Reflections (daily diary) of a lune ie lady whose tender heart is open to love, The Fool's quest of light!
 

 Click here to go to the last entry (Father's Day)
 
 

WARNING:
All the opinions here are purely my own, and how much I own them is debatable as well, cause it seems that life and understanding are so rapidly mutable, as soon as I am expressing an opinion it is already changing.....

But, be that as it may, this is how I feel, and if you think that there is one, static truth, none of this will probably resemble THAT in any aspect, so you'll wanna skip this page.

In the bubbling brook of "truths",
Sincerely,
3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose

Evening of May 25th

Tomorrow is my little Daughters May Day performance, at her schools celebration. It's a few hours of foliage and flowers, leis and aloha wear, smiles and huggles.

There's a deep sadness clingin kinda loosely on my soul. The weave is loose and quite spectacular. every luminous day is a new event in the cosmic scheme of what-have-you. Now the blurr between the worlds both thickens, in real time, and thins perceptibly in my perception(s)
 

The Heroes Shaft

Seize the day
Hard about the shoulders
Hard about the throat
Seize
All the luminous playmate destinies
Are you afraid
The dead woman is me
A soul dead is tragic
And you'll not see none of that here
So you can move on if what you're wantin to be seein
Is unpurposeful death.

Only to the golden shaft of the heroes way
Do I go............

Amazing. Nothing is without relavance anymore. I'm relaxed into everything, go figguh. Leis and ciggarettes and tender loving care. Fried Chicken brest lunch. Skewered luminescent signatures. Opening cans of beans, the sacred find a way to come homeagain once as it was before and ever more will be, to themselves.

Latuh, lovers, wherever you are.

3SE's  :)

May 27th, Saturday mornin, Hour Of The Wolf Escaping Into The Dawn

Oh, wow, looks like there's gonna be blood in the sunrise. I see a little towards the bottom, earth layin close part   of the horizon

What do I do before I die? Preparing to go off on my final walk starting Tuesday morning (once it's quieted down after the weekend of intense enibriationous picnics in many of the places that I walk) (yeah, the one posing as a holiday) (back in MY drinkin days I'd even celebrate Saint Patrick's day, and he killed not only many Irish themselves, but many of "my" Celtic ancestors- though- true be known- the at the least small percentage of Pictish blood I spect is in there......

Well, the small and swift are uncaptured. 100%. Un.

This is what I would do before I die (What would you do if you only had 10 days left?), I spect, since I'm going to die in only a few days (though I fully expect to come back, they said I would..... though prepare for it as if I'm not) so what does she do

You're looking at some of it. Yes. Write. I've been sitting on my little bed in my corner updating and expanding homepages (Did you check out my photo on front page, taken by Ms. Alohi, she's so much like Ka'aumualii in that way.

Taking the camera, with my MCC ID (if they find me, I want to be identified as the most important thing I have been my whole life, an will, hopefully still, be at the hour of my death, an eternal always open Student, Sannyasin. I'll also have: a tiny bit of cash Tobacco and sage ,and one lighter in the small 2nd pouch where I usually carry battery pack. Have water one small blanket, and Sacred Clothes in very small backpack (token of Elijah, his last schoolbag before he went away to the next part of his destiny, nice Dark blue some suede and netting, leather and netting together? Ummmmmmm. CAN do!

Hum, sex. I'll miss that. What else about life will I miss? The list is so infinite I'd waste precious time I could be using in enjoying it listing the things so forget it. Yet, about the sex thing..... I'm not sure what's going to happen on the other side of this that is if I, ya know, break on through back to this side........ I have come to know that sex is INCREDIBLY amped in pleasure for me now. After over 7 years of Celibacy (not even any self-sex, turned off except by occasional periods of visits by husbands) I've had things happen, such as the absorbing of lightning into my body, gift of re-virginization (and subsequent picking of the flower by Bullwinkle! Teh, go figguh), going through Warrioress training , continuing training/awareness daily till now "magical"/electromagnetic/alchemical energy is literally COURSING through my veins and/or life

Life

Guess tomorrow will be taking care of itself, ey?

NEED-MORE-COFFEE
Having no idea what I just wrote,
Will reread it later just for my own curiosity, but won't edit it of course----- remember my promise------ even if it's all jabberwacky (with apologies to the spirit of Robert Lewis Stevenson, the Poet stillyet takes her earned and paid for, license),

3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose

May....? Memorial Day In America

Hey guys. Ate the last meal before the fast/ pre death cleansing-of-the-soul-diet. Thought it was curry. Though later at the coffee shop was given two BIG hunks of double triple chocolate mousse cake at the coffee shop down'in Kihei town (mini-city) (I think I'll call it..... mini-me, former mayor of Maui Linda Lingle from her office in the other mini-city on the island, Wailuku. Inside Maui Joke Alert:Linda-is-way-pro-developement Maui inside joke) oh boy and treated to a second large coffee can you tell I'm buzzing what

an intresting prelude to

my trip to the
 

Other Side.

Later. my netscape was so old I had to download two upgrades..... incremental but worth it in the end. I have seen Explorer (in fact, it won't leave my desktop, so I'm constantly reminded of it) and I say......

Forget the lawsuits. There's no competition. In every way, Netscape is the best browser. Billy, stick to your cute screensavers icons and games, your browser is a bowser.

Laytuh, sweet ones!

3SE's  :)

Even celibate monks and monkesses get them days I'm like, shurrrrr..... though they probably say something deep and zenesque like "thinking" or some such and breathe the energy out or somesuch and some of us

Dance it out.

