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Monthly Archives: May 2020

Conflict & Empathy

Oh My Is She So Afraid

I love fireworks. I’m from Texas. I don’t love guns, though I intensely like them. Heck, I’ve had too much martial arts experience and training to keep one around. If it came to that… that’s another story. I love lightning, and storms. And, I love motorcycles. Harleys, 1000cc crotch rockets on the Isle of Man TT. If I need a boost, I simply go there on YouTube and gig it like I’m the one on the bike.

But, and this is a big but. Not like the song.

I have a German Shepherd. She’s part wolf. Can see it in the face and tail and pigeon-toed paws built for speed, and the glowing Goddess eyes when the light hits them just so.

I once watched her continue to accelerate across 3/4 of a mile on an NM mesa. Faster and faster, just closing the gap on a rabbit who ran out into the middle of a literally mile-wide open space. Stupid rabbit. Wrong way to go. Though, there’s Nature. It errs sometimes. Or, does it?

Closer and closer closing the distance, until on the other side of the almost-mile the rabbit disappeared under a big boulder. A Greyhound would have had nuthin’ on what I experienced there hanging out with my chainsaw paused watching her full-gate run across the mesa and DAYum did she go through the gears. DAYum did she go through the gears, faster and faster and faster. The longer she went, the faster she got.

Though, back to… loves and intense likes. I love fireworks. I intensely like guns. Motorcycles are da bom, especially Grand Prix types at The Isle of Man. And, lightning… though, so long as I’m in the city and not above treeline with the lightning going off in the snow electrifying the whole scene not just where it strikes… I love lightning, too.

My Girrul, though, Lyra. She isn’t afraid of much, as one would imagine. Big dogs are often strong enough to be gentle, especially of course when there’s a positive part of no bad dogs, only bad owners here. She rules. She rocks. She is sovereign.

I effin LOVE her intense gigs, even when they frustrate the hell out of me. And, during these 5 times she certainly does.

Though, my Sovereign Girrul has those afraid points, and I MIND them when they occur. I talk about legitimate fear versus being afraid and anxiety kidnapping fear to distort it into being afraid, though her legitimate fears ARE AFRAID. I respect that. She’s got some shit, from before I met her, and/or naturally, that talkin’ to it, won’t resolve. A dog’s diff than a partner. The comms together to work that shit out don’t apply. She is afraid of:

Fireworks.

Guns.

Certain Motorcycles. Harleys and certain tuned crotch rockets (feels like the over 200+ mph ones… the really cool ones)

Lightning.

Shuffling cardboard. Like when you move. (Shaking head sad)

She’ll be 12 next month, or so I think. She was a rescue, pulled from the streets. She was fully groomed, only wearing an $80 deerskin collar with no tags. Those gigs set off some alarm bells early on to let her story unfold, though that’s another story for another time. Suffice it to say… No. that’s a story for another time. You learn someone over time. That deserves its own post.

Afraid Points

These afraid points she has? Full-on. It’s almost Memorial Day. The lightning gig-goosed her yesterday. Tonight, the fireworks and motorcycles zipping around literally scared the piss out of her.

It’s not the mess I have to clean up, and Nature’s Miracle to remove The smell. It’s… DAYum is she afraid! She gets like Mark Hamill in Star Wars. If she could get any closer and had a light saber, she’d slice me open and crawl inside to get out of the frigid cold of her fear.

It’s intense. It’s important. If I don’t stop everything, she will nuzzle-push between my chair and side desk tipping anything there over, which also equates to a Malbec or Carmenere on the floor and bleeding through the papers, books, etc that were spilled.

Again, it’s not the mess that’s the conflict.

It’s… Nevermind what I love, like, or full-on dig. She is SO afraid. I stop EVERYTHING so she can get as close as possible and hear soothing me-sounds. All I can do is close the windows, turn on the air conditioner, and turn up the Sonos to Phantogram or the Civil Wars o Meg Ryan or BassNectar or 7th House Radio or Jame Horner’s epics so MAYBE, just maybe, she doesn’t hear the fireworks and motorcycles and lightning and guns so intensely, or at least so much… and console her.

