An unrecognized alien

You’ll have to get out of these little boxes, you know, physics on my left and psychology on my right, you can’t do that, you cannot do that in dealing with UFOs. What I’m saying is you cannot do that anymore in dealing with astrophysics. The problem that scientists have today is that time and space, the way we were thinking about them, don’t make sense when you begin to deal with particle entanglement and with entanglement of larger physical things. So we’re going to get to the same place eventually.
Dr. Jacques Vallée

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is images.jpg

Page 88 The SacriDcal Murder Carl Jung “Red Book” – Carl Gustav Jung / The Red Book

“But the way is my own self, my own life founded upon myself. The God wants my life. He wants to go with me, sit at the table with me, work with me. Above all he wanted to be ever-present. But I’m ashamed of my God. I don’t want to be divine but reasonable. The divine appears to me as irrational craziness. I hate it as an absurd disturbance of my meaningful human activity. It seems an unbecoming sickness which has stolen into the regular course of my life. Yes, I even find the divine superfluous.” Jung 78/98

I have not done this for a while. To randomly pick a book and open the page and read a paragraph. It is a type of trance effort. Some of the worst and best loved characters that I have read or studied live in a kind of trance world. A place of myth, magic and raised consciousness. William Blake, Carl Jung, and the pitiful creature known as Adolf Hitler. I am studying Hitler’s biography now. I was amazed how his and their lives moved in the same worlds.

The place of science, math and technology works in our modern age. The world of Blake, Jung and Hitler are different. One cannot superimpose our current world upon theirs. Which leads me to the randomly picked book and paragraph today.

Blake is a marvelous visionary and artist. He inspires humanity to think and brings beauty in reach of our grasp. Jung heals humanity with his depth psychology.

Hitler inverts compassion and goodness. He shows us what the worst part of human nature is.

They all use their unique wills to inspire or destroy.

Blake and Jung show us that humanity is a wondrous reality. They have dived into their unconscious and show us luminous stars and a good conscience.

We find our history and our future with inspired foresight; what it is to do good for humanity. Blake keeps the best and the worst at bay while focusing his will to ascend to transcendence.

Hitler did this too. To understand him, his world, one becomes aware of a trance of darkness; he is a mythologist of national German superhuman qualities…of what it is to be demonically insane! He is without a touch of the human soul or spirit! No sparks make him human. Hitler is the trance of a monster! How can anyone in their right mind address such a hideous freak as him with a salute?

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is e289807805684a1770c96006e9a1e33c.jpg

William Blake ~ Europe, A Prophecy 8

“It is one of the wonders of human existence that a person can live a long and happy life without once becoming aware of the reality of consciousness and its ability to transcend the immediate physical level. At the instant of death, will time suspend its rule long enough for such people to realize what they missed?”
~ Pg. 153 Jacques Vallee, Confrontations; A scientist’s Search for Alien Contact.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is forbidden-science-volume-two-revised-jacques-vallee-9780578032313.jpg

I love Vallee. He is the scientist that places himself in the world of myth, magic and raised consciousness! He does not ignore art or music either. He rings the heart of a compassion that wants to know. He transcends a nationalist myth blending with Blake’s “universal humanity,” or Jung’s “collective unconscious.”

“In his late works, he embodied these and other ills in the nightmare ridden figure of the cosmic giant Albion, or universal humanity, who has fallen into deadly sleep of mundane existence. In humanity’s coma, the divine is a remote and forbidding sky-god: nature a sterile heap of atoms, lovers and family members, enemies; and one’s own innermost being, an unrecognized alien.”

~Blake’s Poetry & Designs ` A Norton Critical Edition.

Sunday Random pick, The Mysterium Coniunctionis

I reluctantly picked up a book that seemed to urge me to open it, and despite my hesitation, I obeyed its call.

“This investigation was rounded out by the Mysterium Coniunctionis, in which I once again took up the problem of the transference, but primarily followed my original intention of representing the whole range of alchemy as a kind of psychology of alchemy, or as an alchemical basis for depth psychology.

In Mysterium Coniunctionis my psychology was at last given its place in reality and established upon its historical foundations. Thus my task was finished, my work done, and now it can stand. The moment I touched bottom, I reached the bounds of scientific understanding, the transcendental, the nature of the archetype per se.”

A Carl Jung book.

Found some quicksilver…

Stumbling along today I found some quicksilver. A little Jung and a little Hillman and a little alchemical reaction….

