“…But we should realize that both the alcoholic and the bodhisattva are yearning for (and with the bodhisattva actually working for) a situation in which individual egos are not separate…” The Outer Planets and Collective Projection Pg 79 Tim Lyons
The triumph of working with Neptune is waking up to the quote above with a triumphant calling to move forward.
It scares me to read the above quote. I like my independence and introverted ways. To know that all egos are not separate is good as long as we are not to packed together.
Maybe working together for a common cause is better! A call of integrity is a call of the human spirit to right wrongs. These are more my way of seeing it.
There is hope if people will begin to awaken that spiritual part of themselves, that heartfelt knowledge that we are caretakers of this planet.
~ Brooke Medicine Eagle
“I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.”
― Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
Capitalism and communism are not bad forms of governing but can become so! If these forms of government don’t hold the human being as self-evident and hold all of us as having a high valid place as in the core of the apple, then that sucks! The individual human spirit does govern us! Yet both forms of government can turn and bend and oppress the individual out of greed and power whipped into shape by a governing party or president holding a shadowy light! When this happens, it is a type of death to the human spirit, because it does not apply governing and service to all the people. Yes, not just the rich and/ or influential.
Today as we at Flopside comics witnessed the Senate Intelligence Committee interview NSA director Mike Rodgers and director of National Intelligence Dan Coats, we heard them stonewall the American people.
A darkness is upon us. A time when the worst of communism and capitalism flank togther and show its seething fangs. The breath of fascism is so close that we can smell the foul air.
So, we at Flopside Comics are anticipating that the good knight, Sir James Comey, will attend to the human spirit tomorrow. Anyway, this is where we put our hope.
I looked outside at the night while watching the stars and the sparkling lights on the Verdugo Mountains It was this time that a new world opened to me. We were all listening and we were all connected somehow.
It was about 3 feet by 4 feet. Beige color and made of a soft wood with round speakers built-in the front of the radio. The base sound was good and highlighted the sound his soft DJ voice made. His voice was in conflict to the loud music he played. Cutting Edge music. I was glued to the sound of the music he played. The room was dark and I was alone in my parent’s second story house.
In my imagination it never occurred to me that I would get to know this music man. A type of pre internet friend. A phone, mail relationship that came to be during the 1980s. Kinda like a Facebook friend now. Not exceptionally close but supportive and reliable and we all randomly came together as a sturdy cable. We were the jumpstart to that starting punk rock engine. A dependable promotional voltage to what the puck scene was screaming to achieve. Great times…. thank you Rodney !! A lot of action and movement ! A lot of love !!!
Improvising is having the ability to control one’s mind and think clearly. To speak from memory and experience within the presence of now and not get tongue-tied. I watch how some people are so good at this type of control. It amazes me. They can move their bodies, speak and improvise with a type of grace. A controlling of the mind and the body with entertaining perfection.
It is not about repetition or practice, yet that is part of it. Taking tests and writing essays in a class is the same type of improvising control. Some are good at it and others are not. Takes a lot of practise yet some people can bull their way through with flying colors. That is what I would like to be able to do.
I guess this is why I love Jazz. It is improvising control that is so perfect. A yearning for me…
“I stood for a moment on the scent, smelling this shrill and blood-raw music, sniffing the atmosphere of the hall angrily, and hankering after it a little too. One half of this music, the melody, was all pomade and sugar and sentimentality. The other half was savage, temperamental and vigorous. Yet the two went artlessly well together and made a whole.” Pg. 37 Steppenwolf
In the early morning
there is nothing like driving east
on Sherman Way in the San Fernando Valley.
Not too many drivers
on the road
the view of the Verdugo mountains
are straight ahead.
The Verdugos shine with a blue gray hue
bringing to mind my youthful wild days.
The street is lined
with dark green pepper trees
blocks of brilliant yellow mustard greens
freely enhanced with
miles of tall brown yellow wheat weeds
What is still left of this wild valley.
It is a cool windy day
goes round and round.
Made up of different colored leaves
memories that stir within me.
Prehistoric blue gray mountain range
I am getting younger
Coolness on clothes
distance of windy gray sky
I feel 13 again.
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged Art, beauty, Daily Prompt, Depth Psychology, Goddess and Home, hue, ode, poems, postaday, spirituality, Verdugo, will-o'-the-wisp, Women, Writing
“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.”
