Tag Archives: Women

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.


July moves into August

July moves into August. A time of justice and heat, a time of foresight and deep. For me it is about news… some bad and some good news. I have known this time of the year to be delirious dark and forbidden. Today it has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.

Between our psyche and the cosmos is magic. Magic moves between our hidden unconscious coming forth from our dreams. Yes, that Magic coming with psychic foresight of knowing. Real causality or synchronicity does not matter to me. Natural magic! I live all combinations.

Yesterday we went to Naval Air Station Point Mugu. Driving to Ventura from the San Fernando Valley can be harsh on a Sunday. We found a little farming street to follow down to Point Mugu. It romances the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Which is why we were there.

My dad was a WWII Veteran. As kids we enjoyed fishing on the pier that is located on this naval base.

Husband and I sat in our car for sometime. Wondering if we could approach and visit the pier for old memories. We did. A tight solider asked for husband’s driving-license. As the solider was taking the license from husband, I explained my family story. Before you could think we were quickly told to make a U-turn. No good byes or safe journeys.

Point Mugu has since merged with nearby Naval Construction Battalion Center Port Hueneme to form Naval Base Ventura County (NBVC).

We ended up at Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum. A sweet little place that smelled pleasantly old! The building was filled with old women and older history items. Outside the rather small building were many monarch butterflies. Hub bobbing around ourselves like best friends. We were then told the story.

It sounds like a magical potion. Milk weed, Cosmo flowers and chrysalis. It was the story of how someone took the time to love the process of this lovely butterfly. All it takes is a little love and a few nasty weeds to attract the attention of nature’s finest beauties.

Today upon my waking up I enjoyed a very good dream. A dream I have been waiting for since my mother’s death. It was a closure dream. In this dream husband opened the front door to the usual UPS knock. There was another package, another calculus book, or similar book, for the kids. Then we heard another knock on the front door. This time I opened the door. From top to bottom the front door was filled with packages. My husband gave me a guilty look. A pouting praying mantis face.

“It is not Christmas time,” I said.

I pulled out one of the packages.  A large white one. A box that might conceal a dress or new pants. Then I saw on top the name ‘Holly’ written in cursive.

“How could mom give me this after her death?”

A wonderful gift from her. That is what mom would do. Write our names on top of our gifts. It was her writing…. I know it by heart!

Today has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.


Summer Poem # 1



My oasis
And cave.

Not reaching out
But reaching within.

Agathos daimon holds my heart
Humidity holds me back.

“Coninuctio” “in mercurio”
Planting seeds
Which do not ripen.

Outside my oasis
Seeds dry in the heat.

Inside the cave
I listen to Mercurius speak.

“The desires of the mind
Will take you nowhere.”


Quote

Women and Rally Poem … “Disk” … June 30, 2018

via Disk

The song Alfie

Here’s a song that had me hocked since 1966 at 8 years old. Now a classic Jazz standard. One of those songs that moves through my life and enhances the human experience. Making life lovable in troubling times. The original film Alfie is a sweet film with major dangerous life lesson learned. Michael Caine is beautiful. Shelly Winters’s character is one that I can now relate to more thoroughly in my feminine older years. The song Alfie is a deep and reflective song. Originally song by Cher when she was a rather unknown street singer/ musician. Yes, they, “Sony & Cher,” did hang out with Rodney Bingenheimer. Who cares after all these years.

“The title song, “Alfie”, written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, was sung by Cher over the film’s closing credits in the US release. It became a hit for British singer Cilla Black (Millicent Martin sang Alfie on its British release) and for Madeline Eastman and Dionne Warwick. Numerous jazz musicians have covered it and it has become a jazz standard.”

Here is an interesting example or another jazz standard interpretation that I found lovely of the song Alfie.

The Gals and Michael Caine in Alfie (1966)


Alfie (by David K. Mathews featuring Amikaeyla) from DAVID MATTHEWS — Fantasy Vocal Sessions Vol.1 Standards released 2018.

A song for the heart. Always good to hear.

 



https://www.jazzmusicarchives.com/album/david-matthews/fantasy-vocal-sessions-vol1-standards

Mother’s Eyes

(this is a post about our humanity and is not political!!)

