Category Archives: Family

Family, Feelings, Friends, Great Wheel, Holidays, Judaism, Memories, Plants, Weather +Climate, Wild Neighbors

Israel

Leave a comment

Mabon (Fall) and the Sukkot Moon

Thursday (Rosh Hashanah) gratefuls: Happy New Year, 5785! Sukkot. Mom. 60 years ago this month. Her death. Tom’s eyelid surgery. Mark in Georgetown, Malaysia. Visas. Soon to travel to Saudi Arabia. Fall. Harvests all around the world. Friends and family. Dogs. Wild Neighbors. Cecil’s Deli. Bill and Paul. Travel. AI. Playground by Richard Powers. Ocean.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ocean

Kavannah: Teshuvah

One brief shining: Wrestling with the angel of belonging, my own Jabbok Ford, why I chose the Hebrew name, Israel, no longer wanting to be in large groups no matter how significant the occasion, yet also knowing, as friend Paul says, that showing up is often all that matters, how to reconcile my covid/introvert/homebody/back pain inflected avoidance with my love of CBE. Acute on the High Holidays.

 

Do not want to become a recluse. In no way. In no way either do I want to get sick or deny my nature. Aware attendance at High Holiday services (or, lack of) gets noticed by friends. Am I not committed? Am I not a Jew? So I struggle. Here’s another aspect of it. As a new Jew (ha), I don’t have a lifetime of memories about the High Holidays. I find the services long and, with the Hebrew and davening, often obtuse.

Also, I didn’t suddenly release my pagan ways. Sukkot, Simchat Torah, Tu B’shvat, Passover, counting the Omer, Shavuot reflect my Judaism much more strongly than the heady and often patriarchal notes of the High Holidays. The month of Elul as preparation, chasbon nefesh. Yes. Taking a soul returned to its own land into a new year. Yes. Grieving at Yom Kippur. Yes. Human matters.

And then, the reflection of the Great Wheel in Jewish colors: Sukkot, the fruit harvest. Simchat Torah, dancing with the Torah, the body itself in motion. Tu B’shvat, the new year for the Trees. And I might include Wilderness, Wild Neighbors, Horticulture. Passover. Spring planting. Counting the grain as it grows and gets harvested at Shavuot. This is my Judaism, an ancient celebration of humanity’s connection to the life-giving turn of the seasons and to Mother Earth.

On a lunar calendar note, also a link for me with Judaism, lunar calendars rapidly get out of alignment with the seasons without leap months added. This year we added a second month of Adar. This means that yahrzeits get pushed out by a month or so from the actual death date. Though the yahrzeit rarely lines up with the actual death date, usually it’s within a week or so.

This finds my mom’s 60th yahrzeit falling on October 31st this year. On Samain. On All Hallow’s Eve when the veil between the worlds thins. Judaism and paganism line up to make her 60th year in the Other World a special moment for me. Hard to believe she’s been dead 60 years. Never gone, of course, but fainter as a memory. On the 31st I’ll light a yahrzeit candle for her and look through the photo albums and photos I have of her. Remember, re-member, her.

Family, Mountains, The West, Travel

The Realm of the Mountain Kings

Leave a comment

Mabon (Fall) and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls:  Mussar. Gabe. Pain. Quantum mechanics. The empty space on which I sit. Atoms. The creation of Solar nuclear furnaces. Vastness. In Space. In our Inner World. Consciousness. The Boundless. Things that never were and will never be. Faery. The Otherworld. The Multiverse. Heaven. Hell. Reincarnation. Books. Movies. TV.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Guanella Pass

Kavannah: Teshuvah

One brief shining: Been thinking about thinking, as us amateur philosophers often do, wondering if the thinking I’m doing is original, which is unlikely, or if it perhaps is an original reworking, more possible, always remembering that conservative cultures like China view originality and curiosity with deep, deep suspicion which of course makes both that much more dear to me.

