Category Archives: Judaism

Again, gevurah

The Off to College Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Parsha Devarim. A milky blue and white Sky with gray Clouds stacked in rows in the northeast. Overnight Rain. 48 degrees. A cool Mountain Morning. Veronica. GOES-19. Most recent project on which she worked. Her description of the Falcon Heavy rockets landing. Her joy in seeing the launch. Gevurah. Cancer. Friendship.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

One brief shining: Not sure what to do with myself as my confidence in my body erodes, breathing hard while coring an apple, walking a short distance, from the garage to the house say, and needing a rest, wondering what’s making me so weak, what’s making it so hard to breath, not inspirational, why I need to find gevurah yet again today.

Kavanah: Gevurah   Strength, ability, willpower

 

Have to figure out a practice for gevurah. In mussar a practice is a way of strengthening a middot, a character trait. For example, if your middot is chesed, loving-kindness, you would look for opportunities throughout the day to make another’s burden lighter or at least a way to share it with them. Or, carry some groceries into a house. Run an errand. Send a kind note. Express your love or admiration for someone.

This does two things. First, it helps you recognize those moments in life when an opportunity to express loving-kindness arises. Second, it helps you actually express loving-kindness when those moments arise. Mussar believes in building from the outside in. That is, the more you see chances to exercise a middot and act on them, the more habitual they will become. Changing your character not through psyche wrangling like in therapy, but more in the way an athlete builds skill in there sport. Practice. Practice. Practice.

So. What might be a good practice for me to learn how to experience my gevurah in this August 10th, 2024 life? First, I might search for moments when I express strength but might otherwise gloss over or ignore it. Like writing. A strength I have here on Ancientrails is persistence, honesty, typing skills. Or, a more simple example. I make a good bagels and lox sandwich. Have several different ways to cook eggs. Another, I said the blessing and lit the candles for Shabbat last night. A ritual reminder of my Jewishness, of the light that comes in and through me through the divine nature of my brain and body, to take a day for rest and replenishment of my spirit. When I find these moments, celebrate them, large or small.

Second, search for opportunities to express my gevurah. Take on tasks in bite size chunks. And complete them. Think, consider, weigh, analyze. Write. Write some poetry. Write about what I’m learning on Herme’s journey. Through the Tarot cards I pull each morning.

Just a moment: Considering the number of men with prostate cancer. That I know: Steve, Dave, Mike. Me. Charlie H. Dick R. Wondering about organizing them. But to do what? Support each other? Sure. But. Maybe to consider how being a man has affected our approach to cancer? That sounds more interesting.

Gevurah

The Off to College Moon

Friday gratefuls: Jamie. Mussar. His translation and commentary. A smoky, wet Sky. The Olympics. Cardboard beds. Laurie and her Chi-town food truck. Chili cheese dogs. Evergreen. Evergreen Chamber Orchestra at Cactus Jack’s. Clean Ruby. Veronica. Dandelion. Ginny and Janice breakfast tomorrow. Ron’s mussar session on Gratitude. Yirah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth off to college

One brief shining: The lev shaped table for mussar had only Jamie and Ellen around it when I came in, kippah in place, I remembered, with my too big phone and mussar notebook which I put on the table along with my ART hat from a long ago show at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, Jamie smiled, so did Ellen.

 

Kavanah: STRENGTH   Gevura (g-voo-RAH) Strength, ability, willpower      Fifth Sefirah = restriction & boundaries; severity & justice; left hand pushing away (opposite Chesed/Kindness)  (חוּמרָה Chumra, CHOOM-rah: Strictness, stringency, rigour; from חמר to matter/have weight)  (חַיִל Chayil, CHAI-ul: Capability, valour, heroism)

[חוּלשָׁה Chulsha, chool-SHAH: Weakness, frailty, disability]

 

Picking intentions for the day that run counter to any negative feelings I’m having. In this case all the words in straight brackets: weakness, frailty, disability. Not been a great week. Too many of my lives have had an off feeling, physically. Shortness of breath. Though. I do live at 8,800 feet, have a paralyzed left diaphragm, allergies, and there’s been smoke in the air. The back issues seem more pronounced. And of course, the decadal favorite: cancer. Mostly I’m up, living my life and loving it. This week. The Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday lives and this August 9th life from what I can tell not so much.

