Monthly Archives: June 2022

Politics, US History

The Devil and The GOP

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Summer and the Aloha Moon

 

Ovid in exile

 

“The Iron Age

Last was the age of iron: suddenly,

all forms of evil burst forth upon this time

of baser mettle; modesty, fidelity,

and truth departed; in their absence came

fraud, guile, deceit, the use of violence,

and shameful lusting after acquisitions. (Bk 1: 172-177)

…

Now men demand that the rich earth provide

more than the crops and sustenance it owes..” (Bk 1: 185,6)

Charles Martin, trans. Ovid’s Metamorphoses (published 8 A.C.E.)

 

By now you’ve seen the latest. (In)Justice Roberts: “…it is not plausible that Congress gave EPA the authority to adopt on its own such a regulatory scheme.” Answered in dissent:

“Justice Elena Kagan, writing for the dissenters, countered: “The Court appoints itself — instead of Congress or the expert agency — the decisionmaker on climate policy. I cannot think of many things more frightening.”” Washington Post, 6/30/2022

This on the heels of Dobbs and the decision making concealed carry not only easier, but paving the way for a possible elimination of any form of gun control. Not to mention the ominous foreshadowing by (In)Justice Thomas about LGBTQA+ rights.

And who knows what may lie beyond them since a friend who knows the law, Cousin Diane, pointed out that Loving v. Virginia is the case that gave the rationale for granting same-sex marriage and anti-discrimination laws against any one of a different gender orientation. If Loving goes, even (In)Justice Thomas will be in trouble. Course he already is. That Ginni.

A time of rampant unashamed racism tightening governmental control (oh, the irony) over women’s bodies will disproportionately effect poor women and women of color in red states. You know the demographics of the Deep South. Intersectionality on display. Classism and racism combine to grind down ever further the women of Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, Louisiana, Texas, Florida. At least now you can go to school and pray for them.

 

Groups focused on root causes of racism, classism, climate change, the abysmal state of American agriculture, and immigration get my money, my attention, and my hopes.

The High Country News is a progressive voice in the West, edited and printed out of Paonia, Colorado. In this issue it has a wonderful article by a Native writer, Dina Gilio-Whitaker, titled Environmental Justice is Only the Beginning. Here’s a taste of her thinking:

“Manifest destiny and technology-intensive modernism, amplified by the incentive of capital, have resulted in gross-mismanagement, and in many cases, total destruction of forests, grasslands, rivers, lakes, wetlands, watersheds ocean and desert biomes and countless other ecosystems-all within a few short centuries of European arrival.” HCN, July, 2022, p42-43

Black Lives Matter, The Root, and the Southern Poverty Law Project are my go to sources about racism. I’m sure there are other, equally good organizations, but these seem level-headed, aimed at the goal, and actively pursuing racial justice in tangible ways. That tangible ways is important to me. Abstract theorizing is necessary. Yes to Critical Race Theory for example, but if that’s all there is, nothing changes.

Classism.org has an easy to grasp definition with a page full of examples. In many ways this is my core justice issue having grown up in a working class town in agricultural/industrial middle America. Many of my friend’s parents were faithful members of the UAW and got the benefits that accrue from organized workers facing down the bosses of multi-national corporations.

Many of my friends themselves suffered when Detroit did not do well as Volkswagen and Toyota ripped into their sales in the 1970’s. My hometown, Alexandria, as I’ve written here before, was never the same after. Two factories employing thousands of workers went dark over a few years.

Democratic socialism is the answer to oligarchy, but the oligarchs consistently use the boogeyman of communism, which they don’t understand either, to paint socialists as nothing more than Friends of Russia.

 

So. Why the Devil and the GOP? Because behind each ism I’ve discussed and the horrendous, terrifying decisions of this Extreme Court, lies capitalist America. And not just capitalist America but a few of its most rapacious winners like fellow gangsters Bezos, Gates, Thiel, and Musk. Straight Outta the C suite, brother. The oligarchs.

Our culture’s deepest injustices have their roots in the Golden Calf. Some believe it was destroyed at the base of Mt. Sinai, but it keeps getting rebuilt by frightened individuals who must amass more and more and more to feel safe. Gold is not safety. Gold is a prison, a place to hide from what you fear. Often it’s a place high up, surrounded by glass and looking out on the lights of the city below.

