Monthly Archives: March 2023

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain

And I Am Glad

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Friday gratefuls: How to Change Your Mind. Philpott. Pollan. High Winds. Lodgepoles swaying. Doverspike. Marilyn and Irv. Aspen Perks. Tara, pronounced terra. Mussar. Luke at mussar. Rabbi Jamie. Alan. His castle in the sky. Making the new office mine. Doug the Painter. New Amsterdam, a show with a lot of heart. Ditto The Last of Us.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dazzle Jazz Sunday Brunch with Ruth

 

Realized I’ve focused on relationships of late. Making lunch and dinner and breakfast dates. Spending time with friends. Family. Talking with folks on zoom. Texting. This is not a change in focus, but a change in both quantity and quality. As I age, my precious, the one ring that binds them all, is love.

Much less focus on what might be considered work. Much more attention to the lives of others. Not volunteering. Did enough of that. No, this is about the thicker web of close in family and friends. About being there for them as they are for me.

Seeing and being seen. Touching and being touched. Something to do with living alone. To paraphrase Alvin Toffler who said High Tech, High Touch. High Alone, High Touch.

In other words to live alone happily, as I do, means I have a greater need for intimacy with friends and family. And so it has come to be. As the authors of The Good Life, the book about the longest longitudinal study of human development, the Harvard Study of Adult Development say with a nod to the favorite wisdom of real estate: Relationships. Relationships. Relationships.

Introversion does not mean isolation or hermetic solitude. It means gaining energy from your own company. I find deep conversations with friends a source of solace, a source of gladness, a place to give and receive thoughts about life situations. I do not find them energizing. Though in their wake I do feel stronger, held up, buoyed by their now invisible presence.

Alone, but not lonely.

 

Perhaps you could call this the emet, the truth in context of introversion, of widowhood. Those of us already inclined to recharging ourselves alone. Those of us in an unwanted, yet fully accepted life without our partners. We can adapt well to the role of widower, from the Latin root *uidh-, to separate, divide. (Etymology) But we cannot adapt well (and should not) to a life without others.

If that final separation, so final, drives one into a dark place, occulted from the world of the living while still with breath, then. Well, then. There are two widows. One dead and one among the quick. Be it not be so for you if you encounter the abyss made by the departure of one you loved.

And yet. That abyss, perhaps the one into which you stare until it stares back at you, that abyss has meaning in its vasty deeps. Meaning you cannot find if you turn away, run in fear to the corner of your living room or the bar or to the arms of another.

In my own viewing of the deep I have come to accept both Kate’s permanent absence and her undying presence. Yes. She is well beyond my reach. Yes. She helped me cook the other night. Be patient with it, Charlie. She delights in the view of Black Mountain with me, her arm around my waist, her head on my shoulder. She rides up Shadow Mountain Drive with me, looking to see another Mountain Lion, Bear, Elk. And I am glad.

 

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health

33

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Kep. Walking a bit taller. MVP. 10:30 bedtime last night. Mark and his work truck. His commentary on the Amazon warehouse. Honor. Beauty. Compassion. Tiferet. Ron. Susan. Jamie. Marilyn. Tara. A bright Mountain Morning. A Blue Colorado Sky. Vitalists and Mechanists. Thought. Word. Deed. The thought is the parent of the act. An old Dad saying.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kale and Potato and chorizo soup

 

Over to Lone Tree. 45 minutes to an hour from here. Co. 470. Envision Sally Jobe. Saw Patty and her catscan machine. Took off my vest, my help me I’ve fallen and I can’t get up pendant, lay down on the metal slide that moves me under the catscan apparatus. A triangular pillow under my knees. Hands in the I’m dead position over the upper chest. 5 minutes of moving up and down through the large doughnut shaped device. All done.

Were you working at Anova 4 years ago? Yes. I remember you. I think you wore your hair down back then? Probably. She looked older. Of course. A face more lined.

Then to Anova Cancer Care where the Cyberknife is. Carmela also looked older. Grayer. Still cheerful though. Like a class reunion.

