Category Archives: Acting

Acting, Art and Culture, Health, Hermitage, Shadow Mountain

Swole. Art.

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Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Robin and Michele. More pruning and hanging of art. Leo. Luke. Sleep. Getting up on time. Chatbotgpt4. Mountain Streams. Water running free. Beaver Ponds. Park County #63. Burning Bear Trail. Marmosets in Staunton State Park. That young Moose Bull roaming around here. The Black Bears out of hibernation. Elk Calves and Mule Deer Fawns. The Great Wheel turns in the mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: William Wordsworth

One brief shining: The treadmill, invented as a source of punishment in England I believe, has served me well these many years as a place to think, a place to watch movies, a place to keep my heart working at or near its healthiest, when I climb on my body knows its time to work, work hard and sweat, these bodies of ours they need, need, need to move.

 

Mondays. Wednesdays. Fridays. I’ve gotten back to my old routines. 130 minutes yesterday. Treadmill. Anytime on the machines. Prioritizing workouts now. Not seeing them as intrusions but as key components of my week, of my self care. Feeling stronger and healthier. Resting bpm down to 62. I’d love to get it below 60.

Anytime Fitness has the machines I feel better using for now. It also has a large carpeted area for free weights. Each time I go I sit on one of the machines the leg press, the leg curl, the leg extension, the shoulder press, the bicep curl, the chest fly and while I do, I watch the swole guys grunting, putting on weights in the 200 pound range. Then dropping them. Clank.

They seem pretty serious. As if the weights were some woke Antifa protesters they got their hands around at last. Probably stereotyping. There are too the more slender folks, women mostly but some men. I wonder what they train for. Up here it might be rock climbing, hiking, skiing, trail running, mountain biking.

Humans come in many sizes with varying motivations for all that they do.

 

Today Robin and Michele come. More closets cleaned out. A pile of unused sweaters on a chair. Old pillows and sheets from our queen sized bed no longer needed. Same for duvets. Some tech to go. Like that internet radio. Never could make it work right. Found four more pairs of jeans I didn’t know I had. Some winter wear that I’m saving. Keeping all the boots. The Sorels. The LL Bean duckies. The new, lighter Snow boots. Cleared out old tennis shoes. More quilting books. A monitor.

If we have time, we’ll work on the storage beneath the benches that Jon built. I don’t even know what’s in there.

Top priority though is hanging art. Retrieving some from the loft, other spots. I have most of it already placed. But there’s more I want to get down. Looking forward to this. Next up after this is reupholstering the couch. I also want to get a company out here to deep clean all my tile floors and rugs. And, maybe, somebody to clean the windows, too. Finishing touches to two years of work.

 

First character study acting class tonight. Tal at CBE. A busy day. Gotta make sure I eat.

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Entheos

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Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

Monday gratefuls: Curiosity. The Ancient Brothers. Mark and Dennis. Coming May 23rd. Yet more Rain. Even more swollen Streams. Ancientrails as a life project. Tom and his time with Charlie H. Bill and his time with Bella. Mark and his time at the gym. Anytime Fitness. My treadmill. Marilyn. Ginnie. Josh. Jane. Kat. A banker. Vulcan Centaur.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rocket Scientists

One brief shining: A beautiful woman with a long braid dangling over her t-shirt down to her space themed spandex had, on the back of the blue t-shirt an outline of the Vulcan Centaur rocket, on the front ULA and I asked, I’m too ignorant to know but is that a real rocket ship?

 

Yes. She answered. And I was working on it until I quit my job a year and a half ago. What was your area of expertise? Vibration and acoustics. Oh. I see. Not sure why I keep running into engineers. But I do.

CBE is amazing. All these smart people. This was at the Dismantling Racism class yesterday afternoon. Looked up the Vulcan Centaur and it’s been under development since 2014. Supposed to fly for the first time in July. Had a setback a month ago though with a second stage explosion during preparation for a launch.

The class has gotten better. Taking a mussar approach to the work. I like it for the inner work though I chose an opponent for my practice this week. Four areas of possible practice each week: with HaShem (God), with Self, with a fellow, especially a victim of anti-black racism, or with an opponent.

