And yet more Latin

Winter                                         Full Cold Moon

First session with the Latin tutor this noon.  Conjugations, translations, declensions all the stuff you remember from high school, or not.  He thought my background showed, so we decided to move to two chapters a week, rather than one.  That’s fine with me because the Wheelock book sets me up well to begin my own translations.

Picked up the Tundra tire, but will not put it on until tomorrow.  More work to do on the novel yet today.

Busy guy this week.  And the next.  And the one after that.

Tires, Novels, Latin

Winter                                       Waxing Cold Moon

A productive day.  Moved forward on the novel.  Removed the tire, took it in to Carlson, discovered it would require a new tire.   Over to the pharmacy to pick up meds.  Pharmacist recommended 40 mg pills instead of 20’s.  Cuts our co-pay in half for an expensive med.  Lipitor.  Good deal.  The kind of things that will help us once we’re both on medicare.

Finished up the translation section of the Latin chapter.  We’ll see, but it seemed straightforward to me.  Fun.

Work out and tonight at 7:00 pm the first Legcom conference call.    Rock and roll.

Oh, Boy! The truck jack is in!

Winter                                         Waxing Cold Moon

Hacking away at the keyboard.  I’m up to 32,500 words and still chugging along, having fun.

Good news!  The truck jack we ordered came into Carlson Toyota.  That means I get to go out in the garage, jack up the truck and remove its left front tire and take it over to Carlson for repair.  Then, reverse the action.  Big fun.  At the same time I can disassemble the garage door opener replaced last Friday.  That way the trash will pick it up.  Oh, and while I’m out there I may as well disassemble all those boxes.

Kate’s back from seeing Dr. Bewin.  He’s her physiatrist, the doc who treats pain, recommends physical therapy and acts as her overall signal caller when it comes to degenerative disc disease.  The bursitis, which he thinks also has some tendinitis and myofascitis as companions, is, according to him, difficult to treat.  Cortisone injections and increased anti-inflammatory may help.

Veni, Vidi but no Vici

Winter                              Waxing Cold Moon

Did something today I’ve not done in many years, decades, certainly not this millennium.  I conjugated verbs.  Latin verbs.

Laudare (to praise)

Laudo     Laudamus

Laudas   Laudatis

Laudat   Laudant

What do you know?  Next is translating some sentences.  Kate’s already started on that.  I’m saving it till tomorrow.  On Thursday we have our first phone call with the tutor.

This is, for me, an effort with two purposes.  First, I need some intellectual rigor in my life.  The docent class finished almost three years ago and my other recent immersions:  astronomy and Jungian thought have receded even further.  Rather than artificial brain exercise, I prefer to learn something useful.  Second, I want to read certain authors in their original Latin:  Ovid, first, but Tacitus and Horace, too, among others.  Julian the Apostate.  That goal lies further down this ancientrail, but the trail leads there.

Wrote more on the novel, too.

America the society is in fine shape! America the polity most certainly is not.

Winter                                   Waxing Cold Moon

OK.  The Cold Moon has finally risen on its namesake air temps.  8 this morning.  It’s a clear day after a small snowfall yesterday.

If I were to put my finger on one thing to account for the Viking’s loss Sunday, discounting the six turnovers, it would be the 12 men in the huddle call that put them out of field goal range with 28 seconds left.  That’s a coach thing.  In spite of a spectacular job of recruiting personnel, we have the best overall players at many positions–8 Vikes in the ProBowl–the on the field decision making by coaches still leaves something to be desired.  I don’t know what it is, but it seems apparent.

The Democrats need to grow some cojones and pass healthcare reform.  Whining because you’ve lost a super majority makes no sense.  They still have an 18 vote majority.  Use it or deserve to lose it.  We need leadership and decision making, not caviling and cajoling.

I read a very interesting analysis of our political system a few days back that jolted me.  Printed in the Atlantic it shows our system has big  problems, based largely on the shift of populations since the early days of the colonies:

How America Can Rise Again

“We are now 200-plus years past Jefferson’s wish for permanent revolution and nearly 30 past Olson’s warning, with that much more buildup of systemic plaque—and of structural distortions, too. When the U.S. Senate was created, the most populous state, Virginia, had 10 times as many people as the least populous, Delaware. Giving them the same two votes in the Senate was part of the intricate compromise over regional, economic, and slave-state/free-state interests that went into the Constitution. Now the most populous state, California, has 69 times as many people as the least populous, Wyoming, yet they have the same two votes in the Senate. A similarly inflexible business organization would still have a major Whale Oil Division; a military unit would be mainly fusiliers and cavalry. No one would propose such a system in a constitution written today, but without a revolution, it’s unchangeable. Similarly, since it takes 60 votes in the Senate to break a filibuster on controversial legislation, 41 votes is in effect a blocking minority. States that together hold about 12 percent of the U.S. population can provide that many Senate votes. This converts the Senate from the “saucer” George Washington called it, in which scalding ideas from the more temperamental House might “cool,” into a deep freeze and a dead weight.