She is an effin Cerberus when she goes at something, though I have to say she’s pretty reserved about parsing that out. Kids? Shaking head. Not a problem. 10-month old with yogurt on his face? Turn to get a paper towel, turn back, and one lick-tongue across her lips… clean face and a kid just bouncing beaming laughing. Phewww. When that happened early on, I got it. I got her character. Without Psychological Projection or Projective Identification or even literary personification… DAYum. THIS is certainly MY dog. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

I love her. My conflict frustrations and empathy considerations? Well, that’s an alchemy that will continue. When you can’t change or evolve or adapt something… well…

What cornerstone of what you can’t change in your life do you ultimately enjoy and HAVE to brace against?

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A Song About Your Best Self

Your Former Self? Your Future Self?

Or, are you there?

Your Current Self?

Have you actionably pick-axed your hard pan Inner & Elusive Clay over the years of your process, continually amended the soil of you, and now naturally create from YOUR Place of Creation?

Hope Need Not Be a Narcotic,

Faith In Self Is More Actionable

My hope is you have, or are in your Current Self, and/or always doing so for your Future Self now in the perpetual present. Heck, if not now, when? What are you going to do with all this future you have?

For Memorial Day tomorrow, I offer my deep condolences to you for your former Self and Selves iterating back through time. May their memories be Pansy dead-headed blessings dropped at your feet that nourish your Self’s Garden’s potency now.

And, I offer a Mexican soccer announcer’s GOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL level gratitude to you for you Being you. I’d add an explanation point, though WordPress only allowS so many — well, not really, though haven;t we fooled ourselves with other peoples’ rules so many too many time?

And, the announcer above aptly took every single one of those explanation points I had available, and just put it in his GOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL action without using a single one. He’s strikingly effective in his actions that way..

How verdant and viscerally-with ablution-tingles vibrant can you be today In the rockin’ Garden of You?

My you find your Natural clariy of voice as if you were in the wild, as if your life depended on it, AND have developed it to be refined at one and the same time.

What’s Your Geode of Expression?

Moira’s Blessings,

Jordan

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Dead-heading Pansies of Self

I Culled Myself and Woke Up and Called Out

Death is the Mother of memory, the organic fertilizer that nourishes dreams, ideas, intuitions, imagination. 

What message do I have for myself from this experience?

Feel it. Hear it inside. GIve its resonance space to expand until it settles. Now, say it.

Keep it.

Pansies Are…

Dead-head your pansies in your garden, or pots, or urns, or wherever you have them. It’s a verdant gesture to keep them thriving and vibrant. There’s so much cool color when you do. So much cool color ALL the time. Dead-head the flowers as they start to wilt and drop them to the base of the plant. Death will then be the Master Gardener to nourish. Death, the mother of memory, will fertilize future flowers’ dreams. Dead-head, and that energy can go into the soil, and the energy that was going to that flower will strengthen the remaining full flowers and new growth.

patience, respect, renewal, resurrection, feeling unseen seeds cracking underground

Pansies Are Delicate, Though…

Pansies are delicate, though they are hardy. Pansies in the garden are no weaklings. Pansies are SO not pansies. Trauma works like pansies to a degree…

Perspective

So many times after an intense experiences passes, I feel there is a tendency to say, Phhuuuuueeewww. Glad that’s over. Run away! Like Monty Python. Run away! Run away! 

Is it. Is it over? Is the experience really over? Or, is The End really Just The Next Beginning? Or, is the over simply that we escaped with our life? Or, escaped to be emancipated with more life, more of ourself revealed, now more evidently present?

Maybe, instead of Glad that’s over, somewhere along the line I’ve learned to dwell IN the experience while it was still fresh just afterwards, and then not have to dwell on it as some nebulous unresolved why-dafuq-do-I-get-triggered-that-way by who knows what that reminds me subtly enough that I don’t groc it until too late, for years to come.

