Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Neighbors Helping Neighbors

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Wanted to capture this while fresh. Drove into Leetsdale Ave near Cherry Creek in Denver. Right at the boundary of the largest Jewish community in Colorado. But I wasn’t there for religious reasons, I needed an MRI of my lumbar spine and Open-Sided MRI has its clinic there.

After time in an iron lung, which I do not remember, my body will not let my head be confined. At all. Ever. Traditional MRI’s therefore are out. Long metal tube, human insert. Face inches from the tube’s top. Nope.

So. Open-Sided. Though. When the sled slid under the projection of the magnetic circle, I looked up, found metal inches from my face. “I can’t do this.”

Chris pulled me back out. How about if you look to the side. I tilted my head to the left and there an opening appeared. But I was already scared. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ll get Audra and she can sit with you.”

A measure of serendipity. I’d talked to Audra on the phone Monday and discovered she had moved to Conifer last October. She had a quick wit and kindness in her voice. We agreed to swap stories of best spots to eat when I got there. A charming woman in her late 30’s, early 40’s I found her delightful at check-in, too.

Audra came in and held my hand for the entire 20 minutes of the exam. At first, still nervous, I looked her in the eyes and she pressed her thumb against my left hand which she held in her right.

After a while the odd noises of the MRI, which sounded like House music, and her comfort helped me relax. I closed my eyes.

A long twenty minutes. But, when it was done, I collected my disc with the scan on it, went out to the front desk and thanked Audra, back at her computer, again. She put my chai necklace back on.

I thought, decided to go ahead. “My wife died four years ago. That was the longest I’ve been touched since then. Regardless of the help I needed with the MRI, I wanted to say thanks for that, too.”

A sweet moment.

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Politics

Dining with Ghosts

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow and the deconstructed bed. Ruth at 19. Almost. Sushi Den. Ruth driving. The Black Bag. Gabe. His junior year. Tom, Chris, Calvin, Joseph. Men. Learning about men. CBE men’s group. Psylocibin. Miso Soup. Warmer weather. For now. Reading. Movies.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Week Kavannah:  Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure

One brief shining: Ruth, whisper thin, engaged and thoughtful, nearing her April 4th 19th birthday, poised between the teen years and young adulthood, presented yesterday with her great-grandfather’s black bag which contained Kate’s stethoscopes, otoscope, small rubber hammer, tuning fork, and other essentials of the general practitioner’s craft.

 

Lima, Peru. 2011

Ruth drove up here yesterday and stayed the night so she could drive us both into Denver to Sushi Den.

We ate there for her sixteenth birthday. I asked the waiter to have the sushi chefs give us what was special that evening. Ended up being the most expensive meal I’ve ever paid for. But so fun.

16

She was with Cord, her first boyfriend. Jon and Gabe were there, too. Kate had died the April before. The first of Ruth’s birthdays that she missed.

Three years later, her father Jon is dead, and two years ago the relationship with Cord ended.

She and I sat down in a booth for two near the bar. Dining with ghosts. We ordered a Shrimp tempura appetizer in honor of Kate who happily watched the rest of us eat raw fish while dining on tempura. Ruth remembered her dad ordering communal sushi.

We offered tempura and sushi to the memory of Kate and Jon, mother and son, wife and father. In the way of ghosts they ate only the invisible essence of the food, leaving the rest to nourish the bodies of the living, the left behind.

Starting next year in a new major, Integrative Physiology-as I mentioned in an earlier post-Ruth has set herself on the path of her childhood dreams. Becoming the third generation of Johnson-Olsons to become a doctor.

Hence my decision to gift her the black bag which I have, up till now, featured on my mantle as a memory of Kate.

May she live long and prosper.

 

Just a moment: Gee. The clown cars on Pennsylvania Avenue have so many red and orange haired folks sticking out, horns honking, big feet flapping, noses bulbous that a guy can’t help feeling entertained.

Until that moment. Wait a minute. These clowns, these very clowns have their hands on the controls of the world’s most powerful military. Not to mention the economy. And the regular checks for our country’s most impoverished citizens. And, and, and.