I’m not going to discuss right now how the oligarchs have convinced the white working class to fear the same things they do, but it is not accidental, and the story has it source deep in American history.

That’s it, then. The Devil’s party is the GOP. Not because they’re satanists, no, but because they worship an idol made of bonds and stock options. The GOP is the party of the oligarchs. Money in its diverse guises is their center of value rather than other people and the planet on which we live.

And, the Devil has taken control.

 

 

Acting, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Literature, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, US History

Jesus, Take the Wheel

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Summer and the Aloha Moon

art@willworthington

Wednesday gratefuls: Hamish’s wife: I couldn’t believe he wasn’t an experienced actor. (She acts, too) Bless her pea-pickin’ heart. Jon paid his phone bill. Cassy. That Cassy. More Richard Power’s novels in the mail. 4 down, two more available. Looking at Aspens for Diane Kroger’s plant one tree for six years pledge. Sundance Nursery, Evergreen. Cooking Salmon, the James Beard way. Sitka Salmon Shares. Hiking the holy Valley.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cassy.

Tarot: Three of Stones, Creativity

“It is time to create, spark old energy, and show something new.

An artist listens to a deep voice and feels the breath of all things. Courage, freedom, and skill, which allows the artist to allocate energy, must be purified and focused on meaningful and effective achievements.”   tarotx.net

 

Oh. My. Gosh. I’m the fucking President and I want to go to the Capitol. He said as he lunged for the wheel, tie flapping all over the back seat. No. We’re going to the West Wing. Darn Secret Service. This bastard would be in jail right now if the agent hadn’t been so picky about doing his job.

Maybe Carrie Underwood can issue a new release of her heartbreaker about a desperate mother sliding on ice with her newborn in the back. This one? Trump Take the Wheel. It features a desperate President only wanting to be with his peeps (his armed peeps) as they hunt for the traitor Pence through the Capitol corridors.

There could be a stanza about Pence on the gallows, begging for mercy. But Trump Took the Wheel. Anyone who wants to take this song idea and make it real, go right ahead.

 

Had a day yesterday with nothing on it. Hiked the holy Valley. A few of Kate’s remains are still where I spread them. Most are gone downstream, headed for the world ocean. The Wild Roses. Columbines. New Pine Cones coming. Kate’s Creek running full. Still. It had rained not long before I got there and the scent of Pine Trees was everywhere. Rain wet my jeans as I walked through low hanging Brush. Cool, too, though the day would quickly hit 78 in Evergreen.

Drove over to Evergreen to get new brushes for my electric toothbrush. Thought I did. But, no. Wrong ones again. Geez, how hard an it be? Decided to toss out this one, which I don’t like and go back to the less complicated Oral B.

Then down to Sundance Nursery to look at Aspen’s, discuss planting some in my front. Got the info. About as much as I thought. Next spring. Aiming to plant my six trees per Diane Kroger’s idea about working toward a climate solution in which each person on the planet plants one tree a year for the next six years.

Back home I took a long nap. Performing and the attendant late night coupled with the hike wore me out.

Later I cooked a Salmon steak, tator tots, and had some of the cucumber dill salad I made on Monday. My diet has changed. Thanks, Diane, for the nudge. Salad today with the rest of the Salmon on it. I enjoy being in my kitchen.

Almost finished with Plowing in the Dark. Not going to proceed to the next two, Gain and the Gold Bug Variations. Need a palate cleanser. Some non-fiction perhaps, sir?

 

Hamish’s wife said she couldn’t believe I wasn’t an experienced actor. Since she acts quite a bit, I took that as a sincere compliment. Especially since Hamish only relayed it to me after I texted him about his own acting. Maybe Robbie did mean what she said, “You’re a real actor!” Getting positive feedback is good for the soul.

 

Enough. Tomorrow. Why the left always eats itself. Remember. Power first. Then policy.

 

Colorado, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Travel

Disgust and Rage

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Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Friday gratefuls: Mussar. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Bear. Kohler generator. Maintenance. Kaspersky. I still trust them. Helped me recover my password manager. Why I couldn’t post earlier. Rain and a cool down. Pride Shabbat tonight. View from the Bridge. Learning lines. Tal. Hamish. Sunday. Kep.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Buddies

Tarot: Knight of Bows, the Stoat

“In The Wildwood Tarot, Stoat is associated with the sovereignty of the land. This is because, during the summer months, his coat is a burnished copper, but in the winter, the coat turns white – still with his small black tail. The color combination of red, white, and black has an ancient and sacred connection to the land we encountered in The Wildwood Tarot.