Feel into trauma and experience wise in time or just after. Own it. Listen to its message. Allow it to integrate itSelf on its own terms. Continue WITH it as a new asset. Feel your empathy tuned up a notch in so doing. Respect and resonate in powerful witness with the trauma messenger inside. Be grateful to the person who triggered you BEFORE you act out driven by the trauma and not the totality of what you were the moment before. Express, Thank you for digging just there. I need to breathe and feel into that. ANd, if they are a solid friend comfortable in their own skin, they’ll understand, maybe even silently stay with you for the short vigil while you acclimate to the trauma re-surfacing, powerfully and respectfully and grateful listen to it in all its ferocity and candor and quiet subtleties.

Once your trauma has re-acclimated to you as well — its birth to peel off from you to protect you and bleed off overload in the system and become a disconnected Part and be buried deep inside may Be the last time it saw you — get re-acquainted, and do so allowing the Part to lead. Don’t poison it with any words or expectations or presumptive putting words in its mouth. Allow it to speak, and do so on its own time rather than yours. The 1st session with a Part may simply be an awareness of one another session. Each encounter is different. It may leave and come back to check in later. Minutes. Days. Years. Simply reserve a place At your table for it when it presents each time.

Amending The Soil

It feels like fingers in black earth while amending the soil in the garden. If, just for a moment, I honor myself enough to be silent and still, not frozen, not in shock, silent and still, when I feel into the intense experience after I have washed up on the shore on the other side after the storm I’ve experienced has broken, I can feel-discern with a fresh clarity of vision in a new perspective framed by the experience before it evaporates. And, it informs me. It gifts me the message of my experience while it’s still fresh, instead of disappearing inside to become a trigger where the trauma is always kept fresh.

Reflections (c) 2009 Jordan Hoggard

Still near it, fresh and wet behind the ears from my birth from The experience, before it’s truly past trauma, still focused by it and immersed in it rather than by me, a bit still hanging toes in the unconscious semi-liminal, it or I may gift myself a message from the experience before I fully step back over the trauma prison of Inner Beyond to here. Psychologists have plenty of titles for this. That’s cool. Creativity is not a diagnosis or a malady or a disorder. The only titles that matter to me are Tarot Reader and Author, Astrology Reader and Author (by Blog), Artist, Poet, Writer, Alchemist, Architect, someone who is Alive. Bold. Courageous. Caring. Empathic without being mushy… unless of course we have our toes in the mud… to grow a Lotus from the mud in joyous and as-if-without-thought-or will sandbox garden.

Fearlessness doesn’t apply here. I have plenty of fears. I simply don’t let anxiety kidnap them and torture and distort them into making me afraid. Guess that helps get off the mountain when those torrentially experiential storms come in rain-singing, Nature’ll kill ya. Keep breathing, and you’re still alive so you’re still a problem. Keep breathing. Nature’ll kill ya. Nature’ll kill ya. And, Nature will make you stronger when you relive yourself of the excess, when you deadhead the pansies in the Soul Garden so they keep thriving more and more strongly towards perennial naturalization each year.

I’d stay in that place as long as it took, not running for dear life to get as far away as possible, certainly not frozen, quite the contrary. Not fight or flight or freeze. Aware. Still. Focused. Patience is not docile or omissive. Patience is concentrated strength.

I in-dwell in the feelingsense home of the space, of the place, of my recent, intense experience. Sometimes 5 seconds. Sometimes an hour. Sometimes decades cycling around through its paces throughout my psyche. No deadline, no expectation. I simply make serendipitous stumbles in meditative momentS moving forward in a powerful and respectful witness of what just occurred. I don’t waste trouble.

And, I do that until I’ve psychic-gold-panned past the experience’s rough geode exterior to see beyond the rawness in the moment to the refined, potent message. I see into to the colorfully kaleidoscopic, living crystal, juicy gemstone, geode interior. And, the message comes as my head begins nodding. Almost without fail. Almost without fail is an acceptable risk to me.

