Category Archives: Fourth Phase

Denver, Family, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

Thanksgiving Down the Hill

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Samain and the 2% crescent of the Moon of Growing Darkness

Friday gratefuls: Water Grill. The Spiny Lobsters. Fresh Oysters. Thanksgiving with Ruth and Gabe. Jen. Gus. LoDo. Denver. Down the Hill. Shadow Mountain Home. Ruby. With her Snow shoes on. Cold night. Living alone. Kate, always Kate. Talking to her. Ruth potentially on the Dean’s List. Her next semester classes. A history minor.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gabe’s hug

Kavannah: Perseverance and chesed

One brief shining: Only a brief while before it swam in a large aquarium with many other Spiny Lobsters, then it boiled in a pot, got cleaved in half, plated with liquid butter and coleslaw, given to a server, and delivered to my bibbed presence where I took the small fork and deftly lifted most of its meat out of one half, dipped a chunk in butter, and the great circle of life went on.

Straight outta the waters of Southern California.

 

The Water Grill. A fancy, and by that I mean expensive, Sea food restaurant. It has a Seahorse sculpture over its door, but no signage visible from the street. My second Thanksgiving in a row eating a Thanksgiving meal down the Hill in Denver.

With two downtown Thanksgiving’s literally under my belt (ha) I’m curious about the number of people who no longer cook a meal for friends and/or family. The reason? Both times all street parking has been full and the restaurants I saw had packed tables.

The Bib

The Water Grill has many tables and booths, a big place with glass buoys made into chandeliers, old boat propellers and coral behind the booths. Full. And stayed full over the two hours Ruth, Gabe, Jen, and I ate there.

Don’t know about the others but my excuse is I no longer have the stamina, the standing in one place capacity to cook a full meal. When the bill came, I paid it, thinking about what I had really purchased. Sure, a meal. But that was secondary. What I really paid for was the two hours spent eating by Ruth’s side, talking to her about college, talking to Gabe. Jen.

Remember that Thanksgiving we ate at the Water Grill? When I was a freshman at UC-Boulder? We had Oysters and Spiny Lobsters! Oh, right. I remember.

I’ll remember the sudden and unexpected Bear hug I got from Gabe, from behind, as I got up to put my coat on. Heartfelt. And, from Ruth after that. A brief hug with Jen.

Brought to mind the Ira Progoff seminar in Tucson, April of 2014, when I realized we needed to move to Colorado to support the kids. The fruits of that decision as well as my decision to stay here, not move to Hawai’i. Which I could easily do now if I wanted.

Love is a verb and it becomes real, Velveteen Rabbit real, in moments like these.

Drove home into the Mountains as Mother Earth turned her other face toward Great Sol, the early Night fully fallen when I pressed the garage door opener and drove Ruby into her stall.

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase

The Deep End has little water

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Monday gratefuls: Israel. Palestinians. Hezbollah. Hamas. Iran. U.S.A. China. Korea. Japan. Taiwan. Hawai’i. Snow. Cold night. Good sleeping. Cooking. Mark, good self care. Mary. Pleasure. Sticking it out. Nexus. A.I. Small tasks to get done. Agency.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Coffee

Kavannah: Perseverance and Love

One brief shining: Silence when I go to bed, a Mountain stillness fills my property, peace radiates from the cosmic void punctuated by oh so tiny from my perspective Stars, Galaxies, and Nebulae, and I approach sleep with the attitude of a learner, what will my unconscious teach me this night knowing that in the morning I will awake refreshed and ready to live yet one more life. Love.

 

A feeling that dominated the end of the Ancient Brothers on love. For me. Enough. I’ve had enough. My emotional resilience has drained until the pool is nearly empty. Not enough of love, never enough of love. But of problem solving, of illness and death and the ascendance of cruelty and meanness in our country. I need to consider how to refill the pool in case I need to take a deep dive. Right now? Probably break my neck.