The Book of Cratès

http://www.alchemywebsite.com/hrs13.html

A feminine soul to be precise

3/10/2023

I have taken my pearl watercolor and moved the painting into the living room near to the right of my hearth. Today I was reading some interesting words that brought to life this image. It is amazing to me that sometimes one is inspired to create an image from a narrative and finds this image in another narrative. They built upon each other bringing both narratives together with even greater meaning because both are weaving together. Forming an alchemical experience in me. As well as all of us… a path to peace maybe?

‘This is a more ambiguous but possibly more productive way of looking at matter and may be applied to Taurus and the second house. Following this thread is unquestionably like plunging into a labyrinth for what eventually emerges is that the second house has nothing to do with objects at all. The “pearl of great price” appears to lie at the heart of the labyrinth, but the persistence of a Taurean is required to reach it. The placement to find this central and unalterable value whose definition cannot be properly articulated but whose reality, to the man who has subjectively experienced it, is not to be questioned.’

Pg. 40 – 41. Saturn A New Look at an Old Devil / Liz Green.

The Pearl by Hudley

Original post.

Now having passed over this lake in this way, we first went through a narrow arm, into the right seas, where all the sirens, nymphs, and sea-goddesses were waiting for us; wherefore they immediately dispatched a sea nymph to us to deliver their present and offering of honor to the Wedding. It was a costly, great, set, round and oriental pearl, the like of which has never been seen, neither in our world nor yet in the new world.

~ Pg. 62 The Fifth Day the Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz

A watercolor inspired by a strange story. Haunting me in a symbolic world. As a woman I tend to go wandering for things to help my psyche. A feminine soul to be precise. So often in this world today everything is based on the male soul or male journey.

Even in my beloved Red Book by Carl Jung I always remember to participate as a stranger in his world; it is a journey of a male. I must hold the hand of my own animus too when I take these symbolic journeys. I feel it is important for women to know this and do this.

“Animus is the archetype of reason and spirit in women. This is the male aspect of the female psyche, as the anima is the female aspect of male psyche.”

While reading from The Red Book a few days ago I came across the Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. I know the book and have studied it. Yes, I understand what Jung is saying but it does not appeal to my sensibility. So, I went looking, is there an Imitation of the Goddess?

I have come to see that the journey of Christ is a patriarchal one. I respect this yet have reached a point where I must refrain from this. What came to my mind today is this small watercolor I did years ago. The Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz has a wonderful image that I grasped and is very friendly to my female sensibility,

“where all the sirens, nymphs, and sea-goddesses were waiting for us.”

Which is why I often capture art before I fully understand its meaning. Today I do. I hope I can inspire other females to take such a journey like mine and help their psyches!

A feminine soul to be precise. I know this story holds both something for animus and anima. It indeed symbolically speaks of a wedding or bringing together of both the animus and anima within each of us. It is bringing together opposites.

The Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz begins with a lovely image. A star above two figures; a male ~ the sun and a female ~ the moon. This may be uniting both together with the bird of peace, the place where one may find the Holy Grail.

I believe it to be found within our individual hearts. It is another lovely image to ponder.

Coniunctio

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is cwcr.png

Reflection/ Notes

Jung’s alchemical studies were derived, in part, from the works of Gerhard Dorn, a 16^th-century alchemist. In “The Conjunction,” Jung Wrote, “Dorn’s caelum, which corresponds to the stone, was on the one hand a liquid (blue) that could be poured out of a bottle and on the other the Microcosm itself.

For the psychologist it is the self-man as he is, and the indescribable and superempirical totality of the same man.” (CW 14:765) In Jung’s same essay published in Mysterium Coniunctionis, Jung describes caelum as a heavenly substance containing all distinct forms and simultaneously the ultimate universal form; it symbolized a prefiguration of the soul. Jung also associated caelum with the blue center of Eastern mandalas. (CW 14:757)

The caelum and its function in alchemy, as inviting as they are, provide an avenue for further study. Jung further contended in the same essay, “Man himself is partly empirical, partly transcendental; he too is a (stone that is no stone). A “stone that is not stone” reflects Jung’s earlier experience with active imagination (also called trancing), where he (Jung) is sitting on me (stone).

From this perspective the pearl held within the black stone as the archetypal equivalent of a “stone that is not stone.” The human parallel implies that consciousness lies within the human body and that ‘the human heart is more than a blood pump.’ Like the pearl encased in stone, the heart is at the center of consciousness, which emanates from the divine.

