• Category Archives Boulder
  • Loss

    Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Barb. Jen. Ruth and Gabe. Rabbi Jamie. My phone. My most asked question (to myself): where is my phone? MVP. CU-Boulder. Sushi. Pain. Back. First World Problems. Technology. Uncanny valley. AI. Wi-Fi. CPU’s. Graphics chips. Internet.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Electricity

    Kavannah this week:  Curiosity. Sakranut

    One brief shining: Sunday I got up and wrote Ancientrails, signed on to the Ancient Brothers to talk about love, got a text from Vince saying he could come with Levi to move my workout equipment which he did as Bill, the last of us five, still spoke, so I went downstairs to help Vince who stayed until nearly eleven when I had to leave for Boulder to pick up Ruth.

     

    That was when I discovered my phone had scuttled off somewhere secret. Here, I knew, because I’d used it that morning. Conundrum. Keep looking for my phone so I can call Ruth? What if I can’t find it and I show up late? Then she’ll get anxious. I decided to look for five more minutes. Nope. Not here.

    Leaving the house I felt naked and irritated that I wouldn’t be able to listen to the Hardfork Podcast about Deepseek. Drove a bit fast to avoid showing up late. Ruth has anxiety issues, as I have had. So I get it. About a fifty minute drive.

    Got to Boulder. Ruth was in tears. She had, she said, called me five times. Including this voicemail:

    “Hey, Grandpop. I’m waiting outside and you’re scaring me to death, so just call me if you get this, or I don’t know if you left your phone, or I don’t know, but I’m outside, so I’m hoping you’ll get here in a few minutes. Just call me.”

    I felt for her, frustrated that with all the available tech I had I still had no way of connecting with her. We had a good lunch. I’d already set this up in the middle of last week, not knowing that her other grandma, Barb Bandel, would die Friday night. That made me even more frustrated because Ruth didn’t need more on her mind. Barb had been in declining health, but her death came with no forewarning. Her death means Ruth and Gabe lost Kate in 2021, their Dad in 2022, and now Barb. That’s a lot of loss. A lot of grief.

    Meanwhile my back began grouching while we ate. My walking limit seems to be about a block, two at the most. This with an extra Tramadol already on board. The ride back tested my pain tolerance.

    Back home I began looking for my phone. I’ve still not found it. I’m going to have to do a sector search I guess. I know it’s here because I asked Ruth to call me at 5 to see if I could locate it. She did, but, in the first of many confounding situations, the call came to my hearing aid. Which meant it didn’t help me locate the phone.

    Did three what I considered thorough passes through the house last night. No joy. Asked chatbot for help. Alexa has a find your phone feature. Oh. I rarely, rarely use Alexa, but here was good use. Nope. The internet is not usable Alexa says. Odd, since I’m on it right now. We had very high winds last night, power went out four times, generator worked, but apparently it reset Alexa. And the Alexa app, which I need to reconnect her to wi-fi is, guess where? On my phone.

    As is my ability to connect to Google Voice, which required a setup code sent to my phone. Arrrgghhh.

    So, blehhhhh.

     

     

     


  • The Times They Are A Changin’

    Samain and the Yule Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Paul. Joanne. Vietnamese food. A long lunch. Snow. Ruth. Thai food and ice cream. Finals week. Remember finals? Alan on the Tasman Sea. Shadow Mountain Home. Warm. Mini-splits. Solar panels. Electricity. Quantum computing. The future accelerating back toward us.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fresh Snow

    Kavannah: Love (ahavah)

    One brief shining: Driving in the Mountains after a Snowfall has an adventure around every curve, forty years of Minnesota Winters making me alert to tiny movements in the tires, relaxing if they slip, recovering easily, Blizzaks gripping, gripping, living in the moment because the situation requires it.

     

    As an old man driving in the Mountains in the Winter, I’m grateful for the wonderful teacher I had. Minnesota Winters. Where the Snow is not so much compared to my Colorado home, but it stays and gets slick. I am familiar with the movements of a car on Winter roads. Not to say I haven’t had my moments. I have. But always on Ice. And even then, not panicking, staying away from the brake and the accelerator pedal. Gently, gently.

    The Mountains after a new Snow have slopes of flocked Lodgepoles, their Aspen colleagues looking cold and skeletal without their leaves. A beautiful transformation that we get to see often in the changeable weather of Colorado. Snow. Sun. Snow. Snow. Sun and blue Skies. A different sort of Winter from Minnesota. Less brutal. More episodic in its dramatic weather. Much, much more Snow.

    If it were not for the threat of Wildfire, Shadow Mountain would be an ideal home. In the midst of beauty in all seasons, cool Nights, dark Skies, silence, Wild Neighbors, and Rock, so much Rock, cold Streams. The gift of Wildness at every juncture. Reminders of the ongoingness of Mother Earth everywhere. Which in turn remind me of the temporariness of my own Life. No American immortals up here.

