Arts and Crafts Moving Tips

Summer                                                            Summer Moon

William Morris has proved helpful as I make decisions about what to move to Colorado and what we want to sell or donate. His principle, have nothing in your home which is not beautiful or useful, sound on its own in my opinion (and one I’ve honored in the breach for the most part), makes wonderful sense when sorting through, say, crystal.

If it’s elegant, graceful, clean, it goes in a box with green tape. If it was bought in a momentary enthusiasm or received as a well intended gift, red tape. Or, yellow, if we keep it for a possible garage sale. Prints, photographs, paintings will get sorted in the same way. DVD’s and books, too, for that matter. Furniture? Yes. Kitchenware? You bet. Gardening tools? Yep. Beautiful? Green tape. Nice? Red tape.

There is a category, though, that Morris doesn’t address that also has its green tape items. That groundhog headpiece that belonged to Dad? Beautiful? No. Useful? No. Memorable? Outta the park. Yes, sentimentalism will have its own share of boxes, though they will be far fewer than in times past. And, if it were possible, even the sentimental things would be either beautiful or useful, too.

Jon

Summer                                                             Summer Moon

Boy. Medicine. Trying to come to grips with Jon’s possible pulmonary hypertension. This is not a diagnosis you want. Even with advances, and they have been considerable, the fate of those with the disease have, to use Jon’s phrase, shortened horizons.

Just finished reading a 2006 article replete with medical shorthand, acronyms and formulas. I finally got it. This is a disease of the circulatory system of the lungs. Due to a variety of initial causes (and they are important in prognosis, but not diagnosis) the blood vessels in the lung become compromised, requiring increased pressure to push blood through them for its necessary oxygenation. The right ventricle of the heart pushes blood into the lung after it has been deoxygenated in its journey through the body. To produce the pressure required to pump the blood through the compromised lung circulatory system the right ventricle has to work harder (pump harder).

Due to the lung’s normally highly efficient circulatory system, the right ventricle has evolved a thinner wall than the left ventricle which pushes oxygenated blood through the body which requires greater pressure. As a result, when a diseased lung forces the thinner walled right ventricle to push harder, it eventually widens under the pressure, which makes its pumping less efficient, which makes it work even harder, which increases the dilation until the left ventricle becomes involved as the widened right impinges on it. This process defines the phrase vicious cycle. Then, at some point, the heart itself cannot produce enough pressure to effectively circulate the blood and heart failure ensues.

Treatment regimens are complex, only a few aimed at the actual problem, the circulatory system of the lungs, and all of those drastic. The advanced therapies (I don’t understand this use of the term.) are all symptomatic, that is, they reduce the load on the right ventricle by dilating blood vessels and improving circulation within the lungs, for example, but they don’t go to the problem itself and therefore ultimately prove inadequate.

So much about survival depends on etiology and we don’t know that in Jon’s case. Yet. Nor do we know to a medical certainty that he has the disease. An echocardiogram on July 1st will provide more information though catheterization of the right ventricle to determine it’s health is the final diagnostic step.

We’ll proceed as a family, figuring out what we can do for each other.

Surprise

Summer                                                               Summer Moon

Back from a birthday surprise for Carreen Heegard, fellow docent from the class of 2005. Her husband suggested that friends of Carreen show up, gradually, on a tour she was giving for friends of Elena, her daughter. And so we did.

After the tour, many of the same people drove to the Khyber Pass at the corner of Grand and Snelling in St. Paul which Eric had closed for a private party for the early afternoon.

It was a sweet time, seeing Careen surprised and her friends and family pleased at her surprise. It also gave me a chance to reconnect with friends Tom Byfield, Joanne Platt and Kathleen Rothenberger. Regular engagement with the art and with the friends who love it has trailed off since I left the program. It was good to be in the museum again and see Carreen, Tom, Joanne, Kathleen, as well as Bill Bomash and Cheryl Barnes who were at the tour.

Happy birthday next month, Carreen!