The sovereignty of the land means the ground below our feet is sacred. When we separate ourselves from the land, we lose touch with an important and ancient part of ourselves – and our journey through Wildwood will reunite ourselves to the land.”   tarotx.net

 

 

A need to connect to the land could not be more important on this a sad, sad day for America. At least America as I have understood her and still understand her. Guns and abortions. Talk about virtue signaling. These are decisions that play to a base and do not reflect the constitution or even the vast majority of Americans. You’ve seen the numbers, I presume. It’s not a reach to call them The Extremes.

America has become a fantasy land bred on 4Chan and nourished in the annals of the KKK. Evangelical Christianity married white supremacy and its bastard child is the reckoning in all the news outlets today. Oh, Trump. Yeah. He seems almost like a side show. This is inexcusable. Villainous. Wrong. Evil.

Making children come into a world where their elementary school will be a place they fear? That’s absurd. Feeding both sides of this shitshow. Remarkable. Absolutely fucking remarkable.

Burning women at the stake? Is that where we’re headed? A Scarlet Letter. A for abortion. Feels like it. I’m so angry I could, I don’t know what. At least not yet.

Gonna make this a short one because my rationality has been overcome by sheer disgust and rage.

 

Acting, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Health, Hermitage, Memories, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Travel

Androgyny. Needs and Desires.

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Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Thursday grateful: Running lines with Alan. The Campfire. That pastrami sandwich. Feeling conflicted. Money. Trips. Axumin scan. Long term care insurance premium. Maybe a new (read expensive) hot water heater. Friends. Family. Travel. A need for rest, time away. How to reconcile. The synagogue. Luke. Rebecca. Jamie. Marilyn and Irv. Kep. So excited in the morning. Food, dad, food!

Sparks of Joy and Awe: It’s a ladle (not a spoon, you dumb ignoramus!) a line from the Odd Couple

Tarot: The Seer, #2 of the major arcana

“With the innate ability to balance emotions and the power of will and source of knowledge, The Seer encourages us to change the ordinary material world. She uses all of The Wildwood’s natural resources skillfully. She nurtures positive changes in people’s minds, expressed through emotions and commitment to life. Her magic is one of the purest and most revered things on earth.”  tarotx.net

 

Androgyny. Quite a ways back Kate paid me a compliment, one I’ve treasured. “You’re the most androgynous person I know, Charlie.” I value the balance of yin and yang, of the feminine and the masculine. In me. I love being a sensitive man who will knock down injustice. I love cooking, raising kids, keeping a nice house. The chainsaw and I were one. Back when I could still hold one. The axe, too. I loved gardening, the labor of it and the nurture of plants. Raising dogs and caring for them when they’re sick. I loved being in relationship with Kate.

The Seer and I are old friends. Her feminine intuition, her link to Mother Earth. I feel them. Honor them. Honor her. She was the one who told me, “You need to be a Dad.” And, I listened. She was the one who told me, “You need to write.” And, I did. She was the one who told me, “Marry Kate. Right now.” I did. I listen to her as often as I can, as closely as possible. She was the one who told me, “Move to Colorado. Be close to Ruth and Gabe as they grow up.” And, we did. I have never regretted hearing her voice.

Drawing this card today reminds me to collect the information I’ve gleaned over the last year and two months since Kate died. To listen to the Seer once again. Hear her advice on what happens next. What I need to do now. Listening.

 

I’ve put myself in a box. One of my own making, one that expresses deep desires but may not conform, right now, to my reality. I really want to go to Durango with Tom. I really want to see the Redwoods with Diane. I really want to extend my reunion trip and visit Sarah and Jerry at Belews Creek. But. In August I have my Axumin scan. Over a thousand bucks. Then in September my long term care insurance comes due. Three and half times that. Plus I may need a new water heater. Maybe more than the two combined.