My practice involved an e-mail to a person with whom I’ve had long standing differences. Sent it last night and got a reply this morning. A sweet one. Maybe there’s something to this approach. The middah this week is kavod, or honor. Honoring self and other. The theological idea is the all made in God’s image trope. Said another way, we’re all human, all riding this blue spaceship our only home together with all the other critters and plants. Honor it all.

 

During the Ancient Brothers session on curiosity I identified curiosity as my defining characteristic. And naming what I call the valedictory lifestyle. As a valedictorian myself I’ve occasionally become curious (see!) about what happens to others who graduate first in their class academically. Turns out usually nothing spectacular. Sure a lot go into academics. Some have successful careers in business or the sciences.

But usually no stars. No one off achievements. No amazing inventions. Why? Because we’re generalists. We easily get sidetracked by something new and shiny. If purity of heart is to will one thing, we’re not at all pure.

I call them enthusiasms. My enthusiasms can last a long time. Religion has turned out to be the longest lasting, but inside that broad category I’ve been all over the place. From existentialist atheist to Christian to Unitarian-Universalist to Pagan and wanderer with the tribe. There’s a piece of each of these, often substantial pieces that remain intact within me. All somehow glued together with Taoism.

There’ve been many others. Art, my twelve years at the MIA. Politics, lasting almost as long as religion, but again all over the place in terms of action. Islam which I studied after 9/11. Horticulture. Cooking. Heating with wood. Beekeeping. Dogs. World travel. F1. Science. Tarot and Astrology. Cinema. Acting. Writing. Getting degrees. Tea. Korean and now Spanish. Oh, and one that actually has been lifelong, reading. Not sure when I learned but I’ve never ever stopped. Buying books, too. To feed the habit. I’ve dabbled in painting and sum-e.

Enthusiasms in my life are more than dabbling but less than enough to gain full mastery. But I must admit it’s been, is being, a hell of lot of fun.

 

 

 

 

Acting, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Korea, Sport, Travel

The Resistance

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Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Aspen Perks. A sunny Morning. Yet more Rain last night. Flood warnings. The merry, merry month of May. Mary’s end of semester Bark Day complete with food delivering robots. Mark’s good experience in Saudi Arabia. Alan. Parkside. 4 hours plus of workouts this week. Resistance back on. Pruning and art and bills today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Breakfast this morning at Aspen Perks

One brief shining: Old enthusiasms never realized (so far) include hiking the Appalachian Trail, visiting the Rub Al-Kahli, exploring the Olduvai Gorge, seeing places remote and mysterious like the Amazon, the Veldt, the Outback, Shark’s Bay where the Stromatolites still live, Bhutan, places where humanity has to realize its place in the vast blooming, buzzing reality of wild nature.

 

Speaking up for the resistance. Resistance workouts. Now two weeks into my Anytime Fitness solution to resisting resistance. Feel better. Much better. With only two weeks!

Though I originally went with the idea of working my way back to my own equipment, I find the gym is another connection point with people. Brief and not deep, but real nonetheless. Dave, the manage. Doug Doverspike, the vet who took care of Kep. The recovering alcoholic. Over time I’ll see regulars, too. May keep going there at least until the winter. Then I might pick up on my own again. Anytime is ten minutes from home.

 

Breakfast with Alan at the Parkside. He’s currently acting in Zorro! The director recruited him for his role as the deposed Alcalde of 1809 Los Angeles. I admire his chutzpah, taking up the theater at 68. Voice lessons. Acting lessons. Directing lessons. He’s focused on acting though he does other things, too. Rotary and general tech and finance guy for CBE. Alan and I have a strong bond now. An essential part of my Mountain life. As with Marilyn and Irv. Tara. Rebecca. CBE. Jamie and Ron and Susan.

Speaking of acting. I’m returning to Tal’s acting classes which start this next week. This time it’s character study. Joann Greenberg will be in the class. Alan might join. I still have little interest in acting in a production, but I love the classes. They challenge me, make me work a different part of my heart-brain. Plus I meet new people.

