Category Archives: The Healing power of Love

When life makes you depressed? Remember to dream your way out, in a narrow escape!

 

Although, I am as fragile as glass? As delicate in my dreams as a simple whisper. I imagine?  I remember, I recall…  A few of my favorite things.

When I was around 11? I have glints and murmurs, gleanings or shimmering  memories.

When I volunteered to work in a thrift shop on Vermont avenue in Los Angeles.  Carrot juice at 8 in a glistening curvy  deco platinum counter with ice cubes made of  madagascar vanilla ice cream. These are a few of my favorite things.

 The strange man whom I worked with, whom brushed his hair with ivory Victorian hair brushes, with smooth bone milky ivory handles. His hair platinum bleached white. A David Bowie kind of goblin. My boss had no arms?  Every day she hiked up her toes and opened the door with keys with her feet. She wrote letters with her wood scented lead pencil. In the back near the velvet smoky gowns.

Pink mischievous  pale orange pink deco slips, There…high on shelves, these wonderful depression era glasses. Mostly green mixed amongst some aurora borealis Northern lights hues on a caramel glaze.  There was cobalt cosmic blue glassware too, albeit rare. My job was just fussing over everything and listening to T-Rex with my platinum goblin in his David Bowie hairstyling’s.

I guess Los Angeles is not a very old city after all. There is stucco in pale pastel colors like old wedding cake all dusty as the length of this suburban sprawl encapsulates you. The entire city reminds you of living inside of pastries with the smell of jalapeños and tamales. My life was so simple. Deciphering my mothers mysterious beguines. She told me once that she was Mona Lisa’s poodle and she did not have to smile.

She said I am going to catch all the family photographs on fire in the freezer. I asked why? She said because you are going to finally pay attention as life leaps before you as the dragonflies wings burn like stained glass of sacredness. Don’t you want to remember where you came from?  You never remember the important things?  So, I watched her as the ice melted and fire burned. Century of warm expressions glazing with kodak banana smelling developer. My Mother was right! I never forgot what I would not remember otherwise inside of amere book. She said pay attention. This is our story and you have one chance to jump thru these rings of fire like a trapeze star.

My mother was so mysterious to me. She would read me the biography of Charlie Parker with her tiny legs on an African stool, which barely reached the floor. Lissen up she said, because music will pass you by and you must remember the scent of jazz. Each night before I went to sleep, she read to me about the stirrings if jangling bells, xylophones and flutes. Do you remember the scent of the soprano in June?  Looking back, my mother was like a zen master. She was a pioneer. She worked so hard at the bank so my father could practice drums and horns. My mother told me freedom is everything. We were all alone and she would sew and sew and practice her fencing with swords. She made all of my school costumes and cheerleading dresses. I have come to realize, that we had o money and we never knew how we would survive. She made certain that I knew that I was very much loved. 

  But, now?  I really would love to design some organza with these lovely delicate patterns. I’m sure there is a way to design textiles which are embossed and so smooth.  I can become my memories and my future by remembering  precious things which are my heart. I can become a lace glass teacup filled with my favorite tea. No matter what life throws at me?  I shall always remember John Coltrane’s musings on “A few of my favorite things”

Depression Era Glass Pattern Guide Glassware Georgian Floral items in Vintage Elegant Depression Glass store on eBay!.

 

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THE COMMANDMENTS; FROM THE CATECHISM EXPLAINED

Christ has given us the most striking example of the love of our enemies, for on the Cross He prayed for His enemies, and in the Garden of Olives He healed the servant whose ear Peter had cut off. Our heavenly Father Himself sets us an example, for He makes His sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust. He who loves his enemy therefore is like to God; he is a true child of his Father in Heaven (Matt. v. 45).

Another reason why we ought to love our enemy is because he also is made after God\’s image, and is an instrument in His hand.

