Category Archives: Judaism

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Memories

A Companion of the Soul

Leave a comment

Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tom and Talking Story. Diane and Clan Keaton. Last of the left hip lymph node radiations. #7 today. T3. Kate Strickland’s birthday on the same day as Gabe’s. 40 and 15. Very different life moments. April 22. My dad and my brother Mark’s birthday are in April, too, as well as Ruth’s. Prostate cancer. Treatments. Doctors. Insurance. Hospitals. The yetzer hara and the yetzer hatov. Counting the Omer. Luke and Leo. Psilocybin. THC

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Goya

One brief, shining moment: Kate’s death coming on a new Moon, as the old one gave way, went dark, and the new one lay in the shadows, her new world also shadowed but waiting to fill out, wax, become full.

 

The Jewish calendar, a lunar one, preserves the moon phase of a death date, remembered each year as the yahrzeit. So each year as the month of Nisan ends and the month of Iyar begins Congregation Beth Evergreen and our family will celebrate Kate’s life and memory. This Friday. Nisan is the Jewish month of Spring, when Pesach falls.

Iyar is a variant of ohr, or divine light, the shards of divinity that splintered to all the Universe after the tzim-tzum happened. Tzim-tzum is a kabbalistic term for a sacred withdrawal so there could be space for a universe. When ohr flooded back into the space created by the contraction, the vessels to hold it were too weak. And shattered sending out shards of ohr which became part of everything in the universe. Or the realm of Malchut.

I’m belaboring this because it gives me a new way to see Kate’s yahrzeit. She died on a new moon, while the moon began to wax. As that happens, the calendar ticks over to Iyar, the month of ohr. So the waxing moon’s power joined with sacred light as Kate’s soul left her body. If there is a propitious moment for a journey into the unknown, this would have to be one of them.

It may mean nothing. It may mean something. Today, for me, it gives some solace as I contemplate not only her death, but also her life. Kate did not allow the fallow lands of sexism to subdue her intelligence and her manual skills. She marched into those desiccated lands with the power of Spring, sacred light shining from every pore, pushing against the masculinist assumptions that pervaded medicine. And I loved her so much for it.

She had her pain, yes, she certainly did. But she did not allow that to stop her either. Not her mother’s withering menace nor her father’s lack of boundaries. We carry our pain with us, a satchel of parental and cultural abuses, each of us. How we carry it determines our life path.

God, I miss her. She was my hand to hold, my heart joined to her heart, our paths walked together. I miss her.

And yet. My life continues. I live it with her as a companion of the soul.

Judaism, Kabbalah

The Omer

Leave a comment

Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Easter. Passover. A cool night. Kepler, my sweet boy. Kate, her yahrzeit this Friday. Probate. Some ways through. Snow falling on Lodgepoles. Though not this morning. A Mountain morning feeling its way toward the light. Alan. The Bread Lounge. Counting the omer. Rabbi Jamie, a teacher. The Evergreen Market. Southern Fried Catfish. Broccoli salad.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gettin’ Old

 

And now for something completely different. Counting the Omer is a first fruits practice that celebrates the beginning of the barley harvest. In this way it is similar to the Celtic Lughnasa which celebrates the first corn (wheat in Britain) harvest on August 1st. Counting the Omer starts during passover and proceeds until Shavuot 50 days later.

I like this practice, though I find it hard to follow, because it adds a thoughtful intention to each day, an intention that helps carry us away from the slavery of culture and history toward the promised land. What promised land, you might ask? Well. What promised land do you need?

I also like this practice because it is, as are many Jewish holidays, rooted in Mother Earth and her changes.

 

Counting the Omer*

“And from the day on which you bring the sheaf of elevation offering—the day after the sabbath—you shall count off seven weeks. They must be complete: you must count until the day after the seventh week—fifty days; then you shall bring an offering of new grain to יהוה.” Leviticus 23:15-16

This is a spiritual reenactment of the Hebrew slaves journey of out Egypt, out of slavery toward the promised land. As Rabbi Jamie explains it:

“Over the course of the seven weeks between the holidays of Passover
and Shavuot, we are invited to recount the steps of our ancestors. As the first
three uncountable stars appear on the second night of Passover, we count each
day of a journey from the shores of the Sea of Reeds, newly freed from the
constraints of enslavement under Pharaoh’s reign, to the revelatory peaks of
Mount Sinai. We number the days and weeks to revisit a path that took us from
a narrow and harrowing escape to a knowing and holy expansion of awareness
and mission. From Mitzraim [Egypt] we were forced out by plagues, and
decrees. At Sinai, we stood and freely choose a collective destiny.

