Category Archives: Art and Culture

Acting, Art and Culture, Health, Hermitage, Shadow Mountain

Swole. Art.

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Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Robin and Michele. More pruning and hanging of art. Leo. Luke. Sleep. Getting up on time. Chatbotgpt4. Mountain Streams. Water running free. Beaver Ponds. Park County #63. Burning Bear Trail. Marmosets in Staunton State Park. That young Moose Bull roaming around here. The Black Bears out of hibernation. Elk Calves and Mule Deer Fawns. The Great Wheel turns in the mountains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: William Wordsworth

One brief shining: The treadmill, invented as a source of punishment in England I believe, has served me well these many years as a place to think, a place to watch movies, a place to keep my heart working at or near its healthiest, when I climb on my body knows its time to work, work hard and sweat, these bodies of ours they need, need, need to move.

 

Mondays. Wednesdays. Fridays. I’ve gotten back to my old routines. 130 minutes yesterday. Treadmill. Anytime on the machines. Prioritizing workouts now. Not seeing them as intrusions but as key components of my week, of my self care. Feeling stronger and healthier. Resting bpm down to 62. I’d love to get it below 60.

Anytime Fitness has the machines I feel better using for now. It also has a large carpeted area for free weights. Each time I go I sit on one of the machines the leg press, the leg curl, the leg extension, the shoulder press, the bicep curl, the chest fly and while I do, I watch the swole guys grunting, putting on weights in the 200 pound range. Then dropping them. Clank.

They seem pretty serious. As if the weights were some woke Antifa protesters they got their hands around at last. Probably stereotyping. There are too the more slender folks, women mostly but some men. I wonder what they train for. Up here it might be rock climbing, hiking, skiing, trail running, mountain biking.

Humans come in many sizes with varying motivations for all that they do.

 

Today Robin and Michele come. More closets cleaned out. A pile of unused sweaters on a chair. Old pillows and sheets from our queen sized bed no longer needed. Same for duvets. Some tech to go. Like that internet radio. Never could make it work right. Found four more pairs of jeans I didn’t know I had. Some winter wear that I’m saving. Keeping all the boots. The Sorels. The LL Bean duckies. The new, lighter Snow boots. Cleared out old tennis shoes. More quilting books. A monitor.

If we have time, we’ll work on the storage beneath the benches that Jon built. I don’t even know what’s in there.

Top priority though is hanging art. Retrieving some from the loft, other spots. I have most of it already placed. But there’s more I want to get down. Looking forward to this. Next up after this is reupholstering the couch. I also want to get a company out here to deep clean all my tile floors and rugs. And, maybe, somebody to clean the windows, too. Finishing touches to two years of work.

 

First character study acting class tonight. Tal at CBE. A busy day. Gotta make sure I eat.

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Entheos

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Beltane and the Mesa View Moon

Monday gratefuls: Curiosity. The Ancient Brothers. Mark and Dennis. Coming May 23rd. Yet more Rain. Even more swollen Streams. Ancientrails as a life project. Tom and his time with Charlie H. Bill and his time with Bella. Mark and his time at the gym. Anytime Fitness. My treadmill. Marilyn. Ginnie. Josh. Jane. Kat. A banker. Vulcan Centaur.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rocket Scientists

One brief shining: A beautiful woman with a long braid dangling over her t-shirt down to her space themed spandex had, on the back of the blue t-shirt an outline of the Vulcan Centaur rocket, on the front ULA and I asked, I’m too ignorant to know but is that a real rocket ship?

 

Yes. She answered. And I was working on it until I quit my job a year and a half ago. What was your area of expertise? Vibration and acoustics. Oh. I see. Not sure why I keep running into engineers. But I do.

CBE is amazing. All these smart people. This was at the Dismantling Racism class yesterday afternoon. Looked up the Vulcan Centaur and it’s been under development since 2014. Supposed to fly for the first time in July. Had a setback a month ago though with a second stage explosion during preparation for a launch.

The class has gotten better. Taking a mussar approach to the work. I like it for the inner work though I chose an opponent for my practice this week. Four areas of possible practice each week: with HaShem (God), with Self, with a fellow, especially a victim of anti-black racism, or with an opponent.

