Category Archives: Dogs

Starlink, Internet Bright

Fall and the Samain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: My back. Its complaints. Mary’s solutions for managing them. First thing in the morning after the Shema. The beauty of fall transitioning to winter. The skeletal Aspens. The yellow leaved Willows and the red barked Dogwood. The Asters blooming in my back yard. Kurt Bohne. Starlink. Shadow Mountain Home2. Download: 105. Upload: 20. Elon Musk. Shadow Mountain. The drive into Evergreen. The Mountains and Valleys along the way. CBE. Israel at an inflection point.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: really fast internet

One brief shining: Kurt and Shawn put a ladder against the gutter, carried a Little Giant ladder up the roof and got to work first installing the mount, then the Starlink rectangular antenna on the mount, running Starlink’s cable down the side of the house and into the router and connecting the ethernet ports, while with my phone I created a new router address, plugged in a password, and after that things were just fast, fast, fast.

 

I know. I know. Supporting Elon Musk. Yes, he’s a reprehensible person politically, but boy does he engineer good products. The Tesla. The Boring Company. SpaceX. And, my only personal connection to his empire since I don’t use the X formerly known as Twitter, Starlink. For years I’ve had ok service from Century Link, using two DSL lines to get around 40 mbps. The price difference between the two services is $14 a month. Worth it for 80-100 mbps. Also, when the phone system goes down in a storm my internet will not. Happy to be with them. Kurt and Shawn who installed it for me were great guys. Would use them again if another need arises.

 

Laid in logs and firestarting materials after adding the rest of my firewood to the stack next to the fireplace. If we get snow over the weekend, I’ll be in my chair reading about Jewish life cycle events or the new Jessamyn Ward book, watching the fire. Gotten used to burning pine. Would really like to get some oak or maple though. It’s available down the hill where they have a variety of deciduous trees, but I’ve never sought it out. Maybe this year.

 

Israel. Hoping Thomas Friedman’s words, Biden’s, Blinken’s, Austin’s convince the Israelis to slow roll, if not eliminate a ground invasion of Gaza. And that Israel can show its humane side to the world, not just its bristly, never again ferocity.

The court of public opinion has turned against Israel. My sister Mary says there are pro-Palestinian rallies in Muslim Malaysia where she now lives. There is, too, sentiment that the U.S. has it right in the Ukraine, opposing Russia, and wrong in Israel, supporting the oppressor. The situation in Israel is so much more complicated than that. Neither side covers themself in glory. A solution has long been stiff armed by both Arabs and Israelis.

I would have left tomorrow for Israel.

 

Seoah and Murdoch celebrated my boy’s 42nd birthday last night. Party hats, cake. Murdoch sat on the bench at the table. Very cute.

 

Seven Stones

Fall and the Samain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Stones. Unveiling. That metal red heart. Judy. Rabbi Jamie. Mussar. Seven Stones. Remembering. Anne. Tara. Barbara. Marilyn. Susan. Mary. Keshet. British Airways. Israel. Back pain. Nerve glides. Core exercises. Naps. Brook Forest Black Fox. Killed. Israel. Biden. Hamas. Hezbollah. Travel. Conversion. Judaism. My people. War. Peace. Kate, always Kate

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Unveiling

One brief shining: Rabbi Jamie and I walked along cobblestone paths, past sculpture, past memorials carved in stone, past a columbarium, past a small pond and large green lawn which had a hill and gravestones, to the metal red heart of the pet cemetery where I had placed ashes of 15 of Kate and mine’s canine friends: Celt, Sorsha, Morgana, Scot, Tira, Tully, Buck, Iris, Hilo, Kona, Emma, Tor, Orion, Gertie, and Vega.

 

Up and out at 7:30 am yesterday for an 8:10 appointment with Mary, my physical therapist at Bergen Park P.T. in Evergreen. Mary is a keeper. She’s smart, kind, knowledgeable, encouraging. And Korean. She’s got me setup for handling my back issues over time, including during more travel. P.T. exercises like nerve glides (opening space in the spine) and core muscle work for times when things begin to flare. Strength training overall for better stability. Mary also wrote a summary of her work and findings that I can take to the physiatrist when I visit Lutheran Spine Center on Friday.

