Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Casa Bonita. Seoah. My son. Gabe. Shadow and her fears. 78 years. Happy birthday greetings from friends and family. Still upright and taking nourishment. Valentine’s Day. Duncan, Oklahoma. Mom. Dad. WWII. Baby boomers. Talking about my generation. The training of Shadow. Alan.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah and Gabe and Ruth

Week Kavannah: Love  Ahavah

One brief shining: The Spanish Mission architecture, the bell tower, the hot pink facade with lines of diners snaking towards the doors, Casa Bonita, newly refurbished by makers of the South Park cartoons, improbable sources of English instruction for Seoah through her online English class, which brought us to our table deep in the Silver Mine section of this combination restaurant and amusement park, occupancy 2045.

 

78 birthdays. Median age of death for men in the U.S. 74.8. For the population as a whole 77.8. Whew. Just made it. Have had many conversations over this last year in which this oddity occurs. Geez, when I read about somebody that’s 80, my first thought? They’re old! Then. Wait a minute. I can see 80 from here. It’s just. Right. There.

In the first episode of Picard Jean-Luc looks out over his vineyard and says, “I’ve not been living; I’ve been waiting to die.” 3 years of episodes follow as he demonstrates what a retired Starfleet Admiral can do. My own motto is this: I intend to live until I die.

Sounds easy. A tautology even, right? Well, no. With TV, zoom, kindles, smart phones and tablets it’s simpler now than ever to push pause at a certain point and recede behind a wall of easy. To take on no new challenges. To forget about the world beyond illness and onrushing decrepitude. Have medical visits become the raison d’etrê for getting out of the house.

And. It is tempting. Especially for an introverted, mildly monastic temperament such as mine. I love being alone, on my own. Reading. Studying. Watching movies and TV. Cooking. Shopping. Following the world through newspapers and magazines.

Yet. Last year I finished my conversion to Judaism. This year so far I’m working with Shadow, a rescue whose fears make her a distinct challenge. I cherish my calls with friends and family on zoom. My breakfasts and lunches out with them.

I’m studying the Torah, parsha by parsha, using several modes of learning that are new to me. I continue to write Ancientrails, now in its 21st year.

My view is in this moment and ahead. Not looking back, except to write stories in Storyworth.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: I will not look away. Pretend that this delusional twit is not twisting the norms and purposes of our government to match his own paranoid fantasies. That best buddy Elon is not systematically destroying, breaking, tearing at the tissue which makes us who we are.

I continue to dream the impossible dream of a country true to the poetry on the Statue of Liberty. Of a country that is a place the world admires for its commitment to the rule of law and the health and welfare of its citizens.

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

Family. Shadow. Oligarchworld.

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Imbolc and the 99% Waxing Gibbous 78th Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Here now. Cold weather. Blue Pastures. Mary Oliver. Tom. Diane, healing. Mark, bonding with his students in Al Kharj. Annie. Luna. Leo. The Moon. Great Sol. Trips around Great Sol. Our Cosmic voyage.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah

Week Kavannah:  Love Ahavah

One brief shining: Cold air slammed its way downstairs as suitcases, backpacks, new ski boots made their way into the house, my son came, his military fade, big smile, long hug, Seoah in pink, another hug, a kiss on the forehead.

 

The travelers arrived after a visit to H-Mart, Pho for lunch, and buying bottled water which Seoah prefers to our tap water. They spent 7 days at Hickam AFB being trained in the subtleties of command from a commander’s and a commander’s spouse’s perspective, then a long flight to Minneapolis for 3 nights there and a short flight to Denver for 3 nights here.

Yesterday was a travel day even though it was a short flight. Up early. Airport. TSA. Land. Rental car line. This is Colorado in the Winter. H-Mart. Lunch. Picking up gyros for dinner.

A lot of catching up. I see them every one to two weeks on Zoom, but it’s not the same. As all us post-pandemics know.