“It is easier to take the people out of slavery than to take the slavery out of
the people,” it has been said. Mussar is a discipline devoted to shedding a
‘slavery mentality,’ increasing the human capacity to freely choose how we act,
even how we think and feel.”

Each night, the beginning of the Jewish day, a prayer is said and the omer for that day is counted. Traditionally the counting of the Omer (and naming a
measurable attribute to practice) happens as soon as possible after the stars
appear in the night sky, and is preceded by the following blessing: “Blessed are you O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by his commandments and commanded us concerning the count of the Omer.

Today is day ten, which is one week and three days of the Omer.

Day 10. Association with sages. Sign up for a class. Attend a class. Read a
book or article by a scholar or writer that you respect – and one you don’t.
Organize a book club. Remember as you go through the day, that one who is
wise “learns from everyone.” Consider everyone you meet a teacher sent by the
universe just for you, and you will always be in the company of the sages…and
be counted among the wise.

This thought for the 10th day of the Omer comes from Rabbi Jamie’s fitting of the whole counting of the Omer into a kabbalistic frame.

*An omer is a unit of measure. On the second day of Passover, in the days of the Temple, an omer of barley was cut down and brought to the Temple as an offering. This grain offering was referred to as the Omer. Judaism 101

 

One brief, shining moment: The inner way has many paths, some shrouded in darkness, some pressing against the heart to be felt, others pressing against the mind to be understood.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Mussar, Shadow Mountain

Round Three

1 Comment

Spring and the Kepler Moon

Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Tara. Marilyn. Susan. Jamie. Rich. Ron. Bitachon, trust. Kate’s memory, a blessing in all ways. Cooler today. Snow. Good workout. Furball Cleaning. Ana and friend.  A clean house. The new colors. That threshold. Coming closer. Irv. Adoptable dogs. Radiation #3. Joy. Simcha. Embracing joy. Living joyfully.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Eudaimonia

 

Hit the treadmill for 65 minutes. 101 total minutes of exercise with the 2 minutes for every intense minute calculation. Felt good. Coffee and albuterol, oatmeal and peanut butter on board before hand.

While I exercised, Ana and her friend cleaned the house. It needed it. The last of Kep’s hair. The leftover from Doug’s painting. Ruth, Gabe, and Mia’s visit. Plus it had been three and a half weeks since it was last cleaned. Feels so good to have a clean house. A clean house with a fresh look. Mental health. Moving forward, over that threshold.

 

MVP last night. The topic, the middot, was bitachon, trust. I said that I trust everyone. To be who they are. Realized I need to modify that. I trust everyone to be who I know them to be. I can’t truly know another’s essence. But I can know how I experience them. In the moment and over time.

This means I have varying levels of trust, many of them. None blind. All based on experience, not hope. If you tend to show up late, I know that. If you do what you say, I know that. If you anger easily, I know that. If you steal things, I hide what’s valuable to me. Either emotions or goods.

We all agreed we had trouble, for various reasons, keeping our mouths shut about others. Not that we gossip, but that some circumstances arise. Ones where we start sharing things about others that aren’t ours to tell. Not necessarily secrets or negative things. Just things that belong to others. One person gave the example of a neighbor asking about a divorce. She found herself offering more detail than she needed. Wanting to keep the friend. That sort of thing.

So our mutual practice for this month is. Value the vault. Keep what we know to ourselves. Allow others to tell their own stories. If they want to.

 

Round three of radiation on my left hip lymph node today. Though the radiation itself is both invisible and non-tactile at my sensory level it’s still powerful. Find myself sleeping longer and harder. Fatigue, not awful, but there. The thing about radiation is that its side effects can show up a year, two years later. And I won’t know for sure whether it killed my two mets until later this year when I have a P.E.T. scan. An odd form of therapy. You can’t feel it and you can’t tell if it worked until sometime after. Glad it’s available though.

Next week we get started on my T3 thoracic vertebrae. This is the one where the possible side effects become dire. Including, but not limited to, paralysis. After several conversations with docs, I decided the risk made sense. There is a chance, albeit a small chance, that if we kill these two mets I could be cured. Wouldn’t that be something?

Not counting on that. But I will extend my time off Erleada and Orgovyx when I go on a drug holiday later this year.