This feeling surprised me. As most of you know, I’m a put my head down, keep the legs churning sorta guy. Switching metaphors here. Even a rushing linebacker would find me making a spin move and heading for open field. In this moment I’d get tackled just beyond the line of scrimmage. An odd word, scrimmage, eh?

I’m fine. Not down or feeling melancholy. Just aware that I need something to help me restore my soul. Refresh it. Not sure what I can do. Think I’ll ask Rabbi Jamie.

Here’s what chatbotgpt4.o has to offer.* Good advice. Not quite specific enough for me.

Perhaps the keys for me right now are 6 and 7. Maintain my new workout regimen, step it up as I planned to do this week anyhow. Positive outlook. I don’t have a negative outlook, but I don’t have a positive one either.

I do look forward to more Snow, Fire in the fireplace, to the many celebrations of Holiseason. I look forward to reading more, talking with friends as I regularly do. Going to mussar. Thanksgiving with Ruth and Gabe. Petting Leo. Continuing to see Ruth in Boulder. My son’s visit in January. A visit to Korea in May.

Self care never ends. Well, until it does. But how we do it, what we do has to be nimble, adaptive to changed circumstances.

Let’s see. Perhaps counting the ways could be helpful.

Practice self-compassion: The Ancient Brothers. Alan and Joanne. Marilyn and Irv. Ginny and Janice. Luke and Leo. Ruth and Gabe. Acknowledging the challenges I’ve had and how I’ve faced them head on, not blinking. Thrived.

Mindfulness and relaxation: I do box-breathing. I pay attention, close attention, to the sacred in the ordinary. If stressed, I pick out five things I’m seeing or hearing right then. Once in a while l use a mantra to deepen an experience or go deep in my psyche.

Maintain Social Connections: I’ve become so much better at this after Kate died. I talk to friends and family often.

Develop Problem-Solving Skills: Bandaged my gushing finger. Keep my home going. Write about problems, ask friends for help. Pretty good at this.

Goals and Actions: A little light on this one right now. Trip to Korea. Maintaining my circle of friends. That’s about it.

Seek Professional Help: May reach out to Rabbi Jamie. I feel essentially ok, just depleted.

 

Chatbotgpt4.o

*Replenishing emotional resilience involves adopting strategies that enhance your ability to cope with stress and adversity. Here are several approaches to consider:

  1. Practice Self-Compassion: Treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would offer a friend. This involves acknowledging your struggles without harsh self-criticism and recognizing that difficulties are a shared human experience.
    Wikipedia
  2. Engage in Mindfulness and Relaxation Techniques: Incorporate practices such as meditation, deep breathing exercises, or yoga into your routine. These activities can help manage stress and improve emotional regulation.
    Calm Blog
  3. Maintain Social Connections: Building and nurturing relationships provides emotional support and a sense of belonging, which are crucial for resilience. Engage with friends, family, or community groups to foster these connections.
    Wikipedia
  4. Develop Problem-Solving Skills: Enhance your ability to tackle challenges by brainstorming potential solutions and taking proactive steps. This approach can boost confidence in your capacity to handle adversity.
    Calm Blog
  5. Set Realistic Goals and Take Decisive Actions: Break down larger objectives into manageable steps and take action toward achieving them. This process can provide a sense of accomplishment and forward momentum.
    Verywell Mind
  6. Cultivate a Positive Outlook: Focus on positive aspects of your life and practice gratitude. This mindset can broaden your perspective and build psychological resources over time.
    Wikipedia
  7. Prioritize Physical Health: Regular exercise, adequate sleep, and a balanced diet contribute to overall well-being, which supports emotional resilience. Physical activity, in particular, has been shown to alleviate symptoms of depression and anxiety.
    Mindbodygreen
  8. Seek Professional Support When Needed: If you find it challenging to cope, consider consulting a mental health professional who can provide personalized strategies and support.

