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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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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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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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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Wonderful, Sunny Day Whim

Simply

An 20-Image Whim

For a Wonderfully Sunny Saturday.

Best to You and Yours Being Healthy & Adapting & in Good Spirits!

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What’s best for YOU in YOUR day, YOUR way?!

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“Something New Coming Soon” Gifted A Memory

Well, in posting, Something New Coming Soon, I have been deeply reminded of something I expressed on my Death As The Master Gardener post years back, in addition to something with more depth of feeling than philosophy:

Rest is a death of sorts, a rejuvenation time, especially utilizing the way of Tarot in the Land of Mystereum. Death is also outright. Finishes. Completions. Death is the mother of memory, and the fertilizer for dreams.

Here’s what I expressed then that gold-panned a nugget from my experience that goes hand in hand with a larger gift, one of those indelible Songs Of Experience that arrive throughout life simply when we do:

Death is the mother of memory, and the fertilizer of dreams.  Yes!, to that. And, it continued:

Death is the mother of memory.

Death creates our individual Songs of Experience, together,

amends the soil of our Soul Garden,

actively and actionably nourishes and makes our dreams real.

So, Something New Coming Soon? 

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Yes. And, now sooner than before.

Stay tuned this week.

Also, I received a wonderfully touching gold nugget gift of a surprise that was no diamond in the rough that was abduced from my memory revisiting this painting’s cyclical journey. It watered, nourished with the first three comments on my last post, Coming Soon, Something Is Waking Up.

What was the gift? In a way it serves up a preamble dish for what is coming soon, as I was influenced to remember something I cherished. I remembered death, and a poignant and meaningful memory resurrected. A portal of emancipation of robust value arose to light my way. In a way it was The Hermit seeing, acknowledging, zen-taking the steps to step back into the old shoes of the first footprints of the cycle just completed. I see those steps. I feel them in memory. I resonate with them in the journey from there to here. As I step into my own footprints anew, the first footprints embossed into the birth of a previous cycle, I step into my own footprints differently. Because, well, its now. Songs of Experience message the soles of my feet, touch my groundgrabber toes, message straight up into my imagination.

May the road rise up to meet you.

~ Traditional Irish Blessing

May the ground rise up to support your every step, especially ground that wasn’t there before as you began the step.

~ The Fool in Tarot in the Land of Mystereum

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Karen Sealey of Pure & Blessed Tarot, The Pure and Blessed Way chimed in, I smell something beautiful in the air. My smile was priceless, the squinchy-nose goofy kind you hope makes it to posterity.

Holly Troy of Cosmic Holly watered the portal of the memory of this painting’s history without knowing anyThing about it, Love the painting! That perfect, unconscious safe-cracker timing removed a cover stone, flushed out a wonderful reminiscence, and then emancipation as the history resurfaced. As know I could hold it.

And then, after I expressed this painting’s story, Bonnie expressed, What a touching story. Resonant icing on the cake, a tall glass of water to go with the water of tears that flowed from this experience. Gotta fill those tanks back up ya know? She did that for me.

I find reasons to be unreasonable most times, especially here in this experience. Actions are simply infused with them. At most they are impetus, much like, to bring surety brings ruinLike Mystereum’sBe comfortable with the not-knowing. It’s the fade of forgetting that makes for getting, makes more room for the good stuff. Like, Know thyself, one of the three Delphic Maxims from the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.

So, no more preamble, here’s the good stuff of where I’m going with this post, just in advance of the creative venture that just went into labor and is on its way to birth, Coming Soon. The gold nugget good stuff here, the just-before-what’s-on-its way is a gold nugget of memory that was gold-panned out of a simple comment: I love this painting!What a catalyst to induce! What a simple key to unlock a re-surfacing at just the right time. Beautiful, deceptive simplicity. As simple as a key. Hmmm, what do keys do? So, I am going to hold the space for this gift I was given of my own cherished memory re-surfacing robust and full and fresh. No edits below, like you wouldn’t edit a mother in labor before a birth — those who say it cannot be done are better served to stop interrupting the person doing it ~ Chinese Proverb — and simply post my response in italics below.

With gratitude.

In inception, conception, birth, and soon to naming.

Thanks for visiting and being here now, especially right now as this upcoming creative seed unfurls from its Place of Creation Womb fully formed. Nope, not an abomination. No Dune references (regardless of which version you dig).

A New Living Memory Gold Nugget Gift

Thank You! And, thank you for the accolade.

