Category Archives: The Praying Mantis

Kamakiri

John Steinbeck wrote in The Log from the Sea of Cortez, “It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars and then back to the tide pool again.”[1]

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Viewing Before Cremation

While cleaning the pool, brushing the autumn leaves away, I looked down to see Kamakiri ! Silently floating. Away to the stars goes this pearl !  So current a message, symbolic and ritualistic, of a little green body acknowledging this season.

She’s not there.

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If she laid her egg sack, which she most likely has, I have not seen her. Every year she comes and I paint her image, or take her picture. From the pool mesh fence I take her and let her crawl over my shoulders. This year only she indirectly shows herself. A floating exoskeleton on top of clear pool water, or images from friends. Her Praying Mantis tree with the beautiful purple anarchy flowers are as a waterfall and arbor waiting for her return. She will be golden green, large and graceful now. She facing death. I wear her tattoo on my left wrist. The purple anarchy flower. Last night at a local club again she told me that I was at the right time and place. I was meant to be here, even though she was not. The leather jacket with silver studs addressed me. The young man stood in front of me. There splashed upon his back, drawn and painted, is her anarchy flower. Holding up my wrist I knew it to be true. I tapped the young tall man on the shoulder and showed him the image. He acknowledged it and the music blew through and around us. The longitude and latitude the continuity of life. It was all meant to be, I was where I was meant to be…. but she was not there.

 

“Thinking Strings”

Insights and notes through the creative “thinking stings”  from The Eranos lecture series; The Creative Pattern In Primitive Africa by Laurens van der Post

There is a part of our spirit to which this voice of Mantis, speaking from an age of stone to an age of men with hearts of stone, commands us with the authentic tone of eternal renewal..” Pg. 40

Praying Mantis Mandala for The Bushmen of the Kalahari desert and their “Thinking Strings” by Hudley

I am in the process of reflecting on the lecture, The Creative Pattern In Primitive Africa by Laurens van der Post. The lecture speaks of the Bushmen of the Kalahari desert and their ancient mythologies that happen to include Praying Mantis as their own “Spirit of Creation.”

The Bushmen worshiped the Mantis and consulted him as an oracle. Pg 21.

I include in this post, from the lecture, a poem / lament “by a father of a bushman that lived over a hundred years ago… he was a rainmaker and a magician.” Pg. 38

People were those who

Broke for me the string

Therefore,

The place became like this to me,

On account of it,

Because the string was that which broke for me.

Therefore,

The place does not feel to me,

As the place used to feel to me,

On account of it.

For,

The place feels as if it stood open before me,

Because the string has broken for me,

Therefore,

The place does not feel pleasant to me,

On account of it.

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What is interesting to me is though Laurens van der Post naturally brings and weaves the Bushmen and Wolfgang von Goethe together in comparison as to the writing of their particular styles of poetry, I take it further by placing it in the continuity of music which highlights this post in a delightful way. An essence of what this brings together and what it very well means. I came upon a connection or “thinking string’ between Wolfgang von Goethe and the German band Kraftwerk.

The “thinking strings.” This is the process of reconnecting the “thinking strings.”  A continuity of thoughts, dreams, magic, “stories from the wind” and life .

Listen to the music and read the poetry. I am asking for the feelings that it generates in you. It will provoke you.  My hopeful goal is to tie the “thinking strings” together again and to find what may have been lost, which is the spiritual beauty of the Bushmen. The Bushmen are the foundation of this Lecture by Laurens van der Post.  Reading it has had a profound effect on my life. I also wait for the “stories of life before and beyond the moment .”

The Bushmen, Goethe, Laurens van der Post and the Praying Mantis.

The Mantis will sit in an attitude of extreme reverence and contemplation, his head turned sometimes slightly on side as if he were waiting…for the wind to come from far beyond the mountains on the other side of the desert to bring him a story of life before and beyond the moment. …~ Pg. 22.

