Yearly Archives: 2022

Coronavirus, Great Wheel, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Memories, Minnesota

Buttery

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Lughnasa and the Durango Moon (oops. Lughnasa. Not Imbolc. My bad.)

Tuesday gratefuls: Not on a ventilator. Vaccines. Boosters. Omicron. Living in pandemic times. Caring friends. Who’ve kept touch. My body. Its immune system. A blue Colorado Sky. Hawai’i. Minnesota. The Soil. Here. In Minnesota. In Indiana, the best of the Hoosier State. The Volcanic Soil of the Hawai’ian Islands. Pele. Kiluaea. Mauna Loa. The great mystery of the World Ocean. the Kep. Dreams. Doubling down on moving. Back to it tomorrow. Ode’s hippy days. And, nights. Life after a harsh Covid slap. Sweeter, more precious.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Immune response

 

Today I feel only tired. Brain fog lifted. No residual symptoms except for a slight cough. Amazing. Tomorrow will be a full week since I got so hammered by the virus that I could barely drag myself around. Memory of that Wednesday, wiped. Now, less than a week later, I’m on the up ramp toward feeling good. Virologists. Immunologists. Pharmaceutical workers. Pharmacies. Pharmacists. It takes a metropolis and lotsa labs to beat a virus. I’m thankful for all of them.

This is a misery through which millions and millions have passed. And many succumbed. What better evidence do we need for our essential sameness? The virus doesn’t recognize skin color. Nationality. Ethnic origin. Religious preference or sexual preference. It recognizes the human body. The one we all share. Perhaps our mutual suffering can teach us what reason seems unable to.

Suffering is as much a human common denominator as love. When our body sinks into pain, to illness, to fragility caused by a microscopic organism, we experience what others of our species experience. The agony of existence, its rough edges, its limits. When we feel love, we experience what others of our species experience. Its sublimity. its comfort, its infinite possibility.

Find the wisdom about our common life in these most basic, universal and real shared moments. We all get sick. Suffer. We all fall in love. Rejoice. Let’s reach out to each other in both.

On the last day of quarantine my doctor said to me, “Wear your mask if you go out. Stay away from crowds and crowded places. After next Monday, you’re good.” Gonna stay in for the next week anyhow. Nap. Gradually start exercising again. Eat more. She also said, get a flu shot as soon as you feel better. I will.

 

Not said much about Lughnasa this year. But. Just read an NYT article about Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Got me going. Unless you live in Minnesota or are particularly attuned to its state fair traditions, you’ll not have heard of Princess Kay. Or butter sculpting. Let me explain.

Each year (asterisk for the pandemic years) before the Minnesota State Fair begins its August through Labor Day run, a young woman leader of the state’s dairy industry is chosen. She becomes Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Since 1965 a full-sized bust of Princess Kay and the other four finalists has been sculpted in the butter booth of the Dairy building. Yes, that’s right. 900 pounds of butter, salted, gets shaped into the likeness of all five young women.

You wouldn’t believe the ice-fishing on Lake Mille Lacs either. Minnesota has some strange traditions. That Winter Festival, too.

The relationship to the Celtic holiday of Lughnasa (not Imbolc, that starts in February) is this: On August 1st the Celts began a market holiday for the first fruits from the field. Corn dollies. (wheat=corn) A parade with the first shock of wheat. Loaves of bread from the first harvested wheat. Thus, btw, the Catholic feast day of Lammas, or loaves.

This agriculture celebration with feasting and games and display of farming’s first fruits of the year kicks off the three season harvest holiday that includes Fall on the autumnal equinox and Samain, or Summer’s End, on October 31st. It’s resonance continues in county fairs and state fairs in Great Britain and the U.S.

On a personal note. In 1971 while an intern in Ada, Minnesota I participated in the wedding of the just chosen Princess Kay of the Milky Way. It was considered quite a privilege.

