Golden Shrill Sistrum

A poem / dream by Hudley

“Many things were among her accouterments, In her right hand she held a brazen sistrum, a flat piece curved like a girdle, through which there passed some little rods – and when with her arm she vibrated these triple chords they produced a shrill sharp cry” ~  Apuleius, The Golden Ass

Letting orthodox belief systems go and rooting in the emerald-green nether lands.

Grey crooked trees. Black crows. Whirling rouge invisible wind blowing dirty golden roses on the ground.

I breathe in and count to ten.

Total darkness.

Only the red lines of  blood vessels and moving snapshots of light.

I breath out.

Slowly the dark wooden boat sails on the indigo sea. The white sail slowly flapping in the salty breeze.

He sits there with his dark skin and darker beard.  Wearing a white kaftan and tight braided cord made of black donkey hair.

He leaned toward the woman dressed in orange. Wearing the headdress of Hathor.

Then she raised her arms up in the shape of a cup and sang,

“I am eternity.”

Her voice echoed and shimmered golden rays around us.

My heart-felt this and the purple vibrations of laughter opened my eyes to the colors of my backyard.

An older rose…

Greens, light dry brown and dirty golden-pink-yellow- rose on the ground.


hear the shrill in this song… that is the sound of brazen sistrum !!

Anarchy and Chaos…

The Wingled Ones

Greek word for the undifferentiated mixture of raw elements supposed to occupy the Word-Goddess’s womb before creation and after destruction of each recurrent universe. It meant Goddess herself in her state of “eternal flux,” when the fluid of her womb was not yet clotted into the formative state of solid world. Chaos is expressed in the Bible as the condition of the earth before creation, “without form” and “void” (Genesis 1:2).  Pg 160 The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara G. Walker

Anarchy and Chaos…

Debating with my family in the living room on this topic of anarchy and chaos left me sparked for writing. Since my early punk days I found that both words, anarchy and chaos, were used a lot. As a naïve youngster I had fun with the meaning of these words into action. Now I see the words used just as naïvely still. As though the words and their meaning are crystallized.  Now I am embarrassed into saying that people who use the words don’t always know what they are talking about.  The “A” for anarchy symbol is more a fashion statement than a knowing one.

I found that one element that the two words have in common is the word organization.  Anarchy being the opposing of authority or hierarchical organization. Chaos being the lack of organization or order.  Where the two words are contrary or opposed is interesting. To understand that the key to anarchy is knowing that it is a political philosophy is the key to knowing that it is all about human relations. Chaos is not.  This is the opposition between anarchy and chaos.

Chaos is a process of the void, confusion and disorder.  Anarchy is based on  the social and interpersonal relations between human beings.  It is a conversational place.

Additional perspective:

Trump Hit
The Evil Dump

Over the last year it is clear to me that anarchy and chaos can be used diabolically. I see it in the realm of inclusion and a process of making life better. Old ways broken down and built up again for the betterment of humanity. Now the American government is, more specifically the White House and the GOP are, using elements of anarchy and chaos to cause discord that is snobbishly aloof and much too exclusive. Built on the platform of the powerful absorbent unscrupulous wealthy to suck our democracy dry.



Homeric Hymn to Demeter

After the Goddess smiles the “Orphic” hymn has the line.

“She received the glittering vessel which contained the Kykeon”

~ Eleusis: Archetypal Image of Mother and Daughter by Carl KerenyI

Autumnis Mantis

Outside of our french windows is a trellis over the patio.  Across from this we have a pool fence. We put it up when the children were small for their protection. It is now a place for Praying Mantis. When the spring comes and the baby mantis break their egg sack, hundreds of babies run along the claw proof dark plastic mesh.

The first days of autumn brings me a great visitor; a big mama mantis on the pool fence. This is very odd in the middle of the day with the sun overhead. We watched her wobble about. Her back-end is quite large. She shock many times as she moved using her long legs to balance her weight. I then decided to move her.  I usual do not interfere with nature. She is big and it took five months for her to get this size. I am sure she can take care of herself…but I love her so, and did not want to see her devoured by a cat. Some would see this as equal punishment for the many creatures she sucked the life force from. I do not judge nature.

