Pumpkins. Gone.

Samain                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

Kate’s note to the grandkids yesterday:

peter, peter pumpkin eater
peter, peter pumpkin eater

Grandpop and Gertie and Kepler are up in the loft.

Grandma and Rigel are in bed.

The elk ate the pumpkins.

Blueberry muffins are on the stove.

 

The pumpkins got carved with much spilling of pumpkin seeds. Ruthie’s was silly and well done, Gabe’s slashing and minimalist. Overnight elk and mule deer found them. Were delighted. Only tops and one tooth grooved side of pumpkin flesh remained when we got up.

The mountains are filled with wild cousins ready to take advantage of a slight misstep. Bears will take out your garbage. Mountain lions will eat your dog. Elk and mule deer will dine on the Halloween pumpkins. And the alyssum. And the iris leaves. Scissor tailed flycatchers snap up the seeds of mature flowering plants.

We share this space. Or, they share it with us. Either way, we’re in it together.

 

New Year II

Samain                                                                            Thanksgiving Moon

streamgage-or-screamgage-happy-hallowstream-from-usgs-auxiliary-streamgage-pend-oreille-river-at-newport-waWe have reached the end of another Celtic year.  Summer’s End, Samain, marks both the end of the growing season, really, the harvest season and the beginning of a new year. Rosh Hashanah and the Gregorian New Year celebration on January 1st, like the Celtic New Year, put the marker down for a new trip around Sol either at the start of the fallow season or in its midst. In these three instances the New Year seems to suggest a season of reflection, of inner work, as the harvest ends or is well over, while fall and winter stretch ahead.

The Asian New Year’s celebration, usually in February or a bit later, like the Persian Nowruz celebrated on the Spring equinox, occur at the end of the fallow season or near it, setting the new year at the beginning of the growing season. In my case I like them all. I’ll put on a silly hat, pick up a noise maker or dance around the bonfire whenever.

Samain finds the veil between the worlds thinner, with the dead returning and the folk of Faery leaving the Other World to interact with humans. Like the day of the dead and All Soul’s Day, it’s a moment to honor the deceased, often with elaborate meals and tableaus of favorite foods, music, decor.

In the Mussar class at Beth Evergreen I identified myself as a pagan while we ate in the Sukkah. I know what I mean when I say that, but I’m not sure it’s clear to others. It does not mean, for example, that I’m a polytheist. I’m no Wiccan or Neo-Pagan, not a witch or a warlock. I’ll not be saying Blessed Be with a coven tonight.

quote_twothingsSo, what does my celebration of the Great Wheel mean? I began thinking about the Great Wheel when I chose to embrace my Celtic ancestry: Welsh and Irish. This was when I began writing novels a millennia ago in the 1990’s. As Kate and I began to garden seriously, joining our lives to the seasonal rhythms of the earth and its weather, the Great Wheel began to live. Time became, as it has remained for me, a spiral, a turning and returning to Beltane and the start of the growing season, to Samain, Summer’s End, and the end of the harvest.

To be a pagan as I understand it is to live into the Great Wheel, into the spiral turning of the seasons, to know the cycles of plant growth and harvest for what they are, the true transubstantiation, the everyday miracle of sustenance. To be a  pagan as I understand it is to position myself in the ongoing story of the universe, not as a God’s experiment, but as a form of the universe able to reflect on itself. To be a pagan as I understand it is closer to animism than any formal creed or tradition. That is, the interlocking and interdependent nature of life and its interleaving with the inorganic world means all of it participates in the ongoingness of things.

year-wheelThere is life and the spirit of the sun residing in every green thing on this planet. There is life and the spirit of the sun in every insect, mammal, protozoa, fish and flying creature. We are all more alike, much more, than we are different. Think of it. We share this planet, third from the sun, in the goldilocks zone. As living creatures on this one planet among billions of other solar systems, our home is a source of unity, a source of fellow feeling.

The inorganic participates directly in the same cycles as rocks break down into soil, as salt water evaporates and becomes fresh water. Fresh water falls as rain and slakes the thirst of growing plants and roving animals. A chemical like oxygen travels through the stomata of leaves, into the lungs of humans and whales. We are one, part of each other and dependent on each other. This is the sort of paganism I celebrate on this New Year’s.

