A 21st Century Family Circus

Imbolc    Waning Wild Moon

Last week Frank and I headed for Blue Cloud Abbey on Thursday.  It is now the next Sunday.  That’s ten days.  It feels as if the time warped around me and a week somehow got lost in the process.  Learning how to cope with intermitent vertigo has absorbed a lot of physical and mental energy.

It does not surprise me now, or make do something drastic out of fear; but, it does distract me and drains energy.  I imagine that will lessen with experience.  At some point, it should recede completely.  I’ll be glad.

Our grand-daughter, Ruth, is three.  She asks her parents to talk to Minnesota Grandma then refuses to come to the computer.  A real 21st century family circus.  She’s a cutey, but she has a stubborn streak.  Yes, it’s part of being three, but it’s also part of being a Johnson.  Trust me on this one.

All this technology has changed our lives in ways subtle and obvious and has done so in a short period of time, less than 20 years:  cell phones, personal computers and the internet, applications to link us with loved ones faraway, even overseas.  I have a wireless weather station and a programmable treadmill.

Coming to consciousness after a subliminal ten days.  Bye for now.

Heart Block Quilt

Imbolc          Waning Wild Moon

The retreat followed by the tilt-a-whirl put me way behind on my Sierra Club blogging and research. It took me all day yesterday to catch up.  It was weird because I found the scrolling lines of words on the computer screen necessitated my stopping for a moment every now and then.

Now I’m caught up, I have my new HP mini-computer, a netbook, to take the capitol and I’m raring to go.  Next week, live from the state capitol, Ancientrails and the Northstar Blog.

I’m still behind in some other ways but I’ll catch up over the weekend.  No big worries.

Kate and I got an A+ at our accountants, who says we have done a knock-out job on our money.  I think she’s right.

After that meeting we went over to Kate’s clinic.  There she presented the heart block quilt to her colleague, Dick Mestrich.  Each person in the room had received a blank heart on a quilt block, made by Kate.  They filled it with a personal message.  He has cancer and was visible moved during the presentation of the quilt.

Kate has a wonderful, personal touch with folks and she knows how to use her sewing skills to make others smile.  A gift to the world.  Lucky I’m married to her.

Tilt-A-Whirl Day 3

Imbolc     Full Wild Moon

69 computers missing from nuclear weapons lab
by JOAN LOWY, Associated Press Writer Joan Lowy, Associated Press Writer – 2 hrs 5 mins ago

Nothing classified.  So they said.  What else would you say?

I’m now in day 2 after the tilt-a-whirl.  After sleeping last night, I swayed and so did the room when I got up.  Stomach flipped and flopped a bit.  My nap went by the way so I would not have to lie down and get back up.  As the day wore on, I began to feel better and better.

Tomorrow we see one of our financial advisers.  Later, Kate will give a very sweet quilt she conceived and managed.  It’s full of hearts written with messages for Dick, a colleague struggling with multiple myeloma.

Now, back to sleep and to reset my labyrinth to its whirl position.  Sigh.

The Tilt-A-Whirl and the Labyrinth

Imbolc    Full Wild Moon

When I woke up yesterday, my right eye began to jiggle back and forth.  The room began to sway.  OMG as the kid’s say.  I stumbled to the bathroom, hitting a painting on the wall.  My insides tried to come outside and a cold, clammy sweat broke out all over my body.  Yikes!

At first I thought.  Flu.  So I waited for everything to calm down.  Everything did not calm down.  That was I hollered for Kate.  “Kate!”

She came and took in what was going on.  “Smile for me.”  she said.  A peculiar response unless your spouse has a medical degree.  I smiled my most winning smile.  “That’s a test for stroke.”  Oh.  I passed.   Thank god.

“Where’s your blood pressure cuff?”  I keep one to take my pressure every now and then.  She got it.  122/62.  Strange for a guy with essential hypertension.  But good news to her.

She had me diagnosed.  Labyrinthitis.  A viral infection of the inner ear that plays havoc with balance.  Each time I moved my body put me into state I had experienced in full only once before.  That time came when I found myself in an airplane bathroom during  high turbulence.  The stewardesses though I was having a heart attack.  Hell, so did I.  But not Kate.  She got me a wheel chair, we got off the plane and waited until I calmed down.

This deal though did not allow the body to calm down.  I had one position that did not produce vertigo and nausea.  I stayed in for the whole day.

Kate got me some fancy anti-emetics that helped a lot.  She said it would lift in a day and it has.  I can move around now, but slowly.  And, oh, by the way she also said, “You can’t drive for six weeks.”  Six weeks!

Well, better grounded than dead, I always say.

One more piece:  the Jungian in me jumped at the chance to read the article on Jewish labyrinths in the new Parabola that came the same day.  More on that later.

