Yearly Archives: 2022

Astrology, Dogs, Kabbalah

The Letters Went Flying

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Well. Now you know where the Webb is! Orbiting L2. Getting ready to get its many mirrors in focus. Next steps: cool down, alignment, and calibration. NASA

Wednesday gratefuls: Kep and the Pine Needle. Rigel, more adept with her back legs. Torah and the Stars. Sefer Yetzirah, class 2. Urology associates canceling my appointment today. Josh Ruthenberg, Snow removal guy. Ruby and her Winter shoes, just fine in the Snow. Palmini.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep snorting a Pine Needle

Tarot: four of vessels, boredom.

 

Ruth and Kep, cliff loop trail 2016

Remember not getting ahead of myself with disease? Dr. Palmini called, chuckling a bit. Well, it wasn’t a tooth or some other disease process. (whew. like cancer, I thought) It was a Pine Needle. Kep snorted a Pine Needle and it got lodged below the nasal passage and above the gum line. Result: infection. Palmini had never seen it. I’ve certainly never seen it. That Kep.

Rigel seems to have adapted to the muscle relaxant and the 5 mg dose of oxycodone. She’s a bit steadier on her back legs. Enough to justify the extra meds? Not sure at this point.

Looks like they’ll both be here a while longer. Happy. Relieved. Abraham Lincoln’s problems made me vulnerable, realizing it could be Kep or Rigel.

No more snorting Pine Needles, Kep!

The astrology class has begun to make more sense. Part way into the third class, not bad. I learned the symbols for the Planets and the Sun signs. Learning what the houses suggest in a reading will take me a bit longer. The aspects? That’s a bit further away for me. But I’m making progress.

The Sefer Yetzirah class has introduced me to David Sanders, the founder of Kabbalah Experience. My friend Bonnie Houghton was his sidekick when they started it. She’s now living on Andrews AFB outside D.C. She’s in the class as is Rebecca Martin from CBE.

This is heady stuff. Right up my alley. The focus right now is on the nature of language and letters and words. A lot of this class proceeds by story, a common way of learning in the Jewish world. Here’s one story from today’s class:

“A. Rabbi Alexandri said: There are three that returned to their points of origin, and these are: The Jewish people, the gifts of Egypt, and the writing on the Tablets of the Covenant. The Jewish people returned to Babylonia. The money of Egypt; as it is written: “And it came to pass in the fifth year of King Rohoboam, that Shishak, King of Egypt, came up against Jerusalem; and he took away the treasures of the house of the Lord and the treasures of the king’s house; he took everything” (I Kings 14:25-26). The writing on the Tablets of the Covenant; as it is written: “And I took hold of the two tablets, and cast them out of my two hands, and broke them before your eyes” (Deuteronomy 9:17). And it was taught: The tablets were broken and the letters went flying and returning to their point of origin.”  Talmud Pesachim 87b (this is the part of the Talmud concerning Pesach, passover)

The focus for this class was that last sentence. The flying letters returning to their point of origin. What does it mean? It begins a conversation about the origin of the alphabet (alef-bet, the first two letters of the Hebrew alphabet), the relation of letters to word, words to reality. The letters flew? Where did they go? I thought they went to the second tablet, the one Moses brought down from Sinai. Apparently I was in agreement with the Talmud. But there was also a middle point, a sort of letter and word limbo, where they resided for a bit.

I know. Pretty abstruse, eh? Yes. But we are, after all, studying Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism. Linear thinking needs to get checked at the classroom door.

I love that Jews love learning. And offer so many opportunities. A rich playground for a guy like me. Why am I studying this? I don’t know. It’s interesting. It’s complex. It bonds me to different groups of people, some living in New Mexico, D.C., Denver, the Mountains.

This is my fourth or fifth year. I would say my study has not been systematic, but not quite random either. Learning a foundational concept here, a new way of thinking about reality there.

 

 

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Writing

Melancholy Knocking at the Door of my Heart

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

The Webb is at L2! Friend and Engineer Tom Crane says this is the best illustration of L2 and the Webb’s orbit he’s seen. Easier for me to understand full screen.

BTW: A Webb scientist said the fuel saved by an efficient launch and insertion will extend the projected life of the Webb from 10 to 20 years!

