Spring and Kate’s Yahrzeit Moon
Sunday gratefuls: Erleada. Banana. Gonna go Bahamas. Orgovyx. Cancers of all kinds. Bird song in the early morning. A splash of red Light on the Lodgepoles of Black Mountain. Gray Sky to the west. Each night a small death; each morning a new life. Restored and resurrected. Each moment precious and unrepeatable. Kate here. Kate gone.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Bird song
Second Container Store order came yesterday. A cool clear plastic riser with three levels for the spice cabinet. Longer Acacia boxes for the silverware drawer. Mesh, see through wire boxes for the pantry. A Teak cutting board, much lighter than the Zebra Wood one I’ve used for years. Putting Beeswax on it.
Most of the former kitchen things now have at least a temporary spot in a cabinet. Only a bit of clutter remains in the common room. Finishing all that up today. After that the action moves down to my level. Working on turning the Stickley bookcase into a cabinet of curiosities. Won’t take long on the first pass.
After that the sewing room. That will take longer. But my plan is to finish before April 18th when Joe and Seoah and Diane come.
The loft will follow. After it’s done, the upstairs office and moving the photographs. Then, once the weather warms up the garage and the back.
The first move of this dance happened in September when the house got stained. October saw the mini-splits installed. Then in November the never-ending remodel took it’s turn. Herme came home from his neon sign shop birth place. The major part of the remodel finished in February. The new lights and the new coffee table came around my birthday. Vince and his brother accomplished the moving of things.
Since then I’ve been putting things away, arranging furniture, clearing out, more pruning. I took a trip to Goodwill that cleared out the final common room boxes. I had a vision and it’s coming into reality. Costing more than I imagined. That’s ok.
A home that reflects my new reality. Far along a week or so before Kate’s Gregorian yahrzeit. Even if it was a partial distraction from my grief the result will be something important, a forward look rather than sealing my life into a Kate mausoleum of sorts.
Today I go to Center Stage to see Dementiaville. Written by Marilyn Herrs of CBE (Thursday mussar) and Tal Arnold (Rabbi Jamie’s son) Alan has a role in it. Marilyn is a psychologist. Tal has acted in Hollywood and is a theater director for the Evergreen Players who are staging this work. That’s at 2 pm. I can stay awake through matinees.
Went to the Conifer Cafe yesterday for breakfast. Love breakfast out, but don’t often do it. Took To Speak for the Trees with me.
As I parked, I saw a man walking two dogs. One of them was an Irish Wolfhound! I parked fast and ran over to him. “May I meet your dogs?” Finnegan and Fergus. The IW Finnegan and a beautiful Australian Shepherd puppy, Fergus.
We stood there in the parking lot talking Irish Wolfhounds. About the wonder of them. Their tragically short lives. Finnegan was shy, unusual for an IW. He had not been socialized well due to Covid. He would come up and sniff me, then retreat. Again. Back. Felt good to talk to another IW person, a dog person.
I’m realizing that, while a hermit still, I need regular human contact as well. The amount I got talking to that guy and eating breakfast after is enough. So Thursday mussar and the Kabbalah classes, breakfast with Alan, along with an occasional run to Safeway or medical appointments, seeing Jon and the kids, is plenty for me. But, I need it.
Maybe I’ll make Saturday morning breakfast out a regular thing. I got in five hours of exercise Monday/Tuesday and Thursday/Friday. If I can continue that, or close to it, I’m doing enough.
A busy week ahead. House cleaning, including the loft on Monday. Eigner in the afternoon. It’s Ruth’s sixteenth birthday! Tuesday the first of the new astrology classes and Sefer Yetzirah III. Hearing aid check at 3:45. On into Denver to the Sushi Den for Ruth’s birthday with her and Cord, Jon and Gabe. Buddy Bill Schmidt’s 85th on Wednesday. You go, Bill. My second shingles vaccine and a pneumonia vaccine. Thursday is Seoah’s oath ceremony for her naturalization. Forsaking all others, I choose to cleave to… Something like that. David Sanders again. Maybe last session. Mussar. Friday has nothing scheduled.
Which brings me to something I’ve been toying with for well over 40 years, ever since I bought a little book called Sacred Time. Following the sabbath. Not so much a Jewish thing though their practice is probably what I’ll loosely adopt if I can figure it out. More a making time holy practice, or, better, honoring the holiness of time already there.
I’ve wondered for a long time whether awakening to the holiness of each moment, an ichi-go ichi-e perspective, might not be the point of living. This flows into and around my already solid conviction about the holiness of the Sun, the Moon, and Mother Earth.
This is not just being in the moment. Not just be here now. This means opening our heart space to the unique and profound truth of right now. It’s wonder, it’s linkage to all moments, as we link to all aspects of the universe each moment. It’s that mystical experience I had reborn with careful attention. To that birdsong. The mini-split humming. Kep sleeping. Kate dead. Me alive. Yet us together. Breath going in and out, the clack of the keyboard. Feeling my stomach announce breakfast time.
All sacred. Holy. I like the idea of a day set apart for study, for family, for meditation, for attention to the world around us. I like the ritual of candles in the evening, eating challah, drinking something blessed. And I like ending the sabbath with that twisted havdalah candle. Will take time to figure this out. How to make it work with the long running trenches of habit I already have. Yes, like Saturday breakfast out. Or, maybe that’s part of my sabbath. Not sure. Stay tuned.