Neil Young for music today.

 

Friends, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History, World History

Good News

Leave a comment

Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: A good colonoscopy report. Tara. That catfish po’boy and beignets. Susan, my nurse. Luke, the doc. Propofol. Little pictures of the inside of my insides. A really long nap afterward. Sleeping in this morning, a bright one well underway at 7 am. Melting snow. Dark Sky communities. 5 in Colorado. The Milky Way. Our Galactic neighborhood. The Spiral Arm. Our street. The James Webb. Science. Community. The Humanities. A sad time.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That Threshold, becoming more clear

 

Small polyp. Benign, Evans said. But. Sent to pathology anyhow. That propofol. A white solution injected into my iv. I watched as the fluid went in and woke up later back in the same small curtained off area I had left for the exam room. In between Evans had pumped CO2 in my intestines and run a scope up them looking for cancer. None. Good news. Also. You’ve graduated. No more colonoscopies. Yay! But. Can I still do the prep every once in a while, just for fun?

When I did wake up, I wanted to go back to sleep. I felt so good. So good. I go back to sleep. Charlie, are you ready? Huh? No, not yet. A bit more time went by. Charlie! Are you ready? Oh, uh, yeah. Getting up now. (I wasn’t.) Charlie. A frustrated gal. Ok, ok. Swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Ok, ok. How do you feel? Dizzy. Sleepy. But. I’ll get dressed. I promise. And so I did.

Tara, who took me, smiled when I came out. She took me to Nono’s and bought me a catfish po’boy and two beignets. Then home. A sweet woman and important in my life. I was at her house for a seder last week.

We discussed the history of Christianity. A bit fuzzy if your life orientation is Jewish. Also parenting. Jon, Vincent, Sofia. And, just. Life. You know.

Back home I ate my sandwich and the beignets. Watched TV. Took a three hour nap.

 

Now that Doug has finished, I can begin making decisions about where to put my art. Going to take my time. Not rush. Maybe get in some work on the loft, too. Clear off my art table. Maybe reshelve some books. Move files downstairs to the home office. Have Ana clean it when I get done. When I get the art figured out, I’ll get Vince to come over and hang everything.

I have a list of property management chores for him and as soon as it warms up I’ll get him started on those.

 

My journey into the dark and confusing reality of our current political situation continues. Why Liberalism Failed will help me crystallize my understanding. Without getting too far into Deneen’s argument right now I will say that he’s coming at liberalism as a political philosophy and not using the term as we do in the U.S. for party politics. In his broader argument most U.S. conservatives are liberals, too. That is, both parties (bracketing Trumpists and the new Far Right) support free enterprise, science as a way to gain dominion over nature, the autonomous individual, and government that derives its authority from the consent of those individuals.

Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Mountains

Over the Mountains and through the Freeways to Alan’s new place

Leave a comment

Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Ruth. Sarah and Jerry. BJ and Schecky. Annie. The soft Light of early Morning. The calm Lodgepole standing by my window, its Cones hugged tight to needle covered Branches. Let the photosynthesis begin! Alan and his new home, home turf. He’s not in the Mountains anymore. Sam’s #3. Kep, my sweet boy. Kate, my sweet gal.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Trees

 

Drove down the hill. Left here at 8 am, just late enough to avoid rush hour. Followed Ruby’s wayfinding. Not the way I would have gone, but I thought, what the hell.

A blue shiny Colorado day. We get lots of them. My heart opened up as I did something unusual, going into the city early in the morning. That travelin’ gene kicked in. I could be doing this anytime I want. Headed in any direction. Toward Mexico. Toward Taos or Santa Fe. Toward Moab. For any length of time. Lock up the house. Hit the road. Plan to after this course of radiation quiets down.

Fun to be out of the usual habitat. Although. I don’t like city driving much anymore. I find difficult intersections overwhelming, too many vehicles, going too fast. And I don’t know the city well. Have to listen to Ruby. You know, sensory overload compared to Black Mountain and Brook Forest Drive.

Lucked out on Curtis Ave. One parking spot away from the intersection where Alan waited at Sam’s #3, a go to diner spot. An empty slot. Dove in. Fed the meter. With my Visa card. Crossed when the light’s little man showed up.

Alan waiting inside. Sam’s #3, there are several and they’re all named #3, has two loops of counter seating and several booths right along 14th Street. Looking out toward the Link building. Ironically, Alan’s old office building back when he worked for Century Link.

