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  • 8 months

    Samain and the Holiseason Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Cytopoint. VRCC. Chewy. Earth Venture. Veggie Dent. The Star show. Every night! The Winds of late Autumn in the Rockies. I am; therefore, I think. Thanks for that one, Tara. Tired Jamie. Jon. Winter tires back on Monday. Oil changed. Thanksgiving. Last holiday in the old kitchen. The mini-splits. Working. Lodgepoles bending. 25 mph Wind. Not breaking.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate’s Tiara for her 75th

    Tarot: Seven of Bows, Wildwood Tarot

     

    KEP

    Kep into the VRCC for an allergy shot. Bought the next two doses so I don’t have to go back until February. His allergies are bad. Without cytopoint he scratches, bites himself. On his tail and his right rear haunch he gets below the skin, creates hotspots. Plus, he’s got the double coat for winter. That means when he scratches the fur literally flies. Doggy allergist to the rescue.

    8 months ago today. Some day I might not notice the monthly anniversaries of Kate’s death. Not now. Those last days replay from time to time, not each minute, but significant moments.

    Kate at Hwaesong, 18th century walled city, Korea

    Like the time I asked Rabbi Jamie to buy me a ham and cheese at the deli. Seeing the ski runs on Black Mountain from a Swedish 10th floor window. Kate and I signing I love you. Her telling Kenton he’d done a good job on the arterial blood draw. When she said, in a cracking voice, “Death with dignity.” I nodded. “What do you think of my decision?” I hate it. It means I’ll lose you; but, I think it’s the right decision for you. Mozart minus Bach =’s Brahms. That call. She’s gone. As with Mom’s death and Joseph’s arrival, a stimulus for major change.

    Re-membering her as a factor, now in memory, as I live. Wondering, what would Kate think? Taking her into account. Would she approve of the mini-splits? Yes, she would. The kitchen remodel? Probably, though she’d flinch at the cost. My decision to stay on Shadow Mountain? Oh, yes. Reorganizing the kitchen, the living room, downstairs, her sewing room? Not so much. What about Jon? Listen, empathize. Support. Within limits. Yes. Stay close to Ruth and Gabe. For sure. This will go on as life goes on.

    Climate change. Glasgow. Climate pessimism. Nihilism. 47% of Republicans don’t believe we should regulate greenhouse gases. Why? Oh, just the planet going through a regular cycle. Or, made up by the elites. Or, don’t give a damn. And they may win the 2022 elections. An election that could doom the planet and human life as we know it. Talk about high stakes.

    Even so. Can’t find the legs to get back into it. Distracted. Still working on the day-to-day. Feel guilty. The only thing necessary for evil to win is for good folks to do nothing. Not saying I’m good, but I have been willing to fight. Not right now. Or, Rabbi Tarfon: “You are not duty-bound to finish the work, but on the other hand, you have no right to waste time from it.” Not wasting time, me. So, ok.

    Considering a new calendar rule. No more than two events of any kind outside of the house during the week. In spite of having a solo life I find distractions like appointments disturb my rhythms. I prefer alone time. A lot.

     


  • Energy

    Samain and the Holiseason Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Orion and his dog. The Zodiac. Our star canopy. The unimaginable size of the universe. Our unimaginable place in it. Life. The animator. Total mystery. Darkness. The holidays of Light. And that wonderful one for the Night. Thanksgiving. Jon. Ruth. Gabe.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hermit. Sannyasa.

    Tarot: The Lord, #4 of the Major Arcana

     

    Solar installation, 2016

    As I write, the upstairs mini-split’s fan has a gentle sound, pushing out heat, using my solar panels for juice. Well, sorta. They’re on, pushing electrons into the grid, and turning my meter backwards. I love that. But the electricity powering the mini-split comes from the grid. If I understand it right. It’s a trade. And during the day the trade is in my favor. At night. IREA’s.

    David, who turned on my system yesterday and walked me through how to use it, told me something interesting. “In seven years or so, we’re anticipating no gas appliances in Denver.” He called that a shitshow. Because of the scramble to install mini-splits or other electrical modalities. But, also. What a business opportunity.

    I now have mini-splits, an induction stove, and solar panels. Already have 220 in the garage. Might start looking for an electric vehicle. I can’t afford a Tesla, so something else.

    boiler

    My boiler should run a lot less. Water heater, primarily. Colorado Gas is not cheap. We’ll see how the two play against each other. I’m willing to eat some difference if the mini-splits prove more costly.

    Not gonna solve the climate crisis. No. But makes me feel better.

