Category Archives: Sport

Cooking, Dogs, Garden, Greenhouse, Plants, Sport

Maybe…

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Monday gratefuls: Ginny and Janice. Planting Garlic. Putting the Garden to bed. Solving Garden problems. Dead Cucumber Vines and Nasturtiums. Frost, hard Freeze. Mother Nature, time to slow down. Shadow and the time change. New electric blanket. Working with the Soil. Winter is coming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Planting in November

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: A splendid day yesterday, blue Sky, a few clouds, temperature in the mid-sixties, so I got out the trowel, dug ten medium holes in the west raised bed, dropped a bit of organic fertilizer in the bottom, covered that with Soil, placed a Garlic Clove in with care, filled the hole with Soil, repeated this ten times, and after put two inches of soil over the now resting below Ground Cloves, followed that with six inches of Hay from Tara. Now we wait until next spring.

 

Dog diary: Each morning I let Shadow out. She runs about fifteen feet from the house, then stops. Her head swivels from left to right, checking her territory, seeing what should occupy her first. From that spot she often runs to the back fence where she sometimes finds Mule Deer or other Dogs, further away.

Her job is to know every inch of the yard and as far as she can see in any direction. Later in the morning as some neighbors walk their Dogs, she has responsibilities along the front fence, barking at these maybe invaders first from one side of the house, then running quickly to do the same at the other side of the house, being sure they stay on the other side of her domain.

A happily busy girl, my Shadow.

It occurred to me that we might sell permanent standard time, not for humans, but for Dogs. So many dog owners. So many confused and unhappy Dogs. We all love Dogs, right? Even if it strains us to love our fellow Americans. Just a thought.

 

Cooking: I ordered all the ingredients for two sheet pan meals: a Shrimp Boil and Roasted Cabbage and Butter Beans. This may be the trick I’ve been looking for to bring more Vegetables into my diet. Each recipe serves 4 which means I can get three to four meals out of each one. They’re also easy to assemble and cook. We’ll see over the next few weeks.

 

Sport: I know. So, so, male? Right? Well, never said I wasn’t a guy. (and, yes, before you say, I know there many rabid fans across genders and gender preferences.)

Baseball: I was a Dodger fan when I was a boy. Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Maury Wills. They won it all in 1955, 1959, 1963, and 1965, the year I graduated from high school. I listened to games on my transistor radio as I delivered newspapers. Yes, still a fan and a happy one.

Football: Oh, that, too. Da Vikes. Perennial hope dashed always. Yet. Did we see a glimmer-again-of what could be? Vikings 27-Lions 24. McCarthy looked good. Maybe…

 

Back Pain, Cancer, Cooking, Coronavirus, Politics, Post Polio, Sport, US History

How Great an America is This?

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Dodgers win the World Series! Rabbi Jamie’s hug. Joe. Alan. Jim. Corey. Irv. Matt. Torah study led by Luke. Bagels and schmear. Joanne in rehab. Back to real time, standard time. Dark Winds. Everwood.  Heather. Tramadol. The boiler. The mini-splits. My breath. Sight. Touch. Taste. Hearing. Smell. YHWH.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Home

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaphysician

One brief shining: Sitting in regular chairs, my head unsupported by a back rest, fasciculations begin, muscles straining and flexing, moving under the skin, distracting me from the words of Hagar and the Angel, from El-Roi, the God who sees, I don’t notice it, the wobbling, at first, until my shoulders get sore and I’m no longer able to concentrate, be sharp, as my head tilts right, polio wreaking one last not so subtle blow.

 

So. I’m taking notice. Part of my fatigue, maybe a big part, follows from my increasing inability to hold up my own head. Dr. Eunberg diagnosed it, post-polio syndrome. I’ve been to an orthotists’ office and been told my situation has no other instances. They’re going to modify soft collars for me. We’ll see.

Beginning to feel like my body’s falling apart literally from the neck down. A tumor on T4 needing radiation. Arthritic L1-L5 nerves needing ablation. A right torn labrum possibly needing surgery. I mean, geez.