 

This is my son and his wife’s last weekend on Oahu. Monday they crate up Murdoch and head to Inouye International for a flight to Incheon. Four years. I’m happy he’s got a command position and that she will be closer to family. We’ll use zoom and I’ll visit them. Murdoch will be close to genetic home ground, too.

 

How bout those Nuggets, eh? Jokic is the real deal. One of the all time greats. I’ve gotta get down the hill to see him play before his career is over. They could win the NBA this year. We’ll see. Western Finals are next.

 

Also, how bout that default? Playing chicken with the U.S. economy. Add this to Trump’s outstandingly awful, yet consistent, performance on CNN and the GOP should be on its last legs. Should be. Who knows what happens next year.

 

 

Acting, Colorado, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Mussar, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Writing

The Time Has Come To Cross

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Spring and the Mesa View Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Luke. Leo. Rommertopf. Psilocybin. Younger friends. Tal. Character study class. Murphy and Pete. Kat. My son and his wife. Their furry one. Snow. Melting. A Mountain morning. Sunlight on the Lodgepoles. The Snow that stays on the north side of my house. That Mule Deer Doe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The threshold. *reposted the O’Donohue quote

One brief, shining moment: Liminal spaces, third spaces, often overlooked, undervalued, yet the Dawn and the Dusk, the doorway and the window, the death bed, the coffee shop, the neighborhood bar, churches and synagogues, neither home nor work, neither light nor dark, neither in nor out, neither life nor death, points of transformation, places where we can practice being another version of ourselves, meet people we would not otherwise know, thresholds between this life moment and the next, or between this life and what comes after.

 

I’m an old man. Been a lot of places. Experienced weirdness. I identify with the Grateful Dead’s: what a long, strange trip it’s been. Yet these last few days have left me marveling at what’s happening.

Now that I’m writing about it, I think it may have begun to crystallize when I spoke with my son last Sunday. Be spontaneous, he said. Go for it. Take the trip. We had been discussing my trip to Korea and the trip to Israel.

And, I did. I raised my hand. Yes, I’m going with you. I’ll be there in Jerusalem. Not an hour later.

Dismantling Racism class, a mussar approach came next. Mainlining my past with talk of injustice, the struggle, la lucha. Going down old pathways with new folks, from a new perspective.

A heavy workout on Monday. Another heavy one Wednesday. Where I was left shaky, feeling off. My resting heart rate actually increasing. Worried me. Made me feel vulnerable.

On Thursday I had breakfast with Alan, catching up. Then my massage and Thursday mussar. Where Rebecca and Leslie both kissed me on the head. After mussar I encountered Luke and Tal outside the synagogue. Tal told me the next acting class was going to be character studies. Sounds good to me. Ready to continue expanding.

On Friday I went to sign up at Anytime Fitness. With Dave, the 65 year old manager. Quite the talker. Where you from? Raised in Indiana. Really! Where! Alexandria. Anderson. Muncie. I know them. I was raised on the southside of Chicago. But we moved to Calumet. Ah, I said. Da region. He laughed. Right. My brother worked in the Calumet mill.

Not sure how the conversation veered to his life as a battery salesman working out of Madison, Wisconsin. His alcoholism, cocaine addiction. 25 years sober, he said. 43  years here. Instant deep connection. In the program. Lifers.

A thick, muscular young guy walked past. Clayton, Dave hollered. Clayton, meet Charles. 43  years sober. Clayton’s got 109 days. Clayton and I fist bumped.

A strange but instant fellowship, wrought by inability or unwillingness to contain appetites. Then, to wake up. See another way. And walk it. With others.

Went back home. Clicked on a zoom link. First time with the Dream group. Dreamers and dreams. The dream of of the White Tomb. Realizing the threshold had come to meet me. People on the call from Santa Fe, England, the Netherlands, Conifer, Evergreen.

Then. Later that day. In the desert of the afternoon hours. Feeling aimless. Projects around the house winding down. No Dogs or humans to care for. More hours than I needed.

