Category Archives: Judaism

Easter Morning

Ostara and the Ovid Moon of Metamorphoses

Sunday gratefuls: Broad spectrum antibiotics. Kate’s will. Jamie Bernstein. Easter and Passover and Spring. Friends. Rabbi’s. Countryfolk. Mountains. Dogs.

Sparks of Joy: Kate’s blood cultures negative for infection. Exhaustion, but exhaustion held in the care and concern of so many others.

Kate at Mama’s Fish House

Been thinking, a lot, about the holidays: Ostara, Easter, Passover. How they hold the wonder and awe of Spring and apply it to our human lives. On Maundy Thursday (no, I never remember what that means) Kate was in severe crisis. She had a crowd of nurses, physician’s assistants, respiratory therapists, a pulmonologist. All working carefully, quickly, urgently.

I had a hushed conversation in the hallway with the physician’s assistant and Dr. Fenton, the pulmonologist, about resuscitation.  Asking hard questions. Trying to be true to the situation, to her wishes, to the possible.

She survived the crisis, her blood pressure down and her breathing more stable. She moved to the 10th floor where she could be treated with nurses who work with more complicated cases.

Her situation got better, but death still seemed as plausible as recovery. On Good Friday, her lucidity returned, she made it off the bipap (a small mask that is actually a treatment for the pneumonia, among other things), and her white cell count continued to come down.

Yesterday we found her blood borne infection was gone. Though it still needs a four to six week bout of IV antibiotics to make it sure it doesn’t resurface. She passed her swallow study so she can drink and eat. Prognosis still guarded, but less so now.

Her friend, Jamie, reported she looks good. Jamie stayed all night with her.

It’s Easter morning.

Considerations

Ostara and the Ovid Moon of Metamorphoses

Saturday gratefuls: Tough towels. Morning lucidity. Vaccines. Kate’s appointment today. Georgia GOP. No doubt now about their racist, oligarchic ideology. The Voting Law. Ditching the filibuster.

Sparks of Joy: Vaccine #2 on April Fool’s Day.

Gabe’s bris

Miracles in my world. The greening of the Lodgepoles. The leafing out of the Aspen. (both of these I’m anticipating) A Black Mountain decked in white. Iris rhizomes throwing up stalks for another year. (this, too, anticipated) Fawns. Calves. Colts. Life. Abundant and rich. Puppies. Dogs. Love. Mountains. Justice. Memories. So many, everywhere. Hallelujah.

Oh. Terrible night. Kate talking throughout the night, explaining her dreams to herself, she said. Lotsa lost sleep for both of us. Makes everything more difficult.

Contacted Jewish Family Service in Denver. They’re sending a social worker out who specializes in gerontology. With her we’ll develop a plan, perhaps, plans, that we can use to define our next year, few years. Housing options. In-home health care options. That sort of thing.

There are lots of services available but knowing which ones exist, which might come to the mountains, costs, is difficult. At best. Same with housing options including, but not limited to, buying another home.

Kate’s healthspan, lifespan are critical, but unknown. I imagine this will include some more time with Dr. Thompson, consulting. Mine are, too, but I’m the more functional at the moment. Dogs are a crucial element. Our stuff is less of an issue. We can sell or keep. My library can be sold in whole or in part. In that sense we’re portable. Except for the Dogs.

I suppose you could say, why didn’t they consider all this before they moved to the Mountains? Fair enough. We did give it cursory attention, but we both felt good, were planning for a healthier time than we got. Didn’t happen.

Shadow Mtn. Drive, down the hill a mile from home. Black Mtn ahead

Living in the Mountains is a big adventure for us, something we wanted long before we decided to move. I don’t regret it, not for a minute. Even if it seems foolish. Even if it was foolish. To lose a sense of adventure, of new possibilities, is to die before the grave.

We’ve had six years so far. A really long vacation in a place people come to from all over the world. Would I make the move knowing what I know now? Maybe not, so I’m glad we did it without knowing.

Rigel and a bull Elk in our back a day before my first radiation treatment.

My hope is that we will find a combination of home health care services that allow us to remain here. Moving the Dogs would be very difficult. They’re both older, Rigel beyond the expected life span of large breed Dogs at 12, and Kep turning 10 this year.