I’ve had historical friends for as long as I can remember. Sometimes they are spectators, sometimes assistants, sometimes colleagues, and sometimes I’m the spectator when I Engage in process towards the message with something like: What would my friend Fred do?; How would my friend Bill B handle this?; What does CG‘s ‘Red Book’ have to offer?

How Do You Keep It?

Who Are Your Historical Friends?

How Can They Help You Today?

How do I keep it? I keep it with an open palm up to the sky where it would nestle in my hand. No closing my hand and holding tight white knuckling to possess it. That suffocates things. Embrace it. Embrace the person or thing as a talisman, a talisman of THEMself on their terms. No need to digress into Psychological Projection or Projective Identity. Those two are the horseshit born of not owning your own stuff.

How do I embrace and meet up with inner, geode messages?

Open handed, reciprocal figure to ground touch, the Both/And touch of the Yin-Yang, the apogee master violin bow single-stroke bindus connecting inhale and exhale, forming breath as prayer. That’s how I embrace and meet up with these inner, geode messages.

Adversity doesn’t build character. It reveals it. ~ James Lane Allen

Be there. Be present. The present is perpetual.

Boundaries that create separation simply induce self-imposed anxiety. Boundaries that establish identity and distinctions can dance and immerse in one another without dissolution. I love swimming. I love swimming immersed with another and their uncut intensities even more. Fun stuff.

Then, if you‘re still alive, keep it.

And, saturation needn’t be drowning in the distress of a situation. Like a high performance, high speed, X-rated radial tire — rated for speeds over 134 mph, it’s on you to take responsibility for how far you take it above that… they’re not concerned about a court case at that level above 200 mph as that’s on you top make sure — you and your tires are filled up to 33 psi for stability, and maybe dropped to 32psi for added grip in the turns in the cold? Yes. Vrooom, shift n corner, baby! Shift n corner TOGETHER!

Message Gifts Kept

From your experiences, what gems of messages have you mined to keep?

They are yours, I respect that, and ask that you do as well. No need to comment them here. Please comment only IFF if and only if you care to and are full-on comfortable to share them. Otherwise, they are yours to tune your Soul’s liquid silence with the resonant chords of you and nurture the healthy boundaries of the Royal Castle Around You forming you as Presence As Architecture, or whatever you decide you do with… (Hey presumption, get the effa outa here and know when to shut dafuq up)

May I suggest that Your Presence Is Architecture, Presence As Architecture. Keep it. Upkeep it. Nourish its powerful limits and boundaries. Fly as high as your roots go deep. Swim as deep And infinitely as your dreams expand within.

How do you dead-head the pansies of trauma to nourish yourself by respectfully integrating them?

Experience

What Have You Mined, and Kept?

Thanks for You, as only you can be, visiting here today in the perpetual present.

2020 Holiday Super eStocking Sale Going On In The Shop!

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A Town without Music — cosmic holly

Taking Chances Flagstaff is a little gem of a town filled with musicians. I mean, there is music going on here on any given night, with top-notch musicians doing their thing. Usually. Over the past couple of months, the town (obviously) has been silent. There is no music. It feels weird and sad. It was […]

A Town without Music — cosmic holly
 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 23, 2020 in Tarot Birth Cards

 

The Improv’s Confucius Say…

Confucius Say…

Man who have mosquito land on testicles learns very quickly violence not best 1st course of action.

Moira’s Blessings,
Jordan

Note; Moira is an asteroid in Astrology that rules the internal sense of time and timing. Call her your intuitive clock if you will. She is Chronos’ (Saturn/Kronos) Wife. Chiron is Chronos’ son. I’m not sure if Moira is Mom or StepMom. Mythical characters have gossip column gigs like that down pat, in spades.

