Royal Rosamond Art
Posted on June 2, 2023 by Royal Rosamond Press
Fair Rosamond by John Presco 6/2/23
On June 2, 2023, John Presco and Royal Rosamond Press entered the realm of Artificial Intelligence, and rendered works of art, that will be published as Royal Rosamond Art.
Yesterday I sent my first girlfriend, Marilyn Godfrey, an email telling her how wicked and evil my mother Rosemary was, and how she tried to destroy me – and others. I told Marilyn to watch the CNN show on AI, and told her I and my mother are the Birth of Artificial Intelligence – along with my daughter who was born on Rosemary’s birthday. She too tried to destroy me in her Narcissistic Need to control everyone around her. Is there something in our DNA. I believe so..
Yesterday I found an article about two statues of Venus at Blenheim being prepared for winter. It is done! I have escaped the wicked woman at the core of the Labyrinth – and her son! I am the boy born during a star shower. I am…..Dragon Born. The boy is said to be Jesus, and the woman, Israel. But, Jesus told Peter “Get behind me Satan!” Jesus turned his back on Israel, or, so it is written.
I claim Israel – this very day! Stop the bombing – and retreat!
This blog, Royal Rosamond Press, is the greatest Art Book – of all time! Marilyn’s mother made me go to church and Billy Graham meeting. Watch the video of the Insurrection – to the end. They thank Jesus for leading them into the core of what their ministers titled – wickedness. They need to be arrested and tried for treason. The church ran on Sex Sins, and is now into Political sins. What happened to….
LOVE?
Where are thou – Venus?
John ‘The Nazarite’
Rosenmund De La Roche
Posted on July 20, 2023 by Royal Rosamond Press
Victoria Rosemond Bond by Jon Rosamond 6/23
Dear Governor Kotek; I have been composing a message to Herbert Boyer for almost a week. Herbert is a co-founder of Genentech that is moving out of South San Francisco. They are in Hillsboro Orgon. For a year I have been posting on your Facebook, selected post from my blog ‘Royal Rosamond Press. I have been blogging on the movies Barbie and Oppenheimer this morning and came upon an old post that is the Genesis of the one I have been working on, Rosenmund De La Roche. How uncanny. The Matrix of Truth and the Giedeon Computer is about the Matrix of Artificial Intelligence that Genetech says it is exploring – and leading the way with!
I am asking for your help in owning credibility and getting assistance in understanding what is going on in my blog, and with me. I appear to have a real gift of prophecy that may have its roots in a archetypal theme which may be able to keep Artificial Intelligence at bay. Have I found an antidote?
Sinerely
John Presco
The award-winning journalist and staff writer for The Atlantic follows up his New York Times bestseller American Carnage with this timely, rigorously reported, and deeply personal examination of the divisions that threaten to destroy the American evangelical movement.
Evangelical Christians are perhaps the most polarizing—and least understood—people living in America today. In his seminal new book, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, journalist Tim Alberta, himself a practicing Christian and the son of an evangelical pastor, paints an expansive and profoundly troubling portrait of the American evangelical movement. Through the eyes of televangelists and small-town preachers, celebrity revivalists and everyday churchgoers, Alberta tells the story of a faith cheapened by ephemeral fear, a promise corrupted by partisan subterfuge, and a reputation stained by perpetual scandal.
For millions of conservative Christians, America is their kingdom—a land set apart, a nation uniquely blessed, a people in special covenant with God. This love of country, however, has given way to right-wing nationalist fervor, a reckless blood-and-soil idolatry that trivializes the kingdom of Jesus Christ. Alberta retraces the arc of the modern evangelical movement, placing political and cultural inflection points in the context of church teachings and traditions, explaining how Donald Trump’s presidency and the COVID-19 pandemic only accelerated historical trends that long pointed toward disaster. Reporting from half-empty sanctuaries and standing-room-only convention halls across the country, the author documents a growing fracture inside American Christianity and journeys with readers through this strange new environment in which loving your enemies is “woke” and owning the libs is the answer to WWJD.
Accessing the highest echelons of the American evangelical movement, Alberta investigates the ways in which conservative Christians have pursued, exercised, and often abused power in the name of securing this earthly kingdom. He highlights the battles evangelicals are fighting—and the weapons of their warfare—to demonstrate the disconnect from scripture: Contra the dictates of the New Testament, today’s believers are struggling mightily against flesh and blood, eyes fixed on the here and now, desperate for a power that is frivolous and fleeting. Lingering at the intersection of real cultural displacement and perceived religious persecution, Alberta portrays a rapidly secularizing America that has come to distrust the evangelical church, and weaves together present-day narratives of individual pastors and their churches as they confront the twin challenges of lost status and diminished standing.
Sifting through the wreckage—pastors broken, congregations battered, believers losing their religion because of sex scandals and political schemes—Alberta asks: If the American evangelical movement has ceased to glorify God, what is its purpose?
The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory review: Trump and his evangelical believers
Tim Alberta is a fine guide to the world of conservative US Christians, their dispiriting march to the right, and its ugly cost
Lloyd GreenSat 2 Dec 2023 05.00 EST
With The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism, Tim Alberta of the Atlantic, author of a previous blockbuster on Republican politics and, this year, the profile that helped bring down Chris Licht at CNN, delivers another essential read. It is substantive, news-filled and personal.
MTG review: far-right rabble rouser makes case to be Trump’s VPRead more
“I have endeavored to honor God with this book,” he writes. The son of an evangelical Presbyterian minister who came to religion from finance, Alberta lays bare his hurt over how the cross has grown ever more synonymous with those who most fervently wave the Stars and Stripes, on the right of the political spectrum.
“All nations before him are as nothing; and they are counted to him less than nothing, and vanity.” Isaiah’s teaching stands nearly forgotten.
Russia outlaws ‘international LGBT public movement’ as extremist
Human rights activists say supreme court’s vague wording provides wide scope for persecution
Pjotr SauerThu 30 Nov 2023 09.08 EST
Russia’s supreme court has outlawed what it called an “international LGBT public movement” as extremist, in a landmark ruling that representatives of gay and transgender people warn will lead to arrests and prosecutions of the already repressed LGBTQ+ community.
The ruling in effect outlaws LGBTQ+ activism in a country growing increasingly conservative since the start of the war in Ukraine. The “extremist” label could mean that gay, lesbian, transgender or queer people living in Russia could receive lengthy prison sentences if deemed by the authorities to be part of the so called “international LGBT public movement”.
The justice ministry earlier this month filed a request that the “international LGBT movement” be labelled extremist, without clarifying what it meant under the term, which is not a registered entity in Russia but rather a broad definition used by the Russian authorities.
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/nov/30/russia-supreme-court-outlaws-lgbt-movement
Statues at UNESCO site to be covered for winter
Article information
- Author,Daisy Stephens
- Role,BBC News
- 30 November 2023
Two sculptures at a UNESCO World Heritage site are to be covered up for the winter.
“Bespoke winter covers” will protect the marble statues at Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire from frost and other harsh weather.
The public will not be able to view the statues while they are covered, the palace said.
Kate Ballenger, keeper of palace collections, said the protection would help “keep the history alive for future generations”.
The statues will be covered within the next two weeks, and will remain that way until the spring.
The first sculpture set to be covered is Antonio Frilli’s carved white figure of Venus on a cylindrical pedestal carved with a floral festoon, signed “A. Frilli, Firenze”.
The second sculpture is Orazio Andreoni’s carved figure of Venus, also on a cylindrical pedestal carved with a floral festoon and indistinctly signed “Andreoni, Roma”.
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Both sculptures are Italian and were acquired by the 9th Duke of Marlborough in about 1925.
Blenheim Palace said the covers were “necessary”.
Ms Ballenger said: “The continuous conservation, cleaning, and care as well as the process of covering historic items during winter not only protects them from low temperatures but ensures that we keep the history alive for future generations to enjoy.”