~ Unveiling Sophia/ Heart Wisdom In An Age Of Technology by Anne Elizabeth Taylor

glorious shameless orgy

Spring Equinox

The story of Persephone eating pomegranate seeds was related like a fairy tale in place of the original myth; Ovid speaks once of three, once of seven, pomegranate seeds and related that the tree grew in the garden of the king of the underworld.

Pg.134, A Hermetical Essay on the Mysteries, Eleusis ~ Carl Kerenyl

Dandelions in my garden By Hudley March 2016

Last autumn I cleared a patch of earth until it was hard dirt. It stayed this way through the California drought of 2015-16. I was feeling like the dirt; barren, hopeless, and death lingered by grief as a dark hopeless shadow. The underworld loomed close. It was winter. I then focused on my studies of the Eleusinian mysteries, Persephone’s mythology and now Aeschylus’s play Prometheus Bound. Through years of study the time was just right for profound understanding to came quickly.

“ambrosia” and “ichor” and “moly”… in my garden. ` x Prometheus Bound

Now this patch of earth is a glorious shameless orgy of life. The simple saying “life, death and rebirth” shines in my soul. Nature shows us the holy grail within: as Persephone reaching for the dead symbolizing the bridge of rebirth, and as Prometheus bringer of fire gifting humanity the dreams of “dim hopes.”

Fennel Reed from the Santa Monica Mountains CA

Because I granted mortal

men prerogative;

I sought the source

of fire by

stealth and carried it

Within a hollow fennel reed.

My gift to man

Has taught him every skill and

been his great resource.

Such is the crime for which

I pay the penalty,

Spread-eagle, pinned in chains

beneath the open sky.

108-113 Prometheus Bound ~ Aeschylus

Leaping times of resistance and change …

In the Creative Process:

“Make your obstructions or limitations productive by stimulating greater intensity of thought and a deeper sense of spiritual freedom”

~ The William Blake Tarot Cards

Her Bidding…

Adelaide's Flower Watercolor by Hudley — Mom’s rose by Hudley

Walking through the fear of standing tall is how karma kicked me in the butt. Now I can do it. She did not want me to stop writing, or painting or being strong!

A few years ago, before my parents passed, we tried to get them to use cell phones and computers. The best we could do is for mom. She snuck upstairs where the computer was hidden from Dad, he did not like computers, and she played poker on the computer, and the game Hearts too. She had to adjust her time so as not to interfere with her attention given to Dad. He was demanding of her time that way.

Maybe she found this fun freedom when Dad was watching Golf on TV or some other annoying sport. Maybe it is because he went to the store to get some groceries? You bet Mom had her earphones on listening to the radio. Listening to her Dodgers when the season and clandestine entertainment permitted.

Now I am talking about dreams again. Sometimes it is not all Jungian archetypical stuff!! Mom walks her drama in my dreams; pointing to things I must deal with. I will do my best to understand her. Yet as we have both learned, foresight does not help… it only prepares us for the future; we cannot effect a change.

Now that I have done your bidding maybe a bright flower in my path through synchronicity …would be nice about now.

Just hanging around the fire with Coyote, Bear, Buffalo, and Eagle…

Is the smoke appeasing you? I hope so. I am still grieving.

… onto the game of Hearts.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=snuck

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/phobia-shmobia/

Wheat And Moon

vincent-van-gogh-landscape-with-wheat-sheaves-and-rising-moon — Vincent Van Gogh ` Wheat and Moon

” …The moon in this case is not a primum movems (first moving one); she suffers just like man or plant. It is rather a question of some occurrence in our cosmos which mythology expresses equally in the symbol of the moon, the woman, and the grain. In so doing it speaks of the one under the image of the other. for this it is particularly fond of the Kore figure.” –
PG. 130 , Kore essays On A Science Of Mythology C. J. Jung and C. Kerenyi

I am amazed how ancient cultures and Gods, and especially Goddesses are connected to the earth and sky, the harvest of grains, or caves and trees, forests, and fog! Myths, stories and ancient rituals are now magnified on programs like Ancient Aliens, Monsters in America and A Haunting ! We have become so disassociated with magic and lore, that were once very much a part of our ancient ancestors, it is now exploited as strange, weird or crazy.

Yet paradoxically these supernatural legends, myths and the strange earth are all part of us! It is good, natural and part of us all!

