Category Archives: Fourth Phase

Fourth Phase, Health

Not the Monk’s Simplicity? Or, is it?

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Jamie. Radical roots of religion. Shadow. Rain. Chilly night again. Wind. Natalie. MVP. Hip and back pain. Shirley Waste. Buddy Ode on Youtube. Halle, the traveling physical therapist. A sweet gal. Tara. Ruth in Alaska. The Commander. Seoah. Murdoch. Mary and Mark. Diane.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: PET Scan

Week Kavannah: Wholeness and Peacefulness. Shleimut. Integrating pain into my daily life. Accepting it all and being grateful for it.

One brief shining: Once more into the metal and plastic breach, my son, to see what can’t be seen with the eyes of nature, this time positronic emission tomography enhanced with a radio isotope that binds to prostate cancer cells flowing through my circulatory system as I lay on the moving bed, pushed slowly through the donut, too warm, yet handling it.

 

Cancer and back pain: I know. A steady drumbeat. This pain. That scan. This doc. That one. This last two weeks has been…oh, how do you say it? A bit much.

I’m not alone. Friends seeing docs a lot, too. Cardiologists. Nephrologists. Oncologists. Pain docs. Life in the retired lane replaces work with hospitals, medical clinics. Imaging with and without contrast. Expensive drugs.

Friday morning should reveal the latest. Do I have more metastases? If so where are they? In my hip? Am I qualified now for the SPRINT device? Telehealth.

Current observation. Chronic pain, which most of us will never know, clouds each day, marks a path filled with things, formerly done with ease, rendered literally out of reach.

It reaches into even the quiet places, tires us out, makes us want to live very simply. No unnecessary, triggering movements. No unnecessary upsets. Things like water in a dog’s bowl. Taking the trash out to the street. Standing and cooking. Each one a calculation of desire versus pain. This is not the monk’s simplicity. Or, is it? Maybe the lesson here is paring down life to its necessities. Doing less, with less. Maybe pain has a spiritual lesson about shleimut, wholeness and peacefulness. Or, maybe it’s just pain.

Wore my Los Alamos t-shirt purchased for my 35 sessions of radiation. Danger Radioactive Material with the familiar three yellow hash marks and the circle in the middle. Waited for 50 minutes with the lights turned down low as the 68Ga-PSMA-11 tracer wound its way through my blood system hunting for the PSMA protein.

Laid down. Covered up. Over the next twenty minutes moved slowly through the machine. Palm trees in the ceiling tiles at both openings. Sending me to Hawai’i and my days with my son and Seoah there.

The hour long drive to the PET Scan clinic another exercise in pain management. Singing out loud helps. I don’t look forward to drives of almost any length. Sciatica makes each time in the car a bit of the inquisition with not even its twisted purpose as a rationale.

This has been a difficult couple of weeks. Too much pain. Too much medical scrutiny. Too many unresolved questions.

There have been highlights. Shadow and our hugs, her happiness. Tara driving me to the open-sided MRI. Natalie’s careful, expert work. Nathan’s getting things ready. Rereading the Dresden Files novels. Morning prayers. Rain to dampen the Forests and swell the Creeks.

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Humanities

Oh, It Lifts

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: The Morning Service. Our God, life of all the worlds who makes firm a person’s step. Jamie. Tara. Natalie. Caroline. Shadow. The Greenhouse. Nathan. Alan in Las Vegas. Rich in P.R. MVP next week. Morning darkness, then dawn. Then Great Sol in a blue Colorado Sky. Yet more Rain. Spine Ranch Fusion. Tandoori Chicken. Gulab Jamun. CuTO salad and Garlic naan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Clear Day

Week Kavannah: Wholeness and Peacefulness. Shleimut. Integrating pain into my daily life.

One brief shining: Natalie, skilled and kind dog trainer, goes on youtube to find out how to do her own brakework, when she has engine trouble; she also mentioned cutting a notch in my dying tree so it could fall over on its own, and knows the work of Minnesotan David Mech on wolves.