    Torah and the Stars yesterday. The houses in a natal chart. These are arenas of our lives for action. My sun, Aquarius, is in the eleventh house, as well as Mars. In the eleventh house lie “Ideals and aspirations for humanity as a whole. Friends of like mind bound together for a common cause. Movements, humanitarian concerns, group associations. Activities on the cutting edge of change. Colleagues and associates. Progressive ideas, hopes, altruistic acts.”

    Since Aquarius rules the eleventh house, as well as the planets Saturn and Uranus, I get triple Aquarian energy here. Sun, ruler of the house, and ruled by Uranus.

    With Mars in the same house I found my work life adequately explained. I will fight for progressive ideas. Mars. And, I will do it with folks I know well. Have done. That part of my life feels over now.

    Now my ideals and aspirations for humanity have a more inward focus.  This blog. Work with kabbalah, astrology, tarot. Read. Write. Paint. Stay in the hermitage. Visit family and friends.

    Forgot Kep’s cytopoint (allergies) shot yesterday when David came. Gonna go into VRCC tomorrow, transfer this to Sano. I’ve had some doubts about Sano, but they know Kep and Rigel. Probably stick with them. The VRCC is in Lakewood, quite a hike. I prefer the vets there, and for diagnosis and treatment recommendations, I’ll still lean on them. For shots and general physicals, Sano. Which is only 10 minutes away.

    Iron Roots play at amphitheater soft open last Saturday

    MVP tonight. Marilyn and I will carpool again. I meet her at the parking lot for Flying J Ranch, a Jeffco County Park.

    A good point to say that Kep, Rigel, and I have decided to stay on Daylight time. I get up at 5:15 am MST and go to bed at 8 PM MST. Satisfies my crankiness about time changes and keeps the dogs’ schedule steady. It does mean that meetings like MVP, night meetings, will be more challenging for me.

    Otherwise I abide by the chronoconsensus.

     


  • Roger, Oh Roger

    Samain and the crescent of the Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Tuesday gratefuls: Amy, at Mile High Hearing. The Roger. Loss. Kate, always Kate. And, her quilting. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Mark. Rigel, her insistent, loud barking at 3 am. Kep, who slept through it. Julie and AARP Advantage plan #1 with premiums. Electronic signing. Marina Harris’s Furball Cleaning.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Astrology

    Tarot: King of Pentacles, Druid Craft

     

    Felt a little like I was on my way to the Principal’s office while driving into Mile High Hearing. It’s not often I face a relative stranger and have to acknowledge a failure. I could not keep Roger safe.

    Amy was good about it. And, for reasons that make sense to me. I was out for a meal, the first fine dining moment since Kate died. At least here in Colorado. Using the Roger. And it helped me hear Alan over the very live restaurant. What she wanted. I want to open the world up for you.

    She and I puzzled over how Gaetano’s could have lost it. I don’t know and at this point it seems moot. Roger is gone.

    Amy will contact Eric, her rep for Phonak, and see if they can cut me some kind of deal. A much lower price on a new one. I hope she’s successful, because I’m ready to start ghost writing a book, Roger and Me.

    Caspar David Friedrich
    Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog (1818)

    Fog covered 285 on the way down the hill. Dicy at any speed. Ice and fog are my two least favorite driving conditions.

    Before that Julie got me into a new policy with better benefits. Amazing. We met and reviewed documents all over zoom and email. She sent me the documents to sign, which I did electronically. Much more efficient, carbon and time.

    Julie also signed me up, in January, with Conifer Family Medicine which will open a satellite office in Evergreen in the new year. The Conifer practice has no opening for new patients. I don’t mind. Evergreen is my town and much closer than Littleton. I’m actually in an Evergreen precinct, CBE is in Evergreen, and most of my CBE friends live there or nearby. Conifer has no personal ties for me except my immediate neighborhood.

    Got the art for my Hermit neon sign. I like it. Not cheap, but it will be a signature piece for the Shadow Mountain Hermitage. Gonna put it on the inside wall that can be seen through one of our front windows.

    I go in to Morry’s Neon tomorrow. My only quibble was the red eyes. Too many movies where the vampires have red eyes. Glen and I will pick out a new color together.

    Also got a Woolly Mammoth hoodie in the mail from Ode. Looks warm. Got here just as the weather has begun to cool down. Must be a Stefan/Mario collaboration. I plan to wear mine when I hit the speed bag. You know, Rocky. Woolly.

    AWOL. That’s been me. From the news. I read headlines, rarely full stories. This has been a time of going inward, away from the world. Will continue for a while. The news draws me back, puts me in the maelstrom that is our era while I need time, quiet time.

