Snap shots in our heart

“For [Aleister] Crowley, who was a painter himself, the artist ranked above the magician on the totem pole of illuminism, and he considered poetry and art as precious tools for transmutimg one’s innermost psychic visions…” Pg. 92 Wormwood Star, Spencer Kansa

Holly cats teenager
Cats and me …always !! 1970s

Magic is fleeting as is a synchronicity. In contrast to this is the focus upon something that is fleeting. Art and poetry often catch the essence of a fleeting beauty, feeling or moment. The continuity of fleeting moments seem like a continuous projection of a single life. As a kid I use to draw little images in the corner of a large pad of paper. Flipping through the fleeting images we have animation. For me, life is animation for our growing soul.

Teaching Nature politics

At the museum
Youngest son at the Museum

Today I awoke with a lecture on my tongue. The kids are home on winter break. I am experiencing my normal winter blues. What came to mind was something a profession said to me years ago,

“Don’t take on someones else’s karma.”

He is a Jungian therapist and Buddhist priest. This is the basis of my lecture I gave to the kids today, including the cats. The normal stuff was happening in the house. Cats and fish were moving around in their environment, Oldest son is making breakfast. The sounds of sneezing attack the air. An open door to the outside garden brings in the sounds of a cold day. Even the squirrels perched on their branches outside are listening. They tease the cats. The light and the shadow moves the trees as the breeze tickles mysteriously by.

We are all light and shadow.

Imagine all of these qualities of life.

Apply them to everyone you know.

People cry. People smile.

We often have to stand up for what we think is right


We need to see the good things that are here.

Right now.

We all face love and death.

Pain and pleasure comes to visit often.

Most importantly I have learned,…

we need to step away and let others experience their own karma.

The kids are joking, musing, talking and listening… I think?  My kids always to me…but to the world…are now young men.

Summer nights…

Dudea and Mr Po Po romanincg the summer night air by Hudley

Dudea and Mr. Po Po romancing the summer night air…

“You will not find your place in this universe or form a basis for understanding her mysteries until you … realize that Mother God and Father God are profoundly in love” ~ Ken Carey..

And can we apply this to kitty kitties? I think so… at least the Egyptians thought so..

Mock Pee

Today I watched my beautiful white Himalayan male cat mock pee on the outside brick fence. Male cats turn backwards and then spray their territory. The male cat does this by vibrating their tail.  Mr. Po Po is different because he is a very clean cat. I know he learned the pee ritual from Flash our other male cat. Flash does the real thing. He marks his territory all over the yard. This is what male cats do. Mr. Po Po is a very intelligent kitty.  I think he realizes that peeing around is a filthy thing to do, but he is  respectful of the social ritual and etiquette required of all male cats. It is an important ritual to uphold. So he mocks his territorial pissing. My son and I laugh about it all the time.



Two stories about three cats Huckleberry, Buzz and Mikey and two friends Joy and HUD…

Rosey, Buzz and Hud

The 1980s:

Cats are a part of my life. They always have been and always will be. This is a short story about Buzz the grey feral cat. He is surrounded with a cloud of mystery and synchronicity.  I do not know what became of him. I trust that my ex-husband and staff took good care of him after I left.  Buzz was last visited at my ex-husband’s house about 22 years ago.  As noted in the image above. At this time Buzz did not accept me anymore and so I let him stay.  Cats are transitory little beings. Domesticated cats are 10 % wild and 80 % domesticated. Buzz was 90 % wild and 10 % domesticated.  He grew up to be a hide & seek cat. He was not social with humans. In the mid-1980s, he was my cat and came to me only. I was about  80 % wild and only 20 % domesticated. Buzz and I had a lot in common.  So, the story goes…

Once upon a time there was a highly intelligent cat name Sir Huckle Berry Finish Raoolish Maximus.  We called him Huckleberry or Huck for short. He was a gift from our photographer friend named O who hung out with the punk band M.I.A. Huck was a grey American short hair. We loved him.

One night we had a party at the house. I left to go get some more party supplies. Huck got out and followed me. On the way back I saw him lying in the street near my home.  It was a hit and run. We took him to our veterinarian. They did all they could do to save his life. He passed away. This was an incredibly sad time for me.

I watched a series on Nick at Nite Nickelodeon called Route 66.  The original TV series was aired in the 1960s. The main characters Tod and Buzz traveled the land in their Corvette sports car. One day at the local thrift store after the death of Huck I found a vinyl LP called George Maharis Sings. On his album George sings Moon River. The song Moon River is the song that inspired me to name this cat Huckleberry. I did not know that George Maharis sang this song, but he did play the character Buzz on the series Route 66.  I felt captivated by Huck when I found the LP. I listened to the song over and over and cried. I missed my Huckleberry! I did not know it then, but two cats and a song were about to make my life come together in a remarkably interesting way.