 

Dog journal: If you live in a bookish world, surrounded by bookish people, it’s easy to forget or ignore other intelligences. Like BJ, Pamela, and Sarah who used string instruments to reveal theirs. Or. Natalie’s treat bag, her experience with many dogs. Or Nathan’s carpentry and his aesthetic sense. Or Caroline’s empathy.

I’m so grateful to have found others with intelligences that complement my journey, make it richer, easier, more full. Transactional relationships at first, yes, all. During and after, at least more than casual acquaintances. Shared worlds. Recognition of the other’s value.

Shadow and I continue to hug. She zooms and smiles outside, a happy young puppy. Natalie has changed our life together from one of cautious wariness to companionship. Natalie also got a leash on her and walked with her yesterday.

The next unsolved problem? Thresholds. So she’ll come inside and let me close the door. Preferable when it’s cold.

 

Cancer: Had my first therapy session with Caroline Merz, a Princeton and Washington University (her Ph.D.) trained psychologist. She specializes in geriatrics and cancer.

This was our first session and it was a listening session for her as she heard my “unique life story and how aging and illness have affected me.”

It surprised me, but I felt teary almost the whole way through. At a couple of points I did cry and later I cried (after the session was over) about Rigel, now long dead. Chewy, the pet food folks, sent me a rock with a rainbow and Rigel’s name on it.

I’m alone but not lonely. Yes, true. I’m neither afraid of cancer or death. True. However, since Kate’s death and in spite of my friends and family, I carry the psychic burden of responding to loss and pain and disease mostly alone. I can and do carry it.

There is, however, a price. Hard to describe. A sort of Atlas thing where it rests on my shoulders, bearing down, not pushing me to the ground, not making me depressed, but always there, a weighty presence.

The tears are about this, I know. A response to even the momentary sharing of the burden. Oh, it lifts. The relief wells up and expresses itself through release.

Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari

Denver, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Treatment

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan’s birthday. Shadow and her hugs. Tara and her friendship. Ativan. Open-sided MRI. Denver. Pain docs. Oncologists. Back and leg pain. Cancer. Rain. Cool morning. Tara’s Volt. Greenhouse underway. Nathan. Natalie. Shadow Mountain Home. Cookunity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Week Kavannah: Zerizut for p.t. and resistance.

One brief shining: Once again into the not-so-welcoming maw of an open-sided MRI machine, this time fortified with 1 mg of Ativan and Tara’s hand, the same stocky tech; the pounding began as Lorentz forces pulsed through the machine, investigating, in a deep way, the tissues and bone of my hips.

 

Cancer and backpain: Second round. First round in March for my lumbar spine. This round checking for metastases in my hip joint and providing information for placement of the SPRINTS nerve stimulator, the next move for back and leg pain.

Metastases would be bad news, requiring some change in my treatment protocols. My gut tells me that’s not what this is, but important to know. And if that’s not it, I can turn to care of my back pain, continuing my usual treatments for cancer.

That would mean more attention to physical therapy, resistance, and cardio work. I need to do that anyhow of course. My reluctance has become a pattern, a habit. Not a good one. How to fix it?

Perhaps my participation in the Sloan-Kettering cancer counseling trial will help. I think some of my reluctance to get back to my former regular exercise habits lies in a what’s the point attitude? Gonna die anyhow. I do not approve of this attitude at a conscious level yet my inactions points to assent to it at a deeper level in my psyche.

I start this trial today at 1pm. A local therapist and I will have the first of 8 full sessions. I don’t recall the intervals right now.

Comes at a good time for me. Been wondering about the inner adaptations I’ve made. Most of them helpful, adaptive, some not. Seems normal.

 

Friends: Tara came on time in the Saltzman Volt. I gathered up my two Ativan tablets, my wallet for taking care of the co-pay, and my fleece for the cool Mountain mid-day.

