Health, Politics

Health and Protest

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Tom. Alan. Prostate Cancer. Shadow. Debbie. Dr. Vu. Needles. Lidocaine. Nathan, back at work, finishing up. So many Tomatoes, more than I imagined, less than I hoped. Artemis. Letting people help. The Night. Cool Mountain days. Bright blue Colorado Skies. Rocky Mountain High.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow’s Attention

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder

  • “What we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder”. Heschel

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Onto the gurney again, face down, four numbing jabs, four lidocaine jabs, meanwhile talking about great bands, concerts; Jake, the physician’s assistant saying he’d seen the Dead, second to last Jerry Garcia performance, asked me my favorite concert, “The Cream in the Chicago Stockyards. 1968.” Ah. Days of yesteryear.

 

Health: Lidocaine wears off in 8 hours or so. Usually. Mine has blessedly chosen to stay around a bit. This morning I’m as close to pain free as I’ve been in a couple of years. Feels amazing. If the nerve ablations pull off a similar feeling for a longer period of time. Hallelujah  will not be enough.

Learning to ask people for help. As Tara said to me, “Asking someone to help is a great gift. To them.” Seems so. Great conversations with Susan and Debbie on the way to Lonetree and back. Since I’ll need more help as time goes on, a valuable lesson.

My friend Ric Posner, who had a heart attack a month and a half ago, sent me a text that he’s going to DJ again this Saturday afternoon. His show, the Comfort Table, goes out over Clear Creek Radio. Glad to see he’s able to do it.

Other friends have sleep studies and treatment decisions to make. It’s that time of life. For some of us. Bill Schmidt on the other hand rocks on at 88. Odegard seems healthy at 80. Frank, well, still Frank at 93. Diane’s back to jogging up Bernal Hill, talking to the coyotes. 77.

I know it may be difficult, sometimes boring, or perhaps scary, to hear another’s medical story; but, as Tom pointed out yesterday, this stuff matters to us now the same as family and work mattered in the second phase of our lives. No, you don’t want a steady drum beat, I get it. Still…

 

Protest: Sent this email to the President of my alma mater, Ball State University.

Subject: Susan Sweirc

As a 1969 graduate from Ball State, it appalled me to read her story in the New York Times.
Have you decided on anticipatory obedience, a hallmark of autocratic regimes? You must have because her firing, both you and I know, violates her first amendment rights.
Universities, in spite of the temptation and fear, must not bend the knee.
Shame on you.

 

Today I’m messaging David Letterman, a fellow 1969 graduate from Ball State, to see if he would head up an alumni protest. I mean: Colbert, Kimmel.
We cannot. Let. This. Shit. Stand.

 

Health, Korea, Memories, Travel

The Ancientrail of Pain

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Dr. Do Vu. Injections of lidocaine. Relief on the left side. Pretty good. Susan. Who drove me. Her kindness. Today, the right side. The Night. Shadow. CBE and its Mitzvah Committee.  Lone Tree. Fairplay. Troublesome Gulch. Pine. Conifer. Evergreen. South Park. Kenosha Pass. Guanella Pass. The Shaggy Sheep. North Fork of the South Platte.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jews

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut.  Wonder.

  • “Wonder rather than doubt is the root of all knowledge”.  Abraham Joshua Heschel

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: When the first of the six needles went in, a numbing one, I said, “Fuck me!” as I lay face down, head supported by a leather pillow with a hole in it, much like a massage table, but this was no massage and I could tell that right away, not a fan of pain-who is-yet this was pain in service of pain reduction, an irony no one needed to point out.

 

Slowly, slowly: The Joseon Palace, Gyeongbokgung, Seoul. Two years ago last month. A tourist day in Seoul, driven by Daniel and Diane. Daniel interpreted for me at my son and Seoah’s wedding in 2016.