Our enemy is made after God\’s likeness. The king\’s effigy stamped upon the coin, is equally deserving of respect whether the coin be of copper or gold; so we are bound to love and honor the image of God, whether the man who bears it be vicious or virtuous. It is not the sin we love, but the sinner. Man is God\’s work, sin is man\’s work; \”therefore,\” says St. Augustine, \”love what God has made, not what man has done.\” We ought also to love our enemy because God uses him as His instrument. Evil men, unwittingly to themselves, are instruments in God\’s hands. As the physician employs the leech to draw the bad blood from the veins of the sick man, and effect his cure, so God employs our enemies to remove our imperfections (St. Gregory the Great). The evil shapes the good, as file and hammer shape iron: they are to them as the plough to the fallow ground (St. John Chrysostom). They are, moreover, of service to us, by acquainting us with our faults and giving us an opportunity of practicing virtue. Enemies are like bees; they sting, but they produce honey. [Ibid.] When calumny assails you, console yourself with the thought that it is not the worst fruits that the wasps devour. Finally remember that no enemy can really injure one who loves God; for God makes all hostile designs work good to His Own people (Rom. viii. 28). This is exemplified in Joseph\’s life. The truth will teach you to bear up against persecution.

ST. STEPHEN

2. The love of our enemy is shown in this: That we do not revenge ourselves on him, that we return good for evil, that we pray for him and forgive him willingly.

We ought not to revenge ourselves on our enemy. David gives us a beautiful example, for he twice had the opportunity of putting his persecutor King Saul, to death, and on neither occasion did he do him any harm. Our Lord, when He was reviled, did not revile again (1 Pet. ii. 23). Once when Christ was not received in a Samaritan village because He was a Jew, the Apostles were so desirous of revenge that they wanted to call down fire from Heaven. But Our Lord rebuked them, saying: \”You know not of what spirit you are\” (Luke ix. 55). Vengeance belongs to God, not to us (Rom. xii. 19). We ought to suffer wrong rather than take revenge; we are told, to him that striketh thee on the one cheek offer the other (Luke vi. 29). Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil by good (Rom. xii. 21). Avenge yourself, as the Saints did, by returning benefits for the evil done you; such vengeance is Divine. St. Stephen prayed for his murderers; he was more grieved for the harm they did to themselves than for the injury they did to him. When the Apostle James, Bishop of Jerusalem, was thrown from the pinnacle of the Temple, he raised himself on his fractured knees to pray for his murderers. We should also be ready to forgive our enemies. King David forgave Semei, when he threw stones at him and cursed him (2 Kings xvi. 10). To do good to one\’s enemy is a proof of great magnanimity.

3. He who does not revenge himself on his enemy, or who even confers benefits upon him, puts his foe to shame and pacifies him, and will be rewarded by God; whereas he who hates his enemy and revenges himself on him commits a sin.

via THE COMMANDMENTS; FROM THE CATECHISM EXPLAINED.

I am not so good and I believe we should be compensated for being heaped with malignant abuses.  However, I cannot control this matter and I try in my stumbling manner to be honorable.

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THE COMMANDMENTS; FROM THE CATECHISM EXPLAINED

SECTION A: THE COMMANDMENTS

VIII. THE COMMANDMENT TO LOVE OUR ENEMY

We call him our enemy who hates us and seeks to do us harm.

Saul, for instance, was an enemy of the Christians. Those alone can be said to have the love of their neighbor who love their enemies too. [Emphasis in bold added.] A big fire is not extinguished but increased by the wind; so the love of one\’s neighbor, if it be real, is not destroyed, but deepened, by affronts and offenses on the part of others. If we only love those who love us, we cannot look for any great reward (Matt. v. 46). We love our friends for our own sake, but we love our enemies for God\’s sake. [Ibid.]

1. We ought to love our enemies because Christ commands it; He says: \”Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you; pray for them that persecute and calumniate you\” (Matt. v. 44).

Christ has given

via THE COMMANDMENTS; FROM THE CATECHISM EXPLAINED.

There will be people in this life whom increase the weight of my cross, which is already too heavy for me to bare.  They will scape goat you and they try to kill you.  The only way I know how to survive this and for my own salvation?  Is to be non-violent and to pray for them and try to love them.  It keeps me from becoming violent myself. It protects me from doing crimes of passion myself. I am human and I suffer, but to release this pain in a non-toxic way and be responsible for this planet and all of it’s sacred realms.  I cannot say that I can love my  ememies?  That I possess the strength of character or fortitude.  I do have empathy and compassion.  I believe that life is like the Tin Man in the Wiz.  If we try to oil another rapid oxidation of their armor and their cells.  We are a better person for it. But more than this?  I feel better.  We offer mass and consecration of the host of communion to help ease the burden of another, because we are all one.

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ireland | Farmette recipes, click if you fare

 

homemade clotted cream recipe click!

dulse butter

homemade Seville orange marmalady

seville orange curd for a orange meringue pie?

ireland | Farmette.

Trias Thaumaturga: January 2012

Saint Brigids Eve: The Threshold RitualThe popular customs for Saint Brigids Eve seem to have varied a great deal between different parts of the country. Another ritual which took place throughout Ireland was the threshold rite in which Saint Brigid would be symbolically admitted to bless the family home. In the early 1940s, the Irish Folklore Commission undertook a survey of popular traditions practiced in honour of Saint Brigid. An t-Athair Sean O Duinn, OSB, has collected and translated a number of the IFC transcripts in his book The Rites of Brigid – Goddess and Saint. The basic elements of the threshold rite were that the family would gather together to make a special meal of mashed potatoes, rushes would be gathered to make Saint Brigids crosses, and then someone would symbolically take the role of Saint Brigid, knocking at the door and asking 3 times to be admitted. The door dialogue usually included the phrases Go down on your knees and let Holy Brigid enter to which those inside would reply She is welcome; she is welcome. There was a link between the food and the rushes in that the rushes had to be brought in by the person playing the role of Brigid and placed under the pot of potatoes. After the supper the family would then make crosses from the rushes. An t-Athair O Duinn draws parallels between this threshold ritual and some of the liturgical rites found in the great cathedrals of Europe and the Roman rite of dedication of a church.He ends the accounts of the threshold rite with a report from County Leitrim where the door dialogue had fallen into disuse but where the elements of the rushes and the food were retained. The respondent to the Folklore Commission survey in 1942 described the making of the crosses in exclusively Christian terms:On the evening of the feast, a bunch of rushes is cut, and placed under the table. After the supper, the cross is made. The cross I always make is the rush cross, and to make this properly you require 49 rushes. One of these is unbroken and the other 48 bent and form the 4 sides of the cross. The unbroken rush represents Jesus Christ and the twelve on each side represent the 12 Apostles. St Brigid always had great devotion to Jesus Christ and the 12 Apostles and hence the number of rushes…When the cross was made, the head of the house went round the house with it and placed it in every window and door round the house and said at each entrance or window: St Brigid, save us from all fever, famine and fireSean O Duinn, OSB, The Rites of Brigid – Goddess and Saint, Columba Press, 2005 119-120.

via Trias Thaumaturga: January 2012.

Diagnosis: Ecume des jours

What does “The Froth of Days” “Mood Indigo” and “A Streetcar named desire” have in common?  The tinge of hope.  The splendor of  dreaming violets, with a racing scent speeding into the periwinkle skies.  The welcoming pleasure within a garden of silken fleurs du sucre vanille.

When I saw an enchanting yet slightly perturbed wisp of melancholy in a photo called Ecume des jours?  I began to discover the book by Boris Vian called “The Froth of Daydreams”   In this photo titled  “Ecume des jours”  I was wont to ponder this photo collage of an Asian woman as the main feature in a collage dream like state, where flora and fauna was superimposed as her mind-cranial sacral area of her head.

I shall try to describe it?  Inside of this almost park which was cropped into her hair was the man whom wandered within a garden mirrored all betwixt the parts which made up her silhouette.  (If I could I would post it here, but I do not have permission from the artist.) As if women were trying to discover and recover her true nature. Don’t we all feel a bit Frankenstein?

It got my mind to wander into this novel called “The Froth of Days”  The title of the photo I meandered onto, on FB by a person named Astral Vibes.  I really love the poetic sensuality all encompassed in the title.  Alas?  What is the thread like Hawaiian leis of orchids which link these 3 themes above. “The Froth of Days” “Mood Indigo” and “A Streetcar named desire”  ?

Marlon-Brando-and-Vivien-Leigh-in-A-Streetcar-Named-Desire-1951

 

Does anyone ever reminisce about Vivian Leigh in A Streetcar named desire, when she says things like ” I depend upon the kindness of strangers” in her genteel fragile imaginary paradigm. How she may be busted flat in Baton Rouge but she can muster up a dull copper penny for a Chinese lantern made of paper to shield herself from the brutal bright, raw piercing light of a mere barbaric bulb.

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As if Stanley himself were that animal like villain, brutish bare and incongruous bulb, which she must curry favor with to no avail.  She feels more comfortable in the secrets of the shadows.  Of course we adore Marlon Brando strangely in his obscene yet clothed masculinity.  There shall never be another king whom became a man as he.  Alas, he is the sun itself in all it’s unabashed inferno.

streetcar_cards

It’s uncharted and inflamed pure madness itself which drew Icarus to burn its winged dream. Be wary of too much light impure.  Perhaps the perfect women is 1/2 Blanche and 1/2  Stella? Stella which means stars.  The sun is the brightest star and if not for the pink moon of night?  All teal tinged froth azure, would become singed, and all flowers burned.

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Stanley: That’s pearls, Stella, ropes of ‘em. What is your sister – a deep sea diver?

The indirect shade, so forgiving.  So lush. The underlying mood and sincerity of those whom are ill is what Blanche speaks of, evokes a sapphire mood indigo.  Mood Indigo, the languid and bittersweet blue with its absence of light.  The absence of glaring and burning golden fire.  Flowers seem to burst either in the magic of dawn after a the earth has its mystical sleep?  Or, at twilight when in a grand flourish gust of music buds begin to blossom.  The sweetness of the earths imagination. Perhaps flowers are the kindest strangers whom always invite one to ponder beauty.

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When I think of Mood Indigo, it is one mood where we begin in a doldrums of  doubt.  Perhaps a hope dashed?  A love unrequited.  Then for a moment, the heart takes a vacation from its heartache and begins to daydream?  Here perhaps begins the recipe for escape.  Dreams chase the tail of the Cheshire cat, yet we need the sparkling glimmer of inspiration to spark us onto new passions? If we have enough faith we might pounce upon one of our daydreams to make them real.  This brings me to this novel called “The Froth of Days”  described here: 