I’m still alive, healthy for 74. Love Kate, the dogs, our house, family, extended and birth, our CBE friends, my Ancient friends. I love reading, learning, writing, creating. Colorado and the West. The humid East. The Midwest. The Mountains and all of our wild Neighbors. Neither resigned to life, nor resigning from it.

Ready for this moment and the next. Here I come.

Separate the Waters

Ostara and the Ovid Moon of Metamorphoses

Friday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Her chipmunk face. The feed bag. Kep and Rigel, bright spots in each day. Vaccines. Kate’s at 2:30 on Saturday. Covid. Illness and struggle. The Ancient Ones and Spring.

Sparks of Joy: A normal Presidential press conference. A good annual physical.

Passover begins on Sunday, March 28th. The vaccine is our lamb’s blood over the lintel this year. Azrael, pass us by. Pfizer and Moderna, protect us.

This holiday may be my favorite one of all. Why? Because of its focus on liberation, on empowerment and freedom from oppression, on taking action against oppressors.

Also because of its honesty. The Exodus began with the Hebrew slaves leaving the Pharaoh’s plantation and escaping through a seemingly impassable obstacle. But it took forty years (a long time) to accomplish. And in that time there were gripes, and blasphemy, and salvation by manna. A mixed bag. The Torah came down. As did the Ten Commandments. Burning bush, yes. But, golden calf, too.

The journey from enslavement to self-determination is not an instantaneous one. It takes determination, doggedness, a willingness to embrace doubt and confusion, yet keep moving. This is true for individuals, for former slaves from Egypt or Louisiana, for those of us still searching for a just America.

One of religion’s great gifts is its retention of these stories, of these yearnings of the human soul. Whether it’s Vishnu as the stable factor in creation and Shiva the creative and destructive force or the Tao as the water course way or Jesus and the story of resurrection, we can reach into these flashes of insight that help us navigate this strange miracle we name life.

So, if you’re member of the tribe, or a fellow traveler like me, find a seder, eat some bitter herbs and watch the kid find the afikomen. Your life and the life of those you love will be better for it.

The Bristlecone Psalm

Ostara and the Ovid Moon of the Metamorphoses

Monday gratefuls: More Snow. And, yet more. Kate’s temp and blood pressure in normal ranges. Vaccines. Covid. 46 at work. Colorado, its interesting divisions. No pussy grabbing in the news. No need to check on the idiot. Oh, hallelujah.

Sparks of Joy: Flocked Lodgepoles. Resilience.

 

 

The Bristlecone Psalm

When Creeks run full down the Mountain,

And Thunder booms deep in Valley,

                              I cry by the Bristlecone Pine.

Lenticular Clouds crown the Mountain,

Waters course toward the Sea,

                               As I mend by the Bristlecone Pine

Sweet grass and Boulders, Mule Deer and Moose,

                Pines, Aspens, and Willows and Spruce

                               Find me sad by the Bristlecone Pine

That Water my tears, the Thunder my grief,

With hard Rocks and wild Flowers tucked underneath,

                               Make me holy by the Bristlecone Pine

The sounds of the clear water running,

The sense of the mending it brings,

                               I dance by the Bristlecone Pine

This was my final piece for the Psalms class. Yes, it still needs some work, but I thought I’d put it out there as an example of a realization I had after a conversation with Kate.

A tree island at the krummholz level

I’ve been struggling with keeping up exercise and tending to Kate’s needs. Partly my fault because I’m pretty habituated to a MWF morning routine and if something breaks up those mornings, I’m not motivated to replace them.

 

I asked Kate about it in the context of whether I should take:  The Alphabet, The Psalms, and You: Sound and Symbol, Word and Melody, Awareness and Attunement. This Rabbi Jamie class is taught at 9:30 am Friday, as was the Psalms class. Direct conflict with my workouts, you see.

Kate suggested I do what would make me feel best. Well, doing both. But, given my routine… Anyhow, here’s the realization. I need to do something for my mind/soul as much as I do for my body. All connected, all important.