I put my hand and arm out to her. She looked round at me with her large yellow-green eyes. The end of her spider legs reached out grasping the hairs on my arm like cactus hairs, pulling her towards me. She was aboard me. Quickly she ran to my right shoulder than the left shoulder. Then she was on my head. I felt her weight on my neck and she tickled me. I laughed out loud. Walking slowly towards the trellis I rest my head on the vines and flowers. It did not take long for her to skip jump up to a branch. Now, she was almost camouflaged from my gazing green eyes.  Later in the day she was gone from this spot. In my heart I knew she was nearby.

Athena, Minerva and Queen Hecate also a Goddess of Wisdom

“She is more at home on the fringes than in the center of Greek polytheism. Intrinsically ambivalent and polymorphous, she straddles conventional boundaries and eludes definition.”


Hornblower, Simon; Spawforth, Antony, eds. (1996). The Oxford Classical Dictionary (Third ed.). New York: Oxford University Press. p. 671. ISBN 0-19-866172

Autumn…politics and music: Sweet peace is within my breast !

I sometimes think there are two Wagner’s in our culture, almost unrecognizable different from one another: the Wagner possessed by those who know his work, and the Wagner imagined by those who know him only by name and reputation.

~ Bryan Magee, Wagner Scolar

I am celebrating Autumn. I usually do this by listening to Tannhauser. I focus in on The Pilgrims Chorus in this opera. The music feels like autumn to me and contains within it the movements of this time of year. In this particular piece of music I am slowly brought to a powerful center of my relationship with autumn. I am taken there by the crescendo which is a motif and  part of this music. It pulls me to a magical place. I learned this chorus years ago by the occultist Corinne Heline. Her book, Color and Music in The New Age, first copyright 1964 by New Age Press , INC., is an interesting and mind altering perspective on esoteric Christianity, music composers and nature. Corinne Heline’s agenda is very clear.  I feel one can apply or superimpose what is in her book on any belief system.

When I speak of agenda I also refer to the music composed by Richard Wagner and how this song echos as a Nazi patriotic song that Hitler loved. Well thank goddess he was a human being. I do not see it that way. Just because a person associates themselves with a particular opera or song does not mean that the same sentiment is carried on by another person. I denounce Hitler and Nazism.

My focus is on my concept of nature politics and music. This is a continuity of dependable currents that tell us of a seasonal change within the world around us and within us, and it is happening now !  Atheism, Secularism, Christianity, all religions or belief systems in general, art, and the sciences can benefit by this music for the good of humanity and nature and beyond. This is my agenda.

I ask that you enjoy this music as an individual and hopefully it will inspire you to feel the current and spiritual nature of autumn.

Weird Ass

Murcury And The Cardusus

My son and I read Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales together and they are weird ass. We love them and we think about them often. They are based on oral tradition and their roots are based on a time so long ago and yet we blend with them in that place of our imagination. This is why I like William Blake, Albert Einstein and Nicola Tesla. They take different paths on religion-art, math and science but what unites them throughout time is their great imagination. They do something even more profound they also open a door into the imagination of nature. This is also the place of mythology and religion. I am not talking anything literal as in the dogma of any religion, science or math formula. My focus is on the weird ass part of all of these; as the funny, strange and sometimes truthful fantasy that becomes known as theories for example like relativity . A modern combination of astrology and astronomy seems like a paradox but not in the imagination. The lines between religion-art, math and science seems to be drawn now, but long ago as in fairy tales, never!  We can also loosen up our minds now as well. Here we, as human beings,  find a strange place in this mystery and it is a very weird ass place.

We go to the Griffith Observatory a lot. My husband and kid are into astronomy. I like it too but I enjoy the myths that hide behind it, as the ancient stories, the oral traditions and the images that endure over time. Weird ass stories and theories about the universe itself. The only integrity is the sun, moon, planets and beyond. This observatory stands high on a hill just like some weird ass magical castle or Greek temple. When you walk in its doors and look up you see religion-art, math and science. It reminds me of a medieval church where bible stories are painted on the walls. Great artists, architects and masons were hired to build these stories in stone. People could not read the stories so they learned by images and symbols. Is it any different today?  Maybe, but it is still very weird ass.

I use to be a member of the Rosicrucian Fellowship based in Oceanside California. There on the grounds is a healing temple. It looks a lot like the Griffith Observatory on the outside and very much the same on the inside. One looks up and sees an artist’s interpretation of the zodiac. The only difference is that the Observatory promotes science and the healing temple promotes love, healing and weird ass esoteric Christianity. Both buildings were built around the same time. Maybe I am an odd-ball that uses my imagination too much? I do admit to listening to the whispers of those long ago, once upon a time, oral traditions too closely.  I find that my imagination cannot tell the different between the two. They both look-alike and teach religion-art, math and science. Yes the focus is different but it is the same stuff.

