Category Archives: Family

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, World History

Prep. Korea.

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Spring and the Kepler Moon

Monday gratefuls: Gatorade. Dulcolax. Miralax. Gas-X. Colonoscopy prep. Tara, taking me. My son and his wife’s wedding anniversary. Seven years. Probate. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Kep. Doug. A freshly painted interior. A good experience. A freshly cleaned out interior. Not such a good experience. Brother Mark in Saudi. An old Saudi hand. Mary in Eau Claire, teaching. A Mountain early morning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Korea

 

The newest wrinkle in colonoscopy prep. Split prep. You drink half of the 2 quarts of Gatorade and Miralax starting at 5 pm the day before. Then, six hours before the procedure get up and drink the other half. That meant I started hitting the Gatorade again at 4 am. This morning. A treat.

Ritualistic. Coming to the temple of medicine purified, washed out. Following orders. Preparing yourself for an inner journey. A journey of exploration and discovery.

Not terrible. Not much fun either. Every ten years seems like about the right amount of time to wait. This should be my last one.

 

Finished Undertow and began Why Liberalism Failed by Patrick Deneen. A thoughtful exercise in political theory and history. Obama praised it. A  good read for anyone interested in the deeper roots of today’s political malaise.

 

Not sure I would have paid much attention to Korea had there not been a personal connection. Now I see articles about Korea and read them. K-Pop. K-drama. The first one I read about, the second one I watch.

Korean history intertwines with Japan, as its occupier and invader off and on over the last 500 years. The occupation of Korea by Japan from 1910 to 1945 ended with the finish of WWII. My daughter-law’s father was born during the occupation.

Since the Japanese engaged Koreans in forced labor, including sex work as comfort women, and took land from its Korean owners, there has been a long standing resentment toward the Japanese in Korea. That seems to be changing now.

A key driver in the change is the emergence of China as a regional powerhouse and global leader. Korea, like many Asian nations, saw China as the epitome of civilization, adopting the Chinese writing system and Confucian values. Now Korea finds itself a small country in the shadow of an increasingly aggressive China.

Taiwan stands out as a possible flashpoint in the Far East. The U.S. has worked hard at relationships with Asian countries like the Philippines, Japan, Korea, Australia, and, ironically, Vietnam. This means Korea finds itself embedded in a struggle between great powers. Who are its allies? The U.S. Yes. But Japan as well.

There is also a good deal of tourism from Korea to Japan. My daughter-in-law’s father raised her to differentiate between the Japanese government and the Japanese people. Korea and Japan have vibrant economies and democratic governance.

What does the future hold for Japan/Korea relations? It seems to me that current geopolitical realities predict closer ties between the two. As the soft diplomacy of tourism and popular entertainment work on the two nations, perhaps a new relationship between them will emerge.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Guns and Poses

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Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Jackie. Patty. Carmela. Cyberknife. Dr. Simpson. Mary voting. And winning. Wisconsin Supreme Court. The late season wet Snow on the Lodgepoles. More than predicted. Doug. Starting on the lower level. Mark in Hafir Al Batim. Settling in during a slow period at the University, Ramadan. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Gabe and Benihana. His 15th. Ruth, now 17 + a day.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Black Mountain white

 

Doug came. I had to move upstairs to the third level, my new home office. He’s painting the lower level. I can still sleep down there for now.

It’s a lot to have somebody working on your home for this long. Constant disruptions. Some mild. Like clearing the common room surfaces. Others not. Getting the dining room cleared. Another person working in the house. Doug’s easy. Friendly. Competent. Even so.

I chose this. I know. And I like the result already. Good thing, eh? I’ll like it even better when the arts rehung. Not yet. Not for a good while yet.

After that one more round with Robin and Michele. Then I’m going to let things be for a good long while. Enjoy the house. The Mountain.

 

Kep’s death does open the door to travel for me. I no longer have to worry about someone else coming in while he’s in decline. Chose to not do that.

There is a Southern saying. When the last dog dies. Now I feel the love and pang in that. Also the release. Thinking about some day trips once the weather turns away from Winter. Maybe longer trips. Around the state, the region.

The first time in over thirty years that I’ve had no one to come home to. And the first time in a few years when I’ve had no one to care for except myself. An odd feeling. Untethered. A bit floaty. Is this real life if no other life depends on me? Suppose I’ll get used to it, but right now I feel, what, almost irresponsible.