 

Tuesday gratefuls: Kep at Sano. Rigel tolerating her meds somewhat better. Susan saying you are a lovely human being. What a nice thing to say. Gabe has all his books except 1984. I told him I remembered 1984. Languishing. May be. Gray and overcast. Me, not the weather. Snow. Cold. (by Colorado standards. 15F) The Webb at its home away from home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Orbital dynamics

Tarot: 1. The Wanderer (the Fool), 0 of the major arcana.  2. Ace of Stones, the foundation of life. 3. Page of Arrows, Wren.     Past Self-Present Self-Future Self

Brief interpretation: In the near past I had to leave my old life for the life of a wanderer, a peregrinatio seeking a new way of being in the world. I’ve reached a point where the foundation for that new life has begun to emerge, one as much in the Otherworld as in this one. This next life aborning will have study, the hooded man, chesed, imagination, and love as its guiding values. I’m going with this one.

 

Dropped Kep off at Sano at 7:30 this morning. Drove down Shadow Mountain in a medium intensity Snow. Those Blizzaks grip the Snow. Much better than that damned Ice. Which I avoid even on level Ground. Up here, I just don’t move when it’s icy.

Kep’s abscess did not reduce much with the antibiotics. Might mean it’s a tumor rather than an abscess. He has x-rays and a biopsy if necessary at 1 pm. Prostate cancer has taught me to not get ahead of myself with disease. Right now I know nothing. So, I’m not worried. Very much.

Rigel and a bull Elk in our back a day before my first radiation treatment.

Rigel’s meds have not helped in any obvious way, but maybe a bit more time with them? At first they increased her wobbliness. Not what we wanted. Now though she seems to tolerate them. She’s begun eating again. Very sensitive tummy, my Rigel.

Having both of my companions with potentially severe medical issues does push me toward despair. I try not to stuff it nor get overwhelmed by it. Let it in. Yes, that makes sense you’d feel that way, Charlie. But. Going further with it will complicate rather than solve anything. So. Let it go now.

I had a lot of chances to practice this attitude during Kate’s long illness. Don’t stuff. Don’t hang on. Let those potentially negative feelings pass on by. Wave as they exit.

Giovanni Battista Ciolina – Melancholy Twilight (1899)

Perhaps related to the mood alterations of these passing clouds I have felt melancholy knocking on the door of my heart, asking for permission to enter. Not working out. Not writing. Closing the day down around noon. Conclusion-hopeless asshole. Oops.

Then I remember, judge yourself as whole person, and favorably. Love yourself, then your neighbor. I try to look at myself as I would look at someone else going through the same situations, thoughts. What would I say then?

Hell, melancholy dude? You have a right to be depressed. It’s been a tough fucking year. Melancholy would fit the facts. But you’re not really melancholic. Pre-melancholic. And there’s no need to go there.

Start working out again. That’s body level prozac. Keep learning, keep studying. That’s mind level prozac. Lean into wu wei, that’s spiritual level prozac. And call me in the morning.

I want to be a “lovely human being.” That’s as good a goal as I can imagine. I also want to be me: authentic me. And have those two as the same. Could happen.

Coronavirus, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Great Work, Health, Judaism, Mountains, permaculture, Plants, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Land, Sea, and Sky

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb? 99.79% to L2 at 8 am MST. 1900 miles to go. Mission Day 30. Speed now: 450 mph.

Next

“L2 Insertion Burn

Mid Course Correction Burn (MCC2) – Begins L2 Insertion

Nominal Event Time: Updated: Launch + 30 days

Status: Schedule and Post MCC2 Coverage

Activities to plan and execute MCC2 – the insertion burn for Webb’s L2 orbit. MCC2 corrects any residual trajectory errors and adjusts the final L2 orbit.

The James Webb Space Telescope is launched on a direct path to an orbit around the second Sun-Earth Lagrange Point (L2), but it needs to make its own mid-course thrust correction maneuvers to get there. This is by design, because if Webb gets too much thrust from the Ariane rocket, it can’t turn around to thrust back toward Earth because that would directly expose its telescope optics and structure to the Sun, overheating them and aborting the science mission before it can even begin. Therefore, Webb gets an intentional slight under-burn from the Ariane and uses its own small thrusters and on-board propellant to make up the difference.