God, Peter Gabriel doing "Sledgehammer"! Who canNOT dance, do martial arts strength training within the context of the dance, and get extremely wet and/or hard in the process.... WHO I ask you?!?

"Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry"
                                    -Peter Gabriel, from "Here Comes The Flood"
 

Laytuh  :)

From a letter to my dear friend, Tom.......

"Hello sweetheart. Yes, still alive. Have a place in Haiku. Missing you very much. Perhaps we will see eachother soon.

I was thinking strongly of you as well, because I'm off welfare and pretty much unemployed..... desktop published a few of my writings, At date two poetry collections and one play, with full color covers and nice fonts and layouts.Been selling em for gas money. Eat from the land and occasional hospitality. Life is the adventure.

Can you still sell things through your website? I get $5 per copy, signed, I'm selling all I can print up, currently (It takes HOURS to print with my little BJC bubblejet. Sigh, patience is a virtue, ey?

The files are .dtp, do you have anything you can view .dtp's in? If so, I can send you the copies and/or .jpgs of cover art ("click here to order" bottons?).

Ooooo, ooooo, forgot to tell you that I finally understood HTML language in an epifianic (is that really a word?) (if not, it is now!) moment in time bout a week ago. Even embedded and linked a midi, with good clean sound nice and equalized, so it would automatically play when the page comes up, and continues to play while your there. Think I'm gonna re-code it for a control or even mini-audio player, even though it's a beautiful "Enya" song that was actually not TOO butchered by digitalization, folks should have the choice I guess.

Soz anyway, till I sell some major writings (hoping to go to the Maui Writers Conferance in September and git me an agent) please think of selling these at your site and keeping the profits towards my debt to you for the restoring of my beloved computer, Agape. Perhaps someday I'll be able to accept an award and thank you then too!
"I have to praise you like I should"
. My other business now is "Haiku Leis".... ti-leaf leis with "puka" shells and sometimes large beads threaded and braided in, each comes with their own original Haiku, no two repeated..... but I WILL keep a copy of them and put them in a collection. If you send the tag and a stamped self addressed business size envelope you will get a free copy of whatever Haiku anthology your one ended up in. I will sign it, too :)

These are too complicated to sell over the net at this point, they go for $7 here, they'd have to go for, well, maybe $20 on the net, to cover shipping costs. Hassle. But the books could really sell. I can put links on all my homepages to them, set up special pages for them, with a sample poem from the book read by me (I only have a tiny cheap mike on a dictation-program's headset, but I think I can make it work) all pointing to your site. Sound good?

Well, maybe I'll hear back from you later, I'll be on tonight for quite a while polishing up my site before I leave on my quest tomorrow.

Love ya babes,
         3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose"

Feel like the words have drained out. On to the quest. It is good.

Should I survive, you'll hear from me in a few days,
If not,
Go In Beauty,
3singingeagles......................................................................................................................

"Mommy, When You Get Back From The Kingdom Of The Dead, Can We Go To Kalama Park So I Can Ride My Bike?"
                     -Michaela Alohi, daughter to a Shaman (me)

Well, I couldn't tell you before the nature of my mission/journey because it would have been dangerous, but, basically, I had to die temporarily, and travel to the other side to deliver two messages for all the warrior clans. I was picked as the one warrior of all the clans most qualified to do this. I don't neccesarily see this as an honor or anything, just, we all have our own talents and I happened to have made this journey many times in this lifetime.... so....

Guess that's why it was so easy (to do, not to go through, more later) a breeze in fact, hum. Wonder what that says about the level (s) of "my" conciousness. Curiouser and curiouser.

Took pictures all along the way (not to the Other Side, silly. To the places I went to prepare for the voyage, while fasting). Did some writing too- though mostly notes to flesh out later. I'm makin a whole page of "The Quest/Journey" with sounds, a slide show of the pictures perhaps, and maybe even the short-story/fantasy version I'm writing of it "The Scientist And The Shaman", am called to focus on becoming multi-media savvy web-page design and computer wise, it should be fun for you'all, since the pages will be looking MIGHTY GOOD!

This will be an adventure. I have SO MANY toys in this computer that I haven't played with, it's quite outrageous.

Here I go.

I'm still processing everything, there's a lot of crying and general sadness involved around some of the things I found out, sucess in the mission as the messages were delivered, what will happen now with that I don't know, but it was more like an information collection voyage (at least, that's how it turned out) and The Clans will have a lot to speak about and digest in the coming weeks as a result of the information I recieved. This planet is in more serious trouble than anyone but the seriously insane think at this moment.

Many say The Insane are often The Prophets.

Later, more. For now, I'm back. In fact, I want coffee, which is a good sign that my sea-legs are restored.

3singingeagles

June 3rd....... The Light returns........................
 

Thinking this morning of all "my men". It's been quite a journey going through this brief yet fully taken advantage of time where I could "be a lover" and/or have hot down n' dirty sex..... sometimes VERY down and sometimes EXTREMELY dirty. All these years of celibacy and low-self-esteem (with occasional periods of gross inebriation) had me almost idolizing the guys..... thinking they had it SO TOGETHER, and were ALL THAT, my brief experience with George, the Old-Man-Ex-Rock-Star who I "went out with" (though, truth be known, we never went "out" anywhere, and in that time period I was with him only 5 times)----- well, I had written it off as a fluke that he was such an immature fucker. He was like a petulant little boy.