Mt. Goliath, a large stand of bristlecone

These days I’ve been telling myself, stay flexible, change as needs change. Wu wei. Go with the course of the qi as it passes in and through and around you. This is important at all times, but none more so than when life keeps throwing things at you’ve never seen before.

So. Compromise. Ensure workouts on Monday and Wednesday. Take the class on Fridays. Perhaps a workout or a hike on Saturday or right after the class. No pressure on that one.

Totality

 

 

 

O Sullen God

Late Wednesday. My Psalm of healing. For Friday’s class

 

A Psalm. A Prayer. A Theology.

 

O sullen divinity of my youth

You took away my legs

O silent god you made me lie down,

Unable to walk. You imprisoned me.

Lord of theft you stole my mother,

Left us without her. Crying without hope.

The abyss swallowed me.

 

And you let me disappear, fade away.

A blanket held in the depth’s chill.

I shuddered, unable to throw it off.

No joy. No walking with others. I stood alone

Trickster god, wielder of sacred bewilderment.

You had me. Oh. You had me.

 

And, I knew you not.

 

After the fallow time had drained the world.

That spring rhizomes, corms, bulbs and tubers awoke.

Shook off winter cold and threw green up, up, up.

Up toward the sky. Crowned it in colors so bright.

Purple crocus, yellow crocus, Grape hyacinth.

Stories of joy. Time to play!

 

The bees flew in and the bees flew out,

Out to the flowers, into the hive. Out to the flowers.

That ground hog high in the tree. The turtle on pilgrimage.

The dogs. Always. Barking, running, bowing, chasing.

 

On the garden bed: purpled beets, white onions, green leeks.

Curved beans, firm tomatoes, potatoes, carrots.

Soil clinging to them. The womb.

How could I not hear the sacred music? Take part.

Twirling as a dervish, ecstasy and freedom. Dance.

 

And you, silent god, still I knew you not.

 

But the one crowned with flowery garlands,

Tasting of sweet food made in the honeycomb,

This god, fried in my skillet and served with eggs,

Not silent. Not dark. But sacred, yes. Divine.

Boo. It’s Haman. Boo.

Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Dr. Thompson. Kate. Always Kate. The Karma, her wheelchair. Psalm’s class. Kabbalah Experience. Earth. Animacy. Flying through space, yet with friends. Perseverance. Mars. The asteroid belt. Rockets. Satellites. Math.

Sparks of Joy: Odin. Ecstasy. The Moon.

 

 

What’s a megillah? A scroll. The third division of the Tanakh, the ketuvim, the Writings, has five books: Lamentations, Esther, Ruth, Song of Solomon, and Ecclesiastes, that are read from scrolls during certain Jewish holidays.

The scroll of Esther is read aloud on the holiday of Purim, which ended yesterday. Purim celebrates the story of Esther. Esther has risen to Queen of Persia through the advice of her guardian, Mordecai. The King, though, does not know she is of the Jewish minority in his kingdom.

Haman, the grand vizier, announces a campaign to rid Persia of Jews. Mordecai encourages Esther to reveal her ethnicity and foil Haman. She does this. Haman and his compatriots pay for their hubris and the Jewish community in Persia survives.

The first Purim I attended at Congregation Beth Evergreen the President of the congregation carried cases of beer and bottles of wine into the sanctuary. What?

Purim shares elements of medieval Christmas revelries, especially its Lord of Misrule. Conventions get upended. Drinking more than usual and during a worship service, for example. Folks dress in costume and often laughter, even derisive laughter accompanies the worship.

The whole megillah means reading the entire scroll out loud. On Purim that means Esther and it is read from a handwritten scroll, though often truncated. Whenever the evil grand vizier’s name, Haman, occurs, the congregation shouts, laughs, cranks on groggers, mechanical noisemakers. It’s fun.

Another part of Purim is the Purim spiel. A member of the congregation writes an entire play, always a musical at Beth Evergreen. In it is a retelling of the Purim story, but also moments that make fun of synagogue leadership. The Lord of Misrule idea.

I’m including a link to this year’s Purim spiel at Congregation Beth Evergreen. My buddy, Alan Rubin, his daughter Francesca, and his wife, Cheri play prominent roles.

