Category Archives: Family

Love mercy, do justice and walk humbly

Fall and the Samain Moon

Monday gratefuls: My son and his 42nd birthday. What a delight he was, is. A golfer, a scholar, a warrior,  a husband, a canine companion, a kind and honest man. Korea. Israel. Hamas. Palestinians. Gaza. West Bank. Hezbollah. Iran. Carrier strike groups. The rules of war. Love mercy, do justice, walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8. Gabe. And the donkey he met. Jen and Barb. Ruth. A family. Shadow Mountain fireplace. Shadow Mountain beneath me. The blue Sky above me. Lodgepoles and Aspens beside me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son’s new left-handed putter

One brief shining: Gabe came back from his walk, I met a donkey, oh, yes and here’s a picture he showed me his phone in the now familiar gesture of one sharing records of their life and there was his hand on a donkey’s long nose, brown and white, eyes looking happy to be greeted by my grandson, a lover of all animals. Except mice. Because they squeak.

 

I want to say clearly. Hamas-no! Murder and hostage taking of civilians-no! Israel defending itself-yes! America helping Israel-yes. Israel killing Palestinians not part of Hamas-no! Israel eliminating Hamas-yes! While always watching out and caring for Palestinian civilians.

If Hezbollah and/or Iran come into the war-no! Then America helping Israel-yes! World War III-no! Second coming-no! Armageddon-no!

 

When I wrote the word Armageddon just now, the Rapture Index popped into my head. Think the nuclear clock of the Union of Concerned Scientists only run by a strange and lonely guy from the Pentecostal Church down the street. The rapture index today is 185. On the handy scale of the website-which goes from 100 and below for slow prophetic activity to 160 and above, Hang onto your seat belts!-you can see our friends in the woo-woo wing of Christianity are getting excited.

Checked the nuclear clock, too. Set in January of 2023 at 90 seconds to midnight (nuclear apocalypse) it references the Ukraine war as the most troubling matter then. Now two U.S. carrier strike groups: The Ford and the Eisenhower have positioned themselves in the Middle East near Iran and Israel while the war in Ukraine continues. I’d push the hands of that clock forward, wouldn’t you?

Since the secular and the nutty eschatologists line up, it might be time to reconsider that bomb shelter. Or, heading over to Survivalistboards.com.

A troubled world with weapons too powerful for humans to have. God help us all.

 

All of this seems so remote from my spot here on Shadow Mountain. Down the hill stuff, not issues for us who live with the Bears and the Elk and the Mountain Lions. Sadly it is not so. My contribution these days perhaps lies in these words I spit out every morning. Helping myself understand what I understand, what I can understand and what I can’t. Hopefully leading at least a handful of others to try to understand what they understand. Then choose what actions seem available and important to them.

 

 

 

Others

Fall and the Samain Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Lutheran Spine Center. Mary. Melody. Tara. RSV vaccine. Safeway. Israel. BA cancellation. Keshet. Conversion. Mikveh. Embracing the darkness as we move toward the Winter Solstice. Samain. The fallow time. Business mornings. Tuesdays. P.T. exercises. Workouts. Keeping up with it. My novels. The new one aborning. Kep, my sweet boy. Kate, always Kate. Seven Stones. Gabe. Ruth. Friendsgiving. Thanksgiving. Relationships. Family. My boy, Seoah, Murdoch. Friends. Deciding what comes next.

Sparks  of Joy and Awe: Joann

One brief shining: Once again confirming my medications, giving my date of birth, looking at my oxygenation, my blood pressure all fine as I prepare to meet yet another doctor, this time Melody, a p.a. physiatrist, who has me bend side to side and forward, who takes both of my legs and twists them this way and that, any pain, stops and says you have every reason to be hopeful as she left the room when we were done.