I want a man..............
This was actually not a fluke. It's hard to admit this, but I know now why I have been so in love with Craig. Okay, well, there's a lot of reasons.......... past life connections and I suspect a sun-moon conjunction in our natal charts (feels a lot like the incurable intense love I have for Bambu Hierophant, and a few others, all have had sun/moon conjunctions with me) but the one of the many that comes into mind this morning is that

He's a fucking grownup. Yeah, I've seen him get complainy, but not in a whiny way, not in a way that causes me to forget my "do no harm" vow and want to CHOKE HIM! Nah. But I've seen his dark side and it scares me. There's more to him than he shows, in fact, he keeps such a tight lid on it that when it explodes out it's way intense

And I seem to cause everything to bubble and percolate out of him. Just IMAGINE if he's been holding inside himself "sexual deviant" thoughts, ones his Father SURELY wouldn't approve of.......

What would happen if he got in The Sack with ME?

Shit, we'd have good fun.
I'd see his tension leave his body like solar flares, maybe even a few solar storms

But, this seems impossible. Well, nothing's impossible. Maybe his wife will end up staying in Europe, or go her own way, and he will be free someday, and we will still know each other, and.......

Well, a woman can dream. I've now disconnected from all the "lovers" I've had during this period, felt it was the right thing to do before I died... case I didn't make it back, they wouldn't feel so sad. Now I feel that I won't re-connect again. It was an interesting time to experiment. The Hawk Man provided my Panther Self with hours of torture/endurance training..... and many challenges all of which he failed in ha ha wow look at that, haughty huh mi' lady..... guess all those years of being a victim, however distant they may be now, instilled in me some vengeful thinking, some feelings of wanting to "take down" the fuckers. Wow. Till right at this very moment I didn't even realize that. Writing is such an incredible way to reveal those inner things, hum, as a Medicine Woman, shouldn't I be ashamed of these feelings, especially WAY too ashamed to type them onto this diary and post them for you'all to see?

Well, if I wasn't The Fool, I guess so. If I hadn't promised to never edit what I type here, perhaps. If I gave a shit what you thought of me, yeah. If I was afraid of being "Human, All Too Human"--- ummmm, definitely.
 

But, here it is. I prefer to look it in the face. A woman was murdered at Baldwin Beach last week. I had slept in the same exact spot she had sat frequently, only yards from where she was murdered, 3 nights earlier. When I had walked over there at 2:30, 3 AM on that day, I stopped at the bathroom on the way. She came in shortly after. When she came out, she called to me, asking if I had a cigarette. I rolled one for her, and gave her a pack of matches.

So, when I heard of her brutal death, I thought "WHY THE FUCK WASN'T I THERE? I COULD HAVE STOPPED THIS!"

And then I fantasized about how, if someone had a knife, the Water/Willow techniques would have to be modified somewhat soz I could disarm the insane one (attacker) (what's up with the insanity plea, anyone who harms someone else is insane hello) and really to tell you the truth which I always will BY THE WAY I thought of how I might just kick him a few extra times while he was down.

Fuck. Guess there's always more layers to work on, yet, I'm not greedy for Spiritual Growth.

I'm just sittin here watchin the wheel go round and round.

More later, perhaps, dear loves. Time to type new story into/onto "Writings" page: "The Weeping Muse"..... and a new poem about a man and his bottle called "Roommate" that I wrote this morning. I'll put that one onto "Too Much Candy For The Little Girl" poetry page. Gonna give "Connections" its own page, taking it out of writings, and putting the cover illustration on the top and bottom.

"I've seen all the books and they all burn"

Oh, Craig, if only our impossible love was not.........

All interpretations of that apply. Let it be, please, either NOT impossible, and let us seize this time given to us, let us laugh out loud at The Fates and tell then they didn't fuckin win this time cause we SHALL TAKE OUR BLISS BY THE THROAT AND FUCKING OWN IT

oR, IF POSSIBLE, THAT THIS INTENSE LOVING AND LONGING BE not, BE taken away already for gods sake!!!! agggghhhhh! aaaaaaagggggggyhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew. Okay. Yeah.
 

Number one option please
 

"And because these daft and dewy eyed dopes keep
Building up impossible hopes

Impossible

Things are happening
Ev-------- ree--------- day!"
                    - From Rogers and Hammerstein's "Cinderella"
                    Quoted by a modern day Cinder and dust knower
                    Bird woman whose taken more than her share of dirt baths
                    And is more than ready for Happiness Unchained.
 

Anon, 3SE's  :)

:)Recharging before a journey

Tonight I realized, in a curious way, how tarot-card like metaphoric the ordinary events of our lives are. I dare say, after a while, everything becomes symbolic. Reading Craig's Workbook..... yes, life is the Play we direct, write, star in, the whole shebang (teh, kinda like my old TV show, "Survival Into The Twenty First Century". Wow. Memories...... Rolling Thunder :). Hugging a big Shepherd's purse plant..... more....... (sigh)

Play. Hum. Experiencing "ceremony backlash" right now, so.... playing, well, I don't know.... 5-6 days of fasting, 2-3 days of it on a strenuous Quest, just got back yesterday. This particular ceremony had it's side-effect nuances, as you may well imagine, yet the "normal" one of feeling that the earth's axis is tilted just EVER SO SLIGHTLY askew, and the resulting physical sensations of that..... whew, still a little tough to ride the surf of the intense swells of that, even at my age and after all the "intense" ceremonies I've been through!

So, was rootin around for somethin in the backpack that was my "one bag" on the quest ( my son Elijah's last school backpack I bought him, sigh) and came across the little flashlight I took, well, almost as an after thought, cause I have tremendously clear night vision even when there's no moon (learned/practiced in Shaman AND warrior training both, in, of all places, stalking lessons. Plus, some of my Medicine Animals have this quality to such a degree they're quite famous for it, so that helps, ey?