We drove off, leaving Ruby at home since driving her on Ativan would not be good. For her. For me. For other drivers. At the Hogbacks, where the High Plains meet the Front Range I popped the first tablet. Waited. Nothing much happening so I popped the second one well before we reached Denver.

Tara and I talked about kids, hers and mine, grandkids, mine. About back and neck pain. She has both. About mussar. CBE. About traveling. Tara’s a world traveler, often solo. Her next big trip is to Namibia. African Wildlife and a world class beach.

Tara and I are especially close. She tutored me on Hebrew for my bar mitzvah. I’ve gone to her house twice for passover and several other times. She brought Eleanor, her puppy, over to play with Shadow. I’ve known Tara since Kate and mine’s first night at CBE.

 

AI, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Garden, GeekWorld, Greenhouse, Health, Humanities, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Live Until You Die

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: My son. Shadow. Natalie. Mary. Guru. Seoah. Ruth. US Air Force. US Navy. US Army. US Marines. Warriors. Korea. Ruth in Seoul. Jamie and the radical roots of religion. My back. Lawn furniture. Nathan. The Greenhouse build. Living, not dying. Nothing hard is easy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Plants

Week Kavannah: Zerizut for p.t. and resistance

One brief shining: Learning from Natalie as she explains reading a dog’s mind and feelings, head to the left or right, processing, as is walking away, not stubborn, figuring things out, wait, panting as a sign of worry, consent to hug or pet when Shadow comes up to me and stays or leaps up on my legs while I’m sitting down, two species, 15,000 years of partnership, much better understood by the one with the smaller brain.

 

A lot going on here on Shadow Mountain. A series of dog training moments, an hour or so, with Natalie. Nathan getting my greenhouse foundation ready, treating the Wood at his place for Shou Sugi Ban, delivering things he’ll need for his work. Two Kabbalah Experience classes nearing their end. Two hip MRI tomorrow. Keeping track of my son’s promotion and his visitors. Ruth in Korea. Receiving the money for the Jang family visit in August. Spring. Rains and Thunder.

Live until I die remains my mantra. Moving into tomorrow not as one less day, but as a time to anticipate, to savor, to enjoy. Natalie made an offhand comment, for example, about my needing outdoor furniture to enjoy my backyard. Oh? Well, duh. Looking through online catalogues. Probably go look in person somewhere.

This is, you see, my life. Not the anteroom for my death. No matter what’s going on. Not even if I ever need to move into hospice. Learning. Loving. Growing spiritually. Right. Up. To. The. End.

 

Dog journal: Natalie has skills. She’s deeply read and connected with other trainers in online chatgroups. She’s dedicated to positive training. No shock collars. No harshness. Rather. Learning the heart and mind of dogs. Applying that in problem situations to recognize, then shape behaviors.

An example. Using feeding time to increase trust with Shadow. Feeding her from my hand makes her associate me with her food. “It’s all about the grub,” Natalie says. The walk, drop a treat behind, change direction game gives Shadow the choice to follow me. At some point she’ll just follow me. Working next on getting her to come inside voluntarily and like it. Walking on a leash.

I recognize and admire Ana’s house cleaning, Natalie’s training, and Nathan’s careful work.

A lot of dystopians imagine a world where A.I. puts humans out of work, yet makes enough cash available for a no work life. This will be awful, directionless, purposeless.

No. I don’t believe it. I believe the essence of the human experience lies in relating to each other, to animals near and far, in growing our own food at some level. In painting. Sculpture. Dog training. Construction. Cooking. Conversation. The joys of retirement.