 

 

 

Cooking, Family, Fourth Phase, Holidays, Memories

It’s the Best Time of the Year

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Sunday gratefuls: Mark working his options. Mary. Turning cold and Snowy for Thanksgiving week. Thanksgiving at the Water Grill. Nexus, chilling and hopeful about A.I. Constitutional A.I. Anthropic’s Claude. ChatbotGPT. A.I.’s policing each other. Living. Cancer. Stable. Long tie guys quick appointments. Loyalty far and above competence.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

Kavannah: Perseverance

One brief shining: The coffee slides down my throat, the heavy mug with the Elk and the logo Evergreen reminds me of my current location as the caffeine hits my bloodstream and sleep begins to fall away, replaced by alertness, keystrokes and thoughts once again merge, another morning of Ancientrails under construction.

 

Hitting the family Ellis in their various locations: Melbourne, K.L., Songtan. All from the top of Shadow Mountain. Thanksgiving week. Holiseason well underway. Diwali. Thanksgiving. Advent. Yule. Christmas. Hanukah. Kwanza.

It’s that time of the year. My favorite. I love the lights, the music, the cheerfulness, the gatherings. The opportunity to celebrate life connections, to go deep into the psyche hunting for ohr, the light of creation. We’ve already had Divali and Samain both of which shared the same Gregorian dates this year. All Saints. Now Thanksgiving.

I appreciate the layered ironies of all holidays. Light against the fading of Great Sol. The depth of learning available only in the darkness. The messy and ugly origins of Thanksgiving, yet its warmth and family focus now. Our need to see Native American stories. Christmas replacing the Roman blowout of Saturnalia with its too often ridiculous capitalist captivity. Hanukah and its noble martyrs who were far right Jews of their time and its gentler but still ridiculous capitalist captivity. Yule, its symbols taken over: The Christmas Tree. The Evergreen Holly and Ivy. The crackling Fire with the Yule Log. A wassail bowl. Singing and Feasting. Cultural appropriation of long ago.

So much to appreciate, to probe.

Then, less than a month from now, the least encumbered holiday of them all, the Winter Solstice. A celebration of life continuing in the darkest moments. The rich nurturing of nighttime, of a blanket of Snow, a bright Moon. The psyche free to roam in the oceans of the unconscious. A still turning point. Join me on that long night. Unless of course you live in the Southern Hemisphere where you’ll get naked and dance around the bonfires of the Summer Solstice. Looking at you, Australia. New Zealand. Africa. Most of Latin America.

 

Just a moment: Reminded by all of the Thanksgiving recipes of my first attempt to cook a Thanksgiving meal. In my senior year of college, 1968-69, I worked as an 11 to 7 security guard at a factory that made magnalite cookware. For the Thanksgiving holiday they gave all employees a frozen Turkey.

I dutifully took it home and put it in the freezer of the second story apartment I shared with John Belcher and Carter Fox. On Thanksgiving day I took it out and called my Aunt Marjorie to ask her what to do. She was a professional cook for the University.

Imagine her surprise when I led with, “I have this frozen Turkey. What do I do with it?”

As you could guess, my roommates and I went out for our Thanksgiving meal.

Fourth Phase, Judaism, Mussar

Finding love

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Thursday gratefuls: Amazon. Weights with neoprene. 48 ramen packages. Three light bulbs. One jar of protein powder. Being prepared. Weariness. Drugs. Of all kinds and all sorts. Visit to my medical oncologist tomorrow. Ley Septic. Furball Cleaning. Vince. US Mail. Mark in K.L.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

Kavannah: Perseverance

One brief shining: The downside of shopping with Amazon came along yesterday as the little photograph emailed to me with the cheery question-How was your delivery?- showed my package to be at a different door than mine, one with full glass and a bright orange streamer draped over its flower pot containing a now long dead leaf and stalk.