Earlier in the day we had visited the fish market with Diane’s dad, a professor of communications at a university in Busan. They asked me, at a particular stall, to point to a Fish. I did. Oh, my. The stall owner gaffed the big Snapper and we took pictures as it flopped around. I did not feel wonderful.

After seeing a few more of the stalls, we took an elevator to the top floor of the market, went into a restaurant, where we had sashimi and fish head soup. Yep. That Snapper I condemned.

We dropped Diane’s Dad off at the train station for the high speed train that runs from Seoul in the far north to Busan in the far south of South Korea and followed my interest in seeing historical sights. The first one we visited, Gyeongbokgung. 

A huge place. I loved it. Yet somewhere along the way my back no longer wanted to hold me up. I started sitting outside spots where my son and Seoah, Daniel and Diane, went inside. Finally, the pain got bad enough that I asked to leave, to return to Songtan.

That began a two year long journey. Massage and various machines in a Korean orthopedist’s office. Meds dispensed in small cellophane made units. Back home 29 total sessions of p.t. Celebrex until it bothered my kidneys. Acupuncture which only yielded a nice nap for ten sessions. Tramadol and acetaminophen, which help some, but not nearly enough.

Yesterday, the first of four appointments hopefully leading to substantial relief. Nerve ablation. Burning off the fatty sheath around the offending nerves. Plus a butrans patch which may knockdown any residual pain. May it be so.

I so want to return to Korea, maybe even visit Mary and Guru in Melbourne. Go on another cruise. You know, get outta the house a bit. Fingers crossed.

 

Dogs, Politics

You Fool

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Susan. My ride. Shadow. Looking at me with her is it time to feed me yet eyes. Nope. The Night. Great Sol shielded by Mother Earth. Cool days and cooler nights. Blue Skies with scattered Cumulus Clouds, Black Mountain in its gold and green autumnal garb. Even the Asters have begun to die back. The rut. Black Bear pre-hibernation hunger. Yosemite National Park turns 135.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Fall

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Today, later on, a physician’s assistant will put a blue sheet of paper over my lower spine, Dr. Vu will swab it with alcohol and delicately (I hope.) insert needles filled with lidocaine there as I lay face down on the procedure table, testing which nerves need to have their sheaths burned away. Tomorrow repeats on the other side.

 

Dog journal: Shadow of Shadow Mountain. A dog of legend already and still a puppy. We’ve had a life affirming, difficult few months, eight as of today, yet neither of us willing to say no, this won’t work. Two months or so ago the biggest barrier, her nighttime return to the house, gave way. That calmed down life for both of us.

Now, instead of barking at every Tree Branch rustled by the Wind, every noise from our Wild Neighbors, she goes round about in the way of dogs, then settles nose to tail, not two feet from my head. In the morning she lays her head on my pillow and waits for me to turn around and face her. Then, kisses. My heart melts. I scratch her belly, run my hand over her body in affection and inspection. Any ticks, other bugs, wounds?

When we finish that, I throw back the covers and put my legs over the side of the bed. She jumps up on my legs with her front paws and we cuddle, make the day start with signaling how much we mean to each other. Can’t beat that. Well, we could do it at six instead of 4:30, but, hey…

 

Just a moment: The mice have spoken to the mighty. Never in my lifetime has the gap between authority and competence been so limned as yesterday’s narcissistic and feeble king of the mountain played by “our” Secretary of “War” and the Commander in Thief.

800 of the highest ranking members of the military sat and listened to a National Guard major and a never served fatty address them on how to fight, how to be warriors, how to be lethal, how to take down American citizens in American cities. Donald McBurger King (DMK) even suggested we should use American cities to train our military. Nope. Never. Posse comitatus, you fool.

DMK gave almost the same speech he gave at the UN, a garbled, non-cohesive, often incoherent diatribe against enemies near and far, the splendor of his own majesty, sprinkled here and there with remarks that seemed to recognize this was not a campaign rally.

