Asia, Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Korea, Memories, Mussar, Travel, World History

New Ideas

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Bagel table. Sue Bradshaw. My son with me. The Jangs in San Francisco. Breckenridge. The oxygen concentrator. Shadow, barking in the early morning. Protecting Artemis from Mule Deer? The darkness. Shadow still barking. Ah. Stopped. Tactical flashlight. Artemis heater. Tomatoes fruiting. Evergreen Lake. Hot weather.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Walking in the Dark

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov.

Active Recognition: Hakarat hatov is not passive. It requires conscious effort to identify and acknowledge the good, rather than taking it for granted. Beyond Gratitude: While related to gratitude, hakarat hatov extends to recognizing the good in situations and people, even when they haven’t directly benefited you. Jewish Perspective: In Judaism, hakarat hatov is considered a fundamental value, encouraging a positive outlook and a sense of appreciation for the world and its inhabitants. Gemini

Tarot: The Green Woman, #3*

One brief shining: Out into the back yard tactical flashlight in hand, where is she and what has she seen to cause such a commotion, a lot of barking, barking, barking; the cool Mountain morning wraps around me as I see light reflected in two eyes looking at me, Shadow wondering what is he doing out here.

 

Parting words: When I left the Happy Camper a couple of weeks ago, the Gen Z latter day hippy clerk smiled and said, “Be high out there.” Altitude attitude?

Yesterday when I left Jackie’s after getting my ears lifted, Rhonda, her colleague, gave me a mischievous smile and said, “Don’t behave yourself!”

 

The Jang’s last day in Colorado: My son and Seoah packed up, loaded the huge Dodge Van they’ve used for transporting each other on this Rocky Mountain holiday, and headed for a morning in Breckenridge, my son’s post college home for three years.

The part of their stay which focused on things I’ve done many times, I stayed at home. Partly to preserve my energy. My stamina is not up to days away from home. Mostly I just didn’t want to go.

The evening meals I enjoyed immensely. We connected on levels beyond the need for language. Smiles. Hugs. Being together as family. Some conversation and some of it deep: the nature of government or the origin of Homo sapiens. Some of it silly. They liked Macgiver, Battlestar Galactica, American TV. I like K-dramas. Soft culture.

We left each other on the asphalt of my driveway. Hugs all round except for Umma, who shook my hand. Her way.

An important visit. Memories that build relationships. Relationships that can last over time and distance. My question now is how to nurture, how to reinforce them.

A few ideas. I pay Ruth’s airfare to Korea next summer if she gets an internship there. Maybe I go with her. Gabe’s graduation money could send him to Korea, too.

Perhaps we’ll all meet in Hawai’i. Vacation together in a spot between the Mountains and the Peninsula.

Emails and zoom. Gifts. I’m open to other ideas. Mary? Mark?

 

Just a moment: A new form of family, united across oceans and languages and nations, perhaps that’s part of the answer to Trumpism. An end around. Loosen the bond with any one home country, spend the released energy on building connection continent to continent.

 

*”…the Green Woman mediates the sacred sovereignty of the Earth’s soul and can show the path to understanding and communion with nature. But with this blessing comes responsibility. Remember that this glorious, magnanimous and generous spirit can live through you, radiated by the sacred breath of life and given to others who need guidance and healing.” Parting the Mists

 

Asia, Denver, Family, Korea, The West, Travel, US History

The Buckhorn

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: The Buckhorn Exchange. Appa and the long guns. Umma eating beef tenderloin. Buffalo Bill Cody. Guru, the Malaysian Sikh, partner to Mary for 28 years. Their attendance at my son’s command ceremony and Mary’s at my son and Seoah’s wedding. Mary’s long stay in Hawai’i after being deported.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mark in Saudi Arabia

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The Woodward, #11

One brief shining: Ruby drove into the Buckhorn parking lot at 4:45, the first car there for the evening; as Great Sol boiled the asphalt at 102 degrees hipsters rode by on electric scooters and expensive bicycles with very thin tires, the RTD station filling up with early evening commuters while I waited to dine with Appa and Umma, my son and Seoah in Denver’s oldest restaurant.

