Category Archives: Myth and Story

Worth the Journey

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Monday gratefuls: The Rains. The cool nights. The Spanish Grand Prix. Those Nuggleheads. Max Verstappen, a phenom. Royal Gorge Railroad. Another rail journey with Tom. Israel trip becoming complicated. A bit. The Great Sol breaking up the gray Sky with Light. Brother Mark photographing his time in Hafar. Looks like a Nebraska small town with sand and Muslim architecture. Oh, and Arabic. Travel. Korea. A busy June. Life’s picking up its pace for me. And, why not?

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cool nights

One brief shining: Tried to figure out a way to make Chicken tenders edible so I got out the tenderizer and smacked them a couple of times each, put a poultry brine in a gallon Ziploc and stuffed them in, let them sit in the fridge for a couple of days, put chorizo to cooking in my cast iron skillet, added the drained Chicken tenders and some cut up cooked potatoes, a short time for the Chicken tenders to heat through, then plated them with the potatoes and some collard greens.

 

Turned out well. The chorizo spiced up the bland Chicken tenders and the smacking and the brining plumped them up. Not overcooked, seasoned. A good meal.

Ate it while watching the second half of the Spanish Grand Prix. Max Verstappen drives to the front of the field from the pole, builds up enough of a lead to ensure that a pit stop won’t cost him his position and starts lapping the field. He makes it look so, so easy. Yet he’s so far in front of the best drivers in the world, the perfect union of man and Red Bull machine. Red Bull has won all of the Grand Prix’s so far this season, Sergio Perez has won two and Verstappen the rest. Dominance. It won’t last though. In a sport as demanding as Formula 1 it never does.

 

Looks like I may be in Israel on my own for five days before the group tour starts. I plan to fly in on October 27th, check in early to the group hotel. If a group trip to Petra happens before the trip, I’ll be on that, too. If not, more time to experience this ancient city. I love being on my own, wandering where I want, finding this and that, meeting locals, eating street food or in out of the way restaurants. This will be my first time in the Middle East, a place I studied extensively while in seminary and has been constantly present in my life since Joseph deployed to Bahrain, Mark started teaching in Saudi Arabia, and Kate and I joined CBE.

With me on this journey will be memories of New Testament stories like the Mount of Olives, the sites of Jesus’ crucifixion, burial and resurrection (The Church of the Holy Sepulcher), the garden of Gethsemane-that stained glass window in Alexandria First Methodist where my family sat all those years-as well as the Dome of the Rock where Muhammed landed after his night journey and then ascended to heaven. Jewish inflections too. The first temple site is coterminous with the Dome of the Rock. The wailing wall. The holocaust inspired push to create a contemporary homeland for the Jews. So much else of which I am ignorant.

Not to mention the crusades. A key focus of medieval piety. And early anti-Muslim bigotry. Lots of historical streams running this through this one spot on the globe.

Worth the journey.

 

Mythic

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

Creativity. Our birthright

Fall and the High Holidays Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Prostate cancer. Erleada. Rain. Aspens, golden Aspens. A wet driveway with gold coins. Water. Holy, holy, holy. Tom. Diane. Alan. Acting. Chekhov. Tal. Nikkia. Sight. Hearing. Taste. Touch. Smell. Coffee. Safeway. Vaccines. Flu. Covid. Jen. Ruth. Gabe. Denver Springs. Kate, always Kate. Jon. His memory.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fall Melancholy

 

Spoke with Tom. A wide ranging conversation as always. Favorite part. We both spoke to our high school reunions about the things that unite us in spite of divisions. Why we can’t all see that friendships cross political divisions, especially old friendships, saddens both of us.

 

Class on creativity with Rabbi Jamie. A flash of inspiration. Hochmah. A plan, a container for a work of art. Binah. The act of human creation mimics/is the same as that of sacred creation. In the far away ayn sof, the realm of nothingness, a desire emerges. It travels down the Tree of Life where it realizes itself in the realm of inspirational wisdom, Hochmah. Hochmah passes the desire, now an idea, to the practical wisdom of Binah, the sefirot of builders and wisdom. Here it takes on form, becomes a possibility.