Of Monks and Men and Woolly Mammoths, Too

Imbolc   Waxing Wild Moon

Blue Cloud Abbey

We met with five monks:  Fathers Michael and Chris, Brothers Bob and Benet and Abbot Denis.   The conversation had a lot of heart, touching on why each of us belonged–and continued to belong–to our respective communities.

We discussed with them the creation of a rule, a Way of the Woolly Mammoth.  If done well and distributed widely, it might have an impact on those men who now live solitary male lives.  A solitary male life, we believe, is the norm.

As Father Michael suggested, the man who says his wife is his best friend puts a burden on the marriage relationship.  That is, in fact, a solitary male life with work and family being places where the man has definition by role:  husband, employee or owner, but has no place  as a man.   This may seem peculiar or idiosyncratic to our perspective, but we know the richness of having significant male relationships held together over time.

That richness informs the gender specific aspects of our life by giving back to those roles a renewed sense of what it is to be a man, a man in whole, in relationship with a woman or a business or another partner.  A renewed sense of what it means to be a father, grandfather, uncle or mentor also grows with organic vitality from this soil.

More on this later.

Tonight We Dance On The Prairie

Imbolc     Waxing Wild Moon

Blue Cloud Abbey            Marvin, South Dakota

A group of about 30 Missouri Synod Lutheran church women have come for retreat.  Their energy differs from ours.   A lot.

Frank played a wonderful adagio movement by a Spanish composer named Rogdriguez.  A very moving piece.

We have a conversation started about a Woolly Way, a brief evocative expression of our Tao.   Our 20 + years together commend us by their evidence of stablity, intention, commitment.  We have never tried to spread or split ourselves, though we have taken on the occasional international associates.  We have two in St. Petersburg and one somewhere else I can’t recall right now.

Blue Cloud Abbey has a distinctive Plains Indian imprint.  The American Indian Cultural Resource center has a collection of Lakota beadwork, parfleching and quill work that contains several museum quality pieces.

The Wild Moon has grown fat, swelling almost full.  It colors the clouds and gives the night sky a romance.  Venus also hangs in the northern sky.   Here the sky runs on and on, the earth gives little obstacle to the eye.  The spirit takes a breath here, fills my lungs with the light of the Wild Moon.  Tonight we dance on the prairie, the wind in our hair and moonlight shining out through our eyes.

At Blue Cloud Abbey

Imbolc      Waxing Wild Moon

Somewhere in the Coteau Hills.  Blue Cloud Abbey sits on a prominence great enough to give a view of the plains in all directions.  To the east, back toward the Twin Cities, the city of Milbank glimmers in the night.

We have been here since last night, Thursday and will stay through breakfast on Sunday.  This retreat has a much freer form than our usual scheduled time with each person.  Much has been said already, enough to make the heart open and tears to flow.

More on that at another time.

The Abbot spoke briefly to us at lunch yesterday.  He said they had an interest in us, the Woolly Mammoths, since we, too, are men on a journey together, a fraternity.  His comments have sparked some interesting thoughts already.

Later, I’ll tell you of Frank and mine’s encounter with Bud of Peterson Earth Movers.  Time to huddle up.

Blue Cloud Abbey

Imbolc      Waxing Wild Moon

The next 3 days + I will be on retreat at Blue Cloud Abbey in Marvin, South Dakota.   The annual gathering of the Woolly Herd finds in eastern South Dakota at a Benedectine Abbey.  As usual, what the retreat will be like hides behind the curtain of our relationships.

My part will consist in a reprise of the 25 random things about me exercise for everyone and discussion of an article on solitude in the cyber age (the Deresiewicz piece I mentioned here) and an Economist article, The Frat Boy Goes Home, about the departure of GW.

On a personal note I plan to focus on my non-existent meditative and contemplative life.   Both meditation and contemplation have been, at various times, part of my spiritual practice, but have fallen away in the last few years, fallen away it seems in favor of a more tactile devotional form:  gardening.  I also have to consider, however, the Deresiewicz possibility, which is that my life has flattened out as I have gone more cyber, that I have pulled my root system up to a different layer of the soil.

What I do know for sure is that I want some more contemplation and meditation in my life.  This retreat is an opportunity to get going again.

I’m So Happy

Imbolc      Waxing Wild Moon

The sun set bathed in salmon robes.  The temperature has gone up; the wind has quieted.  There is still a faint light as we move toward full darkness.

Most of the day today I worked on the Sierra Club blog.  Boy, do I feel in over my head.  Just like last fall with the political committee, only this time I have an actual responsibility.  I’ve got to get up to speed on both the Club’s campaigns, complex in some instances, like Building Sensible Communities, and I also have to know the on-the-ground work at the capitol.  So far I’ve not figured a good method for doing either.

All of which, oddly enough, makes me happy.  It means that I’m into something with sufficient complexity and importance to demand all of me.  Art history has me the same way, as did religion and neighborhood politics before them.