“Nessus had not yet reached the other bank When we began to make our way across A wood on which no path had left its mark. No green leaves in that forest, only black; No branches straight and smooth, but knotted, gnarls;No fruits were there, but briers baring poison.”
My responding…
Nature is not lost All wild creatures, insects, plants, and trees are in a state of ecstasy. The praying mantis reflects in my watery psyche only a drip of what that is. As she embraces the gardenia plant! Climbing through and reaching also the trailing purple tubular magenta flowers. Touching the earth while reaching towards the sun. A spell, my enchanting bliss. Cleaning away the contrast Of contraries of my human experience of a paradise lost!
The Divine Comedy Paradiso Canto XXV 124-127
“Only those two lights that ascended wear Their double garment in this blessed cloister And carry this report back to your world. ”When he began to speak, the flaming circle Had stopped its dance; so took its song had ceased- That gentle mingling of their threefold breath-”
Image of Mom and Wall Art of my Watercolor Attis the Mantis… holy cheer!
Emperor Julian’s “Hymn to the Mother of Gods”[14] contains a detailed Neoplatonic analysis of Attis. In that work Julian says:
“Of him [Attis] the myth relates that, after being exposed at birth near the eddying stream of the river Gallus, he grew up like a flower, and when he had grown to be fair and tall, he was beloved by the Mother of the Gods. And she entrusted all things to him, and moreover set on his head the starry cap.”
[15] On this passage, the scholastic (Wright) says:
“The whole passage implies the identification of Attis with nature…cf. 162A where Attis is called ‘Nature,’ φύσις.”
~ Wright, Wilmer Cave (1913). The Works of the Emperor Julian. Vol. 1. London, New York: William Heinemann, The Macmillan Co. p. 461. ark:/13960/t5gb32365.
Here is my latest praying mantis caricature. A holiday greeting from long ago ancient times.
Attis brings Liberte’
At the darkness time of the year, the longest night, the winter solstice… here comes some ancient anthropomorphism… and praying mantis is here to make life so meaningful.
The name Diotima means one who honors or is honored by Zeus, and her descriptor as “Mantinikê” (Mantinean) seems designed to draw attention to the word “mantis”, which suggests an association with prophecy.
“Then at last man will behold beauty with the eye of the mind and will be able to bring forth not mere images of what is good for man but realities… Would that be an ignoble life Socrates?”
The Ngangikurungkurr practice what they call dadirri, a form of deep listening for these sacred stories. As Aboriginal elder Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr puts it, “Through the years, we have listened to our stories.
They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories. As we grow older, we ourselves become the storytellers.
We pass on to the young ones all they must know. The stories and songs sink quietly into our minds and we hold them deep inside. In the ceremonies we celebrate the awareness of our lives as sacred.”
Turner, Toko-pa. Belonging: Remembering Ourselves home (Kindle Locations 3112-3116). Her Own Room Press. Kindle Edition.
I am happy to say that my original four watercolors-were sold at a Fundraiser for the National Women’s Health Network. A Silent Auction. “A Voice for Women, A network of change.”
Asteroid Goddesses, Ceres, Pallas Athene, Vesta, Juno
Female asteroid goddess fun!
Praying Mantis is an anthropomorphism often found in all my art.
These asteroid Goddesses are positive parts of our female psyches. Health, strength, and the ability to fight for the integrity of all life. The right to choose. A right for justice and equality. A rich part of history and mythology which shine through us all.
As we look up into the heavens, we find these asteroids. If we look to these little creatures on earth as the praying mantis, we find the beauty of nature.
Brought together through art we reflect within ourselves the balance that we all need for good health. A healthy psyche to share with the world. A symbolic healing panacea.
At home I like to have projects to do. Husband got me a new book called Asteroid Goddesses by Demetra George & Douglas Bloch. A networking book that ties up so many years of study. Astronomy, astrology, spirituality, mythology and psychology.
A remarkable book. It reads well. I like to engage in mythology, so I did up a little water-color fun with four of the main players heavenwards. What a fun project !! Some female asteroids that have a powerful punch to the human psyche. We all need them.
“The emergence of values from remembering repeats in our old age the ancient myth of Memory, the mother of the nine. Muses. Each of the Muses—the patronesses of astronomy, comedy, dance, eloquence, epic, history, music, amatory poetry, and tragedy—artfully forms values by musing upon the goddess Memory who is her mother.
We do not need to form our remembrances into art, as the painter Grandma Moses did in her old age, or into a novel, as Giuseppe di Lampedusa did in his.