I feel passive. The low T fatigue, I suppose. Have to accomplish tasks in bits and pieces. Only one at a time. Laundry. Make a meal. Straighten up. By the afternoon my go meter has pegged. Drained out. Sure. I can and do read. Write. Could paint but I haven’t. Default mode is either read fiction or watch TV.

I don’t know if this is whining. I don’t think it is. It’s not meant to be. Descriptive of a lassitude born not so much of ennui but of physical depletion occasioned by various ills my body has become heir to. May be some melancholy as a psychic sauce to ladle over it all. Don’t think I’m depressed. Not sure.

All in all. Neither satisfied nor happy. Nor dissatisfied or unhappy. A sort of blah tending toward brown or gray.

I see Sue Bradshaw on Monday, a six month checkup, and I plan to raise the shortness of breath and back with her. Another blood draw on the 19th. That will give some definition to my current cancer status. Not sure there’s a lot medicine can do for me on the first two. Hopeful about the cancer.

So you can see. The middot, the character trait of strength, Gevurah. What I need to find as often as I can in this August 9th life. In as many spots as I can. Experiencing some here. Writing is a strength. Putting the real out of my head and onto the screen. Naming and owning where and who I am.

Lunch with Veronica. A strength. Shabbat and Havdalah. New strengths.

 

Witness

The Off to College Moon

Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Ruth. Diane. Tom. The up over and the down under. Bangkok. Songtan. Melbourne. Orca Island. San Francisco. Robbitson. Shorewood. Minneapolis/St. Paul metro. Evergreen. Conifer. Genesee. Denver. Lakewood. Luke and Leo. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. Conifer Mountain. Rain, Rain. Come again. And again.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Harris/Walz

One brief shining: Sitting cross legged beneath the big painting by Jerry, the Blue Ridge Mountains landscape, Ruth explained how she and her roommates needed to solve a mistake, housing at UC Boulder had put two young women and one young man in the same room, but the conversation swiftly turned to classes: American history to 1865, Political Science 101 in the election year of all election years, studio arts, ways of knowing and finally whether to get a parking spot-no-and a possible library job-yes.

 

Kavanah: PEACE  Shalom (shuh-LOME) שָׁלוֹם   Peace, quietness, wholeness

 (קוֹר רוּחַ Kor Ruach, core ROO-ach: Calm, composure, literally a “cool spirit”) [בֶּהָלָה Behala, beh-ha-LAH: Fear, alarm, panic]

 

Smoky Sky, cool Air, decent Rain yesterday. A feeling of Fall, premature, yes, but welcome, very welcome anyhow. Four seasons. The Great Wheel turning once again. Nights lengthening. My favorite half of the year not far away.

This August 8th life incorporates these changes, makes the late night from MVP feel integrated with this resurrection moment, this reincarnation of my neshamah. The milky gray of the Sky has combined with my Vaad of last night, reflected in the heavens. The MVP group was the last round of folks I brought into my most recent cancer news since Ruth and I discussed it yesterday.

The August 7th life filled my cup while accentuating my sorrow. Yes, sorrow. That dark sadness from the last few days (lives) remains. Its tendrils gathering, pooling. A sense of foreboding. And. Ruth came up. We worked on transferring the MinnesotaSaves college fund money to my name. Ruth filling out the forms with her neat handwriting, discussing with the MinnesotaSaves folks what we needed to do. When we finished with that, I took a nap while she filled out a job application for work/study at the UC Boulder main library.

When I got up, I made lox, cream cheese, and bagels with onions and capers. I know. A little on the nose, but, hey! We both enjoyed them

Her excitement about her classes triggered those oh so sweet  memories of the first days of a new semester, a new quarter when a new field of study lay before me. Or, a deepening of a favorite area. And dealing with a roommate issue, so first days of college.

Having her here felt warm, loving. Though I did end up tired.