Aging, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Tarot

Keeping it real

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Synthroid. TSH. Thyroid gland. Shadow, coming in more often, more easily. Who knows? Good workouts. Cook unity. Chewy. Natural Balance. Rabbit Bites. Dog treats and toys. Lidocaine. Mitzvah committee. Luke. Susan. Steve. Dr. Vu. Mountain View Pain Center. Increasing darkness. Artemis.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Magic of the Ordinary

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut.  Wonder. “Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.” Socrates

Tarot: Gonna take a rest here. Has become too routine.

One brief shining:

 

A life in full: Still struggling, beating my soft moth wings against the window of my soul, trying to see if it’s enough, this time, these days. But from the outside looking in. How to sense, how to live from my nefesh rather than looking in, wondering if its purpose has become real. Velveteen Rabbit real.

Have I loved my nefesh enough, carried it in my five-year old arms from bedroom to living room, into the car, often onto the playground. Have I told it the stories of my five-year old heart which wondered about dogs and spiders and Mom and that new baby. Do I listen to it now, a grown and old man, for the wisdom of its unique path?

Only to live my tao. My way. That is it. To follow the watery course of my buddha nature as it flows downward from the peak altitude of my birth, through the canyons and valleys of my life, to the wide ocean of our collective unconscious, where it becomes one again with the tao.

You know, I have. My velveteen soul has expressed itself often, guided my neshama as the world of experience shaped me against the anvil of my true self. However I feel about myself in one joy filled or angst filled moment, however you may feel about me, peering in from the abyss between us, I have remained true (of course not always which is nonetheless also part of my tao) to that five-year old’s tender, wonder-filled embrace of an often puzzling and frightening world.

Which means, I feel, that this time filled with the dog, the greenhouse, books and movies, study and esoterica, friends and faraway family, ancientrails, medical this and medical that, is  on that path. Is not a deviation but a continuation in the idiom of today’s possibilities.

So. Why not let it be. Mother Mary, come to me. Whisper words of wisdom. Let it be.

 

Just a moment: I’ve let the activist go dormant while l dealt with cancer and sick, dying Kate, then mourning followed by Jon’s death and a close group hug with Ruth and Gabe.

The rhythm of a life lived in love and in awareness. The activist cannot return, not as he was. Again, a rhythm.

And yet. I see this: He got an entire country running on clean energy. Can he do it again?. My commitment to the Great Work, creating a sustainable presence for humans on Mother Earth cheers. Wants to duplicate, triplicate, over and over and over until we walk again with the sun, the wind, the tides, the heat of Mother’s inner core.

 

 

 

Friends, Health

Luke. My medical October

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Mabon and The Harvest Moon

Monday gratefuls: Orgovyx and Erleada. PET scans. Lidocaine. Nerve ablations. Neck Brace. Alchemy. Jewish shamanism. Magic of the Ordinary. Shadow, crossing the threshold. Artemis without Frost yet. Still no Garlic Bulbs. A bichromal fall. Green and gold. Black Mountain. Conifer Mountain. Resplendent.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Luke

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder.    “Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.”  Socrates.

Tarot: Eight of Wands, reversed. (Druid Craft)                       Creative pursuits: If you have lost motivation or your creative “spark” has fizzled out, the card suggests that your idea may have lacked practical grounding. Go back to the drawing board and develop a clearer plan.

One brief shining: Settled into a chair at Bella Colibri (Beautiful Hummingbird) in downtown Golden, Luke already there at a table next to a window overlooking Miner’s Alley, our fancy Italian meal for his 34th birthday, and received an amuse bouche of thin fried Onions with a salty finish. Ha, just like those fried onions from a can when I was a kid. Only really expensive and a tiny portion.

 

Luke: Ah. So good to see him excited about his work, settling into teaching chemistry at Colorado Community College. He’s got plans. Good plans. For the future. Hitting his stride.

