Category Archives: Fourth Phase

Art and Culture, Fourth Phase, Humanities, Letters, Literature, Memories, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Book-Wrapt

December 26, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of the Winter Solstice

Where is Webb? At this moment it is 157000 miles from Earth, 742,000 miles to its orbit, and cruising at a stately 1084 miles per second.

Sunday gratefuls: The Webb. 17% of the way to L2. Our white Christmas. The Power of the Dog. Whoa. Jane Campion. Microwave. Sink, working. Dishwasher, working. Heart, working. Kate, always Kate. Travel. Jon’s prints. Kep’s bounteous fur. Rigel’s pique. Termination Shock, Neil Stephenson. Finished. Barrow spread. Finished. New life. Begun.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Barrow Spread

Tarot: Winter Solstice spread. The Barrow. My question: How can I replenish my fire? A second post, today or tomorrow.

Book-wrapt. A new term invented by a neighbor of Toni Morrison’s, a computer scientist who wrote a book on private libraries. Reid Byers: The Private Library. As those of you who’ve seen my loft know, this topic has a personal interest to me. If you clicked through, you’ll know this is a pricey volume. Uncharacteristically, I didn’t buy it. Yet.

“Entering our library should feel like easing into a hot tub, strolling into a magic store, emerging into the orchestra pit, or entering a chamber of curiosities, the club, the circus, our cabin on an outbound yacht, the house of an old friend,” he writes. “It is a setting forth, and it is a coming back to center.”

Mr. Byers coined a term — “book-wrapt” — to describe the exhilarating comfort of a well-stocked library.” NYT, Dec. 24, 2021.

The loft is such a place. It’s not an architect designed space. It doesn’t have the coherence that a purpose built private library might, but it is book-wrapt. Book-full. Book-stacked. A book place. When I come up here, the world shrinks away and I’m in book world, thought world, the Other World of my lived existence. The house is This World where food gets cooked, sleep happens, dogs lounge. A sick wife got cared for.

I have often commented on the strength of Rigel and Kep’s support during my grieving. And, it’s so true. Something I’ve forgotten, or perhaps not recognized until this article, is the support of my library.

Libraries are my happy place. While in Seminary, I had a favorite carrel on the third floor of the library. It overlooked the Seminary grounds, Highway 694, and the forested land across the freeway to the north. My heartbeat slows down, my mind concentrates. I find flow in libraries.

Perhaps that’s the key to my version of a hermitage. In addition to housing the hermit on a mountain top, it also holds books and art, a place to create art, a place to sustain the body. A place to write. A place to read. The library, the loft, is on the grounds, but not of the house. It is its own place, space.

When the living room area gets finished, an Arts and Crafts feel should permeate the house.Without knowing why, that era of design gives me a feeling similar to being book-wrapt. Something about its rich colors, floral patterns, sharp-edged furniture, stained glass. Maybe it’s the Victorian evocation? The Bloomsbury group? Not sure, but I am trying for some level of integration between my book-wrapt space and the This World focus of the house.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Holidays, Judaism, Kabbalah, Memories, Myth and Story, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend

December 21, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Winter Solstice Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: My slab, all fabricated, comes home. Jodi and Blue Mountain Kitchens. Jon. Birthday dinner at the Black Hat tonight. The darkest, longest, deepest night. Yule. The Winter Solstice. First tarot reading. Max, growing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fabrication

Tarot: going to create my first Celtic holiday spread, a Winter Solstice one. I’ll report later. This is the first day in my year long study of the Wildwood deck in particular and Tarot in general.

The quartzite fabricator has met his schedule, bless him. He will be here today to put in my new counter top. This is the piece I chose, the more expensive one, because I didn’t want the next few years working on a counter top I’d settled for. Excited to see it in place. Coming around 9 or 10.

Brian, the cabinet maker? Not so much. Looks like the promise of my kitchen coming home by Christmas ain’t gonna happen. My friendly cynic Alan predicted this. I chose to believe. Sigh.

I have asked Jodi if she can have Bowe come and connect my new sink and dishwasher if we’re going past this week.

Jon and I will attempt a reprise of the birthday dinner. I’m looking forward to it. Black Hat Cattle Company. I’ve had great meals and horrible meals there. Hope this is a good one. Planning to try to get a better bead on how he’s doing, where he’s going. With the family in the picture I’m feeling easier about him and about us.

Did my first ever Tarot reading yesterday for Luke, the Executive Director of Beth Evergreen. The Tree of Life spread I learned from Mark Horn. It was both harder and easier than I had imagined.

Harder in that I kept wondering what I’d say next. Each card has its own meaning and that meaning has a link with the sephirot on which it falls. My knowledge of the cards is still very sketchy and my knowledge of kabbalah, though better, is very far from deep.

Easier in that I found I could go from the images on the card and my understanding of the sephirot to questions that brought a point of reflection home to Luke. I think I talked too much and knew too little. Other than that, I’d give myself an attaboy for the first reading.