So, in rootin, (knew I'd get back here at some point on some bright n' sunny day)) I fingered my flashlight that I'd taken as almost an afterthought in case I came across any deep caves and/or lava tubes or somethin, but the joke was on me cause someone had switched it on and not recalled that they should be a switchin it off when they are done-o.

It's a rechargeable flashlight. I buy all battery-driven devices with recharges if possible. I used to have a little radio shack "flexible" one, it adjusted to different sizes or something.... but I gave it away to a friend who needed it. Guess I ought to get a new one someday soon, every little way you can help the environment. Shit- walking on my journey, I saw way too many (meaning even one.... though I DID see more than that) flattened batteries on the roads, crystallized acid remains coating them and around. Well, every little bit counts (repeat as a mantra 1 million billion times and you'll reach enlightenment.... or.... hummmmm... maybe Pittsburgh. Um.

I could have recharged it ANYWAY, pulled it out of the glove compartment, thinking it was all nice and charged since it was full when I put it in there and I never use it.... any time in the 3-4 days I was preparing for the fucking quest but
nooooo.............
And I didn't realize it till I was in the cave and tried to use it.

I proceeded anyway, as you well may imagine.

Recharge everything before a quest.
 

Addendum:
And if you screw up and forget, pull yourself up by your un-charged bootstraps and

Wing it.

Wanted: Place where a tiny fire can burn without anyone making you put it out (this is the entire daily submission. Let your mind spin the rest of the tale. Oh, well, and this poem, just written spontaneously about a dream I had last night with Joshua.... it just popped up when I had a whole other topic/ stream of conciousness regarding this put out your fire pattern that has popped up symbolically in my face lately so guess it wishes to read like a tarot card. I'll ponder this, and get back to ya tomorrow mehopes.

                     Joshua's Dream
Was going to write you this whole treatise on evolution and peaceful prosperity when
The cornfield grew and
I saved him from a burning crowd
From certain (death) arrest
I always feel good
Rescuing him in dreamtime.
It's comfortable- like old old old old friends,
"dharma buddies"- throughout time breathing sighing
Children Of Light didn't question me when I left,
Purple cadillacs cross the thin red line.
It's crossed now.
The thin line.
The red line
The burning crowd
The tiny hand
Strong thrust towards you in your need
Heat searing souls blazing all around
I'd pull you out
Any day
I am proud to know you're on this planet.
From the chaos bringing always
Up sannyasin, to skies bespeckled with powder.
 

So, did ANY of this mean anything at all to you? (sigh)

Aloha oe,
3singingeagles :)

Hey good buddies? Got your ears on 10-4?

So, is this what's going to happen now that I'm "free"?. I've been holding out for Doug and Ka'aumualii for so long (wrote Katz off years ago in this arena, but I'll never stop feeling that our hearts are combined somehow. I still love him intensely) but anyways I wonder if now men who need/want "a girl of their own" are going to continue to surface with prettily decorated leashes and collars hanging from their sardonically laughing hands.

I'll tell you guys what I'm feeling these days (right about now)

I really have to tell you that it seems impossible for me to live with anyone but another Writer.

Okay, for instance, the other day, putting gas into my BEST BEAUTIFUL MAUI CRUISER CAR, LOKAHI ALANUI!), (think I got a full six drops for my 10 bucks) (okay, I only had 5. More like 3.2 drops. Teh.) I noticed there was a moving van in the stall on the other side of "my" pump with it's hood open. When I came out from paying (will you take a second mortgage note on my home for a fillup?) one of the two men who'd been driving the van called me over and asked if I could give them a jump (no, that kind comes later.....) so of course I said yes. The place was filled with cars and even nice strong pick-up trucks, but I guess they thought I looked like the most likely to be a good Samaritan. Hah. If they only knew. I'd take a bullet for any of you. I'd ride a shark away from shore (Gabrielle: "fist a fish?" Xena: "sure.... it's fun!") I'd jump off a cliff into dangerous surf, run into fire to help someone always letting intuition pull me therefore not taking moot risks, unsuccessful attempts, useless bravado............

Anyways, he asked for my number when we were done (was it good for you too..... oh baby oh baby) then he called me. Guessed that he wanted to thank me. Instead, it turns out, he fell in love with me at first sight, and wants me to be his...... (mistress, rent-a-wife, girlfriend, what?)

The man has two cars and two pieces of land (by the way, he's already offered that the children and I live at either place) (ONE'S ON THE BIG ISLAND! JUST WHERE I WANT TO GO TO MINOR IN ASTRONOMY! WOAH! GOD, I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY WANT MY MASTERS DEGREE. I WON'T BE GREEDY AND ASK FOR A DOCTORATE, K? JUST MY MASTERS. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!) Oh, one of the cars is a TOTALLY SWEET little Jaguar, old, early 60's. Shit, he and I have a lot in common, he was a Bronx boy, don't even have to cross water to get to the Bronx from Manhattan, hum, remembering Katz again...., another Bronx boy. Two or three of Larry's siblings went to Bronx Science, one during the same years as me it seems, and he sold pot, so I probably even knew him, though I never bought smoke there.... dad always had plenty at home, and it was kinda the unofficial duty of the editor of the newspaper I worked on (assistant editor, did that mean I had to clean the seeds out?) (Haha that could be a double entendre, specially' if we were in the "real" newspaper biz), but I probably got stoned with his brother, during the two or three times a day we'd all get together in the big field across the street from the school, and adjacent to the "bad" high school, Fordham. There were two school newspapers, one was modeled after The New York Times, very well done and laid out and crisp in content as well, and then there was ours, modeled after "The Village Voice" ( a "radical in your face" newspaper in NYC in those days. Wonder if they're still around, and, if so, if they've changed with the "kinder gentler everything's fine boyz and girlz sheeple times. Hum.

