Fall and the Michaelmas Moon
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.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Tarot
Tarot: The Moon, #XVIII of the Major Arcana
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.
The route I took so often with Kate. To Swedish Hospital. Down the Hill to 285 and go on until morning. Well, at least to the Safeway just past Broadway. Urology Associates has an office at the Swedish campus, one of three.
Saw Kristie. Whom I like. She shows me my reports, prints them out. Explains things. She’s an advocate for her patients. Will listen to whatever question I have and answer it as well as she can. She’s never in a hurry. “I want to be your cheerleader.” From a lot of folks that would make me bristle, but with Kristie, I hand her a pompom.
In less than a month Orgovyx has taken my PSA down from 7.4 to 1.0. “That’s a great result.” Two bits, four bits… The side effects have begun to diminish. The debilitating fatigue is gone. The hotflashes are intense but shorter and less frequent than the Lupron induced ones. It did not raise my blood sugar. Somehow the lipid panel got missed, but I’ll find out next time if it’s pumping up my triglycerides.
I’ve achieved castration level testosterone reduction. Gosh. Isn’t that good! …a dollar. All for vanished testosterone stand up and holler!
My location in the prostate cancer trajectory has changed. I now have advanced prostate cancer. In essence this means it can no longer be cured. But, it can be managed as a chronic disease. Androgen deprivation therapy, ADT, can work, does seem to be working for me right now. However, ADT often finds its utility waning after it has been used for a while. Some kind of resistance builds up.
And so. I had a blood draw at Kristie’s request. Well, Aster tried twice to draw my blood, said “I failed! I’m gonna get Paula.” Aster told me the story of her first for real blood draw. “The guy forgot to tell me he was terrified of needles. He jerked when I poked him and the needle went in, under the skin, and came out further on. I think I was more upset than he was.” I bet that’s a memory that will last. Paula succeeded.
The blood draw is for a genetic test that identifies 32 genetic mutations known to cause prostate cancer. Kristie, “This is not only for research. We now have targeted drugs for some of these mutations. If you have one of them, we may able to give you a specific therapy for your cancer.”
Thinking to that day when ADT no longer works.
A good visit. As good as you can have at your oncologist’s. Cancer losing. More losing expected. Other treatments available.
Told Kristie I realized the other day that I’ve now had prostate cancer for six and a half years. Glass half full Kristie said that means mine is less aggressive because I went for some time with lower PSA’s. True. But. Aggressive enough to keep coming back after the two gold standard treatments: prostate removal and radiation.
Even so. It was good.
Not going into it today, but I started my Tarot and the Tree of Life Spread class. Mark Horn is a good teacher. Organized. Thoughtful. Kind. Responsive.
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.
Will just note here that I’m having a push/pull experience with my Kabbalah, Tarot, Astrology learning. The skeptic, a key part of my mental habitus, keeps screwing up his face. C’mon, Charles. Whatcha doin?
Another part says, yeah, I know. But the way these cards have spoken to me, I can feel an inner world value, an introspective assist that helps me. Same with the Kabbalah. Astrology still kicks in the skeptic, but I’m trying to figure out how it fits with the archetypal insights from Kabbalah and Tarot. I’m holding all this in my alembic, believing that the fire of continuous practice will decide how I really feel.
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
Back home I ate, finished up some tasks on the computer. Including my third consecutive call to Social Security, Lakewood. It became my third consecutive call to timeout in their system. Maddening. An armed security officer prevents entrance to the Social Security building in Lakewood. I can’t get to them by phone. WTF!
But. That raises a money question. Can I afford both the mini-splits and a remodeled kitchen? Don’t even know how to answer the question. But, I’m gonna check with RJ. Maybe.
Monday gratefuls: Quest lab. Blood draw. PSA. Testosterone. Metabolic panel. CBC. Safeway pharmacy: flu and third Covid push. Down the hill in Lakewood. Closest. Albuterol. Frozen dinners. HVAC, mini-splits. Going ahead. House staining. Starts Wednesday. Bear Creek Design on Thursday. Painting.
Moments. Decided to cook myself fried eggs last night about 8 pm. As I stood there waiting to turn them over, I had a sudden feeling of lonliness, of aloneness. I could cook myself dinner (breakfast?) late because I live alone. Oh, yeah. So I do. Without. Kate.
Realized I’d zoomed with Sarah, BJ, Jon, and Gabe at 4. Oh. Yes. Churning the still soft soil of Kate’s life. So. Aloneness. A twinge of sadness. Real. True to my situation. I lived into it a minute, got out my spatula, turned the eggs over, waited. Plated them and had a late, quirky meal.
Once in a while I brush my left hip with my hand. Think of those prostate cancer cells in the lymph nodes. Weird having a predator living inside your body. Not a great feeling.
Deviation from the norm. Got up and drove to Evergreen after feeding the Dogs. Didn’t come up to write Ancientrails which is my every morning habit. Why? Wanted to get a Pullman loaf of the Bread Lounge’s Sourdough. They sell out fast. Took my new book, Four Lost Cities. Sourdough French toast, applewood smoked bacon, black coffee. While learning about the reasons civilizations have abandoned their urban centers. Gonna be an interesting read.
On the drive back from Evergreen I turned off the radio. My usual habit, but I started listening to NPR again. Realized I’d slipped into always on. Not what I want. I noticed the light, small Aspen torches lighting my drive with golden Fire. Rocky outcroppings with brave Lodgepoles clinging to their crevices. Maxwell Creek pummeling the rocks. That mystery trail that seems to disappear into a Canyon.
The sound of a Mountain Stream. The Wind through the Lodgepole Pines. That herd of Elk with the 12 point Bull. The love of Rigel and Kepler, my two old Dogs. The three Elk bulls who visit me each June to eat Dandelions. Ruth and Gabe, my grandkids. The Sun in the Day and the Moon at Night. My friends, lifelong and new. The sturdy Rock of Shadow Mountain on which I live.
If you want more on this Way, read Chuang Tzu’s inner chapters. Or, the Tao Te Ching. Or, Mary Oliver. Wendell Berry. Rilke. Thomas Berry. The Grammar of Animacy in Braiding Sweetgrass. Or, open yourself. Let the world in. Be part of it, be with it.
“Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself” – Zen Proverb