The Winter Solstice. The beginning of Yule. It’s my favorite time of the year! Darkness. Gets a bad rap. The longest night is as important to our soul as the longest day is to our crops. I think of this day as the culmination of the promise made on September 29th, the Saint’s Day of the Archangel Michael: This is the springtime of the soul!

As the darkness and cold of winter offers us a chance to sit by the fire, get warm, read, dream, the longest night offers us a chance to go as deep as we can into the inner structure of our becoming. Yes. Of course. You can do so at other times; but this day, this night reminds us of how deep we can go, how much of our life happens in darkness occulted even to our own consciousness.

Since I left the Christian ministry in 1991, I’ve stayed steadfast against transcendence as a spiritual goal. It takes us up and out of ourselves, away from this reality, away from life. It also reinforces the idea of a three-story universe with good heaven, to be suffered through earth, and a bad hell. And, with the Roman Catholic hierarchy leading us toward heaven, it has reinforced the patriarchy of Western culture.

In rebelling against transcendence I chose to go down and in, rather than up and out for spiritual sustenance. I wanted to sanctify this world, this place that we know. Existence before essence. That meant I wanted to know what happened in the interior of my life, how it could inform my journey.

So happened that the Great Wheel came into my life at the same time. When I started to write novels, Kate suggested I find something close to me as subject matter. At the time I was learning about the Correls, my Irish ancestors from County Wicklow. I chose to look into the Celts, their history, their mythology, their religion.

I learned so much. The Faery Faith, by Edward Evans-Wentz, took me into the daily, seasonal lives of 19th century Celts still involved with the auld religion. The holidays like Beltane and Samain, Lughnasa. My first awareness of them from this exploration.

Then I discovered the Great Wheel. The expanded Celtic calendar of holidays that includes the solar holidays, equinoxes and solstices, with the cross-quarter holidays peculiar to the Celts: Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasa, and Samain.

The Great Wheel was the key that unlocked the door to my new spiritual path. It’s seasonal and I’m a Midwestern boy attuned to their changes as they relate to the agricultural year. The Great Wheel is an agricultural calendar so it matched my lived experience in the corn and beans belt of central Indiana.

Now, thirty years plus later, I’m growing beyond my rebellion against transcendence. I still don’t want or need its reinforcement of patriarchy, of hierarchy. But. Transcendence can place us in this interconnected web of evolution, a literally universal process happening both in us and outside of us. Transcendence can be the way we come out of the comfort of our own interior to interact with the ongoingness of all things.

The Summer Solstice, the longest day, the promise of the Sun’s energy delivered to plants so that our lives might be sustained, is the holiday of transcendence. A time when we go beyond ourselves, feel beyond ourselves. Live in the web aware of the web.

The Winter Solstice, the longest night, the promise of fecund darkness, of fallow times, of the life that gathers in the dark world of the top six inches of soil, reminds us of our precious particularity, our uniqueness, our once and only time. We go down, down into what Ira Progoff called the Inner Cathedral. We knit together our shadow, our unconscious, our consciousness, go down the inner Holy Well that connects each of us to the collective unconscious. We knit them together, see them for the whole, the distinctive pattern, that is our Self. It’s a both/and, our uniqueness and our can’t get away from it interconnectedness.

Gone on too long. Sorry about that. Can’t wait for night to fall. This night, this Holy, Sacred, Blessed night.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Kabbalah, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

The Continuing Crisis

December 18, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Saturday gratefuls: The Blues shabbat. Kate. Alan. Jamie. Luke. Orgovyx by Fedex. The assistance fund. Prostate cancer. Artificial knee. The lenses in my eyes from cataract surgery. That mended Achilles tendon. My paralyzed diaphragm, left side. Medicine. Zoom. Ruby with a full tank of gas. Cold weather. Snowpack numbers up.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Conflict. Creative tension.

Tarot: ?What do I need to get the most out of this weekend?

Ace of Vessels: The Waters of Life. King of Stones: Wolf. Nine of vessels: Generosity.

A three card spread asking the question above occupies most of this post. It’s below. The focus is on Jon and his continuing crisis. Once again the cards evoke archetypal energies, caused reflection at a deep level, and remind all of us involved, Jon and the Johnson sisters and me, to be aware of emotional traps.

Blues Shabbat last night at CBE. I zoomed since it started at 7:30 pm and my chariot transforms to pumpkinhood around 8 pm. Makes attendance at Friday shabbat services a challenge for me. Rabbi Jamie wrote a couple of blues songs and wrote new lyrics to old standards like Stormy Weather. The CBE band had a keyboardist/vocalist, a backup singer, harmonica, drums, and lead guitar.

I appreciated the effort, but the sound on my laptop and the difficulty of getting good sound from the sanctuary to those of us online made listening difficult. I also wish the blues had been more reflective of Jews’ long struggle for safety and community. A little too upbeat for me. But the online crowd loved the show.

