• Category Archives Dogs

  • Well…

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Decision Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: No red wave. Judy’s courage. Tal. A fine director. Astrov, a wonderful character. Memorization. Rebecca. Georgeta. Nittya. Hamish. Emily. How do I feel? Relieved. Chekhov. Kate’s courage. Always Kate. Jon, a memory. Ruth and Gabe. Cold weather coming. A property manager. Vince. (have him handle appliances, too?) Hawai’i. Such a fine place to be. CBE, home turf. Shadow Mountain, home. Kep, dogged. Dan, who brought me home grown marijuana and honey from his own hives yesterday. Past president of the congregation.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Democracy’s faint pulse

     

    First. My friend Judy died yesterday. If she followed the path she had explained to me, she took the medication with a trusted friend by her side reading the Psalms. Her shiva minyan is tomorrow night. I’ll be there. Kate, too, chose her own death. This kind of courage needs celebration. It says we can choose to leave life with honesty, with compassion for ourselves and for those we love. It will never be an easy choice which insures its integrity. Judy leaves behind a collection of recipes for the foods she often brought to our meetings. I’ll make at least one this next week in her memory. May her memory be for a blessing.

     

    Second. No red wave. Odd, isn’t it, it just occurred to me. Who’s the red menace now? Dr. Oz will have to go back to celebrity medicine. Sad Stacey Abrams lost. I’ve not done a deep look at the results but when a Fox news commentator and Washington Post columnist says: “…the Republican Party has some major soul-searching to do following the 2022 midterm elections,” (Marc Thiessen reported in The Hill.) I’m encouraged.

    Gulled by Republican propaganda and Democratic whining to expect the worst, I opened the news this morning to find a horse race. Yeah, horses. Still could tip to Repub control I know. Yet. The fact that there’s a struggle suggests the Extremes and the Trumplicans have not prevailed. Our democracy may not end up in the political intensive care ward. At least not yet.

     

    Third. Acting class last night. A lot of memorization ahead of me. A lot. I’m going to devote hours each day until Thanksgiving. I can and will do it. The experienced actors are already off-book for their monologues. I could have been but I vacationed instead. Back to the books now. Literally.

     

    Fourth. The decision. Yes, I said I’d make it after the trip. That’s now. I’m leaving a small crack in the door but here are a few new reasons for remaining in place. I put in the mini-splits and remodeled the kitchen. I moved furniture and rehung art. This is my place now. And I worked hard to get it here.

    Do what brings you joy, RJ said. Funny how I’d missed that part of the equation in my logical and careful delineation of this and that. It brings me joy to go to acting class. It brings me joy to cook in my kitchen. It brings me joy to live in the Rocky Mountains, in spite of or because of the challenges. It brings me joy to see Hawai’i as the place I choose to live next. It brings me joy to exercise in my own small gym. It brings me joy to host Thanksgiving for my shrinking family here in Colorado. It brings me joy to light up Herme and think of the Hermitage. It even brings me joy to be so much a part of Judy’s life that her shiva minyan is important to me. So. Oh? See where I’m going with this?

    To that end I’ve contacted Vince. He’s coming by today. I may even have him take charge of all the stuff, including my appliances. If I have a need, he would contact the appropriate person and oversee their work. Maybe. Not sure about that. He will handle all the outside work. He’s excited about that and the handyman type work on the inside, too. This property is too much for me to handle. Alone. Might pay him a retainer against which he would bill his services. Then, I can let go of that stuff.

    When someone asked what did I want in a new place, I’d often say oh five years or so peace and calm. No drama. Knowing that wasn’t possible but really wanting some stability without headaches associated with home ownership. Yesterday I thought. Wait a minute. I’m upsetting a chance for peace and calm right here by going through this extended home selling, relocating process. Which will then entail a whole new period of upset and chaos. By definition. I can achieve what I really want most easily by continuing the work I’ve already begun here.

    By peace and calm I don’t mean stasis. The opposite in fact. I want to get back to writing every day. I want my daily life to flow, as I know it can. I want to see how my life unfolds, not keep putting new barriers in front of that unfolding.

    What’s the crack in the door? Health. I’ve got a pulmonology referral. When I meet with them, I’m going to investigate any lung related reasons I should move now. Or, sometime soon. If they exist, and I don’t think they do, I’ll recalibrate.

    Still gonna prune and paint.

