book suggests she raises these questions: How can you best promote well-being at home? Where can you make space to care for yourself and others? What needs to be preserved?

    The ancient Cave Bear is now long extinct. I saw a Cave Bear skeleton, it might have at the Science Museum in St. Paul. They stood fifteen feet with their upper limbs extended. Big. Strong. Master and Mistress of their domain. An apex Predator.

    This Bear Queen has a home, one she uses to raise her cubs, for hibernation in the winter, for shelter in other seasons. So do I. And, as I went to bed last night I had thoughts about what I needed to do next. Pruning?

    Yes, some of that. The bookcases in the bedroom, the still cluttered living room area. The recipe book I have to create out of recipes printed from the internet. I also got the file folders I needed to organize my financial papers.

    Another thought last night focused on reading books about the Tarot, reentering the world of astrology. That research and scholar mode.

    Today the Bear suggests I focus on space. Making it a caring space for myself, for Jon and the grandkids, for guests. So. I will.

    The Ten of Wands reminds me though that I need to put down the pruner and the book, take a break. I no longer need to have my head down, pushing forward. That time died with Kate. I can relax, do something fun.

    Deciding to go to the Woolly Retreat is an aspect of this. Road trip. I’m going to drive. First long trip on the road since 2016. Excited.

     

     

     


    Colorado Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Great Wheel Jefferson County Kabbalah Mountains Park County Shadow Mountain Tarot Woolly Mammoths

  • Shadow Mountain Hermitage

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

    Kate after election day, 2016

    Tuesday gratefuls: Bailey. Bailey Patchworkers. Sewing, quilting. Kate, feisty and adorable. From so many cards I got yesterday. Drawing the Death Card. Gratitude. Gabe. Ruth. Jon. Kep and Rigel. Rain yesterday. Kitchen remodeling. Greg Lell, house stainer. Moving forward, into the fourth phase.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tarot and Kabbalah

    Tarot: Eight of Pentacles

     

    285 west to Bailey. A favorite journey, usually made to the Happy Camper. The Continental Divide shows up after Pine. The tone becomes more Western. This time though to Platte River Community Church. Upstairs to the social hall where older women sat around round tables, eating off paper plates with plastic forks. Piles of cloth sat on other tables, parts of Kate’s stash now on its way to other sewing rooms, her taste distributed.

    I said very little. Kate met you when we moved up here. She loved you and felt loved by you. You encouraged her and were her friends. Thank you.

    Oh. And, I took off my shirt. This is not a strip tease. Lots of hands went up, encouraging me to keep going. Flattering at 74. I had on the Love is Enough t-shirt and showed it off because it featured a counted cross-stitch familiar to them.

    As I drove away the North Fork of the South Platte River roared over Rocks on its way to Denver’s Water system. I passed the somewhat dilapidated office of the Bailey Flume, a six trailer trailer park, and a home next to the River with a Horse paddock. Bailey is in Park County, no longer the Denver metro and much poorer than Jefferson County where I live.

    Been pondering the cards. Again. Still. Drew the eight of pentacles*. Again. Key words from the Druid Tarot Book: Steady progress. Apprenticeship. Training. Makes sense to me after the High Priestess and Death.

    I’m in my fourth phase of life, a new path, a new ancientrail has appeared before me. The High Priestess has blessed me and Death holds the gate open. What do I need to do? Work methodically, steadily. Stay on the trail.

    What is this trail? Some of it is much clearer now. I need to dive into the tarot, astrology, and kabbalah. Learn about them, keep my head down until I can do readings, cast charts, count the Omer. Bring all of this into conversation with the Great Wheel and Taoist strains of my own thought and practice.

    Will I do readings, cast charts? No idea. But that’s the level of learning I want and it will require my attention. I will count the Omer

    This trail adds research and study to my already existing writing and painting. Up here in the Shadow Mountain hermitage we have plenty to do. Time now to get at it. The destination is unknown, yes, but it’s end is certain.

