Back Pain, Cancer, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Hermitage, Post Polio, Shadow Mountain

A Life Transition

January 20, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Tuesday gratefuls: Gloriana frangipana! (first line of the Indiana University school song) Jane Pauley. Dick Pauley. Uncle Riley. Diane. The farm. The Blue River. Hancock Cemetery. Morristown. Milan. Bobby Plump. The Indy 500. The Indiana Republican party. Turkey Run State Park. Spring Mill State Park. The Alexandria Times-Tribune. Muncie. Wabash. Ball State.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: I.U.

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Daat. The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

“If Chokhmah (Wisdom/Inspiration) is a seed and Binah (Understanding/Analysis) is the soil that develops that seed into a plant, Da’at is the nervous system that carries the vital life force from the brain to the rest of the body. It is the point of transition from “thinking” to “being.””

Tarot: Ten of Bows, Responsibility

Overextension: Pushing yourself too hard, sacrificing well-being for responsibilities.
Perseverance: The strength to continue despite heavy loads, finding inner resolve.
Completion/Release: As a “10” card, it signals the end of this phase, often with the potential for release or freedom after enduring the trial.
Prioritization: A call to assess what truly matters and learn to say “no” or ask for help.

One brief shining: Eleanor bounded down the stairs, Shadow twirled at the scent of her friend, Tara hollered we’re here, and the Shadow/Eleanor run, twist, smell, wrestle all the time day began when I opened the door, Eleanor pushed through Shadow greeting her with a jump and a play bow.

Sport: Pride of place belongs to I.U. football. National champions. Undefeated. Bringing gloriana frangipana to the nation’s attention. I listened to an all red chorus sing the I.U. school song and it washed over me, redolent of nineteenth century American higher education. Made me wish, again, that I’d chosen I.U. over Wabash.

Jane Pauley, married to Gary Trudeau and former host of the Morning Show, made this tribute piece: Hail to Indiana. Cousin Diane found it. Jane often came to our family reunions since her dad, Dick Pauley, and Diane’s father, my uncle, were like brothers. If you watch this piece, Uncle Riley is to the left in the old photograph shown near the beginning. Family.

Soul Work: This year, let’s start it on February 4th, 2025 when I adopted Shadow from the Granby Shelter, has been a humbling one, physically. Over the course of a long, loving, difficult time developing a relationship with a traumatized puppy, I’ve had multiple diagnostic procedures followed by several courses of varied treatments ranging from radiation to nerve ablations. The whole process exhausted me.

Since the last meeting of our Mussar Vaad Practice group a month ago, one I had to leave in the middle due to extreme discomfort from a hernia, I’ve grappled with a persistent issue: if I go out, even on small jaunts, I come home drained. A combination of my head drop from post-polio, right lower back and hip pain added to a general weakness due to sarcopenia and the energy my body has to expend making up for the resources cancer steals from it.

The soul work has been around accepting that I have become almost home bound. Here, in a chair that supports my neck, with my home gym, I achieve a normal day without depleting myself. When a day on my calendar is clear, my lev is happy.

I don’t like this, but I’m increasingly unable to live the life I developed after Kate’s death. Question. Can I still live a significant, loving life under these conditions? My answer is yes, of course I can. As I said a week or so ago, recounting my talk with Rachel, my social worker.

I’ve come to this conclusion. My life is now mostly here at Shadow Mountain Home. That means no traveling, fewer trips out and those more calibrated than before. Leaning on my friends for help when I need it. Beginning to think about some more paid help around the house.

A life transition, not one I sought, but one to which I have to adapt. See the ten of bows.

