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  • The No Strangers, No Contact Which Requires Extra Effort Level

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Beltane and the Beltane Moon

    art@willwordsworth

    Monday gratefuls: CBE. Comedy. Tater tots. Alan as an auctioneer. The improv troupe. Luke’s mom. Luke. Mindy. The auction. The Ancient Brothers on travel. Black Mountain. The Solar panels. Warm weather. Cool nights. Last of the back pain beginning to recede. Hamish. Acting Class. Felix. Oscar. Dinner on Friday with Alan.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Folks beginning to ask me for favors

    Tarot: Two of Bows, Decision

    “A person standing on top of a hill, in the middle of the night, against the starry sky. His head is surrounded by a halo of fire, the flame of determination. In each hand, he holds a long, incomplete arched bow, which is higher than the top of his head. From the bow, the flames erupted, symbolizing his vitality and authority.

    Awakening the unconscious senses associated with the desire to make decisions. The gate is opened in front of every individual, who is prepared to take the initiative.” tarotx.net

     

    An interesting back and forth right now. Continue on, stay the course with the life of today. Which I love. And/0r. Add more elements to it so that my every day veers into new territory. The two of Bows suggest I’m trying to push myself toward something different, something new. Acting? Short trips?

    As Ode said yesterday morning, routines are (or can be) deadly. Draining vitality. Obfuscating potential. They can also though be productive. 17 plus years of Ancientrails. An exercise habit. Feeding dogs. Sunday mornings with the Ancient Brothers.

    Excited to feel the stirrings. No idea right now where they incline. Will emerge. And I want to be ready.

     

    Got the art cart cleared off. Ready to get out my sumi-e brushes and start one-stroke painting. A meditation. Got the coffee table cleared downstairs. My pruning continues. Slow, but steady. Having the Sewing Room dining area created opened space for me to do other fussy stuff. Gonna clear off the table in there today, too. Just washed jars for the pantry and my collection of Rat Zappers.

     

    Also head down the hill at 8:15 to Stevenson Toyota. Tire swap. Blizzaks for all-seasons. Checking tread depth. Might be time for new Blizzaks. This fall. While waiting on this work to get done, I’m going to work on developing Felix and the lawyer from A View From the Bridge. I have the Odd Couple script, but not the Arthur Miller piece yet.

     

    Another interesting paradox right now. I’m so at home with Marilyn and Irv, Alan, Ron, Jamie, Rich, Susan, Judy, Tara even Ellen, Mindy, Anne, Sally, Fran, Anshel, Leslie, and Robbie. They’re my CBE. As long as I’m one on one, or in small groups, I feel welcome and loved. There are a few others like Michele and David, Tal, Joan and Rick, Jamie and Steve, Dan and Kristi, the Lehmans that are a smaller, further circle out for me, but I still see them as close acquaintances.

    Yet when I go to a service or to an event like the Funraiser Fundraiser which featured a Jewish comic from New York, I can’t get away fast enough when it’s over. Most of the other folks I don’t know. When Kate was alive, this paradox almost didn’t exist because she belonged there in a way I didn’t and I stood in her acceptance.

    To be fair I always skip out of theaters, movies, concerts first of all the folks if I can. I like to get out and away. I’ve told myself it was because I didn’t want to hassle with other cars in a crowded parking lot. Now I’m wondering if it’s because my social battery has been drained dry during the event.

    As I’m writing this, I’m thinking, hey. There’s your answer. This event yesterday had a long form improv group directed by Tal perform. Afterward, Alan auctioned off Jewish food: latkes, mondle bread, knishes, smoked brisket, rugelach, macaroons, and, of course, chopped liver. The six pound brisket went for $200. My friend Mindy’s knishes brought well over $100 for 16 and her mondle bread went for over $100, too. A fund raiser.

    Then came the comic. Jessica Kirson. Never heard of her, but she was good. “I love doing shows for my people.” Her set went longer than advertised which was good.

    But. I got there 2:50 and scooted out the door at 5:35. Exhausted. I’d been around more people than I had since Covid began. No mask. Double boosted. There was ventilation and it wasn’t a massive crowd though a good turnout for CBE. That’s it. Not that I don’t fit, just that I’d run my battery all the way down to the no strangers, no contact which requires extra effort level. Nearing nobody at all no how. The bottom.

    Thank you for listening. And out.