~ Jack Kerouac
I grew up during the 60s, 70s and 80s. I was 30 years old when I was bumped blindly into a world of a new education. Each generation I lived though, I loved. As a song, friend or lover, which in fact… all three generations supplied me with abundantly.
I fell into the late 70s punk scene blindly and without any ambition but the rebellious call of youth and ideology built on an underground scene. Yet what I witnessed in the 60s was wildness of a different rebellion. I miss the hitchhiker’s ways. People on the streets at every corner. I felt safe and awake.
Then as I have written before, the end of the 70s brought the multiple attacks of serial killers and we all pulled into ourselves. Now I drive by the many blocks where I grew up and see all the streets are empty. Cars and more cars blindly drive right through my memories of those street kids. They were just hanging and talking. They improvised life without any hand-held device. Only the feel of a hand.
I feel the need to move to a new place where there are no memories. I did it at the end of the 80s. I left to a place of no memories for a short time.
As a culture we have become so pulled into ourselves. I am guilty of this as well. I am not blind to what is going on yet, I am getting to old to do anything about it.
“The Greek poet Orpheus carried Willow branches as a symbol of the inspiration this sound gave.”
I pause outside as bee and lady bug fly around.
Sweet is the nectar from
lemon tree and lavender.
Letting go of worries and
desires that do not serve me now.
An old friend, a song, comes to mind
as my "leaves in the wind."
Perfect are old recorded songs
and the insect, flower and tree!
Somehow as I pause in breathing,
I am lost in this perfection.
The recurring of pause of being,
the repetition of listening to old songs
the heartfelt listening and watching nature,
Is my catalyst for artistic expression.
Never to let us down !!
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged Alternative music, Art, beauty, Daily Prompt, Goddess and Home, nature, poetry, postaday, punk rock music, spirituality, Women
Triangular poem…. by Hudley
The best I have achieved in life is to follow things through. It can be a project, a meeting or supporting a friend. I can follow through with a yes or a no.
This is a good feeling. I love to follow through with an event. Sometimes this means doing the laundry in one day. Gathering, washing, folding and putting everything away.
Going shopping, cooking and cleaning up. Having a dream and making it happen. These are the qualities that I am capable of. Many wonderful things that make life better.
Even in the face of diversity, steaming contraries, and politics. I have the capacity to live a decent life.
I walked around the city. I experienced the cold winds of youth. I had a cup of coffee. These are the freedoms I am capable of achieving now.
The cats are hogging in front of the monitor. I look out the crack of my window. There are the waxing gibbous moon and Venus. Venus and her holy grail. What is she pouring in her bright light tonight?
Some of the houses have lost their Christmas glow. Not ours. We still have the spiraling light moving around the front door. I still wonder what Venus is pouring in her bright cup tonight?
A very quiet night tonight. Maybe I will attend and old buddies music show? Maybe I will watch a film. I already took a walk. Shall I eat the seasoned sweet potatoes with honey, olive oil and hot sauce? Venus can I see what you are pouring into the crescent moon this evening ?
I started out indifferent this morning. Why can’t I feel anything about this new year? Now I feel something in my belly. It is starting to grow. A slow swing ride. Excitement and hope, shall I create some art with my hope and excitement? Where are my water colors, ink, erasers and pencil. Cats, please get out of my way, I can not see what I am typing. How many others are wondering about Venus and the Moon tonight? How gracefully she holds her grail this night. What magic does Venus pour?
“Eventually, Echo, too, began to waste away. Her beauty faded, her skin shriveled, and her bones turned to stone. Today, all that remains of Echo is the sound of her voice. “
Hudley Clown party ’83
The echo of music is all that is left of the experience we shared. Just like Echo, we begin to waste away. Knowing the melting of my brain towards this reality, is something we all face. Is there comfort in the echo of music?
Yes there is!
It can be like an old friend that does not age. It is like an eternal echo from the past that is consistent with the present and beyond.
Lyrics echo this and books echo that.
Memories are echoes in my mind. I can go over the memories again and again.
I miss so many scenes and groups of people who have gone. I still hear the sounds of their voices but they are not there. People, places and things that hold on with an echo.
That eternal echo of music, clubs and beer.
Screaming, dancing and holding friends near!
Dear long friendly echoes.