Lughnasa and the Cheshbon Nefesh Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Teshuva. Candles. Ellul. Morning darkness. Shadow, my sweet girl. Kate, always Kate. Artemis, aglow with her heater. Which also illuminates the Japanese lanterns. Cool night. Fog. Dew point. Humidity. Monsoon Rains. Winds. Great Sol still hidden by Mother Earth. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Coffee. A morning delight.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei (and my mentor in it, Shadow)

Week Kavannah: Ometz Lev. Inner strength to move forward. Courage

Tarot: Seven of Swords (Druid Craft deck)

• Intelligence over Brute Force:

  Rather than aggressive action, the Seven of Swords advises using your intellect to navigate difficult situations smartly. 
• Truth-Seeking:

  The card encourages looking beyond the surface and discerning the real truth of a situation, avoiding self-deception or being deceived by others.

One brief shining: Next week another blood draw, my quarterly instance of true high stakes testing, a titch of anxiety already making its way into consciousness, roiling slightly the calm waters of my inner world, while I go through the now well worn ruts of it will be what it will be, life is short and I’m old, a good run so far, wonder what happens in the new territory if and when I get there.

 

Cancer: Stable so far. PSA next week. I’ve responded well to androgen deprivation therapy ever since the last dose of my long radiation. Over six years. In other words Orgovyx and Erleada have kept my cancer in stasis through Kate’s illness, through my second visit to Korea, through my son’s taking command of his squadron, through Covid, through the deaths of Gertie, then Kate, Rigel, Kepler, and Jon, through my conversion, through adopting Shadow, through the building of Artemis. I bow my head to the scientists who developed them. True life savers.

When looked at from that perspective, gratitude comes unbidden. In this odd case looking backward soothes the soul, while anticipation stains it with worry. An important lesson in living in the moment, in this August 30th life, on this Shabbat.

 

Dog journal: Murdoch, now eight years old, rests a lot. Whenever my son and I talk, he turns the camera to the side or under his desk and there lies a sleeping tan and white Akita, happy with the people he loves.

Murdoch has traveled more than most people. From his birth home outside Macon, Georgia to the not so far away Warner-Robbins AFB. From there to Colorado, Conifer. From Conifer to Loveland. From Loveland to Hawai’i. From Hawai’i to Korea. Throughout he has loved the Sun in spite of his breed’s double coat developed for the Mountains of the Akita prefecture in Japan where Akita’s originated.

Shadow sleeps on her “place.” A towel I’ve been training her to lie on until I say “free” and throw a treat away from it. A calming spot. Good for anxious dogs like her. Shadow Mountain is my place. Hers, too.

 

Just a moment: Read about Robin Westerman’s diaries. Her secret plans and grievances. Her admiration for school shooters. Her careful planning. Makes me sad, not even angry. Tragedy grown from tragedy.