Tag Archives: outdoors

never ever, no way, give up again!!!!!

“a pleasure out of the ordinary allowed to oneself: the luxury of an extra piece of cake or a foolish or worthless form of self-indulgence: the luxury of self-pity”

the-coyote-hunting-bird-nb19093

Coyote and bird

When I think of the time years ago when I walked away from the freedom to create by the means of so many different mediums, I cry. For this was a constant flux of luxury and I was abandoned from it. I became the coyote on the street of survival where anything that might ascend to a crescendo of creative luxury was sacrificed to those things needed as food, water and a place to live.

The white bird of inspiration lit up the sky.

I asked Coyote, “What joy, inspiration and spirituality…shall I ascend with the bird ?”

This is when I saw Coyote jump up and kill the bright bird. She dragged it back to her home in the tree. A large sideways hollow tree truck where her babes awaited their food.

“Oh I see you are a mother in need of food.”

“Yes, I am sorry to shock you but sometimes the luxury of our inspirations must be sacrificed for those we love or care for. We must balance sacredness with irrelevance. ”

At times like these there is no time for the luxury of an extra piece of cake or the luxury of self-pity because we simply blend into the fabric of life as responsibility. This is doing what we must to survive.

After years of creative abandonment a bright bird has come to sit on my shoulder now: to stay and live! This luxury or creativity is abundantly ascending. I move with the crescendo and I eat my cake and cry my tears of self-pity.  These are the mediums and luxuries of my life that I will never ever, no way, give up again!!!!!

Huge-Bear

Autumn is time of the mighty Bear

www.mrwallpaper.com

“Sit with us around the fire tonight dear sister. Let us throw our worries and fears into the flame and watch them burn.”

“Bear, I always look forward to your inward pull and the call of your cold nights.”

Bear replied,” Autumn is a luxury but we must earn it, and fight for it, and when we least expect it…it is freely given.”

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/07/daily-prompt-luxury/

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do you care just what he’s done? no!

Wild In The Streets Limited Edition on Colored Vinyl 

in the heat of the summer
better call out a plumber
turn on the steam pipe
cool me off

Circle Jerks colored vinyl

Limited Edition on Colored Vinyl Spring 1980

DSC01467

Produced by Robbie Fields Mastered by Richard Simpson

It is the last day of August 2013 and the weather is unbearable humid and hot. Yet here in California I don’t need to remind you of this. It sucks…nor do I need to remind you of the lyrics to this 45 by the infamous California punk band the Circle Jerks. I say bad is good in their case.  This is the Circle Jerks first recording session in the Spring of 1980.  It is nice to have this 45. It is like having a treasure but really the treasure was living it years ago and its memory still shines in my heart… beat, beat beat…WILD!!!

wild,wild,wild,wild,
wild running, running
wild
Mrs. America, how’s your favorite son?
do you care just what he’s done? no!

Daily Prompt: Four Stars

wallpaper_16609

Rings of a tree are the chapters that tell the story of a tree’s life. They live a very long time. They sleep alive unconsciously but very dependent and receptive to the physical and spiral world around them. As their physical body sways in the wind their vital body takes in life: assimilates; while also being involved in the process of letting go of life: excretion. Photosynthesis and carbon dioxide is the life of a tree.  We are very dependent on tress for their processes of life. We have a physical body and a vital body too, but unlike trees we can walk, talk and cut them down.

Hecate in general is the ancient goddess of maiden, mother and crone. She represents the three-rings of a woman’s life. Not all women take this path and some men do it better than women, I am now on the third-ring. The three rings do spiral around like the tree and blend. Yet, there is a definite stage for each ring.

The image below describes the story of my life. Collectively, consciously and unconsciously I have grown with these three different rings of life.

If one could dive into any one of the three rings of my life they would find a different person.

Youth or maidenhood was irresponsible, wild and free… here life seemed to go on forever.

Three phases of Hecate copy

Motherhood is when my children taught me responsibility, joy and love.

Cronehood is teaching me how to be patient, respect others,

to know what real friendship is and what community is,

Life is precious and every moment counts for something.

I invite other women, and men, to create a three-ring image of themselves… for thoes who have lived as long….

Daily Prompt: Toot Your Horn

At Santa Monica Pier..This prompt is an interesting one. Promoting me is one of the most uncomfortable things for me to do. I will try. I like my smile and my creativity. I like the watercolors I create and the children I created. I like my body. It gives me pleasure. I like that I am an intuitive and that I perceive synchronicity. I like myself when I am on WordPress because it helps me to write and make new friends. I’M an honorable and fiery character that can be trusted. I stand up for what I believe and this helps me to feel good about myself.  I just learned that the pain we hold in our bellies is not always a bad thing. I am happy that I struggle with the pain of being an independent thinker. I am a purple wild flower and I like the scent I give to the world.