I’m so far ahead of my insurance company with expensive cancer drugs, pet scans, mri’s, and radiation. That makes me feel somewhat good. Even so…

 

Food: Had the last of the sheet pan meal with my Cherry Tomatoes and Beets. So. Good. Planning more sheet plan cooking, easy, quick, lots of Veggies. Of all the health maintenance matters, cooking for myself has proved the most challenging. Just hard to pull off.

CookUnity has been ok, but just ok. Pricey and with time constraints that make it difficult to use. Some of the meals are tasty, many of them edible, but only edible.

May not be getting enough calories, protein.

 

Sport: What a world series! Game 7, extra innings, Dodgers behind with two outs in the ninth…and Rojas hits a home run! Tie game. In the 11th, the 11th inning of Game 7 of a world series with a historically long game 3, 18 innings, a double play ended the Canadian’s dreams. Dodger’s repeat. Not since the Yankees 1998-2000 run has a world series champion repeated.

Meanwhile, back in forlorn football country, JJ McCarthy returns from injury absence. Will he play like a future franchise quarterback? Or, will he rip out the hearts of a Twin City’s fan base already inured to the breaks never falling their way. If the Vikings didn’t have bad luck, they’d had have no luck at all.

 

Just a moment: SNAP. Medicaid. Obamacare. Taking money literally from the mouths of the poor, taking away their final recourse for medical care, raising health care premiums to the    sky for even middle class Americans. Funneling the money “saved” into the pockets of oligarchs. How great is this America?

Dogs, Friends, Politics, Sport

From the Hadean to Red Tie Guy to Unicorns

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Mabon and the Samain Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Joanne. Joe. Marilyn and Irv. Tara and Eleanor. Shadow, smiling. Illness. Aging. Complicated schedules. Tomatoes, Roma, to Tara. Cherry Tomatoes, sweet off the plant. Low fire risk since late June. Rabbi Jamie’s sabbatical. Mussar. Bear Berry. Bunch Grass. Lichen. Fungi. Sushi Win Special Roll.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Quantum Computers

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev.  Courage of the heart.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Wu wei you might wonder is it rolling with the punches living like a Mountain Stream taking a licking and keeping on ticking going with the flow becoming one with the movement of Clouds and Wild Neighbors living life with ease not pressing for a result, no expectations and you would be as right as Chuang Tzu dreaming himself a butterfly or wait was it a butterfly dreaming it was Chuang Tzu.

 

Tara and Eleanor: Tara brought Eleanor over to play with Shadow. Eleanor, still very much a puppy, stands about three times Shadow’s close to the ground height. They run and run and run and run.

Also, Eleanor this time tried to hump Shadow, dominance assertion, but Shadow would have none of it. I may be small, she said, but I’m neither submissive nor a pushover.

Meanwhile Tara and I talk as close friends do. She’s an important person in my life, ready to help or laugh or tutor me for my Bar Mitzvah. What a delight.

The next time Tara comes she’ll bring me some hay I can use to bed down the Garlic I plan to plant over the weekend. I gave her three Garlic cloves so she can plant her own.

 

Just a moment: Hey, shhh! We’re gonna demolish us some Whitehouse, eh? But. Don’t tell anybody. Once it’s gone, who’ll know the difference. Right?

Oh, and here’s another thing. Get Justice to sign off on that $231,000,000. I might need more gold leaf for the ballroom, you know. Can’t skimp there.

While you’re at it? Raise tariffs and keep Congress out of everything. What are they for anyhow, dude?

Thanks. I’m heading over to the Golden Arches (see, they like me) for a few Big Mac super meals. Might stop into a Burger King, too, for another paper crown. Don’t wait up.

 

Reading: Finished A Brief History of the Earth by Andrew Knoll. A gift from Tom. Recommend it if you want a quick over view of geological, paleontological, and climatological thinking that’s up to date and written for non-scientists. Thanks to Tom and Andrew.