After reading a Brothers Grimm Fairy Tale before my son goes to bed,  I often walk outside and look at the night sky. With all that we know about religion-art, math and science. It is still very weird ass to me !!

strawberry jam and hot sauce

The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart. ~ Helen Keller

Writing is like strawberry jam and hot sauce. Levels of taste from sweet to hot. A multidimensional brilliance that lingers and inspires. This is my desire of reading and writing. The bottle of jam looks perfect as one sees it on the shelf, and the bottle of hot sauce has a  label that seems as if perfection too. If the jam is not preserved properly or the hot sauce not fermented correctly, it leaves one with the outward perfection but never the delicious reflection and revelation. If you do not dig what I am writing, then read some Helen Keller. Her writing is simple and profound. Never one-dimensional or exclusive. Instead her writing is inclusive and busting forth with flavors of the heart and mind that link up with the great architect of communication.

Blue Moon was a dark blue moon her lessons did not break me

“Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.”
H.P. Lovecraft

The blue moon passed and I mean it is over. I am so glad. What a bitch of an experience. I felt in prison as if trapped in the iron maiden.  Feelings of hate grew from me like branches on an old oak tree ready to escape this body dungeon of despair. I was right in the middle of this hell not knowing if it would pass.  My lungs ached and my breathing stopped only reanimated by the puff of an Albuterol.  Cold then hot. Sweat melted me. I took a hot shower breathing deep and counting to ten.  My mind was a little voodoo doll where little pins of painful thoughts pierced through my mind. Hate, lies and men enraged my body. The past, the now, how or could I go on. It felt like birthing.  I did simple things . I did simple routines to keep me on track. The dishes, the laundry or making a sandwich for his lunch tomorrow.  I walked outside and sat on the plastic white chair. I felt a thin breeze touch my face as if a kiss to ease my hopelessness as I cried. I didn’t brush my teeth or read a weird ass Grimm’s Fairy Tale to my son,  just the usual prayer as the white cat jumped up to the top bunk-bed with him. I took my pain pills and drank my chamomile tea and turned on the biography channel called the Unexplained.  This slowly pulled me out of my suffering into the suffering and mystery of others. I very slowly fell into a slumber. I awoke with easy breathing. A little coughing but healthy breathing. The almost hysterical dense feelings from the day before passed and so too summer was moving into autumn. What a fight it was and now today life is normal again. My coffee is delightful. My music is good. I made it through this hell and I am happy and content now. This blue moon was a dark blue moon her lessons did not break me. My growing pains as a baby crone.



So often a culture can get caught up in an image for generations.

Medusa is one such image. A hideous woman with snakes coming out of her head.

This image is based on a popular Greek mythology.

Now I want to focus on the place where mythologies and archetypes blend. Taking another step, I want to focus on where archetypes and belief systems blend, and then finally to understand where a generation of false images are sustained to those who accept them.

This can create a vacuum of unconscious followers. I am one of them. It all came to an understanding when I read an article.  This article told a story about who Medusa was before she turned men to stone.  She was beautiful and Poseidon fell in love with her and they had two children one being the famous Pegasus.

The jealous Goddess Athena turned her into this hideous monster.  She wanted Medusa’s man.

I realize this is making a long story short but my focus is on the vacuum of unconscious images, mine being the one I held in my belly. One that my mother held in her belly. As women get older we all hold this in our bellies; this dark painful vacuum or Medusa the “peri to post-menopausal woman, or hag.”

Hidden also in this mythology is the cultural time of a matriarchal society destroyed by the Greek of sword and male God heads.

The time is now,  to wake up from the sleeping vacuum and reverse the pain. Medusa throws off her snakes and false image. Woman can work together and not compete.

I know her image now and it is not an ugly Gorgon. Her image is impressionistic it spirals out and up!

She is wide and deep. She is creative and terrestrial.


Magicks For A New Age, Volume III: Beyond Ritual: Historical, Philosophical, and Scientific Considerations- Essays on the Cutting Edge of Esoteric Science. Book 10: Additional Topics. Part 1: The Esoteric Significance of the Star Algol. (Yaci Dragwyla email: >