    Today is Jon’s birthday, he would have been 56. I’m going over to Boulder to have lunch with Ruth. She’s come a long, long way since he died two and a half years ago. Now a college freshman, living on her own for the first time. Loving her classes, learning. Facing down fears and the anti-Semitic tonality of so many college campuses right now.

    She still misses “her person” and has rough moments, sometimes sobbing and despondent. But I can see her resilience take hold now, acknowledging the feelings, managing her response. Bouncing back. Grief is a journey and one that never completely ends.

     

    Just a moment: How bout those Syrian rebels? Striking when no one expected it. Shifting, yet again, the volatile stew of Middle Eastern nations. How will their ascendance change the politics of the Middle East? At least one thing sticks out to me, the rebels are Sunni and therefore not disposed to support Iran, Hezbollah, or Hamas. Probably not keen on Israel either, of course.

    Not to mention. Turkey is part of the Middle East, too. Look north from Turkey’s northern shores and nothing but the Black Sea separates you from the Ukraine.

    In the immortal words of Bob Dylan: the time they are a changin’.

     


  • The WHI: the Wildlife Human Interface

    Mabon and the Sukkot Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Ruth. Rich. The Colorado Supreme Court. UC Boulder. Wolf Hall. Elephants. All of our Wild Neighbors around the world. Doug’s Diner. Being a student. Jamie. Luke. Woolly Mammoths. Driving to Boulder in the early morning as Great Sol gradually lit the Hogbacks, the Meadows in their russets and greengolds, the lower down deciduous Trees aflame with reds and oranges and yellow. Getting out and about.

    Sparks of joy and awe: Non-Human Rights

    Kavannah: Kavod  Honor

    One brief shining: Sitting next to Ruth, I watched the mock courtroom of Wolf Hall fill up with law students dressed in their student variety from jeans and backpacks to a black dress and pearls, the conversation subdued since the presence of black robed Colorado Supreme Court Justices would soon transform the mock courtroom into a real court, one about to hear a pleading that Elephants fit the definition of person for the purpose of a writ of habeas corpus*.

     

    I want to back into this topic. A story I’ve told and retold. Almost exactly ten years. October 31, 2014 I stood in what would soon be my back yard staring into the soft black eyes of three Mule Deer Bucks. Seemed like a long time though probably no more than a minute. When they decided we were done, I felt as if I’d been granted permission to live here among them, a message delivered by these spirit beings of the Mountains. Yes, you can say I overlaid on those three Bucks my own interpretation. Finding in that encounter a blessing I hadn’t known I’d sought.

    In 2019. June. The day I began 35 sessions of radiation for my unhappily returned prostate cancer three Bull Elks jumped over our five foot fence with great ease and proceeded to eat the blooming Dandelions. One of them had only one antler. They would come again and again.

    A year ago on a rainy July night I drove up Black Mountain Drive not far past the Upper Maxwell Fall’s trail head and encountered a Bull Elk staring at me as I passed by, his bulk hidden by the Aspen stand, but his antlers and face clear in the momentary flash of my headlights.

    Yesterday morning I got up at 6 am, got dressed, drank some coffee, gathered the items I needed, put on my black Grateful Dead hat with the colorful dancing Bears and began the hour long drive down the hill, then north to Boulder. Along Hwy 285, still well into the foothills I saw a black shape along the side of the road. Since many people have metal cutouts of various Wild Neighbors as lawn decor, I imagined at first that this object was one of those. Until it looked at my oncoming car, turned quickly around, and scuttled in that soft clumsy-appearing Black Bear amble back into the Forest.

    I don’t see many Bears. This is the third one I’ve seen since I’ve lived up here though they live all around us. A few years ago walking not far from my house a large Black Bear crossed the road not thirty feet from me. Last year I saw a Bear near the intersection of Brook Forest Drive and Hwy 73. That’s all of them.

    In each of these three instances the Bears turned away from me, hurrying into the shelter of their wild home, the Forests and Mountains.

    All this means I live in the WUI. The Wildlife Urban Interface. Again, yes, you can argue we shouldn’t be here. Maybe not. But we are. Even the cities outside which the WUI exists were once encroachments on Wild habitats, too. Like the Animals of the Mountains we too have to live somewhere.

    Not an apologetic. A statement of fact.

    My friend Marilyn Saltzman told of a safari she was on a few years back. Their guides took them to a Watering hole somewhere in the Bush. A herd of Elephants drank from it while a number of other Animals waited. Some Elephants left, then came back, others left. Not until the last Elephant had gone did the other Animals come to drink. As she told this story, I thought, who is the true monarch of the Jungle?