As we ate, Mussels for him, sourdough bread, breaded veal for me, we talked. He’s exploring alchemy. Says some sources point to a very early first century woman, Maria the Jewess, as the first alchemist. A connection between alchemy and kabbalah is well known. He’s already thinking about a Kabbalah Experience class on alchemy.

He’s also learning to play an entire Beatles album, working on two of his own songs, and on alchemical symbology in his art. If he could find a partner, his life would blossom. Gifted guy. And a sweet friend.

Drove home from Golden after night had fallen. Reminded of why I don’t like to drive at night. Though. Seeing the waxing crescent of the Harvest Moon against broken clouds added an element of joy.

 

Health: While most of my fellow Jews celebrate the closing of the book of life for another year, I will get driven to Lone Tree twice, once on Wednesday and once on Thursday. Lidocaine injections in and near my lumbar spine. The lidocaine shuts down pain, showing the doctor which nerves to ablate at the next two appointments on the 15th and 16th. Fingers and toes crossed. After those, we add in the butrans patch which may sop up any left over pain. May it be so.

On the 8th I have another PET scan hunting for what might have caused my PSA to go from .2 to .3. Either new metastases or increased activity in previously existing ones. Big fun.

Finally, on October 6th, I go to the Evergreen DMV to turn in the paperwork for a handicap placard. Then, same day, into Denver to Evergreen Prosthetics to get fitted for a neck brace.

So. Nerve ablations. PET scan. Handicap placard. Neck brace. That’s enough for October.

 

Art and Culture, Colorado, Humanities, Literature, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Music, Myth and Story, Shadow Mountain

Art Years. Mountain Years.

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Luke at 34. Bella Colibri. Rabbi Jamie’s Rosh Hashanah sermons. Shadow, the morning kisser. Artemis’ Cucumbers. Pizza and Burger plants in my son’s garden. Seoah’s half marathon. Mary’s political neighborhood. Mark and West Texas. From afar in Hafar. Ruth and Gabe, students. The Never Ending Story. Fourth Wing. Iron Flame.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Harvest

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Malchut. Wonder.    “Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.”  Socrates.

Tarot: Five of Pentacles. (Druid Craft)

  • Focus on internal resources: For a querent, this version is a powerful reminder that sometimes the help we need is within us, but our focus on the problem prevents us from seeing the solution. It is a prompt to shift perspective, recognize internal resources, and understand that our perceived limitations may be an internal block rather than an external lack. 
Festival Theater, Stratford

One brief shining: Trumpets blaring we would file into our seats at the three-quarter round thrust stage of the Guthrie Theater when it stood attached to the wonderful Walker Art Center, find our seats, and wait as the Gospel of Colonus, or the Bacchae, or the Christmas Carol came to life, poor players strutting and fretting upon the stage until they were heard no more. Applause!

 

Minnesota: Though now a Coloradan, a Rocky Mountain guy, a Jew, a widower, I once was a Minnesotan and happily so. Especially when it came to the arts. Those trumpets I mentioned? Oddly, when my family vacationed in Stratford, Ontario I had encountered them years before. Why? Because Michael Langham, the director of the Guthrie when I first attended on a student discount, had been the director of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival during those long ago family vacations.

The Walker allowed all of us tucked into the rarely visited Upper Midwest of the Heartland access to the latest and the greatest of modern and contemporary art. What a gift. The MIA, an encyclopedic museum, covered art from ancient Chinese ceramics and bronzes through impressionists and abstract expressionists and had its own contemporary art exhibitions.

I spent twelve happy years guiding tour groups through the Asian galleries discussing the Jade Mountain(s), the Japanese Tea Ceremony, Song dynasty ceramics, and Korea’s amazing celadon glazed pottery. Yes I also led tours that included Goya and Rembrandt and Kandinsky, Chuck Close and Egon Schiele, but my heart remained always in the Asian collection.

It was a distinct privilege to immerse myself in the thousands of years of art in the MIA’s collection, to have my understandings of the modern world upended at the Walker, to have the Western world’s best playwright’s effort brought to life while I attended the Guthrie.

