Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings
Thursday gratefuls: Joe. Coming on a jet plane. Star Trek. Strange New Worlds. Vast distances. Space. The Milky Way. Discovery. Hubble. Webb. ISS. Tian Jian. Saturn. Atlas. SpaceX. Blue Origin. NASA. The Moon. Mars. Asteroids. Mother Earth, our spaceship. Terranauts. Great Sol.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe
Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress
Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso
Week Kavannah: Wholeness. Shleimut.
“The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”
Tarot: Knight of Vessels, Eel
“With purity of intent, your destiny defined, you are able to bring wisdom and maturity to your tasks. Embarking on a quest of personal revelation, your vision leads you onward. Your deep feelings are expressed at every turn.” Parting the Mists
One brief shining: Plane landed, he said, getting a car, leaving the rental, about 1.5 hours out; Joe had come to Colorado, the Godfather whose godchildren eagerly awaited him texting, buzzing, Ruth sending pictures of her new-to-her car, a Subaru Forester that Joe helped her find from afar, like a good Dad; when he got here lugging his usual duffle bag full of books, another Master’s degree underway, Shadow surprised us both and barked at him.
OK. Nobody comes to our house at night. I’ll give her that. And, he’s a he. She definitely prefers women. Still. So. Joe closed the door and went back upstairs. When we went upstairs, Shadow and me, she relented, only backing away.
Joe came in for a hug, a muscled 44, smelling faintly of soap, bigger than I remembered. Though in reality it’s me that’s smaller. That affection. Borne of 44 years in each other’s lives, of so, so many memories. Of so much love.
All the longing. As I get older, I need to see him, and Seoah, too, so much more; yet, distance and the arc of a career, a successful career, mean I’ll probably never have what I need. Makes me sad.
It’s not like I need to see him every day, though that would be great, but having him and Seoah closer than 9,000 miles… Would be better. Not likely to happen.
I love my life on Shadow Mountain. Great and good friends. Shadow. Wild Neighbors. Aspens and Lodgepoles. A house I know, that works well for me. Living in the Mountain West exhilarates me. A life that works. No regrets. Even so, I feel what I feel.
On an adjacent matter. Talking with Rachel, my social worker, (ok. yes. It still feels weird to say, my social worker.) I did resolve one bit of tension. My walking limitations and my head drop issue have left me near home bound. I can and do go out, but I fade quickly. Energy and stamina both limited.
I’ve felt, maybe for the past year, an unidentified need to do more, be more while at the same time thoroughly enjoying my at home life. A vague guilt, yet real. And, it taints my pleasure in a life of reading, Shadow, cooking, writing, watching TV.
I’d always pegged the feeling as pushing in from the second phase of career, family busyness. Rachel suggested it might also come from building a new life after Kate’s death. In two distinct, but, I feel, significant ways.
First, we had a life together, Kate and me. Attending CBE. Going to see the grandkids, Jon. Special evenings out, theater and jazz. Drives in the Mountains. Caring for each other.
Second, I was Kate’s 24/7 caretaker for almost three years, always on, always going to this appointment or that procedure or cooking or doing the laundry. Constantly busy.
There’s the proximate source of the guilt. I have a life of fewer obligations, either as partner/soulmate, or caregiver. I should be doing more, like I did for all those years. Well, no I shouldn’t.
My life, a more abbreviated one than it was in those years, does not have that level of relationship and duty. That’s a fact. Too, these physical limitations are real. I can ameliorate them some with exercise and diet, but I’m no longer capable of living the life I once lived even six months ago.
Which is oh so, so far from saying I’m not living a life of purpose and agency, a fulfilling and satisfying life. I am. And, I intend to go on doing it Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.
The Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari