#Zen Priest

[thebrownbuddha]

Nara Shakuhachi Pilgrimage

Title: A Memorable Shakuhachi Day Pilgrimage in Nara with Komuso-minded Friends, (blog post re-written by “AI”) Introduction: Embarking on a Shakuhachi day pilgrimage in Nara, Japan, turned out to be an unforgettable experience filled with unexpected encounters and beautiful moments. Joined by a fellow Shakuhachi player from the Netherlands and a dear friend who had transitioned from being a…

[tmarshconnors]

“The Zen way of calligraphy is to write in the most straightforward, simple way as if you were a beginner, not trying to make something skilful or beautiful, but simply writing with full attention as if you were discovering what you were writing for the first time; then your full nature will be in your writing.”

Shunryu Suzuki was an Sōtō Zen monk and teacher who helped popularize Zen Buddhism in the United States and is renowned for founding the first Zen Buddhist monastery outside Asia.

Born: 18 May 1904, Kanagawa Prefecture Died: 4 December 1971, San Francisco, California, United States

[12-34-56]

After the Grand Priest built the Arena for the ToP

Zeno:

Grand Priest:

[4eternal-life]

Werner Bischof  /Swiss, 1916–1954

A Priest rests at the Temple of Ryoanji Kyoto, 1951

Bischof befriended the photographer Ihei Kimura, who introduced him to the mysteries of Japanese culture. Together they visited temples and shrines and studied traditional Japanese art

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2021/soul-of-japan

[giannic]

"The main purpose for coming to Ceylon is to hide myself from the world of name and fame. Throughout the history of Zen there have been many teachers who have mingled with beggars, laborers, farmers for the same reason - to hide themselves. I am simply trying to follow their examples in a way that is appropriate to life in the nineteenth century."

[liberationtheology]

I’ve found that malleability over the years where I once found hate, cobbling a faith together from a variety of sources: affect theorist Lauren Berlant; sci-fi author Octavia Butler (and her emergent religion of Earthseed); Episcopalian priest Pauli Murray, Trappist monk Thomas Merton, Quaker Bayard Rustin, Zen Buddhist Rev. angel Kyodo williams, and Dorothy Day. I have spent the last decade moving between faith spaces, queer spaces, and organizing spaces, watching the divisions between them melt away. What I once saw as contradictions that could never be resolved now look more like a modern theology for and by LGBTQ+ people pushing for a different world. Long before Javelin, Sufjan Stevens embodied that very promise: that queerness and divinity could coexist and thrive. Being gay and being into God never had to be a binary choice. [...] In Sufjan’s essayistic liner notes for Javelin, he beautifully, confoundingly explores his own faith crises, the experience of sight, and his understanding of God. “I was once again myself waiting to happen again and again and again and again and again … until the end,” he writes. This latest batch of words from the artist, both written and sung, feel very much like an outpouring from someone who is still here, despite it all, trying to reconcile a heart full of love with an often cruel world. As we try to continue living past the initial shock of how badly a bigoted world want us dead, we will keep losing the good ones, again and again. But there is more for us who are still here in the struggle. As Berlant wrote just before their passing, “Once you let in the deaths, all that follows is life. A thing to be used.”

[what-even-is-thiss]

A lot of things we think of as “religions” aren’t things you like… identify with.

Statistically speaking most peoples main experience with religion involves either Christianity or Islam. Two religions that require only sticking to their system and that anyone can convert to and have historically gone to war with people that do their religion slightly differently than they do

And while many other religions have similar situations, Sikhism aka Sikhi is another universalizing monotheistic religion for example but a lot of religions are either linked to one’s ethnicity or are entirely circumstantial.

A lot of people perform various religious or spiritual practices related to Taoism and follow their lives based on its philosophy but most of them wouldn’t consider themselves “Taoists” because to them that indicates specifically a Taoist priest or monk. Many people are specifically Buddhists but you can be a Buddhist and other things. Or you can follow various Buddhist religious and spiritual practices and not consider yourself to be a Buddhist. Shintoism and various other highly localized spiritual practices are in a similarly gray area. Anyone can follow Shinto practices or visit Shinto shrines but does that make it a universalizing religion? Idk. Most people that frequent Shinto shrines are probably also doing other things and don’t really care.

And even within exclusive religions things get blurry. A lot of old folk religion gods got reworked into being saints. I was raised by a person who follows zen Buddhism for their spiritual needs and as a result I still incorporate aspects of that practice into my life even though I’m a Christian. There’s atheist witches and Jewish omnists (and I know people who fit both of these examples) there’s people that are religious but not spiritual and there’s people that are spiritual but not religious and there’s people who if you ask them what their religion is they’ll just shrug and keep doing whatever.