 

Gabe and I made it to Guanella Pass while the Aspen retained golden glory. We were not alone. Not quite as good an experience, yet wonderful, amazing anyhow. Geneva Creek ran full, offering Water boiling over huge Boulders, spreading on flat Land, Watering Meadows of golden Grass, Lodgepoles and the Aspen providing color against 12,336 foot Geneva Mountain on the left and 14,049 foot Mount Bierstadt on the right, all against a Colorado blue Sky. Temperatures in the low to mid-60’s. Scented with pine resin and the Ozone smell of Water as Geneva Creek rushed toward the North Fork of the South Platte.

Talk about Yirah. About the sacred in the oh so not ordinary realm of the Mountain kings. Here are a few pictures.

Gabe amongst the Boulders at Geneva Creek
At the Shaggy Sheep
Gabe
Boulders and Aspen and Lodgepoles
Parking area at the Waterfalls

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Mountains, Travel

Shortie

Leave a comment

Mabon (Fall) and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Gabe. Celebrex. Tramadol. Ruby. Guanella Pass. The Shaggy Sheep. Bailey, the Bigfoot Museum and Store. Hwy. 285. Leaf peepers. Pain. Mountains. Aspens. Lodgepoles. Valleys. The North Fork of the South Platte River. Living where people come to recreate. Happy Camper. Edibles. Alan. Breakfast tomorrow. Sunrise Sunset Diner. Fall and its sad beauty.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Waterfalls

Kavannah: Yirah

One brief shining: In Grant, turned right off Hwy 285 onto Guanella Pass, 22 miles on to Georgetown on I-70, up hill to 11,669 feet then down hill to Georgetown; at the trailheads to Burning Bear Creek and Abyss trails, enough cars parked alongside the road to fill a football stadium parking lot; Gabe and I turned back not far from there and found the Waterfalls, spent time taking photos, enjoying the fast running Creek and its cascading flow.

 

Photos tomorrow. Short version of the trip. Fun, important with Gabe. Painful. Driving him home after a morning of sightseeing began to hurt as we got on Hwy 470 headed into Denver and continued from that point until I got back home. Don’t think I can continue to do this. I sang songs to distract myself from the painful hip. Worked surprisingly well.

Beat up and drug down by the time I hit my chair. More on this tomorrow.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Holidays, Judaism, Politics, Writing

Asset framing. Judging on the side of merit.

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Luke. His birthday. Leo. Cooler nights. Golden Aspen Leaves. Guanella Pass. Gabe. Helium. Hydrogen. Lithium. Elemental, my dear Mendelev. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Shadow Mountain. The Sky above it. Wildfire. Maxwell Creek. The journey home. Our mutual journey. Walking each other along the trail. If you want go fast, go alone. If you want to far, go together.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tesuvah

Kavannah: Teshuvah

One brief shining: Inner work right now, drawing two cards for the week, this week’s question-What do I need to do to further Herme’s Journey-answered by the Weasel and Pine Card from the Woodland Guardians deck by Jessica Roux and the Ace of Bows from the Wildwood Tarot, Introspection and the Spark of Life; yes, I understood, stay on the inner path for Elul and beyond, that remains the true path for this journey, the gathering, the harvesting of ideas and feelings and moments of yirah and teshuvah.

 

Then, Elul, this month of chasbon nefesh, accounting of the soul for the purpose of returning the soul to its native land, means even more attention to the moments of hamartia, of missing the mark, that are, as a wise article I read suggests, the guideposts leading back home. But not only that. I also include in my chasbon nefesh an idea granddaughter Ruth found on Krista Tippet’s show featuring Trabian Shorter, A Cognitive Skill to Magnify Humanity. Asset Framing. And Its Jewish equivalent: judging on the side of merit. That is, not only finding the debits but also the credits.

Asset framing is a simple, yet profound idea. When encountering yourself or another, first find your/their assets. Their skills and strengths. Your/their dreams and aspirations. What gets them up in the morning? Keeps them going when the work gets hard?