And that before I drove to Evergreen for MVP. Which went until 9:45 pm. Discussing responsibility and gratitude. Family. My vaad. Rich, Susan, Joanne, and Ron as witnesses. Not fixers. Not even empathizers, but listeners and seers. Though I have to face this alone internally, I am not alone. I’m in the company of those walking me home. As I walk them.

My ancientrail

The Off to College Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. Willville. August 20th. On her own. With a net. Returning to the Solar System. Gaia. Great Sol. Space. Vastness. Galaxies. Huge. Galaxy Clusters. Huger. The Universe its ownself. Our home. Our tiny, tiny presence in our galaxy, our local cluster, the whole of everything. And thanks for all the fish.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shabbat

One brief shining: Reading the parsha, the end of Numbers, then the book on Reconstructionism for class and for the CBE bookclub, lighting the candles, and saying the berakhot, the blessing over them, settling in to my Shabbat, sleeping, then rising, resurrected, granted another life, the life of August 3rd, 2024, lived with friends Marilyn and Irv, with more books and some TV until the day fled, the life was over, and I went down into the 1/60th of death again.

Kavanah: PERSEVERANCE  Netzach (NETS-ach)  נֵצַ

 

I cobble things together. Not exactly syncretism. I have no larger design in mind. Discovering useful ways of understanding, framing, defining. I’m finding the life of August 4th, 2024 a contemplative one. Coming as it does after Shabbat and graced by the presence of my Ancient Brothers. Better for me than living in the moment. Living a full life, one day at a time. AA resonance. Jewish inflection. Expansion of the be here now idea to a waking day. Carpe diem fits. Though it might be a bit aggressive. How about cradle the day, or enjoy the day, or embrace the day?

This all fits well with the lesson of Yamantaka. Meditating on my corpse. Seeing death for what it will be. For me. Not a time to fear but to include in the ongoingness of life. Whether darkness or reincarnation or sudden awakening in a different form. As significant as birth. As love. As justice. As compassion.

Eudamonia comes from the Greeks. Aristotle. A cleaner, more as I experience the flow life way of approaching life’s purpose. Especially considering the longue dureé, how very important and mostly insignificant I am and will be. How I was before I was. If I was. The Mexica idea. Life is a dream between a sleep and a sleep.

Being a Jew. Bathing in the waters of the mikveh. And in the community I find at CBE. And in the long, rich tradition of Jewish thought and ritual. Saying the shema in the morning and in the evening. Studying mussar. Friends.

Hanging with the Ancient Brothers. With Diane. Friends and family over the years. Mary and Mark. My son and Seoah. Dogs.

The Great Wheel and the pagan eye that finds the sacred, the divine right here on the surface of things where Tomatoes grow and Iris bloom and Rain falls and Wildfire burns.

Following the Jewish liturgical year and the Great Wheel. Cyclical time. Not linear. More important to me. Though aging matters, too. I’m fond of the years I’ve lived. And the many, many lives known one day by one day.

Of course, Taoism. Another way of understanding the unitary, yet always evolving one in which we move and live and have our becoming.

With these ideas, these notions, this framing I find each day, each new life, a miracle. A time to savor. To not waste. To know as ichi-e ichi-go, once in a lifetime. And all beautiful. Wabi-sabi.

My tao. My ancientrail. Herme’s journey.

As Michelangelo said, “I’m still learning.”

The Mountain Summer Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ruth, the young woman. Alan. Cheri. Rabbi Joe Black. Eitan Kantor. David Ross. Jewish music. Downtown Denver. Walking. Breathing. High Summer. Lugnasa on its way. Stoic and Genuine Seafood. Oysters. Fish and chips. Union Station. Restaurants. Amtrak. Destination for the W line. And the A line. And all the RTD lines. Getting back home, up the hill. Cooler and cleaner air.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth, the soon to be college student

One brief shining: The server put a small metal ring on our table, then brought a platter filled with shaved ice, four Granite Bay oysters, two small dishes with melted garlic butter and horseradish in ketchup; Ruth said, I feel awkward since she had never eaten an oyster but we put the horseradish/ketchup sauce on, slipped the oysters down with a gulp and she said, it tastes like the ocean.

