• Category Archives Fourth Phase

  • The Pearl

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Sarah, BJ, Pamela. The Ancient Brothers. The Bistro. Oysters. Filet mignon. A Pearl. The Otherworld. Another dimension. Rain, Rain, please stay and come again another day. Shadow Mountain Drive, Shadow and Conifer Mountains, the Evergreen Meadow in the Rain. Mist and shades of green. My Otherworld.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Pearl

    Kavanah: Serenity   Menucha

    One brief shining: Drove over to Marshdale, a burb of Evergreen, as Rain pelted the Lodgepoles and the Aspens, rendering Shadow Mountain and Conifer Mountain green misty hulks of risen Rocks, to the Bistro, a small fine dining restaurant that Kate I and went to for special occasions, her 80th counted, walked in with my hood up as the Rain came down, got my usual table against the wall; Stacy came around and I ordered a 6 Oyster appetizer, both Kate and I loved fresh Oysters, proceeding from left to right I used the little fork to pry loose the meat, tipped the shell, and slurped them down, except at the sixth and last one, I bit down, what?, and pulled out of my mouth a tiny pearl.

     

     

    I looked at it with my unaided eyes, having left readers behind as I often do, and held it up to Stacy. Is this what I think it is? I’ll take it to the chefs. Yes, the chefs considered opinion, a pearl. She returned it in a small clear plastic cup that might contain sauce in another situation.

    Texted Ruth with a picture. What’s that? A tiny pearl I found during my birthday celebration for your grandma. Oh, she joined you. Dad does that sometimes with me.

    A sense of the uncanny settled over the meal. Thunder roared outside, Rain hit the windows of this charming restaurant with its low wooden beamed ceiling. Did Kate reach across the table and take my hand? Did I tell her happy 80th and see her smile? I had intended to order the house salad but instead ordered a caprese salad by mistake. A salad Kate and I first had in a small cafeteria in the Vatican on our honeymoon. We loved it and made it often with our own heirloom tomatoes. We called it Popeteria salad.

    At the table with me I had my Kindle on which I’m reading Lev Grossman’s latest, The Bright Sword, his retelling of the Arthurian legend, and in it a main character had just stumbled into the Otherworld. So had I.

    The Pearl from Kate, what else could it be, I’ll have set in a ring to wear on my ring finger or as a pendant for a necklace.

    On her 80th birthday. Kate. Reached out and gave me a gift. A Pearl of great price.*

    Raffles Town House. 2016.

    *Luke 13: 45“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, 46 who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.

     


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Mountains Reimaging revelation Weather +Climate

  • A Journey

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Shabbat gratefuls: Bagel table. Morning services. Brother Mark. Coffee. Water. Bagels. Lox. Cream cheese. Kate, always Kate. Great Sol. Diane. Shabbat. Lighting the candles. Studying Torah. Lev Grossman’s latest, The Bright Sword. Stories. However told. On television, movies, in books, by friends, by ourselves. The way we make sense of it all.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Stories

    Kavanah: SERENITY   Menucha (min-oo-CHAH)   Serene, carefree, literally “at rest/comfortable” 

    [Daga, dah-GAH: Worry, care, concern]

    One brief shining: Went to King Sooper’s yesterday, a grocery store in Aspen Park, took two checks, cashed the checks with the young woman there, how do you want your money, easiest way, she counted it out to me; it represented the breaking of my relationship with Century Link, former internet provider, and yet more dividends from my time in Andover’s electrical cooperative, as I folded the bills for my money clip I thought about the symbolic nature of money, not only as value but as evidence of a relationship, as proof of obligation, as transmitter of shared commitments.

     

    Still feeling a bit dark, heavy. Will pass as this life, this August 17th life, goes on. Finding mornings, right after I get up, weighted. As the new life unfolds, begins to take on its character, in part shaped by my kavanah, in part by human interaction an easing of the weight, a passing over into a new chance at living, one unburdened by yesterday, and with few glances at tomorrow. Living.