 

Mussar. From Monday night. Rabbi Jamie’s translation of Orchot Tzaddikim. From the chapter on love and hate:  “…by way of this gate of love, peace stands, a peace with everything And by way of this gate is silence and stillness, an openness to learn and perform good and worthy deeds.”

Each month we choose a practice for the middah we’ve studied. My practice this month is to notice when peace, silence, and stillness, an openness to learn and perform good and worthy deeds emerge in my daily life. Clues about love.

When I got home that Monday night, I walked into my home. Noticed silence. Stillness. Felt at peace. Oh. No wonder I like coming home, being home. It fills me with love. That was a surprise.

The next day I recalled the NYT’s article about the cosmologist who chose to study the cosmic void. The uncluttered apparent emptiness, silent and still. Oh. Studying the love that holds the Galaxies and Solar systems, the Nebulae, and Stars going nova.

Sat down to read Nexus that same day. Harari’s clear prose and interesting conclusions leading me on, eager to learn what he might say next. Love in the turning pages.

My brother and I talked over zoom. An opportunity to perform a mitzvah. Yet more love.

I speak with my zoomfriends. We see each other. Hear each other. Moments of mutual respect and love.

In just four days my practice has revealed love everywhere I go. In the still pause between breaths. In the silence of my back yard at night. The stillness of Orion, risen and visible in the cosmic void.

Even though I ache from it, I experienced love in the now regular resistant work I’ve taken up. Me performing a good and worthy deed for myself.

There is, too, the silent wisdom of my Lodgepole Companion. The massive, yet subtle presence of Black Mountain. The kind sadness in the still black eyes of the three Mule Deer Does and the young Buck who watched me walk out to the mailbox yesterday. Enjoy the food I said to them, breaking the silence.

I walk through the valley of love and I shall know peace, silence, stillness, an openness to learning, and the desire to perform good and worth deeds.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics

You know

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Wednesday gratefuls: Rubberized weights. Working out. Feeling it. Cold night. 10 degrees. Coloradified. Me. Paul. Robbinston, Me. Lobster Pots. New Brunswick. Canada. New Foundland. Wawa. Marathon. Sault St. Marie. Toronto. Stratford. Pukaskwa. Road signs with the crown.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Body weight workouts

Kavannah: Perseverance

One brief shining: Marked HEAVY the cardboard boxes containing my rubberized weights for in-the-house workouts sat just outside my front door and posed a conundrum for this muscle wasted senior citizen, staring down at them, laughing at the paradox of not being able to lift the tools he needed to be able to lift the tools.

 

No. They’re not still out there. I cowboyed up and lifted each box, one at a time, to the lip of the door then shoved them into the living room. Where they still sit. Knife in hand, I’ll open them, and carry the fifteen pounders one at a time, the ten and fives two at a time, downstairs.

Another chatbot created image. Just what I’ll look like in only a few short months. By Spring I’ll be able to kick sand in the face of all those beach bullies. Like Jack Lalanne promised in those ads in the back of the comics. Or, maybe not.

I’ll settle for being able to open cans and bags. Carry groceries with ease. Not feel like such a wet noodle.

 

Realized last night that I’ve arrived at inner peace. No regrets or worries bother me before my head hits the pillows. My to do list nags me, yes, but not in an OMG, I gotta get this done sorta way. Not to say that on occasion a moment of angst doesn’t squash me. Consider my last visit to the oncologist as an example.

I did have a summer and early fall time of perplexity about my cancer. Didn’t know what came next or how long I had to live. Let that gnaw on me for a while. Even then though I never lost sleep, chewed my fingernails.

Not sure how I got here. Darn it. I could write a self-help book otherwise. A key component I do know. Contemplating my own death. Accepting it. Embracing it as a necessary, even desired punctuation to life. Meditating on my own corpse. Yamantaka to thank for that.

