Rewiring the System


The Three D’s

Posted in Uncategorized by rewiringangel on November 10, 2010
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The Three D’s

Posted in Uncategorized by rewiringangel on November 10, 2010 Edit This
Tags: heart centeredproductivitybreathingFUNButterflydeathPeacecancerAllen GinsbergBum Fuck Egypt

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I do not remember who told me a story about Allen Ginsberg. It might have been in the pastry shop I go to get my fill of Hungarian Chai tea made with the grace of a great European Empire. The tea shoppe sits inconspicuously on the other side of the street after the split from one Shattuck into three; Shattuck continues adding Adeline and Martin Luther King. This venue of creative confection sits at the confluence of three major travel tributaries.

Perhaps it was my good fortune to be there at the right time to meet two truly interesting individuals visiting this place for a drink and slices of apple and pumpkin pie respectively.  They traveled across the country from New York City for the memorial of the man who first published R. Crumb. If you do not know who R. Crumb is you have to do yourself a big favor and look him up. Creative people live in concentric circles of common connections. I know R and S slightly from my second cousin by marriage, Todd Anderson.  He is such an amazing creative being. My life is richer having had his energy in my life.

Anyhow, I am slipping as a ‘midnight rambler’ wandering around in the mental rooms trying to place the Allen Ginsberg reference that woke me up to several heart connection stories about my contact with this poet. Or, did I get this mind stream stirred at my Birthday Celebration a week or so ago? I think it might have been my son-in-law’s step mother who raised the reference after I picked up a snip of an R.Crumb comment to the general assembled. (Ilsa, “general crew assembled” doesn’t sound right.)  You know how conversations amble from one point to fill out a wide range of the rainbow of possibilities. Dianna is such an interesting person and knows and does so much. I am glad to share her stories with her.

I was quite young when my path first crossed with Allen Ginsberg. Being precocious mentally and physically opened doors that would be closed for any ordinary ten-year-old. I traveled in a social circle of 16-year-olds who had cars and went to both coffee shops and bars. There I was, just over nine years old, having a beer with poets and writers at a deli on Nineteenth and Spruce reading from HOWL! Running through my mind is the glorious creativeness of word structure in iambic feet toeing across the page into my mind stream, one line after another line consisting of four iambic feet prancing in literary order. The word tretameter simply means that there are four feet in the line; iambic tetrameter is a line comprising four letter parts of every word. Some poetic forms rely upon iambic tetrameter:trioletOnegin stanza, or long meter in the  ballad stanza of Allen Ginsberg’s seminal opus. I was marked for life to be interested in words and the logic behind them. In an important push in this direction, I follow in the footsteps of Ginsberg and Whitman, then into the velvet of Marcel Proust and James Joyce. These are my cultural fathers.

Next intersection with the Allen Ginsberg circle was in College when I was invited to be part of a Salon of artists. The central figure in this salon sold some of my paintings, at that early stage of my painting career, to lawyers and the like.  The background music was solid Jazz:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kotK9FNEYU

One of the creative people I met around this table worked under cover for Naval Intelligence. There were savvy criminal minds parading as antique dealers, chefs, international artists, doctors and lawyers and actual Indian chiefs! Oh, the parties which brought in the Blue Collar folks and the film industry flamingo (Ilsa, what does “flamingo” mean in this context?) set.

One arm of this group worked in the first national Earth Day celebration. I did some small amount of publicity and gofer stuff for this effort. It was exciting to go into a maximum security building on the heels of the government official dressed and acting like a beatnik! What an education of the soft boundaries of the public and private faces of the corporate industrial government troika!

I was arm candy with a tight body and a pleasing personality. I have pictures from that time. My daughter saw some a few years ago and asked me, ‘Who is this person?’  I laugh to think if I had only known how hot I was then I would not have been such a church lady and had some social climbing fun!

