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Radical, man

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Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Black Mountain

Monday gratefuls: Rigel. Her head on my pillow most of the night. Kep, so happy to get up. Orion of the morning. Skeletal Aspens. Lodgepoles waiting with spring loaded Branches. For Snow. Shadow Mountain. Solid Rock beneath my house, my feet. Black Mountain. Which tucks in the Sun.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mitzvah

Tarot: See notes from my hexagram spread next post

 

Holiseason. A primer. I discovered holimonth 15 years ago. That was December with its abundance of holidays. Then I extended the idea to holiseason. (discovered later that this was a word anyhow. But, hey.) Holiseason by my reckoning runs from Samain on October 31st to the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6th. [A Kate aside here. She left Sunday School for good when one of her teachers, 4th or 5th grade, kept pronouncing the holiday epi-fanny.]

Holiseason contains multiple holidays, many of the holidays of light like Divali, Christmas, Hannukah. Thanksgiving. Posada. Advent. Kwanza. Winter Solstice. Gregorian New Year. Dia de los muertos. All Saints. And, of course, Samain. It’s my favorite time of the year. Lots to celebrate.

Reflecting on my radical career. One thing in particular. A long time ago, either 1975 or 1980, I attended a conference. Liberation Theology in the Americas. There were two and I can’t recall which one I attended. Cornel West. Harvey Cox. Lettie Russel. My roommate was a priest from Guatemala. Lots of impassioned speeches. Marxist analysis. Great meal conversations. Bus tours by a Detroit Socialist party that had made some political progress.

At the time I thought the conference was important for the clergy and theologians. Only later did I realize that the most radical moment came from a member of the Iroquois Confederacy, a medicine man in a 700 year lineage of medicine men.

At the end of the conference he performed a ritual typical of the Confederacy, planting a pine tree as a sign of peace. In the original rituals tomahawks and bows and arrows and knives would have been placed into the hole, covered in soil, the tree planted on top of them.

Afterward, and this part of the story I’ve told many times, he gave a long prayer. I listened carefully. You can read it below.*

When he finished, I went up to him and asked, “I noticed you didn’t mention the two-leggeds.” Oh, he said. Yes. The people are the most fragile of all. We need all the other spiritual forces healthy if we are to survive. So we pray for them. If they are well, so are we.

That was the radical moment at this most radical of all theological gatherings. I see it now. I carried on with work for economic justice: affordable housing, supporting unions, worker owned cooperative businesses like food co-ops and grocery stores and drug stores. Restaurants. Direct financial aid to the unemployed seeking work. Until.

Kate and I attended a Physicians for Social Responsibility conference in Iowa City. On climate change. This was in the mid-1990’s. A national conference they had now well-known figures in the climate change movement presenting. Each day we would go back to our hotel and express wonder that this science was not public. And, it wasn’t then. At least not enough for anyone to notice.

No habitable planet. No need for justice. I decided then that the remainder of my political work would be on climate change. And so it was. But, I could have made the same realization back in 1975 or 1980. Had I listened to the Iroquois medicine man.

 

 

 

 

  •   Reimagining Faith: Tree of Peace

Spring                                                              Bee Hiving Moon

The essence of the Peacemaker legend follows as told by Mohawk chief Jake Swamp at the planting of a Tree of Peace in Philadelphia in 1986. “In the beginning, when our Creator made humans, everything needed to survive was provided. Our Creator asked only one thing: Never forget to appreciate the gifts of Mother Earth. Our people were instructed how to be grateful and how to survive. But during a dark age in our history 1000 years ago, humans no longer listened to the original instructions. Our Creator became sad, because there was so much crime, dishonesty, injustice and war. So Creator sent a Peacemaker with a message to be righteous and just, and make a good future for our children seven generations to come. He called all warring people together and told them as long as there was killing there would be no peace of mind. There must be a concerted effort by humans for peace to prevail. Through logic, reasoning and spiritual means, he inspired the warriors to bury their weapons and planted atop a sacred Tree of Peace”

It is said that the Tree of Peace given by the Peacemaker symbolizes the Great Law of Peace. The symbol is a great white pine, and it is said to shelter all nations who commit themselves to Peace. Beneath the tree are buried the weapons of war of the original five nations. Above the tree is an eagle that sees far. Also, four long roots stretch out in the four sacred directions, and they are called the white roots of peace. The Peacemaker invited any man or nation desiring to commit to the Great Law of Peace to trace the roots to their source, and take refuge beneath the Tree of Peace. The Peacemaker’s teachings stressed the power of reason to assure righteousness, justice and health. Faithkeeper Oren Lyons, an Onondaga, states that the Great Law of Peace includes freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and the right of women to participate in government.

