Imbolc Anniversary Moon
A quiet day. Kate had the Bailey Patchworkers, a sewing group that meets once a month, and I stayed home with the dogs. Still transferring files from cardboard to translucent plastic. Slow process. As I touch files I’ve had for years but not revisited in a long while, I stop to read, wonder why the hell I kept this?
These are still remnants of the move from Minnesota, tasks partially done, enough to start functioning, but needing more careful organization for things to really hum. Our two very large paintings done by brother-in-law Jerry remain in their crates, built especially for them. Lots of other art hangs out with its brothers and sisters leaning against walls, shelving, in closets. Slowly. Slowly.
Kate and I have been studying mussar for nine months or so. Tonight Rabbi Jamie has an introductory class in Kabbalah. I know very little about this Jewish mystical tradition (I knew nothing about mussar.), but I’m going to go, find out a bit more.
The lenticular clouds over Black Mountain have mini-rainbows as the sun sets behind them in the west, delicate pinks and blues. It gets cool fast up here when the sun goes down, summer and winter. Part of the joy of living here. For us.
So, wiretapping doesn’t mean wiretapping. It means, well, whatever D.T. might have meant if he’d put down the phone, stopped tweeting (D.T.-tweety bird) and thought. Accusing a fellow president of spying on you is just another thing, something done for the hell of it, with no evidence other than a right wing nutjobs rants? God, how long do we have to put up with this guy?
We’ve gone pretty far down the rabbit hole, my fellow Americans. D.T. has made it safe for racist ideologues, smash and grab xenophobic thugs and robber barons. He’s leading the charge for a recision of the very modest health care program instituted by Obama. The current plan would leave up to 24 million, that’s 24 MILLION, souls without health care. This is not politics, this is warfare against the most vulnerable in our society.