Kabbalah and the arts. The ever flowing Tree of Life finds energy moving down and back up in a continuous circuit. Charging and recharging. Pushing desire into limits where it can act as a catalyst for action, for realization. Kabbalah and Tarot and Taoism. Teachers, revealers. Seeing the processes behind life and its boundless diversity. Opening us to the world unseen as it moves through our daily experience.

No dogma. Nothing but metaphor for the unknown, yet knowable ways the universe changes from invisible to visible, from thought to structure, from vastness to particularity. The path of the sacred as it becomes this holy world in which we live and move and have our being. For a brief time. Until our teshuva, our return to the invisible, the unknown, yet knowable. And our teshuva, our return again, emerging as a desire in the ayn sof, the nothingness, the nirvana, the moksha to which we go like insects toward the ohr, the golden light of holiness. Our chi merged with the tao. Then reemerging as another expression of the tao.

A tarot card presses us to look, to see what cannot be seen until we look, until we see what we are looking at. The power of teshuva rendered clear in the golden Aspen leaves, the bright colors of a Midwest fall, the birth of a child, a memory of a time never experienced in this lifetime.

We can learn to feel the power of desire as it passes into us and through us and on into malkuth, the realm where the holy and the sacred become manifest. Where the bride the shekinah meets the malchiyot the king in his kingdom.

The tree of life not only is a three-d map of the dna of the universe. It also bends back upon itself so that keter, the realm of malchiyot, touches malkuth, the realm of the shekinah. Said another way the masculine, the yang, meets the feminine, the yin, and gives birth to this awful, terrible, wonderful, amazing spot we call reality. Chi and tao. Yin and Yang. Hochmah and Binah. Chesed and Gevurah. Netzach and Hod. Back and forth. Power and desire channeled into containers. The penis and the vagina. The semen in the uterus. In and out. The way of all things.

Creativity is literally our birthright.

 

Paradise, bad. Tempter, good.

Lughnasa and the Harvest Moon

Monday gratefuls: Feeling almost whole. Paradise. Rental agents. Kep’s legs. The trash. Cooking for myself. That chicken from Rich. French toast. Whipped cream. Ruby. My ride. Kailua. Looking better and better. Or, Kaneohe. Though, windward, tsunami side. Robert Martin. Express mail to Vanguard. Depositing my TABOR check. Healing. The wonder of the body.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Agency

 

Paradise. A walled Garden in the original Persian, perhaps a hunting preserve. Paradise, a walled Garden for Creation, guarded by an angel with a flaming sword. Been thinking about walled gardens we humans create for ourselves. Gated communities. The Garden of Eden, the first gated community.

Our versions of paradise: Religions and their variants. Political ideologies. Ethnic purity. Even our own homes. That castle of our own. Skin color.

Inside these walled gardens we follow the same version of truth. The supremacy of white skinned humans. Submission to Allah. The Presbyterian version of the Christian story. Or, the Episcopal one. Or, the Pentecostal one. Or, the Roman Catholic one. I’m French. Swiss. American. Malawi. Aboriginal. I fly the Gadsen flag on my pickup. I’m a liberal. A libertarian. A Trumpist. A Nazi. An anarchist.

We mold and shape our perceptions of reality to conform to the presuppositions and biases of our walled Garden. This is confirmation bias. Selective perception.

Each of our walled Gardens also has its own Serpent, its own tempter, who hisses, “Eat of this Tree and you will know all.” This tempter might be biblical scholars who created the documentary hypothesis. Or, that little voice that whispers, “Other people with different skin colors don’t seem so bad.” Or, “What about traditions and heritages that give our lives richness?” Or…

There are so many walled Gardens. So many. Each with their gatekeepers, each with their own tempter. Each with their own Tree and its Fruit. What purpose do they serve? Tamping down ambiguity. Making the inevitable choices of our lives simpler. Creating a matrix against which we can lay our life and determine its worth.

I’m white. A superior race. I deserve my place above the mud people. I’m a liberal. The best political perspective. Why can’t those conservatives understand that? I’m Swiss. Sorry, but you’re not.