My paganism plays a role, too. The Great Wheel turns. The growing season ends, then the fallow time, finally the Winter Solstice and the long dark night. Death as part of the natural cycle.

Judaism does not emphasize life after death. Though it considers the possibility. Some kabbalists believe in reincarnation. I’m willing to be surprised. Joanne said, “You know you have to give up heaven and hell!” Never believed in it anyhow. Three story universe. Yesterday’s notion.

 

Just a moment: Oh. Well. Linda McMahon. WWF exec. With the necessary qualifying sleaze and scandals. For Education Secretary. A Cabinet department red tie guy has promised to gut. Foxes. Hen houses. Scorpions riding frogs. You know.

 

 

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

Tears and Laughter

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Tuesday gratefuls: Susan. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Her house. Beautiful. Jamie. Rich. Elephant Company. Tara. Marilyn. Ron. MVP. Going to bed late. Dreams of travel. lodging. As some pundit observed, long tie guy has flooded the zone with too many bad picks all at once. Orion, my buddy. The Mountain Night Sky.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Habeas Corpus for Elephants

Kavannah: Perseverance

One brief shining: We sat in Eames chairs around a large Camelot table, a spotlight outside revealing a beautiful outcropping of Rock, 15 foot glass windows, the east facing wall, showing the glittering lights of Denver, down the hill and far away, while we talked about anavah and sinah: love and hate, trying to find purchase in our lives for growing both as soul traits, character traits.

 

Every once in a while, like last night at Susan Marcus’s architect designed home, I feel blessed, blissed to sit with people smarter than me as we try to figure out how to lead our lives in a soul-full manner. How we can we express the essence of ourselves as sacred beings, using the medieval practice of mussar as a guide.

In those conversations we move from our lives into learning, from learning back into our lives. We struggle with the usual things: parents, children, marriage, existential angst while trying to place them within the context of developing our ability to practice humility, enthusiasm, love, hate (or repulsion), our ability to let the light of our own divinity shine unobstructed. Not easy work, but done with love and compassion. Confidentiality. Honesty.

A lot of laughter, occasional tears. Befuddlement is common. And, admitted. Gotta say I love being a Jew and part of Congregation Beth Evergreen.

Also, food. Last night butternut squash soup, chicken wings, cowboy caviar, a fancy salad, hummus, carrots, and for those who drink, a red wine labeled, 7 Deadly Sins.

 

Just a moment: Harder than I thought it would be. Getting back into working out. Deciding this time to privilege weight training, resistance work over cardio. My heart rate has remained excellent, but my muscles have given way even more to that old devil, sarcopenia. Where once I opened jars and bags with practiced ease, I now often have to resort to tricks and accessories. Not acceptable. And remediable.

Plan to make sure my resistance routine is solid, making gains. Then, I’ll add back in the cardio on my treadmill. Self-care, it’s not just a river in Egypt. Oh, wait…

 

In spite of myself l find a habit gained during 45’s reign of error returning. Opening the New York Times to see what he’s done now. Who’s he appointed? Why? Of course the why question has no answer. Whim. Some strange political calculus. An indecipherable conclusion based on misinformation.

When the revolutionaries take over the government, they usually turn out to be same as the old boss. Since this is a revolution based at root on greed and fear, it may stretch things farther than any of us hope, certainly more than we want, but the U.S.A. has and will recover. That is my Seed-Keeper faith and one I will help make happen.

 

Art and Culture, Asia, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Judaism, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

Herme’s Journey

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Sunday gratefuls: Tom’s safe trip. My son, Seoah, and Murdoch coming January. Then, a trip to Korea in May. Followed by the Jang family visit here in late summer. Snow. Whippets. Irish Wolfhounds. German Wirehairs. Akitas. Breeds I love. Asia. Korea. Malaysia. Australia. Thailand. Cambodia. Saudi Arabia.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Leftist politics

Kavannah: Perserverance

One brief shining: A Mountain retreat, a home on granite, gneiss, and schist, raised above sea level by 8,800 feet, overlooking Black Mountain with its ski runs, Lodgepoles and Aspen colonies, in the Arapaho National Forest and drained by Maxwell Creek to the north and North Turkey Creek to the south, home to my day-to-day life in these middle years of the 2020’s.