Elijah and Israel’s Black Panther Party
Posted on November 15, 2023 by Royal Rosamond Press
I am ‘The Messenger’. On this day, November 15, 2023, I bring you the good news! Judea-Christianity ceases to exist. The days of The Great Lie – are over! I am the New Elijah, and the New Malachi, a name that means “Messenger”. The book of Malachi was written by Ezra – who employs the alleged words of God, and His words are the last in the Torah.- that call for the Second Coming of Elijah – who comes when John the Baptist was born. This is the Hinge-pin, the Alpha and the Omega.
John Malachi
Capturing Beauty – The Long Con
Posted on June 21, 2021 by Royal Rosamond Press
Capturing Beauty
by
John Presco
Copyright 2021
Chapter
The Long Con
No one likes to admit they have been conned. This is true of millions of Trump followers who can’t accept the truth HE LOST and is A LOSER, because they got to look at him way down the line. The mist – has cleared! The big sucker, has been licked down to the stick.
Yesterday was Father’s Day, and, alas – I WENT ALL THE WAY! I accepted the truth my daughter was conning me – from the get! She rehearsed her role in THE LONG CON – since she was a child. Her mother and aunt and uncle identified me to her as….THE MARK! When Patrice approached me at the Kerry House, she was not wearing a wedding ring. She was hunting. Her two boys, and her Lover Boy – who looks like Bob Weir – are out of food. The rent is due. They NEEDED a short con. Her job is to give me a boo-hood story and I give her $20 bucks, maybe $50. There are folks from Peidmont who patramoize that bar. How many have paid the rent, because they don’t want to see a woman and her two boys out on the street. One of them is the son of a Chicago Black Panther who Patrice said died on a fire. Did she – LIE?
Patrice asked me to rescue David and her other son, Matt (ten and five) from her husband Randy, who was abusing them. After living with me for two months she said she was thinking of going back to him. I asked her to leave. He was threatening to kill me. Patrice found out she was pregnant a week later.
Kamala ‘Daughter of Oakland’ | Rosamond Press
Above is a phtogrpahy taken at the Portland Zoo by Katherine, the wife of David, and mother of Malcom, who was named after Malcom X. She told me at their wedding she met several of David’s sisters who told her stories about Angela Davis.
I just took a long break to look for the grave of Kay Coakley who may have been disappeared along with her sister who my mother said was trying to take Kay’s legacy from her – that she wanted to leave to Vicki. There may not have been a probate filed. My RECOVERY NOVEL ‘Bond’s With Angels’ begins with the Angel my sisters saw as children. Kay saw it too. I decided to sew my daughter and her mother for breach of written and verbal contract.
I googled Mayor Libby Shaaf to suggest the city we and Vice President Kamala Harris, were born in, lead the way in REPARATIONS. I discovered Oakland, and Marin County are giving GUARANTEED INCOMES to the poor. There is a artist program as well I was going to send her a link to all my Oakland History, and my Marin Shipmates idea, as well as The Black Liberation Navy idea that could be based and funded by The Port of Oakland. Alas, I own the credibility my daughter and her family helped destroy. There is so much more to this story!
I suspect Heather Hanson learned my sister Vicki Presco was dead before I did. Who told her? Heather drastically changed when Bill Cornwell turned her into an alcoholic. Her aunt helped.
Breaking Bad – With Bad Trustee | Rosamond Press
John Presco
President: Belmont Soda Works
The Coakleys and the Angels | Rosamond Press
Black Panther Party Gallery and Museum | Rosamond Press
Bonds With Angels – All Alone | Rosamond Press
Vicki Presco Was A Criminal | Rosamond Press
In the middle of a worldwide awakening to the centuries-old racism and oppression suffered by Black people, some African Americans finally see tangible assistance – even if the help isn’t characterized as reparations.
Oakland, Calif., Mayor Libby Schaaf announced that the city would begin a guaranteed income project that would provide $500 per month to Black and Indigenous families.
The assistance, which targets low-income families of color in the 426,000-population city, will last 18 months.
Mayor Schaaf detailed that the money comes with “no-strings attached,” and recipients can use it as they please.
“We have designed this demonstration project to add to the body of evidence and to begin this relentless campaign to adopt a guaranteed income federally,” Mayor Schaaf told the local ABC News station.
The station reported that, for the project, the Oakland Resilient Families program has so far raised $6.75 million from private donors, including Blue Meridian Partners, a national philanthropy group.
The programs require residents have at least one child under 18 and income at or below 50 percent of the area median income – about $59,000 per year for a family of three.
Half the spots are reserved for people who earn below 138 percent of the federal poverty level or about $30,000 per year for a family of three, ABC reported. Participants are randomly selected from a pool of applicants who meet the eligibility requirements.
The report noted that Oakland’s project is significant because it is one of the most outstanding efforts in the U.S. so far, targeting up to 600 families. And it is the first program to limit participation strictly to Black, Indigenous, and people of color communities.
Oakland, where 24 percent of the residents are Black, is among a growing list of municipalities providing financial payments to people of color – or reparations.
Rosemond, James of Abbeville County, Will Typescript (Mss Will: Estate Record Book 1, Page 329; Estate Packet: Box 80, Pkg 1949) (2 Frames):
Pompeo slams Fauci as ‘spouting Chinese Communist Party talking points’ (msn.com)
WILL OF JAMES ROSEMOND
In the Name of God amen, I James Rosemond of the State of South Carolina and Abbeville County being in a tolerable state of health but Calling to mind the uncertainty of life do make and ordain this my Last will and Testament in way and manner following that is to say I will and desire that all my just debts and funeral Charges be paid & satisfied Imprimus I Leave and bequeath to Marry my Loving Wife two Negro Wenches that is one Named Nell and the other Charity and likewise two Negro boys one Named Ralph and the other Sam for her use and for the Maintainence of her and my Children during her Life and Likewise my Wife shall have three horses that is to say my Brown horse and Black Gray & young Bay mare and plantation tools sufficient to work the plantation and Likewise I Leave for her use my whole stock of Cattle Excepting two or three which I allow her to Give to her Son James when she thinks he has ocassion for them and Likewise for the use of my wife and Children I Leave the one half of my hogs & sheep and the other half to be sold and Likewise I Give to my Wife all the household furniture that she thinks she has Occassion for Item I will and desire tha my Son Nathaneil shall have my Negro Smart but that he shall be sold and the money to be put to Interest untill he the sd. Natl. does Come of age and Likewise to my Son Natl I Give and bequeath my part of a tract of nine hundred and forty seven acres of Land Lying in Lawrence County on the Waters of Saluda and Reedy rivers near to where Ruben Piles Esqur now Lives Item to my son Thomas I leave and bequeath my Negro named George Item to my son Benjamin I Leave and bequeath my Negro girl named Jenny Item to my son Samuel I Leave & bequeath my Negro girl named Elon Item to my Daughter Mary I Leave & bequeath my Negro girl named Nancy. Item I Leave and bequeath to my three sons Thomas Benjamin and Samuel the Rest of my Lands to be Equally Devided amongst them to be given to them as they Come of age but the tract I now live on I alow my Wife to have the use of it while she Lives and at her death the Same to be divided as above. Item the Negro fellow Sam that I purchased from George Welded and my Stills and all my other property not above mentioned I desire that they shall be sold at publick Sale to the highest bidder except one horse Calld my young Bay and a saddle which I give to my wifes son James Dahorty Item my will is that at the Death of my Wife the four Negroes that I Leave to her for her Maintainence for Life Shall be Devided amongst my four Sons Nathaniel, Thomas, Benjamin and Samuel in manner following that is to say to my son Nathaniel I Leave and bequeath my Negro wench named Nell and to my son Thomas l Leave and bequeath the Above named aegro girl Named Charity, and to my son Benjamin I Leave & bequeath the above named Ralph and to my son Samuel I Leave and bequeath the above named Negro Sam My two sons Nathneal Thomas if their Negros should have any increase before she comes of age shall make up an equal proportion with one of them selves to my Daughter Mary and if they the sd. wenches should not have any encrease my four Sons shall make up to my Daughter Mary an equal proportion with them selves without exposing any of the the sd Negroes to sale Item my will and Desire is that all the monies arising from the sale of the above mentioned after paying all my just Debts shall be equally Devided between my wife and four sons and a horse and saddle to my Daughter Mary besides her equal share with the rest and I do hereby Constitute and ordain this my last will and Testament and desire it to be Received by all as such and I do hereby make & Disanul all former Wills and testaments by me made or ordained and I do Constitute and ordain Samuel Rosemond and James Watts Executors and mary my Wife executrix of this my last will and testament Given under my hand and sealed with my seal this fifteenth day of July A.D. one thousand seven hundred and ninety five.