Had lunch with Alan. He’s in between eyeballs with cataract surgery. And wondering if some changes are permanent. We’ll find out. I always leave lunch with Alan smiling.

At the shiva for Kate he told me, “It’s going to be my job to get you out of the house.” He’s been true to his word. His kindness and consistency since then has helped me. A lot.

Got in my workout. A new practice now. I look at the day either the night before or the morning of and choose a time during the day for exercise. It has worked so far. When I had a rigid schedule, which I preferred, at least until now, I would be negative when I missed a day. And, I missed some, sometimes a whole week, like last week. I don’t want the negative so I’m going to try some flexibility and being good with what I can get in. My goal is 300 minutes a week. Satisfied with 240. OK with getting some exercise in a tough week no matter the minutes.

Today and tomorrow are study days in addition to family and Ancient Brothers time. Looking forward to it all.

The Path to a good weekend:

Ace of Vessels. Vessels go with the elemental water. Water in the Tarot is emotions. This ace of vessels reminds me that I need to avoid extreme emotions, remain balanced in my response. An important reminder since I have a meal with Jon and the kids at 3:15. And, on Sunday, the Johnson sisters and I zoom with Jon to talk about his financial crisis and how to help him through it. Balanced emotions, clear expression of them, will be key for Jon to get what he needs and for us to do what we can without enabling him. No to enmeshment, co-dependence. Yes to chesed.

King of Stones Stones are with the elemental earth. Earth is the practical, the this-worldly, the reality we can touch and feel. The Wolf is leader of the pack, one who protects, defends, and disciplines. Jon’s crisis calls for protection and defense of him and of the grandkids. We, his family, can do that best by a conservative approach with money, a generous approach with kindness and love. Our response, and his, must be practical, helpful, and timely. The Wolf also reminds us that each of us must make our own way in the Wildwood, but that we can’t do that alone.

Nine of Vessels As the pip cards increase in number so do their expression of the key aspects of their suit. Our emotional response to this weekend must be generous. Kind. Protective. We must all guide ourselves and our emotional response with generosity. Not sure what that generosity looks like in action. TBD. But the nine of vessels in this position means it is the action most needed for a good weekend.

Overall Jon’s situation will bring us closer together as a family. Potentially. If we avoid blaming, anger, disappointment, and yet insist on accountability, responsibility then we can avoid the emotional traps inherent in this kind of discussion. What comes needs to have clarity for Jon and for the family. It needs to give him support and protect the health of the pack, the family. These may be in conflict and will require careful, honest, open conversation. But. If we proceed from a position of generosity of spirit, generosity of attention, and generosity of resources, then all of us can come away from this weekend feeling good about our family and ourselves.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Tarot

Good Grief. And, a confession

December 17, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Friday gratefuls: Mussar group. Tears. Lachrimae. Kate, always and still. Cousin Diane. Recovering. Grief. Good grief. Kep with his head on my pillow last night. Final bills for kitchen remodel. Within my budget. As I expected, but was not certain of. Seth Levine. White privilege, black businesses. Together? The American Day of Atonement. January 10th.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grief

Tarot: Eight of vessels: rebirth wildwood tarot

Grieving. At Toni Haas’ funeral I cried. Empathy with other mourners. Not for her, at least not much since I didn’t know her, only Rabbi Jamie. Perhaps for him. At Mussar yesterday. The conversation turned to being with those who are dying. How can we bring something worthwhile to the death bed?

Michele asked me if Kate and I had talked about her decision to die. Yes. Long, long pause as the memories of that moment filled my heart. Yes, I hate your decision, Kate, but I respect it and believe it is best for you. Now many tears, sobbing. I miss her so much. More tears.

Lachrimae. In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus wept while asking God to spare him crucifixion. God does not spare him, yet the tears, the lachrimae, had purified his heart. Tears cleanse and refresh our soul. Purify us in the face of something we would rather not have in our life.

So lucky to have a place like mussar where I can cry and feel ok. No need to say sorry. Being held in a quiet container as those moments with Kate flooded through me, draining out and down my cheek.

I feel good that Kate chose to die. It was her decision and it came after a long, long period of suffering, of a life in pain, chronic illness. It relieved me of any guilt.

Now nine months plus later I have a confession to make. At least I don’t think I’ve said this here, or maybe anywhere except in my own head. On the day of her death she had sunk into a morphine induced coma. I left. Sarah stayed with her.

I got a call from Sarah shortly after midnight. She’s gone. I was asleep. BJ came, drove me into the hospital. I saw Kate’s body and it scared me.

The confession is this. I was not there when she died. And I feel terrible that I wasn’t. When he brought me home that late afternoon, Rich Levine asked if I wanted to change clothes and go back. I said no.

I covered up my guilt, even to myself, by saying I didn’t need to be there when she died because I knew how she lived. I call bullshit on that now. I did need to be there and I wasn’t.