Human spiritual practice and belief is… weird. It’s open to infinite types of possibilities. You can get as weird or as orthodox as you like with it in any direction. Results will be mixed.

[kiame-sama]

I recently re-read your yandere headcannons on Daishinkan and Zeno, in which the little god asks the angel to deliver all human goods to the reader, only they would stay in the house of the little god forever. And it makes me laugh at the thought that Daishinkan literally accidentally becomes our sugar daddy, giving us gifts.

And if we call the Grand Priest "sugar daddy" out loud, he definitely won't understand human humor.

He may not understand the humor in the moment, but he will ask Whis to look into the human phrase and explain what he finds. He isn't unhappy at the prospect of being called a Sugar Daddy and actually finds a kind of humor to it. It becomes a title he actually will be possessive over, just as he becomes possessive over the human as well.

As Zen-oh is quite childlike in many ways, he will eventually just see the pair as his parents and will want them to act like it. Daishinkan is happy to act in such a way for the little omni-king and will eventually stop acting when he develops a similar attachment to the human. Eventually- and without much fanfare- it will become the accepted norm for all to see the three as an unofficial family unit.

[heaveninawildflower]

Chrysanthemums taken from 'Picture Book of Chrysanthemums.'

The text and lines are printed in black from woodblocks; the illustrations are hand painted. The book contains a preface, written in 1519 by Eikin (1447−1537), a priest of the Rinzai Zen sect, which states that the illustrations were the work of Junpo (1504−49).

Images and text information Wikimedia.

[nobrashfestivity]

KANO SANSETSU (1589-1651) Hermits, Zen Priests, birds and animals Each signed and sealed Sansetsu Twelve paintings mounted as a pair of six-panel screens; ink on paper Size of the paintings: first and sixth outer panels 49 3/8 x 20 ¼ in. (125.4 x 51.4 cm.); inner panels 49 3/8 x 20 5/8 in. (125.4 x 52.4 cm.) (2)

[thebrownbuddha]

Anjikan and SuiZen = Esoteric Ro SuiZen, p.1

In previous posts, I spoke of my Pilgrimage to Mt. Koyasan in Wakayama, Japan. The purpose was twofold, to experience Shingon Anjikan meditation and to revisit another temple I stayed at a couple of years ago, to recharge my Spirit. While experiencing Anjikan I came upon the idea of how to adapt some of the techniques, and philosophy to Shakuhachi SuiZen. Many theory’s are floating around about…

[tmarshconnors]

“Separation, intense loneliness, causes enormous anger. Because of the self clinging of this being when it grows, anger grows. This occurs when people are being concerned about themselves, as themselves. When you raise illusory self and attach to it moment after moment, you become alone, of course. Separation is like that. The departure of yourself from others is like that. Where is the division of you and other things? Is skin the division of you and others? I don’t think so. Air, big air and little air in you, is a good example. As you breathe in, where is the limitation?”

Kōbun Otogawa was an Sōtō Zen priest.

Born: 1 February 1938, Kamo, Niigata, Japan

Died: 26 July 2002, Switzerland

[jackiezenauthor]

Maria's fairytale ending

Context that led to the creation of this story here

Thank you @laurasimonsdaughter for the inspiration and support.

Special thanks to my two fairy friends who endured through proofreading and editing with me, blessing us all with precious advice such as cutting off the suspension points that I so much love dropping everywhere in my writing.

Story and art by Jackie Zen (me)

Trigger warning:

people and a dragon getting very hurt at some point

no nsfw

magic and sorcery

author liberties (tried to stick to russian fairytale lore as much as possible but I'm not sure about the bird)

Maria’s fairytale ending

„This was the first completed sculpture that this artist ever made.” he explained, pointing at a crude representation of maybe a bear, maybe a pig? Maria walked around, trying to figure it out. „And the first piece of my own hoard” he said proudly. He went on explaining about the stone itself, the complicated nature of sculpting in it and how young and absolutely confused the artist was when he offered an entire silver coin for it.

She watched him over the little statue’s pedestal. He was just as handsome as the first day she’d seen him, across the fire lake conjured for her and her brother’s safety. Unlike the Bear King, this man could have easily flown over the flames on his own. She was certain now that he knew the fire was an illusion. But he hadn’t... he’d just kept showing up every time she’d walk around the banks, trying to strike up conversation from afar...