My practice involved an e-mail to a person with whom I’ve had long standing differences. Sent it last night and got a reply this morning. A sweet one. Maybe there’s something to this approach. The middah this week is kavod, or honor. Honoring self and other. The theological idea is the all made in God’s image trope. Said another way, we’re all human, all riding this blue spaceship our only home together with all the other critters and plants. Honor it all.

 

During the Ancient Brothers session on curiosity I identified curiosity as my defining characteristic. And naming what I call the valedictory lifestyle. As a valedictorian myself I’ve occasionally become curious (see!) about what happens to others who graduate first in their class academically. Turns out usually nothing spectacular. Sure a lot go into academics. Some have successful careers in business or the sciences.

But usually no stars. No one off achievements. No amazing inventions. Why? Because we’re generalists. We easily get sidetracked by something new and shiny. If purity of heart is to will one thing, we’re not at all pure.

I call them enthusiasms. My enthusiasms can last a long time. Religion has turned out to be the longest lasting, but inside that broad category I’ve been all over the place. From existentialist atheist to Christian to Unitarian-Universalist to Pagan and wanderer with the tribe. There’s a piece of each of these, often substantial pieces that remain intact within me. All somehow glued together with Taoism.

There’ve been many others. Art, my twelve years at the MIA. Politics, lasting almost as long as religion, but again all over the place in terms of action. Islam which I studied after 9/11. Horticulture. Cooking. Heating with wood. Beekeeping. Dogs. World travel. F1. Science. Tarot and Astrology. Cinema. Acting. Writing. Getting degrees. Tea. Korean and now Spanish. Oh, and one that actually has been lifelong, reading. Not sure when I learned but I’ve never ever stopped. Buying books, too. To feed the habit. I’ve dabbled in painting and sum-e.

Enthusiasms in my life are more than dabbling but less than enough to gain full mastery. But I must admit it’s been, is being, a hell of lot of fun.

 

 

 

 

Acting, Art and Culture, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Robot Overlords and Improv

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Spring and the Kepler Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Rebuilding Notre Dame. Wildfire. W.U.I. Kepler, my sweet boy, his memory for a blessing. Kate. A blessing always. Jon, a memory. Ruth, 17. Gabe, a week away from 15. Fresh Snow. 19 degrees. Good sleeping. Rabbi Jamie today on counting the omer. Alan. Rebecca back from India and feeling better after pneumonia. Scott, a reader of Ancientrails and a friend. Dogs.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dogs

 

Round 4. Miles Davis as the Cyberknife made its robotic transitions around my abdomen. If AI rebels and sends out robots after us humans. Fear them. The Cyberknife has constraints. For now. The route the medical physicist prescribes. Ensured by Patti at the controls. And, it’s bolted to the floor.

The Cyberknife is basically an industrial robot designed to deliver radiation in precise measures to exact spots in the body. Put it on treads, push its radiation up to kill. You see the problem. Also, it’s built of heavy, heavy metal. It would not go down easily.

Yes. OK. I do find the Cyberknife menacing. Sort of. It whirs around my body, pointing its raygun at me. Clicking. Clicking. Hard to not see the business end of it as a head with a weapon. I know it’s under control and in fact working for my benefit. Yes, I know that. However. Our all too human tendency to anthropomorphize.

After session number 5 on Monday, the focus of the treatments will change. Its aim will be just below my clavicle. Going through my esophagus to my T3 vertebrae. I imagine the sense of menace will increase. There is an odd disconnect between the disconcerting fact of a metal behemoth focused on my body and its healing function. Probably because I can neither see nor feel the radiation. I do trust Patti and Dr. Simpson. Otherwise…

 

The showcase for All in Ensemble, Tal’s new theater company, was fun. Whether it was intentional or not, he set up in CBE’s social hall. The effect was good organizing. More chairs had to be brought out. Then. No more chairs. SRO. Created a good buzz. I sat on the front row, on the far left. Maximizes my ability to hear. Which, even with my excellent hearing aid, is not good in these situations.

There were monologues and scenes for the Jewish American Playwrights class. Joann Greenberg gave a heartfelt and funny rendition of the funeral of Froem, a disliked member of a Yiddish speaking Jewish community in Germany. Hamish and Terrence went each other as a son, Terrence, betrayed by his businessman father. Hamish has a niche now. Tortured characters. And, he’s good at it.

The improv crew, which included Luke, did something unusual. Each actor, five altogether, gave a short monologue about their life. The improv took its cue from these monologues which were sprinkled throughout the performance.

