Category Archives: Fourth Phase

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics

Inner Gyroscope

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Snow. March. Shadow. Not quite potty trained. Great Sol. Toys for Shadow. Her food. Her wiggly happy greeting. Not allowing pain to rule. MVP. Seder. Venom’s Last Dance. Parsha Terumah. The Mishkan. Talmud Torah. Hanna Matsuri. Luau. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Physical therapy. Amazon.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Doggy playdates

Week Kavannah: Patience.  Savlanut. When I rush, slow down. When I want to speak, wait. When my inner agonizer arises, calm him, move on.

One brief shining: After my nap, my body ached, I didn’t want to get up to move to do this anymore this weakness this doldrum of the daily life; then it was right then I began to throw my covers off saying to this too old too soon guy that no this weakness this sapping of the life force did not represent my nefesh it was my fear and my doubt so get back to your workouts your smiles your Shadow. And I did.

 

A Da Vinci-style blueprint sketch of your inner gyroscope, complete with intricate mechanical details, rotating rings, and Renaissance-style annotations.

Another tough week at times. Mostly coincident with back pain. When tired and in pain, I find my inner strength weakens and the yetzer hara begins to take hold, dragging me back toward the slough of despond. Dredging up the what are you doings? The what sort of life is thises? The inner castigator. You should act politically. Write another novel. Stop watching so much TV. Be a man, not a patient. You know. That sorta thing.

Eventually my strong inner gyroscope rights from being pushed over by reactivity and shadowed understandings of reality. Puts these thoughts in context of my life, of my strong purposes now: Being a friend. Being a family guy. Loving Shadow. And myself. Learning and sharing about the New Apostolic Reformation. Writing Ancientrails. Learning Mussar. Studying Torah and other ancient texts. Sitting in the Mountain world, feeling its changes as Snow and Cold, Mule Deer and Elk gather round in their most ancient of all ways.

Life without a solution to pain challenges the soul. So does each day of our lives. It’s our task, and ours alone, to find the footholds on this technical climb and scale the rock face, as always with no rope.

 

Just a moment: How bout that live TV roast of former ally, Zelensky? The United States has become, in the scorching hot winds since January 20th, a thug nation. Extorting a nation when it’s down for its natural resources. Demanding them as vig for all the money spent on their defense.

If this government were an ordinary mobster on the streets of New York City or Philly, there would be a task force out to put them in jail. Instead they control the world’s most powerful military, led a hostile philistine take over of the Kennedy Center, and seem more focused on destroying governance than governing.

Note that here in the Rockies, not too from the Gulf of America, I’m writing this in the official language of our country, English, with no help from immigrant labor and a safe distance from those war-mongers in the Ukraine.

 

 

Art and Culture, Cinema and Television, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

Morality Plays

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. Marilyn and Irv. Snow. March, our big Snow month. Shadow. Difficult nights sleep. Ramadan. Elon Musk, a real Bond villain. Mussar. Hana Matsuri. Torah study. Men’s group. Smart phones. The internet. The cloud. Clouds. NOAA. National Weather Service. Critical government services.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The sound of Shadow eating

Week kavannah: Netzach with zerizut and simcha

One brief shining: Driving up the hill Tuesday after lunch with Alan, Denver temperature 66 degrees, climbing on 285 past the Hogbacks, past Indian Hills, past Windy point, temperature in the low 50’s, by the time I reached Shadow Mountain Home the air was 47 degrees, 19 degrees cooler than Denver.

 

60 years ago I was a freshman at Wabash College in Crawfordsville, Indiana. In my first semester I joined the Scarlet Masque, a group of actors who put on plays for the town of Crawfordsville. Guerilla theatre had a moment in the mid-1960’s and we decided to perform medieval morality plays on the main commercial street of Crawfordsville.

Medieval morality plays convey straightforward messages about good and bad, sin and redemption. They present difficulties for actors because the lines rhyme. Here’s an example from the Castle of Perservance:

MANKIND:
What need I toil, or sweat, or strive?
Why should I labor, while I am alive?
Gold and silver will serve my will,
And I shall do what I like still!

