SFCKwords

I am the darkness, and I am the light. I am the day, and I am the night.

I am the stillness, and I am the storm. I am death, and I am reborn.

I am the beginning, and I am the end. I am your enemy, and I am your friend.

I am the path, and I am the destination. I am the citizen, and I am the nation.

I am courageous, and I am meek. I am the earth, beneath my feet.

I am the wind, and I am the sea. I am the dreamer, and the dream is me.

I am the mirror, and all space in between. I am all matter, I am all things.

I am masculine, and I am feminine. I am you, and you are me.

I am consciousness, I am soul. I am love, love is our goal.

I am all. All is me. I am balanced. I AM UNITY.

– Susan Lewis (SFCK) Artist: unknown

Turn off the radio  Tune out the TV  Ignore the culture wars Disregard the programming

Listen to the stillness within  Settle into the nothingness that is Allow the thoughts that are suppressed Freely flow in every direction

See what your eyes have been blind to see Hear what your ears have ignored to hear  Feel what your feelings have refused to acknowledge  Listen to what your heart has been rhythmically saying

Release the imprints that instill encoded beliefs Allow healing to penetrate every cell and atom Deep breathes, slowly bringing awareness to now Let the thoughts drift without fear of their destination

Sit amongst the stars and ascended masters Being present is the gift that life offers  Meaning is nothing until defined by you Purpose is the value of your currency

– Susan Lewis (SFCK)

Artist: unknown

I’m trying to make sense of the madness, to find a release for my deepening sadness. I wander with thoughts that feel lost, as I fathom another holocaust.

The blind hatred that came as an assault, opened a string of violence from a locked vault. An anger so deep and divided, and a society in which he collided.

A faith that was marred with intolerance, as he created a stage of destruction for an audience. His hatred in his heart was pointed at everyone else, when he failed to see the hatred for himself.

How do we pick-up the pieces that are broken, and say the words we wish weren’t spoken? Our voices fall silent with tears, as we acknowledge all the lost years.

The violence that left a blanket of fear, as the victims quietly awaited an all clear. They clamored together with hearts made of armor, as they proclaimed that love is always louder.

- Susan Lewis (SFCK)

Artist: Thao Lan Nguyen Le

What if God’s skin looked like a mirror, and when you looked at God you saw yourself a little bit clearer? Would vanity say, “I knew my skin color was the supreme race”, as you let this thought wash over your face? Or would you cry tears of joy and be humbled to see, that God is our reflection of who we choose to be? For some, this became their righteous belief, that they were superior to others and gave them grief. He approached God with his head held high, cloaked in white from his toes to his eyes. He wore a cross that he called Calvary, and was certain of his connecting alchemy. When he saw his face as God’s own, he knew that only those like him could approach God’s throne. His eyes could not see past his ego that swelled, as he felt overly and completely compelled;  to believe the hate in his heart was also shared by his Creator, and for that he believed that he was made greater. He did not see his racist reflection that God showed, but only saw his validated belief bestowed. A child came with tears in her eyes, feeling overwhelmed and lost in demise. She never knew the true meaning of family, and created one in her mind as her only fantasy. When she saw herself in God’s face, she felt complete and absorbed this grace. How wonderful to know that even when she felt alone, she is always welcome to approach God’s throne. She felt her own smile as God’s infinite love, and vanquished all grief to her heart above. If I am made in God’s image and God is a mirror, then what I see in others is how I appear. It is our own reflection that blinds us in vanity, and removes our ability to offer each other sound sanity. If God loves us so much to look exactly as we do, then His reflection of us is merely a tool. What I see in another is showing something about me, and I lose myself constructing this image of someone else, without realizing the message that only could be for me. Mirror, mirror on the wall, what does my reflection say above all?

– Susan Clark (SFCK) Artist: Nicola Pucci

I found a speck in my eye, one so large it made me cry. It pierced my vision and left me with tears, and I wondered if it had been lodged all these years?

It’s so easy to point the finger with blame, and unleash words of judgment and shame. We place ourselves on a pedestal of clout, while trying to banish anyone’s doubt.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye, and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?”

How long had this log, been keeping me in a fog? It felt like it appeared from out of the blue, and made it impossible for me to see you.