Summer Solstice 2014

Summer Solstice                                                         Summer Moon

At 5:51 am the sun reached its full height in the sky, full, that is, for the 45th latitude, 69 degrees above the horizon. That means more solar energy per square foot on the ground and rising temperatures to follow in July and August. It also means the rain soaked plants here in Minnesota will finally begin to get the attention they need to grow tall and produce big fruit. Yes, today is the summer solstice.

This day, like the winter solstice, is an ancient holiday, born of fear and hope, awe and wonder, the basic ingredients, according to Rudolf Otto, of the holy. At the summer solstice the hope was for warmth to heal bones chilled by winter’s cold and sunlight to ensure a good harvest, whether food was gathered or grown. The fear, the opposite of that at the winter solstice when many feared the sun might never return, leaving the world to freeze, with food gone, was that the sun would come too close, stay high too long and burn the earth, scorch it with an intensity neither plant nor animal could survive.

In this way these two markers of the solar system’s formative years, when the orbits of the planets stabilized around their mother and father, Sol, could be seen as an early form of output produced by a very basic, but nonetheless real, computer, movement in the heavens. As this difference engine brought new information into the night sky, humans and other animals, too, sighted it and changed their lives according to its data.

If the holidays of Beltane and Samhain mark the human focused seasons, the growing sun calendarseason and the harvest season followed by the long fallow time, then the solstices mark the astronomical seasons, the season of heat and the season of cold. Together these four constitute the liturgical calendar of an earthly religion, one which honors the earth and its treasures, and a solar religion, one which honors the nuclear fusion roaring in the furnace of our star, a basic source of energy which makes the earth’s treasures accessible to our bodies.

The calendar shown here hangs on my wall, the solstices made evident by the yellow yolk displaying the hours of sunlight on a given day. The point where the yolk lies closest to the inner circle is today, the summer solstice, and the one furthest away, its polar opposite, near the top, the winter solstice.

 

This is a day to celebrate the majesty and wonder of photosynthesis, that essential transubstantiation which converts the love of the sun into foods that our bodies can consume. When you look outside today and see green, the color not absorbed by plant leaves and so left over for our eyes as a signal of the miracle, bless them. Bless the leaves and their photosynthetic work, bless the sun which powers it and the plants themselves which mediate between that work and our life. Their work is the sine qua non of our existence. And worthy of our thanks and our praise.

Little Boxes

Beltane                                                            Summer Moon

One bookshelf of DVD’s sorted into red (go), green (move). Boxes piling up. We’ll need the Sort Toss Pack folks next Friday or we’ll need a second house for the contents of this one. Hey, Warren! (a friend known for the number of homes he either wholly or partially owned)

The process of getting ready to move, living the move as I think of it, has been good for our relationship and it was already excellent. The process of unstripping one identity and its physical trappings and creating a new identity in a new place has a surprising amount of vulnerability attached. The familiar no longer soothes in quite the same way as it used to. The ease of doing our banking, visiting a pharmacy and going out for  lunch, all of which we did today, will require thought and planning a year from now. A little thing, yes, but add up the little things and they become big.

But, we are doing this together, removing our Minnesota identities while getting ready to put on Colorado ones. Of course there will be continuities, even Minnesota constants, but all will be changed. In the process our relationship is the main constant, the stable spot, yet even it will change, is changing, has been changed. This is what brings us closer together, the journey, one of our own choosing. We have made this decision and bear the consequences as well as the potentials.

Evoking Gifts

Beltane                                                              Summer Moon

To my Woolly brethren and anyone else interested. I found this on the website Watching as the Lights Go Out (link under Third Phase to the right here.)

It occurred to me that this might be a good activity for us. One person a night for the next year. This is a group method used by this man’s small church to discern talents, character traits useful for a new work they intend. It seems to me it would be useful, too, for us (the Woolly Mammoths) as a group since we know each other so well now.  Let me know what you think.

“…we spend over an hour per person in evoking their individual gifts. By “evoking gifts” we mean discerning each person’s specific characteristics and abilities…  This past Saturday was my turn.  We went around the circle, and each person described the gifts they saw in me.  It’s an amazing experience!  How often do we affirm the value of one another?”