Next morning. Off to Aspen Perks to have breakfast, begin my re-read of Why Liberalism Failed. Maybe see Kat. She was there. She smiled when she saw me, came over and squatted down. What  you reading? I showed her. I don’t agree with all of his arguments, but it’s a powerful read. She looked at it. Yeah, I have a Steven Hawking book like this. I put it down. Take it up. Well, I’m trying to really understand this guy’s arguments. So I’m doing something unusual. Rereading.

Ate my chorizo and scrambled eggs. Read Deneen. Got up to go. A tall man, maybe 50’s, sitting with an older man, closer to my age. Hey, I was wondering. What ya reading? I showed him the book. Gave him the two minute version. He reached over to shake my hand. Murphy. Matt Murphy. This is Pete. I want to have some time to bother you about that. What do they call ya? I told him. See you next time I come in maybe. We’ll talk.

Went over to Safeway. Picked up the Chicken, Carrots, Potatoes, Pearl Onions, Garlic for the Rommertopf Chicken. Back  home I did the prep. Soak the Rommertopf. Peel the Pearl Onions. Cut up the Potatoes. Slice and quarter an Apple. Stuff it in the Chicken. Put butter and Garlic under the skin of the breast. In the oven.

Luke came and stayed for three, four hours. Leo sniffing around. Finding things.

Can you feel the threshold moving toward me? I sure can. Definitely time. Gonna discuss a ritual with Rabbi Jamie, Tal.

 

*”At any time you can ask yourself: At which threshold am I now standing? At this time in my life, what am I leaving? Where am I about to enter? What is preventing me from crossing my next threshold? What gift would enable me to do it? A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms, and atmospheres. Indeed, it is a lovely testimony to the fullness and integrity of an experience or a stage of life that it intensifies toward the end into a real frontier that cannot be crossed without the heart being passionately engaged and woken up. At this threshold a great complexity of emotion comes alive: confusion, fear, excitement, sadness, hope. This is one of the reasons such vital crossings were always clothed in ritual. It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds: to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there; to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward. The time has come to cross.” John O’Donohue in his book, To Bless the Space Between Us.

Acting, Art and Culture, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Robot Overlords and Improv

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Spring and the Kepler Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Rebuilding Notre Dame. Wildfire. W.U.I. Kepler, my sweet boy, his memory for a blessing. Kate. A blessing always. Jon, a memory. Ruth, 17. Gabe, a week away from 15. Fresh Snow. 19 degrees. Good sleeping. Rabbi Jamie today on counting the omer. Alan. Rebecca back from India and feeling better after pneumonia. Scott, a reader of Ancientrails and a friend. Dogs.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs

 

Round 4. Miles Davis as the Cyberknife made its robotic transitions around my abdomen. If AI rebels and sends out robots after us humans. Fear them. The Cyberknife has constraints. For now. The route the medical physicist prescribes. Ensured by Patti at the controls. And, it’s bolted to the floor.

The Cyberknife is basically an industrial robot designed to deliver radiation in precise measures to exact spots in the body. Put it on treads, push its radiation up to kill. You see the problem. Also, it’s built of heavy, heavy metal. It would not go down easily.

Yes. OK. I do find the Cyberknife menacing. Sort of. It whirs around my body, pointing its raygun at me. Clicking. Clicking. Hard to not see the business end of it as a head with a weapon. I know it’s under control and in fact working for my benefit. Yes, I know that. However. Our all too human tendency to anthropomorphize.

After session number 5 on Monday, the focus of the treatments will change. Its aim will be just below my clavicle. Going through my esophagus to my T3 vertebrae. I imagine the sense of menace will increase. There is an odd disconnect between the disconcerting fact of a metal behemoth focused on my body and its healing function. Probably because I can neither see nor feel the radiation. I do trust Patti and Dr. Simpson. Otherwise…

 

The showcase for All in Ensemble, Tal’s new theater company, was fun. Whether it was intentional or not, he set up in CBE’s social hall. The effect was good organizing. More chairs had to be brought out. Then. No more chairs. SRO. Created a good buzz. I sat on the front row, on the far left. Maximizes my ability to hear. Which, even with my excellent hearing aid, is not good in these situations.

