Category Archives: Ancient Brothers

Ancient Brothers, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Chocolate. Birthday presents. Canceling the Washington Post. Again. Five days of friends and family. Cold weather and Snow ahead

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tsundoku

Week Kavannah:   Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

Tarot: Page of Arrows, the Wren

ChatGPT writing coach has begun to tune my late stage craft. Like the Wren it relies on subtlety, less rather than more.

One brief shining: Shadow and I, alone again; Tom and Paul flew off in a jet plane, Ruth busy at work and school, a time now to focus on writing, Ancientrails and Superior Wolf, to gather myself for the start of my clinical trial, a few fancy chocolates left.

 

Bathing in the after glow of a long visit by old friends. Feeling their concern, Tom loading cardboard in my recycling bin. Their love, Paul recalling his daughter Kate’s first months. NICU. Angel nurses. A three way group hug before they left.

39 years. Half my life. Friendships built on dogsled trips in the Boundary Waters, clambering up wooden ladders, so many meals together. Deaths and divorce.

New memories. Three elder men squeezed into the booth that Ruth found for us to protect our hearing. Her sweetness. Drawing Paul out on his life. Remembering Tom was the electron microscope guy.

New memories. A Sunday dinner around my breakfast table. Dad’s fettucine, beloved by his daughter, Kate. Tom’s question, what do you expect in the next ten years? Birthday chocolates for dessert.

The Bistro. Where I found Kate’s pearl. Where we ate with Jon the day he moved out after his divorce. Where Kate and I would dine. Now where old friends from away and I dine. Log framing and a blazing fire, piano music.

Bread and roses. Feeling their hands on my shoulder

Robert Duvall. Jesse Jackson. dead

Bob Weir. Loved listening to Weir’s riffs. Ripple. Sugar Magnolia.

Another mark of aging. Lights going out one by one.

Kate and Jon’s deaths.

Why Tom and Paul’s visit meant so much.

While I’m alive.

Not yet a light gone out.

Aging, Ancient Brothers, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Mountains, The West

Glad I’m Old

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Wednesday gratefuls: Joe, coming today. Dr. Josy. Healthy Shadow. Paying bills. Tom in recovery. Alan, too. The great American medical contraption. Books. Leads for books. Notebooklm. Pan. Lycaon. The enchanted world. Zeus. Athena. Hera. Poseidon. Hephaestus. Hermes. Hades. Arcadia. Ancient Greece.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dr. Josy

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.                                                “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot:  Eight of Arrows, Struggle

“…profound personal struggles require calm, decisive and resolute action. Reach down into the very core of your being and summon all the reserves of your courage and wisdom. See honestly what the issue will require for you to resolve it…View this necessary sojourn with clear eyes and a resolute heart, for to overcome these tests of life makes us stronger.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Old age is an eight of arrows life phase, a time when the cycle of an individual life nears its end, yet also when  a lifetime of contemplation and courage and love drives a personal distillation, the alembic of a lived life able to transform the dross of work and care into the golden fleece of wisdom and self-compassion.

Old age presents its insults. Those of us in our late seventies and eighties know. Could be maturing cataracts. Might be regrets. A certain hitch in the step. Maybe balance uncertain. All those family issues, good and troublesome. Of course, some sort of physical decline, could be serious illness.

Then there is the end of this story, once infinitely far away, now looming not far out of sight. Even with a death-friendly outlook, which I have, I’m still with Woody Allen: I’d prefer not to be there when it happens. Kate knows. Regina knows. Jon knows. Mom and dad know. All ancestors know. Death loves us all.

When I couldn’t open the jar of sauerkraut or the sour Cherry preserves, it hit me hard. Weak, so weak. When back pain constantly gnawed at my day, my composure, I let myself fall, often, into the slough of despond. Cancer’s various moments of deep uncertainty had the same power.

Yet. I’ve been reading. No surprise. My mind follows the threads of political change, for example, from a unique vantage point. One earned in years, decades of action and reflection. Or, as I research Pan, the great Arcadian God of the natural world, my heart and my imagination open up, seeing connections, linkages from other years of reading, learning.

Or, I have the insight, as I did yesterday, that I’ve stayed the course in many difficult situations: with Jon and his troubles, with Ruth and Gabe, with Kate in her final years, with so many Dog’s in their final weeks, with Shadow through our mutual angst. Even with myself.

