Monthly Archives: August 2024

Health, Kabbalah, Politics

The flow of the Tao

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The Off to College Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Ruth in her dorm room at Willville. With a passion for learning. Gabe home alone. Storm Clouds and high Winds. Breakfast with Tara. Cheryl, the phlebotomist, and my blood draw. The Pearl. Diane and Tom. Brother Mark and the Bangkok urban park. Mary in K.L. My son and Seoah. Songtan. My Lodgepole Companion waving to the keepers of moisture. Perhaps encouraging them. Rain on me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Blood and its mysteries

Kavanah for the life of August 21, 2024: Knowledge, da’at

One brief shining: Da’at lies directly beneath the keter, or crown, of the tree of life, linked in the downward movement of chi, of life force, of the Tao to hokmah, wisdom, and binah, analysis and planning, feeding in turn hesed, loving-kindness and gevurah, boundaries and strength; knowledge taking shape through consciousness and unconsciousness giving birth to wisdom, to shaping and birthing by the binah.

 

The tree of life in Kabbalah maps a flow of sacred energy from keter to malkhut, the realm of the shekinah, the feminine sacred, and then, as through a divine pump moving back up through the ten sefirot to keter where the cycle of creation and transformation begins again. Yesterday my blood filled a vial, already containing facts that I need for accurate knowledge of my cancer. The spark of that knowledge exists ahead of its translation into a something that can be considered, only becoming knowable as it moves through the laboratory, carried in drops of my essence, and transformed there into knowledge that I can access, use.

I am especially glad that that using that knowledge, my current PSA and testosterone levels, passes first into hesed, or loving kindness, reminding me that all knowledge comes as kindness, and also, through gevurah with its own boundaries.

A heady way of saying that I’m waiting on my lab results to see if my PSA has returned to undetectable, which would be a big YES, or has continued to rise, sealing my diagnosis of castration-resistant cancer. What framing this waiting kabbalistically does for me is remind me that all of life, all of creation flows up and down the tree, always, including the divine spark, the neshamah or pure soul that is me. Life to death, death to life. Constant change and creation, constant novelty. No destruction without creation. A Shiva view of the nature of life.

 

Just a moment: If you want a recent and readable analysis of the probable effects of an orange win, read this Thomas Edsall article, Trump is not done with us. Here is its last paragraph:

“I am going to give the last word to Timothy Snyder*:

Trump is in the classic dictatorial position: He needs to die in bed holding all executive power to stay out of prison. This means that he will do whatever he can to gain power, and once in power will do all that he can to never let it go. This is a basic incentive structure which underlies everything else. It is entirely inconsistent with democracy.”

*”Timothy Snyder, a historian at Yale and an expert on the regimes of Stalin and Hitler…”

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Politics

Luminescence

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The Off to College Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Ruth, off to college today! Good workout yesterday. The Democratic National Convention. Joe and his years. Joe and his tears. Kamala. Tim. AOC. Go, blue, go. Politics. A frisson of hope. A dollop of excitement. A Discovery of Witches on Netflix. Finishing the filet mignon from my dinner with Kate and her pearl. Tara. Dandelion.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth, her journey of independence which starts today.

Kavanah: KNOWLEDGE   Da’at (DAH-aht)   knowledge, sensibility, awareness; from ידע to experientially/cognitively know

First Sefirah = כֶּתֶר Keter, KEH-tare: Top of head, superconscious mind, literally “crown” (between Chochmah/Wisdom & Binah/Understanding)  This is kabbalah.

One brief shining: Still wrapped in the pearl’s luminescence Monday took me into an intimate place with my grief and with remembrance, a few tears as I recalled our life together, more smiles as I remembered making salads from our vegetables, eating toast with honey from our bees, evenings spent hanging out with our dogs, often Irish Wolfhounds on our laps, Hanukah nights with Gabe and Ruth on Shadow Mountain, driving down the hill to Congregation Beth Evergreen together.

 

As I go into the lab today, get my vein punctured again, small vials of blood filled by the beating of my heart, this lab test’s importance weighs a bit on my lev. Yes, I need and want the da’at, the knowledge, it will bring. Yet it could bring knowledge of a shortened life span. If so, that’s ok, I have no need to last longer than I can. Memories of Kate’s final days comfort me. Not that she wasn’t suffering. She was. But she was resolute, loving, and brave, too. A role model about how to face the end, not with a whimper, but a bang.

