Samain and the Shadow Moon
Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Mark, the mailman. Gifts assemble! For Hanukkah. Ruth and Gabe. Winter, wherefore art thou Winter? Climate changes. Stronger Hurricanes. Sea Level Rise. Ocean temperature rise. Coral bleaching. Polar and Glacial Ice melting. And so much more. The Great Work. Mother Earth and her strength. Humanity and its fragility.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Long Nights
Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress
Week Kavannah: Netzach “Endurance and Tenacity: Netzach represents the inner strength and fortitude required to pursue a goal or a passion over a long period, especially when faced with obstacles.”
Being a metaPhysician
One brief shining: Seared the thick pork loin chops on high in a large cast iron skillet, put the skillet in the oven while I gathered sauerkraut, cherry Tomatoes, a plate, some aluminum foil to cover the two chops, letting them rest, continue cooking a bit, juices gathering. Ah.
I subscribe to Nate Silver’s Silver Bulletin. He included this image in his commentary above the reposting of his tweet:
Silver leans left, even acknowledges his affection for the world Richardsonism wants as suggested in the chatgpt image he produced above. And, yet.
He’s also the consummate political realist, steeped in the world of polls, analytics, and hard-nosed how do you really win strategy. So. While he may admire Richardsonism as a political ideal, he sees it as a naive approach electoral politics.
Silver admits that Richardson did not set out to create what he considers the third of three major divisions in the Democratic Party. But he thinks she has. Here in his own words are the three factions:
“First, there’s the Capital-L Left: populist, deservedly feeling recharged by the success of Zohran Mamdani and a backlash to the increasingly politically assertive billionaire class.
Next, there’s what you might think of as the Abundance Libs: technocratic, more willing to find common ground with Republicans, and more sympathetic to market-based solutions.
The third faction Richardsonism or a term I’ll treat as synonymous with it: #Resistance Libs. They’re older, with extremely high educational attainment, predominantly female, and very highly politically engaged. This is the audience for a cluster of political activism encompassing things such as the No Kings protests and some highly popular anti-Trump Substacks along with certain prominent podcasts and much of Bluesky.” Silver Bulletin, Dec. 16, 2025
Though I love Richardson’s substacks and usually agree with her analysis, you’ll find me firmly in the Capital L-Left Camp. That is, when forced to choose, as electoral politics forces us to do, I’m an economic justice guy tinged with more than a little retail political realism.
That happens to be Silver’s main point about Richardsonism and the Tea Party. The politics of purity collides with realpolitik. It does so by using its pure ideas, its dreams as a basis for choosing policies, candidates, and strategy. In other words it gets out over its skis by privileging ideas over the actual sentiments of the electorate. Result: Trump in office.
Final note: Though Silver and I both want a Richardsonian America, we recognize true political change as incremental. Yes, in spite of Trump’s appearance to the contrary. Take the Affordable Care act as a for instance. It got as close to universal health care as the realpolitik would allow. Yet it is now firmly lodged in the craw of even the most diehard MAGA congressman and only awaits a shift in the political winds to go deeper and more broadly towards its goal.
As Unitarian minister Theodore Parker said: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
“I have a son in command in the military. I asked him about this. He pointed to rules of engagement which come, according to this article, from the “target engagement authority” which is Hegseth. In spite of the fog of politicians attempting to provide cover for themselves, Hegseth’s own statement that the Admiral acted within his legal authority condemn Hegseth, not the Admiral. I agree that the Admiral tortured the rules of engagement to justify a strike on men struggling to survive. Who’s responsible here? Could it be the toxic combination of little men playing war (Trump and Hegseth) entangled with the Special Operations ethos of getting the job done no matter what?”
Arcing back for a moment to yesterday’s post about humor as a moral compass, I want to underline the lack of a moral compass on the part of this whole administration. Absence of an ethical framework results in decisions made situationally, often with the heat of passion at the helm, rather than considered weighing of good and bad consequences.
Think Noemi with the family dog in the gravel pit. Think Kennedy mindlessly ignoring long established science supporting vaccines. Think Trump pardoning Hernández while waging “war” on Maduro. Think Hegseth, the dry drunk wanting more lethality. And getting it.
This administration makes decisions in the service of more power and profit for those in office and for those closest to them. We know it’s wrong. They may not. They may see it as the spoils of victory, reinforced by a stunning “mandate” at the polls. Trump himself, the beating heartlessness at the top, believes in garbage people and shithole nations, which implies of course that he and his are not garbage and that their nation is not a shithole. I beg to differ.