Easier to decide who to marry. What job to take. Where to live. Who to listen to. What flag to salute.

Here’s the thing though. Paradise was always an illusion. Those walled Gardens keep you in, narrow your world, define it in ways that often are harmful both to you and to others. Those gatekeepers. That angel with the flaming sword? Keeping you in.

That tempter. May be your guide out of Paradise. That Fruit. That Tree. Eat from it. Right now. It will taste good. Your eyes will open to the complicated, messy, never right or wrong world. Your life will become harder. You’ll have to choose without guard rails. There will be cliffs and sinkholes.

Help enough friends to do the same and you can take out the gatekeeper, walk out of the garden, and into the world as it is. As you were meant to know it. Neither bad nor good. Neither right nor wrong. Filled with the riches of people with different skin colors, of other heritages and traditions, of other nationalities, of other political perspectives.

This is the Field Rumi speaks of, the one beyond good and bad. Go out there, past the gatekeeper of your walled Garden, and I’ll meet you there.

Oh, the Wonders We’ll See

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.

Noh Mask At All

How I knew it was Ravens taking the Mice

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Acting. Old chops coming back. Found the third mouse from yesterday. Ravens. Achy. Feeling old, a little miserable. Back sore from banging against the deck. Note to self: don’t do that again. Bear. The generator repair tech. Really, his name was Bear. Pete. Centering the chandelier. Ana and Letty, a clean house. Acting class.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Acting

 

Found the third dead mouse from yesterday. Downstairs on my level. Did Ana and Letty accidentally move him? Or, did Kep find him and mouth him only to drop him far from the scene of his execution? I’ll never know. But, it does mean no mouse resurrections. No smart mouse.

 

Did not slip this morning when I tossed the dead bodies over the fence for the Raven clan. Man am I sore. Neck, back. Even intercostals on my left side. Quite a back whack. The good news? I slipped so quickly I didn’t have time to brace myself so avoided a broken wrist or other arm bones. Could use some how to fall training.

Not only did this make me sore. It also made me scared and sad. Remembering Kate’s bleed. The start of the long downhill slide. Not ready for my equivalent. Yesterday could have been it. I don’t want to think like that, but I also have to face the fact. Could happen in a flash. Want to shake this but the pain keeps reminding me. Coming on the heels of that damned cold. Grrr.

To add to it. See this: THC increases heart attack risk. Well, damn. Gotta back off the edibles until I know more. Sounds like CBD oil might help. Last night first without an edible in a couple of years. Maybe a bit more. Went ok. Pain might have influenced it a bit.

 

Well. As usual, writing it. Setting it out on the page in black and white. Better. Dispels demons. Easier. When life throws you lemons, throw’em back.

 

Reeling in my travel ambitions a bit. Gonna start slow. Road trip to Del Norte with Kep. See how that goes. About 3 hours down, 3 hours back. Then, a short road trip. Maybe three days. Hawai’i in late June for Seoah’s birthday. Have to choose between Iran or Taipei. Old bones. Thinking about checking on the Road Scholars. Used to be Elder Hostel. Might be time for some group touring. Or, maybe I’m being more conservative following my slip. We’ll see.

 

Acting class. Huh. Enjoyed. In an exercise, How do I feel, I said I feel like a school boy on the first day of class. I feel exhilarated. I feel exhilarated. Even though ouchy and unable to bend as easily as usual (the back owie) I find myself intrigued and engaged. Next week we get a scene from a play. Start digging into it with the five questions:

1. Who am I? details of the character’s life: name, age, gender, economic status, social status, parents, siblings, birth order. Things like that.

2. Where, when am I? Where: Like Jane Crofut’s address in Our Town.

“Jane Crofut; The Crofut Farm; Grover’s Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire; United States of America. GEORGE: What’s funny about that? REBECCA: But listen, it’s not finished: the United States of America; Continent of North America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; the Universe; the Mind of God.”

When: Day, month, year. Also. when in life is the character?