Not to mention. Sealing the deal honk, honk. Throw confetti in the air. Why not invite the editor-in-chief of the Atlantic magazine into a nuts and bolts discussion about bombing Yemenites further back into yesterday? Seemed like a good idea at the time?

Thought this line from Timothy Snyder, quoted by Heather Richardson on March 24th captures the truth: “Foreign policy scholar Timothy Snyder posted: “These guys inherited one of the most functional state apparatus in the history of the world and they are inhabiting it like a crack house.””

 

Dogs, Health

Shadow. Open-Sided MRI

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, regressing. Sigh. A learning opportunity for me. Amy, coming today. Mood lifters. Open-sided MRI. Tomorrow. On the lower back pain track. Chronic pain. Teaching me something. Marrow bones. Working out. Back on. Mark and his walks in Al Kharj. Western medicine. Eastern medicine. Healing. Healers. Kate, always Kate. Jeffery Goldberg, war planner and editor in chief of the Atlantic.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow chewing her bone

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure

One brief shining: Throw a dog a bone, a marrow bone, teeth clamp on, grind, worry, scrape, tear and attention becomes total, focus on the bone, like throwing out an interesting idea in a group of Jews.

 

Finished The Black Widow by Daniel Silva and started the next one, House of Spies. An all out fiction, spy, Mossad read. Love these. Haven’t done one in a while. Always trying to be on, figuring out the world, politics, technology, science. Literally, give it a rest, dude.

 

Dog journal: Amy’s coming today. Leash training. I’ve not had much luck this week. Shadow shies away from the leash. Need to get this done so I can walk her in the back, have her practice commands. I also want to take her to the vet and to mussar. Without the leash, pretty tough.

She’s not quite small enough to pick up easily for me. About 30 pounds or so. Gone are the days when I could wrestle a Wolfhound into the backseat if I had to.

Shadow seems to be a night owl. She loves staying out late, not coming in after dark. And yes, that’s a regression. Last night I left her out and went to bed, no reason I should lose sleep. (except for Mountain Lions, but my yard is not conducive to them as hunters.)

When I let her in around 11:30, she saw the open bedroom door and made a quick run for it, got under the bed. Her preferred sleeping spot. Around 7 I felt a soft tongue on my hand. Looked over. A black and tan face smiling at me. You awake, dad?

Now, instead of eating, she’s trying her best to disappear a marrow bone. Sharp, strong teeth on our Shadow.

 

Open-sided MRI. I saw the pain doc on February 19th. Took a full month to finally get an appointment after flubbing by the doctor’s office. Tomorrow. Open-sided MRIs exist for two separate groups: the morbidly obese and the claustrophobic. I’m in the latter category.

With all the imaging I’ve had: bone scans, cts, petscans, x-rays I’ve never had an MRI. Glad to close the loop of available tech. Ha.

Even with excellent data about the cause of my back pain, it may not help. See this recent NYT article: What Works for Lower Back Pain? Not Much

I hope for something that would let me drive more, walk more than a block or two. Otherwise my mobility remains very limited. Sitting. No pain. Walking. Pressing on the accelerator. Pain.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Shadow Mountain

Hunting for paths to joy

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Monday gratefuls: Water. Lodgepole Bark, red in Great Sol’s early light. Aspen and their photosynthetic bark. Forlorn Grass, desiccated and brown as the Snow melts. Maxwell Creek. Cub. Blue. North Turkey. Bear. Kate’s. This wide world. All of it. Everyone in it. Daniel Silva. CJ Box. Authors. Poets. Painters. Musicians. Artists.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Working out

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire, pleasure.

One brief shining: Realized that Ancientrails resembles my father’s column, Smalltown, USA, in that it focuses on daily life, his with a larger ambit, mine more personal, yet both with an occasional digression into the political or the humorous, printer’s ink and hot lead in both our veins.