 

On a lighter note today. Current TV favorites: Tracker, Sealteam, Fire Country. Reading anew Nexus by Harari. Also, Emily Wilson’s translation of the Iliad. Best movie I watched recently: hmm. None come to mind. Oh, Late Night with the Devil. Weird. I can no longer understand dialogue in movie theaters so I have to watch what’s available on streaming services with closed captions. Favorite meal last week, filet mignon with Tom at Evoke 1923 last Friday.

Herme’s Journey. Still on this path. I’ve finished another reading of Ovid. Also, the Odyssey. Am in the fourth book of the Iliad. I’m reading the parsha of the week most weeks along with commentaries. Also books that challenge me like Nexus. Keeping mental knives sharp.

My commitment to regular times with family and friends has increased. I zoom, breakfast, lunch, and on the rare occasion eat dinner with them. Also expanding my circle of friends, not by much, but adding Veronica for example.

The lunar calendar of Judaism meshes well with my pagan sensibilities and my focus on the Great Wheel. Trying to integrate the two in meaningful ways. An ongoing project.

Am working on a new meditative practice, focusing on a work of art for ten minutes or more, then reading art historical material about it. An NYT idea.

And more. All this is to stimulate, reinforce my lifelong journey. See what bubbles up.

 

Just a moment: Talked with my son and Seoah yesterday. There is a sweetness, a visceral joy in seeing them, hearing them. My heart lifts and my sense of well-being, already good, increases. Murdoch hears my voice, but does nothing. Nothing to smell here, so meh.

That sense of well-being. I’ve noticed Luke and Jamie initiate hugs when we see each other. There’s something about that that fills my soul, too. Ron and Rich. Tom. Ruth, Gabe. I hope the others feel the same way about my participation. Hugs are a way of claiming intimacy and saying yes to it.

Will not know for some time what the most abhorrent of adventures will look like, feel like. Cabinet picks? An unserious man taking an unserious approach to the job in the whole world that has the most economic and military power.

Committed to the seeds of decency, honesty, love for the other. Still and always.

 

Art and Culture, Fourth Phase, Politics

Seed-Keepers

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Friday gratefuls: Tom. Mussar. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Ginny. Rick. Great Sol. A blue Colorado Sky. The West. The Rocky Mountains. No Bike Park. The Mountain Meadow remains. Colorado. Livin’ in a Blue State. Mark. Mary. Diane. Riley. Richard. Cut Throat Cafe. Happy Camper.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Eagle at Tom and Roxann’s

Kavannah: Friendship

One brief shining: Why did you put on what you’re wearing today, Mindy asked, and we went around the room, learning one wanted to cover her stomach, another takes a shower on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays so she had on what she had on Wednesday, another wore brown jeans and a green t-shirt to look like a tree, and when it came to me I said, I bought a pair of Keens, a lot of white socks, a bunch of jeans, and several plaid flannel shirts so I don’t have to think about it.

 

BTW: I asked chatbotgtp to create An American themed image of a group called the Seed-Keepers whose role is to honor the spirit of liberal America. Anti-racist, anti-misogynist, and anti-homophobic. I’m more interested in the Seed-Keeper theme than anything else

Seed Keepers, Chatbotgt at my request

Seed-Keepers. Who among you might become a Seed-Keeper? If you take on this role, expect it to last at least four years, perhaps longer. You can be a solitary Seed-Keeper, dedicated to remembering and speaking who we are as a country and as a people when not driven by fear and demagoguery. One of our Seeds, there are so many, lies in our history. Perhaps you will be the one who goes back to the beginning of our nation and learns in even more depth how we came to be. Warts and all. 3/5ths clause and fugitive slave clause and white, propertied men as voters, the electoral college and all. Enslavement, too. Jim Crow. The Indian Wars. Yet, too, the Civil War. Checks and balances. Federalism. The Federalist Papers. How we became a city on a hill attracting new citizens from afar.