    Climate change. The Whigged out GOP. The Gump Trump. The Pandamndemic. Democrats shooting themselves in the foot. I know. All still underway. As for me, I will remodel my kitchen, hang some neon art in my living room, utilize my mini-splits, pet my dogs.

    I am the King of Pentacles. In this world, peaking in my animus energy, staying steady, staying the course of grief’s long journey. Readying myself for, already in, the fourth phase of my life.


  • Happy New Year!

    Samain and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Sunday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Nearer to my heart as the veil thins between this world and the Otherworld. Rigel and Kep, good dogs. Xiola, that pit bull that showed up yesterday. Hope she got home ok. Low hanging Cloud this morning. Fog on Shadow Mountain. Samain, Summer’s End. New Year’s day for Celtic lands. Long ago. Glasgow. Needs all the power it can get. Then, to use it.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fog

    Tarot: Eight of Cups, Druid Craft

    Happy New Year! Feliz Samain! The season of light has fallen behind us. As I write at 7:30 am, the sky has only begun to lighten, a blue steel. As I feed the dogs in the afternoon, the sky heads toward late twilight. The temperatures are cooler and Snow is in the forecast. All Crops are dead except those few winter hardy ones like Winter Wheat, Garlic.

    Up here the Aspens are naked. I found a skim of Ice on the Dog’s outdoor Water yesterday. This morning the shed and the roof of the house have a coating of Frost. I’ve begun layering with flannel shirts, fleece, and lined outer shirts. The boiler works harder now.

    The Celts began their year today. The Samain festival marks the end of the growing season and the harvest season. Samain is the last harvest festival, preceded by Mabon in September and Lughnasa in August.

    Through its influence millions of children will go door to door tonight dressed as Bob Ross (Gabe), candy bars, ghosts, celebrities, goblins, animals, witches. Whatever seems fun. Most will not know that the costumes mimic the Celtic belief that the veil between this world and the Otherworld thins on this day. That means the dead, those of Faery, other creatures like goblins can cross into this world more easily. In the ancient Celtic mind anything strange might happen or show up.

    And, yes, it also means that the living can cross over into the Otherworld if they can find a portal, a place where the veil thins even more. Holy wells, caves, dolmens, sacred groves. A place made sacred by repeated worship. The living, though, have to be careful if they cross over because the return from Faery, or the Otherworld, may not be as easy. For sure eat no Faery cake nor drink no Faery wine.

    Today is my first Samain without Kate; I feel her absence and her presence more keenly today. A family altar anchored by her ashes helps me place her both here and there. Wherever there might be.

    The fog, the frost, the chill in the air underscore this day as one of a thinned veil. A day after which the strength of the growing season must see us through until Imbolc when the ewes freshen and milk becomes available. Even then we must wait until Ostara, the first day of Spring, to see the world once again as a place that can support the living.

    To start the year here suggests an emphasis on the inner world, on life lived with family, often huddled around peat fires for warmth. Eating, being sustained, by the crops of the time of light.

    A book dear to me, The Fairy Faith, written by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, recounts his several visits to the smoky huts all round Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Brittany. In those villagers’ homes he heard the stories that kept the family enthralled over the long nights following the New Year. Stories of elves, fairies, goblins and more. Evans-Wentz went on to become famous as the translator of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.

    We have stripped the world of its magic with Enlightenment reason and scientific method. Many, most, are as I used to be: either/or folks. Either the scientific, logical worldview or nothing. I prefer, Yes science and logic. Yes magic and mystery.

    Sure this is meteorological Fall. Yes. It’s also Samain and Mabon ends today. It’s true we don’t know what happens after death, but it’s also true we really DON’T know what happens after death. The second law of thermodynamics explains dissolution, decay, the inevitable crumbling of organic structures. As far as it goes. Yet it cannot imagine a world untouched by its rule. But, I can.

    Having the New Year today suggests that there is a way of understanding that comes in the dark, in the midst of decay, in the inner reaches of our psyche. A way best accessed when the light recedes and time for reflection grows. A way that precedes the way of light both in time and in spiritual significance.

    early spring, 2011

    Remember Steiner’s Springtime of the Soul at the feast of Michael the Archangel? September 29th. I believe Steiner recognized the same wisdom as the ancient Celts. To become more of who we are we need to go inside, into the dark, into the fecund place where the imagination lives.

    During the season of light we work and live in the outer world, coming to the dark and the inner life mainly at night. During the season of dark, the fallow time, we can more easily spend time in meditation, dreaming, listening to tales told before a crackling fire. Perhaps writing and painting and cooking to express for others our inner work.

