Tag Archives: Goddess and Home

A hippie kills a punker

Life can be many things at once. Goodness and badness, light and dark, friends and enemies. These are the polarities that we are facing currently in our world of extremes.  Even though there is a third path, as in the fact, regardless bees are still making honey. Just go outside and find a bush with flowers. If you live in the very cold you may have to wait until spring. Here is California my hanging rosemary is going to town. The sound of bees is my convent to the earth. My repetitious theme song is by 10 Years After, If I Could Change The World. Redone by another band more on the punk side. So here we come to the core of my focus. The 60s, and the late 70s, and 80s. A decade each.

The 60s were an amazing time for free thinking and youthful rebellion against corruption. A sick government and a terrible war. Yet in this illuminated time darkness was born by the name of Trump. Likewise, the 80s a new music scene revolutionized forward with unclassified music that became divided and classified. Still mighty awesome. Then we have the general Qassim Soleimani who was just assassinated, who was born as a prime one for the punk scene.

Donald Trump born June 14, 1946 (age 73). He was prime for the 1960s as his youthful young adult time. Hippie time. Now we have the general Qassim Soleimani who was born March 11, 1957. He was born at a prime time for the genesis of the punk rock phenomenon. A punk.

The most creative times and inspired times in history the dictators are born. In the darkest times and in a vacuum of hate the best are born that humanity has to offer this troubled earth. In generational time frames a hippie kills a punker.

Nonetheless, do not lose sight of what is now happening right now.  We have a few knights rising to the call. I can see their light crescendos in the darkness. Very androgynous like most bees.



The Calendar

Sigrid Hudson Bishop

“Eternity interrupts. It is as if there is a plane where there is clock time and then eternity puts its hand in for a minute and you have an archetypal experience. You have a feeling of what Jung said was “the infinite, “and then very often the watch reacts to that.” ~ The Palace of the Cat: The Cat Marie-Louise Von Franz.



This is a short story about a friend. I find the best friends are not the ones that you make yourself but are the ones that find you. They stand the probability of time. They happen without planning and endure without much effort. She was like that. I first met her online on Facebook. We had common friends of friends. She was also interested in music as well as William Blake and Carl Jung. She showed up at my first speaking event at Whittier College.

Later she told me about a Punk event at UCLA college that I applied to and was accepted at. She was there for me and I shared many stories and my creations with her.

I think I inspired her to go to Pacifica Graduate Institute offering degrees in the clinical psychology, counseling, mythological studies and depth psychology.



At this time last year 2018, she offered me an extra William Blake calendar. I accepted it with honor. Every day I looked at the calendar and thought of her. Happy to have such a friend. Remarkable I am taken back by the last image of the calendar of The Archangel Michael Foretelling the Crucifixion.  She passed away this December 2019.



I am a weird Christian mystic in many ways. I learned that the crucifixion is symbolic of a person’s day of release from their physical body.

As friends, have our souls not spoken to each other?

I think so.


“They looking back, all th’ Eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,

Wav’d over by that flaming Brand, the Gate

With dreadful Faces throng’d and fierie Armes:

Som natural tears they drop’d, but wip’d them soon; [ 645 ]

The World was all before them, where to choose

Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:

They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,

Through Eden took thir solitarie way.

~Book 12 Paradise Lost; Milton.



To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wildflower Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. ~William Blake


Hearts Buoyant

To U.S. Representative for California’s 28th congressional district Adam Schiff


I see an illuminated bright 
five pointed star
Over the emotional ocean
Of black and greasy-greedy oil
The light moving upon this darkness 
Wavering leaps of sparkling exuberance.

This star ascends 
as the current below moves 
like the waves of a darkened 
Depressed ocean. 

Shall we focus on the star 
For the exuberance is like
A cleaning soap
A detergent affirming justice 
The Eagle is scrubbed clean.

I see an illuminated bright 
five pointed star  
I hear the waves of the ocean 
Calling to break the
Eagle clean.

Returns the rhythm to the rogue waves
I see justice there  
hearts are buoyant 
Upon that black and greasy-greedy oil
awareness and mindfulness
The Eagle is scrubbed clean! 

Resilient

“Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.” ― William Blake


fire monster pic by Hudley

burnt tree pic by Hudley

return of mustard greens pic by Hudley


It was terrifying living through the California fires. I took a picture across the street then of what I see as a fire monster. At least it looks like one. The fires approached so close to our home.

When Spring came so did the Monarch butterflies. A flying path over our home called us to visit the burned hills. I was beside myself with wonder. How resilient nature is.  I know these hills well, and I saw blooming flowers I had never seen before. A multitude of creatures and fresh green hills. Roadrunners and rabbits have also returned.



