Category Archives: Shadow Mountain

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain

And I Am Glad

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Friday gratefuls: How to Change Your Mind. Philpott. Pollan. High Winds. Lodgepoles swaying. Doverspike. Marilyn and Irv. Aspen Perks. Tara, pronounced terra. Mussar. Luke at mussar. Rabbi Jamie. Alan. His castle in the sky. Making the new office mine. Doug the Painter. New Amsterdam, a show with a lot of heart. Ditto The Last of Us.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dazzle Jazz Sunday Brunch with Ruth

 

Realized I’ve focused on relationships of late. Making lunch and dinner and breakfast dates. Spending time with friends. Family. Talking with folks on zoom. Texting. This is not a change in focus, but a change in both quantity and quality. As I age, my precious, the one ring that binds them all, is love.

Much less focus on what might be considered work. Much more attention to the lives of others. Not volunteering. Did enough of that. No, this is about the thicker web of close in family and friends. About being there for them as they are for me.

Seeing and being seen. Touching and being touched. Something to do with living alone. To paraphrase Alvin Toffler who said High Tech, High Touch. High Alone, High Touch.

In other words to live alone happily, as I do, means I have a greater need for intimacy with friends and family. And so it has come to be. As the authors of The Good Life, the book about the longest longitudinal study of human development, the Harvard Study of Adult Development say with a nod to the favorite wisdom of real estate: Relationships. Relationships. Relationships.

Introversion does not mean isolation or hermetic solitude. It means gaining energy from your own company. I find deep conversations with friends a source of solace, a source of gladness, a place to give and receive thoughts about life situations. I do not find them energizing. Though in their wake I do feel stronger, held up, buoyed by their now invisible presence.

Alone, but not lonely.

 

Perhaps you could call this the emet, the truth in context of introversion, of widowhood. Those of us already inclined to recharging ourselves alone. Those of us in an unwanted, yet fully accepted life without our partners. We can adapt well to the role of widower, from the Latin root *uidh-, to separate, divide. (Etymology) But we cannot adapt well (and should not) to a life without others.

If that final separation, so final, drives one into a dark place, occulted from the world of the living while still with breath, then. Well, then. There are two widows. One dead and one among the quick. Be it not be so for you if you encounter the abyss made by the departure of one you loved.

And yet. That abyss, perhaps the one into which you stare until it stares back at you, that abyss has meaning in its vasty deeps. Meaning you cannot find if you turn away, run in fear to the corner of your living room or the bar or to the arms of another.

In my own viewing of the deep I have come to accept both Kate’s permanent absence and her undying presence. Yes. She is well beyond my reach. Yes. She helped me cook the other night. Be patient with it, Charlie. She delights in the view of Black Mountain with me, her arm around my waist, her head on my shoulder. She rides up Shadow Mountain Drive with me, looking to see another Mountain Lion, Bear, Elk. And I am glad.

 

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain

Being Alive, Being Alive

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Kep, my 5:30 guy. Dr. Doverspike. My son. Jen. Ruth. Gabe. Stars. Searching. for meaning. Meaning. Purpose. Eudaimonia. Life. The cycle of life. The interdependent web of all Souls. The deep Ocean of connected life and collective memory. Our desire to know, to learn, to love. Compassion. Humility. Boundaries. Books. Movies. Paintings and sculpture.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Brain

 

Zoom. Facebook. The telephone. Television. Inadequate, each in their own way, when compared to face-to-face, body-to-body encounters. Yes. But I would miss them if they were gone. Zoom allows me to keep up with folks I care about but cannot see face-to-face very often, if at all. It allows me to have powerful moments of connection every Sunday morning with my Ancient Brothers. Facebook. At a less connected level I see old high school friends. What their life contains. Our lives turning over at the same rate. All 76 now. College friends long dispersed throughout the country. Even CBE friends when they travel.

Would I give up my breakfast with Rich this Friday? My lunch on the same day with Alan? Thursday mussar. MVP once a month? Of course not. And those encounters are richer. Needed. Loved. Rebecca is back from India and I look forward to seeing her soon. Tal and Luke have their own late twenty-something arcs to their lives. And I’m part of all these.

We love to find the downsides. Especially to technology. The ways it robs us of something. I see the upsides. Perhaps it is the solitary life I lead at home. Which I want, need, love. Yet solitary with no desire for isolation. In the average week I prefer to have the predominance of my hours experienced alone. But not all of them.

