Monthly Archives: June 2021

Faith and Spirituality, Family, Feelings, Memories, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase

What a Beautiful Soul.

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Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Mary in Texas. Diane making plans. 44 again this morning with Rain overnight. Paying bills yesterday. Chicken Saltimbocca from Easy Entrees. Jon, Ruth, and Gabe coming up Wednesday evening. Blue Sky. White Clouds. Bright Sun.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Touching conversation with Kate’s friend, Lauri Knox. Learning how Kate talked about loving me to her. Grief. Memories of Kate.

 

Early 2015

Much as I dislike it I spent time on the phone yesterday making sure our dental insurance got changed to one person, paying a bill dating from cataract surgery last fall. Changing credit card numbers for ongoing billing. Fun. Exciting. Domestic thrills.

My goal right now is to clear out all the outstanding bills, medical and otherwise, then get started on the new, regular budget. Have to get Social Security survivor’s benefits. That will help. Today.

Even though it’s nit picky and detail oriented (to this big picture guy) I find this work satisfying. I like paying people for services they have rendered. Makes the equation balance.

Got the house cleaned yesterday. Marina Harris and Furball Cleaning. The place feels so much better afterwards. Smells better, too.

Once the bills and budget stuff finish up working on Kate’s clothing, jewelry comes next. Pruning the walkout, that big closet next to the boiler. Various drawers and shelves. Kate’s chest of drawers.

Long arm

Lauri Knox came over yesterday to look at Kate’s long-arm quilter. She’s a friend of Kate’s from Bailey Patchworkers. As she left, she said, “What a beautiful soul she was.” We talked then about Kate, about how she was. About her spot on the bench, a place made holy by her presence there. On a bench made by Jon, designed by her.

She also said Kate used to talk about how much she loved me. This brought tears to both of our eyes. Lauri couldn’t remember the words, but the feeling of unconditional love, she said, was always present. I find these moments so special, as if Kate has reached across the veil and touched me. The tears they produce are lacrimae, sacred and purifying.

She also asked me if I was going to move. “A lot of people just can’t be in the house. So many memories.” No, I said, I plan to stay. I’m not that kind of person. I didn’t say that memories of Kate in this house make me smile. Feel good.

Both Lauri and Jackie, our hairstylist, live in Bailey, a small mountain town further west from Conifer about 15 miles. Both of them, too, have a latter day spiritualist understanding about death. Lauri has a memory bench where she goes to talk to her mom and dad. “I’ve not sensed Kate, not yet anyway. She’s off on her own adventure.”

Jackie has offered twice to give me the number of a psychic who lives in Indiana and helps her communicate with the spirit world. When I was in last week to get a haircut, she said about Kate, “She’s up there channeling right now.”

Christianity is a similar story. It’s not hard to see how it can produce offspring in secular religiosity. When I go to my class reunions in Alexandria, I stay at a Christian Spiritualist camp in nearby Chesterfield. Not a huge movement anymore, but one with roots well down in the soil of Victorian England. Check out what Sir Arthur Conan Doyle thought was his most important work. Hint: It wasn’t Sherlock Holmes.

Not a lot different from the day of the Dead, Samain, All Saints. See the wonderful Pixar movie, Coco.

What happens on the other side? Hell if I know. My best guess is extinction. But it’s just that, a guess, and no more well-informed than any other guess. In fact I hope I’m wrong. It would be delightful to think of finding Kate again, of finding Celt and Vega and Tully and all the others. Playing in the Fields of the Lord. Whatever that might mean.

Not holding my breath though.

Breakfast, then calling social security. Big fun.

 

 

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Hawai'i, Plants, Third Phase, Travel, Weather +Climate

Shadow Mountain

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Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Friday gratefuls: Marina Harris and her housecleaning crew. Bond and Devick, trusted. Dr. Niguchi and his hygienist. Clean teeth. Safeway pickup. Ruby working fine. Jon, Ruth, and Gabe coming up at 1 pm. Kep and Rigel, my pals and companions. Cool weather. 59 this morning. New laptop.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Single life.