Yes, old age has its insults. It sure does. It also has depth of compassion earned. Love emboldened and strengthened. Knowledge gathered, connected, created. A calm that comes from kicking the hamster wheel of achievement to the side. I’m glad I’m old. How bout you?

Ancient Brothers, Dogs, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Seed Keepers

How Deep the Impressions

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Snow on the Ground. Shadow and her Dog run. Alan’s surgery today. Joanne. Marilyn and Irv. Joe and Seoah. Renee Good. Her wife and children. Jacob Frey. Minnesota resists. Bureau of Criminal Investigation. Rethinking liberalism, socialism for our time.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Bills/Jaguars

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah:  Wholeness. Shleimut.                                                “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Ace of Arrows, the breath of life

The card description emphasizes that the arrow is a “gift” from the universe. This gift provides the mental clarity, truth, and fortitude necessary to cut through deception and find a clear path forward. However, the Wildwood emphasizes that this clarity is not a passive attainment; it requires the “human element” of mastery, skill, and commitment.

One brief shining: Under the Moon of New Beginnings Shadow has returned home, my two primary Notebooklm notebooks have begun to fill up with research on Superior Wolf and political thought/action/news, resistance work continues (for my body and the body politic), and my confidence about my life and its fourth phase purpose has sharpened, gotten clarity, leading me toward a new role as shaman/metaPhysician.

 

Dog journal: Yesterday Shadow sat on her haunches, looking me in the eye, trying telepathy. Understand what I want, my human. I went over to the ottoman, sat on it. She came to me, put her paws on my knees, gave me a kiss. The leash clicked shut on her collar and we went outside for a walk. Well, that. Unexpected.

 

Ancient brothers on the Wild. We talked Tornadoes, Hurricanes, the autonomy of nature, Wild Neighbors, fear, and love. Ode wrote, “The wild is the source of my creativity.”

We all talked about the wilderness within, how emotions and thoughts, memories and sense data meet in our inner worlds. I’m taken with this idea. As inside, so outside. Or. As outside, so inside. The inner world where no other can enter. The source of dreams, visions, desire.

Even, said the undefeatable solipsist, the outer world rises from our inner world, mine so different from the one you project. So different. Heidegger’s dasein, or being-thereness.

This whole notion frightens me right now because we’re all living in the outer world projected by red tie guy’s “own morality.” A world where yesterday’s up is today’s down. I do not want to live in his dasein, yet I have, we have no choice.

In the struggle between my dasein and his, our dasein and his lies the future. The best outcome I can imagine lies in a new world made possible by the wreckage of his blundering Brontosaurus movements. Yes, I know this huge animal had a brain the size of a walnut, yet look how deep went the impressions of its feet.

There will be no new world if we abandon the field, leave him and his obsequious crew to their stumbling, capricious paths.

 

Ancient Brothers, Cooking, Memories, Men, Minnesota, Myth and Story

Santas

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Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Cold Hafar. Mark invigilating. Cold night, good sleeping. Your favorite place. Mine is right here on Shadow Mountain. Ruth, skiing A-Basin. Gabe sorting through Jon’s art. Shadow’s last week in boarding school. Sue Bradshaw. Ana. Sheetpan meals. One of my own. Working out again. The Hummingbird.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:  Gevurah   strength, discipline

Creating Space: “Gevurah is the strength to create space and to hold space… it’s what helps us nurture our passions.” — Renee Fishman

Becoming a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Cutup the Spring Onions, added brightly colored strips of Bell Peppers, some Garlic, Olive Oil, Salt, Pepper, stirred them together to coat everything, all spaced evenly in one of my Nordicware quarter sheetpans, baked at 425 for ten minutes, then put Andouille and Italian sausages on top of them and baked 30 minutes more and soon I had at least five meals ready.

 

Cooking: Beginning to understand how to build my own sheetpan meals. Their virtue lies in their short prep, ability to accommodate diverse ingredients, ease of cooking, and limited cleanup. Just the sheetpan and whatever prep left over.

Once finished, I eat one meal right away, then portion out the rest in containers, pop them in the fridge, and I have my own meal service. Today I’m making Salmon fillets with baby potatoes and perhaps broccoli florets.

The nerve ablation has removed my back pain on my left side, so I can stand longer while prepping and cooking.