 

Sport: As baseball’s season comes to an exciting climax with Shohei Otani and the Dodgers facing the Toronto Blue Jays, the NBA season opened the other night with a game between the Dallas Mavericks and the San Antonio Spurs.

More unicorn action there. Even though Cooper Flag, the Maine baller and first pick in the NBA draft played in his first professional game, attention focused instead on Victor Wembanyama.

The 7’5″ player in his third season returned after a blood clot ended his playing last year. His grueling summer training included martial arts training in a Shaolin Temple.  He returned to dominate the Mavericks with 40 points, 15 rebounds, and three blocks. In 30 minutes of playing time.

 

Garden, Politics, Sport

Immigrants and a Foreign Country. In Baseball!

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Mabon and the Samain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Ruth. Two years sober. Sushi Win, jr. International Wombat Day. Shadow letting me sleep. Cold Air. MRI with anesthesia. Radiation. Gabe, at a friend’s on Thanksgiving. Evoke 1923.  Ruth, skiing on Thanksgiving. Trash pick up. The last Aspen golden torches of the Fall. Garlic in the house. Final harvest for Kale, Spinach, Beets. Then, planting the Garlic.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth, her empathy

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev.  Courage of the heart.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: On these crisp afternoons Shadow jumps up on the window nearest my chair, she wants me to come outside and play, so I pick up a handful of treats and we roam the yard together, an occasional sit, down, touch punctuated by such a good girl and treats dropped behind me, her tail wagging, wagging, a smile on my face.

 

Artemis: Garlic, the contrarian of the Vegetable world. Plant it in the fall, harvest in June. I love to plant it for that reason alone. Oh, I’ll use the Garlic, sure, but the fun of planting something when everything else has finished its run? Priceless.

In Andover Kate and I would braid the soft necked Garlic stalks and hang them in the shed Jon built, where their fellow Alliums red, white, and yellow onions dried on a large screen the fall before. The Scapes of the hard necked Garlic would get cooked in stir fries or omelets.

 

Sports: Baseball, that most American of games. Beloved by blue collar workers and knowledge workers from Brooklyn to L.A. I’m not a huge baseball fan though my son is, tossing around stats and how to rebuild his sad home team with ease and excitement.

However. This year. This 2025 Fall classic. This World Series for this Yankee Doodle game? I’m loving the irony. On the Dodgers we have two starting pitchers from Japan: Yoshinobu Yamamoto and the spectacular Shohei Otani. The word used by many sportswriters to describe Otani? The unicorn. A singular talent, once in a lifetime, probably once in all of baseball history. He pitches. Hits homeruns. Steals bases.

Second irony. The Dodgers’ opponent this year. The Toronto Blue Jays. A Canadian team playing for all the marbles in the World Series. I wish they could win, just to add a Maple Leaf finger to this xenophobic administration, but I doubt anyone can beat this Dodger team.

Even so, their presence in the World Series speaks to all that is good and true about my America. Immigrants excelling, living the Cooperstown dream, and our closest ally engaged in friendly competition with them. In baseball!

Take that you narrow minded twats!

Just a moment: Speaking of narrow minds. Did you see the backhoe tearing into the East Wing facade? With no advance warning. Casual violence against the People’s house. All to build a ballroom? Like Mar-a-Lago?

It will probably be the best ballroom in all the world. I doubt it, check Vienna, Versailles, St. Petersburg, but even if it is? So what? Did it cure, say, measles? Feed hungry people in Chicago or San Antonio? No, it did not.

Health, Sport

Living in the in-betweens

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon’s 1% crescent

Monday gratefuls: Shadow chewing on her Kong lobster. Rich, a good friend. Dr. Bupathi. PET scan. Night and all it nourishes. Shohei Otani. The GOAT. My son, his empathy. Seoah, her joy. Murdoch, his life with them. South Korea. Everwood. Loot. The Morning Show. Apple TV. A Brief History of the Earth. Tom. Bill. Ode. Paul.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Life

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev.  Courage of the heart.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: When I sleep, the night air comes in over my head with the scent of Lodgepole Pines and wet Aspen leaves; out the window lies Cassiopeia, so far away, yet so faithful, Polaris, our true North Star, found by following the tail of Ursa Major while down here Ursus americanus, the Black Bear, grows fatter and fatter, ready to sleep as the Winter Constellations climb into their long Night Sky.