     

     

     


    Acting Colorado Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Hawai'i Health Hermitage Holidays Jefferson County Judaism Mountains Our Land and Home Politics Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant. Shadow Mountain The Move The West Weather +Climate

  • Closing in

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the Simchat Torah Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Darkness at 7 am. Sleep. Up before Kep. Acting. Dr. Artov. Monologue. Ground pork. Potatoes. Cheese. Eggs. Breakfast. Rabbi Jamie. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Honing in on a decision. Ruth and Gabe. Those Foxes. Ode. Tom. Bill. Paul. My Ancient Brothers. Hawai’i. Emily. Michelle. Robin. Diane.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: See’s Candy

     

    Forgot to write yesterday. Got up at 10 till 8, fed Kep, talked to Diane, worked out, went to mussar, then talked to Rabbi Jamie. Home. Cooked. Spaced out till bed time. Not often, but yesterday I just plain forgot. Back at it right now as you can tell.

     

    Wednesday was a very productive day. Robin came with Michelle. Michelle was the muscle, a younger woman with work gloves and a plaid shirt. A kind, caring person. We marked the things in the garage that I want to keep or that can be sold. Everything else will get picked up by Reid and Gone For Good while I’m Hawai’i. Also all the stuff Diane removed from the wood cabinets will be taken by Michelle and Robin for donation. I’ll come back to a spacious garage. Gotta get out that power washer for the floors.

    They’re also going to move all the banker’s boxes in from the garage so I can sort through them. With Diane’s help last week and the work on Wednesday we’ve made real progress. It feels great. That large sack I’ve been pulling behind me since I lived in Irvine Park has begun to decrease in size. Significantly. Where ever I decide to go, whenever I decide to do it, I’ll have a move that’s both cheaper and easier. A new home setup that will go faster.

     

    About that. In mussar we talk about a balance. A midpoint between say pride and meekness. Humility. A midpoint between anger and passivity, assertiveness. A midpoint between apathy and co-dependence, loving-kindness. A mid-point for this move it turns out is staying in Colorado. In particular the Golden area.

    Advantages: Cheaper. Quicker. Easier. New place, yet familiar. Gabe and Ruth seen through high school. Easy access to Evergreen and CBE. A college town. My oncologist and Kristie. Personal growth. A chance to see Colorado, which I still haven’t done. Utah. Taos. Santa Fe. Four Corners.

    Neither the all out adventure of a move to Hawai’i or a return to the forty years familiar Twin Cities metro. In some sense Colorado is like both. There’s still a lot of Colorado (most) that I haven’t seen. Like Hawai’i and California Colorado is a place people from all over the world travel to see. Like Minnesota I have good friends here.

    Definite top of my list right now. We’ll see after Hawai’i. I’ll make a decision then. A major factor in where and when I go, too, is Kep. A lot of places won’t take Akitas, Minnesota, Hawai’i, Colorado. With his recent blindness and deafness I may choose to stay in place until his death, an earlier plan I scuttled when I learned about the tax consequences of selling the house after April 12th. Money is far from everything.

     

    Have delayed thinking about the trip to Hawai’i with all the stuff going on. Gotta check my meds, pack, get ready. Every thing is set up. Dog/house sitter. Parking spot. Airline tickets. Should be straight forward. Still needs to get done.

     

     


    Colorado Dogs Hawai'i Minnesota Shadow Mountain The Move Writing

  • Morristown

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the Sukkot Moon

    Monday gratefuls: Diane home safe. Kep nudging me at 4 am. Frost. Ideas spinning. Downstairs to write. For Kep. Agency. Feeling strong in the move. Robin coming Wednesday. Fatigue. Long Covid? Mary. Kobe. On the waterfront, Osaka Bay. Mark, working for Amazon in Oklahoma City. Kristie. Urology Associates. Laughing with the Ancient Brothers. Creativity, creating. Acting. Growing here in Colorado. Me. Ruth.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: See’s Candy

     

    Mostly deaf, mostly blind, still a sweet boy. Kep. Kep has adjusted to his disabilities, continuing his life as dogs do. My teacher. He sleeps more, sometimes going to bed as early as 5 pm. Eating well. Enjoying his day in a more subdued manner. Life at the short end.

     

    Diane is my first cousin, the daughter of my mother’s brother, Riley Keaton. She grew up in Morristown, Indiana as did my mother and her four siblings: Riley, Roberta, Barbara, and Marjorie. After Mom and Dad moved  to Indiana from Oklahoma when I was about a year and a half old, the Keaton extended family was always nearby. Marjorie in Muncie. Roberta in Arlington. Riley on the family farm in Morristown. Barbara sometimes in the state hospital sometimes not.