Does not change this life, this August 20th life. Which I woke into around 6 am. Opening my eyes from the small death of sleep to an unpromised resurrection. As I have for over 77 years. May continue to do so for years more.

See Tara for breakfast this morning at the Dandelion. Like a workout seeing friends restores me as I hope to do for them. Seeing. Being seen. Hearing. Being heard. Touching. Being touched. The essential food of the soul.

 

Just a moment: So happy to see Kamala and Tim, even Joe, above the fold. And that other person not there at all. The squatter removed from land he had begun to imagine was his alone.

I did not look forward to spending the last of my golden years under a Trumpist storm of bigotry, lavish capitalism, and the decline of U.S. status in the world. Of course, that’s still a real possibility, but now it’s a fight, not a giveaway. I’ll go with Kamala’s: When we fight, we win!

Mixed feelings here about protesters at the convention. Deja vu all over again. Except. In 1968 the U.S. had intervened militarily in a civil war. Based on the domino theory which imagined countries becoming communist if touched by red fairy dust. Makes me wonder what those old war mongers thought was so appealing about communism, but that’s another story.

Here the protesters have sided with the Palestinians against Israeli aggression. I agree with the facet of their argument that contends Israel has gone too far. Way too far. Where we part company is in the protesters willing blindness to the suffering of Jews over time, the reason for Israel’s existence, and the horrific nature of the Hamas attack on October 7th. This is a story with no heroes, no glory, no victory.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Mountains, Reimaging revelation, Weather +Climate

The Pearl

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The Off to College Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Sarah, BJ, Pamela. The Ancient Brothers. The Bistro. Oysters. Filet mignon. A Pearl. The Otherworld. Another dimension. Rain, Rain, please stay and come again another day. Shadow Mountain Drive, Shadow and Conifer Mountains, the Evergreen Meadow in the Rain. Mist and shades of green. My Otherworld.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Pearl

Kavanah: Serenity   Menucha

One brief shining: Drove over to Marshdale, a burb of Evergreen, as Rain pelted the Lodgepoles and the Aspens, rendering Shadow Mountain and Conifer Mountain green misty hulks of risen Rocks, to the Bistro, a small fine dining restaurant that Kate I and went to for special occasions, her 80th counted, walked in with my hood up as the Rain came down, got my usual table against the wall; Stacy came around and I ordered a 6 Oyster appetizer, both Kate and I loved fresh Oysters, proceeding from left to right I used the little fork to pry loose the meat, tipped the shell, and slurped them down, except at the sixth and last one, I bit down, what?, and pulled out of my mouth a tiny pearl.

 

 

I looked at it with my unaided eyes, having left readers behind as I often do, and held it up to Stacy. Is this what I think it is? I’ll take it to the chefs. Yes, the chefs considered opinion, a pearl. She returned it in a small clear plastic cup that might contain sauce in another situation.

Texted Ruth with a picture. What’s that? A tiny pearl I found during my birthday celebration for your grandma. Oh, she joined you. Dad does that sometimes with me.

A sense of the uncanny settled over the meal. Thunder roared outside, Rain hit the windows of this charming restaurant with its low wooden beamed ceiling. Did Kate reach across the table and take my hand? Did I tell her happy 80th and see her smile? I had intended to order the house salad but instead ordered a caprese salad by mistake. A salad Kate and I first had in a small cafeteria in the Vatican on our honeymoon. We loved it and made it often with our own heirloom tomatoes. We called it Popeteria salad.

At the table with me I had my Kindle on which I’m reading Lev Grossman’s latest, The Bright Sword, his retelling of the Arthurian legend, and in it a main character had just stumbled into the Otherworld. So had I.

The Pearl from Kate, what else could it be, I’ll have set in a ring to wear on my ring finger or as a pendant for a necklace.

On her 80th birthday. Kate. Reached out and gave me a gift. A Pearl of great price.*

Raffles Town House. 2016.

*Luke 13: 45“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, 46 who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.