The first monologue, offered by an older woman, told of an evening on the high seas where she was a cook aboard a yacht. Making spaghetti. In rough seas. She served guests on the high side and the boat heaved spilling the spaghetti back on her. I then went directly to bed.

Her story set the tone for the evening which eventually featured Poseidon, fish trying to make it on land, and a charming Prince Eric who wanted to conquer the land for his dad, Poseidon.

I admit it got me going again on the acting thing. Might try again.

 

One brief, shining moment. The Lodgepoles this morning wave in prayer to the Sun, encouraging it to shine, shine, shine and melt the Snow off their downswooping Branches so more food can be made, more of the  miracle without which all Animal life on Earth would perish.

 

Acting, Art and Culture, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Woolly Mammoths, Writing

A Festival of One Act Plays

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Monday gratefuls: Alan. The Mislaid Wife. The Festival of One Act Plays. Evergreen Players. Tal. Deb. Lisa. The audience. Jill. The Ancient Brothers on space. Between us. Within us. Center cut pork chops. Brining. Marilyn and Irv. Breakfast today. Aspen Park Dental. Cleaning. Also today. Grocery pickup. How to Become a Pagan. Learning Korean. Mary’s last days in Japan. Brother Mark in Oke city. Frozen vegetables.

Sparks of joy and awe: Theater

 

A medical week. Oh, joy. Teeth cleaning today. Kristie tomorrow. And the Vascular Institute on Wednesday. That should be plenty of body parts for one week.

Gonna go through the active metastases site with Kristie, then lay it to rest one way or another. Treat or not treat. Get a Prolia injection today, too. For ma bones. This is a treatment because of my other treatments which weaken my bones. Geez. Want to move the Prolia injections to Evergreen Medical Center. Closer.

Not sure what to expect at the Vascular Institute. They’ll do an ultrasound of my left leg. Looking for a spot of restricted blood flow. If they find one, I’ll probably have a stent put in which will allow the blood to flow normally. Kate had a blocked superior mesenteric artery. Putting the stent in was not a big deal.

Next week my birthday present to myself is a pulmonology exam. Big fun. Specifically asking the question about continued living at 8,800 feet.

Nuff.

 

February is Black history month and I’ll say one last time that Imani Perry’s South to America is worth the read. It lagged a little near the very end, but up till then it was charming, sensitive, and challenging. Taught me many lessons. Would be interested to hear her on the Memphis situation.

 

The Festival of One Act plays. Alan directed The Mislaid Wife. Precis. A man calls the police to report his wife missing. She was funny, made me laugh. Lots of energy. And she was sexy. Conceit. His wife has not gone missing. She’s aged. And still in the house. Funny and sad.

A woman sat next to me. Older. Gray hair, a long flowing plaid dress. Gray vest. She seemed interesting. I wondered, as I occasionally do. Still no energy to pursue anything. We even chatted for a bit with Deb, the woman I took to my first acting class, after she finished her role as God. Maybe if I run into her again.

Joan Greenberg, member of CBE, and author of You Never Promised Me a Rose Garden wrote a country version of Orpheus and Eurydice. Highly stylized presentation. The best script of the batch by far.

Talked to Tal. He mentioned the acting class starting next week at the Synagogue. Jewish playwrights. Part of me would like to take it up, but I’ve told myself I’m focusing this semester on How to Become a Pagan. Though I’m not. At least not right now. Saying that out loud to him made me take a look at the way I’ve been doing my schedule. I really want to write this book. Not sure why I’m blocked on it. I have lots of research, years of thinking about the topic, and it matters to me. Maybe this was the jolt I needed?

 

Art and Culture, Colorado, Commentary on the news, Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Tea, Travel

Dushanbe Tea House

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Monday gratefuls: A good night’s sleep. Cool temps. Light Snow keeping things fresh. Mike and Kate. Dushanbe Tea House. Lapsang Souchong sausage. The brewing tea at altitude dilemma. Central Asia. Boulder. A drive. Ode in Rarotan. DAVA fund raiser for the kids. California. Now another mass shooting. See that adjective? Another. C’mon. Relationships. Friendships.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Travel

 

What fun. Brunch at the Dushanbe Tea House with Mike Banker and Kate Strickland. On so many levels. First, the drive. Getting down the hill, yet driving very close to the Hogbacks that mark the beginnings of the Laramide Orogeny. The Flatirons, too. Sheets of Rock thrust up.  Going past the Rocky Flats Site. Then down into Boulder. As the wags like to say, 25 square miles surrounded by reality.