    Join me this Samain as we honor the dead, honor the pool of memories that bind us all as one, honor the subconscious mind, honor the mysterious and the immeasurable. Honor faeries, goblins, elves, Tarot cards, the Tree of Life, and astrology. Kabbalah. Everything that seeks to penetrate or contextualize the interesting, but limited world of science and logic.


  • Friday

    Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Friday gratefuls: Kep and Rigel’s waiting up for me. Alan and Gaetano’s. Being out at night. Fine dining. Without Kate. A bit sad. Supply chains. Coyote HVACS. Tesla. Lucid. Polestar. Mussar. Soul curriculum. The night sky. Orion, home again, home again. Diane and Mark. The Ancientones. Carol. May she improve. The city at night. Blue Mountain Kitchens. Jodi. Brian. Bowe.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The night in the city and the night on Shadow Mountain

    Tarot: Queen of Pentacles, Druid craft deck

     

    Electrical panel. Not in. Supply chain issues plague many different components of  our economy. When Brian measured for the cabinets last week, he made a point of saying he had hinges and drawer pulls, cabinet pulls in stock. I don’t have the alder, but they keep that in stock. So we’re good.

    Probably a supply glitch associated with the kitchen project will occur. It has today with the mini-splits. A new electrical panel, necessary for the work in the garage. Not in. Will call. Stuff happens. I’m calm. I like their work, believe them. Trust. That’s the word.

    I feel the same about Jodi. I trust her to wrassle the contractors and trades people, her supply chain at Blue Mountain. If things take a while, ok. I’m not in a rush. Still excited about both the mini-splits and the new kitchen.

    As they proceed, so are other pruning related matters. Example. The Subaru leaves my garage this evening. On its way to support Colorado Public Radio. Jon’s coming up to manage the hand over of the car.

    Ruth, Gabe

    He feels better, but has lost a lot of weight and has trouble eating. Sound familiar? Yesterday he had gut issues, couldn’t eat. These aut0-immune diseases. Bad, bad news.

    As a parent, Jon has made enormous progress with Ruth and Gabe. They’re both calmer, less reactive, more focused. Both sweet and loving. Yes, they have psychological matters, refractory ones, too. But Jon’s found a way to get the best out of them, to love them. Good to see.

    His art, which I admire, sustains him. He finds pieces of metal crushed by traffic. Takes them home, cleans them up, then prints in the press he has in his studio. Cast off, crushed, found. Beautiful. A commentary on throw away culture and one way to fight consumerist capitalism.

    The five years since the divorce have been hard, real hard, for him. Then Kate died. Since then, his auto-immune diseases have hammered at him with little let up. And, his mom, his medical advisor as she was mine, is gone. A tough, vulnerable spot.

    Alan as the beggar

    Alan and I went into Denver last night to his old neighborhood, north Denver, east Colfax. He had a debate partner in high school named Smaldone. Think Gotti, Capone, Lensky. The Smaldone’s were Denver’s organized crime family in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

    They owned and operated and worked out of an Italian restaurant at Tejon and 38th. Gaetano’s. I didn’t make this up. The information about the Smaldone’s comes from Gaetano’s menu. The men’s room, GUYS, had a picture of the Rat Pack playing pool and, over the toilet, a booking picture of a young Frank Sinatra in Hoboken. That sorta thing. Bonus points: guess the name of the women’s.

    This was a thank you dinner for a ride to the Aurora campus of Rocky Mountain Cancer Care. Axumin scan. A long drive. Alan had chicken parmigiana and I had the special, polenta and shrimp. Italian shrimp and grits.

    While there, I used the Roger microphone. Set it on the table in the very live dining area. And left it there when I got up to go. Uh oh. $1400. Called with worry tickling my throat after I noticed it was missing. Yes, we have it, sir. I’ll be by tomorrow for it. Have to figure out a way to not let that happen again.

    Had the reinforcing experience yesterday of being able to go 3.5 mph at 3.0% elevation. I’m gaining cardiovascular conditioning. Also hit the inclined bench press and surprised myself by using 20 pound barbells. I thought they were 15’s, but went through the set anyhow. That was Wednesday.

    My HIIT book came yesterday. High Intensity Interval Training. This time I’m gonna be serious about creating my own program, following it, pushing my performance. Not only is this good for heart health, but it’s also good for my compromised lungs.

    OK. Last bit of news. Today my new cookware comes. At least I think it will. That means I’ll cook using the induction range for the first time. First heat. Tomorrow. Not sure what I’m gonna make. Something.

     

    Queen of Pentacles

    “Key words: Generous. Patient. Kind.

