Beltane                                                        New (Summer) Moon

We’ve located a realtor and have a second move manager, SortTossPack, coming out next Monday to show us their services. The goal this month is to get the garage done. In June we’ll do the financial consultations to see what our overall budget will be for the move. We’ll also move on to one room in the house and finish the sheds. Meanwhile, the garden.

Tackling the garage has kept me in the here and now. Nothing like a drill, sledge hammer and crowbar to focus the mind. I can see the benefit in working with tools. They demand your attention.

 

 

Boards Darkened With Soil and Sand and Oil

Beltane                                                             New (Summer) Moon

Continued the deconstruction of the dog feeding stalls. Jon’s design was elegant and well executed. He put love into it for those dogs. That was in the time of the Irish Wolfhounds Morgana, Tira, Tully and for a brief while Scot (who died too young of hemangiosarcoma). It was also while the whippets Iris and Buck were still alive. (I think, my memory of the exact co-residence of our dogs is a bit fuzzy.)

As I removed the bones of the stalls and the doors into them, I stood inside the wooden structures, each about two and a half feet wide. It was then that memories began to surf my mood. The wood inside these crates has darkened, oil and sand and soil rubbed off on them while an eager animal ate their breakfast or their supper. There were, too, tooth marks on some of them, probably a dog frustrated with waiting for food or to be released back into the yard.

Their big furry heads would stick out of the sliding feeding doors, looking up with that quizzical where’s my food look that dogs have perfected through long years of living with humans. Those days the panting of the Wolfhounds filled the air with a sweet odor and the sound of them eating gladdened my heart. That time is long past, but the boards in the stalls look like stalls in barns, places where animals have been, pressing up against them and leaving the permanent record of their existence.

Water, Water, Not Everywhere A Drop To Drink

Beltane                                                             New (Summer) Moon

Some rain. Glad to see it. Our irrigation system gets started today, my attempt to do it proved futile. Irrigation smooths out the rain here in Minnesota, covers the droughty patches in midsummer. Thankfully we have our own well in an aquifer that gets recharged quickly by groundwater thanks to the sandy soil here on the Great Anoka Sand Plain.

Water has a very different profile in Colorado and the western states. Learning water ways will require attention and persistence, one of the more difficult transitions. Out there it’s not only rainfall, but snowpack that determines water availability and the law that determines how it can be used.

Now, back to deconstructing the dog feeding stall.

What Are Holidays For?

Beltane                                                           New (Summer) Moon

After reading Tom Crane’s comment on a post below, it occurred to me that the real purpose of holidays lies beneath their stated or claimed or even observed intent. A holiday keeps culturally important matters available to us, so that we may consider the deeper questions that they raise.

No matter that it may seem to have one purpose, in this case remembering those who die in warfare, Memorial Day actually keeps vital the debate over war itself and the terrible price it exacts. Or July 4th. Celebration of the birth of the nation, a national festival for honoring our country. Yes, it has that intent. But it also keeps alive awareness of the nature of the nation state and affords an opportunity to examine that curious phenomenon, so important to public affairs of the last 3 centuries.

Labor Day. Yes, today it seems to be little more than the transition from summer to fall, although the occasional parade, the more frequent speech will say laudatory things about working and workers. Yet, Labor Day also keeps before us the difficult question of the relationship of labor to capital. Its observance says yes, this is an important conversation about our commonweal.

Try out this way of thinking by considering MLK Day, President’s Day, Halloween, Christmas, Easter. They are all more than they seem.

 

Deconstruction

Beltane                                                             Emergence Moon

More sorting, moving, discarding. Kate cleans and organizes, I move things, applying what muscle I have to the work. Today I began dismantling the five-stall dog feeding station that we used when our pack was at its largest, ten years or so ago. The dogs would come out, go in their individual stalls, I would lock them in and then pour out their food into bowls. The stalls kept feeding dish aggression to a minimum. We haven’t used it for a long time, but when we had the most dogs we needed it.

Jon built it and he did a careful, thorough job, as a Johnson (Kate’s side of his family) would. Since he used mostly screws, the taking apart is less destruction and more deconstruction. Very literary.

We’re at it, pushing the tasks ahead at a reasonable pace, gaining momentum as we go, each task accomplished making the next one that much easier. And, our load is lighter. The stuff has thinned already and we haven’t even moved inside yet.

We have our differences, mostly about the sequence in which things need to get done, but we negotiate those. These tasks are keeping me in the now. I’m present to and inhabiting the move.

Vision

Beltane                                                          Emergence Moon

When Kate was in high school, she was ready to graduate a year ahead of time. She had gotten agreement that she would take classes at nearby Iowa State. Then the school backed out of the agreement.

When she applied to medical school, she was told that her husband was already a doctor. Why did she want to be a doctor, too? She went anyway, studying in the early morning hours, so she could continue to be a wife and mother.

When she was the lead physician among pediatricians at the Allina Coon Rapids Clinic, she saw the need for evening hours, for pediatricians and family practice doctors working closely together. She saw the speed-ups underway with scheduling crowding appointment times and doctor visits measured by demeanor rather than medical results. She got angst and a bad back for her efforts.

She is a woman of vision, able to see, as the old testament prophets did, ahead. She was born just a few years before she could have been heard more clearly, yet she now has the satisfaction of looking back and being affirmed that her seeing was clear. I’m proud to be the husband of a woman who can see the horizon. And beyond.

Allowed?

Beltane                                                                Emergence Moon

Kate and I drove on a blue highway, Minnesota Highway #10, from near our home here in Andover to Detroit Lakes, then, after the wedding turned around and drove back. Along the way, when I mentioned my driving “to get there a little faster,” Kate surprised me by saying, “Well, I’ve only recently been allowed to drive when we’re together.”