    Grandpa and Grandma Keaton, Charlie (my namesake) and Mabel, lived in town in Morristown. Since the Keaton family grew up in Morristown, Morristown has always held a special place for all of us.

    Morristown had about six hundred to seven hundred souls during my childhood and adolescence. An American small town to Alexandria’s small city status at 5,000 according to Indiana municipal designations.

    It also had and has a famous restaurant, the Kopper Kettle, where my Aunt Mame made fried chicken for tourists who would drive to quaint Morristown for dinner, often from Indianapolis. Locals however ate at the Bluebird with an excellent Sunday buffet, sugar cream pie, and a spot for old guys to drink coffee and solve world political issues.

    The Kopper Kettle is on Highway 52 which runs straight into Indianapolis. If you go a bit past it and find Morristown Road, you’ll go past the big house that Charlie and Mable lived in before his death. Further on Morristown Road quickly takes you into the country side where corn and soybeans dominate the landscape.

    Hanover cemetery appears at the point where Morristown Road veers off toward the County Seat, Shelbyville, and a gravel road veers off in a wide V toward the family farm where my cousin Richard and his wife still live.

    Many of my Keaton relatives found their final rest in Hanover cemetery, which Uncle Riley cared for and now Richard after him.

    I spent many days and nights in Morristown while growing up, staying with Grandpa and Grandma, weeks at the farm. I loved the the small shed where the metal milk pails sat in a concrete water pool, cooled by an artesian spring until the milk man came to collect them.

    I remember one time the Holsteins had come up from a field and begun heading out toward the road. I was there and Uncle Riley yelled at me, “Stop them!” I got scared at the big animals plodding toward me and got out of the way. Apparently all I would have needed to do was raise my arms and shout something at them. Uncle Riley was not happy with me.

    Not long after we moved to Alexandria he had inscribed on wet cement Charlie polio, 1949. I think it was in a foundation for a corn crib. He was a sentimental guy who cried easily as I do still.

    Not sure I’m getting this right. I want you to know the sweet memories, the lavender scented times, almost Victorian era life I experienced in this small town. One I prefer to my own hometown of Alexandria.

    This will probably do it better than I’m able to this morning.

    When the Frost is on the Punkin

    When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,

    And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,

    And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,

    And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;

    O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,

    With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,

    As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,

    When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

    They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere

    When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—

    Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,

    And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;

    But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze

    Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days

    Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—

    When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

    The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,

    And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;

    The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still

    A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;

    The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;

    The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—

    O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,

    When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

    Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps

    Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;

    And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through

    With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! …

    I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be

    As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—

    I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—

    When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

     

     

     

     


    Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Memories

  • Where am I going?

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the Sukkot Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Diane. Coming to help me prune. Jogging. Sleep. Acting. Chekhov. The Seagulls. Cool. Shirley Septic and Waste. Kep. Poor guy. Bumping into stuff. Ukraine. Putin. Missiles. Will. Minnesota. Hawai’i. ? Lab draws this morning. Flu shot.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hawai’i

     

    Picked Diane up at the Federal Center Station of the RTD yesterday afternoon. Drove back to the Natural Grocers where we picked up supplies. Apples. Aloe Vera juice. Organic fish sticks. Mixed vegetables. Raspberries. Blueberries. Bananas. Tomatoes. Lettuce. Headed back home.

    At the Natural Grocers we got into a conversation with the cashier. Where’re you from? San Francisco. Here. Oh, I’m from Hawai’i. Oh, I’m moving to Hawai’i. What Island? Oahu. Oh, I’m from Oahu. The North Shore, where all the surfing is. Yes, I’m going to that side, too. Oh, Kailua, Kane’ Ohe’? Yes.

    Diane picked up on my answer and asked about it, given my recent blogs. Oh, just trying to bond with the cashier, I said.

    More I thought about it though I realized Hawai’i is still top of mind when I think about moving. And, I’ve been telling people I’m moving to Hawai’i for quite awhile now. An interesting, unbidden piece of information about the move.

    Not sure what it means. If anything. But there you are.

     

    Mussar tonight. My turn to lead. Anavah. Humility. A key idea in mussar is taking up the right amount of space. That’s the idea of humility. Neither self-deprecating nor self-aggrandizing, being who you are.

    Here’s a Rabbi’s take on anavah.*

     

    How do you experience anavah in your own life? Do you ever take up too much space? Too little? If so, why? How can you create a you that takes up the space you deserve?

    One of my favorite stories from the Torah. Jacob and the Angel at the Jabbok Ford.** I see it as an example of anavah. Jacob wrestled with God/the Angel/a man to determine the right amount of space between him and the sacred.