My point is this. An unpredictable, greedy and often ignorant leader at the top empowers the more cunning, the more ideological in his government to get done what they want no matter history, tradition, right and wrong. They all operate in their spheres with vastly different priorities and focus. No one reins in Miller, Noemi, Kennedy, Bessent, Hegseth.
Humor as Moral Compass
Samain and the Shadow Moon (2 sessions to go)
Wednesday gratefuls: Rich. MVP. Shadow away at boarding school. Clement weather. Polska Kielbasa. Bananas. Tangerines. Celery. Baby Potatoes. Andouille sausage. Scallions. Cherry Tomatoes. Pork loin chops. Sheetpan dinners. Nathan and the Dog run. His next summer move to Kalispell, Montana.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rich
Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress
Week Kavannah: Malchut Wonder. A feeling of surprise mixed with admiration caused by something beautiful or unexpected.
Being a metaPhysician
One brief shining: Made a mistake, went to MVP, my only night out during the month; even though Marilyn drove, a combination of radiation fatigue, head drop, and this damned hernia acting up made me first lie down on a couch, then ask for a ride home. Geez.
I knew better. I’m exhausted from driving to radiation and getting radiated. But I love these folks: Jamie, Susan, Joanne, Ron, Marilyn, Laurie, Rich. Missed last month and missed seeing them all. When Marilyn asked to meet at the usual place, I said yes. Should have said no.
Rich drove me to my car, followed me home, shoveled my deck, and saw me into the house. What a kind and loving man.
Not the return to the group I wanted.
This just in. Marilyn texted me, offered to drive me to my radiation today. Rich must have gone back and reported to the MVP group. I feel blessed to have so many who love me, care about me.
Dog journal: Nathan came by from a project just up the road. We discussed the Dog run. He’s built many and has his tricks for working in the Snow on frozen ground. Relieved. Now if that doghouse I want will come back in stock…
Just a moment: Sleepy Donald. I can relate. I’ll be 79 in two months and I just had a night. Glad I’m not working hard to cancel the political work of the last century or so. Gotta be tiring, making up enemy lists, figuring which shithole countries to diminish and ban, which cities to occupy, deciding how you can gig the poor yet again. Not to mention acting as warmonger and peace maker in chief. The contradictions alone would level a lesser man.
Don’t know if you watch South Park. Don’t recommend it even though the real South Park lies only an hour’s drive from Shadow Mountain. A former Conifer resident is one of the pair who created it.
It’s gross. Over the top. And, yet. They’re satirizing Trump, Vance, Bondi, Stephen Miller in ways that do make me laugh. Especially Stephen Miller who is portrayed as a creepy, I may lead to your doom, sycophantic butler.
If you can stand it, the satire is spot on.
Humor has always had an uneasy, even dangerous relationship to power. I’m sure more than one court jester lost their head by taking a joke too far.
I admire the South Parks, the Colberts, the Jon Stewarts of our time. Laughing at tyrants exposes them for what they are: weak, petty, cruel leaders who seek power for power’s sake with no moral compass. Humor, oddly enough, is exactly that: a moral compass.
Again, Recess Is Over
Samain and the Shadow Moon (3 sessions to go)
Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, doing her work. The now working Clinac. My life, worth living. Fencing companies. Building a dog run with heated dog house for Shadow. Joe’s willingness. Early Winter. The coming of Hannukah, Yule, the Winter Solstice, Christmas, New Year’s. Holiseason at its peak.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fences
Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress
Week Kavannah: Malchut Wonder. A feeling of surprise mixed with admiration caused by something beautiful or unexpected.
Being a metaPhysician
One brief shining: Joe, my son, offered to come and build the dog run for Shadow, to set aside for a few days his serious duties and help Dad and his Dog, to do that after a fifteen hour flight from his home, a son a man can be proud of, yet I won’t let him come because this wonderful place where I live often experiences sudden, mighty Snowfalls and if one happened before or when he got here, he would have come 9,000 miles out of love and I would have no dog run. Doesn’t make sense for either of us. Damn it.
Shook off the OMG I make bad things happen feelings like Shadow shakes off rain. Still a little wet, but dry enough to feel ok.