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ImaginAction for the Gemini New Moon ~ Get Yours for the Price of a Coffee

ImaginAction for the Gemini New Moon ~ Get Yours for the Price of a Coffee

Download ImaginAction for under $4 USD

for your Gemini New Moon tomorrow

052220 at 10:38a PST (in the US)

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Name: ImaginAction. Born 5/2/20 at 1:21am EST

Tarot Birth Cards:         Justice ~ High Priestess

Table of Contents

   1st     ImaginAction Divination Spreads Creation Story     1st 11 pages

   2nd    ImaginAction How-To                                                     Next 10 pages

   3rd     78 ImaginAction spreads                                               001 through 078

   4th     To Establish Value                                                           Last page

What is ImaginAction?

 

Immerse in the sanctuaries of questions As you steep in the artwork.

Ever try scrying with questions while swimming in Ablution Pools?

You tell me. ImaginAction, Your Life, Your Way.

I’ll step back, though, to give ImaginAction the berth its birth deserves.

I extend a…

Letter to ImaginAction

You graduated from me, from my deep well, fully formed.

I am now in Empathic Silent, powerfully witnessing what you grew up to be.
The Silence of fluid fluency flowing in and through and around
The A U M of your ImaginAction voice is mine no longer. It is yours.

Now, made by, though unfettered by my creative armatures while making you, you make your way into the world.

The death of process into your completion is fertilizer for your future, Mother of Your Memory.
Now, as I bow back to my well to create, joyful and ecstatic I birthed you,

I smile and settle and open the space for you to emanate all of your own accord.

ImaginAction, your fluid fluency is now yours.

I gift you the respectful space to speak for yourself.

Moira’s Blessings,

Jordan

Sample of one of the 78 Divination Spreads

065 Body Electric
The Body Electric Tarot Spread. (c) 2012 Jordan Hoggard

ImaginAction is like a big, wonderfully fleshed out sandbox for you to have tools to actionably achieve your wishes and goals and dreams, much like The Sun card Is all about you, as only you can be

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I look forward to what ImaginAction feels like

from YOUR perspective.

ImaginAction (c) 2012, 2020 Jordan Hoggard

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ImaginAction. What does it feel like from Your perspective?

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Thank You Tuesday

Thank You Tuesday

THANK YOU to every single person who has read, liked, commented, not liked though read anyway, didn’t know anything about though took a dip anyway for serendipity and found something, liked just to themselves without commenting or liking and left with something valued, even if just the smile or a nod.

Thank you all who have given my work a shout-out via words or a link on their sites. I personally like links more unless it’s a feature, keeps it more ad-free cleanly, and makes more of a community connective tissue. Thank you to all of you who have shared my blog on Facebook and other sites.

After I returned from my extended radio silence, I have seen my readers grow from 140+ to just over 200 in the last 10 weeks. I was in a Great mood when I returned, refreshed, though I smile at how many times I smile and get to say Thank You out loud when I see someone enjoyed my work, that they received something for their time. That makes me proud, and not the hubris kind of proud. That makes me proud in the “I Cherish” kind of proud. Thank you.

Thank you to all of you wonderful people who have read, share, and continue to read my blog. Also, thank you for inspiring me to write this. I may just make this the 1st part of a weekly series to mention those who influenced me or who I just resonated with. The intent will be to give people some serendipity eField Trip selections to choose from. A bit like Marco Polo returning with a full hull, a bit like a travel agent. Heck, it might even step up my serendipity forays, and I’m certainly game for that. Maybe I’ll call it Tuesday Thank You Trips. Hmmm, we’ll see. Titles are tricky sometimes, I’ll let it gestate until closer to next Tuesday.

Thank you to all of you wonderful people out there who participate in my work in whatever way you do, every single one of you! Whether you’re vocal or silent, active, or more Of a spectator. I appreciate your presence here. They say it takes a village. I say sure, a community of people all accepted for who they are without reason or explanation or apology. If anyone here ever feels uncomfortable, please speak up. Sometimes that indicates growing pains… for you, me, or both. Like a good stretch that breaks down some connective tissue a bit to regrow it stronger over the next several days.

Thank you all for being here. I appreciate you for that.

Moira’s Blessings,
Jordan

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The Fedora.

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Credit to Dr. Eric Perry’s post Understanding the Grief & Loss Cycle for inspiring The Fedora. I was glad to be reminded.