Oh ya Toot Toot…

Three Impressions From My Macabre Youth

“I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded,
Without knowledge, or luster, or name.”
H.P. Lovecraft

ne impression from my childhood was of the invisible monster. This is how I remember the monster which is my first impression from my macabre youth.

The whirlwind went round & around. As a child I watched it while sitting on the concrete steps. Was a monster in the whirlwind? All week the kids talked ’bout the monster. They were chasing the monster. They were running from the monster. This week was the week of the monster. A pack of kids from the neighborhood grabbed me. I was encircled by them. We ran down the hills. We hung from the trees. We dug for thin white crystals deep in the earth. Playing, laughter and stories filled our days. One of the kids said,

“There over there, there it is the monster!”  They were all now pointing their fingers at something I could not see.

“Where, where I yelled?” Then I ran with the others to the safety of a home.

Gales of wind and rain outlined the monster while looking out the windows. The storm ended and we all raced outside.  Our rain boots left footsteps in the mud.

“Look I found a large footprint. The monster is here the monster is here too!” A child yelled.

We all looked at it and yelled. We all ran down the muddy dirt road. We ran by some trees.  As we passed the trees a strange coolness ran through me. These were the same trees that always were moving, eerie and cold. Was this the place where the monster lived?

nother impression from my macabre youth is an image based on a story by Gigi. She was my best friend at eight. On Friday we walked down to Gary’s market on Topanga Blvd and for 25 cents each of us got a bag of candy.  This would fill a pillowcase and was a must for our Friday night sleep-overs.  There were only two channels to watch Saturdays mornings on TV.  It was either cartoons or scary movies. We watched The Werewolf, Frankenstein and The Mummy. Gigi’s room was on the other side of the single story house, which was far away from her parents; giving us a lot of privacy and time together. Gigi had a wonderful way of telling stories.  I did not talk much so I was always listening to her stories. This is the one that made a deep impression on me. Etched, inked and printed in my memories.

All the lights were out in the house. There was a thunder-storm over the valley.  The light of the thunder lit up the rooms. The trees scraped the windows. The howling of the wind blew past the house.  I was all alone in the house. I walked into the kitchen to turn on the lights for a glass of water. The lights were not working. Then … then I noticed a shadow outside the kitchen window. I hid behind a curtain. I saw nothing. My parents were coming home soon. They did come home with lots of candles and some food. We ate and lit the candles and put them around the house. I was put to bed. Later that night I heard more scratching and scraping on the windows and could not sleep.  I got up to get another glass of water when I stopped and listened.  I heard a scratch at the front door. It got louder and louder. I had to pass the door to get to my parents room. I walked very slowly, very slowly like a cat. I stopped breathing as I looked at the door. It was open and I felt the cold from outside. The only thing holding the door from opening was the gold chain lock.  I closed my eyes and continued to walk. I had to take one more look before my burst into my parent’s bedroom.  There before my gaze was a long black strand of hair and hands pushing at the door. The fingers glowed white with long fingernails.

he last impression that I will share here to you the reader is a about a place that still mystifies me. I don’t remember how Linda, Gigi and I found out about the fairy land.  It was a couple of miles up the-hill from where we lived.  It was on a very tall hill surrounded by eucalyptus and pepper trees.

Our trek took us past many homes while walking up the winding street up to this place. We would sneak away to go there. We kept this place to ourselves. We only visited there a few times as children and lost interest as we grew older.  I think at 11 years old we may have visited it about five times in the month of Autumn.  I noticed, while passing a few homes on the way,  women looked out of their widows at us. The neighborhood caught on to our journeys to the hill.  We knew this. It was a magic place to be protected.

A path led us up a hill to a small church. There was also a small house and a water-mill on the side of this structure.  A very large water-wheel was part of this without any water to move it. We often strolled over the small bridge that went over a dry stream bed. A small swimming pool was fond down some small steps next to a large statue or totem pole. Strange faces were engraved on this that frightened us. We took long moments to wonder about these things. Funny, the buildings here were built for people smaller than 11-year-old girls. It was a magical place just for us. We played there and dreamed there.

The fairy land still haunts me. We never thought to take pictures of this enchanted place. Yet, cameras and cellphones were not an option back then. The only pictures are here in my mind.

his ends my three impressions from my macabre youth. Stories told by an adult about a time “without knowledge, or lustre, or name.” No Mr. Lovecraft I disagree there is a luster for me!