As the math equations that morph into divine intelligence, or as electricity is powered by communicating aliens or the dead! Dreams can move through us and our new Gods of computers and hand help devices! Masses of gamers across the country… or around the world… merging with strange battles from the earth, chemicals and unknown alchemists. Technological caves and dust mites are our human wheat field. I just don’t know.

I am jealous of how close ancient people were to the earth, sky and grain of the earth. A simple strand of wheat, like gold, holding a ritual of initiation! Something our current world knows very little about! Yet the image is held frozen as an image or seed unbroken by wisdom!

Fay don’t have their say ??

Children are still told Grimm’s
fairy tale of “The Spirit in the Bottle,” which is ever-living like
all fairy tales, and moreover contains the quintessence and deepest
meaning of the Hermetic mystery as it has come down to us
today: ~ Jung on Alchemy

Yes it seems that Mercury is gonna move forward. I know that many of you brush aside the old stories and are all too grown up to listen to fairy tales anymore. Ya, a bunch of balloon baloney you say. Say it then…I know that fairy tales and astrology contain the magic spell of wise understanding. In this cold, null, anarchist world of mafia and intellectual math-bones-logic… the Fay don’t have their say ??

I say they do. I listen to them and their stories and I blend these stories with all the modern-day hard theories which abide by logic and university study. I feel the pull on my head like a giant magnet that is telling me and making my creative spirits ecstatic.

Mercurius pound your drums and run with sweet feet through dimensions… I opened the glass bottle again!!

Music and Linear Algebra

Calvary Church in Santa Cruz

Today’s May 30, 2025, and I am adding to this older original post. My Johnfred is doing well in life. He has a new job LAUSD as a Software Engineer. He and his Sara are now married and have a great future ahead.

Happy happy birthday son. He will be 33 this MAY. May 30, 2025

In 1992 I was waiting to see a performance of Hildegard of Bingen’s music. It was at the Calvary Church in Santa Cruz, CA. May 30, 1992, at 8 PM was the date of the performance. My water broke the night before. So I did not see the performance.

In my mind the music was alive in my heart…

As all mothers’ hearts when their child is born to them.

And though our majors are vastly different; He is a math/science major, and I am a religious studies major; being both Gemini, I think we complement each other.

Bravo Son, Bravo!!

Two Dresses

Two dreams I had last week were very similar. They both were set in an environment of celebration. Everything was vague. I knew the people but they were also unrecognizable. A thread I pulled from both dreams that I remember clearly focused on dresses made just for me.

The First dream there was a green 1940s backless dress. I looked at it closely as I hung it in my closet. I felt beautiful. It fit me wonderfully.

In the next dream the second dress was from the 1800s. I stood and molded while a woman fitted me. It was a beautiful peach blossom color with a subtle glow of orange. I felt delighted, feminine and filled with wonder over such a lovely dress.

Animus with the Wind !

Ancient Egyptian human-headed ba-bird, gessoed and painted wood, Ptolemaic period,
332-330 BC. H. 5 inches. (12.5cm)

“The wind is in truth the ALL-Devourer, for when the fire dies out it goes into the wind, when the sun sets, it goes into the wind, when the moon sets, it goes into the wind, when the waters dry up, they go into the wind, for the wind consumes them all. Thus it is with respect to the divinity. And now with respect to the self. The breath is truth the ALL-Devourer, for when a man sleeps, speech goes into breath, the eye goes into breath, the ear too, and the manas, for the breath consumes then all. These are the two ALL-Devourers; wind among the gods, and breath among living men.”

Passage from the Khandogya Upanishad

http://www.minervamagazine.co.uk/features-content/feature-2011-07-01.html

A woman engaging her Animus

Thranduil, Elfin Knight

Yellow

Ancient Greek pottery c.330 BCE in British Museum – Delphic Tripod and the Pythia.

The worst of times

bearing grief and betrayal

looking down towards the earth…

walking slowly in duty…

Comes up a spring

bubbling and fresh

female voices from the past

speak of hope and inspiration…

Images & symbols in my mind and heart… though stagnant

break open with the right tone

the right words…

the yellow yolk

deeply drips over my life!

https://hudleyflipside.com/my-chap-books-of-poetry/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/moment-in-time/

Comrades who whisper from the dead. Tall Drinks!!