Trying to be compassionate with myself. Trying to judge the whole of myself favorably as Rabbi Nachman suggested we do. Looking at myself. I was tired. Beyond tired, exhausted. Spent. The thought of sitting in the hospital room all night was more than I could handle. I needed sleep. So I left.

But I wasn’t there at the end. Folks in mussar were talking about how healing it is to be there when a loved one dies. I know this to be true. I knew it when I decided to leave.

If I look at myself clearly, I was three years of caregiving tired. I had given Kate all I had for a long, long time. It would have been better for me, and maybe, for her if I had been there. I wasn’t. And I don’t know how to console myself about that. Or, maybe it’s inconsolable? Too grievous an insult? No. I don’t believe that. Would not say that to another person.

What would Kate have said? You needed, you deserved the rest. And, you didn’t know when I would die. The doctor said two or three days. You planned to come back in the morning. I know you did. I love you and your not being there doesn’t change that. You were there, too, so many other times.

Eight of Vessels: Rebirth

“Meaning: By looking back at the past, acknowledging our mistakes, and learning from them, we grow and attain a new wisdom. The future awaits to be unfolded as we become the Eighth Vessel and receive powerful rejuvenating energies of rebirth.”

Wildwood Tarot Book

It was a mistake for me to not be with Kate when she died. Yes. It was also the mistake of a man burdened by mourning, by exhaustion, by a real and desperate need for sleep. A man who could not have known the hour of her death.

I will, I imagine, always feel bad about not being there. But. I can forgive myself. Bring chesed to my own soul.

Here’s why the Tarot has begun to resound so powerfully for me. It puts a card of rebirth, of life after mistakes, in my view on this very day.

A simple pasteboard image, some water, a few copper vessels, rocks like a mountain stream. That’s all. But I know where that eighth vessel hangs in my inner world. It’s beside the rushing waters of the White River in Pukaskwa National Park, Ontario. Lake Superior’s true North Shore.

I’ve hiked many times in that park, finding my way to the White River as it crashes and pounds its way downhill toward the Great Lake. Since my first time there Pukaskwa fired my imagination, my story telling, and now fills my eighth vessel. Reborn. Baptized in the Waters of Wilderness.

Art and Culture, Asia, Denver, Family, Fourth Phase, Great Wheel, Kabbalah, Mountains, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

A Walk in the Wildwood

December 14, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Moon of the Winter Solstice

Tuesday gratefuls: Marina Harris and Furball Cleaning. Ana and her partner. Conifer Post Office. Mailing Christmas. That retired pre-school teacher I met in line. Meeting strangers. Ali, the Will Smith biopic. Frozen entrees, even if they are a bit boring. The pause in the remodeling. Cousins. Especially, Diane. Mary. Mark. Holiseason. Next up: Winter Solstice.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Yule

Tarot: The Hooded Man, #9 of the Major Arcana

This is the card I’ve chosen as my significator, the one that represents me. It’s why I had Herme made, a way to reinforce the Hermit, the Hooded Man living in his Hermitage.

Here’s what the Wildwood Book says about him: “The Hooded Man stands at the winter solstice point, along with the earth and the sun in the night. This is the time to be alone and contemplate life. This card describes the gates of death and rebirth, deep inside the Earth.”

On the Winter Solstice I plan to start a year cycle with a focus on learning, in as deep a way as I can, the Wildwood Tarot Deck. I’m going to follow it through the Great Wheel, doing a Great Wheel spread each Celtic holiday.

Mountain Path in Spring by Ma Yuan, Song Dynasty

I will walk this path as the Hooded Man, the Hermit. But, also think, the Chinese scholar in his mountain retreat. Thomas Merton in his cell. Any Jew walking the long road from Egypt to the Promised Land. The Celtic saint on peregrinatio. The Hindu man living through Sannyasa. This is the moment when attention turns to the holy, the inner, the sacred. That’s all I mean.

Even so. After enlightenment (no, not saying I’ve got there.) we must wash dishes, cook, pay bills. Not turning away from the world, living in it as a boy of wonder, a man turned toward the heart, toward the Wildwood. Gonna cook a regular Saturday afternoon family meal for my peeps. Use that new kitchen for taking meals to others. And, me too, of course.

Jon and I will try again next week for his birthday dinner. This time he’s coming up here and we’ll go to the Black Hat Cattle Company in Kittredge. Carnivores delight. Cardiologists’ dream restaurant. Good food, well made.

This Seth Levine, New Builders idea keeps itself alive. A sign I need to do something about it. I ordered the book, New Builders. Here’s my idea in a nutshell: Foundry Group (Seth’s venture capital organization) allies itself with a model synagogue, probably a big one like Emmanuel or Mt. Sinai, and a model Black Church, probably like or in fact, Zion which Rabbi Jamie has cultivated as a partner to Beth Evergreen. These three figure out how best to use the resources they each represent to nurture and support New Builder businesses.

If the model proves functional and productive, roll it out to other synagogues, other Black Churches, and invite in the City of Denver’s Economic Development office. The latter will have funds from the Build Back Better initiative.