There were monologues and scenes for the Jewish American Playwrights class. Joann Greenberg gave a heartfelt and funny rendition of the funeral of Froem, a disliked member of a Yiddish speaking Jewish community in Germany. Hamish and Terrence went each other as a son, Terrence, betrayed by his businessman father. Hamish has a niche now. Tortured characters. And, he’s good at it.

The improv crew, which included Luke, did something unusual. Each actor, five altogether, gave a short monologue about their life. The improv took its cue from these monologues which were sprinkled throughout the performance.

The first monologue, offered by an older woman, told of an evening on the high seas where she was a cook aboard a yacht. Making spaghetti. In rough seas. She served guests on the high side and the boat heaved spilling the spaghetti back on her. I then went directly to bed.

Her story set the tone for the evening which eventually featured Poseidon, fish trying to make it on land, and a charming Prince Eric who wanted to conquer the land for his dad, Poseidon.

I admit it got me going again on the acting thing. Might try again.

 

One brief, shining moment. The Lodgepoles this morning wave in prayer to the Sun, encouraging it to shine, shine, shine and melt the Snow off their downswooping Branches so more food can be made, more of the  miracle without which all Animal life on Earth would perish.

 

Acting, Astrology, Cinema and Television, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Literature, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Young Men’s Dreams, an Old Man’s, too

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Tal. Bread Lounge. F1. Red Bull. Scuderia Ferrari. Mercedes. Charles LeClerc. Max Verstappen. Carlos Sainz. A hobby. I think. Warming. Snow melting. Dr. Doverspike. Coming today. Kep, the early. His rear legs. Love for and from him. Tal’s dream. His own theater company. Like the Group of the early 1920’s. Young men’s dreams. Old men’s dreams.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dreams

 

Had lunch with Tal. He got let go at Evergreen Players where I had taken two acting classes from him. Budget. He landed on his dream. He’s doing two acting classes right now, holding them at CBE. American Jewish Playwrights and Improv.

His plan. Build a theater company based on the Group, a late 1920’s creation of Lee Strasberg and others. An ensemble, The Group often performed plays written for them, using the same pool of actors, the Group, to cast each play. Tal wants to develop an ensemble which will choose plays and perform them, directed by himself. The plays will fit the ensemble rather than assembling a cast to fit the play. He had the first board meeting for his company last week.

Luke, too. Wanting to work with the things he loves: Tarot and Astrology and Art. A young man with a dream. He had an interview two days ago with Judaism Yourway for a tech position with them. If he gets it, it could fund his developing a practice with Tarot and Astrology. Give him more time to develop his art.

The late twenties, early thirties. A time for exploration. Testing the self. Trying this, then that. Who will I be? Who can I be? When will it happen for me? Dreaming with them both. An old man’s dream, may these young men realize theirs.

 

This old man has dreams, too. He wants to write a book, another book. That one about the pagan life. About finding and developing a love for Mother Earth and Father Sun. But. He’s stuck. Maybe depressed?

I have plenty of time. Plenty of material, both original and researched. I know how to stick with a project until I have completed manuscripts. Yet. I’m not writing. Not even picking up a keyboard.

Maybe the deep sadness over cancer has combined with suppressed feelings over Kate’s long illness and death, over Jon’s life, his divorce, his death, and Ruth’s mental health to cast a darker pall over me than I’ve known. Recognized.

When I worked with Alan and Cheri last weekend, I discovered I had stamina. Yet when I come home, I fall into routines. Some helpful. Like Ancientrails. Like caring for Kep. Though I’ve not been as good a dad as he’s needed of late. Zooming with friends and family. Zoomies. Exercise. Cooking for myself.

But my reading has tailed off into finishing CJ Box’s long Joe Pickett series. I watch too much tv. I don’t feel energetic at home. One or two events outside of the house and I’m done with my day. Yes, there’s the trifecta: low testosterone, altitude, and my funky diaphragm. And, yes, they affect me. But I’m beginning to think my low energy may have deeper and other roots.

Not sure where to go with this. Not sure I’m right. Paying attention in a different way now.