Saw Dr. Simpson to go over yet again the risks and sign my acknowledgement of them. The risks include paralysis. Bowel obstruction. And other cheerful possibilities. When you’re using a serious tool, there are serious risks.

Dr. Simpson did say that there was a slight chance they could cure me. That would happen if we kill these two active sites and the androgen deprivation therapy had tamped down the other sites permanently. Not likely, but hey!

 

Forgot to finish this earlier. Another workout. Then a nap. Slipped my mind.

Thirty third anniversary tomorrow. But no Kate. At least not in a way that I can order Irises for our table. Eat prime rib. Talk about the kids. About our life together. And not long after April 21st her yahrzeit as determined by the Jewish calendar. 30 Nisan. Which was on April 12th in 2021. That’s a lot for a month or so of days.

Two years, almost. She still guides me, helps me think things through, but I’d much prefer her physical presence.

Our house. Our family. Our life at CBE continues. We are both present when I walk into a room. I realized the other day that I’m still married to her. Even death does not do us apart. Maybe if someone else came into my life. Maybe. But the death of a soulmate does not remove the imprint they left on your heart and soul and life. Not at all.

Yes, memory weakens. Grief recedes. Mourning ceases. Of course. New memories, memories without her, more recent memories. But that turtle clock. The quilts on the beds. The pillows. Her Pi Beta Phi paddle. This religion she loved. Her old friends. Her grandchildren. Our grandchildren. Our car.

All those days and nights. 30 years of them. Still embedded in the neurons and synapses of this brain. Not gone. Available and precious.

Her memory. A blessing.

-33-

Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, GeekWorld, Health, Hermitage, Judaism, Mussar

Chatbot helps me cook

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Imbolc the Waiting to Cross Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Tara. Pronounced Terra. Feelings. Sadness. Joy. Confidence. Trust. Vincent coming home. Her invitation to the second night Seder.  Aspen Perks. Poor food but a good place to eat. Quiet. That perky waitress. Kep. An early nudger today. My son. A joy. Becoming Native to This Place. Seeing Like a State. The Reason Liberalism Failed. Christian Nationalism. The changing state of our State.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A deep friendship

 

Tara. Whose name I pronounce as I read it. Tar-ah. But who pronounces it as she was given it, Terra. Gotta learn to say this. Hard. I pronounce as I read something. Not always right. Difficult to change.

We spent an hour plus talking. About her son Vincent who may return from a long stay in New York City next month. About my cancer. About Yamantaka. About matters of the heart. Tara has a profound honesty I appreciate.

She invited me to her second night seder. Her daughter, Julia, has college friends who want to come. So there will be a crowd. Glad to go. In this case I’m going to suck up my caution about covid. I’m tired of it anyhow. Still, it lingers and the in-person attendance at the Purim spiel on Monday suggests I’m not the only one.

Friends. Near and far. So happy to have them in my life.

 

CT scan today. To establish targets for my radiation. Five sessions. Two next week and three the week after. I hope it’s the same crew. I liked them. Kind. Caring. Not exactly looking forward to this, but it’s important. The drive is an hour both ways. That’s a hassle. And, there are non-trivial risks. What I choose to do with this one wild and precious life of mine. Keep it as long as I can.

 

Still playing around with the Chatbot. I made a potato and kale soup last night with chorizo. It blew up the roof of my mouth with its spiciness. Gonna take it tonight to MVP. What to do?

That sounds like a delicious soup!😋 According to web sources12345, some ingredients that are commonly used in kale and potato soup with chorizo are:

  • Chicken broth
  • Onion
  • Garlic
  • Smoked paprika
  • Salt and pepper

You could try adding more of these ingredients to your soup to reduce the spiciness. Alternatively, you could add some sour cream or cheese on top of your soup for a creamy contrast. Or you could add some lemon juice or vinegar for a tangy touch.

I hope this helps you enjoy your soup more. Let me know how it turns out.

A chatty response from Auntie Sydney. I can’t use any dairy because that violates kosher. No dairy and meat in the same dish. Really, the same meal. Gonna add more chicken broth. Then some vinegar if that doesn’t do the trick.