There are three mid-course correction (MCC) maneuvers: MCC-1a, MCC-1b, and MCC-2. This final burn, MCC-2, which inserts Webb into its L2 halo orbit.” NASA.

 

Monday gratefuls: Marina Harris and her cleaning crew. Alan’s recovery from Covid. His role in the Colorado Ballet. The Ancient Brothers Ode to Joy this morning. Ali Baba’s gyros. Cancer. Prostate and otherwise. Rigel and her meds. January. Winter in its fullness in Minnesota. Colorado has cold December and snowy February, March, April.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love

Tarot: will require its own post.

 

This damned event keeps getting new legs, fresh legs. In history the U.S. response to Covid will confound future generations. Why didn’t they take it seriously? Even after so many dead. So many hospitalized. So many left with lingering troubles.

Not to mention of course the number of the unmasked, unvaccinated who want to take over the government. I’ve become news shy. Like many of you, I know. Who wants to read about the brutal murder of Caesar or the Beer Hall Putsch? That is dangerous, of course. It is the uninformed and the passive who underwrite with their absence the fevered path of the few.

There is a small herd of Mule Deer Does who’ve been coming up the utility easement to eat needles off slash Derek dumped there. When they’re here, the scene becomes instant backwoods. An over the river and through the woods tableau. They’re here right now. The Buck, an eight-pointer, was here this morning. Neither Kep nor Rigel paid attention. Just as well. A chance encounter between a Dog and a Buck can result in injury or death for the doggy.

Kep noticed them. He walked through Snow, looked. Gave a short yip and came toward the house. The Deer munched Pine Needles, secure on the other side of our fence. Kep came in.

Rigel has begun to hesitate to walk up the five stairs to the kitchen level. She’s fallen, slid several times and she has the new meds on board. They’re supposed to help, but it appears to me that they’re making her feel strange. Doesn’t help confidence.

With Rigel’s legs and arthritis and spinal owies becoming more evident. With Kep’s nose undergoing x-rays and possible biopsy on Tuesday it looks like my companions may have rough water ahead. Since they are my grief counselors, sleeping partners, and the biggest part of my interaction with the living world, their troubles are very much my troubles. I’m not getting ahead of anything. Just aware that they, like Kate, like me, are mortal creatures. Like Abraham Lincoln.

Simcah Torah, Congregation Beth Evergreen. 2021

Thinking about donating money. What it means. How I decide. Most of my donations go to Congregation Beth Evergreen. There I’m saying yes to community, yes to friends, yes to thousands of years of history, yes to a religious culture cultivated by this unusual gathering. I don’t feel like I’m supporting the church. I’m supporting the chemistry of a place that accepts me and loves me as I am.

Otherwise I give a bit here, a bit there. Some to Dog shelters, some to performing arts organizations, some to politicians and some to political organizations.

Deciding that next year and thereafter I’m going to focus my giving beyond CBE in a different way. My largest non-CBE donation was to the Land Institute where Wes Jackson and his crew push toward perennial Crops and no-till agriculture. I’m gonna lean toward these radical solution organizations, ones working with the Soil, with Plants, with agriculture. I value the courage it takes to stand against farming practices that seem so entrenched as to be unmovable. And I value the creative thinking that the Wendell Berry’s, the Mary Oliver’s, the Aldo Leopold’s, the Thomas Berry’s, the Wes Jackson’s represent.

So this year. CBE and those working on long-term, universally applicable solutions to systemic problems in agriculture and protection of our World: Land, Sea, and Sky.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

I love these people

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb?  98% of the way to L2. 16000 miles to go. 465 mph. Cold side: -344. Hot side: 128. Mission day: 29. The last day of the trip. Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow!

Sunday gratefuls: Susan and her organizing. Jamie, Rich, Irv, Marilyn, Ron, Tara. Judy. Jewish caroling. The Tree of Life. Jon. In need. Ruth, in crisis. Gabe. Being Gabe. Rigel’s meds. Not helping so much. Kep’s either so far. Abraham Lincoln, in the back of Rich’s Volvo. That dying dog look. Tears from me. Safeway pickup. Ali Baba and their gyros. Ruby, chugging along, a petrol burning antique.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Abraham Lincoln. His journey ending.