It is creedless, institutionless, traditionless. It is, in its felt form, mystical. Why mystical? Because knowing this oneness, knowing the life and spirit of us all, is a direct knowing, a visceral experience. No seminary required. No monastic tradition required. No puja required. What is required was written over the gateway to the Delphic Oracle’s room, Know thyself. Yes, know thyself. It is the knowing of our Self as a participant in this great, this cosmic adventure that marries us to the ongoingness of this universe.

In this new pagan year take time if you can to breathe deeply, to see clearly, to listen closely, to taste and touch with delight, with joy. That’s all that’s needed. All.

Yesterday

Fall                                                                                         New (Thanksgiving) Moon

lycaon_and_zeus___veneziano_by_himera
lycaon_and_zeus___veneziano_by_himera

Had a couple of days in a row where the writing didn’t happen. This and that. Now I have to finish my critiques for the writing group Monday night. Critiques are difficult to do well, at least for me. Superior Wolf continues to grow in size though. It’s at 60,000 words now, 2/3’rds of the way toward my goal of 90,000.

We went to see Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. A long movie and a dark one. As friend Tom Crane said, it’s a good movie, not a great one. A bit slow in the beginning and a bit scattered near the end. It has a grandpop as a central, heroic character.

Set in 1943 and 2016 the holocaust is the background. The grandfather is from Poland where, “There were real monsters.” The Home gets bombed by Nazi bombers. The grandfather and his son, a lead character, Jake, can see the Hollows, short for holocaust Ruthie said, but no else can.

Afterward we ate at a Brooklyn style pizza joint.

20160903_113024Ruth is filling out her application for the Denver School of the Arts. The application process includes an audition sometime in January. She’s going for fine arts. Ruth is a printmaker, a painter. She draws well, too. I really hope she gets in. She needs peers, other kids with her level of talent, intelligence and curiosity. Otherwise, she gets in trouble. Grandpop did, too.

Gertie is doing well. She’s a rascal and can’t keep her long, prehensile tongue from snaking up onto a plate without permission. Rigel bounds in the car when she can go. Most of the time she sits up in the back, looking this way and that. And Kepler, serious Kepler, watches and listens. Barks and growls. He also does athletic food catches.

 

 

Aaarrgghhh!

Fall                                                                            Hunter Moon

Aaaarggghhh. Let’s finish it. Two candidates, neither one of whom I want, but one I really, really don’t want. Vote. Vote. Count. Declare. Concede. I may want to underscore that last point, concede! “I’ve had all I can stand, I can’t stands no more.” popeye

Here’s a confession. Even though I want the election over, now, I think the aftermath will be ugly. In either case. Trump or Clinton. The polarization is real. It will be tough to govern through it, especially for Clinton if, as seems most likely, Republicans retain control of the House. Tougher if they retain control of the Senate. This could mean four more years of obstruction. Four more years of investigations. Four more years of rancor and fury, signifying very little.

total_knee_replacement_components_modelBrother Mark wanted to know if there were images of my new knee. This is a generic image that shows the components of a common knee prosthesis. Total knee replacement is an increasingly good procedure and all of the anecdotal data I’ve come across has been positive. To be able to walk easily, get in and out of the car without pain, exercise, hike with Ruth and Gabe, sleep with less pain medication, and build up my endurance will be wonderful. December 1st.

The grandkids are here this weekend. More wonder and awe. Pumpkin carving and a trip to see Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children.

I purchased a recent book on Vlad the Impaler. He’s become a fascination of Ruth’s. We got to talking about Dracula (I mean, who doesn’t? At least every once in awhile.) and I mentioned Vlad. She’s also noticed the t-shirt I bought Kate at Castle Bran, aka, Dracula’s Castle in the Carpathians. So, we’re going to learn more about him. And those stakes.

 

 

 

Sous Vide

Fall                                                                                       Hunter Moon

sous-vide2Right now I have beef bourguignon cooking on the counter top. It takes 16-24 hours. Sous vide. French for “under vacuum.” I discovered this technique while reading the New York Times. It has apparently been a thing in commercial kitchens for years, but recent products have made it accessible to home kitchens.