BACKBITER:
Well spoken, my jovial lad!
Hold fast to pleasure, be never sad!
Why fret and fast, why should you care?
Eat, drink, and make good cheer,
For life is short, and death is near!

MANKIND:
Ha! By my soul, thy words are sweet,
And thus my heart shall take its seat.
A lordly life shall I pursue,
And bid those beggarly monks adieu!

This is, I admit, a long winded introduction to my real point. Over the last six months or so, I notice I’ve drifted in my reading and in my television watching to contemporary morality plays. I’ve read mysteries and thrillers. I’ve watched police procedurals, movies about assassins, the FBI, science fiction movies about alien invasions.

What do they share in common with the medieval morality plays? They present clear messages. Good Bond. Bad villain. Good police, bad criminals. Bad arms dealers, good assassins. Over the course of 45 minutes to an hour and a half, though the battle goes back and forth with the outcome often in doubt, in the end good triumphs. The vanquished bad actors get what’s coming to them.

Ah.

It took me until last week to realize why I felt soothed by these works. So much in the world and in the U.S. seems an inversion of values I hold close. US friends with Russia. Extorting Ukraine for precious metals. Gutting NOAA and the National Weather Service. Finding money for deficit increasing tax breaks in programs like Medicaid and food stamps. Not only are the bad guys not getting punished, they’re making front page news daily.

Not so in NCIS: New Orleans. That wife who poisoned her husband and brother with polonium. Behind bars. Or, FBI. The three terrorists who tried to bomb a baseball game in Central Park? Foiled and arrested.

BTW: Whose name could I have replaced Mankind’s with in the excerpt from Castle Perserveance?

Denver, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Politics

My Aching Back

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Shadow. More out and about. Alan. Tupelo Honey. Ritalin. My aching back. Limiting. Good sleeping. 23 degrees. Some wind. Great Sol. Sunlight on the Lodgepoles. Taking out the trash. Vince. Marina. Ana. Sunny days.  The Mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow’s wiggly energy

Week Kavannah: Netzach with a dash of zerizut and simcha

One brief shining: Each night before I go to bed, my baby, I say the shema: Hear oh Israel, yod hey vav hey is (God), yod hey vav hey is One, touch my menorah and say I am content with what I have and I’m content with who I am, and immerse myself in this ancient faith made new by Reconstruction, by my own journey, by Kate’s, by its insights into the nature of this strange efflorescence of the universe knowing itself, humanity

 

Aversive conditioning. Wanted to try Tupelo Honey, a Southern restaurant in downtown Denver, a downtown I do not know well, having had few occasions to drive into it or park; I suggested it to Alan for my birthday lunch, he agreed; he could walk from his condo.

About noon yesterday my back ached. I didn’t know where I was. Mostly I wondered why the hell l had suggested a downtown location. Turns out I parked not too faraway from the restaurant, but my lack of familiarity with downtown Denver, and my silly attempt to use Google’s walking directions led me far away from my goal. Lunch with Alan.

I arrived after a tortuous route, twenty minutes late, my back screaming. No celebrex, remember? Turns out that part of downtown is known for its complexity. So, now I know, eh? Pain does not encourage a thoughtful or rational approach to problem solving. The body wants it to stop. That distracts the mental work necessary to, say, follow a confusing map in a no through streets part of the city.

Food was good. Not great. I expected the kind of fried Chicken my Aunt Mame used to make at the Copper Kettle in Morristown, my mom’s hometown. Nope. A thin skin with some sweetness in it. The rosemary and thyme crispy potatoes were good.

Walking back to the garage Alan went with me. I had already tumbled to the fact that it was much closer than my original route. My back had already gotten agitated and didn’t calm down until I was back home. If I go into Denver again, I may park, as Alan suggested, at a strip mall outside of downtown and Uber in.

Not gonna be anytime soon.

 

Just a moment: Talked to buddy Paul Strickland yesterday. He and his wife, Sarah, attended a conference in Camden, a Maine seaside town. Conference title: Democracy Under Threat. His thoughts after the conference have not yet congealed, but he did report some interesting facts.