Jordan’s Journey’s is sponsored by ImaginAction

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Thank you!

ImaginAction.

Your Life. Your Value. Your Call.

ImaginAction

(c) 2020 Jordan Hoggard

 

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The Fedora

The Fedora

I remember standing in front of my Grandfather’s casket at the funeral home completely perplexed as to why I wasn’t crying. My Stepmom, Lynn, observantly noticed my furrowed brow and the confusion in my eyes as I looked at him. She put her hand on my shoulder, and,”Jordan, you appear confused. Care to share?” I nodded, never taking my gaze off of him, and, “That’s not him. He was full of life. He was a best friend to me. Why aren’t I crying. It feels disrespectful.”

She nodded and quietly leaned in a little. “Jordan, it’s ok. Everyone grieves differently, and often, everyone grieves differently each time. Reason can be unreasonable here. Keep doing what you’re doing right now. It’s palpable. I can feel it.”

I cherish that moment, have carried the treasure of that perspective with me since. It firmly felt to be Acceptance with the quaternity of the other 4 grief stages as its heartbeat. Then to now, that moment is still the same, frozen in time, like trauma is always fresh. Though, this trauma, this influence, was treasure.

That afternoon, back at their home, my Grandmother took my hand and led me into their closet. Once in, she actually pennied the door shut or some such, basically locking me in. “I’m not letting you out until you steep in there a bit. I know how much you loved him. I know how much he loved you. We were married for 66 years when he went. I’m not letting you out of there until you steep in that feeling you’re having. It’s strong. And, I’m not letting you out until you find that one thing of his you feel to keep with you. You find that keepsake, Jordy, and I’ll set you free, but not a moment before, not up for discussion. Go on. Find it. Find what you need.”

I was in there a while. And, then I saw it. His brown and green tweed fedora from his 1st trip to New York in 1927. I’d always thought it was so dapper and dandy and all those great words from the 20s, and I was in my Roaring 20s. For the first time, I noticed his initials inside. ERH. I had never seen them before in the hat as it was always on his head, or flipped off and plop-dropped on the hat hook inside their front door.

I smiled.

Plopped it on just so like he did with a little flourish on the brim.

Knocked on the wood door of my prison bars from the inside, rattled my own cage.

“Ok, Nanny.”

“No foolin’ around here, Jordy. I mean it now.”

“Nanny. Ok. I’m ready.”

She opened the door, emancipated me with my new-to-me fedora.

She had never left. Sat on the side of the bed the whole time listening, listening in powerful, unseen witness vigil. Thank you, Nanny.

Such support.

Such support.

Thank you Nanny & Earl, and Lynn.

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The Fedora. It’s my fave hat.

========

Credit to Dr. Eric Perry’s post Understanding the Grief & Loss Cycle for inspiring The Fedora. I was glad to be reminded.

The 5 Stages of Grief are:

1. Denial

2. Anger

3. Bargaining

 4. Depression

5. Acceptance

Grief outline portion © 2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Dr. Eric Perry

========

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Tip your server?

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No intent for it to be free. The cost is value, later, on your time.

What do you think ImaginAction’s worth? After using it, on your own time, let me know by tipping at BuyMeACoffee, sharing, re-blogging, liking, commenting.

Thank you!

ImaginAction.

Your Life. Your Value. Your Call.

ImaginAction

(c) 2020 Jordan Hoggard

 

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Like My Grandmother Used to Say

If you don’t have anything good to say about someone, keep quiet. Unless, of course, it’s hilarious. Then, by all means, let ‘er rip!

Well, the time came from an experience yesterday, and now today, to apply my Grandmother’s rockin’ wisdom directly. I visited a Philosophy site yesterday to read an Art & Intention post. And, contrary to popular belief, WHOA, God’s last name actually might BE dammit. Who fucking knew? I, for one, was surprised.

I had commented on the post, and OOPS MY BAD, liked and commented on a commenters’s comment…

Comment here:

Neil Rickert

Art is far removed from my expertise. So take this as just a casual comment.