Acting, Art and Culture, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Woolly Mammoths, Writing

A Festival of One Act Plays

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Monday gratefuls: Alan. The Mislaid Wife. The Festival of One Act Plays. Evergreen Players. Tal. Deb. Lisa. The audience. Jill. The Ancient Brothers on space. Between us. Within us. Center cut pork chops. Brining. Marilyn and Irv. Breakfast today. Aspen Park Dental. Cleaning. Also today. Grocery pickup. How to Become a Pagan. Learning Korean. Mary’s last days in Japan. Brother Mark in Oke city. Frozen vegetables.

Sparks of joy and awe: Theater

 

A medical week. Oh, joy. Teeth cleaning today. Kristie tomorrow. And the Vascular Institute on Wednesday. That should be plenty of body parts for one week.

Gonna go through the active metastases site with Kristie, then lay it to rest one way or another. Treat or not treat. Get a Prolia injection today, too. For ma bones. This is a treatment because of my other treatments which weaken my bones. Geez. Want to move the Prolia injections to Evergreen Medical Center. Closer.

Not sure what to expect at the Vascular Institute. They’ll do an ultrasound of my left leg. Looking for a spot of restricted blood flow. If they find one, I’ll probably have a stent put in which will allow the blood to flow normally. Kate had a blocked superior mesenteric artery. Putting the stent in was not a big deal.

Next week my birthday present to myself is a pulmonology exam. Big fun. Specifically asking the question about continued living at 8,800 feet.

Nuff.

 

February is Black history month and I’ll say one last time that Imani Perry’s South to America is worth the read. It lagged a little near the very end, but up till then it was charming, sensitive, and challenging. Taught me many lessons. Would be interested to hear her on the Memphis situation.

 

The Festival of One Act plays. Alan directed The Mislaid Wife. Precis. A man calls the police to report his wife missing. She was funny, made me laugh. Lots of energy. And she was sexy. Conceit. His wife has not gone missing. She’s aged. And still in the house. Funny and sad.

A woman sat next to me. Older. Gray hair, a long flowing plaid dress. Gray vest. She seemed interesting. I wondered, as I occasionally do. Still no energy to pursue anything. We even chatted for a bit with Deb, the woman I took to my first acting class, after she finished her role as God. Maybe if I run into her again.

Joan Greenberg, member of CBE, and author of You Never Promised Me a Rose Garden wrote a country version of Orpheus and Eurydice. Highly stylized presentation. The best script of the batch by far.

Talked to Tal. He mentioned the acting class starting next week at the Synagogue. Jewish playwrights. Part of me would like to take it up, but I’ve told myself I’m focusing this semester on How to Become a Pagan. Though I’m not. At least not right now. Saying that out loud to him made me take a look at the way I’ve been doing my schedule. I really want to write this book. Not sure why I’m blocked on it. I have lots of research, years of thinking about the topic, and it matters to me. Maybe this was the jolt I needed?

 

Acting, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Korea, Mussar, Travel, Woolly Mammoths

New Labs

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Alan. Housing matters cleared up. Mostly. Ron. Luke. Bread Lounge. Evergreen. The ice fisherfolk on Lake Evergreen. The 8 outdoor ice hockey rinks on it. Those 30 or so Elk hanging out. The drive down. Rocks. Mountains. Ice covered Streams. Lodgepole Pines. Ponderosa. Aspen. Chinook Salmon toast and that Dulce le Lecha croissant. Coffee.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jew with Guns

 

Going to Evergreen Players today to see one-act plays directed by Tal’s last directing class as an employee of Evergreen Players. Alan has one in the showcase. Ron Solomon’s coming, too. Looking forward to that. A matinee. That magic word in my world of the performing arts.

Ron sat down with Alan and me at the Bread Lounge yesterday morning. He’s a screenwriter cum entrepreneur. He was part of the writer’s room for Saved By the Bell, but he didn’t like L.A. He wrote a book about Navy Seals published three or four years ago. Now he’s running a company that helps wholesalers make sure their retail prices hold up in the marketplace.

Ron’s also in the MVP group. He’s a very smart guy. Been around CBE for  years. He mentioned that later in the day he and Dan Herman, past president of the Synagogue, had an appointment at a gun range in Golden with a group called Jews with Guns. I’m not getting on a train. The Synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh pushed him over the edge.