3. What do I want?

Objective-Super Objective-Spine

Objective-what do I want in this scene

Super objective – what do I want in the whole play

Spine – what do all the characters in the play want?

 

4. How do I get what I want? Actions I take.

5. What do I do when I do or don’t get what I want?

 

Questions 3 and 4 have the most weight, but all are important according to Tal Arnold, Rabbi Jamie’s oldest son. He’s an actor himself and a director. He directed the play I mentioned a while back: Dementiaville. Alan was in it.

I’ve done some acting, but never learned acting in this way. The bones of it. The how. This has touched my heart, given me a new way of moving forward. Even if I go no further than this class.

 

 

Beltane: You are alive!

Beltane and the Beltane Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Beltane. The growing season. Fire festival. Life renewed. Again. Still. My voice. Jon. Better. More insight, moving forward. Three dead mice. 2nd night, none in the kitchen. Edward Abbey. Mario. Taos. Road trip. Iran. Possible tour in the fall. Taipei, winter. Energy back. Got a lot done yesterday. Closing in on a finished downstairs. Feels so good. Jon’s idea about centering the chandelier. Smart guy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jon, taking hold

 

October, 2014 Andover

 

Beltane. Yes. The season I need. A Fire festival. Those crazy Scots and Swedes. All naked today, bonfires. Probably a lot of making love in the tall grass. Sympathetic magic. Maybe a few year and a day handfast marriages. The maiden goddess lying with the Greenman, with Cernunnos. Persephone with Pan. Ceres waving her hand, seeds unfurling, heading toward the sun.

A celebration of the Garden, the Prairie, the Pasture, the Woodland. Life giving. Soaking in the Sun. The Rain and the Snow melt. Mountain Streams full. Trout loving the cold Water. It’s Beltane. Ring out the fallow season for real. Ring in the season of plenty.

In the old days, the farthest away of the Celtic times, only Beltane and Samain. The growing season and Summer’s End. One or the other. Fertility or waiting, decomposition, getting ready. Resting. For this. The time of green. Of yellow and brown.

Oh, I’m so ready. I’ve had a long, long fallow time. Maybe since 2018 or so. Life with Kate had hit its late fall, early winter. The Covid. Her decline and death. Grief. Kate, always Kate. Now less Kate and more me. Alive still.

Beltaned. My Seed beginning to unfurl, blast its way through the Soil. Drinking in the Rain. Basking in the Sun, gaining power. My own Photosynthesis. Hands out, palms up, neck back, face lifted to the warmth of a new life season. Probably my last one. The fourth phase. Joyful. Rich. Headed toward joy.

Leave no bit of juice in the tank. Spill it all on the road, running the engine as long and as far as possible. Like Ode on his long road trip. Like Neal Cassidy and Ken Kesey. Like Walt Whitman and his powerful Yap.

That’s the message of the Great Wheel. Until you fall into the soil, become one with the next generation of life, you are alive. An agent. A whole universe swirling with galaxies of love, nebula of knowledge, Big Bangs of creativity.

Contra Dylan Thomas I do want to go gently into that good night. Not as one passive and resigned, but as one filled with experience. One who took the moments and lived in them, loved in them. Shouted. Danced. Acted. One who knows the night is nothing to rage against, rather something to embrace. These element’s fallow time after their long journey as me.

So. Take off those clothes. Throw away the inhibitions and the ambitions. Open. Spread out. Jump and twirl. It’s the Beltane festival. For you and for me.

 

Education and Snow and Drugs

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: David Sanders. Rebecca. Claire. Bonnie. Elisa. Snow. Coming down hard. Shingles vaccination. Safeway pickup. Rigel’s meds. Kep’s good appetite. Kabbalah Experience. Their classes. The kitchen. Mostly remodeled. The Mountain roads in the Snow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Language, mediator or creator? Or both?

Tarot:

 

2/2/22 -4

Today. Trash out early in advance of snow too deep to move the bins through. First push for Vince, tomorrow. See how he’ll do. I’m hopeful.