Far Right, Minnesota, Politics, US History

Minnesota Proud

January 19, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers on books. Rams v Bears. Cold. A dusting of Snow. Field Guide to the Soul. Shadow, her joy. My joy. Mary’s pics of the Royal Show in Melbourne. (think State Fair) Mark’s conversation with Salman, his student. Joe back home. Ruth and her new car. Morning darkness.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Books

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Daat. The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

Tarot: Two of Arrows, Injustice

“The scales of natural justice have been skewed by false judgments, ignorance, or arrogance. Sitting in judgment with unbalanced scales to an untrue premise, however ardently or sincerely, will not prevail. The bow is broken and useless through prejudice and misuse.” Parting the Mist

One brief shining: Martin Luther King would have stood with the protesters, blown a whistle, followed ICE agents, taken videos of their corrupt action; wherever the scales of justice stood unbalanced, weighted on one side by ignorance or arrogance or false judgments, his moral compass led him to the other side of the scale. Minnesota proud.

Gemini struggles with images, too. But you get the point.

Never felt so much pride in my home of forty years, Minnesota. Pushing back against corporate and government arrogance runs through the veins of Minnesota’s left, sure, but it also comes naturally to a Scandinavian influenced culture which believes the common good should drive decisions.

It does not surprise me that just folks have their whistles, neighborhood phone trees, and a willingness to stay in the fray. Nor does it surprise me that Tim Walz and Jacob Frey (mayor of Minneapolis) have called out the storm trooper invasion by red tie guy and that weasel, Miller.

When I first moved to Minnesota in 1970, the anti-war movement had a very strong presence. When police came to arrest a student at my seminaryfor draft evasion, a guy I didn’t know very well offered to ride along with him.

Howard Vogel, who became a good friend and would go on to win a landmark environmental lawsuit against Reserve Mining Company, surprised the arresting officers with his humble appearance and his knowledge. My friend came back to the seminary that same day.

I spent fifteen years organizing in Minnesota. It was never difficult to find ordinary citizens who understood why it was not a good idea for Control Data to run the Elliot Park neighborhood. Or, why General Mills didn’t belong in the landlord business in Steven’s Square Park.

The Democratic Farmer Labor party, the DFL, has its roots in radical left politics. A Minnesota third party, the populist and leftist Farmer-Labor party merged with the state’s Democratic party in 1944. Hubert Humphrey. Walter Mondale. Paul Wellstone. Al Franken. Standard bearers.

What a state.

Family, Far Right, Friends, Politics

A Political Culture That Defeats Them

January 18, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Sunday gratefuls: Broncos. Shadow, crosser of liminal spaces. Ruth, the kind. Joe back home in Korea. New Moon, dark Sky. Moon phases. Waxing, Full, Waning. Like a life. Tom in recovery. Books. Where do we find them? Drought. Snow. A-Basin. Jon. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Daat. The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

Tarot: Ten of Arrows, Instruction

Passing on Wisdom: It asks what legacy or skills we are leaving for the next generation. It encourages moving beyond past struggles or frustrations to share the beauty of inspiration and dedication.
Focus on the “Why”: Connect your current hard work or training to a larger guiding principle or long-term goal, much like following a “Pole Star”.

One brief shining: She displayed her new-to-her Subaru Forester with a Vanna White sweep of the hand, pointed out the heated mirrors and heated wiper blades, the all-weather car mats, the three, yes, three screens, the manual handbreak, the shifter that was not a dial, and started Frances to give me a quick ride around the neighborhood so I could get the full experience.

Ruth did it right. She had a pre-purchase inspection of both the Mazda she liked and the soon-to-be Frances. Detailed reports on each at $200. The Mazda, a Wisconsin gal, had rust and eight pages of mechanical problems. Frances had only minor notes.

She bought a two-year warranty. Joe suggested that. As a college student she doesn’t have cash reserves adequate for a large repair bill.

Tarot: I’m focusing on two aspects of the Ten of Arrows. What inspiration and dedication am I modeling for the next generation and what is the pole star for my commentary project?

First, I’ve written Ancientrails, a bread crumb trail to the forest of my life. In my will a codicil ensures it will remain available in case Joe, Ruth, or Gabe want to consult it.

Second, modeling. I spend time each week with friends, in person and on zoom. Also with members of CBE through mussar and Torah study. I love and care for Shadow.

I greet Ruth and Gabe with joy each time I see them, encourage them, assist them when I can. Make sure they know Grandpop loves them.