 

Coronavirus, Health

Covid. Last Day of Quarantine

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Max

Sunday gratefuls: Alive and at home. Kep. Good sleep. Covid. Paxlovid. Pharmacies. Ann Brown. Very cool Mountain Morning. Lodgepoles. Their red Bark. Aspens. Their gray Bark. And quivering Leaves. That Rabbit that likes to hide under the raised fire pit. Serious hide and go seek. Feeling more and more human. Maybe 50-60%. Still fatigued. Mind much clearer. O2 sats good when up and about. CJ Pickett. The internet.

Monday gratefuls: Rich. The Pizza. Less fatigue. 4 days, then gradually getting better. Another rest day. Final day of quarantine. Full masking, no close contact until Sunday. More Rain. Drought weakening. Green Forests and Grasses. Colors deepened by moisture.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Super Max at 1

 

Some improvement each day now. Still pretty weak, taking a three hour nap midday, but my body seems to have gathered itself with the aid of Paxlovid and the boosters to push this virus back. Reassuring.

Still would not recommend it. Thoughts turning now to after effects. Hoping none. Obvi. By next weekend I expect I’ll be back to my normal, rip-roaring, go-gettem self.

It’s interesting, after all the masking, vaccinations, boosters, trying to stay away from enclosed spaces, to finally have had it. I made it to August 17th, 2022, the day before Kate’s birthday. Wednesday was so miserable I don’t remember it except for the extreme weakness. Thursday was bad, too. Friday less so. Saturday better. Today, better, too.

Given how I felt on Wednesday I would not call my symptoms mild, but the very bad ones were short-lived. Grateful for that. Also grateful for no respiratory involvement. That’s what I feared up here at 8,800 feet with my compromised diaphragm.

Now I know what it’s like. At least my version. It sounds like each person’s covid journey is unique though sharing certain over all characteristics.

Written on Monday: I got sick, real sick, then began improving after the fourth day. Which seems common among folks I’ve talked to. I think I’m recovering a little more slowly. Hard to suss out though. Hypothyroid. 8,800 feet. Covid. All mushed together I think. What remains is fatigue. A common complaint for me for some months now.

I had hoped to ride it out until September when the new vaccines for variants were available. Didn’t make it.

 

Giving myself the rest of the week as a quiet time, a healing retreat. Try to get the house picked up today. Other details sorted. Still not crisp, but I’ll get back. I can tell.

 

 

Coronavirus, Health

Wrasslin’ Match

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Friday gratefuls: O2 sats still good with concentrators. Conifer Med. Calling me each evening to see how I’m doing. Marilyn who brought chicken soup. Kep. Snuggling. Sick time. Out of the flow of time. Waiting. A sunny Colorado morning. Tara. Susan. Tom.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Oxygen concentrators

 

Day 4 with the other big C. My head is clear. No fever. Weak though. Moving around to feed Kep wears me out. No appetite. I am able to keep my O2 sats in the safe range with my oxygen concentrators. I find it hard to stay focused for long. House is getting messy as my usual pick up and clean up patterns have seemed too hard. I feel like I’m getting incrementally better. Head ache. Really wanted to give this whole experience a miss.

I work hard at not being defined by my illnesses. Right now, for this week or so, I am defined by Covid. It’s basically shut me down. I get up, feed Kep, come downstairs to sit in my chair. If it’s a particular active day, I might get back up and go fix some food.

Quarantine is easy. Like my life most days anyhow. As I wish it.

So far, and may it stay this way, this is far easier than the flu I had back in 2018. That was harsh illness. Knocked me down and almost out. Lost 15 pounds.

 

Not feeling like saying much else. Oh, maybe this. My spirits are good. I hope to see the end point of this wrasslin’ match in the next few days.

 

 

 

Coronavirus, Health, Politics

Settling in with Covid

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Oxygen concentrators. Conifer med. Ann Brown. Paxlovid. Covid. My bed. My schedule. Flexible. Illness. These strange and twisted times. The Aspen out the basement window. Lodgepoles behind it. Kep quiet for now. Liz Cheney. The GOP. Trump, the clown car President.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Paxlovid.