The seed-idea underlying all Iroquois philosophy is that peace is the will of the Creator, and it is the ultimate spiritual goal and natural order of things. The prayer below comes from the people of the Iroquois Confederacy. The prayer is based on the tradition of interconnectedness that the Iroquois or Haudenosaunee possess. This prayer is said to be the backbone of the Iroquois culture. The prayer expresses the belief that rather than take the world for granted, it must be respected, and that we must thank all living things in order to align our minds with creation and the Creator. Usually, a faithkeeper is selected to share the prayer of thanksgiving at the opening and closing of social, government, and ceremonial events. The prayer is comprised of three levels:

 

Spiritual Forces on the Earth, Spiritual Forces in the Sky, Spiritual Forces beyond the Sky

The Spiritual Forces on the Earth are:
the People, our Mother Earth, the Waters, the Fish, the Grasses, the Plants,
our Sustenance, the Animals, the Trees, and the Birds.
Throughout the year we bring our minds together as one
We give thanks to one another
All year long she gives us all that we need

We give thanks to our Mother Earth
Everyday it quenches our thirst
We give thanks to the waters In winter it replenishes the lakes.
We give thanks to the waters

During the year they purify the lakes
We give thanks to the fish
When the wind turns warm a green blanket appears
We give thanks to the grasses
In early summer the flowers turn sweet
We give thanks to the medicinal plants
In early summer they help us survive
We give thanks to the food plants
In midsummer we dance for the green corn
We give thanks to our sustenance
In midsummer we dance for the red beans
We give thanks to our sustenance
During the winter their pelts warm the soul
We give thanks to the animal creatures
Since early times they have been our companions
We give thanks to the animal creatures
In early spring we are glad they reappear
We give thanks to the animal creatures
At one point in time it became a symbol of peace
We give thanks to the trees
At the end of spring the sap will flow
We give thanks to the trees
In early morning they carry messages
We give thanks to the birds
In times of danger he warns the people
We give thanks to the birds
In the summer they sing sweet songs

We give thanks to the birds Spiritual Forces in the Sky are:
the Four Winds, our Grandfather Thunder, our Elder Brother Sun, our Grandmother Moon, and the Stars
Throughout the seasons they refresh the air
We give thanks to the Four Winds
In early summer they bring the falling drops
We give thanks to our Grandfather Thunder
Every morning he brings light and warmth
We give thanks to our Elder Brother Sun
Every night she watches over the arrival of children
We give thanks to our Grandmother Moon
In the night their sparkle guides us home
We give thanks to the stars
The Highest Spiritual Forces beyond the Sky are: our Protectors, Handsome Lake, and the Creator
All the time they remind us how to live
We give thanks to our protectors
At one point in time he brought back the words of the Creator
We give thanks to Handsome Lake
Everyday we will share with one another all of these good things
We give thanks to the Creator.
– Prayer of Thanksgiving, Iroquois Confederacy

General

Transformations

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Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Saturday gratefuls: The electrician and his dog, Lulu. Omega Electric. The mini-splits with power. Jodi. Brought a copy of the quartzite Taj Mahal and some of the brick backsplash. Plus, cabinet samples. One with the stain. Which is very close to the Stickley. Missed workout with all the busyness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: New kitchen by Christmas

Tarot: Three of Swords, Druid Craft

 

Electricity out in the loft all day. Running conduit to the mini-split. Forgot to ask the electrician’s name, but we bonded over Rigel and Kepler. He has a Shibu Inu/Husky mix, Lulu. She’s a cutey. Looks like a miniature Husky.

I have a new, larger electrical panel in the garage. More space. David will come on Monday or Tuesday to walk me through operation and maintenance of the mini-splits. From Tom and his colleague to my walls in less than four months. The spring will be a much happier experience. And, perhaps, this winter, too. Though. Not counting on that.

The other project, the kitchen remodel, got a check written yesterday. That means matters have gotten serious. Right now it will be rich brown, espresso cabinets, a brick backsplash, and a slightly veined white cabinet top. And, a farmer’s sink. Jodi says it will be underway the week after Thanksgiving and finished before Christmas.

I’ve got boxes by the fireplace. I have to clear out the kitchen before the demolition begins. That will take awhile. Gonna look for a reupholsterer for the couch so it can be gone during the kitchen work. I’ll have enough money left over to buy an additional chair for the upstairs. Not sure if I will or not. Might just go with the Stickley and the leather chair I’ve used for several years.

Although I’ve not used the fireplace much, especially since Kate got sick and I got diagnosed with COPD (later changed to post-polio syndrome), I couldn’t resist ordering, from Ireland, a box of peat logs. Gotta get some firewood, too. The post-polio diagnosis means a little smoke from a fireplace is not gonna create a problem.

The reason for the peat logs? The Faery Faith, the book By Evans-Wentz. He gathered stories of the auld Celtic faith in Scottish, Irish, Welsh, and Breton homes. The Irish heated with peat and I want to smell it.

They came yesterday while I talked with the electrician. A heavy box, though not very large. Maybe 2 feet long and six inches square.

Kep and Rigel slept back to back with me. A cool night with warm dogs. Perfect.

 

Three of Swords:

“Keywords: Heartache. True growth. Wisdom from suffering.