The Senate’s then-famous “Gang of Six,” which controlled crucial aspects of last year’s proposed health-care legislation, came from states that together held about 3 percent of the total U.S. population; 97 percent of the public lives in states not included in that group. (Just to round this out, more than half of all Americans live in the 10 most populous states—which together account for 20 of the Senate’s 100 votes.) “The Senate is full of ‘rotten boroughs,'” said James Galbraith, of the University of Texas, referring to the underpopulated constituencies in Parliament before the British reforms of 1832. “We’d be better off with a House of Lords.”

The decades-long bipartisan conspiracy to gerrymander both state and federal electoral districts doesn’t help. More and more legislative seats are “safe” for one party or the other; fewer and fewer politicians have any reason to appeal to the center or to the other side. In a National Affairs article, “Who Killed California?,” Troy Senik pointed out that 153 state or federal positions in California were at stake in the 2004 election. Not a single one changed party. This was an early and extreme illustration of a national trend…

I started out this process uncertain; I ended up convinced. America the society is in fine shape! America the polity most certainly is not. Over the past half century, both parties have helped cause this predicament—Democrats by unintentionally giving governmental efforts a bad name in the 1960s and ’70s, Republicans by deliberately doing so from the Reagan era onward. At the moment, Republicans are objectively the more nihilistic, equating public anger with the sentiment that “their” America has been taken away and defining both political and substantive success as stopping the administration’s plans. As a partisan tactic, this could make sense; for the country, it’s one more sign of dysfunction, and of the near-impossibility of addressing problems that require truly public efforts to solve.”

Holy, Water. Bathman

Winter                                              Waxing Cold Moon

Namaste.  The restaurant.  Where we ate lunch and discussed Stealing the Mona Lisa, an impenetrable book most thought, a romp in psychoanalytical language cursed with the stodgy background of Freud rather than an expansive peyote fueled Jungian.  We entertained ourselves with a good two-hours of conversation on the nature of art, whether art exists when we don’t see it, whether any of us made art and bollocks.

It’s always a good experience to be with these folks, some idea gets knocked loose and rattles around, sometimes settling down as a learning.  Next month the Walker.

We’ve had snow, more of the nuisance variety than a real street and artery clogging invasion.  The temperature stays down though so we may continue to get snow for a while.  I hope so.

Here’s a headline you don’t see every day.  In today’s Washington Post.

117 Russians in hospital after

drinking holy water

Vikings Lose. And, It’s OK.

Winter                                   Waxing Cold Moon

And mighty Casey had struck out.  Vikes lose 31-28.

It was a good ride this year.

Brett Favre’s 40th year will go down in story and in record books, but I will remember him most for this last game.  It reminded me of Michael Jordan playing sick against Utah in Game 5 of the 1997 NBA championship.  Favre went out again and again after several terrible hits, at one time lying prone on a blue bench as the crowd screamed above him, the trainer taping his left ankle with a saran wrap like wrap then an ace-like bandage.  He went back out.  He led a touchdown drive which tied the game in the closing minutes.  He almost put us in position to kick the winning field goal but threw across the grain to a receiver on the left side of the field.  Interception with 13 seconds left.

In overtime the Saints moved the ball poorly, but got some good breaks and their second year kicker put a line drive through the goal posts and the Saints go to the Superbowl.

Yes, we had 6 turnovers, four fumbles and two interceptions.  In spite of them we battled to the end and I’m proud to say today that I’m a Viking fan.  They played hard, they played well.  I think they may have tried too hard in the end.

Even so, thanks guys, for an entertaining season.

I’m not a big sports fan, though the Vikings caught my attention wholeheartedly this year.  I can remember a few major stars:  Sandy Koufax, Maury Wills, Bob Cousy, Parnelli Jones, Jack Brabham, Magic Johnson, Kareem but the two stand outs for my money are Michael Jordan and Brett Favre.

When the whole Favre brouhaha got started, I said any wins we got with him would be tainted.  I was wrong.  He played as a Viking.  He played as a guy who loved the game.  He played at an exceptional level, too.  I’m glad I got to watch him this year, even if it turns out to be his last.