I maintain close contact with Joe and Seoah. Even with 6,000 miles between us. Also with Mary and Mark, 8,000 miles away.

My commentary project needs tighter ratcheting to find its pole star. Even with the narrow parameters I established as I started, it’s too broad, not specific enough to make it distinctive. Probably headed towards a focus on the far right since I see very few folks doing regular reporting on it and I love the subject.

Know the opposition, build a political culture that defeats them.

Feelings, Writing

En-Theos

January 17, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the 1% Crescent of the Moon of New Beginnings

Shabbat gratefuls: Joe’s visit. Ruth, too. Shadow. Tom and his week. Cold. 11. Prostate cancer. Its many treatments. The Dog run. Nathan. Natalie. Dr. Josy. Broncos v. Bills. Oh, my. Minnesota proud. Melt ICE. Politics. Poetry. Mary Oliver. Billy Collins. Rilke. Longfellow. Yeats. Eliot. Coleridge. Whitman. Dickens.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Daat. The Bridge Between Mind and Heart

Tarot: Four of Vessels, Boredom

I take this as a caution, a yellow light. As I’ve been doing research for both Superior Wolf 2.0 and trying to figure out a cadence and a method for political research, it’s easy for me to get caught in the paralysis of analysis. Or, stasis. i.e., boredom.

One brief shining: Interesting, the dynamic tension between da’at and the four of vessels; if anything can connect inspiration to understanding, it’s da’at, linking the mind to the heart, ensuring the electricity of inspiration does not dissipate, become blocked, a blockage we could call boredom, “He’s lost in thought.”

I may have mentioned before that I get enthusiasms. Can be an idea, a person, a political movement, a poem, a book, a line of thought.

In using notebooklm, for example, I started out with two notebooks: political commentary and Superior Wolf. I meant to focus my thinking, my inspiration in those two areas, creating two channels which both limit my reach and give me space to expand within those boundaries.

Worked for a week or so. Then, I thought, hey, I could use a notebook for Talmud Torah, so I made one. Then, why not one for managing Shadow Home. OK. Opened that. Well, there’s always the Great Work. Yep. One more. And, hey, mussar, too. While I’m at it, let’s throw in one for Ancientrails. See what I mean?

En-theos. Enthuse. To find a feeling of godly grace, curiosity. Chinese culture and other tradition oriented cultures, too, I imagine, see curiosity as a danger, drawing us away from daily life, from the proven path and into the unknown. Uncertainty. Resulting, in this cautious view, either in stasis, boredom, or more seriously, rebellion.

My library contains a literary record of my enthusiasms. Latin. Ovid. The Classics. Poetry. Minnesota. The Civil War. The Arts. Travel. Fiction. Celtic history and myth. Horticulture. Military history. Philosophy. Christianity. Judaism. Dogs. Depth Psychology. And, more.

I have often gotten stuck at the en-theosing stage. Too much learning, analysis. Too little action. The result is a time of stasis, of stuckness. Or, boredom. In these moments da’at could have helped me, yet I never consciously focused on this character trait, how to bridge enthusiasm and planning, understanding.

I’m glad the four of vessels showed up on the day I switched my week kavannah to da’at. It encourages me to not get stuck in the ideas, the inspiration. And, it gives me a character trait I can practice for doing just that.

Family, Far Right, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, US History

It’s Minnesota

January 16, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the waning crescent of the Moon of New Beginnings

Friday gratefuls: Joe. Ruth. Gabe. College. Andover. Tulips. Iris. Anemones. Grape Hyacinth. Daffodils. Wild Roses. Wild Grapes. Borage. Sage. Thyme. Rosemary. Leeks. Garlic. Red Onions. The Firepit. The Woods. All the Dogs. Canning. Drying. Harvesting Honey. A life close to Mother Earth.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Wholeness. Shleimut.

“The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Two of Vessels, Attraction

The Two of Vessels Wildwood Tarot asks us: In your life, what is attracting your attention? Is it worthy of your attention or a distraction?

