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.

I Am

                                              On Mogul

On Spillwords

On Soundcloud

I
am
that
which
cannot be
caged,
tamed,
tried,
understood,
included,
deluded,
or left -

misunderstood.

I am
the fairy tailed children
asleep beneath blankets
on a cool summers eve,
books in palms,
eyes shut tight,
warding off monsters
in closets
underneath the bed.

I am the angelic presence in dreams,
the dark rising depths
present,
in the time between
night and day.

I am
the bleeding hearts
of artists,
music flowing
like manes of thoroughbreds,
strings and violins
concertos and preludes,
the rise and fall
of notes,
the voice of the oppressed
painting alone,
writing alone,
speaking to the masses
standing in front of
sculptures
in galleries
half numb
from having their soul
placed on a
public platter
picked apart
and critiqued.

I am
the constellations
stars,
the ancient raiment
of the majestic
velvet night
coaxing solitude,
creation,
rendering you
sleepless
with desire -

and the great Gods
contemplating existence
tossing magic
and medicine
- electrified -
towards Earth
teaching lessons

        to the mere human soul.        

I am Woman
Man
Child
Mother
Father
Brother
Sister -

I am a lover
loved
loving - 

I am the volcanic
rumblings
of every tired soul
and every smile
and tear - 

I am an argument
and agreement

the birds that berth
in your
crown chakra,

their song
is mine - 

all creatures
earth, dirt, silt,
gems, stones,
twigs and trees - 

every root and crevice,
all footholds and paths,
the falling leaves
- kamikaze -
every rock and shell,
the waves and oceans,
all bodies of water,
feathers, flight,
the bees that buzz
around the new bud,
the hand that guides a sprout
from seed,

the secrets the wind
whispers,
the fierce embrace
of winter,
the warmth upon
your face,
heart,
body,
soul,
and the sweet cool
calming waters
of life - 

I am death

      wild,      

I am
Woman.

Here.
Now. 

I am every element,
all emotions,
every fable told
by firelight,
every word
written,
spoken,
uttered,
screamed,
and sighed - 

the true Goddess,
the wild soul - 

I am that which cannot
be kept
nor set free. 

I exist
without logic,
in rational conscious
thought,
in esoteric
holy
nakedness. 

I am the rich man
and beggar,
the king and the jester - 

I am the grass,
all species,
and the sky,
kaleidoscopes
of spectrums - 

I am good
versus
evil
versus
self
versus
sentience - 

I am a conundrum
unto myself,
a human shell
existing
as pure
ether. 

I am heaven
and hell. 

I am the destroyer
and creator

simultaneous.

© Susan Marie  

Artwork © Daphne and Apollo by Beatriz Martin Vidal

Be Human

On Mogul

© Mogul 

The last year has been trying.  After all, I am only human.  


Only human.  Now there is an interesting definition. 

Being "human" [according to Merriam-Webster] means "a human being, a person as distinguished from an animal or an alien.  Susceptible to or representative of the sympathies and frailties of human nature."  

In our world, being "human" has taken on an entirely different meaning. 

All ranges of emotion from love to happiness to sadness to frustration to anger to darkness to bliss are experienced by humans. Somewhere along the lines, the term "human" has been associated with being "perfect."   

Perfect attitude, hair, skin, nails, clothes, body, education, family, career, skills, life, travel, adventure, love, and pretty much everything that most humans definitely are not. 

Many times in life we over think.  Our minds are powerful tools, ones we have yet to fully study and understand. Some days you may feel perfectly in tune with all of your choices and surroundings only to be feeling outcast, outspoken, rude, pitiful and eventually, self-deprecating.  

I know I am not the only one who goes through this. If you don't, then you are lying, or quite possibly, not "human." 

Although such phases do not last long, for me, thankfully, they are unsettling because when you over think, you disallow your instinct to be in control, you tend to become off balance that spirals your rational thought along with your own energy, into massive loops of confusion.  

You may not be confusing to others, or maybe you are, I can only speak for myself, however, the most important aspect of being off balance is in regards to how you feel about yourself. 

I found myself reacting to things I normally ignore and getting upset over menial things.  This is typically not the "me" of today so I began to search: 

Why do I feel this way? What caused me to start thinking like this? Why am I feeling out of control?

Ask yourself, you have all of your answers. 

The beautiful aspect of existence and having people put by us for various reasons is that during such times, often without saying a word, some without ever meeting me, sensed that something clearly was "not right" simply by reading deeper into my words, my energy, my response and my actions. Several people took the time to find out why I did not feel okay. 

As human beings we all wish to be acknowledged, loved and recognized and that is not an egotistical thing, it is a basic need.  These extremely special people did just that. They acknowledged my emotions, what I was feeling, and allowed me to talk through them in order for me, not them, to figure out why I was feeling out of balance. 

Rational and healthy communication is crucial. 

It absolutely infuriates me [there I go being "human" again] when there is improper communication because this starts a chain reaction of misunderstanding that leads to "what if" negative self talk and thinking. In turn, eventually, a guilt ridden, self-loathing [for those of us who are "human'] after effect.  This is absolutely foolish when you think about it. 

[Think for a moment, really, this is not meant to be deep.]

What I learned from being allowed to be myself without judgment is that I needed to look inside of me and not blame another person for the way I were feeling.  After all, it is my own fault for feeling as I do no matter what another said to me, how one treated me, or the actions of another human being towards me.   

I am in control of myself and am responsible and accountable for my behavior. 


I asked myself: 

Why do you feel this way? What caused you to start thinking like this? Why do you feel out of control? 

And guess what?  I answered me. 

Yet, without the guidance of those who are reading this and reached out in various ways to acknowledge me, as a fellow human being, I may not have arrived quickly to a conclusion. I may have ridiculously crucified myself a few more days for no apparent reason other than I chose to.

Something amazing occurred after talking with others. 

Sitting on my couch watching a movie with my son, William, he is 17 years old, I looked at him, I mean I really looked at who he is and I asked him to please give me a hug.  The smile on his face was so wide that I began to smile too.  He gladly and lovingly hugged me with all of his might and we did not let go, not just yet.  I told him that without him in my life that my life would be horrible and I mean that, wholeheartedly. 

Hugging my son was touching the divine. 

You see, children are insightful and full of unconditional love that we tend to lose as we grow older.  In my child, I felt bright, magnificent light that illuminated me, and I wondered did he also feel that from me? 

At that moment, I realized my entire purpose, regardless of what interests me, what my career is or is not, and who is or is not in my life. 

What mattered and does matter was right there with my son. In seconds, every single confusing thought disappeared. 

That is the beauty of love.  The divine essence of existence. 

The fact that we are placed here for various reasons and most times, they are quite simple. We make them complicated. 

I realized how blessed I were then, although I have always been aware, yet sometimes we forget in the busy-ness of life. 

Then everything around me was a gift, the sunshine, nature, my home, my work, my friends, my family, the fact that my limbs work and that I have the means to utilize technology to talk to all of you right now. 

For today [and every day] I suggest something extremely simple.  

Do this right now. Look around you and find your divine. It exists. 

You just may have your eyes closed at the moment. 

So, take the time to work through whatever you are dealing with, just don't stay there. 

And always, be human. 

© Susan Marie Hard Rock Cafe, Niagara Falls, NY, USA

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