A brilliant young black scholar and activist, Trabian uses this example. Instead of seeing inner city black kids as in the school to prison pipeline, as troubled kids, first find out their existing skills, their strengths, what they hope for, reach for in their hearts. Focus on those, while not ignoring the difficulties and challenges. Perhaps the cliche, play to their strengths.

Judging on the side of merit. When judging another, which Judaism recognizes we do all the time, and does not condemn, start always by judging on the side of merit. Which I think fits nicely with the idea of asset framing.

So. While engaging chasbon nefesh, always start with your merits, your assets. What in the last year did you do well? Where were you using your skills, your talents? Where did your advance your dreams and aspirations or those of others? Where were you a positive and helpful presence in the world? Then, and only then, proceed to those moments where you missed the mark. Where you judged harshly. Where you were too fearful to act. Or, like me, where your own troubles turned you in on yourself, away from the world. Or, like me, where you chose to give in to an easy way to spend the day, rather than a fruitful one. Or, like me, where you turned away from a person in need because of the time and energy required.

 

 

 

Cooking, Dogs, Dreams, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Plants, Shadow Mountain

Oh, my

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Full Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: New credit card. Tom in Omaha. At the Air and Space museum. Good workout. Isaac coming today. Possible personal trainer. Ginny and Janice today. Cooling nights. Gold popping up here and there on Black Mountain. My son. His commitment. Palliative care. Sharpe. Salisbury Steak. A vegetable smoothie. Bad dreams.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Protein

Kavannah: Teshuvah   Returning to the land of my soul

One brief shining: Geez, ever have a night where the dreams stuck with you and you wish they hadn’t; last night I bought a used Porsche that had bald tires and rust, tried to preach in a synagogue bare foot which they said was ok, but couldn’t find my sermon, woke up agitated, out of sorts.

 

What dreams may come. Must have been feeling insecure last night. Perhaps because I got a Groveland UU e-wire announcing their dissolution. Kate and I were a part of Groveland from the beginning and I preached there off and on even after we moved to Andover, then the Rockies. I tried to help them grow. Didn’t have much luck. A feeling of failure. Though I never was their minister except for a brief period. Guess it is a feeling of failure. As I write this, I feel bad. Sad. Inadequate. Groveland was the place Kate and I landed after I left the Presbyterians.

Moods. As I’ve written. Need to return to the land of my soul. Which is here, today, this September 19th life of 2024. Shadow Mountain. Seeing friends. Living. How do I feel? Down. How do I feel? Grounded. How do I feel? Anxious. How do I feel? Sad. How do I feel? Inadequate. How do I feel? In my body. How do I feel? Grateful. How do I feel? Gathered in. How do I feel? Anxious. How do I feel? Surprised. How do I feel? Glad. How do I feel? Here. How do I feel? Sad/OK. How do I feel? Ashamed. How do I feel? Oh, yeah. How do I feel? In myself. How do I feel? Knowing. How do I feel? Back. Mostly

What I learned here was why I never served as a pastor. Not me. I’m a political activist, an organizer, but never a minister. Even though I tried on the role briefly. Twice. Kate told me it wasn’t me. She was right. I wanted to work. To mean something. Sure, that’s fine. But I couldn’t get to that being someone I wasn’t. I didn’t have the right skill set to help a congregation grow unless I was a consultant, not of the congregation. And I was not meant for a pastoral role.

I found work that mattered, that was me, in Andover. Gardener. Bee Keeper. Dog wrangler. Lumberjack. Cook. Husband. Writing. Learning. Oh, the joy I felt. We felt. How much time I wasted trying to fit into square holes when I was a plant shaped peg. A lover of dogs, plants, bees, writing, Kate.

Here in Colorado I have a new focus. The Mountains. Judaism. Friends and Family. Writing. Learning. All about love.

 

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Holidays, Korea, Mountains, Mussar, Politics

Exuberance!