 

Look at the Wisconsin Supreme Court election map. It’s a tale, again, of rural and urban except for the southern tier of the state. Because I lived in Wisconsin, I happen to know that southern tier accepted immigrants, especially from Bismarck’s Germany. They were socialists and anti-draft. Bismarck had instituted the first draft which prompted a wave of emigration. Their political legacy lives on. Wisconsin politics, like Colorado, are complicated.

Mad City = Boulder. Milwaukee = Denver. Southern tier of Wisconsin = Front Range and the wider Denver Metro. Wisconsin’s Lake Superior counties = Aspen, Vail, Copper Ridge, Breckenridge

There’s a populist streak in both states though Colorado has more of the Western libertarian, leave me alone ethos.

These maps, with the counties filled in by dominant party (or, inclination), tell one more tale. At least. The story of how difficult a slow civil war (Sharlet), an American Divorce (Marjorie Taylor Greene), RAHOWA (White supremacists) would be. Cities against outlying rural areas. Villages against villages. Neighbors against neighbors. Within one state.

This would not be the simple geography of The civil war. No. It would be the geography of a chess board or a go board.

It would also be the gunned against the largely ungunned. Though of course how many of the armed would fight? Hard to know.

Any such civil war (an oxymoron I just realized) would probably end like a pandemic. When we tired of it and quit.

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Politics

Important Folks

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Spring and the Kepler Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Bill’s cartoon. Snow. Kep. Ruth and Mia. Gabe. Doug. Alan. Individualism. Community. Fear and loathing in New York. The Orange one gets a perp walk. Ruth’s 17 today! Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. Lodgepoles. Mule Deer. Elk. All the wild neighbors. Cold morning. Garden Path. A fresh look on the main level. Coming soon to the lower level.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow whirling around the Lodgepoles

 

Doug came yesterday to finish up the main level. We talked for a bit. Told him about Kep. He surprised me by reaching out and giving me a hug. A sweet guy. Spoke about pets. He and his wife Judy had Jack. Dead ten years now and they still call for him sometimes when they come home. He told me about Moses, his Capuchin Monkey. Doug was 15. Had to build a cage for him that took up half his room. Monkeys are difficult pets. Escape a lot. Wreck things. He shook his head at his younger self.

Doug’s about my size with dark hair and silver tufts over his ears. He speaks quietly, almost a mumble. I can’t understand him at all without my hearing aid. He’s fit, works quickly but patiently. Came up here in 1981 and has been self employed the whole time. Quite a feat considering the lack of housing back then. Think he said he was late 60’s.

Two new folks in my life. Doug and Doug. Doug Doverspike. Won’t see either of them much, I imagine, but they live in Conifer. Got a nice note from Dr. Doverspike after Kep’s death. Appreciated him and his care. I wasn’t alone for Kep’s final weeks and Kep did not suffer.

 

Ruth. 17. Wow. So many stories and memories. Her on a bus with me, riding to the National Western Stockshow. I want my mommy! Oh. Well. We can call her. That made it ok. Her pouty face while we rode on the Georgetown RR. The whistle was too loud. Ruth with the astronaut Buzz Aldrin (I think) at Wings Over the Rockies. Visits to the Planetarium in Boulder. Her trying on silly hats. Our Christmas Eve outing in Colorado Springs which included getting our nails done at a fancy nail place. Her phone call. Dad is dead. Her hug last Friday. A childhood now beginning to fade into young adulthood.

 

The orange one. His perp walk. The least significant of his crimes. IMO. Still. Indicted. And a former President. Will probably solidify his base for the 2024 campaign. Make them more and more invested in his victory. Clean out the deep state that would do such a thing to God’s agent.

