Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Sunday gratefuls: Ovation West and Center Stage’s Fiddler on the Roof. Excellent. Jon, still struggling with Addison’s and diabetes and thyroid problems. Probably hospital next week. Ruth and Gabe, getting by with all this as best they can. Rigel, who barked in the middle of the Night. Kep, who did not. 33 degrees. Clear blue Sky. Ancient Ones. Johnson clan. Kate Strickland and Michael Banker at Scooter’s.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family
Tarot: Queen of Wands

Gosh. Took Joseph to DIA, leaving here at 8:30 so he could get a rapid Covid test, a haircut. Got the test. Busy barbers. On to the airport. Much easier drive on a Saturday morning. Both ways. I said good bye to this sweet kid with a big hug at United departures. He lifted his heavy, heavy duffle and his also heavy backpack, trudged off into the terminal. On his way to LAX, then Honolulu, Seoah, and Murdoch. And tonight, Sunday night, back to the airport for a flight first to Guam, then Manila. In the middle of the week, then, back home.

Got home. A brief liedown. Up at 12:30 for my Tree of Life Tarot spread class. Left the class early. To Center Stage in Evergreen to meet Jon, Ruth, Gabe for Fiddler on the Roof. Alan is in it. A beggar.
The production was wonderful. A small live orchestra accompanies most Center Stage musicals. And, they’re all musicals. Tevya was, oddly, the director of the Music Department at Colorado Christian College. His voice, stage presence, acting carried the show. Which had imaginative choreography, few props, and a compelling pace. The cast had chops.

It went from 2:30 to 5:45. Glad we didn’t do the evening show. I would have been snoring in my seat.
Because I screwed up my schedule and we didn’t get lunch before hand (I forgot to enter my class and the show on my calendar. Rare.), I waited for a Beau Jo’s Mountain pizza while Jon and the kids went on to Shadow Mountain.
About an hour later, I arrived home with a hamburger and sausage combination, 5-pound (how they sell them) pie.
Jon’s struggles with his disease triad, teaching, and depression have gotten worse. So much so that he’s applied for medical leave and has considered going on disability. Yes, it’s that severe. He gets intermittent low blood pressure that makes him weak, thrush that makes it hard to eat, not to mention the serious fluctuations in his blood sugar and cortisol levels.
The thrush went on long enough that he’s now thin, as Kate was. Eerie similarities in their path.

All this concerns me, not only for Jon, but for Ruth and Gabe as well. Jon thinks his endocrinologist will put him in the hospital, possibly as soon as tonight or tomorrow. There they can manage his blood sugar and cortisol more closely, develop a plan for handling it. Jon told me last night that a small cohort of Addison’s sufferers have his symptoms, where the medicine does not resolve the cortisol insufficiency, creating crisis after crisis.
Not sure where all this goes. Time.
Thursday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Sandy, a sweet visit. Rigel’s skin problem. Joseph, on his way. The three Mule Deer Does that visited our yard yesterday afternoon. A very cool Night. The house all pretty. The mini-splits coming next week. And, the kitchen remodel is on! Fiddler on the Roof this weekend with Jon, Ruth, and Gabe. The Hermitage.
Got the green light from my financial advisor for the kitchen remodel plus the mini-splits. With the house staining completed on Tuesday these three will inspire me, I hope, to better cooking, make it possible to sleep in the heat and pollen season, and feel good when I turn in the drive coming home.
Sandy moved to Maryland to be with friends and family. Then found herself trapped there by Covid restrictions and strapped finances. She followed Kate’s decline through Caring Bridge. And felt awful because she missed Kate, wanted to see her, but couldn’t. We talked and cried together. Her grief signalling mine to come to the surface.
Sandy was very confident about Kate’s presence in an amazing, warm place. As is Jackie. I take comfort in their comfort. Difficult for me though. I’d like to believe it. Maybe the reincarnation, soul business could explain it? Oh, the skeptic in me hangs on with his fingertips. Hell, no, his whole hands. I’ll leave it at don’t know.
Leaning into the hidden, the mysterious, the unknown. The fantastic and the fabulous. Leaning into love, longtime friendships, family, dogs. Home where my heart really, really is. A time of the spirit, a time of transition from life to death.
Wednesday gratefuls: A stained house, newly painted garage doors. Daniel. Alvin. Greg. Sandy, coming up to be with Kate’s ashes. Kate, always Kate. The Woolly retreat in November. The Mountains. The Rocks, Lodgepoles, Aspens, Creeks, and Wild Critters. Deep peace.



Tuesday gratefuls: Black Mountain. Golden Fire. Those bucks who visited. Coolness. Daniel. Alvin. Greg. Staining the house. Amy at Mile High Hearing. Phonaks. The Roger. Kate, always Kate. Mark Horn. The Tree of Life spread. Tarot. Changing my perception of myself. That steak I thawed. Potatoes. Peas and carrots. Self-care.