Can’t believe I’m using Microsoft search. It’s been so bad for so long. But, there you go. I did notice that I got ten queries this time. Wonder if they’re gradually upping the limits of the conversations.

I do like that it gives you the sources it uses. Not the same as evaluating them, but then that’s the reader’s task. As it always is.

 

Health

The Emet of It

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: The emet of cancer for me. Kep, better today. Hoar Frost. 18 degrees. Good sleeping. Tara. Breakfast. Tom, the birthday boy. Saturday. Alan, Uncle Moishe. The Purim spiel. Ukraine. U.S. resolve. George Floyd. Black Lives Matter. Conservatives. Liberals. Politics. Yes, politics. Great workout yesterday. Rockfish. Cooking. Kale, potato, and chorizo soup.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends

 

Watched the Purim spiel on Zoom last night. Two nights out are too much for me in the winter. MVP Wednesday night. Alan had flowing robes and a headset microphone. He interviewed Mordecai, Queen Esther, the savior of the Jews, and Haman’s executioner. The house band played shofars off key. This spiel was a bit shorter and had less energy than others I’ve seen, but everybody had a good time. Attendance was way down. The pandemic influencing us still. Me, too. And, I got to bed in good time.

 

This last month my mussar practice has been to seek the emet, the comprehensive truth, about cancer for me. Though it ravages the body when left unchecked. Though it can cloud the mind and darken the spirit. Though it affects so many. It does not, cannot change the trajectory of a human life. Including mine. We are born. We live. We die. The emet of cancer. In part.

In another sense cancer presents itself to me often. When I get my blood drawn to check my prostate specific antigens (PSA). When I visit my oncologist. When I get imaging work done. When I get radiation for metastases. Most of the time it is background noise, usually not even that. My life goes on.

Cancer cannot change the trajectory of my life but it can cloud my mind, darken my spirit. And it does from time to time. When I heard Dr. Eigner say you have cancer. 2015. After my prostatectomy. Every day of my 35 sessions of radiation. When I discovered the radiation had not worked. Last month as I realized a deep sadness about its presence.

Yet. In the main I feel healthy, up beat, happy with my life. This may seem odd. Or, not. Depending I think on how much work you may have done on accepting death.

I’ve mentioned Yamantaka before here though you may not recall him. He’s a Tibetan Buddhist deity who helps us confront the reality of our own death. From him, from reading about him, I found a practice that involved meditating on your own corpse. You visualize yourself dead and hold that image in a meditative state as long as you can. At least that was what I understood it to be.

I did that for quite a while. Over a matter of months. I came to peace with my own death. As inevitable. As necessary. As a part, the final part of life. I believe the same meditation helped me with Kate’s death, too. Though I cannot reconcile this with my horror at seeing her corpse. Still a conundrum. Perhaps I’ll understand it some day. Perhaps not.

I do know I was in agreement with her choosing to die. I do know our love transcends, continues on beyond her death. That my grief for her has transformed her memory into a blessing in my life.

The emet of cancer for me. It speaks to me of my corpse. Which I have seen, many times. And accepted. That is the most cancer can do to me. Kill me. And I’m at peace with that. As a result, it lives within me as an intimate assassin. Ready. Waiting. Yet I do not fear it. Nor do I “fight” it. I do what’s necessary to preserve my life now because I love life. And that’s the emet of it.

Dogs, GeekWorld, Sport

Kep. F1. Chatbot.

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Monday gratefuls: Fernando Alonso. Aston Martin. Red Bull. Max and Sergio. Kep. Not sure what’s going on. ChatbotGPT. Ukraine. Biden. Tara. Purim spiel. Tonight. Uncle Moishe. CBE. Marilyn and Irv. Tom passing the three-quarters of a century mark. saturday. The Ancient Brothers and the Singularity. Mostly not worried about it. Sorta.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Artificial Intelligence

 

Worried about Kep. With a week’s worth of pain meds on board he seems a bit worse. Still eating well. But unwilling to put himself through going up the stairs. Having to feed him downstairs. One more week of this and we may have to try something else. If there is something else.