Still reading Undertow, beginning to feel the strands pulling at the fabric of our nation, threatening to unravel. To paraphrase the orange one, decent people on all sides. Some so full of disinformation that their minds suffer from bloat. No contrary facts allowed. Many. Undertow shows how much of the tension has religious roots even if not all of the actors are strictly speaking religious. That is, part of the evangelical right. Still working on this.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Literature, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain, Sport

Mythic

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Spring and Kep’s Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. His life and mine together. Diane’s sweet e-mail. Tom’s call. Ruth and Gabe and Mia. The days after. Learning to be alone. Max Verstappen. The Australian Grandprix. My son and his wife. Reading Undertow. Dark Sky by CJ Box. Furball Cleaning. Marina Harris. Ana. Cook’s Venture. Regenerative agriculture. Wild Alaska. Safeway. Stinker’s.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Being alone, yet accompanied

 

The Ancient Brothers on myths that shaped our lives. Aboriginal song lines. Dream time. Animal archetypes and totems.* Jesus. The American myth. The Velveteen Rabbit. The Celtic Faery Faith. Ragnarok. We each had a myth that had shaped our lives. Of course more than one, but these worked on and in our lives. In deep ways.

As a young boy, Ode said, his Jesus walked on water. Rose from the dead. Fed the five thousand. A mythic life reaching deep into a boy’s heart and imagination. Tom talked about Animals as bearers of archetypal power. Which  reminds me of the Breston quote below. Bill retold the story of the Velveteen Rabbit. Love makes us real. Aussie Paul, raised in Texas but on stories of Aboriginal life, made the song lines and Dream Time real. Before this creation and after it passes away there will be the Dream Time. I talked about how the Celtic Faery Faith reshaped my spirituality and led me away from Christianity. Going down and in, rather than up and out. A rich morning, one filled with wonder and awe. Our church.

 

Afterward I watched a thirty minute recap of the Australian Grandprix. Listened to the post race analysis. A crazy race with 3 restarts. Verstappen won again in the Red Bull car. Sergio Perez, his teammate, worked his way up to 5th from 20th. Lewis Hamilton, 7 time world champion, finished second, and Fernando Alonso, 2 time world champion, finished third for the third race in a row. There was speculation that Red Bull could run the table this year, win all the Grandprixs. Whether it happens or not, that speculation tells you about the dominance of the Red Bull cars so far this 2023 season.

 

Cut up boxes for the trash. Finished sorting all of our dog stuff. Donation and throw away. Rearranged furniture in the common room. Did a Safeway pickup. Talked with my son and his wife. Weekend things.

 

Radiation approved. Finally. Start tomorrow. Not daily. Continues through the third week of April. That lymph node by my left hip and the T3 vertebrae metastases.

 

Tomorrow Ruth turns 17! A dancing queen. So happy to see her stable and present. She has been such an important part of my life for all of those years. Even more so of course since we moved to Colorado in 2014. Gabe, too. 15 on Earth Day, the 22nd of this month.

We celebrate life even in the midst of death. Like Max’s birth so soon after Kate died. A bit of her soul to him. Ruth and Gabe have seen a lot of death over the last two years. Their Grandma, their Dad. Rigel. Sollie. Kepler. We have sustained each other. As family. And this month we celebrate their young lives. In this moment. The only one we ever have.

 

 

 

* “We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate for having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein do we err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with the extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings: they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.”  ― Henry Beston, The Outermost House: A Year of Life On The Great Beach of Cape Cod

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain

Fears and Regrets

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Spring and Kep’s Moon

Sunday gratefuls: My son and his wife. Murdoch. A loving conversation about Kep yesterday. Diane’s kind e-mail. Kep. Gone into the mystery. A day of cleaning up after Ruth, Gabe, Mia. Kep. Punctuated by rest and the occasional TV show. Picking up groceries at Safeway. Grief. Mourning. Again. Still. Housecleaners coming this week. Alan today at the Bread Lounge. Dogs. Caring about animals.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep and his consolation

 

I have some regrets. About fearing Kate’s corpse. About not being there when she died. About not being able to stay with Kep, or any of our dogs. These are regrets that do not haunt me, or at least not much. But they are real. And they reveal a fear around death that, as I’ve said before, I don’t understand. The fear is about the moment of death, not death itself. Or, maybe better, the moment of surety about death. As it happens.

When I was in vet’s office, in the special room where euthanasia is performed, I reach to pet Kep. Dr. Doverspike came in the room with two syringes. I froze. And said out loud, I don’t know what to do! Anguished. I needed to stay with him and yet I couldn’t. Left me torn between responsibility and a deeper love. A love that could not bear to see him die. Oh. So. Hard.

