Category Archives: Fourth Phase

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Memories

A letter to Kate on her 79th

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: Kate’s 79th birthday. The Trail to Cold Mountain. A good dress rehearsal. A late night. Seeing Seoah and my son on Zoom. Getting closer to leaving this popstand. On a jetplane. With passport in hand. Sleeping in. Ann. The poems on parchment. The drinking gourd. My costume(s). Ruth. Seeing her today. Taking Ancientrails on the road. Korean history. Seoah studying American history. Her mom’s 70th birthday, two days after I get there. In Gwangju. Steak House. Luke and Vince. Leo.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Writing, again. Still.

One brief shining: Put on my linen medieval shirt and pants, collected my poems on parchment from Ann, picked up my walking stick, got a glass of water (filling in for the drinking gourd that I forgot), proceeded with: I’m going to tell you this story in the best way I can and reeled off a mistake free performance. Yes!

 

Kate.

You would be 79 today. Closing in on the big 80. Wanted to catch you up on some recent happenings.

I’m a playwright! A short play, about 20 minutes. The Trail to Cold Mountain. Performing it tomorrow night at CBE. The amphitheater if the weather permits.

Also, I’m converting. Yes, after 32 years with you and 8 with CBE, I realized your people are my people, too. Rabbi Jamie’s excited for me. We’re studying Judaism together. 10 sessions. But before I finish my conversion will take place. In Jerusalem! On Samain! How bout that.

I’ve become even more integrated into CBE. Joan and Alan are both in my acting class and will be performing Saturday night, too. I see Marilyn and Irv every couple of weeks, Alan once a week. I’ve become good friends with Rebecca Martin, too. Mussar remains my primary contact with the congregation although I’m considering going to regular services now that my energy is better.

Cancer. Yep, still with me. As you know. But I’m off the meds as of Wednesday and hoping for clear sailing for some length of time. A tiny chance I’m cured. If you have any pull with the cosmic powers, see if somebody could yank a lever on my behalf. Eigner is retiring. His wife died a couple of years ago and changed his perspective. I’ll see him for a last visit on November 20th.

Ruth’s still struggling. I’ll see her in the hospital today. Going to take her a bagel with caviar from Rosenbergs. Stanley Market. Gabe’s doing well. I think. Playing guitar, taking theater. He may express the Olson performing gene. We saw Oppenheimer last week and we’ll go to the last Rockie’s game of the season on Oct. 1st when I get back from Korea. They’re playing the Twins.

Oh. I’m going to Korea on Wednesday. Then, Israel on Oct. 25th. A week on my own then the CBE group trip. Excited about both of these. Joe’s a Lieutenant Colonel now. Can you believe it? Remember him stomping up and down the steps at my Irvine Park Place in ski boots?

Of course you walk through all these moments with me. Sometimes I stand at the kitchen window, look out at your Iris garden, and feel your head on my shoulder. Driving back up the hill from Evergreen I reach over on occasion and hold your hand. Your memory is a blessing for me and so many others. Not to say at all that I’m wallowing. Just that I loved you, I love you, and I will love you.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Hawai'i, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Travel, Weather +Climate

Lucky and Privileged

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Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Cybermage Bill Schmidt. The Ancient Brothers. Alan. Joan. The Bread Lounge. Jamie and Benji. Rich and Ron. My son. Jon’s estate. Leo. Luke. Tal. CBE. The Parking Spot. Checking off my before Korea list. Close to done. Gray Skies before Great Sol has come above the horizon. Mountain Streams now running lower. That fourteen point Mule Deer Buck on Black Mountain Drive. Gracie and Ann. Janet. Metaphors, shaping our world. Shaping our metaphors, shaping our world. The brain. Consciousness. The sacred.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rain in the Mountains

One brief shining: Pre-trip excitement beginning to rise, packing Artemis honey in bubble wrap (the last large jar), that Breckenridge tumbler, too, rolling up the t-shirts with Mountains and Buffaloes on them, the dish towels with Beavers and Mountain Goats, the children’s books about the Rocky Mountains, Colorado and Mountain stickers, carefully placing them all in that Chinese box that brought something here a while back, then packing tape, packing tape, packing tape along with an APO address and it’s off to Korea ahead of me.