     

     

     

     


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  • What I want for Christmas. A successful launch of the James Webb Telescope

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Yule and the Moon of the Winter Solstice

    French Guiana in red

    Thursday gratefuls: Bowe. A real sweetheart. Rigel, who ate all of the miniature beignets. They were stale. Kep, who nudges me out of bed. Getting things done. Home insurance, #4! Electronic bill pay. Financial discipline. Safeway pickup. Palmini, strange but a decent vet. Masks. Omicron. Prostate Cancer. Orgovyx. Blood tests next week. James Webb Telescope. French Guiana.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tears

    Tarot: Gonna do that winter solstice spread today. He said confidently.

     

    Christmas eve eve. Can’t wait. The James Webb goes into space tomorrow. 4 am MT. I’ll watch the post-launch videos. The European Space Agency has a launch site in French Guiana (see map). Kourou, a former French penal colony. One thing I don’t get. I looked at Kourou on wikipedia. It has heavy rain most of the time except for a short dry season. Not now.

    Here’s a clip from an interesting article on the Verge. How do you choose which work will get done first on a revolutionary tool? Where is first light?

    “How do you prioritize what the most advanced piece of space equipment in the world should do when it first turns on?

    Well, the science has to be nothing short of revolutionary.

    “What is deemed most interesting is science that is considered transformational — that will change our view of the universe,” Klaus Pontoppidan, an astronomer and JWST project scientist at STScI, tells The Verge. “We don’t want the observatory to do things a little better than what has been done before. We wanted to answer fundamental questions that cannot be answered any other way.””

    Dr. Caitlin Casey’s website. She got the nod to study ancient galaxies.

    What did they choose? Two jumped out of the article. One will examine a section of sky three full moons wide or about 63 million light years. The purpose? To create a deep view of the galaxies. Why? Because the Webb can see up to 13.6 billion light years away, within two billion years of the Big Bang. This view will create a map of galaxies only two billion years after the Big Bang.

    Trappist-1 NASA image

    Second. A lot of time will be spent on the Trappist-1 solar system which has seven exoplanets, three of which are in the goldilocks zone where water may puddle on the surface. Hubble could detect the exoplanets, but only as slight wobbles in light streamed from their stars. Webb might be able to read light passing through their atmospheres. Might discover signs of life.

    I’m excited that NASA chose to launch on Christmas Eve. Hope they miss Santa Claus.

     

     

     


    GeekWorld

  • Energy

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Holiseason Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. Orion and his dog. The Zodiac. Our star canopy. The unimaginable size of the universe. Our unimaginable place in it. Life. The animator. Total mystery. Darkness. The holidays of Light. And that wonderful one for the Night. Thanksgiving. Jon. Ruth. Gabe.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Hermit. Sannyasa.

    Tarot: The Lord, #4 of the Major Arcana

     

    Solar installation, 2016

    As I write, the upstairs mini-split’s fan has a gentle sound, pushing out heat, using my solar panels for juice. Well, sorta. They’re on, pushing electrons into the grid, and turning my meter backwards. I love that. But the electricity powering the mini-split comes from the grid. If I understand it right. It’s a trade. And during the day the trade is in my favor. At night. IREA’s.

    David, who turned on my system yesterday and walked me through how to use it, told me something interesting. “In seven years or so, we’re anticipating no gas appliances in Denver.” He called that a shitshow. Because of the scramble to install mini-splits or other electrical modalities. But, also. What a business opportunity.

    I now have mini-splits, an induction stove, and solar panels. Already have 220 in the garage. Might start looking for an electric vehicle. I can’t afford a Tesla, so something else.

    boiler

    My boiler should run a lot less. Water heater, primarily. Colorado Gas is not cheap. We’ll see how the two play against each other. I’m willing to eat some difference if the mini-splits prove more costly.

    Not gonna solve the climate crisis. No. But makes me feel better.

    Torah and the Stars yesterday. The houses in a natal chart. These are arenas of our lives for action. My sun, Aquarius, is in the eleventh house, as well as Mars. In the eleventh house lie “Ideals and aspirations for humanity as a whole. Friends of like mind bound together for a common cause. Movements, humanitarian concerns, group associations. Activities on the cutting edge of change. Colleagues and associates. Progressive ideas, hopes, altruistic acts.”

    Since Aquarius rules the eleventh house, as well as the planets Saturn and Uranus, I get triple Aquarian energy here. Sun, ruler of the house, and ruled by Uranus.