 

The Adventures of Sony and Raubie Part Three

Headless Horseman Road

Sony and Holly 1970s

Photo by Steve Hudson

Canoga Avenue from Mulholland to Oxnard was overwhelmingly wild. It was only a two-lane avenue lined with residential homes, farms, and empty fields. The big eucalyptus trees monstered along Canoga Avenue gracing through the heart of Woodland Hills. We chased wild rabbits bareback where Warner Center now suffocates the land.  Stealing pumpkins late at night from the many pumpkin patches was a scary treat for us kids around autumn. Now Kaiser Permanente stands tall over ghostly pumpkins that linger there only as memories.

Ruff and I rode our horses after school which did not give us much time. We had to make it back home around dusk. This gave us a couple of hours to ride. We had it in our minds to visit down an old dirt road up near Canoga moving south towards Mulholland. We noticed this dirt road a few times on our rides up to Mulholland where it seemed endless trails awaited us, but now was not the time.

The dirt road branched off to the east and was a long lonely one. Pepper trees mixed with eucalyptus trees mingled along the road as large trunks and heavy branches. A small forest. We got off our horses to look around. This is what I liked best about growing up here. There were adventures and places to discover around my home town. Shadowy places of earth and trails leading sometimes through the fog. This dirt road led us to a hill that was very steep to the right side of it. We passed this hill and galloped about a mile or two up and then decided to turn back because the sun was getting close to the horizon. It was a cool night and the smell of trees, moist earth, herbs, and smoke from nearby fireplaces filled our senses. But the darkening sky called us back home. It was getting late.

We were about a mile from Canoga when Sony galloped forward. I am not sure how it happened but he went for a tree. A long tree reached out and I thought I could go no further under it. I realized as Sony went under the tree it got lower. Sony stopped and my legs jammed under the tree. I was stuck under the tree bent backwards, and Sony was still moving forward. Ruff quickly positioned her horse in front of Sony as I pulled on the reins backwards. I cried because I was being crushed. We all moved backwards and Sony and I were released. It was a focused effort for all four of us, horse and rider and it took a good ten minutes.

As we all gathered our breath we took some time to look at the tree and cuss it out. Then there was silence, except for the sound of a galloping horse in the distance down the dirt road coming towards us.

“What the hell is that” said Ruff?

“I don’t know but it is coming this way!”

The echo of the sound was due east. We jumped on our horses and ran them about a mile towards Canoga. The dusk had almost brought down the nights curtain.  As the dirt road ended and the street began, the metal sound of the horse’s hooves running on asphalt was loud enough to hide the echo of the unknown galloping horse behind us. I then yelled at her,

“Ruff, do you hear the screeching sound?”

“Yes, let’s get out of here!”

Maybe it was a screeching sound behind us or maybe it was the sound of our horse’s hooves on the asphalt. The haunting feelings subsided as we left the dirt road and made it home by night fall. It was smart to look forward and never look back. We knew the headless horseman returned and we never again wandered down that dirt road together.

A few years ago, I went back looking for the dirt road we referred to as the headless horseman road. It is an asphalt street now with a few nice homes lined along its narrow way. Driving by in my car I did not drive down it due east. I passed it by due north with the memory of days gone by.

To Ruff !! One of the best wild friends to have as a girl!!

Lavendar Beer and a Gnome

Mornings are foggy now.
I take the kid to school, I have my coffee, and I do my chores. To day it is different.
I took the trash out.  I hear laughing.  An echo of laughter in the foggy morning.
I look round and see a shadow about three-feet tall. Then like a wisp of the wind a little green man is in front of me
He has a green hat and green pants. His shoes are black and his coat-tail is purple. He pulls at my leg. He wants me to follow him to the others. I see others dancing and laughing. I join them. He now holds up a gold cup.
“Drink me lavender beer. From the lavender that grows under the pole, near the hole in the ground, ” said the green gnome.
I took a sniff. It smelled like lavender.
I then noticed the laughter stopped. The were all looking at me, waiting for me to drink.
I have read many a fairy tale to know that one should be very cautious about drinking anything from a gnome or fairy. Long silence. I will drink.
“This tastes very good. I love beer. I must say I never knew about lavender beer.”
Then I awoke in my living room. I was on the couch and the cats were sleeping ’round me. Looking out the French windows the fog lifted and the rays of the sun highlighted the  lavender.

Fin

I read this to my son.
“Did this really happen?” He said.
“Maybe it did and maybe it didn’t !” I replied.