Category Archives: Jefferson County

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

Country Roads. Pruning.

September 18, 2021 Charles Leave a 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.

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.

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

Shadow Mountain Hermitage

September 14, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Lughnasa and the Michaelmas Moon

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

In This Body. Now.

August 21, 2021 Charles Leave a 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

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

That Bear!

August 6, 2021 Charles Leave a 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

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Hawai'i, Jefferson County, Tarot

Tuesday

August 4, 2021 Charles Leave a 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

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.

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.

Family, Jefferson County, Memories, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Travel

Quiet days and pruning

July 11, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Marilyn and Irv, their two dogs. Dick and Ellen, their two sons. Chicken. Good conversation. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Pruning. Continuing. Picking up a bit. A cool morning. Sky a gauzy blue.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Bread Lounge’s Sourdough, Pullman style

A Saturday. Got groceries. Went over to a friends for dinner. Did more pruning downstairs. Nap. A quiet day. Today, the same.

I like quiet days. When Kate said, let’s take a cruise, I was skeptical. Thinking Princess ships with 8,000 people having FUN. Our first cruise, in fact all of our cruises, were on Holland America instead. 2,000 people or so. Still a lot, but an older crowd, more interested in fun, not FUN.

We flew to Florida, Ft. Lauderdale, I think. Boarded the ship there and proceeded to sail (motor?) through the Caribbean, to the Panama Canal, then onto the Port of Los Angeles. Several stops along the way, but the days I liked best were the days at sea. On the Gulf or the Pacific, nothing else to do but relax and enjoy the ride. Quiet days.

I like quiet days and, as I’m discovering, I like living alone. Of course, I’d have Kate back in a heartbeat, but since I can’t. On quiet days I can focus on what I want to, at the pace I want. If I need attention and love, Kep and Rigel come. Not what I expected after Kate’s death.

As the pruning proceeds, I’m moving lots and lots of Kate’s things. Clothes, jewelry, shoes, coats, hand creams and foot lotions, old meds, her black bag with the stethoscope. Her sewing room. Filled with squares of cloth for piecing into a quilt. Sewing machines. Plastic forms for cutting angles in cloth. Rotary cutters. Threads of all colors. Quilting magazines. Batting. The material world she left behind.

Yesterday I e-mailed Mt. Evans Hospice and Home Care to see if they wanted the two boxes full of tube-feeding supplies and some adult diapers still in packaging. The long-arm left, as I said, Friday.

As this work continues, I’m finding space opening up in the house. Neither of us had the energy to consolidate, organize, reshape our living area over the last couple of years. And, she had her spaces, closets and rooms, as I have mine.

The opening space feels good to me. Again, not something I expected. It’s the not the absence of Kate’s stuff; rather, it’s the creation of space, of space not filled up. This may be a Marie Kondo moment for me. Sort of. Seoah likes minimal furniture, often an Asian preference. I’m finding I do, too.

We’ll see how it all works out, but I have a clear plan. Up to a point. I know furniture I want to sell or give away. I have places I want to move current furniture. Storage will begin to take on my scheme, not better than ours together, but one that conforms to my biases.

In mussar we often say the outer affects the inner. That is, if we change our behavior, we can change our character. In order to increase generosity, be generous. In order to increase compassion, be compassionate. I suspect this changing of my home’s physicality is the same. To live in Charlie’s best manner, redesign Charlie’s house.

What is this place? 2015. Vega and Rigel.

My imagination says that when I get the house redone, perhaps with the aid of an interior decorator and some remodeling, new staining on the exterior, then my interior life will change as well. Just how, I don’t know, but it seems likely.

The loft will undergo less rethinking, but I do have a plan to make the eventual disposition of my library easy for my heirs. Donate some now. Make sure the best loved and used books stay nearby. Organize the rest so they can be boxed and carried out to Half-Price Books or the Evergreen Library or some other place. Less clear on all my files, my 9 complete manuscripts and the ones still aborning. Those four plastic bins filled with printed pages of Ancientrails. My art. Noodling.

Family, Health, Jefferson County, Judaism, Kabbalah, Mussar

Life Incidental

July 1, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Conifer P.T. Hearing care. Leigh Thompson. Health Care Imaging. Jon and his pain. Ruth and Gabe. Kep and Rigel, who couldn’t wait. Happy Camper. Widower, being one. CBE.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: X-Rays. Medical care.

What I call the medical stretch of Co. Hwy. 470, heading south from 285. Went on it yesterday for the first time since Kate died, alone. To see my (our) doc, Leigh Thompson. A pang of remembrance that our outings for the last year plus came along this stretch of road and the one leading to Swedish Hospital.

Dr. Thompson said she was sorry about Lynne’s death. And, she was. She tried to help, but Kate’s situation had progressed too far for successful intervention. She didn’t even know her well enough to call her Kate. Dr. Thompson also probed me for signs of depression, complicated grief. Do you have a good support system? Yes.