One brief shining: “Goodnight, Joe,” I said; he returned, in words sweet to my one good ear, “Goodnight, Dad,” and in that familiar family ritual called back a childhood of stories and bedtimes, of meals at Mickey’s Diner, of playing catch in Irvine Park with the giant Oak as backstop, of silly plays and choral evenings, of attending Twins games, driving into St. Paul together.

Fathers and sons. Can go wrong. As it did with my Dad and me. Can be neutral as it is for some. Also can remain positive over all the years from first sight of that wicker basket to 44 years later. Joe was a stable, happy kid who made and kept close friends from elementary school through high school and college and in his work. Sang Yang. Zach White. Aaron Canner. David. Natcho. Jamie. Ken. Many others.

It makes my heart sing to see the man he has become. An excellent husband, a caring boss, a thoughtful person. A Godparent who actually had to step into that role. How he parents Ruth and Gabe, even from afar. A person in your life you can trust.

Just a moment: I know. I feel like I should be saying more about Renee Good. ICE in Minnesota. Still sorting through feelings of dismay, anger, sadness, pride. Dismayed that red tie guy’s brownshirts have descended on my old home ground. Angry that I’m not there to work with protesters, stand against this insult. Sad for Renee, her wife, her kids, her friends.

Yet also proud. I know Minnesota at a heart level. I know Minneapolis streets, parks, neighborhoods, people. I know the government and how it works. I know Renee’s death will not go unanswered by street politics. I know the state will investigate her death, even if the Federal Government tries to paper it over with lies and ignorant propaganda.

Will Ross be brought to account? If it was up to Minnesota’s Attorney General, Keith Ellison, I know he would be. Whether the complicated network of laws and jurisdictions between states and the Federal Government will allow that, I don’t know.

If any state in the country can stand against this abuse of Federal power, it’s Minnesota.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Writing

Lord Willin’ and the Creek Don’t Rise

January 15, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Thursday gratefuls: Joe. Coming on a jet plane. Star Trek. Strange New Worlds. Vast distances. Space. The Milky Way. Discovery. Hubble. Webb. ISS. Tian Jian. Saturn. Atlas. SpaceX. Blue Origin. NASA. The Moon. Mars. Asteroids. Mother Earth, our spaceship. Terranauts. Great Sol.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joe

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Wholeness. Shleimut.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, Eel

“With purity of intent, your destiny defined, you are able to bring wisdom and maturity to your tasks. Embarking on a quest of personal revelation, your vision leads you onward. Your deep feelings are expressed at every turn.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Plane landed, he said, getting a car, leaving the rental, about 1.5 hours out; Joe had come to Colorado, the Godfather whose godchildren eagerly awaited him texting, buzzing, Ruth sending pictures of her new-to-her car, a Subaru Forester that Joe helped her find from afar, like a good Dad; when he got here lugging his usual duffle bag full of books, another Master’s degree underway, Shadow surprised us both and barked at him.

OK. Nobody comes to our house at night. I’ll give her that. And, he’s a he. She definitely prefers women. Still. So. Joe closed the door and went back upstairs. When we went upstairs, Shadow and me, she relented, only backing away.

Joe came in for a hug, a muscled 44, smelling faintly of soap, bigger than I remembered. Though in reality it’s me that’s smaller. That affection. Borne of 44 years in each other’s lives, of so, so many memories. Of so much love.

All the longing. As I get older, I need to see him, and Seoah, too, so much more; yet, distance and the arc of a career, a successful career, mean I’ll probably never have what I need. Makes me sad.

It’s not like I need to see him every day, though that would be great, but having him and Seoah closer than 9,000 miles… Would be better. Not likely to happen.

I love my life on Shadow Mountain. Great and good friends. Shadow. Wild Neighbors. Aspens and Lodgepoles. A house I know, that works well for me. Living in the Mountain West exhilarates me. A life that works. No regrets. Even so, I feel what I feel.