 

Dog journal:  Another realization. A different female has me back at a long trained habit, putting down the toilet seat. Kate of course insisted as do women in most homes here. This time though putting down the toilet seat prevents Shadow from drinking out of the magic fountain.

Her ears stand forward. She plays all morning with toys she never puts back after taking them out. Maybe I can train her to do that? Shadow’s all puppy now. Secure in her home, her routines.

Once more. Happy I took the risk.

 

Inner life: Been down, thinking about death with every tweak and pain. Whether all this self care makes any sense. Remembering Judy and Kate both saying, enough.

Then. Come on, dude. Shadow. Friends. Family. The Mountains. Books to read. Movies to watch. Places to go. Ruth and Gabe’s still young lives. My son and Seoah.

Further. Worked out. Mood instantly better. Wonder why I resist this consistent mood lifter. One which has the added benefit of improving my overall health? A puzzle.

Gonna wrestle with this one. All the way until it gives me my Hebrew name, Israel.

In part? I’ve been too serious about my life. Always wanting, maybe faux-needing, to think I have something important, significant to do.

Joy is a religious obligation in Judaism. For good reason. This life, the one freely given, is not meant to be a trudge, a never ending journey of obligation and expectation. It’s meant to be filled with good food, good friends, family. Rich experience. This whole world, this creation, a gift so precious and wonderful. Life itself, a miracle of evolution. Amazing.

Think I’ll back off myself. Lighten up.

 

Just a moment: This morning I’m a happier guy. Peg it to my workout yesterday afternoon and my decision to take a staycation. Read 75% of Daniel Silva’s 16th Gabriel Allon novel, The Black Widow. Plan to read more today.

Subscribed to the Criterion Channel. Plan to start watching movies from it on a regular basis. Watching ghosts, as Paul’s mother described watching classic movies. There’s a cinephile buried in me, but not too deep.

I’m ready for a new pattern to emerge. Will be watching for it as I paint, maybe write a little more. No hurry. Hunting for paths to joy.

Dogs, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Muster Dogs

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Sunday gratefuls:  Shadow, the muster dog. Eating. Above ground and taking nourishment. March. April. Spring, on its way, but not yet. Our Aquifer. Cracked granite. Mountains. Altitude. Climbing up to joy.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Muster Dogs

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire.

One brief shining: This Shadow who shares my home and my life and my heart would be a muster dog in Australia, a Dog responsible for keeping mobs of Cattle together and moving toward corrals, slinking down low, nipping at hooves, barking as a language between two species, while Shadow and I must find jobs without mustering to keep her keen mind alert.

 

Dog journal: Muster Dogs have their own television show. In Queensland, the same state as Mary’s Brisbane, but much further north, close to New Guinea, muster Dogs replace the familiar herding work of the cowboy out here in the U.S. West. Shadow comes from this line of working Dogs.

Which means I have to find jobs for her. Training is a job and so is following the training. I imagine we have much more in our future life together.

Might get my buddy Vince to build some agility course apparatus, too. We’ll see.

I am already teaching her words. Water. Food. Outside. Toy. Not commands, communication. She may be able to develop a large vocabulary.

I’ve probably been inside too long. Might be cabin fever gnawing at my sense of ease. Buddy Mark Odegard takes care of cabin fever. Mexico. Hawai’i. Returns refreshed, ready to worry the inner bark of the Mulberry Tree into a fibrous paper.

How, I wonder, could I take a staycation, achieve some of those results. Spend all week reading fiction, going out to eat, taking drives in the Mountains. Maybe up to the loft to paint, do sumi-e? Write poetry. Quit thinking about medicine, disease, discomfort for a full week. Sounds sorta nice doesn’t it? Might do it this week. If it works well, maybe a fortnight.

Shift things up.

 

Just a moment: Musk Is Positioned to Profit Off Billions in New Government Contracts. Trump Thinks He Can Win a War Against the Courts. He’s Deluded. Migrants Deported to Panama Ask: ‘Where Am I Going to Go?’ How DOGE is making government almost comically inefficient. Autocrats worldwide rolling back rights and rule of law — and citing Trump’s example. New Trump memo seen as threat to lawyers, attempt to scare off lawsuits. Putin commissioned a ‘beautiful portrait’ of Trump, U.S. envoy says.