In this moment we find ourselves living a lie, that we pretend to be in our own mind’s eye. But how can anyone throw the first stone, when all have fallen from grace and are not alone?

– Susan Clark (SFCK)

Artist: Unknown

Sometimes it’s easier to speak my mind, when the words I use create a rhyme. At first it may come across as “sacchariny”, but if you listen I speak with observed irony.

Sometimes these words live as a thought in a moment, and it may take weeks to find the missing component. I gradually see the path I desire to make, as my creativity is an infinite layer cake.

Sometimes I feel the need to find a soap box, so I can sling some words and knock people’s socks off. I can see parallels like an alternate universe, as I paint a picture to be heard within each verse.

Sometimes the words will pour out from the sky, and I feel I can write without having to try. These words download into my rhymes eye, as they continuously flow through my heart-centered supply.

– Susan Clark (SFCK) Artist: Unknown

Lately I’ve been feeling rather detached, as I idly watch the depression relapse. I feel the cigarette cling as a foreign body in need of a host, seeing my sense of self live as a shadow of a ghost.

I feel appalled by the smoke, with each inhale it feels like a practical joke. Who is this person standing in my place, trying to wear an identical face?

The smoke pulls inside my lungs and throat, as I feel my heart sputter and choke. I’m a reflection of my former self it seems, as I quietly pull out all the lose strings.

I’d seen people from all walks of life, puffing on their comfort when they feel deep strife. In my judgment I believed I could never become, someone sucking on a cigarette like it’s a babies’ thumb.

We spent hours in the hospital waiting for a sign, that he’d pull through another surgery and be just fine. As he attempted to hide the cigarette he held, I asked If I could join him as I felt overly compelled.

I pretend in my mind that it’s a temporary ploy, to occupy my thoughts while I lack authentic joy. The irony is I also attempt to hide this newly tried vice, creating a smoke screen to avoid unwanted advice.

– Susan Clark (SFCK)

Artist: Unknown

I awaken at the dawning light, before my body is ready to end the night. My day begins with monotonous routine, as I fathom the day’s events like a well-oiled machine. Commute the same route with the same people, as we forge our paths to our own steeple. We worship our jobs for a sense of security, while vanquishing all passions and dreams into obscurity. Each day bleeds into the next, as we collide together feeling so vexed. And for a moment I feel my mind begin to wander, and I’m left to my own thoughts that I alone ponder. When I was small and the world was my oyster, each choice was a path to my present employer. I studied hard as I attended various schools, and believed they would provide the necessary tools. I was told that I needed a college degree to proceed, and from there I would live a life that would allow me to succeed. But what does to cost to tender this degree, that leaves young adults with a burdensome fee? “Go to college so you can find a job; find a job so you can pay for college.” There seems to be something lost in this equation, that leaves students and parents with more than frustration. These debts live on past our lives and pass onto family, so our jobs become our saving grace as we live under constant agony. We thought we were living in the land of the free, but somewhere we exchanged our education to debt-slavery. How can we expect anyone to soar on the wings of their dreams, when they are loaded with debt to the highest extremes? We declared these truths of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but somewhere we lost them in the muck of this madness. Did our Founding Fathers imagine we’d become a country founded in student debt, that our continued education becomes our biggest regret? When will our modern Moses finally arrive, to release us from these shackles and allow us to thrive? When did our education become a debt sentence, as we sit here reviewing our choice to knowledge with repentance? – Susan Clark (SFCK) Artist: Makc via Shutterstock/Salon

I think you like the idea of me, but I feel you are lost in this philosophy. Forgive me if I come across as rude, but frankly I am sick of this attitude.

You tell me how it stirs your inner feelings, to see my body’s shape kneeling. But I am not here to offer you a prayer, and I don’t appreciate the way that you stare.

I can see the look on your face, and it fills me with utter disgrace. You disrobe me in the eye of your mind, and you think that I am your lucky find.

Your cat calls fail to catch my attention, and then I hear your insults from my lack of affection. When will you finally understand, than I am not a prize to be won for your hand?

I can see why she covers her body completely, because she can’t walk down the street discretely. When you look at her, see yourself through her eyes, and imagine how it feels to be an object to surmise.