Money. I have enough. Yes. But not more than enough. I so want to go places, see other people. But. I may have to settle for Hawai’i until I’ve seen my way through these big expenses. Adulting. Bah, Bah. Gonna have to count my pennies again. Stay tuned.

Acting, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Travel

The Summer Solstice. And Acting.

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Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

art@willworthington

Tuesday gratefuls: Learning. Acting. Felix. Alfieri. The Black Box. Low friction theater. Tech night. Showcase. Summer Solstice. Beltane, leaving. Growth. Green. Pollen. Mountain trails. Black Mountain green, Lodgepoles and Aspen. Very cool morning, 43. Blue Colorado Sky. Pure yang. Today only. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Needing to work harder at learning lines.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Our Showcase on the 27th, all scenes go up

Tarot: Two of Arrows, Injustice

“Two of Arrows, Injustice, encourages us to be less judgmental and critical of the motives of others. We rarely know what is going on and why someone is doing what they do. Today the Two of Arrows asks us to step out of time for a moment. Orientate ourselves with the Wildwood: question our beliefs and seek out the truth of a situation.” tarotx.net

 

How about that Summer Solstice? See Deng Ming Dao’s comment below.* I love the feeling of growth and abundance that shows all around me. Lush Grasses in the Meadows. (the pollen, meh) Green Pine Needles make the Lodgepoles look Spruced up. (lol) The Aspens sway in the wind, their Catkins beginning to emerge. The Mountain Streams have slowed as the Snow melt and Spring Rains have receded.

Coming home last night I saw a young Mule Deer Buck, his small rack still in velvet. He dined on the tall grasses growing up from the edge of Brookforest Drive. Munching as I drove past, he looked up for a moment to acknowledge my passing.

The sun had set but still cast light on the Western horizon. The longest Day. As Deng Ming Dao notes though, this marks the apotheosis of Yang for the year. From this point on it declines until we reach the Yin moment of the Winter Solstice.

June 17, 2015. Shadow Mountain

Beltane to Lughnasa. The growing season in its most vigorous, summer marking its middle. Corn has long since jetted past the old cliche of knee high by the Fourth of July. New hybrids grow faster, yield more. But? Better? Well…

The Midwest throws a party for the Summer Solstice. Corn and Beans pushing toward harvest. Cows in the fields and in the barns. Pigs getting fed. Chickens roosting, finally, at home. Farmers hard at work from sunup to sundown. The remnants of the Big Woods in full leaf and flower. Grasses green and plentiful. Alfalfa. Timothy. Almost to first cutting.

Without this season the whole world goes hungry. Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music!

 

Acting. Alan and I met for breakfast then went over to the synagogue where we ran lines for the Odd Couple. Four times. And screwed them up at tech night. Tech night means final blocking and working on the lights. Tal said this was low friction theater. Minimal stage dressing.

Learning lines has proven more of a challenge than I expected. I’ve not put in enough time and plan to remedy that this week. I’m going to learn how to read my partner’s lines into the computer so I can toggle it on and off while repeating my lines. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. As long as it takes.

At this point I do know the lines for both The View from a Bridge and the Odd Couple. What’s hard is remembering them on cue. Odd Couple is 97% there. View from the Bridge maybe 40%. One of my big ahas from this first acting class is to start learning lines earlier and put more time in run throughs with my acting partner. After 50 years it makes sense that I’d have a few things to learn. Oooh, boy.

I’ve got Macbeth down. 100%. I’m the announcer. I say at the beginning, “The Tragedy of Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Act One.” Then I go out four more times announcing act two, so on. That’s it.

This is a much shortened version of Macbeth. The script is two pages long. To give you the flavor, the final lines are: Alan as a soldier: Stab, Stab, Stab. Macbeth: Ow, Ow, Ow. Macbeth dies.

I’m excited for the showcase, but still have a bunch of work to do. Starting with the computer work today. Alan and I are going to run our scene again. I go to Hamish’s on Sunday to work on View from a Bridge.

Turns out acting lessons require real work.

 

*”The Daodejing speaks of the valley spirit, of the importance of the female character, and of Tao as the mother. That doesn’t negate the opposite: pure yang. It is also a concept in Tao.

Today is a time of great yang. The daylight is longest.
As we contemplate that, we can see that it took a year to get here, it lasts a day, and the time will move toward darkness and yin.