Then, get to work.

No solution is the One. As in, if we fixed education, everything would be better. If we focus on mental health, we can end homelessness. No.

Yes, of course. Focus on education. Mental health. But, don’t forget jobs, businesses, the capacity to work on your own, for yourself.

I believe economic justice needs to occupy a much bigger slice of our attention than it does. Reparations? I don’t know. Maybe, if it looks like what I’m proposing, that is, a way to underwrite Black creativity and initiative. To go with their ideas, their plans. Help them breathe, live. Forty acres and a mule brought up to date.

Who knows? Could happen.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Torah

Vayigash and Gaetanos

December 12, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the waxing Winter Solstice Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shabbat. The Morning Service. Rabbi Jamie and his grief. The Minyan. The Snow. The cold. Rigel and Kep try to understand the kitchen remodel. Jon. His long nap. Gabe. Ruth. Sarah and Annie. BJ. Tom. The Ancient Brothers and the gift. Herme. The kitchen. Lower Gas bill.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A teachable moment. Maybe.

Tarot: Seven of Bows, clearance. wildwood

No chicken pot pies. Yep. Not at Conifer Safeway or the Evergreen Safeway. My favorite. Marie Callender. Confirmed this on the way home from CBE after the Shabbat morning service. Laying in a supply of frozen entrees as the kitchen remodel goes into a caesura while more cabinets get made and the quartzite fabricated.

Jews read, then reread, then reread, then reread the Torah, the first five books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. After Sukkot in the fall comes Simchat Torah, joy of the Torah. The reading of the five books ends, then picks up again at Bereshit, Genesis.

This is a qualitative difference between Judaism and Christianity. Christians parse up the “old testament” and the New. Often three short readings readings on a Sunday morning. The result, and I did it for years, is a disjointed sense of the scriptural narrative. The power lies in the hands of the liturgical calendar makers.

Even in progressive synagogues like Beth Evergreen a new parsha is read every Sabbath, in a regular sequence. Parsha’s are long. For example, the December tenth parsha was Genesis 47:28–50:26. Vayigash. The result of this reading and reading is to create a shared story, a shared mythology, a tradition that joins all Jews. Cain and Abel, Babel, the Reed Sea, Pharaoh, the Golden Calf, Mt. Sinai, the 631 mitzvot, Moses watching from Mt. Pisgah as others enter the promised land. Each character from Abraham to Aaron has a lesson or lessons to teach, not as dogma but as human choices made in contexts that we still find in our contemporary humanness.

The morning service which I attended yesterday had some wonderful and memorable moments. After six years I still have almost no Hebrew so the chanting and singing in Hebrew appeals to me as music mostly. Rabbi Jamie’s haunting chants take me to a deep place whether I read the English translation or not.

At one point a note suggested we think of a person who loves us and imagine ourselves loved by them. I chose Kate. It helped me. Seeing myself through her eyes gave me a sense of breadth to my life, a sense of what loyalty means to a woman betrayed, a sense of my possibilities as real, rather than hoped for.

Jamie talked about Tony Haas, his mother-in-law, her death last Sunday, the work she did in rural education policy. He lived with her and she died with him and the grandkids around her bed. His love and affection for her was clear, as was his sense of loss. Even 9 months later, today actually, that early grief is so present and available to me. I was with him and his family.

After my unsuccessful journey to the frozen food aisle, I drove back home, up the Snowy and Icy road. Going up is so much easier than going down in those conditions.

At 4:20, after feeding the dogs, I took off for Gaetano’s and Jon’s 53rd birthday dinner. Still feeling a little rough, but much better than Thursday night and Friday. Got there about 5:10 after a puzzling traffic delay on i-70 and surprisingly good memory about how to get to the restaurant without navigation aids.

Jon never came. Later he texted an apology. He had gone to sleep around 2 pm and didn’t wake up until 7 in spite of having set the alarm. His medications and illnesses have variable affects on him. This may have been one.

I had a nice meal on my own, testing something I had not realized I needed to. Eating a nice meal without Kate. I enjoyed the food, but the combination of her absence and the cacophony made me not want to repeat that anytime soon.

Same on the way home. I drove back up Brook Forest and Black Mountain. It was cold and there was snow on the ground. Returning from Evergreen at night in the first couple of weeks we were here. Kate and me. I reached over to her seat, held her hand for a while, felt sad.

It was good to get back home to Kep and Rigel, to the new life I’m making here on the mountain.

Seven of Bows

“This is the time to make decisions and select your priorities. Focus on what you really need in life and things that it’s time for you to drop and cut down, especially if it’s old and broken, no longer fulfilling your needs on a life journey.” The Wildwood book

This is my journey right now. Pruning. Reshaping relationships. Leaning into the good ones. Ameliorating the effects of the not so good ones. Remaking the physical space here. Refining my life over all.