A break while I fed Kep led me to this observation. Wonder if we’re confusing correlation with causality in the instance of Zoom and social media. Stipulated: they’re not as good as fleshly encounters. But. What if the deficits we ascribe to them are the result of too little human interaction, not the medium? If that were the case, the prescription would not be to have less zoom or Facebook, rather more fleshly meetups. And use Zoom and social media when you can’t. This feels true to me.

 

All righty then. Having said that let us to turn to other matters. Like the capture of the GOP by Trump’s base. Which may not save him in this campaign for the nomination. But. Which will make all GOP candidates do obeisance to the hard right constituents in their state or congressional district. What will this mean for the 2024 campaign/election cycle? Unclear for now, but it could divide the GOP into a moderate (sort of) camp, think Mitt Romney and the Proud Boy, insurrection crowd. Gonna be messy.

 

Watching a PBS series, Searching: Our Quest for Meaning in the Age of Science. Alan Lightman has a sort of Saganesque persona and speaks in the oracular voice that we’ve come to expect from scientists in serious documentaries. I don’t find him convincing.

His quest for meaning is earnest. A bit too earnest for my taste. He’s apparently never wondered if he’s asking the right question. For example. A couple of Joseph Campbell quotes on meaning.

Joseph Campbell: “There’s no meaning. What’s the meaning of the universe? What’ s the meaning of a flea? It’s just there. That’s it. And your own meaning is that you’re there.”

Joseph Campbell: “I don’t think [the meaning of life] is what we’re seeking. I think [it’s] an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.”

Lightman does make an interesting observation at the end of the third session, the last one. He muses that all the atoms in his body came from the stars. He refers to them oddly as his atoms. When he dies, he goes on, his atoms will disperse into soil, the sky, another person. That’s the future he thinks, that we are all connected in that way. Weak tea as an idea, imho, even though, or perhaps because, it’s so obviously true.

Two more to watch. Watched number 3 first. Maybe they’re better.

Asia, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Jefferson County, Mountains, Park County, Shadow Mountain

A Mobile Crew

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Kep, the 5:30 am nudger. We two old codgers get up. This one still in REM sleep. Yoga mats. For the Kep. My son’s good work on the probate. Jen. Ruth. Gabe. Death. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Darkness. My old friend. A Mountain Morning. The oriental rug. Now a large traction mat for Kep. Pangaea Carpets. Evergreen Design Center. Clean house. Cheeba Chews.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Continental Divide visible on the way to Bailey

 

Thinking about my buddy Paul living near the Atlantic Ocean and the Bay of Fundy. Surrounded by good fishing. Northern Forests. The St. Croix River. Close to Canada. A distant world. My own Mid-Continent life. The Midwest, then the West. On a Mountain Top. Far from the fresh Waters of Minnesota now, far from the salt Waters of the Atlantic or the Pacific always. Hawai’i would give me a linkup with the World Ocean. One reason it appeals to me.

Having Mary, Mark, my son and his wife in Asia for so many years. My attention pivoted, turned West. Far West. Thailand. Korea. Singapore. It remains there, peeled away from my long European fixation. Except for Britain. Continental Europe used to hold many of my travel dreams, scholarly fantasies. Not now.

Going to Korea later this year. When I can stay longer, I’ll add in Taipei.

Brother Mark starts today at Amazon’s OKC2, one of its largest warehouses in the Oklahoma City area. His first full time work since moving back to the U.S. from Saudi Arabia. May his day be full and not feel long. Mary has moved back to Eau Claire. My son and his wife will leave Hawai’i for Korea. A mobile crew.

 

A trip to Bailey yesterday. Happy Camper. Topping up the indica supply. A beautiful drive with the Continental Divide in the far distance. Not as Snow topped as I expected. Mt. Blue Sky had a Snow storm as did Mt. Rosalie. 285 was clear.

Chose to get money from the ATM in Happy Camper. Tried twice with my credit card. Oops. Worked with my debit card. A once every couple of months trip for me. I wanted to include lunch at the Smiling Pig, a new Tex-Mex joint in the old Rustic Station, but it’s not open on MTW. Will have to just drive over there for lunch one of these ThFSaSun. The pandemic was rough on restaurants everywhere. I imagine that’s what took out the Rustic Station. It had great buttermilk pancakes.