Talked about soul mates in Torah and the Stars. Is there some one, perhaps only one, who can complete you? Kate considered me her soul mate and I considered her mine. Took me a lot of relationships to find her. Worth it. In the class following Torah and the Stars,  Sefer Yetzirah II, David Sanders quoted Eric Fromm: love is being committed to the growth of another. Excellent. Kate and I fit that definition in so many ways.

It also allows for the sort of love I have with Kep and Rigel, with my ancient brothers, with Jon, Ruth, and Gabe. The sort of love that CBE has shown to me.

I felt energized after the two classes. I needed it because I still had to go back to Safeway, after a jaunt there around 8:30 am to pickup groceries and drop Rigel’s prescriptions at the pharmacy. After Mark Odegard’s bout of shingles, I committed myself to getting the vaccine(s). Did it. Got the first one. Two months later, the second one.

Picked up Rigel’s meds, muscle relaxant and oxy, got a poke in the right arm. Which hurt, btw. Came back home.

Next up tomorrow: getting started on kitchen reorganization. I plan to savor the opportunity to organize plates and silverware, herbs and spices, bread box and coffee maker. Getting them in places that will not recreate the clutter I had before the work began. When I see how long that will take, not long I imagine, I’ll call Modern Bungalow and schedule the furniture delivery.

Ellen Arnold, Jamie’s mother, served on a subcommittee of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) vetting the new social studies standards for Colorado Schools. She asked those of us in the Thursday mussar group to read the ADL’s positions and to comment to the school board.

This is what I submitted:

As an old man who’s seen the changes in our country since the early 1960’s, I’m proud to be part of a state that takes history seriously. But.

The ADL’s comments on these revisions, which I have read and with which I agree, make me remember the adage that history is written by winners. While this may be true in the short term, the job of historians and educators is to balance the winner’s version with the facts of how others were affected by the winner’s victories.

This would include at least the facts about Native American deaths and cultural cancellation by the United States Government. It would include at least information about slavery congruent with the information in the New York Time’s 1619 project. It would include factual information about the Yellow Peril era and the subsequent incarceration of Japanese Americans during WWII. It would include factual information about US colonialism in the Philippines. It would include information about the Holocaust, Nazi’s, and other genocides that have occurred, e.g.the Armenian, the Rwandan, and the Cambodian.

This is far from trivial. The history that we learn in school becomes the bedrock against which we measure the veracity of competing claims in political campaigns, in discussions with friends, in making business decisions.

The trust given to you is not only to the truth, although it should first be that, but it is also a trust given to you by those not educated, by those not born, by all of us who need informed fellow citizens to make our democracy work. Don’t put the shackles on young minds. Set them free with the truth. Please.

Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend

Yule and the Winter Solstice Moon

Max on the Winter Solstice

Tuesday gratefuls: My slab, all fabricated, comes home. Jodi and Blue Mountain Kitchens. Jon. Birthday dinner at the Black Hat tonight. The darkest, longest, deepest night. Yule. The Winter Solstice. First tarot reading. Max, growing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fabrication

Tarot: going to create my first Celtic holiday spread, a Winter Solstice one. I’ll report later. This is the first day in my year long study of the Wildwood deck in particular and Tarot in general.

 

The quartzite fabricator has met his schedule, bless him. He will be here today to put in my new counter top. This is the piece I chose, the more expensive one, because I didn’t want the next few years working on a counter top I’d settled for. Excited to see it in place. Coming around 9 or 10.

Brian, the cabinet maker? Not so much. Looks like the promise of my kitchen coming home by Christmas ain’t gonna happen. My friendly cynic Alan predicted this. I chose to believe. Sigh.

I have asked Jodi if she can have Bowe come and connect my new sink and dishwasher if we’re going past this week.

 

Jon and I will attempt a reprise of the birthday dinner. I’m looking forward to it. Black Hat Cattle Company. I’ve had great meals and horrible meals there. Hope this is a good one. Planning to try to get a better bead on how he’s doing, where he’s going. With the family in the picture I’m feeling easier about him and about us.

 

Did my first ever Tarot reading yesterday for Luke, the Executive Director of Beth Evergreen. The Tree of Life spread I learned from Mark Horn. It was both harder and easier than I had imagined.