On the way into Boulder on 93 you pass a big campus with NOAA, National Weather Service, and an experimental laboratory for the Dept of Commerce. Further on is the CU Boulder planetarium where I’ve taken Ruth many times. Before downtown by about a block is the Tea House.

When I got there, I parked and saw a large crowd outside. 45 minute wait. I was a little early so I put my name for a table for three and went to sit at the bar. Ordered silver needle white Tea. Mike and Kate showed up as I poured my first cup. They ordered Darjeeling, Kate in memory of her trip to Darjeeling before her time in Japan, and Matcha, Mike likes the Japanese Tea Ceremony.

The second level. The wonderful coffered ceilings, all ceramic, a riot of colors. Plants in the center of the large open seating area. A crowd, young for the most part, Boulder’s a college town. The Tea. I should say, the Teas. A thick bound book has five pages with different Teas listed front and back. You can buy Tea there, too. Loose and in satchels for ease of use. When your small white teapot comes, the waiter places a tiny three minute hour glass down with it and tells you how to long to let your choice steep. Three minutes for the white Teas.

The third level. The brunch menu. I had the Swiss Raclette. Eggs in a dish of melted fondue cheese with small chunks of ham and Yukon gold Potatoes. Toast on the side. Kate ordered a side of lapsang souchong sausage so we could taste it. Delicious. Mike had the lapsang souchong flavored bulgogi! And Kate had the Indian Dosa. An exotic menu. Great tastes to go with wonderful Teas.

The fourth and most important level. Being with Kate and Mike. A bright young couple. Kate engaged in the Great Work, creating a sustainable presence for human beings on this planet, Mike now at work with a documentary film company that had him most recently in Kyiv. The table conversation was witty, wide ranging, and fun. I told them how much I appreciated spending time with folks their age. Most of my friends are further along in the aging process. Ahem.

We agreed to meet again in Evergreen. Sometime soon. I felt they genuinely enjoyed hanging out with me. Honored.

 

DAVA. The annual Aurora art teachers art show is this week. They’re having a fund raiser for Ruth and Gabe. This is the first year Jon won’t have any work in the show. I’ve been to the show many times over the years. The art teachers have donated art for sale, the proceeds going to the kids. I’m going with Jen, Ruth and Gabe.

 

My buddy Ode is on Roatan, an Island off the coast of Honduras. Continuing healing for his new knee. Enjoying the sun.

 

Last. How bout those mass shootings, eh? They just keep on coming like the Blue Light specials at the old K-Mart stores. When I opened the NYT yesterday and saw that, my heart shriveled. Again. Another. Then my mind went to the good guys with guns. Like the one here in Aurora who shot a perpetrator only to be killed by police. With their guns. Guns. For god’s sake. Can’t we see the problem is the damned guns?

Acting, Art and Culture, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Needing a Refresh Button

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Beltane and the Living In the Mountains Moon

art@willworthington

Wednesday gratefuls: Sarah. Gabe. Chinese food. Richard Powers. Jerry. Jon and Ruth. Tom. Durango. The railroad. Winds. Heat. Sealed driveway. Susan Taylor. Alan. Tal. Working on the Odd Couple. Kep. Mini-splits. Kate. The redoing of the house. My health. Evergreen Medical Center. They give a damn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sarah

Tarot: Page of Stones, Lynx

 

There are the seven seals in the Book of Revelations and    one petroleum based seal on my driveway. John came by yesterday and worked for three hours. Cleaning, then putting a rubber based liquid in the cracks. Spraying a black sticky coating of some sort of petroleum over the whole driveway.

John had a Louisiana phone number. I asked him about that. Oh, we’re seasonal. We work up here during the summer and early fall, then back to Louisiana. When I asked what he misses about Louisiana, he says, quickly, “The food.” He recommends Pappadeaux’s. No No’s is ok, but Pappadeaux’s is the real deal. I’ll try it soon.

 

Sarah (sister-in-law Sarah) came up with Gabe last night. Stayed until ten. Another late night. Late nights being defined as any night I can’t get to bed by nine. I tried going to ten but my body wouldn’t put up with it.