After that drive I went to Evergreen, looking for an area rug for my upstairs office. Still not done tricking it out. Pangaea Carpets had a lot of beautiful carpets and area rugs. Got to measure my space.

Also. Still looking for a Western something to put on my mantel once Doug gets my interior painted. Stuff there was too generically upscale Western. May hunt for a large Buffalo photograph. Back to the house for a little Korean, some pan fried ground pork with milk gravy.

Minnesota, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

Could Be Fun

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Happy Camper. Smiling Pig. Furball Cleaning. Chance of Snow. Bahrain Grand Prix Sunday. Red Bull. Ferrari. Mercedes. Aston Martin. Alpine. Alpha Tauri. Williams. McLaren. Haas. Alfa Romeo. Probate. House cleaning. Good sleep. Radiation. Pacific Cod. Breaded. Lodge skillets. Cooking. Findlay and the deer. Max. Kep. Tweaking his meds. Dr. Doverspike.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Workout yesterday. 110 minutes.

 

Down a rabbit hole. A lot of my attention has gone to the Vanity Fair article Diane sent out. Fascinated. No, not going conservative. But the threads of political ideas active in the U.S. have entered a zone of extreme ferment. Not always visible.

Ever since my Alexandria days fringe political movements have interested me. Even then, in the late 1950’s and 60’s, we had the John Birch Society, the Minutemen, and the Ku Klux Klan active in our town. One of our doctors was a Bircher. Founded in 1958 in Indianapolis one of its early members and top financial supporters was Fred Koch, founder of Koch Industries.

Dad published a page or two from the John Birch Blue Book in the Times-Tribune, our local newspaper. It exposed the radical ideas held by Robert Welch, the Society’s Indianapolis based founder. Made me feel good to see Dad take a stand against them.

Both the Birch Society and the Minutemen held strong and in the latter case, violent, anti-communist views. Wikipedia entry: “…observers have stated that the JBS and its beliefs shaped the Republican Party, the Trump administration, and the broader conservative movement.[18][19][20][21] Writing in The Huffington Post, Andrew Reinbach called the JBS “the intellectual seed bank of the right.”[22]”

The KKK passed out leaflets in town from time to time and held recruiting drives at a local restaurant on Highway 9, aka the Highway of Vice Presidents (Dan Quayle and Benjamin Harrison were Hoosiers.)  The Klan has a long and infamous history in American fringe right wing circles, but the Birch Society and its effect on the Koch family has to get its props, too.

What reading the Vanity Fair article did. First. Though perhaps still fringe movements in regard to the larger society the New Right, the Dissident Right, the Christian Nationalists, the Evangelical right, and the Trumpists do have a strong hold on the Grand Old Party. Second. Some, hardly all, but some of the ideas in the article resonated with my back to the land, anti-war, anti-establishment ideas of the late 1960s. Third. Got me wondering about if this might all weave together at some point. Far left. Crunchy right.

Most of all. Back in the day. The day being 1968 in Muncie, Indiana. Not all that far from Indianapolis. I told Bill Hariff, leader of the SDS on Ball State’s campus. I want to be a theoretician for the revolution. I know. Naive. Precious. Maybe even laughable.

Yet. In these days of living on the mountain top. With a deep background in both the history and reality of right wing extremists and far left extremists. BTW: Among whom I still count myself. Could I take on a role as a writer about these movements? Maybe a new weekly blog? Say, notsoAncientrails. Wondering. Or, help organize an online think tank that might do for the next New Left what the Birchers seem to have done for today’s buffet of conservative ideas? Probably both have been done and I don’t know about them. Still. Could be fun.

Dogs, Health, Politics, Shadow Mountain, The West, US History, World History

Kepler. The New Right and the West.

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Dr. Doverspike. A man of high energy. And, acupuncture. Kep, the confused. So much adulting this weekend. Dogs. Doverspike’s Mesa. Powder hounds. Alan and Cheri, tired. Very tired. That article from Vanity Fair that Diane sent me. Ukraine, a year in. Soul Food Cook Off. The New Right and the Far Right. Christian Nationalism. Back to blood and soil. A fermenting politics of imminent doom. Good news for Kep.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep’s pain management

 

So. Much. To.