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Plants, Travel

More Pics from Ruth in Korea

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An example of Nathan’s work. 10×12 mine will be 8×8 with raised beds outside, a raised bed inside, and benches

Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: My very sweet girl, Shadow. Natalie. Alan, on his way to Las Vegas. Back pain less. Why? No idea. Hip and leg pain. Reading. Listening to Hard Fork. Money from the Jangs. My son, now commander. Cool night. Mary and Guru. Ruth. Seoah and her sister, her husband and their two kids. Raeone. Alan’s gift. Hate never made anything great on a hat.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hugs and kisses from Shadow

Week Kavannah: Zerizut for p.t. and resistance work

One brief shining: As if making up for lost time, Shadow leaped onto my legs, put her head under my chin, snuggled in close, then gave me kisses, kisses, kisses our relationship transforming in days from skittish indifference to loving companionship.

 

Dog journal: No, all is not fixed. But the most important part is. We’re buddies. Companions. No longer caretaker and uncertain animal.

She still wants me to leave the backdoor open and when it’s 40 degrees outside, I want it closed. She still may run when I get up. But we both know that will fade.

Natalie got a harness on her yesterday. Perhaps today a link with a section of rope to simulate a leash.

 

Greenhouse diary: Nathan finished the greenhouse above last Friday. About a half a mile from me. He came by yesterday to level out the foundation area for the greenhouse.

I plan to order seeds and transplants today. Some Marigolds. And some other flowers. Lettuce. Chard. Kale. Tomato plants. Beets. Carrots. Onion sets. Maybe Sugar Snap Peas. Peppers?

An electrician will come when Nathan’s finished to run electricity to it. Still have to find a sign maker. I haven’t been this excited about something in a while. Miss gardening.

A lot of zerizut for Shadow and the greenhouse.

 

Jang travelogue: Received a wire transfer from Korea so I can start paying bills for the upcoming Korean invasion of the Rocky Mountains. August 1-7. The trip of a lifetime for Seoah’s brother, sister, her husband and kids, her parents.

In other Korea news. My son now commands a squadron. The ceremony has been completed with many family in attendance.

 

Ruth in Korea:

I don’t yet know where they got the outfits, but Seoah and Ruth are in hanbok, traditional Korean formal attire. I imagine my son is in a guard costume from the days of the Joseon dynasty.

Asia, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History, Weather +Climate, World History

Ruth at the DMZ

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Beltane and the Greenhouse Moon

Memorial Day gratefuls: Again, Shadow leaping into my arms as I sat on the edge of the bed. Rain. A soaking Rain. Needed. Big R. Dog treats. Ativan at Safeway. A pickup order. Gas at Stinkers. Pushing myself. P.T. exercises. Back pain. My Ancient brothers: Paul, Tom, Bill, Ode. Thyroid meds. Lifealert.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rain

Week Kavannah: Zerizut. for p.t. and resistance.

One brief shining: Went to Big R for the first time in years, past the bronze Elk front porch bench, into the store, past the weapons and ammo, past the huge fans for animal stalls, past the 50 pound bags of Chicken feed, toward the aisles of Dog beds, Dog food, Dog treats, nursing my gimpy left leg as I walked, found the bag of treats Natalie recommended, treats of Cattle spleen, lungs, trachea, realizing in that moment, again, the awful cruelty of eating red meat.

 

Had a crashing, booming, hailing afternoon while I slept with the window open, Rain spraying in, my electric blanket on against the 38 degree chill. Such a perfect feeling of comfort. Brought back memories of Memorial Days past when I would go out into the family car, turn on the radio, eat popcorn, and listen to the broadcast of the Indy 500.

I can imagine death as slipping over the edge of living while wrapped in similar comfort, a moment then of peace. Of lost physicality. Of drifting away into the next adventure. I neither wish it soon nor do I fear it.

 

Dog journal: Shadow jumped up onto my legs, into my arms. Again. Wriggling and happy. We hugged each other. The feeling sublime. I know that’s a slippery, maybe treacly, word, sublime, but when you combine love and eagerness what word would you use?

We’re not all the way there, Shadow and I, but we have had a few break through moments. Natalie comes today at 10.

 

Just a moment: Trump Tarrific wants retailers to “eat” the tariffs. Guess we could call that a value negated tax or VNT. The mirror of VAT.