But there's some barriers. For one, He gets motion sickness during three of my favorite things to do: Flying in small airplanes (I want to get my license..... get a nice lil' solar model) Sailing, and driving real fast on curvy roads.

He DOES like Judy Collins. And woman who sing the blues. He would love my singing style. Once he gets back on his feet again (he'd been very ill for awhile), he might even help me produce it. I think he has it in his mind to buy me a brand new saxophone for my birthday (July 17th), and I only told a little piece of the story of my missing my chance at a sax by only two days once, in the middle of him talking about the artsy things he's done and/or played with......

Yet how can I sing when I have a sax in my mouth? It's like my puzzlement with the whole 69 thing. I'm not able to feel pleasure when I'm real busy giving a blow job. YES I can walk and chew gum (though I don't really like gum so it's rare you'll see that action, but..... CAN do!) yet anyway, looks like there are still plenty of enigmas to keep me busy, won't have to worry about getting bored on this crazy planet anytime soon. Teh.

Like, how about this one, he has 2-3 acres in the Puna district, I could pitch a tent or even build a house there if I like. Wow.

So, now, what do I tell the neighbors: "Yeah, well, my kids and I get to stay here for free and in return he comes over whenever he needs me wink wink nudge nudge know what I mean, know what I mean)

I COULD HAVE A GARDEN! FUCK that, it's better....... I would have a respectably sized bank canvas (piece of land) to do the edible landscaping thing, or..... hum..... even the..... "natural farming" with the clay seedballs?

I could go to school, do my gardening, raise my beautiful children, inhale Pele's breath and walk on her quivering body each day, feeling her heated almost surface rivers of orange and red rushing under my feet..... shielding by earth and stone layers only an illusion for the comfort of those who aren't "sensatives"...... go to UH Hilo, FINISH MY MASTERS major, TV minor, astronomy, think I can get away with it? The woman who was able to successfully represent The Moon at the UN general assembly in Political Science class? I have many many many skills.

Right, and, it being true, and these men tripping over themselves with love for me, laying treasures at my feet,

What should I do? If I didn't have to live with them full time, I could still do my writing. Take everything else away, not THAT. I'd scrawl words in the dried rat-feces on the floor of a foreign prison if I ever found myself there. Must..... write.....

Which takes me (us) back to the beginning again. Because I'd rather have a man with me full time. I loved being married. I have no problem being monogamous when I'm sexually satisfied by my mate either.

But I could only live with another writer. No one else understands us like us. We could sit in different room, or, better, separate parts of the same enormous bright sunny room. Ah- maybe even have a few different spaces for creating, a treehouse, little yurt or tipi up hill and/or back in woods, bathroom with enormous circular marble bathtub and dictation/recorder mounted into wall, also art studio, so nice smell of oils and pigments aroused by the steam

And, being able to make love as often as we wish. OH how my writing, yes, all of my art, would SOAR with such a thing. The keen blush of love on my cheeks.

I'm dreaming...........

Anon, heart-fellows,
3SE's

I'm not quite sure what the luminous vehicle is anymore. Prob'lee time to end this page, then. Hum, maybe I should give it a few days. Not quit a day or two before the miracle (twisted AA slogan, which goes thus: "don't quit a MINUTE before the miracle". Those AA folks are a tense bunch!)

She doesn't want to do the same thing and expect different results (another old AA slogan) so she takes off from her life and sits on the bed. She's horny but she won't have sex. She's hungry yet she won't eat. She was always told that the angels would be around her as long as she learned the rhythms of her body and honored them. Well, look at what good those alleged angels have done! No, she won't satisfy her cravings, now. Maybe those fuckers will go away, or, perhaps they've been staying away all this time (her being ill advised) and NOW they will come and help her out, now that

She has been completely forgotten by everybody. She has become an afterthought (at best) in someone else's well-written exciting play. When the action slows down a little much, or the main characters are gone, they may-or-may-not-but-be-constantly-ready-anyway call her to the stage and abuse her awhile for comic relief.
 
 

Yeah, so I do things different and become, what? Think they're gonna give you a juicy part? Or even one with DIGNITY? Who kept saying that she is The Fool? Who wore the Jesters hat that papa loaned. He said he'd get one for her some day, and give it to her. Hum. K. Guess so. Maybe. Maybe she'll even receive it. If she survives this

Yeah, another one of those Blue days that pop up every so often.

Later, everyone.
3SE's

Have a lot to write to you including complete morning pages from yesterday which I fear/expect you may find intriging, yet must call Texas, Take a hot little motorcycle ride to a job interview at an organic herbfarm/greenhouse, and read some od Tom Robbins 1980 classic, "Still life with woodpecker", but, till then,

I'll give ya some e-mail action that's been goin on around my working (with much resistance, I may add, from my inner critic) on getting a gig at the Maui Writer's Conference, and also doing my first "editing/ helping a budding artist without killing their spirit assignment, and also reading Othello over and over again soz I might re-birth the lost (saved on one disk- when will I learn?) brilliant one-act "Why I Hate Othello" play.

Full life keeps 3singingeagles out of a percentage of trouble, though we're not sure of the percentage, story at six and ten.....
 
 

Sistah!

I just got your request for a letter, and am only too happy to comply.

Wow. If I didn't known you to be honest and shining, I would accuse you of frivolous tossing around of flattery unbound!

