Furnace Trouble

Winter                                                                   Cold Moon

Of course, the only time you’re going to learn that your furnace has problems is in the winter.  So in that sense it’s no surprise that I’m sitting up waiting on some repair technician who has to work late on Sunday night, Super Bowl Sunday night.

(what our furnace is not doing)

Our home has good insulation and we keep it cool to begin with, so we’re not suffering in any way; but, it wouldn’t be good for this to go on for a long while.  It’s 10 degrees out now. At least it’s not last week when we were looking at -15.

You can just hear the Lakota and the Ojibwe, the pioneers and other early settlers chortle at any discomfort we have in homes of solid construction, with insulation of R-50 or better, central heating and cooling, indoor plumbing.  Can you imagine living in a log cabin or a sod hut when the temperature hits 30 below or more?  I can’t.

The really good news for us is that we have a reliable company that we’ve used for many years.  Centerpoint energy dispatched a person when I called around 7 pm.  Heat out is an emergency call here, but there are always multiple furnaces out.  So, you get in line.  Right now I’m supposed to hear before midnight.  Maybe.  It depends on how long it took to solve the person’s problem before us.  And you want them to solve the problem.

So. You wait and are happy to have someone to wait for.

Turned the Face Away

Winter                                                                          Cold Moon

Business meeting this am.  Then more picture organizing.  Out to lunch at Osaka’s for the sashimi appetizer.  Over to Home Depot for a tour of the warehouse of the American Dream.

Sunday is a slow day.  When Kate and I went to Osaka on this Super Bowl Sunday every one of the booths had women occupying them.  I was the only y chromosome among the customers.

In the last year I’ve given up football, cable tv and carbs.  I say given up, but really what I’ve done is turned my face away from them.  I don’t feel a sense of denial in any of the three.  Strange, they all occupied such a substantial part of my pre-65 life.  And now they don’t.

Scattered Images

Imbolc                                                                                 Cold Moon

Reorganizing my fragmented collection of images.  I have a method, it works, but there are a whole lot of images.  This may take a very long time.  Worth it in the end though because I will have a well organized image resource, collected by me and easily usable.

Watched Wim Wender’s “The End of Violence” last night.  Kate likes her narrative served straight up with no sides.  This  film had oblique angels and sudden turns.  She wasn’t crazy about it, but I liked it.  It was an early post-modern film.  A film about a film about violence in which the resolution of the film destroys the protagonist’s career and liberates him at the same time.  Clever, beautiful.  Well acted.  Bill Pullman.  Andie MacDowell.  Gabriel Byrne.

Looks like the critics on Rotten Tomatoes agreed with Kate for the most part.  I write these critiques before I look up the reviews on Rotten Tomatoes.  Sort of like translating Latin before checking with an English version.

I’m in full inside mode at the moment, not moving outside for much though I do plan to visit the grocery store this afternoon.  Cold.  And our furnace is out.  Fortunately I have my own gas stove in the study.  Centerpoint is coming today.  Could be the end for the furnace; it’s 18 years old and their life-span is 15-20 years.  Sigh.

 

Imbolc: 2013

Imbolc                                                                           Cold Moon

In the early Celtic faith this day was a holy day and a market day, a cross quarter holiday that celebrated the freshening of the ewes.  When the ewes became pregnant–lamb in the belly, in the belly=imbolc, they would once again have milk, adding some variety to a food supply that had been stable since Samhain or so, the last harvest.

Brigid, the Celtic triple-goddess of hearth, smithy and inspiration, all fire related–is the goddess honored on this holiday.  She was, like so much of the old religions, hoovered up into Catholicism as St. Bridget, reportedly born of a good Christian woman and a Druid, thus straddling the transition from the old faith to the new.

She had a center at Kildare in Ireland, where the Catholics built cell dara, or cell/church of the oak.  A great oak was there.  This Cathedral of St. Bridget went up in 480 ad.  That is very early, the Roman Empire was not quite dead.  Even so, the followers of the Goddess had been there much longer, with 19 priestesses who kept lit an eternal flame.  Catholic nuns dedicated to St. Bridget kept up this practice until the Reformation era.

“On February 1, 1807 Daniel Delany, Bishop of Kildare, began the restoration of the Sisterhood of St. Brigid. Their mission was to restore the ancient order and bring back the legacy and spirit of this amazing figure. In 1993, Brighid’s perpetual flame was finally re-kindled in Kildare’s Market Square by Mary Teresa Cullen, who at that time was the leader of the Brigidine Sisters. The sacred flame was kept by the Brigidine Sisters in their home and on February 1, 2006, the flame was brought back to the center of the Market Square where it has been permanently housed in a large glass enclosed vessel.”  see website sourced above.

(Brigid’s fire temple)

There was, too, a holy well dedicated to Brigid, also in this same location.  There are holy wells all over the Celtic lands, many dedicated to gods or goddesses, others revered as places for certain kinds of prayers, both blessings and curses.  These wells have since ancient times been considered portals to Faery or to the Otherworld, thus offerings left by the wells honor those of Faery as well as those who have died.  Dressing the well makes an offering at a holy well, i.e. surrounding it with flowers, plants, homemade things.  The Celts also use strips of cloth tied onto tree or shrub branches as offerings in a fashion very similar to certain native american traditions.

Given Brigit’s triple orientation–hearth, smithy and creative inspiration–today is a day to celebrate domestic life where the fire of the kitchen activates the home, and the fire of the smithy where the tools and weapons of a life lived close to the land are shaped, and, finally, the inspiration which comes to each of us from the holy wells deep within our own being.

This is a time to stop, take a look at the home fires.  How are they?  It is also a time to think about the tools for gardening.  Are they sharp and oiled, ready for the spring.  Then, too, especially for those of us who rely on the mystery of creative inspiration, are you being careful to tend your inner well?  Keeping it dressed and well-maintained?

Off the Plateau

Winter                                                             Cold Moon

Bitter this morning.  -15.  Headed toward a high of 2.  Which we might reach and we might not.

Awake for a couple of hours in the middle of the night.  It happens.  Not often.  This morning I kept turning over ideas for rewriting Missing, rewriting ideas spurred by my beta readers. I’m not ready to get started on that because I’ve got other readers yet to report in, but already the feedback has been very helpful.  Their thoughtfulness will make for a stronger book.

This is a Latin day, a time with Greg.  I felt better translating this last chunk of Jason and Medea and the time with Greg confirmed that my skill level has begun to increase again.  I hit plateaus where I seem to slog along, not doing well, not doing poorly, then bump up to a different, higher capacity.  This was one of those days.  Feels good.

This afternoon I plan to reorganize my images.  I’m on a two-week layoff from working out due to knee pain, most likely patella-femoral syndrome.  Best treatment?  Rest.  So, I’m resting.  I don’t like it; I’m very attached to regular workouts, but the long term is more important than the short term.