Allowed? This stubborn Norwegian woman, whose eyes have seen far ahead all of her life, further than life could take her, most of the time, felt the need to be allowed? That set me back and I knew it was true. As she’d pointed out a couple of years ago, I always drove. Never any question about it. And, as with most deep seated discriminatory impulses, her driving had never crossed my mind.

She drove to Denver a couple of years ago and reported that her back felt much better than when she rode. I said, “Well, you should drive then.” Guess that’s when she was allowed. This is not an easy thing for me to admit, since I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to eliminate discrimination, especially sexism and racism, in the institutions in which I’ve worked and the communities in which I’ve lived. But there it was, staring back at me from the driver’s seat.

I’ve gotten use to the passenger’s seat over the last year and a half or so. It was a transition and one I’m glad I’ve made. I can see more, enjoy the trips more. Shows you what you miss when you drive with blinders on.

 

A Wedding

Beltane                                                       Emergence Moon

White chairs set out by the lakeside. A metal frame holding white bunting and an autumn hued bouquet. Cirrus clouds wrote wispy notes in a bright sky, the blue of late afternoon in the north. Yes, it was a wedding. And the groomsmen and the bridesmaids, the groom and the bride, all so very young. So innocent with no sense of the gravity of what they did, only the hope that love whispers, a promise of life ahead, together.

Chaska and Paul. A young woman, born in Peru, raised in Edina by friends of mine, Lonnie and Stefan, now old enough to marry and have a house, already, in Richfield. Life already sending down tentative roots here. Right here.

Wedded at a resort well-known for its cross-country skiing and well-used by the Helgeson family, only this weekend, a Memorial day weekend, it was Helgeson specific not for skiing but for these two. This is Maplelag, far up in northern and western Minnesota, near Detroit Lakes and New York Mills, land long ago scraped flat by the original Caterpillar, the Wisconsin glaciation, then  pock marked with deep depressions, now some of the many, many lakes that dot the state.

They used the old vows, the traditional ones, and the language of the wedding was familiar, not Christian, but still the words used often in non-Christian ceremonies. The wedding rings are circles, infinite in line and like the love being celebrated. That sort of thing. A bit stale but warm and heartening, much like the chicken-fried steak I had at Nelson’s in Clear Lake on the way back home.

 

Trying a New Style

Beltane                                                                    Emergence Moon

OdieThese days my hero is a Norwegian (no surprise there) named Knausgård, whose six volume (so far) novel, My Struggle, has sold 500,000 copies in Norway where there are only 5 million people. His work, which I purchased last year and have not yet begun to read, recounts his life in a style more novelistic than memoir, not told in linear fashion, but through broad themes which nonetheless illustrate his life as it goes.

In spite of not yet reading them (and I will) Knausgård is my hero because his style sounds surprisingly similar to the work I do here, in this blog. Similar is the key word, because I’ve not been as brave as he is (I think he is from accounts.), nor as thoughtful toward the whole. Ancientrails is non-linear, and it could have been typed on Jack Kerouac’s famous roll of paper, the one he used to pound out On the Road. (There’s, by the way, a backward link to What is your walk? Though Kerouac celebrates the American road trip by car, On the Road could work with pilgrims inch-worming their way around, say, the holy mountain of Las Vegas.)

Can I acknowledge the pain I felt last Sunday morning when my long time friend, Mark Odegard, and I exchanged sharp words about China, potentially injuring our friendship over matters neither one of us truly understands?  I went into my a, b, c, d argument mode. A. China is not historically expansionist. Mark: tell that to the Dali Lama. Oh, well. Yes, but really about border security. I don’t like it, nor do I agree with it, but it doesn’t mean China has imperial ambitions. B. China’s military has not been blooded in a war against an external enemy in a couple of thousand years (at least not much) and when they have been, they’ve lost. And our military has fought many wars in the last 100 years alone. C. We spend more on the military than China does. All this while the visualize world peace Bahai retreatants ate noisily at other tables in the Villa Maria refectory and should have told us enough. Close the ears. Hug and talk about next year’s calendar.

But. Mark went on that John McCain says. Oh, John McCain is my lodestar for China analysis. Anyway he said someone will do something irrational. China loathes Japan for the 1936 invasion, the visits to the War Shrine. Japan is fearful of an expanded China. And North Korea. He’s a wildcard. Something will spark a war. Mark might have mentioned Taiwan or the Spratly Islands. Something will happen.

I pushed back about China’s rise not being about military gains but economic ones. Or, I might have, I can’t recall exactly now, but I remember the under current of having, again, gone too far in an argument. You don’t understand where people get there information. They trust Fox News, not the New York Times. He said.

But there I’d done it. And ever since that morning I’ve hoped I’ve not permanently injured my relationship with Mark. Then, we exchanged e-mails and agreed to meet for breakfast, maybe a week or so from now. He wants to continue them he said. That sounds hopeful. I want to reach across the table and say you are more important to me than China, all of China, old friend.

This the brave, honest sort of writing I imagine Knausgård using and what I want to adopt as mine. Not Knausgård’s style, not really, not his content, not at all, but the courage to say it all, not just some of it. And to do it every day. And the why of it comes then in the words, the path of them, the walk of them across the rolls of paper that this blog represents, an ancientrail, mine, being walked in the present.

I feel like P.T. Barnum. They were a bust. I got up at 2:30 am to see broken clouds and no fire running behind them, only the big bear pointing out the north star. Oh.