    With Mars in the same house I found my work life adequately explained. I will fight for progressive ideas. Mars. And, I will do it with folks I know well. Have done. That part of my life feels over now.

    Now my ideals and aspirations for humanity have a more inward focus.  This blog. Work with kabbalah, astrology, tarot. Read. Write. Paint. Stay in the hermitage. Visit family and friends.

    Forgot Kep’s cytopoint (allergies) shot yesterday when David came. Gonna go into VRCC tomorrow, transfer this to Sano. I’ve had some doubts about Sano, but they know Kep and Rigel. Probably stick with them. The VRCC is in Lakewood, quite a hike. I prefer the vets there, and for diagnosis and treatment recommendations, I’ll still lean on them. For shots and general physicals, Sano. Which is only 10 minutes away.

    Iron Roots play at amphitheater soft open last Saturday

    MVP tonight. Marilyn and I will carpool again. I meet her at the parking lot for Flying J Ranch, a Jeffco County Park.

    A good point to say that Kep, Rigel, and I have decided to stay on Daylight time. I get up at 5:15 am MST and go to bed at 8 PM MST. Satisfies my crankiness about time changes and keeps the dogs’ schedule steady. It does mean that meetings like MVP, night meetings, will be more challenging for me.

    Otherwise I abide by the chronoconsensus.

     


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  • Roger, Oh Roger

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    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.


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  • Kindred Spirits

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Last day of Summer and the Lughnasa Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Mini-split air con units. Thanks, Tom. Mark’s suggestion for a topic on Sunday. Lotta sleep last night and this morning. Feeling good. An excellent meal with Jon yesterday evening. Rain. Cooler weather. Smoky on High. Lush mountain meadows, filled with waving stalks of pollen.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sashimi. Japan.

    Tarot card: Ace of Wands, Druid Craft Deck

     

    Good news. At dinner with Jon we talked about our new relationship, one with Kate no longer physically present. Though she remains a psychic presence for us both in powerful ways. We agreed we wanted to continue, be family. Over sushi, sashimi, and crab wontons. Uplifting.

    I spent yesterday handling various matters. Groceries. Bills. Emails. Workout. The dinner with Jon. Must have worn me out because I slept 9 hours +. Also, rain and a cool night helped.

    Tom helped me find the mini-split air conditioning system. It will work for my downstairs. Just have to find a contractor and get it installed. Too late, unfortunately, for Kate.

    Taking this Saturday as a rest day, a travel day as Kate and I called it. We always took a rest day after long travel.

    It was a big week. Ruth and Gabe here Sunday night through Tuesday evening. A lot  of pruning work with Ruth. House cleaners on Tuesday. Kep into VRCC for his allergy shot. P.T. on Monday and Wednesday. Tarot and Kabbalah on Wednesday. Alan for breakfast, Jackie for a haircut, and mussar on Thursday. Donating the wheelchair and the rollator. Errands yesterday and the time with Jon and the evening. Not to mention laundry, folding clothes, cooking, feeding the dogs. You know, all that ordinary homestuff.

    Pruning goes well. I’m on a hiatus from it until Ruth makes up her mind about all the sewing related things. Still hoping to have it complete, or almost, before the 18th. Get furniture moved around over that time period. Try to get a new feel for the house sorted out by Thanksgiving.

    Have had to modify the 18th because we learned this week that Ruth and Gabe’s first day of school is the 18th. Shifted activities to late afternoon and evening. Only possible wrinkle? The Delta variant. If it continues to rage, as it has of late, it may interfere with travel. If that happens, we’ll push this out to 2022. See this from this mornings Washington Post:

    “The newly resurgent coronavirus could spark 140,000 to 300,000 cases a day in the United States come August, fueled by the highly transmissible delta variant and the widespread resumption of normal activities, disease trackers predict.”

    Thomas Cole and William Cullen Bryant, Kindred Spirits Painting by Asher Brown Durand

    Ace of wands. Rather than go to the Rider-Waite interpretations, I’m going to read this one on my own. The Druid Craft deck speaks to me as one grounded in Celtic lore and myth.

    A bull elk with an 8 or 10 point rack stands on a rock that reminds me of the Pulpit Rock in Strand, Norway. It also reminds me of a painting by Asher Durand.

    A steep cleft in the mountains separates the bull from another precipice, one shaded by an autumnal aspen grove.