On an adjacent matter. Talking with Rachel, my social worker, (ok. yes. It still feels weird to say, my social worker.) I did resolve one bit of tension. My walking limitations and my head drop issue have left me near home bound. I can and do go out, but I fade quickly. Energy and stamina both limited.

I’ve felt, maybe for the past year, an unidentified need to do more, be more while at the same time thoroughly enjoying my at home life. A vague guilt, yet real. And, it taints my pleasure in a life of reading, Shadow, cooking, writing, watching TV.

I’d always pegged the feeling as pushing in from the second phase of career, family busyness. Rachel suggested it might also come from building a new life after Kate’s death. In two distinct, but, I feel, significant ways.

First, we had a life together, Kate and me. Attending CBE. Going to see the grandkids, Jon. Special evenings out, theater and jazz. Drives in the Mountains. Caring for each other.

Second, I was Kate’s 24/7 caretaker for almost three years, always on, always going to this appointment or that procedure or cooking or doing the laundry. Constantly busy.

There’s the proximate source of the guilt. I have a life of fewer obligations, either as partner/soulmate, or caregiver. I should be doing more, like I did for all those years. Well, no I shouldn’t.

My life, a more abbreviated one than it was in those years, does not have that level of relationship and duty. That’s a fact. Too, these physical limitations are real. I can ameliorate them some with exercise and diet, but I’m no longer capable of living the life I once lived even six months ago.

Which is oh so, so far from saying I’m not living a life of purpose and agency, a fulfilling and satisfying life. I am. And, I intend to go on doing it Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise.

The Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari

Aging, Ancient Brothers, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Mountains, The West

Glad I’m Old

January 14, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Wednesday gratefuls: Joe, coming today. Dr. Josy. Healthy Shadow. Paying bills. Tom in recovery. Alan, too. The great American medical contraption. Books. Leads for books. Notebooklm. Pan. Lycaon. The enchanted world. Zeus. Athena. Hera. Poseidon. Hephaestus. Hermes. Hades. Arcadia. Ancient Greece.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dr. Josy

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Wholeness. Shleimut. “The concept of shleimut extends beyond the individual, applying to relationships (finding a life partner with whom one feels complete) and the community (mending societal cracks to achieve collective creativity and flourishing).”

Tarot: Eight of Arrows, Struggle

“…profound personal struggles require calm, decisive and resolute action. Reach down into the very core of your being and summon all the reserves of your courage and wisdom. See honestly what the issue will require for you to resolve it…View this necessary sojourn with clear eyes and a resolute heart, for to overcome these tests of life makes us stronger.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Old age is an eight of arrows life phase, a time when the cycle of an individual life nears its end, yet also when a lifetime of contemplation and courage and love drives a personal distillation, the alembic of a lived life able to transform the dross of work and care into the golden fleece of wisdom and self-compassion.

Old age presents its insults. Those of us in our late seventies and eighties know. Could be maturing cataracts. Might be regrets. A certain hitch in the step. Maybe balance uncertain. All those family issues, good and troublesome. Of course, some sort of physical decline, could be serious illness.

Then there is the end of this story, once infinitely far away, now looming not far out of sight. Even with a death-friendly outlook, which I have, I’m still with Woody Allen: I’d prefer not to be there when it happens. Kate knows. Regina knows. Jon knows. Mom and dad know. All ancestors know. Death loves us all.

When I couldn’t open the jar of sauerkraut or the sour Cherry preserves, it hit me hard. Weak, so weak. When back pain constantly gnawed at my day, my composure, I let myself fall, often, into the slough of despond. Cancer’s various moments of deep uncertainty had the same power.

Yet. I’ve been reading. No surprise. My mind follows the threads of political change, for example, from a unique vantage point. One earned in years, decades of action and reflection. Or, as I research Pan, the great Arcadian God of the natural world, my heart and my imagination open up, seeing connections, linkages from other years of reading, learning.

Or, I have the insight, as I did yesterday, that I’ve stayed the course in many difficult situations: with Jon and his troubles, with Ruth and Gabe, with Kate in her final years, with so many Dog’s in their final weeks, with Shadow through our mutual angst. Even with myself.