James Rosemond (seal)
Signed sealed in presence of
Jas. Watts Wm Norwood Robert Ingram
Recorded in Will Book 1 Page 329 Box 80 Pkg 1949 Proven July 10th 1806 Recorded date not available A. Banton O.A.D.
The long con refers to any of a variety of cons which require more planning, preparation, a longer window of interaction with the con’s target, the mark, and a longer period of time to execute. The long con may also require a large crew or a larger number of involved people to pull off the deception needed to relieve the mark of their cash or other valuables. Unlike a short con, the long con requires time to slowly draw the mark or marks into the con, but often result in very large pay-outs. Because of the difficulty in organization and execution, long cons are considered to be for experts, not the province of new, young con artists.
Traditionally, the term “long con” has referred to an elaborate con of one or more marks which ends with the payout, when the marks surrender their money or valuables. Long cons play on basic human frailties: greed, lust and desperation, qualities are also usually found in the mark. A classic example of a traditional long con is a Ponzi/pyramid scheme (Promise/most vulnerable children) involve multiple marks, often in sizable numbers, and a gradual payout from a foundation, but are able to stay in place for long periods of time of the lovable, beyond reproach original “Mark.”
Elizabeth Coakley in the 1940 Census | Ancestry®
Elizabeth Josephine Clifford 1870-1950 – Ancestry®
Clipping from Oakland Tribune – Newspapers.com
About Us: History — Alameda County District Attorney’s Office (alcoda.org)
Coakley Family History
This is a surname of Olde English origins. It derives from ‘Cokelei’ as recorded in the 1086 Domesday Book, and translating as ‘The lands of Coca’, a baptismal name. There are in fact three such villages in England, in the counties of Worcester, Oxford and Suffolk, although the surname in its various and varied forms, is most recorded in London. This is not in itself unusual. It probably means that between the 14th and 17th centuries the various villages were ‘cleared’ for sheep farming, and the tenants then moved to the ‘mecca’ – as London was so perceived to be. In so doing they would take with them as their identity the name of their former village, and given local dialects and poor spelling, this would create the various forms…
James Francis “Frank” Coakley (1897-1983) – Find A Grave Memorial
Kathleen Anita Wrinkle (1928-1956) – Find A Grave Memorial
Synchronistic Poems of The Triple Muse – With Mole!
Posted on November 29, 2017 by Royal Rosamond Press
After I fell in love with Belle Burch in Ken Kesey Square on April 4, 2014, I hurried home to view the video I took of her. I gasped when I saw the mole on her neck – that is screaming for my attention!
“Look at this! Look at me! See me!”
I called Marilyn and asked what side of her neck her mole was on.
“What side to your recall?”
“The right side.”
“Correct!”
“Is it still there?”
“No. I had it removed.”
“I met you today, a younger version of you. She could pass as your daughter.”
Belle was three years of age when I beheld Amily in a coffee house on 13th. She was friends with Barnett and all the Punk-Rock Street Urchins. Kevin and Serna were close to her. She had me feel the bullet in her leg. She was born in a castle in France. Her father was a drug dealer. She spoke perfect French, like Belle. Amily and Belle could pass for sisters. Nancy Hamren followed our Romance, knowing well my infatuations with my Muses – who INSPIRED me! We began a pome together. I describe this effort as a walk along a eternal fence with knotholes, from where we get a glimpse of another parallel reality. Belle’s poem picks up twenty-seven year narrative. This is remarkable! This resembles the poems written for Belle’s mother play. Catherine Van Der Turin was a Libra.
Nancy and I lived in a commune in San Francsico with the Zorthian Sister. Their creative father was titled ‘The Last Bohemian’. Jarly put on a happening based on Botticelli’s ‘Primerva’. I want to say I forgive Belle, but, more thant that, I recognize Belle as a poet, and a creator. This is a collective piece of great import. The Triple Muse appears on a destructive battlefield where everything is ruined. This is a Greek Tragedy.
With the discovery I made three days ago about the mission Salvador Dali, and a Mystery Woman – all are elevated! Trust me, we are amongst The Immortals.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2017
On Saturday, April 19, 2014 9:34 PM, Belle Burch wrote:
Hey Jon,
It’s Belle. Still wondering if you’re real. Thank you again for the bike. Let’s set up a time for me to do some modeling. Thurs and Fri are possibilities for me.
By the way, Why “John Ambrose”? Is that your middle name? Nom de plume? Highly synchronistic, as my current partner’s legal first name is Ambrose. I’m very curious about this.
Also, I thought you preferred to spell your name without the “h”?
Here’s the poem I said I’d send you.
Haven’t read any of your emails yet, will get to that soon.
Untitled
Last night I fell
asleep in a tent on the concrete
in front of city hall
to the sounds of a quiet radio-
some show about the Bermuda Triangle.
How things, people
disappear there.
Whether or not it exists.
Interviews with people
who believed in it,
interviews with people
who didn’t. Its history.
Amelia Earhart. (Airheart?)
It seemed to go on
for centuries.
There are people out there
who don’t have state IDs, passports,
birth certificates,
social security numbers,
who technically
legally
don’t exist.
The faeries who put people
to sleep for 100 years must live there
in that West Atlantic Vortex.
I got lost in it,
like Rip Van Winkle*,
and woke
to a changed world.
I texted a lover in New Orleans,
‘I’m stuffing almonds into a banana,
around my neck is a red bandana
and I love you.’ It was all true.
I walked through what is known
in Eugene as the Barmuda Triangle,
the magical trine of Luckey’s,
Horsehead and Jameson’s downtown.
If you order food at Jameson’s,
it gets run across the street
from Horsehead.
Luckey’s has the best pool tables,
and a fantastic little Mexican foodcart lovechild
that only accepts cash.
At the Horsehead,
there is a touch screen machine
where you get to choose
what music is being played.
You pay money for this privilege.
If you pay more money,
your songs get played
first.
This is a triangle
you can only get lost in
if you’re a real person.
* bandana around my eyes to keep the
blazing orange streetlights out
Copyright 2014
Gambit (1987)
by
Jon Presco and his Muse, Amily
Gambit
Remember when it was her turn
to be brave
How she reveled in her chance
to play
in the dance of the sunsets
How wild her eyes
in this juggling act
Full of sea-set waves
of her hand
that withdrew every dove
from your reluctant heart
What she did with your promises
stacking the old moments on edge
Daring you now
to recognize your life without her
Becoming afraid of her.
The new promises made
met with a hush
in the coming night
in the failing light
she came for her victory kiss
No more conjuring ways
all the doves
were asleep in her arms
From the land
a warm breeze
wrapped her long hair
around your embrace
while the new rumor
and web play
refrains of whispering strings
touching the back of your neck
Now afraid for her.
For we have all lost
the best things owned
The longest memories are made
in the dance of the broken sunsets
And perhaps brave?
Who alone would know
Being afraid
with her
La Belle Rose
Posted on June 26, 2015by Royal Rosamond Press
La Belle Rose
by
Jon Gregory Presco
Dedicated to my Muse, Belle Burch
Poetry is the Truth
When I was a gifted youth
I do not recall if I studied the artist Sandro Botticelli.
