The Ninja Steed!

The Ninja Steed has resurrected!!!!! Fresh paint and art and all the goodness and Happy vibes, thank you mister Happy (James Kuhn )for this fabulous expression of the BlissNinja creed 🔥🌟🃏🌟🔥

Happy had some of my ai art with Frankie the opossum etc printed into vinyl and adhered to car, and it’s so fun!!!!! Along with my business logo and the artspace logo and other amazingness.

It looks nice and colorful and fun outside of The Art Space on 211!!!!!!!!!!

Whoot Whoot!!!!!

A woman free

Charlene, also spelled Charleen and Charlyne, is a feminine given name, a feminine form of Charles coined in the United States in the nineteenth century; from French Charles, from Old French Charles & Carles, from the Latin Carolus, from and also reinfluenced by Old High German Karl, from the Proto-Germanic *karlaz (lit. “Free Man”/”Free Spirit”/Free Thinker); compare the Old English word churl and the Old German Kerl.
Meaning
Free Woman, Free Spirit, Free Thinker

Self Portrait~ Charleen Johnston 5-28-24

THE SONG OF A WOMAN FREE 

I am a woman free. My song
Flows from my soul with pure and joyful strength.
It shall be heard through all the noise of things —
A song of joy where songs of joy were not.
My sister singers, singing in the past,
Sang songs of melody but not of joy —
For woman's name was Sorrow, and the slave
Is never joyful tho he smiles.
I am a woman free. Too long
I was held captive in the dust. Too long
My soul was surfeited with toil or ease
And rotted as the plaything of a slave.
I am a woman free at last
After the crumbling centuries of time.
Free to achieve and understand ;
Free to become and live.

I am a woman free. With face
Turned toward the sun, I am advancing
Toward love that is not lust,
Toward work that is not pain.
Toward home which is the world,
Toward motherhood which is not forced,
And toward the man who also must be free.

With face turned toward the sun,
Strong and radiant-limbed,
I advance, singing,
And my song is as free
As the soul from which it flows.
I advance toward that which is, but was not;
Toward that which is not, but is yet to be.

I, the free woman, advance singing,
And with face turned toward the sun.
Let Ignorance and Tyranny
Tremble at the sound of my feet.
I am a woman free.

Singing the song of joy,
Strong and radiant-limbed,
I advance toward the work which waits for me,
The joyful work out in my home the world ;
And toward the man who is my mate.
Oh I am strong and magnetic —
I have not wasted myself in sensuality;
And equally strong and magnetic
Is the man who is my mate.

For the glory of Motherhood
I have conserved my strength.
And for the glory of Fatherhood
He has conserved his strength.
I have passed by the lovers
Who passionately called to me in the name of love,
But whose lips were only hot with lust.
I have remained true to my own soul
And to the souls which are enfolded within me •
And no man shall mingle his body with mine
Who is not pure.

I am the free woman,
No longer a slave to man,
Or anything in all the universe —
Not even to myself.

I am the free woman.
I hold and seek that which is mine :
Strength is mine and purity;
World work and cosmic love;

The glory and the joy of Motherhood.
I am not strong and clean for myself alone,
But for all people ;
My work and my love are for all people ;
And I shall not be the mother of one child,
But of all children —
For I myself am the daughter
Of all women and all men.
Oh I am free ! My song
Flows from my soul with pure and joyful strength ;
It shall be heard thru all the noise of things —
A song of joy where songs of joy were not.

Oh I am free ! I thrill
With radiant life and gladness.
I advance toward all that waits for me.
I chant the song of Freedom as I go.
My face is toward the sun,
My soul is toward the light,
My feet arc turned toward all that waits for me.
I advance! I advance!
Let Ignorance and Tyranny
Tremble at the sound of my song!

~Ruth Le Prade

Wearing the Masks of my past and glaring at the mirror til they see me

BlissNinja ai generated art

 There is really nothing more to say when we come back to that beginning of all beginnings that is nothing at all. Only when you begin to lose the Alpha or Omega do you want to start to talk and to write, and then there is no end to it, words, words, words. At best and most they are perhaps in memoriam, evocations, conjurations, incantations, emanations, shimmering, iridescent flares in the sky of darkness, a just still feasible tact, indiscretions, perhaps forgivable….

City lights at night, from the air, receding, like these words, atoms each containing its own world and every other world. Each a fuse to set you off…

 If I could turn you on, if I could drive you out of your wretched mind, if I could tell you I would let you know.

RD Laing ‘Bird of Paradise’

Back and forth Ive gone, trying to decide which framework to use to tell my story, to evoke my past selves, to conjure the spirits of my composted dead….the spells of words, words, words to wrangle language into incantation and summon sensation from the tangled threads. Best to start from the beginning, so there is proper context for the cycles and patterns. My intention is to psychologically and astrologically deep-dive through the mythic landscapes of my narrative, as well as using Dreams and other dimensional experiences…..and journals and poetry that span my life…….creating a Quantum Astropsychography. 

This is really an extended Uranus opposition Ritual, a systematic series of inner journeys into the deeply buried memories that are tangled up in the fascia of my body and in deep underground psychic gulag that holds soul shards, waiting for my return and to be released from their Prizm Cells. 18 months approximately of transits that will shake up the structures of my life and ego once again, so that I can be patchworked back together in a more meaningful way, ready to start the next leg of my journey of embodiment here. I must let go of it all. Surrender the moments and mysteries and experiences that have sculpted me. And start anew, as a sovereign Self in the playground…..ready to create and to embrace all that Life asks of me in this new reality (with its ever-more-shaky foundation). Pluto into aquarius, is bringing the reflection of a way of life that will rapidly become unrecognizable. My sons descendant is 2′ aquarius and his 5 planet stellium in early aquarius opposing natal saturn has me open-eyed waiting for what magic and transformation he will undergo over the next decade. He just turned 18. I cant help but be nervous, knowing all too well the many plutonic crisis’ that define my own life journey. And wondering what sort of games the lord of the underworld has in store.

BlissNinja ai generated art
I have watched sons
Claim
Their names beneath
The sun,
I have seen the same
Done
To me,
I have been a child
I have been a whore
I have been a maniac
Knocking on gods door,
And in the neon
The glow
The bliss that sometimes
We know
I have melted like
Wax
And my heart has
Dripped right
Through
The cracks in your
Floor.

Charleen Johnston 2004

The politics of experience

BlissNinja ai generated art

“As adults, we have forgotten most of our childhood, not only its contents but its flavor; as men of the world, we hardly know of the existence of the inner world” we barely remember our dreams, and make little sense of them when we do; as for our bodies, we retain just sufficient proprioceptive sensations to coordinate our movements and to ensure the minimal requirements for biosocial survival- to register fatigue , signals for food, sex, defecation, sleep; beyond that, little or nothing. Our capacity to think, except in the service of what we are dangerously deluded in supposing is our self-interest and in conformity with common sense, is pitifully limited: our capacity even to see, hear, touch, taste, and smell is so shrouded in veils of mystification that an intensive discipline of unlearning is necessary for anyone before one can begin to experience the world afresh, with innocence, truth and love.”

RD Laing ‘the politics of experience’

Many years ago when I was about 21 I discovered RD Laing ‘The Divided Self’ , which was one of many valuable books I read that helped me be comfortable with my psychological state and the way I navigated the world. Recently I picked up his book ‘The Politics of Experience’ and within the first chapter he brilliantly articulates what became obvious to me way back as a teenager. But on the eve of starting the deep dive into my own life via autobiographical storytelling, and the eve of my sons 18th birthday, I read some passages that really capture my reasons for making the decisions Ive made in my own childrearing and in all aspects of my life. Early on I saw the truth of the above quotation, and I vowed never to be the ‘normal man’. Ever since I can remember, my first memories are realizations that I was ‘mad’ and not like the creatures around me. As I got a little older, the fact of madness haunted me. Just beyond the curtain of everyday life, the Madwomans Whisper called to me, beckoning me to follow into realms little understood, and which excited me, yet also left me vulnerable to the alienation of the common crowd. And instead of cowering in the face of madness, I have done my best to live out my truth in defiance of the mediocrity of modern expression. Ive raised my son to be a sovereign individual willing and able to step away from the consensus, with confidence in acting in a manner far from the ‘maddening crowd’.

BlissNinja ai generated art

“What we call “Normal” is a product of repression, denial, splitting, projection, introjection, and other forms of destructive action on experience. ..It is radically estranged from the structure of Being.

The more one sees this, the more senseless it is to continue with generalized descriptions of supposedly specifically schizoid, schizophrenic, hysterical ‘mechanisms’.

There are forms of alienation that are relatively starnge to statiscially ‘normal’ forms of alienation. The ‘normally’ alienated person, by reason of the fact that he acts more or less like everyone else, is taken to be sane. Other forms of alienation that are out of step with the prevailing stage of alienation are those that are labeled by the ‘ normal’ majority as bad or mad.

The condition of alienation, of being asleep, of being unconscious, of being out of one’s mind, is the condition of the normal man’.

Society highly values its normal man. It educates its children to lose themselves and to become absurd, and thus to be normal.

Normal men have killed perhaps 100,000,000 of their fellow normal men in the last fifty years.

Our behavior is a function of our experience. We act according to the way we see things.

If our experience is destroyed, our behavior will be destructive.

If our experience is destroyed, we have lost our own selves.”

RD Laing ‘the politics of experience’

How we experience ourselves and the world around us, including other beings, shapes how we act and how we think and how we create structures to contain our lifeforce. Our experience has been intentionally manipulated. The fog of delusion that humanity lives within is imperceptible to the average person, except through the vague feeling-sense of what is missing. In performing a ‘retrospective’ of my life, up to this point, at 43 years old, I intend to do soul retrieval to all those sparks of Life and Self that are trapped in the psychic gulag of my hologenetic Body of Experience. The act of re-entering these spaces, to free these selves, and to articulate and tell the story of my own Mythological existence, is to do my part in reMembering Wholeness. It is my Gift to the larger Body that I exist within, to tell my story and to untangle the knots of energy that bind my power to old dreams and dramas and to deliver my own Self as the birth pains of Sovereignty make any other life impossible. Theres no way out but in. Into the Body, into the Cellves, into the tIssues and into the Fascia which is the crystalline template holding the seed.

Wakings that come like Storms

There are some Wakings that come like storms
Electro-swarms in magnetic forms
Dancing
On the tips of Hathor’s Horns
The Temple Priestess
ReBorn
WideEyed and Me-oh-my
How Time Flies inside the Mind
Wandering Womb
releasing
Blind sides of Ancient crimes
Buried within these patient Tombs
There are some Wakings that scream like pain
Neurolinguistic nails impaled in veins
Bleeding
And Seeding Stories in silent Shame
The Holy Harlot
Risen
OpenHearted as freedom Parts
The Seas of Self and Dwells in the Art
Of Body’s Bliss
Burning
The rotting dross from the Fixed Cross
As the Flame is taught to rekindle the Kiss
As Magdalenes Grail
Returns
Opens the Urn
Blood flooding in rivers of nerves
As the Impaled Heart
And Mind
Are Healed and Heard….
The Chironic Wound sutured
With the Salve of Spoken Words
As Pluto and Venus
Sharing the Shroud
Awake and merge….
Heiros Gamos
Blessed and Bound
In Sacred Sound
Dance
In Red Velvet
Underground
As
New Life
Stirs.

Charleen Johnston
11-25-21

Daimons Embrace

In the in Between 
Before the dream
Overtook me...
That effervescent beam
that clings
Like dew to my
Mindscreen
After the dark night has risen
Like yeast inside of me
Shone Daimonic face
The trickster dressed in lace
And leather
And choking on feathers
From my Flock
Mocked me
Pointed to the clock
And shook me from complacency
The Red Tale of Fires embrace
Rose like dawn
And threatened my Face
With scabs of disGrace
from legions
Spawn
Fighting for ascendancy
As I silenced the grim
Grip
Of their insistent
Whims
And kept right on
The same old track
Of dependency
Ignoring the tortured truth
That swarmed my limbs
And swore to remain imprisoned
Within...
Spoken to me in a cross
Between
Whisper and Scream
As I lay
Trapped in stasis
Peering at faces
Whose skin
peeled like panic
From the ancient Dream...
...Worry of whether
I'm worthy of the flame
Grateful for the shocks
And the shards and the pain
That lodge within
The neural Stains
And strains of my heaving Heart...
"Stop Showing off...
And Make Real Art"
....and in a flash
The great Rash of
Impulsive Inaction
Flickered in the Smile
Of the Vixen who agreed
To stop feeding
On my flesh
If I vowed
To rise from the bowels
Of this Blessed Test
Of Will
And say Goodbye
To Patterns that Shatter
The Sanctity of Time
Trapped within loops
Of Mind...
As I Bleed within
Mother Matter in
Fractal Flowers that Unfold
In Sacred Sines.

Charleen Johnston
10-2-21

Bond of Breath

Photo by me/Charleen Johnston. Models Reese Miller & Drea Bleu Good-Brown
A counterBalance ...perhaps....
When the chasm beckons
And the perilous chapel
Seeks it's reckoning
Thru maladies and maniacal
Mishaps
That overlap Present & Past Times
That threaten to Bind
Tight
The blind spots with tangled knots
In games of Daimonic power
Buried
In unfolding fractal flowers
Of 'Sight
Or
Blind DeLight '
As the shattered Tower
Falls
And Offers its gift

A suture to bridge the rift

Shall i Fly from this precipice
Or fall to my Death
As the urge to transcend
The Bond of Breath

Charleen Johnston
9-30-21

Shiva & Shakti

Time and Space are not different but constitute the active and passive, the expressive and receptive, the electrical and magnetic aspects of the same reality. Time consists of currents in space and space forms the background and latent energy of time.

S p a c e. I n. M o t i o n. I s t i m e & t i m e a t r e s t
I s. S p a c e.
In this regard, Space is eternal and time is unbounded.

Space consists of sound or vibration which is the Seed of Time. From that time-space vibration all mantras abide as the root ideas of the Cosmic Mind. Sound upholds Space and imparts meaning to all existence. Sound creates Time as the basic movement of the breath. From the unmanifest sound of space arises the manifest sound of air, which is the movement of space. Out of the sounds of air all other sounds are created. The mind has its own special space that holds all words, sound and meaning.

~David Frawley
The Movement of Space is the dance of the cosmic air or Vayu, from which the breath or Prana of Shiva arises. The Breath of Shiva creates time, which is transformational movement in space. The Mind is our inner Space in which our own life-energy moves. Yet air and Prana as the movement of space are also Time. They create their own times and the lifetimes of both all creations and all worlds.

Prana, Pranava, Akasha, and Kala or primordial life energy, sound, space, and time are ultimately one and intimately related as powers of consciousness. Each is a manifestation of the other. Each is contained within the other. And through mastering one, the others can be mastered. Time is a manifestation of space and carries the energy of Prana or the Universal life. Time is the divine word or Pranava that directs the destinies and karmas of all creatures and all worlds. The energies of Time, Sound, and Prana are but the vibrations of Spacebsnd one with it.

David Frawley
The Power of Time ( Kala Shakti) is the Goddess Kali, who is the power of action ( Kriya Shakti) in the universe bringing about the full unfoldment of the cosmic dance of Shiva. The original power of action does not simply promote any type of activity but energizes the evolution of consciousness. Kali is also the Prana Shakti as the power of eternal life that overcomes all death and limitation.

Kali is Shivas own Shakti or the power of Shiva in his own nature, his ability to be himself. Kali is ultimately the timeless presence of the supreme space of Being into which everything is dissolved.

~David Frawley
Shiva as eternal time is the energy that dances on the stage of Shiva that is infinite space. Time is the movement of Space, the waves formed on the ocean of space, which is the dance of Shiva. The dance of time is Shivas fiery dance of dissolution, his Tandeva or dance of thunder, high also has its power to create, preserve and transform, as well as to ripen and mature.

~David Frawley

Some Wakings come like Storms

There are some Wakings that come like storms
Electro-swarms in magnetic forms
Dancing
On the tips of Hathor’s Horns
The Temple Priestess
ReBorn
WideEyed and Me-oh-my
How Time Flies inside the Mind
Wandering Womb
releasing
Blind sides of Ancient crimes
Buried within these patient Tombs
There are some Wakings that scream like pain
Neurolinguistic nails impaled in veins
Bleeding
And Seeding Stories in silent Shame
The Holy Harlot
Risen
OpenHearted as freedom Parts
The Seas of Self and Dwells in the Art
Of Body’s Bliss
Burning
The rotting dross from the Fixed Cross
As the Flame is taught to rekindle the Kiss
As Magdalenes Grail
Returns
Opens the Urn
Blood flooding in rivers of nerves
As the Impaled Heart
And Mind
Are Healed and Heard….
The Chironic Wound sutured
With the Salve of Spoken Words
As Pluto and Venus
Sharing the Shroud
Awake and merge….
Heiros Gamos
Blessed and Bound
In Sacred Sound
Dance
In Red Velvet
Underground
As
New Life
Stirs.

11-25-21