Tarot: later

 

Went Jewish caroling in Golden. Up on Meadow Run Drive where Judy lives. I hum. Besides, I didn’t know the words. They were in Hebrew. Judy has ovarian cancer and is in yet another round of chemo. The MVP Mussar group, gathered by Susan Marcus, sang to her and delivered a Tree of Life silver scarf pin. Judy had made cookies and tea, so we went in and sat around her lovely dining room table, teak, I think, and chatted for a half an hour.

I love these people. That’s what came to mind as I drove back up the hill to Conifer. We’re in this crazy thing called life together.

most of Gertie

Ron had Abraham Lincoln in the car with him because Kim had come home via DIA and he had to pick her up. Abraham Lincoln accepted the attention as we leaned in the  back to pet him. His face alone would have told me he’s in serious trouble. Seeing him took me to tears with no stopping go. Dogs are so stoic. They do, I realized, live until they die. That could easily be a quote from Abraham Lincoln, or Gertie, or Vega.

Before Judy’s I had lunch with Jon at Ali Baba’s, not too far from Judy’s house. Ruth had a mental health crisis yesterday in school. Not sure exactly what happened but she got very anxious and lashed out at an administrator. She went home to Jen’s house to cool down. They’re with her this week.

ballgame with Jon

Jon’s still running short of money. I helped him a bit this month. He’s in a better mental place. Sarah may come out in the Spring and help him clean up his house. “If I get a bed, things will be closer to normal.” He’s lived in his house for five years with no bed. He sleeps on an old couch.

On the way back from Golden I stopped at Safeway and picked up my grocery order. A full day for me. Driving. Human interaction. Dog interaction. Wu wei-ing my way along. Feeling it all. Glad to be where I was. At Ali Baba’s with Jon. At Judy’s with the mussar group. At Safeway picking up groceries. Here at home with Kep and Rigel.

alchemical marriage

I can feel the Hooded Man and the Queen of Vessels leaning in to each other. Listening. Applauding each other for the actions and feeling they bring to interactions. Soon we may have a hand-fast marriage. A trial for a year and a day. Often entered into on Beltane in auld Ireland.

Here’s an old Christian hymn  lyric: I’ve got joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart to stay. I would say that’s where I am now. And grief. And love. And patience. All down in my heart, down in my heart to stay.

 

Shadow Mountain, Tarot

How do I let wu wei guide me?

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Tarot: How do I let wu wei guide me?   Avoid-Present-Future     Knight of Vessels, Eel.  Queen of Bows, Hare. The Hooded Man, #9.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Eel, the Wildwood says, is a symbol for a spear. The Gae Bolga, a spear named after the Eel, was a weapon of the ancient Celtic warrior, Cuchulain. In this spread I’m taking the knight of vessels as my warrior spirit, the part of me that wants to wield my Gae Bolga and skewer my enemies, especially the enemies of my people. I cherish this energy. It has guided me through much of my life and I’m loathe to lay it down. But. As I consider the fourth phase, this last ancientrail in Malkut for me, I’ve begun to let go of the spear, to put it away, perhaps forever. Avoid picking it up if you can, this card says. It interferes with the journey.

 

The Queen of Bows, a sacred Hare, brings alert female maternal instincts to the surface. She is my present. I choose to see her and the Hooded Man as anima and animus, my present and my future. Together.

 

The Hooded Man and the Hermitage bond. Focusing on home, on being here. Letting my writer and my chef and my painter and my host and my student out to play. I want to boogie toward the Last Dance. Twirling the Hare and the Hooded Man to a Riverdance tune.

While also sitting beside Mountain Streams, under the bows of Pines and Aspens. Following the Water Course Way.