Woops, guess you can see I've been reading Othello over and over again. (Writing is only sometimes a day at the beach, she sighs aloud) I told someone who insisted for the ten millionth time (slight exaggeration alert) that he wasn't in love with the woman he's always talking about that I was "a'fearin he wuz-uh protestin' too greatly" (is she wathchin' John Wayne movies inbetween Shakespeare sessions !?!)

Well, actually, no. I'm reading a Tom Robbins book I haven't read ("Still life with woodpecker") to clear my verbal pallette. Jeez. Shakespeare and Tom Robbins? Well, can't be weirder than the two combos I've been compared to, (Craig:) " Your short story writing is like a cross between Charles Bukawski and Tom Robbins". And Tom has one of his characters stay in a room Bukowski once stayed at.... in "Woodpecker". And the Queen of Mu- my title, too weird. I never would have read Charles or Tom if I hadn't been curiosity-piqued by the comparison. On the poetic side, an award-winning female poet once said of my poetry "It's like Rumi is inside the body and soul of Elizabeth Browning". This was equally histerical to me, though no research was needed, these being my two favorite poets of all time.

Anyways, wow. THANK YOU! I am so warm inside! The mirror was pleasant to look into, usually not the case in our lives, most mirrors people hold up in our faces are smudged with dung or old car-oil, drained from a vehicle that had a detached addituded for maintenence owner........ after the car had been parked in the side yard for four years.
 

I have been between computers here, but now am set up with a lovely
lovely new system, including printer.  I presume you woul like your
letter on MCC letterhead stationery, and will try to figure that out on
my new [:)] printer [!].  If I succeed, you will find the letter on my
office door.

Victory was yours! I remember you mentioning the impending arrival of said system in class, with a fear-licked sparkle of expectant possible pleasure in your beautiful eyes, so I've peeked through the little blinds when I've visted. Sure looks neat. Then again, Summer is light, we'll see in the second and third months of the Fall semester, me'thinks.

Ooooooopppsss... lapsing Shakespearesque again!

Oh, P.S., "Got tenure?" (hopehope)
 

I hope you and Zach can find a way to communicate.  He is fiercely
dedicated to writing, and that is good,

Absolutely. Here's our latest correspondance, don't think he'd mind if I shared it with you of all people.... hope not..... shit, Michele, I DO LOVE THIS TEACHING SO SO SO SO MUCH! Well, sparking is what it feels more like to me. Don't think I'll ever call myself a teacher, even if I get my Masters and become a professor...... I'll have to set the students straight on the first day that I'm a sparker. And so are they. God, so much is revealed by everyone, everything, life is amazing.

----Original Message Follows----
From: zsummer@maui.net (Zach Summerfield)
To: singingeagles3@hotmail.com
Subject: Story:New Version!
Date: Sun, 11 Jun 2000 19:35:38 -1000 (HST)

Dear 3 singing eagles,

Since you are open to assisting me as a fresh reader, and fresh is what I
need, since I've been in this damn thing for so long, I'd really like your
opinion on a couple of changes that I think may be interesting.

1. Leaving out the single quote when stating his thoughts. In other words,
just stating his thoughts, without punctuation, just letting the voice be
evident. For example, page 8, "These kids are recklessly undisciplined and
get away with murder." I noticed in Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, he
just states the old man's thoughts in their context, without any special
punctuation. Is this ok?

GO FOR IT! Wow- The Old Man And The Sea! I didn't ever read it- but Spencer Tracy doing his monologue to The Fish (and to life, of course) alone in the boat is one of my top ten monologues of all times..... in fact in Drama class I picked that as my monologue but the Prof. said we have to pick a part we would cast OURSELVES in if we were the casting directors. Of course, if I had been as quick and fiesty then as I am now, I would have told him that if I were to be a casting director, what- with my quirky and eccentric behavior and personality- one would be amiss to suspect me of casting anyone BUT a small blonde chick in The Old Man's role, a dark haired man playing the good witch of the North, or a string of christmas lights staring as a moody saxaphone player doing the soft-muted anonymous backround fill on comedy nights at a little known bar. He didn't know me that well then. He wouldn't question it now, knowing I could pull it off. This was early in the semester. We've known eachother over two years since then, he's seen me completly metamorphasize....... he wouldn't flinch now lettin' me "Do The Old Man". Ha.Ha ha ha.

2. I'm using two analogies here. First, I refer to his baring his teeth
like a half snarling dog, and then I refer to his sniffing around like a
German Shephard. Secondly, I have him turning into a snake. Page 6, when he
is strapping on the guns, "He rose like the head of a snake". Then, please
notice that on page 8, I changed "he bit his teeth together," to, "He
flexed his maw"
and then the verbs that follow are all indicative of a snake, e.g., crept,
entered, advanced, slipped into, turned, ducked, slithered, peeped, and
hung on the shelf. All this is in preparation for "neck-swinging serpents"
and, "He lurked low...hundered down inside his jaw...riveted his eyes.

It seems quite obvious that, much like Bill Murrey and The Gopher, this man that popped up to tell his story through you has both DOG and SNAKE medicine. Interesting combo. Simplified: "Dog Medicine's" word is LOYALTY. Domestication of something wild. Decended from wolves, a lone wolf is rare and usually sick and/or insane. Being part of an organized, comforting, stable "family" or "group" is good for people with DOG medicine. SNAKE is so powerful and complex I do not believe it has ONE word ascribed to it, though, I 'spect if their is one somewhere it's not possible to pronounce on "our' sound frequency. Snakes, like Dragons (one of my medicine animals, the Grandmother) are either revered in the highest fashion possible, OR considered the ABSOLUTE bottom, the EPITTIMY of EVIL. It's the Goddess/whore
dicotemy that is plagueing most of this planet nowadays, and that's as much a product of this Snake dicotomy as more obvious times, for instance, when "saint" Patrick killed the "SNAKES" (pagans, people of the earth, non- 'bending over to take it in the ass from the rabid catholics sheeple') It seems that society, in people with snake and dog medicine, cries out for them to be "top or bottom", and the domesticated wolf yearns them, lures them with it's warm consistently-fed comfort, into conformity with intense competitive trying and a tendency towards extremly lofty goals and/or dreams.