    Meaning: You may need to care for your body, your finances, your possessions, or your land and property. Your relationship with the land and the earth.”  DCB

    The kings and queens of the Tarot suits represent manifestation of the suit’s essential meaning. Of the ancient four elements, pentacles resonates with the earth. Swords with air. Cups with water. Wands with fire. Pentacles has its focus on the body, money, possessions, the land, the earth. This reality. Malkut. The realm governed by the Shekinah, the Sabbath bride, and the estranged female principle of the divine.

    This card is the anima apotheosis of pentacles, of energy and intention focused on here and now: prostate cancer, Jon, HVAC and kitchen remodel, meeting with RJ, my financial advisor. This card prods me to look into my feminine as I encounter today, to trust her when it comes to matters of this earthly reality. Be generous, patient, and kind. Especially with Jon. As I hear this card.

     

     

     

     

     


  • Pandamndemic

    Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Thursday gratefuls: Pruning. Proceeding. Pantry in use now. Picked a sink. Induction range and cookware. First heat. Friday. Kitchen remodel getting legs. Cold nights. Pandamndemic. Prostate cancer. HIIT. Good workout yesterday. Giving stuff away. Pots and pans. The stove. Money.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Sun, another day

    Tarot:       The High Priest, #5 of the major arcana, Druid Craft

     

    Goya’s, Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls Museum of Art

    Pandamndemic. Creeping horror coming to your state the week of Halloween. Delta variant dawning. And twilighting. And causing pressure on health care, body counts, hope for a mask free end of the year. I find my own resistance to the masks, to caution challenged.

    I just wanna be free! Damn it. Me and roughly however many billion of us have been dealing with this damned thing for well over a year and a half. Feels like this gray pall draped over every encounter outside of home. The hearing issues with it make me want even more time alone.

    Then there’s the Build Back Better plan. How’s that going? I’m for putting McConnel and Manchin in a chain link box. Let a 3 round MMA bout settle which one’s the bigger impediment to a decent future. Winner gets a free disruption of the people’s business, no explanation required.

    What? They already have that? Are doing that? Oh, I see. Well then. Let’s put them in a chain link box and tether them, Andromeda style, to a condo sitting on Miami’s disappearing beach front. Now wait. That could encourage climate action. Couldn’t it?

    Between Covid and the Congress, between Covid and the weak-kneed White House, I find life outside the wonderful world here atop Shadow Mountain often dismal, rarely joyful. And. I. Don’t. Like. It.

    Yeah. So what, you say. Suck it up buttercup. Nope. Not gonna do that. And, I wanted to have my minute. There it’s over. Back to business as masked.

    Leading mussar today since Carole had a wreck. In hospital with a cracked sternum. Ouch. Meals for her for a couple of weeks. Glad. I get to return the favor.

    Topic in mussar today. Judgement. Of others. The Perkei Avot says Jewish tradition instructs us that when we judge another person, we are to put their misdeeds on one side of a scale and their virtues on the other side of the scale. If the scales are balanced, then we should tip them towards merit.

    And, ourselves. “The Talmud says that we should always judge other people favorably. We must also judge ourselves favorably”. (R. Nachman of Breslav)

    Odd that in Christianity, which says judge not, the tendency is to judge harshly, while in Judaism, which sees judging others and ourselves as both inevitable and necessary, the remonstrance is to judge others favorably.

    Reb Nachman puts another flaw in the ointment. We must also judge ourselves favorably. Whoa. That’s a hard one, eh?

    I’m guilty of judging others harshly, of weighing what I perceive to be misdeeds or character flaws as tainting the whole person. I suppose you could call this cancel culture. Make one misstep and you not only get judged, you get ostracized from polite society.

    “Machrio L’Chaf Zechut translates as “influencing others to virtue,” or “judging others favorably.” Machrio comes from the root chaf-reish-ayin and means “to bend.” L’chaf zechut means “to a scale of merit.” This is the middot associated with judgement.  Reform Judaism

    This one goes on my spiritual curriculum. A spiritual curriculum according to mussar has on its syllabus character traits where we often fall short and those that we have, but need to reinforce.

    This sort of work is actually High Priest work. “Tradition and guidance. Formal knowledge, education and academic establishments. A need to conform to orthodox ideas and conventional approaches. The significance of a teacher or mentor.” The message: “There is a value in discipline and routine to maintain the connection between your worldly and spiritual life.”  Druid Craft Book.