My son talked about his old friends in Minnesota. Familiar names from St. Paul’s Central High: Matt, Katherine, Dan Pesich, Langon. U. of M. Greg. Dave. Brandon. Play It Again Sports. Joe’s ski shop. His friend Dave gave him a poster of Matt’s Bar, famous for its juicy lucy hamburgers, signed both by the artist and the owner of Matt’s Bar. A sweet gift.

Another friend, Dave, and his partner of 20 years showed my son a note he wrote to Dave after introducing them, “Don’t break her heart.” 20 years ago.

My son makes and keeps friends over time and over long distance. I admire that about him.

 

Shadow Watch: My son suggested moving the coffee table against the wall. Oh, duh. Now when Shadow comes from under the bed, which she did in her usual come in, then out fashion around 6 this morning, she has to be in the main room with me.

She also asked to go outside this morning. That’s a real advance.

The trainer, Amy, suggested I throw her a treat as I move my hand. Which she shies away from. I’ve been doing that and her turning and darting away has lessened. We’re making progress.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: Tulsi Gabbard, friend of Syria and Russia, confirmed as Director of National Intelligence. Gosh. What could go wrong with that choice? RFK passed a critical vote to advance toward  leading Health and Human Services. Vaccine denier in charge of NIH and the CDC?

Oligarchworld continues to scratch and claw, pound and pummel at the interstices of our once (and future?) government. Trump continues to sign Executive Orders. His Presidential equivalent of “You’re fired!”

Constitutional crisis. Eh? You mean Thursday in oligarchworld?

Commentary on the news, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., US History

The Center. Can it hold?

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow. My son. Seoah. Today! Ruth on Friday! -8 this morning. Snow. Red Lodgepole Bark against White Snow. Eating and drinking. Celebrex no more. Tramadol. Sue Bradshaw. Thyroid Stimulating Hormone. Kaylor. Prostate cancer. Spinal stenosis. Mark in Al Kharj.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Kavannah: Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: My son texted me from the airport, they’re about to board soon, and a thrill ran through me, those two, precious cargo on their way here to Shadow Mountain, my family.

 

Annual physical yesterday. Key learning. No more celebrex. My kidney functions showed deterioration. And, as Sue said, we need our kidneys. That leaves me tramadol and a referral to a pain management doc. Their options will be limited to. Next best treatment: narcotics.

The pain has grown incrementally since its break out moment in Korea a year and a half ago. Not having Celebrex will mean increasing limitations for my mobility. Not a happy thought. Will be adjusting to this for a while. Unsure what the future holds.

To complete a medical trifecta of dermatologist, pcp, and oncologist I have a telehealth visit with my medical oncologist’s p.a. Kaylor, today at 3. Big fun. PSA stable. Testosterone low. Should not be any surprises.

OK. Enough about me. How are you feeling?

 

Just a moment: Breaking heart. The specter of a President flaunting judicial decisions may happen this week. My head spins at that thought. I mean that.

All my life, 78 years tomorrow, I’ve lived in a rule of law society where courts arbitrate the most difficult, thorny problems and adjudicate between adversaries. Disrespecting a court decision? Unthinkable. Literally.

Never on my horizon. Now the President has spent a business career dodging and weaving from the courts. Even when finally cornered and convicted he trashes the legitimacy of the legal process. This from the leader of our government.

My inner gyroscope, the one that orients me to my place in the United States, has a serious tilt. My lev, too.

I prefer Margaret Renkl’s response. (see yesterday’s post). My America has begun to shatter. Its culture losing its moorings. This place, these United States, are my home and my home now feels like it’s built on a cliff soon to erode from a rising sea of political thuggery.

