Tag Archives: beauty

Ok…. it does take time…


Wild thing

Wildflowers have taught me to be authentic. You cannot mess with a wildflower. If does its own thing Too much water or love and if will die. One must look at a wildflower with a sideways glance. Appreciation is appreciated. Don’t expect a sweetness without an inward determination or discernment from the wild thing.


Today while shopping the Sunday crowds were noticeable. The checkout lane was accepted. Yet even with the self-check out open and the 15 items or less open, two young men with several Styrofoam cups wanted to go first. They loomed close to me. Thinking my old women ways would be forgiving and stupid to the fact they would eventually ask the question.

And then it happened the young man said,

“Can you do us a favor…”

I said with well learned flower intention and assertion,

“No. There is a self-checkout over there and a 15 or less over there. Otherwise you need to chill and wait like the rest of us.”

I went ahead with the checkout process. These two young men then decided to enter my space. I had to tell them to please step back.

“You need to step back because you are invading my space.”

They were in front of the cash check machine. I had to bag my things. They were shaking their heads like I was playing the wrong card.

You cannot expect older mamas to be sweaty pie by force. If these two young men were older and needed my help, I would have let them through and bagged for them. But these guys thought wrong about me.

It felt good to say “no” and “back off.”

I did not use fuck, or stupid or use my hand finger. I was assertive and authentic like the wildflowers in my garden.




The Avengers, the Dils and the Alley Cats.

Sunday May 26 will be the time to join with punk comrades and celebrate our originators and characters of the early California punk scene. The Avengers, the Dils and the Alley Cats.

In memory of Jimmy Wilsey

I stumbled into the early punk scene. The Australian Saints and the San Franciscan Avengers gave me the courage to go and see any other alternative underground bands on my own. I found myself melting into a wild alchemy of youths that had something to say. We were finding our voices. All the unknown characters were there, nobodies creating a scene together. We were wild and knew all the songs by heart by The Dils, The Alley Cats and the Avengers.

I will be there handing out some badges joining in the event in memory of our youthful rebellion that is still the heart beat of this crazy continuity of punk rock that still drives our DNA onward,,,

The Avengers, The Dils and The Alley Cats + many special guests (A Celebration of the Life of Jimmy Wilsey) at Echoplex

https://www.facebook.com/events/623081094804740/


Images taken from various Flipside Fanzines.

You can see the whole deal and have it for your own…. below…



Androgynous God


Inanna’s Trinity

“But when women succeed in maintaining themselves against the anumus, instead of allowing themselves to be devoured by it, then it ceaes to be only a danger and becomes a creative power. We women need this  power, for, strange as it seems, only when this masculine entity becomes an integrated part of the soul and carried on its proper  function, and, at the same time, also being herself, to fulfill her individual human destiny.” Pg. 42 Animus and Anima; Two Essays by Emma Jung.


rom Winter to Spring real change happens. The death of Winter and the rebirth of Spring. The resurrection of Christ Jesus after three days in the underworld, the release of Prometheus by Chiron, and the release of Persephone from the underworld. Here she spends 6 months with Pluto and 6 mouths with her mother Demeter. The motif is about the same thing and I am sure there are many other myths, stories and religious texts where one can bring this concept forth. One that is not as popular is the story of Inanna the Goddess of love, Queen of Heaven and Earth. It is a trinity. It is a cuneiform Sumer texts about 3000 years old.  First there is Inanna, then Ereshkigal~ Queen of the Underworld, and finally we have Lilith ~ the dark rebel adolescent of Inanna.

Here we also find a similar part as with Persephone where Inanna’s king Dumuzi as the shepherd king of Uruk spends 6 months in the underground.

“His heart was filled with tears, The shepherd’s heart was filled with tears, Dumuzi’s heart was filled with tears.”

The wisdom god Enki helps Inanna from the underground.

“He creates from the dirt of this fingernails the kurgarra and galatur- instinctual, asexual creatures who will not disturb the necessary infertility rules of the kur. He endows the creatures with the artistic and empathetic taken of being professional mourners, capable of mirroring the lonely queen’s emotions.” Pg. 160.

Also interesting in this ancient trinity is the place of Lilith. Here a difference perspective of her.

“The powerful Lilith of Inanna’s adolescent days had to be sent away so Inanna’s life exploring talents could be developed. But now that Inanna has become queen of her city, wife to her beloved, mother of her children, she is more able to face what she has neglected and feared: the instinctual wounded, frightened parts of herself. She now hears, and capable of responding to, the labor call of Ereshkigal ~The Great Below.” Pg. 160 Inanna by Diane Wolkstein .


God of Wisdom and Shepard King

“He creates from the dirt of his fingernails the Kurgarra, the food of life, and Galatur the water of life.


Inanna’s Trinity

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Goddess of Love, Queen of Heaven and Earth

I

Queen of the Underworld

Dark Rebel and Adolescent of Inanna


My insight on International Women’s Day 2019

A Matter of Choice.