Froth on the Daydream
Book by Boris Vian
Froth on the Daydream is a 1947 novel by the French author Boris Vian. It tells the story of a man who marries a woman, who develops an illness that can only be treated by surrounding her with flowers. Wikipedia
Flowers are the stuff of angels.  Warm yet never scorching.  A bridge of hope in their inviting rejuvenating nature.  I would love to see this film and be healed with flowers.  Roses remind me that in the dense, damp, musky earth, so gravity leaden with geologic granite and fibrous bark of trees? That there is music which the melancholy planet speaks.  There is suddenly a counter force which defies the mundane. Suddenly there is poetry in spite of the  existentialist rancor of stony abyss. Roses!  Spring itself defies all logic. What is it that suddenly renews our little planet with chirping sudden blossoms and greenery supreme. Spring is nature falling in love. It dares to rise above hopelessness. About logic. All that was old is again renewed.  For me this is the froth of days.  Just as the most weary soul is suddenly revived by a 4 o’clock cappuccino.  The magic of meringue. The uplifting roar of caffeine. Those bewitching spells of molecules which send the spirit to rise above the mundane.  It is for this reason that I have devoted my life to the  the grande dame,  “Lady Camellia.”  Chanel grew enchanted by camellias as did Dumas.  In the secrets of the blossoms?  All the fairies know the humble yet powerful elixir of the camellias, which is Camellia Sinesis.  Camellia Sinesis of all the cultivars in the plethora of these round many radiating petals so perfectly curved is the most humble of all.  The ugly duckling in fact of their kind, which alone like Cinderella majestically becomes the life flowing healing within its leaves and blossoms.
It is where water and sky are sipped and we are suddenly revived. How brave is hope within a rose?  How daring it is to appear in the most scoundrel of vacant rubbish lots.  In Mexico, the virgin Mary is reputed to have shown her divinity by causing roses to grow in the most barren land, in order to prove that there is always powerful unseen forces at work upon Mother earth. I can’t wait to see this movie Ecume Des Jours but I shall buy the book as well. To be under the spell of which only beautiful blossoms can break the calcification of a hardened heart.  We witness perhaps God’s alchemical healing. Flowers are the rainbows of the earth after frightful storms.
  Most fearful matters of life according to Zen is merely transformation and celebration or resistance to change and the trail of thorns it entails.  If we refuse to add the creme of tartar of wisdom or the sparkles of salty wit in soda?  These most basic ingredients in life make the Willy Wonka Chocolate factory bubble. If we go to sleep each night with hate?  We are not a garden where fragrant little bells of ivory Muguet lilies can grow, but a twisted bramble inside of acidic honks, squeaks and squawks. It’s as if not following mother natures recipes in stubborn foolishness we become lead balloons!
Then the little squirrels and winged creatures can sense our metallic bitterness and scamper away to where the sun and the moon waltz.  I too am sick with the disease of which only flowers can cure.

Some how? There is no space, but only love betwixt the ocean and the sky.
The flood of clouds as effervescent as seltzery music. The horizon makes an algebraic impossible equation. The two azure atmospheric phenomenons of oceans and skies are one. There is no space in between the cerulean bodies except an eclipse of  froth like frosting.  Such spinning is the levity of love. It’s as if the angels have been baking and the mixologists potions stirring.

Théâtre Rambouillet Ecume des jours.

Things with wings

 

Today was a wonderful Day. Father Ahern come to bless us and our house. He gave us the bread of heaven.

Things with wings.

Queen of the underdogs,The passion of Anne Kristen

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This is a photograph taken by Celine Martin of her younger sister, St. Therese of Lisieux, dressed as Joan of Arc.  It is not often that you see a sister out of her habit! I was intrigued with the metaphor of art as a woman such as Jeanne d’Arc. Those whom take up the torch for the suffering are my heroes.  When I saw the photography of Lisa Kristen?  When I heard her plight I felt proud to be a witness of her soul stirring endeavor to document those whom are modern day slaves. Art is a powerful weapon. A dose of potent medicine. The Ken series I have recently been introduced to by the magical work of David Mack.

When I was a child I felt very proud to have a father whom took a stand against the horrors of tyranny and human decrepitude.  The debauchery and shadow of our most haunting past in America of owning slaves.  He educated us as children about the beloved Martin Luther King. We were not allowed to go to school on Martin Luther King’s birthday long before it was a national holiday.  He showed us documents and photographs pertaining to the enslavement of African youths because others assumed their superiority entitled them legally to brutalize other human beings freedoms.

How proud I am when I see the work of Anne Kristen. She is an amazing woman. I love her eye on the human experience. Enslavement of African’s by africans is no excuse to deter documentation. I am praying that in this day and age?   No one and no one assumes the right to usurp the future of anyone.  Her work is breathtaking. To endanger to precious life of our fellow brothers.

His mother from Ireland was unable to attempt to take on the subject of interracial marriage which in fact was illegal. My Father was 1/2 Irish, 1/8th  Comanche, 1/4 Italian and 1/8th French Creole. This beautiful love affair between his mother and father ended in a disturbing halt to avoid in fact arrest.  It was against the law to fall in love.

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