Maybe there’s help in the world of song lyrics about lost love.* Or, in poetry:

Yeats, The Second Coming

Here is your medieval illuminated manuscript-style illustration inspired by W.B. Yeats’ The Second Coming.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity…
now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”

 

*I can’t believe what i just heardCould it be trueAre you the (country) I thought I knewThe one who promised me her loveWhere did it goDoes anybody ever know
How do you heal a broken heartThat feels like it will never beat this much againOh noI just can’t let goHow do you heal a broken heartThat feels like it will never love this much againOh noTonight I’ll hold what could be rightTomorrow I’ll pretend to let you go   Chris Walker, 1993
Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Politics

A Broken Heart, not a Hardened One

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Day 7, the Shadow trial. Cold. 4 this morning. My son and Seoah come tomorrow! The coup. The New Apostolic Reformation. Shadow. Rethinking politics. Resistance. Is powerful. Aging. Sarcopenia. Cancer. Puppy learning. Me learning puppy. Tired.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah here tomorrow

Week kavannah:  Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: At times I feel old, and by that I mean losing a sense of capacity, agency, as fingers trigger, my back says walking any distance is too far, the steady drumbeat of this medicine, that doctor, and at times I know that’s only my carapace, certainly part of my journey, the bearer of my soul, yet not my soul, not my mind, not my lev, other parts of my eternal journey that feel mature, enriched by years of experience in this most wonderful of worlds.

 

Margaret Renkl is one of my favorite NYT columnists. Here are two paragraphs from a column yesterday titled Tenderness as an Act of Resistance:

“Fury is a powerful motivator of resistance, but there is only so much rage a person can harbor without nurturing something cold and still and hard in the place where a warm, living heart once beat. Already I am exhausted by my own fury, and the second Trump presidency is only three weeks old…

Anger lets in too little beauty, but heartbreak? A tender heart feels the fury and the fear, the sorrow and suffering, the beauty and the bravery alike. In the years ahead, we will need them all.”

This reminded me of parsha Bo where Pharaoh’s heart hardens as Moses and Aaron confront him. Note: Pharaoh’s heart. The learning I’m taking from Renkl and Pharaoh is this: hardening the heart, though it may make taking action seem easier, ultimately leads to defeat.

What does that mean for us right now, in only the third week of an assault on our democracy? First it means we can’t look away. We need to see and feel the wrongness, understand and know the slings and arrows of outrageous politicians.

And we must allow our dream, a nation made of many, and of difference, and of laws, and of equity and fairness from sea to shining sea to crash into that wrongness and break our hearts.

The way of the open heart is not easy. But a tender heart, not a hardened one, is the only response that carry us through these next few years as Seed-Keepers of the American Dream.

In that way, when this storm of cruelty and avarice has blown out, we or those we have influenced with our tender hearts will still be strong, still be true, still be ourselves.

 

Just a moment: Got Shadow out of the bedroom once again. Her skittishness remains an inscrutable problem for me. She’s afraid of my voice, movement, things in her way. A fearful doggy. And, in touch with the thoughts above: it breaks my heart.

Still in it though. Working for a breakthrough to her trust.

Dogs, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

Learning: Doggy and dictatorial

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow, my Shadow. My son and Seoah. In Minnesota. Mini-Splits. Oak logs. Snow. Physical. Roy. Ed. Dick. Bill. Sheepshead. Card games. College. Deep conversations. Philosophy. Anthropology. Two disciplines that have shaped me, my thought. Resistance is not futile. Trump does not equal Borg.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Returning to a more usual day after Shadow immersion

Week Kavannah:  Love  Ahavah.

One brief shining: Shadow peeks out from the bedroom door, retreats, comes out again, retreats, rinse and repeat, still very shy, as if the world will fall on her if she ventures out too quickly.

 

Day 6 of the Shadow trial. I alternate between thinking I can’t handle this and knowing I can if I can find the right rhythm with her. Which won’t happen until she can calm, feel ok here. Which will take a while.

Occurred to me that she might be an introvert, worn out by too much time with me. Probably not. But I suppose it’s possible. Anyhow I intend to spend less time with her today. Give her some space.

Realized this three week trial is not about Shadow any more than it is about me. Will she take to me? Am I able to speak dog with a puppy? I know the language of dogs with adult dogs and feel confident with them. I’m learning that puppies are not just real young dogs, but their own universe of needs, wants, feelings. Harder for me due to lack of familiarity. Last puppies were Tor and Orion and they both died years ago.

The upside of this is that it’s an opportunity to learn about a new phase of doggy life, to reshape part of my life into a new pattern, new at least for the last four years, a pattern of mutuality at home.