Gyros and eggs over easy, home fries. Alan, keeping kosher for passover, had chile rellenos and eggs. Home fries. First time I’d visited him in his new neighborhood. Denver calls this, clumsily I think, Upper DownTown.

We caught up. Radiation. My son. Probate. His daughter, Frannie. How much he likes the new digs. The new neighborhood. One block from the Denver Performing Art Center. Where the big blue Bear leans onto the window wall.

We walked the two blocks from Sam’s #3 to his building. A tall glass affair. Balconies. A fob for the door. Found the elevators. The tour. A floor with two concierge like employees who gather in packages from the post or Fedex or UPS. Who take other deliveries like dry cleaning and laundry. Out the door a heated pool, a hot tub, a shallow pool with foam recliners. On the other side barbecue grills. Three next to each other. Great views of the Mountains the downtown skyline. Inside again. The gym.  A good one, with free weights and exercise machines along with the usual treadmills and ellipticals. Empty at 10 am on a Friday.

Up to the Sky Club. Available only for those with units on the 34th floor and above. The penthouses. All. Marketing. The Sky Club on the 42nd and last floor. Pool table. A long dining table. Glass window walls with both Mountain and downtown scapes. Locked individual wine cupboards. Comfy chairs and sofas. Alan calls it a vertical cruise ship.

Then, down to his and Cheri’s place on the 38th floor. On entry a short hallway to the right goes to the laundry. The entry way opens out onto the kitchen, all appliances on a wall, an island across from them. The living/dining area showcases a view of Pike’s Peak seen past the Hyatt Regency, the Cash Register Building, and other hall marks of downtown Denver.

Master bedroom to the right. Cheri’s dance studio was immediately to the left after the entry. Alan’s office to the left. A good sized room made smaller with a loveseat facing the TV. A huge walk in closet. One in the master suite, too. Lots of storage.

Two balconettes. One off the living room and one off the master suite. Wide enough for a chair, long enough for three.

Considerably smaller than their old house in Genessee. Downsizing. What they wanted. Mostly what Cheri wanted was no threat of fire. No threat of losing house value if insurance companies turn against those of us in the W.U.I.

Frannie, home for passover, popped in with her friend Jenna. We all chatted for a while and I took my leave. Happy to leave the city for the mountains.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Holidays, Judaism, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

Oh. Huh.

Leave a comment

Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. Doug. Nearly done. Snow melted. Low fire danger. Tara. Ofer. Jack. Adam. Cheka. Andrew. Savannah. Robbie. Arjean. Tara’s seder. The Cyberknife. The CT. Diane. Kim and Patty. Carmela. The medical physicist. Norbert, Tara’s dog who died suddenly. Julie and Sophia. Jayden. Safeway pickup. A blue Sky early morning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cheka and Andrew

 

Patty, a sweet lady and the lead radiation therapy tech, told me yesterday, as I left the CT room zipping up my jacket. Have a good Easter. I smiled. Jolted. No I said in my head I’m more of a passover guy now.

A strange moment. My reaction, that of an outsider to a cultural norm assumed so easily it’s not checked, surprised me. I didn’t realized how far down the Jewish path I’d traveled in my heart. This was not intellectual, it was visceral. Nope, wrong holiday.

When I mentioned it to Tara last night at her seder, she nodded. Yes. And it doesn’t get easier. Sometimes you smile. Sometimes you say something. Sometimes you’re just frustrated.

Tablet Magazine is an online magazine for Jews. I read it off and on. Yesterday I took a quiz titled what kind of Jew are you? For a goof. With little variance from my truth, that I’m not Jewish, I answered the questions. Are most of your friends Jewish? Certainly here yes. Have you attended a Jewish function in the last week? Of course. Do you belong to a synagogue? I do. I came out an affiliated Jew. Huh.

Still don’t want to convert, but I may have already. I thought of the old ways of becoming a lawyer, a physician. You read the law, worked in a lawyer’s office until you grew proficient enough to set out on your own. Same with physicians. I may have read Judaism as I’ve attended mussar, gone to shivas, been part of one for Kate, have two Jewish grandchildren.

Certainly there’s a deep reality in me now that identifies with Jews. With Kate’s loved faith. With the people and the community I’ve come to know as a result.

Hope you have a good Easter. Unless you’re more of a passover sort.