  • Facing Forward

    Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley septic and waste. Mini-splits installed, though not yet electrified. Induction range has come. Bit more climate friendly. Old gas range has gone to somebody who needed one. Hair and beard trimmed. Excited about using my new range. Rigel’s cyst. Kep’s sweet demeanor. The Akita puppy list. Tarot and Astrology class yesterday. Understanding planetary influences.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: High Winds, cooler temps

    Tarot: The Hanged Man, #12 of the major arcana, Druid craft

     

    Rider-Waite

    Guess the cards really want me to sit up and pay attention. The World yesterday. The Hanged Man today. With the World a cycle completed, satisfaction, fulfillment. I’ve felt for a month or so that the first phase of grieving is over, that I’ve passed into a calmer, less disruptive grief. Not no tears. Probably never. But instead of having my head turned toward the past, toward Kate’s death, it feels like I face forward now, living into a new life rather than letting the past define my present. That’s what the World affirms. A phase completed.

    The Hanged Man has as one of his meanings a reversal of values or attitudes. My current immersion in kabbalah, tarot, and astrology is just such a reversal. I no longer scoff. Pushing past my skepticism, finding the value. Appreciative inquiry as Jamie teaches.

    Setting aside the how and the why. Allowing the learning to flow, even if I can’t understand how it works, or why. Tough for empirical me. But, doing it.

    Another card I had recently, The Star, had this note: “You may develop a calm, clear confidence in the future…You may be the recipient of much love at this time.” This was two days ago. Three majors in as many days. Big changes, happenings, currents. Flow.

    The future does seem clearer now. I’m moving with more confidence into it, too. Joseph and Seoah. Navigating the Jon struggles with some grace. Connecting to Ruth and Gabe often. CBE, too. The Ancient Ones on Sunday mornings. Diane on Wednesdays. Mark’s communicating again. The Johnson clan every two weeks or so. These relationships, more than anything else, define my future. I’ve learned that over the time since Kate died.

    As the Star suggested, I have been the recipient of much love over the whole time since Kate’s death. And, it has changed me. Helped me see the fourth phase, my hermit phase, as linked still to the lives of others. Not a retreat from love, but an embrace of it. Yet. Living my life somewhat apart, in the Hermitage. Focusing on the creative, the scholarly. Cooking. Caring for the dogs. Loving and being loved.

    Mirrors to my soul. These cards say, hey! Notice this. And, that. Pay attention. Let intuition free. Follow her. Astrology, too, though in a very different way.

    In the Astrology and Kabbalah class I’m focused on reading my natal chart. Learning how to read it so I can understand what it means. Planets, houses, aspects, sun signs, rising signs, the moon. They are also mirrors. Have you seen this in your life? How about this? Learning.

    The induction range came yesterday. Two Latino guys delivered it, then called later in the day to tell me the old range was on its way to someone that needed it. Glad to hear that. Kept intending to check my cookware with a magnet. Finally did it yesterday. So. My cast iron skillet. I knew that one. And, thankfully, my big stock pot which I use for soups. The rest, however? Not so much. I’ll give them to Jon or to the Mountain Resource Center. Buying a new set. Feels rights. New kitchen. New stove. New pots and pans.

    Saw Jackie, who calls me honey. She colored Kate’s hair and cut it for several years before I started going along. She’s a sweetheart. Reminds me that there are other, more peripheral folks in my life who are loving, too. Now that I’ve looked up from the mirror of grief, I see so much love, so many places.

    Today is an open day. Full workout, futzy inbox stuff, work on my Tarot and Kabbalah class. No reason to leave home. Fine with me.

     

     

     


  • The Land of the Living

    Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Tuesday gratefuls: Induction range on its way. Goodbye dangerous polluter. Last mini-split installed. The Loft. Electrician today to finish up? Kep and Rigel. To whom I’m a companion human. Thanks, Jon! The Subaru leaving to help CPR. And, me. John Ruthenberg. Gonna plow me for $30. Pruning, still underway. That New York Strip last night. Boiled potatoes, salad from Jon’s garden. A bit of ice cream.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mark in communication again

    Tarot: The World, #21 of the Major Arcana, Druid Craft

     

    David’s back he said in the land of the living. Looked a bit peaked still to me. Back in the land of the living hit me for the first time as an odd way to talk about recovery from illness. Made me wonder about its origins. Some diseases thin the veil for us, remind us of our 100% fatal disease. Life. And what of the time while we’re sick. Set apart, no longer normal. Dead to the life we know.

    He works hard. Steady. Not a big guy. A bit taller than me, a thin frame. Very polite. Perhaps ex-military? Look forward to writing the check for this project’s completion. Coyote HVAC was a good choice.

    Stiff Winds yesterday evening. Blew the leaves right off the Aspens on my property. A golden Rain, Snow. Gold skirts around the base of each Tree. Opened up the Sky over my bedroom window. Last night the Stars were clear and high, easy to see from my pillow. Winter is coming.