    One interpretation is this. Jacob was on a journey, fleeing his brother Esau. He had divided his livestock and servants in two, reasoning that he might escape with half his wealth if his servants encountered Esau. God had come to him in a dream and told him to go to the land of his fathers and God would be with him.

    As they crossed the ford of the Jabbok River, Jacob stayed behind. While he was alone, a man came and wrestled with him. Jacob was alone as a result of his struggles with his father-in-law Laban and his brother, Esau.

    Jacob had experienced rejection by his father-in-law and his own brother. He had fled them. Who was he now? Was he a man who fought with his closest relatives, made them angry, divided his family? Or, was he a man of the sacred, following a path that was his pilgrimage?

    That night beside the river at a ford, places known for their magical qualities, Jacob had to decide who he was. He struggled within himself, trying to decide whether he was a bad brother and a bad son-in-law or was he a good man who had done what was necessary?

    In that struggle he learned that he was neither. Or both. When the inner jihad was over, he had a new self-awareness. he was now Israel, for he had experienced the sacred within himself and survived to gain a clear identity, an authentic Self.

     

    *Just as the Torah begins with Parashat B’reishit, Mussar practice begins with the middah of anavah. All other middot are accessed through this core character trait. The middah of anavah is essential for living with integrity. When we think of humility, we may imagine someone who is the picture of modesty and meekness. However, in Mussar, humility is not defined as being so humble that you disappear; rather, it is about having all of your character traits in balance so that the inner light of the soul shines pure and clear as originally intended. As Mussar teacher Alan Morinis puts it, “Being humble doesn’t mean being nobody: it just means being no more of a somebody than you ought to be.”
    …In our own lives, we hide our authentic selves from the truth of our lives. When we live out of balance, despite the fact that we may be falling apart on the inside or on the outside, we betray our lives. We take up either too much or too little space; either we take away space from others, or we abandon them when they need us. Our sacred connection to anything important—our families, our communities, our work—all suffer when we neglect to live life with anavah in balance. Celebrated with intention, Shabbat provides the time, space, and opportunity to reconnect to our core essence, reacquire a sense of proportion, and connect anew with the people and projects in our lives with both humility and presence. Anavah, approaching our lives with humility, means not taking up too much space in the Garden, not trying to fool others with some disguise of our true selves; but to honestly offer our truest selves to the people and work we encounter in our lives. Humility: Shabbat as a Return to Our Authentic Selves” by Rabbi Michelle Pearlman and Rabbi Sharon Mars in Mussar Torah Commentary, p.3, 6

     

    **22 The same night he arose and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.23 He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had.24 And Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day.25 When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and Jacob’s thigh was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.26 Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.”27 And he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.”28 Then he said, “Your name shall no more be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.”29 Then Jacob asked him, “Tell me, I pray, your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him.30 So Jacob called the name of the place Peni’el, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.”31 The sun rose upon him as he passed Penu’el, limping because of his thigh.32 Therefore to this day the Israelites do not eat the sinew of the hip which is upon the hollow of the thigh, because he touched the hollow of Jacob’s thigh on the sinew of the hip.

     


    Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase General Hawai'i Hermitage Mussar Shadow Mountain Torah

  • The Way of the Great Basin Bristlecone Pine

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall and the High Holidays Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Erev Sukkot. Jen. Ruth. Gabe. Trees of gold flame. Early Sun. Cool night. Open Window. The Move. Leaving Shadow Mountain. Kep, the non-seeing eye dog. Warm against me last night. Creativity. Poetry. Sumi-e. The Night Sky. Ruth Gendler. Sad. Tal. Wendy’s. Rarely. Ukraine. Putin. Nuclear weapons. Anarchy at the international level of world affairs

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Flexibility

     

    I do not know how the mid-terms will turn out. And, neither do you. That’s a good thing because it means there are some statistical scenarios where the far right gets pushed back and the sane Americans retain control of at least one house, possibly two? Dreaming, I know. But a fellow can hope.

    Methuselah Walk USA Ca

    What I would like to put this thought over against is this article in New York Times: In California, Where Trees Are King, One Hardy Pine Has Survived for 4,800 Years. You know this tree, no doubt. Methuselah. Named after the Biblical Patriarch who lived 969 years. 4,855 years this Tree has kept its streak of living going. It follows its chi better than any other living creature. Wu wei all the way. Adapting to changing seasons, climates, insects. Poor soil and limited moisture.