The preparation for beef bourguignon still takes a long time, as any of you have made this dish know. After all the prep is done, browning, cooking the bacon and the carrots and onions, deglazing with red wine, everything is put in a plastic bag (or, 4 plastic bags since we wanted leftovers). A vacuum sealer drains the air out and heat seals the bag itself. That bag goes in the sous vide bath. The trick is that a constant temperature and the vacuum seal allows the food to heat slowly, to impregnate itself with all the flavors added during the preparation phase.

 

The Orthopedic parts department called. My new knee is in.

Fall                                                                           Hunter Moon

organ-recitalThe big news here on Shadow Mountain. Orthopedic surgeon William Peace added some surgery days. Result: total knee replacement on December 1st. I’m excited because this pain is distracting and medication intensive. Currently using CBD’s and acetaminophen during the day and vicodin at night. This works, sort of, but I still can’t exercise, hike, twist suddenly, get up and down easily.

Kate and I had our first ever joint pain management doctor’s appointment. The family that confronts pain together smiles more. She’s got a bad left shoulder, pain in both wrists and bursitis in her right hip. Makes it hard to get comfortable for sleep. She got a cortisone injection for the bursitis and a referral to a rheumatologist for new treatments. She has rheumatoid arthritis in addition to osteo. Since they moved up the date of my surgery from next January to December 1, I just got a script for vicodin.

So much for the organ recital

It’s surprising, but all this medical stuff, a steady drip since we moved to Colorado almost two years ago, seems pretty superficial. Not unimportant, but more like maintenance for the car. Gotta do it to keep the thing running right.

20161023_113218
mule deer in neighbor’s yard yesterday

The important stuff is life: grandkids, divorce, Jon, Beth Evergreen, needlework and writing groups, the mountains, our time together, being creative, the dogs, old friends and new, Evergreen, Denver, politics, climate change work.

And the third phase of life, closer to death, much closer, than to birth, makes all these things sweeter, more precious. I find myself often struck by their emotional power. Their presence in our lives creates the micro-world that sustains us.

Blessed be.

 

Shadow Mountain Journal

Fall                                                                            Hunter Moon

tumblr_mla7p2roxc1r7xatro1_500Pain. Can make you tired. Can make it difficult to focus. Just plain hurts. My left knee has gone from bad to very bad. Trying various meds as a way to make it from now until January. Some success. Pain is a peculiar phenomenon, so assertive, so real; yet totally individual. Inaccessible to another. A message that, once sent, it would be nice to be able to turn off.

Superior Wolf continues to grow. 50,000 words. Writing is so much damned fun. Interesting to see a story unfold from the tips of my fingers, words and ideas following one another, no idea where they’re coming from. Doesn’t seem probable, but it happens. Everyday. Odd.

The aspens stand unclothed, their skirts dropped by the big winds we had last week. I’m glad they’re here. Realized yesterday that bare deciduous trees are a marker of fall for me, being a Midwest boy. We’re in that time between the falling of the leaves and the coming of the snow, a time with a skeletal aesthetic, when a senescence aesthetic with browns, tans, ochres in various shades colors the mountain meadows, an arid aesthetic with little rain, little snow, mountain streams at their low ebb. Samain, next Monday, is the holiday of this transition time, a holiday of the veil between this world and the Other World thinned. The growing season is well over, the season of harvest is ending. The fallow time comes next.

simchat-torah-beth-evergreen
simchat-torah-beth-evergreen

Kate went to Simchat Torah at Beth Evergreen last night. This holiday marks both the end of Sukkot and the annual end of reading through the Torah. I chose not to go because it involves dancing and lots of standing. The congregation holds the Torah scroll at various points, symbolizing the year’s readings and the Torah’s ability to link the congregation together.

The rabbi, in this case Jamie, goes around and tells each person which portion of the Torah they hold. Kate had the story of Jacob and the angel at the Jabbok Ford. Probably my current favorite Biblical passage. I like the notion of struggle, of wrestling through the night, with the sacred. I like the suggestion that such a struggle can change your identity, give you a new name and a new purpose.tumblr_lc65dk9dw41qcu8ix

 

 

Racism. Long. Hard.