 

Yes, my Korea experience still has me on the road for visits to physical therapy and then Lutheran Spine Center yesterday. Melody confirmed my conjecture that my recent neglect of resistance work probably led to my flare. Why did I do that? Not depressed. My best guess is. Got tired of it. Self care takes time. The older I get the more time it takes. Wanted to save a little time by not doing the resistance. Bad choice. Melody also made me feel good because she expressed surprise that I’d held off this back trouble for so long. Definitely your working out. And, she said, if you keep up your exercises you have every reason…

I know these things to be true. I know. But. There’s a certain weariness that comes with repeating the same things over and over. Get on the treadmill. Do the squats. The chest presses. The lawnmowers. The dips. The bicep curls and the shoulder presses. The skullcrushers. Those core exercises. Now adding in physical therapy exercises for my back specifically. Guess I need an attitude adjustment. Working out keeps me able to do the things I want to do. Like travel. Go see friends and family. Take care of myself while living alone. Pretty important stuff.

New attitude. Take the time. It’s worth it.

Similar note. Got my RSV vaccine yesterday at Safeway. Still seems weird to me to go the grocery store for anything medical. Yet there you are. Some kerfuffle with my birthdate and my medicare card made me wait longer. Then a quick jab, a bandaid, thank you. Noticed while I was there that Safeway has renamed their aisles using local street names: Barkley Road and Shadow Mountain Drive, for instance.

 

At breakfast with Tara yesterday I had an aha. At this point in my life relationships are what matter. Not even writing that new novel or finishing Jennie’s Dead. Not even traveling unless it includes building or deepening relationships. Hmm. That one may not be right. I still like to travel alone. Not even striking another blow for justice. I spend more time now having breakfast and lunch with friends, seeing Gabe and Ruth, my son and Seoah, than I do on anything other than taking care of myself. And it never gets old or repetitious. No, I’m not converting to extroversion. I still don’t like crowds or parties or too many people around. But one on one or with two or three others? Yes. That’s where the juice is in my life now.

 

 

Conversion on again

Fall and the Samain Moon

Friday gratefuls: BA canceled my flight. So, I can get a refund. Parking refunded. Tour group money held over for a trip next year. All resolved for now. With some money coming. Conversion. At Temple Emmanuel mikveh. Last week of November. Mussar. Evergreen Market. Sugar Jones. Rabbi Jamie. Zionism. Very good workout. 2 sets of resistance. Luke. Anne. Darkness my old friend. Sounds of Silence. The 60’s. Jackie. Her and Ronda’s sweetness. Her sauna. Growing my beard out.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ritual purity

One brief shining: Ruth called yesterday wanting to know if she and her friends could have a Friendsgiving at my house, of course I said, and checked in with her about an evening out at Dazzle, the jazz club, next Saturday works for her so so good to talk with her, hear Mia on the phone saying hi Grandpa, and her other friends saying hi. Made this old man happy.

 

I’ve taken Mia in as a granddaughter from another family. She was so helpful and kind when I had to euthanize Kep, helping the vet carry him up the stairs, staying with Ruth while Kep died. Mia grew up on Oahu, moving here when her father’s biochemical company needed better access to the U.S. as a whole. She even said she missed me. Aw.

 

Yesterday was busy. Diane in the morning. Then an intense and good workout. Going up on weights on some exercises. Back exercises added in. After that a shower and over to Jackie’s Aspen Roots hair salon. Was gonna be a sprucing up before my trip. Both Jackie and Ronda were glad I’m not going to Israel. I’ve never had so many people happy about a trip I’m not taking. As I left Jackie turned to Ronda and said, we’re going to have to start looking for someone for Charlie. Uh-oh.

 

From Jackie’s straight to CBE for Thursday mussar and my second conversion education session with Rabbi Jamie. In both the mussar setting and my session with him after the focus was Israel/Hamas. The topic for our session had been Zionism which can be seen as the proximate cause of the struggle Israel and its Arab neighbors have faced since its founding.  That is, it was the Zionist movement of the late 19th century which set off the chain of events creating a Jewish state in 1948. Immediately after Israeli nationhood Egypt, Syria, and Jordan attacked it with the stated goal of pushing the Jews into the ocean. The Arabs lost the war. But the conflicts signaled in that first military action may have changed actors from time to time, but not the goal of eliminating a Jewish presence in the Middle East.

