The Cambion… Nimue herself and Merlin all are “denizens of another reality.” How can we humans begin to understand them. Why do we make them evil? Instead, I will enjoy their stories and not judge them. Life is just that, a mystery… like the denizens.
Walking in the early morning is a new part of my routine. I usually walk in the evening because I love capturing the night sky. Today, I had a talk with a local squirrel! The olive tree in front of my house was the perfect place for an official squirrel greeting, First, squirrel dashed in front of me. Then half up the olive tree turned round looking straight into my eyes. The squirrel’s eyes are a dark black brown with a reflective glimmering. A squirrel moves like a humming bird…deliberate movement, fast then still and focused. The squirrel moving away, then came back to look closely into my eyes again! About three feet between us was the distance we shared. This lasted about ten minutes.
I mumbled conversation as the squirrel responded with a deep vibrating sound from within its flexible body, while showing off its gorgeous tail! I would like to think; I am still a bit on the wild side too. I have let myself become too damn domesticated over the years. It is nice to know that I have not lost my touch with nature! This magic, also taught by Merlin the Magician, helps me to appreciate my little wild connection. I feel that nature still knows my name, as it did when I was young!
Posted in Embellished non-fiction short stories, extramundane, Nature Politics
Tagged Alternative music, beauty, Cambion, Depth Psychology, Goddess and Home, Merlin, Nimue, Oral Tradition, postaday, Women
“We know that something unknown, alien, does come our way, just as we know that we do not ourselves make a dream or an inspiration, but that is somehow arises of its own accord. What does happen to us in this manner can be said to emanate from mana, from a daimon, a god, or the unconscious…”
Pg 336 Par 2 Memories, dreams, reflections ~ C.G. Jung
The yard is the shape of a crescent moon facing west. The cypress trees line the crescent shape that enhances the progression of the equinox in the night sky. Last night walking out into the darkness looking up,
Wings like a moth, or a big barn owl, or a giant bird swam through the darkness towards the south. Very high in the dark sky. A very large bird just west of Jupiter. A foreign site next to the consistency of the progression. All captured within the eyes of this little backyard. The ascending full moon was low on the horizon yet the light-numinosity surrounded the large creature.
Posted in Embellished non-fiction short stories
Tagged Alternative music, Celtic Ballad, Crescent Moon, daimon, Depth Psychology, Goddess and Home, Jupiter, mana, numinosity, postaday, progression of the equinox, The Saints, Wings
Online image of happy and sad face….
A bar in the living room and a bar in his beauty salon. Drinks at the Chinese restaurant on Ventura Blvd. Lights that lit up the bar at Christmas time reflecting off gifts simmering gold, green and tall bottles of colorful liquid. Tall cupboards that he reached for, then pouring that rich golden juice.
Named at a bar from a book while she was in labor. Drives out with beers at the side. Music and laughter, screams and yelling while holding a hand and butter on bread.
Two faces one happy and one sad over their red brick fireplace. He always reached for that bottle…named Delilah. Jazz playing on the radio.
I thought those bars would last forever, I was happily fooled. They are now gone forever only stinging my memory now!!
Once while working as a Home Heath Aide on the East coast I did a nice thing for a wise old lady. She had grace, experience and savvy. Her home was a grand home that had been in her family for generations. In my mind she seemed like Scarlett O’Hara. Now in a wheel chair most of the time she told me stores that I will not share here. She survived her family and had none to tend to her needs. Her memories were as clear and vivid as her mind, well her past memories not her present ones as much. One story I will l highlight is how her father made Elderberry wine. They kept the home made wine in their basement.
Her home had a spiral staircase, beautiful chandeliers and ghosts. I focused on the living room and kitchen because this was all the house that was in use. We were both alone in Rochester New York.
I decided to visit her on Christmas Eve… yes I visited the wise old lady. I loved her story so much that I gave her a small gift of Elderberry wine. We shared a shot of the wine and that was all! I hope I never forget her smile. I put the wine up in a closet far from her knowing reach.
The Visiting Nurses Association told me another aide found the wine and accused me of being an alcoholic. They did not appreciate the truth I told them in my defense. I guess I stepped my bounds, yet I know this wise old lady and her ghostly dad… had a good ole’ family time that Christmas Eve.
Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross. To see a fine lady upon a white horse, With rings on her fingers, And bells on her toes. She shall have music, Wherever she goes. ~ Nursery rhyme
Watching “That ’70s Show” with the teenage son last night took me back when I was actually a teenager at that time. Some of the show is superficially realistic. There were the pot smoking circles of deep reflection…ha ha. The same record (vinyl) playing over and over again. Sex was a big deal as well as a girlfriend or boyfriend. The same old thing…my kids have a different experience.