We need only to follow Memory’s daughters, musing over our memories and noticing how they take on significant shapes.”
~ James Hillman. The Force of Character: And the Lasting Life.
Illustration from ‘Practica Musicae’ depicting the connection between music, the Muses, and celestial influences.
“Greek rational thought broke away from magic thought processes, and symbolically transferred the center of creative power from the female womb to the male brain (symbolized by Athene’s birth from the forehead of Zeus), creating the great Western cultural distortion that is still with us today, by giving greater value to culture than to nature, to the abstract Idea than to concrete Life itself.”
~Amaury de Riencourt. Woman and Power in History .
These illustrations are a way to in tune with “the female power again.” Intuition, illumination, and humor are a way to hold us on an alternative foundation or path.
A given for us females and a needed endeavor that must be taken by our male comrades. Most importantly for them. If we dare to have a chance in these dark times.
An offbeat flopside comic adventure...
Art -watercolors by Hudley Flipside aka Holly Cornell.
Nine Muses as the source of “in-aspiration,” literally breathing in “I-deas” of Goddess-spirits within. The Muses were originally a triad-the primordial Triple Goddess. First of them was Mnemosyne, “Memory,” who made poets able to remember sacred sagas.
“The whole classical iconographic story of the transformation of the soul and the stages of illumination.”
Apollo is seated at the top and the three Graces are dancing beside him. In his hand is the lyre that plays the song of the universe, and besides that is the vessel of abundance. The inscription over Apollo’s head says,
“The energy of the Apollonian mind moves everywhere through the muses.”
The muses are the inspirers of spiritual knowledge, and the source of their energy is the Graces. The Graces are naked because nakedness represents disengagement form the limitations of the clothing of time and space, but the Muses who represent the message of this naked truth to the world. The Graces are three aspects of Aphrodite. Her inflection as the moving powers of the energy of the world.
Euphrosyne: Joy and the radiance that flows to the world through the qualities of the nine Muses.
Aglaea: Splendor, the energy returning to the deity.
Selene: the celestial body of the moon. The arrow held by Selene in the sphere of the moon is held down, pointing us to the earth and its history, while the caduceus of Hermes points upward, directing us to spiritual heights.
Clio: the muse of history and historical writing.
Calliope: the Muse the radiance of the eternal principle of epic poetry. (Mercury /Hermes)
Thalia: Abundance: that unites the two. When you have put your head in the mouth of the lion you hear the song of nature. Muse of bucolic poetry, the poetry of the nature around you, the sheep and the lion and the trees and the mountains.
(3,4,5 The process of the rendering into the world the radiance of the Apollonian consciousness.)
The same old chaos from the small mushroom man. Tariffs, tariffs, tariffs…. This is a Flopside cOmic. I used to enjoy drawing and doodling this buffoon, but it is not so much fun anymore… redundant and annoying is more like it… the annoying Donald… the small mushroom man.
The central figure is the great serpent whose tail is Cerberus. The three-headed dog who guards the underworld. Thalia is also the name of the ninth Muse. She is both below Cerberus’s head and she is also the central Grace above. Silent Thalia when she is under the threshold of the earth. “You can’t accept the bite of death and so you’re not hearing the song of the universe, and that why Thalia is silent.” We are afraid of the three heads of the dog. Fire of the sun, the present, yielding ourselves to the present. The wolf, the fear of the passage of time. The Dog which represents desire and hopes for the future.
“What binds us is the present, past and future and so we’re bound to the ego. This is the image of the snake biting Peleus’s Achilles tendon.
“Let the serpent of death bite your heel, do hear the song of the universe and then the Muses sing…when you have died to your ego and rational consciousness there open the intuition, that is to say, you hear the song of the muses, and this is the female power again.”
Nine Muses
The first triad of the earth, the moon and mercury.
The second triad is the transition through the sun door into the high sphere of purely spiritual experience.
Terpsichore the muse of dance. (Venus)
Melpomene the muse of tragedy and tragic poetry. (the Sun)
Erato the Muse of the art of erotic poetry. (Mars)
The highest triad where we are released from bondage to matter and death.
Euterpe the Muse of Flute song. (Jupiter, Zeus)
Polyhymnia the Muse of choral sacred song. (Kronos)
Urania the Muse of Astronomy.
(The heaven of the fixed stars)
Sources…
Practica Musicae, Franchinus Gaffurius, Interpreted by Joseph Campbell from his book Goddesses, Mysteries of the Feminine Divine.