When negative feelings crop up, they feed on themselves, multiply like Rabbits. This one begets another one and suddenly a whole life has come under scrutiny, memories retrieved to bolster the black mood.
When I drank, I often followed this spiral: I didn’t go to graduate school. I married stupidly, twice. I’ve not taken a direction in my life, rather let life carry me along like flotsam or jetsam. No agency. Woe is me and my sad, woe begotten life. And all because my mommy died young.
Nope. I’d been making choices all along. Many of them poor: Judy and Raeone, seminary. The Peaceable Kingdom. Not my woe begotten life, a Charlie begotten life that did not synch up with my values. No wonder I felt miserable much of the time.
After sobriety. Still plenty of work to do, to grab life in my own hands, shake it until it made sense, expressed who I saw myself to be. John Desteian helped me through it.
That dream. The pivotal one. I had a sword, held it high in the air over my head, lightning crackling around it while a crowd chanted, “He has the power. He has the power.” Yes, in fact I did and had had it all along. The power to change, to redirect my life.
And so I did.
Just a moment: Trump pardons convicted narcotrafficker, Juan Orlando Hernádez. Then, surprise! Honduras issues an arrest warrant for him for money laundering and fraud. Too bad for him Trump is not president of Honduras.
Now let’s play Where’s That Video? Oh, the guy it might indict has control over its release? OK. Will he at least release his actual orders, then? Like Federal Law requires? Again, recess is over. Time to pretend we’re adults now.
I have
Samain and the Shadow Moon
Monday gratefuls: Pictures of Shadow. Missing her. Darkness. Resolve. Football. Da Broncs. And, yes, always-the Vikes. The Nuggets. F1. Alexandria beats Anderson in the Wigwam (sic) 1963? Bobby Plump. The Indy 500. Jim Clark. A.J. Foyt. Mario Andretti and sons. Sports. The Atlanta Rabbits.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gevurah
Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress
Week Kavannah: Malchut Wonder. A feeling of surprise mixed with admiration caused by something beautiful or unexpected.
Being a metaPhysician
One brief shining: Cleaned up the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher, putting dirty dishes in, a cycle, wiped down the counter, washed a sheet pan and a large bowl, poured myself a glass of eggnog, and sat on my stool as my porkchop, broccoli, and potato puffs warmed up.
Radiation starts up again today. I think. If the biomed engineering techs got it back up and running. Finishing Thursday, seeing Bupathi on Friday.
When I talked to Dr. Carter last Tuesday, he repeated what I keep hearing from various sources. “We’re treating your cancer like a chronic disease.” Hard to say how amazing this statement is. I’ve had stage 4 cancer since 2022 and he says it’s a chronic disease. Stage 4 has, historically, meant the end. And soon. Now, chronic disease. Wow.
On a sidenote. Don’t you think the Clinac looks like an adorable, goofy cartoon Dinosaur?
A curiosity: Have been unable to quash these wandering questions, maybe doubts, about my life. Am I a drama King? If everything’s running smoothly, something must be wrong?
Do I push situations in my life toward the extremes? After I quit drinking, I would have, up to this point, have said no. Even after divorcing Raeone and leaving the ministry, I felt strong, like I’d made necessary choices, not pleasant ones, choices to align my life with my values and beliefs.
Then, marrying Kate. We had this wonderful life together where we consistently made choices to support each other, family members in need, to support Mother Earth, to love and care for dogs. To travel the world together. Of course we had our differences, our troubles but we loved our way through them.
The move to Colorado, to be near the grandkids, extended that life into the Rocky Mountains. Where I got cancer. Where Kate got sick and died. Where all four of the dogs we brought with us died. Where I’ve now spent four and a half years in this wonderful home she found without her. Where back pain and a bad hip have left me less than able since Korea in 2023.
Then I adopted Shadow. 10 months ago. An up and down experience. As you, dear reader, already know.
I’ve written because I find writing brings me clarity, is the closest thing to true self-therapy I’ve ever found.
My conclusion, after having written this, looked back with I feel is honesty, I’ll answer my own question. These situations, especially since the move to Colorado, have been moments not of me pushing things to an extreme, but of me being forced by circumstance to confront and deal with real life extremes. Physical illness. Death. Mental illness. Grief. Jon and Jen’s nasty divorce, its fallout, then fallout from his death. Now the life of a dog I love wrestling with her own demons.
And, that’s ok. Life is as it happens. The key question is, do we show up to meet it there. I have.