Teeth cleaning. Every six months. You know the drill. First time without Kate. We always went together. Kate, always with Kate. She travels in my lev though, everywhere. (Lev is Hebrew for heart/mind. I agree with this more ancient binding of the intellectual and emotional, but English doesn’t have an equivalent.)

Unexpected moments when Kate comes to mind. Seeing Jackie for my second haircut with only lev Kate. Jon, Ruth, Gabe coming up for a visit. Like old times except, no Grandma. Writing. Thinking I should let Kate see this.

Each time I’m aware of her, see mail addressed to her, walk by her ashes and my small altar to her, the pain lessens and integrating lev Kate becomes more of a joy. WWKD is an important sieve. I can hear her voice, know her responses which would differ from mine.

As I said of Kate’s mother Rebecca, who haunted Kate until the day of her death, ghosts live within us. Not all ghosts are hungry ghosts, mean and demeaning as Rebecca was. Kate’s ghost, lev Kate, her spirit and knowledge living with me, brings me a smile, a warm glow. May it always be so.

Kate, BJ, Ruth, solar eclipse 2017 at BJs Idaho house

We’ve had rain the last two nights and temperatures have dipped into the high forties. Perfect sleeping. The rain not only improves our wild fire situation, but also knocks down the Lodgepole pollen that filters inside, leaving yellow layers on wood surfaces. Tree sex. We’re in the middle of it right now.

The Aspen, a later evolved species, use a different strategy. Casting male pollen into the air hoping it lands on a female cone has the hallmark of Pine’s early place in the evolution of Trees. Though Aspen produce seed, cloning through shoots sees Aspen Groves, all with the same DNA, common. More certain than blindingly flinging your stuff into the wind. But both work.

Jet lag not too bad. Going to sleep at my regular time between 8 pm and 9. Getting up between 5:30 and 6:00. Jagged still, but less so. Working on the plan. Fiscal and physical order here on Shadow Mountain.

Jon, Ruth, and Gabe arrive around 1 pm, bringing dinner with them. Ruth will start the process of removing Kate’s stuff by defining what she wants from the sewing room. Sewing machine, yes. But, what else, she’ll decide today. She’ll also take Kate’s t-shirts and make me a quilt from some of them.

Jon plans to work on the Subaru’s brakes, moving forward the time when it can leave the garage. I want it gone since the garage is a key pruning site. Most of the near term pruning will involve Kate’s belongings, getting them distributed where they can help the most.

I plan to move the Stickley table from downstairs into what had been Kate’s sewing room, creating a more formal dining area. Will use her storage spot as a pantry.

This process will take a while, but I’d like to finish before August 18th when family will gather for a final tribute to her. Would have been her 77th birthday. Doable.

Hawai’i has receded. Now faraway, 3,000 miles over water. Loved, not forgotten, but no longer present. Wait and see.

Byodo-in, Oahu, 2021

 

 

 

 

Colorado, Family, Jefferson County, Shadow Mountain, The Move, Third Phase, Travel

The Hermitage

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Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Mountain Waste. Emily. Buster’s. The Internet. Coffee Machine. Its results. Sleep. Through the night! Wow. Island time, may it reign. Aloha. Shalom. Good to see ya. Kep and Rigel, my buddies.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My body. My spirit.

June, 2015

Surprised at how right being home feels. Surprised I’m surprised. A bit of angst, twinges. More to come, I’m sure, but the overwhelming feeling is, I belong here. Poignant feeling over against my flirting with infidelity to Shadow Mountain. Glad to have both though. A place I love and a place I could love.

I admit it. I’m easy. I fall for places. Hard. The true north Shore of Lake Superior. Could I live there? Oh, yeah. The San Juan’s? When I do leave? Korea? Would take some adjustment, but, why not? The Big Island? I could make it happen. Will I? The Shadow knows. But, I don’t.

In this moment. Shadow Mountain. Kate found it and I fell for it long ago. Closed on Samain of 2014. Moved on the Winter Solstice of the same year. The Rocky Mountains! Whoa. Colorado! Geez, what a deal. Live in Colorado, in the Mountains. See grandkids. Jon.

