Jean’s Sour Cream Beans

here was a woman in my mother’s life. A girlfriend to her father. She was mentioned now and then, if only indirectly. This woman had a big influence in my life as well. My maternal grandmother died when my mother was young. Later came Jean who was my grandfather’s longtime girlfriend. They never married. I can see that Jean had a good deal of womanly feminine influences on my mother. I know Jean loved yellow roses. One day I went to visit mom and I brought her some yellow roses. Mom said,

“Jean loved Yellow roses…I was just thinking of her today honey!”

It is true, mom and I always had an intuitive relationship. Maybe I was not as feminine or a shape dresser like she was and maybe I preferred not to iron my clothes like my mother did…yet, we always had an intuitively close relationship. Her sense of sight and smell was fantastic, as is mine. Her creative genius is her gift to me, her family was the focus of her life. She was fair but somewhat biased towards the men in her life. Mom loved to cook, and she ate with two hands… but only sometimes.

Jean’s Sour Cream Beans is a family recipe passed down to my mom via Jean. It was always served on Easter. Those wild days when relatives visited just to get a taste, porker, sports, and ham aside.

I often break some family traditions. I am sharing this today because it is so good. We had it yesterday and I am eating the leftovers from yesterday’s Easter dinner right now as I type.

Easter is about sharing the best that one has to share… and this is one of mine.

Jean’s Beans

1/2 butter melted

Mix this together with…

1 pint sour cream

5 heaping tablespoons pure maple syrup

3 heaping teaspoons Colman’s English dry mustard.

1 LB.. dry baby Lima beans. Salt the water beans soak in and soak over night. Then par boil 20 to 30 minutes. Drain beans and mix together with sour cream mixture.

Bake uncovered two hours or until done in a 200 degree oven, stir occasionally during the cooking.

Now is the season of the peach blossoms

Walking into a dark tomb of betrayals and the unforgiven, she sweeps away dust from broken promises and looks through an ancient window at a vast wasteland.

A pink light suddenly appears, full of warmth and rhythm, revealing a stage, a balance scale, and a strange God emerging from peach blossoms. Family, friends, and enemies pass by as their hearts are weighed.

Falling back she is alone again and as the tomb transforms into another place something is downloaded into her body… in a knowing way,

“See this three-dimensional brain from every perspective. Thinking, perceiving and judging; within the mind is vast knowledge.

The tomb that houses this great brain is humbled, but greater still is the thing that pushed the blood and gives one aspirations of life and love. Vastly superior when known and awoken.

Hail to the heart!”

Spell 30

For not letting N’s Heart create opposition against him in the realm of the dead.

O my heart which I had from my mother,

O my heart which I had upon earth,

do not rise up against me as a witness in the presence of the Lord of Things;

do not speak against me concerning what I have done,

do not bring up anything against me in the presence of the Great God,

Lord of the West.

Hail to you, my heart!

Hail to you my entails!

Hail to you,

you gods who are at the head of those who wear the sidekick,

who lean on their staffs!

May you say what is good to Re,

may you make me to flourish,

may powers be bestowed when I go forth,

having been interred amount the great ones

who long endure upon earth.
Not dying in the west but becoming a spirit in it.

~ Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead

Attribution to the Dead and their whispers of life !

Hudley color sketch of flowers — Hudley Art

Having a romp with your man the night before, and driving on a foggy morning the next day while listening to Jazz; takes orgasm to a whole new level!!

Time can be very strategic!! Life more precious as loved ones fade into the dark unknown. Courting the underworld and also that dark place of the analytical mind, I have found insight into something more. This time of the year screams this depth, scratching at my emotions while confronting me with nothing, a non-caring pain. This time of the year as dusk approaches even the smile of my child, the purring of cats seem to fade into a realm existential of the unreal and profound.

I am about to read The Seven Sermons to the Dead by Carl Jung~ attribution to Basilides. I have prepared for my journey for months with complementary books. I recently received The Red Book as a gift and this will add to my reflective study.