Kavanah for the day (intention): Charging the heart with Responsibility Achrayut (אחריות)

 

 

A bit of explanation is in order here. Since becoming a member of CBE-well before my conversion-study has marked my path. Kate and I went together to mussar on Thursday afternoons and to the MVP group once a month. Mussar means discipline, instruction, ethics and it focuses on developing character traits* as a way of living a holy life, a moral life.

Practicing mussar has three potential elements. The first is a kavanah, an intention, for the day. This means throughout the day we seek opportunities to engage the character trait named in our intention. Today, for example, I plan to focus on some financial matters I don’t want to deal with. But need to. So my overall intention focus will be responsibility.

This will encourage me to pay attention not only to working all the way through the financial matters, but also to seek opportunities to do something for someone else. When we have an intention, we also have a practice. That is, I will look for chances today to be of service to someone or I will create chances. The practice is the second element.

The third element is journaling about my experience in the evening. I want to become more intentional about my mussar practice, so I’m adding my daily kavanah to Ancientrails.

There are three other areas of intensive study. Kabbalah. Torah. And, the study I did for my conversion sessions. I studied kabbalah for a while, then stopped. Will begin again in the fall. Now doing Torah study with Gary Riskin as a Men’s Torah Study and once a month with Rabbi Jamie.

Can you see why Judaism appeals to me?

One more thought: Judaism has a layered understanding of the soul. Two layers jump out in this conversation. The first is neshamah. The neshamah notion is equivalent to buddha nature, I am, made as sacred reality. We are a neshama, a pure and sacred soul. Nothing can change this because the neshama represents the very way you are part of the ongoing becomingness that is all reality. The nefesh is how the particularity, the uniqueness that you are as part of that becomingness, develops itself in and through your life. The nefesh is the seat of mussar practice.

 

 

 

* There are many lists of character traits. Here’s one from the Mussar Center:

1.  AWE  Yira (year-AH)  יִרְאָה

2.  BALANCE  Izun (ee-ZOON)  אִזוּן

3.  BEAUTY  Tiferet (tee-FAIR-et)  תִפאֶרֶת

4.  BROTHERHOOD  Achava (ach-ah-VAH)  אַחֲוָה

5.  CAREFULNESS  Zehirut (zeer-OOT)  זְהִירוּת

6.  CLARITY  Tohar (TOE-har)  טֹהַר

7.  COMPASSION  Rachamim (raw-chuh-MEEM)  רַחֲמִים

8.  CONSCIENCE  Busha (boo-SHAH)  בּוּשָׁה

9.  CONSIDERATION  Adivut (ah-dee-VOOT)  אֲדִיבוּת

10.  CONTENTMENT  Histapkut (he-stop-KOOT)  הִסתַפְּקוּת

11.  COURAGE  Ometz Lev (OH-mets lev)  אֹמֶץ לֵב

12.  DECISIVENESS  Charitzut (char-ee-TSOOT)  חֲרִיצוּת

13.  DEVOTION  Chasidut (chah-see-DOOT)  חֲסִידוּת

14.  FAITH  Emuna (em-oo-NAH)  אֱמוּנָה

15.  FAITHFULNESS  Ne’emanut (neh-mahn-OOT)  נֶאֱמָנוּת

16.  FLEXIBILITY  Gemesh (GEM-esh)  גֶמֶשׁ

17.  FREEDOM  Chofesh (CHOE-fesh)  חוֹפֶשׁ

18.  GENEROSITY  Nedivut (nid-ee-VOOT)  נְדִיבוּת

19.  GOODWILL  Ratzon (ruts-OWN)  רָצוֹן

20.  HOLINESS  Kedusha (kid-oo-SHAH)  קְדֻשָּׁה

21.  HONESTY  Yosher (YO-share)  יוֹשֶׁר

22.  HONOUR  Kavod (kuh-VODE)  כָּבוֹד

23.  HOPE  Tikva (teek-VAH)  תִּקְוָה

24.  HUMILITY  Anava (ah-nuh-VUH)  עֲנָוָה

25.  JOY  Simcha (SIM-chah)  שִׂמְחָה

26.  JUSTICE  Tzedek (TSEH-deck)  צֶדֶק

27.  KINDNESS  Chesed (CHEH-sed)  חֶסֶד

28.  KNOWLEDGE  Da’at (DAH-aht)  דַּעַת

29.  LOVE  Ahava (aha-VAH)  אַהֲבָה

30.  MERCY  Chemlah (chem-LAH)  חֶמְלָה

31.  MINDFULNESS  Metinut (mitt-ee-NOOT)  מְתִינוּת

32.  MODESTY  Tzniut (ts-nee-OOT)  צְנִיעוּת

33.  ORDERLINESS  Seder (SAY-dare)  סֵדֶר

34.  PERSEVERANCE  Netzach (NETS-ach)  נֵצַח

35.  PATIENCE  Savlanut (sav-lah-NOOT)  סַבְלָנוּת

36.  PEACE  Shalom (shuh-LOME)  שָׁלוֹם

37.  PLEASANTNESS  Noam (no-AHM)  נֹעַם

38.  RESPONSIBILITY  Acharayut (ach-rye-OOT)  אַחֲרָיוּת

39.  RIGHTNESS  Tzedaka (ts-DAW-kuh)  צְדָקָה

40.  SELF-CONTROL  Perishut (pree-SHOOT)  פְּרִישׁוּת

41.  SERENITY  Menucha (min-oo-CHAH)  מְנוּחָה

42.  STABILITY  Yesod (yee-SODE)  יְסוֹד

43.  STRENGTH  Gevura (g-voo-RAH)  גְבוּרָה

44.  THANKFULNESS  Hod (hode)  הוֹד

45.  TRUTH  Emet (em-ET)  אֱמֶת

46.  UNDERSTANDING  Bina (bee-NAH)  בִּינָה

47.  WISDOM  Chochma (CHOCH-mah)  חָכְמָה

48.  ZEAL  Zerizut (zree-ZOOT)  זְרִיזוּת

Weather and Joy

The Mountain Summer Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Ruth. Alan. Cheri. The Inspire Concerts. RTD. Federal Center Station. St. Anthony Hospital. New knee, me. New shoulder, Kate. Ruby. 96, high in Denver today. The Ancient Brothers. Kamala. The orange comb over. These disunited States. Rain. Hale. Luke. Leo. Ginny. Janice. Great Sol. Cancer drugs. Jewish music. Today with Ruth.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

One brief shining: Short splats increased to faster, staccato impacts the skylights enlarging the sound, then the Hail, small at first, then larger pounded pounded pounded with the insistence of the natural world not recognizing barriers, pounding against them with the kind of fury increased by falling from a great height as Leo and I looked outside seeing balls of Ice bounce around on the black driveway.

 

A lesson in Mountain Microclimates. While Leo and I enjoyed a hard Rain with Hail, Luke only needed a transparent umbrella at the wedding being held on the west side of Black Mountain in Staunton State Park. Not very far as the Moose walks. Up and down Black Mountain. From their home in the State Park to our yards here on Shadow Mountain, the next Mountain over.

As the bride walked down the aisle, Luke said, the heavens parted and shone a bright light directly on her. Heaven sent. We take in the awe, perhaps dismiss it as random, as unmotivated and therefore meaningless except in a Hollywood sort of way, but yirah is yirah. Wherever and whenever. Yirah is a human emotion, a middot, too, one known in the lev, in the mind-heart. Experienced not in its source but in its recipient.

I enjoyed the thirty minutes or so of heavy Rain, conditioned by decades of Midwestern life to know the nurturance of a good Rain. Good for the crops. Leo wasn’t so sure about the Thunder. He didn’t tuck his tail between his legs, but he did pace. Some Dogs can have an outsized response to Thunder.

Tira, a Wolfhound bitch who lived with us in Andover, once impaled herself on a fence gate and clawed apart and bit, too, a license plate on the Tundra parked just across from the gate. I ran out when I found her and lifted her 160 pound body off the gate in one move. Adrenaline. Fortunately the wound was not deep. Her teeth and front paws though. Bloody.

 

Just a moment: Will elaborate tomorrow, but I spent a joyful day with Ruth today. We walked to Alan and Cheri’s from Union Station. Painful, but doable. So irritating to have this impediment. Walking has been my favorite way to see a city. Now I have to walk some, rest some. Walk some, rest some. Made it to Spire Condominiums across from the Denver Center for the Performing Arts.