Not sure you’d feel Great quite yet if your profit margins dipped in order to prop up red tie guy’s simulacrum of economic policy. But, hey, we’ve all got to take one for the team now and then. Eh?

 

Ruth at the DMZ

 

 

 

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Garden, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Health, Paganism, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Reimaging revelation, Writing

Shou Sugi Ban Treated Wood for Artemis Greenhouse

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Beltane and the Wu Wei Moon II (3% crescent)

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow jumping onto my legs this morning for a hug. So sweet. Fun with old socks. Our new, changing relationship. Back pain. Zerizut for p.t. and resistance work. Tara. Alan. Rich. Luke. Mussar. Shabbat. Morning prayers. Enveloped by Rain and Fog. Mom and Dad, both veterans. My son, a future veteran. All those who defend us with their lives.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rain

Week Kavannah: Zerizut. Enthusiasm. for p.t. and resistance.

One brief shining: As Great Sol began to disappear behind Black Mountain yesterday, a rainy Fog rolled in and gave my backyard a ghostly appearance, Lodgepoles coming in and out of sight, Shadow rushing inside all wet from running through a Cloud.

 

On Ancientrails: You may notice some extra posts here and there. I’ll signal them with something in the future, probably an image. You will find my regular as usual posts with the format of long standing.

These new posts are me trying to write out, work out my sense of where I am in my thought process about certain matters like spirituality, theology, politics. I’ve had this urge to write down things I’ve thought about for a long time. They’re incomplete sentences, non-systematic because I’ve admitted to myself that I’m not a system builder or even an always logical thinker. There is this strain of mysticism, a poetry of the inner world that means more to me than a syllogism. Though I love syllogisms, too.

You will know these entries by their lack of gratefuls, sparks, kavannah, one brief shining. Please feel free to ignore them. They’re me scratching my name in the wet Sand. I want a record of those ideas before the King Tide rolls in.

 

Dog journal: Shadow bounded into my arms this morning before I got out of bed, her paws on my outstretched legs. As if overnight, she’d forgotten to be shy, to be scared. I hugged her and she wriggled happy, licking my face. Yes, I said to her, this is what I want. What I need. An oh so special moment.

 

Back pain/cancer: Tara will take me to my open-sided MRI. I’ll have taken an Ativan for my claustrophobia so I’ll be talkative with little executive function for a filter. Glad I trust her.

Here’s an oddity with this MRI. Both my oncologist and my pain doc want images of my hips. Both have sent orders. I hope that doesn’t screw things up.

Oncologist checking for metastatic growth in my hips. Pain doc getting information for a possible insertion of a SPRINT device later. Two diagnoses for the price of one! BOGO.

 

Just a moment: We will move into the Artemis Greenhouse Moon tomorrow. Nathan comes tomorrow to begin building. He thinks it will take about a week. I’m excited. I want/need to grow things again.

It will be done in shou sogi ban treated wood. This is an ancient Japanese wood treatment that involves charring the surface of a board, then sealing it. Nathan has taught himself how to do this.

Since I’m starting a little late in the gardening year, I’ll have to be careful with what I plant, but I’ll get crops this year. Plus there will be flowers.

 

 

 

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Korea, Seed Keepers, Travel

Keep Them Close

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Beltane and the Wu Wei Moon II

Shabbat gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Annie and Luna. Pad thai. Luke and Leo. Shadow. Opener of doors, gnawer of beds, furry alarm clock. Sciatica. Back pain. No country for old Presidents. Chewy. Natural Balance. Early morning Mountain chill. Shadow finding her voice. Ruth in her I love NYC t-shirt at my son and Seoah’s apartment. Zoom. This family, together, yet far, far apart. Gabe. Ukraine. Gaza. Israel. Russia. The Middle East. Asia.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Annie and Shadow playing.