Art and Culture, Asia, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

How to be Useless

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb: !96% of the way to L2! Only 27000 miles to go. Once around the equator or so. Mission day 27. Cold side: -340 Hot side: 134

Rigel

Friday gratefuls: Luke, a sweet man. Rabbi Jamie. Tears. Smoking. Quitting. Drinking and sobriety. Rigel’s new meds. Bowe. Jodi. Brian. The cabinets. Allmmmooossst done. Singing to Judy, taking her a silver tree of life scarf pin. Rabbi Jamie, Rich Levine, Ron Solomon, Marilyn and Tara Saltzman, Susan Marcus and me. I’m lending moral support. No choral moments for me. Abraham Lincoln, the dog. Leo, the dog.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Coming together for a member of the tribe in trouble

Tarot: How do I let wu wei guide me?   Avoid-Present-Future     Knight of Vessels, Eel.  Queen of Bows, Hare. The Hooded Man, #9.

 

Kep and Rigel

Bowe came around 9:30. Just as Rigel and I got back from Sano vet. Decided to take her in. Arthritis is a bugger. Turns out she also has a slipped disc. Came away with a muscle relaxer and Oxycodone. Gonna see how it works. If they help her, I’ll get more of it. Tomorrow Kep. His nose has swollen a bit and Palmini wants to rule out a dental problem. We’ll see.

This is an important part of my life. Taking care of the dogs. Having to decide when they need to be seen without Kate’s intelligence and knowledge to guide me. Buying and dishing up their food, their treats. Their meds. An important part of their life is taking care of me. Symbiotic. In a healthy way.

A glimmer. Sent out this interesting article How to Be Useless to a couple of my very useful friends. I did that because it broke a logjam in my own thinking about how to live my life. Example. The dogs are important. Being with them, caring for them, being cared for by them is a joy, a respite from being useful. Example. Writing. I love writing and I intend to do more. My Werewolves in Ancient Times book came today. Gonna read it. Take notes. Go back to Ovid. Do a Superior Wolf prequel. Lycaon’s life. Exercise is important, too. As are the things I do on Domestic Duties Day.

That was also a part of the insight. On Wednesdays I devote myself to the quotidian. Insurance. Food. Bills. Money. Taxes. That sort of thing. And, I do it willingly, not ducking it because I have something else to do. Wednesday is a day set aside for that work. If I get done early, I can write or exercise.

After I get the kitchen reinstalled and the living room/furniture moving done, I plan to set three days for exercise. And only three days. I will focus on writing on the other three days and when I have time on exercise and D3 days.

But, and here’s what I learned from Chuangzi, the focus of the Psyche article: it’s all important. Relaxing. Exercising. Reading for pleasure. Reading for knowledge. Learning. Paying the bills. Taking care of the dogs. The goal is not being useful, but to live the life that presents itself. My life and its useless moments will be different from yours. The key is to live the life without the kind of head fogging chaos I created when only certain things had precedence: writing, exercise, domestic duties. Sitting around petting the dogs, watching TV, reading. Going to museums. Important not because they’re useful, but precisely because they’re not.

Puts the humanities and the arts in a very different perspective. That Chinese scholar alone in his hut in the mountains learned to play the Qin, write poetry, do calligraphy. Not for posterity but for his own development and appreciation. That’s me.

The Hermit. In the Hermitage. Living my life. As it has appeared after 74 years.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Remodeling, Dogs, Family

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Yule and the New Year Moon

Where’s the Webb: On Mission day 26 all the primary mirror segments have deployed and the Webb continues to slow as it heads toward L2. 515 mph. Hot side: 134, Cold side: -340.

Thursday gratefuls: Under cabinet lighting! Drawer organizers. Getting closer to the finish line. But, Brian… Sigh. Rigel’s arthritis. Seeking help. Ruth wants to go to Greeley to a museum. Jon and I have sushi plans for Friday. Gabe’s getting his Hanukkah present, books from Amazon: Frankenstein. Swiss Family Robinson. Fahrenheit 451. 1984. The Godfather. Snow and wintry weather ahead. At least some. The Wind.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Toddlers and dogs riding with their heads out of car windows

Tarot: The Wanderer, 0 in the major arcana

 

The remodeling update. Bowe installed under cabinet lighting and I love it. I like clear light when I’m prepping and cooking. He’s also going to install a magnetic knife/utensil holder so I don’t have to have the large wooden block on the counter. I’m working on a minimal plan for things actually out on the counter top. I think right now toaster, coffee grinder, coffee maker, probably a cutting board, but maybe not. I want a clean top for easy working.