 

Wanted to get a Paxlovid script. Called my doc. Positive Covid test. OK, they said, we can see you tomorrow at 3:30. I’m 75, have prostate cancer and a compromised diaphragm. Let me see. OK. Come to the Conifer office at 11:30. Two kind persons came out, a med tech, and Ann Brown, a P.A.

The med tech got my vitals. Ann talked to me about the illness. She reminded me of Paxlovid rebound possibility. Biden. Due to low oxygen saturation numbers she wanted me to drive into the emergency room at Swedish for a chest x-ray. I was not eager to go further than back home.

She agreed to my going home since I have three oxygen concentrators left over from Kate’s long use. She ordered the Paxlovid and coached me:

If you can’t keep your o2 above 90 on the concentrator, go to the emergency room. If you get a fever of over a 102 go to the emergency room. If you get chest pains or shortness of breath, go the emergency room. The big concern is pneumonia, not the covid itself. Pay attention, Covid can turn.

At King Soopers, I got out in my Acorn slippers. Didn’t think I’d have to get out of the car. Walk up pharmacy. Got my drugs and went home. I couldn’t have made it down the hill to an emergency room. When I got home, myo2 sat was 78. The oxygen concentrator brought it back up. And continues to hold it at 90-94. May that continue.

In the times I’ve talked with docs and their staff about Covid something has stood out: respect. This virus has challenged them, met their efforts to ameliorate, and often has given them the slip. One doc said, Covid is weird.

In essence. Respect the disease because it can go down pathways we don’t expect and sometimes very quickly. So. I’ve got my oximeter, my oxygen concentrators, and my Paxvolid. Thermometer, too. Keeping tabs on myself.

 

The spreading stain of Trumpism and Trumpists. Makes me cry for our republic. Breaking something while claiming to defend it. A curious and tragic strategy.

 

Tired. Now. Tomorrow.

 

Coronavirus

Ah. Damn.

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: In home Covid tests. Feeling crummy. Kep. Sleep. Linda. A sweetheart. And, a Norwegian! Diane. A blue Colorado Sky. Lodgepoles lookin’ green. My body. Still at it. Dr. Simpson. A good guy. RJ. Positive meeting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hawai’i

 

Oh, joy. A positive Covid test. Well, I’m no longer in that number. Of those who’ve not had it. Calling doc as soon as they open. Self-quarantine. Not sure how long. Right now at least not more than a bad cold. Knew something was off.

Not guilty. More angry. I’ve done what I could. Still got it. Damn. As it is. Do what I can now.

 

Am feeling unfocused, less than clear. Did get a good night’s sleep last night. That helped.

 

That’s all for today.

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Hawai'i, Health, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, The Move

This Medical and that Real Estate

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Timothy O’Leary, M.D. Kristie Kokeny, P.A. Linda Michaelsen, Realtor. Rain. Heavy Hail. Still Raining this morning. Zapping precancerous spots with liquid nitrogen. Discussing scan results. A sudden weariness around noon. Bad sleep. Achy legs. Heat as in hot, hot flash. Making the move more real. Possibilities. So many.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Getting things done, moving forward.

 

Dermatologist. Belly button probably psoriasis, my old nemesis. Quiet for eight years here. A couple of precancerous spots on my scalp. May have been when your hair started thinning. You didn’t know to protect it so much. Also a couple of dark, symmetrical spots that will bear watching. A nice guy, Timothy O’Leary. Compassionate. Appreciated.

 

Linda Michaelsen, the realtor who lives one minute away, came yesterday to look at the house, tell me what it needs. Not much. Some paint. Maybe a new two sink granite top in the upstairs bathroom. She says it will show well. The loft really got her going. Could be a rental unit, as could be the downstairs where I sleep. Lots of storage, room.