The Apostle said, ‘I lived without a law once,’ that is, before I came into this body, I lived in such a form of body as was not under a law, that of a beast namely, or a bird.^[15]

My parents never really looked at death though they are now dead. My best and longest time friend… she too is gone from this life. So as I start this reading I hope to reflect as sermons to them as well !!
The day I began this journey of The Seven Sermons I sat at the pool side where son was swimming with his swim team. Two trees about twelve feet tall were before me. I sat comfortably.

The noises were overwhelming. Children crying and water splashing as women next to me talked about their problems. I then looked at the two trees. On every branch was a small bird; golden and chirping. Singing together and jumping. Everything else faded away but what I was viewing. I thought to myself,
“How can this be?”
One bird jumped down dancing towards me. Slowly, systematically and very consciously the bird came close to my foot and then turned around back up the tree. I then looked down for a second, thinking to take a picture. When I looked back the trees were empty.
I thought,
“How did so many birds fly away without a movement or sound?”
I now ask a question,
“How can so many die without a movement or sound’?”

Perfect fat blanket of roundness !!

Blogging my block. May 20 2014.

Earth Mother Of Laussel, 25,000 B.C.E.

Blogging my Block…

I can do this by the neighbors I watch go by my little computer room. They usually walk fast, jog or gaze into their hand-held devices. The gutters and sidewalks are plentifully watered even though there is a draught here in sunny southern California. My block expands outward as one long drive. The archetypal informed synchronicity motif that reflects back to me today is of mother and babe, or round bellies on woman. My neighborhood block extends via a car traveling over a 45-minute drive and back.

I looked to my right and viewed a mother and her child waiting at a bus stop. They were across three lanes of traffic but we were gazing at each other. The mother, child and I. This archetypal embrace moved me. The child rested and covered her mother’s belly.

I was transported to a small Spanish community. The little girl was smiling at me and I smiled back.

I too remember taking the bus, for years, with oldest son as a child. I miss the rhythm of the bus and the soft talk of travelers. It was good to not take on the stress of competitive driving on California roads and the merging blocks. Now I try to resist the need to compete on the road. Instead I focus my will on the communing of driving. A type of happy gas, metal, synthetic plastic party of

we are all in this together!!

Next a mile or two later I witness another mother and child in a car behind me. This mother was looking in her rear view mirror. She raised her hands and clapped while singing to her baby in the back car seat. A car engine covered this mother’s belly. Then traffic picked up and everything went to a dash of the fast.

Ten more miles down Nordhoff blvd and I embraced the mother daughter motif again. Another mother and child waiting at a bus stop. This mother was older and the daughter was a teenager. Their figures were round as a Mother of Willendorf. A 30,000 B.C.E. image thrilled my gaze. In contrast to the women who jog, run and walk fast: these two woman taking the bus projected an ancient symbol of the oldest image we have of humanity and of women. This is good because a flat belly was not the fashion statement back then.

I had a conversation the other day with oldest son about my belly and losing weight. I told him that it is what I feel in my belly that I value. As the “Luminous Pear,” “Sea of vitality,” and the “Pearl of Great Price.” My round belly gives me insight, foresight and warnings.

As my belly grows so do the gifts. Why would I want to get rid of all of my belly gifts? Mine is at a perfect fat blanket of roundness now!!

**Refferences

The archetypal informed synchronicity Pg 68 from Richard Tarnas’s book; Cosmos and Psyche.

“Luminous Pear,” “Sea of vitality,” and the “Pearl of Great Price.” Pg. 14 from Lisa Sarasohn: The Belly book.

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Cosmos and Psyche by Richard Tarnas

Cosmos and Psyche by Richard Tarnas is an amazing book about human consciousness. He takes us on a journey of the humanities and the mind, and patterns of being. Richard Tarnas is a cultural historian and professor of philosophy and depth psychology.

The title of his book defines the contents of the chapters. Our relationship with the cosmos is a fascinating subject to me.