Yes, old age has its insults. It sure does. It also has depth of compassion earned. Love emboldened and strengthened. Knowledge gathered, connected, created. A calm that comes from kicking the hamster wheel of achievement to the side. I’m glad I’m old. How bout you?

Far Right, Judaism, Letters, Literature, Politics, Reimaging revelation, Torah

Permanent Things

January 13, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadowy kisses across my pillow. Vince as snowplower. Tom’s enucleation. That wooden bowl. Ruth’s wrist. American Beauty, Gabe and mine’s favorite Dead album. Mary in the upside down. Star Trek: Discovery. Yale Program for the Study of Anti-Semitism. T2V: Terrorism and Targeted Violence. C-REX, center for research on extremism.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Facts

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Tarot: Two of Arrows, Injustice

“False conclusions and unjust decisions, based on disinformation and motivated by fear, greed, and prejudice, can cause innumerable problems. Either mistakenly or deliberately distributed to pervert the course of natural justice and the revelation of the facts by those who fear the truth and wish to manipulate the situation for personal control or gain, this propaganda will not survive honest, wise, and impartial scrutiny.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: Ana came cleaning, portable vacuum on her back, two twisted kleenex in each box, toilet paper folded to a point, careful dusting, a big smile, so many years now and we barely know each other since I’m gone when she comes, but, not yesterda;, not Kate’s way who got to know housecleaners as friends, me I prefer not to be home.

Funny how things come to you. Sometimes slowly. So slowly. Other times, sudden burst of insight. The stimulus can be Proust’s madeleine, or Leo Strauss’s desire to hunt down the esoteric message in classical texts of political philosophy.

In my ongoing pursuit to understand the true nature of forces opposing my own world view, a significant number of roads lead to Leo Strauss. You may not have heard of this twentieth century political philosopher. He influenced many far right intellectuals (no, that’s not an oxymoron) with his insistence that the roots of political philosophy be found in classic texts of Plato, Aristotle, Machiavelli, and others.

He and his students sought permanent things, or things in human nature that persist from age to age and effect us in the political sphere. “By “the Permanent Things” [T. S. Eliot] meant those elements in the human condition that give us our nature, without which we are as the beasts that perish.” The Imaginative Conservative.

When I read that Strauss insisted his students seek an esoteric or hidden layer of meaning in classical texts, my mind went immediately to the kabbalists. They look for occult meanings in the Torah.

Sure enough, the Straussian method could be applied to Torah study and undoubtedly has been. I offer this not strictly for how it ties conservative thought to the methods of the kabbalists, but mostly for its illumination of the inner world’s mysterious ability to sharpen our awareness in unexpected, intuitive ways.

Ancient Brothers, Dogs, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Seed Keepers

How Deep the Impressions

January 12, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Monday gratefuls: Snow on the Ground. Shadow and her Dog run. Alan’s surgery today. Joanne. Marilyn and Irv. Joe and Seoah. Renee Good. Her wife and children. Jacob Frey. Minnesota resists. Bureau of Criminal Investigation. Rethinking liberalism, socialism for our time.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Bills/Jaguars

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Tarot: Ace of Arrows, the breath of life

The card description emphasizes that the arrow is a “gift” from the universe. This gift provides the mental clarity, truth, and fortitude necessary to cut through deception and find a clear path forward. However, the Wildwood emphasizes that this clarity is not a passive attainment; it requires the “human element” of mastery, skill, and commitment.

One brief shining: Under the Moon of New Beginnings Shadow has returned home, my two primary Notebooklm notebooks have begun to fill up with research on Superior Wolf and political thought/action/news, resistance work continues (for my body and the body politic), and my confidence about my life and its fourth phase purpose has sharpened, gotten clarity, leading me toward a new role as shaman/metaPhysician.