    Above the mountains the blazing sun sends fire to the tree, the elk, the mountains, the sky while a full moon hangs, almost invisible in the fiery presence, above a small spire of rock behind the elk.

    Bull with water lily, 2015, Lake Evergreen

    The wand lays itself over the sun, perhaps having summoned its energy. Or, in the process of summoning it? The wand has reddish bark that seems still living, as if the wand had only recently been cut from a tree, or somehow remains alive anyhow. Perhaps a rowan? The wand as alive seems confirmed by the green leaves, eight in all, mysteriously falling away from it.

    The whole scene is peaceful. Some key words that come to mind: majestic. natural. communal. creativity. fire. determination. mountainous. lone elk. aspen grove. single wand.

    Black Mountain, 2015

    Perhaps the wand has become a conduit between the sun and the natural world at its fall change. The push of the sun’s fire has caused the wand to send its green leaves, which it needs to continue living, on a mission, as angels, messengers of the sun’s creative power.

    The elk and the aspen grove, animal and plants, both salute the sun. A bull elk with a rack like that is ready for the rut, the annual fertility rite for all elks. The aspen grove, with its just turning toward gold leaves, has begun to prepare for winter, a time when it will have to live off foods stored in and around its interlocked root system.

    The positive session with Jon last night, the on pace pruning, Tom’s visit a week ago, the Tarot and Kabbalah class have me feeling grounded, yet still transforming. Moving toward the creative energy of the sun, soaking it in with the Bull and the Aspen Grove. In the mountains. On my Pulpit Rock, where I stand with my kindred spirits, the river and mountain poets of Chinese history.

    Life on a different, yet familiar ancientrail.

     

     

     

     


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  • Go, young one, Go

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Megillah Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Simple roast chicken. So good. Red Lobster dinner rolls. Likewise. Shadow Mountain Israeli Salad. Cooking. Kate’s feeling better this morning. Rigel prancing in the snow. At 12+. Kep and his serious life. Perseverance. For all those at JPL. Yeah! For all those from Colorado who participated (a lot). Yeah! For the part of our soul that is curious, that wants to see, that wants to know.

    Sparks of Joy: That roasted chicken when it came out of the oven. Vaccines. The love of and by dogs.

    We live in an age of exploration. I know it got started even earlier, but we have good evidence of humanity leaving Africa and spreading out over the Earth. A long period of exploration that once begun, we have not been able to stop.

    Yes, it’s had its bad moments. Many of them. Colonialism its worst, I think. But a lot of glorious ones, too. Rounding Cape Horn. Summiting Everest. Walking the land bridge from Asia to North America. LANDING ON THE MOON. Voyager. Curiosity. Perseverance. Down to the Mariana’s Trench. Into the microscopic, the sub-microscopic.

    And there are the psychonauts who explore the mind on hallucinogens. The mystics, who do their exploration without technology. Scholars who roam libraries, tells, caves for evidence of our long pilgrimage, how we have handled it. Children who go down the block, turn right into the field, and leave this planet by means of their imagination.

    We are explorers. Pilgrims. Wanderers. Always hunting for some new place to live our lives, or to visit to expand our life at home.

    I celebrate each explorer. Each pilgrim. Each wanderer. In you, in us, we grow beyond this species and into the future. May it always be so.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     


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  • 46. Yes.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the waxing Imbolc Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Golden Solar. Finally. Solar power. Running the meter backward. Kate’s better day yesterday. Up until bedtime. Sleep. Exhaustion. Thoughtful gifts from Mary and Diane. Brother Mark. Alan. Tatiana. New West Physicians. Coffee. Did I mention coffee?

    Lima, Peru, 2011

    Another good day for Kate yesterday. Until bedtime when nausea and chest pain came for a visit. The damned feeding tube now leaks worse than it ever has.

    To compound this situation we have the retirement of our primary doc, Lisa, as of January 1st and a confusing, still not resolved hand off of us as patients to a new doc. Health care reform. Police reform. Racial and economic justice. Hear my cry, oh Congress. Hear my cry, oh Biden.

    Golden Solar picked yesterday morning to come and replace two microinverters that have been dead since our solar installation. The inverters report to the makers of our solar panels and we can download the reports through our own webpage. They have nothing to do with actually producing electricity. I’ve been asking them to do this for almost five years. Why now? No clue, but I’m glad it’s done.

