Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II
Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. Flowers on the Tomato Plants. The Monsoons. Here in force. Tarot. Luke’s class. Tom’s friend, Terri. In Israel. Mark in Al Kharj. Mary in K.L. Seoah, Murdoch, and my son in Osan. Chipmunks. Birds. Butterflies. Squirrels. Rabbits. Wild Neighbors in the back yard.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Wild Neighbors
Year Kavannah: Wu Wei
Week Kavannah: Patience. Savlanut.
Tarot: The Woodward. How can I improve my daily life?
One brief shining: Shadow patrols the deck outside Kate’s old sewing room, sniffing through the floorboards where the chipmunks have lived ever since Kate and I moved here, reminding me of Rigel, the predator, who became so excited by the smells wafting up that she scratched claw marks in the composite boards that cover the deck.
Cousins: 15 first cousins on my mom’s side. Of them I’ve stayed close with only one, Diane. Whom I visited a year ago May in her long time city of residence, San Francisco.
I wrote a bit ago about those of the fifteen who have died, occasioned by the recent death of Tanya in a tragic fire at her home in Rush County, Indiana.
Then I read this interesting article about cousins in the Atlantic. The Great Cousin Decline. I hadn’t thought about this knock on effect of lower birth rates, but it’s obvious when you do.
My growing up, especially through high school, featured family trips to Morristown, Muncie, Arlington all of us piled into first that chunky maroon 1950 Ford, then the gray and white 57.
On the way to Morristown we would stop at The Post restaurant for lunch. The Post being a State Patrol Post nearby. That was a treat.
Thanksgivings in Muncie at Aunt Marjorie’s and Uncle Ike’s with a kid’s table, a big Turkey, and football in Uncle Ike’s den. Family reunions in the park in Greenfield. The occasional wedding or funerals. Sleepovers.
Yes, I was often the one with the stack of comic books off in the corner reading. I know. An introvert from early days.
One result of having so many cousins in four other families meant lots of family drama. A lot of it kept from us kids as we grew up. That Aunt who got pregnant out of wedlock. Wedlock. Does anybody even use that word anymore?
The cousins who might have had other fathers. Bi-polar disorder. A professional gambling man, one of my uncles. Grandpa reputedly winning the farm on a bet at the Kentucky Derby.
Not at all Leave It To Beaver or Patriarch Knows Best. I feel sorry for those with few cousins, now most folks I guess. Broadened my world.
Tarot: The Woodward. Pulled this card a second time. Guess I need to pay attention to it. Here’s one interesting take on his meaning that resonates:
“The Woodward’s strength, drawn from nature’s inherent power to renew and overcome, is needed if we are to foresee what is to come and wait upon the turning of the seasons. Sometimes, when faced with a challenging situation, we must find our own inner backstop, the point from which we will not retreat or from which we can move forward with quiet confidence. The Wildwood ethos has much to teach humanity about calm, resolute strength.” Parting the Mists