As a Romantic, I recommend this as a must-read book, and a book to have available on your favorite bookshelf. It is a delightfully wordy, intense, and insightful book that incorporates history, culture, and spirituality. I have, so far, grasped the thesis of Richards’s book as:

We must awaken to and overcome the great hidden anthropocentric projection that has virtually defined the modern mind: the pervasive projection of soullessness onto the cosmos by the modern self’s own will to power.

(page 41 paragraph two)

Understanding Richard’s message is important. In today’s world of discord and moments of hopelessness, we can connect with our inner world, outer world, and the cosmos in a new and creative manner.

In his book we find some old friends, the foresight of Blake, Jung and Goethe resonate in his book as affirmations of a new and hopeful world.

Synchronicity is like breathing…as above so below. The current way I learn.

American black and white shorthair

“You cannot imagine the kindness I’ve received at the hands of perfect strangers.”
―W. Somerset Maugham

Karma, synchronicity and continuity speak to me, along with the freedom of the heart that is sometimes rascelulion in nature, and this all points to something beyond us. It can be personified in the many words of religion, science or art, yet it is only personifications which point to something beyond the personifications. Energy, movement, knowing and grace; help, letting go and responsibility are the showing ways or actions of Karma. These are the ways to know karma or dharma; to see or sniff them out is something bound by cause and effect.

Last night I had a difficult decision to make. My heart said one thing and my mind another. My back ached with stress because I knew I had to let go, or not act on something. This is not comfortable territory for me. I have the sin of codependency. I have read all the books and have learned that sometimes doing nothing is the best thing we can do for another. I did nothing. Today Karma, synchronicity and continuity spoke to me. As Mr. Myyoki, a religious studies professor, Buddhist priest and Jungian theorist, said to me in class, “don’t take on someone elses Karma.” I can take on my own.

Albertsons went out of business. I now shop at Ralphs. I went shopping without any bags and was given two simple brown bags filled with groceries. Today I went to another store, and today I remembered to take out my many-colored shopping bags for groceries, even the two simple brown paper bags. At the checkout line I consciously looked at the two bags and said,

“I will put these aside.”

When putting the groceries in the back of the car I again looked at the bags and thought,

“I will put these two brown paper bags aside.”

I was driving home on Roscoe Blvd. ,driving over the bridge that goes over the drainage ditch, and saw a cat. The cat had been ran over and was dead in the middle of the street. As I passed by I noticed that the cat looked just like one of my cats. I was miles away from home. I turned around and parked in the middle of a four lane street. A strong image came to mind of the two simple brown paper bags. I ran out and stopped the heavy traffic. I pulled the cat to safety by the tail. I opened the back of the car and pulled out the bags. I slowly put the cat in one bag and then covered the deceased animal by the other bag, While doing this a man pulled up in his car and parked.

He was a middle ages african american who was dressed casually. He spoke with kindness and with clear words. He had a cell phone and called the proper authorities to take care of the cat. He stopped traffic for me, and then we placed the cat across the street near the base of the bridge and told the authorities where the American black and white shorthair was. We said a prayer and held hands and walked back to our cars.

Two strange people and a dead cat In the middle of the city surrounded by heavy traffic, what is the probability of this?

We both made the right decisions today. Some person somewhere is going to have a nightmare.; about a cat they ran over tonight, a hit and run.

‘You gave me some faith today, I needed it. Thank you for your help!” I said.

“You gracefully took the cat and cared for him, thank you. You have given me some faith in humanity!” Said the man.

My decision to let go was the right one. My decision to take action and help a cat was a right decision too. These are examples of karma, synchronicity and continuity. When I got home I hugged my kitties until they pushed me away with their paws. We cannot control our life completely. Death will come when it will. But when we find kindness in strange places with srangers, this is karma, synchronicity and continuity working at it’s best. It does not end here either !!

To Robert the nice man.