    Methuselah and its fellow Great Basin Bristlecone Pines grow only in California, Nevada, and Utah. There are Bristlecone Pines here in Colorado but they live less long, some only 2,000 years. Only. I wonder what they communicate to each other over the depths of their millennia?

    These Trees. They exemplify the tao. If you live your life within the limits all lives have, you will flourish. Against this the hubris of oil. The tragedy of MAGA. The disaster crashing down on our only Planet. Even the simple problems that occur among us humans like probate, or loss of a partner. We must choose a life way that wends around and through the challenges that living presents.

    One way to do that is to stay engaged with life, but to not take detours from your desired outcomes as bad or good, frustrating or stressful. Just detours or the path going a different way. The old military cliche, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy, sounds the same precaution.

    In my instance right now the Fed has pushed interest rates up and will likely go higher. Mortgage rates follow. This will impact the sale of my Shadow Mountain home. Probably negatively. The changes in Kep’s eyesight have created doubts in me about putting him through a long flight and adaptation to a very foreign environment.

    My move off Shadow Mountain needs to happen sometime in the mid term future. I’ve already said why many times. But when and to where? Uncertain right now. That’s ok. I have many options and will look for the one that offers the best for myself and for Kep. As well as I can understand it. I have no worry that we will land in a place that’s right for us for now. You could call this the Great Basin Bristlecone Pine way.

    Meanwhile I will continue to prune, to deaccession, getting ready for a move when the time and place present themselves.


    Aging Colorado Dogs Hermitage Shadow Mountain The Move

  • Going slow

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Durango Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: Tom. The Fort. The trip to Durango. Kep. Susan. Medicated shampoo for Kep. Japanese garbage and recycling rules. Thanks, Mary. Monsoon Rains. Green in the Mountains. The Mountain Streams flowing full, still. Our Aquifers replenished. Tal. The Master Class. Chekov. Kabbalah Experience, a class on creativity.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

     

    Visit to Dr. Gonzalez. The AM. She apologized for the slow pace of getting my thyroid back into the desired zone of 1-3. Now at 5. Last time 7. The higher the number the less well my thyroid is working. But, she said, we don’t want to make you too speedy so we have to go slow. She explained, too, that the anemia from my proctitis also effects my energy level. Not just about being old, eh?

    After seeing her, I went to Big R and Walmart searching for kiddie pools to bathe the Kep. No joy. Too late in the season. Ordered one from Amazon. The shampoo did not come yesterday anyhow. A task for the next few weeks.

    That wore me out. The problem with the thyroid and anemia. So back home I picked up, cleaned up, took a nap.

     

    Tom arrived around 3:30. He sat down in the red chair and drank a mineral Water while we talked. He noticed I have Breath, a book he read recently. Discursive, but good, he said.

    We went to the Fort last night for dinner. Thought it would still be under customered. Wrong. So the two hard of hearing guys sat across the table from each other saying, what? And leaning in. Very hard for me since our waiter, Adam, had a falsetto voice pitched in exactly the frequencies I lost some time ago. Tom couldn’t hear him well because the background made him take his hearing aids out. Geez. Not quite as much fun as I’d anticipated.

    We take off this morning for a six hour journey to Durango and the steam train to Silverton tomorrow at 9 am. Breakfast somewhere on the road. Maybe the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey.

     

    Took my first acting class last spring with Tal Arnold, Rabbi Jamie’s son. Wanted to follow with another one. I asked Tal which one he would recommend. To my surprise he suggested I take the Master Class which will focus on Chekov. A Master Class after my first class? Guess I’ll have to level up with whoever else is in it. Tal thought the depth of the material would interest me. Bless his heart.

    Also signed up, a bit oddly, with Kabbalah Experience for a Friday morning class with Rabbi Jamie on creativity and the Kabbalah. All Arnold instruction for fall and early winter.

    The Kabbalah piece is a focus on Binah, the third sefirot, the dominant feminine power in the Tree of Life, often called Understanding. Before it comes Keter, the crown and the link to the ayn sof, the great mystery beyond or behind all (Hashem, the unnameable, the ineffable), and Chochmah, the divine masculine.

    Ideas come from Keter but only enter the world through Chochmah, conceptual knowledge and/or wisdom. They are solely in the intellectual realm however until they pass over into Binah. Binah makes ideas into something. Thus, creativity.

    These classes should help keep me here in the Mountains even as I set things in motion to leave for the Ocean.