I told them that if it came to it I’d get a rifle and help them defend the Synagogue. Friends are worth dying for. Family, too. A silly misadventure in Vietnam dreamed up by anti-communist old white men? Not so much. I’m no pacifist. Though Kate was. Thorough going. Miss her.

Alan’s house is sold. He was going home to pack after breakfast. They close on both deals next week. Move in February. Glad for him. Moving stresses. Not easy.

 

Glad I dropped back to learn Hangul. Still working at it, but when I get done learning Korean will be easier. Hope to get over there for a month next October. Though. CBE’s got an Israel trip planned at the same time. Always wanted to see Israel. This could be a good opportunity. Will clarify as we get closer.

 

The what will I pay for my cancer drugs circus still has its tent up. No word yet on the foundation the nice lady from McKesson told me about. I’ll have to pick up some more Erleada samples if I don’t get a call before Tuesday afternoon when I see Kristie.

Good news though. PSA still undetectable. Lab results came early this morning. Testosterone at 11. Low testosterone is 287 at which point fatigue becomes a factor. Alan’s getting his testosterone boosted for that reason. As for me. Well, I tire easily. But. My cancer doesn’t get its food. That’s the concept.

 

Ancient Brothers topic this morning is space. The space between and among us. Is it too far? Too close? Mussar has a lot to say about this.

 

 

Acting, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain, The Move, US History, Weather +Climate, World History, Writing

A fascinating time to be alive

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Samain and the Holimonth Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Dinner with Tom at the Willows last night. Long time friends. Diane. A Mountain Wind. Snow knocked off the Lodgepoles. Snow and Ice on Black Mountain Drive. Advent. Sussex. The Jacquie Lawson advent calendar. Going to bed. Waking up. The Chrysalis Effect by Phillip Slater. CJ Box. Kep, the old dog. US vs. Netherlands. How to become a pagan. Acting class. Nitya. Teaching the Ancient Brothers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Holimonth

 

Acting class has been hit by illness. Tal, the teacher, has the flu or something like it. Nitya, a class member, spent several days in the ICU and is still recovering in the hospital. Not sure what will happen. Tal wants to hold a class on Friday, but I’m reluctant to go given the recency of his bout with the flu. A tough wind down for what has been an interesting and challenging experience.

I was ready. I’d gotten both monologues memorized and somewhat polished. I knew all the lines in my two scenes. Not wasted work. Good work. Helps the brain. Adds some literature to the bank.

Tomorrow morning I present in the Creativity class. Think I’m going to do my How to become a pagan piece. Wrote it yesterday. Gotta see how long it is when spoken. Going to lean into writing and art over the winter as I said yesterday. This was a start.

 

High Wind warning today. The Lodgepoles have begun to sway. Dancing with each other as Sunlight makes their tops glow. I haven’t written about it but the Mountains and their Trees and Wild Neighbors? I would have missed them. A lot. Couldn’t imagine being in a city environment where no Pine Trees framed the Nighttime Stars. Will not trade this beauty for a place with less. Hawai’i matches the Mountains with its Oceans and old Volcanic Mountains, its rich fauna. Someday. But right now. This wonderful place is home.

 

The world. Russia looking like a blind Bear in the Ukraine. Wrecking the place, striking out wildly. China finding that suppression and repression have their limits. Even with a newly anointed dear leader. The US struggling with divisions at home and new fractures among European allies. Not a great time to be a world power.

 

It is however a fascinating time to be alive. Talks of a moon base. Be still my John Carter, Flash Gordon little boy heart. The James Webb showing us more and more of the universe in which we live and move and have our becoming. A world shifting its long term basic rules. Climate change accelerating. Women growing in power. China and Russia and the upstart USA. All in flux.

Glad to have these years as my last ones.