 

Feeling lucky and privileged this morning. Healthy enough to travel at 76. Money enough to travel. Family I want to see living in a place I’m excited to explore further. Korea. Feeling the collision of four big events coming in this next week: the showcase on my first ever play script on Saturday plus Tuesday class and Thursday dress rehearsal, my first lesson with Rabbi Jamie for my conversion on Thursday, finishing up my travel plans by counting my drugs and ordering what I need if any, talking to Vince, Luke, nailing down how much money I’ll need in my bank account, and my appointment with Kristie where my drug holiday will probably be officially begun.

It’s been a while since I’ve traveled. Last time was to Hawai’i. My son and Seoah. I’ve not done any international travel since Kate and I went to Korea in 2016 for my son and Seoah’s wedding. This time I’m going radically light. Only a backpack with meds, electronics, one t-shirt, one pair of socks. I’ll buy socks, t-shirts, underwear when I get there. I already have some pants and shirts there as well as a split keyboard and a mouse. There’s been a lot of lost luggage this summer travel season and I want to travel light. Also, no direct flights. I don’t mind checking a bag onto a direct flight, but if there’s even one stop? Nope. Not sure yet what I’m going to do for Israel. Probably the same.

My whole family travels much more than I do, so this would be no big deal for them, but for me it feels like quite the adventure.

 

Looking at the devastation in Lahaina. Found my heart sinking, wondering most about the fate of the Banyan Tree around the court house. Relieved to see it was damaged, but not killed. A picture of a woman who spent five hours! in the ocean. So, so sad. 60 deaths. Knowing someday it could be Shadow Mountain captured by the news.

Acting, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health

Good Enough

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Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: The Trail to Cold Mountain. Joan. Rebecca. Deb. Abby. Tal. Acting. Being Jewish. Israel. Korea. Rabbi Jamie. Night drives up Brook Forest and Black Mountain Drive. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. Berrigan Mountain. Conifer Mountain. Aspen Perks. Friends there. Travis. Brought me coffee without asking. Grieving. A journey toward wholeness. The work of acting. Memorizing. Love. PSA and testosterone. Prostate cancer. Love.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

One brief shining: Undetectable again my PSA and a T score lower than 10 which you would think would make me feel wonderful but no, it raises the reality now of the drug holiday when I go off Erleada and Orgovyx for as long as my cancer will allow it which feels like jumping out of a plane with no parachute relying on good luck or another sky diver to pluck me up before I crash into the earth.

 

That probably overstates how I feel. But not by much. Since 2015 I’ve segued from one treatment protocol to another, always getting surgery, radiation, or androgen deprivation therapy. To go naked. To just let the cancer have a safe space with no barriers to its growth? Yikes! The theory is two fold. The first. The radiation and ADT (androgen deprivation therapy. keeping my psa and testosterone suppressed chemically.) may have done such a good job that my cancer [my cancer. huh. I guess it is just that.] will not wake up, at least not for a very long time. The second. The ADT drugs lose their efficacy after a while and have to be stopped before that point, usually two years after starting their use.

I will still have blood draws every three months. Always waiting for the one where the PSA starts to rise indicating the cancer has begun to grow again. That is the most likely scenario. How long that takes is unknown and peculiar to the individual. There is a slight possibility that all these treatments have cured me. Unlikely, but possible. However, even with a long run of suppressed PSA tests I will never know for sure. That will only happen when or if I die of something else.

This is that window of time every three months where my blood gets drawn, the test results come back, and I meet with Kristie, my oncology PA. At this point it doesn’t raise my anxiety level much, but it does raise my awareness level. Oh. Yeah. Cancer! No escaping that. Literally. No escaping it at this point. Big fun.

 

The good news is that I keep living instead of waiting to die. Writing The Trail to Cold Mountain. Learning to act. Putting on a showcase. Converting to Judaism. Taking care of the house. Eating out with friends. Talking to friends and family over Zoom. Living in the Mountains. Seeing sacred moments like the Rainy Night Watcher. Dreaming. Dog sitting. Traveling.