No matter how it resolves this will have been, is being, a deep learning.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: Trump says the courts don’t have the right to remove Musk’s hand from the joystick of Federal Disbursements. I’m hearing an echo of JD’s quote of Andrew Jackson about the Supreme Court: “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it.” This also echoes Stalin’s quote: “How many divisions does the Pope have?”

These are tyrants testing the power of civil authority. Jackson went ahead with the shameful Indian Removal act, better known as the Trail of Tears. Stalin terrorized and murdered millions of his own citizens. Combine this with Musk’s snappy salute and a shiver of fear should run up your spine.

Here’s a resource about the New Apostolic Reformation that explains what it is. Why are they important? They are ride or die Trumpers, believing he will usher a world favorable to the Second Coming.

*Although Jackson is widely quoted as saying, “John Marshall has made his decision; now let him enforce it,” his actual words to Brigadier General John Coffee were: “The decision of the supreme court has fell still born, and they find that it cannot coerce Georgia to yield to its mandate.”

 

 

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Politics, US History

More Shadow and Faith

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Shadow. Ruth. Diminished stamina. Mark(s). Snow. Cold. Skittishness. Gabe. Puzzles. Enigmas. Thoughtful resistance. Learning about the New Apostolic Reformation. Books. Poetry. Lodgepoles. Great Sol. The days of our lives. Our lives in days. Bananas. Pears. Apples. Mandarin Oranges. Subway

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My dispersed family

Week Kavannah: Love. Ahavah.

One brief shining: Oh, Shadow, my Shadow, who chewed through my oxygen concentrator tubes leaving me breathless, who, when I figured out how to have them looped up high, then chewed on the cord of my electric blanket so it ceased working.

 

Oh. The dog. Challenging me. In good ways. Do I have the stamina for her? Still not sure. Can I, I mean, wait out her puppyhood long enough for her to be easier to care for? If so, then yes, I have the stamina. We’ll see. Ruth recommended I take the full three weeks for the trial. She’s right. And, I will. Honesty. So important.

I liked having Ruth here. So much so that I asked her if she wanted to commute. Free rent and food. Half her gas. No, she said. Too long a daily drive. Right at an hour both ways. Wise lady.

 

My son and Seoah will come on Wednesday. It’s been a year a half plus since I’ve seen them. I’m excited. Seeing them and having Shadow. A rich week in my life. Filled with love and caring.

Annual wellness checkup with Sue Bradshaw, too. And a visit to the medical oncologist’s P.A. A big week for this Shadow Mountain boy.

My peskyfowlatarian diet has proved easy to handle. Fish, other seafoods like shrimp and lobster, chicken. Gives me choices. Pushes me toward more vegetables. Plan to make chicken bean soup today or tomorrow.

Learning to love chicken subway sandwiches. A little tasteless. But o.k.

Shadow spent an hour in my lap, cuddling. I put her outside for about ten minutes, she came back to the door, pleased. I hear my own and others doubts and cautions. As Ruth suggested, three full weeks. Accepting input.

 

Just a moment: Super bowl. Nah. Too much fluff. Usually a bad game. But the two games leading up to it. Well, yeah.

More books coming on the New Apostolic Reformation. As I know more, so will you. This group is secretive, amorphous, and focused on political goals. Like creating a Christian nation.

For now, cue this:

“President Trump signed an executive order Friday to establish a White House Faith Office in an effort to empower faith-based entities.

The office will be part of the Domestic Policy Council and headed by a senior adviser tasked with consulting with various faith and community leaders in an effort to defend religious liberty and combat antisemitism, anti-Christianity and other anti-religious bias, according to the order.”  The Hill

Gotta fight all that anti-Christian bias out there. But, where is it? This is the thin end of the wedge for creating an autocratic, religion focused and dominated form of governance. Not democracy. Follow these bread crumbs. They’re more significant than they may appear.

 

 

Commentary on Religion, Commentary on the news, Dogs, Family, Politics

Shadow. One small bite.