Too, there was and will always be for me: The Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra. Decades of attendance acquainted me with Mozart, Teleman, Bach, Ives, Copeland, Fauré. And, ta dah! Kate.

Today my chamber music is the golden swathes of Aspen Leaves on Black Mountain. My Guthrie is the rain swollen Maxwell Creek while the Arapaho National Forest recapitulates the MIA and the Walker. So be it.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Friends, Men

Women, you have my awe

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow, the pillow kisser. Night sky. Morning darkness. Mark and the Texas land. Mary and the marauding Magpies. My son. In for Hep B scans in Oct. Seoah training for a half marathon. Shadow, the huntress. Tom’s procedure. Days of Awe. Gershon Winkler. Rami Shapiro. Dog treats. No King’s on October 18th. Action against Hulu and Disney.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Shema

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Malchut. Wonder.    Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.  Socrates.

Tarot: Five of Wands, (Druid Craft)

  • Overcoming inertia: Following the stability of the Four of Wands, this card represents a breaking of that stasis. It is the raw, fiery energy needed to spark change and move a project or idea forward. 

One brief shining: The Beets have grown, plumping out, the Spinach continues, a healthy green, Kale flourishes as the Carrots need thinning again, meanwhile, I’ve had no salad because I keep eating the Cherry Tomatoes as I pick them, maybe when the next Cucumber matures?

 

Dog journal: Fingers crossed, the evening coming in seems to have to come back to the most recent norm. Perhaps a bit later, but that’s ok.

Yesterday I went outside for some play time with Shadow, bearing treats as I usually do. She came up, wagging her tail, but when I offered her the treat she refused it. Odd. I dropped it on the ground. Sniff, sniff. Nope. Then she trotted away, done with all that. Huh?

She went up beside the house and picked up something. What’s that? At first I thought her long vigils on the back deck had paid off and she’d killed a Chipmunk. No. That’s not it. What is it?

As she came closer, I saw grayish fur. A Rabbit’s foot! No wonder there are no Mice. I looked for the rest of the carcass, but the backyard is grassy and just under an acre.

Later in the day, when she had rediscovered her interest in treats, I lost her attention again as she sprang for a Grasshopper. He got away. She pounced a second time and had a Bug snack.

My little girl has become a backyard predator. Rigel’s spirit lives on in Shadow.

 

Women: After 78 years as a cisgender male who loves women, I’ve come to the conclusion that being a woman is, well, complicated. Much more complicated than being a man.

Women, you can stop reading here. You already know this. Unless you want to check my work, see what I’ve left out.

No, it’s not about dolls instead of trucks although there’s truth there, too. I’m talking about periods, about sexual dimorphism, about pregnancy and child birth, about the male gaze, about having to make your way among bigger, stronger often denser males, about motherhood, about sexism in all its pernicious forms, about usually being more emotionally intelligent in a world dominated by the logical and the rational as pinnacles of wisdom.

Women, you have my awe for your journey.

 

 

Friends, Judaism, Politics

Ready for your spot at Alligator Alcatraz?

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Veronica. On her way to Brooklyn. Nono’s. Catfish Po’ Boy. Barbecued Shrimp. Shadow’s patience. Ruby. Fiction. Non-fiction. Money. The rollover. My pension. Social Security. An I-Bond. Vanguard stock and savings. Home equity. Enough. More than enough. Adolescence. The Netflix series. Iron Flame.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Joanne

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Yirah.  Awe and wonder.

Tarot: #4, The Lord (reversed) Druid Craft       Abuse of power: A person in authority is acting tyrannically, enforcing rules without logic or compassion, and refusing to listen to others.

One brief shining: Abuse of power thy name need not be spoken for your actions and your words reveal what a small man with great power can do to wreck history, destroy alliances, oppress the poor, ruin a nation, and bring shame to its citizens.