Monday gratefuls: Greg Lell, starts today staining the house. Susan, who will care for the dogs when I go to Minnesota, comes at 10:30. Marina Harris and her crew coming today to clean. RJ working on how much money I can spend. Coyote HVAC next Monday. Kate, always Kate. Those two Mule Deer Bucks. The beginning after the ending.
Bubbling and churning. My life a cauldron, happily. Eye of house stain. Leg of house cleaning. Fingernail of dogsitter. Horn of Mule Deer Buck. Feather of mini-splits. Bits of redo and redesign of kitchen. A dash of Orgovyx. One major arcana. A pinch of the ayn sof. A sprinkle of Stars. A slice of Woolly Mammoth Tusk. Two measures of Aloha. Tears of grief. Stir with family and Congregation Beth Evergreen. Simmer for a season or two.



Sunday gratefuls: Mark Horn. The sephirot. The Tree of Life. Zoom. Kabbalah. Astrology. Alan. The Parkside. Breakfast out. Jackie. Oyama. Kristie. Quest labs. Golden Trees. Tall Mountains. Water falling down the Mountainside. The new trail. Evergreen.
Guess this is good news. I didn’t remember my visit to my oncologist when I wrote yesterday’s post. Anyhow, I’m remembering it now.
I’ve achieved castration level testosterone reduction. Gosh. Isn’t that good! …a dollar. All for vanished testosterone stand up and holler!
A good visit. As good as you can have at your oncologist’s. Cancer losing. More losing expected. Other treatments available.
The Moon. #18 in the major arcana. Again. I keep drawing major arcana. The Lady. The Moon. The Hermit. The Devil. The Chariot. A lot of energy swirling around me, in me. Feels right.





Friday gratefuls: Mussar. Women friends. CBE. Kep and Rigel, my loft dogs. David and his prostate cancer journey. New schedule. Better. Mike Rogers from Bear Creek Design. His expansive (read: expensive) vision. A fun one. Cardio at 4:30 pm.
Talked with David yesterday. At 63 his PSA, after a long stretch in the 2.0’s (perfectly ok for a healthy guy, jumped to 17! Yikes. Then, by the time he saw an urologist, it had hit 43. Double yikes. This was three years ago.
Realized this last month. I’ve had prostate cancer for over six and a half years. Seems like a long time when I say it like that. And, now, I’m never getting rid of it. However. If I can achieve undetectable over a long span of years, well, ok then. Cancer as a chronic disease. Wow.
Signed up for Astrology and Kabbalah at the Kabbalah Experience. Taught by two CBE’rs: Elisa Robyn. My astrologist. (oh. never thought I’d write that) and Luke Colaciello, the new Executive Director at CBE. He co-taught the Tarot and Kabbalah with Rabbi Jamie this summer.
Fall and the Michaelmas Moon
Pushed myself last evening to get out of the house and over to CBE for Simchat Torah. This is the holiday that ends the sweep of holidays that include the High Holidays and Sukkot. It marks the reading of the last parsha, Torah portion, and beginning again with Bereshit, Genesis.
Knowing this story is, in my outsider opinion, more important than circumcision, the kippah, the chuppah, or ketuba in Jewish identity.
After the dancing the entire Torah scroll is unrolled and congregants take up prayer shawls, put the shawls around their hands so they won’t get oily hands on the scroll itself and hold it up. It becomes a physical never ending story as a circle is formed and the end comes next to the beginning.
Wednesday gratefuls: Coyote HVAC. Starting next Thursday. Greg Lell, starting tomorrow on house staining. Mussar. Tarot. Kabbalah. Astrology. Elisa Robyn. Rabbi Jamie. Alan. David Jordani. Tom Crane and his colleague who recommended the mini-splits. Shirley Waste. Frozen dinners. Cool nights. Rain and snow on the way. Ruth and her first homecoming. Max. Claire and Patrick, his mom and dad. Paul and Sarah, grandpop and grandma. Kate, aunt.
And so this day comes round at last. Michaelmas. The feast day of the Archangel Michael, defender of heaven, God’s most fierce warrior. Tom and Roxann celebrate their wedding anniversary on this day, usually on the North Shore, sometimes with a cooked goose. Jen, mother of Ruth and Gabe, celebrates her birthday. And Rudolf Steiner thought of this day as the springtime of the soul.

According to the Druid Craft Book, the message is: “You hear the call and awaken to the new light of day. You have entered the darkness and drunk of the cup of silence. You have chosen life and emerge reborn.”
IN the midway of this our mortal life