 

Later in the day I drove to Chatfield and Seven Stones cemetery. Judy Sherman’s unveiling. You may recall Judy was my friend who died last year, choosing death with dignity after five years of ovarian cancer. In the Jewish tradition a gravemarker unveiling occurs at least 11 months after a death. As Rabbi Jamie explained it, the reason for the tradition is a belief that the soul of the deceased stays around for a year to be sure their loved ones are all right. After the unveiling (a canvas covering was over Judy’s gravemarker), the soul can leave this realm. In certain Jewish traditions it is believed the soul returns to the Garden of Eden.

Whatever the metaphysics the unveiling offers a time a year after a death to gather, to memorialize. Similar to the yahrzeit which acknowledges the date of death according to the Jewish lunar calendar.

We also placed stones at Judy’s marker. This tradition, which I asked Rabbi Jamie about as I placed a stone at the red heart in the pet cemetery, participates in the burial. It comes from the necessity in ancient times of placing rocks on a grave to prevent depredation by wildlife. It also marks a visit.

Judy underwent aquamation. Water cremation. The water from her cremation feeds a pine tree growing next to her marker. The marker itself was communal and had room for 12 names.

Seven Stones is a beautiful and thoughtful cemetery. There are spots for aquamation, for scattering ashes, a columbarium, a place for caskets, several places for memorial stones. The cemetery has modern sculpture throughout, cobblestone paths, and lots of trees. Made me want to have a memorial, something I’ve not considered before. Maybe something for Kate and me. Since the dogs are there already.

 

Mountains in the Cities

Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Saturday gratefuls: A whole Chicken and Rice for each of us. Onions. Peppers. Pickled Peppers. Kimchi. Radish in squares. Side dishes. Dates. Mushrooms. Dinner last night in downtown Songtan. Screen golf. My son’s drives. Seoah calling  herself Bunker Woman after several sand traps. Walking in the Woods on the small Mountain behind Seoah and my son’s apartment building.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah’s relationship. Playful.

One brief shining: Black ceramic bowls with a whole Chicken, Rice underneath, Mushrooms and Dates in the soup, white bowls of pickled Radish, Cabbage, Peppers, Sliced Onions, and Green Peppers, cold Water in a jug, metal chopsticks and the long Korean spoon, a meal with my son and Seoah in neon intensive downtown Songtan on a Friday night.

 

Songtan, as most Korean cities and towns, has Mountains within its borders. Reminds me of the  Twin Cities with Lakes inside the city limits. Many not more than high Hills at this point in their geological journey, yet Forested and with changing altitudes.

Behind Posco the  Sharp’s building 111 where my son and Seoah live on the 12th floor a small Mountain rises. Walking trails covered with soft Vegetal mats, workout equipment at various sites, this Mountain goes up from building 111 and peaks, then descends to a small commercial area maybe 10 blocks away.

Murdoch goes on daily walks with his people there. Yesterday morning around 9 am the trails had many older Koreans out walking, using the workout equipment. Some swung side to side, some  hung on metal rings, others stretched their bodies while others turned a large wheel one way then the other or used a simple elliptical.

I walked for thirty minutes up one side of the Mountain down the other and back again. Worked up a sweat in the humid warming air. A prized amenity to have so close to their apartment.

Later in the day I went with my son and Seoah to screen golf. For $35 dollars they rented a room for three hours. Along the back wall was a large screen which had the ability to not only project various golf courses and their holes but to show the trajectory of a drive, the path of an iron shot, bunkers, roughs, water hazards. It could also show an instant video of your last swing, keep score, tell you the amount of backspin and side spin on your ball, where the ball struck your club face.

They played 18 holes. My son shot a 94. Seoah, who prefers outdoors golf, did less well. I had fun watching them, seeing them applaud each others good shots, help each other with kind advice, be with each other. My son chipped in on one shot and we all got up and high fived  him.

After returning to the apartment to feed and walk Murdoch, we set out again, this time on foot to downtown Songtan which is only ten minutes or so from the apartment.

Seoah had a found a place that met her two key criteria: first, clean. Second, delicious. We walked through narrow, most often sidewalkless streets, cars going around us, delivery motorcycles weaving in and out, the traditional Asian exuberance of neon signage. Past coffee shops, clothing stores, many different kinds of restaurants, a small traditional grocery where they made rice cakes, sesame cakes, and other delicacies on site. Clubs. Bars advertising soju (a Korean vodka and a favorite beverage) and beer. Fried chicken places.