In that sense, that most important sense, my cancer treatment has been wildly successful. With only occasional periods of awful fatigue and hot flashes, side effects, I’ve been strong enough to care for Kate through her long illness, continue working out, engaging life, not sitting in death’s waiting room. Good enough for me.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mussar

Old skills

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Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

Friday gratefuls: Janet. Her name is Janet. Mussar. Leading a discussion. Metaphor and the sacred. Thinking. Feeling. Lev. Luke and Ann. Ian. Carol. Gracie and Leo. Sarah and Elizabeth. Judaism. Reconstructionist. Finding religion again with no reservations. Hallelujah. Conversion in Jerusalem. Prostate Cancer. Irv. Marilyn now home. Tara in Europe. The Trail to Cold Mountain. Final edits. Now it’s a script for me to learn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Leading

One brief shining: In a far away state at a time now long ago I used to sit down often at a table or stand in front of a room knowing my job was to take a conversation with those present through difficult terrain, perhaps deciding how to take on unemployment or a recalcitrant landlord or an obdurate city hall or one of the many corporations that wanted to reach into people’s lives and take away their agency, then make a turn from conversation to action. Oh how I loved it.

 

Yesterday for an hour and a half. I led the mussar group through the most difficult terrain of all, those things that matter to our interior, to our souls. I’d forgotten how satisfying it is to do that. I avoid leadership roles these days. Saying no rather than yes. Saying been there. But as a substitute for the Rabbi. A one time thing. I said yes.

I miss it. Reading the pulse of a group, guiding in a gentle way or a forceful way depending on the need of the moment, offering my own thoughts lightly or not at all or for the purpose of digging further into the topic. Yesterday’s topic was the purpose of metaphor and the application of that purpose to language we use about God. Also, strangely and powerfully, the question: What is God for? A lot to be said on this. We spent a fun hour and half doing just that.

Perhaps I could find these moments a bit more often. I don’t want to chair a committee. Nope. But I sure did enjoy the time yesterday. Though. I did fuzz up Janet’s name. Conflated her with Marilyn who sat beside her. Because the group has three Marilyns and Janet’s name, for some reason, skipped my mind. Don’t you love that phrase, skipped my mind? Janet danced away from available attention, played hopscotch in another corner just out of reach.

She came up to me afterwards and said, “My name is Janet, Charlie.” Oh. Oops. Ian, a visitor from California gave me a fist bump.  He’s my age. Luke came up and gave me a big hug. There was a buzz in the room, the conversation spilling over past the end of the meeting.

On my way out to the car Ginny came up to me and asked if I was converting. Yes, I said. Could I talk to you about it sometime? Ginny’s an Arkansas farm girl turned opera singer then stage actor then nurse. I told her I’d love to. Maybe the Blackbird? Which is in Kittredge where she lives with her partner.

Acting, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain, Writing

The three R’s: Writin’, Recitin’, Rewritin’

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ana. Marina. Furball Cleaning. Prolia. Shot today. Bones. Conifer Medical Center. Korea. The Korean War and its aftermath. Still vibrating. The Cold War. The DMZ. Hanoks. Seoul subway. Focusing on Seoul this trip. And Seoah’s family. Next time Taipei. After that, Japan. The Asia turn for my little family. Mary, Mark, my son, Seoah. Even Murdoch, the dog with genes from the Akita Prefecture. God. Gods. Goddesses. Dryads. Nymphs. Wood sprites. Faeries. Mushrooms. Psilocybin. Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Trail to Cold Mountain

One brief shining: Here’s how it goes I sit in my Stickley arm chair with the wide wooden arms place coffee and a can of seltzer water on a book or a coaster pick up a page of The Trail to Cold Mountain to read out loud which I do then I put it down and recite the first character’s lines without looking if that goes well I recite the first speech and add the second then so on down the page until I go back and recite from the very first page all the way to the one I’ve just learned.

 

Five pages mostly learned in that manner. By the end of today I hope to have the first six pages. That puts me into the Cold Mountain poems plus some added lines between some of them. I have the rest of today and tomorrow to finish. Might make it, might not. But. I’ll be close. That will give me the next week to imprint it all. After I’ve gone off book as we actors say (LOL), I’ll spend more time on character development and blocking. Though. The blocking is pretty simple. At least as I have it in my mind right now. Might change I suppose. Ann will finish the calligraphy for the poems by the 17th and hopefully the banner, too. I still to have find a cloak and hood, a pair of medieval woodsman’s boots. Get my linen shirt and pants pressed. I don’t iron. All this for one performance.

After the 19th, if that’s the showcase date, I’ll decide whether I want to take this to a one man show. That would require a good bit more work. OK. A lot more. Could be worth it though. My fantasy is taking it on the road up and down the Rocky Mountains to theaters in Mountain towns. If that works well, then the Himalayas are the limit. Ha. Could keep me out of trouble for a coupla years.

The process of creation lifts my spirit, makes my heart sing. Though that’s not to deny the hard slogging it also requires. I’m not like Ode where every day is a good day in the studio. Some days yes. Some days no. Some months, even years between work on a piece.

I am considering starting a new novel. Which seems deleterious to me in some ways. That is, I have Jennie’s Dead already well underway but I’m stuck. Or, better, just don’t want to work in that universe anymore. And haven’t for a couple of years. Not sure why. Just don’t. I’ve also got the Pagan work underway, too. And, a good bit of work on the Great Wheel. Plus a bit of a start on a novel, the Protectors. And, editing and rewriting Superior Wolf. Yes. Plus now. A possible one man show? See what I mean.

Even so. The idea of starting a new novel excites me and that may trump the slog of the other work. Or, what feels like a slog right now. Oh, phooey! I love to write. That’s the main thing. I clearly don’t care about getting published, but I do love to write and I am serious about it in spite of not caring about the next step.

Besides, I do live on a Mountain top.

 

 

 

 

Cinema and Television, Fourth Phase

More Spontaneous Than I Thought

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Movies. Books. Writing. Actors. Acting. Acting class. Pushing outside the comfort zone. Mussar. MVP. Judaism. Sabbath. Tom. Bill. Ode. Paul. Honorable men. The Ocean. Ocean Vents. Extremophiles. The Marianna’s Trench. Titan. Tides. King. Neap. High. Low. The Moon. Great Sol. Photosynthesis. Reconstruction. Reimagining the Sacred. Reimagining Revelation. Reconstructing religion. The Great Wheel. Travel. Korea. Israel. Life in the fourth phase.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: This Mountain Life

One brief shining: That mug I made for Father’s Day when Kate took me to the Northwestern Clay Center so heavy and inelegant with spots of yellow glaze here and there a wonderful fits my hand perfectly handle fired with her thoughtfulness knowing no one was going to show up for Father’s Day that year oh I miss her and love that misshapen spectacular instance of her kindness.

 

Be spontaneous. My son a few months ago the very day an information meeting happened for CBE’s Israel Trip. So I was. Now I’m going. In October the day after his birthday. I’ll see him and Seoah, Murdoch first though. On August 23rd. Be spontaneous. Trying. Although if I have to try, does that still count?

Wondered this yesterday when I sat here looking at the movies at the AMC Bowles yesterday. Wanted to see Mission Impossible because my son loved it and said it had some provocative content re: AI. Heard him saying. Be spontaneous. Bought the ticket. Another Tom Cruise I can do this to show what a good stunt man I am movie yet also a thriller, edge of the seat come up for air at the end experience.

Used the closed caption contraption for the first time. It helps. A lot. Clunky though. Fits in the cupholder, has a flexible arm that can be moved to a position in front of and below line of sight to the screen. Not ideal since to really see either the captions or the screen you have to change focus. Better, a lot better, than Wakanda Forever though where the dialects and accents made me miss half of the dialogue.

There is, I’ve learned, a better option for me. Open captions like I currently use while watching TV. The problem is they’re usually available only once a day since they project the captions on the screen. Don’t want to “spoil” the experience for others, I imagine. Kate didn’t like subtitles, for example. Me, I can’t watch a movie without them anymore. Will only see Oppenheimer with open captions. This week.

This still leaves out arthouse cinema, I suppose. Though I admit I haven’t checked. Need to do that. Exploring ways to have fun. An art day now and then. A museum day. I know. Is that nerdy fun? I suppose. Still, it counts for me.

 

A short disquisition on spontaneous. Here are three definitions from Webster’s.

1 : proceeding from natural feeling or native tendency without external constraint
2
: arising from a momentary impulse
3
: controlled and directed internally : self-acting

 

I’m almost sure my son meant definition number 2. And I welcomed the prod. Break out of the last five year ties that bound me close to home. Do something just because. Without consideration, or at least much consideration.

 
Yet. Those other definitions. I can’t claim to always act without external constraint. Hardly. I put on clothes, take showers, pay my bills, speak English, don’t hit people. Yes, that’s true. But in my day to day life I proceed almost always from natural feeling or native tendency, a life directed and controlled internally. That’s the joy of the fourth phase. I’m more spontaneous than I thought.

Acting, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Life and imaginary life

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Friday gratefuls: Joan. Alan. Bread Lounge pastries. The Cuban. Calendars. Mayan. Gregorian. Julian. Lunar. Jewish. Celtic. The Great Wheel. Seasons. Living into revelation. Living with revelation. Seeing the sacred. Seeing yourself as you are. The examined life. The authentic life. The life that burns away everything but love.  Psilocybin. Guides. The layers of our selves. Inner life. Acting. The Trail to Cold Mountain. Brother Mark and sister Mary. My son, Seoah, Murdoch. Korea.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: honest conversation

One brief shining: After I exercise, I go out on the loft’s deck, sit in the wicker chair carried here from Andover when we had that glass table top, Great Sol still behind the garage because it’s close to noon, and look at my house, the Lodgepoles in the yard, up to Black Mountain, the ski runs there carved by privilege “earned” in the petroleum addiction trade, and pinch myself yes you do live here.

 

Feeling even better about long periods of time alone. Yet also with times, often intense times in conversation. Going into the world of shared life with Rebecca, Tom, Diane, Alan, Luke, Rabbi Jamie, the Ancient Brothers, Joan, Tal. With the mussar group. With MVP. With Rich and Ron. This rhythm of welcome isolation and precious time with others feels like the right mix for me these days. I do wonder as I write this what I do for fun. Not much as I review my life over the last few years. The occasional hike. Movie. A nice meal out. Keeping up with F1. Art used to have  a big role for me. Not so much now. Perhaps that’s something I can change. Maybe learning Magic: the Gathering will open up an avenue for me. What do you do for fun?

 

The Trail to Cold Mountain. Learning it a page at a time. A focus for the next three days. I talked to Ann yesterday. She’d doing the calligraphy for Cold Mountain’s poems. I also asked her to make me a white banner with Cold Mountain’s name in Chinese. Two characters. If she can, I’ll hang it in the background as part of the scene setting. The rest of the scene is this:

Deep in a land of Mountains and Forests. In front of a cliff, a cave. A grove of pine trees opens out from the cave. A campfire burns in the grove, lighting the cave with flickers of light and shadow. Cut logs serve as chairs around the fire. Evening has fallen and a cool breeze carries the scent of pines and a not too distant river. Far off is the place Herme chooses to live. Green peaks in the background.

Since I completed my first draft, it’s taken up less mental space. Though. If all goes well and other folks think it’s worth expanding, too, it may take up a good deal of my time after I get done traveling. Adding more scenes, extending the run time from 20 minutes or so to over an hour.

May have gone a little overboard with all this. I bought a woodsman’s shirt, pants. A gourd like Chinese scholars used to hold wine. I’m spending a tidy sum having Ann do the calligraphy for the poems and perhaps the banner. Not to mention the cost of the class. Going to check with the Magic Castle, a costume place, and other prop shops to see if I can rent a woolen hooded green cloak and woodsman’s boots. Wish I’d thought of costume rental before I bought the outfit, but…

 

 

 

Acting, Aging, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Writing

Wrasslin’

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: A complete first draft of the Trail To Cold Mountain by Herme. A good sleep. The internet. Computers. Smart phones. Tablets. Hearing aids. Kindles. AI. Vegetables. Fruits. Eggs. Beans. Truffles. Pork schnitzel. Potatoes. All food. Great Sol. Giver of energy, life, light. The lesser light, the Moon. Giver of tides. Illumination at night. Reflected glory. The sacred. The holy. The divine. Revelation. Seeing. Hearing. Tasting. Touching. Smelling. Our bodies. Our souls. Our selves. The distinctiveness of each thing on Earth.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Writing

One brief shining: Wrestled to the bear to the ground yesterday produced a completed first draft of the Trail to Cold Mountain, a playlet, twenty minutes of dialogue and poetry, half written by me and half written by Han Shan Cold Mountain, the ninth century Tang dynasty recluse poet who lived for thirty years on Cold Mountain.