One especially chilling number. Counting Russia, China, and India as authoritarian governments plus smaller countries like Belarus, Hungary and many others, some 71% of the people on earth live under authoritarian regimes. 71%. That means democracy serves less that 29% since some of those are monarchies, but not necessarily authoritarian. A sad day for our planet.

Dreams, Fourth Phase, Health

On Transition Road

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Shabbat grateful: Torah study. Rabbi Jamie. Bev. Luke. Exodus. Manna. Palestinians. Gaza. West Bank. Israel. Amalek. The sins of the fathers. Whose fathers? Trump and Putin. Shadow. Sit. Shadow. Down. Shadow Mountain. The Shadow. Psyche’s Shadow. Great Sol. Conversation. Zoom. Connection. Democracy. Autocracy. Oligarchy. Gerontocracy. Kakocracy. Kleptocracy. Choose.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Puppy’s Eyes

Week Kavannah: Netzach

One brief shining: Wind pushes into the room behind my chair, the outside door open awaiting a small Shadow to come in from the cold, to trust that the inside has as much safety for her as the outside, her hesitation mirrors her mind, caught between risk and certainty, fear and trust, the past and the future. Savlanut.

 

Dream group yesterday. On my dream. Sort of a dry hole at first. Then, climbing up from the car with an empty fuel tank, up from the rich brown of a dirt road leading away, trusting that the cliff I climbed would lead…somewhere. Somewhere with more fuel for the road. Gabe was there. Gabe the grandson and Gabriel the angel. Quietly accompanying me in my new home, hunting for fuel after finding a gas can.

I came away with the sense of an after life. After the fuel runs out for me on this lower level, driving even then toward the unknown. My sense of curiosity carrying me up over the rocks of doubt waiting for a message from Gabriel about where to find my next fuel source. Trusting that it’s there in this new place.

 

Had to break off from dream group for a call from my palliative care nurse practitioner. A new woman on Zoom. Ele. I liked her. We talked about my, to me, puzzling and disconcerting level of fatigue. Each task I choose to do is a one-off. As much as I can handle. Unloading and loading the dishwasher. Rest. Go pickup groceries, put them away. Rest. Stand while prepping a meal. Rest while eating the meal. You get the idea.

I asked her about this and for the first time someone explained this fatigue to my satisfaction. Even though my PSA is stable, she said, the cancer is not gone. My body has to do all of its usual work plus absorb/resist the work load the cancer places on it, too. Add in a still uncontrolled hyperthyroid condition, low testosterone, and harsh anti-androgen drugs. Tired. Always.

 

No wonder I’m cycling through thoughts of dying, of places after death. No wonder at all. Even so. I’m alive and alert though perhaps not vivacious. My sacred community of friends and family, Shadow, Wild Neighbors and Mountains, Lodgepoles and Aspens keep me in this day, this February 22nd life, pull me back from a doom scrolling view of my future.

 

Like the Hebrew slaves who found themselves in a desert wilderness far from their Egyptian homes, without the minimal comforts they enjoyed there, it’s easy to want to go back to a latter day. A day when I could do home chores with ease. Yet I have been released from the bondage of performance and achievement. And, I don’t want to go back.

I want to learn the lessons of this time, this time before dying, no matter how long or how short that might be. Why? Because that’s all we can ever do. Learn today’s lesson. Celebrate these moments.

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Mussar

Dream Time

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Big Snow. Shadow, the good Dog. Murdoch. My son. Seoah. Vince and Snow plowing. Feeling well rested. Pain doc. Chocolate. Hawai’ian dark chocolate with Macadamia Nuts. Chocolate coffee beans. Mary in Oz. Diane, healing. The rise of autocracies. King Donald. A third term. Prostate cancer.

BTW: If you are new to Ancientrails or have forgotten, we Jews are grateful for everything that happens since it is all part of the One. Doesn’t mean we like all of it or don’t want/need to change it. But even King Donald is part of our wonderful, amazing, grace filled World.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My sacred community of family and friends

Week Kavannah:  Persistence and grit.  Netzach.

One brief shining: I looked up and noticed Shadow returning to her food bowl, first licking up crumbs, then trying to eat the yellow and purple Crocuses off the Portmerion pattern, digging her puppy teeth into the porcelain with a grinding sound, going after those flowers, puzzled by their intransigence. I will get her a raised set of stainless bowls, but not right now, so she’ll have to deal.