The Jangs: The whole clan visited the Denver Museum of Natural History in the afternoon. They found its size amazing, Joseph said. Dongun and Dioon (his sister) (please note: I may have these spellings wrong) loved the mummies.

Leaving Shadow on her own in the back yard, Ruby and I left for Denver around 4 pm, filling her up at the Conoco station before hitting 285. Only with my new seat cushion would I willingly drive down the hill. It makes driving bearable, not pain free, but not excruciating.

As I drove down the hill, evening commuter traffic flowed in the opposite direction, west to Littleton and south up 285 to the Mountains. Nice to go against the traffic. Easier.

Picked up 20+ degrees as I left the Rockies and got back on the High Plains, another reason not to drive down the hill. I did though, as we Mountain folk do, have a light jacket with me, knowing the Buckhorn would be air conditioned and the Mountain evening air would be cool.

Appa’s vision of the American West comes from John Wayne movies. The Buckhorn Exchange, 130 years in the same building next year, hosted many famous men of the Wild West era like Buffalo Bill Cody and Wild Bill Hitchcock.

Founded by a German family, it has, I only tumbled to this yesterday, the feel of an old world Germanic hunting lodge. And, in fact, all the stuffed animals died under the guns of the founding family.

We also learned from our knowledgeable waitress that during Prohibition you could order Pumpernickel Bread. A whole loaf would be brought to the table and inside it would be a bottle of whiskey.

My son, Appa, and I had the special, Elk and Buffalo tenderloin, while Seoah and Umma had beef tenderloin. Appa cleaned his plate and ate some of Umma’s as well.

A fitting final evening meal in Colorado. Seoah’s sister’s family stayed behind, finishing off the gyros from Monday’s way too much for one night supper. They had been surprised by how much they had been spending. Even with a weaker dollar, the won to dollar conversion is not favorable so the actual cost of things snuck up on them. An easy mistake to make your first time out of your own country.

Asia, Colorado, Family, Fourth Phase, Korea, Tarot, Travel

The Fourth Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Ruth and Gabe. Georgetown Loop Railroad. Appa and Umma. Dongoon. Min Yun. Her husband. Their daughter. Seoah’s brother. My son and Seoah. A family knitting itself together. Slowly. Slowly. Beau Jo’s pizza. Swimming. Hawai’i. Shadow, too many people, too many changes.

front: Dongoon, his sister, Min Yun, Back: l-r Seoah’s brother, Seoah, my son, me, Min Yun’s husband, Appa, Umma at my house

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Blended families

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Six of Stones, Exploitation*

One brief shining: A young Korean boy with round wire glasses talking about how humans got bigger brains, a book in Korean with an English title, Origin Stories, on the table between us after the pizza and gyros had been put away, his father stroking his hair.

 

The Jangs:

The gentle, circuitous creation of an Asian American family made up of many disparate persons, places, and experiences.

At first I didn’t understand the Tarot cards I’d been drawing this week.

Perhaps I would have seen this anyway, but possibly not. These cards and this week have opened my eyes to an unusual, slow motion event that has been building ever since Mark and Mary set off for parts unknown over thirty years ago.

Then, Raeone and I adopted my son, a Bengali. Who experienced 9/11 as a freshman in college and shifted his focus from pre-med to a future in the military, defending the country that had given him so much. (his words)

As a result of Mary’s living in Singapore and my desire to see Angkor Wat, resourced by an inheritance from my father, I made my second trip to Asia in 2004. My son, Kate, and I visited Beijing in 1999.

In his Air Force career he took a two year deployment to Korea (do you see an Asian pivot slowly turning our lives?). During his time there he met and married Seoah Jang. They will celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary next year.

I know. But I’m getting there. Kate and I went to my son and Seoah’s wedding in Gwangju. 2016. I officiated. That was the first time I met the Jangs, going to their home in the small village of Okgwa where Seoah grew up. Slowly. Kate and I went on to Singapore after the wedding.

Seoah got stuck here for four months during Covid, unable to return to Singapore where my son had been chosen to attend the Singapore War college. That cemented Kate and mine’s relationship with Seoah as their year in Singapore cemented their relationship with my sister, Mary.