Meaning: True growth and transformation. Heartache, out of which can come healing and emotional maturity.” DCB

Heartache? Oh, yes. Suffering. Quite a bit. Growth? Feels like it. Quieter. Calmer. The worst has happened. I’ve had to integrate Kate’s death into a new life. On the cusp. Learned to lean on those who love me. While loving them back. Perhaps that’s all the wisdom we need?

Transformation. We’ll see. I feel different, my life feels like its contours have changed. But. Am I different? Hard to say from the inside. In many ways my life and I are the same.

I come home to 9358 Black Mountain Drive. Kep and Rigel get fed, cared for. I see folks from CBE, commune with my ancient friends at the electrical hearth. Family, too. I buy groceries, cook, pay bills. See to my own medical issues.

What’s different? Kate’s gone. And, my physical, in this world, relationship with her. It’s now Kep, Rigel, and me. I make decisions on my own, without my partner. Though. I do hear her voice. The responsibilities here are now all mine. To be fair, however, that was true for quite a while before now.

I’m not sure I can define the transformation well. At least this morning. Maybe later. I’ll ask others, see what they see. Some significant things have changed, I know. But what they are? Not sure.

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Master Benders

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Samain and the Holiseason Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tina at Morry’s Neon. Master Benders. Fun. Making the house mine. Finding Morry’s Neon, an urban pathfinding adventure. Jon. Cardio. Gut bombs. Jodi coming today. New washer coming on Monday. None too soon. Cities. I love them. But no longer want to live in them. The Pandamndemic. Orgovyx. Prostate Cancer.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Master Benders

Tarot: King of Pentacles,  Druid Craft

 

The Hermit neon sign. Quite the oxymoron. Let’s file it under ironic and enjoy it anyhow. Discovered the limits of my navigation software when it kept wanting me to turn left about a hundred feet beyond a chain link fence. The skiploader and men working would have protested, too.

Morry’s Neon, in the neighborhood near the Bronco’s Stadium. Felt like it kept moving as I made this turn and that. Going past construction, non-through streets that used to continue. A year or so back this area, largely Latino, got backing for a huge urban redevelopment plan. In the future you might be able to find your way. Not right now.

Morry’s sits between the Strange Craft Brewery and the Rising Sun Distillery. The Cream. Strange Brew. All the same flat storefronts in a long white business strip mall.

Tina. I’m Glen. I’ve been e-mailing you. Turns out she signed all the e-mails but all I saw was that they came from Glen, her husband, and with her, the owner of Morry’s Neon. He’s a Master Bender. No, not that. Bending glass tubes.

Eddy, left. Mario, right

It’s hard to find Master Benders anymore. Eric has been with us for 30 years and Mario for 8. But Mario had been a bender for many years before that. All seasoned.

Master Benders. Who knew? Tina said she tried to learn it but kept burning herself. When I couldn’t even make a W, I decided bending was not me. I told her I took a week long potting class to conclude the same for me about throwing pots.

Tina wanted me to see the Neon color “chart.” Once there I could see why. Her color chart (see picture) had the colors in tubes, turned on. That way you get a sense of what blue means, or green, or red.

I had to decide on colors for hands, the staff, the beard, the lantern, and the robe. The robe alone may require as much as 14 feet of tubing. I made my decisions. We’ll see how well I did when I get the sign in a month.

Their shop fascinated me. I found it beautiful, a carny or sideshow vibe, but in a manufacturing setting. Long paper covered lengths of tubing sat under a long counters. Where Mario worked, further back, there was a flame he used to heat the tubing before bending it.

Then, when Tina flipped a switch, look what showed up. Could have been Times Square or the Vegas Strip. I love neon and neon signs.

The Hermit will go on the south facing wall above my breakfast table. Not sure how often I’ll turn him on. LOL. That we’ll have to see. They make a black box, plastic, for him, that will put the transformer behind the sign. My original idea was to have a sign outside but outside ups the cost about a grand.

The office

I put down my deposit and Jon and I left for a burger joint. I wanted a place where he could get some calories.

Got in a strong cardio workout before I left. I have a half day plus of energy, then I need a nap.

Came home. Always happy to come back up the hill. One way streets. Construction. Narrow lanes. A sense of people reaching past themselves for a brass ring, hell, even a tin one.

King quoting Theodore Parker, Unitarian Clergy. early 19th century

Yes. I did read the newspapers. Complicated. Looking good for the GOP. 2022. When I met with RJ on Wednesday, he said he doubted he would ever see a normal market in his lifetime. He meant that central banks had interest rates set artificially low, bond yields are terrible, savings accounts stupid. Money has to go into stocks to grow. That keeps the market driving up.

After these elections, I’m inclined to say the same thing about the political realm in the U.S. I doubt I’ll ever see a “normal” election during my fourth phase. And when that ends I’m outta here. You can argue, in my mind successfully, that the old normal was no good anyhow. However, the new chaotic style of American politics bodes poorly for folks and issues I care about.

Makes me want to go live on top of a mountain in the Rockies. And, stay there.