    Today, in this life, for example, I made coffee. Which I can smell right now as it finishes. Realizing I have less time to write than I like because I drive to Evergreen in thirty minutes for the Bagel Table and the morning service. I’ll see Rabbi Jamie and who ever else shows up. People I care about and who care about me. An elixir strong and potent. Later, Ruth’s coming up for a zoom call with my son. What a treat for me to have them both here at 5 today.

    This life will gain its fullness through those encounters, as it will through the hours, the necessary hours alone. The way of a social animal who needs both presence and absence.

     

    Just a moment: Kamala has put four sun belts state in play. Recent polls. Another lightening of the load. Who knows what will happen between now and the life of Election Day 2024. But at least I no longer feel tied to the mast of a sinking ship. Somebody plugged a hole in it. Thanks, Joe. Sometimes saying no means saying yes. Giving up means saying I’m all in. Sometimes leaving means staying. A bit of the Tao for today, for this August 17th life.


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Politics

  • You are holy

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Doncye. My son. Murdoch. Seoah. Alan. Dandelion. Evergreen. Black Mountain Drive. Brook Forest Drive. Aspen Park. Notary. Blue expansive late Summer Sky. The West. The Mountain West. Harris/Walz. Tweedledum/Tweedledee. Psilocybin. Mary Jane. Celebrex. Cancer. Friends like Alan. Rabbi Jamie. Studying Torah. Joanne. Life.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: I’m at the front of a large group of people who will support you no matter what. Alan

    Mikveh of my conversion

    Kavanah: HOLINESS*   Kedusha       Holiness, dedication, specialness

    One brief shining: Steve came in white hair tousled, spandex on his 70 pound-less frame, sat down at the Starbucks table where I waited for him with an iced white chocolate latte; he had just had a deep tissue massage and came to me ready to discuss prostate cancer. What he said drug me down.

     

    Oh. See. Steve’s outside the golden zone where androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) works. At that point even though testosterone is at or near zero, the PSA continues to rise, meaning active cancer cells. Probably where I am, too. Find out next week. Blood draw.

    In the midst of extolling his oncologist and her care for him he said, “She told me that once you get out of the golden zone you have about a year and a half.” I hope she meant, “Now that you, Steve, are out of the golden zone you have about a year and half.” Intend to find out for sure. Implications put me in a funk yesterday, this morning. Understandable, it seems to me.

    This round of prostate cancer news has unsettled me, made me vulnerable. That last, vulnerability, has proved useful since I’m aware now that I need help with household chores and pain management. Over the next few months I hope palliative care will steer me in directions to take care of those needs.  A bit tender, sensitive. Cautious with how I view my future.

     

    Just a moment: Studied Torah with Rabbi Jamie for an hour yesterday. Our monthly session. Interesting. I asked, “So Kaplan eschewed supernaturalism. What does God mean, then? How did God enter the picture.” Jamie started to ask why does it matter. We both agreed in some ways it doesn’t matter at all.

    On the other hand, an interesting question. So we got at it anyhow. The parsha for the week: Parshat Va’etchanan, Deuteronomy 3:23 – 7:11 focused on Moses instructing the people before they go into the promised land. Moses speaks directly to God, then tells the descendants of the Hebrew slaves what God commands. No God out there in Reconstructionist thought, so…

    I figured out that God came from the people. Moses, this wise guy, speaks and they follow him. How did he get so wise and knowing? Had to have the imprimatur of a God. What else could it be? In other words in order to follow Moses the people had to give him an authoritative source for his pronouncements: God. I really like this idea because it literally grounds God. Takes God out of the heavens, out of the supernatural, and places the God concept in the relationships in and among people. And, if you follow the thought, within your own inner world.

    God is not out there. God becomes those impulses we follow for the collective good, for our own lifting ourselves up.