Sarah is here to help Jon get some necessary work done and items for his house. Sarah retired a few years back from a long and successful career as a classical violinist. She did solo work, trios and quartets, and taught for several years at Congress College in South Carolina.

Now she has become a key figure for the Johnson clan. I think she was third after Annie. Kate being the first born. I gave her a couple of books: Orfeo by Richard Powers, and I’m OK, You’re Not OK by Linda Budd, itself a gift to me from Tom.

On her death bed Kate and I finalized her bequests. Sewing stuff to Ruth, the Bailey Patchworkers got her stash, Ruth got most of her jewelry, but I remembered the jewelry she’d put in the safety deposit box. “Give it to Jerry.” That would be Jerry Miller, Sarah’s husband and a painter of landscapes in his version of the Group of Seven tradition.

Somehow boxing them up and getting the rings, necklaces, and raw gems mailed became a chore I couldn’t get done. I also had a moment when I thought. Hey, this stuff could be valuable. I should keep it. That didn’t last long. Kate was clear. And I have plenty of money thanks to Kate. So, no greed, please.

Glad to hand them over to Sarah and get them out of the house.

 

This morning I rolled out of bed at the crack of 7:30. About an hour, hour and a half after my usual time. A bit groggy. Two long nights and a third, the Beatles Shabbat this Friday still to come.

 

At 9 I talked to Cousin Diane of Clan Keaton as I do each week. This morning we veered into family territory. Could Grandma and Grandpa have been married after Grandma became pregnant? Gosh, gee whiz. This conversation started around a baby who died in his first month, Kenneth, and included a gold ring engraved 1905, Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding in 1910 (or, did they have a secret wedding).

The Keaton Clan, my mom’s family, had a lot of secrets and tragedies. Some engendered by manic-depression, some by rigid mid-century values about pregnancy, some by early death, and still more by genial criminal behavior. It’s a rich story that could fill a novel with ease. One spanning the Belle Epoque to Y2K and beyond. Family, eh?

 

At ten I drove to Evegreen Players for a meeting with Alan and Tal. Tal wanted to help us with our scene. Read: we’re not ready for prime time just yet. It was a difficult hour plus for me. I felt I was letting the side down. I kept dropping lines. Alan and Tal both reassured me that this was part of the process. Oh. Well. O.K.

In the end we got close to a finished scene. That is off book, blocking, scene dressing all working together. Still, I left with a headache. Feeling low.

 

Found a trail I haven’t used in a while and hiked it. Thought it would hit refresh for my spirit, but I spent too much time on it worrying about sunburn. OK, guy. This is getting silly.

 

An hour plus nap did hit the refresh button and I’m feeling much better as I write this around 4:30 pm. Yeah.

 

 

 

Art and Culture, Commentary on the news, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Holidays, Judaism

Remembering. Mililtary Veterans and Gun Violence Victims

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Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

art@willwordsworth

Monday gratefuls: Alan, turning 70. Veggie Burgers.  Kippas. The Wild Animal Sanctuary. South Koreans rescuing Moon Bears. Kep’s wooooah. Felix, wanting to be appreciated. Oscar, oblivious. Deb. Robbie. Tal. Acting lessons. Kura: The Prophetic Messenger. Eco-Mutualism. Adopting a grizzly. The Land Institute. Aldo Leopold. Ira Progoff. Life review.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wild Animal Sanctuary.

Tarot: Page of Stones, The Lynx

key words-study and scholarship, school, apprenticeship, starting out, reflection, meditation, observing other people

 

 

Brett Sayles

Just had a thought. How about making Memorial Day celebrations include all the people who’ve given their lives to gun violence? Veterans of all the violence in which our country plays a role. I actually think this could be a thing. How could we make this happen?

 

Buddy and acting partner Alan turns 70 today. We’re almost off book with our scene from the Odd Couple. Got a long ways yesterday over veggie burgers at his place overlooking the Continental Divide. He did two turns as the Burgemeister in a ballet put on by the Colorado Ballet Academy on Saturday.

 

Jon seems to have turned a corner for now. Makes me happy. Gabe’s coming up for a couple of days at the end of the week. Ruth’s struggling again.