When I asked the big question, she said I’d be between eight and nine hundred thousand. She didn’t think I’d have any trouble realizing $500,000 after the sale and paying off my mortgage. We’ll see what Robert Martin, Compass Real Estate, and Alice Carmody of Tupper’s Team have to say, but I felt some relief after hearing that.

Talk with RJ this morning. Check out the impact of the capital gains exemption within two years of Kate’s death and after two years. $500,000 anytime before April 12. $250,000 after.

After this conversation the route forward will become clearer. Linda said the easiest way to clear out the house is to have an estate sale. Pondering that. Not sure exactly what that would entail, how to prepare, but it sounds promising.

Cousin Diane, bless her heart, offered to come out and help me get through the sorting process. She’ll be here October 11-16.

 

Kristie essentially drew the same conclusions I did after reading my scans. My lymph nodes are no longer swollen. Good news. Means the Erleada is working. Prostate cancer cells, after they escape the prostate, learn how to produce their own testosterone. Geez, guys. Earleada works by blocking the testosterone receptors on the cancer cells.

I will be talking today with Dr. Simpson, the radiation oncologist, who will further review my scans with me and talk about the hyperbaric chamber for healing my proctitis.

So. Much. Fun.

 

Felt off last night. Sudden heat flashes had me reaching for the Covid 19 test. Then the hot flashes receded. Short of breath. Feeling crummy. Continued into the night.

Sleep was episodic. Restless. Felt sorta sick, sorta not. This morning I feel pretty good, just sleepy.

 

 

Family, Friends, Health, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate, Woolly Mammoths

Elder on the Bench

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Monday gratefuls: Early workout. Kep. Realtors. Diane. Tom. Paul. Richard Powers. Dermatology. Clouds in the Sky. Rain yesterday. Hail, too. Looked like Snow. 64 on Shadow Mountain, 92 in Denver. Jon, Ruth, Gabe at the fish and chips place. Ruth has her own money now. Her job. Jon’s waiting for a disability severeness determination. Gabe starts high school today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Medicine

 

Ancient Brothers yesterday. Elder on a bench. My topic. A young man on the bench asked us to give him some thoughts on how to flourish in life. Each of us was to give 3 things that lead to flourishing for us.

It was a fascinating hour. You are enough. Always. Let no one take that from you. Be clear about your work life, lean into it. Floss. Which meant take care of your body as well as your mind. Love the one you’re with. Love all the time, all you can. Take from everywhere, don’t look for wisdom only in the walled gardens of religion or political ideology or received ideas from family. Get a hobby, develop mastery. Seek and keep a few very good friends. Maintain presence in a community. And much more. Wish I’d videoed it. A good Youtube piece.

These guys Mark, Paul, Bill, Tom were there for me through the agony of Kate’s last days and death. With such grace and love. We’ve been there as others have gone through surgery, covid, joys like the birth of Max and Moira’s entry into Texas politics. We know each other at an intimate level. Rare for a group of men our age. Or, any age. I cherish and love each one of them.

 

At noon I drove into the furnace that is now Denver. A fish and chips place on Broadway. Ruth and Gabe’s favorite place. I hadn’t seen them in a month or so. Ruth’s shift at Rocketflash started at two so they couldn’t come up.

Gabe did not seem enthused about his first day as a freshman in high school. Ruth was every bit the upper classman. Only talk to me if you have normal people with you.

Jon’s waiting for PERA to define his degree of disability. This will determine what work he can do and probably the level of his monthly payments.

We had a good time together. I gave them the photographs I bought for them in Hawai’i. Chatted outside, on a bench, eating fish and chips. A good meal.

When I drove back up to Shadow Mountain, a thunderstorm with hail cooled the temps way down. Another 28 degree temperature spread. So glad.

 

How bout those classified files, eh? I’m the president and I can do what I want when I want to whatever I want. There is a dogged consistency in Trump’s venality. It lacks vision and strategy while depending on taking today’s problem and creating a tornado where there could have been a waterspout. It’s an odd play, but one he uses so often.

