Samain and the Holiseason Moon
Thursday gratefuls: Laurie Knox. Kate’s piecing. Joan Marshall. Others who quilted Kate’s tops into quilts. I now have four new, whole quilts pieced by Kate and quilted by her friends in the Baily Patchworkers. Two I will keep, a lovely batik quilt in purples and greens and a friendship quilt block one with squares from Kate and others in the Patchworkers. Women. Cold weather. Sleeping in. Snug as a bug in a rug.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Gospel music at CBE
Tarot: I’ll cover this spread in its own post
Those folks at Phonak. New hearing aid a cut well above the last one I had. And, they let me buy a new Roger for only $200. Picked it up yesterday. Will use it today at mussar. And, working on a memory technique for not leaving it behind. Ever again.
Talked with Cousin Diane yesterday morning. She’s out there in the Bay area where the temps are usually in the 50-60 degree range. Ideal. She had her book group coming, which meant furniture rearrangement and cooking a whole meal. Hope it went ok. I’ll find out next Wednesday.
Mark is in the house. The house being his home country, the good ole U.S. of A. He’s currently living in Fairfax, Virginia and touring D.C. At some point he heads out to Minnesota to connect with a new driver’s license. After that he may come up here. First time he’s been in the U.S. since Covid began. Three years in Saudi.
Slept in this morning. Felt so good to have a cold bedroom and my electric blanket turned up high. The dogs didn’t object.
While talking to Diane I had a modest epiphany. Part of my aversion to headlines and news stories these days, maybe a most of it, stems from being triggered. The Trump years come up. Biden’s poll numbers, the fractious nature of the Democrats in Congress. The Rittenhouse trial. The trials of the insurrectionists. An Atlantic article about the rise of autocracy titled, “The Bad Guys Are Winning.”
History happens. And some of us have to be alive during the bad bits. Interesting times continue for Baby Boomers.
It all seems so far away from Shadow Mountain. Solid, steady, dependable. Mountains. The one I’m on and Black Mountain that I see out my window. Just two of hundreds, thousands of peaks in the Rockies. The Elk, I saw a harem of over thirty Cows and one Bull the other day when I went into Evergreen. The Mule Deer. A few miles further I saw two Mule Deer Bucks locked in horny battle. All along Bear Creek.
That beautiful black Fox photographed by a neighbor. Holly Bailey and her husband telling of a four hundred pound Black Bear on their deck yesterday. Their last dog died in September and now the Wildlife has begun to return to their home.
What of this cares about Mar a Lago? What of this cares about Manchin? What of this finds the dismal state of politics in our country worth mentioning?
A large part of me sides with Rocks, Creeks, Elk, Fox, Mule Deer. Snow, Clouds. The Sky. The Sun. That part of me wants only to sleep, eat, watch the Lodgepoles sway and Maxwell Creek tumble down Shadow Mountain. That part of me lives on no matter the craziness, the injustice, the climate degradation. And is happy.
The other part, smaller these days, knows about interdependence. Acid Rain. Drought. Wildfire. Human encroachment on the wild. (yes, guilty) Toxins and pollutants in our air. That brown scuzz filtering the sunrise over Denver. The draining of Aquifers. The dwindling snow packs. That part knows there is no corner of the earth unaffected. It also knows the silly politics of humans matter, matter in a life or death way to our species and thousands of others.
But here’s the truth. They don’t own me. I’m not just one of their silly toys. They can’t make me go out with them, can’t put me on display. (on their side). Which also means I still have that responsibility to act. To stake my claim in this world while I’m here. In spite of how interesting it may be.