Fall                                                                               Hunter Moon

540546_405303126228787_1694483271_nRacism. Is complicated. Very complicated. And, yes, I believe all white Americans are part of its grip on our culture. I’m going to try to boil down a very thorny subject into a few words, see if I can convince you that you are part of the problem if you’re white and live in the U.S.

Power. Racism is not about prejudice, it is about power. An analogy is rape. Rape is not about sex, it’s about power. So, just as rape is about power, not sex, racism is about power not race. Race, a spurious concept in the first place, not supported by DNA evidence, is a cultural idea, not a biological one.

At the beginning of our country, as the founders drafted the much admired and revered U.S. Constitution, a beacon of liberty and freedom for all nations, there was conflict between southern slave holding states and northern states. It concerned how to count slaves for the purposes of determining a state’s population. In our system of government the number of representatives a state gets in the House of Representatives follows from the state’s population. More population=more representation.

antislavery_medallion_largeSlaves did not vote, but if counted as full persons for population purposes they would have given slave states and the whites who did vote greater representation in the U.S. House. This would have unbalanced power between the North and the South.

The three-fifth’s compromise was the result, stating, in our founding document, that slaves were only three-fifths a person for census purposes. From the start both North and South willingly manipulated the fate of the enslaved for their own purposes. Not only did the north instigate the three-fifth’s compromise, they did it to retain slavery in the U.S. Slavery was then a powerful economic engine that underwrote a large amount of the total U.S. economy.

This legal idea of a slave as a three-fifths a person contributed to the general devaluation of the enslaved. And who benefitted? Every citizen of the new country who benefitted from the slave economy. Everyone did. Thus whites in the U.S. had from this early date in our history an unearned advantage, an unearned economic advantage over persons of African descent.

build-a-tableThey also had an unearned advantage in their social status as at least higher than that of the slave, the three-fifths of a person enslaved. This unearned social status gave low income whites, often share-croppers, a psychological and social boost which had nothing to do with their personal merit. They were better, at least, than those who toiled without compensation and freedom. That unearned and undeserved lift in personal status persists in the minds and hearts of all white Americans.

The advantage in economic circumstances held by whites in the aggregate over the descendants of the enslaved has its roots in this wholly unequal economic baseline. Our wealth, as whites, depends in part on the advantage we had as a segment of the U.S. population, a segment that received the economic benefit of goods and agricultural products made cheap by the unpaid labor of the enslaved.

chomskyThe civil war, you might say, shows the inherent goodness of the north and the hostile debasement of southerners. You might say that if you don’t factor in the unearned economic and social advantages even northerners gained from the enslaved. You might say that if the wreck of reconstruction hadn’t resulted in Jim Crow laws throughout the south. You might say that if you hadn’t grown up near Elwood, Indiana which had a sign at its city limits, No Niggers In Town After Sundown. This was taken down only after the civil rights act in 1964.

You might say that if the disparity in white/black economic fortunes hadn’t persisted to this very day. You might say that if prisons were not filled disproportionately with persons of color, especially African Americans. You might say that if systematic attempts to prevent African-Americans from voting weren’t front and center in this very election-all those cries against non-existent voter fraud and for voter i.d. laws that would make it difficult for the poor to vote at all.

i-am-not-a-racist-i-am-against-every-form-of-racism-and-seggrationHow have all these terrible realities managed to remain in place? Because those with power rarely give it up willingly. We white Americans, through our avoidance of these issues, have capitulated to the structures already in place. Why? Because those structures: biased employment choices, biased voting requirements, lack of affordable housing, lack of available health care, still unequal education, are on the fringe of our lives, happening to someone else, some other African-American self. And to fix them would cost us in taxes, in our unearned advantage in employment, in our ability to control local and state and national elections.

Are these conscious decisions for most of us? No. But they do not have to be. It is our assumption that the way our culture organizes itself is just and fair that makes us all complicit. This is institutional and institutionalized racism. It is the result of either our conscious decisions or our unconscious capitulation to things as they are. We, we white Americans, are all part of this, and, in this very real and potent sense, racist.