Still weak though, stamina sucks. I wanted to add sauerkraut to the sausage meal, but I’m too weak to open the f*!#&ing jar. Same with the Sour Cherry preserves I wanted to put on my toast. Geez. My modest goal is to get back enough grip strength to manage these simple tasks. I’m working on it.

Glad to be back in the kitchen, cooking for myself. I prefer my own food and the nerve ablation plus my new resistance work regimen enables me to get back at it.

 

Santa: Ancient Brother Mark told a great Santa story yesterday morning. Worth sharing.

When he lived in Marine on St Croix, Mark contacted a Santa to come for a pre-Christmas gathering at his house. Christopher was young, 3 or 4, and Mark invited a few other families with young kids. It was a Christmas party and the children had not been told Santa was coming.

After the party was underway, a pickup truck pulled up in the driveway and a man with a real great white beard got out, came around to the backdoor, and walked in, saying nothing. The kids stared.

Still saying nothing he went over to the fireplace and shined a flashlight up the fireplace chimney, checked the damper by opening and closing it.

“I’m one of the Santa’s.” he told the by now confused and wondering kids. “We have to go out and check chimneys to be sure Santa can get down them.” He went on to explain that there were many, many Santa’s. “Making Christmas happen is a big, big job.”

Mark and his friends tried to pay him, but he refused the money. “Don’t blow it for me, man. It’s for the kids.”

Aging, Ancient Brothers, Fourth Phase

Living the Good Life

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Samain and the Shadow Moon

Monday gratefuls: Broncos v Packers. Whadda game. Happy Camper. Holiday gifts for Ana, housecleaner, and Mark, mailman. Later, Shirley Septic workers. The Ancient Brothers on gifts, gift giving, what do we really want for the holidays. Hawai’i. Hanukkah. The shamash. Nathan. Subway.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hanukkah

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Week Kavannah:   Netzach   “Endurance and Tenacity: Netzach represents the inner strength and fortitude required to pursue a goal or a passion over a long period, especially when faced with obstacles.”

Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: Took a Washington Post quiz and found myself in the meaningful life bucket for living a good life; the other two, a happy life and a psychologically rich life, also seemed ok, but meaningful did capture my life overall, its summary sentence: “I’ve made a difference!”

 

I mention this Washington Post quiz because Ode’s theme for the Ancient Brothers included the question, what do you really want for the holidays? He specifically pointed us away from things like world peace and toward our own lives, right now.

As you might imagine, the first thought for me was: no more cancer. That’s not gonna happen, I know. Press deeper. Taking that quiz, I realized I had my answer. I want my life to continue to be meaningful. Not productive. Not successful. Not achievement oriented, but meaningful.

What’s meaningful for me at 78, slowed down by fatigue and cancer, will not be, is not the same as me at 40, or 50, even 70. Now meaningful living lies in nurturing relationships of long standing. Nurturing and backstopping family. Developing in the moment kind and loving connections with everyone I meet. Continuing to write Ancientrails. Continuing to deepen my Jewish journey, my pagan journey, my life journey.

Realizing this is what I wanted, really wanted, not only for the holidays, but throughout the year gave me a gathered calm; my life has had this trajectory for a long time, my task now is to live it in my fourth phase, life with a terminal disease.

It means sticking with Shadow, making the necessary adaptations to have her as a permanent part of my life. It means planting Artemis, harvesting food for my table. It means going to mussar, bagel table, CBE men’s group. It means keeping up to date on our changing country, our changing world and commenting on those changes.

Live until l die. A meaningful life.

 

Just a moment: Living my meaningful life has, I realized, important implications for how I live in this fraught time, a time when the actions and struggles that have long made my life meaningful find hostile pushback. Trump and his ilk do not have the power to ruin my life. Only I have that power.

What can I do in this worst of times? Live as full, as rich, as collaborative a life as I can. Which is what I’ve been doing.

How about you?  Happy life? Meaningful life? Psychologically rich? The good life beckons. Yes, even now.

Ancient Brothers, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

Loved Ones

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Mabon and the Samain Moon

Monday gratefuls: Luke and Leo. Shadow. My dying fan. Vince, who has returned. Artemis, who wants her late fall makeover in her western bed. Old friends and new. Joanne. Her call. Her stroke. Alan and Cheri, visiting her. Ode in his place, his studio. Naked Aspens. Smoky the Bear at high Wildfire risk. Big O Tires, Ruby’s Snow shoes. This morning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Professor Luke

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hochmah.  Wisdom.   “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”  Perkei Avot: 4:1   Making medical decisions this week.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Luke came up with his laundry and Leo, who lumbers along, a big old Dog with arthritis yet his same calm loving presence, Shadow circling him like a quick small bird, wanting to play, not understanding age, yet in her not knowing quickening memories for him of a younger Leo so he moves a bit faster, plays.