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Vase Of Pink Lilies

Driving down Mason

Saturn is smooth

The clouds above

The sun rays through the trees

As if playing this song

Dancing light and shadow instrument

All the intervals perfectly synched

With the sounds from my car radio…

It all synchronized

It united in a few moments

I almost burst with joy…

Day five of the Holy Days of Christmas…

Today is ruled by the Hierarchy of Leo. I think upon Aslan from The Chronicles of Narnia as the perfect symbol of this type of love, compassion and loudness.

“Wrong will be right,

when Aslan comes in sight,

At the sound of his roar,

sorrows will be no more,

When he bares his teeth,

winter meets its death,

And when he shakes his mane,

we shall have spring again.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

LOVE is the fulfilling of the law ~ Romans 13:10

Think how paradoxical this seems in our world ?

The first day of the Twelve Holy Days.

December 26 2013

“According to all sacred calendars Aries introduces the solar New Year. Therefore it is termed the sign of resurrected consciousness.” Pg. 9

Esoterically speaking and based on the New Age Bible Interpretation Mystery Of The Christos by Corinne Heline. Vol. VII, the first day of the Holy of Holies focuses on the head of our physical body. The astrological sign is Aries.

“Follow Your own star!“

~Dante Alighieri

“The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.”
― William James

The 12 days of Christmas. My religiosity is not bound to only the Christian story, yet it is dear to my heart, and I feel the need to be part of it now.

As memories of importance hold my hand, I feel fresh, clean, and inspired: the opposite of Christmas day. You see in the last few years I have lost Mother, father, and best friends. My siblings and I are selling the only enduring family home I know. I was born and raised there. I feel as if my roots have been cut off. It is a sad but free experience.

I am not alone in my experience. As an esoteric student and an academic student of religious studies I have concluded that all religions are based on vision, oral stories and then the text. For me, like William James, it is the experience that is the key to understanding the profound religious experience. Even if it is only witnessing the procession of the sun, moon, and stars.

Though I have walked and studied with the scientific and even atheistic mind. I rest best with the spiritual inventive mind instead. The Christian theologian and philosopher Pseudo Dionysius calls this Dionysianism, “The divination of the intelligence.”

Join me if you will or curse me. I have done both myself. I have been to the darkest parts of the mind, and I have witnessed and experienced the best of the mind and profound things.

Each of the 12 days will focus on a part of the human body. An astrological sign, a quote and then a disciple/ apostle of Christ. I will include images as well. Whatever I am inspired to post. The motif will unfold naturally as the days unfold.

“You must henceforth be the moon. You must shine at night. By your shining you shall lighten the darkness for men until the sun rises again to light up all things for men.”

~ Pg. 40 The Creative Pattern In Primitive Africa by Laurens van der Post.

Quote: Behold I make all things new. Rev. 21:5

James the Disciple of Christ.

To our brave…. Man of La Mancha

Musical by Dale Wasserman

“Thinking Strings” Praying Mantis Has a voice

Insights and notes through the creative “thinking stings” from The Eranos lecture series; The Creative Pattern In Primitive Africa by Laurens van der Post

There is a part of our spirit to which this voice of Mantis, speaking from an age of stone to an age of men with hearts of stone, commands us with the authentic tone of eternal renewal..”

Pg. 40

Praying Mantis Mandala for The Bushmen of the Kalahari desert and their “Thinking Strings” by Hudley

I am in the process of reflecting on the lecture, The Creative Pattern In Primitive Africa by Laurens van der Post. The lecture speaks of the Bushmen of the Kalahari desert and their ancient mythologies that happen to include Praying Mantis as their own “Spirit of Creation.”

The Bushmen worshiped the Mantis and consulted him as an oracle. Pg 21.

I include in this post, from the lecture, a poem / lament “by a father of a bushman that lived over a hundred years ago… he was a rainmaker and a magician.”

Pg. 38

“People were those who

Broke for me the string

Therefore,

The place became like this to me,

On account of it,

Because the string was that which broke for me.

Therefore,

The place does not feel to me,

As the place used to feel to me,

On account of it.