 

Family

Kate’s 80th. A few images of her

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The Off to College Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Tom. Bill. Ode. What we were when we were young. B.J. and Sarah. Kate, always Kate. Her 80th birthday. Today. Life as it has happened. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Songtan. 106 degree heat index days. Warm nights. Goose bumps on my arms this morning from the chill. Rabbi Jamie. Veronica. Luke. Leo. Great Sol. This August 18th life, 2024.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth, excited for college. Moving into the dorm on Tuesday

Kavanah: Serenity  Menucha

One brief shining: You might wonder how I focus on the kavanah of serenity, what do I do during the day to bring myself back to a serene place instead of one of turmoil, distraction, or concern; and I would answer, by asking myself throughout the day, this August 18th life, does this bring me serenity and paying attention, close attention, to the answer.

 

Peru, 2011. Retired
In the Garden Andover
Seoah and Joe wedding quilt
Ushuaia, 2011
Silly Kate, a big part of her personality
Yes. We loved each other.
Pensive Kate. Also a big part of her personality
Olsons
I think at the Walker Theater

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

A Journey

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The Off to College Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Bagel table. Morning services. Brother Mark. Coffee. Water. Bagels. Lox. Cream cheese. Kate, always Kate. Great Sol. Diane. Shabbat. Lighting the candles. Studying Torah. Lev Grossman’s latest, The Bright Sword. Stories. However told. On television, movies, in books, by friends, by ourselves. The way we make sense of it all.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Stories

Kavanah: SERENITY   Menucha (min-oo-CHAH)   Serene, carefree, literally “at rest/comfortable” 

[Daga, dah-GAH: Worry, care, concern]

One brief shining: Went to King Sooper’s yesterday, a grocery store in Aspen Park, took two checks, cashed the checks with the young woman there, how do you want your money, easiest way, she counted it out to me; it represented the breaking of my relationship with Century Link, former internet provider, and yet more dividends from my time in Andover’s electrical cooperative, as I folded the bills for my money clip I thought about the symbolic nature of money, not only as value but as evidence of a relationship, as proof of obligation, as transmitter of shared commitments.

 

Still feeling a bit dark, heavy. Will pass as this life, this August 17th life, goes on. Finding mornings, right after I get up, weighted. As the new life unfolds, begins to take on its character, in part shaped by my kavanah, in part by human interaction an easing of the weight, a passing over into a new chance at living, one unburdened by yesterday, and with few glances at tomorrow. Living.

Today, in this life, for example, I made coffee. Which I can smell right now as it finishes. Realizing I have less time to write than I like because I drive to Evergreen in thirty minutes for the Bagel Table and the morning service. I’ll see Rabbi Jamie and who ever else shows up. People I care about and who care about me. An elixir strong and potent. Later, Ruth’s coming up for a zoom call with my son. What a treat for me to have them both here at 5 today.

This life will gain its fullness through those encounters, as it will through the hours, the necessary hours alone. The way of a social animal who needs both presence and absence.

 

Just a moment: Kamala has put four sun belts state in play. Recent polls. Another lightening of the load. Who knows what will happen between now and the life of Election Day 2024. But at least I no longer feel tied to the mast of a sinking ship. Somebody plugged a hole in it. Thanks, Joe. Sometimes saying no means saying yes. Giving up means saying I’m all in. Sometimes leaving means staying. A bit of the Tao for today, for this August 17th life.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Torah

You are holy

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The Off to College Moon

Friday gratefuls: Doncye. My son. Murdoch. Seoah. Alan. Dandelion. Evergreen. Black Mountain Drive. Brook Forest Drive. Aspen Park. Notary. Blue expansive late Summer Sky. The West. The Mountain West. Harris/Walz. Tweedledum/Tweedledee. Psilocybin. Mary Jane. Celebrex. Cancer. Friends like Alan. Rabbi Jamie. Studying Torah. Joanne. Life.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: I’m at the front of a large group of people who will support you no matter what. Alan

Mikveh of my conversion

Kavanah: HOLINESS*   Kedusha       Holiness, dedication, specialness

One brief shining: Steve came in white hair tousled, spandex on his 70 pound-less frame, sat down at the Starbucks table where I waited for him with an iced white chocolate latte; he had just had a deep tissue massage and came to me ready to discuss prostate cancer. What he said drug me down.

 

Oh. See. Steve’s outside the golden zone where androgen deprivation therapy (ADT) works. At that point even though testosterone is at or near zero, the PSA continues to rise, meaning active cancer cells. Probably where I am, too. Find out next week. Blood draw.