Let’s start with the pain management and mobility vet, Dr. Doverspike. He drove up at 11am yesterday, a 13 year old German Shepherd in the backseat of his Audi. She goes with him on house calls. Glad she didn’t come in. I would like to have met her, but Kep. Not so much.

He watched Kep move, take his slow way up the stairs from the lower level. When Kep finally got up, Doverspike took off his stethoscope. Listened. Pressed Kep’s back legs in several different spots.

Not what I thought. Not torn cruciate ligaments. Muscle weakness. We can bring him to near 100 percent.

We’ll see, but I want him to be right. He gave Kep an injection, a pregabbepetin capsule and inserted acupuncture needles along his spine and along his shoulder blades.

He’s the nicest Akita I’ve ever met. I get that a lot. Well, it’s a testimony to you. (And, Joe and Kate)

Dr. Doverspike has a multi-modal approach to pain. Acupuncture. Different meds. Physical therapy. I have to have Kep stand on the same soft blue plastic device I use for balance. Each back leg, five minutes. Every day.

Doverspike will come weekly until Kep improves. Then monthly. Then maybe every three months. He does acupuncture each visit. A former Florida guy, but before that Colorado, he lives in Conifer now with his wife. His practice, Mesa pain management and mobility, gets its name from Mesa, his first German Shepherd. She went back country skiing with him. Including jumping off cornices. Often steep ones.

If he succeeds in getting Kep’s back legs better, I’m sure Kep will live longer. So, go Dr. Doverspike. Not cheap, however.

 

Cousin Diane found this article in Vanity Fair, Inside the New Right’s Next Frontier, the American West. It fits with this article from the Washington Post about northern Idaho, ‘Christian patriots’ are flocking from blue states to Idaho, and this one from the New York Times: How Montana Took a Hard Right Turn Toward Christian Nationalism.

The Vanity Fair article focuses more on Wyoming while also taking a much broader look at the New Right. Including tech billionaires who want to build city-states and crypto countries. I plan to reread the Vanity Fair article and match it to some other reading I’ve been doing this year about the Far Right.

Though anti-globalism features as one of the big ideas promoted by nearly all camps represented in the Vanity Fair article Diane points out the frequent references to Orban in Hungary, the new far right Italian Prime Minister, Giorgia Meloni, and even Narendra Modi, Prime Minister of India, the Hindu nationalist. Anti-globalists, eh?

Diane and I both agreed on the privileged nature of those seeking the right to exit. There are deep peculiarities and ironies here, too. Many who to seek to exit have an almost back to the land reverence for nature. Many are also anti-big corporation and all are definitely anti-establishment. There’s a lot to think  about, talk about. Something’s happening here, what it is is not exactly clear.

 

 

Acting, Astrology, Cinema and Television, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Literature, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Young Men’s Dreams, an Old Man’s, too

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Tal. Bread Lounge. F1. Red Bull. Scuderia Ferrari. Mercedes. Charles LeClerc. Max Verstappen. Carlos Sainz. A hobby. I think. Warming. Snow melting. Dr. Doverspike. Coming today. Kep, the early. His rear legs. Love for and from him. Tal’s dream. His own theater company. Like the Group of the early 1920’s. Young men’s dreams. Old men’s dreams.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dreams

 

Had lunch with Tal. He got let go at Evergreen Players where I had taken two acting classes from him. Budget. He landed on his dream. He’s doing two acting classes right now, holding them at CBE. American Jewish Playwrights and Improv.

His plan. Build a theater company based on the Group, a late 1920’s creation of Lee Strasberg and others. An ensemble, The Group often performed plays written for them, using the same pool of actors, the Group, to cast each play. Tal wants to develop an ensemble which will choose plays and perform them, directed by himself. The plays will fit the ensemble rather than assembling a cast to fit the play. He had the first board meeting for his company last week.

Luke, too. Wanting to work with the things he loves: Tarot and Astrology and Art. A young man with a dream. He had an interview two days ago with Judaism Yourway for a tech position with them. If he gets it, it could fund his developing a practice with Tarot and Astrology. Give him more time to develop his art.

The late twenties, early thirties. A time for exploration. Testing the self. Trying this, then that. Who will I be? Who can I be? When will it happen for me? Dreaming with them both. An old man’s dream, may these young men realize theirs.

 

This old man has dreams, too. He wants to write a book, another book. That one about the pagan life. About finding and developing a love for Mother Earth and Father Sun. But. He’s stuck. Maybe depressed?