 

Kura: The Prophetic Messenger

Still reading Overstory, almost done. Also the wonderful book Ode gifted to me, Kura: The Prophetic Messenger. This book details the conceptual and handwork by craftspersons and artists to create this sculpture. This article gives a precis of the project.

Bresnahan is a prophetic messenger himself. This work combines three distinct cultures: Japanese, Benedictine, and First Nation. The latter two reflect the uses of the land on which the sculpture sits. The first represents Bresnahan’s roots in a four apprenticeship in Japanese style pottery making and thought.

A kura was a storage building for precious items especially in the Edo period, but got its shape and function from structures used to save the rice harvest in ancient Japan. The Benedictines built St. John’s Monastery and college on land previously used by First Nation’s people.

Inside the Kura Bresnahan placed seed jars containing seeds of the Three Sisters: beans, squash, corns. He also had a scroll created of the Rule of St. Benedict. By hand and illustrated. All of these reside in clay pots created and fired by the St. John’s Pottery. Once placed in the metal Kura, dried wild rice hulls went in as insulation and protection.

The Prophetic Messenger is a symbolic horse Bresnahan uses on much of his work. “The carving of the Prophetic Messenger in my clay works is a reminder that asks me, Are you on the right path? I carve it in different clay forms and each time it reminds me of my own journey to all of this. Are you abusing the land? or materials? Are you abusing the community? It reminds me to work in a way that plans for generations into the future.”  p.17, Kura: The Prophetic Messenger.

 

 

 

Art and Culture, Astrology, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hermitage, Humor, Jefferson County, Judaism, Letters, Literature, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

You’re Joyful

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Beltane and the Beltane Moon

art@willwordsworth

Friday gratefuls: Tiredness. Long sleep. Denver Mountain Parks. Trail off Brookforest Drive. Mussar. Feelings shared. Luke’s hug. Acting. Felix. Learning lines. Reading. Zweig. Powers. Meisner. Tal. Out of the head, into the heart. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Diane. These wonderful Mountains. Shadow Mountain. Herme. Kep. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Denver Parks Mountain Trail

Tarot: Ten of Bows, responsibility

“To tackle the challenges that come with responsibility here requires resilience, endurance, and assertiveness. The burden may be overwhelming and disordered, but the task given to you is aiming for a good, great goal, not only for yourself but also for your family or tribe.” tarotx.net

 

OK. Second time in two days for the Ten of Bows. Psyche telling me. Pay attention dude. Responsibility. Those bows weighing me down. Keep moving. Be assertive. Yes. Endure. Yes. Be resilient, yes. Figure out a way to hold a relationship without giving in to hurt or immorality. Or, figure out a way to let it go altogether.

 

More learning of lines. Reading about Meisner. “Renowned American actor and acting teacher Sanford Meisner developed his groundbreaking technique to guide actors in behaving instinctively and getting in touch with their emotions instead of getting trapped in their own thoughts.” NFI  “The Meisner Technique is a brick-by-brick process designed to get you out of your head and into your gut.” Meisner Technique Studio.

A great way to move myself beyond the last period of my life and into the new one. Didn’t take the class imagining this reward, but there it is. Thanks Alan and Tal.

 

Mussar yesterday. A sweet time. These folks have my back. And my front. Getting to know Luke better. Leo, his dog. A sweetheart. Sweet. A word I reuse. Means I often see the world as precious. Most of the time. Life, too.

 

Acting class on Monday. Kabbalah and the Stars on Tuesday, zoom. Diane on Wednesday zoom. Mussar on Thursday. A lunch or breakfast with Alan or Luke or Rebecca. The Ancient Brothers on Sunday. An occasional service, a visit from the grandkids and Jon every couple of weeks. MVP once a month. That’s plenty for me. I wouldn’t want much less and certainly not much more. The Hermit in a Crowd. Living alone with a crowd.

 

On the way home from mussar I stopped for the lovely Denver Mountain Park Trail near the bottom of Brook Forest Drive. About 30 minutes. A Stream. Valley walls covered with Ponderosa. Green Grass along the Stream bed. Going in and out of Shadow. Lodgepole. Dogwood. At the end of the trail the reward is Water falling over a graduated step of Rock, the Stream not yet finished wearing them down. The sound, soothing. On a small Pond I saw Water Wtriders. Picked up a Pine Cone that had a new Pine growing from its tip, a chartreuse baby Tree. Overstory on my mind the whole hike.