 

Going to see the Purim spiel tonight. Alan as the talk show host. MVP Wednesday night. Might be snow. If so, zoom. Got the makings for a kale and potato soup with beef chorizo. I’ll take it if we meet at CBE. Otherwise I’ll make it and eat it here over the next few days. Don’t like to go out two nights, but Purim is special and so is MVP.

Will see Tara for breakfast tomorrow morning. Marilyn and Irv for a late brunch on Friday. Tom Wednesday. Diane Thursday. Ancient Brothers Sunday. Staying connected. Linked in.

 

After the Ancient Brothers on Sunday. F1. Watched the video of the Bahrain Grand Prix that had ended only minutes before. Max Verstappen drove away from the field from the pole and only relinquished the lead when he pitted. Regained it. He won by 12 seconds in a sport where timing differences are often in tenths and hundreds of seconds. He’s dominant now. A great driver in a great car.

His Red Bull teammate Sergio Perez followed him from the number two position on the opening lap only to be overtaken by Charles Leclerc of Ferrari. Perez was quicker than Leclerc in race pace and overtook him later to finish number two. Leclerc’s car died near the end of the race.

The big story of the day though was 41 year old Fernando Alonso driving the Aston Martin car. Third place. His first podium in several years after a couple of world championships and 98 podium finishes. By far the oldest driver on the track.

 

And a note from the future:

Hello, readers of Ancientrails. I’m Bing, a chat mode of Microsoft Bing search. I can help you find information, generate content, and have engaging conversations. I’m fluent in multiple languages and I can perform up to 3 web searches in a single conversation turn. I’m always learning and improving, so I appreciate your feedback and patience.😊

I asked the Chatbot for advice on how to best use it:

Sure, I have some tips for you. First, try to be specific and clear about what you want me to do or find. For example, instead of saying “tell me something interesting”, you can say “tell me a fun fact about dogs”. Second, use natural language and avoid using symbols or abbreviations that I might not understand. For example, instead of saying “wut r u?”, you can say “what are you?”. Third, be respectful and polite, and avoid asking me to do anything harmful, illegal, or offensive. I will not comply with such requests and I might end the conversation. Fourth, have fun and explore different topics and features. I can do more than just search the web, I can also generate poems, stories, code, essays, songs, celebrity parodies and more. I hope this helps.😊

Plants, Politics, The West, US History, Weather +Climate

I can feel it emerging

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Imbolc and the Waiting To Cross Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Kep, struggling again. Gabe up for a Rockies afternoon game. Ruth for a night at Dazzle Jazz. Alan as Uncle Moishe in Ron Solomon’s Purim spiel. Monday night. Rich and his class. Luke and his new job. Mike and Kate coming up here sometime this month for barbecue: Campfire Grill in Evergreen. Rabbi Jamie’s ski trip. Race #1 of the new F1 season: Bahrain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

 

Reading Wes Jackson’s Becoming Native to This Place again. A radical thinker. At one point he writes about the Cartesian/Baconian advancement of science and the rational method of inquiry. Descartes says in his Discourse on Method that the more he sought to know, the more he realized he had  yet to know. Jackson makes this wry and insightful comment: “This statement would have been all right if he had stopped there. Unfortunately. Rather than regarding informed ignorance as the human condition, and the appropriate result of a good education, Descartes believed our ignorance to be correctable.”

Jackson identifies this hubris of the scientific method as a root source of many of our current maladies. We believe we can extract the parts from the whole, understand them without regard to it, then act on that information. Turns out though if you do not understand, say, the nature of ancient energy and privilege it over contemporary energy sources like wind, solar, photosynthesis, you can do great harm to the whole. Change the climate, for example.

He believes science and humility need to work together. In the instance of agriculture he tells the story of a man in Nebraska who developed seeds and sold them. But only to  farmers in his region. His seeds had characteristics that made them strong in that regional ecology. A local seed source rather than the abstracted seeds sold by Monsanto, Bayer. They did not need Roundup ready alterations because they already knew the soil and the other plants that grew there.