     

     


    Acting Dogs Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Hawai'i Health Hermitage Kabbalah Shadow Mountain Travel

  • A visit to the oncologist

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Aloha Moon

    art@willworthington

    Tuesday gratefuls: Kristie. Erleada. Orgovyx. Michelle, a real shot in the arm. Prolia. Prostate Cancer. Mortality. Colorado. Award Winning Pet Grooming. Kep. Today. Hiking. Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Furball House Cleaning. Hawai’i. Alan. Technology. Zoom. This desktop. My laptop. Going with me. Flying over the Pacific. Korean. Duolingo.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Burning Bear Trail

    Tarot: Queen of Vessels, Salmon

    Questions-Where are you leaving yourself open or unguarded? What is enchanting you? What do you need to devote yourself to?  Wildwood Tarot Book, p. 112

     

    A visit to the oncologist. Geez, even now, 8 years in, sorta scares me. Or, especially now, 8 years in. Still. Good news. Undetectable PSA again. Twice in a row. Six months. Also, shot of Prolia, an osteoporosis fighting drug. I suppose a place I leave myself unguarded (see above) is to the side effects of these drugs. However, cue irony, they guard me against death by cancer. Complicated.

    Another bit of good news. No axumin scan. Apparently it only works when PSA is above 1.0. So surveillance this time is CT and Bone Scan. Probably cheaper.

    Kristie asked how I’m doing. For the most part, I said, fine. The Erleada side effects have calmed down. I get flushed once in a while. An occasional heating up, but no hot flashes for a month or so. The synthroid for my lackadaisical thyroid seems to have helped my energy level. On most days I don’t think about prostate cancer.

    Discussed the proctitis. She’s going to talk with the new radiation doc to see if he recommends anything.

    Kristie is a kind and compassionate woman. And, she likes me. Which means I get extra empathy from her. I met her right after Kate died.

    The Prolia shot hurt. A bit. Michelle showed me how much liquid she pushed into my arm. A lot. It stays there for six months, gradually releasing into the blood stream until the next shot.

    After my visit with Kristie I stopped at No-No’s for a Catfish P0′ Boy and some beignets. I like to treat myself after self-care. Still have not been to Pappa Deaux’s.

     

    Jon, Ruth, and Gabe came up just as I was leaving for my appointment. Jon finished mowing the yard, doing some weed whacking too. They cleaned up the back, took back the lawn furniture that belonged to him, as well as many of the brick paving stones. He left the paving stones and the lawn furniture when he moved in with us after the divorce.

    Ruth got a job at a Rocket Fizz candy shop. Her first. She’s on a new dose of meds and back to her normal beautiful happy self. Right now: black hair, pink pointed nails, and a brand new small nose piercing. It felt so good to see her feeling better.

    Gabe moved a bunch of branches to the front, away from the house. Some work left to do, but not much on cleaning up the back. Still not sure what I want to do there. If anything.

     

    Good workout day yesterday. Today Kep gets groomed at Award Winning Pet Grooming and I plan to hike the Burning Bear Trail that I couldn’t find two months ago. Think I can locate the trailhead this time. Tuesdays and Thursdays are my hiking days.

    Getting excited about Hawai’i. Miss those three to pieces. Oh, and beaches, sub-tropical flora and fauna. Great food.

     


    Dogs Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Hawai'i Hermitage Jefferson County Mountains Our Land and Home Shadow Mountain Tarot

  • Androgyny. Needs and Desires.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

    Thursday grateful: Running lines with Alan. The Campfire. That pastrami sandwich. Feeling conflicted. Money. Trips. Axumin scan. Long term care insurance premium. Maybe a new (read expensive) hot water heater. Friends. Family. Travel. A need for rest, time away. How to reconcile. The synagogue. Luke. Rebecca. Jamie. Marilyn and Irv. Kep. So excited in the morning. Food, dad, food!

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: It’s a ladle (not a spoon, you dumb ignoramus!) a line from the Odd Couple

    Tarot: The Seer, #2 of the major arcana

    “With the innate ability to balance emotions and the power of will and source of knowledge, The Seer encourages us to change the ordinary material world. She uses all of The Wildwood’s natural resources skillfully. She nurtures positive changes in people’s minds, expressed through emotions and commitment to life. Her magic is one of the purest and most revered things on earth.”  tarotx.net

     

    Androgyny. Quite a ways back Kate paid me a compliment, one I’ve treasured. “You’re the most androgynous person I know, Charlie.” I value the balance of yin and yang, of the feminine and the masculine. In me. I love being a sensitive man who will knock down injustice. I love cooking, raising kids, keeping a nice house. The chainsaw and I were one. Back when I could still hold one. The axe, too. I loved gardening, the labor of it and the nurture of plants. Raising dogs and caring for them when they’re sick. I loved being in relationship with Kate.