 

Loved ones: A weekend filled with friends and family. Rich bringing me Kim’s wonderful soup on Saturday. Our conversation.

After he left, my regular call to faraway Korea, my son on his couch, me in my chair. This now forty-four year long relationship as vibrant and loving as ever. A sweet and kind and compassionate man.

Sunday morning, my four Ancient Brothers, all well past the three quarters of a century mark, gathering around our cyber camp fire to speak of our week, keeping each other up to date on our lives. Then each of us taking a turn reflecting on place and what it means in our world.

A phone call. Sorry I stood you up. Well, Joanne, a stroke counts as a pretty good excuse. We talked, as we do, of matters of the heart, her Albert, my Kate. Life alone. Her path after the stroke that landed her in Lutheran hospital’s ICU. Damned insurance companies. She said men her age peers, early 90’s, suffered from testosteronitis. My age not as much. I felt flattered.

While I talked to her, Leo came down the stairs, his happy face familiar with my place and turning, as is his wont, to the silver bucket in which I keep Shadow’s toys, his collar and his rabies tag getting tangled in the bucket’s handle, surprising him, but in his gentle way, he handled it.

Professor Luke followed, his duffel bag of laundry over his shoulder. Leo went outside to see Shadow. We sat here, in the two leather chairs, friends and coreligionists. I told him I would help him in any way he needed when he took over the bagel table Torah study next week. Filling in for Rabbi Jamie who starts his sabbatical November 1st.

He’s excited about his work, teaching Chemistry at Colorado Community College. I’m so happy to see him finally in a work setting that nourishes him. He’s needed that for as long as I’ve known him, going on four years now.

After he left, Vince showed up straight up from his work with an architectural restoration firm at the Colorado State Capitol. He solved the motion sensor light problem, found an arcing extension cord, and will come back to fix that. I could tell he’s once again my property manager. He’s always been my friend.

Ancient Brothers, Colorado, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, Mountains, Park County, Photography, The West, Wild Neighbors
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Erev Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow, my sweet girl. Kate, always Kate. Ruth and Gabe. The gathering darkness. The Siddur for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Machzor. Nylabone. Kongs. Artemis, ripening Tomatoes. First salad soon. Talmud Torah. Red tie guy. Burger King. His paper crown. Ruby. The boiler. The mini-splits. The Fireplace. All ready for fall. And, winter.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Aspen gold on Black Mountain

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Yirah. Awe and Reverence

Tarot: King of Pentacles, reversed (Druid Craft)  It indicates a need to loosen up and take responsible risks to grow.  Gemini

One brief shining: Plucking ripe Cherry Tomatoes, taking in the Plant’s earthy, acidic perfume, popping them into my mouth, tasting the sweetness no store bought Tomato can deliver makes the expense and fuss of Artemis more than worthwhile, it makes it an ordinary miracle.

 

Judaism: The Siddur, order of service for the High Holidays- Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur-weighs in at 1200 plus pages of prayers, psalms, poetry, Torah, blessings, and much more. The first written service siddurs came into existence in the 9th century, but it took the invention of the printing press to accelerate their use in most synagogues.

We studied a parsha from Deuteronomy used on Yom Kippur and a major prayer, the Amidah, yesterday morning at the bagel table. Rabbi Jamie, Ginny, Luke, and me.

As I’ve written here before, I’m more of a Sukkot, Simcha Torah, Passover, Shavuot,  sorta Jew. More focused on the strong linkage between earth-focused holidays that celebrate the harvest, Sukkot, or spring planting, like Passover, and the long tradition of their celebration within Jewish communities over thousands of years.

Yet. Modern day Judaism focuses a bright light on the Days of Awe. This year I plan to attend outside services for Rosh Hashanah, possibly Yom Kippur. See what the contemporary focus means. I say possibly for Yom Kippur because its two days coincide with the lidocaine injections for my ablation procedure.