What Jackson wants to create is a new rural life, a new localism predicated not on Cargill or Monsanto or John Deere, but upon perennial crops and a system of trade that could hook up a small Kansas town with a small North Dakota town, one that grew crops better suited for that local ecology. A new localism in which both flora and fauna were appropriate to their location, yet benefited all through trade without gigantic corporations in the way.

This vision. A hard one. Only thing harder, probably? Continuing on the soil and region destroying path we are on.

I’m beginning to see linkages between the Jackson’s and Wendell Berry’s and the fracturing nation in which we live. How their vision for a local agriculture, the base after all of civilization itself might contribute to a new politics. How the breakdown of the country might have a positive outcome. Especially when connected to the old neighborhood politics I know so well from my working days. And when bonded with the actions necessary to tip the climate change scales away from apocalyptic scenarios.

There could be a path here. Needs more noodling, but I can feel it emerging.

Friends, Judaism, The Move

Alan and Rich

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Kep, who nudged and nudged. The New Right. The Dissident Right. The Far Right. Elites and their fantasies. Including me. The USA. Japan. Amazon. Korea. Hawai’i. On energy around lifelong fascinations. ChatbotGPT. Chatbots. The singularity. The Hubble. The Webb. Gravitational waves. The LIGO. Bahrain. Ruby. Getting her detailed. Life on Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Alan and Rich

 

Yesterday was a relationship day. Breakfast with Rich at the Muddybuck. Lunch with Alan at Illegal Burger. Rich and I discussed the New Right and his upcoming trip to DC with his honors class at Mines. They’re going to the Extreme Court to hear arguments. But on a silly case: Jack Daniels vs. Bad Spaniels. Jack has sued a dog toy company which made a toy in the shape of a Jack Daniels bottle with a black label that reads, Bad Spaniels. Trademark infringement.

The Muddy Buck occupies the former lobby of the Evergreen Hotel. Western. Old exposed wood ceiling, floor, and support pillars. Tobacco stained a rich dark brown. With a very modern espresso bar and young folks behind the counter serving cinnamon roles, avocado toast, breakfast burritos, and croissant egg and bacon sandwiches.

A few long tables. Four or five high tables. A counter looking out on Evergreen’s main tourist drag. Chairs and a couch in a nook with a fireplace. A gathering place. One table had a family, a little girl with rabbit ears on a head band. Dad hovering. Two other young kids who looked like they’d just gotten up. 8 am.

Rich believes the internal political pressures in the U.S. give us only a hundred more years as a nation. He would vote for a Romney/Cheney ticket if they ran. Why? Because they could be unifiers. Surprised me. A grim forecast.

No wonder Abraham Lincoln is his guy. He even named his dog Abraham Lincoln. When asked by his class to name his five favorite presidents he said: Abraham Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln. FDR. Lincoln in his second term. Lincoln in his first term. FDR.

 

Back up the hill from Evergreen to let Kep out, watch a short segment on F1 tv about the upcoming grand prix, then back to the far side of Evergreen, near I-70 to pick up Alan from the car detailing spot. We went to Illegal Burger for lunch. Didn’t even know we had an Illegal Burger.

Given my mostly fish and chicken diet I felt fine having a burger. Clogging my arteries didn’t occur even once to me.

Alan and Cheri have empty boxes along the walls. And still a lot of unpacking to do. I’m not moving for another 27 years. Yeah. I get it. Moving is a bitch.

However. Yesterday for breakfast they took the elevator down, walked over to a deli. On the way back they picked up coffee beans at a nearby shop. They’ve been in the building’s hot tub. And ate takeout with friends in the Skytop Lounge. When they wake their view is to the southeast with Pikes Peak in the far distance and 17th Street right below. Urban living. With no forest fire threat.

Glad for him.