I have plenty of time. Plenty of material, both original and researched. I know how to stick with a project until I have completed manuscripts. Yet. I’m not writing. Not even picking up a keyboard.

Maybe the deep sadness over cancer has combined with suppressed feelings over Kate’s long illness and death, over Jon’s life, his divorce, his death, and Ruth’s mental health to cast a darker pall over me than I’ve known. Recognized.

When I worked with Alan and Cheri last weekend, I discovered I had stamina. Yet when I come home, I fall into routines. Some helpful. Like Ancientrails. Like caring for Kep. Though I’ve not been as good a dad as he’s needed of late. Zooming with friends and family. Zoomies. Exercise. Cooking for myself.

But my reading has tailed off into finishing CJ Box’s long Joe Pickett series. I watch too much tv. I don’t feel energetic at home. One or two events outside of the house and I’m done with my day. Yes, there’s the trifecta: low testosterone, altitude, and my funky diaphragm. And, yes, they affect me. But I’m beginning to think my low energy may have deeper and other roots.

Not sure where to go with this. Not sure I’m right. Paying attention in a different way now.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Mountains, Plants, Shadow Mountain

Glad

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Mauve Sky through the Snow laden Lodgepoles. Beautiful. Fresh Snow. Cold temps. -8 last night. Probate. My son working hard. Jon’s house cleaned almost. Jen and I go through it on Saturday. Title for the Rav4 cleared today. Salmon tonight. Alan and Cheri, moving. Tom, who leads and builds. Kep to the vet today. Dr. Simpson. Hep B. Diane. Mary in a hip new apartment building. Eau Claire.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son

BTW: my son is a security choice for him.

 

The cleaners have done the first pass on Jon’s place. Jen and I will go through it on Saturday, identify what needs to go to storage and how much space we’ll need to rent. The cleaners will move those items to storage, then complete the clean out. House on the market next week. Maybe. At a decent price. Not a great one, but the market shifted a lot over the last six months and is in a weird place right now. Seems well considered.

I’m going to the DMV today to sort out the title for the Rav4 and will take that to Jen on Saturday. Then it’s hers and Ruth’s. After the house sells, the next step will be Jon’s pension and mutual funds. At that point? Finis. The whole sad saga can move on into the lives of Ruth and Gabe, me. I still have his ashes, for example. I hope we can organize an exhibition of his art at some point. Perhaps sell some for the kids.

With the probate process taking so long there’s been no chance for closure. A constant reminder of the negligent side of Jon. Grated against all of us. Including Ruth and Gabe. When the house sells, Ivory goes to Galena Street, with the storage unit filled and the money issues settled, we’ll all be able to remember the artist, the teacher, the dad, the stepson, the sensitive and so bright guy he was. Those will, as they should, grow to overshadow his struggles, allow his fullness to come back into our hearts.

My son had all this work lined up and ready to go last September. His work as Jon’s personal representative has been an act of brotherly love. Typical of him. He and Jon were close.

May Jon’s memory be for a blessing.

 

Kep goes into the vet this afternoon. See if we can do anything to help his hind legs. Though I doubt it. Check his sight and hearing. There again. Little to be done, I’m sure. Good to have a look. Maybe some pain meds? I don’t think he’s in pain, but I want to be sure.

 

Alan and Cheri. Moving down the hill today. After 27 years. A big moment for them. Right into the heart of Denver. City folk.

 

Mountain life. I’ve stuck with it. And am glad I did. Seeing the Snow on Black Mountain. A Fire in the fireplace. Deepening relationships with CBE folk. Experiencing the benefits of doctors who know me and want me to thrive. Staying connected with folks near and far. Family and friends. Alone, but not lonely on Shadow Mountain. A wonderful house. A good gym setup. Books. Entertainment. A kitchen that inspires me to cook. A soon to be newly painted interior.

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Korea, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History, World History

Pruning. Oblation. China.