Has any of this been helpful?
 

I think these changes are very interesting. Please give me your fresh
opinion. What do you think? Are these changes for the better?

I'm trusting your judgement completly. If they're here, either they're really subtle or I've read the story too many times in these past days, and must go away from it for awhile- maybe watching a few hours or even days straight of mindless sitcoms to "clear my mental pallette" soz I might tast it again.

Anyway, Bernie Taupin would probubly have said of your story, if he had read it:
"Oh, but it's weird and it's wonderful!
 

Mucho Aloha ea!
3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose

PPS
More! More! Hana ho! Hana ho! ("Sugar Mama Blues"?)

 but take care of 3SE too!

All Ways May That be, and for You Too, sweet one!
3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose (changed my last name when I went to The Land Of The Dead a few weeks ago, long good story, when next we shall meet may the tale be told as it- yea- must be, forthwith yet with the flair of the unhurri'ed.

Oh, jeez. Think it's time for The Woodpecker. Job interview at an herb farm and nursery later. Motorcycle ride there and maybe touring after. Sigh. Life IS good.

hope you get this in time!

Did, by the way. Procrastination sometimes serves The Fool
(Oh god, 3SE's, CUT IT OUT!)

YOU ARE WORTHY!!!!!!
DITTO ARTIST'S FRIEND!!!!!
 
 
 

Visit my homepages :)

FACES OF THE MOON: https://www.angelfire.com/ma/hinahinahina/index.html

Song Of The Moon:
http://www.mauigateway.com/~singinge/index.htm

May MUCH Aloha FILL your life!
Malama Pono, and a HUI HO !   :)
 
 

Oh, the river flows, over rock and stone......

Have you ever wished on a star, carried moonbeams home in a jar..... (?)

Springtime.... for HITler.... in Germ an ee
 

Oh, those lines that stay with you. That haunt and bug your brain throughout life, that carry your stereotypical humdrums onto shores unmapped through waters uncharted!

(Unedited.)

That's one way to clean out your sinuses, sweet lady. And a few resentments.
There is no total bad.
There are no total demons.

You called it the demon of alcohol but it had served you well, relaxing muscles and inhibitions that "nice girls don't.............
Say feel scream shout verbalize
Those kinds of things."

Face it, if this "demon" looking more and more suspiciously like a "deva" hadn't come to you to lay with you and shoot its essence inside you,
Pour it inside of you,
Have you almost BATHING in it, occasionally
Then you would not've been able to write most of the stuff you've written
You would not be the human being that you are now
And you CERTAINLY would not know
How extremely furious you are
At everybody. (Hurt?)
Well, decisions are being made Right Now As We Speak, ones that may or may not change my life. Nobody really knows. I do not belong to the family. Even if/when my ch'i drops, and, should it be I drink again, I'm still good." In fact, it seems that I AM the best Mother for these children". WOAH just as I thought to write that sentence- the rising sun hit prob'lee the only reasonable puka (hole) in the dense forest that it rises on the other side of, here, and hit my head in such a way that it (probably framed my head in a radiant halo, had I a mirror nearby or someone else awake in the house I would've known that for sure) but it DEFINITELY DID FRAME MY SHADOW, which it, by the way, had simultaneously placed on the wall- shadow of head & shoulders while sitting on the end corner of the bed doing these morning pages, scrunched up in the only available spot so I wouldn't wake and/or disturb my beautiful sleeping baby, my shadow- framed in the first thick-yellow (orange slightly, egg yolks from free-range chickens) of the morning.

    MY SHADOW IS AN ANGEL
MY FUCK-UPS HAVE MADE ME
           HOLY

Now I'm no longer worried about fucking up. No one, not even myself, can harm me anymore than I am already. I have been, now, officially harmed to an exponential degree which cannot be factored or reduced to make other than it's equivalent. Something has happened inside me. Something has left forever. I think that it's hope. In "The Shambala Warrior", both hope & fear are unwanted qualities. Fear left quite some time ago.
    Little fears were expulsed before I went to "The Land Of The Dead" (across de kine veil) ( why the many-dayed prepatory journey was necessary) (Even with Eagle Medicine, fear of high places, especially "unstable" edges with rocks was a big one to overcome). Yet- I still had hopes. From little to excessive. Yet- not this morning.

(This is only part of the complete pages that morning.... rarely stop at three, specially' these days, when there's so much goin on in this
Tender yet really really resilient and kind around the edges brain of mine)
Want more? e-me if the desire really burns. I'm tired of transposing right now cause I want to go out and sit on the wooden stoop gazing at mynah birds counting coup on each other over chips I threw to them, and/or something new and interesting in the compost, while smoking a hand-rolled American Spirit/Sages cigarette with some extreme additudinal action goin on, probably inspired, much like an actor by a director when that energy bond is going (sigh. memories.)  and then come in and WRITE SOMETHING NEW cause dee words are tumbling over each other to feel the warm wet touch of my lips as they exit sang, the stroke of my fingers when they come to you like this.)