 

First radiation treatment yesterday. Cyberknife again. The same place where I had 35 sessions in 2019. Lone Tree. Anova Cancer Care. Chose The Band for my music. The Weight. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down. Up on Cripple Creek. Music to be radiated to. An atomic playlist.

Afterward I drove over to Sally Jobe and got another CT. This one to facilitate the planning on my T3 met.

When I left the room after my session, my images were still up on the computer screens. I asked Patty what they were. She showed me my hips, my femurs. A blue grid with small squares over lay the area just away from my left hip. On the grid were brown marks. The points the Cyberknife uses to follow the medical physicist’s plan.

I’m at the start of this journey, ending now on April 19th. Probably eight sessions in all. I don’t know what might occasion another session or two.

 

Doug has begun painting my bedroom. The final piece of his work. He may finish today. Furniture rearranging after. Then some time to take art out, find the right places for various pieces. After that some help to hang it.

 

Tara’s house, 6060 Kilimanjaro Road, accessed off Jungfrau Drive, overlooks Mt. Blue Sky (formerly Mt. Evans). A steep driveway that I would not want to have to plow or have plowed. But a beautiful location.

The seder began at 4 pm. I left at 8:30. Tara presided over a teaching seder. Being the former director of religious education at CBE. We retold the Exodus story. Learned the symbolism of the objects on the Seder plate. Dipped parsley in salt water and ate it. The tears of oppression. Put horseradish, maror, on matzah and tasted the bitterness of slavery.

Every year Jews not only celebrate, but relive the experience of the Exodus. The moment of their birth as a free people.

Powerful.

 

Denver, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Talking Story

Leave a comment

Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. Not sure how he’s doing. The Ancient Brothers. Luke. My son. Cold nights. Good for sleeping. Snow showers. The Swerve. An education about the Renaissance. Trump. In a rut. And, possibly a jail cell. The far right. Undertow by Jeff Sharlet. Hamnet, recommended by Kate. Painting continues today? Mia and Ruth, best friends coming up on Wednesday. Gabe, too. Teenagers in the house. For three days.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: LBMs

 

The Ancient Brothers told a story. Mark suggested it. He started, spoke for a bit, then passed the story to me. I passed to Tom, Tom to Paul, and Paul to Bill. The story telling brought out another facet of each of us, one not previously visible. The improv persona. Each of us had a different style and it was obvious. One more cerebral. Another more interior monologue. Another on advancing the plot. Bet we’d be better at it if we did it more. Fun.

Mark’s in a veteran’s writer’s group that focuses on story telling. Where he got the idea. Reminded me of the even more difficult drinking game played in Wales where one person starts a poem and the next person adds a stanza, then the next.

Tom had an interesting thought. What if, instead of artificial intelligence, we sought artificial consciousness? What would we be after then? What would it look like? Sound like? The idea has taken up residence. Not sure where to go with it, but the notion intrigues me.

 

Luke came over at 2. I’d taken a nap and got up at 2. Woops. He didn’t leave though. I found him.

I started a fire. We talked for a couple of hours. He’s started a new job with Judaism Your Way. Learning a new software program for handling contacts for this innovative model. No fees. No dues. No building. Three rabbis and a large staff. They’re holding a Passover Seder at the Denver Botanical Gardens. Last year they had 8,650 folks present or online. An interesting place to work.

Intentionally very inclusive. Luke and and the Executive Director, who is not Jewish, are gay. Judaism Your Way was the first Jewish organization in Denver to have a presence at the Pride Parade.

Luke’s still having a tough time after having resigned from CBE. His job at Judaism Your Way is only part time so he has financial tensions. He’s a super bright, artistic, sensitive soul. Glad he sees me as a friend.

 

I imagine Doug will be back today to continue the Garden Pathing of my walls. Excited. Getting the inside, especially the main level, painted and the art hung will make Shadow Mountain home a more welcoming and inviting place. For guests and for me.

After lunch with Mike and Kate Saturday I went to Pangaea Carpets at the Evergreen Design Center. Picked out a Nepalese carpet, 5×7, for my upstairs home office. It needed warming up and its own feel. This one has Cypress Trees and is in greens that compliment the new main level look.

Not sure whether Doug will have time right now to do the downstairs level. I hope so.