In truth, that had been the wiser choice. Aside from his dashing human looks, his true shape, and the one he could fly in, sported a rather intimidating bouquet of heads. Each overflowed with fangs and horns, each able to spit some terrifying element, from fire to what looked like acid... Her heart would have abdicated, no question, if he’d just plopped right there, on her side of the bank, from the very start.

„Am I going in too much detail?” he paused, noticing her glance.

She had indeed lost focus for a second, but that was because he’d mentioned minerals and tools that she’d never heard of before. She already had a mental note to hit his library and look them up later.

A man-sized statue with many hands framed him from behind, sculpted so skillfully that she found herself expecting it to come to life at any moment. The sculptor’s name under it was the same as for the little nondescript animal they had been looking at.

„No, just enjoying the view...” she smiled. „I knew that your kind loved collecting things, but I had no idea how much meaning each of them holds...”

„Let me know when you tire, however...” he grinned, his back just a bit straighter, reaching for her waist. „I hear that your kind is rather short on patience...”

„You’re one to talk...” she scoffed, playfully. „This would have been maybe a day’s wait, at most, if you just waited for my brother to return...” she brazenly moved her hand in his general direction.

If she were anywhere but here, it would have been seen as outrageously improper. Instead, as soon as she started acting and speaking appropriately for her upbringing and gender, he’d started fretting about her health, as if she was hallucinating thanks to some illness. She was getting used to speaking her mind clearly, as of late. Saved her from being fed all the questionably healthy concoctions he kept bringing in, and she was starting to enjoy it too. 

„I still don’t get why I’m supposed to ask anyone other than you...” he snorted, gently brushing the edge of her chin. “It’s not like I’m marrying your bother.” he rolled his eyes ever so slightly…

„Still not married...” she giggled, putting her palm between their lips, as he leaned over to steal a kiss.

He’d been growing rather impatient in the past few days. While he did put up with her human traditions, it wasn’t without grumbling. In truth, she was starting to have second thoughts about keeping up with this too. After all, even with Ivan’s blessing, what priest or church would even agree to marry her to a dragon to begin with? Would money really make a difference? Despite being the Tsar, not ever her uncle would be caught alive publicly blessing a union like theirs…

Her brother was supposed to have arrived by now, she’d even left him a note... a bit rushed, true, but still... What was he doing?

The dragon kissed the line between her fingers and her palm instead, his breath warming the little space between them, making her question all human rites and traditions, and her own sanity along with them, as their eyes inevitably met. Her heart challenged the spirits of thunder, deafening against her ears.

“You really should wear more rings…” he purred.

She found herself questioning whether that thing called ‘virtue’ was really worth keeping… it was becoming harder and harder to remember what that word even meant, lately…

A loud knock restored sovereignty to her head… not without her heart kicking and screaming about it first.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice oscillating between pleasant and annoyed.

“There is a matter requiring your attention, at the gates…” a servants voice broke through the closed doors, just as Maria slipped out of his arms, straightening her dress.

Nobody was allowed in his hoard room without explicit permission which, according to the maids, had never been given. Everyone was supposed to speak clearly too, however, which was a bigger challenge for the newest hires, of which, currently, there was just one.

“Dmitry?” he sighed, heading for the doors.

“My liege!” the soldier bowed as he stepped out.

“Speak!” he commanded. “Use all of your words!”

Dmitry dared a glance towards Maria, who was just about to reach the door as well: if this matter required him to leave the room, visiting was clearly done for today.

“It shouldn’t take long…” the dragon turned as he noticed her approach as well. “You can look around some more if you want, tell me if you have any favorites.” he smiled sweetly, trying her heart again. “Maria, my love, all that is mine, is also yours…” he added before she could argue, her name sounding magical in his voice.

“We’re not married yet…” Maria sighed, irked at how she still had no name to call him by. It was so odd, referring to him as ‘the dragon’, but it was impossible for her human throat and mouth to reproduce the sound that he declared as his name. Despite his excitement at having her choose a name herself, she just couldn’t think of any that did him justice… All the names she could think were simply… not good enough.

He grumbled something about human customs again. As far as he was concerned, the entire event had already happened, when he asked her for a bridge to reach and marry her, and she cast said bridge. He’d even brought up crossing that bridge on his own two human feet, as if the sturdiness of her magic hold somehow matched her resolve. And she had to admit, she’d never cast anything as sturdy in her life before.

For a construction cast entirely out of a towel, it not only held, but it could have easily been mistaken for something built under the Tsar’s architects. If only she could brag to anyone about it too… Other than her nanny, who had taught her the basics and was still at the Tsar’s castle, nobody cared to listen… especially not Ivan.