It got me thinking about the time when my dad was asked over to my boyfriend’s house. I was 15 and went missing. I was gone for two days and no one knew where I was. Even my brother Greg looked out over the valley concerned that I was adulated.
Mike’s dad said to my dad, “So your daughter and my son are having relations.”
My dad gave a strange look, “You mean they are copulating?”
Of course Mike’s dad laughed and said “Something like that…”
Mike and I were in the room and I was a bit scared. They had found us hiding in the attic above Mike’s parent’s house. Mike had a nice little set up, like a ’70s van with food, beer and pot. We had two days of copulating and I even read a book. Well that was the real version of the “That ’70s Show!”
This takes me to the word my dad used, copulating. Tonight Venus will merge with Jupiter in the night sky. It will not be a Venus Observa!
“Technical term for the male-superior sexual position, which Adam tried and failed to impose on Lilith, and which the Catholic church designated the only legal position for marital intercourse, since it afforded the least pleasure to the wife. Patriarchal societies generally opposed such female-superior sexual postilions as those favored by the worshiper of Shiva and Hecate, and by medieval witches who, as the nursery rhyme says, rode on top of their “cock-horses.” ~ Pg. 1044 Barbara G. Walker*
Tonight Venus is doing her magic. Lilith will be proud and a few happy men!! As Jupiter and Venus merge tonight guess who will be on top??
* The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets
Like a new born baby it just happens ev’ry day ~ Rolling Stones
One song to the next is still a motivation in my life. Synchronizing past, present and future dreams. Joan asked me today If I was at the mount of Delhi what question would I ask of her the Pythias. My mind went blank or black.
I heard Paint It Black by the Avengers years ago live in a club to the frequency of bouncing youths. A tight crowd of underground nobodies who were wild and unassuming. The Avengers were fun, intense and no lines drawn between bands and fans. The first time I saw this band play this song Spaz Attack was vibrating on the ground and I was drooling beer while watching him, because my belly was about to pop. It was all new..kinda like black…unknown and exciting.
That is this song to me…
“…but nothing impossible, that we meet here: the revelation of something that is dark in comparison with an idea, but ideal in comparison with blind feeling- the revelation of something still unopened, like a bud…” – Kore PG. 105. Essays On a Science of Mythology, C. g. Jung and C. Kerenyi
“The image of rain as redemptive symbolizing the tears of transformation, comes up in many women’s dreams and it is a frequent image in the poet’s vision. “ ~ Linda S. Leonard
Waking up as from a bad dream. I was holding a gun with the barrel down towards the earth. I thought over the dream…
“Call 911,” I yelled.
The women’s face and the graduation ceremonies seemed to ignore my screams. I only had a t-shirt on. Running from a mad doctor who was diagnosing what illness we had and how we would die. We all were asked to line up against the wall. Then we were asked to stretch out on the shelves. The friendly man with the leather jacket was there with his hand around my shoulders. He remembered my face from the day before.
“Your face looks familiar!”
Where is my husband? After I found him again we are back in line, and at this point back to where I grabbed the gun. The mad doctor already shot it. Now he had the gun and a big knife on the table as he asked his questions. The mad doctor turned his back to us. I took the opportunity to grab the gun and I ran out of a building into a crowded dark park. I am coming home from a bad dream!!
Breathing very hard I awoke from the dream with a sound of a lamenting cat. I closed the door. I did not want him in. I do not want to hear him. Around the house I heard his lamenting: lamenting, lamenting and lamenting. He is a rooster-cat as the sun is rising. Feeling hot and cold and running to get the cat food, I opened the can and chopped the cat food up; also opening the door to let one in and one cat out. I ran back to a hot cold bed. A bounding idea pushed its way into my sleepy fast beating heart as I said to myself,
“maybe I should have not run away. I could have shot the mad doctor in the foot instead?”
Comforting my mind…my mind…in my mind I thought;
“I will shoot the doctor in the foot. I am thinking… I am shooting him as he turns to look at me….now!! Let all the people suppress him now and stop our torturer!!”
Up from bed with coffee. I sit to read the above quote about rain… as it is also raining now.