    *(רוּחָנִי Ruchani, roo-chan-EE: spiritual,  cognitive function = intuitive/abstract)


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Judaism Torah

  • Important to us…

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Great Sol. Blue Sky. Shades of green. Mark in Bangkok. Ruth and Gabe. Jen. Workout this morning. Reconstructionism tonight. Steve Bernstein. Prostate cancer. Sue. Kristie. Black Mountain. This oh so strange election year. Kamala. Tim. He who must be defeated. Celebrex. Pain relief. Medicine. Hippocrates.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Pain Relief

    Kavanah: STRENGTH  Gevura     for a workout today, this August 14th, 2024 life

    One brief shining: Rolling, rolling, rolling the thunder sound of green and yellow garbage bins under a brisk Mountain early morning, my driveway, the neighbor’s driveway, then another neighbor’s, a form of sympathetic magic involved, recycling as a solution to global warming, climate change, all of us doing our part. Sort of.

     

    Yesterday. Seems so far away. May I, for a moment, speak a word against telephone call centers. An example might be United Health Care. After a good medical day Monday when I felt heard and seen and cared for I followed it up doing what the front desk requested. Changing the name of my PCP from Kristin to Sue Bradshaw. Simple enough, right?

    First, the chipper A.I. confident in its ability to take care of whatever I needed. After having said advocate, advocate, advocate, this simple spell did result in a human voice. Ah. Yes, I can help you change the name of your primary care provider. Can you spell her name? B-R-A-D-S-H-A-W. Please hold while I work on changing the name of your primary care provider. Some ditzy tune that would have been a good warmup at a rollerskating rink oh those many years ago. For far too long.

    Hello, sir. I was not able to replace nurse practitioner Bradshaw-did I detect a slight tone of how could I anyway?-as your primary care provider. Her credentials do not meet our contractual requirements. I will call Conifer Medical Center and see if I can solve this problem. I’ll put you on hold again.

    Images of rollerskates, organ music, girls in short skirts twirling while boys in jeans struggled to stay upright. Boredom. A period where I got all my bills scheduled for payment. A turn at reading the New York Times, first article, second article. Playing Spelling Bee. We’re now 20 minutes or so into this pause while other wheels turned out of my aural range.

    Then the climax. A dial tone. Yup, the call dropped off. As you know, if you call back, you don’t reach the person you talked to last time.

    Found my spirit doused, my energy cooled for solving minor life bureaucratic annoyances. In spite of pleasantness as my kavanah for the day, I had unpleasant thoughts, not for the first time, about my health insurance.

    Just a moment: There will be blood. But for now it’s Harris/Walz placards. A presidential candidate under 60 and a 60 year old vice presidential candidate. A youth movement. Not sure how long this momentum can last, but go, Kamala, go. We have a fighting chance to win now. May her name be ever known as blessed.

     

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Politics US History

  • Palliation

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Sue Bradshaw. Palliative Care. Good sleep. Smoke in the air. Open front door this morning. Geez. Kamala and Tim. A moment for Minnesota. May he who will not be named stay hidden. CBE. Alan. A Manny for Us. Getting medical stuff done. Ruby, battered but dependable. This Shadow Mountain Home. The Fourth Phase.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sue Bradshaw

    Kavanah: PLEASANTNESS   Noam   Pleasantness, sweetness, niceness  (Chen – Graciousness, charm, charisma) ( Sever Panim: Warmth, affability, geniality; literally “a bright face”)

    [Mrirut; : Grumpiness, sourness, literally “bitterness”]

    One brief shining: Told Sue about my last week, she leaned in, took my hands, looked at me; here, I realized was a medical professional who cared for me as me, and a knot I didn’t know I had untied, released; I was not alone on this path toward death, be it late or soon.

     

    Which is not to say that I don’t know each one of you who are walking me home and whom I’m walking home. Sue is the one inside the medical world. Kristie, too, though she’s more clinical. As this maelstrom spins, I’m not sucked under and it’s because I have friends and family who care for me. This may seem to suggest things are more dire right now. Not at all. My new PSA/testosterone numbers will clarify what is right now murky. And there are treatments left. Not sure whether or if I need them.