Harder in that I kept wondering what I’d say next. Each card has its own meaning and that meaning has a link with the sephirot on which it falls. My knowledge of the cards is still very sketchy and my knowledge of kabbalah, though better, is very far from deep.

Easier in that I found I could go from the images on the card and my understanding of the sephirot to questions that brought a point of reflection home to Luke. I think I talked too much and knew too little. Other than that, I’d give myself an attaboy for the first reading.

 

The Winter Solstice. The beginning of Yule. It’s my favorite time of the year! Darkness. Gets a bad rap. The longest night is as important to our soul as the longest day is to our crops. I think of this day as the culmination of the promise made on September 29th, the Saint’s Day of the Archangel Michael: This is the springtime of the soul!

As the darkness and cold of winter offers us a chance to sit by the fire, get warm, read, dream, the longest night offers us a chance to go as deep as we can into the inner structure of our becoming. Yes. Of course. You can do so at other times; but this day, this night reminds us of how deep we can go, how much of our life happens in darkness occulted even to our own consciousness.

Since I left the Christian ministry in 1991, I’ve stayed steadfast against transcendence as a spiritual goal. It takes us up and out of ourselves, away from this reality, away from life. It also reinforces the idea of a three-story universe with good heaven, to be suffered through earth, and a bad hell. And, with the Roman Catholic hierarchy leading us toward heaven, it has reinforced the patriarchy of Western culture.

In rebelling against transcendence I chose to go down and in, rather than up and out for spiritual sustenance. I wanted to sanctify this world, this place that we know. Existence before essence. That meant I wanted to know what happened in the interior of my life, how it could inform my journey.

So happened that the Great Wheel came into my life at the same time. When I started to write novels, Kate suggested I find something close to me as subject matter. At the time I was learning about the Correls, my Irish ancestors from County Wicklow. I chose to look into the Celts, their history, their mythology, their religion.

I learned so much. The Faery Faith, by Edward Evans-Wentz, took me into the daily, seasonal lives of 19th century Celts still involved with the auld religion. The holidays like Beltane and Samain, Lughnasa. My first awareness of them from this exploration.

Then I discovered the Great Wheel. The expanded Celtic calendar of holidays that includes the solar holidays, equinoxes and solstices, with the cross-quarter holidays peculiar to the Celts: Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnasa, and Samain.

The Great Wheel was the key that unlocked the door to my new spiritual path. It’s seasonal and I’m a Midwestern boy attuned to their changes as they relate to the agricultural year. The Great Wheel is an agricultural calendar so it matched my lived experience in the corn and beans belt of central Indiana.

Now, thirty years plus later, I’m growing beyond my rebellion against transcendence. I still don’t want or need its reinforcement of patriarchy, of hierarchy. But. Transcendence can place us in this interconnected web of evolution, a literally universal process happening both in us and outside of us. Transcendence can be the way we come out of the comfort of our own interior to interact with the ongoingness of all things.

The Summer Solstice, the longest day, the promise of the Sun’s energy delivered to plants so that our lives might be sustained, is the holiday of transcendence. A time when we go beyond ourselves, feel beyond ourselves. Live in the web aware of the web.

The Winter Solstice, the longest night, the promise of fecund darkness, of fallow times, of the life that gathers in the dark world of the top six inches of soil, reminds us of our precious particularity, our uniqueness, our once and only time. We go down, down into what Ira Progoff called the Inner Cathedral. We knit together our shadow, our unconscious, our consciousness, go down the inner Holy Well that connects each of us to the collective unconscious. We knit them together, see them for the whole, the distinctive pattern, that is our Self. It’s a both/and, our uniqueness and our can’t get away from it interconnectedness.

Gone on too long. Sorry about that. Can’t wait for night to fall. This night, this Holy, Sacred, Blessed night.

 

 

The Continuing Crisis

Samain and the Winter Solstice Moon

Saturday gratefuls: The Blues shabbat. Kate. Alan. Jamie. Luke. Orgovyx by Fedex. The assistance fund. Prostate cancer. Artificial knee. The lenses in my eyes from cataract surgery. That mended Achilles tendon. My paralyzed diaphragm, left side. Medicine. Zoom. Ruby with a full tank of gas. Cold weather. Snowpack numbers up.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Conflict. Creative tension.