I was assigned to keep Allen Ginsberg company under the tent before he went on stage. We had light conversation because I am and was socially shy in my nerdy sort of ‘awe shucks’ manner. He gave me the seed bead woven hippie necklace he had been wearing. It became enshrined in a special box until it dissolved because of age.  That connection put me in touch with a group of true geniuses who sent out envelopes of original work via United States mail that arrived once a month for some long time. I don’t remember much except just how impressed I was with the fruit of their many minds being interested in communicating with one another. It was because of the mentally sloppy segment of this group that I organized a commune: Bum Fuck Egypt. our symbol was a frog with his front flippers pointing in opposite directions with the caption ‘She, He, They Went Thatta Way!’

This string of commune life will have another longer venue but for now know that Allen Ginsberg was there in the mix.

I want to plant a short sentence of the Shambala connection. I remember Allen asking the creator of Dharmadatu a question that lives in my mind even to this day. When I sit in meditation I sometimes get great ideas and want to step out of the balanced clarity and back into the material world and write my idea down with a pen on paper. I will never forget Allen Ginsberg sitting next to the teacher and asking this question: “When I meditate, can I keep a pencil and notebook by my cushion so if I get an idea while meditating, I can stop momentarily and write it down?”

The plays and operas Allen wrote with Phillip Glass which I saw at the theater in New York City or at the PBS theater in Philadelphia sing in my soul!

“The butterfly alights as easily on shit and chocolate or flutters to a flower.” I have the real sentence from a poem published post-life that I used in my meditation class with high school kids.

Time for a shower and some lunch. Ahhh, I have so much more to say on these subjects. I hear and I ask you to listen to Allen Ginsberg’s timbre as he sent the regal AUM out to the sonic reaches of our known universe.
Here is my first in this series of thoughts on Desire, Devotion, and Discrimination.

Do You Trust Me?

Posted in Uncategorized by rewiringangel on November 10, 2010 Edit This
Tags: Love, meditation, heart centered, inner travel, sublime food, FUN, Butterfly, health care, Future, Peace, SEX, cancer

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Take a look. Look me over, see the outside, my skin and hair, my eyes look up to you, and feel my inner life. The quiet of my inner life steadies my heart. Look at every facet; I will touch your heart.  I am a member of the universal Mother Earth Principle. I am the the soil and the vegetation.  As a woman I am a Queen in the minions of the grace and inner light of the Mother. I am universal Love.  If you find my magic you are a lucky person. I choose carefully.

I woke up early and got a lot done in those hours before 9. I roll out of bed while the warmth of slumber surrounds my body. I sit still in meditation. Part of the time is in deep stillness as a light beam in the flow vertically for 20 feet both above and below my factual body. The horizontal vector comes straight through my heart. I am aglow with Joy. Time has no place in the cosmic flow.  Yet Again: And Game On, Maggot!    (Ilsa, “And Game On Magot” is totally incomprehensible to me, but maybe it’s just me.)

I live in a quiet place on a quiet side of a lovely hill. The trees greet me with their majesty, address every one of my senses. I smell the verdure which fills my nostrils and lungs with strength. I am catching a whiff of stuff.

Gender is a kind of dodecahedron with the relational arms meeting in intersections of construction maker ganglion or those where affection and authentic liking. (Ilsa, this sentence also is totally incomprehensible to me.)  Men go about being attractive in some undercover way. Woman show the lovely aspects of soft and warm in a fluttering energy, like the moonlight on the still surface of the bay. Some days I just wake up and I know I am going to have a great day. I look forward to the day ahead as one of these days. I have had so much that I had to fight for in my health care and other details, including getting a parking ticket for parking on the side of the street for street sweeping. Tomorrow my day will be different. I will have a wonderful creative day. My writing means so much! The problems of today are going to hover and move out of range. I hope a special person will see, but more importantly feel my energy. We will get together on the problems and we will find answers. Heart, my Heart is a powerful dreamer.

Love Is All There IS

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2 Responses to 'The Three D’s'

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  1. Mary Helen Fein said,

    That deli is still there, the Spruce deli maybe.
    used to have lousy Salvadore Dali prints on the wall!
    What a great place, I met Ronnie Rich there and he introduced me to the Big Eagle and everything changed. Or maybe it was on a park bench down the street in Rittenhouse Square!

    Great image of Allen Ginsberg asking if he could write down his ideas while meditating!

    MH


  2. […] The Three D’s […]


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