In the midst of extolling his oncologist and her care for him he said, “She told me that once you get out of the golden zone you have about a year and a half.” I hope she meant, “Now that you, Steve, are out of the golden zone you have about a year and half.” Intend to find out for sure. Implications put me in a funk yesterday, this morning. Understandable, it seems to me.

This round of prostate cancer news has unsettled me, made me vulnerable. That last, vulnerability, has proved useful since I’m aware now that I need help with household chores and pain management. Over the next few months I hope palliative care will steer me in directions to take care of those needs.  A bit tender, sensitive. Cautious with how I view my future.

 

Just a moment: Studied Torah with Rabbi Jamie for an hour yesterday. Our monthly session. Interesting. I asked, “So Kaplan eschewed supernaturalism. What does God mean, then? How did God enter the picture.” Jamie started to ask why does it matter. We both agreed in some ways it doesn’t matter at all.

On the other hand, an interesting question. So we got at it anyhow. The parsha for the week: Parshat Va’etchanan, Deuteronomy 3:23 – 7:11 focused on Moses instructing the people before they go into the promised land. Moses speaks directly to God, then tells the descendants of the Hebrew slaves what God commands. No God out there in Reconstructionist thought, so…

I figured out that God came from the people. Moses, this wise guy, speaks and they follow him. How did he get so wise and knowing? Had to have the imprimatur of a God. What else could it be? In other words in order to follow Moses the people had to give him an authoritative source for his pronouncements: God. I really like this idea because it literally grounds God. Takes God out of the heavens, out of the supernatural, and places the God concept in the relationships in and among people. And, if you follow the thought, within your own inner world.

God is not out there. God becomes those impulses we follow for the collective good, for our own lifting ourselves up.

*(רוּחָנִי Ruchani, roo-chan-EE: spiritual,  cognitive function = intuitive/abstract)

Health, Politics

Play to win

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The Off to College Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Reconstructing Judaism. Steve. Jamie. Rabbi Jamie. Zoom. Good workout. Cool night. Good sleeping. Kamala and Tim. Top of the fold stories not about the orange ifrit. Global political shifts. Asia. The Middle East. The Ukraine. The U.S. Living till I die. Shaynah. Good teeth. Pain control. Celebrex. Ginny. The Grateful Dead.

Sparks of joy and awe: Realizing I need some help

Kavanah: Joy Simcha

One brief shining: Bought this Ninja blender a couple of years ago with the intent of creating veggie smoothies and fruit smoothies, pushed it to the back of my white marble kitchen counter and there it sat until this last week when I cut up an Apple and an Orange, tossed in a Tangerine, some frozen mixed Berries, and a scoop of french Vanilla protein powder, hit smoothie and listened to it whir, pause, whir faster, then removed the blender jar. Ah.

 

Sometimes, at least in my life, it can take even a good idea time to take hold, to move from idea to practice. The blender is not the only instance. Take the Rice cooker and all those bags of Beans. I’ve had brief runs with both the Rice cooker and the Beans, but they faded. Need to find a rhythm where I use all of these simple tools to create more home made food. Of late I’ve fallen into a habit of food purchased out. Not exclusively, but for evening meals almost. Changing this habit is not about saving money, but about good nutrition. Not getting enough vegetables. Maybe not enough protein some days.

I realize now this has been in part a response to pain. Took too much out of me to prep and cook a meal. Hoping the Celebrex will help with that. Though I seem to have entered that twilight medical zone where cures create their own problems. Will have to pay close attention. Being able to handle the daily chores without having to stop due to pain would be a big gain for my day to day.

 

Just a moment: Sure, policy is important. All important to governing toward a desired outcome. Yet this one election, I’m less concerned with policy than with politics itself. To have policy differences matter in an election a democracy has to exist. I continue to see the evident danger of a loss of our democratic norms and practices if Trump should win. Vote this fall and you won’t ever have to vote again. We’ll have fixed it so good. Yikes!

No, I don’t like Kamala’s changes on fracking, on immigration, on health care. Especially that last one on which I’ve been become a mini-expert like many older Americans. Yet I know her changes representing tacking the sail, finding a way to make way in this most crucial of all elections. So I say, sure, tack away.