Lively and interesting.

Love

Lughnasa and the Waning Crescent of the Herme Moon

Sunday and Monday gratefuls: The Trail to Cold Mountain. Off book. Kristie. Off meds? Sunday’s Ancientrails, forgotten. Unusual. The Ancient Brothers on love. A morning with Rich and Ron. Also about love. Burn away everything but love. Study today. Jewish identity. Cool and Foggy morning. Good sleeping. Ready for packing. Cable organizer. Reinforcing off book for the Trail to Cold Mountain. So many wonderful people in my life. Korea and Israel. Same continent. 5027 miles apart. [Osan to Jerusalem]

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Good friends

One brief shining: A bowl filled with strawberries, blueberries, black berries, and slices of mango sat by a wooden cutting board with lox heaped upon it next to a lazy susan with cream cheese, capers, cut onions, almonds warm cut bagels on my plate as Ron and Rich and I sat together talking mussar, parenting sons, writing, such a good morning.

 

I have now a surfeit of riches. Wealthier than I could have dreamed possible. And, yes, in terms of money, too. More important than money though friends and family who love me. Whom I also love. Who will open themselves to me and I to them. A wonderful morning yesterday as an example.

The Ancient Brothers gathered on zoom to talk about love. Ode talked about Robert Bly’s connected universe, all atoms linked to each other in a grand chain of becoming. As are the atoms in each of us. Bill added Buckminster-Fuller’s Cosmic Plurality:

“Cosmic Plurality”

Environment to each must be

All there is, that isn’t me

Universe in turn must be

All that isn’t me AND ME

 

Since I only see inside of me

What brain imagines outside me

It seems to be you may be me

If that is so, there’s only we

Me & we, too

Which love makes three

Universe

Perme — embracing

It-them-you-and we

 

Paul offered Rilke:

Widening Circles

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not complete this last one
but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
I’ve been circling for thousands of years
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

 

Tom reminded us of the love we learn from the dogs in our lives, the angels of our youth and of our old age. Of kindness. Of the sweetness of vulnerability.

 

I spoke again of the gift given to me between Mile High Hearing and Dave’s Chuckwagon Diner: The purpose of life is to burn away everything but love. If we perfected a just society, we could live only in love with each other. So to burn away everything but love, seek justice. If we could see the ohr [the shard of sacredness, divine light] in each other, in all Trees and Rocks and Roads and Flowers that love Great Sol and Mule Deer and Elk and Mountain Lions and Bears and all Mountain Streams and all Rivers and Oceans and in the Air we breathe, we would cry out in revelation like Mohammed, like the writers of the Torah and like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, there, the sacred, it’s right there! And we could/would love it all.

 

Not anymore

Lughnasa and the Herme Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Leo. Luke and Tal, off camping. Magic the Gathering. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Jeffrey Toobin’s Homegrown. The Far Right. Freedom. Liberty. Regime Change by Patrick Deneen. Reading.  Celt and Sorsha. Scot and Morgana. Tira and Tully. Orion and Tor. Vega and Rigel. The Wolfhounds. Iris and Bucky. Bridget and Emma. Hilo and Kona. The Whippets. Gertie, the German Wirehair. Kep, the Akita. All of blessed memory. Kate, always Kate. Jon, a memory.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs

One brief shining: Leo’s long tan body lies stretched out on my green rug his dad gone camping last night he barked, an alarm bark, three different times though he is a quiet dog jarring me awake fumbling for my tac flashlight with which I check for Bears or Mountain Lions before letting any dog outside on the Mountain.

 

Luke called yesterday morning to ask if I could take Leo for the weekend. Tal invited him to go camping. Checked my calendar. Sure. I’ll bring him by this afternoon. OK.

That’s why around 11 pm last night I put on my Acorns, got out of bed, and found the strong flashlight. Leo was at the basement door, alert, looking out with that eager, oh my god oh my god look dogs get when something fascinating has roused them from sleep. After sweeping the yard with my flashlight, I let him out. He went into the yard, sniffed, turned around and came back in. Gone, whatever it was. We both returned to sleep.

Always good. Leo. Dogwatching.