 

During an acting exercise aimed at getting us to our feelings Tal said of me in succession: you’re patient. I am patient. You’re kind. I am kind. You’re joyful. I am joyful. That last one. Yes. At last.

 

Aging, Art and Culture, Astrology, Cinema and Television, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Humanities, Latin, Letters, Literature, Music, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Translating Metamorphoses, Travel, Writing

Oh, the Wonders We’ll See

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Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Deb. Robbie. Tal. Gretchen. Alan. Terrence. Jill. Nights. Lunar red. The full red Moon. Cloudy skies. Skipping Sefer Yetzirah. Learning things in astrology. Not enough. Reading plays. Loving it. Art is not only sculpture, prints, paintings, metal work. Literature. Theater. Music. Oh. Remembering.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Alfieri and Felix

Tarot: #8, The Stag

 

“The Stag shows our connection to the universe and…organic life on this planet. The hatchet is a symbolic image of the human will to alter the environment. In order for the environment to change more positively, we need not only more effective actions but also (to accept) our responsibility to nature. On the shield, the picture of a great Oak tree reminds us that we must preserve and protect natural resources.” tarotx.net

 

Wow. Up at 9:22 am this morning. To bed at 10:30 pm. Acting class and pre-bed routine. Woke up and felt great. I went, huh? No time to write Ancientrails before Astrology class. No time to exercise so I skipped Sefer Yetzirah. Skipping class. For me? Hardly ever. I loved doing it this time.

Had brunch, then exercised. Felt and feel great. Pay attention to accidents. Like the fall, yes, but in this case a late night, late morning. Well. I could do this, I guess. Just because for the last 30 years I’ve gone to bed early and gotten up early does that mean I still have to? No. It doesn’t

If my acting lessons take me anywhere, which I’m not expecting, but if they do, rehearsal? At night. Performances? At night. Services at CBE? At night. It would open up a different lifestyle for me.

On that note. I got stuck. My Minneapolis Institute of Arts experience led me to a Johnny-one note approach to the arts. Painted. Sculpted. Printed. Sewn. Splattered. Photographed. Videoed. Yes. If I couldn’t regularly see high quality art of this kind, well…

Then my buddy Alan suggested I take an acting class. Sure. Why not? At the very least a reminder of a different art form. One I’d engaged in the long ago far away. Whoa. Heart work. Body work. Get the mind out of the way work. Reread some contemporary work like The Odd Couple, View From the Bridge, next American Buffalo. Act scenes from them. Develop the Self in a new way.

I mean. Like the proverbial 2×4. Oh. Yeah. And music, too. Gotta get somebody, maybe Alan, to help get my audio world turned on here on Shadow Mountain. Will begin again to read classical literature. Metamorphosis first, I imagine.

As Ode said, routines. The only difference betweeen a rut and a grave are the dimensions. Yeah.

So I may become a later to bed, later to rise guy. For art’s sake.

 

Here’s a realization I had today. When I take something from Taoism, I take it as a Taoist.When I take something from Christianity, I take it as a Christian. When I take something from Judaism, I take it as a Jew.When I take something from Islam, I take it as a Muslim. When I take something from Hinduism, I take it as a Hindu.

Furthermore. When I take something from Japanese culture, I take it as a Japanese. From Colombia as a Colombian. From the Celts as a Celt.

Syncretism and appropriation are dirty words in most intellectual circles. I’m not trying to create a new, smashed together religion, nor am I lifting ideas from their living culture to reorient in mine.

Nope. When I say I’m a follower of Shiva, which I am, I mean I’m aware of and beholden to the cosmic dance of creation and destruction and Shiva is its name. When I say ichi-go ich-e is important for me, I’m saying this moment, this one while I’m typing on the keyboard, throwing these ideas out into the cyberether, will never happen again. And, is precious for that reason. When I say I follow the Great Wheel, I’m an ancient Celtic thinker noticing the stars and the changing of the seasons, tying them together in a long, yet repeating spiral.

I don’t pick and choose. Nope to that either. Some ideas and concepts that come to me as I read, listen, see change my way. When they change my way, they become part of me, part of my ancientrail.

Neither striving for nor hoping for a neat package tied up with a bow. Nicely systematized. Not important to me. Insights into life and how to live it? Very important to me.