When a man
I wrote my version of ‘The Birth of Venus’
and did a painting of my muse
coming out of the sea.
I must have neglected this great Renaissance Artist,
and his beloved Muse – until now!
But, Since I beheld her, my Belle
and compared her to Simonetta Cattaneo de Candia Vespucci,
do I now behold all the clues of the petals
and the thread
that have brought me through the labyrinth of time,
to adore her once again.
And she recognizes me!
Centuries ago I was buried at her feet
in order to continue my long vigilance,
for she was only asleep.
One day she will awaken, and the City of Flowers
will again bask in her unparelled beauty.
Bella! Mon Belle!
Following the Renaissance of the Miller Brothers
to the top of the hill in the lost city of Fairmount,
I came to the crossroads of time.
When I saw the intersection of Flora and Fairmount,
I knew it would be a matter of days
before I was with my Sleeping Belle, once again,
once upon a time
She is the one I came here for.
After finding the lost tombstone of George Melvin Miller,
the founder of Florence,
I began to see the grand design.
When she came across the piazza de Keasy
while the minstrel sang a song by the Grateful Dead
‘Saint Stephen’
I had my rose at ready.
When I handed it to her
I heard the lovers complain
Where is my Belle Rose!
This is the Renaissance Rose
that my ancestor employed to write his name,
Rosemondt.
When I told Belle what kind of work I do,
I described my painting of a woman coming out of the sea.
Many have asked me who she is. Now, I can say;
“She is Belle, the most beautiful woman in Florence.”
We will go there, soon,
to behold the sea, a shell, and the foam
In 1475
at La Giostra
a jousting tournament was held at the Piazza Santa Croce.
The gallant knight, Giuliano
entered the field bearing a banner
on which was a picture of Simonetta as a helmeted Pallas Athene
Her image was painted by Botticelli himself.
Underneath was the French inscription
La Sans Pareille, meaning “The unparalleled one”.
From then on Simonetta became known
as the most beautiful woman in Florence,
and later
the most beautiful woman of the Renaissance.
Simonetta Vespucci
I salute thee!
Belle, I am confused. You took my number when we met after I told you I am an author out to preserve the Beat-Bohemian-Hippie culture. You said you were a radical, and I assumed you were an advocate for the homeless. Why then have you not talked about your radical homeless work with me when I shared at length my work with the homeless here in Springfield? From whom did you get an interest in Bohemians? Who is your boyfriend? Is he a radical advocate for the homeless? Has he been involved with OCCUPY?
I am trying to give YOU something very important. I know a information game when I see one. Dan Brown and his wife used to lurk on the yahoo.groups I belonged to that discussed the Templars, the Holy Grail, and the Masons. I have argued with members of the Sinclair family. The Davinci Code was a rip-off of OUR studies. Why are you examining me? Has it occurred to you that I am a Bohemian worth saving?
I married a very radical woman who was married to Thomas Pynchon. My best friend was good friends with Michael McClure and Jim Morrison. I was close with members of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love.
I asked you to help me get this information in a format that can be published, so that I can own credibility to put forth my knowledge. Once I am published, I wont’ be examined by people who have a selfish interest, and thus their finding are negative. I want your positive input and help. How many questions has your boyfriend put to you about me? If he wants to know anything about me, he can give me a call! If you don’t understand why I am trying to give you something, ask and thou shall receive. I will tell you the truth – if I feel you are on my side!
The truth is, I did not like your poem, because I hate conspiracy radio. I want to do my own radio show called the Authentic Human Being Show. I did not like your poem because it says very little about YOU and your advocacy for the homeless. OCCUPY has a core group of people who want to remain anonymous. In my book they do not get to use the homeless as their human shield so they can own a cloak of invisibility in order to secretly push their ideaology. I can, and will expose that! Like the Pied Piper I will, put forth a better idea!
An article on the Beats says there is no direct connection between the Pynchon and the Beat writers. I am that connection!
I want some feedback on our movie. I want you to sign a non-disclosure contract. You may not used any information I have shared with you without my permission and for any reason I deem injurious to my preservation and cause as agreed to at our first meeting.
Jon Presco
The Birth of Venus
By
Jon Presco
Copyright 1988
In the time before the coming of Man, before he learned to count the stars in the Heaven, and name the Seas that surrounded him, there was a morning star that danced in the deep blue sky at dawn’s first light. This was the time when wisdom and thoughts were not in man for he was not created yet. But there was whisperings in the inky night, and hushed tales reaching earth from distant stars, and in great tales yet to be stored in the hold of the moon, whose round sails traversed the sky, its sails adjusted and trimmed to the moods of the months and seasons, but not to the moods man, for even the gods did not have their whims as yet.
Then there was talking amongst the great rocks that buttressed into the sea, so deep and ancient the voices that only the seagulls could hear them and amass took flight over the horizon. There were rumors in the pounding waves as they marched to the shore that eternity was coming to dwell on Earth, and until then, only the breaking waves could count it. And they consulted the prophets in the rocks who had no form, who let the great waves take them bit by bit and turn them into sand till they fell like colossus back into the sea. But they were not vanquished for they dwelt in the spirit of all the land and had the wisdom to know they were not immortal, that their demise would take almost forever. But by then they would be wise, almost as wise as the gods, and by then, they would go wherever the gods would lead them, like dust captured in the tails of comets, they will follow.
But this rumor would not abate, for they did not understand the nature of it, from where it came, or where it would wend. Even the fish in the sea became agitated, and the shellfish wiggled deeper into the sand as if a great storm was brewing.
“Ahh!” the wisdom in the sea and rocks sighed with relief. “It is a great storm the god have in store for us. So, this is the nature of the rumor. But, we have withstood the greatest forces the gods have hurled at us. We can survive any tempest. Let it come and do its worst.
But in the Night they became aware it was longer, and the rumor would not desist. Now the birds on the land, and the song in the tree began to understand, and the great fatherly Night was awoken. Stroking his jet black beard, where gather a thousand stars, his deep piercing blue eyes searched for the offender, the rebels, so he might blot them out then file their existance atop the mountain tops pressed in stone. So many great bragarts had come and gone.
“What is it that awakens all that should be asleep, what nocturnal song is this that steals the Earth’s deep slumber, that wakes me falsely before it is time? Best not let the rising sun catch you at such play; for he is jealous of what you do when he is away. I his grandfather am too old for this ruckus, and I am left in charge of you like a nurse maid. Now return to your sleep, and be patient.” he ordered.
There was grumbling in the sea and rocks who were insulted by the Night. For their wisdom was treated like the buzzing of insects, and collectively they protested.
“Perhaps it is better for you to retire old man, and take your insults with you. For you are never here to see who you are really talking to. You are blind to how beautiful the world really is, and how great is our drama that unfolds at the signal of dawn’s rainbow, the ribbons of celebration that herald the arrival of your golden grandson. Oh how festive we can be, how young and eternal as we rejoice, as the color of the world returns – and the turquoise sea crashes like symbols upon the majesty of the cliffs!”
And now the animals joined in this rebellion and the Night gave out a great “Hush!
Quiet you fools. I have seen your antics. I have seen them reflected in the moon that appears in the day. It is my mirror I hold, for as you know I am full of curiosity. I might be senile and forgetful, but not as forgetful as you. The language of my time appears distorted, but not as distorted and forgetful as your dreams. Now to sleep with your arrogance, for you know I forget nothing. In your sleep I am your master, and it all comes back to haunt you. The ghost of your days are false, as is the false dawn.
Now for those whom sleep can not return to, I will have my daughter sing you a lullaby of the morning. For she is like a mother who has risen early to do her chores. She lights the little candle in the sky and her brightness clears the sleep from all who behold her. She is like my dear daughter. Who speaks ill of her? I will not ever give her away. She is too precious to me. To pure and shy. What goes on in the day is none of my business, or hers. It is full of arrogance, just as the Sun is. And even from him she shys away.