     

    “In a general context, the Eight of Pentacles Tarot card indicates a time of hard work, commitment, diligence and dedication. The effort you put in will not be in vain as your hard work will pay off and lead to results, rewards or the accomplishment of your goals. When this Minor Arcana card appears in your Tarot reading, it indicates that you are methodically working towards something you want. It may seem boring, mundane or even relentless at the moment but you are on the brink of achieving great success, so don’t give up. The skills you are learning at the moment will stand to you later in life and you will come away from this experience not only with the inner wisdom you’ve gained but with a sense of pride and self-confidence from achieving your ambitions.” tarotguide


    Aging Astrology Beyond the Boundaries Commentary on Religion Cooking Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Great Wheel Health Jefferson County Kabbalah Myth and Story Our Land and Home Politics Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Shadow Mountain Tarot

  • In This Body. Now.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the full Chesed Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Cancer. The full Chesed Moon. Emergency responders in front of the house last night. Congregation Beth Evergreen. Alan. Pet scans. Orgovyx. Cool morning. The dogs who love me. Friends and family. Fatigue. Claire and her new life.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Soul Mirrors-tarot, torah, tanakh, astrology, friends, memories, art, literature, poetry, wilderness and wild things

    Tarot:  Eight of Pentacles

     

    Yesterday. A stay at home, I’m too tired to go out anyhow sorta day. Any time I feel weary now I hear Kristie, Dr. Eigner’s PA, asking, “Have you been experiencing fatigue? Bone pain?” Meaning, is the cancer causing you to experience either of these symptoms? Maybe I’m just tired? Or, maybe not. Acchh. Not needed.

    Cleaning up. All of Kate’s personal belongings have been donated or targeted to certain people like Ruth. That’s a key part of the first phase. Now I need to clean up the clutter, pitch the items that no one wanted (mostly toiletries). When that’s done and Marina Harris’s crew has cleaned the house (Monday), I’ll be ready to move furniture. Oops. No, I won’t. Ruth still needs to move her sewing things to Jon’s house. A lot.

    Anyhow, when they’re gone and the sewing room is empty, I plan to reuse it as a family dining area, a place for large meals. The grow room idea for the front part of this room is still in progress, uncertain. I also want to create a conversation area in front of the fireplace. That means getting rid of those two display cases. That’s not yet accomplished either. Someday soon.

    The conversation area will take Kate’s chair from downstairs, the Stickley, perhaps my chair from downstairs. Or, maybe I’ll leave the couch and put the Stickley and Kate’s chair across from it. TBD.

    At some point rooms will get painted, more art hung, and the photographs moved to the new dining area’s metal shelving. I’d like to accomplish all this before Thanksgiving, even better, before the end of September.

    Cancer news: Alan will take me to Aurora on Tuesday afternoon for my auximin scan. Have to be there at 12:30 for a 1:00 appointment. The inevitable and voluminous paperwork. The presentation of the cards. Then, an injection. “Axumin® (fluciclovine F 18) injection is indicated for positron emission tomography (PET) imaging in men with suspected prostate cancer recurrence based on elevated blood prostate specific antigen (PSA) levels following prior treatment.” Takes about 30 minutes to circulate before the PET scan can begin.

    Somewhere before that I’ll take whatever drug Kristie ordered for my claustrophobia. Enclosed spaces and me? Not a good combination. The scan itself takes around an hour, full body. A week later I’ll get the results unless something urgent is found. I hoping for a week later.

    On Wednesday I get my first shipment of Orgovyx, the pill-form replacement for Lupron. It has 50% less impact on cardio-vascular issues, important for me. Could cost as much as $140 a month. I balked, then remembered that I’m paying exactly the same for Kep’s cytopoint injections for his allergies.

    One step at a time. “A practical, patient, and methodical approach to a project may be needed. These qualities may be needed to improve your health and nutrition.” Tarot’s prince of pentacles. Especially important because this line from the 8 of Pentacles is also true: “(It)…usually will symbolize that you have been working hard for your health goal and yet you are not seeing the desired responses. (see below)

    Prostatectomy. Radiation. Androgen deprivation. All of that and I still have a 7.4 PSA. Not the desired response. I appreciate this as well: “Do not allow yourself to become overwhelmed with the larger picture.” A day at a time. Stay in the present. Be here now.