 

Got Jeffrey Toobin’s new book, Homegrown, a couple of days ago. Though I’m liking the History of the Two Koreas and about half through it, I’ve set it aside while I read this account of Timothy McVeigh’s life and terror and his influence on the current far right. This topic has me riveted. The more I learn about it the more I see it as a slow motion train wreck, one engine burning hate and fear and distorted notions of freedom and liberty, the other consuming ordinary dreams of an ordinary democracy in an extraordinary and deeply flawed nation. Guess which engine’s moving faster.

Going at a problem at its roots. Radicals. That’s what we’ve tried to do. Those of us drawn to the extreme edge of political thought and action. For me: capitalism, oppression by dint of skin color and economic status, nationality, religious affiliation. For them: freedom defined by gun ownership, liberty defined by that yellow Gadsen flag, and the loss of unearned privilege seen as a Fisher King wound. We both looked back to the founding documents, to the willingness of early white settlers to take up arms against their government in the name of freedom and liberty. We both found that line in the Declaration of Independence: “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends [the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness], it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.” We both found energy in the revolutionary spirit of those times, its apparent idealism and the sacrifices made to break away from a perceived tyrant.

Over the years since the heady days of the 1960’s I’ve had to polish off the rough edges of my thought, take it down a notch or two as negotiators like to say, not be so certain of my righteousness, or so correct in my solutions. It just occurred to me that could be a signal as to how this all may play out if we keep our heads, insist on the rule of law, don’t demonize the far right but let them see gradually the need to polish off the rough edges of their thought.

We might end up with a society energized by those who insist on the individual as the atomic weight of our nation, 1, and others who insist on its atomic weight as equivalent to the whole of our population. The resonance between these two inflections could protect liberty and freedom for each of us while seeing to the welfare of us all.

As an old radical, I still yearn for a socialist America where each contributes to his/her/their ability and each receives according to their need. For an America where individuals are not judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. (MLK) Where my religious freedom ends where yours begins. Where we follow that French gift and its famous poem declaring us willing, even eager to accept your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free as a key component of our national character. That’s still my dream. And I’m still willing to fight for it. But not at the expense of our nation. No, not anymore.

Korea and Reading

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Sunday gratefuls: Leo. Lying here beside me. Luke out having fun. Books. Oh, did I mention books? Korean history. Seoah. Murdoch. My son. Working hard. Korean schools. American schools. Having a dog in the house. Korea. The Korean civil war. The armistice. Kim Il Sung. Kim Jong Il. Kim Jong Un. Presidents in South Korea. Chaebol. Zaibatsu. Samsung. LCD. Hyundai. Different ways of organizing economies. And nations. Trump’s legal trouble. The House G.O.P. The Extremes. Showing us a path to nowhere.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Knowledge

One brief shining: Leo lies here on the green rug with Cypress Trees, I write this blog letting my fingertips move over my split keyboard, all while a bright blue Colorado Sky backdrops Black Mountain its Lodgepoles and Aspens, there is no sound except the slight click of the keys.

 

More reading in Cuming’s history of Korea. Two chapters on the Korean civil war. He believes we should have let them fight it out, burned out the divisions and reordered their culture. As we had to. As Vietnam had to. Instead we put in amber the tensions and conflicts present after the Japanese Occupation ended. If I read Cuming’s account correctly, the North would have won the civil war, probably easily without us. Even with our involvement they came close. Then Koreans themselves would have had to sort out a new political order. Instead we have my son and his colleagues still in country, maintaining a very fragile and often fraught peace.

It was a time of big power conflicts, especially the USSR and the US. The architects of the idea of containment Dean Rusk, George Kennan, and Paul Nitze influenced the U.S. role in the war. Containing the Soviets, not China.

Korea is more than you know. Much more than I knew.

 

Realizing I privilege reading over most other activities. If I’m on a topic, an enthusiasm, I’ll sometimes read for hours at a whack. For days on end. Cup of coffee at hand. Now with my reading glasses perched on my nose. When I get tired, as I did yesterday, I watched a TV program, a K-drama just to stay in the the mind-world and went back to Cuming’s afterward. I’m neither a fast nor slow reader, I adjust my pace to the material. If it’s difficult, I’m slower. In the middle, as history usually is, I go a bit faster. With fiction I gallop.