Therefore, as much as we might want to celebrate pure yang, it is a brief state. The rest of the time, everything is far more mixed.” Deng Ming Dao, a facebook post

Acting, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

Backwards through the day

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Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Sarah. Jon. Gabe. Ruth. Jamie. Luke. Cheri. Laura. Alan. Steve. Sally. Kep. The Beatles. All You Need Is Love. Imagine. Hey, Jude. Shabbat. Evening in the Mountains. The Yellow Peril, Lodgepole Pine Pollen. The Mule Deer and the Dandelions. Acting. Oscar and Felix. Knocking them dead.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Laughter

 

 

Friday. Let me go backwards. When I left before oneg a social moment after the evening service and the saying of kiddush a blessing over wine to welcome the sabbath, I told Sally, “I go to bed at 9:00. You know, these services starting at 7:30…” Sally, of my age or so, nodded yes, she understood.

When I got home, there was no Kep at the door. He usually greets me when I come home. I called to him. No Kep. It was a bit past 9. Downstairs I looked through the bedroom door and Kep looked up at me from the bed, tail thumping. It’s bedtime, Dad. Made my heart melt.

 

Kate’s memorial Iris Bed in bloom

Jon, Ruth, Gabe, and Sarah came up for the Beatles Shabbat. It was a sweet moment. Sarah the classical violinist loved the CBE band and the vocalists. “I feel Kate here,” she said. I don’t get those sensations, at least not very often, but I knew what she meant.

Kate inhabited CBE. She wasn’t just a member. She lived, in her last seven years, the full Jewish life that she had dreamed about since converting at 31. If her presence would be anywhere, it would be at CBE or home. Her presence was there in the flesh of Jon, Ruth, Gabe, and her sister Sarah. And my love for her.

 

Continuing toward morning, I took a short nap. Picked up food to make three special June salads at Safeway. A melon salad. A shrimp salad. And, a quinoa salad for vegetarian Ruth. Took all that home and put it away.

 

I drove to Safeway directly from treading the boards again for the first time in 50 + years. For the Senior Wellness gathering at the Church of the Transfiguration. Alan and I as Oscar and Felix from the Odd Couple. A lot of laughs. We had good chemistry and the audience could feel it. Forgot the rush when an audience responds to something you’ve done. In person. Right then, in the moment. Oh, my, ichi-go, ichi-e.

There were four other scenes and they were all well received. One solo performance by a woman dressed as a fiery Greek with a sword. Rebecca. She looked like an actress with some experience. She was from the class for more experienced actors working on solos.

 

Back home that morning, we performed at 1:00, I did another hour and a half with the script. Learning that I need to work harder than I have been at this. Memorization feels harder than I remembered. Maybe it is. Maybe I don’t recall the past accurately. Whichever I now see that I have to put in more time to do well. To flourish at acting. And, I want to.

 

The usual early morning. Ancientrails and a workout, hitting my goal for the week in terms of minutes.

Friday. A new day, a resurrected self, ready for what presents itself.

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

Flourishing. Again.

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Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

art@willworthington

Friday gratefuls: Alan. The holy trail. Kate, always Kate. This grand wakin’ up mornin’. Each morning a resurrection and a new promise. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Increasingly my life mantra. Mussar. Moses. Leo. Luke. Better rested. Dressing up for the first time in years. Acting for an audience today. Oh, my. Still lotsa things to learn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Being able to learn

Tarot: Ten of Vessels, Happiness

“..the water from the lake plashes down joyously, crashing against the rocks, filling and spilling over Ten of vessels that sit in the cascading waters. The air vibrates with negatively charged ions – We are energized. This is happiness, joyous and alive: ever-changing and yet always to be found.

We acknowledge our relationships. We honor the universal flow of energy between all forms of life. We celebrate the child’s hand on our own. We expose the vulnerable soft throat of ourselves as we allow ourselves to love. We accept the ecstasy and grief.”  may it be so, tarotx.net

 

Let me say a word for happiness. And then a word against it. I am a happy guy, joyous even. Although in a subdued way that some might miss. When I experience the momentary delight of a breakfast with a friend, an intellectual exchange, a meeting with friends of over 30 years, Kep’s warm presence, I’m happy. And these happen a lot so I experience happiness a lot. But. It’s a by-product rather than a goal.