Where does it (did it) hurt? Here, here. Along my right leg, upper thigh, above my sacrum. How much better is it now? 60-80%. Why was I there? I wanted to get back to exercise, but not aggravate, worsen the pain. And, I didn’t know how it happened.

We agreed on physical therapy. Which I love. Targeted and helpful. Clear instructions. I’ll get a path back to regular exercise. Which I want and need. Also, X-rays.

I admit. Incidental findings. Often the punch behind the actual reason for the imaging. Hope they don’t find metastasized cancer. David and Charlie both have prostate cancer growing in their sacrums. Don’t want it in mine.

Jon had another panic attack bringing Ruth and Gabe up here. He didn’t get out of the city. Called an ambulance. Went back home. Jen picked up the kids. Not sure what’s going on, but I imagine grief playing a large role.

Now I have p.t. to schedule and a hearing exam. Yes, I got right on that hearing issue I had at the airport in Hawai’i. Approach the problem and deal with it. Keep moving.

Waiting on a call back from social security.

Today I’m going back to mussar for the first time in over a year in person. Looking forward to resuming that study. I also signed up for another Rabbi Jamie class through the Kabbalah Experience. A focus on the kabbalistic roots of the Tarot. I’ve had a long time interest in the tarot, waxing and waning. Wrote one book that featured chaos magic. I used a lot of tarot card lore in it. Starts mid-July.

Keep moving. Stay in the present, but keep moving. Is that an oxymoron? Xeno’s paradox in modern psyche help shorthand.

Colorado, Family, Jefferson County, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Third Phase, Travel

The Hermitage

June 23, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Mountain Waste. Emily. Buster’s. The Internet. Coffee Machine. Its results. Sleep. Through the night! Wow. Island time, may it reign. Aloha. Shalom. Good to see ya. Kep and Rigel, my buddies.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My body. My spirit.

Surprised at how right being home feels. Surprised I’m surprised. A bit of angst, twinges. More to come, I’m sure, but the overwhelming feeling is, I belong here. Poignant feeling over against my flirting with infidelity to Shadow Mountain. Glad to have both though. A place I love and a place I could love.

I admit it. I’m easy. I fall for places. Hard. The true north Shore of Lake Superior. Could I live there? Oh, yeah. The San Juan’s? When I do leave? Korea? Would take some adjustment, but, why not? The Big Island? I could make it happen. Will I? The Shadow knows. But, I don’t.

In this moment. Shadow Mountain. Kate found it and I fell for it long ago. Closed on Samain of 2014. Moved on the Winter Solstice of the same year. The Rocky Mountains! Whoa. Colorado! Geez, what a deal. Live in Colorado, in the Mountains. See grandkids. Jon.

And so it has been. Except for the part where medical issues kept us close to home right after we got here. Still in the Mountains. The Rocky Mountains! Lots more to see.

I’ve not been to Four Corners. Gunnison. Creede. Telluride. The Dinosaur National Monument. Steamboat Springs. Aspen. Vail. The Dunes. The San Juan wilderness. No road trips here except for the Ancient Ones’ pilgrimage to Durango. Ready to see me some Colorado. Hire a house/dog sitter and go. At least a week long trip this summer or fall.

So much to do here. My place. Needs me. And, as I said in passing to Joseph last week, “I don’t bail on the people I love.” Places, too? Not the same, I know, but related.

Today is haircut, a few supplies, and opening all those pieces of first class mail. Dealing with them. Tomorrow is teeth and budget work. Friday is new laptop day and getting started on Kate’s stuff.

Pruning starts now.

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Health, Holidays, Jefferson County, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

Life in the Mountains

February 13, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Psalms. Rabbi Jamie. Gwen, Ayelet, Dean, Jan, Cherie. The class. Much needed, as I said before. Jackie. Hair stylist and lovely human. Covid survivor. Kep and Rigel, Kate. In our family crate. Yeti blue microphone, a stand. Dreams of podcasting.

Sparks of joy: A new hair cut. Kate’s revived color. Vaccines. Ruth. Hawai’i. Always there, waiting. My poem, Death’s Door. The Trial of 45.

Couple of odd mountain anecdotes involving emergency vehicles.

Told you I bought Kate one of those help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up buttons. It has three receivers. One in the loft, one in the kitchen (for when I have the fans on), and one in the great room. She’s turned over on it a couple of times and alerted me. Learning the system.

A couple of days ago I’d gone downstairs to watch TV. I heard the alarms sound from upstairs. Kate was up there! I ran up. Kate sat quietly at the table, playing solitaire. What? An emergency vehicle had gone by, lights and sirens. Something in its passing, like calling to like, had set off the alarms.