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Taking children from their parents is what is happening at this time and place in the United States. It bothers me terrible. I think about the loss of my own two parents over the last ten years. The grieving is done. There is still a place in my mind and heart that will always miss them. My parents were in my life for over 50 years. I remember lying in bed at night as a babe thinking, ” what would I ever do if I lost either one of my parents!?” I would cry alone at night. Maybe this is what we all go through as children in our imagination? A reality for many children now in our country!!

Yesterday oldest son came home from his third week from his new job. I ran and greeted him outside. Under the olive tree I looked into his eyes and smiled. We talked and he was happy to have the weekend off. His eyes were a beautiful green. I remember that color ! The same color as my mother’s eyes. As a mother it is a wonder to see my mother’s face echoing in my son’s face!

I wrote a poem for mother about her eyes. I wound like to share.

Entitled Mother’s Eyes. Written 12/87.


Something in my mother’s eyes
told me something more!
Something in her wondering words
as we walked downstairs
Passing the front door.

Her eyes, her eyes!!
Her peace,
I felt,
She talked of crystals as spiritual,
She talked about protecting and caring
for her son and another son’s wife
I saw her and felt her smell the roses L’Amour.

I drive away from her
going to a place
she has visited before
I wondered about a ghostly her
that I never saw before.

In her eyes, her eyes
green crystals
dulled and well-rounded
as pupils are
I almost started crying
seeing the wet tears
which never left
the whites of her eyes.

Her eyes, her eyes
told me something more
then the simple room there knew
Her eyes told me of new feelings
which words can’t capture
and fear brings in its true meaning.

Her eyes and fear and lots of love
could it be I’m capturing
her soul shape
a dove?

The little secrets she threw my way,
silly me,
I bet she knows me
past, present, and future days.

I don’t know whether to be happy or cry,
All because of her eyes, her eyes.


Oldest son had an invisible friend that soon disappeared as he grew up. “Beek Owl” was a large bird that watched over him and talked to him. I tried to capture Beek’s image as son described him. We did not have much back then to create with. Some cardboard and a few watercolors for arty farty projects. I made a stencil of Beek Owl so I could always remember him.


“Beek Owl is winking at me.” said son.


Only in the shower do I sing…

Doe: a deer, a female deer, alludes to the first solfège syllable, do.
Ray: a drop of golden sun [i.e. a narrow beam of light or other radiant energy], alludes to the second solfège syllable, re.
Me: a name I call myself [i.e. the objective first-person pronoun], alludes to the third solfège syllable, mi.
Fa’ [i.e. “far”]: a long long way to run,” alludes to the fourth solfège syllable, fa.
Sew: [the verb for] a needle pulling thread,” alludes to the fifth solfège syllable, sol.
La, the sixth solfège syllable, lacking a satisfactory homophone (see below), is directly referred to in the song as a note to follow so[l].
Tea: a drink with jam and bread [i.e. the popular hot beverage made by steeping tea leaves in boiling water], alludes to the seventh solfège syllable, ti.


Hugo Wolf1, 3 March 1860 – 22 February 1903) was an Austrian composer


I wish I could sing well. In the 1990s I received my AA in Humanities. This gave me an option to take some fun courses. Do some risky stuff. I took two vocal courses. One was basic, ‘learn how to sing’, with all the fancy techniques like breathing from the diaphragm. Singing ‘do re mi fa sol la ti do’ repeatedly with one single breath was not easy.

I endured the class and sang the song Blue Moon as my final project. I sang the original “Blue Moon” a classic popular song written by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart in 1934. When I joined the chorus as part of a class requirement. I knew my singing was not class “A” stock. We had to perform for Los Angeles Valley College’s Christmas celebrations. I was in the first Christmas sinning group. After we sang I heard a mumble from the audience…, “OK now we will hear the real singers in the next choir singing Christmas music !”

So, I tortured myself and took the next music class that went from learning only how to sing: to singing operettas in German, Italian and French? I really went all out when I decided to sing my final song written by Hugo Wolf. ‘Heut Nacht erhob ich mich um Mitternacht?’ or Last night I rose at midnight.

My wings melted! My voice and confidence as well. I left the course before finals because the class was too much for me. Sometimes a good challenge is about the process of just trying. I did find Hugo Wolf!

If I could sing a song. Like a sexy noir dame. It would be the song below.



Last night I rose at midnight,
Because my heart had furtively stole away,
I asked heart: where are you rushing so
furiously?
It spoke: only to see you, had it run away,
Now see how it must be with my love;
My heart escapes from my breast to see you.