Headlines in today’s New York Times and Washington Post. One day’s worth. The takeaway for me? Puzzlement. Frustration. Anger. Sadness.

How about the U.S. making the world safe for autocrats? Is that a rallying cry you can get behind? Me neither.

Or a President who has convinced Congress to put itself in handcuffs now taking on the Judiciary. A situation beyond the American experience.

Reminds me of a favorite kid’s game: King of the Hill. Fight your way to the top. Keep the other kids off. Declare yourself King.

 

 

Dogs, Friends, Health, Politics

A Shadow in my Life

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Zornberg. Golden Calf. Talmud Torah. Luke and Leo, coming for a visit. Cool night. Shadow. Regression. Filling the swamp. Mastery. Death. Cancer. Back pain. Ruth, turning 19. Gabe, a junior. Mussar. Kavannah.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Equanimity

Week Kavannah: Ratzon. Will, desire. [jealousy, envy]

One brief shining: How do you count the feeling, fleeting, that carries the mood of joy at Great Sol rising from behind the turning Earth; or, the pulse of emotion as light fades behind Black Mountain, another Mountain night suddenly upon you, one carrying a nostalgia perhaps for the light or a long ago yesterday.

Dog journal: I’ve spent the last few weeks majoring in Shadow. Shadow life. Shadow food. Shadow training. Shadow exasperation. Shadow induced laughter.

A lot of progress in so short a time. From chewing my oxygen tubing and my electric blanket cord to tossing socks in the air, tearing them apart. From hiding behind the coffee table to moving about the downstairs freely. Eating well. Alert.

Ears now flopped over in front, no longer pinned back. Our communication level advancing. Then, regressing. Training with Amy. Ginny and Janice’s kind help.

One bed destroyed, each bit of soft material wrenched out through holes made with sharp puppy teeth. One bed yet unpacked, awaiting a less violent reception.

A Shadow has come over my life and brought me joy.

Glad she’s here. Fretting about weight loss, 7 pounds in a few months. Brings those intimations of mortality, always close, up into my day. Shadow shenanigans making me look up. Not today, dark master. Not today.

Maybe I should try throwing a soft rabbit toy high in the air with my teeth. Works for her.

Had breakfast with Alan yesterday at the Bagelry. A Grateful Dead themed joint. The Evergreen Chorale in which he sings will do performances of Aaron Copeland’s American Songs next week. They also travel in June to NYC to sing, with other Chorale’s, in Carnegie Hall. Hooyah.

Discovered that the drive, breakfast, and getting gas for Ruby tweaked my back enough for an unusual midday Tramadol. Mistake. A two hour nap and a fuzzy afternoon. Pain is better than that. At least so far.

Also discovered that my MRI referral had been received, but to a provider that only had closed machines and claustrophobic me requires an open one. Sigh. Back to the beginning on that one.

I find Shadow and her care, right now, drains most of the remaining energy I have after domestic tasks like working out, prepping and eating meals, doing the taxes. That sort of thing.

This drain will not last as she matures, our relationship deepens, and our mutual understanding grows. For now though…

 

Just a moment: Blowing up Teslas, eh. I get it. I mean, Elon. Who is, as a Daily Show comedian reminded us all, an African American. An Afrikaner. With his fingers deep in the American Pie.

Want to say I disapprove. And the Midwest, middle class, nice white boy part of me-in other words most of me-does. Even so…

Commentary on Religion, Dogs, Family, Health, Politics

Jesus comes to the Americas

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Friday gratefuls: Shadow’s morning greeting. All bounce and joy. Alan at the Baglery. Evergreen. Conifer. Bailey. Constipation. My Taos ring. Kate, always Kate. Shadow’s bed. No more stuffing. Elon and China. Treats. Shadow and her toys. Bagels. Losing weight.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Vermont Flannel

Week Kavannah:  Social Responsibility

One brief shining: Up in the air, the black sock, pounced on, the pink sock, ripped and shredded bed, a rubber ball carried as if conquered by a Roman legion, tail up, ears out, running, then looking over the arm of the chair with wide brown eyes and a smile. Shadow.