The dragon had been the first man in her life not needing to be babied about her magical abilities. Even with her own brother, she had to give a nearby ox a voice and make it claim to be doing all the saving and the conjuring. If he would have thought even for a second that it was her casting, he’d have just surrendered to the Bear King right away…

Ivan never saw her as anything but a dainty little sister who needed protection against the entire world. Had he not gone out to hunt every other day, she might have ended up locked in the hut in the middle of the lake for God knew how long… Every time, she’d wait until he left before unlocking her room and going out exploring, up until the dog started wagging its tail, anticipating his return… Heaven forbid, him ever catching her talking to a man, too, even with the acre of lake between them… She was grateful for the care, but it really was too much, sometimes… Maybe, now that she was marrying a dragon, he’d finally get the peace to focus on his own duties as a prince.

“There is a man at the gates.” the soldier spoke again as the dragon motioned him to. “He is rather angry about something, or someone, being stolen from him… He’s also rambling about some dog?”

Maria perked up. This had to be Ivan.

“About time!” the dragon cheered up as well! “Let him in, treat him with most care, make sure his room is cleaned again and have the cook fire up the ovens and crack open the barrels, he knows which! We’re celebrating tonight!”

“He looks rather… hostile…” the soldier said, conflicted.

“Ah, yes… I’ve left room for some misunderstandings, apparently…” the dragon laughed drily.

“Let me talk to him first…” Maria offered. “I’m sure that he’ll calm down once he knows I’m safe and well.”

“Of course, my love. I’m sure you’re eager to catch up with him too. I will apologize for the matter with the key myself, however. It had been rather unnecessary of me to do that, indeed…” he nodded, then paused for a second before turning to the guard again. “Did he bring the dog along?”

He hadn’t…

That made for one less thing to fret over as they headed for the castle yard, to greet their long-awaited guest. They started with almost a skip in their step, but it gradually wore off as the reality of the situation dawned on them… There was plenty to regret, on both ends, about how they’ve left that hut in the middle of the lake… Hopefully, Ivan would be willing to listen…

…

He wasn’t.

As they stepped outside, the atmosphere crashed hard on them. Not only was Ivan refusing all hospitality, but he kept his sword unsheathed, glaring at whomever would dare even shift their weight towards him. His expression only changed once he noticed Maria, but even then, it was short lived, as his eyes fell on the dragon.

He wasted no time before rushing him with his sword.

“I don’t think this is helping…” Maria held onto the dragon on pure instinct as he grabbed her and jumped away from Ivan’s slicing blade. “Let me go to him! He won’t harm me.”

“You go to him once his sword is sheathed and no earlier.” the dragon hissed, moving once again away from Ivan’s reach. “I have never seen a reasonable man behave this way, and I will not risk your life like that.”

The guards moved to block her brother, but he shook them off easily: he was a skilled swordsman, after all. It did give the dragon time to shift, however, and carry her to what he considered safety, which, in typical dragon fashion, was a tower… all the way in the southern garden.

“Throw this at him!” she handed him her handkerchief as he went to face her brother once more. She had no time to explain what it would do. A cry of pain let them know that Ivan had started hurting the people in his way, and the dragon took off in a rush.

She watched him fly away, his seven heads bumping into each other, as if having a disagreement, which they probably did… It was something that she had yet to wrap her only head around: how he could function as one person, in human shape, and seven minds, as a dragon. They all seemed to agree that they liked her, but she wasn’t sure if they also agreed on how to show it. How many of those minds were willing to capture Ivan unharmed? Could he even be captured when he became like this?

Ah, if only she could wield a sword!

‘Swords are men’s toys…’ her nanny used to laugh. ‘They go around, waving them around at the world, as if they bring anything but fear and pain…’

She could feel them both right now… the fear, and the pain… her heart ached as the dragon… her dragon roared and her brother bellowed. She couldn’t see a thing from the tower: the entire castle fenced her view like an overbearing mother hen. Here too…

Every single moment of her life, she’d been nothing but someone to protect, to care for, to keep away from any possible harm. Whether it was her brother, her cousins, her servants, and now, her dragon too…

Not even her nanny would leave her be, even when she’d insisted to learn at least protective spells… All she was willing to teach her was how to animate and change animals and objects, to various stages between illusion and reality.

When she’d summoned that lake, it had been the greatest day of her life, and it was still hard to remember how exactly had she done it, in fact… All she remembered was how tired and absolutely done with being chased around she was, especially as the ox under her spell started wearing thin, under the relentless Bear King’s pursuit.