Mussar, Politics, US History, World History

Vive la difference

Leave a comment

Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. Bread Lounge. Mussar. Thursday. Kep with pain resolved. Doug. Colorado Cold. 14. Snow showers off and on. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Lab tests. Thyroid. Plus a few. Nichie. Kristie. Dr. Gonzalez. Ruby. Ivory. Ruth. Gabe. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Ukraine. Russia. China. India. USA. Liberals. Socialists. Communists. Belize. Marilyn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Dawn

 

Another good workout yesterday. Hitting 200 + minutes a week this last month. 11 more to go this week. Feels good. No resistance work though. Need to get back to it, but I’ve found a reluctance that I don’t understand.

 

Doug didn’t show up yesterday. That’s what he had said on Tuesday. That he wouldn’t be working Thursday or Friday. Then he said he would be here. Guess whatever it was came up anyway. Might be Snow. He could be a skier. Folks in the Mountains prioritize matters differently. Dr. Doverspike has changed two appointments with Kep due to sudden outbursts of Powder. Makes sense to me. Even if I can’t do it.

 

In Mussar yesterday Sally, a Trump supporter who lives this half of the year in Ecuador but comes in through zoom, said she doesn’t understand all the emphasis on differences. We should be emphasizing how we’re alike, she said. She’s been a good friend to Anshel, a trans man at CBE, and to Luke, the gay former ex-executive director of CBE. And they appreciate her for her friendship.

So the group went off on how everyone has a divine spark (Lurianic kabbalah), is made in the image of God. I agree with the conclusion though the metaphysics for me are different. We’re all children of the stars made of atoms passing through this phase of their existence.

Sally has a wedge issue here and she’s not wrong. We need to emphasize our commonalities. What’s beneath this though is a right wing attack on identity politics. In order to get justice we have to recognize that though we are all one in the eyes of God or the universe differences do exist and they matter when the favors of our civilization get distributed.

For example, we also discussed deed covenants in Denver. No Negroes. No Latinos. No Jews. I’ve mentioned before the first house I bought in Minneapolis had similar covenants. These covenants were legal until 1964 when the Civil Rights Act passed. So here’s the problem. Folks with the power to enforce injustice recognize differences. Ask any gay man or woman. Any trans student forced to choose between gendered bathrooms. Ask any Jew. Any Latino working in the fields of California’s Central Valley or on the lawn of homes of any gated community in the U.S.

That’s not all though. The differences matter in a positive way, too. The richness of a world with Tex-Mex food. With Chinese bronzes from an ancient civilization. With folks among whom you feel comfortable. With hamburgers and pizza. With Italian and Hmong and Tagalog and Arabic and Latin and Korean. With sons from India and daughter-in-laws from Korea. With genders recognized along the continuum that has always existed. With bulgogi and moo goo gai pan. With sushi and a full Scottish breakfast. With tartans and kente cloth. With black skin and white skin and yellow skin and brown skin and red skin. With skiers and snowboarders. With Olympic athletes and amateur golfers.

We need difference. Vive la différence.

Yet we also need to recognize our dependence on the Sun and on Mother Earth. We eat. We laugh. We bark. We cry. We wail. We hurt. We experience awe. We roar. We swim in the ocean depths and fly high above the Lodgepole Pines. We are one as travelers through the vastness on this tiny blue marble.

Are we all one? Oh, yes. Are we all different? Oh, yes. Can we merge these two truths? Oh, yes.

 

 

Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, GeekWorld, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Mussar

Chatbot helps me cook

Leave a comment

Imbolc the Waiting to Cross Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tara. Pronounced Terra. Feelings. Sadness. Joy. Confidence. Trust. Vincent coming home. Her invitation to the second night Seder.  Aspen Perks. Poor food but a good place to eat. Quiet. That perky waitress. Kep. An early nudger today. My son. A joy. Becoming Native to This Place. Seeing Like a State. The Reason Liberalism Failed. Christian Nationalism. The changing state of our State.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A deep friendship

 

Tara. Whose name I pronounce as I read it. Tar-ah. But who pronounces it as she was given it, Terra. Gotta learn to say this. Hard. I pronounce as I read something. Not always right. Difficult to change.

We spent an hour plus talking. About her son Vincent who may return from a long stay in New York City next month. About my cancer. About Yamantaka. About matters of the heart. Tara has a profound honesty I appreciate.

She invited me to her second night seder. Her daughter, Julia, has college friends who want to come. So there will be a crowd. Glad to go. In this case I’m going to suck up my caution about covid. I’m tired of it anyhow. Still, it lingers and the in-person attendance at the Purim spiel on Monday suggests I’m not the only one.

Friends. Near and far. So happy to have them in my life.

