Tag Archives: Women

Mindfulness

“… but rather that it is the intangible things that imprint on us and we imprint on others that are most important… allow that magic to spread to your soul and enlighten you spiritually.” ~ Bear Medicine Walker / omtimes.com

Often our lessons in life come through illness. We all go through these experiences. As well as our  ancestors, loved ones and friends have. My illness has taught me a mindfulness of others who have gone through similar experiences. A family member or a friend that went through illness and died. Wasn’t it Madam Blavatsky who said, “We have neither friends nor enemies only teachers?”

An illness may be only a Physiology illness but I am experiencing mine as more. My illness is in the area of my heart. It is in my lungs and esophagus. The area of our hearts and lungs are what connect us to our friends, family and ancestors. As practicing mindfulness, it is helping me to see that all relationships are what Madam Blavatsky taught. Also that we all have a dark and light side.

Today I am writing an essay about two people who were, and still are, a big part of my life. I experienced their dark side and light side. Their joy and sadness are with me. I am hoping that this Tibetan Buddhism subtle mindfulness will help my two relationships that have passed on. In return helping me to let go of resentments and promote healing. As Raven from the Native American Medicine Wheel teaches, “Be strong, have faith and remember within all things are lessons and positives.”

Today my mindfulness is focused on two relationships, my long time girlfriend Lynn and my oldest brother Steven Jarva . Both were independent, shy and creative people. They both had an addiction. Lynn died of an overdose before she turned 50. Steven Jarva was an alcoholic and I was not close to him when he died so I don’t know what illness killed him in his early 70s.

Now for the good part through they both caused me pain, stress and unhappiness. They also brought me so much fun, joy and love. This also is a mindfulness of how they experienced me in life.

Lynn and I grew up playing as a profession. We were wild as the wind. Later in life she drove me and some other friends to high school every day.  She had a little brown VW Bug. She always had a tape of Crosby Stills Nash and Young on her cassette car radio.

Steven Jarva was my brother who I looked up to as a kid. He was 11 years older than I was. I painfully watched as he left our home at 18. He was a movie extra for years. He was a lady’s man and sailed on his own sail boat to Hawaii. He was a licensed scuba diving instructor. He took me sailing and I sat on the front tip or the ‘stuck.’.  Flying on the waves as a seagull. He had a Ford Falcon that he raced when he was younger. I learned about the Beatles listing to his 8-track tape of Rubber Soul while he worked on the engine with his cute friends.

That is it…. mindfulness…



Inanna’s Trinity

“But when women succeed in maintaining themselves against the anumus, instead of allowing themselves to be devoured by it, then it ceaes to be only a danger and becomes a creative power. We women need this  power, for, strange as it seems, only when this masculine entity becomes an integrated part of the soul and carried on its proper  function, and, at the same time, also being herself, to fulfill her individual human destiny.” Pg. 42 Animus and Anima; Two Essays by Emma Jung.


rom Winter to Spring real change happens. The death of Winter and the rebirth of Spring. The resurrection of Christ Jesus after three days in the underworld, the release of Prometheus by Chiron, and the release of Persephone from the underworld. Here she spends 6 months with Pluto and 6 mouths with her mother Demeter. The motif is about the same thing and I am sure there are many other myths, stories and religious texts where one can bring this concept forth. One that is not as popular is the story of Inanna the Goddess of love, Queen of Heaven and Earth. It is a trinity. It is a cuneiform Sumer texts about 3000 years old.  First there is Inanna, then Ereshkigal~ Queen of the Underworld, and finally we have Lilith ~ the dark rebel adolescent of Inanna.

Here we also find a similar part as with Persephone where Inanna’s king Dumuzi as the shepherd king of Uruk spends 6 months in the underground.

“His heart was filled with tears, The shepherd’s heart was filled with tears, Dumuzi’s heart was filled with tears.”

The wisdom god Enki helps Inanna from the underground.

“He creates from the dirt of this fingernails the kurgarra and galatur- instinctual, asexual creatures who will not disturb the necessary infertility rules of the kur. He endows the creatures with the artistic and empathetic taken of being professional mourners, capable of mirroring the lonely queen’s emotions.” Pg. 160.

Also interesting in this ancient trinity is the place of Lilith. Here a difference perspective of her.

“The powerful Lilith of Inanna’s adolescent days had to be sent away so Inanna’s life exploring talents could be developed. But now that Inanna has become queen of her city, wife to her beloved, mother of her children, she is more able to face what she has neglected and feared: the instinctual wounded, frightened parts of herself. She now hears, and capable of responding to, the labor call of Ereshkigal ~The Great Below.” Pg. 160 Inanna by Diane Wolkstein .


God of Wisdom and Shepard King

“He creates from the dirt of his fingernails the Kurgarra, the food of life, and Galatur the water of life.


Inanna’s Trinity

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Goddess of Love, Queen of Heaven and Earth

I

Queen of the Underworld

Dark Rebel and Adolescent of Inanna


Flowing Myrrh

Sandro Botticelli (Alessandro di Mariano di Vanni Filipepi) (1445 � 1510)
La Derelitta

I slept but my heart was awake.
Listen! My beloved is knocking:
“Open to me, my sister, my darling,
my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew,
my hair with the dampness of the night.”
I have taken off my robe—
 must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet—
must I soil them again?
My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening;
my heart began to pound for him.
I arose to open for my beloved,
and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh,
on the handles of the bolt.
I opened for my beloved,
but my beloved had left; he was gone.
My heart sank at his departure. [a]
I looked for him but did not find him.
I called him but he did not answer.
The watchmen found me
as they made their rounds in the city.
They beat me, they bruised me;
they took away my cloak,
those watchmen of the walls!
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you—
if you find my beloved,
what will you tell him?
Tell him I am faint with love.