So come my daughter, and sing a quiet refrain. You are dutiful and prompt. You are patient and kind. Come, and sing a song about humility.”
But as the great Night turned to retire, his daughter did not sing. And this filled the Night with dread. Had she rebelled against him too? He was afraid to look fearing the mockery of the earth, for her creatures were now in frenzy of whispering that gave the Night a chill on his back.
“Look oh fatherly Night. Your daughter is gone. She is not there”
All beheld this were sad and alarmed, for they knew the Night had spoken wisely. Was this the rumor they had heard that was now a Nightmare; for all who beheld her were calmed by her beauty and her fresh young steadiness, and above all, her loyalty. Her song and her voice were liken to the Angels – who visit the earth.
Now the stars waning in the sky twinkled with confusion, and they beheld from their perch a great black cloud rising from the middle of the sea. And suddenly the sea was tossed into a tempest, and even it was afraid, and the sea is never afraid. And it embraced the wise souls within the rocks who hugged the rocks like a frightened child, but could not hold on, and slid back into the churning froth.
The trees on the edge of the land were trying to flee from the cloud, shuddering in fear. Their roots held for a little while, and then they were felled. The creatures on the land ran for cover, but the shrieks of the storm that ran faster they, and were in their dens before them, filling them with dread. The birds on the cliffs, and the rocks could cling on, and like leaves from a great oak they were plucked and carried in a great vortex around the black beating wings of the cloud that made the sea go where it did not want to go. Even the great fish in the sea were turned round and round. All but the clam was not safe.
Then there came from the menacing cloud and a bolt of lightening that turned the night into day. The Night cried out; “I am blind!” And the sea let go a terrible moan as a bolt of lightening pierced its depth, its ever present darkness, and not even the clam was spared as it tried to burl deeper into the sand, and was struck one mighty – but gentle blow.
The storm now went upon the land and raised havoc with those things who had never seen such fury. It struck angrily at the ground, and from it rose angry men, the first men. And they saw the tempest they were born into and the devastation around them. And the wisdom that had dwelt in the great rocks, flew from their crying mouths, saying; “This is a cruel land!” And they took felled trees to the sea and made rafts of them, then sailed away.
At first light, all was still and quiet. The sea had lost much of its voice that now filled the mouths of the captains of the ships, they using the wisdom that now found a home in them, commanding as the sea had done the new living things to make their crafts sturdier and defy the sea itself.
And they were wise enough to flea from the reach of the rocks that tried to pull them back and embrace them, jealous now that they were wise enough to avoid them. And they pointed to the stars who were startled, but pleased, as the wisdom from the captains declared them their only friends. But the stars were in morning and in unison asked the Night; “Where pray-tell is our sister? Why do you not let her come out and play with us?
Then came a warm wind from over horizon. It was the last sigh of the Night, and from it flew a Kite and it spoke of this rumor that had stirred the whole world; “Love is coming.”
“Love! What is Love?” And the world turned to the Night as he wearily receded over the land.
“I don’t know. Don’t ask me.” But from then on humanity would ask this question of the Night, in the night, and in a hushed embrace find the answer.
Even the captains at sea suddenly found themselves asking “What is Love?” and sat on the prow of their ships looking at the first light of dawn, then up into the heavens where once rose a beautiful star who the Night named Venus, whose lovely calm song and beautiful dance was yet to be beheld by men. If they had heard and seen her then they would know the moment they lay eyes on her, before the sea, the great rocks, the birds, the fish in the sea even suspected there was such a thing, that she was Love. Deep down in the core of all things they knew they were humbled; for with the coming of Love was a better and more endearing idea of what Eternity is. Only the Night knew this was the Truth. For only eternity could take a beautiful star out of the heavens, and as he sadly turned and beheld the pink ribbons in the sky that pulled from over the sea the great star that was the Sun, he whispered. “And only Eternity can put a star in the heavens.” But where oh where was his granddaughter?
There was a hush upon the land, but for the birds who rose early to tune the harps in their song. The wings of the great storm were now billowy giants in the sky, its mountainous peaks lit in the purest white, the finest gold, and decorated with the most heartwarming pinks and violets. This was the throne room of Zeus, the new god born to rule over men and their chaos. But, he was nowhere to be seen. No one dare ask after his fury for answers to the questions that haunted them. Perhaps the youth, the Sun know. In his delight, and in his daylight would come an answer. For something else had come to dwell on Earth….The Unknown.
“What will become of us? What is our Fate?”
Lying in a tide pool was a scallop shell it too exhausted by the storm. But suddenly the two halves opened up to expose the deepest and blackest pearl, and all gasped. For it was blacker and deeper then the blackest night. Then it began to turn a deep blue, deeper then any blue in the depths of the sea, or in the last light of the day. Then came a song so frail and faint all things hushed but the birds in flight. Only their flapping wings could be heard, but they now went into a glide circling to hear the song like an angels. And this song put a spark in the black marble of their eyes, and it shown like a star as they now beheld one resting in the shell.
Venus my daughter, rise!” Spoke a voice from deep the cloud. And it spoke as all the drops of rain, now as one. And the earth filled with the musical quality of the rain, and the sky cleared. It was the song of all questions yet to be asked “Do you love me?”, now joined as one in the answer, as they answered the song of Venus as she grew and rose from the shell, a dutiful maiden, always with a song in her heart.
She was beautiful, in a form not unlike that of men. But hers did not boast, defy, command, but had received the best qualities that wisdom deigned to create. Her form was as reasuring and comforting to the life around her as she was when she was a star in the sky. All that beheld her beauty was well pleased, for she was as perfect a compliment one could pay to life’s majestic design.
Then Venus began to dance. She saw all things as a mirror to reflect the beauty she felt, and she reflected it back. In the motion of her form her hands imitated the waves. Leaping, she mimicked the plumes of the waves that were thrown high into the air by the rocks. Her hair was like the wings of an albatross in graceful slow-motion flight as she pranced like a horse into the water, then arching her back, she dove into its depths. Her strong tapered legs like mating porpoises raised her to the surface. Then, standing in the pristine sea she wiggled her toes like fish playing with other fish, all the time not letting go of the two halves of the shellfish that born her.
Suddenly she heard a quiet voice inside her, and looked brightly about to see what other wonders were before her.
“Oh, Daughter Star. Tell me why you hold those shells so tight, and never let them go?”
Venus looked up and beheld a sliver of moon peeking at her in the sky, and asked;
“Is it you who spoke to me and gave me a name?”
“Yes Venus I did. We are dear friends. I have cradled you since the dawn of time.”
Venus smiled at ther lofty faraway friend, and then dearly at her shells.
“I carry these shells for they are my mother and father and I care about them so very much.”
Venus closed her eye as the world sighed at her innocence. She now knew who she was talking to. It was the Dream in the Night, the dream of long ago that took her places she could not go, but somehow, she knew those places well. For the day-moon was whispering all its secrets to her, reassuring her, that life would always be a wonderful mystery.
I Chose Belle
Posted on June 3, 2022 by Royal Rosamond Press
Descent of Innana Into The Emerald Valley
Posted on September 23, 2019 by Royal Rosamond Press
When Victoria gave Miriam an Art Tour of Osborne House, she was eternally grateful for each lesson her lover gave her. After every exposure to high culture, she would give Victoria a look of total devotion. Every look may have come with a mini-climax. It was pure adoration. Starfish has a hero! When they stood before the painting of ‘The Roses of Heliogabalus – MIRIUM SHREIKED!
“There’s you! That’s you!”
“Where?”
“HERE! Right here!” and Miriam was jabbing her finger on the reclining beauty over and over – real hard!