 

Friends: “We’ll always have the mikveh,” I said to Veronica as we hugged one last time after our dinner at Nono’s, a New Orleans style restaurant. She came back a week or so from a month and 700 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, hiking alone.

She told me she’s moving to Brooklyn on October 4th. Surprised me. “I’ll miss you!” “I’ll miss you, too!” In the way of today’s labor force for some, she’s arranged to do her work at Lockheed-Martin remotely from a Brooklyn one-bedroom apartment that formerly belonged to her brother, who died in March.

She has her second mom, cousins, aunts and uncles nearby. She’s returning home. Family draws us from place to place.

Joanne called me yesterday, wondering how I’m doing. I haven’t seen her in a couple of months. We talked for a while. She sang me songs, satirical ones that she makes up. Her birthday on Wednesday was number 93.

Last year I drove up to the Bistro as she climbed off Rabbi Jamie’s motorcycle, removing her helmet just like a biker chick. That was just before our celebration for her 92nd. She’s an amazing, talented, funny friend.

 

Just a moment: Nothing quite like using the U.S. Justice Department as your Bond villain vengeance instrument. My mouth cannot gape any further or I will dislocate my jaw.

I thought the U.N. speech was, well, a certain nadir. But, no. Always one rung lower on the step ladder to Hell for the Burger King. Much more than his politics, if he has any, I find this juvenile desire to punish perceived enemies as repugnant. What was it Jesus said? You know, the one about enemies.

He and the gang that can’t shoot straight have put this once respected and mighty country, not so long ago the world hegemon, through a shredder leaving us with only strips of our dignity, self-respect, and world reputation.

Send us your huddled masses yearning to be free and we’ll give them a free plane ticket to the South Sudan. Been a long term, loyal U.S. ally? Here’s your new tariff.

We used to be real live nephews of our Uncle Sam. Now? We’re the red-headed step cousin ready for our spot at Alligator Alcatraz.

 

General

A Mountain Fall

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Veronica, who will finally get her harmonica from Hannukah. Ginny and Janice. Such fun. Luke on Sunday night at Bella Collibri for his birthday. Ruth and deer on her morning walk before work. The Elk Rut. Black Bear hyperphagia. 20,000 calories a day. Aspen gold. Maxwell Creek running full from Tuesday’s Rain. A Mountain life.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Fall

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and Wonder

“Awe is more than an emotion; it is a way of understanding, insight into a meaning greater than ourselves. The beginning of awe is wonder, and the beginning of wisdom is awe.”  Abraham Joshua Heschel

Tarot: #9, The Hermit (Druid Craft)

  • Seeking guidance: While primarily about internal wisdom, the card can also indicate seeking a mentor, teacher, or counselor to help illuminate your path.
  • Caution and planning: The Hermit advises against impulsive action. It’s time to consider and plan your next move carefully and with discretion. 

One brief shining: Saw Jimmy Kimmel’s monologue, also Jon Stewart’s after Kimmel’s initial benching; uneasy lies the head of the court jester, the one who sees the Burger King for what he is “…stark, raving mad.” (senior U.N. diplomate) and tells what they see, making people laugh, yes, laugh at his buffoonery.

 

Dog journal: After weeks of regular return in the evenings, Shadow has become skittish about coming in. Makes me sad. And, it’s a deal breaker. If I can’t keep her safe from night hunting Mountain Lions and quiet for the neighbors, she’ll have to find a new home. And, I very much don’t want that,

Janice’s niece Heather, a dog trainer, is moving to Kittredge and has helped her and Ginny with Annie. May have to switch training models to save Shadow’s life with me. I’m so deeply invested in Shadow; I love her so much that I can’t imagine life without her.

Right now she’s back inside after her early morning constitutional, playing with her new ball, rolling it with her nose, chewing on it till it squeaks, then turning to the new, bigger tire I got her. She’s so good to buy for because she gravitates toward new toys. She’s a delight in every way but that crucial one.