Her dragon roared again. No, that was not a roar. He sounded hurt…

Of course, the fight was not fair. He was trying to capture Ivan without harming him, while Ivan had no reason to restrain himself, at all. There was no way that this would end up well… She had to go down there now!

The trap door under her feet unlocked easily enough, but it still took some time. It led into another room, closed with yet another trap door… if this was how this entire tower was, it would take too long to leave it. She had to find another way, and fast.

There was straw and rope in the second room… it would do. She grabbed a few handfuls of each and got to working as fast as her fingers could keep up. Blood stained the straw as she worked the ties tight and the rope cut through her skin, but she paid it no mind: if anything, it seemed to help the enchantment entwine faster along.

Another pained growl resonated through the castle yard…

“Come on…” she urged the little straw doll, blowing some of her own life into it. She’d have to slay a couple of rabbits to get it back later, but they had plenty of those around the place…

The enchantment caught and the doll flapped its straw and rope wings, pushing its head placeholder ahead, as if trying to screech. No sound came out, since there was no mouth, and the doll turned its faceless head towards her in a mute complaint.

“I’ll finish you later, with emeralds for eyes and steel for a beak!” she promised. “I’ll even make your wings out of leather and your feet of iron!” she added, as the doll seemed to consider her offer.

It accepted, flapping its wings and rising to the air outside the window. She had to climb the sill to reach it, but she was planning to leave that way all the same…

The distance to the ground seemed thrice as large, now that it was right under her feet. She took a deep breath.

“There’s nobody else who can finish you, so you better make sure I reach the ground unharmed!” she warned, before letting go of the windowsill and grabbing entirely on the doll.

A building crashed in the distance, horses neighing in distress…

She jumped, her fingers digging deep within the straw. She really, really, really should have thought about putting something sturdier in it and even some handles…

She cried in regret and terror as the doll threatened to come apart under her weight, way, way, way too high above the ground.

Flames burst alive under her fingers, setting the doll ablaze, and her hands with it. That was the last thing she needed right now. She prayed to any gods or spirits that might be listening, tears sizzling against the burning flesh, straw and rope, as she started plummeting towards the ground with increasing speed. Her fingers wanted to let go, but her mind forced them gripping for as long as possible, fighting for survival.

There was no telling, with the terror and pain, how long she’d been in the air, by the time her dragon slid backwards into view, avoiding a raging Ivan once more. She realized too late that she was screaming aloud, as her dragon turned all seven heads towards her, mirroring her despair.

He shouldn’t have. The cost for looking away from his opponent was too steep.

Seeing nothing but his target, Ivan closed the distance between them and sliced through the nearest head, cutting it clean off. It didn’t even have time to understand what was going on as it tumbled to the ground, under the horrified eyes of Maria and the six remaining heads. It tried to scream as pain registered at last, but there were no lungs to carry any sound.

“NO!” she yelled, but her voice didn’t carry either, a dull screech filling the air around her instead, fire licking at her face like flapping wings, as she found herself turned in the air and dropped right where she wanted: between her brother and her dragon.

The fire didn’t burn any longer. She barely had any time to register letting go of a flame shaped vaguely like a bird, before her eyes landed on her brother, who watched her, not with recognition, but measuring, as if assessing whether she was an obstacle or not.

“STOP THIS INSTANT, IVAN!” she yelled.

He barely spared her another glance before rushing her dragon once more… of course…

Cold realization dawned on her as she pulled off her one ring, waiting for him to stop in his track just for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her abilities, or that he was protective of her. He didn’t listen nor see her… ever. Her voice carried, he always nodded when she spoke and seemed to hear her words, looked her way, but he never listened to her. Nobody did, not even her dragon… although at least he saw her.

“HALT!” she commanded, throwing her ring at him. It hit the ground instead of his body, but it was close enough for the enchantment to work anyway, wrapping around his legs and throwing him entirely off balance, a loud, bony sound telling of a chin hitting the ground and teeth crushing against each other.

“YOU TOO!” she barked as the dragon, who was coiling to strike, overcome with pain and anger. “Did you even TRY to use that handkerchief I gave you?” she glared, her arms to her hips. To his credit, all remaining heads froze in their track, looking sheepish. Half of them were still angry, the other half were throwing her bewildered glances. Neither dared say a thing. She didn’t risk looking at the seventh head, lest her anger gave way to sorrow.

She stomped to her brother before he could come out of the falling daze, stepping on his wrist as he was still gripping the sword, ready to swing it once more.