 

A few photographs from the Beaver Dam trip:

 

Ancient Brothers, Cinema and Television, Friends, Mountains, Park County, The West, Wild Neighbors

Finding the Beaver Dam

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Tom. Three Victorias. Their deluxe burrito and their sopa de albondigas, or meatball soup. Beavers. The MIT mascot. Their Pond up Park County Rd. #60. Burning Bear Creek Trail.  North Fork of the South Platte River. Golden Aspen. Small Beaver dams. A really big Beaver dam. Colorado back country on the way to Kenosha Pass and South Park.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Beavers

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and reverence. The days of Awe, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Tarot: Seven of Wands, reversed (Druid Craft) “It may be time to seek support from others or connect with your community instead of going it alone.”   Gemini

One brief shining: Tom’s rental, a fire engine red Buick SUV, signaled each dip and ridge in Park Country Road #60 as he drove us through Hall Valley alongside the fast running North Fork of the South Platte River while I looked for the Beaver felled Aspen stumps that would show me when to look for the Beaver pond turnoff. Saw them.

 

Tom’s visit: Psst, buddy! Wanna see a really big Beaver dam? Tom and I had finished our breakfast at Primo’s, trying to decide what we might do next. He liked the idea of seeing the Beaver dam, about forty minutes further along Hwy 285 on the way to Fairplay.

We drove through Bailey commenting on the Sasquatch Center we had visited the last time we ate at the nearby Cutthroat Cafe. I mentioned again the faux pas I made there. I’d asked the guy at the counter if anyone believed this stuff. An hour and several blurry jpeg’s later I had my answer.

The Platter River Canyon, carved out by the North Fork of the South Platte, has broad meadows and tourist cabins, an Orvis Approved Dude Ranch, and the Santa Maria YMCA camp. Near Grant is the Shaggy Sheep restaurant where I’ve often eaten. Beyond Grant a few miles is Park County #60.

A while back I wanted to hike the Burning Bear Creek Trail, as much for its name as the trail description. I missed the trail head but kept driving because Hall Valley had beautiful stands of Aspen and Lodgepoles, the North Fork of the South Platte, and a view of a Mountain Range in the distance.

A good ways in I began to notice the stumps of Aspens with the slanted, tufted sign of Beavers at work. At a nearby parking lot I turned in and saw the largest Beaver dam I’d ever seen. Guess it had to be big because the North Fork runs strong.

Tom and I stopped there, too. Finding smaller dams along the way, Beaver water roads, and stands of dead Lodgepole drowned by the expansion of the Pond.

 

Just a moment: If you haven’t seen Comedy Central’s Daily Show in a while I highly recommend season 30’s episode 102, aired on September 18, 2025. In it Jon Stewart and cast skewer the cancel culture promoted by red tie guy, aka The Burger King. I paid $.77 to watch it. Best entertainment spend in a while.

Ancient Brothers, Health, Politics, Seed Keepers, US History

A Paper Crown Burger King

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tom. His visits. Our friendship. Indivisible. Scott in Minnesota. Paul in Maine. Standing up to the tyrant and his Zombie Mean Guys. Jimmy Kimmel. Comedy. Comedians. Concentration camps. Alligator Alcatraz. Shadow, her patience last night and this morning. Artemis. Her Kale. The Cucumbers. The Tomatoes. The Carrots, Spinach, and Beets. Salads. Well, maybe two salads.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Old, deep friendships

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the land

Tarot: King of Swords, (Druid Craft)  “The King of Swords upright signifies intellectual power, authority, and clear-headed judgment, rooted in strong ethics and a connection to nature.” Gemini

One brief shining: The No Kings mobilization on October 18 gathers Seed-Keepers across the country-Ginny and Janice at the Genesee Overpass, Scott in Minneapolis, Paul and Sarah in Maine-millions over against the rise of the zombie mean guys and their tyrant don who’s really just a Burger King with a paper hat from a fast food restaurant.

 

Just a moment: I’m feeling the power begin to percolate upward, the No Kings’ map available on their website has those early days of the anti-Vietnam protests vibe.

Checked out where it began. Oddly, it looks like Boulder and a guy named Carlos Álvarez-Aranyos who founded a group there called American Opposition. If you look at the partners page on the No Kings website, you’ll see it’s grown way, way past that initial effort. Other notable groups involved are Indivisible, Moveon, and 50501.

