Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Susan. My ride. Shadow. Looking at me with her is it time to feed me yet eyes. Nope. The Night. Great Sol shielded by Mother Earth. Cool days and cooler nights. Blue Skies with scattered Cumulus Clouds, Black Mountain in its gold and green autumnal garb. Even the Asters have begun to die back. The rut. Black Bear pre-hibernation hunger. Yosemite National Park turns 135.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Fall

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Today, later on, a physician’s assistant will put a blue sheet of paper over my lower spine, Dr. Vu will swab it with alcohol and delicately (I hope.) insert needles filled with lidocaine there as I lay face down on the procedure table, testing which nerves need to have their sheaths burned away. Tomorrow repeats on the other side.

Dog journal: Shadow of Shadow Mountain. A dog of legend already and still a puppy. We’ve had a life affirming, difficult few months, eight as of today, yet neither of us willing to say no, this won’t work. Two months or so ago the biggest barrier, her nighttime return to the house, gave way. That calmed down life for both of us.

Now, instead of barking at every Tree Branch rustled by the Wind, every noise from our Wild Neighbors, she goes round about in the way of dogs, then settles nose to tail, not two feet from my head. In the morning she lays her head on my pillow and waits for me to turn around and face her. Then, kisses. My heart melts. I scratch her belly, run my hand over her body in affection and inspection. Any ticks, other bugs, wounds?

When we finish that, I throw back the covers and put my legs over the side of the bed. She jumps up on my legs with her front paws and we cuddle, make the day start with signaling how much we mean to each other. Can’t beat that. Well, we could do it at six instead of 4:30, but, hey…

Just a moment: The mice have spoken to the mighty. Never in my lifetime has the gap between authority and competence been so limned as yesterday’s narcissistic and feeble king of the mountain played by “our” Secretary of “War” and the Commander in Thief.

800 of the highest ranking members of the military sat and listened to a National Guard major and a never served fatty address them on how to fight, how to be warriors, how to be lethal, how to take down American citizens in American cities. Donald McBurger King (DMK) even suggested we should use American cities to train our military. Nope. Never. Posse comitatus, you fool.

DMK gave almost the same speech he gave at the UN, a garbled, non-cohesive, often incoherent diatribe against enemies near and far, the splendor of his own majesty, sprinkled here and there with remarks that seemed to recognize this was not a campaign rally.