 

Here is your illuminated manuscript-style illustration, capturing the essence of the Stable Rock of Shadow Mountain, Maxwell Creek, and the sacred wildlife in a medieval bestiary aesthetic with golden detailing.

Dream last night: I had moved to a new city and decided to follow a long dirt road that wound far away from town, visible for a long way until it turned right around a low hill. Didn’t get very far because I hadn’t checked the gas gauge. E. I pulled to the side, got out and walked over to a rocky cliff.

Began to climb. I got the top after some effort and found a place that looked like it would have a gas can. When I went in, grandson Gabe was with me. Together we looked through a lot of different shelves, finally locating a gas can which I bought.

We walked back outside to fill it up and where I thought there would be gas pumps, there were none. Oh, well. We began walking, asking people if they knew where we could get gas. That’s all I remember.

 

Saw the pain doc on Wednesday. Rode up in the elevator with a guy saying he was heading in for the pain and torture spot. Turned out we were both going to Mountain View Pain Medicine. He to p.t., me to an initial consult.

When I explained my lower back pain, how it drastically limited my mobility and gave me excruciating pain after my drives to Boulder and back, the P.A. went into a dialogue that confused me at first.

I’m a rule follower, she said. If we’re going to work with you, you’ll have to do conservative therapy and come in here once a month. Then, I tumbled to it. Can my primary care doc manage my tramadol? Oh, yes. All the hesitation dropped away. This was a continuing, and welcome, echo of the oxycodone addiction crisis. No pain doc will risk their practice by giving away narcotics.

She suggested an MRI which I agreed to. Sometime in the next two weeks. Get to the root cause of my pain. Yes. What I’ve wanted for a while now. Admit to a little anxiety about incidental findings with this so careful an imaging tool since the source of my pain and the areas of my metastases coexist. Might find more cancer. Hope not.

 

Just a moment: Got into a funk yesterday. Ached. Pain less well controlled after no more Celebrex. Maybe a little tired. Fatigued by whatever: uncontrolled hyperthyroidism, very low testosterone, the effects of my cancer drugs. Wondering if the shortness of breath, weakness meant (against current evidence) my cancer was advancing. Thought about not going to mussar, too tired. Too much effort.

Nope. My kavannah, netzach, said, get up and go anyhow. What a good choice. I’d only missed two sessions, but I got some glad you’re backs. Geez. Also, my funk disappeared in the solvent of friendship, study, seeing and being seen.

Had a time afterward with Rabbi Jamie looking for a text to use for MVP in two weeks. We laughed a lot together. A good friend.

On the way home I remembered, as I sometimes have to do, that I am alive and loved today, in this February 21st life, no matter what the future holds. Be gone, funky thoughts!

 

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

A Shadow

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Amy. Clean, fluoridated teeth. Dentists. Shadow. Buster’s for treats and food. Trying out new ways of getting my nutrition. Diane’s microwaving Vegetables. Ensure. Canned chicken. Fish. Training Shadow. Working out again.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That scraggly Blue Spruce with all the new growth

Week Kavannah: Persistence and grit.  Netzach.

One brief shining: Reaching my hand in the kibble I draw out a quarter cup of food, then another, and another, and another while Shadow waits, it sprinkles into the bowl, making a noise she will learn to associate with feeding, her alert mind always working.

 

Two weeks into Shadow’s life with me. And mine with hers. Following the three day, three weeks, three months recommendations for bringing a rescue dog into the house. Three days: orient, go slow. Three weeks: bonding, socializing, some simple training. Three months: Training, bonding, socializing more.

Amy taught us both sit and down yesterday. How to lift the treat up while saying, Shadow, sit. She looks up, which tends her toward a sitting position. Good, Shadow. Down. Treat. All her knees on the floor. Palm down, Shadow down. Shadow, down. Good Shadow. Treat.

That’s the good. The not quite there yet. I’ve been letting her out every three to four hours, sometimes sooner. She runs around in the yard, clearly having a great time. No pooping inside so I thought she was doing it outside. Good Shadow.