After Kate died, I returned to Korea for five weeks in 2023. I got to know the Jangs again, revisited Okgwa during the fall festival.

Ruth met the Jangs this year in May when she went to Korea to attend my son’s transition to command. Now, only two months later, they’re all here in Conifer.

Slowly. They want to learn English so they can talk to me. I want to see them more because I enjoy their comfort, their warmth, their sense of family.

Seoah wants Ruth and Gabe to consider Dongoon and his sister as cousins. Apparently a primary goal of this trip for Min Yun was for Dongoon and I to talk. Not sure why. Not sure it matters.

The effect has been to lay down, to paraphrase Lincoln, more mystic cords of memory between the United States elements of this widely dispersed family and its Korean members.

We have the chance to become a true international, interracial family. One I want to devote time and resources to nurturing. Seems like a worthy final push before the Hawai’ian sunset.

The left Reverend Doctor Israel Herme Harari

 

 

 

 

 

Asia, Colorado, Family, Korea, Politics, Travel, US History

The Third Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Appa and Umma. Seoah. My son, their rock. Min yun. Dinosaur Ridge. Buffalo Bill Cody. His grave on Lookout Mountain. Shadow. Sleeping beside me. Ruth and Gabe, coming up today. Artemis, protector of Plants. Buchanan Rec Center. Sue Bradshaw. Post-polio syndrome. Steroids in right hip working.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Talking politics with Seoah’s father, brother, sister, and brother-in-law

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Three of Bows, Fulfillment. (If I don’t post the question, it is: What do the cards have to say to me today.)

One brief shining: Smart phones out, language apps called up, gyros and hummus and basmati rice from Ali Baba put away, we sat around the dinner table, Seoah translating for Appa, her brother and sister, her brother-in-law as we all vented against Trump, against oligarchs, for governments that serve the people and not the rich, a common fight, one we all recognized, my people, my family.

 

The Jangs: The Jangs and my son went to Dinosaur Ridge, where the first Stegosaur bones were found, and Buffalo Bill Cody’s grave.

Appa had a great time, riding on a faux horse, then getting a cowboy hat and chaps, continuing to ride. I saw videos. He’s a very in the moment guy, open and full-hearted. Whereas Umma holds her emotional cards close. She smiled last night, a rare and happy experience.

The whole family and my son then went to Ali Baba and picked up enough gyros to feed us all. I drove over to the air bnb and enjoyed a meal and an evening with the Jangs.

They’re a friendly, happy family. I enjoy being with them. Even with the language barrier. Seoah took on the difficult task of translator as we discussed the predations of Trump tarrific, the ills of societies structured for the wealthy and against the rest, the common bond we felt as persons who believe government’s role lies in leveling the playing field with affordable housing, decent health care, good education and food available to all citizens.

My sister and brother, both long time expatriots, have had, I’m sure, many similar meals with their Singaporean, Thai, Arab, Malaysian, Aussie friends. I’ve not had the experience often and mostly with Seoah’s family, but I cherish the moments when the realization arises, hey, we have similar feeling and dreams across cultures.

I used to believe that America existed to support such common feeling, support it enough to include dreamers from other nations who wanted to share their dreams with us as fellow citizens. Now I see that dream turning into a nightmare, one that would gather up the Jangs, put them in a concentration camp, then deport them to any random country that would take them, if they chose to stay past their tourist visas.

Sigh.

 

Just a moment: It’s Andy Warhol’s birthday. And yesterday was International Owl Awareness Day. More pertinent to me, August 11th is International Mountain Day. Perhaps Shadow and I will gather inside Artemis to celebrate Shadow Mountain.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, Shadow Mountain

The Second Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, looking at me across the pillow. At 4:30 am. My son, working. Seoah and her sister. Shopping. A warm morning. The Tomato fruits setting. Kale, Spinach, Beets growing. Having my son and Seoah under my own roof. Family. A strong, dispersed family. The view from Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sharing pizza with my son

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The Eel

One brief shining: A quiet, gentle feeling with my son and Seoah sleeping above me as I type; a joy that comes from deep within, neither from a happy place, or even a place of satisfaction, rather a connected and comfortable spot, one where no expectations other than love lies.