 

 

General

The Late Afternoon Edition

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Samain and the crescent moon of the thinned veil

Wednesday gratefuls: Carol and Bill. Easy Entrees. Frigidaire. Ruby. Kep and Rigel. Cold air. Diane. RJ. Kate’s bequest to me. Jon. The Subaru now a donation. Bay empty. Jodi comes by Friday to show me a cabinet stain sample and a counter top possibility, Taj Mahal. Heheh. Fancy. Great workout this morning. Life. Death. Family, friends, and community.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hermit neon sign

Tarot:  The Moon, #18 in the Major Arcana

 

Got up late. 7:28 am. Zoom with Diane at 8, then RJ at 9. Workout after. Lunch and nap. 5 pm and here I am writing today’s post. Feel like a delinquent. But, a well rested delinquent.

Life has begun to have flavor again. A sweet taste. No longer a mashup of love, duty, sleeplessness, stress. No longer a grief dominated over burden. Just life. This mayfly moment. And that feels pretty damned good.

Tomorrow I’m going in to Morry’s Neon to decide on colors for my hermit sign. Glen insisted, saying that neon colors are different than those that can be rendered in an image. True, I’m sure. Anyhow an interesting time, to see the inside of a neon sign shop.

Jon and I will have lunch since I’ll be in Denver. He says he’s feeling better. Like his endocrine system has quieted down, gone back to its job. The Subaru left the property early this morning. On its way to CPR coffers as a donation.

Jodi plans to come by on Friday around 1 with the cabinet stain sample and a new counter top possibility. All means the kitchen project has momentum. In the new kitchen by Christmas, she hopes. Because of my increasingly Jewish family and friend base, in by Christmas doesn’t have quite the same zing it might’ve. But, still.

I’ll spend some of Christmas with the Colorado and the Maine Stricklands. At Mike and Kate’s on Christmas day and at the Buckhorn on the day after. Looking forward to that.

Well. Rigel is being a pest, barking, barking, barking to go inside. So I’m going to end this here. See you on the flip side.

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Roger, Oh Roger

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Samain and the crescent of the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Tuesday gratefuls: Amy, at Mile High Hearing. The Roger. Loss. Kate, always Kate. And, her quilting. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Mark. Rigel, her insistent, loud barking at 3 am. Kep, who slept through it. Julie and AARP Advantage plan #1 with premiums. Electronic signing. Marina Harris’s Furball Cleaning.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Astrology

Tarot: King of Pentacles, Druid Craft

 

Felt a little like I was on my way to the Principal’s office while driving into Mile High Hearing. It’s not often I face a relative stranger and have to acknowledge a failure. I could not keep Roger safe.

Amy was good about it. And, for reasons that make sense to me. I was out for a meal, the first fine dining moment since Kate died. At least here in Colorado. Using the Roger. And it helped me hear Alan over the very live restaurant. What she wanted. I want to open the world up for you.

She and I puzzled over how Gaetano’s could have lost it. I don’t know and at this point it seems moot. Roger is gone.

Amy will contact Eric, her rep for Phonak, and see if they can cut me some kind of deal. A much lower price on a new one. I hope she’s successful, because I’m ready to start ghost writing a book, Roger and Me.

Caspar David Friedrich
Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog (1818)

Fog covered 285 on the way down the hill. Dicy at any speed. Ice and fog are my two least favorite driving conditions.

Before that Julie got me into a new policy with better benefits. Amazing. We met and reviewed documents all over zoom and email. She sent me the documents to sign, which I did electronically. Much more efficient, carbon and time.

Julie also signed me up, in January, with Conifer Family Medicine which will open a satellite office in Evergreen in the new year. The Conifer practice has no opening for new patients. I don’t mind. Evergreen is my town and much closer than Littleton. I’m actually in an Evergreen precinct, CBE is in Evergreen, and most of my CBE friends live there or nearby. Conifer has no personal ties for me except my immediate neighborhood.

Got the art for my Hermit neon sign. I like it. Not cheap, but it will be a signature piece for the Shadow Mountain Hermitage. Gonna put it on the inside wall that can be seen through one of our front windows.

I go in to Morry’s Neon tomorrow. My only quibble was the red eyes. Too many movies where the vampires have red eyes. Glen and I will pick out a new color together.

Also got a Woolly Mammoth hoodie in the mail from Ode. Looks warm. Got here just as the weather has begun to cool down. Must be a Stefan/Mario collaboration. I plan to wear mine when I hit the speed bag. You know, Rocky. Woolly.

AWOL. That’s been me. From the news. I read headlines, rarely full stories. This has been a time of going inward, away from the world. Will continue for a while. The news draws me back, puts me in the maelstrom that is our era while I need time, quiet time.

Climate change. The Whigged out GOP. The Gump Trump. The Pandamndemic. Democrats shooting themselves in the foot. I know. All still underway. As for me, I will remodel my kitchen, hang some neon art in my living room, utilize my mini-splits, pet my dogs.

I am the King of Pentacles. In this world, peaking in my animus energy, staying steady, staying the course of grief’s long journey. Readying myself for, already in, the fourth phase of my life.