    Orion has returned. An old and trusted friend. The Winter Sky is my favorite of the year. No Aurora’s here in Colorado. I miss those. I could stand on my front porch in Andover and watch curtains of green light oscillate across the Northern Sky. Orion and his faithful Dog, Canis Major, return each fall.

    The Hermitage will be ready for the first snows of the season. Mini-splits installed. A new kitchen at least underway. The neon Hermit sign hung on the wall with care.

    The season enters a new phase when the Aspen Leaves get blown off their Branches. The Groves become skeletal, ready to survive heavy wet Snows, carrying on conversations below Ground as the Air grows cold. We Humans add layers as Winter descends. Deciduous Trees do the opposite.

    Winds hitting 24 mph whir the anemometer on my weather station. A few Aspen Leaves left to go, but not the bigger Trees.

    This Sunday Samain kicks off Holiseason which runs until January 6th, the Feast Day of the Epiphany. I’ve created an offrenda for Kate up here in the loft. When it’s done, I’ll post a picture. It’s a family offrenda, too. Kate is the only one on the other side of the veil.

    Rigel ate the ostrich feather duster yesterday. And, the day before she chewed the fur from the turtle rattle I bought for Kate. She’s an ornery girl sometimes.

    Kep’s sorta my loft dog. Sometimes. When he feels like it. Right now he’s sleeping nearby.

    Three things happening today: Astrology and Kabbalah class. Induction range delivered and installed with the old one hauled away. Hair cut with Jackie. Tomorrow just trash. Included by default: cardio today, full body workout tomorrow.

    On Thursday I’m going to lead the Mussar group because Carol, who was going to lead, was in a wreck and is now in the hospital. Life.

     

     

     

     


  • A Mentor, a teacher

    Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Rabbi Jamie and congregant

    Friday gratefuls: Mussar. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Mario. Tom. Paul. Bill. Mark and Mary. Diane. Second Fall. Jodie. Blue Mountain Kitchens. Joseph, 40 on Sunday. Seoah and Murdoch. Making things beautiful. Pruning, slow but steady. Kate, always Kate.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: My boy turning 40

    Tarot: The Wheel, #10 in the Major Arcana

     

    Good exercise yesterday. Cardio. Not yet on the HIIT, gonna plan it a bit more. Had more than half of the time near heart rate max. What I need more of.

    Got a call from Isaac, Coyote HVAC coordinator. David is still sick. Start up again on Monday, hopefully give him the weekend to recover. This is the nicest, kindest contractor with whom I’ve ever worked. The owner said he believed it was good business. Me, too.

    For a long time I’ve wondered about mentors and teachers. Everybody I know seems to have at least one that affected their direction in life. That saw them, identified something others didn’t see. Not me. I appreciated the Gaither’s casting me as the lead in Our Town. And, Miss Hull’s calling in chits to make me President of the 1965 Model U.N. for Indiana. But neither one changed my life. Greg Membrez was a wonderful Latin teacher, gentle and understanding. But, no.

    On me, I know. Self-directed. Moi. Perhaps guarded, too? Which is not to say that I failed to learn from or appreciate many of the teachers I had. To the contrary. Philosophy. Anthropology. J. Harry Cotton. Dr. Scruton. Dr. Larry Hackestaff. Bob Bryant in constructive theology. Art Merrill in the Hebrew scriptures. I learned from them, appreciated their knowledge, and their teaching. But, at the personal level? No.

    Raphael. School of Athens 1509-1510

    Until Rabbi Jamie. He’s taught me about appreciative inquiry, learning from whatever you read, whoever you meet, wherever you are. Going in with the attitude that though this book may have things I don’t like, it can still have things to teach me. I’m not saying this well, because it sounds obvious.

    Let’s see. With appreciative inquiry you can find positive and important ideas even in works, people, or places you might otherwise gloss over. This is about radical acceptance of the other.

    He’s also the best question asker I’ve encountered in a classroom or learning situation. His questions, his style of dialogue encourages going further with an idea, deeper.

    I’ve taken several classes from him: Kabbalah, Tarot, Torah study. In each one he includes a presentation session, the last one, where each student can do whatever they want to show what they’ve learned.

    In his tutelage I’ve become a less combative learner, (less, not passive), willing to hear the sentences of the Orthodox Jew on Jewish values and find the middot there. He has subtly reinforced my own beliefs, by supporting me when I express them in his classes. Since I’m a goyim in a synagogue, pagan me finds this amazing.