[Lyrics are an excerpt of “The Heaven Prolog” from Faust – Wolfgang von Goethe. In this masterpiece, these lines are said by Raphael archangel]
Die sonne toent nach alter weise
In brudersphaeren wettgesang
Und ihre vorgeschriebene reise
vollendet sie mit donnergang.
An English translation:
The sun is chanting his ancient song
In contest with the brother spheres
Rolling with thunder steps along
Down the predestined course of years
@@On going study of this lecture, I had to edit this from last night because I was very numinous and happy… and at these times perfection is not my goal but communication.

Mantis

My totem, medicine and shield

nature politics

the mantis knows how I feel…

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The Mantis Pledge at dusk 2013

Mantis Pledge

Flopside Comics be more than an asshole

Mantis’s August rendezvous

Big Ma Ma golden Mantis is my love of nature and she knows me!!

Big Ma Ma golden Mantis is my love for nature and she knows me!!

August is slow and not one praying mantis have come to visit me; every August I wait for Big Ma Ma golden Mantis to come visit me after laying her egg sack. (This is in case you don’t already know this… dear reader).

“Goodbye until we meet again in Spring…sweet autumn is near.”  Is what she always seems to tell me.

Today the outside sewer drainage pipe ran over and the bowels of hell came forth. I rolled up my pants and got to work cleaning. The rubber pipe outside is under the Praying Mantis tree with purple flowers. I called Mr. Faucetman to drill the sewer line. I don’t think Lance is going to fit under this tree. So after shoveling, digging and cleaning, I trimmed the tree back. I was very careful to look for any praying mantis. I also went to Home Depot to get some tree truck mulch to put around the pipe and two trees close by; covering anything left and to also cover some tree roots. I like how it gives my front yard a manicured, earthy and fresh look.

I then looked down and my heart skipped a beat because I saw her on a small ash tree weed. I showed her my hand and she slowly approached and walked up on it. Then I put her up on a solid branch from her tree….she was so close to her place that I had recently disturbed.

She posed and looked my way.

 

More Adventures with Mantis

Today while wading in the pond, in our imaginary forest of the eight cypress trees, Shyane turned to go get some suntan lotion from the cottage. As he walked up to the lotion near the microwave he saw this little fellow waiting for him. He was very surprised. He brought him to me outside. We spent some time with the little green baby mantis and then put him near our Morning Glories.

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Metamorphosis takes aeons, generations and sometimes within the proper cyclical season.

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All around me I feel the invisible walls. Maybe a cell membrane that holds me in. It is a cocoon. The darkness melts my body and whispers stories of weeping, hate and betrayal.  As the full moon ascends on the horizon I feel the depth and heat of her breath as she addresses me. She is dark and hides the light. This is the process of metamorphosis.  Living in the patriarchal world this process is out-right ignored.  Yet, women throughout history know it well, for those of  us who pass through it. I am not talking about the happy, good, rise-above women who act as if in a dysfunctional relationship to men. I am talking about the women who hold owls, serpents and insects.  The mermaids and sirens that men can not violate or listen to.  Women bear up children, and mysteries, that are not meant for the souls of men. Women hold within them those freaky looking, metamorphosis looking, creatures in their wombs. Tadpoles, tails and big heads swim in the hot environment.

Asleep she was drawn to the being-0f-light outside the open window; upon the wall of the old garage converted into a boy’s room.

“Come with me there has been an airplane crash.”

She flew and followed the being-of-light over the valley. They both whipped through the air. They were swimming through the air. Her belly felt as if riding on a swing.

“That does not look like an airplane crash,” she said.

The fire and flames turned into a spacecraft. There was a large door. It opened and there before her and the-being-of-light was a small little grey-being with elaborate clothing.  Not a word was spoken but a beam of light, as a razor beam, focused from the little grey-being to her.

“What is this?  All these images are pouring into my brain. Symbols, numbers on and on they go… I cannot handle this…I think I will implode.”

She then noticed the beam of light stop. It was over.

The being-of- light flew her back to where she was sleeping.

The weight of the world for the mantis species !!

Who needs to use chemicals, poisons or pesticides when you have us in the garden … there is absolutely no reason too… I go after, too many, crickets, aphids, black widows, and termites. I keep things in balance.  Yes, sometimes I get a little greedy and go after a butterfly… but I am your comrade: your friend of the garden… and sometimes on tall buildings in the city I am one with superman….

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the above images are taken from yahoo search…

Fun