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Snow. Cool night. Kep, the early. Now, me too. Good boy! Dr. Simpson. Radiation oblation. Hep B. My son. His wife. Korea. Korean. Hangul. English. Animas chocolates. Thanks again, Mary. Liminal spaces. Lenticular Clouds. The Clouds before a Snow Storm. Mountain Weather. Sano Vet. Palmini. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Stinkers for gas. And quarts of milk.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Moving forward

 

Quite a day yesterday. Robin and Michele came. All the art is off the upstairs walls. Means Doug can start the first of March. Main level. Garden Path green. The upstairs door will be Backwoods green. Benjamin Moore. They also removed all the clothing I thinned out from the walk in closet. A lot. Coats. Shirts. Shoes. Sport Coats. Michele moved all of the photographs into the closet and consolidated my clothes on one side. She also took an area rug I no longer wanted.

Kate’s molas from the Cuna Indians are now in a pile on the table. All her sewing related art, too. Everything is off the fireplace mantel. Once Doug is done I’ll have some fun rehanging art. Herme will have to come down for a while. Excited about the new colors.

Also excited about the leaner feeling the house has now. When I’m ready to move, most of what’s left will go with me. Except for the books. The books have got to slim down. Way, way down. Way down. But I have four years for that painful process. One more visit with Robin and Michele. Then, I’ll be done for now. Three more closets (smaller). Linens and towels. Perhaps once more through the kitchen.

 

Also a long conversation with Dr. Simpson. The pros and cons of radiation for my two mildly active mets. It probably won’t increase your survival, but it will increase the amount of time you can be off the drugs. Oh. The drug holiday coming this summer. So. In terms of risk and benefit? Worth it since the quality of my life is high and a longer drug holiday will enhance it.

Downsides. Possible bowel obstruction. Possible chronic pain. Possible paralysis. But the odds are very low for those. Decided to go for it. Dr. Simpson’s a good guy. We decided together, Let’s treat it!

Will get started sometime soon. Probably eight sessions in all. See the old gang. If they’re still there. I know Carmela is because I’ve talked to her on the phone.

 

China and Russia. Share a long border. 2600 miles. Little real history together in spite of that. Very different cultures. And a lot of that border is far away from centers of population. Bonded now though by their enmity towards the U.S. Putin’s Russia also abhors the decadent West. As in Europe. I can imagine them imagining a war where they guard each others flanks and project power east in the instance of China and west in the instance of Russia.

I don’t think China understands how weak Russia really is. Their military has suffered tremendously already in the Ukraine. And will suffer more.

And China may not understand how determined the U.S. is. We’ve made partnerships with Korea, Japan, the Philippines, Australia. Even Vietnam. That means for China to get to our mainland they would have to send out ships and planes from their mainland, through a gauntlet of U.S. allies.

Just thinking out loud here.

Anoka County, Bees, Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Health, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Plants, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Writing

Waiting To Cross

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Monday gratefuls: Dr. Eigner. Dr. Simpson. Kep, the early. Snow. More Snow. Mild temperatures. The Ukraine. Biden. The James Webb. Tom and Bill, the science bros. Max, getting older. Ode, the well-rooted wanderer. Paul, the steadfast. Alan, the cheerful. The Ancient Brothers, a true Sangha. Zoom. Korean fried chicken. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Ivory. Ruby. Oncology.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Ancient Brothers

 

So I said it out loud. My reaction to mom’s death turned me from a confident, ready to take on the world teenager to a frightened, hesitant young adult. One who dropped German because he was failing it. Shame. One who convinced himself there was not enough money for Wabash because he was afraid to go back. Shame. One who entered then a great teacher’s college, but a mediocre university. Ball State University. Shame.

Not a lot of shame in my life. Very little. That’s where it lies. Perhaps now having put it out there. So late. 76. It will fall away. It took me years, nearly three decades, to put the pain of her death in perspective. Treatment for alcoholism. Quitting smoking. Quitting the ministry. Years of Jungian analysis. Finally. Meeting Kate. 26 years later. I finally passed the threshold of grieving mom’s death.

And started living my life. As a writer. A gardener. A dog lover. A beekeeper. An anachronistic blogger. With a woman who loved me as I was and one whom I loved as she was. A love where we wanted and supported the best life for each other. We traveled. A lot. We stood with both sons fully.

Abundance. Yes. Ode’s word for our Andover home. Yes. Flowers. Meadow. Fruits. Nuts. Berries. Grapes. Honey. Plums. Pears. Apples. Cherries. Iris. Tulips. Spring ephemerals. Roses. Hosta. Gooseberries. Beans. Heirloom tomatoes. Leeks. Garlic. Onions. Kale. Collard Greens. Lettuce. Carrots. Ground Cherry. Raspberries.