“It’s all about these blasted things with you, every time!” she pressed her weight on her foot until he finally let go and she could remove the cursed sword out of his reach. “Weapons, fighting, hunting… never talking, never listening… Here! All yours!” she threw it to the bird-shaped flame as it hovered nearby, faceless but eager, like a puppy waiting by their master’s table. “Steel for your beak and leather for your feathers.”

The bird caught the sword with its body and soon enough, it’s screech went sharp and painfully vibrant. She’d expected it to store it, but it could build itself up instead… That was unheard of, but she wasn’t going to complain now…

“Give me iron!” the bird spoke. “Give me emeralds! And more leather!”

“I will, as promised!” she nodded, stepping on Ivan’s back and reaching for the remainder of his weapons.

He tried to shake her off, as she used the dagger to cut off his sheathe belt and his quiver.

“Halt! Yee of ears that do not hear!” the bird screeched and Ivan moved to cover his ears instead of fighting her off. No… he touched them, as if trying to see if they were still there.

“Did you take it?” Maria glared at the bird. It was hard to say if it noticed anything other than her tone, with just a beak on its face. “His hearing?”

“What use does he make of it anyway?” the bird cawed coldly.

“Return it!” she commanded.

“As you wish…” the bird scoffed.

“Unhand me, wench! What have you done to my sister?” Ivan sneered from under her knee, as his hearing returned without a sign, not even a glimmer of magic.

“I have always been your sister, you oaf!” Maria pulled at the hair in the back of his head in anger, like she always did, since they were kids. Only now it wasn’t about a biscuit he wouldn’t share, so she pulled a lot harder, until some hair snapped under her grip.

“No… you can’t be!” he sounded outraged, but unsure.

“Here! A bonus! Use them for your nest or something…” she threw her earrings and the entire quiver, brimming with arrows, at the bird, watching its wings spread wider as it consumed everything. “That fence is made of iron. Take its gate…” she pointed. She’d handle the apologies later.

“My sister… she would never…” Ivan almost sounded as wailing.

“Right, your dainty and demure sister…” she hissed, stepping off him after making double sure that he had no more weapons. “Maybe you should have thought of me before trying to kill my boyfriend…”

She dared look at the fallen head at last, her heart breaking loudly in her ears.

“I can help, master!” the bird hopped by her, pushing its head under her arm, like a puppy, looking to comfort her, watching her with many eyes made of more gems than just the emeralds from her earrings. Ivan must have hidden his gem stash in the quiver again. “Give me one more part of you, and I will bring you the Water of Life and the Water of Death before you know it!”

She looked at the bird. It was smart… too smart for a doll made of straw and rope, even if she counted the blood too… Whatever was animating it, it was no longer her life behind it, but something old and knowledgeable… She wondered what the cost for its name would be…

“Would an arm do?” she asked, looking at her hands, deaf to the chorus of protests that the dragon’s heads broke into, at her words. Ugly scars stretched all across, halfway up to the elbows, as if she’d burned not just a few minutes, but many years ago. She didn’t need both of them to cast, and she could always build herself a replacement, with enough time and dedication…

“You already gave me your blood, flesh and tears…” the bird said. “And I have no need for your bones. Steel and iron are better.” it cackled proudly.

The dragon almost lost it when she moved the negotiation to her eyes, tongue, ears…

“You’d give your eyes for that?” Ivan was outraged.

“That is your brother-in-law, so I’d watch my tongue if I were you!” Maria was livid. “What were you even thinking? Coming into someone’s house and…” she swallowed, unable to finish the sentence. “If you were raised in a cave, you’d still have better manners than this!” she took her handkerchief as a concerned dragon head reached over her shoulder, gently.

“Give me your hair.” the bird said, its many eyes measuring her with sharp intelligence. “A strand is enough…”

“We’re fine…” the dragon head on her shoulder said carefully, swallowing often as to avoid blowing ice on her while it spoke. “There’s still six of us…”

“It must be a long journey, and I’d rather you return faster than later.” Maria ignored it, untying her hair. The iron pins, that the maids had so carefully put in it this morning, became food for the bird too, since she wouldn’t be needing any for a while ahead… “Take it…” she held most of it out for the bird to cut it, with its new sharp steel beak.

It didn’t wait for a second invitation, taking off with the hair without another word. Whatever she had brought to life, it knew what it was doing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you both sure that this is enough?” she asked the bird as it returned with two heads on its body: one carrying the Water of Life in its beak, the other, the Water of Death.