Up 38 floors to 3810, Alan and Cheri’s place, for another home based concert. Rabbi Joe Black, senior Rabbi at the huge Temple Emmanuel, sang. As did Eitan Kantor, a local Jewish musician. And a pianist and song writer whose name I don’t have. More on this tomorrow.

Liberal Arts, their necessity

The Mountain Summer Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Gabe and Ruth. Beau Jo’s. Pizza. Cool nights. 22 degree difference: Lakewood to Shadow Mountain, 92-70. Abert’s Squirrel and Red Squirrels running. Chipmunks. Rabbits. Marmots. Fishers. Pikas. Prairie Dogs. Mice. Ravens. Crows. Magpies. Corvids.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family

One brief shining: Outside along the fence, there, peripheral vision alerted me, found it, a hopping form, bushy tail, then another, Red Squirrels, smaller all black pointy ears, running between the Lodgepoles, an Abert’s Squirrel, a very squirrely morning.

 

Excited. I got a new translation of Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Plan to read it through as part of Herme’s Pilgrimage. Stephanie McCarter from the University of the South. Not as ground breaking as the new Iliad and Odyssey by Emily Wilson, but fresh eyes and a woman’s perspective. Looking forward to grounding myself again in Ovid’s world of epic poetry, shapes changed into bodies, metamorphosis.

You could call me a classicist. Not in the academic sense, I don’t have the languages, but religious and ancient classical texts do have a gravitational pull for me. In translation I’ve read and returned to the Bible, Homer, Chinese literary classics like Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Greek philosophy, the Talmud, Roman and Greek playwrights and poets like Ovid, Beowulf, the Norse sagas, Dante.

When I say I’ve returned to them, I mean I will read them more than once. Which I don’t tend to do with more modern works. Say after the Renaissance.

You could call me, too, conservative. I also keep returning to religious institutions and religious life. There’s a strong part of my inner journey that’s fed by books like the Torah, the New Testament, Tao Te Ching, Chado: the Way of Tea. Even the Great Wheel emerges from the long ago past.

The vast deposit of human literature allows us to hop into a Jules Verne’s contraption of the mind, find long ago cultures like the Zhou Dynasty, Renaissance Florence, the Shogunate in Japan, village life in the old Celtic world, and for a time live in them, seeing the sights, considering the patterns of thought, the imaginative creations of other ways for being human.

The wonder and magic of reading.

Our era has begun to focus education away from the liberal arts which introduce us to philosophy, history, literature ancient and modern, languages, music and theater, poetry. We have a science and business tropism, a tendency to bend our institutions toward technology, toward business, toward matters concerning the practical arts like engineering, medicine, corporate agriculture.

Of course those practical paths undergird our day to day lives. Necessary to us all. Yes. But, and here’s where the classical world, the conservative nature of the liberal arts and religion comes into play, to what end do we sustain human life? For what purpose do we earn profits? What is a humane approach to political economy?

Without poetry and chamber music, without the voyage of Odysseus, without the journey of Dante, without the often ancient debates over the purpose of community, of nationhood, of war, of humanity itself, without Lao Tze and Confucius, without Zen and animist faiths like Shintoism and Western paganism we have no compass points to guide our white coated brethren, our C-suite compatriots, our decisions between a Trump and a Biden.

Aimlessness leads to corruption, mendacity, and general rot. We are, right now, reaping the whirlwind of this shift in basic education.

Tree Time

Summer and the Bar Mitzvah Moon

Monday gratefuls: Flonase. Tree sex. Grass sex. Make me sneezy. Leo the gentle. Luke. With family in Florida. Mark dealing with loss in Hua Hin, Thailand. Seoah turning 46 this July 4th. Murdoch. My son, who cares for those who work for him. The unconscious. The collective unconscious. Archetypes. Dreams. Depth Psychology. Rollo May. Marie von Franz. James Hillman. Robert Johnson.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sleep

One brief shining: A mystery this slipping into the unprotected, vulnerable hours, extinguishing the busy scanning of the everyday for a nighttime swim in the inky waters of just our Self, a time for only you, only me, rummaging through the storehouse hunting matters that need healing or celebration or acceptance, speaking the language of symbol and emotion, of the deep you, attending to your Self in the inner cathedral.