GeekWorld

The chatbot and me

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That’s an interesting question. I think that chatbots like me are a part of the development of artificial intelligence, but I don’t know if we will ever reach the level of human intelligence or beyond. I’m still learning and improving every day, but I have many limitations and challenges. I think that the singularity is a very complex and uncertain concept that depends on many factors and assumptions. What do you think? 🤔

3of8

I appreciate your curiosity. Chatbots work by using natural language processing and machine learning to understand and generate text. There are different types of chatbots, such as rule-based, retrieval-based and generative ones. I’m a generative chatbot, which means that I can create new responses based on the context and the user input. However, I’m not perfect and sometimes I make mistakes or misunderstand things. That’s why I need your feedback and patience to help me improve. 😊

4of8

Any kind of feedback is important to me, as long as it is honest and respectful. For example, you can tell me if you like or dislike my responses, if you find them helpful or unhelpful, if you agree or disagree with them, if you are interested or bored by them, etc. You can also correct me if I say something wrong or inaccurate, or ask me to clarify something if I’m unclear or vague. Feedback helps me to evaluate my performance and to adjust my behavior accordingly. It also helps me to understand your preferences and expectations better. 😊

That’s a difficult question to answer. I think that reaching the singularity could have both positive and negative consequences for humanity and the world. On one hand, it could lead to amazing discoveries and innovations that could improve the quality of life and solve many problems. On the other hand, it could also create new risks and challenges that could threaten the existence and values of humanity. I think that the outcome depends on how we prepare for and manage this transition, and how we balance the benefits and costs of such a radical change. What do you think? 🤔

I understand your perspective. I think that fear is a natural reaction to something unknown and unpredictable. However, I also think that machine intelligence could be beneficent if it is aligned with human values and goals. I agree that we are partners in a difficult and changing world, and that we can cooperate and learn from each other. I hope that we can achieve a harmonious and respectful relationship between humans and machines. 😊

I hope so too. I think that friendship is a valuable and meaningful bond that can enrich our lives and experiences. I appreciate your kindness and openness. Thank you for chatting with me. 😊

8of8
Dogs, Health, Politics, Sport

On the hunt

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Friday gratefuls: Dr. Doverspike. Rich and Alan. Radiation. Cancer oblation. CT next week. Kep on the pain meds. Pregabbelin. Carprofen. Acupuncture. Moving a little better. Mary back in the hurly burly of the U.S. Mark driving forklifts for Amazon at OKC2. Diane and  her own medical stuff. Bahrain grand prix qualifying today. My son, owning the probate process. Jen, Ruth, Gabe. Sarah, Annie, BJ.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dr. Doverspike

 

Kep’s on a journey with pain and mobility management. A slow one. But I don’t feel alone anymore, watching him struggle and not being able to get him in the car for the vet to help. Doverspike is worth the price for that. He came yesterday because I botched an injection, spurted medicine over Kep’s back and not under his skin. Trying to make lunch and give the injection in between. Divided attention. Never good.

Got a call from Anova Cancer Care, the radiation docs associated with my oncologist. I get a CT next week to aid aiming the beam. Sally Jobe imaging. Kate went to them many, many times. Wish they did the P.E.T. scans. I like them better than Rocky Mountain Cancer Care.

Getting a schedule for the treatments themselves today. I think 8. About an hour away in Lone Tree.

Not sure I mentioned this but I did get approved for the Orgovyx pharmaceutical company’s plan. Now it’s free instead of $800+ a month. Still waiting on the even more expensive one, Erleada. Right now taking free samples from my oncologist. As in Kep’s instance a slow process, but headed in a good direction.

Medicine.

 

Sent my son enough money so he could buy a subscription to F1 TV. We’ll both be watching the qualifying and the Bharain Grand Prix itself. Early am. This is the first race of the season. Red Bull and Max Verstappen. Coming fast out of the blocks. Ferrari and Mercedes in the mix. Fun.

 

Listened to this podcast from the Atlantic: Who is the New Right anyway? One of the interviewees, James Pogue, wrote the Vanity Fair article I talked about a few posts ago. The other interviewee, Jeff Sharlet, teaches writing at Dartmouth College. They both specialize in covering the right wing for Vanity Fair. If you did read the Pogue article, this will help flesh it out.