 

The In-Betweens: A lesson from cancer patients for the rest of you. No matter the type of cancer, you have follow ups, even if it’s in remission. The periodicity of the follow ups tells the tale of how likely a sudden change is. In the best case the follow ups start more frequently, say every three months for a couple of years, then every six months or even annually.

No matter the intervals we all live in the in-between, that is, the time between one follow up and another. As the date of a follow up nears, say a blood test or an imaging procedure, we often experience what some call scanxeity-a heightened worry that this time, this follow up will reveal either a cancer’s return or its progression.

Since 2018 I’ve had follow up blood tests every three months with a PET scan once a year. Due to a recent rise in my PSA from .2 to .3 I have had another blood test, then a PET scan even though I had one back in May. This last to check for changes in my metastases. My in-between now in weeks, not months. May not last, but for right now it’s what I need.

If you cannot learn to live your life in the in-betweens, you allow cancer to ruin your life before you die. I’ve had times, as recently as last November, when the pressure of a possible change to my status got to me. At an appointment when I thought I would get information, there was none. I got mad though really I was anxious. Turned out to be a false alarm but I lost a week of my life to anxiety. I wasn’t living in my in-betweens.

In a very real sense life itself is an in-between, lying between what the Mexica called a sleep and a sleep. Or, that time after you took a test, submitted a paper and the posting of grades. Between an interview and a hiring decision. Between one pitch, one throw down field and the next.

Whatever your in-betweens they are when your life happens. Live, don’t curl up or go jittery. Live in the in-betweens.

 

Sports: I have to remark on Shohei Otani’s majestic game 4 of the National League playoffs, Dodgers v Milwaukee. After an opening walk Shohei the pitcher got three strike-outs, then as lead off batter in the Dodger line-up smashed a home run. He would go on to pitch 6 scoreless innings with 10 strikeouts and hit two more home runs, one that cleared the roof of Dodger Stadium. Probably the greatest game for a single player in the entire history of baseball.

 

Friends, Health, Sport

Pay Better Attention

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Jamie Bernstein. Living in the in-betweens. More lidocaine. Ablations in a month. Shadow of the morning. A hard freeze. Artemis with her cold frames. Harvesting more Tomatoes today. All the Spinach, Kale, and Beets soon. Dr. Vu. Mountain View Pain Center. Our poor benighted country. The Dodgers! The Blue Jays.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That feeling high in my chest when I turn onto 285 and head into the Mountains

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei and my trainer, Shadow

Week Kavannah: Simcha. Joy.    The Grateful Dead.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: My friend Jamie told me she now relies on anecdotes to get her through the day relaying the story of the young Mule Deer Buck who ran onto 285 and hit her car a glancing blow then bounded off across the highway causing her to pull over to the side and the man passing by who stopped, ran back to her and gave her a hug while she cried.

 

Health (correction): Jamie Bernstein was one of Kate’s closest friends. A former hospital administrator and a very bright woman, she gave me a ride yesterday to Lone Tree. We had a lot of fun trading stories, bemoaning life in Trump’s golden shower America. Her husband, Steve, has a very aggressive form of prostate cancer, currently calmed down thanks to a clinical trial. Enough so that he’s playing golf again.

(The Correction): So. Either I didn’t pay attention, or it was not explained to me, but I had to have two rounds of lidocaine injections, not one. Means these were not ablations this week. Damn it. Rather two more doses, left and right side, of lidocaine injections, the same as I had two weeks ago.

I see Kylie, my pain doc, in yet two more weeks. She evaluates the results of the lidocaine trials and relays them to my insurance company. Then, and only then, do I get cleared for the actual ablations. Which may be two weeks from that visit if not more. Sigh.

Conclusion. Pay better attention.