“STOP IT!” Victoria shrieked, and grabbed Miriam’s wrist, and received a look that could kill. Victoria did not back down, or let go of Miriam’s wrist. There was a hard stare-down. Victoria was puzzled about how she could best control Miriam’s adolescent behavior that she exhibited in front of Professor John Von John. She insulted the fuck out of him. As Miriam got closer in order to examine the work of art for damage, she heard;
“I’m sorry. I will never do it again!”
Victoria came over and cupped Miriam’s cheek in her hand.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you. I love you Miriam. Now I’m going to work on my sculpture for an hour or two. Let’s have an early dinner, and work on some files in bed. We have gotten behind.”
Miriam insisted they eat on the main dining room. Heading for their room, Miriam spotted roses.
“Oh look! Someone has dropped rose petals. Let’s see where they lead!”
“Sure! You lead the way!” Victoria said, then let go a nervous burp, because her great powers of deduction already dropped a GIANT CLUE! Oh please – YOU – not there. Oh – YOU – why have thou forsaken me?”
Turning a corner, the roses made a beeline for HER bedroom.
“What’s in here?” Opening the door to Queen Victoria’s sacred bedroom – she threw it open!
“Welcome my Queen! Time for you to retire!”
There were candles and roses everywhere. Victoria’s bed was filled with rose pedals. This was the bed she died in, and it remained un-disturbed for a very long time.
Miriam began to spin around in her head. She was in a whirling vortex of rose pedals. A trap door opened beneath her, and she stared down into the bowels of hell. Getting in that bed was the most forbidden thing to do in Britain. Her Wildness had learned mothing from the tapping finger on the oil painting lecture. Now she began to take off her clothes.
Since Donald and Boris took office, Miriam and many millions of people, of class, were not the same. Reality was upended. Queen Elizabeth began to confide in Victoria, because she was so sensible, level-headed. Being a virgin really helped in Vitoria’s new Royal Brand. Then there came her bond with the Wild Woman, the Giant Nut who hopped about in Prince Albert’s oak trees. The jig was up.
Victoria began to unbutton her blouse as she worked on her design for the 27th. letter of the alphabet that defined what lies beyond the A Type personality. It was a halved swastika. The “I must always have my way ” letter was born.
Miriam put two rose wreaths on their heads replicating her favorite painting. She just had to do this, Victoria concluded, as she slipped in between the forbidden sheets. Nothing, or no one, was going to stop her. This is why she was one the greatest assasins on the planet. She was utterly inspired!
Starfish grabbed a handful of rose petals and sprinkled them on their lovely breasts that rested on the hundred year old satin. Picking up their cellphones, they summoned old business.
“O.K. I’ll go first. See this women? She was a good friend of my mother who studied acting under her. I ran into her daughter in Eugene at the Drum Circle. She was amazed when she saw me doing the Labyrinth Dance that my mother taught me. She started dancing, to show me she was taught this dance by her mother who died when she was nine! I was nine when my mother died. She told me Catherine has an archive at the UofO library. I went there and got it copyied. Here it is.
“Why didn’t you show me this earlier?” Victoria asked with a pang of jealousy.
Duh! I was very busy. My boss was chasing me around her desk trying to get sex!”
“Do you have a photo of the daughter?” Victoria asked, she ignoring the two pokes in the rib from Miriam’s elbow.
“That may not be a good idea. I can feel green-gooey jealous vibes flowing off you. She married this Monroe guy who invented a new religion. It’s a cross between Shakerism and ISSIS. He is very strict. Bell had to be home before dark.”
“Belle. Is that her name?” Victoria asked, with icy breath.
“Yes. Her mother introduced Gamelan Music to the University of Oregon.”
Miriam did have a life before she saw Victoria’s very pale blue eyes. She liked to do things – her way. She couldn’t wait to walk the streets of Eugene like her mother did. Her mother was a Hippie Vamp. She had many lovers. She was famous on 13th. When her daughter came down 13th. to the campus, she really poured it on. She was very exaggerated. Starfish wanted to make sure she left the same impression her mother did. She put in her earplugs and played her favorite song.
As fate would have it, Marilyn’s daughter, Niesha Calkins was very involved in the Gamelan at the UofO. Belle seemed oblivious. But, she hid who she was, and is. Catherine and Jeff conducted Labyrinth Dances in Eugene, to Gamelan. I understand Belle’s mother cast a long shadow. She was born to a Super Mother when she was forty-five. This is what go my full attention. I never beheld the ‘Hidden One’. Belle………inspires me!
John Presco
Eugene lost one of its most creative artists last week. Cancer stole Catherine Vandertuin from us when she was far too young. In her too-short time here, Vandertuin, the founder and artistic director of Eugene Chamber Theatre, applied enormous energy, creativity and collaboration to the innovative theater/music productions of Dust and Dreams, Antigone, The Descent of Innana and Ice Cure, the last adapted from an original manuscript. She also collaborated in various puppet and mask theater productions. Her vision was to create multi-disciplinary works that explored themes of balance and wholeness. Catherine brought Javanese gamelan music to Eugene in 1992 with the founding of Gamelan Nuju Laras, well known for accompanying labyrinth walks created by her partner, Jeff Burch. Although her theater work and family obligations eventually forced her to give up the gamelan, Catherine’s contribution continues in Nuju Laras’s successor, Gamelan Sari Pandhawa, and the 90-piece Javanese gamelan Gamelan Kyai Tunjung Mulya, whose construction she commissioned and supervised. Gamelan Kyai Tunjung Mulya was ultimately donated to the UO where it is used to teach UO students and other community members. Through her teaching at LCC, collaborations with other community artists, and irrepressibly creative spirit, Catherine made Eugene a much more artistically vital place, and her legacy will live on in the audiences she touched and the artists she taught and inspired.
John Presco
Turn down sound on first video.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Roses_of_Heliogabalus
The Royal Janitor
by
John Presco
Copyright 2019
The Royal Janitor
When Miriam beheld the people climbing the stairs to the Jordon Schnitzer Museum, she let go of Victoria’s hand, skipped across the grass, and bounded up the steps – four at a time! Her entrance was like Nureyev flying across the stage. She was an escapee from Botticelli’s Primavera. People gasped! They thought she was part of a show. She was the star ballerina and the Constantine Christian Nudist Camp where she was homeschooled. This was her first encounter with an institution of higher learning.
Espying a group of people before a painting down the hall, she was upon them in seven giant steps. Her long arms reached in, and pushed them aside. There was some complaints. But, when they turned to see a goddess with roses in her hair, and with eyes the color of the sea, they parted as she zeroed in.
Everyone’s mouths were now open, like hers was open. They were seeing this painting for the first time through Myriam’s eyes. She came closer. Her long neck was craned, as she made a figure eight with her head. Now she turned sideways, and starting in the lower left corner she moved her eye across the image, slowly, till she reached the up left corner. Bending down again, she moved even closer, and ran her right eye along the work. People were astonished with her. It was a magnificent ballet. Her long arms moved her hands just above the surface as if she was taking the painting in through some kind of osmosis.
“Oh my God! There is a Möbius circle in here – and PI! How did he do this? First he is the self, then he is the audience. He goes into a total intuitive state, does a loop over, then dips down into the subconscious. Now he is walking on the dark side of the moon. There is no hope for his return. His work is surrendered to a higher power who ingnites a spark of divine inspiration! Alas, he bursts forth in The finishing!………It is Finns!
Myriam turns to face her audience. Her blue-green eyes fill with a look of astonishment.
“He is……Co-Creator!”
Around twelve people – burst out in applause!
“How wonderful!”
“I never realized this before!”
“What beauty!”
“She is – so right!”
Like a panther, she left this work and stalked off looking for another. The people moved in a fill the void. They soaked up the energy Myriam left behind. Their eyes had been opened.
Victoria watched her amazing friend, her head was above the rest, as she gazed around from the top of the mountain she had just climbed.
“Come Starfish. We are late!”