For,

The place feels as if it stood open before me,

Because the string has broken for me,

Therefore,

The place does not feel pleasant to me,

On account of it.”

What is interesting to me is though Laurens van der Post naturally brings and weaves the Bushmen and Wolfgang von Goethe together in comparison as to the writing of their particular styles of poetry, I take it further by placing it in the continuity of music which highlights this post in a delightful way. An essence of what this brings together and what it very well means. I came upon a connection or “thinking string’ between Wolfgang von Goethe and the German band Kraftwerk.

The “thinking strings.” This is the process of reconnecting the “thinking strings.” A continuity of thoughts, dreams, magic, “stories from the wind” and life .

Listen to the music and read the poetry. I am asking for the feelings that it generates in you. It will provoke you. My hopeful goal is to tie the “thinking strings” together again and to find what may have been lost, which is the spiritual beauty of the Bushmen. The Bushmen are the foundation of this Lecture by Laurens van der Post. Reading it has had a profound effect on my life. I also wait for the “stories of life before and beyond the moment .”

The Bushmen, Goethe, Laurens van der Post and the Praying Mantis.

The Mantis will sit in an attitude of extreme reverence and contemplation, his head turned sometimes slightly on side as if he were waiting…for the wind to come from far beyond the mountains on the other side of the desert to bring him a story of life before and beyond the moment. ~ Pg. 22.

Faust (Goethe)/Prologue

THE LORD === THE HEAVENLY HOST
Afterwards
MEPHISTOPHELES

(The THREE ARCHANGELS come forward.)

“RAPHAEL

The sun-orb sings, in emulation,
‘Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round:
His path predestined through Creation
He ends with step of thunder-sound.
The angels from his visage splendid
Draw power, whose measure none can say;
The lofty works, uncomprehended,
Are bright as on the earliest day.”

On going study of this lecture, I had to edit this from last night because I was very numinous and happy… and at these times perfection is not my goal but communication.

Rock Fight Curated By Timothy White

The event was a dualistic creative assembly of many works from photographers,

or …

A pub is where the heart is, in case you have lost it.

Been staying local for some time but territorial pissing can be a drag, so tonight was a dash to do something different on a whim.

An invitation, art and continuity of friendship aroused those taking a risk feeling again.

Yes, the 101 freeway was heavy with traffic at 5:30 PM; but we could use the extra time to find a place to park.

Easing the stress with a pint before the event is always a reasonably social thing to do. So around the corner was a delightful Pub with a kind hearted giant bouncer hanging outside the door.

Guinness will do thank you or maybe a Firestone.

We arrived there early but the rats from the press smelled the cheese first. When we came back to the event a bouncer was courteous and remembered us.

The photographs were large, clean, and in your face. The general motif was a compare and contrast between boxers and musicians. The event was a dualistic creative assembly of many works from photographers.

The building was rather small but was filled to the rim with a mixture of all ages; video cameras and technology galore with the usual turned up nose.

The heart the host lacked must have been misplaced, even though he gets credit for being accessible.

I watched as youngsters bathed in his lecturing discourse like he was a professor of something. I gave him a handshake and hug.

He didn’t seem to understand that the images on the wall were all from 25 something or more years ago, just like both of us.

The heart the host lacked must have been misplaced because the bouncer at the pub around the corner had a heart. He glowed with integrity, muse, and love.

Yes, lost by the host of this event. Too bad because overall we had a great time.

I am getting a taste in my mouth for another event like this one…soon.

Carlos Palomino In Training by Theo Ehret. and Mike Ness by Edward Colver

George Foreman Training for The Rumble In The Jungle by Theo Ehret and Iggy Pop by Ebet Roberts.

Host without a Heart Henry Rollins

Hedgemon Lewis and Armando Through The Ropes by Theo Ehrel and Elton John by Berrie Wentzell

Sid Vicious By Bob Gruen, Dallas circa 1978.