 

The Jangs: Jet lag saw yesterday a quiet day with my son staying here, drafting personnel reviews while Seoah went to be with her family at the Air BnB.

Apparently it was an emotional Sunday evening with tears and alcohol at the BnB. Not sure what  triggered all that except Appa’s jet lagged yearning for a life in the U.S. he was not able to live. He fought for and with U.S. soldiers in the Vietnam War so I imagine this is a long nurtured dream.

He never went past elementary school, yet learned and successfully applied the principles of organic farming as a grower of vegetables and rice. He’s also been village headman for Seoah’s home village, Okgwa, for many years. Education does not equal intelligence or reveal skills.

Appa’s long sober so it was not him drinking but Seoah’s brother-in-law, the six foot green grocer, and her sister, Min Yun. I imagine the unexpected confluence of jet lag, altitude, and American beer led to stronger effects than anticipated. Travel, eh?

Seoah’s sister recovered well enough to convince her husband to drive her, Seoah, and their kids into Cherry Creek for some fancy, label focused shopping. My son was happy he didn’t have to go. Me, too.

I spent a quiet Monday here with Shadow as my son worked. In the evening I went out to Ripple, a new pizza and soft ice cream joint, picked up a large pepperoni and green olives which we ate together.

Sharing a meal, just him and me, called up the Irvine Park years when we lived in my condo. Irvine Park had a lovely square with a Victorian fountain, a bandshell, and great oaks, one of which played backstop for many evenings of catch.

Yesterday, talking about Hawai’i, Seoah said, quite casually, “Yes, we’ll all live there.” Indicating my son and me. If my son does decide to retire at the end of his twenty years, one year after he finishes in Korea in 2027, that’s been the plan.

A good goal for me. A Hawai’ian sunset.

 

Just a moment: I knew this was coming. Trump Administration Will Reinstall Confederate Statue in Washington. NYT, 8/5/2025. Gotta pander to that base with the Epstein files nipping at your MAGAmatic heels.

Asia, Colorado, Family, Feelings, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The West, Travel

Culture

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: Appa and Umma. Oon and his very tall father. Seoah’s sister, Min yun his wife. Their daughter. Seoah’s brother. My son. Seoah. Air BnB. Aspen Perks. Korea in Colorado. Nathan. John Wayne. Westerns. The American West and its cinematic distortions. Rivers. Elevation. Farming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son

Year kavannah: Wu Wei

Week kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The Pole Star, #19

One brief shining: In the midst of the Jangs at Aspen Perks I tried to follow Appa’s eager questions, his weathered Korean face alight with curiosity about John Wayne, rivers like the Colorado and the Mississippi, mechanized farm equipment harvesting, yet the languages we spoke landed in each other’s ears with little meaning save tone and willingness.

 

The Jangs: My son and Seoah came to Shadow Mountain around 8:30 am after having spent the night in the Air BnB with rest of Seoah’s family.

Seoah sniffed the air, said, “I remember this smell.” A smile on her face. She’s spent a lot of time here over the years, especially during Covid when she couldn’t get back into Singapore for three months.

We all hugged. This time with surprising force, missing each other in ways only the body knows how to say. Tactile spirituality, love. My son’s muscled back and arms, Seoah’s eagerness. Her affection. No zoom equivalent possible. Only sorry I couldn’t run my hand through Murdoch’s ruff.

Later, after my son got some work done and Seoah had done laundry, we drove over to the Air BnB. A nice space with four bedrooms, an updated kitchen, and a Mountain view to the south.

When I walked in, various pairs of shoes lay next to each other against the wall and Seoah’s sister came over, bent down, and helped me slip on the slippers they had brought for me. Culture reigns.

They had locked all the windows because of Bears and a television/movie driven sense of the American propensity for violence. Away from home in a strange, yet strangely familiar place.

The language barrier rose right away when I tried to explain the Continental Divide to Seoah’s brother, a mechanical engineer for Samsung. I did not succeed. Appa (father in Korean) motioned me into a chair and sat next to me on the couch. We rested while everyone got ready.