    Sue is treating my back pain. Possibly with a long lasting NSAID. Trying tramadol right now. She also suggested I see a palliative care team*. In case you’re not familiar with this form of care, I’ve added an explainer below. It’s not hospice. It does not mean death is imminent. It does recognize in my case that the treatments I’ve been getting, combined with my back pain, are diminishing my quality of life. I feel good about this idea. A consult will happen as soon as Sue can set it up.

    This part of my fourth phase began in Korea, a year ago September. That day at the main palace for the Joseon Dynasty, I watched the changing of the guard and walked back toward the center of the palace. And began hobbling. By the time we’d toured a bit more, I was done in. That occasioned my visit to the Korean orthopedist and Mr. Lee, the massage therapist. Later, here, Mary, the physical therapist.

    It also occasioned my trip to San Francisco. Which was wonderful. But underlined the limitation my back has left me with. A week ago Sunday I walked from Union Station to Alan’s condo with Ruth. OMG. Lot of pain. I need more intervention. With the back pain. With the trajectory of my cancer. I feel fine with where I am now. Headed toward just that.

     

    Just a moment: Just like that. Hope. Not a big fan of hope, but definitely not a fan of despair. Kamala and Tim. The happy warriors. Could we reset our politics that easily? Of course not. Yet…

     

    *Palliative care is specialized medical care that focuses on providing relief from pain and other symptoms of a serious illness. It also can help you cope with side effects from medical treatments. The availability of palliative care does not depend on whether your condition can be cured.

    Palliative care teams aim to provide comfort and improve quality of life for people and their families. This form of care is offered alongside other treatments a person may be receiving.

    Palliative care is provided by a team of health care providers, including doctors, nurses, social workers, chaplains and other trained specialists. The team works with you, your family and your other providers to add an extra layer of support and relief that complements your ongoing care.


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Politics

  • Izun

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Monday gratefuls: A Manny for Us. Alan. Local theater. Local playwrights. Better energy, mood. This August 12th, 2024 life with Great Sol beaming. And my lev quivering with a charge of joy and strength. Sue Bradshaw. Hitting 150. Finally using my Ninja blender. Fruits and Veggies. The Ancient Brothers, chewing the fat. Lobster pottin’. Still above ground and taking nourishment.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: from melancholy to joy

    One brief shining: Driving on 38th Street in Wheat Ridge, a Denver burb, oh, there’s the Fridge’s Experimental research farm, there a huge care center for Christian Scientists, there a bar/restaurant in a faux Swiss building, the Chalet of course, a huge Lutheran hospital complex wrapped around a cathedral style church, odd design choice for the ecclesiastical heirs to the 95 theses, a left turn into a strip mall with a pizza place, a martial arts spot picturing a bald white guy holding a metal sword and looking strange to me, and a plain door for the Wheat Ridge Theater Company where I spent an afternoon surprised by the depth of a local playwright.

    Kavanah for this August 12th life: BALANCE   Izun (ee-ZOON)   Balance, poise, moderation

    (Derech Ha’Emtzait, DARE-ech ha-em-tsah-EET: the middle path/way/course)   [Kitzoniut, keets-own-ee-OOT: Extremism, going to either end of a spectrum]

    NB: Mussar does not say that the poles of a character trait are bad. There are times when they are the appropriate expression of the middot. Imbalance on ones political or religious views can be harmful, destructive, yet there also times when the extremes serve a larger, necessary purpose. Or, say, times when being either very active or passive might be the better way.

     

     

    The word for balance in Hebrew is איזון, izun. Interestingly, the word for ear in Hebrew is אֹזֶן, ozen. Using my inner ear to try to catch the middle way between last week’s struggle and this week’s grace. What sound comes between? Is it middle-C? Good way to imagine it actually. I have a hard time these days hearing the high notes, children’s and women’s voices. Bass notes. Oh, they still come through pretty well.