“You just wait a little longer, master… It would have worked it I just brought a single drop, even.” the head who brought the Water of Death spoke proudly as the other one just nodded, focusing on not swallowing their delivery.

They had realigned the head to the neck, but it seemed to be taking forever. The other six heads dozed in a semblance of patience on the floor, his tail slapping against the ground like a mildly annoyed cat.

“Where is your belligerent sibling?” the idle head asked, looking around the hallway.

A couple of days had passed since the fight, and the place was going through repairs already. Her dragon was getting rather hissy about not being allowed to turn to human, but if he did, the now reattaching neck would have disappeared entirely, according to the head maid, who seemed more knowledgeable about dragons than even the dragon himself.

“On his way home.” she said, checking the head for the twentieth time. “I’ve had a talk with my uncle and we agreed that Ivan’s not to touch any weapons again until he learns manners.”

“The Tsar agreed?” the bird’s many eyes glinted with interest.

“Of course.” Maria stood tall. “Hard to disagree with a sorceress who can put a curse on your bloodline at any time, since she carries it around within herself… especially after she set fire to your entire garden from three kingdoms away.”

“But nobody can cast fire that far…” the bird leaned its head, looking intrigued.

“You know that, and I know that… my uncle doesn’t…” she winked. “Alright… bring the Water of Life!” she rushed the bird closer, the other heads popping up from the floor like flowers in spring.

“How will you know if the Tsar keeps his word?” the birds second head spoke as soon as the Water of Life spilled over the lifeless head.

“The same way that I set his garden on fire…” she grinned mysteriously, looking at the nearby mirror. Her nanny’s face reflected on its surface for just a moment, a proud smirk blooming in her cheeks as she went on with her daily royal servant chores.

The bird’s many eyes blinked, looking her over with growing amusement, a laughter erupting from its burning body as the two heads rejoined into one.  

“I answered you out of a whim.” it said, wiping at its many eyelids as if it had teared up. “But it looks like I’ll be having the time of my life, in your service, Sorceress Maria.” it leaned into a deep bow. Its iron feet clinked against the stone floor as it took off, cackling as it circled around the hall in merry acrobatics.

“That was quite a nap I took…” the head next to her spoke, blinking drowsily as it moved against her arm for the first time in days.

“You would have napped long and hard if my canary wasn’t here to help…” she kissed his forehead.

“Me next!” said one head.

“Me next!” the others echoed in turn.

“Hmm… Canary…” the bird mused, flying over the heads as Maria took turns, kissing each and every forehead. “I like that! I’ll be that!” it chirped right by her ear, landing as the cutest fire-orange Canary that she had ever seen.

It’s eyes were black and beady, like one of her nanny’s expertly made dolls, but if you didn’t look too closely, you could easily mistake it for a regular bird.

“Well, find yourself somewhere else to perch… This shoulder, along with its owner, has a lot of catching up to do with one, very impatient dragon…” her dashing human-shaped dragon chased it away, pulling Maria to his arms. He’d waited as much as his last dragon forehead getting kissed before turning, no more.

“Isn’t impatience something of my kind?” she teased, moving her arms around his neck. A thin line stretched right across his right collarbone, almost invisible.

“I can admit when I’m proven wrong…” he huffed against her lips, hovering, just about to touch them with his own, but not quite.

She closed the distance, their noses bumping into each other. She chuckled with him, but didn’t pull away, tilting her head just enough to avoid repeating the impact. His lips were just as soft as she’d imagined, and she indulged in exploring their every corner. She wasn’t sure what else to do, but by the amused look in his eyes, it was clear that it this wasn’t quite it.

“I didn’t get your brother’s blessing” he teased, pulling away.

“Ah, it’s not like you’re marrying my brother too…” she rolled her eyes, ever so slightly.

And they lived happily ever after…

----------------------------------

Thank you for reading all the way through my little story. I hope you enjoyed it!

This is the first story that I ever made public, so I am a little nervous.

If you have any suggestions or know any guides that could help my writing improve, please feel free to let me know.

[jacksprostate]

It happens in Paper Street. Tyler is still gone. The building is oozing with monkeys, but on the upper floors where Tyler and I sleep, I am alone.

I am not alone.

There is two of me. I don't have a twin.

If there's two of me, then there might be two of Tyler.

Tyler would probably think killing myself to monopolize him and his clone is a step closer to bottom.

If there's not two Tylers, I have to kill him anyway.

All of this becomes clear to me in the time it takes for my clone to stare at me and shake his head and get his shit together.

I play it cool. I am so ZEN, he will not realize when I reach over to crush his windpipe.

