Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon
Friday gratefuls: Casa Bonita. Seoah. My son. Gabe. Shadow and her fears. 78 years. Happy birthday greetings from friends and family. Still upright and taking nourishment. Valentine’s Day. Duncan, Oklahoma. Mom. Dad. WWII. Baby boomers. Talking about my generation. The training of Shadow. Alan.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah and Gabe and Ruth
Week Kavannah: Love Ahavah
One brief shining: The Spanish Mission architecture, the bell tower, the hot pink facade with lines of diners snaking towards the doors, Casa Bonita, newly refurbished by makers of the South Park cartoons, improbable sources of English instruction for Seoah through her online English class, which brought us to our table deep in the Silver Mine section of this combination restaurant and amusement park, occupancy 2045.
78 birthdays. Median age of death for men in the U.S. 74.8. For the population as a whole 77.8. Whew. Just made it. Have had many conversations over this last year in which this oddity occurs. Geez, when I read about somebody that’s 80, my first thought? They’re old! Then. Wait a minute. I can see 80 from here. It’s just. Right. There.
In the first episode of Picard Jean-Luc looks out over his vineyard and says, “I’ve not been living; I’ve been waiting to die.” 3 years of episodes follow as he demonstrates what a retired Starfleet Admiral can do. My own motto is this: I intend to live until I die.
Sounds easy. A tautology even, right? Well, no. With TV, zoom, kindles, smart phones and tablets it’s simpler now than ever to push pause at a certain point and recede behind a wall of easy. To take on no new challenges. To forget about the world beyond illness and onrushing decrepitude. Have medical visits become the raison d’etrê for getting out of the house.
And. It is tempting. Especially for an introverted, mildly monastic temperament such as mine. I love being alone, on my own. Reading. Studying. Watching movies and TV. Cooking. Shopping. Following the world through newspapers and magazines.
Yet. Last year I finished my conversion to Judaism. This year so far I’m working with Shadow, a rescue whose fears make her a distinct challenge. I cherish my calls with friends and family on zoom. My breakfasts and lunches out with them.
I’m studying the Torah, parsha by parsha, using several modes of learning that are new to me. I continue to write Ancientrails, now in its 21st year.
My view is in this moment and ahead. Not looking back, except to write stories in Storyworth.
Just a moment in oligarchworld: I will not look away. Pretend that this delusional twit is not twisting the norms and purposes of our government to match his own paranoid fantasies. That best buddy Elon is not systematically destroying, breaking, tearing at the tissue which makes us who we are.
I continue to dream the impossible dream of a country true to the poetry on the Statue of Liberty. Of a country that is a place the world admires for its commitment to the rule of law and the health and welfare of its citizens.