General

Malkut

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Samain and the Crescent Moon of the Thinned Veil

Monday gratefuls: Kep and Rigel. My friends. That crescent Moon with Mercury nearby. In the morning fog. Aunt Hecate and the Weird Sisters. BJ in her Queen of the Night costume. In Rebecca’s mink stole. LOL. Gabe and his very big hair as Bob Ross. Ruthie as the invisible woman. My costume, all made by Kate. Arlo the Almost Magnificient. The veil itself. The Otherworld. Celtic myth and lore. Religion.

Sparks of joy and awe: The Crescent Moon of the Thinned Veil in fog

Tarot: The Three of Pentacles

 

The Saga of Roger. As some of you may know, Roger spirited himself away from me at Gaetano’s. Or, perhaps, a latter Smaldone snatched him. Maybe I should check Bobby the Fence? Anyhow, even after a C note reward, his disappearance remains a mystery. A $1,400 mystery. Until yesterday evening I had decided to pull up my big boy pants and spend another $1,400. I like the Roger.

But. The Samsung washer, always a bit crazy, has gone full bore loon. On occasion it would show an error, but one I could eliminate by repeated pushing of the off and on button. A bit of a hassle, but NBD. Over the last six months the periods of crazy have far outstripped the times of working. Call a repair guy you might say. Sure. But this is the electronics, the motherboard and all its little washer chilluns. A repair guy told us, way back when Kate began complaining about it, that the only fix is a $900 replacement electronics unit. Still true. And the washer is now 7 years old.

Consumer Reports, oh, Ouija of the appliance world, tell me what washer I should buy. Yeah. It’s down to that. I have a load of towels and sweatshirts in the washer, but over the last day plus I’ve not been able to convince the damned thing to do its job.

Tired of it. So, instead of a Roger, I’m going to get a new washer. I know about the Roger now and perhaps I’ll get one in the future, but for now I’m going to eat my loss and move on. To cleaner clothes. Done. New LG on the way from Best Buy. Delivery November 8th. Seoah, ever the wise Korean consumer, told Kate and me that Samsung makes great phones and terrible appliances, LG is the reverse. After losing a Samsung dryer and washer to strange issues, I’m following daughter-in-law wisdom. And, Consumer Reports.

Next up. Medicare advantage policy and home owners insurance. At 9 am I talk to Julie Freshman again. I’m leaving New West Physicians and probably the particular AARP plan I have. Got to set that in motion. This morning.

Later, I’m going to contact an independent insurance agent to get quotes on home and car insurance. Traveler’s boosted my home insurance into the stratosphere, $4,500. Car’s high, too. While Kate was sick, I just didn’t have the energy to go after better rates. I do now. This week or next.

This all Malkut, pentacles work. Here and now, this reality. Physical stuff.

Three of Pentacles

“Meaning: Work flourishes as you build on previous efforts. The skilled use of matter and intelligence to create works of beauty and value…Work may still need to be done but support is at hand.” DCB

Mini-splits recommended by Tom and his colleague. Kitchen remodeling help from Jodi and Mike. Consumer Reports and Seoah for appliances. Marina Harris for house cleaning. Years of experience managing domestic matters also in there. Julie on Medicare insurance. An independent agent to check on insurance.

As Tom said yesterday, these are life infrastructure matters. And, it pays to have good agents for them. Pentacles, the suit of earth, of stuff happening here and now.

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Happy New Year!

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Samain and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Sunday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Nearer to my heart as the veil thins between this world and the Otherworld. Rigel and Kep, good dogs. Xiola, that pit bull that showed up yesterday. Hope she got home ok. Low hanging Cloud this morning. Fog on Shadow Mountain. Samain, Summer’s End. New Year’s day for Celtic lands. Long ago. Glasgow. Needs all the power it can get. Then, to use it.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fog

Tarot: Eight of Cups, Druid Craft

Happy New Year! Feliz Samain! The season of light has fallen behind us. As I write at 7:30 am, the sky has only begun to lighten, a blue steel. As I feed the dogs in the afternoon, the sky heads toward late twilight. The temperatures are cooler and Snow is in the forecast. All Crops are dead except those few winter hardy ones like Winter Wheat, Garlic.

Up here the Aspens are naked. I found a skim of Ice on the Dog’s outdoor Water yesterday. This morning the shed and the roof of the house have a coating of Frost. I’ve begun layering with flannel shirts, fleece, and lined outer shirts. The boiler works harder now.

The Celts began their year today. The Samain festival marks the end of the growing season and the harvest season. Samain is the last harvest festival, preceded by Mabon in September and Lughnasa in August.

Through its influence millions of children will go door to door tonight dressed as Bob Ross (Gabe), candy bars, ghosts, celebrities, goblins, animals, witches. Whatever seems fun. Most will not know that the costumes mimic the Celtic belief that the veil between this world and the Otherworld thins on this day. That means the dead, those of Faery, other creatures like goblins can cross into this world more easily. In the ancient Celtic mind anything strange might happen or show up.