    I’m doing pretty well with that. I spin out once a while, but the ultimate question on the table, my mortalityspan, does not send me there. Dying is ok. Expected. Necessary. It’s the hassle of the last days, as Kate experienced, that challenges me. Again, though, not often. I try to stay here. In this body, in this place.

     

     

    “The Eight of Pentacles is a card that represents a work in progress. The card can be somewhat concerning in health because it usually will symbolize that you have been working hard for your health goal and yet you are not seeing the desired responses. Whatever your health concern is, right now you need to take a step back and look at the process you are taking. Consider what ways you are doing counter-productive actions and which efforts are simply not enough. Do not allow yourself to become overwhelmed with the larger picture at hand. Take one step at a time and do not lose sight of your goal.” Auntyflo

    “A positive card, you should expect good things to happen when you see it; especially aspects relating to a creative industry, or a project or part of your life that you have worked extremely hard on and dedicated yourself to. A good card to draw if you are intent on learning a skill or trade which you have a lot of passion for.”  tarot-explained

     

     

     


    Aging Friends Health Jefferson County Our Land and Home Shadow Mountain Tarot Third Phase

  • That Bear!

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Lughnasa Moon

    Friday gratefuls: That bear. Fantastic Fungi. The workout. The fall. Mussar. Chili cheese dogs. A Friday with no appointments. Domestic chores. New neighbors coming. Three in a row. The Tarot. Kabbalah. Shan-shui poetry.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Liberation

    Tarot:  Cernunnos, #15 Druid Craft Deck

     

    Six and a half years later. Three or four years after Kate. I saw a Bear! A big one. On the same road as I was. And, I was on foot.

    Yesterday I did another of my outside cardio workouts. I chose to go around the “block” across Black Mountain Drive from me. A pretty long block as it turned out, about 30 minutes worth. Supposed to be 10, but I had a bad image in my head of the length of the roads.

    Krashin went down hill. I’ve recently discovered all the side roads from my stretch of Black Mountain Drive go downhill. Hmm. Must live on the top of Shadow Mountain, eh?

    Downhill in Krashin’s instance is toward a deep valley that runs between Shadow Mountain and Black Mountain. The forested valley has no roads, no homes, past the end of a short lane off Krashin. Wild. One or two homes on Black Mountain, perhaps a few more, then over the top of its 10,000 foot peak is the large Staunton State Park. Plenty of critters.

    As I shook my head at how little I knew of my own neighborhood, I looked up. The road curved further away from a route back to Black Mountain Drive. A big black Bear ambled across it. Way big. Healthy with lustrous black fur, not in a hurry. Off on a morning errand hunting for food. Then it was gone.

    A car came by from the Bear’s direction, slowed to a stop. “Yep. I saw him.” “Good. Just wanted to be sure.” No fooling around when it comes to either Bears or Mountain Lions. Either one can create havoc with the human body.

    Being on foot made me vulnerable. I had no bear mace, no bells to ring. I was in shorts and a t-shirt, tennis shoes. Not fighting shape.

    So I went on anyhow. Curiosity. That thread I mentioned a few posts back? Often helps me make decisions that are not in my immediate best interest. Where was the Bear? I wanted one more glimpse. Perhaps he hadn’t gone far into the woods. There are homes on both sides of the road, but their properties have many trees.

    Couldn’t find him. (I say him because of the size.) I did keep looking, realizing I couldn’t outrun a Bear, they’re fast. Frisson.

    During stretching I had started watching Fantastic Fungi, a documentary Tom Crane recommended quite a while ago. What a treat. Made me interested, yet again, in Mushrooms, Lichens. I’ve gone through phases. Ready for another one, I believe. Not only finding edible ones, but becoming more familiar with their roles in forest decomposition, communication. Also, psilocybin. (btw: the documentary is on Netflix.)