    I would say I usually live life in the upper ranges of joy and happiness. I don’t understand musical composition well enough to use it accurately here, but I do plunge down to the bass notes once in a while. A mild manic/depressive oscillation I’ve always thought. I like this analogy though because bass notes, lower keys, are, at least I think they are, musically necessary for harmony, for a musically balanced composition. Life is like that. Taking the high notes and the low notes and arranging them along the staff lines of your movement through the day so that something beautiful takes shape.

    What kind of music are you making with this one Mayfly life you’ve been granted by awakening on August 12th, 2024?

     

    Just a moment: Gosh. Gee whiz. Where are the I can’t believe I’m reading this headlines? Where is he who should no longer appear in bold type? In hiding? Afraid of getting his behind whooped by a woman?

     


    Art and Culture Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Mussar Politics

  • Shinin’ on me

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Better mood. Great Sol shinin’ on me. And my Lodgepole Companion. More blue than milky sky. Quarry Fire 100% contained. Makes me feel better about a Fire nearer to me. Theater and lunch today with Alan. Sue Bradshaw. Moods. James Lee Burke. Magic realism. King Arthur. Lancelot. Guinevere. Percival. The Green Knight.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ginny and Janice

    One brief shining: The Tree of life has its sefirots, way stations for the stuff of creation that travels up and down the Tree from its masculine Crown to its Root, from chi borne in the ein sof, nothingness before, to malkut, the residence of the Shekinah, the sacred as female, pulsing and throbbing up and down, back up, back down, always new, always changing.

    Kavanah: Joy  Simcha

     

    A bit surprised but as Great Sol has snuck out from the dark clouds of last week, I feel better. Feel like the rain and drear might have doubled or tripled my dis-ease last week. I often slip into melancholy around October, the month of mom’s death 60 years ago this year. And last week felt much like early Fall. So… Doesn’t change the reality of anything going on with me of course. But it could change the valence, by a lot. Mild concern becomes serious worry. This bit of pain feels more telling. Combining concerns increases concern like a dung beetle rolling in, well, dung. Not diminishing the moment but perhaps draining some of its intensity.

     

    Allows me to stand back and grin about Harris and Walz. Retail politics? Not my thing for the most part. Had a fling with it in the late 1980’s, working on some Hennepin County races, then Paul Wellstone’s first Senate run. I chaired the Farmer-Labor Association, “Put the FL back in the DFL.” Didn’t like it though the results were satisfying. Went back to organizing and working with the Sierra Club.

    I can give money though so I paused a second here while writing this and sent $250 to the Act Blue pact. If you ever felt like donating to a political effort now’s definitely the time. We have to show enthusiasm, diverse support, and a willingness to push a bit past where it hurts. This is to put the Orange ifrit back in his Mar-a-Lago swampland.

     

    Meanwhile this oh so fraught election year Ukraine fights on, sneaking into the Motherland. My sense is that Ukraine needs something big and doesn’t appear to have it on the horizon. And, further south the world and Israel awaits Iran’s response to the killing of two of Hamas’ leaders, one on Iranian soil. The Lebanese based Iranian terror client, Hezbollah, threatens war with Israel and Israel thumps its weakened chest right back. Could get real ugly, real fast.

    As my son and other U.S. military personnel in the Far East stare down China, which has economic woes of its own making.

     

    Just a moment: Olympics. Refreshing and beautiful. International. Diverse. See the American Olympic team. And what it’s accomplished.

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Kabbalah Politics US History World History

  • Again, gevurah

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Shabbat gratefuls: Parsha Devarim. A milky blue and white Sky with gray Clouds stacked in rows in the northeast. Overnight Rain. 48 degrees. A cool Mountain Morning. Veronica. GOES-19. Most recent project on which she worked. Her description of the Falcon Heavy rockets landing. Her joy in seeing the launch. Gevurah. Cancer. Friendship.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

    One brief shining: Not sure what to do with myself as my confidence in my body erodes, breathing hard while coring an apple, walking a short distance, from the garage to the house say, and needing a rest, wondering what’s making me so weak, what’s making it so hard to breath, not inspirational, why I need to find gevurah yet again today.