 

Ritalin. Has helped my fatigue. May have suppressed my appetite a bit. Losing weight. Could also be another turn of the cancer screw. Hard to tell. Wake up tired. Once I get moving, I’m fine. The steady drip, drip, drip of this and that.

 

Ruth’s coming up Tuesday. We’re celebrating-early-her nineteenth birthday-with a meal at Sushi Den. The Sushi spot in Denver. She’ll drive. Give grandpop a break.

She’s also bringing me lox from Costco. Cheaper yet more, according to her.

It makes me feel so good to see her proactive, loving school, reaching out, planning for her future. Next year she starts her new major, integrative physiology. Headed toward some medical career, I think.

The amount of hard work and tears she’s invested in this new way of becoming. Inspiring. A testament to her fighting spirit and the human spirit.

 

Two Mormon missionaries come to my door. Blue suits, official looking nametags with Elder in front of their names. I doubt they were twenty, maybe still in their teens.

As a man of religion myself, I honor and respect the commitment these young spreaders of the Mormon word display. I accepted a Book of Mormon: another Testament of Jesus Christ bound in faux blue leather matching their neatly pressed suits.

Elder Brommard, something like that, said I should read, he flipped through pages, this chapter first about Jesus coming to the Americas. Could of said, stop right there, dude. Didn’t.

Tempted to invite them in if they come back this weekend. If I do, I would say this: I know you want me to believe this. What I’d rather know right now is why do you believe this?

A question that fascinates me. What causes a person to cross the threshold of belief? Move from a natural skepticism to whole hearted acceptance.

I shook Elder Brommard’s three offered fingers, cold and clammy, nodded to his buddy, and declined to talk to them. Said they may come back this weekend. We’ll see.

 

Just a moment: Who would you give war plans for China? A billionaire whose company has begun to lose market share there? Who’s a buddy of Xi Jinping’s? Whose loyalty is to, what? Money. Power. White people. He’s an Afrikaner, don’t forget.

There are things I don’t understand about the Trump/Musk axis. A lot. Motive seems clear. Power. Money. Retribution. Revenge. Chaos. Mission accomplished. But the means, the stab, crash, break means?

 

 

Dogs, Health, Judaism, Memories, Mussar, Sport

Shadow and Healing. And, Basketball!

Leave a comment

Spring and the Snow Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Lashon hara. Mussar. Shadow. Twisters. Diane. Mark. Mary. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. Kate, always Kate. Cold night. Fair sleeping. Shadow’s toys. Our backyard. The fence. The shed. The deck. Rabbits. Voles. Chipmunks. Winter. Spring. The in between time. Imbolc.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Humans and Dogs

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

One brief shining: Good news comes in, too, like the friend whose lesion seems benign, the shoulder with less pain and increased range of motion, Shadow calmer, happier, the Ritalin decreasing my fatigue, even Great Sol out for a longer Colorado blue Sky stint.

 

Dog journal: Puppy hands. Small hematomas on the back of my hand. Eager Shadow, saying hi hi hi hi hi, I’m so glad to see you! So so glad! Old skin, young nails sharp and wielded with the muscles of an excited puppy.

Shadow’s ears have finally lost their pinned back look most of the time. She still cowers and flinches sometimes and her ears go flat. I ache when I see that. Something happened to make that her response to a human. Don’t know what. Waning, though.

She owns her space, plays with toys, greets me, no longer the shy, hypervigilant Dog under the bed.

Blessings to her and those first inquisitive Wolves who coinvented Dogs.

 

Finished mussar on zoom a second ago. Haven’t gone in person since adopting young Shadow. Today I wanted to have time to workout. Half hour there, half hour back. I would have been too tired.

