Category: meditation

The Commute. {Poetry}

swimrainroad

Smudged ink

as wisdom curves into words

as sounds of a violin
play through the radio waves

dissolving
with the drizzling drops of rain
on the roof,

you glance through the fine layers of glass
to see a thousand black dots flying eastward,

crows moving like the commuters
on the Interstate —
all as one, but each
one
as one
within

a microcosm of silence

as each flap of a wing,
every rotation of a tire,
every quick thought that rolls through your mind
like lightning — a streak of genius — sudden,

and then gone,

as darkness
settles once more
over the wet farmlands
and the deep taproots of oak seedlings
are finally soaked
with rain,

much like my fingers stained
by this smudge
of

black ink.

Copyright 2017  ©   Jessie Zanita Wright

Photo Credit: Comfreak/Pixabay

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I woke up feeling free yesterday.

I woke up feeling free yesterday. 🌀

As if all the shadows of objectifying women had finally been brought to light.

Suddenly, I didn’t have that subconscious sensation at the back of my mind about my body being sized up for someone else’s lewd thoughts. Sensations that I’ve brushed away my whole life.

I was tied by an unspoken social constraint that often made me feel more comfortable wearing something less flattering, more practical.

Hide my pretty. Hide my curves, my long legs, my sensuality.

But that’s over because, yesterday, I finally woke up free.

In my soul, I suddenly felt that we women can put on a playful short dresses, & know that it’s about our enjoyment, not theirs.

We can dress sensually stylish without having certain eyes/minds believing that they hold the upper hand in seeing us as an object, and all of this happened because the grossest orange-haired guy’s lewd words finally sparked the most liberating feeling ever:

We, as a people, will not stand for that kind of behavior any longer.

We no longer have to hide our pretty.

We can be grown women who still hold onto the power of being a strong-willed, bright-eyed, intelligent, unicorn-loving, magic-believing beautiful girl who loves wearing whimsical dresses. (The grrrl power movement has won!)

We don’t have to hide our beautiful selves in the shadows to avoid that kind of objectifying.

Here’s the crazy thing: I didn’t know that feeling of freedom existed until yesterday.

🌀 Yes, world, we women are living, breathing, gorgeous people who will dress up pretty without ever being an object of sexual expectations ever again because those type of stories are done.

Hallelujah!

A version of this essay has been published on The Urban Howl. Check it out!

http://theurbanhowl.com/author/jessie-zanita-wright/

Copyright 2016 © Jessie Zanita Wright

Summertime in the City. {Poetry}

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She ran to the edge of the city,
stopped, &

turned back,

wandering along the sidewalks,
under the tapestries of loving
and living

where people,
flesh and blood
moved
with feet,
not in shiny boxes turned by wheels,

where smiles
shared were returned
easily
along with the change
from buying a local bunch of beets,

where laughter
echoed along
the creek,
flowing through the city’s center,

where children played in the fountain,
splashing purple polka dots
of water
on their mother’s blue dress,

where old men sat
reading a paper,
sipping a coffee,
talking politics,
and maybe even about the way
their old lovers
kissed them good-bye,

where she leaned back
on the cobblestones,
barefeet,
at the edge of the creek,
head back,
eyes closed,
sunlight darting through,
shape shifting the dots into bright images
of the light of stars,
of the universe,
of the beauty of loving
and living
in this city.

Copyright 2016 © Jesi Zanita

The Art of Water.

 

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“Droplets of water
carry the sea green into the blue waves,
the paintbrush guides
the bleeding of two colors
into one
wild
ocean of love.” ~ Jes Wright

The Art of Water isn’t overwhelming or exhausting, but fluid in its transformation of dry pigments into a seascape.

The water’s clarity becomes a transfusion of mindfulness, as our hand guides the creation while our jumble of thoughts grow still.

In a way, watercolor is one of the more healing forms of art.

The nature of movement—in the way the water droplets roll over the paper—is gentle. It holds the connection between the core of nature and ourselves, as we can easily fall into the grace of water rolling colors into colors like miniature waves.

We fall into the Flow, getting submerged in the meditative way that a wet paintbrush can easily “erase” layers of golds and blues that ended up being too vivid for the seascape.

We slow down into the now of water as the medium, even as much as we think it’s the colors that matter the most, but it’s not. The blank spaces left in between the ultramarine blues & leaf green create a balance between what we see & what we think we see, as can be the same in our relationships.

The shine of emptiness adds and subtracts from our shadowy sides.

So do we look for the things that are left unsaid—the blank spaces—as flecks of gold? As a potential for creating more beautiful art in the daily waters of our world? Or do we take the remaining spaces, let the beads of water roll over them, blending the crimson with the Prussian blues? Each of us will come to that decision with the practice of art (& of relationships).

And, this blog, yes, this one has morphed into a rambling, but that is the nature of watercolor, beads of color bleed into other beads of pink or sea green until the paper becomes the art of water.

 

Copyright 2016 © Jes Wright

painting by jes.

Free Write. {Poetry}

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words

hold no weight
except the pressure of your pen
against blank page,

turning nothing

into words from your mind, as
emotions captured
& transformed
into
a handful
of
coins to toss

 into 

 the wishing fountain,
silver turns
into possibilities

that ripple, or maybe,
they go “kaw-plump”
into water
like a satisfied trout

falling back
into
the river after capturing
a few flies,

and you watch
from the river bank
toes tucked under sand warmed
by the mid-day sun,

& you’d like to teleport
to the ocean,
see

the uncontrollable waves

breaking against sandstone cliffs
for a brief second
& watch

as the ravens
glide off the cliffs,

weightless

black wings against blue sky
in a stiff breeze,
reminding you
why

you write,

freely.

~

Copyright 2016 © Jes Wright

Photo Credit: Mysticsartdesign/Pixabay