Anon.  3SE's

More thoughts on a June 14th

Didn't they know their beloved's just wanted them to TRY
The unsweetened cream
The thin plain rice milk, unenriched and/or fattened with foreign oils
Certainly with no long list of unreadable ingredients in tiny percentiles of dubiousness.
Coffee black and below hot enough to fill the mouth and swish but not below enough to steal the warm sensations pulsations of 90 point something mouths
To the lava rush-
Mates! Hurry! Before it's too late!
Seize our simple unsweetened and therefore honest and easy to taste all the components and know them well selves
I, for one, am confident enough in your satisfaction in the brew that is me
If you had starved almost to death in the unoasis'ed desert, I'd invite your break fast
To be my tea.

My muse is stalking me and I love it.

I am blowing off all seemingly important practical tasks to spend the day with my muse.

Expect many new poems and writings on their two pages by evn'tide!
 

WRITINGS

TOO MUCH CANDY FOR THE LITTLE GIRL: POETRY

From an e-mail reply I sent Saturday to someone who was just fucking bitchin too damned much and so I guess I've been complainy lately cause it bothered me and we all know the psych 101 projection theorem, whether to college we'd a bean or not. Sigh. No time for anything more today, too busy living. Michaela and I will dress up, and do "Forest Theater", the ultimate in Community Theater (being in the broadest and most far-reaching, (if not, disappearing?!?) community on the planet, The neighborhood of Nature, The turnoffs on the roads of stress into bough sheltered bliss. The United Colonies Of Free Roots And Bare Feet Inc. Will post some photos tomorrow, on New page. Father's day, my wedding anniversary with Doug (teh) will be the last entry here. New diary will start having daily photos, and be, generally, more illustrated. Gonna start making nebula icons/ animated gifs, save all images you find on may pages please........ time to share and not be so fucking constipated, um?

???????????????

Laytuh. Here's the letter. I have to get my costume on for portraying the "Kapa Angel Of The Hawaiian Islands"..... I don know.... ask the director (Michaela) I "jus do what I'is told, whilst inter-a-jecting some of my style an class"
 

(To the becoming-a-nusance-now correspondent)
"If for some reason your browser is fucking up, you can always do things the old fashioned way, and SCROLL DOWN THE PAGE! Just an idea, it won't take much effort, much less than all these e-mails have, hum?

The only broken link I found was "Thanksgiving"

This direct link should take you there, though I'm starting to suspect there's some reason, supernatural or subconcious in origin I'm not quite sure, why you're not seeing them. This story in particular is quite disturbing. Also amazing well written (and, yes, I do say so myself even though mine is not the only opinion in this regard). For some fans, it's their favorite story! Wow. And we live on the same planet as these people! Whew!

Okay, so here's the direct link to the (now fixed) "The Thanksgiving Of My Discontent". Good luck, I guess.

PS
Have you read ANYTHING on the page

PPS
There's always the "print" option...

Technologically AND artistically yours,
3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose
 

NOW I'm at that point in my life as a writer where I'm looking for someone (an agent, I guess) who will read my writings as I produce them, and sell them for me. There's enough markets now, and my writing has progressed enough as well (right, that sentence really proved and/or confirmed THAT, huh?) that now I can just write what I want and have it sold to someone who prints stuff like it (okay, first letter on a Sunday morning) anyways.......

This is reminding me, Father's day- oughtta send some e-cards to my father, since I'm lucky to have him alive and anyway I have some questions regarding the logo/book cover to HIS upcoming book, "Tales Of The Hooded Marauders", which I am in the process of compiling/designing. Sigh. Graphic design. Not an expert in it- but I do my own and it really tickles my artists brain.

Making money or being published doesn't make you more of a writer, in my opinion. My experience is that some of us are just really BoRN thinkin and lookin at the world this strange way- and we share that gift for the rest of our lives, whether we use it to help support our physical vehicles for the aforementioned creative expression (s) or not, what evers, I actually prefer lawn mowing or gardening or greenhouse or pickin fruit or flowers for a big farm as preferable cash work, when I write it's like masturbation in many ways, extremely pleasurable, a release, (normally) done alone in a darkened room...... it's really so intimate to me that "selling" it makes me feel like a prostitute..... like a charleten-preacher selling afterlife insurance.

Well, off to send greetings to my papa and the papas of my children and grandchildren..... laytuh, dude

3singingeagles Ma'hinahinahina Rose

P.P.S. You like Thanksgiving.... what do you think of the poem "Panther On The Full Moon", and also the one to my dad on same page?

https://www.angelfire.com/ma/hinahinahina/TooMuchCandy.html#Panther On A Full
 

Gonna end this page later. See ya, friends................

Later On Pa'pears day

Woner if Dad was able to translate my somewhat cryptic message to him:

Can YOU figure it out?

Was also my 15th wedding anniversary with Doug today. We got to talk. Hum. Connections. How would I want the audiance to "hear" my character, if, indeed, they could hear all of what I say all the time how would I

Like to be remembered by.

"THREE SINGING EAGLES: SHE WAS REAL

Next page will be: Forest Theatre, I'll archive tis when I post it.

See ya (astrally? En duh DREAMtime?)

3SE's  :)

Fer pa's day she yur golden girler prudly announc'icates hers intentions fer toeh 'cept yur quest as per hooded marader tales n page uh homeies, an book jaket fussied up.... whar doz I finds uh pic uhff a dirt'ee spade, hooded figguh, N a mountain or't least respectable hill with the 'husdon damn near teh makin clefts iffen not downright CON'travesty?

Yur Female oldest girl chil kin"