The Beauty of the Darkness of Light

 © Susan Marie

I lay my hands folded across my breast and close my lids to humanity, yet it claws at my calves as waves rushing to slate rock.
 
Pulled to duty, I hesitate. I shed skin per second, and parts of me embed within the dirt and sedimentary layers of this Earth. It is tiring. I am able to look into one’s eyes and see fathoms they do not. I bow my head in grace, not quite knowing how to proceed…
 
So, that was pretty much how I spent the last year.
 
Real light-minded things, like facing the horror and the beauty of the darkness of light while single-handedly cracking my sternum into pieces, and putting my splintered ribs back together like some Freudian jigsaw puzzle while enjoying afternoon tea with Kierkegaard and Jung.
 
I am, obviously, me, just a bit… lighter.
 
Kafka stated:
 

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we’re reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for?… we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.”

 - The axe for the frozen sea within us -

Well, I took that axe just like Jack Nicholson in The Shining, possessed and crazed, but much more calm than he was, and definitely not dangerous, and hammered that baby right through my skullbone.
 
My blow to the head was facing myself in order to align with right now, not yesterday or tomorrow, right now. My disasters were not awful, they were lessons that involved letting people, situations, attitudes and behaviors go that no longer serve my placement.
 
To be perfectly honest, ‘banished to the forest far from everyone’ is not as bad as good ol’ Franz makes it sound up there.
 
The universe exists, there are stars, planets, and worlds we have yet to discover, endless void, and we only know of one galaxy. 
 
We survive on one planet out of many, that happens to possess perfect conditions for our functioning human bodies which require no electricity, batteries, or gas in order to run. 

Existence is a sort of dream, another state of being, a perceptive state and we all perceive life differently. 
 
We are here to learn and experience everything, and a massive energetic force composed of elements we have yet to understand is our lighthouse.
 
This energy is everywhere: sun, moon, seasons, grass, trees, sea, sky, breath, movement, the beating heart, the speaking voice, the kind words of a good heart, a friend, a lover, a love.
 
We experience this — humanity — in order to grow, and when we pass, are accountable in a lovely fashion, not a condemning one. There are no magic rewards or gifts, yet further exploration.
 
We choose our existence, our life, our love, our struggle, our beauty and our pain. If we do not accomplish what we are set here to do, we repeat it now and/or later.
 
My lamplight may dim from time to time, yet is never out, and you must be wondering by now what the actual point of this article is.
 
I must admit, I truly have no idea, seriously, but you are still reading, and my duty as a writer is to come up with something intelligent-sounding.
 
So this is all I got (so far):
 

• Trust the process; trust what is correct for you and only you.
• Trust that your own actions, words, and existence carry the ability to hurt and heal.
• Trust that you have the power to create sacred spaces for others to enter safely in order to experience and learn of love on giving and receiving ends.
• Trust that being human (is the craziest thing to ever agree to) is about observation, perception, experience, and growth.
• Trust that you are important, and were born for reasons yet to be discovered.
• Trust that your placement on this globe transcends what the human mind is capable of fully comprehending.
• Trust that you have work to do, and if you are not doing this work, then you had better get busy finding your work.
• Trust that if your actions are consistently cruel and unkind, and you are fully conscious of this, then you have the chance to create change in your life before life chooses to create change for you.
• Trust that something negative can be positive, provided you pay attention.
• Trust that if you are being the best version possible of yourself right now, then that is enough.
• Trust your happiness, your passions, and trust your absolute divine self in recognizing that right now is the answer. 

 

All of this — being human — is a battle within self.

The purpose?
 
Enjoy this experience for what it is. Break open the human shell, and discover what is inside.
 
The rest is beyond me, for I am only human. When I pass from this plane, then and only then will I know, without need to study, debate or experiment, if I have truly succeeded.
 
If I extend my arm outwards a few feet beside me, what is there that I cannot see?
 
I have absolutely no idea, but I have so much fun trying to find the answers…

                                                       © WR

I Have Known Hunger

On Mogul

I have known hunger, having nothing and no one.  I have cried in the dankest depths of being - only to be heard by that which I cannot see, yet feel.

I have been lifted to heights beyond this universe by most holy angels and dragged beneath the silt of this Earth by death and demons.

My soul has been ripped wide open, left bleeding by the pasture, vultures and Valkyries above me, waiting for my last breath - and yet I rose, wounded, barely alive, clutching my heart like a newborn soul safe within the lines in my palms, tasting upon my lips, charred and chapped by the sun, my blood, so bitter and sweet.

Oh my dear soul, yes, I have known hunger.

I have seen Jesus cry in a last goodbye to those that judged him, unruly.

I was there when God spoke, and animals roamed freely, no human hand to deter their treks, no harm, no hate.

I heard Lilith shriek, banshee-like and surreal, into the great cosmos from whence she came, when Adam took Eve and left her in the void.

I was there when Lincoln went down and sat in horror as doctors did not have enough sense to save his life and watched fireworks fly from his body lying still as he took his rightful place in the heavens.

I saw the devil as angel, so beautiful he was, he and Michael stood sentinel as brothers in arms until the wars began, and egos clashed and like humans, the angels fought and made the sky shed tears for the plight of humankind.

I sat by Martin as he cried in jail, alone, confused, questioning God, and I placed one hand upon his shoulder and said, "Yes, but this is your purpose."

I traveled this place, many worlds, realities within unreality, dimensions upon dimensions, in and out of mazes of lives and lovers lost and found again.

