• Category Archives Denver
  • Water

    Lughnasa and the Labor Day Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Jon, Ruth, Gabe. All here to celebrate Grandma’s birthday. The specific Animals that gave their lives for our meal: scallops and a tri-tip steak. The heat. When it leaves. Jon and Ruth’s happiness with the gift of Ivory. (our 2011 Rav4). Gabe’s “Air hug. I love you Grandpop.” Rigel at home. The chance to cook for a crowd. Kate. Always Kate.

    Didn’t do much for Kate’s birthday on Tuesday. Lots of stuff going on before, that day, and after. But we hit it yesterday. Grandkids. Scallops. The gift of empanadas from Jon and the kids. Rigel up and about. When they left we both collapsed, as usual. A good exhaustion. Happy to see them come. Happy to see them go.

    Record heat in Denver. Hot up here, too. Not by other spots standards, I know, but we’ve become acclimated to a cooler day.

    You can’t see the Mountains from Denver. Jon. All this smoke and haze, heavy particulates has obscured us. We’re still here. The haze is here and the smell of smoke hangs in the Air like a harbinger. It’s bad further west, but the Wildfire threat is extreme here, too. Humidity at 16. The Ground Water evaporates. The stress on Trees and Grasses grows with the lack of precipitation. A grim reminder that we’re all part of this Ecosystem.

    Ruth said that Animals from the Foothills are fleeing into metro Denver. People have been asked to leave water out for them. Can’t do it here. Habituation. Which kills Animals rather than helps them.

    The arid West is not the humid East. The Mountains are not the Plains. Whether we realize it all the time or not, our lives have Water as a disruptive actor. The lack of it. Water from the Western Slope, for example, goes to Denver through huge tunnels and pipes. The southern burbs of Denver have depleted much of the Aquifer that sits beneath them. Long periods of dryness lead to extreme conditions for agriculture, Wildlife, and our Forests. The Colorado River Compact promises more Water to its downstream users like Las Vegas, Arizona, and Los Angeles than actually flows through it.

    Diane, my San Francisco based cousin, told me about the book, Cadillac Desert, long ago. That piqued my interest in Water. I’ve been fascinated ever since. The way the Plains states like Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, and even parts of Oklahoma and Texas have based their economies on the Ogallala Aquifer, an enormous reservoir of mostly ancient Water that underlies them. No Aquifer, no amber waves of Grain, no fruited Plains. The Great Lakes. Now, the Colorado River.

    Consider the Water where you are. It is Life itself. Worthy of your attention.


  • #244

    Summer and the Moon of Justice

    Saturday gratefuls: This country. These purple mountain majesties. The lakes of Minnesota. Lake Superior. Evergreen. Conifer. Shadow Mountain. The great plains, rippling wheat. Corn fields of Iowa. Lady Liberty. New York City. San Francisco. Puget Sound. The Colorado River. The Mississippi. The South. New England. The first lighters up there in Maine. Jambalaya. Gumbo. Devil’s Tower. El Capitan. Crater Lake. The Mackinac Bridge. Protests. Alexandria. Muncie. The Big Medicine Wheel. The sacred Black Hills. Cahokia. Carlsbad Caverns. Marfa. West Texas. From sea to shining sea. Haleakala. Waipio Valley. Waimea Canyon. Da Fish House. Denali. Kodiak. Salmon. Grizzly. Wolves. Lynx. Wolverines. An amazing country still.

    244 years old. Lot of candles for that red white and blue cake. Hard times. Like the Civil War. The First World War. The Spanish Flu. The Depression. WWII. Yes, it’s been hard before. Will be again. We navigated the churning, stormy waters of all those. We can get through this one, too.

    A canard? Maybe. Yet, I believe it’s so. Rising out of this fire may come a nation truer to its ideals. No more Trumps. Ever. No more easy white privilege. No more easy oppression of people of color, women, lbgt. A more just economic and medical system. If we do, the pain will have been worth it.

    I love this country. From Route 66 to the hot dog shaped hot dog stand in Bailey. From Coney Island to Puget Sound. From the Minnesota angle to the bayous. It’s my home, my place, the spot on this earth to which I am native. It can be tarnished by the political class, but not erased.

