Lughnasa and a slice of Chesed Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Cool night. A good day, cleaning and organizing. Grief. Kate, always Kate. Jon feeling better. The Ancient Ones at 9. Sourdough. Sourdough and eggs. Mushrooms. Bread baking. Reconstructing my life. Tarot. Kabbalah. Mysticism. The life of Rocks and Rivers, Trees and Flowers.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Book of Life
Tarot: The High Priest, #5 of the Major Arcana

Well, all righty then. Got the loft decluttered, though if you saw it you might not agree. I have a different standard for my workplace than my living place. I like both organized, but the point in my workplace is access and stimulation. In my living place I want a clean house, with things put away in their storage spots. I’ve not achieved this yet downstairs, but it’s the goal toward which I’m pruning.
I’m pleased with the work I did yesterday. The flurry of medical matters over the last few weeks defocused me and got me off the pruning path I’d been on. Last week I got back to full time exercising and kept to a single change I wanted to make. All my appointments go in the afternoon, early afternoon if possible. Keeping the morning clear for Ancientrails, working out, and, eventually, writing again.
One change. A small one. Made for four weeks with clear intention. In this case, each time I call an office or a car service center, schedule haircuts I tell them I want to be seen in the early afternoon. Two to three more weeks and it will be part of me. After that, another small change.
So on.
The entire Harry Potter oeuvre, cinema, came to HBO Max on September first. I’ve been watching them, finished the Goblet of Fire yesterday. I love the immersive world created by set and costume designers, the increasingly dark plot lines, watching the young actors grow both into their roles and as people. Rowling’s cleverness, a distinctly British type, makes everything tinged with irony and spooned over with nostalgia.
Puts the seriousness with which I’ve been taking Tarot, Kabbalah, Judaism in a different perspective. Yes, serious. Yes, fun. Yes, not the ordinary persons experience. A sort of hidden world that includes Astrology, too. The occult, if you fancy that term.
Talked to Rabbi Jamie on Thursday and told him about my speculation concerning reconstruction. That it’s content neutral, a hermeneutic, a way of interpreting the human experience of reality, of each other, of the hidden. Also, that it opens the door for Tarot, Astrology, the Great Wheel. They too can be matters of serious consideration, tools for diving into the inner Lakes and Forests of the Other World we each carry within us.
Too, it opens the possibility that the Other World may be just that. May be that, with an emphasis on be. Or, better, the Other World becomes the Other World as we listen to it, feel its presence in our lives.
The High Priest
“The Hierophant advises that you return to the role of a meticulous student. Learn everything you can about your chosen area. Let that knowledge become a part of you and an operative influence on your day-to-day awareness. In this way, you can slowly and steadily establish real credibility in your field or chosen subject.”
The dream w women asking me to return, to finish my studies. Facing down the animus figures who were rigid and angry. Following the lead of the anima figure who encouraged me, said yes. Even now 56 years later. I can still study, learn. Write. The German shepherd at the gateway who sprung from beneath a cloak and licked me. The magical themes: gateway, angry men, supportive women, the Shepherd, the fiery chair which burned the men and was cool to me. The strong sense of longing to go back. Be a scholar/student. And a writer. The sense of now is the time. This was all at Wabash, though an updated, unfamiliar one.
This life calls to me. Again. Still. From a deep place. And this card reminds me. Again. Look to the library, to the mind, but most of all to the heart. What matters for my soul? For the souls of others?
Thursday gratefuls: Prostate cancer. Orgovyx. Kristie. Kep and Rigel, my companions, my friends. Passing out of the dark valley. Exercise. Safeway grocery pickup. Express delivery. 47 degrees this morning. Rain on its way.
Friday gratefuls: Rigel and Kep. Snuggling, staying with me, greeting me. CBE. The Bread Lounge. Donating. The spread sheets of the Rider-Waite deck from fellow student, David. Mark Horn and his Kabbalistic Tarot. Jung. His thought. Archetypes. Following our own hearts. The ancient ones. My friends. Diane. Mary. Mark. Cardio. Doing it.
Got a few errands to take care of today, then I’m going to mussar at CBE. So, short post.
Over to the Bread Lounge to pick up a loaf of sourdough, my go to bread these days. Had an egg sandwich before I went to Mt. Evan’s hospice to donate feeding liquid. They didn’t want it. Not sure what I can do with it now. Highly specialized. May have to throw it away. Mt. Evan’s is close to CBE so I went there and waited in the sanctuary for mussar to start.