Song of Solomon 5: 1-8

myrrh



 

The heart


2. Redefinition

Turn an annoyance into a reminder of privilege. For example, a messy home that was just cleaned yesterday can be seen as a visible sign of how privileged you are to have kids at home who make messes, instead of an annoyance. Or maybe you get annoyed by a spouse who squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle or leaves the toilet seat up. Next time you get annoyed, catch yourself and see it as a reminder of how privileged you are to have them in your life. Anything that annoys you can be the trigger for gratitude and love. This is true alchemy, the turning of the base into the precious.

https://www.finerminds.com/personal-growth/five-signs-your-fourth-chakra-is-weak/

Percival

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percival


https://hudleyflipside.com/2017/04/18/pluto-love/

One drop of rain

cropped-euphrosyne1.jpg

SEVEN YEARS ON WORDPRESS !!


I have Chiron square Mercury in my 7th house…

At the The VIVA May 21, Photo by Daisy Obetsanov


th (18)idn’t speak much when I was young. Was not interested in writing either. Only a few poems. I played with my friends, but I found it more and more difficult to communicate at school. I felt restricted, invisible or persecuted by my own peers. I was wild and not awake to the pounding of an education that seemed incredulous to me. I now realize I had foresight, creativity and a natural spiritualism that could not find contact. Nature was receptive! My mom and dad tried with lots of watercolors and paper.  A giant black board was painted in my room. Endless chalk drawings were created and erased, drawn and erased. The old player piano in the boys’ room is where I spent hours playing any song I wanted that I learned by heart only.


Vesta 001


Did I not express myself in school because of fear? Was it the constant fighting and alcoholism in my household which pushed my mind down into myself? Was it dyslexic, autism or a painful shyness that was the bewildering issue within me? We the children were not diagnosed back then.

Having foresight was a curse when no one listened!  I did not have the proper device , neither did I have the wise ability to  reach out  towards others. I did not have a voice!

Now at 60 I realize my heart & mind are mature and keen enough to reach my inward growing child. That is my reasoning currently to create a hub like The Seminary Of Praying Mantis.  To share my voice and reach a global community! I believe this is the truth. Finding one’s voice and sticking to it is wonderful. The last seven years WordPress has helped to make this happen for me.


holy-baubo


I am celebrating 7 years with WordPress. My HUB in a global community.

While spending a few hours observing nature this afternoon. I know that the many voices were loud and some subtle. The chirp-chirp birds, to the black crows on tall cypress trees. Above me high in the sky are the circling hawks and the commercial jets. Sounds of life. One drop of rain touched me. I am one drop of rain too.

I invite you to support The Seminary of Praying Mantis and celebrate with me. I have words to read, items for sale and images to make you laugh. I have grown as a writer, author and artist.  It is amazing that so many tools are available where one can publish ones’ works! It can be achieved very cheaply and sometimes even for free as with Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing. I have taken the core of my punk philosophy, wild nature, foresight and freedom to communicate with the world. I found a place to express myself. It is colorfully rewarding….

My Punkalullaby: The Seminary Of Praying Mantis (Punk Fanzine Memoir Book 1) http://a.co/2ZeXdAU


We rode our painted ponies wild

Sony the white mustang and me

“I’ve learned to hurl the tomahawk and ride a painted pony wild
To run the gauntlet of the Sioux, to make a chieftain’s daughter mine”

~From Elton John’s 1971 album “Madman Across the Water.” The song was written after lyricist Bernie Taupin’s first visit to America, on the first tour in 1970.

I awoke to this song playing in my head. The lyrics are in my heart always. The song brings back my memories of riding the hills of the Santa Monica mountains in the early 1970s. Nature called our names as the wild sage did hug our thighs.  We rode our painted ponies wild as we sang this song aloud. We were held up and whirled into a time when everything had meaning. Schools, education, social pressures and family problems all erased. We galloped with the ghosts of a spirituality I only now begin to understand. Currently as a crone it is infusing my spirit with the wonder, beauty and sadness of life.


The Adventures of Sony and Raubie

https://hudleyflipside.com/category/the-adventures-of-sony-and-raubie/


My Punkalullaby Promotion Letter To Universities

My Punkalullaby tells a genuine account regarding the exploding punk culture during the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s. This is a story about the essence of a young woman living the life of a radical punk rocker.  Most importantly it outlines the evolution of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. Flipside gave a voice to the punks when no one else would. Flipside supported and documented all the players. The fans, bands, promoters and artists all respected Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine.

Let me introduce myself. I co published and edited Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine from 1979 to 1989. Flipside Fanzine documented the Los Angeles underground music scene and the punk rock scene for 20 years. This was locally in Los Angeles and internationally. When I owned the publication, from 1979 to 1989, we published an issue every two months. We also sold Flipside Fanzine Vinyl Records and Live Flipside Video Tapes of current bands at the time.

I am introducing My Punkalullaby: The Seminary of Praying Mantis (Punk Fanzine Memoir Book 1) Kindle Edition. I am asking that you consider including My Punkalullaby in your reading list for your students as an insightful historic memoir addition to your curriculum.

~ Hudley Flipside


I want to recommend this product at Amazon.com

My Punkalullaby: The Seminary Of Praying Mantis (Punk Fanzine Memoir Book 1)by Amazon Digital Services LLC

Learn more: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07LGQQ8RZ/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp_U_lLpqCbJ807FAD


Information and how you can communication with Hudley Flipside…

My WordPress Site

The Seminary of Praying Mantis     

hudleyflipside.com

 Email Address

hudleyflipside@gmail.com

My Public Image

https://hudleyflipside.com/my-public-image/

Trust Interview with Hudley Flipside

https://hudleyflipside.com/trust-fanzine-interview-with-hudley/


we were in love and wild about it..

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.