Kep and Rigel have kept close watch on Bowe, making sure he doesn’t have any stray treats. Also they have opinions about the remodeling. Like, why isn’t it done, Dad? Brian, I tell’em. It’s all down to Brian.

Right now I’m looking at drawer organizers, containers for staples. Other things like standard spice bottles. This is fun. I’m excited about putting everything away in an orderly fashion. I know! Weird, eh? But, there you go.

The first meal I cook in the new kitchen for others will be for Jon, Ruth, and Gabe a week from Saturday. Tenderloin roast. Mashed potatoes. Vegetable salad from Tony’s. Something fancy to kick things off. Get a good vibe in the new space.

Another view. Not sure why this gives me joy, but it sure does.

Once I get well into the kitchen reinstallation I’ll have, as my mother would say, beaucoup boxes. They’ll have to be broken down and stood up in the recycle bin. Lots of different tasks. I’ll also be organizing the pantry as well.

When all the boxes that have held skillets and plates, silverware and storage containers, serving dishes and pots and olive oil and cooking oil and rice wine no longer clutter the floor in front of the fire place, I’ll call Modern Bungalow and get my shipment set up. Also have to find a couple of strong guys. Gonna go on Nextdoor Shadow Mountain. Moving furniture.

Taking Rigel to the vet tomorrow. Her arthritic back leg worries me. She moves so well with it. Still hunting critters, digging under the shed, prancing when she comes in from outside, but she sometimes slips on the stairs going up to the living room. I put down grippy strips on all of our stairs for my two unsteady females: Kate and Rigel. Doesn’t seem to do the trick all the time. Not sure if Palmini (the vet) has any tricks. I hope so. She eats well. She’s eager to go here and there. She barks and whines. She’s a living treasure, as the Japanese would say.

Ruth sent me a note about a model railroad museum in Greeley. She wants to go. So do I. Part of our thing has always been museums, zoos, the planetarium in Boulder. Makes me feel good when she asks to do something. Not all 15 year old girls want to be seen with their Grandpop, let alone go somewhere with him.

Was gonna take Jon to a jazz joint this month. But. Omicron. Too crowded and breathy. We’ll do sushi at a less crowded venue.

This is, a meme I saw on Facebook, the winter of our discount tents.

 

 

 

 

General, Judaism, Our Land and Home, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Canaries in the Coal Mine of our Democracy

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Yule and the Moon of  the New Year

Where’s the Webb? 95% of the way to L2. 847000 miles from home. Only 52000 miles to go. Mission day 25. According to the graphic all mirror segments are now deployed.

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Bowe. The grout and the backsplash. The farm sink. Inching closer. Closer. CORE. Generator. Kohler. Solar panels. Juice in the house. Computers. Induction Stove. Lights. Televisions. Mini-splits. Baseboard heat. Fans. Treadmill. Rigel’s stiff leg.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Electricity (lol)

Tarot: Queen of vessels, Salmon

 

The hostage taking in Colleyville, Texas. Congregation Beth-Israel. A Britisher who believed Jews controlled the media, the banks, the government. Old tropes from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Yes. Propaganda has affect. Even after all its creators are long dead. Want to understand some of the white supremacists? Read The Turner Diaries. Words have power. Ideas have power. And, conspiracy ideas can kill.

My shoulder next to Alan’s. Next to Marilyn’s. Next to Jamie’s. Next to Luke’s. Next to Ellen’s. Together. Solidarity challenges hate. Love challenges hate. Compassion challenges hate. As Beth Israel congregant Jeffery Cohen, one of the hostages, said:

“(He) said he didn’t regret the generosity the congregants had initially shown the stranger who showed up at their synagogue.

“I don’t like what happened. I wish it hadn’t. I wish this guy hadn’t been that way,” he said. “But where would we be in a world if we didn’t welcome the stranger? That would not be a world that I want to be in.”” Washington Post, 1/18/22 

Not a world I’d want to live in either.