As I’ve often written here, I’m a eudoimaniac.* “the condition of human flourishing or of living well.” see link below. Aristotle focused on reason and political action as the characteristic human activities and therefore the source of eudoimania. OK. That’s one take. I mean, I know, Aristotle, but still…

I’d throw in love and compassion. Also. honesty and vulnerability. Living well, or flourishing, which I like a lot as a description of my own aims, does include the application of reason to life. No need to look further than the January 6th hearings to understand the value and virtue of applying reason. And, political life is the life of the common good. Care for the neighbor and the stranger. Oft cited as a high religious good.

Yes, and. As I learned in my political years, it’s easy to divide the world into them and us. To go after them with all the tools in the political tool box. Yet, love suggests living with the fuzziness of a word more complicated than binary. So flourishing comes when we put away the sword, use other means. Perhaps love?

My flourishing does include working for yours. Working for the flourishing of others seems like a worthy human goal. A worthy life goal. As I said in the gratefuls above, ichi-go, ichi-e has become a life mantra. That is, I flourish in this unique, never to be repeated, and precious moment. Right now you, my neighbor and friend, or you, a stranger to me, are not present, but I’m reaching out to you anyhow. Making myself visible and vulnerable. As I wish to do in each moment.

Flourishing for me also includes time spent reading, listening, thinking. Cooking for myself. Living the Herme life. Living in the Mountains. Hiking. Listening to the Trees. The Mule Deer Does who visited yesterday evening. The Rain and the Snow and the Heat and the Drought. Exercising. Sleeping well.

Here’s where Aristotle and I differ, at least as much as I know about his work. He applies the unique or characteristic function to every instance of a living or human-made thing. To the class of these things. So. Tables flourish when they’re solid and balanced, able to function well. Mule Deers when they eat, reproduce, and provide prey for Mountain Lions. That’s an aspect of it, yes.

And. Each Mule Deer, each Table is also unique not just a member of a class of beings, but an individual sui generis. Gertie was a much different Dog from Vega. Vega again different from her sister, Rigel. Rigel quite different from her boyfriend, Kepler. Yet, all dogs.

Rigel’s flourishing included escaping from the yard and taking Vega with her. Instigating digging holes which Vega helped with. Rigel was a predator. Vega was not. Unless Rigel took her on a hunt. Vega’s flourishing was a big and dynamic personality, chewing on shoes, and claiming chairs.

Just so with humans. My friend Tom’s unique characteristics include a certain Vishnu-quality, holding the world within his purview steady so that others can find their way. Friend Alan a joi de vivre that infects other. Friend Paul a seriousness and compassion that reaches across species and causes. Friend Ode a willingness to challenge his own preconceived notions, to see the world, really see it. Friend Bill to live in the moment with others regardless of their station in life, their beliefs.

Flourishing requires being not only a member of a unique class of living things, but a unique member of that class. As all living things are. None is repeatable, each precious. And each has gifts the whole needs which can be give only when they live fully in their uniqueness.

 

“According to Aristotle, every living or human-made thing, including its parts, has a unique or characteristic function or activity that distinguishes it from all other things. The highest good of a thing consists of the good performance of its characteristic function, and the virtue or excellence of a thing consists of whatever traits or qualities enable it to perform that function well” Brittanica

Acting, Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

C’mon Dude

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Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

art@willworthington

Thursday gratefuls: Acting. Hiking. Sleeping. Wondering. Black Mountain. Ski runs. Lodgepole Pines. That other trail. Kep, the patient boy. Heat. Air conditioning. Left over Chinese. Sarah helping Jon, Ruth, Gabe. Waking up late. Late. Dressing myself for tomorrow. The dream with Ron Solomon. Talking with Diane yesterday. Our roots. Sadness and wistfulness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Myself

Tarot: Nine of Stones, Tradition

 

Golly. This morning? 8:45 am. Beginning to think late nights sap more out of me than I thought. And, I thought they took out a lot before. One more to go. Friday night and the Beatles Shabbat.

Meeting with Allen to run lines again. At the Parkside. I’m facing an existential crisis with acting at the moment. I know. I know. It’s just me. The way I grapple with the world. I didn’t do well yesterday and it made me want to run away. Because. I like to do things WELL. Tal said something however that stuck with me: Short-term memory is best in acting. That’s like sports. You can’t focus on the mistake, but on the next take, the next pitch, the next run through. Oh, but I can.