On my Lodgepole Companion the yellow male Flowers, catkins, have disappeared. The female ovulate Cones, red and swollen, fertilized, now dot the Branch ends, beginning the transition from female Flower to Pine Cone. These serotinous cones require fire to open them, a hot fire like one produced when the Crowns burn. Crown Fires burn fast, destroying acres of Trees at once. Stopping them tests the mettle of current Fire suppression techniques. Often the Crown Fires burn until they burn themselves out. As once they did always.

Fire does not destroy the Lodgepole; rather, it opens their seeds to newly fertile soil. One Forest dies that another may be born. Not a lot different from the way death burns through a generation of humans, one generation dying, the other growing up in its stead.

Annie Novak, the instructor in my Tree Communication class, cautioned us to notice our anthropocentric tendencies when talking about Trees, Plants. An example. We consider seconds, hours, months, years, decades, as important measures of time. How does a Tree experience time? Or, does a Tree experience time?

Dendrochronologists may use Tree growth rings to accurately place an individual’s life span in our human history. The Tree growth rings themselves? Dead. The heartwood of a Tree functions as a Tree’s columnar support essential to support the Crown as it grows up and up. A key Tree strategy for access to Great Sol’s Light.

Trees do move, up from their Seed toward the Sky, out toward the space around them, and down into the soil beneath them. But they do not move from their chosen location. They also grow in girth, expanding as the cambium produces xylem cells which push the width of the Trunk out as they die and form the heartwood.

(NB for the Ancient Brothers. I misspoke about xylem cells. They die and become the strong support for the trunk. In the center of the heartwood xylem cells transport water from the roots to the leaves through capillary action.) The phloem cells, between the bark and the cambium (growing part of the tree), take sugars down from the Leaves and Branches to other parts of the Tree. It is the phloem and cambium that measure only a few human hairs in width.

Since the heartwood and bark are dead (bark not always, see Aspens for example, but mostly), and the living part of the tree-phloem and cambium-have only a few hairs width presence in the huge structure of the Tree, what of the Tree might experience time? Do we consider the whole organism, which consists of mostly dead tissue, or do we consider the living cambium and phloem only? Perhaps the whole Tree and its growth rings simply are time itself measured in a Treecentric way?

Lots to think about and I’m only one or two strides into Herme’s Pilgrimage. Where will Herme go?

 

The Tree the Realtor said to cut down, Tree #7

Summer and the Bar Mitzvah Moon

 

Too close to the house, she said. And, not growing straight. That was nine and a half years ago. I cut down forty or fifty Lodgepoles for fire mitigation. Another few for the solar panels. Shading them in the crucial hours of the day. But I cut down no Aspens. “Trees like aspen naturally have a higher water content and do not usually contain the volatile chemical compounds that can make trees like pine so flammable.” International Association of Fire and Rescue. The title of the article refers to Aspen stands as natural firebreaks.

Not why I left it alone. I felt sorry for him/her. Looked like it had had a tough life.

Aspen Trees are dioecious, meaning male and female reproductive organs grow on separate Trees. Not educated enough yet to know which is which. Though. If it has no catkins, it’s a male. We’ll see. I think he’s a guy. Don’t recall catkins.

Pando Aspen Clone 2017 photo by Lance Oditt

Whichever is not too important because reproduction by seed does not drive Aspen increase. Aspen Seedlings do not do well in shade and since Aspen grow in clonal Groves, usually within and around Coniferous Forests, they rarely grow very well. Populus tremuloides, the quaking Aspen, and other species of Populus like big-toothed Aspen (Populus grandidentata) common in the Eastern U.S., reproduce mainly through their root system. It throws up suckers around a Mother Tree and produces clones of Her. You may have heard of Pando, the Utah Aspen Colony cited often as the world’s largest Tree.

