Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Monday gratefuls: Aerodynamics. Lift. Jet engines. Shrinking distances. The sweetness of family. Learning it in old age. Even sweeter. Kep. Home. Shadow Mountain. Evergreen. Ana and her coworker cleaning my house. Right now. Jet lag. Staying up as long as I can. Actual sleep on the plane! New for me. The idea of leaving Shadow Mountain. Landing in Honolulu.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Limbering up the mind for a new adventure

Around 2 am Hawai’i time I was somewhere over CONUS. The Pacific in our rear view. The flight attendants had served a biscuit and coffee. Then turned the lights off again. I couldn’t read because it seemed too bright for my back to sleep seat mates. Chose to think.
Realized that travel is the breaking of inertia. It is the liminal space between one form of inertia and another. Right then I was neither in Hawai’i or Colorado. I was up in the air. Literally.
I had slept maybe 5 hours, in and out. But full awake then.
It’s hard to change. Especially patterns or places of long standing. And, especially as we get older. Change gets more scary, seems to have more risks. Not sure it does. Just seems so.
Kate and I took eight months to ramp up for the move to Colorado. And needed every day of it. Here’s the thing though. Once the idea got rooted Andover seemed over. Wonderful, special while it lasted. But over.
I’m feeling the same way now. Driving home from the airport this morning it became clear to me that I’m tired of the hassles of home ownership. Car ownership. Ownership. This is independent of how I choose to solve the problem.
I love Shadow Mountain as much or more than I did Andover. But without a partner to help with the necessary work of maintaining, sustaining a property, I’m ready to let it go. I can do it. Am doing it. Have done for the last year and four months. Really the last 4 years. Just don’t want the hassle anymore.
Let somebody else call the plumber. Find the electrician. Think about the mortgage. Backing away from all this will take some time and I want it to. I want to slowly but carefully put away this American dream life and replace it with a life focused in other ways.
Gonna spend at least six months testing the financial aspects. How much will I net if I sell the house for different amounts? How much will it really cost per month to live in Honolulu. Should I take my car or sell it? Use public transportation and rentals. Will entail some further time in Hawai’i visiting rental agents and rental properties. Looking at hidden costs. Potential hidden savings. How much will getting Shadow Mountain ready to sell take? That includes eliminating what I wouldn’t take with me. Most of the stuff I own. How much will it cost to move what’s left?
Then there are the tough parts of leaving Colorado. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Beth Evergreen. Getting a chance to see more of this wonderful area before I leave.
Many other details to be considered, fussed over. Medical matters. Legal changes. Maybe a round of visits to family here, friends.
A project for the time between now and Ruth’s graduation. At least I think I’ll stay that long. When Kate and I chose to move here, we initially gave ourselves a couple of years but once the momentum took over, we got ready and moved in more like eight months.
It’s that feeling that Shadow Mountains over. Then. Honolulu is now. That could push me faster than I’m thinking right now. Momentum is a big deal. We’ll see.

Kep emerged from Award Winning Pet Grooming shiny and sweet smelling. Grinning. He jumped up on me. Thanks for not forgetting me, Dad! He’s the sweetest Akita I’ve ever met. The longtime owner there. He’s the sweetest Akita I’ve ever met, too, but my experience is limited to Kep, Murdoch, and for a moment, Kya.
Shedding, like an Akita blowing his coat, my old Self. Letting him go, rushing toward the River feeding the Collective Unconscious. He’ll always be there if I need him. He served me well over the last seven years, but it’s time to let the fourth phase me, the post-Kate me have his day.
Tuesday gratefuls: Deb. Robbie. Tal. Gretchen. Alan. Terrence. Jill. Nights. Lunar red. The full red Moon. Cloudy skies. Skipping Sefer Yetzirah. Learning things in astrology. Not enough. Reading plays. Loving it. Art is not only sculpture, prints, paintings, metal work. Literature. Theater. Music. Oh. Remembering.


Acting class. Huh. Enjoyed. In an exercise, How do I feel, I said I feel like a school boy on the first day of class. I feel exhilarated. I feel exhilarated. Even though ouchy and unable to bend as easily as usual (the back owie) I find myself intrigued and engaged. Next week we get a scene from a play. Start digging into it with the five questions:










Saturday gratefuls: Snow. Fresh and white. A friend’s Dog, cancer. The house changing, transforming. The Hermitage. Brown. Color. Kep’s abundant, luxuriant, always growing fur. The Mountains in Winter. The Lodgepoles with heavy bows. The Arcosanti bell has a white fairy cap. The outdoor table has a round, snowy table covering exactly its size. Medical Guardian. Uncertainty.
Ichi-go, ichi-e. Every moment, every encounter is once in a lifetime. The tea ceremony is a beautiful expression, a reminder of this oh, so important truth. Kate will never be here on this plane again. Unique and significant in her quick intelligence, her dry wit, her chesed, her love for me, for Jon, Ruth, Gabe. My friend’s dog, whom I’ve met many times, likewise. Stolid. Built low to the ground. Attentive, but mostly arranging himself near Rich. Each time I met him was a whole moment. Complete and wonderful. As was each day with Kate.
The Earth gives us daily lessons in impermanence, but we rationalize, smooth over, just don’t see them. I’m writing this now in the 10th month after Kate’s death. Her memory blesses me every day. Her lessons, the things she taught me. The same. I leave the door open on the washer so it won’t mildew. I trust my doctors. I love Judaism and the Jews that I know. Impermanence has permanently changed me.