 

When we moved onto my conversion, I said I wanted to get it done as soon as practicable. A little cold for going to a flowing stream or lake for a naked plunge. Though I would have been up for that. We settled on a newer mikveh, a ritual bath that has to be connected to flowing water, built by Temple Emmanuel, a large Reform congregation in south Denver.

Discovered that Joann Greenberg had asked to be a community representative in my beit din, house of judgement, or rabbinic court. That surprised and pleased me. I have about a half hour interview with her, Rabbi Jamie, and a third Rabbi yet to be named who will also be the one who draws a spot of blood from my penis. Then, naked immersion in the mikveh. And I’m part of the Jewish community for ever and a day.

Rabbi Jamie also asked me which parsha I wanted for my conversion week. A parsha is the long weekly section of Torah that allows the entire five books of Moses to be read through in a year. At first I thought, wha? Then I got it. I want the parsha with Jacob at the Jabbok Ford wrestling an angel. That story I consider paradigmatic of my own spiritual journey. If you know the story, Jacob’s name changes that night to Israel, one who struggles with God. That story shows up this year in late November which is why the conversion will be then.

 

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.

 

An Addenda for Kate

Fall and the Samain Moon

Grateful for this article: Doctors at Allina Health Unionize and even more grateful for the docs who made it happen.

Kate retired in 2011, 12 years ago. She had burned out on medicine long before. Why? Not her patients. But the demands of corporate medicine and its rabid insistence on revenue capture. Upcoding was pushed and pushed hard. Upcoding means doing those things in a visit that qualify for a code that brings in more money than the original or anticipated code for the visit. Patient visits were shortened. Again, more patient visits per day means more revenue capture. Though it wasn’t often an issue in pediatrics the shortening of hospital stays did affect Kate’s sickest patients since they were the ones who ended up in the hospital. Note that neither upcoding nor shorter patient visits nor shorter hospital stays have good patient care as their motivation. In fact the results are often the opposite of good patient care. That is, to be clear, they create bad care.

Kate and I talked about doctor’s unions a lot. Looked up some information. Talked to some others. But the time wasn’t right. The pandemic induced staffing shortages have made this the right time. And I’m so glad, for Kate’s sake, that leaders in this new movement are physicians at her old place of employment: Allina.

Go union!

Cancel Culture

Fall and the Samain Moon

Saturday gratefuls: My colon. Meds. My son, Seoah, Murdoch. Songtan. Evergreen. Conifer. Pine. Bailey. Us Mountain folk. Those down the Hill. Stars in the night Sky. Great Sol. Israel. Hamas. The rules of war. War. The USAF. Diane. Tom. The Ancient Brothers. This computer, now so old yet still at work. Palestinians. Israelis. Lebanese. Iranians. All human. Difference. So potent. The Fox yesterday at Upper Maxwell Falls. Aspen’s lighting the way toward heaven. Toward the light in the inner sky. Fall in the Rockies.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: 21 degrees right now

One brief shining: My neighbors and I have only one evacuation route, left or right, toward Conifer or Evergreen, and if wildfire comes we’ll pile up on it in haste like the Gazans now trying to leave the north of an already small territory, the wildfire has come for them in the form of the IDF, a human wildfire stoked by rage and vengeance, what we here in the Lodgepole forest would call a crown fire.

 

First thing now I look at Haaretz, then Yediot, then the Jerusalem Times. Later I scan the NYT and the WP. Not sure what I’m looking for, trying to find a way through this thicket of information. One that doesn’t end in news I don’t want to see or hear. No luck with that so far.

I feel like I can have a good grasp of what’s going on at least at a macro level, but at the point of individuals and families, suffering. No. I think of my son and his family first value. Must be the same with Israelis and Palestinians. Right? What does, can that mean in the current context?