Holly ready to send her laser… by Shyane

Part one:

Reading a few introductory books before entering The Red Book by CG Jung is a wise thing for me to do. Current historians and psychologists with a depth psychology twist are a nice tall drink. Understanding that Jung had a hard time deciding, in his life, whether to publish the book or not makes me feel as if I am violating his soul in reading it at all….after his death too. Whispering in my ear my entire quasi adult life makes me feel differently about this.

Reading these pre books I am affirmed in my conclusion. That he wrote the book for others as well as for himself.

Jung even encouraged his patients and friends to make a Red Book of their own. Comrades who whisper from the dead. Alchemy personified…but why me, why know and why share? This is a personal insight form a lay person that just happens to have a soul like everyone else… even those with PHDs! As an artist, with insight, I can try to write!

This complements this journey before I enter his world…personal yes but collectively through our mutual histories; past, present and future dreams. I wonder if the computer and blogging were around, in Jung’s time, if he too would use it freely to creatively express himself. I think he would have loved to. How brave we have become in sharing who we are!!
Just as I know there is evil in the world I know there is also goodness.

I have witnesses both, experienced both and been both-and I will continue- yet one thing I have not altered is my innocence. Maybe this is the reason for suffering and sorrow. I think I need to blend a little of the two, evil and goodness, within my cauldron. Stirring it and truly becoming a real adult in the real world. Speaking symbols and watering my essence of insight. You can take it or leave it.

“The Sun its shadow complete the work.”
~ Michael Maier Atlanta Fugiens-279 Book Jungian Psychoanalysis.

When posting on Facebook or WordPress I find that the best responses received by others are the authentic ones I post. All the news, politics and other things just don’t get the same input. Ok maybe the punk rock stuff gives me an edged kick but I was very innocent and rebelliously aesthetic back in the 1980s!!

It is uncomfortable for me to share who I am now, yet when I post my mug, something I created, or some personal insight; I usually get a satisfactory response. Even if it is quick and intuitively posted?? I think we are all looking for authenticity in our lives. Communication!!

As Jim Morrison from the Doors said, “Something Sacred.”

When we see it in another we feel it, we know it. This is the best of human communications. Though it may be rough, vague and juicy… it is what we need. We may even crave it. Collectively and/or as an individual. The mind, heart and soul is part of this equation. It is art, magic and touches those hidden places in us.

It can fall into the formation of math and logic. As effervescent sparks of knowledge. It moves through pain and pleasure as emotional release. It jumps and dances with “look at me” and “I see you.” It is normal, natural but hidden sometimes within the shadow of our sun. We have to go looking for it. It is when we share our authentic self or our aesthetic self… we all respond to it.

Pre books: Lament of The Dead Psychology after Jung’s Red Book ~ James Hillman & Sonu Shamdasani,/ The Red Book Liber Novus A readers Edition CG Jung Edited with an Introduction by Sonu Shamdasani./ The Seven Sermons to the Dead.

Happy Birthday John

Siegbert Tarrasch

I’ll say it again and again,

Life is listening to synchronicity.

Thrift stores and garage sales are where it happens. I play games sometimes. I imagine things I would like to have and then let my imagination go. I shop with the glow of possibilities and magic. It is amazing to find the things I thought of.

The days of thrift stores, any Salvation Army or garage sale, have pretty much ended. Yet, I remember going back to a certain bookstore. It was a place that supplied us with some interesting used books. We found some great books there. This bookstore was having a garage sale because it was a garage sale of used books; Old and dusty; histories that are enchanting.

My husband collects too many Chess books. One day we went out to breakfast and then turned into the local used bookstore for our terrible addiction to books. On this particular day a big book sale was happening; an array of books were for sale outside and it was about to rain.

The two of us separated looking for a gem or heart of gold. We both were coming up empty. I wanted to find something special for my husband on his birthday on that same day. He has studied and played chess for years and I do not know much about the game.

I have been known to try to fool him by going into his chess closet, taking out an old one and wrapping it up for Christmas or on his birthday as a NEW gift. He remembers them all. I sometimes put little notes in his chess books thinking he will never find them… but he always does (even years later).

Anyway, on this day from our past I found a small selection of game books and noticed one with the word “CHESS” on it. It was a book about Siegbert Tarrasch and I thought,

“How do I say this name?”

I tried hiding the book behind my back, but John wrestled it out of my grasp: A big smile came over his face because he knew about Tarrasch.

“Happy birthday John.”