“Two drifters, off to see the world.

There’s such a lot of world to see.

We’re after that same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend.

My huckleberry friend, Moon River, and me.”

The same day I found this LP I later took a walk and noticed across the street some kittens and their mama sunning their bodies. I thought this was cute. Then I noticed that it was right across the street from where Huckleberry was hit. With my eagle eyes I focused in on a little grey cat. This kitten looked just like Huck. I was amazed. All this coincidence hit me hard it had to mean something.

What could all this mean? The record with Buzz signing Moon River, the place where Huck died, and the little grey cat across the street, all came together through the process of synchronicity.  I then planned. The next two weeks I studied the mama cat and her kittens. I saw a pattern. They lived under an older house on the street. They only came out at certain times for a sun bath, sleep, and play. The kittens always stayed awfully close to their mama.

I then made my move while the feral cats were sleeping out in the sun. I walked down the street, crossed, and slowly approached the cats. I quickly grabbed the little grey kitten and made a run for it. That mama was on my tail for three blocks. She yelled like a wild animal. She clawed and bit my feet and ankles. Then she gave up. I do not blame her, but her wild little grey kitten was mine now!!

It took some time, but the grey kitten learned to love his new home. We took good care of him. The other cats became his family. I named him Buzz or sometimes Buzweld when he was bad, which was not very often.

Image by Joy of Huckleberry a Flipside Cat.

She was known to dance with us round the wild circle in our living room at Halloween parties, and we did the same at her Otis College dorm.

I think it was 1985 when I first met Joy. She was at a rather small punk gathering. She had a camera and awfully long hair. Hanging at the punk scene is always a great way to meet other punkers. We talked and grew to enjoy her company.  I remember the gifts she gave me. One was a blue masque she made in art class with blue feathers. Very Mardi Gras !

“I made this for you Hud!

“Oh, OK!?”

 I really did not know what to do with it. I was embarrassed. I took it and kept it for many years. Another gift she gave me a few years later, that I still have, is an image of a flying Ostrich with an Asian/ Indian woman riding it. It is a large art piece that I have framed. It now hangs in my bedroom. I enjoy it immensely. It is an encaustic painting on a silk material. I guess these gifts were her way of wooing our friendship into existence. It seemed to work. Joy worked her way into the Flipside house and became a punk woman of integrity. Her art, shit work and journeys with us to gigs amplified the Flipside crew experience and we all enjoyed her presence.

We met her while she was attending High-School, and then she went onto Otis College of Art and Design of Los Angeles, and then to the prestigious Art Center College of Design of Pasadena. Yes, she grew up right in front of us developing skills I can’t even imagine.

I did not ask her about her family, but she told us stories. She volunteered her time with us, so I figured if she attended college her expenses were all paid for. She was not the struggling artist and she was not guilty or shy. One story she shared with us is about the relationship between her parents and the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Her parents received yearly health-screenings because they moved to California after the war. My dad is a purple-heart veteran that served in WWII. He bombed Japan. Forty years of time and once known enemies are now friends.  Amazing!!

It was not easy making it into the ranks of the Flipside house. We had our tests. Joy passed them all and I am proud we were friends


2021: We have a kitty now named Mikey. He is a short haired grey cat, and he reminds me so much of Huck… so I thought I would share this amazing story about three cats …. they are so much alike… yet uniquely a part of my life…. at different times… I am not so wild anymore … about 90 % domesticated and the rest wild… kind of like Mikey.

Standing On Guard ?

“Come here Mr Po Po it is time for a bath!”  His big blue eyes gazed into mine.

“Yes beautiful Himalayan cat, yes people smart cat. Papa and Shayne say you smell bad!”

My son named the cat after a Aminma cartoon character from Dragon Ball Z.

I put warm water, Mr Po Po and soap into the bath tub. I closed the shower door, except for a wee bit of room for me to do my scrubbing.

The wet cat did not  meow or scream.

“Soak your feet white kitty” I said.

He trusted me until the bath ended. I picked Mr Po Po up and wrapped him in a towel.  Mr Po Po went outside to dry.
Outside the water sprinkled everywhere in all directions as his pink tongue came out and the sunshine came down.

Standing on guard Mr Po Po’s comrades Mr Flash, Miss Football and Miss Dudea did not say a meow.

(OK this is harder than it seems…)