Ruth made it ok. She said she was filling in for Grandma. And she was. Kep had the comfort of a familiar and loved human. Just as Kate did with Sarah. Proxies for my presence. My love never in question, but at that moment putting me in excruciating pain.

Facing our fears is best. I’ve read that. And mostly I believe it. If fear rules our lives, we cease to live our lives. Rather we pinball away from this job interview and this possible relationship and those oh so critical moments in the lives of ones we love. Yet I also believe that there is an ok-ness to allowing a loved other, like Ruth, like Sarah to face your fear for you. The love held between us helps us through. They know I care. They express my love for me.

As near as I can tell, these moments are the only ones where I’ve chosen, or allowed, proxies for my deepest feelings. I face my fears otherwise. Most of the time.

A fear I had after Kep’s death. Coming home to an empty house for the first time in over thirty years. No Kate. No dogs. Just me. I needed to to go in and so I did. Turned out ok.

In fact it was memories surfacing as I drove up Shadow Mountain that were harder. Kep waiting at the back door for me. Tail wagging. Or, later lying down at the back door waiting. His paw prints in the snow. Once I opened the door and walked in, I was home. My place of refuge.

Of course his presence was everywhere. His collar. Leashes. His hair from a blown coat. His food. His food bowls. His medicine. His beds. I cleaned those up yesterday, readying some for donation, some I threw away. Not to be rid of him or his memory, but to start anew. I did the same thing with Kate’s stuff. Yet she’s still here. Everywhere. As are Vega, Gertie, Rigel, and Kep. This is their home, too. And will be as long as I am the carrier of their memories.

As I write, my current form of therapy, I realize that my absence at the death beds of those I love changes nothing about how much I love and love them. I do not dismiss, do not shun memories. I open myself to them. Remembering Kate in the garden. Or in the bed with her feeding tube. Kep running the fences. Lying with his head on my feet. Gertie sleeping next to me. Rigel and Kep, too.

Neither however do I wallow in them. If I need to cry, I cry. If I laugh, I laugh. They are components of who I am now. The bearer of these lives still living.

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase

Kep

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Spring and Kep’s Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Kep with his girlfriend, Rigel. And Kate. Gertie. Vega. Jon. The Colorado move. Ruth, Gabe, Mia.

 

An after the fact note. Ruth and Mia took Kate’s role. Gabe and I sat in the car. I cried. They let me go. No shame. No judgment. I needed that. And it helped.

Ruth came up the first night Kate died. She was here with Gertie and in Aurora with her Dad. Now with Kep. My angel.

I first met Kepler in Warner-Robbins, Georgia at Joe’s house. He was a year old and had gotten into a scrap with a previous owner’s dog over the water bowl. There was a dog bed beside the couch in Joe’s living room and Kep stayed on it. Happy to be into himself, but close to Joe.

This was a time period of many deployments for Joe and he asked if Kate and I could keep him during a longer one. We said sure. We’ll add him to the pack. Not sure how many dogs we had then but certainly Vega, Rigel, and Gertie. Kep fit in. Which, given later developments, surprises me.

He fit in so well and since Joe had more deployments coming we asked Joe if we could keep him. Akita’s do not like to be left behind. Reluctantly, and probably a bit grudgingly he said, if you think that’s best for Kep. I still carry a little guilt about that. Leaving Joe without a dog. But he agreed.

Kep and Rigel bonded. He would clean her ears. They would sleep together. Play outside, hunt. When it came time for the move to Colorado, Tom and I loaded Kep, Vega, and Rigel into the Rav4 for the long trip to Shadow Mountain. Tom drove the whole way.

When we got here, they ran out into the new backyard, turned around, ran back in the garage, and jumped in the car. Ready to go home. That they were home didn’t dawn on them for a while.

It was not always easy. After the move, Kep took to correcting Gertie and Vega. With teeth. We finally calmed that down, then Murdoch came. O.M.G. Murdoch left for Loveland and Brenton White’s home.

Kep and Rigel and Vega ran the fence line with neighbor Jude’s black and white dogs, Zeus and Boo. Up and down, up and down. Yapping all the while. A ritual around the time Jude came home from his welding jobs. After Vega and Rigel died, Kep kept up the tradition and they were an oreo blur.

Kep became my loft dog, going upstairs when I did, coming down at the same time. When his legs became too wonky for that, I no longer went upstairs to work on my computer, but wrote, paid bills down in the house. Still went up for workouts, but that was it.

He and I were together most of the day and all of the night. Even after he could no longer sleep on the bed, I took a dogbed in the bedroom and he slept on that. When he woke up, and I hadn’t, he would come along the side of the bed and poke his nose under the blankets. Time to get up, Dad.

As his legs got even worse, he could not come upstairs in the house. We spent our time together on the lower level. Finally, and after a lot of good work by Dr. Doverspike on his pain, his back legs could not sustain him standing for any length of time. Yesterday he couldn’t get up at all.

When a dog loses mobility, their life is over. Kep hadn’t passed the tail wag test for a couple of weeks, too. That is, he stopped wagging his tailing when I came in the room. It was time. I hate euthanasia as many of you know, but there are times when it’s the right thing to do. Yesterday was one of those times.

I feared being in an empty house. No dog(s). I feel ok. Surprised me. A sense of relief is part of it. Kep’s no longer struggling each day. Somewhat similar feeling after Kate’s death. She was no longer struggling to get through the day.

Gabe said yesterday. Let’s not have any more deaths for a long time. I agree.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Hermitage

Kep’s Last Day

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Spring and the Kepler Moon

Friday gratefuls: Ruth’s birthday dinner at Sushi Win. Kep. His last day, I think. So sad. Gabe looking fabulous after a makeover by Mia and Ruth. Weary of all this heavy emotion.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep

 

Deciding to put Kep down today. So damned hard. But he can’t get up. He has a tumor on his left knee. I’m weak. And tired. So is he. The first time without Kate. She always went in with our dogs. While I stayed in the car and cried.

Euthanasia. Choosing your own death. Good. Painful. Judy Sherman. Kate. Strong women choosing their exit. For dogs not their choice but ours. What makes it hard for me. Taking away their life without their consent. After having spent their whole life doing what they needed to stay alive. Seems like a contradiction in my heart. Which cleaves in two.

With Kep and Dr. Doverspike’s help though, I can see this as the humane kindness for Kep. He got the dwindles, as Kate would have said. We did what we could. Held down his pain. Eliminated it. Made him comfortable. Loved him to the end. Nothing more to be done.

As Kate knew when she asked me that terrible question, would you rather have me disabled or dead? She knew my answer but wanted affirmation of her decision. It was shortly after that she chose to be taken off everything but oxygen. Again. What do you think of my decision? I hate it because I’m going to lose you, but I think it’s the best one for you. Same with Kep.

I’m feeling sad. Hammered. Relieved. Glad. Sorry. Anguished. Certain. Tired. Again. Teary. Empty. Whole. Engaged. In my life. OK. Oh.

Kep’s lying down watching me type. As he’s done over the last months in the mornings since I moved stuff down here so he wouldn’t have to climb the loft stairs. He seems to get comfort from it. A routine. I do, too.

The end of the move from Minnesota minus only me. First Vega. Then Gertie. Kate. Rigel. Jon. Now Kep. Going to wait six months before I decide on another dog or not. In some ways I’d like to adapt to being by myself. More flexible for travel. But after 17 dogs and thirty plus years of having at least one around to love me and to love back. Plus, an empty house.

I needed Kep and Rigel after Kate died. They saw me through my mourning and through the waning of my grief. It would have been an unbearable time without them. Dogs have been, are so dear to me and to my life with Kate.

Gardens. Bees. Dogs. Flowers. Mountain tops. Our life together. Wonderful. Blessed. Holy. Sacred. With life, abundant life. And with abundant life, so many deaths. The tragedy and the joy of life itself. We can share it. Until we can’t.

This day. This awful day. This awful day.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

A Strong Week

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Spring and the Garden Path Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Ruth, creating three oil paintings: Dear Dad. Mia, an artist, too. Tiny. Gabe. Loud and full of bad jokes. Here yesterday through tomorrow. Doug. Finished Garden Pathing the main level. For the most part. A small bathroom and that weird wall in the new dining room remain. Kep, better this morning. A bit. Doverspike. Driving into Denver. Into Spring. Leafy Deciduous Trees. Daffodils. Feelings. Still Winter on Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Teenagers

 

We’re treating Kep empirically. With antibiotics. Hoping that whatever took him downwards is an infection and not cancer. The first couple of days of amoxicillin will tell us what we need to know. He’s comfortable, lying down. Not coughing. No labored breathing. I had to dry pill the meds this morning and found my grip strength inadequate. Messy and difficult. Gotta get back on that resistance work. This is unacceptable and unnecessary.