I took the book back from him and looked through it. It smelled old and while reading through the preface… I stopped and read the short biography.

Siegbert Tarrasch was born on March 5, 1862. He was one of the strongest chess players of the late 19th century and early 20th century. Tarrasch was Jewish, and a patriotic German who lost a son in World War I, but lived to suffer under the early stages of Nazism.

“Wow that is the same month and day as John’s birthday.”

March 5th, John and Siegbert birthday are one hundred and four years apart.

Built by the Knights Templar?

A March 2013 post. I am working on a project to bring my art out of the dark and into the light. This reminded me of exploring art, religiosity, and depth psychology.

It is always interesting when a symbolic painting painted from years ago comes forward to reveal itself. I remember what the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung said,

“…that when creating art from an unconscious or spiritual place one should share it with others or the public…”

Yet, I do because as Jung points out, when one does it can touch someone else and affect a chain of events that have meaning.

Last night while watching the History 2 channel. I came upon a TV series. In general, it is about an unearthed structure that may have been built during the medieval period on American soil. It is a remarkably interesting topic for me. As I watched the program a special moment happened. I call them synchronistic moments. This structure seemed familiar to me.

As many ancient buildings, it is in tune with the four directions and with the sun, moon, and stars in the night sky. The Knights Templar focus was on the divine feminine and for them it was the star Venus and also the symbol of the egg.

On this particular structure on American soil there is an egg shape stone that lights up at a certain time by the sun. This holds great meaning symbolically when understanding the Goddess.

As I was watching this program I looked at the clock below the TV screen and noticed the time was 11:11.

Numerologists believe that events linked to the time 11:11 appear more often than can be explained by chance or coincidence. This belief being based on the concept of synchronicity. Some authors claim that seeing 11:11 on a clock is an auspicious sign. Others claim that 11:11 signals a spirit presence.

Knowing this I had to listen to what I was watching with more intent. Then the image of a watercolor painting I did years ago came to my mind. At the time when I created the painting it was based on my inspiration. I was working with the American Indian Medicine wheel that is based on the four directions: North, East, South and West.

I also placed a triangle shape over the threshold of the building of my watercolor. The building I imagined was also built of stone like the structure in the history channel.

At the time I created this simple watercolor I was thinking of it as a holy place that I would like to build on a large piece of land in a natural setting.

I am now content to share this story. To think about it and this new experience of what it is saying to me now. What is it saying to you the reader?

So be it, I shared my story Mr. Jung!!

http://www.history.com/shows/america-unearthed/videos/america-unearthed-americas-oldest-secret#america-unearthed-americas-oldest-secret

prayer to gaia

prayer to gaia.

Nose humor and gangsters… a serendipity tale..

ose picking is not a popular topic but we all do it, some more gracefully than others. My music teacher, who was also my voice teacher, did it on stage with a tissue. When she sang opera on stage she could transform from being a 40-year-old woman to a youthful angelic being, and just as lovely while waiting for the class to get ready, with her finger up her nose. I watched her put that tissue with a finger way up there and then she pulled it out and acutely looked at it. She was not embarrassed or self-conscious about it either and I thought to myself,

“How does she do that…to pick ones nose and not care? Doesn’t she think about all of us watching her?”

My dad told me a story once. He was on Hollywood Blvd. and a big limousine pulled up alongside his car. They were both waiting at the stop sign when he saw a woman picking her nose in the back of the limousine. I guess in the 1940s not all big limousines had tinted windows. She looked over at Dad and seemed to blush and then she gave him a big smile. It was a youthful Elisabeth Taylor.

Hollywood and Santa Monica was the “cat’s meow” back then for movie stars, gangsters and the common folk. They mingled nicely back then. Things were spread out and people were intimate. Dad said that at some of the night clubs that he went to there were a number of actors and gangsters present. One night he said hello in passing to Bugsy Siegel while in a Santa Monica restaurant. He said his eyes were piercing blue and as cold as ice. I think this was a few days before he was actually found murdered. Maybe he wasn’t killed by the mob for money laundering or for his wheeling and dealing in Vegas; maybe they caught him picking his nose.

LOVE BIRDS: Mae West and George Raft

It is not by chance that I posted a picture of Mae West and a few days later a short essay about George Raft. I did not know the connection between them then, but after some research and reading his biography I came to realize the relationship they had with each other. This is how synchronicity works and for them it is also about a deep love.