I am not a feminist or a professional business woman. I took the more traditional path as a wife and mother. I am also an entrepreneur.  I find I can balance the male and female within myself.  Jungian Psychology calls this balancing the Anima and Animus.  I am creatively involved in projects that have meaning to me and beyond myself or the extramundane.  I am naturally a supportive person that likes home, intimate relationships and small pubs. My goals are based on love not profits. I am learning to be very happy to cross the bridge of financial stability and independence.

I dedicate this day to the character Maggie Paul played by Marsha Mason from the film Cinderella Liberty (1973).

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https://hudleyflipside.com/2013/07/22/a-cinderella-liberty-is-navy-jargon-for-a-pass-that-runs-out-at-midnight/


Maggie Paul curtains for rainy days in our bathroom.


Papa gave mama a crystal in computer room for inspiration…


The outdoor crystal that merges with nature and the Sun.


Doing the laundry is never dull work in my home.


One drop of rain

cropped-euphrosyne1.jpg

SEVEN YEARS ON WORDPRESS !!


I have Chiron square Mercury in my 7th house…

At the The VIVA May 21, Photo by Daisy Obetsanov


th (18)idn’t speak much when I was young. Was not interested in writing either. Only a few poems. I played with my friends, but I found it more and more difficult to communicate at school. I felt restricted, invisible or persecuted by my own peers. I was wild and not awake to the pounding of an education that seemed incredulous to me. I now realize I had foresight, creativity and a natural spiritualism that could not find contact. Nature was receptive! My mom and dad tried with lots of watercolors and paper.  A giant black board was painted in my room. Endless chalk drawings were created and erased, drawn and erased. The old player piano in the boys’ room is where I spent hours playing any song I wanted that I learned by heart only.


Vesta 001


Did I not express myself in school because of fear? Was it the constant fighting and alcoholism in my household which pushed my mind down into myself? Was it dyslexic, autism or a painful shyness that was the bewildering issue within me? We the children were not diagnosed back then.

Having foresight was a curse when no one listened!  I did not have the proper device , neither did I have the wise ability to  reach out  towards others. I did not have a voice!

Now at 60 I realize my heart & mind are mature and keen enough to reach my inward growing child. That is my reasoning currently to create a hub like The Seminary Of Praying Mantis.  To share my voice and reach a global community! I believe this is the truth. Finding one’s voice and sticking to it is wonderful. The last seven years WordPress has helped to make this happen for me.


holy-baubo


I am celebrating 7 years with WordPress. My HUB in a global community.

While spending a few hours observing nature this afternoon. I know that the many voices were loud and some subtle. The chirp-chirp birds, to the black crows on tall cypress trees. Above me high in the sky are the circling hawks and the commercial jets. Sounds of life. One drop of rain touched me. I am one drop of rain too.

I invite you to support The Seminary of Praying Mantis and celebrate with me. I have words to read, items for sale and images to make you laugh. I have grown as a writer, author and artist.  It is amazing that so many tools are available where one can publish ones’ works! It can be achieved very cheaply and sometimes even for free as with Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing. I have taken the core of my punk philosophy, wild nature, foresight and freedom to communicate with the world. I found a place to express myself. It is colorfully rewarding….

My Punkalullaby: The Seminary Of Praying Mantis (Punk Fanzine Memoir Book 1) http://a.co/2ZeXdAU


Mary’s Special Place

I worked for the Visiting Nurse Association as a Home Health Aide in Santa Cruz California back in 1991. I enjoyed helping the elderly, sick and crippled. I comforted them and attended to their simple needs of washing, food and medicine. I loved their stories they shared. Most of my patients were in their 90s and their lifetimes were filled with a richness that I yearned for. They shared their stores with me.

I will share a story of Mary. She was alone in her parents’ home. A beautiful Victorian home near the shores of Santa Cruz. Only one room was used for Mary. All the other rooms, which were many, were closed off. The stairs that went to her room were something out of the novel Gone with The Wind. And to the right of these majestic stairs was a giant Ballroom with a crystal chandelier where Mary told me her stories. In the room where she lived was a single bed and a small bathroom with bath. On the wall was a painting of a lovely sailing ship. The painting was of her father’s ship. It was a family ship. She told me that she came from a sea family. It was a merchant family business.

As the times changed her family and Mary took to living on the land. She was born and raised on a ship. She knew the ocean well. Standing on ground was difficult for her as a young lady. Eventually she married. Santa Cruz was a cowboy town at the time. She told me one night when her husband made his usual advantages towards her. She declined and fell asleep. He went off to the bars to sleep with a prostitute. He gave Mary gonorrhea and after that she couldn’t have any children. It took some time but she forgave him.

This is a poem about Mary and our walk to her special place. She told me that the wild animals that lived there sometimes would pop up in her toilet. Small rats,  squirrels and lizards would sometimes appear. It did not look all that bad to me. Yet, I can only imagine how it once was.