Appa and I met for the first time in 2016 when Kate and I went to Okgwa for my son and Seoah’s pre-wedding feast prepared by his and Umma’s neighbors. Served at a low to the ground table I’m not sure I could have gotten up from today.

They wanted to thank me for my contribution to the trip so Appa paid for the meal. Ten of us. Expensive with the conversion from wons to dollars.

After the meal, the party moved over to Shadow Mountain so every one could see my house, meet Shadow. Nathan was here, working on the greenhouse and my son recruited him to take a family picture in front of the house, similar to one we took during our 2016 visit.

Not sure whether it was  lack of sleep or my introverted battery drained dry by trying to communicate, but after everyone left to go to H-mart, I sat back exhausted. Really exhausted.

Memories, Politics, US History

I am become death

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: The Jangs. Landed. Asleep in Conifer. My son, too. Cool Mountain Mornings. Shadow, defender of the yard. Kate, always Kate. That long thin line between the first single-celled organism and each of us alive today. That long thin unbroken line. Shadow’s upside down Dog move.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Jangs. My son.

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Ace of Arrows, the Breath of Life

One brief shining: Odd to consider a whole family of South Koreans asleep only a few miles from Shadow Mountain, bunked in for now after a late arrival yesterday, asleep I imagine since on Korean soil the time is 9 pm and each of them traveled over 6,000 miles yesterday.

 

Just a moment: Yes. Up here at the top. Why? Two Donald moments that should frighten the bejeezus out of all of us.

The worst of the two:

Didn’t realize how deep seated my fear of nuclear Armageddon had become. Until my President-commander in chief of the world’s most powerful military-announced he had repositioned nuclear-NUCLEAR-submarines in response to a playground taunt from a former Russian president.

An instinctive response. Oh, my god. Dr. Strangelove. 7 Days in May. Not fiction. This is how it begins, who knows how it will end.

Recalled too the many drives before moving to Colorado. Through the barren reaches of South Dakota and Wyoming. The square plots with chain link fences and razor wire dotted every once in a while in the flat landscape. Inside them missile silos. Missiles with nuclear weapons. Too real for me.

In just three days we acknowledge a day that lives in infamy, to paraphrase FDR. August 6, 1945. The atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Robert Oppenheimer quoted the Bhagavad Gita: “I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” And so it came to pass.

Those of us baby boomers could also be called the cold war generation. The generation of mutually assured death and destroyed worlds. Duck and cover drills? I don’t remember them but I apparently haven’t forgotten the ur-fear of my childhood, nuclear holocaust.

 

The more subtle, yet still horrifying second thing:

So let’s say a courtier brings a message to the king. Oh, king, the harvest in the villages. Some of it will rot in the field because your nobles refuse to pay for the work. Let’s also say that the king feared this message because it would him look like a bad king. Don’t kill the messenger came into common use only after many such messengers died.

And what did our naked emperor do to become famous? He said, “You’re fired!” He’s killed thousands of messengers since then in that third millennium way.

“These numbers, oh, king, are worse than we originally thought. The nobles failed to report them because it made them look bad.”

And the naked emperor did decree on that day that henceforth the nobles would report only good numbers because bad numbers, well, they made him look bad.

 

 

 

Asia, Dogs, Family, Friends, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Health, Korea, Paganism, Plants, Seed Keepers, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Renewing my lease

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: United flight 806. An hour out of San Francisco. United flight 1702 to Denver. Cool night. Rain. The Monsoons. Shadow out at 3 am. Now inside and hungry. Family. Friends. Alan and his Hawaiian shirt. The Bread Lounge. Artemis and her beds. Shadow Mountain high.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son and Seoah here tonight.

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot:  The Pole Star. #17*  What do the cards have to say to me today?

One brief shining: According to Flight Tracker United 806 has crossed the wide Pacific to within 46 minutes of San Francisco and the continental U.S., bearing within itself loved ones from far away Korea, all seated near each other some old, some young, all on an adventure of a lifetime for the Jang family of Okgwa.