Ruth and Mia brought Kep up the stairs last night so he could be with us while we ate Beau Jo’s pizza. That was sweet. We had the living room still in dishabille from Doug’s work. Couch across from the Fire place. My chair at a right angle to it. Ruth sat on the ottoman, Gabe and Mia on the couch. Kep took his night time meds in pizza crust. Didn’t work so well this morning.

Ruth and Gabe are comfortable up here. It’s a second home in the Mountains for them. I’m glad they feel that way. Makes me feel like a good grandpa. Both of them bring friends up. Another clue about how they feel about Shadow Mountain.

It’s nice to have people noises in the house. Footsteps. Refrigerator door opening. Food disappearing.

 

Doug got almost finished with the main level. That wall and the small bathroom. He’s going to finish the downstairs next week. Gotta message Vince for an art hanging and small fix-up day. Some mild furniture rearranging. Later one more day with Robin and Michele. I know the remaining closets and storage areas. Probably one morning’s worth. Be good to have all of those things accomplished.

 

Another good workout today. 240 minutes for the week. Enough. May go with the kids on their hike today. May not. Depends on how I’m feeling.

A strong week. Luke on Sunday. With Doug. Doverspike. The kids. Exercise. Breakfast with Alan tomorrow. Maybe take the kids, too. Dreams. First dream session with Irene at 11:00. Life up here on Shadow Mountain. Real life.

 

Still reading Undertow. Maybe a quarter done. Sharlet’s a good writer. And he’s empathetic even when he’s with folks like he discusses in the “manosphere.” This is the online world of incels, sluthaters, fans of the guy who shot up a college in California because it hadn’t given him the “beautiful girlfriend he deserved.” He reports on them as they are, not as they should be, not as he feels about them, but as they are.

He did the same thing with Rick Wilkerson, Jr. The third generation clergy in a mega church dynasty. Miami. A guy who thinks the gospel is about getting yours and being pretty. Sharlet builds a portrait of an America most of us (readers of this blog, for example) have no idea exists. Or, if we do, we know little about the real people inside it and how they live their lives. Remember the subtitle: a slow motion civil war. I can see what he means already.

The manosphere and the Wilkersonsphere are Archimedian levers that pry open cracks in the body politic. As are the Christian Nationalists heading for northern Idaho and those wealthy coastals exercising their right to exit, heading West.

I can see them all from up here on Shadow Mountain.

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

Eros. Agape. Philia. Storge.

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Spring and the Painted Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Mike and Kate. Campfire Grill. Ruby on the Mountain roads. Pastrami. Truffled Mac and Cheese. Luke coming up today. My son and his wife. BJ and Schecky. Gettin’ hitched. Kep the early riser. Sleeping in after that. Myth. Ovid. Artemis. Lycaon. Philemon and Baucus. Lucretius. The Nature of Things. Metamorphosis. The Arabian Nights. CJ Box. Richard Powers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Ancient Brothers

 

On the nature of love. Eros. Of course. I remember. Though prostate cancer long ago canceled out experience. Agape. Reserved for a person better than me most of the time, but still a destination, part of the long journey.

Philia though, affection among friends, friendship. Sustains me now. Whether it be the Ancient Brothers with our decades of memories or members of CBE or Kat, the Aspen Perk’s waitress. Mike and Kate. Luke. High school and college classmates. Even Kristie, my oncology PA, and Dr. Gonzalez, my PCP. Affection rules these relationships.

Here I would also add my wild neighbors, the Lodgepoles and Aspens, Shadow Mountain, Black Mountain, Maxwell and Bear Creeks. All that is around me in its wildness.

Love is a many layered reality. I discovered just today that there is yet another Greek word for love, storge, which means love and affection especially of parents and children. I’ll put that into this post, too. Not only for my son and his wife, Jon, Ruth, and Gabe, but for cousins like Diane whom I’ve known almost my whole life, Mary and Mark, each dog I’ve had the privilege to share my life with, and each person who might experience me as a mentor.