Week Kavannah:  Zerizut. Enthusiasm. III for p.t., resistance

One brief shining: My usual rides gone to Puerto Rico, Las Vegas, going down the list of folks willing to drive me from Shadow Mountain to the heart of Denver while I’m loopy on Ativan so I can survive another MRI, this one of my hips; if I can’t find someone, it will have to wait and let the PET scan speak alone.

 

Here’s one of the barriers to medical care for me. From time to time I have to have a procedure that requires some sedation. Like Thursday’s MRI when I will be on Ativan for my claustrophobia. Rich is in Puerto Rico. Alan in Las Vegas. Making these appointments difficult to keep. Yes, I have more folks on my list and I’m asking them one by one, but if I can’t find anybody I’ll have to cancel. Do it another time. Not optimal for my visit with Dr. Buphati (medical oncologist) on June 2nd. Which I just noticed is before my PET scan. Oops. Gets complicated.

It would be nice to have a personal assistant who could stay on top of these things. Wouldn’t it?

 

Talked to my son and Seoah yesterday with a cameo appearance by Ruth! And, Murdoch. They were in Seoul yesterday, seeing the Buddhist Monastery and the big convention hall which has so many restaurants. Alert readers will remember that I saw the Seoul Biennale there when I went in 2023.

Jang family money has been let loose into the world financial system, headed toward my checking account. I’ll pay preliminary costs like airline tickets, air bnb reservations, baseball tickets using this money. Three way split on expenses: my son and Seoah, Seoah’s family, and me. Once in a lifetime for the Jangs. Worth it. Family first.

My son took Ruth to the DMZ, that live border between two countries still technically at war under the terms of an armistice. She’s having an amazing time.

 

Just a moment: On resistance. Seed-keeping. My primary actions right now. Keep my friends close. Especially those friends in vulnerable communities. Strengthen our bonds. See to each other’s safety in outright anti-Semitic, homophobic, racist, misogynistic times. How? Play dates among Shadow, Annie, and Luna. With their moms, Ginny and Janice. Having Luke and Leo up for a laundry, conversation afternoon. Stay in weekly touch with Marilyn and Irv, Alan, Joanne. Ruth and Gabe. Ron, Jamie, Susan. Keep all these seeds for a new, pluralistic tomorrow.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Nothing Hard Is Easy

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Beltane and the Wu Wei Moon II

Friday gratefuls: Morning prayers. The Siddur. Bird song. Shadow running, running, running. Halle. Physical therapy. Kylie, my pain doc. Nerve ablations and Sprint. Sciatica. Ruby still with her Snowshoes on. Diane. The Jangs in August. Ruth in Korea.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate, always Kate

Week Kavannah: Enthusiasm. Zerizut. for P.T. and resistance.

One brief shining: Brief time with Halle yesterday, my back pain flare made her not want to push me; following her later in the day a visit to Kylie, my pain doc, in which we added her hip MRI to Buphati’s which means I’ll get both hips done on the 29th.

 

It’s odd, seeing my cancer and its stage 4 realities written about on the front pages of the NYT and the Washington Post. From many perspectives. Each situation, each person’s cancer has its own individual path. I am neither Biden nor Scott Adams. Yet we share this: in Stage 4 our cancer is incurable.

Unless we die of something else first, prostate cancer will, as Kristie, my urological oncologist, said, run its course. Which means it will kill us. We can opt for dignity in dying in Colorado and if mine proceeds to its end point, I’ll consider that if the pain becomes too much.

A hospice nurse wrote an op ed about her Dad’s prostate cancer. She spoke gently. About physicians often wanting to go on, on beyond a life with no quality to a life continued because more treatments, more scans are available. About how hospice offers another alternative. About a peaceful death versus one strung out by procedures and medicine. I’m inclined to her way, yet how to know when that moment comes?