    Here are my friends, some of my family, the graves of my ancestors. Here are the roads I traveled as a young man, the streets and fields I played in as a child, houses in which I’ve lived, the cities I’ve loved and fought for. This is the land of memory.

    Let’s celebrate #245 with a 46th President. And with 45 in jail or disgraced. Make it so.


  • At Her Funeral

    Beltane and the Moon of Sorrow

    Thursday gratefuls: Gauze sponges. Wax o-rings for Kate’s leakage. Stoma powder. The chance to care for Kate. A forty degree morning on Shadow Mountain after 92 degrees in Denver on Monday. That silly Rigel, not acting her age. At all. Kep, the serious. Dog groomer today. The Kabbalah class. Folks liking my presentation. Workout yesterday.

    Pine pollen season. Yellow streaks on the asphalt. Pollen lying on wooden tables, adding some color. The winds rushing through the Lodgepoles, shaking loose enough for a yellow storm. Part of the turning of the Great Wheel. That I could do without personally. But, how would we get baby Lodgepoles otherwise? Sneeze and bear it.

    Wildfire danger remains high. Dry, Windy. Yesterday the Humidity in the loft was 2%, outside 6%. The arid West. A positive note. It was 80 degrees up here and a slowly rotating fan was all I needed to stay cool. Rigel, we’re not in Andover anymore.

    A woman in my kabbalah class wants my Grammar of Holiness read at her funeral, “…whenever that may be.” A strong positive reaction to it from the class. Rabbi Jamie’s going to reprint in the synagogue newsletter, the Shofar.

    Always thought my reimagining faith project would be a book, a radical theology with chapters and footnotes and acknowledgements. Nope, two pages. There it is. It feels said to me. We’ll see if I continue to feel that way.

    After reading several pieces about Covid and underlying medical conditions, Kate and I have decided to become coronavirus hermits. Our hermitage, Shansin, on top of Shadow Mountain. We’ll ride it out with as little flesh and blood contact as we can stand. Would sound bleak, but Zoom helps, and we’re introverts, happy with each other, ourselves, and our dogs.

    And, given recent news, I will add: white, privileged, financially secure, and aging with good medical care.

    Still no word from the Singapore government. Seoah may fly there next Tuesday. May not. Covid has impacted lives in so many different ways. This is just one of them, but it’s personal, right here.

    From Shadow Mountain, where the sun is rising and the morning is cool.


  • The Unmasked

    Beltane and Corona Lunacy II

    Wednesday gratefuls: Rigel’s recovery from dental work. Seoah’s kind heart. All my friends and family who have avoided Covid. So far. The people who believe in Trump. Those of us who don’t, won’t, can’t. Angkor Wat. Bayon. Ta Phrom. Mary and her Singapore. Mark and his Riyadh. Diane and her San Francisco.

    Into a theoretically still closed down Englewood/Denver for Kate’s appointment with Pullikottli. She’ll go in; I’ll drive off and read Middle Game. The doctor appointments have decreased. By a lot. Fingers this week. Lungs in June. Nothing else for her at this point.

    I get another psa in early July and see Eigner later in the month. Last year at this time it was the Cancer Moon. May, the merry, merry month of May, 2019. Fights with the insurance company. Imaging studies narrowing down my treatment options. Driving to hospitals, lying down under expensive electronics. Drinking this. Having this injected. Waiting for results. Wondering.

    Masks. A metaphor. Those who think they don’t need to wear one wear their anger and fear. I suppose masks are a willingness to be vulnerable in public, difficult. Wish the unmasked would realize the masks were to protect their parents, their grandparents. Those they love. For the men, it is an act of masculine protection. If we could make them see this, maybe they would put down the assault rifles. Maybe.

    Diane voiced her concern about the new world abornin’. Guns in state capitols. The masked and the unmasked. I’m concerned, too. Basic American values like freedom, liberty, individual rights have been hollowed out and weaponized by a flagrantly stupid demagogue. When my body, my choice gets deployed to defend the right to infect other Americans? Not sure where we go from that point.