I say, hey. This is weird.

"Yeah," he says, and my voice is way too loud coming from him. I don't like it. He needs to shut the fuck up. "Is Tyler here?"

I ask him, do you think Tyler would know why the universe broke? I ask him like he's asked me if Tyler would like to take a nice little shopping trip through the local designer stores and pay off the companies' tax breaks by giving hundreds to their check out charity.

I think Tyler would know why the universe broke, of course. He'd be the one to break it. Maybe this is another one of Tyler's little tests. This new version of me seems less certain of that fact, more like he's looking for his daddy's coattails, and now I really can't wait to punch his teeth out of his skull. He doesn't have the hole in his cheek, and I can see him watching it wink when I talk. He looks like a jealous rat.

We must both be Joe's Clenching Bowels.

I ask him, do you think we're different? Maybe there's a butterfly effect. Parallel universes. There has to be a reason he's so pathetic.

"I'm sure we are," he says, like he's telling his boss about sawing cross tips into bullets. Touching.

How'd you meet Tyler?

"On the plane. He gave me his number. Called him after my condo blew up."

I smile. I met him on a nude beach. He gave me his number. I called him after my condo blew up. Every word after nude turns my copy's face a bit ruddy, little tectonic nudges to the ring of fire.

"What were you doing on a nude beach?" he spits. "Gargling your boss's balls?"

Watching Tyler. Naked and sweaty, muscles flexing as he pulled around driftwood and pilings to sit in his own hand of perfection. I know I sound like a priest that wants to keep God for himself. I am.

"You're a fag," he says.

I think of my birthmark on my foot. I think of Tyler. I think of Marla. I think of how stupid this version of me is, to pretend he wouldn't get on his knees just for the chance of a taste of Tyler. Is that not how he got the kiss I can see on his hand? His Tyler must have had to lower his standards.

Best not to accuse others of things you're guilty of, I say. I'm willing to face any number of uncomfortable truths if it will get rid of him, I realize.

He's flustered. "No, no, it's not —" he waves his hands. "It's not like that with me and him. No."

Yes it is. It's not love as in caring, sure.

I step closer.

It's property as in ownership.

This must be why Tyler likes it. I see myself wither like a guy kicked in the balls on the first night he attends fight club.

I could be over that table every night for Tyler, I say. You would just be jealous. Just like you're jealous of Marla. Of that one pretty kid you probably pummeled into the ground too. Or did you not even have the balls for that?

Eliminate the competition. Face the truth only to drive it deeper into this jammed copy of myself. Win Tyler's affections. I have already seen the bones in my yard, I can tell, he has not.

One of us is committed. I pull my human sacrifices out of my pocket, throw them at him. One of us wants this. I get in his stupid face.

It's not you.

He swings at me, I'm fighting to the death.

"Tyler isn't here, is he?" he taunts me.

"Tyler left you."

"He doesn't want you anymore."

All things true, but maybe not once I kill you.

I am the abandoned dog, performing tricks so its owner will come home. I am myself, calling my father and telling him about graduating college, like it means fuck all to him. I am myself, pushing onto that next step on his list, anyway. Tyler's my new list, and he wants murder. I've known it. I'll face it.

He gets me in a headlock, hits me over and over, opening up that hole in my cheek. I go limp, drag him down, flip him over myself and grab his throat. I slam his head into the ground. It's soft, moldy wood, not concrete, so I have to start squeezing, instead.

Death will commence in five.

Five, four.

He's gasping, slamming his palm into my nose, breaking it over and over.

Four, three.

Three, two.

His body is shaking under mine. Seizing. He has the primordial strength of a man about to die, and I have the primordial strength of a man about to live.

Death will commence in two.

His eyes are rolling back. I can feel his throat giving in.

No more chance for breaths. It crumbles beneath my hands like the ribcage of a hummingbird.

No chances for evacuation.

Death commences.

Now.

On the upper floors of Paper Street, I am alone.

[talonabraxas]

Dragons are mythical beasts that have captured the imagination of all of us around the globe, whether courageous knights fighting them in battle or sages riding them. Dragons symbolize enlightenment, right speech, and the forces of nature, and in Zen circles meditation is considered the true dragon. It’s said that when a novice priest enters a monastery, s/he goes from being a fish (symbolic of an ordinary being) to a dragon (symbolic of an enlightened being). Zen Master Dogen refers to dragons in his Universal Instruction for Meditaton, when he writes,

"Do not doubt the true dragon." Zen Master Dogen Dragon Zen Master by Talon