Mary, We Call You Near

We walked our way 
To the stream 
Down a short 
Wood’d green.
Marking our way 
Me with my little red hat 
Mary with her special cane 
To a faerie glen 
Perchance we glance 
To see one of ‘em- 
Of course, 
Mary Would be reciting 
A lit’bit of Kipling’s.
 
Arriving then 
I sat upon 
The concrete tunnel there- 
Mary stood proudly 
Above my stare
A lassie quite young 
That only time 
Be’a steal’n years from. 

A stream did run here 
Once very free 
Now the community has grown 
A lot of concrete 
Be surrounding 
The stream’s old home 
Controlling the flow 
Which was once surely
More freely flow’n-
Now the stream runs
Past wood’d green 
And homes to the ocean shore. 

Mary and I listen’d 
To the green trickling
Of the eternal water go 
I looked up 
to see Mary’s face a shine’n
Like the sun
Full of wisdom and love 
Lots of hopeful youth too.

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old Irish Drinking Song…

Sting like a jelly-fish

Today while walking into Ralph’s super market I saw the familiar old lady under yellow plastic. She was holding a white tissue to her red nose. She sat in her wheelchair at a prime target getting her ‘a little sympathy’. She got mine. I went into the store and purchased a $1.95 Starbucks house coffee medium. I am still amazed that a ‘cup of joe’ costs so much now. I remember when it was 25 cents.

“I like watching Noir films,” I said to the barista. “It is a wonder in those films that a ‘cup of joe’ only coast five pennies.  Twenty-five cents got you a cup of coffee, a ham sandwich and a piece of pie.”

The barista smiled at me as I took the coffee, put in some cream and sugar and then headed towards the old lady in a wheelchair.

“Here is a cup of coffee, you look cold.?!”

“I don’t drink coffee it is bad for you.”

“Really I thought it would warm you up. Coffee is not as bad for you as you may think.”

“I have never had any.” She looked down to her right at a dirty bag of oranges. “It is all right I had an orange…I am fine.”

I was a bit upset. I never thought that she would reject a cup of coffee on such a cold and rainy day.

“Lady sometimes beggars can’t be choosers?!”

I realized that I could not reason with the lady. She had her right to say no.  So, I walked on remembering what an old myth taught me. All about a woman’s psyche.

As Persephone went on her journey, she was advised not to give anything to those needy people who asked for something along the way. It was important for her to hold on to her strength and parts of herself that were precious.

I guess I failed the test today.Then that sorrow thread pulled in me. I call it the thread of sorrow.

I think that our current society does not embrace their share of sorrow. That is why we have so many drug addicts and alcoholics. A social epidemic.

We all need to hold on to or embrace our threads of sorrow. It can pull hard. It can be an echo that mocks. It can sting like a jelly-fish. When we run from our share of sorrow, ignore it, or get lost in our addictions hating it, it only manifests in our world as a monster shadow. Creating hate, chaos and terrible politicians. That is why I love Jazz because it speaks to the human heart and soul. It embraces it’s share of sorrow.


Massage as a profession or occupation

At about 8 o’clock PM.

The unpredictable Crazy days are far behind me and the routines of life have set in. Family and cats bring the little rituals of life which brings symmetry into the chaos of living such as; racing through traffic and surviving, watching current politics and not having a heart attack, and realizing that we all die. It is comforting to know that we live in a recycling universe, or so it seems. The point being within the light and darkness of life are the routines of everyday living that does bring joy.

Last night was a normal trash night. The difference in the routine is when husband said that there are two cars parked in our unmarked-marked trash can places. The usual sounds of annoyance on his part made me think about visiting with our new neighbors and asking them to move one of the cars so we might have a place for our trash cans.

The green sweat coat with 1976 on it pulled over my shoulders and I was off. I found myself in front of the neighbor’s house. Placing a knock knock and then pushing a ring ring upon their door and door button. Something expanded when I heard the ring ring.

It was a different kind of ring ring. It being a tasteful and alluring sound. The front door was half window and I could see in as one of my neighbors looked back at me. I mumbled something about the trash cans. The neighbor’s eyes widened open. Dressed in a light blue robe, looking confused my neighbor opened the door slightly. Having a face that was angular like something out of a Pablo Picasso paining such as Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, 1907 during his cubism period; caught me off guard.

The new neighbors had radically changed the format and structure of the house since the last owner. As the door opened there was only a white hallway that met about half way through the house. Directly on the wall before me was a giant painting of what looked like a  Toulouse-Lautrec, Jane Avril Dancing painting. Yet this painting was one woman with her leg up and a giant red dress like a blooming flower. Once there were two rooms here one leading right and one left. One into a game room and the other into the kitchen. Not anymore. Straight ahead was a veil into another reality.

Our conversation was quick. I told the neighbor our problem. Nicely I was told that each of them had a  masseuse come out for a special treat message and that the cars were theirs. I was also told that both of them were almost finished.

Like clockwork each masseuse left in their two separate cars. I put out my two trash cans under the crescent moon of a very dark night. Feeling nicely surreal and wondering about our new neighbors?