    I told him all this. This week. I’m trying to not let time go by without telling people I care about how I feel. Yes, partly Kate’s death. Yes, partly my own mortality. Mostly though just trying to be more transparent, easier to know.

    Found after I told him that I was shy, a little embarrassed to see him again. Almost skipped mussar. Decided no. Silly. Weird. And, not weird. Going beyond the veil of Rabbi and congregant. Not often done in synagogues. Or, churches either, though more so in synagogues.

    Lucky to have met him. And, Beth Evergreen.

    Jodi from Blue Mountain comes with the cabinetmaker at 11:00. I want to live in a beautiful space. I’m doing the things I can to make that happen. Pruning. Staining the house. Installing ac for a delightful indoor climate. Remodeling the kitchen. Planning to rearrange all the furniture, create conversation areas, reading areas. TV space. Probably paint some inside walls, definitely rehang art.

    Next year there will be other projects. Outside. Perhaps another bathroom remodel. Seeking a hermitage with inspiration and aesthetic value.

     

     

     

     


  • MOT

    Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

    Thursday gratefuls: Mike Rogers. Bear Creek. Rigel, a warning bark at 4:45. Then, continued warning for a good bit. Noisy girl. Kep slept. Blue Mountain Kitchens. Going with their proposal. Cool nights. The new fitted sheet. Dan Herman and his gifts. A full workout. HIIT. Starting today. CBE. A community of friends, a tribe. My tribe.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Golden coins scattered across the driveway

    Tarot: The Moon, #18 of the Major Arcana

     

    I’ve fallen in love. No. Not that kind. Never say never but I’m not seeking a new relationship. At all. No, this love is with the Rocky Mountain Fall. The Elk rut. The shofar of the Mountains, the bugling Bull Elks. Hyperphagia rampant within the Bear Tribe. The gradual change of the Aspens from their quaking green Leaves to small dabs of gold as each Tree transforms, heavy with gold coin.

    Each morning I get up, come upstairs and the driveway has a scattering of those coins against its black surface, illuminated by the rising Sun. My heart beats a little faster.

    Not just the Rocky Mountain Fall. The Spring, too. Even the too dry Summers. The mad dash of the melting Snow throwing itself down the many Creeks, headed toward the World Ocean, oh so far away. Winter. Ah, the darkness. The Sky at night. Orion returned. Clear Sky.

    Kate said she felt like she was on vacation every day. I feel at home. And we both stayed in spite of or rather because of the Altitude. 8,800 feet. High and lifted up.

    Speaking of high. Only in Colorado. The past president of CBE, Dan Herman, brings me Vegetables from his Garden. Yesterday bright orange Carrots, sweet red Tomatoes, and a miniature Cantaloupe. Plus. A small plastic baggie of Marijuana buds, still curing. I burnt the resin off the scissors and was high for 4 hours! he said. Smiling.

    Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv on Monday. Alan and I will have breakfast on Monday here in Aspen Park. Rabbi Jamie on Tuesday afternoon. Luke and Elisa teaching the Torah and the Stars class on Tuesday morning. The MVP meeting last week with Rich and Ron, Tara and Marilyn, Susan.

    Simchat Torah

    Got lucky when I married Kate. In so many ways. Who knew her conversion to Judaism, long before I met her, would have such a wonderful impact on me after her death? This small tribe gives me the human element, along with Jon, Ruth, and Gabe for my Rocky Mountain home. Like an Aspen Grove, connected beneath the soil. Not clones, hardly, but the same symbiosis. Nurturing each other. Making life possible and worthwhile.

    Rigel sent up an alarm bark at 4:45 am this morning. She has a big chest. Loud. And she continued for a while. Not sure what it was. Could have been a Bear or a Mountain Lion. But. When I went in the kitchen, I noticed that one of Dan’s gift Tomatoes was half gone. Rodent sized teeth marks on it. Maybe Rigel got it, or them? Probably not, but I can hope.

    More money stuff today. Refi work. Bills to pay.

    Returning to HIIT. High intensity interval training. Gotta get my cardio back up in the sweat zone. HIIT is more time efficient, yes, but it also impacts whole body health. Left it behind a few months ago. Picking it up again.

    Coyote HVAC is on hold. David is still sick. Going to next Monday. These guys are kind, understanding, and stand up honest. Pretty damned refreshing.

    Tomorrow AM Judi from Blue Mountain Kitchens comes by with the new cabinet guy. Measuring. Checking. I’m going with them. The Bear Creek proposal was about twice what I had to spend. Got a sweet message back though from Mike Rogers offering to check Blue Mountain’s proposal. You can lean on us as friends, too, he wrote.

    Think I could get a little sappy about the kindness of strangers. And, familiars.