I have tended to think of art as presenting a challenge to perception. If we want to connect art with intention, then it would seem to me that the intention of the perceiver is more important than the intention of the artist.

Reply
  • Jordan Hoggard

    Jordan Hoggard
    Neil Rickert

    I full-on agree, Neil. Once the artist lets their work loose, their perspective and intent is null. it is, then, far more important the way the work comes across, and that falls into the domain of the perceiver as you indicate.

Which, by the way, the commenter himself and someone else liked — note the 2 likes for evidentiary purposes. Pardon, I have my Defense Attorney hat on for the Asshat of Daniel Kaufman, the moderator of the blog. Cool title, though the coolness stops there, as… THIS gem then appeared from the Blog Dictator. The 1st syllable of Dictator fits. Effin Richard Cranium fo’ sho’.

Given your attitude — and excessive familiarity with people whom you don’t know — I have decided to not respond further. Carter has written a terrific essay, and I’m looking forward to seeing what others have to say about it.

Seriously? Excessive familiarity with people whom I don’t know… and, that person who I am being excessively familiar with that I don’t know Liked the comment + someone else as well.  WOW, I didn’t know I groped one of his his readers. Maybe I should be more self-aware and respectful of others in the future? LOL. Guess that’s his job. I smile that the commenter like my comment + another as well. I clicked Unfollow before the bindu of that same breath apogeed No time needed for that decision. More like the decision-action DUCK!

I guess that the Old Guard of The Hierophant on a bad day, the stubborn, unbending Traditionalist of the angry, old, undersexed, Patriarchal white man has NOT in fact died out. It is a living, breathing STUFFY thing to this day. That’s too bad.

CacaRoaches just won’t go away, huh? I do hope my Grandmother approves of this use of her wisdom. I will send a celestial groove cosmic request to Moira and Pallas-Athena to pay him a visit and play some chess to his checkers. He just feels like a low-grade, unevolved Mars. Read in: petty, tantrum-throwing toddler of a boy SOOOO needy immersed in hi Pouting Temple, aka Ivory Tower. I graduate-emancipated from that hole decades ago. Actually, 2nd semester Freshman year In college when I was invited into a graduate level Philosophy class. I remember it well. PHIL5364 – The Image and Reality of Man and the Machine in Modern Literature taught by Joe Ransdell, Chair of the Philo Dept. It was a stunningly wonderful semester in that class. I, a Frosh, Architecture student. The other 11, graduate Philo, Math, Linguistic, and Physics students. I remember my 30-page paper well. Change the Program, Change the Outcome: Change the Inner, Change the Outer, based, founded in, the movie Altered States.

This blog Post to an extent is certainly a bit snarky, though sometimes a quick without-a-warning broken nose is better than Just shying away. There are consequences to how something comes across. And, there you go. This blog post is more a consequence than a creation. I’ll have to ask myself tomorrow whether it is reactionary or responsive. It’ll just have to sit wise in its own time for now.

You see, my Philosophy, and I enforce it — 1st time in a long time, though — my Philosophy is, Be peaceful, but let Motherfuckers know. It’s pretty simple really. Everybody’s good at something. And, when that someone is just really good at being a dick, then they are. That’s on them that their actions.efforts/words caused consequences. Seems to me people who adult, and most kids for that matter, understand that if you touch the hot stove, effin OUCH. Yup, I suggest people who are dicks vet their environment more thoroughly, turn up their radar. It’s on them when they overstep. I’m certainly not Wiley Coyote if I step over the edge, don;t get to float there until I realize OH SHIT before gravity unpauses.

Either way, As Above, So Below. So, I place these card images as a Blog Talisman to protect my work below from the above. It’s not superstitious if it works. And, if nothing happens, who’s to say?  Hmmmm… looking back, I should’ve seen the snake in the grass at WHOM.

Oh well, OFL. Opportunity For Learning.

Sometimes, it takes a little controversy. I’m good with that.

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