Tarot: ?What do I need to get the most out of this weekend?

Ace of Vessels: The Waters of Life. King of Stones: Wolf. Nine of vessels: Generosity.

 

3 generations of our family

A three card spread asking the question above occupies most of this post. It’s below. The focus is on Jon and his continuing crisis. Once again the cards evoke archetypal energies, caused reflection at a deep level, and remind all of us involved, Jon and the Johnson sisters and me, to be aware of emotional traps.

Blues Shabbat last night at CBE. I zoomed since it started at 7:30 pm and my chariot transforms to pumpkinhood around 8 pm. Makes attendance at Friday shabbat services a challenge for me. Rabbi Jamie wrote a couple of blues songs and wrote new lyrics to old standards like Stormy Weather. The CBE band had a keyboardist/vocalist, a backup singer, harmonica, drums, and lead guitar.

I appreciated the effort, but the sound on my laptop and the difficulty of getting good sound from the sanctuary to those of us online made listening difficult. I also wish the blues had been more reflective of Jews’ long struggle for safety and community. A little too upbeat for me. But the online crowd loved the show.

Had lunch with Alan. He’s in between eyeballs with cataract surgery. And wondering if some changes are permanent. We’ll find out. I always leave lunch with Alan smiling.

At the shiva for Kate he told me, “It’s going to be my job to get you out of the house.” He’s been true to his word. His kindness and consistency since then has helped me. A lot.

Got in my workout. A new practice now. I look at the day either the night before or the morning of and choose a time during the day for exercise. It has worked so far. When I had a rigid schedule, which I preferred, at least until now, I would be negative when I missed a day. And, I missed some, sometimes a whole week, like last week. I don’t want the negative so I’m going to try some flexibility and being good with what I can get in. My goal is 300 minutes a week. Satisfied with 240. OK with getting some exercise in a tough week no matter the minutes.

Today and tomorrow are study days in addition to family and Ancient Brothers time. Looking forward to it all.

 

The Path to a good weekend:

@willworthingtonart

Ace of Vessels. Vessels go with the elemental water. Water in the Tarot is emotions. This ace of vessels reminds me that I need to avoid extreme emotions, remain balanced in my response. An important reminder since I have a meal with Jon and the kids at 3:15. And, on Sunday, the Johnson sisters and I zoom with Jon to talk about his financial crisis and how to help him through it. Balanced emotions, clear expression of them, will be key for Jon to get what he needs and for us to do what we can without enabling him. No to enmeshment, co-dependence. Yes to chesed.

@willworthingtonart

King of Stones Stones are with the elemental earth. Earth is the practical, the this-worldly, the reality we can touch and feel. The Wolf is leader of the pack, one who protects, defends, and disciplines. Jon’s crisis calls for protection and defense of him and of the grandkids. We, his family, can do that best by a conservative approach with money, a generous approach with kindness and love. Our response, and his, must be practical, helpful, and timely. The Wolf also reminds us that each of us must make our own way in the Wildwood, but that we can’t do that alone.

@willworthingtonart

Nine of Vessels As the pip cards increase in number so do their expression of the key aspects of their suit. Our emotional response to this weekend must be generous. Kind. Protective. We must all guide ourselves and our emotional response with generosity. Not sure what that generosity looks like in action. TBD. But the nine of vessels in this position means it is the action most needed for a good weekend.

Overall  Jon’s situation will bring us closer together as a family. Potentially. If we avoid blaming, anger, disappointment, and yet insist on accountability, responsibility then we can avoid the emotional traps inherent in this kind of discussion. What comes needs to have clarity for Jon and for the family. It needs to give him support and protect the health of the pack, the family. These may be in conflict and will require careful, honest, open conversation. But. If we proceed from a position of generosity of spirit, generosity of attention, and generosity of resources, then all of us can come away from this weekend feeling good about our family and ourselves.