And so it has been. Except for the part where medical issues kept us close to home right after we got here. Still in the Mountains. The Rocky Mountains! Lots more to  see.

I’ve not been to Four Corners. Gunnison. Creede. Telluride. The Dinosaur National Monument. Steamboat Springs. Aspen. Vail. The Dunes. The San Juan wilderness. No road trips here except for the Ancient Ones’ pilgrimage to Durango. Ready to see me some Colorado. Hire a house/dog sitter and go. At least a week long trip this summer or fall.

So much to do here. My place. Needs me. And, as I said in passing to Joseph last week, “I don’t bail on the people I love.” Places, too? Not the same, I know, but related.

Today is haircut, a few supplies, and opening all those pieces of first class mail. Dealing with them. Tomorrow is teeth and budget work. Friday is new laptop day and getting started on Kate’s stuff.

Pruning starts now.

 

Family, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Holidays, Weather +Climate

Big Island. Miracles.

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Summer and the Shadow Mountain Moon

A year. Either I will make a yes or no decision about moving to Hawai’i at the end of it, or at some point during the year. That is, if I haven’t already.

When I went to the Ira Progoff workshop in Tucson, the inner work there made me see that being part of Ruth and Gabe’s lives would pass us by if we didn’t move. When I got home. Kate and I talked, agreed. Then we started working on the move. Took about a year, a little less.

I feel like I’m in the same spot about moving to the Big Island as I was when I left Tucson relative to Colorado. I want to do it. But, I need a conversation with Kate. Maybe I’ll write it out. Dialogical, as Progoff suggests. Put it in the workbook.

]In other words I feel confident. I want to go, though there are a lot of details to work out. Yet.  I need a talk with a confidant, a person who won’t let me blow smoke. Kate. The Ancient Ones. Maybe Jamie. Tara, Marilyn.

A year from now. Or, so. I may be writing Ancientrails from a spot near Mauna Kea, Mauna Loa, and Kilauea. Hope so.

Tom Crane alerted me to the Solstice. I had it in my head as the 22nd, so I wasn’t paying attention. It’s the triumph of Sol in the North. He stands above our lands longer than on any other day. The longest day. Spreads his power on the narrowest patch of Earth, too, so the energy concentrates, intensifies.

Me, though, I see it another way. Darkness moves in. The days begin to shorten. Can the Winter Solstice be far behind? Seasonal processions make me happy. Even here in Hawai’i Kau moves slowly toward Ho’oilo. Ho’oilo brings rain and somewhat cooler weather. Transitions.

The Great Wheel turns now toward Lughnasa, the festival of first fruits celebrated on August 1st. The growing season busily stores Solstice energy, converting nuclear fusion to stored carbohydrates. You want miracles? Try that one.

We only get so many seasons. Part of the deal. I’m celebrating this one. See you at the suntan lotion counter.

 

Dogs, Family, Hawai'i, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

Agency

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Friday gratefuls: A boy and his dog, asleep together on the carpet. Cool morning Air off the Ocean. Korean burgers prepared as a joint Korean-American enterprise. Readiness to return home. Kep and Rigel. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of joy and awe: Dawn. The North Shore of Oahu: surf’s up!

Closing days on this journey. Monday night, 9:30 pm. Colorado, 8:30 am Tuesday. Back up the Mountain. I’m a different man than the one who landed here on May 14th. Less jagged, less fraught. More peaceful. A time for which gratitude seems inadequate.

It’s the first time I’ve been to Hawai’i without Kate. During the first months I’m without Kate. Bittersweet? Yes, but good, too. On my own. As I’m learning how to be on my own. Again.

She would not have liked Oahu. Too urban, too distanced from the native Hawai’i. It’s still here, of course, its echoes in the Sunrise, the Palm Trees, the Trade Winds, the Outrigger Canoes, the native Hawai’ians. But it’s also noisy, paved, car-ridden, and cluttered with houses and shops and buildings. The built Oahu contradicts the Island itself. I can see why the Ohana folks want to kick the haoles off the Island.