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Jefferson County, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate, Woolly Mammoths

A Rake. And, two photos

December 11, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Moon of the Winter Solstice

Saturday gratefuls: Snow! Cold. Winter. A rest day. Feeling less bad. Template for the counter top done. Jodi. Best contractor I’ve worked with. Rabbi Jamie. Mourning. CBE. Safeway. Pickup. Frozen entrees. Microwave. Tom’s photos. His safe arrival in Minnesota Weather.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Frozen food

Tarot: Nine of Stones, Tradition. wildwood

Chilly. Colorado chilly. 15 degrees, some Snow. Maybe 3 to 4 inches. Good to see. It helps with the wildfire situation. Doesn’t solve it, but it helps. Also, beautiful.

Snow rake today. I’ve had the rake since we installed the solar panels, but never used it. This year, with the mini-splits installed and heating with Electricity, I plan to. You only have to rake a section off the bottom of each panel and the snow slides off as the sun comes out. At least that’s the theory. I’ve not done it yet, so I can’t really say.

Safeway pickup as soon as I finish with this. Torah study with Rabbi Jamie at CBE. 10 am. Jon at Gaetano’s for his 53rd birthday. 5:15 pm. Some stuff going on.

Still feeling a little off, but headed up rather than down. Not sure what that was about. Didn’t like it.

Pictures today courtesy of Tom Crane’s phone:

Kep and I contemplate the partially finished kitchen

Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Jefferson County, Judaism, Memories, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Park County, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

That’s Sick!

December 10, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the waxing Winter Solstice Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tom’s visit. Happy Camper. Cutthroat Cafe. Tradition! Lunch with Marilyn and Irv at Aspen Perks. Bowe and his helper. Lower cabinets in place. Microwave up and plugged in. Sink in but non-functional. Appliances back in place. Stove and frig working. Herme is in the house. It will be a while before he gets hung. Snow. Maybe an inch or so.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship. Ancient brothers.

Tarot: Ten of Vessels, happiness. wildwood

Goya’s, Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls Museum of Art

Feeling crummy. Tom flew all the way out here and I couldn’t go to dinner last night with him. Slight nausea, mild headache, and felt like headed toward more and worse. Stayed in, went to bed early. This morning a bit of a stuffy nose, a little off. But not worse. Maybe a stomach thing, a bit of food poisoning? Or, something I got from grandson Gabe?

I’ve not been ill since a round of pneumonia in 2019. Well, except for the persistent cancer and post-polio and… That’s significant when you consider the stress of caring for Kate over just those intervening years. I consider myself a pretty healthy person, bracketing the afore mentioned, of course.

Before I skipped dinner though, Tom and I had a full morning. After Bowe and his helper got here to finish installing the bottom cabinets, Tom came. We decided to go to the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey for a small breakfast since we were meeting Irv and Marilyn at 11:30 at Aspen Perks.

Met a nice former Wisconsin resident who drives to Bailey from Denver to waitress. She had a kind smile and a happy temperament. We ordered off the Senior menu, which, as Tom pointed out, we were over qualified for since it started at age 65. We spoke as long time friends will, of things near and far in time, of journeys and other friends, family. Hopes and dreams. Fears. The food came and went, more coffee.

During the week the Cutthroat is the only breakfast place in Bailey. Locals and tourists alike. On the weekend the Rustic Station has breakfast and its fabulous heavy cream pancakes. But the Happy Campers’ Happy Hour, with 20% off all purchases, is only available during the week. That means I rarely get to the Rustic Station.

Tom and I bought Cheeba Chews Indica and a new Cheeba Chews product, Sweet Dreams. Indica plus cbd and melatonin. Tried it last night and it worked well for me. I needed the sleep, too.

Pine Junction (about half way between Conifer and Bailey)

The drive from Conifer to Bailey goes up and down Mountains, through Valleys with Mountains in front and in back, down other Valleys with Mountains filling the view, often covered in mist or clouds far away. As 285 runs past King’s Valley, where Marilyn and Irv live, the Continental Divide comes into view. It’s far away, in South Park, past Fairplay. At this time of year it is often, as it was yesterday, Snow covered.

We had a delightful lunch with Marilyn and Irv. Bringing together the two important friendship groups in my life: The Woolly Mammoths and Congregation Beth Evergreen. We talked about Robert Bly and the men’s movement, the formation of the Woollies, its endurance over time. Multiverses, too. Quantum mechanics. Books. Like the Midnight Library which Irv had listened to.

Home of the Master Benders who created Herme

When Tom and I got back to Shadow Mountain, we opened the back door of Ruby and took Herme out. Downstairs on the Stickley table. I lit him up for Tom. Rigel and Kep looked on wondering what those silly humans are up to now?

I had Tom clip on Roger. Sitting in the passenger seat presents my left ear to the driver, my nonfunctional left ear. With Roger clipped to Tom’s vest I could hear him. When I clip it on somebody now, I joke saying at least this time Roger will go home with someone I know if I forget him. As I did at Gaetano’s.