Right now, as you can tell, I’m on Korea. When I finish Cumings, I’ll start another, the Two Koreas. Though. I might go back and reread the earlier chapters in Cumings. His long synopsis of Korean history before the late 19th century fascinated me since it contained so much that was new. For me.

Also, I’m building a conversion library. I already have a lot of books on Judaism, but I’m going to organize the ones I need for my study and put them up here in the home office. Had to order others. Looking forward to that reading, too.

 

Guests

Summer and the Summer Moon Above

Monday gratefuls: Tom. Roxann. Lodgepoles. Aspens. Sunlight. Another blue Sky day. Ruth and Gabe in North Carolina. Joan. Tal. CBE. Israel. Trip payments. Fixing the wireless keyboard. Dead hearing aid. Marilyn and her award. The Bread Lounge. Quiet days, cool nights.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Guests

One brief shining: Sentences can run from harsh to gentle, grating along the tongue of the mind or softly caressing it, making the tongue recoil or roll over in delight sentences can be funny or serious delighting the mind or causing it to work carefully and sentences can confound the mind throwing it into utter confusion what power sentences have!

 

Tom’s visit comes to a close with our final breakfast out this morning. It’s been a real delight to have him here, continuing our Colorado conversation begun on December 19th, 2014 when he drove Kepler, Vega, Rigel, and me out here. We slept on the floor in sleeping bags that night. Gertie came with Kate in a packed rental van. She fed Gertie cheeseburgers along the way.

He returns to the heat and humidity of a Minnesota Summer. Different from the arid West.

It’s been a season of visits for me. Ode and Dennis in May. Mary a week ago Saturday. BJ and Sarah that Sunday night. Tom last Thursday until today. Nice to have folks in the house for a bit.

Tom has noted it feels strange for there to be no welcoming dog here. And it’s true. I’m dog identified. Yet I don’t feel their absence in the same way. I would love to have another dog, but I’m also enjoying having no one to care for but myself. So easy to contemplate travel, staying longer somewhere in the afternoon. Getting up at any time. Perhaps it’s the memories of so many dogs that keeps me company. Iris and Buck. Celt and Sorsha. Scot and Morgana. Tully and Tira. Bridget and Emma. Tor and Orion. Hilo and Kona. Rigel and Vega. Gertie and Kepler. 18 dogs. All still alive in memory, each one’s memory a blessing. As is Kate’s.

 

How bout those Russians, eh? Can’t fight a war, didn’t stop a rebellion. Putin’s looking a lot less like a strong man since the weekend. Instead of putting down the Wagner group when it seized a military HQ in Rostov-on-Don he allowed Prigozhin to slip away into Belarus and Prighozhin’s troops to stand down with no penalties in either case.

May they both get what they deserve.

 

Lots of ideas still floating around for Herme and Cold Mountain. Enough for a one act play? I won’t know unless I try to write one. The idea gives me energy. I like the idea of a one person play: Herme and Cold Mountain.

I also like the idea which resurfaced as Tom and I talked about cooking yesterday afternoon. A serious class in cooking basics and maybe one on a particular cuisine. At a cooking school. Realized I’ve taken all these other classes, why not one that will positively affect my daily life?

 

 

 

Well. That Sucks.

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Leo. Marilyn and Irv. Heidi and Rider. Primo’s. Kep, his ashes and paw print. Another beautiful day in the Mountain hood. Rabbi Jamie talking about ritual. Rebecca. Ode and Dennis. Luke picking up Leo. Blood draw for PSA and testosterone. A good workout. Resting heart rate down to 61. Weight at 145. 5.5 inches tall, down from 5′ 7″. 76. Being alive.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Heidi

One brief shining: Picked up Kep’s ashes yesterday the receptionist remembered them all she said Rigel was a star as her voice broke when I came back to the car Leo wagged his tail happy to see me in my hand a bag with cloth cord handles, a bamboo box in a blue cloth sack and a small box with silver that held the imprint of Kep’s paw.

 

When the doctor blurted out Leslie’s diagnosis including that she had less than a month to live, she said, well. That sucks. I won’t be going to Poland. You had to know Leslie but it was in character and a solid way, imho, to meet the guy in black with the sickle. Acknowledgement. No bargaining. Reality. A bit of humor.

Her service is tomorrow. I’ll be there. And at her shiva tomorrow evening. How we do it.