Last Hebrew alphabet class today. Read the piece I wrote about language. Well received. Made me smile to see its effect. I’ve needed that affirmation, especially now. Part of the healing in this time here. An accident of timing, but a good one.

All during the class the Mourning Doves called. Mourning has its beauty, its capacity to call in the Dawn. Which rose as the class progressed and the Doves sang. Helping me call in the dawn of a new, changed life.

The need for agency is a powerful one, perhaps the defining characteristic of life itself. I’ve been very passive here. Sitting, watching TV. Some exercise but stopped now due to a painful something or other in my right upper leg or hip. Not able to leave the base until I got my pass, then feeling too settled in. This blog, a few meals, walks. That’s about it.

When we’ve done sight seeing, Joseph has driven. I chose the Nu’uanu Pali, the Bishop Museum, China Town and now Oahu’s North Shore but other than that we’ve gone where Joseph though would interest me. I’m proactive on a trip. Not this time. Not much.

Seems to fit with mourning and grieving. Letting the weight settle, feelings come back into balance. That’s not passive at all, my agency here internal. Tending to process, staying aware, listening to my heart.

As leaving approaches, my yearning for agency has risen. And there will be plenty of opportunity when I get back to Shadow Mountain. A few unfinished administrative pieces like updating the title of the car, settling with Social Security on survivor’s benefits, dealing with Evergreen Mortuary. Seeing friends, getting back to CBE. Shopping. Cooking. Writing. Dealing with my leg. Another PSA the second week of August.

Life as I will know it. Considering, gently, slowly, the future. Where to live. How to live. What to engage, what to prune. Feels exciting.

Visitor on my first day of radiation. 2019

 

Minnesota, Mountains, The West, US History, Weather +Climate

June 17 addenda

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

The basilica, Minneapolis. From my hotel room.

The growing season turning red hot. Dry. Minnesota, that state of lakes and the Superior Lake, of -30 nights in January, of down coats and cabins, all red. And not a drop of rain to share. How can this be? It’s not Minnesota’s color. Brown is the color of the West, of the Mountains. Not 45 degrees latitude, half way to the Northpole.

We know these insults in the Rockies. Past that line where we all get less than 20 inches of Rain. For the whole  year. Yes, we know. We suffer it, fold up a few tents, turn off the lawn sprinklers, run the AC. Fight Wildfires, hope they don’t burn our home. But. Minnesota? The world is out of joint.

On Oahu where I sit writing this we’re in the warmish dryish season where the temps tend to be in the 80’s and Rain still falls. Twice in the last two days. Then, there’s all that Ocean. The Mountains squeeze out purified Ocean drops, fling them at the already green, always green slopes.

Here it’s pretty much as usual. Or, maybe I think that because I know this world much less well. I recall reading that the tropics will be affected least by global warming. Sea level rise though. Vanuatu has advertised its extinction. Do not want to go the way of Atlantis. I understand.

As the world literally burns, Republican and capitalist violinists play on, from the pent house to the mountain retreat to the air chilled vaults of Swiss banks.

Hebrew, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Writing

Ah

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Language. Language about language. Language about languages. Language about the mind, created in the mind. The mind talking to itself, using symbols and signs. Which it has to interpret, even the ones it uses to talk to itself. A Mobius strip of neurons and synapses.

Data. Outside data. Collected. Fingers. Nose. Ears. Eyes. Tongue. Which the mind interprets. Builds. Say, a Tree. A lover. An Ocean. That pickup truck. A Dog. Stars.

Words not created in this mind. What are (a more loaded verb here than often understood) they? Where are they? In my mind where I’ve put the pieces together or out there, somewhere? What do they mean, those words? What did the one who wrote them mean them to mean? How can I know?

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. LW. Does this seal our lips forever?

Or, I think of David Hume, that Scottish curmudgeon, kicking a cabinet and saying, “I refute it thus.” Speaking of Lord Berkley. “To be is to be perceived.” The stubborn persistence of things. That stubborn consensus we seem to share. Yes, the tree is there. Where? Right over there.