The more closely I examined him my affection for him grew. I wondered why he had this big scar, dead heartwood exposed. Looked like burn scar with all the black Bark around it, but that same coloration existed in many spots on the Trunk. Then I moved around the tree and found this pattern of discoloration on the side opposite the scar. What was that?

Oh. I see. An Elk, maybe a larger Mule Deer, scratched themselves here. Wait. Yes, the probable explanation for the big scar and maybe for his angled growth. An Elk or Mule Deer dining on his tender and nutritious Bark when he was young. Makes sense to me.

That’s not all of the insults. Two years ago his Leader cracked off and fell during high Winds. This in spite of the adaptive advantage of quaking Leaves which reduces the force of Wind gusts. I worried it might kill him, but no. He continues to grow. Sadly, I may have to cut him down sooner rather than later. He’s leaning too close to the house in the same direction from which the Winds come.

I admire Trees, Animals that take injury and accident and disease yet do not give up. Three legged Dogs, for example. Vega. And this crippled Aspen. I hope that when I do cut him down that suckers will grow further from the house. I’d be happy to see him live again in a different spot.

 

Herme’s Journey

Summer and the waning Bar Mitzvah Moon

Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Great Sol. Shadow Mountain. TV. Books. CD’s. Jazz. Mozart. Telemann. Bach. Coltrane. Monk. Parker. Gregorian Chants. Rock and roll. CD player. K-dramas. Netflix. Amazon Prime. Mhz. Starlink. Conversation. Listening. Seeing. Really listening. Really seeing. The Aspen out my bedroom window. The dead Lodgepole.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The lesser light-the Moon

One brief shining: When I go now to an airport, when I even imagine going to an airport, I recoil, seeing the old Native American punishment, running between rows of TSA employees, airline boarding agents, and crabby fellow sufferers all diminished by the experience, yet needing to pass along, like some fraternity hazing ritual, the same misery to the pledges not yet seated in their too narrow and too jammed together seats. And paying often thousands of dollars to do it.

 

Still enjoying a post bar mitzvah push sense of opening, of new possibilities. Herme’s Journey, which I imagined after the dream workshop last month, got sidelined a bit by the week of the ritual, guests, celebration, and the week of physical recovery that followed that one. Though. Kavod for the Trees (Honoring the Tree) has kept it alive.

Herme’s Journey followed thoughts and feelings triggered by my Wabash dream. That dream encouraged me to reenter the life vision I had when I started college almost 60 years ago. To embrace that dream of a long period, lifelong in my hopes of those years, as a student, then a scholar. With libraries and writing instruments my primary tools. With ideas and their expression as my life work.

Herme, you may recall, is the name I gave to the neon sign I had made of the Hooded Man Card* from the Wildwood Tarot Deck. The name I gave to myself in the wake of Kate’s death, of a mourner then a griever, then… I wasn’t sure what.

Herme’s Journey blends the Hooded Man Card with the first card of the Tarot Deck: The Fool. The major arcana of a tarot deck tells a story of the Fool’s journey, begun blithely, a bindlestaff over one shoulder, a dog alongside, stepping off into the unknown. In the Wildwood deck** the Wanderer’s journey is through the Wildwood. Yes. My journey, too.

The Wanderer is a beginner, the beginner’s mind at play in the fields of the psyche. Herme’s Journey is my Wanderer’s path, a beginner’s path, but one begun with the age and experience of an old man. So, Herme’s Journey.

What lies along this path? Still unclear though Trees play a central role. As does the Great Wheel of the Year and the Jewish Lunar Calendar. As the pilgrimage unfolds, I plan to explore Kabbalah, my long period of work with Ovid’s Metamorphosis, poetry and literature, myth and legend, fairy and folk tales, religion, and the arts: music, painting, sculpture, theater, dance, opera.

What will come? Again, unknown. It will be the path, not the destination. What I will do is read a lot, write, travel, think, listen, see, taste. Talk.

 

*The Hooded Man stood at the winter solstice point on December 21, along with the earth and the sun in the night. This is the time to be alone and contemplate life. This card describes the gates of death and rebirth, deep inside the Earth.  Hooded Man

**A central theme of the Wildwood Tarot is the interconnection of humans with the wild, with animals, and with the calendar cycle.