This election is still fraught, still dangerous. Like holding a suitcase nuke with the time set to November 4th. Play to win.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, US History

Important to us…

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The Off to College Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Great Sol. Blue Sky. Shades of green. Mark in Bangkok. Ruth and Gabe. Jen. Workout this morning. Reconstructionism tonight. Steve Bernstein. Prostate cancer. Sue. Kristie. Black Mountain. This oh so strange election year. Kamala. Tim. He who must be defeated. Celebrex. Pain relief. Medicine. Hippocrates.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Pain Relief

Kavanah: STRENGTH  Gevura     for a workout today, this August 14th, 2024 life

One brief shining: Rolling, rolling, rolling the thunder sound of green and yellow garbage bins under a brisk Mountain early morning, my driveway, the neighbor’s driveway, then another neighbor’s, a form of sympathetic magic involved, recycling as a solution to global warming, climate change, all of us doing our part. Sort of.

 

Yesterday. Seems so far away. May I, for a moment, speak a word against telephone call centers. An example might be United Health Care. After a good medical day Monday when I felt heard and seen and cared for I followed it up doing what the front desk requested. Changing the name of my PCP from Kristin to Sue Bradshaw. Simple enough, right?

First, the chipper A.I. confident in its ability to take care of whatever I needed. After having said advocate, advocate, advocate, this simple spell did result in a human voice. Ah. Yes, I can help you change the name of your primary care provider. Can you spell her name? B-R-A-D-S-H-A-W. Please hold while I work on changing the name of your primary care provider. Some ditzy tune that would have been a good warmup at a rollerskating rink oh those many years ago. For far too long.

Hello, sir. I was not able to replace nurse practitioner Bradshaw-did I detect a slight tone of how could I anyway?-as your primary care provider. Her credentials do not meet our contractual requirements. I will call Conifer Medical Center and see if I can solve this problem. I’ll put you on hold again.

Images of rollerskates, organ music, girls in short skirts twirling while boys in jeans struggled to stay upright. Boredom. A period where I got all my bills scheduled for payment. A turn at reading the New York Times, first article, second article. Playing Spelling Bee. We’re now 20 minutes or so into this pause while other wheels turned out of my aural range.

Then the climax. A dial tone. Yup, the call dropped off. As you know, if you call back, you don’t reach the person you talked to last time.

Found my spirit doused, my energy cooled for solving minor life bureaucratic annoyances. In spite of pleasantness as my kavanah for the day, I had unpleasant thoughts, not for the first time, about my health insurance.

Just a moment: There will be blood. But for now it’s Harris/Walz placards. A presidential candidate under 60 and a 60 year old vice presidential candidate. A youth movement. Not sure how long this momentum can last, but go, Kamala, go. We have a fighting chance to win now. May her name be ever known as blessed.

 

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics

Palliation

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The Off to College Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Sue Bradshaw. Palliative Care. Good sleep. Smoke in the air. Open front door this morning. Geez. Kamala and Tim. A moment for Minnesota. May he who will not be named stay hidden. CBE. Alan. A Manny for Us. Getting medical stuff done. Ruby, battered but dependable. This Shadow Mountain Home. The Fourth Phase.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sue Bradshaw

Kavanah: PLEASANTNESS   Noam   Pleasantness, sweetness, niceness  (Chen – Graciousness, charm, charisma) ( Sever Panim: Warmth, affability, geniality; literally “a bright face”)

[Mrirut; : Grumpiness, sourness, literally “bitterness”]

One brief shining: Told Sue about my last week, she leaned in, took my hands, looked at me; here, I realized was a medical professional who cared for me as me, and a knot I didn’t know I had untied, released; I was not alone on this path toward death, be it late or soon.

 

Which is not to say that I don’t know each one of you who are walking me home and whom I’m walking home. Sue is the one inside the medical world. Kristie, too, though she’s more clinical. As this maelstrom spins, I’m not sucked under and it’s because I have friends and family who care for me. This may seem to suggest things are more dire right now. Not at all. My new PSA/testosterone numbers will clarify what is right now murky. And there are treatments left. Not sure whether or if I need them.

Sue is treating my back pain. Possibly with a long lasting NSAID. Trying tramadol right now. She also suggested I see a palliative care team*. In case you’re not familiar with this form of care, I’ve added an explainer below. It’s not hospice. It does not mean death is imminent. It does recognize in my case that the treatments I’ve been getting, combined with my back pain, are diminishing my quality of life. I feel good about this idea. A consult will happen as soon as Sue can set it up.