I believe I prefer William James, “Consciousness is a blooming, buzzing confusion.” We put down this yod, that hey. A vav. One more hey. And we agree, sort of, about what they denote. Or, we don’t.

Look at the evidence. Fake news. It’s all in your mind.

No, no. It’s really there.

Oh, really? How do you know?

I see it. I can touch it. I can smell it.

Ah.

 

Hawai'i, Judaism, Plants, Poetry

Messianic Times

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Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Endless Messiah Contemplation

 

Water rippled by trade Winds, an endless path

Travels up, up into the clear blue Sky. Made fresh,

Land its Plants, its Animals drink and live.

Ancient, received not made here, one of the four

 

This Land. Made by Pele as Plates shift, restless, find fire.

Islands alone, contemplating restless creation, recreation.

Land loosens, sifts, smooths, ground fine. Sand.

A place not only Land, not only Water. The Shore.

Like our bodies between our souls and eternity.

 

The Trade Wind. Faithful, gentle, dependable.

A quiet Messiah who reveals the unseen’s power

Who moves the Palm and the Monkey Pod Tree

And lifts the Water into white pregnant Clouds.

 

No slouching toward Bethlehem. No complicated timing.

Earth, Air, Fire, and Water.  Those who need them.

The Messianic times come round through the heat of the Sun,

The turning of the Earth, and the long pilgrimage of life.

Beyond the Boundaries, Dogs, Dreams, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Travel, Weather +Climate

Namaste

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Beltane and a faint sliver of the Island Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Seoah’s massage. Muscles aching. The Palms lining the boulevards here. Murdoch. Working out. Needing help with it. The Sun. The Ocean. The Pearl River. Tropical Fish and that big Crab I saw. Kep and Rigel. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Namaste to the Trees, the Ocean, the Mountains.

Not Hawai’i. National Western Stock Show Pro Rodeo

Walked this am without my heart rate monitor. I didn’t want to “work” out, but be out and do some good for my heart at the same time. Forgot how much I enjoy it. Time to contemplate, meditate, or be in the present.

Continued my new practice. Put my hands together, a short bow, and Namaste to certain Trees, the Ocean, the Mountains, the Sun. Even the Crabs and brightly colored Fish. This small gesture has surprised me. I say, “The god in me bows to the god in you.” I can sense reciprocity. That is, I can feel a return bow, an acknowledgment that yes, the god in that Monkey Pod Tree knows the god resident in me. Those jagged green Mountains send me the blessing of the ancient deity who lives within them. The Ocean as well.

I don’t do all the Trees or Mountains because that would look very strange and take way too long. I’d never get back to breakfast. But in those cases where I did stop, bow, silently speak the bond it created sprang to life immediately. Yes. Hello. Back at ya.

In the process, btw, I found myself yearning again to live here. Much as I try to be practical, think through the steps, hobble myself from making a too fast decision, Hawai’i and the Pacific keep beckoning. Honestly, dude.

That’s the thing about some dreams. They won’t let you alone. Keep intruding, saying, Hey, don’t forget! The horizon line on the Pacific, where the Earth curves away from my sight. The Hawai’ian donuts. The Plants in their abundance and in their color. My soul bows to each of them in turn and hears back from them, “Come.” The living Wood of the Outrigger Canoes and their Paddles. Kane and Ku. The Whales. Aloha, Charlie!

Time must pass, for many reasons, before I take action, but it feels more compelling each time the idea of life here resurfaces in my thoughts.

Seoah suggested Pilates for me. There’s a place in Evergreen. I think I’ll try it. Something new. It focuses on flexibility and balance as much as strength. What I need.

Return to Shadow Mountain. Two weeks from today. Time to immerse myself in the new, post-Kate’s physical presence life. Finish up with social security, close that Minnesota credit union account, put my new budget  process to work in everyday life. See my CBE friends, hike in the mountains, hug Kep and Rigel. This has been what I needed, this time here, a respite,  a time for recovery. By the 22nd though I’ll be ready.