    The Seer and I are old friends. Her feminine intuition, her link to Mother Earth. I feel them. Honor them. Honor her. She was the one who told me, “You need to be a Dad.” And, I listened. She was the one who told me, “You need to write.” And, I did. She was the one who told me, “Marry Kate. Right now.” I did. I listen to her as often as I can, as closely as possible. She was the one who told me, “Move to Colorado. Be close to Ruth and Gabe as they grow up.” And, we did. I have never regretted hearing her voice.

    Drawing this card today reminds me to collect the information I’ve gleaned over the last year and two months since Kate died. To listen to the Seer once again. Hear her advice on what happens next. What I need to do now. Listening.

     

    I’ve put myself in a box. One of my own making, one that expresses deep desires but may not conform, right now, to my reality. I really want to go to Durango with Tom. I really want to see the Redwoods with Diane. I really want to extend my reunion trip and visit Sarah and Jerry at Belews Creek. But. In August I have my Axumin scan. Over a thousand bucks. Then in September my long term care insurance comes due. Three and half times that. Plus I may need a new water heater. Maybe more than the two combined.

    Money. I have enough. Yes. But not more than enough. I so want to go places, see other people. But. I may have to settle for Hawai’i until I’ve seen my way through these big expenses. Adulting. Bah, Bah. Gonna have to count my pennies again. Stay tuned.


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  • Backwards through the day

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Sarah. Jon. Gabe. Ruth. Jamie. Luke. Cheri. Laura. Alan. Steve. Sally. Kep. The Beatles. All You Need Is Love. Imagine. Hey, Jude. Shabbat. Evening in the Mountains. The Yellow Peril, Lodgepole Pine Pollen. The Mule Deer and the Dandelions. Acting. Oscar and Felix. Knocking them dead.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Laughter

     

     

    Friday. Let me go backwards. When I left before oneg a social moment after the evening service and the saying of kiddush a blessing over wine to welcome the sabbath, I told Sally, “I go to bed at 9:00. You know, these services starting at 7:30…” Sally, of my age or so, nodded yes, she understood.

    When I got home, there was no Kep at the door. He usually greets me when I come home. I called to him. No Kep. It was a bit past 9. Downstairs I looked through the bedroom door and Kep looked up at me from the bed, tail thumping. It’s bedtime, Dad. Made my heart melt.

     

    Kate’s memorial Iris Bed in bloom

    Jon, Ruth, Gabe, and Sarah came up for the Beatles Shabbat. It was a sweet moment. Sarah the classical violinist loved the CBE band and the vocalists. “I feel Kate here,” she said. I don’t get those sensations, at least not very often, but I knew what she meant.

    Kate inhabited CBE. She wasn’t just a member. She lived, in her last seven years, the full Jewish life that she had dreamed about since converting at 31. If her presence would be anywhere, it would be at CBE or home. Her presence was there in the flesh of Jon, Ruth, Gabe, and her sister Sarah. And my love for her.

     

    Continuing toward morning, I took a short nap. Picked up food to make three special June salads at Safeway. A melon salad. A shrimp salad. And, a quinoa salad for vegetarian Ruth. Took all that home and put it away.

     

    I drove to Safeway directly from treading the boards again for the first time in 50 + years. For the Senior Wellness gathering at the Church of the Transfiguration. Alan and I as Oscar and Felix from the Odd Couple. A lot of laughs. We had good chemistry and the audience could feel it. Forgot the rush when an audience responds to something you’ve done. In person. Right then, in the moment. Oh, my, ichi-go, ichi-e.

    There were four other scenes and they were all well received. One solo performance by a woman dressed as a fiery Greek with a sword. Rebecca. She looked like an actress with some experience. She was from the class for more experienced actors working on solos.

     

    Back home that morning, we performed at 1:00, I did another hour and a half with the script. Learning that I need to work harder than I have been at this. Memorization feels harder than I remembered. Maybe it is. Maybe I don’t recall the past accurately. Whichever I now see that I have to put in more time to do well. To flourish at acting. And, I want to.

     

    The usual early morning. Ancientrails and a workout, hitting my goal for the week in terms of minutes.

    Friday. A new day, a resurrected self, ready for what presents itself.