Hey, Ho Costco

Winter                              Waxing Cold Moon

My upper body and aerobic work out is in for the day.  I bought 8 40lb bags of dogfood, lifted them all them three times:  onto the cart, off the cart into the car, out of the car into storage.  Not mention pushing the fully loaded flat cart around the store, up to the checkout and out to the car.  Well, guess I did mention it.  Costco has some remarkable bargains if you have the space to store stuff.

Lot of folks in number 28 jerseys, Adrian Peterson.

This day is dreary, cloudy, cold misty and just above freezing.  Yuck.

Living in Alien Land

Winter                                        Waxing Cold Moon

The NFC championship game  is today.  You know where I’ll be.  Yup.  Right there in the chair, cheering on the Vikes.  After dispassionately reading all the match-up analysis and carefully considering all the key information, I still believe the Vikes win a close one.  Adrian Peterson dominates the running game.  We keep Drew Brees and his high flyers off the field.  Favre connects with Rice twice, Shiancoe once, Berrian once and Peterson goes in for one.  Jared Allen and Ray Edwards keep Brees out of his rhythm and don’t allow deep balls.  Vikes 35.  Saints 28.

I had a strange dream last night.  Somehow I got a job working in a financial company, investment company, something like that.  Our financial planner, RJ Devick, worked there.  I did some work that needed to be turned in by a specific time, but couldn’t find either a phone or the work.  Borrowed RJ’s phone, still couldn’t find the work.

All the while Izzy, the famous Hawai’ian singer, sang background music, “Living in an alien land.”  This was to the tune of his protest song, “Living in a sovereign Land.”

I went out for a while, came back to the office (music still playing) and I had red rock dust on a sweatshirt and I realized I had way under dressed for work.  I couldn’t go back in.  I went out to get the Celica and it had one of those tiny spares on it–though in this case it was very large and shredded.

I’m still working on this one.  Guess I recalled it after my Jung tribute.

Might have been related to some reading I did in a journal from 1991, written as I separated from the Presbytery and started writing.  Some of it made my teeth clench.  I planned and planned, struggled this way and that, but had trouble finding a new  way, even though what I wrote there made clear the ministry had never been the way.  A hard time even though I was breaking free, or, maybe, a hard time because I was breaking free.  There would be another ten years of on again off again angst as I wrote, got rejected, failed to market my work, felt like a failure, was a failure.

Then, somewhere in my 50’s I began to realize I had broken through into the life this Self came into the world to live.  It’s not a flashy or big life–as I wanted at times before–it’s a life devoted to family, beauty, the earth, creativity and knowledge.

And, at least for this evening–the Vikings.

Jung

Winter                                 Waxing Cold Moon

“The greatest and most important problems of life are all fundamentally insoluble. They can never be solved but only outgrown.” – Carl Jung

Jung has been central to my later life and this quote shows one reason.  He recognized the indescribable complexity of the lived experience and never tried to simplify it.  We live into problems, rather than roll over them or change them.  If we’re lucky, we make the problems part of our lives, otherwise they eat away at our lives.

Life from 17 to about 37 was difficult for me.  Sometimes in the extreme.  When Mom died, though I couldn’t see at the time, my world fell apart.  It didn’t have to, but I let it.  I internalized my grief, took up drinking and smoking and completely screwed the pooch when it came to making use of a pretty good academic career.  I ended up in the ministry, a place I should probably have never been and it took me 20 years  to extricate myself from that.  Along the way I got married twice, to women for whom I was a bad fit and who were a bad fit for me.  I drank myself into alcoholism, got cleaned up, but didn’t get better until I realized my second marriage was a bad one.

In that process I found John Desteian, a Jungian analyst.  He guided me on a journey of self-exploration and honest self-reexamination.  Much of what I learned about myself was painful, some of it exhilarating.  In the end, I left the ministry, started writing, found Kate and got myself headed off in a direction that fit who I was then and am now.

Jung’s metaphysics may be wrong, who knows?  The collective unconscious has no falsifiable reality.  The Self, as Jung understands it, stretches into neo-platonic realms.  Could be wrong.  His naming of complexes and archetypes likewise have no tangible referents. Doesn’t matter.

What does matter is this.  The blend of thought that Jung put forward encourages me to take mySelf seriously, yet to do so lightly.  It acknowledges the essentially messy and chaotic nature of both inner and outer life, yet makes clear that the only through it is eyes open, heart open, with forgiveness for yourself and others as humans struggling together.  That worked for me, works for me, and will see me through to the end of my life.

Thanks, Carl Jung.  I needed what you offered.