I mention this because I also know there is a healing energy I get from showing up. It’s substantial and balances the energy I get from my mostly private life. As do my various zoom calls, breakfasts and lunches.

No matter how private, introverted, isolated we might be we are still creatures of community. You don’t have to look further than language itself to prove that. Language marks you as a member of this group or that one and even if you only use your language to process your own thoughts you remain part of that community always.

I get healed and buoyed up as I hope to heal and buoy up others. Showing up, as my friend Paul likes to remind me, marks the other as important, significant, loved. Medicine we all have and we all need.

 

Just a moment: It’s that most wonderful time of the year. Basketball tournaments everywhere, including March Madness. Cinderella teams. Juggernauts. NBA future draft picks. WNBA future draft picks. State level tourneys.

A Hoosier thing. High school basketball. Sure, other states, but we always believed nobody else loved high school hoops the way we did.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight. That song on the school bus radio as we pulled away from the Anderson, Indiana gym. Where only moments before tiny Alexandria had won the sectional by beating the Anderson Indians in the Wigwam. (yes. not that anymore.)

I remember frost on the windows, seeing each other’s breath in the cold March air as we screamed into the night. What wonderful joy!

 

 

 

 

Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Politics, US History

The Seed Keeper’s Catalogue. And, Shadow

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow and her leash. Amy. Ron and his Purim spiels. Joanne. Ruth of the Flatirons. Gabe and his guitar. The Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue. Jon Stewart. The Daily Show. Working out. Tara and Eleanor. Ode and his friends. Tom and the maturing men. Paul and his son, his grandson. Bill and showing up.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Days of Dogs and books

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

Practice: continuing work on the Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue

One brief shining: Bellying through the Snow drifts in the backyard, racing from one fence line to the other, bowing and running with Eleanor, Shadow puts her puppy energy out there, laying it all on the line each moment as we do without thinking when we’re young; so much more deliberate and difficult when we’re old. Learn from puppies.

 

Dog journal: Amy came by yesterday. Week 5 of training the old guy how to live with and educate a 9 month old Puppy.

Leash training didn’t go so well. Waiting now with the leash near her water. Shadow gives it the side eye when she goes to drink. This is desensitizing her. In a couple of days I’ll attach it to her, let her drag it around if she will. Take it off. Leave it out. Plenty of treats and praise. So on. Patience. Savlanut.

I want to get her leash trained so I can take her to the vet for a well Dog checkup. I don’t see anything wrong with her at all, but she needs to meet the folks at Sano, get used to the vet experience.

Tara brought Eleanor, tall, leggy, black Eleanor over for a playdate yesterday, too. Eleanor and Shadow ran and ran and ran. Tara and I talked. She’s my heart friend.

On the fourth anniversary of Kate’s death I’m going to Tara’s for Passover. April 12th. One of those nights when I’ll drive. Her house, in Mountain terms, is not far from mine. Maybe 10-15 minutes.

While I was out talking with Tara, I saw my neighbor Jude. We don’t see each other much in in the Winter, but it was warm yesterday. He retired from his welding work in January. Started drawing his Navy pension. Will collect social security in a couple of years.

 

Got my next oncology appointment changed to an in person visit rather than telehealth. Rich Levine wants to go with me and I’ll be glad to have him there.

Mailed my taxes at the same time I mailed the fourth iteration of documents to MnSaves, Ruth’s 529. Hopefully we’ll have it figured out before she becomes a sophomore. Rich helped this time.

 

Just a moment: Here’s an excerpt from my work with chatbot on the Seed-Keeper’s Catalogue. If you have time to read this, comment on it, it’s still in very, very early stages. Not sure it’s the direction I want to go. But, it might be.

In conclusion, the Seed Keeper’s Catalogue is more than just a website or a publication – it’s a community-driven movement to celebrate and disseminate the knowledge that sustains society. Our proposal outlines a project that leverages modern technology (AI, interactive web design) and timeless principles (open sharing, collaboration, civic duty) to build a resource unlike any other: one that is at once practical handbook, history textbook, and civic guide, all wrapped in an accessible, open-source package.