The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara G. Walker
Also, today I am adding another most important source. “The Practica Musicae of Franchinus Gafurius” (First published in Milan in 1406)
The images contained in this book inspired my renderings. I was amazed at what I found and so started my journey.
“The High Renaissance in northern Italy was a crucial period in the development of the music of western civilization. The Pythagorean definition of interval in terms of precise mathematical ratio concepts of tuning, the controversy between ration and the “errant” senses…. helped bridge the gap between music as a philosophical science and music as a secular art. “
I include here images from this book. “…evolved both from ancient and medieval tradition and from the demands of performance in the late fifteenth century.”
Original source is acknowledged here with great joy…. the ancient past, the present…. it is amazing how we humans enjoy getting to know our soul, history, inspiration, astrology, philosophy, astronomy, alchemy, science and dare I say music ?
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.
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.”
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.
Faust (Goethe)/Prologue
THE LORD === THE HEAVENLY HOST Afterwards MEPHISTOPHELES
(The THREE ARCHANGELS come forward.)
“RAPHAEL
The sun-orb sings, in emulation, ‘Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round: His path predestined through Creation He ends with step of thunder-sound. The angels from his visage splendid Draw power, whose measure none can say; The lofty works, uncomprehended, Are bright as on the earliest day.”
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.
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 has 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 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 to it. Then I put her up on a solid branch from her tree…. She was so close to her tree where I had recently disturbed her.
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 outright 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 functions 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, which 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, like 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 manage this…I think I will collapse.”
She then noticed the beam of light stop. It was over.
The being-of- light flew her back to where she was sleeping.
I listen to a diversity of songs all the time. What I like best about songs are when they talk to me. I talk with them so why not them with me. I use them in my posting as highlighters to accentuate the theme of my postings. If you trip through my musical posting they will tell you a story… oh my I revealed myself again. I think you can do this with most writers.
When songs talk to you it is important. I call it synchronicity listening. At the appropriate time a song comes forth and you know it’s talking to you. Why, you must think about it to find the answer: not take it lightly, it has meaning. One song that did this recently is Love Buzz. It was years ago when I first heard it!
Nirvanabrought it back from the dead. A band named Shocking Blue created the original recording of this song. I like both but prefer the original. I like the depth of Mariska Veresvocal style. It sounds like the dark Goddess graphing me by the heart into the underworld. I feel this song is about the power and even imperfection of love and the overwhelming seduction and abuse of it, but It can hale true!
I posted the song on my Facebook a few days back. Then I went out to the local pub and a friendly DJ played the song as soon as I drank my first pint. Stunned, I felt the hairs on my back go up. I realize that stepping out for the night was a good thing.
We were meant to be where we were at that time and place in history. With so many opportunities available at the time, so much going on with old and new friends it was the place to be. Life in general was being shady.
I realized when the song played that life is a real bitch sometimes, but I am gracefully loved and being taken care of.
I love songs!!! This one of the Praying Mantis theme songs.
Outside of our French windows is a trellis over the patio. Across from this we have a pool fence. We put it up when the children were small for their protection. It is now a place for Praying Mantis. When the spring comes and the baby mantis break their egg sack, hundreds of babies run along the claw proof dark plastic mesh.
The first days of autumn brings me a great visitor; a big mama mantis on the pool fence. This is very odd in the middle of the day with the sun overhead. We watched her wobble about. Her back-end is quite large. She stirred her body many times as she moved using her long legs to balance her weight. I then decided to move her.
I usually do not interfere with nature. She is big and it took five months for her to get this size. I am sure she can take care of herself…but I love her so, and did not want to see her devoured by a cat. Some would see this as equal punishment for the many creatures she sucked the life force from. I do not judge nature.
I put my hand and arm out to her. She looked round at me with her large yellow-green eyes. The end of her spider legs reached out grasping the hair on my arm like cactus hair, pulling her towards me. She was aboard me.
Quickly she ran to my right shoulder than the left shoulder. Then she was on my head. I felt her weight on my neck, and she tickled me. I laughed aloud. Walking slowly towards the trellis I rest my head on the vines and flowers. It did not take long for her to skip jumping up to a branch. Now, she was almost camouflaged from my gazing green eyes. Later in the day she was gone from this spot. In my heart I knew she was nearby.
Been awhile since I listened to this song or focused on this watercolor… but it is a good day to dance and celebrate… and thank my dear friend the Praying Mantis…