Nope. She’d been holding it. Left presents for me near the door. A lot. Fortunately well-formed. More work to do. Before you go ick. Ask yourself how long it took to potty train you!

She goes outside with no prompting. For two days or so she came right back in when I opened the door. Now we’re back to one foot in, two feet in, back up and move away. Forward. Backward. Learning, retreating into fear.

We’ve made good progress together. Look forward to yet more.

 

Birthday celebration with Tara today. Golden Stix. Our friendly neighborhood Chinese restaurant. Where I’ve only been once, long ago. Unimpressed. Others say it’s improved a lot. Birthday celebration with Alan on Saturday. Not sure where. Maybe Sushi Win. I like this strung out birthday. Feels good.

Tom Crane sent me a new Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures, and a helluva an interesting Northshore card with a waterfall and trees jigsawed as a frame. A sweet guy.

78. Making steady, incremental progress toward 80. Now I notice every time someone reaches out to help me. Geez, what do I look like? 78. Makes me feel cherished and cared for, also want to push it away and say, hey, I can do this on my own. A balance, a gradual change from those truly independent years. Not an easy or welcome transition.

 

Just a moment: Oh, yeah. Russia is our buddy. Ally Comrade Putin. Come on, Don. Read your history. Look at Ukraine, Crimea. The USSR. Reagan said tear down that wall. GOP Reagan. Strange and foreign policy that.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Travel

Gathered, then dispersed

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Monday gratefuls: The big questions. The Ancient Brothers. Barb Bandel’s funeral. Murdoch getting groomed. Seoah and my son back to their Korean lives. Ruth and Gabe. TV. Picard. FBI. Morality plays, the 3rd millennium additions. Shadow. Her calm nights. Her waggy tail. Heading into the Snowy weeks.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jet travel. Time zones.

Week kavannah:  Persistence and grit. Netzach.

One brief shining: Walking through the bedroom door on my way to bed, my hand brushes the mezuzzah, and after I’ve said the shema, I say, I’m comfortable with what I have and I’m comfortable with who I am .

 

Gathered, then dispersed. Family. Ruth staying in Boulder in her dorm. Gabe back to his room at Jen’s. My son and Seoah traveling across the big Waters, back to Asia, Korea, Songtan.

Shadow and I stay here on Shadow Mountain. Getting to know each other better. Learning to love each other. A still point, high and lifted up, for far flung family. For us.

A weekend of longing for more time with my son, Seoah, Ruth, Gabe. An awareness of absence, of what was near now gone. A sadness, a sense of loss. Normal for me. A way of saying how much they all mean to me.

Then, too, a sense of joy for the new memories. Casa Bonita. Birthday lunch at Snarf’s with Ruth and Gabe, my son and Seoah. Boulder. My son’s big hugs. I love you, Dad. Seoah’s hands in mine, saying that when the two years in Korea are up, they want me to come live with them. Whether I do or not, being wanted filling my soul with warmth. Gabe coming up on the commuter bus. Ruth greeting us outside her dorm across from the planetarium. Where we used to go on Friday nights when she was younger.

There is, for us old folks, a rhythm of gain and loss when loved ones visit or when we visit them. A knowing of that ultimate departure embedded in the Thanksgivings, Hanukkahs, short and long trips to see each other.

In this we are unlike the families of the past. We stayed in our villages, lived our lives in extended families, perhaps never knowing long absence.

Today we pursue individual dreams. Off to Boulder for college. Over to Malaysia for a stint teaching ESl, then never really going back. A time as a bicycle messenger, then 20 years or so in Bangkok, more years in Saudi Arabia. Breckenridge for 3 three years, after that Maxwell AFB, Georgia, Hawai’i, Singapore, Korea. 40 years in Minnesota traded for a new life in the Rocky Mountains.

Strong moves for us, weakening moves for family, for that sense of home only the rooted can know.

Sure, I’m a globalist, a man of the world, not just my own nation. And I love the adventure of  a new life in a new place. Always have. A wanderer at heart like my sibs.

Yet sometimes. The cost can feel too high. When love becomes primary, not achievement or travel or the shiny new thing offers that. I miss my dead and my far away family.