Second story. On Thursday we went into Swedish hospital for another visit with Kate’s pulmonologist. On the way home there were again lights and sirens, Hwy 285 closed ahead of us with pylons and ambulances; police cars just under the overpass where we turn to go back to Shadow Mountain.

I noticed the flight for life helicopter circling above us. It went west over 285, then came back as we routed around the traffic backup. As we made our way back to Barkley Road, it came down, then went back up again as if searching for a place to land. Even though there was a clear stretch of highway.

Jackie, our hair stylist whom we saw yesterday, told us that a man driving a truck that repairs windshields had plowed into the back of a CDOT truck. The workers were repairing the cable that prevents cars from going into the lanes of opposing traffic.

The truck driver died. As we watched, a flight for life was made unnecessary and went back to its home.

Impeachment and Trial. Guilty. You know it. The GOP knows it. Even Trump knows it. See his phone call to Minority leader Kevin McCarthy:

“…in her statement Friday night, Ms. Herrera Beutler recalled a conversation she had with Mr. McCarthy, where the Republican leader described Mr. Trump telling him, as the attack on the Capitol was unfolding, that members of the mob were “more upset about the election than you are.”” NYT, 2/13/2021.

This is state of mind. No uncertainty. Just glee. Put him in jail. Orange for the orange menace.

Rolling the years over for the 74th time tomorrow. That’s beginning to be high mileage. I’m good for another couple a decades, if not more. At least that’s how I feel. Of course, we’ll see.

Gonna cook a special Valentine’s dinner for my sweetheart and always Valentine, Kate. And, for me, too.

Anoka County, Beyond the Boundaries, Great Wheel, Holidays, Jefferson County, Mountains, Myth and Story, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., The Move, The West, Weather +Climate

Let It Snow

January 2, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Winter and the Moon of the New Year

Christmastide Day 8: Snow Day

Saturday gratefuls: Rigel’s sleeping habits. Keps. Mine. Kate’s. All different. Dogs to feed. Humans to feed. The night Sky. The International Space Station speeding past Ursa Major this morning. The waning full moon. Sleeping through the night. Amazing. Writing, back to Jennie’s Dead. A new schedule. Working. Ribeye and Lobster, today. Held over.

Remember Frau Hulda, aka Mother Christmas, from Day 2? Also called Frau Holle in Germany. Midwinter Snows are the feathers shaken from her bedspread. We’ve still got a few feathers on the ground here.

Today we celebrate Snow.

Got into Jack London as a boy. Read Call of the Wild and fell hard for his descriptions of the North. Remember Buck? I fantasized about Pine Trees, Lakes, Dog sledding, and, Snow. Snow that lasted. Snow that did not turn into the slushy melt of Indiana Januaries. Winter as a real season, not a sometimes cold, sometimes chilly, sometimes wet, sometimes icy season.

We had family vacations that took us to Stratford, Ontario for the Shakespeare Festival on the banks of the Avon. Our journey often took us to the MS Norgoma ferry from Tober Mory, Ontario, across the Georgian Bay of Lake Huron and onto Manitoulin Island.

In Stratford we camped in the Ipperswich Provincial Park, also on Lake Huron. Those travels plus Jack London’s novels put living among Pine Trees and Lakes as a stronger desire than I realized while the impressions formed.

As an adult, when I got the chance, I moved to Wisconsin, Appleton, and from there on to Minneapolis/St. Paul. I lived in the north for over 40 years, a place Jack London and Lake Huron had taught me to love.

The Winters were real. That first Winter in Appleton the temperature dropped to well below zero for a full week and we got a foot of Snow over one weekend. I discovered engine block heaters and knew folks that took their batteries out at night and brought them inside. This was 1969.

Minnesota is cold. It Snows, yes, but the big difference there is that the snow sticks around. The temperatures remain well below freezing for weeks, months. And the Sun hangs low in the Sky. When the Winds howl and the Snow blows, it can, as friend Tom Crane observed, blot out all the boundaries: fences disappear, roads, roofs, front yards and back yards.

After our move to Colorado, we’ve experienced a different Winter. On Shadow Mountain, the second Winter we were here, 2016, 220 inches of Snow fell, four feet in one storm. Minnesota typically gets between 40 and 50 inches.

But. After the Snow in the Mountains, we get warmer weather. Often, a Snow fall, no matter how big, disappears in less than a week. The Solar Snow Shovel. The Sun’s angle is a bit higher than Minnesota and we’re a good bit higher at 8,800 feet. Colorado’s blue Skies mean we get a lot of Sun shine even in the deepest midwinter. This is the arid West. Humidity outside today is 19.

What’s your Snow story? Today’s a good day to go out and play in the Snow if you have some. Perhaps a Snowball fight. A Snowman. Skiing. Snowshoes. A hike.

Tomorrow: Evergreen Day.