    On a personal note my PSA test results from Tuesday came back. No detectable psa. This is the test that comes after Lupron has truly left my system. It could signal a cure.

    That is, I had a recurrence. My psa went up. That triggered the radiation in 2019. Coincident with the radiation I began Lupron injections. The Lupron, as I have said, suppresses psa, but does nothing directly to the cancer except deprive it of the cells it prefers. Lupron does not not cure. When it stops, the cancer can begin to grow again.

    Unless it died in the radiation bath I had over 35 treatments. With the Lupron now gone, the cancer could have begun to grow again, but this test results suggests that it didn’t. That could mean that the radiation did in fact kill the cancer that had reemerged.

    How will I know? I won’t. If I continue to get undetectable results for a couple of years, they’ll move my psa tests from every three months to every six months. If I continue to get undetectable, at some point, five years or so, I’ll have a presumptive cure. But. I had one of those in 2015 with my prostatectomy. So…

    I’m planning a celebratory meal anyhow. Probably Sushi Win. I’m cured until I’m not. That’s the way I want to think. Not always possible, but it’s my goal.

    My deep exhaustion continues. Not sure there’s a way around it until the vaccines. Naps. Long night’s sleep like last night. Ten plus hours.

    Biden. 46. 45 a painful memory, but a memory. Microinverters replaced. Kate’s having good days. I have the psa result I needed. There are bright spots. And, you, dear reader, are one, too.


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  • Still here. Still ok.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the beautiful waning crescent of the Moon of the New Year

    Ordinary time. Is there any such thing right now?

    Saturday gratefuls: Kate. A good night’s sleep. For both of us. Much needed. Rigel keeping me warm. Kep the good boy. Impeachment. 25th Amendment. Resignation. January 20th. All. Subway last night. Beef stroganoff tonight. Easy Entrees, thanks Diane and Mary. Life. Its wonder even amidst its difficulties.

     

     

     

    Whoa. Yesterday was tough. I slept from eight last night to seven this morning. All the way through. Thankfully. Feel rested and ready for today. Grateful, really grateful.

    Kate’s still worn out though the oxygen situation has resolved. She’s already fatigued from whatever has been going on for the last three weeks, then to have an insult like the oxygen concentrators gave her was hard. She’s still asleep. I’m glad.

    As long as I can stay rested, healthy, get my workouts in, see friends and family on zoom, I am ok. Though on occasion I get pushed right up against my limits. I imagine Covid is helping me since I don’t get out, am not around sick people. Or, when I am, I’m masked. Odd to consider, but I’m sure it helps.

    Life continues, no matter. Until it doesn’t, of course. That is, even when an evil bastard like Trump is in office, we still have to eat. When a rampant virus rages, we still have to sleep. When a family member is ill, we still love each other, support each other. Life is a miracle and wasting it, well, please don’t.

    Got an article about building a computer. Something I’ve always wanted to try. Might just do it. Also read about an experiment that proved quantum entanglement is not instantaneous. And one about the lost merry customs of Hogmanay. And about lyfe, the idea that life might be, probably is, existing in forms we carbon based life forms might not recognize, even if it’s in front of us. And another on why water is weird. And another on why the universe might be a fractal. (thanks, Tom)

    No matter how proximate or distant disturbances in the force, science goes on, literary folks write books and articles, the past remains a source of inspiration, and the future a source of hope. No matter whether life has meaning or whether it is absurd (as I believe) the secondary effects of this strange evolutionary push into awareness persist. And, yet they persisted.

    Lucretia hangs in the Minneapolis Institute of Art, ready for witnesses to her dignity, her sense of honor, and her tragic fate. Goya’s Dr. Arrieta, not far from her, documents gratitude for healing and the comfort of ancestors. Van Gogh’s Olive Trees teach us that perspective differs from person to person, yet each perspective can be beautiful while remaining unique. Beckman’s Blind Man’s Buff embraces the mythic elements of life, helps us see them in our own lives. Kandinsky. Oh, Kandinsky. His colors. His lines. His elegance.

    Mt. Evans and its curved bowl continues to deflect weather toward us here on Shadow Mountain. The light of dawn hits Maine first, as it has for millennia. The polar vortex slumps toward Minnesota.

    Roman Ephesus. The last standing pillar of the Temple of Diana. Delos. The Temple of Apollo at Delphi. The ruined temples of Angkor Wat. Chaco Canyon. Testimony to the ancientrail of human awe. Of an eagerness to memorialize wonder.