Purple mystery flowers from the Santa Monica HIlls. Pic by Hudley


Today I study the ideal of contraries. It is part of who we are as human beings and nature and the cosmos. I cannot think of a better quote then William Blake’s above to understand what we are going through right now. I want to share a hopeful part of nature as well.  Contrary as is may seem now. It is a dependable pattern we can trust.



In its highest sense.

To my friend Dionysus

“According to Jung, humanity holds a special role in creation: to contribute to the act of consciousness, and the point of view of morality, in its highest sense.” ~ Johnson, Robert A. Ecstasy (p. 64) Harper One. Kindle Edition.


Uranus and Jupiter at the threshold…

A Muse named Urania watercolor by Hudley


“Today Sunday August 11th, both threshold planets Uranus and Jupiter are changing direction simultaneously-Uranus in reverse throttle and Jupiter full steam ahead-churning up the ethers along with your energy field.” ~Hare in the Moon Astrology

Ok to take this into concurrence, my mind is filled with an old image and a song. I can not keep them from speaking so I will post about them.

Also RIP William Blake we celebrate your brilliant life today in eternity.


July 31st and the Jolly Rogers

Dad was a WWII Captain Pilot stationed in Australia. He flew a B-24. He flew with the Jolly Rogers Bomb Squad. He was shot down off the shore of New Guinea. His back was broken. He survived of course. July 31st is the day it happened. When I was a kid mom made up a cake with the shoreline of New Guinea with a B-24 on it. We always celebrated this day.

I did not realize until this morning that it was his special day. I have not celebrated it for a long time. Maybe dad is looking down and wants a little remembrance. I thank him for all the life he gave me. Rest in Peace and have a beer on me.

Dad is on the left nearest the Bimbo figure.

The film The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)  brings up what my dad and mom went through. It is a film about their generation.  Dana Andrews as Captain Fred Derry reminds me of my dad. Especially his struggles in life and with drinking. Dad was one of the fallen angels. I love watching this film because it helps me to understand and feel close to him. He was a real characters who was often hard to be with. I love him dearly.

Dad is holding a cigarette and mom is across from him.



Time of Coyote

Driving towards home the dark night held all the romance that a woman could ask for. Falling in love after 30 was not a goal. Looking out of the passenger seat coyote was eyeballing my lover. He looked back at the wild thing that was part of a mythology deep in this hill’s subconscious. Hadn’t he been on top of coyote hill and tasted the nectar of adventure? Once on top years earlier coyote turned to look as coyote defined his territory.  A wild thing knowing all those living there. A sacred path that went on for generations.  

Posts about Coyote

https://hudleyflipside.com/2014/02/17/coyote-hill/

https://hudleyflipside.com/2014/09/17/coyote-green-stone-story/

https://hudleyflipside.com/2014/03/19/yellow-behind-the-ears/

https://hudleyflipside.com/2017/11/23/autumn-magic-poem-7-all-wild-things-that-know-us/

 

 

 

 

Paperback: To Ride A Painted Pony Wild~ Now for Sale

In Paperback – July 19, 2019 To Ride A Painted Pony Wild: The Adventures Of Sony and Raubie

Sony and Holly Picture by brother Steve Hudson (rip)

“A novella is a text of written, fictional, narrative prose normally longer than a short story but shorter than a novel, somewhere between 17,500 and 40,000 words. The English word “novella” derives from the Italian novella, feminine of novello, which means “new”.[1] The novella is a common literary genre in several European languages. “ `Wikipedia

I decided to make this real-life story into a short novella. It is a bit off the beaten track because a novella tends to be fiction. Yet I have found many that aren’t.

This story is like capturing the essence of a wildflower while watercoloring or grasping a political expression for one of my Flopside comics. I tend to grasp and then get it out there before I lose the essence of what is coming forth.

This story may have taken time to materialize into a novella format. Which I feel protects its essence which I hope will come across.

It is set in the early 1970s.

As my two boys, my dancing John and the punk rock scene… Sony was one of my greatest gifts.



Chiron Retrograde Dance

The Infant Bacchus (Dionysus) painting (c. 1505–1510) by Giovanni Bellini.

The Bibliotheca seems to be following Pherecydes, who relates how the infant Dionysus, god of the grapevine, was nursed by the rain-nymphs, the Hyades at Nysa. Young Dionysus was also said to have been one of the many famous pupils of the centaur Chiron. According to Ptolemy Chennus in the Library of Photius,

 “Dionysus was loved by Chiron, from whom he learned chants and dances, the bacchic rites and initiations.” ~~Diodorus Siculus

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bibliotheca_historica