I chose #16 from my ‘Constructing the Center” series as it just felt to be right. Little did I know, that upon your compliment, the wonderful and sad and full reverence of this painting’s story would re-surface. I express my heartfelt thanks for that.

My experience and history with this painting passes through occasionally to re-posit a perspective of the importance of now, though it has been years since I felt it from this painting fully. You certainly don’t need to read the rest if it comes to being TMI about what this painting did after it graduated from my brush. Suffice it to say I am proud of it, and proud of what its nature did for another vibrant person.

Extra:
This is one of my personal faves in the series, The compositional white space feels to do as much as the paint to dance the image into life, circles completed by the unpainted white space. It was #16 in the ‘Constructing the Center’ series of 66 mandala-like watercolors. At the gallery opening where it was 1st presented, a woman smiled and reached out to me and the gallery owner across the room. We both felt it. Turned. As she smiled and turned back to the painting to continue her finger trance-dance across the glass of the Uni-Frame.

We came over. She was just beaming. “Constructing the Center #16 you call it Mr. Hoggard? Hmmm, CtC #16. Hmmm. Nope. I say, Sweet 16. Besides the color sense I love, so joyous, and JUST FUN, it just has everything, and half of that is comprised of nothing Mr. Hoggard. Jordan! You IMPLIED half of this!. I LOVE that laziness that probably took more planning than the contrary, or (looking me up and down) maybe you didn’t plan anything, just painted? Oh, I love the balance. The feel. The colors. What’s there. What’s not there in connected complement. Oh, hmmm. Oh Lordy. Where will I put it? Ah, that’s the 50% not there. I don’t need to know that right now. May have to reshuffle a bit. Don’t need that reason buzzkill right now, cloud my decision. Yes. Yes, I must have it.” Instant red dot on the label from the gallery owner. And, I’m there beaming, too, wondering where my words went. I know now. I didn’t need any. It was the feeling of knowing that something I did enhanced another’s life.

I stood there enamored in her resonance with the image, honored, and love that I was also taken aback, a bit confused at 25 years old. She was so astute with her emotional resonance as to why she loved ‘Sweet 16.’ Heck, I didn’t even take issue with her re-titling it. Heck, she adopted it after it graduated. She gets to name it, and it’s not moving back home. It’s started to make its way. And, that I had created something that someone valued that deeply? At the time, all I said was, “Thank You,” as we both stood there swimming. I, in something that graduated from me provided to another that enhanced their life, her simply basking, more wondering where in her house did it need to find home… like it was already there.

I felt something in that experience I will never forget. Honesty and emotional truth in what you find beautiful, in what moves you. Yes, it was my creation, though hoopy to the vanity of that. That SOMETHING I created moved someone that way, that intensely, calmly, honestly, in the moment? She taught me a great lesson that day about what are yess-es and what are no-s.

Thanks for striking the nerve in me, the ancient chords on this one. I hadn’t resurfaced that memory when I posted it. It just felt right. Your resonance was plenty enough, though, fulfilling to feel what she taught me again, fresh again now this painting and her speaking to me fully again now liberated from their treasure chest to be worn..

And, I hope this was not too much. Your compliment dropped a smile on the portal they were in to open it for me. Thank you for that.

Not to be cagey, though if you read down this far, the short story is more important. One day, in 2002 a package arrived. It strangely looked like something I was used to shipping out. No return address, actually my address as the return address. ??? I opened it, unwrapped the contents, and there was Sweet 16, and a card fell out. I was stunned. “What is happening here?!!???!!!! I opened the card.

Dear Jordan,
I have been diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic. It’s one of those that even I IN MY lyrical way can’t sidestep to flip the poisonous turtle limits back. It’s quite a menace. That said, I do not give up. I live. I love living, love experience. Though, this Sweet 16 that you made has given me so much joy every time I pass it. Will it EVER stop dancing in your 50% laziness of execution? I handed Sweet 16 with this card off to my son in my will. So, if you are receiving this, know I cherished Sweet 16 and your spirit. Thank you. Heck, what else can I say? Thank you.

Love,
(My name’s moving on.Please keep yours fit, and take care of Sweet 16 for me)

Holly,
I love that I’ve been brought to tears here. Waterfall. Thank you. This experience is a gift I cherish.

Thank you, Holly. I gather as well the original owner thanks you as well from somewhere beyond. SHe was an effin lyrical firecracker, quick on the draw, and most everyone around her glad for it.

2 Seeds of What’s Coming Soon.

What Are They About to Open Into?

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ImaginAction Born 5/2/2020 at 1:21a EST

 

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