This part of my fourth phase began in Korea, a year ago September. That day at the main palace for the Joseon Dynasty, I watched the changing of the guard and walked back toward the center of the palace. And began hobbling. By the time we’d toured a bit more, I was done in. That occasioned my visit to the Korean orthopedist and Mr. Lee, the massage therapist. Later, here, Mary, the physical therapist.

It also occasioned my trip to San Francisco. Which was wonderful. But underlined the limitation my back has left me with. A week ago Sunday I walked from Union Station to Alan’s condo with Ruth. OMG. Lot of pain. I need more intervention. With the back pain. With the trajectory of my cancer. I feel fine with where I am now. Headed toward just that.

 

Just a moment: Just like that. Hope. Not a big fan of hope, but definitely not a fan of despair. Kamala and Tim. The happy warriors. Could we reset our politics that easily? Of course not. Yet…

 

*Palliative care is specialized medical care that focuses on providing relief from pain and other symptoms of a serious illness. It also can help you cope with side effects from medical treatments. The availability of palliative care does not depend on whether your condition can be cured.

Palliative care teams aim to provide comfort and improve quality of life for people and their families. This form of care is offered alongside other treatments a person may be receiving.

Palliative care is provided by a team of health care providers, including doctors, nurses, social workers, chaplains and other trained specialists. The team works with you, your family and your other providers to add an extra layer of support and relief that complements your ongoing care.

Art and Culture, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mussar, Politics

Izun

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The Off to College Moon

Monday gratefuls: A Manny for Us. Alan. Local theater. Local playwrights. Better energy, mood. This August 12th, 2024 life with Great Sol beaming. And my lev quivering with a charge of joy and strength. Sue Bradshaw. Hitting 150. Finally using my Ninja blender. Fruits and Veggies. The Ancient Brothers, chewing the fat. Lobster pottin’. Still above ground and taking nourishment.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: from melancholy to joy

One brief shining: Driving on 38th Street in Wheat Ridge, a Denver burb, oh, there’s the Fridge’s Experimental research farm, there a huge care center for Christian Scientists, there a bar/restaurant in a faux Swiss building, the Chalet of course, a huge Lutheran hospital complex wrapped around a cathedral style church, odd design choice for the ecclesiastical heirs to the 95 theses, a left turn into a strip mall with a pizza place, a martial arts spot picturing a bald white guy holding a metal sword and looking strange to me, and a plain door for the Wheat Ridge Theater Company where I spent an afternoon surprised by the depth of a local playwright.

Kavanah for this August 12th life: BALANCE   Izun (ee-ZOON)   Balance, poise, moderation

(Derech Ha’Emtzait, DARE-ech ha-em-tsah-EET: the middle path/way/course)   [Kitzoniut, keets-own-ee-OOT: Extremism, going to either end of a spectrum]

NB: Mussar does not say that the poles of a character trait are bad. There are times when they are the appropriate expression of the middot. Imbalance on ones political or religious views can be harmful, destructive, yet there also times when the extremes serve a larger, necessary purpose. Or, say, times when being either very active or passive might be the better way.

 

 

The word for balance in Hebrew is איזון, izun. Interestingly, the word for ear in Hebrew is אֹזֶן, ozen. Using my inner ear to try to catch the middle way between last week’s struggle and this week’s grace. What sound comes between? Is it middle-C? Good way to imagine it actually. I have a hard time these days hearing the high notes, children’s and women’s voices. Bass notes. Oh, they still come through pretty well.

I would say I usually live life in the upper ranges of joy and happiness. I don’t understand musical composition well enough to use it accurately here, but I do plunge down to the bass notes once in a while. A mild manic/depressive oscillation I’ve always thought. I like this analogy though because bass notes, lower keys, are, at least I think they are, musically necessary for harmony, for a musically balanced composition. Life is like that. Taking the high notes and the low notes and arranging them along the staff lines of your movement through the day so that something beautiful takes shape.

What kind of music are you making with this one Mayfly life you’ve been granted by awakening on August 12th, 2024?

 

Just a moment: Gosh. Gee whiz. Where are the I can’t believe I’m reading this headlines? Where is he who should no longer appear in bold type? In hiding? Afraid of getting his behind whooped by a woman?