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Ruth. Shadow. Loss. Grief. Joy. Close cousins. Mussar. Brother Mark, teaching in Al Kharj. Friend Mark, recuperating in Mexico. Colder, some Snow. Old age. Journalism. NYT. WP. Colorado Sun. Axios. Ground News. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Ruby.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Week Kavannah: Love  Ahavah

Limitations of AI on display here

One brief shining: Images of others, far away, Mark playing foosball with his Saudi Arabian ESL students, Ode in a deck chair in sunny, warm Mexico, Diane with her sling, healing on Lucky Street with atmospheric rivers overhead, Mary on campus in Melbourne, my son and Seaoh traveling today to Minnesota from Hawai’i while Shadow and Ruth and I enjoy the return of cold weather on the top of Shadow Mountain.

 

The Shadow puppy saga continues. Put her in the crate while Ruth and I went to Jackie’s for my haircut. After we went to Buster’s natural pet food store. Got a new leash, some treats, a few durable toys. Then, Subway.

I’m considering a raw diet for Shadow. She’s so small l could feed her a raw diet for what I paid for Kep and Rigel’s food. She’s still a puppy so not yet. More research.

That’s if I keep her. I’m pretty tired. Haven’t got back to my workouts. They will raise my energy level as my better nutrition already has. It’s a balance.

Having her here has already buoyed me up in ways I’d forgotten were available. That tail wagging. Her soulful eyes. Her learning curve, so rapid. Engaging my problem solver for another. Her cuddles.

Ruth came up last night in her green Subaru SUV. She got most of the money to pay for it from the insurance payout after she totaled Ivory, our old Rav4 which we gave to her. She loves her car.

She’s a sweetheart. Feels so good having her here. We talk a lot. She apparently took Shadow up to sleep with her last night. When I got up… No Shadow.

Glad I stayed here, didn’t go to Hawai’i. Although, I do find myself watching NCIS: Hawai’i and Hawai’i 5-0. As much for the scenery and the memories as any plot.

No, my travel bug has not gone dormant. When I see Sue next week, I’m going to ask for an orthopedic consult on my back and right hip, maybe a pain doc. See what I can do further to become mobile enough to fly.

Though. Moving to the Rocky Mountains has been a journey, a travel experience of long and wonderful duration. Kate felt like she was always on vacation up here. I feel grateful each day to see the Mountains, Wild Neighbors, Trees and Streams. And for the unexpected and improbable Jewish journey unveiled by the Mountain Jews of Congregation Beth Evergreen.

 

Just a moment: I’m appending the first paragraph of a New York Times editorial with which I am in agreement.

Ginny, of Ginny and Janice, heard a woman who suggested taking a small bite out of the huge wormy Apple. For example, become an expert on one small field of the Trump mess. Really dig in. Something that interests you, or you have expertise in already.

I’m picking the New Apostolic Reformation. It’s deep background, yet it forms a large mass of his hardcore base. Something I have knowledge about with seminary education and having been in the ministry.

Start communicating with others about it. In conversations, blogs, e-mails, letters to the editor, phone calls and e-mails to members of Congress.

Together there are enough of us to rock this sucker back on its heels. Separately? We’ll get steamrolled.

 

*”Don’t get distracted. Don’t get overwhelmed. Don’t get paralyzed and pulled into the chaos that President Trump and his allies are purposely creating with the volume and speed of executive orders; the effort to dismantle the federal government; the performative attacks on immigrants, transgender people and the very concept of diversity itself; the demands that other countries accept Americans as their new overlords; and the dizzying sense that the White House could do or say anything at any moment. All of this is intended to keep the country on its back heel so President Trump can blaze ahead in his drive for maximum executive power, so no one can stop the audacious, ill-conceived and frequently illegal agenda being advanced by his administration. For goodness sake, don’t tune out.” NYT, Feb. 8, 2025.

 

 

 

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Politics

Caring for the other. Writ small and large.

