Mabon and the Sukkot Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Yiddische kopf. Alan and Joanne. Dandelion. Ginny and Janice. Aspen Perks. Ruth tomorrow in Boulder. Being a Jew. Always. In my round about way. First Snow. Coming down in the straight lines of Mountain Snow on Shadow Mountain. Gold and white. Green and white. Black Mountain white. Steel gray skies. Lodgepoles showing off their get rid of the too heavy snow load tricks. The good life. Life itself. The Tree of life. Kabbalah. Sukkot and the Sukkah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Torah

Kavannah: Friendship

One brief shining: Got there, to the Dandelion, early as I usually do, to discover I’d left home without my hearing aid, my phone, and my glasses; geez, I thought, trying to parse out why I’d done that, concluding the first chill weather of the season-it was 35 out-and thinking more about outer wear: let’s see, fleece, large jacket like flannel shirt over my sweatshirt had occupied my attention, pushing away going through my usual Mountain pilot’s checklist, will remember them all today. In fact I already have my loaner hearing aid in and my phone beside me.

 

 

To continue that thought for a moment. Yes, I leave things behind. Have all my life. Not a trick of old age, but of hurried living. Why I’ve had patience as a kavannah so much of late. Anyhow when I got to the restaurant early, the woman who manages the place who knows I’m sunny side up on my eggs, greeted me, gave me coffee and cream, and I went to my usual table to sit and wait for Alan and Joanne. Poured cream in the coffee. Got some water from the cooler. Set out my silverware and napkin. Then.

No phone. What do I do? Realized I’d come early to restaurants all my life, too. And most of that time without a cell phone to amuse me. To make me feel like I had something of significance to do while I waited. What did I do then? Often I’d have a book. Sometimes a notebook and pen. I’d read or take notes, write a poem, sketch.

This day Great Sol was in my eyes. I turned away from his glare, thought about lowering the shade but decided Mother’s spinning would put her lover above the roof line soon enough. As it did. I put my hands in my lap and sat there. Saw the only other guy in the room suddenly stand up and make what I took to be basketball mimes: a hand over his head blocking, a slight turn and and a ball released toward the basket. I guessed basketball not only because the hand movements were familiar, but his height. Maybe 6’5″ or more. A big guy.

Looked at the rows of root beer, soda, mineral water in the glass front standing cooler, how neat they were, awaiting the days shuffling and rearranging. The guy from the linen supply truck came in and gathered up moisture absorbing rugs, rags used in the kitchen, went out, came back in with fresh rags in a clear plastic bag and fresh rugs over his shoulder.

Read the chalk board. Tomato Soup. Poblano and bacon quiche. Apple cinnamon rolls.

Alan and Joanne came in the door. Oh. Well. That’s what I used to do. Pay attention.