Storge also sustains me and helps me see my role as a sustainer of others. Realizing our importance to others is sometimes difficult as self-abnegation is often taught to us as a substitute for true humility. I’ve struggled with this over the years as you might have, too. But of late I’ve come to see that I add something valuable to the relationships I’m in and if that’s the case it probably means I am someone valuable. In my own unique way. As you are yourself, unknown reader.

How important it is to reach out and keep these relationships alive and vital. I find myself saying now to various folks, as I did to Mike and Kate yesterday, it’s your turn to send up a smoke signal. Don’t know how that entered my mind, but I’ve liked it because it points to the mutuality of relationships. After meeting with others after they’ve given me the honor of an invitation, I say, I’ll send up the next smoke signal.

I’ve had trouble realizing that mutuality requires me as well as the other. I’ve often thought of myself as interchangeable with others and if I don’t nurture a relationship that the person will get what they need elsewhere. Which is, of course, partly true and necessary to know. Yet. I also have to recognize myself as one of a kind, a person who brings to a relationship what only I can bring. In other words I have to see my own part in a relationship as important, as important as what the other/others bring.

Better learned late than never.

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Down the Garden Path

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Spring and the Painted Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Benjamin Moore’s Garden Path. Doug. A sweet guy. Kat, interested in philosophy, psychology, psychedelics. Nichie. Kep. Changing colors. Shadow Mountain. Firm beneath me. Black Mountain. The Sun. The Moon. The Lodgepoles and the Aspen. Those Mule Deer Does on the road yesterday. The Black Bears beginning to roll over and shake their paws. Ah, time to get up, it’s Spring. Ramadan. Allah. The Prophet Mohamed. Jesus, the Messiah. Abraham, the father of them all.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Spring Snow

 

Had a grocery order to pick up yesterday morning. Took myself out to breakfast at Aspen Perk’s. How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan went along. Pushed open the door, looked inside. One person at the bar. Nobody in the booths. Just right.

The cheerful waitress with a lot of tattoos on  her right arm came up. She has round glasses, blond hair, and a smile. Always. Can I look at your book? Sure. I’m interested in self help, psychology, philosophy. This is about psychedelics. Those, too. Some of the best insights I’ve had came from taking LSD.

When Tara and I had breakfast there a while we back, we’d speculated that this same waitress might be a Ph.D. student. Obviously bright and engaged, she makes an impression. Maybe late twenties.

I’d noticed a y’all the last time Marilyn and Irv and I ate there and asked her about it. Yes, originally from Texas. Ah.

We chatted for a bit after she brought my coffee. She’s struggled with depression and has some good results with psychedelics. I told her about the Plant Magic Cafe. She got excited. Just by the name!

Two eggs, crisp bacon, country potatoes, sour dough toast. Breakfast out. After dinner at Three Victorias last night. Livin’ high on the hog.

Michael Pollan took me through his conclusions gleaned from his study of psychedelics, his interviews with researchers, guides, and promoters, his own trips. He was of the opinion that legalization would take a while. And would need careful thought and guidance.

He hadn’t counted on Oregon and Colorado. A strange combination of libertarians, latter day hippies, and millenial/gen Z enthusiasts squeaked out a win in both states. Oregon first, Colorado last year.

I gifted the book to Kat. We’d exchanged names. She seemed surprised and delighted. Come back in and we’ll talk about it. Maybe I’ve made another friend in the younger age brackets. That would be nice. She’s going to visit the Plant Magic Cafe, too.

 

Brother Mark has Saudi on his mind. He got a job offer there for a position through August 31st. He’s been all over Saudi Arabia and this is a new spot. Something he relishes. Reminds me of Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, Ray Stevens and the Sheik of the burning sands. Back in the less woke day. As my sister Mary said, he’s keeping up the tradition of the traveling Ellises. Indeed.

 

Doug has Kate’s old sewing room almost finished. Garden Path by Benjamin Moore is a color that shows up in brother-in-law Jerry’s big painting of the Blue Ridge mountains near his house in Belews Creek, North Carolina. It’s a light green. I’ll post some pictures when thing are a bit further along.