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Friday gratefuls: Ruth. Alan. My son and Seoah, headed to Minnesota. Shadow. The beginning of our life together. Ginny. The Granby Shelter. Puppies. Learning to navigate life. Old men. Learning to navigate life. Rascal. Tom. Ruby, her inner beauty. The Night Sky. Space Station. Visible satellites. Mussar online.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Night Sky

Week Kavannah: Curiosity.  Sakranut

One brief shining: Shadow, Moon Shadow, Shadow Mountain, my Shadow sits beside my chair here, her black and tan nose thrust over the arm, brown eyes looking to me for affection, a hand on her small soft head.

 

Realized yesterday as I moved around the house with purpose, doing things relevant to Shadow like water for her water bowl, checking her food, trying to find her, oh there she is, between the coffee table with the cd player on it and the outside wall, that my inner world has changed, grown less self-centered and more outward focused. Not a distinction between selfish and other oriented. Rather a distinction between self-focused and other focused.

I love being alone with my books, writing, television, thoughts, Shadow Mountain, I do. Not lonely. Yet. That is a world with me and my inner life at its center. And one I could have happily continued.

Introducing Shadow, whose head I just petted, however returns me to a state of living I’ve experienced for most of the last 35 years. A life with Dogs. With the relationship that only a Dog can bring into your life. Like a marriage it is a relationship of love and caring. Caring for the other and wanting what’s best for them. A two way relationship, too.

Now there will be a rhythm on Shadow Mountain that includes her needs, her desires, her life as well as the single human life I live.

This shift is welcome.

 

I continue to read the news. I know many have given it up, too depressing or upsetting. I get it, too. With the mélange of old man Trump signing, as one pundit put it, bigger and bigger pieces of paper, while brah Elon engages in a search and destroy mission aimed at dismantling the small l liberal consensus in place since FDR, and investigations of investigators become front page news, the US seems to be, maybe is, losing its center.

For those of us post WWII kids, now staring down the barrel of death’s cold never misses armory, all this disorients us. Who are we in this strange new place? What is ours to do? Do we consider the old ways, the ones of our youth, as permanent and try to wrest political reality back in that direction?

The FDR consensus that included government as a backstop for its citizens-think Social Security, Medicare, the Affordable Care Act, welfare, regulatory apparatuses to contain and restrain the excesses of our capitalist religion-came out of a time when the Great Depression had scarred all but the most wealthy. Something needed to change and FDR’s vision for an expanded Federal Government, boosted of course by the concomitant challenge of WWII, fit the desires and needs of many of us, our parents and theirs.

Those challenges have long ago receded into movies and books and history. What should the Federal Government look like today? What is its role? These are legitimate and timely questions. Necessary. Perhaps even urgent.

We are not, however, having a debate. We have become witnesses to a planned execution with no vision for the future, no rationale other than burn baby burn.

We must engage the debate. See what new vision fits this new world with a weakened US. What challenges face us now, and what must the Federal Government look like in response to them.

 

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain, US History

Shadow and Shadows on the Country

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Imbolc and the 78th Birthday Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow (formerly known as Nugget). Sleeping with Shadow under my bed. Her struggle to adapt. Mine. The coup. Feeling alive. Purposeful. Elon Musk. His yetzer hara. Luna and Annie. Leo. Shrimp. Subway. Snow. Vince and Levi. Stable PSA. Shadow’s pooping and peeing.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Week Kavannah: Curiosity  sakranut

One brief shining: All last night when I awoke, I heard Shadow moving beneath the bed, occasionally hitting the wooden slats, once a hard thwock of her head, often moving, then for awhile asleep, repeat.

 

Felt like a bad doggie dad. I thought Shadow and I were making progress. Then, my nap. I left the bedroom door open as I had the previous night when she slept under me on the floor beneath the bed. She came out that morning and I let her out. She roamed for a while. Came back in. We did this twice.

Meanwhile she put a tentative paw on my leg, licked my hand. Smiled. Ah, now we’ve gotten somewhere.

This continued until my nap. Exhausted from the drive to Granby and back I slept two and a half hours. When I got up, I saw Shadow had gone back under the bed. Didn’t think much of it. Then, she wouldn’t come out.