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: THC. Celecoxib. Erleada. Orgovyx. Vince. Alan’s opening night for Man of La Mancha. My son and Seoah in Okgwa. Her father. Her mother. And family. Chuseok. Teshuvah. South Korea. The U.S. Air Force. The wide Pacific. 15 time zones. Korean. Paul Wellstone. Tim Walz. Kamala Harris. We’re not going back. The politics of joy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My Korean family

Kavannah: Exuberance

One brief shining: When I choose an intention for the day, sometimes I crosscut the feelings I’m having, as this morning I’m feeling a little pressed down, not much but enough that it interferes with my joy, my willingness to embrace the day, squeeze some juice from it, find the yirah/awe in the ordinary that usually comes easily, sometimes I see the day ahead and want a kavannah that leans into it, focuses me, as I did with teshuvah yesterday.

 

I’m finding this daily kavannah a powerful practice. I write the middah on my small slip of paper, put it into my pocket. The act of choosing it, writing it down, putting it in my pocket and carrying it with me throughout the day triggers an awareness that lasts till bedtime. I want to find things in this day, things that make me want to lift my arms up and shout with joy. With awe. With love.

Exuberance carries over feelings from my zoom call with my son. As I wrote yesterday, they’re in Okgwa for Chuseok, a Korean harvest/fall holiday similar to our Thanksgiving. My son came on in one of the all white rooms at Seoah’s parents house, all concrete, and built for them a year or so ago by her brother. We chatted a bit, he caught me up on work. Showed me Murdoch lazing on the floor. And moved the laptop into the main living area.

There was Seoah’s sister who will take over the farm from her parents starting in some fashion this fall. In the kitchen, her usual location when inside, Seoah’s mom ate from several small dishes in the Korean style. Her Dad, a joyful man and a very hard worker, wanted to say hi. He wanted to see the outside. Removing the camera, I aimed it out my window for a view of Lodgepoles and Black Mountain beyond.

He got excited. I want to come to Colorado! Seoah translating. I got excited, too. Sounds like they may show up here on Shadow Mountain sometime next year. He loves Mountains. Climbs Mountains. Went to China to climb from the China side Baekdu Mountain*, an active strato-volcano on the China/North Korean border. He’ll love Colorado.

 

Just a Moment: Buoyed me up to see Paul Wellstone’s name** back in the national political conversation. The quote and the article referenced below show how Tim Walz might bring the Wellstone spirit to a Harris/Walz government. May it be so.

 

 

 

*”According to Korean mythology, it was the birthplace of Dangun, the founder of Gojoseon (2333–108 BC), whose parents were said to be Hwanung, the Son of Heaven, and Ungnyeo, a bear who had been transformed into a woman.” Wiki

“The legendary beginning of Korea’s first semi-mythical kingdom, Gojoseon (2333 B.C.E.–108 B.C.E.), takes place here. Buyeo (2nd c. B.C.E. – 494), Goguryeo (37 B.C.E. – 668), and Balhae (698 – 926) kingdoms also considered the mountain sacred.” New World Encyclopedia

 

**“I don’t represent the big oil companies, I don’t represent the big pharmaceutical companies, I don’t represent the Enrons of this world,” Mr. Wellstone said. “But you know what, they already have great representation in Washington. It’s the rest of the people that need it.” NYT article. 9/15/2024

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Holidays, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Reimaging revelation, Shabbat, Travel

Chuseok and Teshuvah. Double post. see below as well.

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Torah. Jamie. Mussar. Ruth and Gabe. Lighting the candles. The shema. CBE. Mary and Guru. Mark in Bangkok. My son and Seoah in Okgwa for the Chuseok Festival.* Alan and his busy weekend. Good sleeping. Kristie. Second opinions. Cancer. Spinal stenosis. Sally. Aging. Its joys and its struggles. Scott and Yin. Men. Women. UC Boulder.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

Kavannah: Teshuvah-“…the journey of teshuvah is not about “turning over a new leaf” or being “born again”; rather, it is simply finding our way back to the land of our soul…Every person possesses a core of inherent goodness whose integrity cannot be compromised. While outwardly, one’s actions may not always reflect this inner goodness…people always have the ability to shed their superficial facade and do teshuvah—returning to their truest, deepest selves.” chabad.org

One brief shining: Chuseok draws families together in North and South Korea, often back to the places of their birth or raising, like little Okgwa for Seoah, back for thanksgiving for family, for the harvest, for love between a brother and a sister, all over that land, a return to the place of your formation; we might say finding a way back to the land of your soul, which has an individual component, of course, but also and strongly a community, familial component, though, yes, the land of your soul and your homeland may be also be widely divergent.