Speaking of context. I found this opinion piece by Haaretz columnist, Anshel Pfeffer, very astute on the larger and historical context anti-semitism places on the Israeli/Hamas struggle: The Inconvenient Context: Palestinians Massacred Jews for Being Jews

As of this writing, I’m 98% sure I’m not going. Diane rolls her eyes here. Why not 100%? Well. You know. Until we all discuss it together I won’t decide for sure.

Several couples have already canceled their flights and Keshet, our tour operator, will send out a letter on Monday or Tuesday outlining our options with them. I hope postponing is the favorite option. I’m willing to let them hold onto my money if that will help them survive this crisis. Not keep it. But hold onto it until another tour can get scheduled.

 

Meanwhile American Republicans rise to this escalating military and humanitarian crisis by failing to choose a speaker for the House. By supporting their felonious candidate who dodges debates and acts like a spoiled child angry at his parents. By trying to force the government into a shutdown. Again.

We, the world hegemon, cannot act within our own system of governance. How can we expect to be guarantors for any one else?

Read an interesting analysis that suggested the Ukrainian and Hamas/Israeli situations might be linked to our waning power as hegemon. Regional actors may feel emboldened to just go for it in situations where the threat of U.S. intervention would have given them pause in the past.

This is called multi-polarity, a world in which no one power dominates. Hope this is wrong.

 

This and that

Fall and the Harvest Moon

Monday gratefuls: A pink Cumulus Cloud over Black Mountain. The start of a new Day. A new life resurrected from the 1/60th death of sleep. Each Day a full book in the library of life. The vast wing dedicated to each life. Yours. Mine. The Mule Deer and the Butterfly. Rain. Fall weather this week. My son and his sweet note. Gabe. The Rockie’s game that wasn’t. Twins playing last year’s winner of the World Series in the playoffs. House cleaning today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Life, the wonder and the miracle

One brief shining: Small drops of Water hit my deck this morning, taking the Mouse trap outside to make  an offering to the Ravens, the dead mouse would not come out.

 

Yes. When I got back it was late September and the Mice had made a new incursion. When I went to get my electric Mouse trap out, I noticed a blinking red light. The sign of a killed Mouse. ? Sure enough, in the worst decision of its short life, this particular Mouse had chosen the Mouse trap as its home.

I don’t like killing mice. It makes me sad, feel guilty, puts me in a category of human behavior I never aspire to. Yet my team that came to help me clean a couple of years ago made me get over it. Too much of a health risk. And, I know. I know. Hamburgers. Bacon. Chicken wings. Who ever said contradiction was not a part of life? Even so.

 

Slept well the last two nights. Colon less vigilant. Yay. Jet lag waning, as it will. Perhaps today, maybe tomorrow I’ll shake free of Korea’s Sun and return to the one under which I now live. These transitions go unremembered after a journey is over. Their price part of the experience like airfare and taxis.

 

Fall in the Rockies. A distinctive time here, one I’m glad I didn’t miss. The bugling of the Elk Bull’s searching for mates. Hyperphagic Bears tipping over garbage cans, raiding cars, going into houses after a portion of the 20,000 calories a day they need before their long nap. The Aspen’s gold, muted this year, against the evergreen of the Lodgepoles. Signs for snowplowing, ads. The Mountain Lions hunting for the straggling Mule Deer, the startled Rabbit. Skies as blue and as pure as new born Fawns, reflected in Mountain Streams and Lakes. The weather becoming more unstable, veering between heat and cold, changing. Nights that go into the electric blanket zone. Days that feel warm in the sun, cold in the shade. All of us, humans and wild neighbors, making sure we’re ready for the cold season that follows.

 

If you read the NYT, you will find in this morning’s edition an article about Bishop Joseph Strickland: A Texas Bishop Takes on the Pope. It’s rare that I have a personal connection to any stories featuring Catholicism coming of good Protestant stock and about to become a Jew. In this case though. Paul Strickland, Joseph’s older brother, is and has been a close friend of mine for over thirty years. He’s one of the Ancient Brothers who meet by zoom each Sunday morning.