Describing her portrait sitting on the hearth is a difficult memory after 25 years. She was my first patient as a working Home Health Aide in the city of Rochester New York. I was use to a wild and angry diversity, more then Laura’s family found me. The soul kitchen smelled foreign to me as I must have looked to them. Me in my white nurse outfit, white stockings and soft leather shoes. This contrast to Laura and her family caused silence to fill the rooms; at first not a word was shared… eyes dashed and people shuttered around. Slowly, family members left. As the weeks went on I arrived to Laura only. She suffered a stroke and I was there to help her recover. From her I learned that kindness does matter in this world, and that diversity blends like sugar-water. Swallowing it down was wonderful rewarding…
Dark long hair. Laura was wearing a black derby hat. A picture from the 1940s. A smile as sweet as she was all her life. I have regrets leaving Laura and her family. I found a better job for more pay.
Taken from the Portrait of Laura By Hudley Flipside
Driving south on Topanga Canyon Blvd. a parked car pulls quickly out in front of me. He is not a normal man driving a car, as I see and dreadfully feel: but who is driving this black rather small sedan?
July 5th 2014 real event.
Shopping Saturday at 1 PM is not a thing I usually do. I have to do my chores. Instead of walking down to the stream to gather berries and water to put in a jar and basket and them put on my head, I go shopping at a supermarket. Driving away down the asphalt jungle I hear the large watermelon moving ‘round in the back of the car.
“Damn I did not secure it properly!”
I held a vision in my mind’s eye of cutting the watermelon open in half. Propping it round as a big bowl of cold watermelon soup.
“Ah, that sounds refreshing!!”
Putting all the groceries away, I then walked over to open the washing machine putting the cat’s beach towels into the drier. I like to make sure their beach towels are clean, fluffy and ready for them. They like to sleep outside on their beach towels in the cool of the morning and evening.
This summer he, the man I live with, bought me more books to read. The esoteric door of magical and syncretistic events awaken in me again. Those places that sleep slow and drowsy in my deepest Psyche. Yes I saw him again too. That man in the rather small black sedan who pulled right in front of me. I drove around him just to see who it might be. I wish I didn’t because as I looked at him, he looked back at me as we raced south on Topanga Canyon Blvd. He, dressed in black, gave me a sideways glance. A deep confrontational look, with his black hat, beard and dark Noir focus, at me!!!
The esoteric doors are open and the game is on. When one plays with the archaic mysteries the archetypal characters come to play. I have not seen him, Mephistopheles, in a long time. He is darkness incarnate! The only cure for this is the dew of a red rose.
For now I type in my cave filled with the cool stream of artificial air and also read, do my housewife chores and try to forget the large consuming cartoonish eyes reflecting my face back at me.
Posted in Embellished non-fiction short stories
Tagged a bowl of soup, a cat, a Housewife, Alternative music, and a beach towel., Art, beach towels, beauty, Daily Prompt, Depth Psychology, dew of a red rose., Hudley Flipside, spirituality, the mysteries, the written word, Topanga Canyon Blvd, watermelon
Memories are strange. Real experience, imagination and day dreaming in a few moments of time, take on a flavor in one’s mind. These all can be as a massive inward thinking collage blended together. What is it in us which differentiates the difference?
Husband and son went for a run around the block. Dusk was close at hand by an hour or so. The knock at the door took me off guard. I went to open the door thinking that son locked the door and wanted back in. I opened the door and there stood mom and dad. My heart raced to see them standing there as if nothing had happened. I invited them in.
“We were at Trader Joes and thought we would stop by,” said mom.
“I see. Isn’t there one closer by your home?”
I looked at mom and she looked at dad.
“I wanted a certain type of beer and they ran out, so we went to the other. I think mom wanted to stop by and see the work you are doing on the pool!!”
“Ok, well as you see they took off all the plaster and next week they will pull out the skimmer and put in the new Blue tiles.”
“Oh that will look nice honey,” said mom
“Yes, the kids still swimming?” Dad said with a heavy voice.
“Yes they still enjoy it as well as myself!!”
I then asked if they wanted some coffee. Dad said a beer would be nice. Mom gave him an intense stare and said,
“Got a glass. I’ll have some too ‘cause I am thirsty.”
I cut up some Irish cheese and they had a few bites. Dad got antsy and said,
“Well gal, I think it is time to go, we have some groceries in the back of the car and they need to be put in the fridge!!”
I’ve learned not to fight this behavior of my parents; of coming and leaving in a short amount of time.
As in a whoosh of wind they were gone.
Son came back. Then about fifteen minutes later husband came back. I did not tell them about my parents visit. Mirage, a human mirage of brief moments that now seem real in my memories. Even though Mom and Dad passed away…a few long years now.