Link to an original Blues woman...What a voice!
Friday, August 31, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Colors of auras,
Are they something we can see?
Even if we do not know it,
Is it what gives us a gut feeling,
Can we learn to tune in so our concious mind
understands & sees the auras?
What are my favorite colors?
I looked at the colored pencils.
Blues, Greens, Reds, Dark Purple,
and I pushed to use them all at least a little.
Not lined up like a rainbow,
the spectrum scattered into the whole canvas,
including all colors
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
there can be no more prolific than Edgar Cayce.
Mom talked about him a lot. He was fascinating and there is an entire complex for his works in Virginia Beach as well his readings that are on line.
My renewed interest in metaphysics as I recollect my Shaman Mom and her eyes when she referred to Edgar.
He in turn suffered several serious head traumas. One in his youth. Did some short circuit aid his being in touch with Auras and alternate realities.
Edgar Cayce, dedicated medium for predictions & life & health readings
and much much more...
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Searching for the
colors of the images
I was missing.
Searching for the images
from long ago,
To bathe them in fresh paint and color,
a new look,
a new day
a new understanding.
I am fussy about the images I made
pencils, water, ink.
They are not quite right.
let it sit,
Oh, not so bad,
it came from inside of me.
I fuss some more
quit while I am ahead.
notes: Mom did this painting thing at my age and I sat and watched her heal
and had no idea where the scar was...
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Summer memories are warm and sweet. I wanted to share a poem even while fearing once I let it out I will be unable to ever outdo it in feeling and depth of myself immersed therein.
Coyote Night by Mary Gerdt * 2008 all rights reserved
When we walk down a road in the dark,
And the Coyotes are crying their mournful cry,
The smells of summer drift and hang in the valley
And little night birds chirp goodnight.
The stars peek out from the clouds of August mist
The moon hangs over the hills by home.
My memories fade to days gone by
When we looked at the nights from inside.
Now we walk on the path outside
Not afraid anymore.
While the coyotes cry.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
We drove down to
Suicide Six @
on a perfect summer day
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
for some unknown reason this got posted out of sequence.
I had to re-post today
such a good movie video on so many levels.
great music, action, acting, message
is the character Kris K playing "just" elderly or some developmental delay as well?
Either way, his plans were made by the system.
Isn't that something you were supposed to change?
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
One Trauma leads to memory of other losses,
in boxes with artwork from short lived friendships.
Danny Shulman and I were friends for a time
we lost him in LA from Lymphoma in spite of his best efforts
He would have been famous, and what fanciful films he might have made had he had the chance to even grow up.
More artwork by Danny c. 1977
What a guy.
While I am paying tribute to absent friends, I neglected a proper tribute to a friend, Joe, who, in my first grade class photo and sat two over on my right.
to absent friends…
Ever since I can remember
She was by my side.
She had my back,
Powerful little human.
She called me the sensible one,
and I never understood
What She meant.
As I remember,
I remember sitting
by Her side
as she drove us to
or an event.
She got great tickets
from her boss and
I was easy to ask,
I was right there,
By Her side.
We saw Segovia, The Bolshoi,
and the historians at
So as I write about
Glimpses I recall,
and feelings that come to me strongest,
some of the best memories were of riding in the car
Talking about nothing special,
Right by her side.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Strands of Images
From the Past,
In my Mind.
Therein are images
all Pain & Joy,
Real to me &
No where else.
Therein are images
As I see them.
Therein are images,
Some are Underneath
where you thought
You could hide them.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
found in public domain
Short bursts high pitched, like ” Ee-eee”.
I thought it was the ring necked pheasant
the sound closer,
Then we saw her,
Slowly gliding over our heads, like this photo I found,
Her feathery fingers grabbing the wind bumps we cannot see.
She hovered over us
And we looked at each other.
“Hi Betsy,” was all we could say.
I had just told Fred the other day that Mom would be an osprey, not an eagle,
She wrote the letter
All those years ago.
The osprey returned
Had a hand in that.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
I am building my shrine to Mom,
both figuratively at home, on a table,
& here, on my travelogue of painful and hopeful messages
as I pause &
feel Her special way
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
They made it!
Travelogue for the Universe: Aryanna Arrival on Mars 8.5.12 ...er 8.6.12 EST Ea...: Curiosity: The Mars mission is due to land Today I became a part of this when I signed up to put my digital image in the spacecraf...
>>when i told dad about my name going to mars, he started scratching the phone, you're breaking up..so i would try again and he would say you're breaking up on me and he signed off.
>>when i told mom (betz) my name was going to mars, she said in that sweet perfect song voice,
that's nice, mary, in a true and genuine style (you never were quite sure but just hearing the encouragement, in that perfect pitch of hers, made you believe you could...
and that she agreed it was worth it)
well mom, i wanted to, planned to and never got to tell you my name got to mars,
on earth i am mary, on mars i am called aryanna
on earth a MonSter pulls my legs, on Mars, there is no MS
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
One more for Friday Night
Harder, wait, it is impossible to photograph
how I felt, feel, will feel.
Travelogue for the Universe: Betz: Betz Some thoughts I was marvelling at the proteins strands in my brain processing all the memories, feelings, old smells, emotions, evo...
Captain Blakely Quebec
|A few years ago|
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
I was marvelling at the proteins strands in my brain processing all the memories, feelings, old smells,
emotions, evoked by looking at old photos, letters, things Mom made: baskets, paintings, her sewing notions. Donna reminded me we are about the age Mom was when I moved out here.