The megillah of Esther is the only book in the Tanakh which doesn’t mention God. And, it’s a story of Jewish liberation from persecution. As such, over the centuries it has given hope to Jewish communities, almost always a minority of the nations within which they found themselves.

Psalm for a Wednesday

Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

Friday gratefuls: No lupron. Good PSA’s. Dog warmth, cold night. Kate and her sisters. Pickup at Safeway. Bright Snow. Lodgepoles. Black Mountain. Bunch Grass. Wild Rugosa. Mushrooms. Friends, old and new. Covid. Purim today.

Sparks of Joy: Vaccines. Purim shpiels. Dr. Thompson.

 

 

The Days Are Gods.

(attr. Ralph Waldo Emerson)

 

A Psalm for Mittwoch

 

Woden. Odin. Ooinn, Master of Ecstasy. How do you fill our mittwoch?

Ecstasy. Fill our poetry with heat, intensify our lives.

Days swelling with your power. Ours, too. Our days. Oh. Ooinn.

Never quit us. Never again hang from the great tree, never again die for knowing.

Ecstasy. Learning flames within our hearts in your honor.

Shaman, seer. Poet, warrior. See with the empty socket. Let me.

Dance with Mimir who slaked your thirst. And took your eye.

And water the great tree Yggdrasil with your blood

You, Odin. One-eye. Trickster. Seeker of knowledge. On this, your day, we let you in to quicken our lives.

 

yggdrasil

 

This was gonna be my megillah post, but I’m going to have to do that tomorrow. I needed the time this morning for my assignment for Psalm’s class. We had to write a psalm for a day of the week.

Makes me want to go through all the days, seek out their divine names and powers, honor them as they seep into us, over and over and over again. Not sure I will, but the idea’s there.

 

 

Yesterday

Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Trash. Covid. Vaccines. Kate’s wakeful, but good night. Sleep. Me. Sushi Win. Their Special roll. Spring rolls. Purim box from CBE. And, one from the Kabbalah Experience. Memories of Covid. Early ones. Seoah among them. Cold. Blue Sky.

Sparks of Joy: Rigel prancing. Kep lying on my legs. Kate excited. Vaccines.

 

Kate, costumed for Purim

 

Spent yesterday, some of it anyhow, moving and rearranging and tossing. Stuff that has needed doing but I’ve not felt the energy for. Found that energy. Felt good. Not done, but will finish this week.

Drove over to Congregation Beth Evergreen to pick up a Purim box. Each member has one. A mask, groggers, and I don’t know what else. Got another box from the Kabbalah Experience with masks and paints for Purim. Will explain all in the Friday megillah post.

In the same direction as Sushi Win so I got takeout. Sushi Win is an above average sushi joint. A special treat that it’s up here at all, so we order takeout every once in a while. Big tips, too. We want to see them survive the pandemic. Us, too.

Couple of Sheriff’s vehicles at Derek’s yesterday. No idea why.

Kate woke up with an idea about how her terrible bout of herpes might be involved with her current condition. She’s going to get her medical records from Abbott-Northwestern, see if they can help. I sure hope so.

A meme from Facebook: Mars is the only planet we know inhabited entirely by robots.

News of the strange: Saw an article in the Washington Post about an Oklahoma man who killed a neighbor, cut out her heart, cooked it with potatoes, and served it to his uncle and his family to get the demons out. Apparently didn’t work because he then killed the uncle, the uncle’s four year old grand-daughter, and stabbed his aunt in both eyes. WP, 2/24/2021

 

The Frozen Rose of Texas

Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

Sunday gratefuls: All the Megillah’s. More snow. More cold. A good sleep. Cold chicken. Red Lobster biscuits. My Ecuador alpaca coat. My new LLBean insulated plaid shirt. My duckies. Love the cold, don’t love being cold.  Vaccines. Covid. 45 gone. 46 in. Judah and the Black Messiah.

Sparks of Joy: Fresh, white Snow. Rigel jumping up on the deck like a 5 year old. Life.