 

Artemis: Had to rig a twine support for another fast growing Tomato Stalk. Will have to do more once Fruiting starts, heavy. I’m ready. I have Tomato metal and plastic supports, more twine.

Nathan comes today to finish work on Artemis. He’ll be tidying up electrical cords, adding cold frames, lapping the Cedar shakes. If he thinks it will work, he may also drill holes in the hail protection overlap from the greenhouse roof. My idea. Let some rain through while still blocking hail.

Together we’ll have to come up with some solution for irrigation on the east facing raised bed. All in the process of learning how to make Artemis function best. This is a shake-down season. Though. I’d say the greenhouse has already proved its mettle. Go Tomatoes!

 

Exercise: Once again up to 150 minutes of moderate exercise. Feels so good. Improves my mood and, as a new study shows, also fights cancer.

A combination of cardio on the treadmill, p.t. exercises aimed at my aching back and legs, plus upper body workouts designed with the help of Chatgpt.

Moving my treadmill, mats, weight bench, weights and kettle bells down to Kate’s old sewing room has helped. In fact, I got in 30 minutes of cardio yesterday in 10 minute increments. I set my timer for an hour. When it goes off, I get up and go to the treadmill, walk for 10 minutes. Easy peasy.

 

Tarot: The Pole Star, one of the major arcana marking the wanderer’s journey through the Wildwood. Offering guidance toward the end of the pilgrimage.

Could be, probably will be, the start of a new phase of my life. Shadow and I have made great strides. Artemis has already got my full gardener’s attention. I know what’s next for my back and leg pain. These all represent a strong move into a more co-creative life.

With my son, Seoah, and her family here for a week starting tonight I can see the outlines of a new relationship to the Jangs. Closer than before.

I also plan to talk to my son and Seoah about family matters, discuss what might happen if I go into a decline (not planning on it, but then do we ever?), remind them of the estate, the living wills, the medical power of attorney.

 

 

*Spiritual Guidance:
It signifies a connection to universal wisdom and the power of your intuition. The card encourages you to listen to your inner voice and trust the guidance it offers. 

  • Healing and Integration:
    This card represents a period of healing and integration, where you can…embrace wholeness. It’s a time to let your guard down and allow yourself to be nurtured by the holistic energy of the universe. 

  • New Beginnings:
    The Pole Star can also indicate the start of a new phase in your life, a time to step forward with renewed optimism and a sense of purpose.  Gemini

 

 

 

 

Great Wheel, Great Work, Greenhouse, Plants, Seed Keepers, Shadow Mountain

Hallelujah. And, amen.

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: At 8:30 pm tonight, MT, the visit of the Jangs leaves Incheon. 11:30 am tomorrow, KT. Alan. Bread Lounge. Shadow. Artemis. Morning Darkness. Lughnasa. Christmas in July, Melbourne. Mary settling in. Mark in Al Kharj. Family, far far away. Loved. The Sprouts, Seeds making good on their implicit promise.

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

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe.

Tarot: The Seer, #2 in the major arcana. What do the cards have to say?

One brief shining: Forgot the excitement of watching Plants emerge from Seeds, checking each day to see the progress they’re making, often a Seed Husk hangs on a bit, discarded after protecting the vitality of the green Emergent, like a body left behind after death.

 

Artemis: I suppose you could call it a hobby. Growing things. But, it doesn’t feel that way to me. Each day is a small Christmas with yellow Tomato Blossoms fattening out into green bulbous beginnings of Fruit. With Sprouts reaching further above the Soil, their new chartreuse already shading toward a darker hue. Their Leaves, at first only two, then a stalk, then more Leaves. Artemis pregnant with so many children.

I love these early days of Plant growth, coming out of hard shelled Seed with vigor, piercing the dark, reaching toward the nutrition of Great Sol, light eaters hungry for their first meal.

The miracle of photosynthesis. Eat Great Sol’s rays, produce carbohydrates, give off O2. Grow more. Grow more. Until a red Tomato lies in hand. Or, a Leaf of Chard, of Spinach, a blood red Beet.