 

Left 15 minutes early this morning for an appointment with Rabbi Jamie. Why? Downtown Evergreen is a must see now thanks to a summer long detour away from the lake. On Sunday it took me twenty minutes to get from my side of Evergreen to the synagogue side. Today. No trouble at all so I ended up 15 minutes early rather than 20 minutes late. Sunday was with tourists. Today not so much.

Rabbi Jamie and I discussed a ritual for crossing the threshold.  A mezuzah hanging will be part of it. Something also about being an elder and a male. We’ll discuss it over time. October 8th at ten am. He told me of a delightful ritual in Nepal. Apparently at 7 a boy becomes a man expected to participate in family and village life in a positive way. That phase lasts for 70 years. Then at 77, the man becomes a child again. On his 77th birthday the man leads a parade through the town where everyone greets him, blesses him. I like that idea, too. We’re going to discuss a late life ritual for men as well for my own situation.

Also his dad may go on the Israel trip and we could room together. Save us both $1,100. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

 

After breakfast with Rebecca. Rebecca teaches ESL at a nunnery in northern India, one related to the Tibetan Buddhist diaspora. She’s 80 and travels there once a year for four months or so, living in the same quarters as the nuns. We sat outside at the Parkside in lovely 67 degree and sunny weather Colorado dogs and their humans coming back and forth through the tables.

Rebecca believes Leslie got a good result with a healthy life up till two weeks before her death. Probably right about that.

Life in the Mountains. And death.

 

 

Memory

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Leo. Luke. Leslie. Her daughter, Megan. Jamie Bernstein. Ellen Arnold. Leo’s bone. Rain. Good Rain, drought go away Rain. The flooded out Italian Grand Prix. My son, his wife, and Murdoch. Residents of Korea. A new Day, a turned Earth revealing a brilliant Sun in a clear blue Colorado Sky. A cool night. Good for sleeping. That $60 bill from Centura.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Black Mountain

One brief shining: August 3rd bone scan long billed to me at $5,000 or so now reduced to $60 which I paid yesterday May 20th after the uneven teeth of the bureaucrats of AARP Insecure, Optum Care, and Centura meshed, moving the whole process to a different gear one that recognized the contractual obligations that left me free of responsibility a mere ten months after the initial attempt to wring thousands out of my bank account.

 

Leo lies on my rug up here in my home office. Chewing on a meaty marrow rich bone his dad left with me. A happy dog. Luke’s in New York at a cousin’s wedding upstate. Leo came Thursday night and will be here through Tuesday. It’s a delight to have a furry presence in the house. And, like a grandchild, one that will go home after a few days.

Speaking of grandchildren. Gabe’s coming up today with his buddy Seo. When I take him home we’ll stop at Twist and Shout a vinyl record store on Colfax. My grandchild insisting on going back to a technology I left behind long ago. One of the inevitable ironies of aging I guess.

 

While Robin and Michele hung my art, I got breakfast at Aspen Perks. After I drove over to Bailey. A Happy Camper run. It was a Rainy, Foggy morning the Mountains capped with Clouds and Mist, sometimes obscured altogether. On these rare mornings I often feel like I’m in the Smokies, not the Rockies. Expect to see signs for boiled peanuts, old race cars put out to literal pasture, a stars and bars flying from a local flagpole. Nope. Conifer Ranch. Rural electric co-op headquarters. I’m on 285 South which runs not to Asheville, North Carolina, but Santa Fe, New Mexico. Passing through the Platte River Valley.

Weather can transport me far away. Another for instance. A humid, not too cool early morning reminds me of Hawai’i where I often got up at 5:00 am to get my exercise in before the heat of the day. When the rains pounded down the other day and thunder roared directly overhead, I was back in Andover glad the weather was watering my vegetables, the orchard, the flowers. The Great Wheel turns and returns. The seasons flowing out from each other round and round, the cycle of life.

 

Leslie’s sudden plunge into hospice has stayed on my mind. I posted this on April 28th.

“It was my first time back to Thursday mussar since January, maybe earlier. I’d attended on zoom some, but with Kep’s decline and the snow and other things, I hadn’t felt up to the drive. Two of the women, Leslie and Rebecca, both kissed me on the head! Not sure what that was about though it was clearly a sign of affection.”

Less than a month ago. Cancer. As I said.

 

 

 

 

Entheos

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.