 

Sports: Baseball playoffs. Japanese pitchers: Ohtani and Yamamoto for the Dodgers. Toronto Blue Jays tie the American League playoff series. I love the obvious, so obvious diversity of Asian baseball players especially when added to the so fine possibility of that Canadian team, the Toronto Blue Jays, winning their way into the World Series. Take that you dimwitted gold plated simulacrum of a human being.

Watched a bit of the Steelers v Bengals last night. Aaron Rodgers and Joe Flacco behind center. Both over forty. Both new to their respective teams. Flacco only ten days a Bengal. They both looked good, taking quick reads, passing fast.  Wonder if we’ll see quarterbacks with AARP cards in their wallet?

How about Caitlin Clark? Playing in the Annika pro-am golf tournament in November. Sort of a female Michael Jordan thing, eh? Well, maybe not. Here’s what she promised her fans on Instagram: “Will try not to hit anyone 🙏,” she captioned the post.

Far Right, Politics, Sport, White Supremacy

After the last immigrant has left the country

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Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tom. Rascal. Paul. Findlay. Morning darkness. Cold morning. 36. Hail protection on Artemis. Shadow and her new puzzle. Her morning kisses. Maddie, coming today. Carol yesterday. The Sloan-Kettering trial. The killed comforter. Lashon hara. Words matter. Nerve ablation next month. P.E.T. scan. The never ending thrills.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Maddie

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Derech Eretz. The way of the land, the essential human decency that came before Torah.

Tarot: Five of cups, reversed. (Druid Craft)

  • Finding opportunity in setbacks: You are starting to see the value in what you have learned from a painful experience.
  • Open to help: You may now be more willing to accept help from others.

One brief shining: Learning the lesson of accepting help, hard for this head-down, push forward in spite of guy, leaning on the kindness of friends for rides to procedures, appointments does not come without cost and does not come without reward, a cost in changed self-image, the reward understanding it needed to change.

 

Sport: Ohani. A baseball player for the ages. Our Babe Ruth. This Japanese pitcher, yes, that’s right pitcher, just hit 50 home runs in consecutive seasons. He hit number 50 last night against the Philadelphia Phillies. Whadda guy.

Though I’ve never taken to baseball the way my nerdy, statistics oriented son did, I’ll admit in this year, this particular year, a sport in which violence does not feature, in which all team members contribute, one where fans sing songs during the seventh inning stretch, and a sport, like basketball, home grown and oh so American appeals to my need for something of this country that makes me smile.

Just a moment: The Wrath of the already Wrathful. I fear we’ve entered a new, even darker phase of this already far too long presidency. Retribution. Vengeance. Punishment. We may as well have a dominatrix as our leader, one who sees the rest of us as masochists who delight in pain, grin at affliction.

As my friend Paul observed, protesting may carry a new risk. A president and Justice Department and an FBI without a moral compass. No longer constrained by such delicacies as the Bill of Rights, such niceties as habeas corpus. No longer held in check by the courts. Buttressed at times by the National Guard and the U.S. military.

Concentration camps: “Based on internal agency documents, overall detention capacity is projected to increase significantly. One document from July 2025 reported plans to add 10,312 beds through no-bid contracts alone. This was part of an effort to increase overall capacity to at least 100,000 beds” Gemini on beds for immigrant detainees to be added by building new facilities, opening shuttered prisons, and adding capacity like the tents for up 5,000 at Ft. Bliss (get the irony here?)

Here’s my question. Once the last immigrant has been detained and the last flight for South Sudan or Venezuela or Ghana has left the ground who will fill up those freshly empty beds?

Given the state of play after Charlie Kirk’s assassination? Any who deviate. From the good, the true, and the proper. As defined by angry, bitter people who see mercy and justice as weakness. Lordy, lordy.