If you’re not Jewish, or closely aligned, you may not be ticking up the number of assaults on Jews and synagogues. If you are, though, each incident seems like one more finger pulled out of the dike behind which lies a lake of venom. I think Jeffery Cohen had Never Again on his mind; he refused to kneel when the hostage taker demanded it. As the anti-semites become more emboldened, as white supremacists increase their attacks on Americans of color, the fabric of our Republic has begun to tear. Sometimes I wonder, Jose? Is that flag still there?

Max Beckmann

I find myself thinking about the Weimar Republic. Of the world after the Spanish Flu. About the flourishing world of the Incas and the Aztecs just before the conquistadors arrived. About the Moors in immediately pre-inquisition Spain. About those doomed civilizations. Those who loved and laughed and danced among them. How shocking the rise of the Nazis. How shocking the world’s morality weakened in the aftermath of a long plague. How entrancing the pleasures of Germany after WWI. How vibrant and colorful the indigenous empires before the plumed helmets and arquebuses.

It is vanity of the most naive and dangerous kind to think all these were abberations. That Rome falling has nothing to do with 2022 America. That Kublai Khan’s vanquishing of the Song Dynasty does not have lessons for us. The Song dynasty was a high-point in ceramics, painting, of literature and song. The Yuan dynasty which followed it in 1271 had a steppe Mongol as its emperor.

I hope, without much conviction, that the Trump era brought in the clowns and we voters packed up their tents and hurried them off to the long time home of American circuses, Florida. Yet as the anti-semites pull themselves out of their darkened rooms, as the Klan and the Proud Boys and the 3%’rs and their enablers in the GOP take politics into a muddy, mucky, bloody brawl, as climate change bears down on us, I wonder how many it will take to pack up the tents and the menageries and the sideshows this next time?

I don’t want to live through the demise of American democracy. I’m guessing you don’t want to either. What’s the priority right now? I guess I’d fall back on this old chestnut: the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good folk do nothing. Spoken by noted British conservative, Edmund Burke.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Writing

One Clear Path

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb: 809000 miles from home; 90000 miles to L2. 90% of the distance. Mission day: 22. Arrival at L2: Mission day 29.

@willworthingtonart

Sunday gratefuls: That the hostage situation at Congregation Beth-Israel ended. Anti-semitism. Bias. Racism. White Supremacy. All flavors of the human heart, bitter though they may be. Ruth and her vibrancy. Gabe and his willingness to help. Jon feeling much better. Josh for plowing my driveway. The Snow. And, ta day, the Fire hazard warning sign finally dipped into moderate for the first since I got back from Hawai’i in early July.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker, even the hostage taker liked him

Tarot: Five of Arrows, frustration

“Look at where your own impatience and frustration have prevented you from reaching your goals. Do things differently. Moving forward focus your energy in one clear direction. Let go of your frustrations. Stay the course. Listen to your intuition.” TarotX

 

Oddly, this card, the Five of Arrows, speaks to me. In a way I might not have recognized; but, I finished reading Jonathan Franzen’s new novel, Crossroads, yesterday. I sat down with the intention of finishing and I did it. I felt more like me at the moment I turned the last page than I have for a long while.

Oh. That was strange. What was it? I’m a reader. I like to lose myself in books of all kinds. But. I’ve not been doing that, staying with reading long enough to finish whole books. Which I used to do all the time. And. I’d forgotten that.

Over the last several years, even before Kate got sick, I had begun to torture myself. Only of late have I begun to realize it. My self-torture comes like this: write a new novel, or finish the current one, Jennie’s Dead. OK but right now I have to exercise, because illness and death. Or, I need to exercise right now, but buying groceries. I could paint, right now. In a bit. After I vacuum. I had so many high priority things to do: lunch or breakfast with Alan. The grandkids coming up. Zoom with the Ancient Ones. With Diane.

Everything became important. Necessary. Valuable. I’d shucked off the useless and the frivolous. Pared my life down to the critical.

Then Kate got sick. And her needs trumped everything else. I hung on to the exercise because I needed the strength and stamina. Let everything else jangle together in a constant cage match for my attention and time and resources.

As a result, I rarely feel easy. Like I’m not in this moment. That’s not to say I’m highly anxious, not that either. Sort of a netherground between anxiety and languishing. When I’m writing, I feel grounded. When I’m reading, I feel grounded. Sometimes when I’m cooking. When I’m in a class. Too often, though, something always seems just out of reach, dealing with the insurance company. Getting the dishes back into the kitchen. Sleep. Workout. Follow the news.