 

                       The Beaver Pond in Fall

A Mountain Fall: Below is a thirty second clip of an Elk Bull bugling. Not sure how the sound got that moniker, but it reminds me more of a distressed varmint than a 700 pound, weaponized ungulate male hunting for a date.

This is also the time Black Bears go into hyperphagia. A biological imperative triggered by the change of seasons, a Bear in hyperphagia will eat constantly, working to put on protective fat and sufficient body weight to survive the upcoming winter and hibernation.

They will break into cars and trucks, garbage cans, even homes to satisfy this urgent craving. That’s why Mountain wise folk never put their garbage out until the morning of pickup. I often see upturned plastic bins with debris scattered around them.

Too, a Mountain fall features only the golden turn of Aspen Leaves against the evergreen of Lodgepole Pines. Very unlike the Midwestern fall when deciduous Trees like Oaks, Maples, Ironwood, Ash splash color in vivid hues all across the landscape. Can you imagine what it was like before the Big Woods were cut down?

 

 

 

 

Aging, Far Right, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Politics

An Overly Medicalized Life

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Close friends Tom, Paul, Mark, Bill, Alan, Tara, Marilyn and Irv, Rich, Ginny and Janice, Luke. Shadow. Artemis. Rain, Rain, come again. Monsoons. Yes. Cool nights. Days of Awe. Mark with the Camels, Goats, and Sheep. In Hafar. The Burger King at the U.N. “…it was foreign affairs journalist Ishaan Tharoor who captured the larger story of Trump’s speech. “A senior foreign diplomat posted at the U.N. texts me,” Tharoor wrote, “‘This man is stark, raving mad. Do Americans not see how embarrassing this is?’” quoted by Heather Cox Richardson

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Long, cool Rains

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Yirah. Awe and Wonder

Tarot: Five of Pentacles, (Druid Craft)

  • Endurance of personal hardship: The card focuses on the endurance of the solitary journey through a desolate landscape. The message is to face and acknowledge the difficulty of the situation rather than ignore it. 

One brief shining: The five of pentacles recommends facing and acknowledging the difficulty of my situation rather than ignoring it; sound advice, I’d say, yet when the situation requires constant acknowledgment, persistent recognition a resilience fatigue can-and at times-does manifest, a weakening of resolve, of the head down, keep pushing attitude I try to maintain.

 

The Burger King and the U.N.: Hangs head in shame. In case you haven’t seen this, I’m appending a youtube collection* of clips from his remarks at the U.N. Thanks, Mark.

“I hate my opponents. I do not wish the best for them.” DJT at Charlie Kirk’s memorial service. “Out of control migration is ruing your countries. Your countries are going to fail.” Speaking to representatives of the world’s nations at the U.N. “I’m really good at this,” he said.

Dear leader needs to get on a heavily armored train, build a bridge across the Bering Sea, and go visit his buddy Kim Jong Un whom he praised to South Korea’s President during a recent visit. Then we can blow up the bridge and leave him in the Hermit Kingdom.

 

Feelings: A long gauntlet of medical matters. Next week the lidocaine injections that will guide the nerve ablations two weeks later. Four appointments in all. On October 8th a P.E.T. scan to see what might have caused my PSA to move up a titch. Follow up appointments with my pain doc and my medical oncologist.

When these matters have been handled for now, I plan to move on to the neck brace for my wobbly head. Also, Maddie has follow-up calls with Panorama Orthopedics about my torn labrum.

At times, like last night, I push myself into a dark corner. I compare myself with others my age, what they’re doing with their lives. Tom and ESI. Bill and his present moment approach to life. Paul with his hospice work, political organizing, and Maine Humanities Council. Mark visiting his friends, working on his art. I’m not doing anything comparable.

That sends me into a tailspin. Not self-berating, rather a wistfulness for the time when I had the energy to get out there. Sadness about the truncated, overly medicalized life I’m living. That’s why the message from the Five of Pentacles lands with a thud.