Acting, Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Holidays, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, The Move, The West, Weather +Climate

Well…

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Samain and the Decision Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: No red wave. Judy’s courage. Tal. A fine director. Astrov, a wonderful character. Memorization. Rebecca. Georgeta. Nittya. Hamish. Emily. How do I feel? Relieved. Chekhov. Kate’s courage. Always Kate. Jon, a memory. Ruth and Gabe. Cold weather coming. A property manager. Vince. (have him handle appliances, too?) Hawai’i. Such a fine place to be. CBE, home turf. Shadow Mountain, home. Kep, dogged. Dan, who brought me home grown marijuana and honey from his own hives yesterday. Past president of the congregation.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Democracy’s faint pulse

 

First. My friend Judy died yesterday. If she followed the path she had explained to me, she took the medication with a trusted friend by her side reading the Psalms. Her shiva minyan is tomorrow night. I’ll be there. Kate, too, chose her own death. This kind of courage needs celebration. It says we can choose to leave life with honesty, with compassion for ourselves and for those we love. It will never be an easy choice which insures its integrity. Judy leaves behind a collection of recipes for the foods she often brought to our meetings. I’ll make at least one this next week in her memory. May her memory be for a blessing.

 

Second. No red wave. Odd, isn’t it, it just occurred to me. Who’s the red menace now? Dr. Oz will have to go back to celebrity medicine. Sad Stacey Abrams lost. I’ve not done a deep look at the results but when a Fox news commentator and Washington Post columnist says: “…the Republican Party has some major soul-searching to do following the 2022 midterm elections,” (Marc Thiessen reported in The Hill.) I’m encouraged.

Gulled by Republican propaganda and Democratic whining to expect the worst, I opened the news this morning to find a horse race. Yeah, horses. Still could tip to Repub control I know. Yet. The fact that there’s a struggle suggests the Extremes and the Trumplicans have not prevailed. Our democracy may not end up in the political intensive care ward. At least not yet.

 

Third. Acting class last night. A lot of memorization ahead of me. A lot. I’m going to devote hours each day until Thanksgiving. I can and will do it. The experienced actors are already off-book for their monologues. I could have been but I vacationed instead. Back to the books now. Literally.

 

Fourth. The decision. Yes, I said I’d make it after the trip. That’s now. I’m leaving a small crack in the door but here are a few new reasons for remaining in place. I put in the mini-splits and remodeled the kitchen. I moved furniture and rehung art. This is my place now. And I worked hard to get it here.

Do what brings you joy, RJ said. Funny how I’d missed that part of the equation in my logical and careful delineation of this and that. It brings me joy to go to acting class. It brings me joy to cook in my kitchen. It brings me joy to live in the Rocky Mountains, in spite of or because of the challenges. It brings me joy to see Hawai’i as the place I choose to live next. It brings me joy to exercise in my own small gym. It brings me joy to host Thanksgiving for my shrinking family here in Colorado. It brings me joy to light up Herme and think of the Hermitage. It even brings me joy to be so much a part of Judy’s life that her shiva minyan is important to me. So. Oh? See where I’m going with this?

To that end I’ve contacted Vince. He’s coming by today. I may even have him take charge of all the stuff, including my appliances. If I have a need, he would contact the appropriate person and oversee their work. Maybe. Not sure about that. He will handle all the outside work. He’s excited about that and the handyman type work on the inside, too. This property is too much for me to handle. Alone. Might pay him a retainer against which he would bill his services. Then, I can let go of that stuff.

When someone asked what did I want in a new place, I’d often say oh five years or so peace and calm. No drama. Knowing that wasn’t possible but really wanting some stability without headaches associated with home ownership. Yesterday I thought. Wait a minute. I’m upsetting a chance for peace and calm right here by going through this extended home selling, relocating process. Which will then entail a whole new period of upset and chaos. By definition. I can achieve what I really want most easily by continuing the work I’ve already begun here.

By peace and calm I don’t mean stasis. The opposite in fact. I want to get back to writing every day. I want my daily life to flow, as I know it can. I want to see how my life unfolds, not keep putting new barriers in front of that unfolding.

What’s the crack in the door? Health. I’ve got a pulmonology referral. When I meet with them, I’m going to investigate any lung related reasons I should move now. Or, sometime soon. If they exist, and I don’t think they do, I’ll recalibrate.

Still gonna prune and paint.