Moving into a large room, they got their first look at Mr. von Bond. There was a long leather seat with six people sitting before their Master. Myraim crept up on the seat, pushed two people aside, then sat smack dab in the middle, up front, not but fifteen feet of the old wizard that reminded Myriam of the Russian Saint Nicholas. John was going to give her something valuable – for free! She dared not move lest she be disqualified, deprived of this blessing.
John, was completely unnerved. He had to blink several times, because it was like looking at a photograph, a still life, a breathing portrait, that did not move an inch! This beautiful creature had roses in her hair. She was so completely, so utterly, receptive. And, she was more than wide awake. There was an awaking going on inside her. John von Bond, felt like a work of art. He was, her masterpiece. She, had found him.
da Vinci Film Festival
Festival
Festival presentation:
A film festival to celebrate the joining of art, science and technology in the spirit of Leonardo da Vinci. Held each year in Corvallis, Oregon (USA), the festival accepts films in feature, short, documentary, and young filmmaker categories. The festival also awards the ‘Spirit of da Vinci’ prize to the film that best captures the relationship between art and technology. The festival began in 2000 and has continued to grow each year.
Corvallis, Oregon is the home of Oregon State University, ranked among the top engineering and science schools in the United States. Corvallis is also the location of a major research and development facility for Hewlett-Packard. The audiences of the da Vinci festival appreciate great independent film and the filmmakers who contribute to the art. Visit us at http://www.davincifilmfest.org
Festival Nickname:
da Vinci Film Festival
Festival Logo:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Roses_of_Heliogabalus
http://paradise7.hubpages.com/hub/Rosamunds-Labyrinth
https://www.filmfestivals.com/festival/da_vinci_film_festival
This is the tale of Rosamund’s Labyrinth, a tale of love, jealousy, hatred; a tale whose truth is lost in the mists of time. What we have are myths, legends, songs and stories, passed down by word of mouth, from that medieval time.
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2013/04/18/the-maze-and-grail-at-blenheim-palace/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2013/02/07/rosamond-and-diana-at-blenheim-palace/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2013/01/04/house-of-bourbon-in-pans-labyrinth/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/09/07/carroll-and-rosamond-in-labyrinth/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2013/12/29/the-rose-and-matrix-of-the-world/
Hannahannah (from Hittite hanna- “grandmother”) is a Hurrian Mother Goddess related to or influenced by the pre-Sumerian goddess Inanna, although the similarity in name to the Biblical Hannah, mother of Samuel (according to 1 Kings); the Canaanite Anat, and the Christian Saint Anne are coincidental, the name Hannah in Hebrew having a different etymology deriving from a native root. Hannahannah was also identified with the Hurrian goddess Hebat.
Christopher Siren reports that Hannahannah is associated with the Gulses.
Eugene lost one of its most creative artists last week. Cancer stole Catherine Vandertuin from us when she was far too young. In her too-short time here, Vandertuin, the founder and artistic director of Eugene Chamber Theatre, applied enormous energy, creativity and collaboration to the innovative theater/music productions of Dust and Dreams, Antigone, The Descent of Innana and Ice Cure, the last adapted from an original manuscript. She also collaborated in various puppet and mask theater productions. Her vision was to create multi-disciplinary works that explored themes of balance and wholeness. Catherine brought Javanese gamelan music to Eugene in 1992 with the founding of Gamelan Nuju Laras, well known for accompanying labyrinth walks created by her partner, Jeff Burch. Although her theater work and family obligations eventually forced her to give up the gamelan, Catherine’s contribution continues in Nuju Laras’s successor, Gamelan Sari Pandhawa, and the 90-piece Javanese gamelan Gamelan Kyai Tunjung Mulya, whose construction she commissioned and supervised. Gamelan Kyai Tunjung Mulya was ultimately donated to the UO where it is used to teach UO students and other community members. Through her teaching at LCC, collaborations with other community artists, and irrepressibly creative spirit, Catherine made Eugene a much more artistically vital place, and her legacy will live on in the audiences she touched and the artists she taught and inspired.
The Sacred Labyrinth Walk, Illuminating the Inner Path, is the ancient practice of “Circling to the Center” by walking the labyrinth. The rediscovery of this self alignment tool to put our lives in perspective is one of the most important spiritual movements of our day. Labyrinths have been in use for over 4000 years. Their basic design is fundamental to nature and many cultures and religious traditions. Whatever one’s religion…walking the labyrinth clears the mind and gives insight. It calms people in the throes of life’s transitions.
Georgiana Lotfy, Licensed Marriage, Family Therapist, Doctor of Ministry, has facilitated labyrinth and meditation presentations for several years. She can be reached at healyourlove.com
We extend an invitation to people from all faiths, especially those who are in transition and/or are struggling to find a means of prayer or meditation.
Join us as you learn about this ancient meditation tool of prayer, as we become “spiritual beings on a human path, not simply human beings on a spiritual path.”
History
Bernadette Gaire performs a sacred dance on 36 foot canvas labyrinth People, formal cultures, and traditions have used the spiral and labyrinth designs as a symbol of their search for meaning and guidance. The labyrinth is a “unicursal” or one path design – there are no tricks or decisions to be made – much as the surrender to walking a sacred spiritual path in life – our only decision is to choose spirit/God and surrender to divine guidance. The labyrinth is non -denominational . People of all faiths and people longing to re-connect to faith come to walk labyrinths. “I found peace and a sense of God’s presence that I had not experienced since childhood,” responds a labyrinth walker.
Some of the earliest forms of labyrinths are found in Greece, dating back to 2500-2000 B.C.E. This labyrinth is called the Cretan labyrinth or classical seven-circuit labyrinth. So much a part of the fabric of this early society was the labyrinth, that it was embossed on coins and pottery. Early Christian labyrinths date back to 4th century, a basilica in Algeria. The Chartres design labyrinth is a replica of the labyrinth laid into the cathedral floor at Chartres, France in the thirteenth century. The Chartres design is a classical eleven-circuit labyrinth (eleven concentric circles) with the twelfth being in the center of the labyrinth.
One walks a labyrinth by stepping into the entrance and putting one foot in front of the other. After traveling through all the paths and windings, the walker comes into the center – the six – petal rosette, after a time there, the walker returns out to cover the same path out as in. Total travel is approximately one third mile, depending on the size of the labyrinth. The Chartress Cathedral Labyrinth is 42′ in diameter. My portable labyrinth is 35′ wide.
Guidelines
Walking the labyrinth on New Year’s Eve at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Long Beach, CaliforniaThere is no “right” or “wrong” way to walk a labyrinth. I ask and aid walkers at my workshops by stating “quiet the mind, open the heart”. Because you are walking, the mind is quieted. Labyrinth walks are sometimes referred to as “body prayer” or walking meditation. I suggest that people may want to see the walk as three parts to a whole experience – but I recognize many go through the walk and these parts at different stages.
The entrance can be a place to stop, reflect, make prayer or intention for the spiritual walk you are about to take. The walk around the design to the center can be a “letting go” – a quieting of the thoughts, worries, lists of tasks to do, a letting go unto the experience of being present in the body. Arrival at the center rosette – a place of prayer/meditation – “letting in” Gods guidance, the divine into our lives. When ready, the walk out “letting out” takes us back into our lives, empowered by spirit to transform our lives and actions.
In many ways, I see the labyrinth as a call to action, a transformation spiritual tool for people. It can aid healing, help in releasing grief, (people often shed tears during the “letting go”), help guide through troubled times, aid in decision making, illuminate our purpose in life, and act as a tool of celebration and thanks. I have seen it be many things for many people. It is important to recognize it as a spiritual practice, not a magical tool. Its work is our commitment to enter into the sacred spiritual walk, not merely once, but to use it as part of an ongoing spiritual practice.
The vision of the world-wide Labyrinth Project is to establish labyrinths in cathedrals, retreat centers, hospitals, prisons, parks, airports, and community centers so they are available to walk in times of joy, in times of sorrow and when we are seeking hope.
