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Tuesday, July 30, 2024

1/

“He/She/They live(s) most life whoever breathes most air.”

– Elizabeth Barrett Browning


2/

oscillating
moments

breathing in
breathing out

breathing in
breathing out 

breathing in
breathing out

breathing in
breathing out

© Marie Bortolotto 2024


Marie Bortolotto Artist


Monday, July 29, 2024

1/

Why stay here
in your little
dungeon?

If you really want
to be free,
make
every
thought
a thought of freedom.

Break your chains.
Tear down the walls.

Then walk the world a free woman.

 

2/

Somehow I kept climbing—
though tired,
hungry,
and weak.

Old, too.

At the top of the mountain,
I spread my outer robe on a rock to dry,
set down my staff and bowl,
took a deep breath,
and looked around.

It was windy up there.

As I was leaning back
against a large gray rock,
the darkness I had carried
up and down
a million mountains—

slipped off my shoulders
and swept itself away
on the wind.

 

-from: "The First Free Women: Poems Inspired by Early Buddhist Nuns"
Re-Imagined by Matt Weingast

 


Marie Bortolotto Artist


In the City of Wild Roses

Oh, wild roses — aromatic devas
bewitchers of our exiled hearts


fill our empty cups with libations
of hope and beauty

invite us into the presence
of your luminous gaze

how we long to dance
on streets of devotion

far from the tumult of traffic
and trash, to dream again


beneath the scent
of your veiled petals

if we’re lucky



we may lose ourselves

in your prophetic eyes

remember how to see again

and, like you

let the wind blow through us
make peace with our thorns

chant into the ears of existence
and leave a trace of fragrance behind

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

 

© Marie Bortolotto 2024

 

Heart

Drifting
like white clouds
from beginning to end –
a thing of mystery
is this heart
.

Death Poem

My wish is to see
a cloudless moon
above the lotus flower
in my next life.

- Poems by Rengetsu Buddhist Nun 1791-1875, Japan
(translated by Joan Halifax)

 

Marie Bortolotto Artist

 

 
Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain


The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.

We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.

Li Po (China, 701-762)
translated by Sam Hamill


Marie Bortolotto


 

Marie Bortolotto Artist

Marie Bortolotto Artist


On this summer night

All the household lies asleep,
And in the doorway,
For once open after dark,
Stands the moon, brilliant, cloudless.
 
- Jusammi Chikako, 14th c. Japan
Translation Edwin A. Cranstron



 -

Sunday, July 28, 2024

 
End of the Road

©
Marie Bortolotto 2024

When you arrive at a fork
in the road,

it's time to make a choice -
left or right?

Either way leads you away
from the past

and who you think you are.
One thing is for certain -

the road ends here
and another one begins.

Thursday, July 25, 2024


Walking is man’s best medicine.

- Hippocrates

Sunday, July 14, 2024

A Madness Most Discreet - Pip Eastop


Saturday, July 6, 2024

"Motherground" © Marie Bortolotto 2024

Visit my artist website
  

 

Without a name, belonging to no person,
with no history, no future, containing nothing,
without preferences, abhorring nothing, needing nothing,
being no-thing:

that no-thing from which all things arise

THAT
which lies beyond the words

 

- Miriam Louisa Simons, artist

Haiku Sketch:

summer morning --

watching the tide of heat
roll in

- Marie Bortolotto

Random Quote:

 
I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

– Claude Monet