My life has purpose, meaning. I’m a family man with siblings, a son and daughter-in-law, grandkids, a dog, friends, a community. I’m a spiritual seeker with writing I want to do about Judaism, about a tactile spirituality. I enjoy a good book, a good movie, good food. I have a home I love and feel comfortable in. I’m embedded in the Rocky Mountains with wild neighbors. Not at all ready to sign off.

However. This next two weeks I have a long MRI on my hips and a PET scan. Then a visit with my oncologist to see if further therapies make sense in light of the findings. I had a visit with my pain doc to try to gain a handle on my back.

I’m in the scans and imaging, let’s try this phase of both prostate cancer and back pain. It gets old, tiring in and of itself. Arranging rides. Appointments. New meds and procedures. New doctors.

Having all these news articles has made me think a lot about my own situation, as you can tell. More than I would on my own.

Another wrinkle rises up with the back pain. As it aggravates me, it reduces my resilience. Which means I have to sort out moods created by pain from moods created by cancer. So I can be clear about what’s affecting my judgment.

Nothing hard is easy.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics

Suffering. Shadow. Shame.

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Beltane and the Wu Wei Moon II

Thursday gratefuls: Natalie. Diane. Ruth. Seoah. My son. Korea. Morning darkness. Radical Roots of Religion. Art Green. The One. Ritual. Prayer. The Morning Service. Shadow, shredder of Kleenex. Outside work with her. My back yard. The Bearberry. The Clump Grass. That leaning Lodgepole. The Lilacs in Kate’s garden. Nathan coming today to look at the foundation he wants to make for the greenhouse. For Halle and all the traveling physical therapists.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Greenhouse

Week Kavannah: Zerizut. Enthusiasm. For working out, for physical therapy.

One brief shining: Worked for two hours yesterday with Natalie and Shadow and Cooper, her 6 month old English Cream Lab, wandering the yard, dropping treats behind me, letting Shadow come in front of me, then turning and walking away, waiting for her to follow, Cooper bounding in his slow sure way next to Natalie, more, as she said, a people dog than a dog dog.

 

Scott Adams, creator of Dilbert, in the NYT: “My life expectancy is maybe this summer,” he said. “I don’t have good days,” he said. “Every day is a nightmare. And evening is even worse.” NYT

This in an article revealing he had, at 67, an aggressive form of prostate cancer. Oh, boy. His words scared me, especially as I hobble around in the early morning before my back and hip begin to loosen up.

Then, I go back to my own journey, now in its eleventh year. Not aggressive. Slow growing. Still hormone resistant. Could be worse, a lot worse.

My heart sinks for Adams and for Biden. Fellow travelers on this ancientrail nobody wants to follow. Cancer, as I told Kathy, a stage 4 breast cancer survivor, is a humbug.

In our small mussar group we have multiple myeloma, breast cancer, a blood cancer, prostate cancer. Leslie, a former member died of liver cancer and Judy, my friend from MVP, of ovarian cancer.

No wise words here. Just an observation that suffering and angst pervade the human story, are not rare. Common. Which could serve as a reminder to be kind.

 

Dog journal: The two hour session with Natalie wore us both out. Shadow went to bed around 5, two hours early. I had to remind her to go outside before bedtime. We walked a lot. My own fatigue caused me to message Natalie and say no more two hour sessions.

And yet. I can feel a change. As we let up on the obedience and began to work on building trust. Responding to subtle clues I had missed. Waiting for Shadow’s consent before touching her. Watching if her weight is on her hind legs or her front legs. Is she leaning in or preparing to exit?

 

Just a moment: Seems like our golden shower boy wants to relive his gory days on The Apprentice by saying the political equivalent of, “You’re fired!” to heads of state. First, Zelensky in a shameful moment in U.S. history. Yes, pretty bad. Then exploiting the situation to get rare minerals.

Now, in a beyond shameful clash with the President of South Africa, declaring white Afrikaners, the architects of apartheid, subject to genocide. This is not even a dog whistle to the white supremacists in his base. It’s a y’all come on, we got this now.