And, yes, it also means that the living can cross over into the Otherworld if they can find a portal, a place where the veil thins even more. Holy wells, caves, dolmens, sacred groves. A place made sacred by repeated worship. The living, though, have to be careful if they cross over because the return from Faery, or the Otherworld, may not be as easy. For sure eat no Faery cake nor drink no Faery wine.

Today is my first Samain without Kate; I feel her absence and her presence more keenly today. A family altar anchored by her ashes helps me place her both here and there. Wherever there might be.

The fog, the frost, the chill in the air underscore this day as one of a thinned veil. A day after which the strength of the growing season must see us through until Imbolc when the ewes freshen and milk becomes available. Even then we must wait until Ostara, the first day of Spring, to see the world once again as a place that can support the living.

To start the year here suggests an emphasis on the inner world, on life lived with family, often huddled around peat fires for warmth. Eating, being sustained, by the crops of the time of light.

A book dear to me, The Fairy Faith, written by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, recounts his several visits to the smoky huts all round Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Brittany. In those villagers’ homes he heard the stories that kept the family enthralled over the long nights following the New Year. Stories of elves, fairies, goblins and more. Evans-Wentz went on to become famous as the translator of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.

We have stripped the world of its magic with Enlightenment reason and scientific method. Many, most, are as I used to be: either/or folks. Either the scientific, logical worldview or nothing. I prefer, Yes science and logic. Yes magic and mystery.

Sure this is meteorological Fall. Yes. It’s also Samain and Mabon ends today. It’s true we don’t know what happens after death, but it’s also true we really DON’T know what happens after death. The second law of thermodynamics explains dissolution, decay, the inevitable crumbling of organic structures. As far as it goes. Yet it cannot imagine a world untouched by its rule. But, I can.

Having the New Year today suggests that there is a way of understanding that comes in the dark, in the midst of decay, in the inner reaches of our psyche. A way best accessed when the light recedes and time for reflection grows. A way that precedes the way of light both in time and in spiritual significance.

early spring, 2011

Remember Steiner’s Springtime of the Soul at the feast of Michael the Archangel? September 29th. I believe Steiner recognized the same wisdom as the ancient Celts. To become more of who we are we need to go inside, into the dark, into the fecund place where the imagination lives.

During the season of light we work and live in the outer world, coming to the dark and the inner life mainly at night. During the season of dark, the fallow time, we can more easily spend time in meditation, dreaming, listening to tales told before a crackling fire. Perhaps writing and painting and cooking to express for others our inner work.

Join me this Samain as we honor the dead, honor the pool of memories that bind us all as one, honor the subconscious mind, honor the mysterious and the immeasurable. Honor faeries, goblins, elves, Tarot cards, the Tree of Life, and astrology. Kabbalah. Everything that seeks to penetrate or contextualize the interesting, but limited world of science and logic.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Friday

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Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Friday gratefuls: Kep and Rigel’s waiting up for me. Alan and Gaetano’s. Being out at night. Fine dining. Without Kate. A bit sad. Supply chains. Coyote HVACS. Tesla. Lucid. Polestar. Mussar. Soul curriculum. The night sky. Orion, home again, home again. Diane and Mark. The Ancientones. Carol. May she improve. The city at night. Blue Mountain Kitchens. Jodi. Brian. Bowe.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The night in the city and the night on Shadow Mountain

Tarot: Queen of Pentacles, Druid craft deck

 

Electrical panel. Not in. Supply chain issues plague many different components of  our economy. When Brian measured for the cabinets last week, he made a point of saying he had hinges and drawer pulls, cabinet pulls in stock. I don’t have the alder, but they keep that in stock. So we’re good.

Probably a supply glitch associated with the kitchen project will occur. It has today with the mini-splits. A new electrical panel, necessary for the work in the garage. Not in. Will call. Stuff happens. I’m calm. I like their work, believe them. Trust. That’s the word.

I feel the same about Jodi. I trust her to wrassle the contractors and trades people, her supply chain at Blue Mountain. If things take a while, ok. I’m not in a rush. Still excited about both the mini-splits and the new kitchen.

As they proceed, so are other pruning related matters. Example. The Subaru leaves my garage this evening. On its way to support Colorado Public Radio. Jon’s coming up to manage the hand over of the car.

Ruth, Gabe

He feels better, but has lost a lot of weight and has trouble eating. Sound familiar? Yesterday he had gut issues, couldn’t eat. These aut0-immune diseases. Bad, bad news.

As a parent, Jon has made enormous progress with Ruth and Gabe. They’re both calmer, less reactive, more focused. Both sweet and loving. Yes, they have psychological matters, refractory ones, too. But Jon’s found a way to get the best out of them, to love them. Good to see.

His art, which I admire, sustains him. He finds pieces of metal crushed by traffic. Takes them home, cleans them up, then prints in the press he has in his studio. Cast off, crushed, found. Beautiful. A commentary on throw away culture and one way to fight consumerist capitalism.

The five years since the divorce have been hard, real hard, for him. Then Kate died. Since then, his auto-immune diseases have hammered at him with little let up. And, his mom, his medical advisor as she was mine, is gone. A tough, vulnerable spot.