Asia, Family, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Paganism, Plants, Sport, Tarot

Variables

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Morning darkness. Cool. Shadow and her toys. The flight to Incheon. 9:30 am, MT today. Korea. The Jangs. My son. The Giants. Baseball. A six year old and the World Series. 1987. Kirby Puckett. Randy Johnson. Bert Blyleven. Kent Hrbek. Fathers and sons. Memories, the scaffolding of identity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Metrodome

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Recognizing the good.

Tarot: The Three of Arrows, Jealousy

One brief shining: Stubble darkened his golden brown face as he listened, focused, a commander, a lieutenant colonel, yes, but here with me, my son hearing my doctor, Sue Bradshaw, discuss my health.

 

The Jangs: The Giants lost. 4-2. Beaten by the Nationals. Jung Hoo Lee got one hit. Root, root, root for the home team. If they don’t win, it’s a shame. Not in this case. Seeing Lee play center field, bat. That was the ball game for the Korean cheering section.

Their plane leaves this continent today at 10:30 am Pacific time, arriving in Incheon on Monday, the 11th, at 3 pm. The international dateline.

My son returns to work on Tuesday after a “vacation” spent as chauffeur and main problem solver for this Rocky Mountain Korean holiday. He’s confident, decisive, steady, kind.

His work phone kept him busy, too. The oddest problem? A geomagnetic storm, space weather, that could harm the instruments used in his job. Talk about force majeure.

 

The Tarot: Not often do the cards perplex me, but this one, the Three of Arrows, jealousy? Wha…? I left envy and jealousy behind, at least I think I did, years ago. Each night I touch the mezuzah on my bedroom door and say, “I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m comfortable with what I have.” I mean it, too. And feel it in my lev. So, jealousy?

Perhaps it comes to remind me of those days when I read many authors and wanted to write like them? Marion Zimmer Bradley. Herman Hesse. Ovid. Many others. I found my own voice.

Or. Perhaps it comes to remind me of the spiritual journey I’ve taken since those days of ambition. Toward acceptance of the Great Wheel as a model of life. Toward the Jewish insistence on constant questioning. Toward Yamantaka’s wisdom on death. Toward knowledge, intimate knowledge, of the One.

Or, perhaps it’s a random card with no particular resonance at all.

 

Artemis: Kale, Spinach, Beets, Tomatoes thrive. Arugula, Lettuce, Chard not so much. The east facing bed challenges me to learn how to plant it, water it. What unique gift does it have that I can’t quite see right now?

While I wait on the other vegetables to mature, I plan to try different things, see what might turn it from fallow to abundance. First, I plan to replant the Arugula, Lettuce, and Chard. Perhaps today. Then I plan to supplement the drip irrigation with my pretty green watering can. It has a flat copper spout with holes and produces a gentle Rain.

My goal is not so much a harvest at this point, but experimenting with variables to see what makes this bed a comfortable home for Seeds.

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Wheel, Sport

April

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Spring and the Wu Wei Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, eater of bones. Fatigue. Ritalin. Breakfast out. CookUnity, above adequate. Passover this Saturday. Liberation. Easter, April 20. Resurrection. Jihad. Greater and lesser. Mark’s students, boys becoming men. Dire Wolves live. Colossal Bioscience. De-extinction. Science wonders. The Night Sky. Orion, my old friend. Andover. A time of abundance.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dire Wolves alive

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei

One brief shining: Shadow comes over, puts her paws on the arm of my chair, stares up at me with her soulful dark eyes, and says, in crystal clear Dog, I want my breakfast!

 

April. Brother Mark and Dad’s birthdays. Ruth and Gabe’s. Kate’s yahrzeit on April l2th, celebrated on April 28th of the Hebrew calendar this year. My son and Seoah’s wedding anniversary. #9 this year. Passover and Easter.

An emotion filled month recognized by T.S. Eliot’s Wasteland. April is the cruelest month. Has some of that flavor for me.

How do we ever make sense of death and the awful emptiness it brings to the living? Especially when it comes as Mother Earth makes a seasonal turn toward new life. Plants shooting up from Winter’s sleep. Mule Deer Fawns and Elk Calves and Mountain Lion Kits. Bear Cubs. Baby Mark, baby Curtis, baby Ruth, baby Gabe. And Kate’s death. All together. Death and life. The Great Wheel turning, grinding as it goes.