    Just looked up the Colorado Mycological Society. Looks like fun. Birding? No. Not me. Hunting for Mushrooms? Learning more about them? Yes.

    Point here with the Bear? The radical interconnectedness that Mycelium, the underground part of a Mushroom,  a fruiting body for the organism, offers. Mycelium, threadlike, growing one cell at a time, dominate the rich soil layer near the surface. They carry nutrients back to the fruiting body, sure, but they can also transport nutrients between and among groves of trees.

    Like Mycelium, the wildlife here are mostly invisible. Once in a while, a sighting. Usually Elk or Mule Deer. The occasional Fox. Marmot, Woodchuck. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Rarely, Bears, Mountain Lions, Lynx, Bobcats. We moved into their habitat and they’ve learned, more or less, to live around us, out of sight, wild. Like the vast underground networks of Mycelium, there are large populations of wild things all around us. At least up here in the Mountains.

    We Humans live such sheltered lives, huddled in our right angled dwellings, getting our food from refrigerators and grocery stores, evading the fall of night with electricity. We, at least most of us, know little about how to sleep outside, find food, evade predators. Yet that is the way of wild things.

    Cernunnos, #15 of the Major Arcana in the Druid Craft deck.

    Cernunnos is the great horned God of the Celtic pantheon. “…the Gaelic god of beasts and wild places. Often called the Horned One, Cernunnos was a mediator (between humans) and nature, able to tame predator and prey so they might lie down together. He remains a mysterious deity, as his original mythos has been lost to history. A God of the Wild.

    Given my brief encounter with the Bear and seeing Fantastic Fungi, this card calls to the deep in me. Joseph used to call me nature boy. My mystical feelings run not toward the ineffable, the distant God, but toward the Mycelium that connect us to the Wild life all around us. Cernunnos is the God of those tiny threads, often invisible to us.

    People stop their cars to see Elk harems, Mule Deer fawns, a Fox warming itself on asphalt. Why? We don’t stop for dogs, cows, chickens.

    That Bear. What a gift I felt seeing him. Why? Rising up from this Elk, that Fox, the Bear is the numinous presence of Cernunnos, the Wild as a dangerous and alien place. We shiver at the sight of creatures who navigate the wild in their daily existence. They are not of our world.*

    Tarot commentators find this card intimidating, warning us against dark impulses, becoming enslaved to our wild passions. Not to me. In our sexuality, in our pairs, in our procreation we become one with the wild, perhaps only during the small death of orgasm, but perhaps also through bonding with another human, one of our own species.

    These are not dark impulses, rather they are the wild portions of our own soul. Yes, they can scare us, make us do things we regret. Sure. But they can also show us the animal within us, the one who recognizes Cernunnos as its embodiment.

    I celebrate the Wild. Cernunnos. Love making. That Bear.

     

     

    *We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth. Henry Beston


    Beyond the Boundaries Fourth Phase Great Wheel Jefferson County Mountains Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Shadow Mountain Tarot

  • Tuesday

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Lughnasa Moon

    Vega, in a happier moment, with her sister, Rigel

    Wednesday gratefuls: Rigel next to me last night. 48 degrees. Rain. Move that Smoky sign. Kep and Rigel up here with me. Two loft dogs. Flank stead, romaine, tomatoes, red onion, a fancy vinaigrette. Talking with Diane. Mary. Mark. New York Times. Washington Post.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Internet

    Tarot: Six of Cups

     

    Mattress Firm inside

    Wrassled that sheet onto the Tempurpedic. Heavy damned mattress. A king. Trying to solve the creeping bed corner problem. Saw some bed suspenders. Not sure how they’d work on this big a sheet. Even so.

    Not sure if I’ve mentioned this here before but I’ve discovered a secret in common domestic chores. Yes, they’re repetitive and, yes, they often deal with dirt. Wash clothes. Dishes. Sweep. Vacuum. Dust. These are not solvable problems, they reoccur, sometimes within minutes.