     

     


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  • Flourishing. Again.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Beltane and the Living in the Mountains Moon

    art@willworthington

    Friday gratefuls: Alan. The holy trail. Kate, always Kate. This grand wakin’ up mornin’. Each morning a resurrection and a new promise. Ichi-go, ichi-e. Increasingly my life mantra. Mussar. Moses. Leo. Luke. Better rested. Dressing up for the first time in years. Acting for an audience today. Oh, my. Still lotsa things to learn.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Being able to learn

    Tarot: Ten of Vessels, Happiness

    “..the water from the lake plashes down joyously, crashing against the rocks, filling and spilling over Ten of vessels that sit in the cascading waters. The air vibrates with negatively charged ions – We are energized. This is happiness, joyous and alive: ever-changing and yet always to be found.

    We acknowledge our relationships. We honor the universal flow of energy between all forms of life. We celebrate the child’s hand on our own. We expose the vulnerable soft throat of ourselves as we allow ourselves to love. We accept the ecstasy and grief.”  may it be so, tarotx.net

     

    Let me say a word for happiness. And then a word against it. I am a happy guy, joyous even. Although in a subdued way that some might miss. When I experience the momentary delight of a breakfast with a friend, an intellectual exchange, a meeting with friends of over 30 years, Kep’s warm presence, I’m happy. And these happen a lot so I experience happiness a lot. But. It’s a by-product rather than a goal.

    As I’ve often written here, I’m a eudoimaniac.* “the condition of human flourishing or of living well.” see link below. Aristotle focused on reason and political action as the characteristic human activities and therefore the source of eudoimania. OK. That’s one take. I mean, I know, Aristotle, but still…

    I’d throw in love and compassion. Also. honesty and vulnerability. Living well, or flourishing, which I like a lot as a description of my own aims, does include the application of reason to life. No need to look further than the January 6th hearings to understand the value and virtue of applying reason. And, political life is the life of the common good. Care for the neighbor and the stranger. Oft cited as a high religious good.

    Yes, and. As I learned in my political years, it’s easy to divide the world into them and us. To go after them with all the tools in the political tool box. Yet, love suggests living with the fuzziness of a word more complicated than binary. So flourishing comes when we put away the sword, use other means. Perhaps love?

    My flourishing does include working for yours. Working for the flourishing of others seems like a worthy human goal. A worthy life goal. As I said in the gratefuls above, ichi-go, ichi-e has become a life mantra. That is, I flourish in this unique, never to be repeated, and precious moment. Right now you, my neighbor and friend, or you, a stranger to me, are not present, but I’m reaching out to you anyhow. Making myself visible and vulnerable. As I wish to do in each moment.

    Flourishing for me also includes time spent reading, listening, thinking. Cooking for myself. Living the Herme life. Living in the Mountains. Hiking. Listening to the Trees. The Mule Deer Does who visited yesterday evening. The Rain and the Snow and the Heat and the Drought. Exercising. Sleeping well.

    Here’s where Aristotle and I differ, at least as much as I know about his work. He applies the unique or characteristic function to every instance of a living or human-made thing. To the class of these things. So. Tables flourish when they’re solid and balanced, able to function well. Mule Deers when they eat, reproduce, and provide prey for Mountain Lions. That’s an aspect of it, yes.

    And. Each Mule Deer, each Table is also unique not just a member of a class of beings, but an individual sui generis. Gertie was a much different Dog from Vega. Vega again different from her sister, Rigel. Rigel quite different from her boyfriend, Kepler. Yet, all dogs.

    Rigel’s flourishing included escaping from the yard and taking Vega with her. Instigating digging holes which Vega helped with. Rigel was a predator. Vega was not. Unless Rigel took her on a hunt. Vega’s flourishing was a big and dynamic personality, chewing on shoes, and claiming chairs.

    Just so with humans. My friend Tom’s unique characteristics include a certain Vishnu-quality, holding the world within his purview steady so that others can find their way. Friend Alan a joi de vivre that infects other. Friend Paul a seriousness and compassion that reaches across species and causes. Friend Ode a willingness to challenge his own preconceived notions, to see the world, really see it. Friend Bill to live in the moment with others regardless of their station in life, their beliefs.

    Flourishing requires being not only a member of a unique class of living things, but a unique member of that class. As all living things are. None is repeatable, each precious. And each has gifts the whole needs which can be give only when they live fully in their uniqueness.

     

    “According to Aristotle, every living or human-made thing, including its parts, has a unique or characteristic function or activity that distinguishes it from all other things. The highest good of a thing consists of the good performance of its characteristic function, and the virtue or excellence of a thing consists of whatever traits or qualities enable it to perform that function well” Brittanica


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