    Kavanah: Gevurah   Strength, ability, willpower

     

    Have to figure out a practice for gevurah. In mussar a practice is a way of strengthening a middot, a character trait. For example, if your middot is chesed, loving-kindness, you would look for opportunities throughout the day to make another’s burden lighter or at least a way to share it with them. Or, carry some groceries into a house. Run an errand. Send a kind note. Express your love or admiration for someone.

    This does two things. First, it helps you recognize those moments in life when an opportunity to express loving-kindness arises. Second, it helps you actually express loving-kindness when those moments arise. Mussar believes in building from the outside in. That is, the more you see chances to exercise a middot and act on them, the more habitual they will become. Changing your character not through psyche wrangling like in therapy, but more in the way an athlete builds skill in there sport. Practice. Practice. Practice.

    So. What might be a good practice for me to learn how to experience my gevurah in this August 10th, 2024 life? First, I might search for moments when I express strength but might otherwise gloss over or ignore it. Like writing. A strength I have here on Ancientrails is persistence, honesty, typing skills. Or, a more simple example. I make a good bagels and lox sandwich. Have several different ways to cook eggs. Another, I said the blessing and lit the candles for Shabbat last night. A ritual reminder of my Jewishness, of the light that comes in and through me through the divine nature of my brain and body, to take a day for rest and replenishment of my spirit. When I find these moments, celebrate them, large or small.

    Second, search for opportunities to express my gevurah. Take on tasks in bite size chunks. And complete them. Think, consider, weigh, analyze. Write. Write some poetry. Write about what I’m learning on Herme’s journey. Through the Tarot cards I pull each morning.

    Just a moment: Considering the number of men with prostate cancer. That I know: Steve, Dave, Mike. Me. Charlie H. Dick R. Wondering about organizing them. But to do what? Support each other? Sure. But. Maybe to consider how being a man has affected our approach to cancer? That sounds more interesting.


    Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Mussar

  • Gevurah

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Jamie. Mussar. His translation and commentary. A smoky, wet Sky. The Olympics. Cardboard beds. Laurie and her Chi-town food truck. Chili cheese dogs. Evergreen. Evergreen Chamber Orchestra at Cactus Jack’s. Clean Ruby. Veronica. Dandelion. Ginny and Janice breakfast tomorrow. Ron’s mussar session on Gratitude. Yirah.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth off to college

    One brief shining: The lev shaped table for mussar had only Jamie and Ellen around it when I came in, kippah in place, I remembered, with my too big phone and mussar notebook which I put on the table along with my ART hat from a long ago show at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, Jamie smiled, so did Ellen.

     

    Kavanah: STRENGTH   Gevura (g-voo-RAH) Strength, ability, willpower      Fifth Sefirah = restriction & boundaries; severity & justice; left hand pushing away (opposite Chesed/Kindness)  (חוּמרָה Chumra, CHOOM-rah: Strictness, stringency, rigour; from חמר to matter/have weight)  (חַיִל Chayil, CHAI-ul: Capability, valour, heroism)

    [חוּלשָׁה Chulsha, chool-SHAH: Weakness, frailty, disability]

     

    Picking intentions for the day that run counter to any negative feelings I’m having. In this case all the words in straight brackets: weakness, frailty, disability. Not been a great week. Too many of my lives have had an off feeling, physically. Shortness of breath. Though. I do live at 8,800 feet, have a paralyzed left diaphragm, allergies, and there’s been smoke in the air. The back issues seem more pronounced. And of course, the decadal favorite: cancer. Mostly I’m up, living my life and loving it. This week. The Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday lives and this August 9th life from what I can tell not so much.

    I feel passive. The low T fatigue, I suppose. Have to accomplish tasks in bits and pieces. Only one at a time. Laundry. Make a meal. Straighten up. By the afternoon my go meter has pegged. Drained out. Sure. I can and do read. Write. Could paint but I haven’t. Default mode is either read fiction or watch TV.