  • Art House Cinema

    Imbolc and the Leap Year Full Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Kabbalah Experience. The stimulation I’ve gotten from that reading. Bill, fellow seeker and his gifts this morning. Kate and the start of our 31st year together. Kimbop. Picnic food, Seoah says, a Korean sushi-like roll. Seoah’s delight at the ease of her UPS interaction. Jackie, a sweet and delightful person. The coronavirus, for what it’s teaching us about global community and compassion.

    Max von Sydow died. His Antonius Block in Bergman’s The Seventh Seal captivated me long ago. His turn in the Exorcist. Memorable and difficult. Liv Ullman, Bibbi Anderson, Max von Sydow, Gunnar Björnstrand, and Ingmar Bergman introduced me to art house cinema. I got infatuated with Bergman and his ensemble of actors, watched all of them I could. Hard to remember now how difficult it was to find movies and watch them in the pre-internet era.

    When I was at United Seminary, I organized an arts week. This was 1972. I was able to show two Bergman movies that had not been seen too often then, Hour of the Wolf and the Ritual. It might have been the American premier of the Ritual.

    Turns out that Albert Camus’ widow was good friends with Bergman and had all of his movies in her collection. I had some connection to her but I can’t remember what it was. She lived in Wisconsin, so I borrowed them from her. It took a lot of phone calls, visits, and organizing to get them onscreen. Nowadays I could look them up on the internet, find a place to either buy or stream them, set up a projector and we’d be ready to go.

    Von Sydow was a key presence in Bergman’s work. His tall, angular, serious demeanor gave each film an anchor in his gravitas. He is among my favorite actors and I’ll miss him in this life, but will continue to enjoy his work on screen.

    Driving in today to make my presentation at the Kabbalah Experience in Denver. I’m feeling good about the work I’m doing in this class. It has pushed me into new clarity about religious life, given me some conceptual hooks for things I’ve been thinking about for years.

    Long day. Lunch with Alan after the class. Purim celebration tonight at CBE. Kate’s the board member on duty. She greets folks as they come in. Quieter week overall. Good.


  • Seeing the forest for the trees

    Imbolc and the Leap Year Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Sliver Leap Year Moon last night. Awakening to the forest around me. The beauty and warmth at CBE. Kate’s healing fingers, her growing stamina. Her mood. Wiggly Murdoch at Bergen Bark. Time with Seoah. All those dinosaurs and trees and shrubs that died so we might have oil. Keep it in the ground. Yes. For the Great Work.

    How things work in my mind. About a year ago my buddy Alan Rubin came up here. His first comment was, “You live way back in the forest.” Huh. Well, yeah. The Arapaho National Forest. Those words tucked themselves away only to emerge a couple of weeks ago while I drove back up Shadow Mountain from a turn down the hill. Lot of trees. More than the drive up. Oh. Alan was right. We live way back in the forest.

    We live in a forest. Oh. I see. Yes. All those trees. A forest. For five years I’ve been focused on the mountains. Their bulk. Their altitude. Their visual presence as I drive to Evergreen, to Aspen Park. We live in the mountains we tell ourselves and count ourselves so lucky. The Rocky Mountains. Guess what I’ve just realized. We live in the mountains, in a forest. It’s all around me now, this forest. I feel it, too.

    In Minnesota we lived on the Great Anoka Sand Plain, groves of oak trees, iron wood, elm, black locust, cottonwood, but, no forest. Had to drive up north for the Boreal Forest or over to Carlos Avery Wildlife Preserve. We had a small woods on our property. Which I loved. But it was not a forest.

    Here the lodgepole and aspen climb the mountains, show up in the valleys, surround our house and our neighbor’s houses. Here elk and mule deer and fox and mountain lions and bears and rabbits and pine martens and moose live in the forest, too. All us mammals in a place that feels like home, the forest. On mountains.

    Makes me wonder what else I’m missing. Probably a lot.


  • Family Time

    Imbolc and the new Leap Year Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Gabe, who wants to be an actor. Seoah leafing through a furniture catalog. Lunch with Ruth, Gabe, Jon, and Seoah at the Yak and Yeti. Seeing the Highlands neighborhood in Denver. Discovering University Ave. in Denver. Coffee. Coffee growers. The coffee plant. Laborers who grow, roast, and grind coffee.