What will happen? Who the hell knows. Trump’s post presidency reminds me of a Shriner convention with all those little cars filled with clowns tooting their horns and throwing confetti.

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Travel

Narrow Gauge

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Isaac, Ronnie, and Dan

Thursday gratefuls: 10 hours of sleep. Two eggs, bacon, potatoes, sour dough toast, grape jam, and coffee. Better. Still tired. Climbing from Durango to Silverton by train. Our table partners, Dan and Ronnie. Amarillo, Texas. The River of Souls, the Animas, which we followed up and down. Think about that. The longest undammed river in the U.S. according to Isaac, the car attendant. I leaned out the window and said, “I damn you.” to the river. Fixed that. The wonder of Rock, Ponderosa Pine, Lodgepole, Wildflowers, Waterfalls, Creeks, Grass, steep Canyons, and the roaring of the River of Souls.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rapids in the River of Souls

 

Tom asked Isaac, “What’s the oddest question you’ve ever been asked?” Isaac thought a moment. “Well, there’s quite a few, but this one is the oddest. At what altitude do Deer turn into Elk?” I asked him what he’d answered. I don’t remember the exact altitude, but he said, “Oh, about 8,000 feet. Then about 12,ooo feet they turn into Moose. And above that they turn into Unicorns.”

Isaac has five years in as an employee of the Durango to Silverton RR; they give him enough seniority to work the Alamosa Car, the end of the train and the most expensive accommodations aboard the ten car train. He was droll, as you can tell, without being sarcastic. Not an easy line to tread. But, he was hoping for tips from everybody.

Rather than natter on, here are some pics from the day:

 

Acting, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Kabbalah, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Going slow

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Tom. The Fort. The trip to Durango. Kep. Susan. Medicated shampoo for Kep. Japanese garbage and recycling rules. Thanks, Mary. Monsoon Rains. Green in the Mountains. The Mountain Streams flowing full, still. Our Aquifers replenished. Tal. The Master Class. Chekov. Kabbalah Experience, a class on creativity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

 

Visit to Dr. Gonzalez. The AM. She apologized for the slow pace of getting my thyroid back into the desired zone of 1-3. Now at 5. Last time 7. The higher the number the less well my thyroid is working. But, she said, we don’t want to make you too speedy so we have to go slow. She explained, too, that the anemia from my proctitis also effects my energy level. Not just about being old, eh?

After seeing her, I went to Big R and Walmart searching for kiddie pools to bathe the Kep. No joy. Too late in the season. Ordered one from Amazon. The shampoo did not come yesterday anyhow. A task for the next few weeks.

That wore me out. The problem with the thyroid and anemia. So back home I picked up, cleaned up, took a nap.

 

Tom arrived around 3:30. He sat down in the red chair and drank a mineral Water while we talked. He noticed I have Breath, a book he read recently. Discursive, but good, he said.

We went to the Fort last night for dinner. Thought it would still be under customered. Wrong. So the two hard of hearing guys sat across the table from each other saying, what? And leaning in. Very hard for me since our waiter, Adam, had a falsetto voice pitched in exactly the frequencies I lost some time ago. Tom couldn’t hear him well because the background made him take his hearing aids out. Geez. Not quite as much fun as I’d anticipated.

We take off this morning for a six hour journey to Durango and the steam train to Silverton tomorrow at 9 am. Breakfast somewhere on the road. Maybe the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey.

 

Took my first acting class last spring with Tal Arnold, Rabbi Jamie’s son. Wanted to follow with another one. I asked Tal which one he would recommend. To my surprise he suggested I take the Master Class which will focus on Chekov. A Master Class after my first class? Guess I’ll have to level up with whoever else is in it. Tal thought the depth of the material would interest me. Bless his heart.

Also signed up, a bit oddly, with Kabbalah Experience for a Friday morning class with Rabbi Jamie on creativity and the Kabbalah. All Arnold instruction for fall and early winter.