Mil Mascaras The Original Luchadore by Theo Ehret and Debbie Harry/ Pink by Bob Gruen

All images of this event are taken by Hudley Flipside edited to black and white for this layout only, The original images are full color. Except for the heartless one.

The Gossamer White Praying Mantis and The Crystal Bowl: Two Praying Mantis non-fiction short stories.

Two Praying Mantis non-fiction short stories. The Gossamer White Praying Mantis and The Crystal Bowl.

It is the time of new stuff..

hellosheath depletion region…

“This radical or root insecurity is, paradoxically, the greatest security we can find”*

Yes a few symbols thrown together.

Science reports and metaphysical books galore

are

written up about both statements.

That untouchable place of

process

that is

new and unknowingly different

and undefined…

It is the TIME of this new stuff!!

* Astrology Beyond Ego Tim Lyons

Cover me with flowers Summer solstice greetings

Summer of 1990 growing near parent's home. — **Summer of 1990 growing near parent’s home.**

Summer is a week away. It is a strange time of pulling, changing, and growing. Gravity is intense now. Yet the tendency to expand to the cosmos is a real problem as well.

This pulling down and expanding up is a type of living intensity that we all go through, but regardless we collectively enjoy our summer on this side of the earth, the western hemisphere.

This hollyhock watercolor symbolizes what summer represents. The tall stalks and colorful blooms show the glory of summer. This hollyhock worked hard to get there too. I captured this the summer of 1990 when I too was changing and reaching a new phase of my life and ready for something new!! I found this image today while going through some of my things.

I also found some sheet music by Hugo Wolf that I have been looking for such a long time. It was underneath hiding under the watercolor. I enrolled in an opera singing course at Los Angeles Valley College around 1996. I learned to love Hugo Wolf’s compositions and the variety of lyricists that he worked with.

Bedeckt mich mit Blumen is a haunting and beautiful song. It was beyond my talents to sing but I still enjoyed it completely.

Bringing these two lost items, a watercolor, and some music, is a way to celebrate the coming summer. I do not like summer much because leaving spring is a type of unwilling death to me…so the extramundane and oxymoronic come together once more as gifts of days gone by for the coming summer.

Cover me with flowers by Hugo Wolf Liederabend 15

(Bedeckt mich mit Blumen)

Oh, deck me with roses,

I die: love hath slain me.

Left me softly sighing.

zephyr steal from me the breath of my roses,

oh, deck me!

For I know not which is sweeter:

Loves pure spirit.

or the lush breath of roses

Gather lilies and jasmines,

these shall

be my grave’s soft cover.

I’m dying.

And you ask me, friends.

Of what?

I answer:

Of life’s sweetest pain,

for I love her,

I love her. (John Bernhoff).

Morning-Glory Flowers and Vine

“Didn’t you hear the morning-glory flower is very independent!!?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, kind of wild too I hear…and not dependable in the garden.”

“I see them, often, climbing fences and in alleyways, the flower is very beautiful and bright too.”

“Maybe so,” said the old black bird as he flew away.

Overhearing this conversation between two blackbirds I imagined that they were both correct in their observations of the morning-glory flower, which is a wild vine-with flowers that grow around residential homes and alleyways, very beautiful to look at and always a pleasure to find. I have had a packet of morning-glory seeds for a few years and when I clean-up around the house I always seem to find the packet. I put it in one place or another until I find it again.

This year I decided to take a chance and plant the morning-glory seeds in a long wood flower box that my parents gave us years ago. Originally, the flower box was put in on the walkway of our apartment for seven years. Now it has been with us thirteen years here at our home. One side of the box now has a menthol succulent growing in it. I have had that plant for many generations: about twenty-five. I originally was given the plant from my first mother-in-law Mary Kowalewski. My mother and I took many trimmings from the original plant from Mary. It is the kind of plant that will grow with or without water. It took well to the box, so it lives there happily alone now. Next to it there has been a dry spot where nothing seems to grow beside a few weeds that dry off quickly. It was about three months ago I planted the dark little triangle seeds there; the morning-glory seeds from the packet.