By rooting the Catalogue in values of free access, diversity of content, and community empowerment, we aim to create a living library that grows and adapts with the times. Whether someone comes looking for advice on planting their first garden, understanding their rights, learning about pivotal moments in history, or figuring out how to organize their neighborhood, they will find not just information, but inspiration and connections to a larger community of knowledge-holders.

This proposal paints the vision and the roadmap: a structured yet flexible platform, rich content categories with real examples, integration of AI for continuous improvement, strategies for inclusive collaboration, and a plan for sustainable growth. With enthusiastic contributors, supportive partners, and engaged readers, the Seed Keeper’s Catalogue can flourish. It will stand as a testament to what is possible when knowledge is set free and nurtured by the many – truly a catalogue of seeds that, when planted in minds and communities, can grow solutions to even the toughest challenges like poverty and climate change.

We invite all stakeholders, from potential contributors and tech partners to educators and community organizers, to join us in making this vision a reality. Together, let’s keep the seeds of knowledge, culture, and responsibility – and pass them on, so that they may take root for generations to come

Aging, Fourth Phase, US History

An Ode to Old

Leave a comment

Imbolc and the Snow Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Ana. Furball Cleaning. Alan. Lucille’s. Learning a new city. Denver. Pain Perdu. Shadow. Amy, the trainer. Hospice work in Washington County, Maine. Paul. Cousin Donald. His cracked team of ideologues and greedy billionaires. Foxes. Henhouses. Black Bears and Mountain Lions. Red Flag days. High Winds. Low humidity. Dry fuel. The Wildland Urban Interface, the WUI. My home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Getting lost

Week Kavannah: Social Responsibility. Achrayut.

One brief shining: Alan and I sat outside at Lucille’s, the inside din of pans and loud conversations too much, the weather 70 degrees and a big fire in their fire pit combined with the sun for comfort while I ordered chicory coffee, French toast, a poached Egg to go with my hot Louisiana sausage, enjoying my long term friendship with Alan.

 

Need to say a few things about aging and being old. Do not shy away from the truths of aging. It’s hard. Often.

Fingers might hurt from rheumatoid arthritis. That knee that buckles when you get out of the car. What’s that? You can’t hear as well. Me, too!

You might have Sjogren’s syndrome which dries out essential tissues. Your eyes might need cataract surgery or cornea transplants. Balance may not be what it once was. A problem with brittle bones from osteopenia or osteoporosis.

What’s up, too, with all that packaging? The heaviness of things that used to be light. Or the shortness of breath.

Here’s what I have to say about all of those. No fun. No fun at all. No romanticizing. These problems, like the ache in my back right now or the prostate cancer, make life more challenging, less easy. Every day. Sometimes every hour.

Yet most cultures, not ours but most, have honored, even revered those who grew old. Elders. Sages. Wise ones. The one who knows the stories, the knowledge of plants, the ways of battle and of peace. The grandmother who councils young mothers. The ones who bless and counsel. Who settle disputes, pass judgment.

Where does that leave us, the old ones of our synagogues and neighborhoods? OK, boomer. Not a request for advice. A slight aimed at those of us in the graying baby boom, some of us now in our late seventies.

I don’t want to be a gray panther, a senior Olympian, a ripped octogenarian. A silver fox or a pickleball champ. Good thing, too. Since I’m unlikely to fit any of those American Immortal archetypes.

I say we claim the role of elder. Like Tom bringing the young men together. Like Bill and his daily mitzvahs. Like Ode and Imogen. Like the Hospice work Paul does.

Let’s show that the real challenges of aging, as with all elders, only prove the road, the long road we have taken. The scars from hard won lessons, loves won and lost. Bullies faced down. Hard relationships resolved. Children raised.

Let us claim through our actions the role we have earned. We cannot, in other words, abdicate now to the golf course or the television or the trout stream. Especially at this time when the world needs us. Please.