Now you wonder why her voice remains silent from your attempt, and can’t imagine why she holds you in this contempt. Could you for just one moment stand in these shoes, and understand your verbal innuendo as abuse?

I am so sick of these failed strategies, that attempt to deliver self-serving flattery. You clearly do not comprehend, how these words always offend.

But if you think it’s ok because she’s drunk, let me clear the air so there’s nothing left to debunk. When she’s in this state of mind and unaware, it doesn’t mean she’s consented and doesn’t care.

If you think her being drunk is her judge of character, she’s not the one who’s taking advantage of her. Is your honor so fragile and meek, that you can only feel strong, if she becomes weak?

Would you behave in this manner towards your mother, can you start acting like you’re her brother? I know deep down its attention that you seek, but please lose these ancient techniques.

And if you feel she doesn’t have a right to choose, because someone held her down and left her with more than a bruise. Imagine how it would feel to carry this memento in her womb, that leaves her feeling like she’s living in a tomb.

I know that society and culture tells you it’s your right, and why would she even put up a fight? But what if you had been born as a she, would you finally understand how to respect me?

– Susan Clark (SFCK)

Artist: Tatyana Fazlalizadeh

Sometimes I can feel a mood coming on, it creeps along like a sad, sad song. And before I realize what’s being done, I begin looking for the smoking gun. Why all the sudden do I feel blue? Why does it feel like I’ve taken more than I can chew? What will make these feelings subside? When will a better feeling arrive? I need to find the switch, to turn off this nervous twitch. I need to take a deep sigh, before I sit down and cry. Where did these thoughts arise? I just need to close my eyes; to find a sense of peace, and end this looming grief. It feels like it’s raining in my head, and makes me want to go back to bed. I just want to cover my face, and leave from this public place. But there’s no logical explanation, to excuse this culmination; these thoughts that sting my heart, until it needs to fully restart. I just want to scream, and awake from this nightmarish dream. But my voice falls silent and meek, and I feel victimized and weak. Enough! Enough! Enough! I am not these thoughts that beat me to a pulp! I am not taking them, not one more gulp! I am centered, balanced, and whole. I am perfect, right down to my soul. Take a deep breathe, it’s ok to cry. Close your eyes, take that deep sigh. See those thoughts as a cloud in the sky, and let them float, right on by. - Susan Clark (SFCK) Artist: Connie Valasco

An old pastor lay dying in his bed. He was beloved by the congregation, and surrounded by two generations of children, who adored this frail man.

Hours passed with the soft strokes, that cradled his weathered fingers. Weepy-eyed visitors exchanged silent glances. Not so many days remained in the hour glass for him.

He could no longer respond to their questions, but he heard every sound uttered in the room. He was surprised at those who came, to give respect to their spiritual leader.

He recognized the young boy in his congregation, who at the age of 12 declared he was openly gay. Now at 22, he looked more like a man than a boy, as he knelt beside the pastor and began to cry.

“I used to hate you, for the words that came from your mouth, ‘preaching’ of hate and intolerance for people like me. I felt alone and confused while listening to the words that said, ‘God hated me’. But how can God hate, when God is Love? How can God judge in vain what He created?”

The pastor was stunned by the words that rung in his ears. He realized they were alone, no audience to hear this diatribe, only his confused soul.

Now he couldn’t retort back verses, that validated his belief. Now he couldn’t run away, and escape this tormenting grief.

The boy wiped the tears from his cheeks, and began to share his story. “I realized that the only judgment I feared, was not the judgment of God, but of men and their glory.”

“I forgive you and so does God, because in forgiveness is the understanding, that you were raised to this belief, without seeing it from my view; so there’s nothing left for me except to forgive you."

"And for the years I wasted hating you, I pray the judgment that separated us, becomes a bridge of understanding, and there’s nothing more to discuss."

– Susan Clark (SFCK)

Artist: Michael Hanna

A friend is someone who lifts your soul, and knows when life has taken its toll. A friend is present when you feel alone, and never judges which way you’ve strown.

They show their love through tenderness and care, and provide comfort with understanding through despair. They know when to listen and when to speak their mind, and want to see you succeed through life’s daily grind.