I’m not describing this well because I don’t mean I’m constantly bombarded by a to-do list. The things that clash for me now all seem important, good, necessary. And I have trouble figuring out a way to include all of them. That’s the rub. That’s the frustration. That’s the four arrows missing the ram. What about that fifth arrow? If he keeps it where it is, it’s gonna miss. Well off the left rear hoof.

“Moving forward focus your energy in one clear direction.” I want to do that. I need to do that. But only one direction? Just not sure I know how.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aging, Anoka County, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Our Land and Home, permaculture, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Impermanence

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year

Where’s the Webb? 791ooo miles from home. 108000 miles to L2 insertion. 88% of the way. .1769 mps. Sunshield: 131 F. Primary Mirror: -328 F.

 

 

Saturday gratefuls: Snow. Fresh and white. A friend’s Dog, cancer. The house changing, transforming. The Hermitage. Brown. Color. Kep’s abundant, luxuriant, always growing fur. The Mountains in Winter. The Lodgepoles with heavy bows. The Arcosanti bell has a white fairy cap. The outdoor table has a round, snowy table covering exactly its size. Medical Guardian. Uncertainty.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The love we have for our Dogs. And the love they have for us.

Tarot: Page of Arrows, The Wren

 

Frantisec Kupka: The Path of Silence

A friend’s dog diagnosed with inoperable cancer. A friend on her third or fourth round of chemo for ovarian cancer. Kate dead. My own, more tractable cancer. Life. Then death. The way of the animate world. It says something about our need, our lust for permanence that disease followed by death exacts such a toll. But it does. Death is no more, no less prevalent than birth and life; but, it insults us, destroys our fabricated lives.

When the snow fell today, all day, as it hasn’t in a while, it covered the driveway, my solar panels, this Shadow Mountain. Even our daily views are impermanent, changing often in the temperate latitudes where I’ve lived all my life.

Ichi-go, ichi-e. Every moment, every encounter is once in a lifetime. The tea ceremony is a beautiful expression, a reminder of this oh, so important truth. Kate will never be here on this plane again. Unique and significant in her quick intelligence, her dry wit, her chesed, her love for me, for Jon, Ruth, Gabe. My friend’s dog, whom I’ve met many times, likewise. Stolid. Built low to the ground. Attentive, but mostly arranging himself near Rich. Each time I met him was a whole moment. Complete and wonderful. As was each day with Kate.

This summer my friend with ovarian cancer made home-made strawberry ice-cream and we shared it at a table in Mt. Falcon Park, near Morrison. We both had the brand of the impermanent burned into our bodies with blood draws, sleepless nights, worry, treatments. If we could, as the Buddhists I think recommend, lean into the impermanence, grant it the piquancy it brings, the poignance of ichi-go, ichi-e as a home truth, if we could, we might still mourn and grieve, but we might also find room to celebrate the passing of each once-in-a-lifetime instance.

Kate may 2013

Each spring in Andover plants would push up from the cold, cold Earth. The Grape Hyacinths, the Daffodils, the Crocus, the Anemones. The Spring Ephemerals. Those plants whose strategy is to store food during a burst of growth before Leaves on Trees and Bushes, taller Flowers block them out. Such a joyous, brilliant, hopeful life. Yet, brief. Ephemeral. Gone in a couple of weeks, three, four at the most.

Oh, how I miss those delights of the cold, wet days of late Winter, early Spring. I no longer miss caring for the Gardens, but I miss them nonetheless. Those gardens were an immersion, like foreign language immersion, in the ongoing lives of plants, in the dance of life and the inevitability of death. Each fall we composted the dead stalks that delivered food to the roots of vegetables and flowers. They had more to give even though they were now lifeless.

The Earth gives us daily lessons in impermanence, but we rationalize, smooth over, just don’t see them. I’m writing this now in the 10th month after Kate’s death. Her memory blesses me every day. Her lessons, the things she taught me. The same. I leave the door open on the washer so it won’t mildew. I trust my doctors. I love Judaism and the Jews that I know. Impermanence has permanently changed me.