Chuseok card

 

 

Sept 2023. Seoahs family

The key move here, from a Jewish perspective, lies in the neshamah, that essence of you, that buddha nature, that stainless and unstainable core to which one can always return, no matter how hamartia-missing the mark-has confused your nefesh, the outward facing portion of you that changes, grows, shrinks, expands depending on which of the many wolves you feed.

The month of Elul, our current month in the Lunar Calendar for 5784, encourages all Jews to chasbon nefesh, accounting of the soul. Look back over the last year and see if you got lost in moments of despair over an illness. Like I did. See if you judged others harshly, rather than judging them on their merits. Like I did. See if you neglected opportunities to act with loving-kindness. Like I did. See if you failed to discern again the purpose of your life. Like I did. See if you failed again to act on that purpose. Like I did. Take steps to amend those personal lapses that you can. Like I have. Take steps to open your lev to your true path. As I have.

Teshuvah is not about guilt, however. It is about sweeping away the barriers in your life to being who you most truly are: a sacred becoming, a moment in the ever expanding tapestry of novelty that is the universe and everything. A unique and irreplaceable soul, a unique, never to be repeated, ishi-go ishi-e self awaits your joyous return.

No stains that lead to damnation. No sins even God could not forgive. Only you and the land of your soul. To which, at any time, you can, with exuberance and calm, return.

 

 

 

*”It’s the other time of the year in Korea besides Lunar New Year’s Day, aka Seollal (설날), when family members gather together.  Usually, this means traveling to the home of the head of the family, often one’s grandparents.

According to legend, an ancient king of the kingdom, Silla, started a month-long weaving contest between two teams.   The team who had woven the most cloth won, and they were treated by the losing team with food, drinks, and other gifts.  Thus starting the tradition of Thanksgiving almost 2000 years ago.

Some scholars also tie Chuseok to Korea’s history, wherein agriculture was a big part of daily life.  Koreans commonly offered rituals to ancestors to give thanks and celebrate the harvest moon.

Traditionally, the purpose of Chuseok was for family members to gather together during the full harvest moon. This usually appeared in the sky on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar. Families wanted to celebrate and show gratitude to their ancestors for the fruitful harvest.

Chuseok is very much a traditional holiday where many of the customs from the old days still stand.”

Chuseok in Korea

 

 

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

Bonus post: That’s Life, that’s what all the people say

Leave a comment

Friends. And, family. Seeing them. Hearing them. Touching them. Being seen, heard, and touched. Equals life itself. We are, for better and worse, social creatures. Go without contact and even the self begins to deteriorate, turn in on itself, push itself further away from health and wholeness.

This morning I drove the thirty minutes to Evergreen, constant thoughts about the middah of beauty coming to mind. The green card with the single word, beauty, in my pocket. Those Lodgepoles covering Black Mountain. The occasional golden Leaf. Black Mountain and Shadow Mountain themselves. Tall, firm, reliable. Vishnu.

I came close to Kate’s Creek and started talking to her as has become my habit. How beautiful, eh, Kate? These Mountains you found. Shadow Mountain Home. You. I do miss the beauty of your presence. I’m heading to see Alan, breakfast at the Dandelion.

Into the charming downtown of Evergreen, beautiful in its Mountain town way. Already filling with tourists. A 70 degree, bright Sun, blue Sky day. Lake Evergreen, a small jewel amongst the Mountains here. Bear Mountain. Berrigan. Others whose names I do not know, but whose features are familiar. This rock outcropping around the Lake. That spot where the Elk herds cross, causing Elk traffic jams.