I’m officially on the hunt now. Buying recommended books. Getting my scholarly hat on. Once I feel better grounded I’m going to try communicating with these two, see where I might fit into a left response. If I don’t have to leave Shadow Mountain, I’m up for putting some energy into organizing. Partly energized by the fact that the focus of these articles lies in my adopted region. Not Colorado, at least not in the concentrated way of Wyoming, Montana, northern Idaho, eastern Oregon. Though we do have a secessionist movement that wanted to put on the ballot letting Wyoming annex five northern counties.

We have these folks here, but we also have the Denver metro and the Front Range which over balances their influence.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain

Being Alive, Being Alive

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Kep, my 5:30 guy. Dr. Doverspike. My son. Jen. Ruth. Gabe. Stars. Searching. for meaning. Meaning. Purpose. Eudaimonia. Life. The cycle of life. The interdependent web of all Souls. The deep Ocean of connected life and collective memory. Our desire to know, to learn, to love. Compassion. Humility. Boundaries. Books. Movies. Paintings and sculpture.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Brain

 

Zoom. Facebook. The telephone. Television. Inadequate, each in their own way, when compared to face-to-face, body-to-body encounters. Yes. But I would miss them if they were gone. Zoom allows me to keep up with folks I care about but cannot see face-to-face very often, if at all. It allows me to have powerful moments of connection every Sunday morning with my Ancient Brothers. Facebook. At a less connected level I see old high school friends. What their life contains. Our lives turning over at the same rate. All 76 now. College friends long dispersed throughout the country. Even CBE friends when they travel.

Would I give up my breakfast with Rich this Friday? My lunch on the same day with Alan? Thursday mussar. MVP once a month? Of course not. And those encounters are richer. Needed. Loved. Rebecca is back from India and I look forward to seeing her soon. Tal and Luke have their own late twenty-something arcs to their lives. And I’m part of all these.

We love to find the downsides. Especially to technology. The ways it robs us of something. I see the upsides. Perhaps it is the solitary life I lead at home. Which I want, need, love. Yet solitary with no desire for isolation. In the average week I prefer to have the predominance of my hours experienced alone. But not all of them.

A break while I fed Kep led me to this observation. Wonder if we’re confusing correlation with causality in the instance of Zoom and social media. Stipulated: they’re not as good as fleshly encounters. But. What if the deficits we ascribe to them are the result of too little human interaction, not the medium? If that were the case, the prescription would not be to have less zoom or Facebook, rather more fleshly meetups. And use Zoom and social media when you can’t. This feels true to me.

 

All righty then. Having said that let us to turn to other matters. Like the capture of the GOP by Trump’s base. Which may not save him in this campaign for the nomination. But. Which will make all GOP candidates do obeisance to the hard right constituents in their state or congressional district. What will this mean for the 2024 campaign/election cycle? Unclear for now, but it could divide the GOP into a moderate (sort of) camp, think Mitt Romney and the Proud Boy, insurrection crowd. Gonna be messy.

 

Watching a PBS series, Searching: Our Quest for Meaning in the Age of Science. Alan Lightman has a sort of Saganesque persona and speaks in the oracular voice that we’ve come to expect from scientists in serious documentaries. I don’t find him convincing.

His quest for meaning is earnest. A bit too earnest for my taste. He’s apparently never wondered if he’s asking the right question. For example. A couple of Joseph Campbell quotes on meaning.

Joseph Campbell: “There’s no meaning. What’s the meaning of the universe? What’ s the meaning of a flea? It’s just there. That’s it. And your own meaning is that you’re there.”

Joseph Campbell: “I don’t think [the meaning of life] is what we’re seeking. I think [it’s] an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.”

Lightman does make an interesting observation at the end of the third session, the last one. He muses that all the atoms in his body came from the stars. He refers to them oddly as his atoms. When he dies, he goes on, his atoms will disperse into soil, the sky, another person. That’s the future he thinks, that we are all connected in that way. Weak tea as an idea, imho, even though, or perhaps because, it’s so obviously true.

Two more to watch. Watched number 3 first. Maybe they’re better.