Alan as the beggar

Alan and I went into Denver last night to his old neighborhood, north Denver, east Colfax. He had a debate partner in high school named Smaldone. Think Gotti, Capone, Lensky. The Smaldone’s were Denver’s organized crime family in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

They owned and operated and worked out of an Italian restaurant at Tejon and 38th. Gaetano’s. I didn’t make this up. The information about the Smaldone’s comes from Gaetano’s menu. The men’s room, GUYS, had a picture of the Rat Pack playing pool and, over the toilet, a booking picture of a young Frank Sinatra in Hoboken. That sorta thing. Bonus points: guess the name of the women’s.

This was a thank you dinner for a ride to the Aurora campus of Rocky Mountain Cancer Care. Axumin scan. A long drive. Alan had chicken parmigiana and I had the special, polenta and shrimp. Italian shrimp and grits.

While there, I used the Roger microphone. Set it on the table in the very live dining area. And left it there when I got up to go. Uh oh. $1400. Called with worry tickling my throat after I noticed it was missing. Yes, we have it, sir. I’ll be by tomorrow for it. Have to figure out a way to not let that happen again.

Had the reinforcing experience yesterday of being able to go 3.5 mph at 3.0% elevation. I’m gaining cardiovascular conditioning. Also hit the inclined bench press and surprised myself by using 20 pound barbells. I thought they were 15’s, but went through the set anyhow. That was Wednesday.

My HIIT book came yesterday. High Intensity Interval Training. This time I’m gonna be serious about creating my own program, following it, pushing my performance. Not only is this good for heart health, but it’s also good for my compromised lungs.

OK. Last bit of news. Today my new cookware comes. At least I think it will. That means I’ll cook using the induction range for the first time. First heat. Tomorrow. Not sure what I’m gonna make. Something.

 

Queen of Pentacles

“Key words: Generous. Patient. Kind.

Meaning: You may need to care for your body, your finances, your possessions, or your land and property. Your relationship with the land and the earth.”  DCB

The kings and queens of the Tarot suits represent manifestation of the suit’s essential meaning. Of the ancient four elements, pentacles resonates with the earth. Swords with air. Cups with water. Wands with fire. Pentacles has its focus on the body, money, possessions, the land, the earth. This reality. Malkut. The realm governed by the Shekinah, the Sabbath bride, and the estranged female principle of the divine.

This card is the anima apotheosis of pentacles, of energy and intention focused on here and now: prostate cancer, Jon, HVAC and kitchen remodel, meeting with RJ, my financial advisor. This card prods me to look into my feminine as I encounter today, to trust her when it comes to matters of this earthly reality. Be generous, patient, and kind. Especially with Jon. As I hear this card.

 

 

 

 

 

Art and Culture, Cooking, Coronavirus, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Pandamndemic

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Fall and the Moon of the Thinned Veil

Thursday gratefuls: Pruning. Proceeding. Pantry in use now. Picked a sink. Induction range and cookware. First heat. Friday. Kitchen remodel getting legs. Cold nights. Pandamndemic. Prostate cancer. HIIT. Good workout yesterday. Giving stuff away. Pots and pans. The stove. Money.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Sun, another day

Tarot:       The High Priest, #5 of the major arcana, Druid Craft

 

Goya’s, Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls Museum of Art

Pandamndemic. Creeping horror coming to your state the week of Halloween. Delta variant dawning. And twilighting. And causing pressure on health care, body counts, hope for a mask free end of the year. I find my own resistance to the masks, to caution challenged.

I just wanna be free! Damn it. Me and roughly however many billion of us have been dealing with this damned thing for well over a year and a half. Feels like this gray pall draped over every encounter outside of home. The hearing issues with it make me want even more time alone.

Then there’s the Build Back Better plan. How’s that going? I’m for putting McConnel and Manchin in a chain link box. Let a 3 round MMA bout settle which one’s the bigger impediment to a decent future. Winner gets a free disruption of the people’s business, no explanation required.

What? They already have that? Are doing that? Oh, I see. Well then. Let’s put them in a chain link box and tether them, Andromeda style, to a condo sitting on Miami’s disappearing beach front. Now wait. That could encourage climate action. Couldn’t it?

Between Covid and the Congress, between Covid and the weak-kneed White House, I find life outside the wonderful world here atop Shadow Mountain often dismal, rarely joyful. And. I. Don’t. Like. It.

Yeah. So what, you say. Suck it up buttercup. Nope. Not gonna do that. And, I wanted to have my minute. There it’s over. Back to business as masked.

Leading mussar today since Carole had a wreck. In hospital with a cracked sternum. Ouch. Meals for her for a couple of weeks. Glad. I get to return the favor.

Topic in mussar today. Judgement. Of others. The Perkei Avot says Jewish tradition instructs us that when we judge another person, we are to put their misdeeds on one side of a scale and their virtues on the other side of the scale. If the scales are balanced, then we should tip them towards merit.