Jeffrey Burch practices Rolfing® in Eugene and Portland, Oregon. He specializes in Rolfing® structural integration, visceral manipulation, cranial manipulation, and Upledger CranioSacral Therapy. Jeffrey has utilized these techniques to provide treatment for chronic pain carpal tunnel, TMJ, and many other conditions.
Fascia, dura, peritoneum, pleura, ligaments, and other forms of connective tissue are manipulated to reduce the effects of contractures and adhesions. Restricted motion, alignment problems, and pain are alleviated. Energy cysts and other energetic effects of physical and emotional trauma are detected and released. These modalities are often described as complimentary or alternative health care or medicine.
Jeffrey leads study groups, teaches continuing education classes, and offers mentorship in Portland and Eugene, Oregon. Oregon License #9092
http://www.jeffreyburch.com/home/jb1/search?keywords=pain
Merritt – Sedgwick – Coakley
Posted on August 12, 2012 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Sedgwick family married into the Samuel Merritt family a mayor of Oakland who made Lake Merritt where Bill Arnold and I spent most of our time, he living a block away on Athol. Kay Coakley befriended the Presco children, she the daughter of J. Francis Coakley, Oakland’s famous DA who went after Mario Savio and the Free Speech Movement, Huey Newton and the Black Panthers, as well as bootleggers and prostitutes in Emeryville. I believe Coakley kept Rosemary out of jail after she was busted for making porno movies for Big Bones Remmer. The Coakleys claim they descend from Fair Rosamond.
Kay had a huge landscap of Lake Merritt in her dining room that should have been in a museum. Rosemary told her children the Coakley family owned allot of property around this lake.
J. Frank Coakley
James Francis Coakley was born and raised in Oakland, California, and educated at St. Mary’s College, Stanford University, and Boalt Hall law school of the University of California at Berkeley. In later years he taught law at both Boalt Hall and St. Mary’s.
Frank joined the Alameda County prosecutor’s staff on February 21, 1923, as a deputy district attorney, following his graduation from Boalt Hall. He served under three predecessors: Ezra Decoto, Earl Warren and Ralph Hoyt. Under Warren, Frank served as assistant head of the Criminal Division. Later, under Hoyt, he served as chief assistant.
Having served in the U.S. Navy during World War I, participating in the expedition to Vladivostok, Frank was recalled to active duty during World War II as a Commander in the U.S. Navy’s Judge Advocate General service, serving as chief prosecutor for court martial cases in the 12th Naval District. Following the war, Frank briefly entered private practice with his brother, Thomas, who later became a Superior Court judge in Mariposa County. That interlude was short-lived, as Ralph Hoyt soon decided to move on to the bench himself. Frank was called to take over for Hoyt immediately. Although Frank had discovered private practice to be more lucrative, he knew his heart was with the Alameda County District Attorney’s Office, and that was where he belonged.
By ERIKA D. SMITHCOLUMNIST MARCH 27, 2021 6 AM PT
The last time I spoke with former guaranteed income guru Michael Tubbs, he was excitedly explaining just how many cities in how many states were clamoring to give a few hundred bucks a month to a few hundred of their residents — no strings attached.
“We’re probably at like 20 to 25 states now,” said the former mayor of Stockton and co-founder of Mayors for a Guaranteed Income. “I’ve got to find some mayors in Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming.”
Indeed, the announcements about new guaranteed income programs have become almost routine, especially in California, where about half a dozen cities have adopted them. Marin County is the latest.
But there is nothing routine about what Oakland just announced.ADVERTISING
On Tuesday, Mayor Libby Schaaf, flanked virtually by Tubbs, said that her Bay Area city would soon start giving out $500 a month to 600 residents for at least 18 months.
Like a lot of cities, the recipients must be poor and have at least one child to qualify. Specifically, they must have an annual household income of no more than $59,000 for a family of three — or roughly 50% of the median income — and half of the recipients will be selected from households that pull in less than $30,000 a year.
San Francisco to give $1,000 a month to artists in basic income program
March 26, 2021
But unlike a lot of cities, the recipients also must be Black, Indigenous or otherwise identify as a person of color to qualify.
My Wrong Daughter
Posted on February 23, 2020 by Royal Rosamond Press
Last night I read I am going to be a grandfather again in seven weeks. After I posted my Bling-Bling poem, I looked at Heather’s page. I had concluded I will never see my granddaughter, because three women can’t admit a great mistake and injustice occurred when Patrice Hanson decided the solution to her problems – was not to tell me I am going to be a father – and tell her husband, a famous con-artist and ex-con, he is the father! Sure! Why not? Works every time. Where are the Family Values?
Look at the photo of me above…One minute I am arguing with Sir Knight William Arney, and, Grail Priest, Sir Ian Sinclair, over a Holy Bloodline, then, I am the Father-Grandfather of a linage I never dreamed I would have.
To further complicate the Hanson Problem, my daughter has a child by a young man who is not ready to grow up, and wants my daughter to have an abortion. I was not consulted, because, my daughter’s mother disappeared her daughter for two years, so she could be in Rosamond’s bio. This was THE SOLUTION before OUR daughter came out of A WOMB! I don’t have a womb. I am not a famous artist. Once again my daughter writes me out of her life – to make it work for her, her mother – and aunt Linda! Dead Rosamond would have been a member of The Women Empowerment Circle, if she hadn’t died! How wonderful! Everyone is so perfect. I did not need to bond with my child because I am utterly worthless, a complete failure. Do you think my grandson sees me this way?
For awhile I was the Man With Many Hats. I was a father – alas! I asked Patrice to marry me! I was the surrogate father of Patrice’s grandson. I was a grandfather! And….I FAILED!
I understood it was going to be very difficult for Heather to hear that her mother was a trouble-maker, who took me out of her life. Today, I learned Heather’s mom, and her aunt, are going to hold a open forum on matters that really do concern me. Total strangers are allowed to join in on The Family Discussion – for a fee!
I applaud Heather doing EVERYONE’S FIRST STEP! When are we going to hear Aunt Linda admit she made mistakes in regards to my grandson’s up-bringing and real crisis he has been in – since he was born!
When I went to Santa Rosa, Heather, Ryan, and Tyler, went out to eat. From the baby carrier came a right-cross that landed on his father’s chin, who said;
“I hate when he does that!”
The great grandson of Wolf Larsen has entered the ring! Tyler gave me a good punch to the heart when I tried to lift him off the tractor at the zoo! Who thinks THE FATHER DNA LINEAGE…matters! Who thinks the opinions of total strangers (and perhaps total losers) MATTERS?
I think this is a good start! I could be wrong – again!
If I am not included in the birth of my granddaughter, then I am going to turn to Margaret Starbird, and her million followers to raise Lily-Rose (my choice for a name) on The High Feminine Plane. Last night I read on facebook,my friends concern for the rebuilding of Notre Dame
John Presco
Heather Hanson Healing Empowerment Coach
“Today’s Wall Street Journal (Review section) had an article about the architect who is reconstructing Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Apparently they have never been able to determine the cause of the fire that broke out during an evening Mass on the Monday of Holy Week, during the Gospel reading from John 12, the anointing of Jesus at the banquet in Bethany by Mary, the sister of Lazarus (aka Mary Magdalene)”.
“This is probably the most vulnerable post to date but it is time to peal back this layer of pain and so I am just going to put it out there.
My teenage son is mirroring back to me all the years of unconscious parenting I did while living in survival mode. I failed to take the time to really listen to my heart as I rushed around trying to find love, success, and happiness outside myself.
I was often in a reactive state and fear was my dominant emotion.
If my son was angry, sad, or mad I would match his emotion and guilt him for making me feel this way.
There was no rime or reason to my approach to discipline. It was either non existent because I was to exhausted to do anything or I would explode and scare him into obeying me.
Rosamond Press 
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