 

CT scan today. To establish targets for my radiation. Five sessions. Two next week and three the week after. I hope it’s the same crew. I liked them. Kind. Caring. Not exactly looking forward to this, but it’s important. The drive is an hour both ways. That’s a hassle. And, there are non-trivial risks. What I choose to do with this one wild and precious life of mine. Keep it as long as I can.

 

Still playing around with the Chatbot. I made a potato and kale soup last night with chorizo. It blew up the roof of my mouth with its spiciness. Gonna take it tonight to MVP. What to do?

That sounds like a delicious soup!😋 According to web sources12345, some ingredients that are commonly used in kale and potato soup with chorizo are:

  • Chicken broth
  • Onion
  • Garlic
  • Smoked paprika
  • Salt and pepper

You could try adding more of these ingredients to your soup to reduce the spiciness. Alternatively, you could add some sour cream or cheese on top of your soup for a creamy contrast. Or you could add some lemon juice or vinegar for a tangy touch.

I hope this helps you enjoy your soup more. Let me know how it turns out.

A chatty response from Auntie Sydney. I can’t use any dairy because that violates kosher. No dairy and meat in the same dish. Really, the same meal. Gonna add more chicken broth. Then some vinegar if that doesn’t do the trick.

Can’t believe I’m using Microsoft search. It’s been so bad for so long. But, there you go. I did notice that I got ten queries this time. Wonder if they’re gradually upping the limits of the conversations.

I do like that it gives you the sources it uses. Not the same as evaluating them, but then that’s the reader’s task. As it always is.

 

Friends, Judaism, The Move

Alan and Rich

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Kep, who nudged and nudged. The New Right. The Dissident Right. The Far Right. Elites and their fantasies. Including me. The USA. Japan. Amazon. Korea. Hawai’i. On energy around lifelong fascinations. ChatbotGPT. Chatbots. The singularity. The Hubble. The Webb. Gravitational waves. The LIGO. Bahrain. Ruby. Getting her detailed. Life on Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Alan and Rich

 

Yesterday was a relationship day. Breakfast with Rich at the Muddybuck. Lunch with Alan at Illegal Burger. Rich and I discussed the New Right and his upcoming trip to DC with his honors class at Mines. They’re going to the Extreme Court to hear arguments. But on a silly case: Jack Daniels vs. Bad Spaniels. Jack has sued a dog toy company which made a toy in the shape of a Jack Daniels bottle with a black label that reads, Bad Spaniels. Trademark infringement.

The Muddy Buck occupies the former lobby of the Evergreen Hotel. Western. Old exposed wood ceiling, floor, and support pillars. Tobacco stained a rich dark brown. With a very modern espresso bar and young folks behind the counter serving cinnamon roles, avocado toast, breakfast burritos, and croissant egg and bacon sandwiches.

A few long tables. Four or five high tables. A counter looking out on Evergreen’s main tourist drag. Chairs and a couch in a nook with a fireplace. A gathering place. One table had a family, a little girl with rabbit ears on a head band. Dad hovering. Two other young kids who looked like they’d just gotten up. 8 am.

Rich believes the internal political pressures in the U.S. give us only a hundred more years as a nation. He would vote for a Romney/Cheney ticket if they ran. Why? Because they could be unifiers. Surprised me. A grim forecast.

No wonder Abraham Lincoln is his guy. He even named his dog Abraham Lincoln. When asked by his class to name his five favorite presidents he said: Abraham Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln. FDR. Lincoln in his second term. Lincoln in his first term. FDR.

 

Back up the hill from Evergreen to let Kep out, watch a short segment on F1 tv about the upcoming grand prix, then back to the far side of Evergreen, near I-70 to pick up Alan from the car detailing spot. We went to Illegal Burger for lunch. Didn’t even know we had an Illegal Burger.

Given my mostly fish and chicken diet I felt fine having a burger. Clogging my arteries didn’t occur even once to me.

Alan and Cheri have empty boxes along the walls. And still a lot of unpacking to do. I’m not moving for another 27 years. Yeah. I get it. Moving is a bitch.

However. Yesterday for breakfast they took the elevator down, walked over to a deli. On the way back they picked up coffee beans at a nearby shop. They’ve been in the building’s hot tub. And ate takeout with friends in the Skytop Lounge. When they wake their view is to the southeast with Pikes Peak in the far distance and 17th Street right below. Urban living. With no forest fire threat.

Glad for him.