Imbolc Valentine Moon
Kate’s clear, up and down. Endoscopy and colonoscopy show no problems. That’s a relief. When we came out of Swedish hospital (I know, the Scandinavian touch was right for these two former Minnesotans), the day was one of those gifts Colorado gives frequently bright blue sky, luminous sun, even a bit warm. As in the weather, so in our hearts.
Now, a short rant. Televisions. Every damned where. Waiting rooms, airports, bars, the cafeteria at the hospital. They’re a drug. And, they’re loud, not to mention filled with drivel. Muzak became ubiquitous, too, but noisy colorful images positioned in places where I want peace is an invasion of my inner world and not a welcome one. OK. Rant over. Well, not quite. Plus now most people are looking at their phones while the tv blares. I left the waiting room for a much quieter seat in the hallway. The hallway!
Jon’s grown weary of all the moving, as well he might. Moving stuff carries a physical cost, but even more, it carries a psychological cost. There’s the velveteen rabbit in reverse grief, the burden of baggage, the repetitive actions, but most of it comes from the constant reminder of a huge change. Even when the move is voluntary, the psychological cost is high. When the move has the additional overlay of divorce and animosity, the cost can sometimes exceed our capacity to absorb. That can leave us depleted in heart and body.
Ruth has a phone. She got her dad’s old one when he replaced it. This means I can reach her by text now. She and her friends have a group text that they use a lot sending selfies, pictures of their meals, comments about their day. This is the world of the digital native and it’s different than the one in which I grew up. The communications 
aspect of it is a cultural transition similar I imagine to the introduction of the telephone in its impact.
But, oddly, instant communication often interferes with the personal, the immediate, as even when they are together, heads and hands are all too often directed towards the phone and away from the flesh and blood presence. Not sure what the implication of this is, but it feels icky to me.
We’re already getting prepared for the Renaissance Fair. We all plan to go in costume. Ruth’s working on her’s. I’m growing my beard and hair so I can be a credible wizard. The Colorado Renaissance Fair is in mid-summer, so it’s a ways away, time for the sewing to get done and my beard to extend.
