Masters of Zen

On Mogul 

 © Susan Marie

I sit,
perched
like the starlings,
stoic marble,
mottled black and grey,
like a charcoal sketch
drawn by the hands
of one enlightened.

I watch them
diving like kamikazes,
in the frigid winter breath,
pecking at bread,
grateful for crumbs,
their beaks, mighty
their eyes, knowing
they move swift.

- Masters of Zen,
on my balcony -

They have no concerns
for this dying human world,
they teach me
that mindfulness
is a state of existence,
that instinct
outweighs thought,
that I, this fragile human shell
am capable
of flight.

Their wings sound
and resound
right above my head,
standing in
this frigid wind,
grateful for breath,
for the constant beat
of my own heart,
for the wonder
that has been gifted to me
to be able to see

beyond.

Black Elephant - A Literary Journal

 © Black Elephant

Seriously humbled to have my photography
focused on elements
published in
Black Elephant - A Literary Journal's
Color Print Book!

Please check out the trailer here:
https://vimeo.com/200085840

Color Issue Trailer from Black Elephant on Vimeo.



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Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr

​

This single human being brought us passive resistance and nonviolent communication.

​

I will eternally look up to him and hope to become even a quarter of the spirit of this man.



​

Please watch his last speech HERE

  "So I'm happy tonight, I'm not worried about anything, I'm not fearing any man!" 

​

Extremely inspirational, courageous and powerful.

May more of us not follow in his footsteps, but take what he taught us and go that much further.

God Bless you, Martin.

Peace. 

Photo © and courtesy of CNN, IU, Reg Lancaster, Flip Schulke

The End … Of The Beginning.

On Rebelle Society

{source}

“… and then I stumbled into this strange hour. Winter’s fierce breath blushing my cheeks with drifts of waterfalls, white.

The sky, she cried thunder, birthing a new world. With each screech of wind, I witnessed flurries of souls escaping this plane, one by one. Thrown backwards, deafened by the sound, my sternum caved inwards, an acute gunshot swift to my cardiac plexus, Mercury falling…”

Today, I awake with immense recognition of self and everything around, above, beneath, beside, and within me. Angelic artists kindly lifted their wings, slight, brushes delicate, dipping fine threads of horse-hairs into oils and acrylics.

Colors I have never viewed with these eyes, human, and painted each lobe of my brain with alchemy.

Today, I am more aware than I have ever been. I awake with a renewed sense of existence, yet there is heaviness in my heart, for in this slightly inhuman recognition there comes a leaden sort of responsibility.

It does not sweep upon me as loneliness of spirit, or self, but a general comprehension of how absolutely integral every single soul is here, on Earth.

I choose my words carefully out of respect for the seed planted within me before birth. My actions are intense and directed, yet intuitive. I am a Great Spotted Owl perched upon a new dawn, pregnant, dragging herself across the skyline. The scent of prey nearby, I sit and wait.

When the darkness of sweet eve lifts her velvet veil, I feed on the delicate intricacy of this utterly indescribable role as a spiritual being, wide-awake and listening. Every sound, an explosion. Every sight, paradise. Every thought, an equation, and every beat of my heart, fully, oh-so-purely and effortlessly, human.
I wish to be among the clouds, the wind upon my face, I am a conduit, my palms raised in supplication and gratefulness, simultaneous. I understand, and in understanding there is weight. A most divine weight.

Understanding is not difficult, being human is hard.

In my solitude, I am not alone. My thoughts are spectrums, no words but images at the speed of light zinging through galaxies of neurotransmitters like raindrops that fall from the eye of heaven. Each drop stampedes through my head like thoroughbreds.

I hear their hooves clamping down upon my nerve endings, causing pain in my right lobe and cervical spine.
I meditate here, now, and ask the Universe to give to me what is truly in my heart. Those who understand gift me, and I, myself, am gifted in knowing. Yet I wish to concede and sleep. A slumber of all slumbers. One of princesses and kings.

The drone of an airplane overhead yanks me, disturbingly, out of my reverie. The utter peace of simply being. A place where my diaphragm is fully relaxed, each chakra apparent in my line of sight, and the gardens blooming within me are majestic centers of energy, flowing and giving, receiving and attuning, constantly.

I stand naked, bearing nothing but self, and offer my feeble human soul to the season. Faced against the harsh wind, I am so utterly alive. Nature soothes me within her embraces, ever changing, ever growing. This is home, here with her, and I look behind me and am trapped between two worlds.

The one before me, brazen natural landscapes, and the one behind me, the shelter from whence I came.

I hesitate, one foot outside and one indoors, and drop to the ground in solemn gratitude writhing in agony. My legs, splayed to the heavens, a midwife at my feet. Oh, it was time, and I secretly swore to Eve for the curse of the pain I now felt. With each rush of fire beneath, my back arched and I screeched.

Tears ran down each side of my face, melting the snow, pristine, beneath me.

I swore to the sky with each gasp of breath and wave of anguish, and pushed forth from me everything that lies beneath the ground and flies within the sky. I pushed forth the stars and with it, the moon. When I screamed, I was heard on high and angels joined me in choir.

A Song of Life

And when I had expelled all of my prejudices, my disdain and my failures, I then sat up and heaved forth every needle pinch to skin and each bleed of my heart. When I opened my mouth, with head held back, as that of a woman, crazed, I wailed and then let out my breath and fell back, destroyed.

My heart sang as a lute, carried upon the breeze and I slept, as that of a woman, content.