Their friendship is bound by a love not easily broken, as they show their commitment through their tender devotion. Their insight to our heart is completely unique, as they provide strength when we are feeling weak.

A friend is the family that you get to choose, and knows what it’s like to walk in your shoes. A friend will be there when you laugh or when you cry, and will stand beside you when you’re feeling low or feeling high.

They may have known you since you were small, and just being around them makes you feel ten feet tall. They may be a new face when you had to move, and offer support as you enter a new groove.

When they have to leave for a new career, a simple phone call makes them feel near. When the days pass and we are old with sagging skin, I’ll be happy to know that in this life you are my friend.

- Susan Clark (SFCK)

Artist: Amy Friend

How often in our lives have events transpired in synchronicity to create a “perfect storm”? One after another, the small changes add and suddenly we are in a place so unfamiliar and frightening, that we exhaust ourselves attempting to hold our breathe in anticipation. We see the uninviting wave of change grow bigger, stronger, closer, and we begin looking for our exit strategy. It is our survivalist response to turn on our heels and run, or find ways to fight and resist the changes. In this fear-filled state, we imprint possible outcomes in a negative light and assume the worst, without even considering the best possible outcomes.

Like a sailor who set his course on a journey he has taken countless times before, becomes aware that the spiraling winds of change are upon him. He has no other option but to face the growing waves. No longer can he see the stars for direction, or use his maps and compass for guidance as the storm approaches; he simply must ride this storm out. His experience tells him that storms are unpredictable. His heightened awareness tells him to keep breathing, to keep his wits, and to trust that he has survived storms before, but knows in his heart there is no guarantee sealing his security. The battered ship he clings to could become his coffin, or his saving grace.

In a desperate attempt to avoid change that frightens us and we predict to be hard, we turn our back to protect ourselves and avoid meeting it. In this effort to reach something familiar that feels safe, the wave collides with us as we face plant to the ground, gasping for a breathe of relief. However, when we stand firmly grounded ready to face our fears and dive into the impending collision, we allow ourselves to find inner strength as we swim through to reach the other side. Now we have unwavering courage to face the great “waves of change”, and realize we are through it instead of tumbling in its wake. Suddenly we see the light at the end of the tunnel, and a sense of empowerment to trust that our path is always guided as we face our fears.

The sailor attempts to mark his bearings with something familiar after the storm passes, but he has nothing to guide him as he clings to remnants of the boat. He lost his maps and compass in the storm, and the daylight prevents him from finding the stars for guidance; but there is something in the distance, something that brings a sigh of relief and excitement. He sights a landmass that is not familiar, and surmises that perhaps it has not yet been discovered. As he approaches, he realizes that the storm completely took him off his intended path and his original journey has changed into an adventure, a discovery of new possibilities. He finds tears of joy welling in his eyes with gratitude. Not only did he survive a perfect storm, but it has taken him to a destination beyond his wildest dreams.

- Susan Clark (SFCK)

Artist: Adam Brett

When I said I was sorry in meekness, you saw it as deliberate weakness. My apology is like poison in your ears, meaningless in your view, which amplifies my fears. When I say “I’m sorry” it is not an excuse, it means I recognize my action as a form of abuse. I want to understand your views, without having to make more points to prove. When my ego lashed out and let loose, I felt a rope tighten like noose. I am not perfect and made with flaws, but want to work things out for our cause. How did it come to this? Me versus you, stuck in a loop, through and through? You feel disrespected and mad, and I feel frustrated and sad. We keep splintering from love, our core belief, as we continue to live in one another’s grief.

We can keep measuring our pain with our pride, and let the battle continue on each side. I’d rather learn from this mistake, and not be forced to make an absolute break. - Susan Clark (SFCK) Artist: Unknown

We saw shooting stars fly, exploding into the night. They laced the open sky, and ignited our visible sight. Time became the distance, between our two views. It was greeted without resistance, as we saw the heavenly hues. We watched the moonrise, over the vast sea, as it guided the sunrise, for only us to see. The clouds dove into bleakness, and morphed with the birds. The moment left us speechless, without any words. - Susan Clark (SFCK) Artist: unknown