Or, you might choose to have a Seed-Keeper group. Perhaps one interested in the American Renaissance (as I am) when American thinkers and artists began to tease out the distinctive features of living on this amazing land. Reading together the works of Emerson, Thoreau, Parker, Whitman, Poe, Melville, Hawthorne, Mary Fuller. Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Jacobs, Emily Dickinson, Louisa May Alcott, Harriet Beecher Stowe. Not to ignore either painters and sculptors like Mary Cassatt, Bierstadt, Henry Tanner, Church.

Seed-Keepers #2

What might you do as a Seed-Keeper? You might gather those close to you for story evenings, perhaps around the fireplace to discuss questions like what does it mean to be an American? What has it meant? What does it mean in a time dominated by reactionaries and autocrats? You might write essays, letters to the editor about how the other half of the 2024 electorate sees things.

You might locate yourself in the work of a state Humanities council and help them introduce American Seeds through their speakers and book groups.

I’m sure you have more and better ideas than these. A Seed-Keepers primary role is to hold the liberal to radical ideas that make America a nation in which all want to live and to pass those ideas along to family, friends, and others in a digestible manner.

I’m gonna keep spinning up this idea, see if it can gain traction. No where near done with it.

Fourth Phase, Garden, Memories, Minnesota, permaculture, Plants, Politics, Seed Keepers, Weather +Climate

It will be us. And, it will be so.

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Monday gratefuls: My sweet, kind Ancient Brothers. The Seed-Keepers. Veronica. Ruth. Gabe. Samain. The fallow time. Snow. Boulder. Snarfs. Shadow Mountain. Election 2024. Clarity. Warming. The Great Sol Snow Shovel. Tara. My Lodgepole companion. A Colorado Blue Sky.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Lunch with Ruth

Kavannah: contentment and joy

One brief shining: Strange to recalibrate a life at 76 yet I did just that a year ago this month, having my penis-my penis!-pricked (hah), disrobing and immersing myself in the mikveh, explaining my reasons for embracing a new way of life to a beth dein, house of judgement, and taking a new name, Israel, one who struggles with God.

 

Israel. Part of my nom sacré, Herme Harari Israel. My fourth phase name. In the direct toledot, generations, of Abraham and Sarah. My now forever ancestors. This name also signals my continuing pagan life as the hooded man of Shadow Mountain. Feel free to refer to me by any name you wish.

The Moon of Growing Darkness. A bit of explanation. You may think this refers to the election of long tie guy, but no. It refers to my joy as the days grow shorter and the nights increase, headed toward the Long Night, the Winter Solstice. Yule in the pagan way. My affection for the dark, for the night long proceeds long tie guy, proceeds cancer, proceeds Judaism.

No, I’m not an owl. I love the mornings when my strength and intellect and creativity peak. But as much I love the darkness. Might have begun during those fall days in Andover when I would dig out and replenish the soil in the flower beds that arced around our lower level brick patio.

As I worked, Folk Alley radio played in the background and a chill Minnesota fall day would make the task a deep joy. Lying not far from the tarp onto which I put the Soil would be brown bags full of Corms, Rhizomes, and Bulbs. With the Tulip Bulbs, I would place them in slightly raised rectangular wire baskets, place them at the right depth, then shovel Soil back over them with a bit of Organic matter mixed in. The Rhizomes,  new Irises that Kate had chosen, might go in next to the Tulips. On the next tier up of this three tiered bed I would sprinkle Daffodil Bulbs and plant them where they landed, going for a mass of yellow in the Spring.