Dog journal: Yesterday Shadow sat on her haunches, looking me in the eye, trying telepathy. Understand what I want, my human. I went over to the ottoman, sat on it. She came to me, put her paws on my knees, gave me a kiss. The leash clicked shut on her collar and we went outside for a walk. Well, that. Unexpected.

Ancient brothers on the Wild. We talked Tornadoes, Hurricanes, the autonomy of nature, Wild Neighbors, fear, and love. Ode wrote, “The wild is the source of my creativity.”

We all talked about the wilderness within, how emotions and thoughts, memories and sense data meet in our inner worlds. I’m taken with this idea. As inside, so outside. Or. As outside, so inside. The inner world where no other can enter. The source of dreams, visions, desire.

Even, said the undefeatable solipsist, the outer world rises from our inner world, mine so different from the one you project. So different. Heidegger’s dasein, or being-thereness.

This whole notion frightens me right now because we’re all living in the outer world projected by red tie guy’s “own morality.” A world where yesterday’s up is today’s down. I do not want to live in his dasein, yet I have, we have no choice.

In the struggle between my dasein and his, our dasein and his lies the future. The best outcome I can imagine lies in a new world made possible by the wreckage of his blundering Brontosaurus movements. Yes, I know this huge animal had a brain the size of a walnut, yet look how deep went the impressions of its feet.

There will be no new world if we abandon the field, leave him and his obsequious crew to their stumbling, capricious paths.

Memories, Music, Politics

We contain multitudes

January 11, 2026 Charles Leave a comment

Yule and the Moon of New Beginnings

Sunday gratefuls: Wild neighbors. Wilderness. The Wildland/Urban Interface. Going wild. That was wild. Wilding. Into the Woods. Fairy Tales. The Veldt. Hominins. Hominids. Australopithecus. Lucy. Neanderthals. Homo sapiens. Boundary Waters. Pukaskwa. Lake Superior. Isle Royale. Bob Weir.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Wild

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Wholeness. Shleimut.

Tarot: #1, The Shaman This was the result card for my Celtic Cross on New Year’s day. I feel an attunement with him. A sense of life purpose.

One brief shining: The Arapaho National Forest surrounds Shadow Mountain, just across Black Mountain to my southwest lies Staunton State Park, all sorts of Critters live in both of them, their daily comings and goings dictated largely, though not completely, by their wild nature.

Bob Weir died. Jerry Garcia a while ago. Levon. Robbie. Jimmy. Janis. Jim lies in a grave in a famous Paris Cemetery. Hit me today that as a generation ages so do the icons of youth. Bob made it to 78. We know that age, many of us I count as close friends.

As movie stars, novelists, members of the bands, poets, and athletes, spouses and friends begin to drop away, the world can seem paler, less than it was. Yet I find listening to Sugar Magnolia a magic carpet ride. Not back to the Sixties. No, they’re gone. To what then? To the person I am now,

The one whose heart still burns with a need for a just and loving world, whose voice can still sing the protest I feel in my chest when each piece of a world and a country I once knew gets taken apart, shelved or discarded. We don’t go backwards, life moves frontward in a way I don’t understand. Linear, when I want it to be, even believe to be, cyclical.

I wish the New Right understood this. Just because you resurrect gun boat diplomacy, imagine a world of homogeneity, enshrine Gordon Gecko as a prophet in your prosperity cult, and swagger astride the world like a drunken, ignorant colossus, doesn’t mean any of those things are good or true.

Many, perhaps most of us believe in our core that imperialism as policy died out decades ago. We also believe that our nation becomes richer in knowledge, cuisine, innovation when we embrace the other, not shun them. Greed is not good, as Gecko illustrates, it distorts values and priorities in inhuman and inhumane ways. We also know, as fellow passengers on spaceship earth that wild grabs for power: Venezuela, Greenland, the Nobel Peace Prize only delay the day when we learn what all kindergartners know. We need to share.

As I move closer to my last year in my 70’s, I feel confident that we will, in time, prevail. And when we do, we can put a little Hendrix on the headphones, some Janis, Stones, or The Band and remind ourselves of how we came to be the people we are now.