Past Elk Meadow, the huge open space saved by the Mountain Land Trust. Past the Hiwan Hills Golf Club. Right at the light. The main Evergreen Fire Station with its statuary, one a huge bronze circle with a man riding it at the very top. Another, smaller meadow and valley. Another right turn. Beautiful meadows. Sculptures. Even the main Evergreen Fire House. All pleasing. Offering their own glints of knowledge, of truth sent straight to the heart, no analyzing. Appreciation of the sculptor’s hand. The green of the meadows.

Down a steep, short hill into the Hiwan Mall. Bivouac Coffee and the Dandelion next to each other. Alan already there. And I was ten minutes early. Remarkable.

He smiled as I stood there arms outstretched, palms up. What’s this? Alan? Early?

We ordered. Got our water and utensils, a napkin. Sat down.

Let the healing begin. I know, all too well, the punishments laid on the body by disease, by malformed spines. And, yes, I want the ministrations of healing folks like Sue Bradshaw, Kristie Kokenny, palliative care. But they don’t have on offer the real healing, the true healing. Why? Well, they will always fail. Their job is to push death as far away from the present moment as possible. I want them to do that.

Friends over coffee however heal the soul. Death is inevitable, despair and depression are not. Alan talked about the recycling day tomorrow. His solo in Man of La Mancha which opens tonight. I told him about palliative care. About Professor T, the excellent British mystery on CPTV. We challenged each other when we slipped into platitudes. This heath stuff doesn’t really bother me. Don’t lie to me. Oh, ok. His own lapses into self-denigration. No, dude. You exercise every day. You’re busy and able to be at 72. You go.

When we finished, we both felt lifted up, held in each others care. Loved. You see, death is no match for love. Life’s real purpose? To love and be loved. Not immortality. Not fame or money. Friendship. Family ties. That’s life.

 

Family, Judaism, Travel, US History, World History

Antisemitism and Distant Family

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Chesbon nefesh. Accounting of the soul. Elul. The Shofar. Dawn. As light returns. Dusk. As darkness falls. The long, slow move toward the Winter Solstice. The Torah. Parshas. CBE’s Jubilee year. Shabbat. More kisses on the head. The Mule Deer Doe and her Fawn. The Asters in my back yard. Diane and her Hoosier pilgrimage. Mark, soon to be in Sakakah, Saudi Arabia. My son. Seoah. Murdoch.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ginny’s voice

Kavannah: HONOUR כָּבוֹד Kavod    Honour, respect, dignity; literally “weight”  (יְקָר Yikar, yee-CAR: literally to regard as “valuable/precious”) [זִלזוּל Zilzul, ZILL-zool: literally to treat as “cheap”]

One brief shining: At each service over the Jubilee weekend, at all the High Holiday services, we have armed and uniformed deputies of the Jefferson County Sheriff at the synagogue, looking out of place with their bulky gear, the shoulder radio, the baton, the gun who double as door openers, greeting us with their paramilitary smiles, and reminding us as we leave to return our name badges. Anti-semites.

 

All day, everyday, the synagogue’s doors require a buzzer and a familiar face to open them. Our windows have a special bullet resistant film that once applied makes it harder for an assailant to easily break them with a weapon. We also added air conditioning when the furnaces had to be replaced. So we wouldn’t need to prop open doors.

I want to believe that it can’t happen at Congregation Beth Evergreen, but of course that’s naive. We’re in gun rich Colorado where the far-right white supremacists and anti-semites hunt or bow each evening to the altar of the gun. If they’re out there in Colorado, they’re armed.

Not a new reality, but a persistent one. From yellow stars to pogroms to the holocaust violence against Jews has been a hallmark of the diaspora since at least Roman times. Never ignored. Never stopped. Much like cancer, it occurs to me. We can’t pretend it’s not there. We do what we have to do. Yet we cannot, will not live our lives in fear.