Paul and all of us Ancient Brothers have a very different take on the world than Joseph. Yet. Not a surprise that Joseph is articulate, strong, and determined. Like Paul. Not a surprise that Joseph has catalyzed others. Like Paul and the 10,000 Friends of the Maine Coast which prevented a huge LPG terminal from taking over the tiny Maine town in which he lives. Even folks in the news have families.

 

 

Not all the way back yet

Fall and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Jet lag. That Korean stomach bug. Surviving still. High winds today. Bright blue Colorado Sky. Great Sol out and shining. My son, Seoah, Murdoch. Their big apartment. Songtan. The family practice doc. The orthopedist. Bongeunsa. Seoul. Jeoju. K-dramas. Gabe. The Rockies. The Ancient Brothers on savoring. Korea. Repine. Bradshaw. Derm. Recollecting Korea. Distances made real by the body’s unwillingness to leave one place for another. Breakfast at home this morning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Moments. This one.

One brief shining: I could tell you my fingers curve, strike the keys from long muscle memory, my feet crossed on the small foot rest, my back slumping in the Henry Miller, now upright again, as the folded, bathed neuronic miracle between my ears sends messages and has them spelled out here in pixels by the keyboard’s link to the computer screen, no prior knowledge of what I’m about to say necessary, write this word, then that one, they come down from the boss organ.

 

The unexplored regions of our own body. Have you seen your brain? Probably not. Yet, it works, anticipates, sees to fuel and motion and elimination and rest. All on behalf of… What?

That was weird. Two blackouts. A third. High winds can screw up the power lines. Even cause fires. After the fourth pulse off the generator kicked on. Going now just below where I sit. Its reassuring purr makes me feel taken care of. Glad I had Bear out in May to do the maintenance on it.

Before the blackouts, I planned to do a short disquisition on how the brain/mind sends messages without a conscious decision. That would be pretty slow, wouldn’t it? Let’s. OK. What’s next? See. That’s good. Where was I? We’d never get anything said or written if we had to will the words to come out. No, we talk. We write. And our brain/mind sees to the flow. And, oddly, the content.

 

Had to send Gabe the tickets to the game, hoping he can find someone to take him and a friend to the Rockie’s last game. This jet lagged, stomach bugged elder was not up to it. Hate doing that, but self-care comes first. Nothing serious. Disoriented and tired of my colon saving me from myself. Real tired. Will pass. Sooner rather than later, I hope.

 

I know. Sorry. A life full of the occasional woes these last few weeks. I try to document them and not over report, leave a trail so that if I want to know what happened right after Korea I’ll have enough recall it. Still, they’re not uplifting even though each one a part of this human experience.

That said, I’m not into uplifting anyhow come to think of it. Thoughtful. Sensitive. Emotional. Descriptive. Questioning. A bit of diatribing. Analysis. Fun. Yes. But uplifting for uplifting’s sake? God, no.

Gonna go slow today. Rest. Eat. Read. I will return to my former brightness when it happens and not before anyhow.

 

 

 

Looking toward Korea

Fall and the Harvest Moon

Saturday gratefuls: The Harvest Moon. Mabon. Lake Superior on Michaelmas. Tom and Roxann. At Lutsen Lodge for dinner-with Goose chowder. Northern Minnesota. Missed. My son, Seoah, and Murdoch home from Chuseok in Okgwa. Alan and Joan. Jackie and Ronda. Life in the embrace of the Mountains. Jetlag. Jet planes. Time and movement. So much to do, so little energy to do it. A sign I saw. Ha. Nailed it. The drive to Evergreen. The Bread Lounge. Back in the Mountains, driving on Black Mountain and Brook Forest Drive. The world of an out of joint mind.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Waters of the Great Lake Superior

One brief shining: The curve of Black Mountain from south to west, a tight curve heading away from home toward Upper Maxwell Falls, early Fall Leaf peepers already up and at the trailhead, pushing past Brook Forest Inn and its beaten down Livery Barn, a left at the fish ladder for a jaunt past Lower Maxwell Falls, two cars only, on to the inevitable and perennial Road Work ahead, this time  work on our gas pipelines, orange safety jackets complementing the golden Aspen Leaves, after the sweeping curve comes Kate’s Creek, and finally Hwy 73 which rolls on into Evergreen.