The Crocus Corms would go into the bed next to the front porch and that would come a bit later. This was a twenty year ritual, one I looked forward to because I loved the thought that within the nurturing Soil, beneath the Snow, tucked in warm against the bitter Minnesota Winters were these small capsules, no less amazing, perhaps more amazing than a space capsule, of life, holding within them enough nutrients and ancient wisdom to throw up a stalk when the temperatures signaled safety, push out leaves that would begin to gather more food for the all important Flower, that seductive botanical invention that draws Pollinators, and would, in time, die back as Seeds formed. Even though most of these Flowers never propagated by seed.

How could a gardener not be in love with darkness? Seed-Keepers will work in the darkness of the coming red tie guy years. Tucked in warm against the bitter autocratic Winter, small communities ready to send up stalks when the political temperature is right. Then to send out Leaves and power a movement into Flowering. It will be us and it will be so.

Yes, we had Morels in our Woods
Aging, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Shadow Mountain

May you feel safe and secure

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Samain and the Moon of Growing Darkness

Sunday gratefuls: Great Sol warming the Snow until it rises into Air. Lodgepole Branches almost cleared. Colorado Winters. A backyard though with 20″ or so piled around the Lodgepole Trunks. Headlines and shaking heads. Gathering ourselves for what must come next.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jackie

Kavannah: contentment and joy

One brief shining: Studied Torah yesterday online with Jamie and Luke and Irene, Avram and Sarai leaving Ur of the Chaldeas and heading off into the unknown, Avram’s thoughts gathered from wondering about the Stars and their origins pushing them out of a place where Gods had faces and could be carried from place to place into a place and an encounter with a world and life unknown to them.

 

Yes, a dangerous, felonious, misogynist who runs with a crowd of would be Kluxers has changed again the double meaning of the White House. A brute fact as philosophers and scientists alike would say. Yes, he has shown the world a decided and never gone shadow side of American life. Some of us fear the other and when pressed hard enough by circumstance dire or perceived to be so we allow it to surface, even take control.

In this election both sides. Both sides feared. Feared the other and allowed our shadow sides to guide us through the political maneuvering that led to Nov. 5, 2024. Those of us who thought long red tie guy was the problem let our fear out as scorn, as dismissal, as heads shaking. No, it can’t happen. They’re too stupid and he’s too venal.

The other side feared us, too. Because they thought we might win again, continue pressing on them the things they feared. Symbolized by trans folks, LBGT folk, women who demanded control over their bodies and their lives, strangers piling across the borders hoping for some of what they held onto so tenuously.

The oligarchs had lessons in Europe about how to play their instruments. The cello of immigrants diluting and cheating. The oboe of women’s traditional roles. The drums of racial purity. The piccolo of blood and soil nationalism. Violin cadenzas of sexual normality.

And we stood aside, complacent in our truth. Holding onto disparagement of the ignorant others. Wrapped in our cloaks of decency and righteousness. In that sense true elites. An aristocracy bred of our ignorance of the economic lives of others.

We ignored economic hardship of those essential workers. Remember them? The grocery clerk. The convenience store worker. The bus driver. The Amazon warehouse employee. The police officer and the snowplow driver. The former factory worker turned Walmart greeter or holding down a McJob.

And we lost our way.

I hope the seed-keepers among us can call to mind the mother aghast at her supermarket receipt. The commuter who cringes at the cost of yet another tank full of gasoline. The renter whose housing costs rises into a choice between home and food. The anguish of one facing illness only to become burdened by regular unpayable bills showing up in the mail.

Long red tie guy has promised to cure these ills. He will not. He cannot because his fealty is to his narrow slice of peers, people who do not have these problems. He only played the Piper’s tune. The Billionaires March instead is what he hears and follows.

There are miles to go. Miles to go before we sleep and as we walk each other home let those miles be filled with love, justice, and compassion. Or, as a group of my friends presciently claimed years ago: Leadership.