Sure enough. As Tom pulled out of the driveway, I heard a familiar ping. Roger was getting away! I ran out after Tom, but he didn’t see me. Fortunately, a guy in a pick up saw me and flagged Tom down. Roger came home.

After I got up from my nap, I began to feel off. Just not quite right. Stomach, head. That dissonant sense when the body’s no longer in homeostasis. I held off messaging Tom as long I could, but finally I had to say no. I can’t do it tonight. A shame since he’s here and I see him in person rarely. Still. Illness is no respecter of persons or calendars.

Covid. The first thing that ran through my mind. Nope. No fever. No respiratory involvement. An intestinal critter of some sort, I guess.

Quartzite fabricator comes today. Measuring. Then, a lull in the action while Brian finishes the upper cabinets and the cabinet doors and the quartzite gets cut. It will be close, but I think we’ll make Christmas. I’m excited about reorganizing the kitchen, cooking in it. An ongoing treat.

Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Our Land and Home, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Oh, Todd.

December 9, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the waxing crescent of the Winter Solstice Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Tom’s visit. Bowe and his helper. Almost done with this first round of work. Rigel and Kep, my all night heaters. Who needs an electric blanket? The mini-splits. Fire danger. Lodgepole Pines. Rock outcroppings. Hwy. 78, our only route in or out. Rabbi Jamie. His mother-in-law, Toni Haas. Who died. With whom he was living.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hand/Craft work. Skilled labor.

Tarot: King of Stones, ww

Remodeling has its moments. One came yesterday when Bowe said, hey, look at this! What? See these? He showed me one of three electrical wires with exposed wire. Yes? These were behind your wall. And, alive! He showed me his knife blade where the arc of one of the wires took out a chip of metal.

Oh, Todd. We’re sorry we ever knew ya. Todd was a retired fireman. His name is forever held in infamy in our house. However his assignment has now descended to the lowest pit of contractor hell. May he stay there with exposed wires, leaky pipes, and poorly hung cabinets.

Bowe’s helper, who lives in Colorado Springs, quite a hike from here, is big. Tall and with a beery gut obtained over a lifetime of commitment to the brew. And, about my age. He moved a cabinet and I found him propped up on it, breathing heavily. I’ve had two (pneumo thorax) and they’ve reduced my lung capacity. Oh. Well, you’re also at 8,800 feet.

Bowe himself is a cheerful, short guy. Shorter than me, even at my diminished height of 5′ 6″. Bouncy energy. If he can get the faucet, he’s going to hook my sink backup for use during the fabrication time for the quartzite. He says about two weeks. I thought three. I’m going with his estimate.

Cousin Diane said yesterday that I could just plug my microwave in and use it. I said, nah. They cut the chord at the end. Tom suggested I have somebody help get it back on the counter since it plugged in. I looked closer. What I thought was a cut wire was in fact cut tubing from the water purifier. Oh. Well, Diane and Tom. Thanks. Gonna have the fabricator, who comes tomorrow, help me horse back onto the cabinets. Then I can have chicken pot pies. Burritos. Warmed up leftovers. Yes.

Tom brought me two bags of Battle River Wild Rice. A Minnesota gourmet treat. Thanks again, Tom. We had supper last night at Three Margaritas, the closest restaurant to the house. I haven’t been in there in a year and a half plus. Covid plus Kate’s increasingly sensitive palate.

With our proximity to Texas and New Mexico Colorado has many Latino residents, so the Mexican food here, including Tex-Mex, is pretty good. Lots of food trucks in the city serve it, too. Especially in Aurora and on Denver’s West side.

Sent a note to my urologist about the $1,800 bill from Myriad Genetics. Sussing out whether I have any genetic leanings toward prostate cancer. If I do, as I move forward, they may be able to treat me with medication designed for the genetic markers of my particular cancer. Good idea. But the $1,800 qualified as a big surprise! Doc’s nurse has set me up with folks who might lower my bill. Maybe way down. Hope so.

If I was paying full freight on my Orgovyx, $836 a month copay, my prostate cancer care would now be upwards of $10,000 plus a year with the auximin pet scan and the genetic testing. Which is, of course, a one time only. But the other two are ongoing.

Now you might say. Geez, it’s saving your life. What’s the price for that? A good question. And I so appreciate all the medical advances in prostate care. I like living. But, in staying alive, I have to do just that, live. Quality of life is important, too. If my disposable income gets sopped up by co-pays and co-insurance, then I’m stuck. Yes, it’s a problem of privilege, I see that, too. However, it’s still a problem.

I reapplied to the Assistance Fund for co-pay assistance with the Orgovyx. I won’t know until January, possibly late January. They say their ability to reup aid for those of us in the program depends on the financial commitments they get from their patrons. Which makes sense. But it does leave the process a bit too up in the air. Why I’m a bit sensitive about the Myriad bill.

Aging is, among many other things, expensive.