 

So much satisfaction in having a first draft of my first script. Far from finished. I’ve already made edits in the first paragraph, but I have a beginning, a middle, and a surprising end. By the 19th of August, our showcase, I’ll have a finished draft. Whether I’ll have it memorized? Doubtful. But I’m gonna give it my best.

I backed into this project with the poetry of Cold Mountain. Got most of the ten poems memorized. Tal says I sink deep into the role when I’m reading the poems. I may have mentioned that my fellow acting class members have applauded me several times. Not so much with what I’ve written.

Four of the characters have speaking parts. Herme, The Seeker, Gaius Ovidius, and Han Shan. The fifth, a helper, does not. I feel confident about Herme and Han Shan. But the Seeker (an Asian woman) and Gaius, a Roman Centurion, need a lot of work. Defining them clearly and separately while finishing revisions of the script. That’s my task over the next three weeks.

 

More and more leaning away from October 8th. Too much to do before I leave for Korea (see above and below) and too little time after I get back on September 27th. Thinking about 2024. Either on my birthday, my 77th, or in the late Spring. Still focused on celebrating aging. On aging men. In this divided country of ours.

 

On August 17th I have my first of ten sessions with Rabbi Jamie’s Introduction to Judaism. Perspectives on Jewish Identity. Here are a few of the 9 questions. 1. What is Judaism? Is it a religion? A culture? A set of observances?  2. What does it mean to be Jewish? 9. Consider these four dimensions of Jewish identity:

Cultural/Ethnic – cuisine, dress, calendar, etc.

National – ties to land and country, political affiliations, etc

Communal – Circle of extended family and friends, synagogue membership, etc.

Spiritual/Religious – personal beliefs, rituals, values, etc.

Profile your own identity using these four categories. Now use them to profile a Jewish Israeli.

I look forward to digging into these and the other questions, then discussing them with Jamie.

 

 

 

Acting, Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Travel, US History, World History

No people

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Cold Mountain. The path to Cold Mountain. Tom’s journey. The flaming sword that guards the entrance to Eden. Myth. The myths we live by. Odysseus. Achilles. Priam. Troy. Helen. Homer. Zeus. Hermes. Hera. Apollo. Poseidon. Hercules. God. Jesus. Mohammed. Mark. John. Matthew. Luke. Moses. Joshua. King David. King Solomon. Rebecca. Jacob. At the Jabbok Ford. Baucis and Philemon. Aphrodite. Lycaon. Cadmus and the dragon teeth warriors. Paul Bunyan. Babe the Blue Ox. Johnny Inkslinger.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Myth

One brief shining: Took a can of cold seltzer Water out of the fridge it cooled my hand while I went upstairs to my home office where my computer waits always on for me to sit in that Herman Miller chair Kate bought me for a long ago birthday clicking on the keyboard the screen comes to life and I’m ready to get started on another post for Ancientrails.

 

Three days in a row with no in person human contact. I needed it after last week. Left me tired, wrung out. Rode hard and put away wet. I did talk with my son and Seoah on Saturday night [AM Korea time] and BJ and Sarah on Sunday late afternoon. Other than that working out, reading about Korea, working on what is now titled The Trail to Cold Mountain, that sorta thing. Thinking about revelation, about faith as a secondary characteristic of revelation. About what is sacred. Holy. Divine. A full three days but quiet, peaceful. Restorative.

Could go another two based on no class tonight and nothing on the calendar on Wednesday. But. Nope. Going out for breakfast. See some real people. Then back home for a day with The Trail to Cold Mountain. Herme is still the main character and it’s still his story, but I’m modifying it a lot thanks to Tal and Joan’s ideas.

 

My son wants me to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering before I get to Korea. I’m doing that. It’s a very popular strategy game played around the world in person and online. He’s excited about a new batch of Magic cards that have just come out based on the Lord of the Rings. There’s an online tutorial. My next lesson is on Creature Combat. I remember when it was Zelda and Mario Brothers on the Nintendo. Long time ago.

 

Reading about the Far Right has taken a back seat lately to Korea. Now some ways into Two Koreas. It’s a very different read from Korea’s Place in the Sun. Written by two journalists it has a more first person you were there feel to it. Will give me a different perspective on the war and postwar years. Enjoying it so far.