The fire pit. The woods.

The dogs. So many dogs. Celt. Sorsha. Morgana. Scot. Tira. Tully. Orion. Tor. The Wolfhounds. Iris. Buck. Hilo. Emma. Kona. Bridget. The Whippets. Vega and Rigel. The IW/Coyote Hound sisters. Gertie, the German Short Hair. And Kep, the Akita.

It was so good. Until the work became burdensome. Until I visited Colorado one year and Ruth ran away from the door because she didn’t expect me. A surprise visit. Then we had to come. The two. A push. The work of Seven Oaks had become too much. A pull. We wanted, needed to be there for Ruth and Gabe.

So we packed everything up. And on the Winter Solstice of 2014 moved here, to the top of Shadow Mountain. 8,800 feet above sea level. Into the Wildland/Urban Interface, the WUI. With four dogs: Kep, Gertie, Rigel, and Vega. Again, thanks to Tom for helping with the dog move.

When the time came, we put away Andover and envisioned a life together in the Rocky Mountains. Kate felt like she was on vacation every day until she died. Where she found the Jewish life she had always wanted. Where we both found ourselves immersed in the lives of our grandchildren, of their parents.

Now Kate is dead. Vega is dead. Gertie is dead. Rigel is dead. Only Kep and I remain alive. I’m at another threshold, waiting to cross.

Denver, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Shadow Mountain

Four More Years!

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Kep, the early. Jon, a memory. Alan and Cheri. Their move. Next Thursday. Down the hill. Marilyn and Irv watching the John Cleese life after death video. Alan offering to chauffeur me for my colonoscopy. Selling myself short on physical activity. Animas chocolates from Mary. That Korean chicken place. The dumpster in front of the Rav4. Jon’s house about to get cleaned. A buoyed up feeling as I drove. Waiting to cross. Liminal spaces.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A delightful Saturday

 

Over to Cheri and Alan’s Saturday morning to help with packing. Packing is better with friends. I picked up a Bread Lounge order for Alan on the way. Multi-grain sourdough and fancy pastries. A tort and two cinnamon rolls. When I arrived, Alan made espresso. Cheri had me sit in the seat with a view. Their million dollar vista of the Continental Divide. Sold. Only theirs for a few more days.

On Thursday they move from Genesee, right next to Evergreen, to downtown Denver. Right across from the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. After 27 years. Cheri believes a crisis is coming for home insurance in the Colorado WUI. As a former owner/creator of a reinsurance company, she’s not to be ignored. Hope it gives me four years.

As I moved boxes, helped Alan move bookcases, I realized I’ve still got enough energy to handle three hours of moderately heavy work. At least at their altitude. Which is 1300 feet below mine. Been minimizing my stamina. Want to stop doing that.

I’ve allowed myself to sink into a diminished view of my body’s capacity. What I can do physically. Telling myself a story of low testosterone, altitude, and a paralyzed diaphragm. All true, yet not as significant as I imagine. Use it or lose it. Want to keep my body as strong and able as possible for as long as possible.

Not sure how to challenge this view, but I suspect getting back to resistance work will help. My new tablet. Bought so I can watch workout videos downstairs. Body weight. Getting it setup. Bought an inch thick mat for the workouts. May bring some light weights down from the loft.

 

See Eigner tomorrow. Oncologist. What’s my prognosis? With the mets on my spine. Should I do radiation? Is my sadness a typical feeling for this part of the journey? As I wrote yesterday, I’m at a threshold. These are the questions, hard ones. At least the ones about cancer. Wanting to face front, be as knowledgeable as I can. Not to scare myself, but to do what I can in the moment.

 

Robin comes on Tuesday. I’ve gotten more work done since she and Michele were here last. Cleared out the home office, though it’s not finished for use yet. Got substantial work done on the guest room walk-in closet. Many shirts, sport coats, a suit, ties, coats ready to go elsewhere. Will do some work in there today. While eating the wonderful Animas chocolate Mary sent me for my birthday.

They will work on removing what I’ve chosen to give away and getting all my art off the walls upstairs, off the mantle. Taking down all the art in Kate’s former sewing room. I’ll be ready then for Doug, the painter who will paint the upstairs and downstairs starting March 1st. When he’s done, I’ll have Vince over to get the art hung.

Four more years!