    Took Seoah and Gabe into Denver yesterday. Seoah wanted to exercise her military discount at Lululemon, a chic athleisure clothier. And, she did. Seoah is in great shape. She regularly runs 20 minutes at 6.5 or 7.0 mph, does 300 squats, yoga. Her fashion sense is also highly developed from 20 years in the upscale Gangnam neighborhood of Seoul. Lululemon is a natural for her.

    Three things that make Seoah happy: a discount, pho, and Indian food. After the visit to Lululemon, we drove south through Denver. I’ve gotten my sea legs in the Denver street system now, I can navigate. Chose University Avenue to take us south to Hampden. Had not driven on it before. It runs by the University of Denver, Iliff Seminary (Methodist, as is UD), and past blocks of college type retail. Around UD the streets have names like Harvard, Yale, Bates, Cornell.

    Hampden is the main east-west street for the southern part of Denver, which has no ring road that makes it easy to traverse the city. Hampden is also Hwy. 285, a Federal highway that runs out of Denver to the west, into the mountains, then south all the way to Santa Fe. It’s also the primary road we take when we need to go down the hill. I know it very well since it runs close to Swedish Hospital and is on the route to Jon’s house much further east in Aurora.

    We met Jon and Ruth at the Yak and Yeti, an Indian, Nepalese, Tibetan restaurant. Wanted to eat at India’s Restaurant, the oldest Indian restaurant in Denver, on Hampden like Yak and Yeti, but on Sundays they don’t open until 5:30 pm. Yak and Yeti’s food is undistinguished, but plentiful. Attracts folks who want to eat cheap, the buffet is $12.95, and who want to eat a lot. A lot of family time this weekend.

    Today Kep goes in for his physical and his rabies shot. His vaccination, good for three years, expires on the 27th of this month. Given our recent history we don’t want a dog with an out of date rabies vaccination. We’ll also pick up Gertie’s ashes.

    No new word on Murdoch. We’ll visit him a couple of times this week. He’s having a great time there so far. Always happy and wiggly to see us. No idea he’s in exile.


  • The Big City

    Imbolc and the Leap Year Moon (ok. just noticed this moon doesn’t encompass February 29th. So, I’m gonna change it.) from now until Feb. 22nd-the Shadow Mountain Moon.

    Saturday gratefuls: Jon, who seems to be righting his inner ship. Rigel, who gave me a black eye. Geez, gal. The U.S. Senate. Yes, I mean it. At least their horror show is public. The House of Representatives and Nancy. Stood on their hind legs. Two legs good. The moon and its apparent journeys across our sky. The stuff of romance. SeoAh, who comes tomorrow.

    The wounds from my second bite have finally begun to heal up. Still a good ways to go, but less tender. Kate took my stitches out at the kitchen table yesterday. Nice to have an urgent care clinic just behind our stove. The second bite was a week ago yesterday. Antonio was Monday.

    Into Denver to GOZO, a restaurant on my favorite Denver street, Broadway. Jon and I talked. A bit hard because the room was very live and my hearing aid seemed waxy. Those of you with hearing aids will understand.

    Jon’s wrestling with his life, as he has as long as I’ve known him, but this time I think he’s learned a new move. His self awareness has grown markedly over the last year. He knows what he needs to do. He’s clear about it. Now if the depression will stay at bay. We’re meeting every couple of weeks for dinner.

    Got a table right next to the multi-paned garage door. Outside Denver city life walked by. That woman with the calf high leather boots, big heels. The woman on her phone, her baby scanning the sidewalk. A man and a woman kissing while the man walked backwards and the woman held his head close. The homeless guy I greeted on the way in, later wrapped in what appeared to be a homemade quilt.

    Picked up Kate’s new iPad at the Apple Repair place. Nice folks. Willing to help. Not pricey at all.

    Often when I go into Denver I find the drive stressful. Too many cars, streets too tight, lots of lights. Lots. Last night I drove down Broadway after leaving Jon and found it soothing. I know this street now. Where certain landmarks are. I like it’s funky, changeable nature. At one point it could called the Green Mile due to the number of dispensaries. Art galleries, interior design studios. Boarded up storefronts. Used car lots.

    It was still good to leave the city behind and drive through the hogback at Co. 470 and 285, climbing again. Cars thin out, the lights dim, and the clear sky begins to show more stars. Five years plus now. Five years.