    I don’t know if this is whining. I don’t think it is. It’s not meant to be. Descriptive of a lassitude born not so much of ennui but of physical depletion occasioned by various ills my body has become heir to. May be some melancholy as a psychic sauce to ladle over it all. Don’t think I’m depressed. Not sure.

    All in all. Neither satisfied nor happy. Nor dissatisfied or unhappy. A sort of blah tending toward brown or gray.

    I see Sue Bradshaw on Monday, a six month checkup, and I plan to raise the shortness of breath and back with her. Another blood draw on the 19th. That will give some definition to my current cancer status. Not sure there’s a lot medicine can do for me on the first two. Hopeful about the cancer.

    So you can see. The middot, the character trait of strength, Gevurah. What I need to find as often as I can in this August 9th life. In as many spots as I can. Experiencing some here. Writing is a strength. Putting the real out of my head and onto the screen. Naming and owning where and who I am.

    Lunch with Veronica. A strength. Shabbat and Havdalah. New strengths.

     


    Feelings Fourth Phase Health Kabbalah Mussar

  • Witness

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    The Off to College Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Ruth. Diane. Tom. The up over and the down under. Bangkok. Songtan. Melbourne. Orca Island. San Francisco. Robbitson. Shorewood. Minneapolis/St. Paul metro. Evergreen. Conifer. Genesee. Denver. Lakewood. Luke and Leo. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. Conifer Mountain. Rain, Rain. Come again. And again.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Harris/Walz

    One brief shining: Sitting cross legged beneath the big painting by Jerry, the Blue Ridge Mountains landscape, Ruth explained how she and her roommates needed to solve a mistake, housing at UC Boulder had put two young women and one young man in the same room, but the conversation swiftly turned to classes: American history to 1865, Political Science 101 in the election year of all election years, studio arts, ways of knowing and finally whether to get a parking spot-no-and a possible library job-yes.

     

    Kavanah: PEACE  Shalom (shuh-LOME) שָׁלוֹם   Peace, quietness, wholeness

     (קוֹר רוּחַ Kor Ruach, core ROO-ach: Calm, composure, literally a “cool spirit”) [בֶּהָלָה Behala, beh-ha-LAH: Fear, alarm, panic]

     

    Smoky Sky, cool Air, decent Rain yesterday. A feeling of Fall, premature, yes, but welcome, very welcome anyhow. Four seasons. The Great Wheel turning once again. Nights lengthening. My favorite half of the year not far away.

    This August 8th life incorporates these changes, makes the late night from MVP feel integrated with this resurrection moment, this reincarnation of my neshamah. The milky gray of the Sky has combined with my Vaad of last night, reflected in the heavens. The MVP group was the last round of folks I brought into my most recent cancer news since Ruth and I discussed it yesterday.

    The August 7th life filled my cup while accentuating my sorrow. Yes, sorrow. That dark sadness from the last few days (lives) remains. Its tendrils gathering, pooling. A sense of foreboding. And. Ruth came up. We worked on transferring the MinnesotaSaves college fund money to my name. Ruth filling out the forms with her neat handwriting, discussing with the MinnesotaSaves folks what we needed to do. When we finished with that, I took a nap while she filled out a job application for work/study at the UC Boulder main library.

    When I got up, I made lox, cream cheese, and bagels with onions and capers. I know. A little on the nose, but, hey! We both enjoyed them

    Her excitement about her classes triggered those oh so sweet  memories of the first days of a new semester, a new quarter when a new field of study lay before me. Or, a deepening of a favorite area. And dealing with a roommate issue, so first days of college.

    Having her here felt warm, loving. Though I did end up tired.

    And that before I drove to Evergreen for MVP. Which went until 9:45 pm. Discussing responsibility and gratitude. Family. My vaad. Rich, Susan, Joanne, and Ron as witnesses. Not fixers. Not even empathizers, but listeners and seers. Though I have to face this alone internally, I am not alone. I’m in the company of those walking me home. As I walk them.


    Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Health Judaism Memories