And, ourselves. “The Talmud says that we should always judge other people favorably. We must also judge ourselves favorably”. (R. Nachman of Breslav)

Odd that in Christianity, which says judge not, the tendency is to judge harshly, while in Judaism, which sees judging others and ourselves as both inevitable and necessary, the remonstrance is to judge others favorably.

Reb Nachman puts another flaw in the ointment. We must also judge ourselves favorably. Whoa. That’s a hard one, eh?

I’m guilty of judging others harshly, of weighing what I perceive to be misdeeds or character flaws as tainting the whole person. I suppose you could call this cancel culture. Make one misstep and you not only get judged, you get ostracized from polite society.

“Machrio L’Chaf Zechut translates as “influencing others to virtue,” or “judging others favorably.” Machrio comes from the root chaf-reish-ayin and means “to bend.” L’chaf zechut means “to a scale of merit.” This is the middot associated with judgement.  Reform Judaism

This one goes on my spiritual curriculum. A spiritual curriculum according to mussar has on its syllabus character traits where we often fall short and those that we have, but need to reinforce.

This sort of work is actually High Priest work. “Tradition and guidance. Formal knowledge, education and academic establishments. A need to conform to orthodox ideas and conventional approaches. The significance of a teacher or mentor.” The message: “There is a value in discipline and routine to maintain the connection between your worldly and spiritual life.”  Druid Craft Book.

Astrology, Family, Fourth Phase, Kabbalah, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Tarot

Facing Forward

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Moon of the Thinned Veil

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley septic and waste. Mini-splits installed, though not yet electrified. Induction range has come. Bit more climate friendly. Old gas range has gone to somebody who needed one. Hair and beard trimmed. Excited about using my new range. Rigel’s cyst. Kep’s sweet demeanor. The Akita puppy list. Tarot and Astrology class yesterday. Understanding planetary influences.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: High Winds, cooler temps

Tarot: The Hanged Man, #12 of the major arcana, Druid craft

 

Rider-Waite

Guess the cards really want me to sit up and pay attention. The World yesterday. The Hanged Man today. With the World a cycle completed, satisfaction, fulfillment. I’ve felt for a month or so that the first phase of grieving is over, that I’ve passed into a calmer, less disruptive grief. Not no tears. Probably never. But instead of having my head turned toward the past, toward Kate’s death, it feels like I face forward now, living into a new life rather than letting the past define my present. That’s what the World affirms. A phase completed.

The Hanged Man has as one of his meanings a reversal of values or attitudes. My current immersion in kabbalah, tarot, and astrology is just such a reversal. I no longer scoff. Pushing past my skepticism, finding the value. Appreciative inquiry as Jamie teaches.

Setting aside the how and the why. Allowing the learning to flow, even if I can’t understand how it works, or why. Tough for empirical me. But, doing it.

Another card I had recently, The Star, had this note: “You may develop a calm, clear confidence in the future…You may be the recipient of much love at this time.” This was two days ago. Three majors in as many days. Big changes, happenings, currents. Flow.

The future does seem clearer now. I’m moving with more confidence into it, too. Joseph and Seoah. Navigating the Jon struggles with some grace. Connecting to Ruth and Gabe often. CBE, too. The Ancient Ones on Sunday mornings. Diane on Wednesdays. Mark’s communicating again. The Johnson clan every two weeks or so. These relationships, more than anything else, define my future. I’ve learned that over the time since Kate died.

As the Star suggested, I have been the recipient of much love over the whole time since Kate’s death. And, it has changed me. Helped me see the fourth phase, my hermit phase, as linked still to the lives of others. Not a retreat from love, but an embrace of it. Yet. Living my life somewhat apart, in the Hermitage. Focusing on the creative, the scholarly. Cooking. Caring for the dogs. Loving and being loved.

Mirrors to my soul. These cards say, hey! Notice this. And, that. Pay attention. Let intuition free. Follow her. Astrology, too, though in a very different way.

In the Astrology and Kabbalah class I’m focused on reading my natal chart. Learning how to read it so I can understand what it means. Planets, houses, aspects, sun signs, rising signs, the moon. They are also mirrors. Have you seen this in your life? How about this? Learning.

The induction range came yesterday. Two Latino guys delivered it, then called later in the day to tell me the old range was on its way to someone that needed it. Glad to hear that. Kept intending to check my cookware with a magnet. Finally did it yesterday. So. My cast iron skillet. I knew that one. And, thankfully, my big stock pot which I use for soups. The rest, however? Not so much. I’ll give them to Jon or to the Mountain Resource Center. Buying a new set. Feels rights. New kitchen. New stove. New pots and pans.

Saw Jackie, who calls me honey. She colored Kate’s hair and cut it for several years before I started going along. She’s a sweetheart. Reminds me that there are other, more peripheral folks in my life who are loving, too. Now that I’ve looked up from the mirror of grief, I see so much love, so many places.

Today is an open day. Full workout, futzy inbox stuff, work on my Tarot and Kabbalah class. No reason to leave home. Fine with me.