    It is, in spite of it all, a wonderful world.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     


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  • Redlined

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the waning crescent of the Moon of the New Year

    Ordinary Time

    Friday gratefuls: Oxygen concentrators. The Oxygen Concentrator Store. Kate. Hypoxia. This crisis. That crisis. Covid. Armed seditionists, domestic terrorists, right wing Trump cultists. Exposed for what the word patriotism means to them. Trump. Go away, and, don’t come again another day. Brother Mark. Diane.

    So Kate. Hypoxia. One of our concentrators gave out in the middle of the night. One we’ve had in for repairs twice, the last only two months ago. A confused time ensued when I got her the portable O2 concentrator and it didn’t seem to lift her O2 saturation readings. Sleepy. Gave her my O2 tubing, connected to the O2 generator I use at night. Not a big deal for me. My need for O2 at night is due to 8,800 feet and slight COPD, but I can do without it.

    In the morning her O2 sats remained low. She was gray and chilled. Very unusual, that last, for Nordic Kate. Worked stuff around, got our third O2 concentrator kicked up a level and gradually her color returned. She got warm.

    But the whole ordeal had wiped her out. Understandably.

    Called the O2 concentrator store and said I’d like a new one. Joshua sympathized. But. We’d get you a recertified one right away, but Covid has us with no inventory. No recertified or new units. We’ll have to ship it off and see that you have no costs involved. Best I can do.

    Just another random effect of the Covid crisis. Like Seaoh spending a full month of 2020 in quarantine. Like sister Mary unable to teach in Japan or make her way to Kuala Lumpur. Like brother Mark well into his longest stay in Saudi Arabia. Like toilet paper and standup freezer shortages.

    Not to mention the newest superspreader event, the storming of the US Capitol by thousands of unmasked domestic terrorists. Seditionists. Acts of treason. These are the blasphemy equivalents for a democracy.

    Fraught. Tired. Running at max rpms. Anymore and I’m into the redline. Exercise tomorrow. Not now.

    Ordinary time. Yeah…

     

    sedition: incitement of resistance to or insurrection against lawful authority

    treason: the offense of attempting by overt acts to overthrow the government of the state to which the offender owes allegiance or to kill or personally injure the sovereign or the sovereign’s family

    Both definitions from Merriam-Webster


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  • Paying the Price

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the RBG Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Groveland. The Ancient Ones. The ancientrails of wondering and friendship. The Darkness. The Stars, now steady. Kate’s stoma site. Getting clear and healthy. Kate. Just Kate, always Kate. Exposure. Fear. 28 degrees this a.m. The Gold in them thar Hills: Aspen. Magwa, the hero Rat. The clan.

    So what happens to me. I over prepare. I go deep but the subject has only so much time. I’m disappointed. Did I give them anything? Did I intervene too little? Was I defensive? Will they want me back? Especially yesterday with It’s Beyond Me.

    Zoom of course. Perhaps my choice of style, a discussion rather than a straight presentation. The inherent ambiguity of the topic. Felt off when it finished.

    Also, I need this. I need to try something new. Learn something new. Be in this zoom moment as an actor, not only a passive observer.

    Watched Social Dilemma on Netflix. The second of three documentary recommendations from the ancient ones. Again, not much new. Still, disturbing. I’m writing this in Firefox, using duckduckgo as my search engine. I practice good hygiene on Facebook and still love the old friends and Irish Wolfhounds. I heard the young, bright manipulators, but did not hear the path forward. Unless it’s regulation. Which is a duh unless you hate regulation as evil government intervention. I’m for it.

    As I changed Kate’s bandage yesterday, we talked. I’m wondering how we can lift ourselves out of, or away from, this medicalization? I mean, I don’t want to see you as a patient all the time, but with all these appointments and treatments, it’s hard. Our life is not that. Yet, it is.

    Right then, Rabbi Jamie called, wondering how Kate was? She mentioned this thought I’d just had. He listened. He had some time before Yom Kippur and wanted to connect with some folks. They miss us. We’ve been absent even from zoom mussar for over a month.

    Covid. Makes all this hard. Kate can’t go to Patchworkers or Needleworkers. We don’t go to mussar at CBE. Or, services. Or the occasional program. It will soon be Sukkot and the booth is up, but we’re not there to participate. Yes, this is life now. Yes, it has its price.

    God, this is cheery.


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