In music, solfège (/ˈsɒlfɛʒ/,[1] also US: /sɒlˈfɛʒ/, French: [sɔl.fɛʒ]) or solfeggio (/sɒlˈfɛdʒioʊ/, Italian: [solˈfeddʒo]), also called sol-fa, solfa, solfeo, among many names, is a music education method used to teach pitch and sight singing of Western music

Three Naked Graces & Eight Muses

Number 12 ~ An inspirational FLOPSIDE COMIC…. where is the human mind these days……? Are we only listening to a mad man who is trying to fuck up the world or we going to take some time to?

“Turn on, tune in, drop out.”

Mr. Timothy Leary I am only pulling your leg up there in the starry sky. Yet sometimes we got to think about the big picture and who is really running the show…. it isn’t LSD it is better than that because it is the Graces and the Muses…. time for some inspiration…. this little bubble gum comic will be on the market soon….


https://hudleyflipside.com/bubble-gum-flopside-comics-only-two-buck-each/

Euterpe


Existentialism and turning 60…

“…individual’s starting point is characterized by what has been called “the existential attitude,” or a sense of disorientation, confusion, or dread in the face of an apparently meaningless or absurd. Many existentialists have also regarded traditional systematic or academic philosophies, in both style and content, as too abstract and remote from concrete human experience.”

Ageing and turning 60 is an interesting time. I am reflecting over my life. The metaphor of fitting jigsaw pieces together is the best one that can describe my experience now. I now understand the meaning of existentialism. I thought I had an idea of what it meant. Not until now do I know it truly. It is a jolting reality. The now observing the past is how one can see existentialism alive!

As a child I remember waking up at night with a strange sensation that lasted only a few moments. A surrounding feeling that came to mind. One that I could not touch, access with words, or edify. It was a feeling deep in my teeth of something other. It would go away quickly. I had that same feeling through my growing up. I always knew when the other feeling was approaching. The other feeling went away as I grew up.

K -12, my whole education experience I was asleep. I realize this now. Existential is based on contrary things. Conflict or mindfulness to the absurd world we live in. When I look back at myself I was experiencing or having an existential experience my whole young life. I was in a shadow world of social pressures and abstract ideals that where strange to me.

Only waking up occasionally to the wind on the hills or the rain while walking home. Playing in green fields with my friends.  The smell of the earth and the feel of pepper trees on my skin. The aroma of the eucalyptus tree.

I went through the motions at school. I did not study or bring books home, and if I did I don’t remember them much. I do remember reading the little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis, the King James Christian Bible, and Seven Arrow by Hyemeyohsts Storm. (Native American Myth) Sherlock Holmes appealed to me. Also, songs on the radio are moments of awareness.

I was in trauma while I was growing up too! I was living in a home with an alcoholic parent and experienced love but also emotional abuse as a regular part of my life.

My point being I was not awake to my human experience until I started waking up later in my teens by the jolt of consensual sex, youthful love, and punk music.

I remember at 18 or so there were times that a light would come on and everything seemed more intense.  One time out to dinner with my parents it seemed that the restaurant light above us turned on brighter. I was in an intense illumination. Then the light went out. This is when I was experiencing an awakening an existential conflicting experience.

When I entered the punk rock world in Los Angeles I experienced this existential conflicting experience increasingly. The people and music really stirred me up. I awoke to the absurdity of life in a good way. I found my mind, voice, and soul all aligned. I began to acquire knowledge easily. I read ecstatically. I found out that I had an engaging and intellectual mind that had not been touched by the k-12 academia that tried to teach me.

I don’t think we can continue to live in an existential conflicting reality. Yet in these such moments when the existential happens.  This is where we can find our authentic self. I am very grateful!!


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“…child psychologist Bruno Bettelheim believed that fairy tales help children cope with their existential anxieties and dilemmas.”


In Return

Receptive, illumination and synchronicity, I’m a wise old blooming flower, waiting to be pollinated, I’m receptive to what I shall become, Let life approach me, I do not have to go seeking, I have all I need to succeed, I’m a beautiful rose,
wise, good and ready.
I can be trusted, I follow things through, I speak my mind, Let the spirit of god / goddess, move over my deep dark waters.
Receptive as an open flower. Now, waiting for life to impregnate me.
“The Rose makes honey,” the rose gives honey in return.