May West is overwhelming sexy. She is a classic vexing iconic blonde bombshell. George Raft is the sharp gangster. He is a tough guy with a chaos deep voice, so unique and enduring he defines a generation of look and style. For us they go on doing this with endless images, films and books. The thought of them together as lovers and friends is the enhancement of romance. As a sensitive person I feel this is the story that I am procuring about them.

In silent films, Charlie Chaplin’s character, “The Little Tramp,” often used a side glance to convey his mischievous and playful nature.

They both died within days from each other; ending up lying in the same morgue alongside each other. This was not planned by them. It could be just by chance that these two iconic film stars came to lie together like this. I can say from a physical perspective it may be true, but for me chance has no say in this; I know that there is no such thing. Their story and death has meaning to me and says something beautiful about the two of them.

I am reflecting upon a film that is about another great love story. It dreamily reveals my intuitive insight about Mae and George’s love story. It is the film The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. It is about a ghost and living woman who fall in love. It is a humorous and titillating story. The actors are not Mae West and George Raft but what happens at the end of the story is my focus. Mrs. Muir lives her life and at the very end of the film we find her siting in a rocking chair. This is where she dies. In this scene we see the young Captain, the ghost, walk up to her and reach for her hand. He pulls her up. She is now also a ghost. The two of them, youthful and beautiful, are together once more and so a new journey begins when they walk away together.

I envision this same scenario for Mae and George. As I look down I see the old age, sickness and death of Mae and George, but as I look up I see two lovers gazing down then up into each others eyes. They are youthful, beautiful and together again moving onward and beyond. This is what I see in the best desires of my imagination for them.

To look at old age and death as a sad and lonely time is to miss the point of life. Waiting is sometimes the price that true love pays. As we grow older the mind naturally goes inward. Reflections and images become stronger. Mae and George live on in our memories and I would not be surprised, but delighted, if more synchronicity mysteries come forth for me about these love birds. It really is a wonderful thing for me to see. This type of information is not so much linear; But comes in a roundabout imperfect way and it grows as leaves on a tree, or slowly collects as dew on a petal.

This is the lesson they’ve taught me…this is the meaning of this synchronicity about their love.

Hubba-hubba

Today was the day of the word hub. I define hub as a center of activity or interest, a focal point. Last night is when the word really started. A friend showed us a picture of the hub where he works. He used the word hub. I was interested in the word instantly. I have not heard it for some time but there was a little excitement in the word as he said it.

Anyway, the word hub made an impression on me.

Today the word came up many times while I was reading. I will focus on three of the most interesting places the word hub emerged into my consciousness. We call them aha moments.

I was sitting on a chair at the local Jr. College waiting for my son’s class to end. Enjoying the time near a tree I was studying my book Jung, Synchronicity, and Human Destiny by IRA Progoff. I was intensely focused when that word popped up. I thought that was an odd word for this writer to use, this book having a copyright from Delta Books 1973.

“The specific role of the archetypes in synchronistic phenomena seems to be to serve as the constellating hub of a situation across time, and to be the factor of inner orderedness that gives the distinctive set to the situation.”~ Pg. 135

Later in the day it was rather off time to be reading the Los Angeles Times but the day was running slow. My kids were playing games and Mr. Husband was hogging the computer so I turned to some news for no reason. I read an article about the unveiling of the new park Grand Park of L.A.

To city leaders, Grand Park provides this new community with much-needed open space, a respite from the grid of city life as well as a hub for community events.

Front Page Los Angeles Times, Grand Green Dream, Paragraph four.

Then believe it or not about three hours later I almost tossed the paper in the trash when by chance while separating the advertisements from the rest of the paper the LA EXTRA fell down on the couch. This tends to be my favorite part of the paper, so I sat down to read it. I was totally amused when I caught sight of the article on page AA 3, Condom Measure Put on Ballot. I had to laugh when I read what Supervisor Gloria Molina said on the subject of condoms and pornography which was next to the last paragraph of this article,

“It doesn’t apply to the San Fernando Valley, which I understand is the hub of where these films are made.”

I am now taking a breath and realizing that within the hub of understanding this word hub I was in fact in the process of a synchronistic phenomenon experiencing a hub of a word across time.

Seriously how wild is that?

(August 19th 2012… my sister told me that our Grandmother on the paternal side use to hold her arms and hands up in the air and say “Hubba-Hubba”… and so this synchronistic phenomena has its charm )