I also love my life here on Shadow Mountain. Now with Shadow, the growing puppy. Yes. And yes to my CBE friends. Yes. All yes.

Ancient Brothers, Dreams, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Torah, Weather +Climate

A Day in the Life

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Birthday Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Torah study. Luke and Leo. Joanne. Ron and the Purim spiel. Shadow. Her wiggly, happy self. My son and Seoah safely back in Korea. Barb’s service today. Family. Of choice. All ways, always. Big problems to solve. Ancient brothers. Raising a puppy. Sarcopenia. Workouts.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Week kavannah: Persistence and grit. Netzach.

One brief shining: Grappel pelted down, small pellets of snow, fog shrouded the route between Evergreen and Conifer, driving on and out of it on my way to the Happy Camper, more joint relief edibles for night time.

 

After sleeping through the leaving of my son, Seoah, and Gabe, I got up to a happy Shadow. We played a bit. Wrote Ancientrails, fed her, then got ready for Torah study.

Eleven people. A minyan. A lively and learned discussion. The tests of the Israelites on their way in the wilderness. Our family history. Also a family of choice for me. Lots of new voices.

Afterward, I drove to Bailey and picked up edibles for sleeping. Stopped at Buster’s and got a 12 pound bag of Natural Balance puppy food. Found even that bag heavy. I mean. Geez. Gotta get that resistance work back. Gassed up Ruby in a windy storm of grappel, then back home.

More cold weather. 10 when I got up. Not Minnesota cold but still… After 10 years of Coloradification, cold to me.

My son and Seoah spent 2 years plus in Hawai’i and a year in Singapore. They prefer the moderate heat of Hawai’i. Korea has its share of cold, snowy weather in a maritime climate. Tougher.

 

This last week, with Shadow and visiting family and my birthday. Exhilarating. Filled with love. Also exhausting.

I have decided to skip my son’s promotion ceremony in May. I will focus my energy and resources on the Jang family visit in late June or early July.

Seoah’s mom and dad, her brother, and her sister, possibly her sister’s husband, and three kids coming to the Rockies, to Conifer.

A once in a lifetime trip for them. I’m excited for them to be here. Seoah’s dad, in particular, loves Mountains. 8-10 days

 

Just a moment: The Ancient brothers theme this morning-what big question would we like answered. I have two.

How do we restore the flawed, yet wonderful government and culture we had only a month ago? What are the things that I can do to make that happen? Who are my allies?

How do we continue the work necessary for a sustainable human presence on Mother Earth? With climate deniers in the ascendancy around the world, at this critical juncture for global warming.

A second part of the topic responds to this Mike Nichol’s quote: “The only safe thing to do is take a chance. Play safe and you’re dead.” When did we last take chance?

Adopting Shadow is this year’s main chance. Can I do it? Will I be good for her? Can we create a life together?

 

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

78

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Casa Bonita. Seoah. My son. Gabe. Shadow and her fears. 78 years. Happy birthday greetings from friends and family. Still upright and taking nourishment. Valentine’s Day. Duncan, Oklahoma. Mom. Dad. WWII. Baby boomers. Talking about my generation. The training of Shadow. Alan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah and Gabe and Ruth

Week Kavannah: Love  Ahavah

One brief shining: The Spanish Mission architecture, the bell tower, the hot pink facade with lines of diners snaking towards the doors, Casa Bonita, newly refurbished by makers of the South Park cartoons, improbable sources of English instruction for Seoah through her online English class, which brought us to our table deep in the Silver Mine section of this combination restaurant and amusement park, occupancy 2045.

 

78 birthdays. Median age of death for men in the U.S. 74.8. For the population as a whole 77.8. Whew. Just made it. Have had many conversations over this last year in which this oddity occurs. Geez, when I read about somebody that’s 80, my first thought? They’re old! Then. Wait a minute. I can see 80 from here. It’s just. Right. There.

In the first episode of Picard Jean-Luc looks out over his vineyard and says, “I’ve not been living; I’ve been waiting to die.” 3 years of episodes follow as he demonstrates what a retired Starfleet Admiral can do. My own motto is this: I intend to live until I die.