Hudley flowers and her little Sony camera

Something started to grow. At first, I was not sure what was growing. Then my heart jumped because it was vining outwards. I knew at that time it was the independent morning-glory. How strange, the place that no other plant wanted …it wanted! I think this shows the unique nature of this vine flower. I put a long stick from a nearby branch in the earth of the box to help the plant vine up it. The one vine leg of this plant did not show any interest. So, I stopped trying. A few days later the other leg of the vine was nicely wound around it. I laughed out loud. I fell deeply in love with this morning-glory vine.

Today I awoke early and went outside to give the vine some water. The days are hot now. I noticed yesterday that the leaves have started to wilt. To my surprise I found two wonderful flowers. Again, my heart about jumped from my chest from joy. So, it goes.

I am not going to bet on it, but I am sneaky and hopeful, that these two legs vining outwards will eventually take over our garden net fence,

“But don’t tell anybody…I don’t want my independent morning-glory and vine to find out!”

Tralfamadorians

This is our time for “amber moments,” those fleeting instances that capture the essence of joy and nostalgia, where we pause to savor the warmth of the sun as it dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and orange, reminding us to cherish the beauty in our everyday lives, creating lasting memories that we can revisit long after the day has ended.

“Earthlings might learn to do.

If they tried hard enough:

Ignore the awful times

And concentrate on the good ones.”

~ Tralfamadorians: Slaughter-House Five/ Kurt Vonnegut.

This is a Praying Mantis theme song.

But It can hale true!

I listen to a diversity of songs all the time. What I like best about songs are when they talk to me. I talk with them so why not them with me. I use them in my posting as highlighters to accentuate the theme of my postings. If you trip through my musical posting they will tell you a story… oh my I revealed myself again. I think you can do this with most writers.

When songs talk to you it is important. I call it synchronicity listening. At the appropriate time a song comes forth and you know it’s talking to you. Why, you must think about it to find the answer: not take it lightly, it has meaning. One song that did this recently is Love Buzz. It was years ago when I first heard it!

Nirvana brought it back from the dead. A band named Shocking Blue created the original recording of this song. I like both but prefer the original. I like the depth of Mariska Veres vocal style. It sounds like the dark Goddess graphing me by the heart into the underworld. I feel this song is about the power and even imperfection of love and the overwhelming seduction and abuse of it, but It can hale true!

Babilonian_relief_Shamash_stabs_Sun_Goddess_Shapash

I posted the song on my Facebook a few days back. Then I went out to the local pub and a friendly DJ played the song as soon as I drank my first pint. Stunned, I felt the hairs on my back go up. I realize that stepping out for the night was a good thing.

We were meant to be where we were at that time and place in history. With so many opportunities available at the time, so much going on with old and new friends it was the place to be. Life in general was being shady.

I realized when the song played that life is a real bitch sometimes, but I am gracefully loved and being taken care of.

I love songs!!! This one of the Praying Mantis theme songs.

Dad’s Passing Saint Patrick’s Day 2013.

Dad and mom in the 1940s Santa Monica CA.

Saint Patrick’s Day 2013.

My siblings and I headed down to the local Pickwick Irish pub for a great traditional meal of corned beef and cabbage. We drank until the well was closed to us. Then we all went home. I think dad would have appreciated this. He told me that often at funerals people always talk so ceremoniously about the deceased.

They usually always would lie about how great a person was instead of how they really were, the real stories about how they really really were. So, this day at the pub was how my dad would have celebrated or grieved a dead friend or family member, by getting fucking drunk with his friends. As we sure Do-Wah Diddy did.

A bittersweet time.

The year 1942 Greer Garson was thirty-one when she hit it as an actress, a very mature time for a woman to make it big. I enjoy watching her films. I enjoy her strength, femininity, and intuitive strategic nature. Watching Classic films is so comforting. The films are the same year after year but somehow change with time. It is a matter of perspective; a film viewed at 5 is understood differently at 55. It is a magic movie and in times of grief and sorrow films bring comfort and friendship.