I like the cohesion of Passover and Easter. Their twin messages confront April with powerful reassurance. Slavery of any kind diminishes, weakens the human experiment. Liberation from  the slaveries we are heir to lifts us all.

Death ends a life but it does not end life. Resurrection can heal a whole fallow season, the human heart as it emerges from mourning, the soul killing atrophy of numbness to existence.

These two ministers to the inner and outer realms complement each other. Live in tension perhaps as key representatives of different religions, but can be embraced by both and by those with none.

Religion holds these non-rational ideas, lays them alongside the daily human existence. Reminds us that bondage is not our fate; that death and rebirth are fellow travelers. Always.

 

Sports stop: Do not count your championships until they’re hatched. Or something like that. Ask Duke. Ask Houston. Both lost games they thought were theirs. Duke losing its long predicted Cooper Flag coronation as king of the teen basketball prom. Houston losing its championship in the final seconds of the final game of March Madness.

The new look of college basketball? Uncertain, but likely. Build a team of one and dones. Go for it. A coaches nightmare, I would think. Every year trying to get the one or two best players coming out of high school. Transferring others to compliment them. Play the season. Get into the playoffs. Hopefully. Rinse and repeat.

 

 

Dogs, Health, Judaism, Memories, Mussar, Sport

Shadow and Healing. And, Basketball!

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Spring and the Snow Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Lashon hara. Mussar. Shadow. Twisters. Diane. Mark. Mary. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Kate, always Kate. Cold night. Fair sleeping. Shadow’s toys. Our backyard. The fence. The shed. The deck. Rabbits. Voles. Chipmunks. Winter. Spring. The in between time. Imbolc.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Humans and Dogs

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

One brief shining: Good news comes in, too, like the friend whose lesion seems benign, the shoulder with less pain and increased range of motion, Shadow calmer, happier, the Ritalin decreasing my fatigue, even Great Sol out for a longer Colorado blue Sky stint.

 

Dog journal: Puppy hands. Small hematomas on the back of my hand. Eager Shadow, saying hi hi hi hi hi, I’m so glad to see you! So so glad! Old skin, young nails sharp and wielded with the muscles of an excited puppy.

Shadow’s ears have finally lost their pinned back look most of the time. She still cowers and flinches sometimes and her ears go flat. I ache when I see that. Something happened to make that her response to a human. Don’t know what. Waning, though.

She owns her space, plays with toys, greets me, no longer the shy, hypervigilant Dog under the bed.

Blessings to her and those first inquisitive Wolves who coinvented Dogs.

 

Finished mussar on zoom a second ago. Haven’t gone in person since adopting young Shadow. Today I wanted to have time to workout. Half hour there, half hour back. I would have been too tired.

I mention this because I also know there is a healing energy I get from showing up. It’s substantial and balances the energy I get from my mostly private life. As do my various zoom calls, breakfasts and lunches.

No matter how private, introverted, isolated we might be we are still creatures of community. You don’t have to look further than language itself to prove that. Language marks you as a member of this group or that one and even if you only use your language to process your own thoughts you remain part of that community always.

I get healed and buoyed up as I hope to heal and buoy up others. Showing up, as my friend Paul likes to remind me, marks the other as important, significant, loved. Medicine we all have and we all need.

 

Just a moment: It’s that most wonderful time of the year. Basketball tournaments everywhere, including March Madness. Cinderella teams. Juggernauts. NBA future draft picks. WNBA future draft picks. State level tourneys.

A Hoosier thing. High school basketball. Sure, other states, but we always believed nobody else loved high school hoops the way we did.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight. That song on the school bus radio as we pulled away from the Anderson, Indiana gym. Where only moments before tiny Alexandria had won the sectional by beating the Anderson Indians in the Wigwam. (yes. not that anymore.)

I remember frost on the windows, seeing each other’s breath in the cold March air as we screamed into the night. What wonderful joy!