Sounds easy. A tautology even, right? Well, no. With TV, zoom, kindles, smart phones and tablets it’s simpler now than ever to push pause at a certain point and recede behind a wall of easy. To take on no new challenges. To forget about the world beyond illness and onrushing decrepitude. Have medical visits become the raison d’etrê for getting out of the house.

And. It is tempting. Especially for an introverted, mildly monastic temperament such as mine. I love being alone, on my own. Reading. Studying. Watching movies and TV. Cooking. Shopping. Following the world through newspapers and magazines.

Yet. Last year I finished my conversion to Judaism. This year so far I’m working with Shadow, a rescue whose fears make her a distinct challenge. I cherish my calls with friends and family on zoom. My breakfasts and lunches out with them.

I’m studying the Torah, parsha by parsha, using several modes of learning that are new to me. I continue to write Ancientrails, now in its 21st year.

My view is in this moment and ahead. Not looking back, except to write stories in Storyworth.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: I will not look away. Pretend that this delusional twit is not twisting the norms and purposes of our government to match his own paranoid fantasies. That best buddy Elon is not systematically destroying, breaking, tearing at the tissue which makes us who we are.

I continue to dream the impossible dream of a country true to the poetry on the Statue of Liberty. Of a country that is a place the world admires for its commitment to the rule of law and the health and welfare of its citizens.

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

Family. Shadow. Oligarchworld.

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the 99% Waxing Gibbous 78th Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Here now. Cold weather. Blue Pastures. Mary Oliver. Tom. Diane, healing. Mark, bonding with his students in Al Kharj. Annie. Luna. Leo. The Moon. Great Sol. Trips around Great Sol. Our Cosmic voyage.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah

Week Kavannah:  Love Ahavah

One brief shining: Cold air slammed its way downstairs as suitcases, backpacks, new ski boots made their way into the house, my son came, his military fade, big smile, long hug, Seoah in pink, another hug, a kiss on the forehead.

 

The travelers arrived after a visit to H-Mart, Pho for lunch, and buying bottled water which Seoah prefers to our tap water. They spent 7 days at Hickam AFB being trained in the subtleties of command from a commander’s and a commander’s spouse’s perspective, then a long flight to Minneapolis for 3 nights there and a short flight to Denver for 3 nights here.

Yesterday was a travel day even though it was a short flight. Up early. Airport. TSA. Land. Rental car line. This is Colorado in the Winter. H-Mart. Lunch. Picking up gyros for dinner.

A lot of catching up. I see them every one to two weeks on Zoom, but it’s not the same. As all us post-pandemics know.

My son talked about his old friends in Minnesota. Familiar names from St. Paul’s Central High: Matt, Katherine, Dan Pesich, Langon. U. of M. Greg. Dave. Brandon. Play It Again Sports. Joe’s ski shop. His friend Dave gave him a poster of Matt’s Bar, famous for its juicy lucy hamburgers, signed both by the artist and the owner of Matt’s Bar. A sweet gift.

Another friend, Dave, and his partner of 20 years showed my son a note he wrote to Dave after introducing them, “Don’t break her heart.” 20 years ago.

My son makes and keeps friends over time and over long distance. I admire that about him.

 

Shadow Watch: My son suggested moving the coffee table against the wall. Oh, duh. Now when Shadow comes from under the bed, which she did in her usual come in, then out fashion around 6 this morning, she has to be in the main room with me.

She also asked to go outside this morning. That’s a real advance.

The trainer, Amy, suggested I throw her a treat as I move my hand. Which she shies away from. I’ve been doing that and her turning and darting away has lessened. We’re making progress.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: Tulsi Gabbard, friend of Syria and Russia, confirmed as Director of National Intelligence. Gosh. What could go wrong with that choice? RFK passed a critical vote to advance toward  leading Health and Human Services. Vaccine denier in charge of NIH and the CDC?

Oligarchworld continues to scratch and claw, pound and pummel at the interstices of our once (and future?) government. Trump continues to sign Executive Orders. His Presidential equivalent of “You’re fired!”

Constitutional crisis. Eh? You mean Thursday in oligarchworld?