 

Feeling the outwash from the jet engines on my plane to Incheon. Figuring out adapters and transformers. Smart phone and sim cards. How I can keep myself connected and charged while in Osan. Also learning a bit about the Seoul subway system. Probably will revisit my Korean lessons starting soon. Have to get spare keys made. Reserve an Uber for the airport. Check my drugs to make sure I have enough for a month away. Stop mail. Buy gifts and send them soon to the APO address for my son. No sense carrying them. Figuring out the lightest possible packing plan. All that stuff.

 

Considering holding off on the crossing the threshold ritual until next year. Might be more than I can handle with Korea, conversion, Israel.

 

 

Acting, Art and Culture, Beyond the Boundaries, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Reimaging revelation, Science, Wild Neighbors, Writing

Joy

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Summer and the Herme Moon

Monday gratefuls: Herme. The Seeker. Gaius Ovidius. Han Shan. Writing a very short play. Acting. Distractions. Procrastination. Writing again. Working on revelation. Sacred. Divine. Holy. Spiritual. Religious. Worship. Inspiration. What do these words mean? Are they still important? Judaism. Sarah. BJ. Family. Ruth and Gabe. Marina Harris. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Korea. Adapters. Travel. Love. Burning it all away but love. Life’s purpose.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: the religious life

One brief shining: Here it is the Lodgepole out my window I look at it and see all its Branches arranged towards the East where Great Sol becomes seen each morning no need for western facing Branches due to the shade of others those Branches toward Great Sol right now hold Needles and Cone, survival and reproduction of the species, unseen but known to me is that most magical and necessary of all transformations/transubstantiations photosynthesis gathering in the nuclear fusion power of Great Sol, combining it with carbon dioxide and water, then stepping it down into sugars and oxygen and fixed carbon. A miracle of the ordinary. The ordinary as miracle.

 

Oh. Speeding into my mind since last Tuesday night Herme and the nature of revelation. Prompting a creative torrent can’t keep up with it. Have to slow down. Stop. Read. Watch television. Burning through my photosynthetically captured energy reserves. Glad my thyroid stimulating hormone has given me the ability to use the energy as long as I can. More than glad. Joyful.

 

This is so much fun. Considering how to lace lines from Han Shan into my own written dialogue, stage directions, settings. Imagining how to advance the plot, how to have a smash bang ending. Yippee! Having to figure out how to represent each character distinctively. When I have trouble having to do that for one character. Gotta thank Alan for suggesting acting classes. I’ve learned so much about myself. About talents and skills long buried. Not gone. Which makes me happy.

Acting combines the intellect and the emotions, the lev heart/mind, into a sharpened tool with the whole body. The voice. Movement. Posture. Cadence. Emphasis. Volume. All important. Plus memory. Putting it all into the mind and retrieving it as necessary, remembering per Meisner how to live truthfully in an imaginary situation.

 

Also going to sleep thinking about revelation. What does it reveal? How? When? How do we know it when it’s happening? Waking up with revelation still on my mind. Seeing revelation through my window.

The book of Nature, of super nature, always open to one page or another. Great Sol in the Sky. The Lodgepole out my window. The first six inches of Top Soil. Feeling the Oxygen breathed out by the Lodgepoles going into my lungs. Another miracle. The transfer of Oxygen into my blood stream so the energy gained from Plants and Animals can transubstantiate into my organs, flesh, bones, lev. How marvelous! How wonderful.

These are the ordinary encounters, yes, but still inspirational. Perhaps they don’t rise to the level of revelation. The line between revelation and an ordinary miracle is still not clear to me. Perhaps an ordinary miracle involves the intellect more. I can look up photosynthesis, read about it, yet its role in our life of very life is so intimate, so critical, and so ignored that seeing where it is happening, right now, opens my heart in wonder.

Yet it does not have the jolt, the jitterbugging of the Rainy Night Watcher. That was a hairs on the skin rising up goosebumps moment. I take from those indicators that my body/lev responded holistically. No mental processing. No slotting of the experience or wondering about Elks. Rather an oh this is happening to me right now! Wow. What? Gosh. A frisson of fear. I can still see him dimly lit at the side of the road, watching, his Antlers spread wider than the space of the two Lodgepoles just behind them.

Loving this, too. Reimagining revelation. Yes. That’s the key.