Tag Archives: Goddess and Home

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?

 

Anthropomorphism

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.


Ivy; It will be a good day !


(11-18-18)

Feet steeping around
In light purple tennis shoes
Morning crisper than it was
Cyprus tree tall as a tower
Dark green tall I upward gaze
Looking straight up
Noticing the ivy that embraces the climb
Wild element of the neighborhood
Sadly, gardeners often slash off all the blossoms
most times, yet not here
Half a block overtaken by tall Cyprus
And wild dark shiny green ivy
Light greets angled points and blossoms
Look up and stand still
Wild order
Sound of harmonic honey bees
Everywhere
Enthusiastic peace
The humming bees
As I gaze silently and listen
A dark crow lands on the tip-top
Upon towering Cyprus tree
Gloria told me once
“When the bird rests on the
Tip-top of the Guest house
At the Rosy Fellowship
It will be a good day.”

(11-24-18)

Today I knocked
An old gentleman
Opened his door
I thanked him for his
Climbing ivy
How he lets it blossom.

He told me he planned
To cut it down
Yet the branches were too thick
He will not be
Cutting the ivy down.

How happy we were
I told him how the
Sound of the bees
Is a religious experience
For me.
He said “thank you:
“For your kind words!”

I know the bees, humming birds
And song birds as yellow as the sun
Love the blossoming ivy.

My chapel is mutable
Here the goddess be
Humming and shining
For all who take the time
To hear, feel and see.

dscf4908s

The wild ivy is an ancient plant… let a part of your garden be wild…for her. 

` Hudley 11/18-24-18


scorn and unbelievable

Ritual is good. Songs bring in the seasons. In this dark time ‘song ritual’ help to ease the scorn and unbelievable with something sane and consistent.  The skins of my large white beans are shedding away as they boil in the pot. There are times when I feel like these large white beans.

Today during my heart focused breathing I was surprised to feel a pin point of joy dance upon my heart. Faces of love smiled before me and I was grateful. I cried for those released from this Earth, this planet.

What a mystery it all is. I talked to my oldest son. He said he was listening to a tape about the The Ten Hermetic Keys of Hermes Trismegistus.

The mental origin of the world and of man. 2 Corresponding harmonics. 3 Dynamics of alternation. 4 Bi-polarity and complementarity. 5 Cyclic repolarisation. 6 Cause and effect. 7 Gender. 8 The astrology of the Ogdoad. 9 The magic of the Ennead. 10 The alchemy of the Decad.

This caught me off guard. So I looked it up. I showed him my watercolor that contains this in a kind of alchemical way.


Watercolor Rendering by Hudley  (Azoth-1613-Basilius-Valentinus-Beatus-Georg-rebis)

I have this image hanging on the wall in the living room to remind me everyday. To show me that in this mystery of life, in all of this chaos and discord of life and death … light and darkness, there is a ritual that is beholding to us all.


Who’s Soul did Frankenstein’s monster have?

“‘…from that moment [he] declared everlasting war against the species, and more than all, against [Frankenstein] who had formed [him] and sent [him] forth to this insupportable misery.'” (Shelley, Frankenstein , Chapter 16, p. 121)
Once upon a time  I found the novel by Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, the new Prometheus.
I became friends with Frankenstein’s monster. He was not the film version because I looked to the quality of his brilliant soul.
I wrote a short story entitled, Who’s Soul did Frankenstein’s monster have? I put the story in a folder and took it with me wherever I went. I was inspired and torn by my insight. I felt I may have understood something no one else ever dared to wonder about.
This was back in the 1980’s. Then, as busy and as careless as a young punk might be, I lost the folder at a Mexican restaurant up-town Whittier, CA.
This loss haunted my nights. Back then backing-up-files was not so easy. This may have been before floppy disks? I did not make a copy of my short story of a monster’s revelations. I did keep the little doodles about the story which I will share today.
Maybe I did not misplace the folder. Maybe someone took it and still has it?
As one gets older time seems to bend backwards . It comes towards you so you can say hello again to those times of youthful inspiration.
I looked through all of my plastic boxes to find these images in my art closet. So glad the doodles were safe and not lost.
Victory Frankenstein  and the creature. 

New Badges !

Christine Blasey Ford



Audience members stand up to listen during a Senate Judiciary Committee markup hearing on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC on September 28, 2018, for the nomination of Brett M. Kavanaugh to be an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. – Kavanaugh’s contentious Supreme Court nomination will be put to an initial vote Friday, the day after a dramatic Senate hearing saw the judge furiously fight back against sexual assault allegations recounted in harrowing detail by his accuser. (Photo by Brendan Smialowski / AFP) (Photo credit should read BRENDAN SMIALOWSKI/AFP/Getty Images)


Hudley’s printer Romanza Bye Bye

That sound I know so well. After creation and then out comes the published satisfaction. The freedom to think, creative and print is still a revolution to me. Even if it is only my own little voice under a blue, raining or black evening sky. My high and our bliss!

A focused effort together. My voice, our voice… gone.

This printer is obsolete. The HP Offset 6230 ePirnter is dead. Just like in the film 2001: A Space Odyssey when the Hal 9000 started to screw up. After about 10 years I slowly removed myself from my publishing friend.  We had 10 years together. The technological sound, the romanza, of printer and creator, our characters made music together.

The little sounds you made letting me know that it was you who, with savvy,  was moving the planned projects forward. Fresh printed ink on paper. Now I say goodbye… RIP.

 



The Philosophy of Love


Diotima of Mantinea


“The Philosophy of Love”


“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?”


My Mentor Tree and Eucalyptus Friend

“I AM WHO I AM,” and then said, “Tell the Israelis: ‘I AM sent me to you.'”~ ISV

This is a short story about a eucalyptus tree. A living friend, mentor and comforter.

My dad first visited the eucalyptus tree when he went horse back riding in the San Fernando Valley. Most likely the late 1940s.  He rode from Ventura Blvd towards the dirt hills of the Santa Monica mountains. It isn’t easy to imagine that there once was a horse stable located near Ventura Blvd. and Canoga Ave. He told me how he stopped one day under the eucalyptus tree and looked over the valley. Once he saw a for sale sign there, a hill covered with wild sage and wider nature. My dad made it happen. His brother was a carpenter / builder and his mother already invested in properties throughout the San Fernando Valley. They made his dream come true. They made it happen for my dad and mom. As a WWII Vet he secured a government loan.

Dad and his brother, Had, created a plan to build a house on that wild hill in the San Fernando Valley. They fought like brothers often do. My dad fought for the large sliding windows that looked over the valley. He also fought to build a house which cuddled around a eucalyptus tree.

I learned to climb that tree as I was learning to walk. The smell of the eucalyptus tree on foggy mornings before going to school or during rain storms often filled my bedroom. I climbed that beautiful tall tree on my way to the top of the red brick chimney often. Sometimes to see thunder storms break across the valley. There I silently sat  listening to the sound of  coyotes in the distance and viewed lights in the night sky. All of this magic still captures my imagination.

Once I left home I often went back to visit with my parents.  The first thing I would do was hug my eucalyptus tree. The seed pods from the eucalyptus are a wonder. Round and cone-shaped with a five-pointed star in the middle. Always a signal autumn was approaching.

Today a walk on a slightly foggy morning at the end of August brought back this memory of a eucalyptus tree I grew up with. I was beholding today to the only eucalyptus tree in my neighborhood. Whispering a scent and showing an aura that took me back to my nebulous childhood. The tree replied to me today, “”I AM WHO I AM.” Maybe this is the same whisper I always heard from my mentor tree and eucalyptus friend.