That started a whole new string of memories, detoured by tears and smiles, and bewilderment, and
kind communications from friends and family.
So yesterday I jotted words down as they came, not wanting to forget stories, feelings, and how the day went when Mom left the material plane, I felt her presence, as if she could be with me in the cool clean mountain air she loved when she visited. A few times She saw this house, slept downstairs. We drove up onto the hill.
When I moved out here it was a month after Katie died. I was restless to live here, in mysterious wonderful never seen Vermont. I made plans and never saw Mom's face until the day my brother Sam and I left. She was sad. I did not know why and in my plans thought maybe we were doing her a favor.
"Don't worry I'll be back in a year once I get this out of my system." Like technicolor, that moment, I added, "We'll be closer." She smiled maybe not sure why herself. I never moved back home.
We all adjusted. I think we were closer. We talked on Sundays and as time passed, there was less to talk about. Sometimes I would ask her about old family or spiritual ideas, philosophy. I repeatedly failed to write down the history and remember only snippets. She wrote a brief history which I re-read recently.
In about 1880 her parents were born. Her true life spanned 3 Centuries by my rules. My rules: Women are born with the eggs that could develop into a fetus. So your maternal grandmother gives birth to your mother with all the eggs your Mom will have. if I perseverate too much, just skip this part.
Tomas led her by the hand once she was assured her husband and each of her 7 children was safe and settled. It was not about her husband and her 7 being happy about it. It was about being Settled.
I felt like the honey was gone from the honey comb, or was the comb gone? I could visualize the empty space, and it would never be the same again.
That afternoon, off to the East, over the Green Mountains, a mighty rumble of thunder came from a lone thunderhead. Uncommon to see that here, in Vermont. Cool, blue skies overhead. Really the perfect summer day. Except for Mom passing over, that is, passing on, dying, gone. I went to see the big billowy cloud. And a little rainbow struggle to be seen, a rainbow pillar, really, 7 colors, for the 7 chakras, 7 archangels, Seven again.
In the west another cloud rose up....
Mom said there are chicken mothers and eagle mothers. Chicken mothers hold their babies close under their wings. Eagle mothers toss the babies out of the nest to fly on their own.
She told me many times," I am an eagle mother." And she would do this proud posture thing.
I was proud too, I love Eagles, independence. Once I told a friend/co-worker the story.
She replied, "I had a lizard mother, she layed eggs and walked away."
And I saw again, how Mom's stories were leading me to a greater understanding.
7th month. July. Born in July, Had 7 kids, Died in July, I Saw Sevens all day,
looked down at my shirt. Cardinals #7 Halladay. I bought it out there was it ? last visit?
Recently called Dad during the game (faux pas, no-no). Halladay got a home run while we were talking which I thought rare for the timing. I told Dad I was wearing his shirt and it bewildered him a bit...7 is my lucky number which is why I picked Halladay. Bro Paul said it was a good choice in shirts.
Played stupid app, it said to spin the wheel, thought of Mom the day I watched her play Slot machines with a fierce intention. Got a free app which was Slots with 7’s, all sevens, no money changing hands. Mom would have loved it. The sign I was looking for, they were all around me.
My service cat, was all over me all day. I kept thinking he had met her. I was trying to do the calendar math, I gave up.
Giant Coreopsis, Phlox, Jewelweed, Catnip, Queen Anne's Lace.
Mom loved honey, and bees, and I noticed how many more bees are here and healthy thanks to neighbors, and nature's way.
Trees, a whip of a tree grew back on a stub of a red delicious tree that had broken off. Zone 5 we never should have tried, still we can hope. I gaze at the giant locust trees with a feathery living canopy and remember the Vietnamese painting David sent home that hung in my bedroom on 128 East High. The painting captured the locusts green clouds of leaves, switching up and down in the breeze. I see a spruce Fred’s Dad planted that he brought home in his pocket from the Northeast kingdom, my memory of his telling me about this tree and that tree, then pointing out Mad River. I hoped he did that so on days like that day I could look and say, at least we had that moment, and like a secret sign, my energy goes in a focused direction. Mom loved trees, and everything about trees. One year Paul dug the big hole and planted the blue spruce live Xmas tree we had. It was a great tree.
She loved them, and we talked about birds all my life and as Donna said her laugh was like a bird call that we tried and could not replicate. Her laugh always incited a laugh in anyone nearby.
The memory of nature, she loved it here, in cool Vermont summer, like I love it here.
Cool perfect July breeze. Lush, green, clean clear air. I had her visit in the summer so she could sleep with the window open, no A/C. The next time she visited she wanted to see the changing colors. Fred drove us to all the great foliage drives. Up through the Islands, down the spine of the Green Mountains, all around, on the ferry on Lake Champlain.
More powerful lately.
She and I are not sun tolerant.
Sky that afternoon,
Blue clear overheard,
Two thunderclouds one over the spine of the Green Mtns
One over the lake
That one like a mittened hand, later more like a
little maid, like the quilt her mother started and I finished.
|ThunderCloud over Lake Champlain|
Mary mary quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells and
Pretty little maids all in a row
The rest a blur, then the day was done.
I miss Mom a great deal, and yet I have never felt her so strongly.
She is free.
Last night, a Large bright Moon
Rosicrucian, Kundalini, Shaman, Chakra, Atrology
Cancer the sign, Moon, Water
The signs of the Zodiac are Karmic Patterns;
the Planets are the Looms;
the Will is the Weaver
(Edgar Cayce Reading #3654-L-1).
leaving stories for later...
The corduroy, lazy woman’s thread
|Betz & Dick Alaska|