October 18th, the next mass gathering across the country, will be, I imagine, massive. As these will need to be, so the longer term work of rooting out the rotten core of movement conservatives now engaged in shredding our derech eretz, the way of our land, and attempting to replace it with medieval authoritarian governance that brooks no difference and no opposition, can flourish.

The 18th is two days after my last ablation. I hope I feel good enough to head over to the Genesee Overpass for our local event straddling I-70. Ginny and Janice went the last time. If you can join the event in your area, you would add one more body to what must become a pyroclastic cleansing of the Donald’s illusion that this is his country. Nope. It’s ours, too.

 

Tom’s visit: Breakfast. Conversation. Nap. Dinner. Conversation. Sleep. Old guys, old friends. Together. Again. Still.

Health:  Some thoughts on cancer. Cancer does not change the journey. That is, the journey from birth through life to death. It only illuminates a possible game ender if, as Kristie said, the disease runs its course. Could be something else. A car accident. A fall. Heart attack. Stroke. In that significant sense cancer has no more valence in anyone’s life, including mine, than any of the numerous ways we can, as my father use to say, shuffle off this mortal coil. Not sure he knew he was quoting Hamlet. Probably did.

This goes along with another observation that nothing can be finally determined as either bad or good. The ripples, the tendrils snaking out from any one particular event require seeing it not only as it seems in the moment, but how it impacts contiguous and/or future events.

Sure, the second election of Donald Trump was a disaster, a catastrophe for our republic and a focused blow to our democracy. However, his reign as a paper crown Burger King will clarify for his opposition what America means. What’s worth fighting for. It will cause other nations to form new alliances, become stronger than they were when the U.S. was world hegemon. It may even disclose ways in which we need to restructure, rethink our government.

He may be a disruptor and a weasel, but he. does. not. control. us.

 

Ancient Brothers, Far Right, Men, Politics, US History

The Lost Boys

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Jamie. Ty. Irv. Jim. Seth. Bruce. Joe. Matt. Lawyer guy. Will. Bill. Irv’s first time leading group. Evergreen High School. Its students. Seth’s daughters. Rain. 40 degree morning. A Mountain Fall begins. The Aspen’s, like Smaug, guarding still their gold. My son. His journey. A life led by principle. The Ancient Brothers on mystery.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Men, together

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz.  literally, the way of the land.

  • Natural law. In some interpretations, it represents a natural, moral order that exists independent of formal Torah law. This is reflected in the saying, “Derech Eretz preceded the Torah,” and speaks to the innate decency that human beings should possess

Tarot:  #2 The High Priestess Druid Craft

  • Patience and waiting: The High Priestess advises against taking immediate action. She represents a time of quiet gestation and reflection, encouraging you to wait for more clarity to emerge.
  • Spirituality and the subconscious: The card points toward a deeper connection with your spiritual side, meditation, and exploring the mysteries of your psyche. 
One brief shining: We sat in the sanctuary shofars evidence signaling the coming of Rosh Hashanah while we conversed quietly, a minyan; one of us, visibly shaken, spoke of picking up his daughter from Evergreen High School that day before the shooting started, she was not feeling well, and I recalled Gabe’s succinct thought: Today is a strange day.

 

Aftermath: We men discussed how to be seen, how to know one another, how to be known. Wondered if the world hungered for human connection and dared take the risk, what it would be like.

We didn’t discuss it yesterday, but we could have. Think school shooter. What comes to mind? Yes, a boy, a sad angry dismissed unhappy no right place in his high school world boy. Boiler Medic Ken and I discussed this. Ken said yeah when he was in high school you took it out back and settled things. Except. These boys would not have been the ones, Ken.
 
What responsibility do we adult men have to the shattered psyche’s of boys who would be, not men, but seen, heard, appreciated, and failing that go the way of the too, too easy to obtain gun? Surely something. But how to engage, how to be there?
 
I raised a boy. Just one. I know he needed love, boundaries, respect. My guess, but not much of a guess, is that these boys need those things, too. From someone who matters.
 
Two of our number yesterday, one long retired, one just beginning work(ed) with young boys, ones whose lives experienced the disruption of mental illness. There are those among us who walk that road. Perhaps they could guide us.
 

Just a moment: Meanwhile, one who should guide us, call us together, calls instead for revenge. Vengeance is mine saith the Donald. In poor imitation. I believe Donald is one of those boys. Still. An insecure, frightened, internally beleaguered man-child, still up against the school yard fence promising reprisals.