Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship
Thursday gratefuls: Tara. Alan. Marilyn. Rebecca. Jamie. Rich. Shadow worrying her cone. Russia. Ukraine. Israel. Gaza. Venezuela. Honduras. Mexico and buddy Ode. Canada. Greenland. The Gulf of…..wait for it. Mexico! Minnesota and Minnesotans. Minneapolis. The Waters of Minnesota: Glacial Lakes, the Mississippi rising in Lake Itasca, Lake Superior, the Minnesota River, Rum River.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow Mountain home
Life Kavannah: Wu Wei Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress
Year Kavannah: Creativity. Yetziratiut. “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso
Week Kavannah: Tikkun Olam. Repairing the world.
- Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
- Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights.

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing
“After physical or emotional sickness or injury, a time of inner rest and rejuvenation is required. Patient and peaceful healing comes from a spiritual source. Wholeness and recovery will follow a serious physical or emotional wounding.”
One brief shining: Long ago, maybe 40 years or more, a then close friend, Steve Miles, had taken leave from medical school to care for his terminally ill grandfather; as we talked about his time with his grandfather, he asked, “What is health in a dying person?”
Health: Maybe in a movie? Or, a book. “There’s no such thing as dying. You’re either alive or dead.” Relates to Steve’s question and my current situation. You could say I’m dying, probably closer than most of those I’m close to, yet my experience is of being alive. Right now in this moment. Laying down yet more words on this 22 year old ancientrail. Watching Shadow try to rid herself of that damned plastic cone. Hearing the boiler kick on with its whoosh of flame. The black morning Sky.
That may be the answer to Steve’s question. After all, life is a terminal disease. If we’re above ground and taking nourishment, that’s an important indicator of health.
Joy. Love. Compassion. I still have these to offer. My mind is sharp. Shadow and I have figured it out. I say joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy for you and me.
Dog journal: Yesterday was arrival day for Shadow. A small puppy who hid under my bed for three days. 2025. Oh, what a year it has been.
Ginny, Janice, Annie, Luna and I drove up I-70 to Berthoud Pass, went through Winter Park and in to Granby. Down an icy backroad, set off on plot of land by itself, was the Granby shelter. I met Shadow and decided, right then, to adopt her.
Months passed and she grew from a small puppy to a 37 pound Blue Heeler, often fearful, loving and sweet. Difficult. Thanks to some earlier trauma thresholds caused her to shy away, refuse to come in. As I’ve written here.
As my wu wei mistress, Shadow has taught me to roll with the flow of her life; even when I thought I couldn’t keep her safe from Mountain Lions or the cold, she came back to me.
This morning she crawled up on my pillow, kissed me, then laid her beconed head on my neck, just resting there for quite a while. Me and my Shadow.