 

Talked with my son and Seoah last night. They’re starting to golf again as the weather has begun to cool. Though it’s still hot in Songtan. Seoah’s sister has begun preparations for planting in this, the first season she begins to take over from her parents. Seoah’s mom and dad own a good deal of land in their small village of Okgwa. All of it under cultivation from rice to peppers to tomatoes and whatever else can be sold to grocery stores, restaurants, or kimchi factories. Seoah’s mom works making kimchi when the growing season is over.

They’re coming here in December and want to connect with Marilyn and Irv, Alan. My friends are now their friends and vice versa. When I go to Korea, I see Daniel and Diane. Daniel interpreted at their wedding. He’s now a food importer/exporter. I also catch up on Jamie, Nacho, Kevin and other of Joe’s buddies from his many deployments and stationings. Not to mention connecting again with Seoah’s family.

Meanwhile Mary and Mark continue their expat lives, touching down in Southeast Asia, then heading to Australia or Saudi Arabia. My distant family.

 

 

 

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism

What a gift

Leave a comment

Lugnasa and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat & Jubilee gratefuls: Being with my sacred community: Veronica, Tara, Ariaan, Luke, Leo, Ron, Rich, Marilyn, Irv, Ginny, Elizabeth. Celebrations. A Mountain evening. A cool Mountain night. Gut shabbas. Absent friends: Alan and Joanne. The drive down Black Mountain Drive and Brook Forest, up past Lake Evergreen, Elk Cows eating alongside the road. The drive home at night.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Congregation Beth Evergreen

Kavanah: Joy  Simcha

One brief shining: The life of a semi-hermit with its openings into the lives of others like sitting with Tara and Ariaan and Luke and Leo while Veronica in her Moon and Stars covered scarf sang, then came over and kissed me on the head, Ron and Rich, strong long hugs, giving Luke the book of Beatle lyrics when we left a bit early, a chill in the air as three stars became visible overhead. Ad astra, Veronica said, as she kissed me.

 

A week of depth and intensity. Beginning with Gabe on Sunday and the hike up Kate’s sadly dry Creek, the next day, Labor Day, driving to Boulder to see Ruth, eat sushi in honor of Jon, over to Denver to drop off Gabe, back home to Shadow Mountain. A quiet Tuesday, recovering. Breakfast at Primo’s with Marilyn and Irv and their friend from the Boston area, Judy. We talked about poor Rider and his blue algae experience, near death. Survived. Judy’s many travels. The Snow Leopard photograph she took in Tibet with a long telephoto. Talking with Ruth twice as she processed Jon’s death away from home.

On Wednesday after my usual erudite conversation with long time buddy, Tom, Jackie cut my hair and we talked about her puppy, kidnapped in a gentle way by her son, stacking firewood, her wood-fired sauna. Rhonda showed us her gray hair. Barely visible underneath. Jackie remembered to the hour, 3pm, and the location, Hampden and University, and her age, 27, when she sat as the stoplight changed, her first gray hair in her hand.

Leaving her salon I drove into Denver and turned north at, yes, Hampden and University, where I found Modern Bungalow in its new location further north. Sat in Stickley/Arts and Crafts inspired chairs and chose one. Over to Dardanos to buy a pair of colorful kicks. Hoka Speedgoats. Tired of white.

Thursday found me talking to Tom again, with Paul and Irv. The Fantastic Four. Zoom. Though I usually go to Thursday mussar I took a nap and slept through. Knowing I was going to go to the Jubilee dinner the next night.

Friday I talked to Diane in a Michigan motel. Zoom. Did stuff around the house.

At 5:30 I saddled up Ruby and drove in my semi-sedate way to the synagogue. It was, for me at least, a night of long hugs, smiles, intimate moments with long time friends. A genuine celebration of this unique community rooted in the Jewish tradition while living into the 2nd millennium with creativity and profound relationships.

Not done yet. A Torah study this morning at 10 and lunch with Alan afterward.

This, then, is my life now. Rich and full, nourishing. Peopled. What a gift.