Not complaining. Well, not personally complaining. I can handle it. But for so many an $1,800 bill would break their finances. Let alone a regular $836 dollars a month. This is capitalism and our Rube Goldberg payment methods for medical care. Did I mention a need for universal health care?

Rabbi Jamie read this poem yesterday:

Dirge Without Music

Edna St. Vincent Millay – 1892-1950

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Cinema and Television, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Minnesota, Tarot, Travel

A busy day

December 7, 2021 Charles Leave a comment

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Colonoscopy prep. Jon last night. Cancer worries. Jon’s 53rd on Friday. At Gaetano’s. Ruth and Gabe putting their Hanukkah gift mugs in my cabinet. Our cabinet. Cabinets emptied. Whew. Bowe starts demo today. The new cabinets, the bottom ones needed for the quartzite fabricators are here. Bowe installs those on Thursday. The plan anyhow. Herme is home. Neon. Noble gases. Elements. Sulfur. Helium. Carbon. Uranium. Lead. Potassium.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Phase Four

Tarot: Six of Stones, wildwood

Dove off of always under construction Highway 70 at the Peoria exit. Then spent an interesting 15 minutes searching for Identgo, the TSA contractor for my TSA prechek appointment. 39th Street is a boundary line. On its south flank Aurora extends into its eastern suburbs. On its north it serves as an artery for capillary streets that end at the freeway’s fence. Concrete buildings with truck bays facing the street. A few RV’s parked in what look like permanent positions. Lots of extended chain link topped with razor wire. The faceless underbelly of small companies or the warehouses for big ones.

Identgo, also the site of Unicorn Drug testing, sat at the end of one of eight rows of sad, buff colored small offices. Christ-Ministry. Gospel Church. Mountain Stone. Identgo.

I had a thick sheaf of documents, divorce decree, marriage licenses, a birth certificate. They stayed in their envelope. This was a much more casual process than I had imagined. The gender fluid person who checked me had on outrageous boots. Made of brocade with thick laces and standing on 5 inch heels these were uncommon.

“Those are some boots” started a longer conversation. They showed me photos of other cool boots. A Canadian designer was their favorite. He also had high boots that looked like cows hooves. Dress shoes in yellow. Or, fading from yellow to purple.

They had been in Tokyo and NYC working for Identgo. In spite of the cheesiness of the office, the process itself was high-tech and quick. A handheld computer did most of the work. A blue screen for a photo, $85 and Bob’s your uncle.

Hopped onto 70 listening to a CPR program about Westside Story and why Puerto Ricans felt a remake was overdo. Short answer: Rita Moreno was the only PR in the first version though she did win an Oscar. Also, it reinforced Puerto Rican’s as an immigrant group somehow involved in teen delinquency. Might not have been so bad if it didn’t go on to become the best musical and fourth favorite movie of the Oscars.

Turned off I-25 near Bronco’s Stadium and into another, more upscale warren of businesses. Zuni Street. At 13th, near the brand new and strange Meow Wolf, I turned left into a newer, snazzier business mall. Morry’s Neon.

When I got there Tina, Glen, and one of the master benders were eating Mexican food off paper plates. Probably food truck fare. Glen took me back in the shop, plugged in the Hermit. I said. Wow. He smiled. Showed me how he would hang it. Clean it with a soft brush. The transformers good for about ten years. Other than that. No maintenance.

Tina took my money. Glen loaded Herme in the back of Ruby. Onto a moving blanket I had positioned there for that purpose. Back up the hill. And, none too soon.

Since Kate’s illness, the pandemic, and her death, I’ve not gone down the hill much. I find myself overstimulated in the city. Traffic. Exits. Navigating. Too many people. Lights. Police. Just. More. Than. I. Need. Strange for a guy who did nothing but urban work for over 25 years. But, true. Exurban, mountain me.

When I got back, the remainder of the cabinet cleanout. Though I had a huge stack of boxes in the living room on Saturday, I used all of them except one. I did the last few jars while I fed the dogs this morning. Lots of evidence of mice. Wish I could have a cat.

This whole process got hard. Oh, I remember Kate using this cherry pitter. Who owns a cherry pitter, anyhow? Her canning stuff, pressure cooker, water bath. Empty Ball jars. The mustard yellow fondue pot. A relic of the sixties. Her sixties.

There’s a dark beauty in grief. As it deepens feelings, it opens me to more feelings, to the wonder of our time together. Cooking. Harvesting honey. I came across a quart jar of Artemis Honey with the Ode made label still on the lid. Peaches. 2016. 2018. Western slope peaches. Canned right here. There was currant jelly, too. Ground cherry, wild grape. All by her hand. So much. Quilts. Mug rugs. Runners. What a life we had.

In an hour I’m leaving to take Jon to his colonoscopy. Sarah and BJ, two of Kate’s sisters, may have convinced him to let them help him sort out his house. That would be a big deal. He might get the stimulus to finish the kitchen, other rooms. That would be so good.