I have been the rich man kicking the poor to the dirt and the poor man tasting dust upon his tongue.
I have been the birthed and the birthing, traveling wombs of the blessed and the cursed, and have been held in love, equally in hate, the bastard child of a thousand lifetimes.

I have come to know my own soul and in this knowing, I have come to know yours for we are all born of the same breath.
I have met you as I have met myself in five thousand lives before this one.

Still, I struggle, for this is the human plight.

Yet I love and breathe and keep walking forward, knowing that now, is simply a time to witness.

Somewhere, elsewhere, in this great expanse, I shall meet you again - for my soul is made of maps lined upon maps, drawn without my foresight, paths filled with light and dark, such as these words, falling lightly from my fingertips, to you, dear soul, stay with me please on this journey and do not fear the unknown.

Bellow your beautiful self to the sky for humankind needs your heart, open, wide, accepting

of
nothing
but
yourself.

 On Sound cloud here:  https://soundcloud.com/susan-marie/i-have-known-hunger-1

Of Death and Dying Things

On Mogul 

Before a new moon, I set great intention. New moons are special, much like this season, Autumn, shedding leaves precious to the limbs of trees, dying things that bring beauty to this Earth, to us, humans, observing the full circle of life. 

Autumn brings me to my knees in a most humbled state of being. I imagine the tree in spring, waiting all winter, hibernating like the bear, waiting for the ice princess to take her last breath, welcoming new buds, tiny green leaves, sprouting from every limb.

How utterly glorious. 

Right this moment, I am one with the spirit of a tree. I am tall and stark against the spring skyline, my eyes flutter open and once again, there to greet me, are my buds soon to be leaves that will provide me shade and keep my brow cool from the blazing summer sun. 

This relationship is twofold, manifested, synchronized and perfect. There is giving and receiving. There is equanimity, there is pure divine love emanating from a solitary tree. 

We must learn from nature.  

I feel the buds blooming; they are brand new souls on this Earth responsible to me, this tree, in order to keep me flourishing and beautiful. The leaves will make sure the birds have a place to berth and that critters have homes to take respite from their day. The sky above me looks down lovingly upon my treetop, happy to have such a sight to wake up to every dawn.  The leaves empower each limb to reach that much further up to the heavens, kissing the sky.  

I accept these gifts, such utter grace and allow the leaves, critters, birds and even humans, to settle upon my limbs, to take solace within my embrace, to travel upwards, climbing my weary spine.

How unconditional.  

There is happiness from this connection, this birth of rebirths, and this ultimate bond. 

I have witnessed this a million times and this year, I am not simply an observer. This year, I am the tree, the leaves, the critters, the birds, the sky and the Earth, that selflessly grounds the roots of the mighty tree feeding this entire family, this union, along with the sun, healing them all with light, and I am reminded then of Autumn and this coming new moon. 

Leaves glow like red hot embers escaping fire to radiant orange, sun splashed yellow, burnt sienna, and finally, gold. All at once, sometimes the same tree, even one leaf.  

 
I walk the woods crunching as quietly as possible, clambering upon the precious forest bed with my clumsy human self. I hear nothing, nothing but my footfalls in the lovely silence of nature. Then the birds, they flit like butterflies from one tree to another. 

I crane my neck to catch a glimpse and they are busy in their playfulness and outsmart me repeatedly. I catch a blackbird perched and a red-bellied woodpecker along with woodcocks and bluebirds and they are all together. They sing for me there, standing in the woods, among death and dying things, showing me life. 

Right there everything around me changes, the height of the trees and the width of logs, the colors are intense, deeper, and the birds, they know I understand their speech. 


I do not wish to leave this place, this is holy, right here, me in the middle of the woods, no humans around, no sound but the breath of nature, the wind swaying the leaves lazy, the birds chattering, the brittleness beneath my feet, leaves screaming their dying breath to the sky. 

Yes, it is Autumn. A time of preparation as the new moon approaches. I learn to let go, to come back into myself, my body, to be present, yet awake with immense intent put forth with each footfall above for my future and those I hold dear in my heart. 

Like the tree, I shed leaves. This is my path, my purpose, my knowing, my immense pleasure to stand sentinel and wave my arms wild and free and shake my soul to the sky and the Earth and watch everything I love fall from me and around my feet like a psychedelic bridal gown.

I belong to no one. I walk, pulling roots gently from dirt, taking with me leaves, swaying on my train and I dance in circles, leaves all around me, and great golden supplications fall from heaven freeing my soul from weights carried this season. 

It is a time for forgiveness. This is the season of death and dying things. 

This is the phoenix preparing to rise. 

 Words and photo © Susan Marie 

You Are Not Broken [Radio with Women For One]

This is an astounding interview with Cara Bradley so please listen and enjoy and thank you to everyone at Women For One for orchestrating this.

Spoken-word poet and broadcast journalist Susan Marie shares with Cara Bradley how she connects with others through positivity and authenticity in our most recent Real Women, Courageous Wisdom podcast.

Listen here --> You Are Not Broken

http://womenforone.com/you-are-not-broken/

Here’s what we spoke about: 

6:45 The power of metaphor

9:20 Why we aren’t supposed to be perfect

11:25 You are not broken

13:00 What are you doing for yourself?

16:40 The art of spoken word

19:15 What it means to stop caring what people think of you

23:05 Susan’s eulogy