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

Beltane                                                                         Summer Moon

Got to thinking about the standing on the shoulders of giants meme. It’s a great contribution of Isaac Newton, a quotable polymath and giant like last century’s Albert Einstein. The more I thought about it though the less satisfied I was with it.  [Blind Orion Searching for the Rising Sun (Poussin, 1658)]

It introduces a necessary humility to any advancement in human thought, emphasizing the debt owed to the past. But. It seems to me a forest works better.

The giants of the past remain just that. The General Shermans, the Methuselahs of the forest, but they protect the growth of new, younger saplings and smaller giants who grow up among them. They are nourished from the same soil, in the case of Newton and Einstein, western civilization, and they don’t disappear under a long chain of legs and heads and shoulders, but remain in their place, already tall, eternal and the guarantors of the forest itself.

Too, I can easily imagine my own journeys into these groves, wandering among woodlands growing since the days of classical Athens, old kingdom Egypt, republican Rome, the Renaissance. And consider Newton. Perhaps the mythical apple tree of his life might have been the Islamic scientist Averroes.

This ancestral forest lies just beyond the edge of this material reality, its sylvan nature dependent no longer on the laws of physics but on the memories of the future. We are its caretakers, responsible for its continued health.

 

Beltane’s Last Day

Beltane                                                            Summer Moon

The last day of Beltane. The growing season comes reliably during Beltane, if not by the more ancient date of May 1. We’ve had a weird Beltane this year with rains and more rains. Wet. Drought out. Water in. I’m not unhappy with the amount of wet yet since no fungus or other wet related diseases have shown up.

The peppers still look a bit peaked, but I anticipate both they and the tomatoes will pick up once the heat starts to come in earnest. The garlic has thrown up scapes, so we’ll have a nice dish with garlic scapes and greens, the first harvest of the new gardening year. Some strawberries, too. They dot the ground and the raised bed with their bright red.

 

Here and There

Beltane                                                                     Summer Moon

Whoa. Up early. Like a farmer. Getting outside to drench and spray the crops. Later today 500P1030729Kate and I are going to do some sort toss packing, stuff we need to make decisions about  together.

Still in a here and there mood with the garden. Here, I’m following a rhythm of treatments to optimize the food quality and soil improvement for this year’s crop (and next year’s, too, with the soil improvement). There, after this growing season, or part of the next, we’ll be gone, the care of the soil and the crops it is willing to produce will go over to someone else. An unknown someone. That’s a strange feeling.

A Hole

Beltane                                                              Summer Moon

Sometimes these moments reach out, grab a part of you unexpectedly. Evoke a feeling long forgotten. In unusual places. Kate and I went to see How to Train Your Dragon 2, better than the first installment and worth seeing for any proud Scandinavian. It’s a touching story, dramatic and funny by turns with a quality of animation that shows how far we’ve come since Bugs Bunny and Woody Woodpecker. If you have a kid in your life, see it. If you have a kid left in your heart, see it.

Here’s what got me. Spoiler alert. Hiccup, the lead character, a boy just grown into young manhood (since his youth in the first picture) meets a mystery figure who loves and helps dragons, just like he does. The surprise is that she’s his mother, thought dead. There was a scene where this animated mother reached out and hugged her 20 year old boy for the first time since he was in the cradle.

A sudden wave of longing swept over me. For a second it was my mother, met again, reaching her hand out, a hug, the smell of her hair. The feeling rose from somewhere long forgotten. To be hugged by my mother. I miss it. Still. At 67 and her having been dead for IMAG016150 years this October. It reminded me of the hole I’ve lived around, never filled since her death and of the simple joys not possible for all those years.

It’s not regret nor nostalgia nor something I even wish for, just a hole, the hole that death leaves. And yet in its own way it was affirming. I loved my mother and I know she loved me. I know, if we found ourselves together, even over this long span of years, that she would hug me and caress my cheek. Kiss me. Tell me she was proud of me. That was her way. And, thankfully, I’m sure she would be proud of me.