The Kabbalah piece is a focus on Binah, the third sefirot, the dominant feminine power in the Tree of Life, often called Understanding. Before it comes Keter, the crown and the link to the ayn sof, the great mystery beyond or behind all (Hashem, the unnameable, the ineffable), and Chochmah, the divine masculine.

Ideas come from Keter but only enter the world through Chochmah, conceptual knowledge and/or wisdom. They are solely in the intellectual realm however until they pass over into Binah. Binah makes ideas into something. Thus, creativity.

These classes should help keep me here in the Mountains even as I set things in motion to leave for the Ocean.

 

 

Hawai'i, Mountains, Politics, US History

Mountains. Politics. Oh, my.

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Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Monday gratefuls: Tom’s on his way. Kep’s bath. Dealing with money. Realtors. Money managers. The magic in a young girl’s heart. Ruth. Needs some. Jon. Gabe. TheBus on Oahu. That other North Shore. Wawa, Ontario. Pukaskwa. The heart as it changes. Fresh Water. Salt Water. New Mountains. Old Volcanoes. Pele and her ongoing work.

 

Reading about the geology of the Hawai’ian Islands yesterday. Noticed that the oldest part of the Archipelago, the Kure Atoll, 1,500 miles northwest of the Big Island, formed between 70 and 80 million years ago. Oddly that’s the same time period as the Laramide Orogeny which created the Rocky Mountains.

If the Rockies were covered by an equivalent amount of water as surrounds the Hawai’ian Islands, I imagine they would be Sea Mounts, well below the surface. Mauna Kea is second in height only to Mount Everest when measured from its base on the Ocean Floor.

Yet the Rockies, on land and made of Granite, Basalt, Gneiss, Hematite, and other softer Rocks, stand tall today while the Ko’olau Range on Oahu is only 3,150 feet high. Mauna Kea is 13,800 or so feet above sea level and Haleakala (on Maui) at 10,000 is about the same height as Black Mountain which I see out my window.

Of course the Laramide Orogeny is long over and the Hawai’ian Island building process remains under way. The Sea Mount Loihi, now known as Kamaʻehuakanaloa Seamount, lies about 22 miles off the Big Island’s eastern shore, and is still 3,200 feet from the surface. It’s growing from the underwater flank of Mauna Loa, the largest shield Volcano in the world.

Yes. New stuff to be learned. New curiosities to engage. New people to meet. New ideas to hear and consider. We humans are more like the Hawai’ian Volcanic system than the Laramide Orogeny. As our Self/Soul moves, accretes changes and gifts, we grow slowly from the inside, a Seamount of the Self. If we’re diligent and mindful, before our death we may see the Island in the Sea of human striving that we’ve become.

 

Well. Damn. Democrats pass legislation! On a 50-50 vote with Kamala Harris casting deciding votes. Forgot this could happen after the sclerosis of the last few years. And on Climate change! Clapping from the peanut gallery, me.

Add to that the stellar work of the January 6th Congressional hearings and a guy could be forgiven for a stray beam of hope lighting up what seemed a permanently darkened sky.

And, yes, I now have some hope. Not a lot, but some. Even 538 says Democrats may take back the Senate. The Republicans still look like they’ll do the usual mid-term boogie and take over, but it’s outside possible that the Extreme Court’s theocratic ruling on abortion might galvanize enough folks to make a big difference. Maybe.

 

On buddy Tom’s recommendation I drove Kerr Gulch road today. After an unsuccessful hunt for a kiddie pool in which to bathe the Kep. He was right. A beautiful, windy route which narrows to almost one lane as it nears its exit onto Hwy 74 in Kittredge. The houses along there? Big. Horsey. Lottsa cash. Inconvenient so not a lot of through traffic. Quiet. Dangerous in winter for sure.

 

Tom’s on his way. Tomorrow we’re off to Durango and the train ride. Should be fun.