A snag

Lughnasa and the Harvest Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Covid. Kep. Hawai’i. Rain overnight. Gut issues and some headaches after my bout with the C. Dreams. The Ocean. Mountain Streams. Money. Dogs in apartments. Talking with Ode about his memoir. Joseph about the move, about the sale of his house in Georgia. Seoah on Kauai. Alan. Rich. Marilyn. Jamie. Rabbi Jamie. Good friends. Cowboy Caviar. Fish. Elk. Mule Deer. The Moon.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Harvest

 

May have hit a not entirely unexpected snag. Kep. Dogs allowed in Hawai’i apartments. Yes. Some do allow dogs. Dogs, it turns out, that weigh less than 60 pounds, most actually 20-25 pounds. Ankle biters. May have trouble matching a quality place with his breed and size. That makes the whole process come grinding to a halt if I can’t find a solution. Considering the Big Island. Might be easier for larger dogs and Joe and Seoah won’t be on Oahu for another four years anyhow.

Or, I might eat the tax loss for selling after April 12th and go back to my original idea. Wait until Kep dies before making a move. I don’t want him to live in substandard conditions (for him or me) near the end of his life. He’s been there for me and I intend to be there for him. No matter what.

Thought about selling anyhow and moving into Denver, back to Minneapolis, somewhere like a small college town, but that would mean a second move later on. If I can’t find a place on Oahu, I’ll probably continue here on Shadow Mountain. Nothing firm yet. I’ve contacted rental agents on Oahu to get a clearer picture. Continuing on with meeting real estate agents, move managers until I know more. Keep pushing the ball forward.

If I can find a place, I’d be ok with being out of here before Christmas. If not, well… Life.

 

My immersion in Judaism over the last eight years has taught me a lot. About Kate. About myself. About friendship and community. About tradition. About death and grieving. About Kabbalah and Mussar. About the Torah and the sages. About a culture that has survived death and destruction over and over again. Yet remained intact and vibrant. About the Tribe in today’s world. And I’ve loved all of it.

However. I have been and remain a pagan. I find my spiritual and religious sustenance in the movement of the Moon, the coming of day and night, the wonder of life in it all its forms. The rushing Mountain Streams. The Rain that falls and the Rain that does not fall. The Ocean. The fertile fields of my native Midwest.

The Great Pagan Work of our time. Helping to create a sustainable way for Humans to live on this Planet. This is why I believe paganism needs to take root in every human heart. And find a cherished place there.

No, paganism does not require you to cease being Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist. It does require you to place the fate of our Planet’s habitability for humans near the top of your values. You can still put salvation or social justice or moksha or nirvana in a high place, too. All paganism asks is that we all do what we can, what needs to be done, to help Mother Earth heal from the Industrial Age. Unless we do that, none of our religious dreams will matter because there will be no place for humans here.

 

This entry was posted in Commentary on Religion, Coronavirus, Dogs, Dreams, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Judaism, Politics, Shadow Mountain, The Move. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.