That’s the existential crisis. How can I push myself past the need to do well and accept mistakes as part of the process? I know it’s a soul journey thing for me. Probably a middah though I don’t know which one. Yes, I do. Savlanut. Patience. Not only with others but with myself. Also still practicing ichi-go, ichi-e. This moment, the only moment, is unrepeatable, unique. Therefore precious and valuable as it is. Not as I wish it to be.

So, my mission if I should choose to accept it is to recognize several things. First, I’m 75 and I haven’t acted in over 50 years. Second, I’m learning a new method and an almost new art form (for me). Third, I make mistakes. Of course, I do. And they do not diminish me as a person. Fourth. This is community theater. Not Broadway. Fifth. Come on, dude. Get over yourself. I mean…

 

Well. That’s enough for today. I have to get ready to go run lines with Alan. Wish me many mistakes from which I recover gracefully and learn lots.

 

 

 

 

Acting, Art and Culture, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Needing a Refresh Button

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Beltane and the Living In the Mountains Moon

art@willworthington

Wednesday gratefuls: Sarah. Gabe. Chinese food. Richard Powers. Jerry. Jon and Ruth. Tom. Durango. The railroad. Winds. Heat. Sealed driveway. Susan Taylor. Alan. Tal. Working on the Odd Couple. Kep. Mini-splits. Kate. The redoing of the house. My health. Evergreen Medical Center. They give a damn.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sarah

Tarot: Page of Stones, Lynx

 

There are the seven seals in the Book of Revelations and    one petroleum based seal on my driveway. John came by yesterday and worked for three hours. Cleaning, then putting a rubber based liquid in the cracks. Spraying a black sticky coating of some sort of petroleum over the whole driveway.

John had a Louisiana phone number. I asked him about that. Oh, we’re seasonal. We work up here during the summer and early fall, then back to Louisiana. When I asked what he misses about Louisiana, he says, quickly, “The food.” He recommends Pappadeaux’s. No No’s is ok, but Pappadeaux’s is the real deal. I’ll try it soon.

 

Sarah (sister-in-law Sarah) came up with Gabe last night. Stayed until ten. Another late night. Late nights being defined as any night I can’t get to bed by nine. I tried going to ten but my body wouldn’t put up with it.

Sarah is here to help Jon get some necessary work done and items for his house. Sarah retired a few years back from a long and successful career as a classical violinist. She did solo work, trios and quartets, and taught for several years at Congress College in South Carolina.

Now she has become a key figure for the Johnson clan. I think she was third after Annie. Kate being the first born. I gave her a couple of books: Orfeo by Richard Powers, and I’m OK, You’re Not OK by Linda Budd, itself a gift to me from Tom.

On her death bed Kate and I finalized her bequests. Sewing stuff to Ruth, the Bailey Patchworkers got her stash, Ruth got most of her jewelry, but I remembered the jewelry she’d put in the safety deposit box. “Give it to Jerry.” That would be Jerry Miller, Sarah’s husband and a painter of landscapes in his version of the Group of Seven tradition.

Somehow boxing them up and getting the rings, necklaces, and raw gems mailed became a chore I couldn’t get done. I also had a moment when I thought. Hey, this stuff could be valuable. I should keep it. That didn’t last long. Kate was clear. And I have plenty of money thanks to Kate. So, no greed, please.

Glad to hand them over to Sarah and get them out of the house.

 

This morning I rolled out of bed at the crack of 7:30. About an hour, hour and a half after my usual time. A bit groggy. Two long nights and a third, the Beatles Shabbat this Friday still to come.

 

At 9 I talked to Cousin Diane of Clan Keaton as I do each week. This morning we veered into family territory. Could Grandma and Grandpa have been married after Grandma became pregnant? Gosh, gee whiz. This conversation started around a baby who died in his first month, Kenneth, and included a gold ring engraved 1905, Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding in 1910 (or, did they have a secret wedding).

The Keaton Clan, my mom’s family, had a lot of secrets and tragedies. Some engendered by manic-depression, some by rigid mid-century values about pregnancy, some by early death, and still more by genial criminal behavior. It’s a rich story that could fill a novel with ease. One spanning the Belle Epoque to Y2K and beyond. Family, eh?

 

At ten I drove to Evegreen Players for a meeting with Alan and Tal. Tal wanted to help us with our scene. Read: we’re not ready for prime time just yet. It was a difficult hour plus for me. I felt I was letting the side down. I kept dropping lines. Alan and Tal both reassured me that this was part of the process. Oh. Well. O.K.

In the end we got close to a finished scene. That is off book, blocking, scene dressing all working together. Still, I left with a headache. Feeling low.

 

Found a trail I haven’t used in a while and hiked it. Thought it would hit refresh for my spirit, but I spent too much time on it worrying about sunburn. OK, guy. This is getting silly.

 

An hour plus nap did hit the refresh button and I’m feeling much better as I write this around 4:30 pm. Yeah.

 

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health

Independent. Mobile. Sharp Mind.

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Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

art@willworthington

Monday gratefuls: Kate. Always Kate. Mary. Mark. Diane. Hamish. Tom. Bill. Mario. Paul. Alan. Rebecca. Rabbi Jamie. Luke. Leo. Kep. Solar energy when I need it most. Cruises. Simple fun. Health. Aging. Learning lines. View from a Bridge. Odd Couple. Macbeth. Acting. Lessons.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Health

Tarot: King of Stones, The Wolf

“King of Stones asks: What does wealth mean to you? What packs do you run with? Are you comfortable in your natural surroundings? In what ways do you celebrate memories of the dead?”  tarotx.net

 

Fascinated by an AARP/National Geographic survey about aging. In particular about how those of us now past 65 have begun to redefine health. The three key markers of health identified in the survey are: Independence. Mobility. Sharp mind.

I’m intrigued by this. It conforms to my experience. Both mine and Kate’s. Her health (using this definition) really began to decline when she could no longer drive or easily navigate in the house. When she could no longer work in her sewing room, her health had become a problem.

This was long after she went on oxygen full-time. Long after she had been hospitalized several times. Up until that point her mobility allowed her to do the things she loved most, sewing and quilting. Going out to see her friends. Yes, I had to drive her, but she could go, walk in, sit with the Bailey Patchworkers, the Needle Workers.

She maintained her sharp mind up until the end. But she lost independence when she had to depend on me to go to appointments, drive, cook, often help her with showering, with her feeding tube.

Combining the loss of independence and mobility meant a quicker decline in her health, then the crises that ultimately ended in her death.

But note that well before she could no longer get to the sewing room she had lost her ability to eat anything but bland food, was on 24 hour oxygen, had a feeding tube attached, and needed me to drive her places. Yet, she still had functional independence, mobility, and a sharp mind. We were happy. Stressed? Sometimes. Sure. But that’s part of life.

What I really like about this new approach to health is its recognition of how life actually is. I’m not my medical conditions. I’m not cancer guy. I’m not paralyzed diaphragm guy. I’m not diaper guy or suppository guy. Yes, these are medical issues with which I have to deal. But they do not, per se, make me unhealthy.

As long I can go to acting lessons, visit my friends online and in person, workout, read, learn, make my own decisions, hike in the holy Valley, watch movies, see and be with family, I’m healthy. In my case I give myself marks for excellent health. I even said this to Kristen Gonzales, my PCP. I feel like I’m in excellent health even though I have prostate cancer.

Unconsciously I’ve been using these criteria. I’m independent. I’m mobile. I have a sharp mind. Which equals this: I can live my life on own terms.

Do I wish I didn’t have to deal with expensive and often harsh drugs? Sure. Do I wish I didn’t have the sequelae from the prostatectomy and the radiation? Sure. But the reality is that I only think about these things when they present themselves as an issue. And even then only to make sure I’m handling them well.

In a sense this turns the old paradigm on its head. The doctors define our health. No.  We define our health and use medicine and doctors to help us keep it. But only help. As has always been the case, doctors cannot live our lives for us. They can intervene when possible, but even their best efforts cannot make our lives meaningful, fruitful, worth living.

This finally answers the question Steve Miles asked about his dying grandfather, “What constitutes health in a dying person?” That’s all of us, all the time. Until we die.

So. I’m working on those things that keep me independent, mobile, and sharp. In other words, healthy.