And, she’s been under there most of the time since. I lured her out with hamburger, but she slipped back under the bed. That was yesterday afternoon and evening.

This morning I noticed she had two well formed poops and had peed on an old yoga mat. Good girl, missing the Oriental rug. While I slept she got out from under the bed, but she was back there before I woke up.

Ginny’s going to come after mussar. Shadow responded well to her. I want to get Shadow out from under the bed and into a space where we can interact. I have a dog trainer coming next Tuesday for puppy 101. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

It will be well, all manner of things will be well.

About a minute after I wrote this she came out. On her own. The best way. Now she’s in here with me. We can continue the process of getting to know each other.

I will crate her later today so I can go to mussar.

BTW: I did close the bedroom door.

 

Just a moment in oligarch world: First of all. Visit the Egyptian/Israeli Riveria! Swept clean of Palestinians. Home to Trump properties like mega Mar-a-Lago. Adult themed. Rides. Classified documents. And no libtards allowed!

Have fun in the Sunny Middle East. Visit scenes of actual slaughter and mayhem!

Or come to D.C. Play with Federal disbursements. Knock your old high school bully off Social Security. Remember that frigid blonde? You can cancel her Small Business loan.

Never a dull moment when you play Crash the Government. Bring the whole family. Especially the kids and the dogs.

 

 

Dogs, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Who knows what treats lurk in the hands of man?

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Imbolc and the Nugget Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Ginny. Janice. Granby Shelter. Trinidad shelter. Nugget. Luna. Annie. Dogs. Shadow. Of Shadow Mountain. My first Colorado Dog. Ruth. STEM. Nursing. Nurse Practitioners. Physician Assistants. Education. Alertness. Canine Cognition.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow

Kavannah: Curiosity    Sakranut

One brief shining: Shadow, my blue Heeler rescue, on trial for three weeks, spent last night dodging me, being uncertain, hyper vigilant, as you might expect for a Dog rescued from a burning house, sheltered first in Trinidad, Colorado then moved a week ago to the Granby Shelter, so I let her be and went to sleep.

 

Here is your Da Vinci-style sketch of an Australian Cattle Dog named Shadow.

Where did I find her when I woke up? Sleeping directly under me under the bed. Very sweet. She came to me as Nugget which seems a bit on the nose for Colorado. Thought about names. Star names. Oz? Granby? Then I hit on Shadow. Shadow of Shadow Mountain. That’s what I’m going with.

She’s gonna require a lot from me. Australian Cattle Dogs are the Mensa crew among Dog breeds. Which translates into busy, smart, need jobs. My current plan is to do some training with her, more than with other dogs of my past and to start her on the word buttons so we can communicate in my language as well as hers.

She’s already explored the back yard, peed in the house, settled down, then gotten back up. That’s in the first thirty minutes of being awake. Well, not quite. She peed last night.

Shadow weighs about 28 pounds so I can lift her if she gets sick. She’s the embodiment of my kavannah for the week: sakranut.

I can already feel a part of me waking up, a part that pays outward attention at home. It’s easy to get very me focused at home. After all, I’m the only one here.

Not a bad thing over all. I know, for example, who left the closet door open and who hasn’t unloaded the dishwasher yet. Even so, if a mood turns sour, as they do from time to time, say, in advance of a blood draw, that same knowing can result in darker and darker echoes of the mind.

Having another animal in the house requires outward looking, other oriented thoughts and actions. At home. That has a positive impact on my mood. Even moving the dog bed and the yoga mat to the balcony upstairs for sunshine therapy. I’ve done this kind of thing many times over the last 34 years. And it takes me out of myself and toward Shadow.

We’ll see if I have the stamina for her. It’s possible I will not. Though I think one of the most positive results of having her will be to get me moving more. That builds stamina, as does the treadmill newly relocated down stairs. I’m hoping for a virtuous cycle to get set up.

 

Just a moment in oligarchworld: A mussar friend’s children work for USAID. They told a story of having to sleep in their offices over the weekend while Musk cronies removed all their hard drives and selectively removed “bad” art from the walls. Bad enough. Here’s the kicker. This was in Denver.