If there’s a category above miracle, and there must be, it would include this oh so ordinary magic that most ignore. Celebration of life its very self. We can train our eye to see it. Our hands to pick it. Our nose to smell it. Our tongue to taste it.

The Midwest, the Central Valley. Vast lands devoted to farming. Yet most of the farming now done by mechanization, fertilization, irrigation. No celebration of the miracle until it produces the other green, profit. Measuring the worth of photosynthesis against its value to the bottom line may be the ur-evil afoot in the World. That metric drains Aquifers, strips away Top Soil, erodes whole Landscapes.

Maybe I am. Maybe. A broken record on this point. Only because my joy in growing things is so great, my closeness to the Plant Kingdom one of delight, not monetized as the tech bros like to say.

Yes. Growing things, eating from the bounty of Mother Earth’s vast collection of foodstuffs, can harmonize with the needs of Soils, of available Water, of sustainable harvesting. It can be the basis of human life, a human way of being that lives long and prospers. But it sure isn’t right now.

Those Beets pushing down roots that will develop into a tasty salad fixing, the Spinach ready to spread its wide Leaves, the peppery Arugula tentative in its early growth testify. They preach in the oldest language of all, the language of life sustained by life, of life sustained by the heat of Great Sol, the much recycled Water, the nutrients in the Soil. Hallelujah. And, amen.

 

Dogs, Health, Tarot

A Zoomer

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Summer and the Korea Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Maddie, palliative care nurse. Diane, who speaks to Giants. My son, Seoah, and the rest of the Jangs, nearing liftoff. Morning Darkness. Fulfillment. Shadow, zoomer. MIA podcast, The Object. The Jade Mountain. One Corner Ma. Song dynasty ceramics. That perfect 3,000 year old clay pot. The Pillsbury Bronzes. Asian art.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Asian art

Year kavannah: Wu Wei

Week kavannah: Yirah. Awe.

Tarot: Three of Arrows, fulfillment.

One brief shining: Once again into the exam room: height, 5.5; weight 135; O2 95%, BP 124/72, and what pain brings you to us today, oh you know back, leg, hip; thank you, Christopher will be in to see you shortly.

 

Health and Tarot: I posted this yesterday as a short summary for the Page of Arrows, the Hawk-“A quicksilver messenger of fate, the Hawk can help and support you to see through layers of doubt and uncertainty to the problem at the heart of the matter. Be swift and use your common sense to progress.”

After I met with Christopher at Colorado Pain, a referral from my pain doc, Kylie, at Mountain View Pain, I did see the heart of the matter. Both Kylie and I were letting the best get in the way of the good.

chatgpt representation of nerve ablation

Nerve ablation works. It produces relief for about a year and can be repeated. The SPRINT device does not yet have much real world experience. That was clear when Christopher, the Colorado Pain P.A, said he knew no one that had used it. Kylie hadn’t either.

He introduced another device, a dorsal nerve stimulator. Though I trusted him, his expensive silk shirt, abstract silk tie, and his tasseled loafers yelled at me. This guy is a pitchman.

Which Kylie is not. Far from it. She saw duty in Iraq as a P.A. and knows of Joe. We both saw the promise of the SPRINT device and wanted it for me. But. Insurance plus low experience has suggested to me that the nerve ablation makes the most sense. I can wait a year, maybe two, have pain relief and see if SPRINT develops traction. If it does, I’ll get one. If not, I’ll get another ablation.

 

Artemis: The west facing raised bed, first in line for the irrigation, has many sprouts of Chard, Spinach, and Beets. The east facing bed does not receive adequate Water pressure and has very few Sprouts. Learning about Artemis. Have to figure out a way to get more Water over there.

Many small yellow flowers, an acrid Tomato Plant smell, green stalks reaching for the ceiling, the greenhouse continues to create favorable growing traditions for the Tomato Plants.

 

Dog journal: Shadow runs. And runs. And runs. Her short legs propelling her around the yard, through the Trees, often with her chipmunk (a toy) in her mouth or as yesterday, a yellow tennis ball.

I want to get the leash on her, but I don’t want to set back the progress we’ve made over the last couple of weeks. I’m going to let Natalie do the heavy lifting on leash training.