It’s been a tough week and a half. The PET scan, the bone scan, waiting on the results, the results themselves. I’m feeling vulnerable because of them, mortal. Also the strange road of the cancer that can be managed. A 2 year course of androgen deprivation therapy. Off and on for the rest of my life. Prostate cancer has become part of me, literally, and as an identifier. Oh, he’s the one with prostate cancer.
The first impulses to prune, to reorganize have hit a temporary seawall. Cancer, my need to exercise, feeling low. I got a lot done, a lot. There is still more to do and right now I have no energy for it. Makes sense. A lot going on physically and emotionally. Still, it frustrates me.
Lughnasa and the Chesed Moon
Sunday gratefuls: 49 degree morning. Ruth, only a strained shoulder and sprained back in a car accident with Jen. Gabe o.k. A quiet three days. Subway. Tarot. Kabbalah. The Hermit. The Magician.
“Keywords: Confidence, Realizing goals
“Keywords: Demands. Burdens. Overwork.
“Key words: Blessings. Prosperity. Legacy


It may be true that we die for real when the last person who remembers us dies. Or, we may live on in ways unknown. Perhaps in plants we planted that bloom, or fruit. Perhaps in a jar of honey stored in someone’s pantry. A word or an idea that enters the mainstream of thought. Perhaps in a comfortable night’s sleep under a quilt made by hand in Andover or Conifer. And, yes, perhaps in the great web of becoming which envelopes us all.
Thursday gratefuls: The lost conversation. Thanks, Benzo. Tarot and Kabbalah, learning at a deep level. Bones. Bone density. Dexa scans. Finding Sally Jobe. Horchatas. Voodoo donuts. Hot dogs, New York Style. Orgovyx. Circulating.
It came! It came! Just like my Red Rider BB gun! Orgovyx. A pill to rule them all. All them damned cancer cells. No, not really. A pill to starve them all. Those damned cancer cells. Yes, I’m dropping my testosterone once again, by as much as 93%. Food for prostate cancer infested cells. Fedex. Everything comes by delivery these days.
Well. Now I am. The Great Wheel. 8 seasons. Midwest. 4 seasons. Winter=Samain-Midwinter, Spring=Imbolc-Ostara, Summer=Beltane-Summer, Fall=Lughnasa-Mabon. Kabbalah: 4 worlds Assiyah=physical, Yetzirah=emotion, Briyah=conception, Atzilut=connection. Four directions and Six (up, down). Four winds. Four elements.
More. We could overlay the four worlds on the great wheel. I would do it this way: Assiyah=Spring, Yetzirah=Summer, Briyah=conception, Winter=Atzilut. You might choose different linkages, but in a sense it doesn’t matter since both represent energy moving from one form into another, then back. Sort of like E=MC2.

Boy did I relax. Took the benzodiazepine. Slept 3 hours and 40 minutes when I got home. Got up at 7 pm and the dogs hadn’t been fed. They were lying in the family crate with me, willing to let me sleep. Calmed me way down.
The bed wiggles a bit when it moves but otherwise goes forward and backward smoothly and precisely. Gotta get the right parts to the scanner. I closed my eyes, the benzo had not yet taken affect. The bed moved. I opened my eyes.
I drew, again, the eight of Pentacles. “A time for slow and steady work to fulfill a vision. Focus on one step at a time rather than the final goal.” And, “Whatever your health concern is, right now you need to take a step back and look at the process you are taking.”
My spiritual life (I don’t like the word spiritual, gotta find a better one. It has no there there.), for lack of a better term, continues strong. I am part of the world, part of the natural world, ensnared by entropy. I will return to the earth, dust to dust. That is certain and ok. The Great Wheel turns and I turn with it. Rejoicing in the seasons: of the earth, of my Kate, of myself.
PET scan at 1 pm today. Nothing but water after 9 am. The ritual rules now applying to me, not Kate. Wear soft clothes with no metal. BYOB. Bring your own benzodiazepine. (for my claustrophobia) Got my single pill yesterday at King Sooper Pharmacy. $.06. I plan to take it at the same time as the axumin injection.
Wands are a fire suit, focused on the spirit, on chi, prana, life force. The Princess brings the earth element to fire, representing the role of Malkut, the physical realm, in the Fool’s journey of the spirit. Malkut is this world where the Shekinah, the anima of divinity, rules. The Princess in my daily draw adds to the cards speaking to my anima.
Cancer sets fire to those ambitions, those frail and evanescent forms of the earthly. Into its fire goes health, focus, even life itself.
Monday gratefuls: Helen Reddy. I am Woman. The Women’s movement. Cancer. Its sequelae: pet scans, orgovyx, friends reaching out, fatigue, persistence. Shortness of breath. Family. T-shirts. Living in the moment. The Day. A Day. This Day.
Not a great movie, but a good one. My anima is strong, perhaps even dominant. Movies which feature women overcoming obstacles and flourishing speak directly to me.
What is a good use of time? A key question for those raised in the success obsessed American culture. I still clip articles about improving my productivity. Why? That ancientrail, my highest potential, trapped me in a long and narrow tunnel, one I’ve struggled against, embraced, knelt down and crawled through on my hands and knees.
Tarot cards speaking to my anima, encouraging her, telling her to dive in, create, dance, sing-the High Priestess, the Lady, even the eight of Pentacles. Today, again, the Prince of Pentacles. That’s the patient, methodical, practical approach guy. Speaking to my animus.