    But. They ground me. I’m right there, in the moment, digging a load of wet clothes out of the machine, transferring them to the dryer. Rinsing dishes and trying to put them in the dishwasher with some reason. Broom and dustpan. Dyson vacuum Seoah wisely recommended.

    Cooking. A bit different. As is grocery shopping. Both. Grounding. Here and now stuff, not off in the future, big plans for conquering the world. Cooking brings out a creative side. Tweaking recipes, making up a meal from what’s hanging around in the fridge. Learning how to make salads. My current learning curve. Knife work. Cast iron pan. Herbs. Salt and peppa.

    As a single guy, I’m surprised at how much I like doing these things. My impulse is to put them off, trained into me, a guy thing I imagine, but I’ve learned they all feel better done in the moment, not later.

    Pretty sure this is the idea behind chop wood and carry water.

    From grocery store parking lot

    Yesterday, for example. Went to Safeway. Actually went inside. First time in a long time. Norm is pickup. My salad though needed tomatoes and they were out of heirlooms. I wanted to choose my tomatoes in person.

    While there, I convinced myself, again, that shopping online saves money. Why? Oh, that looks good! Geez, I’ve always wanted to try that. Salami. Cheese. Pretzels. Where did those come from? Frozen entrees. What did I come here for? Oh, right. Tomatoes and butter. Fun once in a while.

    Back home I pulled out the flank steak. The red onion, the cherry tomatoes, and the romaine came out later. I stuck the romaine in some water to help it recover some crispness.

    Mixed up the vinaigrette. Garlic. Thyme. Marjoram. Salt. Pepper. Dijon. Balsamic vinegar. Whisk. Drizzle in olive oil. Mix well. Poured some on the flank steak, covered it, and put it back in the fridge.

    Wait four hours. Tear Romaine into bite size pieces. Cut tomato and onion into wedges. Cherry tomatoes in half. Turn the heat up to medium high under the cast iron skillet. Toss the flank steak on the smoking skillet. 4 minutes. Flip. 4 minutes. Check. Yes. Red. Off the heat. Rest.

    Assemble the salad. Plenty for the next few days. Eat tonight’s portion while watching Naomi Rapace save Zoe in Close. Kep and Rigel by the chair.

    Got my workout in, Ancientrails written. Took a nap.

    Oh, and added some soil to an asphalt divot in front of the house. Mark, my mail guy asked me to, said other mail trucks had come by, hit this, and damaged themselves. I said I’d fill it in and communicate with Jeffco Public Works.

    Six of cups: Nostalgia. Childhood memories. Feelings of well-being. Matters of the heart. Wistfulness.

    A Celtic man looks through a window, perhaps his mind’s eye? Seeing back to his childhood when pleasure was simple, tactile. Maybe the girl is now his wife. Or, his sister. I get the sense that he may feel his true treasures, the ones that bring him authentic pleasure, are his memories, his childhood.

    When I talk with Diane, my cousin, as I do each Tuesday, childhood memories get triggered. We’ve known each other since, well, probably, infancy. I visited her and her family often on the farm in Morristown, Indiana. Lots of memories there. Good ones.

    My childhood, a 1950’s small town idyll. Playing with friends. Going to the field. Racing down hills on our bikes. Baseball at Carver’s. Wagons, collecting pop bottles for money. In and out of the house, often for hours at a time. The world was small and it had streets named Monroe, Harrison, John, Church.

    I’m not a past oriented guy though. These kind of memories, while precious, are not my touchstone. If it were me looking through the window, I’d see myself in a library carrel or in a chair at home reading, perhaps taking notes, perhaps eyes up, looking toward the ceiling or the sky. Or, typing. Painting. Cooking. Cleaning. My true pleasures. Getting off a plane at some new destination. Wandering the halls of a great art museum. Sitting in a planetarium watching a star show. Maybe at an upscale Italian restaurant or a sushi place. Those sorts of things.

     

     

     


    Cooking Dogs Family Hawai'i Jefferson County Tarot