 

 

Those vaccines. Hard to come by up here in the mountains. Not yet. We’ll get them though. Sooner, I imagine. Haven’t gone the obsessive click now, click again, click now, click again route. We’ve survived Covid so far doing what we’re doing. Gonna keep at no visits, grocery pickups, only essential medical visits. Probably for a while after the vaccine, too.

Love that they’re out there. That we’re eligible. That others are getting them. That more will get them. Might be Happy Hanukah and Merry Christmas. Ho, Ho, Ho. or Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel. If that happens, I’ll still enjoy the darkness of the Winter Solstice, but I’ll be right there with the light worshipers, too. Can you imagine how festive a season that will be?

Meanwhile a hyper clean, car sized robot will roam Mars punching holes in its surface and storing soil in special containers for the second part of a three stage project. The second stage is a lander that picks up those containers and the third stage returns them to Earth for NASA and European Space Agency labs. 2025-2027. Far away from the virus infected planet it left last July. Smart Perseverance.

And, maybe, just maybe, our nation will have made progress on sorting out its painful contradictions. I watched Judas and the Black Messiah yesterday on HBO Max. Fred Hampton was 21 when J. Edgar conspired with the Chicago P.D. to eliminate him. 21. When I watched, I kept saying yes, Fred, yes. Power is people. Capitalists, no matter their color, exploit the people. A Rainbow Coalition. Yes, Fred. Then he died in his bed, never waking up, his pregnant Deborah arched over his body.

Of course, the move reminded me of the damning curse of racism, but it went further, much further. Fred brought together Puertoricans and poor whites. He saw the thread that wove together the oppressed and was able to speak to it, to help others see it. No wonder they killed him.

What if the Proud Boys and the Black Panthers saw common cause? They could. It’s corporate capitalism that keeps them both down. What if those of us on the far left joined, too. And Chicanos. And Asians. And Native Americans. There would need be no violence. That sort of self-awareness would win at the ballot box.

I know. Texas. How would you like a $16,000 bill for keeping the heat on? See the paragraph above.

No More Checking on the Idiot

Imbolc and the waning Wolf Moon

Friday gratefuls: Kate. Scott. Bill’s tough assignment for Sunday morning. Seeing into ourselves. And talking about it. Biden. Better than expected. He’s got momentum. And, public opinion. 45 fading out. His impeachment. Colder weather here. Sleep. The Psalms.

from 2016

No more checking on the idiot. Thank god. Still, for the duration of the impeachment his peculiar style of unthinking, thought garbling, strangled rationales is on display. Gee, his lawyers, the first group, didn’t think he could make a good argument that the election was a fraud. Hmm. The next set convinced him that a constitutional argument made sense. Doesn’t matter anyhow since Republicans (what does that word even mean) won’t calve a 17 vote iceberg to sink his Titanic. More’s the pity.

It’s important, I believe, to try him for inciting insurrection. No matter the political reality of judgement. If it were up to me, I’d have the Attorney General arrest him for sedition. Try him. Sentence him for as long as his unnatural life lasts. He likes orange so it shouldn’t be much of a hardship.

Rabbi Hillel

After some prodding by Rabbi Jamie, I’m going to pick up the study of Psalms this morning at 9:30 a.m. I’m three classes behind, but he assured me I could catch up, no problem. We’re going to work on the 23rd Psalm today.

One insight I’ve had in re-reading it, reading his translation, reading a couple of others. Walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Or, through death’s dark vale as another has it. I always imagined this as a personal confrontation with death, my death, your death. Not sure why I thought that, but I did.

Now, it’s clear to me that the issue is grief. Death’s dark veil thrown over life. Mom’s death. Regina Schmidt’s. 450,000 Covid deaths. We are in death’s penumbra as we have not been in my lifetime, save perhaps for the Vietnam War.

I shall fear no Trump, no matter what he doth.

Looking forward to this class. It’s been a long slog with Kate and with Covid, mostly life shaved down to workouts, sleep, cooking, shopping for food, TV. Not much intellectual challenge. It’s like meat and drink for me, learning.

When I look inside, as Bill has suggested we do for this Sunday, and define myself, I first see a student. A curious man. Not sure why I never moved from student to scholar, but I never did. I’m a fine student though and learning feeds my soul.

I’ll let you know how it goes.