Today is such a day where the line –up of films accentuates the durability of eternal grief, the motifs and archetypes of life and films.

A long night of seeming madness and then with a couple of button pushes the classic films begin late in the morning and without even eyeglasses or coffee. Three Coins in the Fountain, Notorious and Dial M for Murder will embrace me today. Now an awake child of the cosmos I find my eyeglasses, coffee and make cabbage salad with bacon, red peppers, avocado, jalapeño, and dill-rye bread.Dial M for Murder will embrace me today. Now an awake child of the cosmos I find my eyeglasses, coffee and make cabbage salad with bacon, red peppers, avocado, jalapeño, and dill-rye bread.

Unfortunately, the real focus of this little dilly-dally of a transforming short story is about two songs!

Two songs, my dad and death. He died on Saint Patrick’s Day.

It was a week ago today that he passed. A nurse from hospice, three siblings, and myself attended as classical music played in the background. Intense and with a call to my heart. I asked my brother to change the CD,

“Put on that CD you got for Dad a few years back for his birthday or was it Christmas!?”

It was the best of Frank Sinatra. We watched Dad move into the eternal and listened with a pleasant release and sad joy. In a moment of time between the song The Young at Heart and Three Coins in a Fountain, dad left us. I imagined him dancing away with the spirit of our deceased mother or maybe Greer Garson.

In her youth mother looked similar to Greer Garson.

Built by the Knights Templar?

A March 2013 post. I am working on a project to bring my art out of the dark and into the light. This reminded me of exploring art, religiosity, and depth psychology.

It is always interesting when a symbolic painting painted from years ago comes forward to reveal itself. I remember what the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung said,

“…that when creating art from an unconscious or spiritual place one should share it with others or the public…”

Yet, I do because as Jung points out, when one does it can touch someone else and affect a chain of events that have meaning.

Last night while watching the History 2 channel. I came upon a TV series. In general, it is about an unearthed structure that may have been built during the medieval period on American soil. It is a remarkably interesting topic for me. As I watched the program a special moment happened. I call them synchronistic moments. This structure seemed familiar to me.

As many ancient buildings, it is in tune with the four directions and with the sun, moon, and stars in the night sky. The Knights Templar focus was on the divine feminine and for them it was the star Venus and also the symbol of the egg.

On this particular structure on American soil there is an egg shape stone that lights up at a certain time by the sun. This holds great meaning symbolically when understanding the Goddess.

As I was watching this program I looked at the clock below the TV screen and noticed the time was 11:11.

Numerologists believe that events linked to the time 11:11 appear more often than can be explained by chance or coincidence. This belief being based on the concept of synchronicity. Some authors claim that seeing 11:11 on a clock is an auspicious sign. Others claim that 11:11 signals a spirit presence.

Knowing this I had to listen to what I was watching with more intent. Then the image of a watercolor painting I did years ago came to my mind. At the time when I created the painting it was based on my inspiration. I was working with the American Indian Medicine wheel that is based on the four directions: North, East, South and West.

I also placed a triangle shape over the threshold of the building of my watercolor. The building I imagined was also built of stone like the structure in the history channel.

At the time I created this simple watercolor I was thinking of it as a holy place that I would like to build on a large piece of land in a natural setting.

I am now content to share this story. To think about it and this new experience of what it is saying to me now. What is it saying to you the reader?

So be it, I shared my story Mr. Jung!!

http://www.history.com/shows/america-unearthed/videos/america-unearthed-americas-oldest-secret#america-unearthed-americas-oldest-secret

Crone Women Magazine Review

If you are an older women like me looking for some profound reading material; go find a place to kick off your shoes and sit by the fire or stream to read.

This is the magazine for you. It is published twice a year. I find it walking the line of paradoxical living. Liberally looking at what it is to be a mature woman: fun, fantastic and homey with a witchy bend. I love it. So, check it out.

This seems to be defunct now. Feb/1/2027