    Finally, you might say. Seated in the mock courtroom made real, like the Velveteen Rabbit, Ruth and I listened to two lawyers make oral arguments that the five elephants: Missy, Kimba, Lucky, LouLou, and Jambo deserved release from their confinement in the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. Yes, that Cheyenne Mountain.

    The Non-Human Rights Project had entered a writ of habeas corpus claiming they did have that right under a writ. The Cheyenne Zoo had counsel as did the five Elephants. This article in Colorado Politics is an excellent summary of the proceedings.

    It was like watching yesterday and tomorrow. The gray haired, dismissive and at times arrogant attorney for the Zoo, represented the status quo. Basically: We’re a really, really good zoo. The younger, much younger lawyer for the Elephants represented the growing awareness of the blurry, blurry line separating us from our Wild Neighbors. Sure, Elephants. Big brain. Social. Emotional. Sensitive. Like Primates and Whales and Dolphins and other clearly intelligent animals, even Corvids, to mention another class of Animals, Elephants in zoos represent an obvious case of anthropocentrism used as a rationale to dominate, entrap, and enslave other Animals.

    Through the Rights of Nature movement, see my March 4 of this year post, not only Animals but Rivers and Forests have been granted legal rights and protections. Zoos and those defending them are on the wrong side of history. It will take years and many more legal proceedings but somewhere, sometime the thin edge of the wedge will hold open the door to a world where humans live as part of the Interdependent Web of all beings (defined as widely as you wish) on Mother Earth. When this happens, it will have Earth shattering, no let me amend that, Earth healing consequences.

    This Mabon morning in Colorado, yesterday, I saw one more track being laid down toward this too far off day.

     

     

    *Although there have been and are many varieties of the writ, the most important is that used to correct violations of personal liberty by directing judicial inquiry into the legality of a detentionBritannica


  • Earth Waves

    The Harvest Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Ruth. Gabe. Boulder. Ruby. Celebrex. Tramadol. THC. Gettin’ old. The gradual arrival of Fall. Great Sol. The Flatirons. The High Plains as they wash up against the Laramide Oregeny’s Rocky Mountains. Mountains as Earth Waves. Second looks at my prostate cancer facts. Kristie. Steve. Dr. Leonard. Mr. In Between. Whippets. My son.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Staying the course with Ruth and Gabe

    Kavanah: STABILITY יְסוֹד Yesod    Stable, rooted, grounded; literally “foundation”  Ninth Sefirah = Connection & communication; covenant relationship; regenerative organ  [נְתִיקָה Netika: Disconnected, detached, rootless, neurotic]

    One brief shining: We gathered, the three of us, the last of Jon’s close family, sitting outside at the Hapa Sushi Grill and Sake Bar, Jon’s complicated impact on each of us lifted to the surface as we ordered the Multiple Orgasm Roll, the Hapa Special Roll, and a sashimi sampler with Daikon fries while Labor Day freed Boulderites and UC students wandered up and down the Pearl Street Mall.

     

    At ten am Gabe and I took off for Boulder, an hour drive from Shadow Mountain. Once on 470 we headed east always driving along the Hogbacks that mark the earlier Oregeny (Mountain Building) phase that preceded the Laramide. Thrust up on angles toward the west, these ancient Rock formations mark the end of the High Plains, or their beginning. Heading east from the Hogbacks the High Plains move toward their lower, yet contiguous sisters that make up the Plains States, running as far east as western Minnesota.

    Though technically the west begins around the 105th parallel in Nebraska, where Rainfall dips below 20 inches a year, the feeling of being in the West, the Mountain West, only begins when you see the Rockies in the distance and their older brethren, the Hogbacks. Coming from the east, of course, as I mostly have.

    I have a marked sense of awe, in Hebrew yirah, wherever I drive in the Mountains. This path from Shadow Mountain to Boulder thrills me, as it follows the evidence of plate tectonics active 75 through 35 million years ago, evidence inescapable to the eye and to the internal combustion engine. The hand of Gaia splashing the ocean of land and creating waves in her outermost layer, easy to see even now so long after she finished. Earth waves.

     

    Just a moment: Even with the Celebrex on board, the drive from home to Boulder, then to Denver to drop Gabe off on Galena Street and finally back west through Denver and up 285, left me in pain. And long before I finally got home.

    When I got back, I hurt so bad I tossed in a tramadol and an edible. Big mistake. My stomach said no, I do not like this, not at all. Please go to bed. So I did. At 4:30 pm. Got back up a couple of hours later.

    Worth it though. Gabe and Ruth need time together and time with me. Especially yesterday, two days from the second anniversary of Jon’s death. I gave both of them yahrzeit candles, candles that burn the full 24 hours of a yahrzeit. Had to take Ruth’s back because: no candles at all ever in the dorms. Oh. Yeah.