 

Jet lag, which I pronounced almost gone yesterday afternoon, slipped back in over night. If it were a game of finally fitting the full face mask on straight, I’d have about a quarter turn to go. Looking to the side back towards Korea while wanting to see clearly now. But not quite able.

One of the debilitating effects of jet lag comes in its tugging at your mind, saying, Hey, Dude! Something’s not right. Must be you. Let’s see what we can dig up from the well of sorrows. This way lies madness. No, I’m not ready for assisted living. That fall? A reminder to be mindful on the stairs. Stop it. I can handle my own affairs. Damn it.

Of course, the well of sorrows has/is a reservoir of issues, concerns, doubts, infringements on agency. And, they’re not all bogus. That’s the trick of course. Oh, well. I may not be ready for assisted living now, and I’m not, but could it be out there in my future? Sure. Made a note to contact Jewish Family Services and get an elderly housing specialist up here for a consult.

Made an appointment with my doc to continue work on my back issues. Probably a referral to an orthopedist and a physical therapist. Also going to check out simple yoga and get back to a workout routine that got me to 76 without these problems. Act now or forever hold your peas. Something like that. Another appointment for my glaucoma check. Will hit Derm when I go to the family practice clinic. Have to get stuff in before I leave for Israel. See. I’m handling things. He said still looking off toward Korea.

 

 

 

Agency

Fall and the Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: My own bed. Stop now the journey has ended. 21 hours from Incheon to Shadow Mountain. Reasonably smooth. No real hiccups. Korea. The USA. The Rocky Mountains. The Mountains of Korea. Just realized I have no immediate family in the U.S. Gabe and Ruth, yes. Grandchildren. That woman who helped me open my snack on the plane to Denver. Incheon. Dallas. Denver. The Parking Spot. Home by Rav4. Up Shadow Mountain Drive for the first time in over a month. Getting mail today. Breakfast at Aspen Perks.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: 8,800 feet

One brief shining: Lost my light LL Bean coat somewhere in the Dallas Airport, left only with the t-shirt on my back, having packed everything else in the blue plastic bin for storage in Songtan, refused to buy a Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt even though I wouldn’t get back until after 9 pm, found a zipup sweatshirt at a store in the Denver Airport, liked it, and wanted the warmth so I bought it only to realize that the color I liked and the fact that it zipped up on the left meant it was a woman’s sweat shirt.

 

On returning home. Realized I returned to Shadow Mountain agency when I left Joe and Seoah behind at the airport in Incheon. I love them to pieces and get the same back, yet to them I’m also an old man with a bad back, a lingering cold, a certain frailty that needs to be accommodated, accounted for. I am an old man. I do have a bad back and that damned cold wouldn’t go away. All true. I’ll even cop to a certain amount of frailty, at least from their mid-forties perspective. Yet I experienced this time with them a slow and quiet unintentional leaning into their love, their care. I liked it, appreciated being looked after, considered. Seductive and in the end, at least for now, not the side of our relationship I want to nurture.

It was an unusual trip. The episode with my back put me in a need to rest, to consider how much I could handle mode. And just as the orthopedist and Mr. Lee got me back to regular exercise and much, much reduced back pain we all got that cold. They both had it and recovered. I had it and it lingered, then became a sinus infection. Meant I spent more time than I wanted dealing with acute health care issues, then reckoning for the chronic nature of my back issues.

The net result of all this was that I presented as a needy old man for significant chunks of time. And, I was. However, in the Shadow Mountain context I would have handled all this with my own health care team. Made the appointments, followed up. But in Korea, I couldn’t due to the language barrier. That meant Seoah had to take charge of much of the detail oriented side. And I’m glad she did.

Not sure what I’m trying to say here. I loved being with my two favorite people and their dog. I loved being loved by them in practical ways. Yet I’m also my own guy, leading his own life on Shadow Mountain. Guess I want both at the same time. Seem incompatible. The future though?