Art and Culture, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, GeekWorld, Humor, Judaism, Kabbalah, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

The No Strangers, No Contact Which Requires Extra Effort Level

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Beltane and the Beltane Moon

art@willwordsworth

Monday gratefuls: CBE. Comedy. Tater tots. Alan as an auctioneer. The improv troupe. Luke’s mom. Luke. Mindy. The auction. The Ancient Brothers on travel. Black Mountain. The Solar panels. Warm weather. Cool nights. Last of the back pain beginning to recede. Hamish. Acting Class. Felix. Oscar. Dinner on Friday with Alan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Folks beginning to ask me for favors

Tarot: Two of Bows, Decision

“A person standing on top of a hill, in the middle of the night, against the starry sky. His head is surrounded by a halo of fire, the flame of determination. In each hand, he holds a long, incomplete arched bow, which is higher than the top of his head. From the bow, the flames erupted, symbolizing his vitality and authority.

Awakening the unconscious senses associated with the desire to make decisions. The gate is opened in front of every individual, who is prepared to take the initiative.” tarotx.net

 

An interesting back and forth right now. Continue on, stay the course with the life of today. Which I love. And/0r. Add more elements to it so that my every day veers into new territory. The two of Bows suggest I’m trying to push myself toward something different, something new. Acting? Short trips?

As Ode said yesterday morning, routines are (or can be) deadly. Draining vitality. Obfuscating potential. They can also though be productive. 17 plus years of Ancientrails. An exercise habit. Feeding dogs. Sunday mornings with the Ancient Brothers.

Excited to feel the stirrings. No idea right now where they incline. Will emerge. And I want to be ready.

 

Got the art cart cleared off. Ready to get out my sumi-e brushes and start one-stroke painting. A meditation. Got the coffee table cleared downstairs. My pruning continues. Slow, but steady. Having the Sewing Room dining area created opened space for me to do other fussy stuff. Gonna clear off the table in there today, too. Just washed jars for the pantry and my collection of Rat Zappers.

 

Also head down the hill at 8:15 to Stevenson Toyota. Tire swap. Blizzaks for all-seasons. Checking tread depth. Might be time for new Blizzaks. This fall. While waiting on this work to get done, I’m going to work on developing Felix and the lawyer from A View From the Bridge. I have the Odd Couple script, but not the Arthur Miller piece yet.

 

Another interesting paradox right now. I’m so at home with Marilyn and Irv, Alan, Ron, Jamie, Rich, Susan, Judy, Tara even Ellen, Mindy, Anne, Sally, Fran, Anshel, Leslie, and Robbie. They’re my CBE. As long as I’m one on one, or in small groups, I feel welcome and loved. There are a few others like Michele and David, Tal, Joan and Rick, Jamie and Steve, Dan and Kristi, the Lehmans that are a smaller, further circle out for me, but I still see them as close acquaintances.

Yet when I go to a service or to an event like the Funraiser Fundraiser which featured a Jewish comic from New York, I can’t get away fast enough when it’s over. Most of the other folks I don’t know. When Kate was alive, this paradox almost didn’t exist because she belonged there in a way I didn’t and I stood in her acceptance.

To be fair I always skip out of theaters, movies, concerts first of all the folks if I can. I like to get out and away. I’ve told myself it was because I didn’t want to hassle with other cars in a crowded parking lot. Now I’m wondering if it’s because my social battery has been drained dry during the event.

As I’m writing this, I’m thinking, hey. There’s your answer. This event yesterday had a long form improv group directed by Tal perform. Afterward, Alan auctioned off Jewish food: latkes, mondle bread, knishes, smoked brisket, rugelach, macaroons, and, of course, chopped liver. The six pound brisket went for $200. My friend Mindy’s knishes brought well over $100 for 16 and her mondle bread went for over $100, too. A fund raiser.

Then came the comic. Jessica Kirson. Never heard of her, but she was good. “I love doing shows for my people.” Her set went longer than advertised which was good.

But. I got there 2:50 and scooted out the door at 5:35. Exhausted. I’d been around more people than I had since Covid began. No mask. Double boosted. There was ventilation and it wasn’t a massive crowd though a good turnout for CBE. That’s it. Not that I don’t fit, just that I’d run my battery all the way down to the no strangers, no contact which requires extra effort level. Nearing nobody at all no how. The bottom.

Thank you for listening. And out.