Then, a Warm Winter

Initially, I feel nervous/afraid. I feel like I am about to sweat, yet I do not. i feel nausea creeping. A feeling of odd “adjustments” that are also nauseating seem to be going on in my face, neck, all over. Sometimes I feel something in my heart, but so far, no.

I feel emotionally now (like only a few minutes since the upper paragraph), like I am slightly more expanded. Like the room is more welcoming. Fearfulness is gone. I feel weighted more in my chair. My palms feel a wee bit moist (smirking at the word choice).

Ok, pausing a moment…4:52. Maybe at 4:30 I dropped these shrooshroos (sorry, I’m just disguising facts with coolness which is not necessary nor cool). Speaking of cool. I fucking LOVED Dolamite. Can you fucking dig it? i cannot believe I have never seen that film before. I could NOT believe it was…it was like it’s been KEPT FROM ME. This is a fucking CLASSIC. Pure. It is pure. Culturally significant.

Ok, 4:55, I feel larger changes. yes, larger is the way to describe. It’s like your …look, they said things like “your consciousness expanding” because that’s exactly what it feels like. You can take a nap on the soft green grass of yourself (if that’s the way it works out for you) see what I’m saying? They use/d those terms because it’s the closest.

However, I am an artist. It may be my duty/ability to describe the experience to those who either want to know what it’s like, or

ahh..4:57 there it is in my heart. Then in my face more. Body adjusting, see? Here comes the calmness. I’m going to take a moment and relax and enjoy it in a comfy seat. I’ll come back. ❤

5pm. The machines, the computer, seem really loud.

(turned it off, unnecesary. creepy. felt lonely and scared. turned it back on. Need my music).

Whilst opening my letter/card to myself from Maine.
Marilyn saw and described relationships to me this way exactly as illustrated in this animation. Just an interesting FYI aside from the music.

Ok, so once again, too much too much too much has gone on in this beautiful, healing evening. My oldening body is not done. simply a stage we (most of us/some of us?) go through yet through utterly unique (sometimes very very lonely feelings of going throughs on the goings do go). What I’m saying is this: I listened to a lot of totally new-to-me, new to the experience inside evening of (like this), etc. It’s exhausting and I do NOT have the patience to find better, more suitable phrasing. So, thusly so do I say:

I took some pictures. I found a missing earring – rather, it was revealed to me like a joke and a lesson about “all things in due time revealed”.

I am reminded that I shouldn’t bother searching for anything directly. it will be made available when it and I are ready. Everything works like that.

My letter-to-self was positively enchanting. Everyone should do it. My pictures having uploaded yet to dropbox, I guess.

Adam’s mom wants what all moms want for all their children: to have the happiest birthdays. To not feel so guilty. That their dads are stronger than they know and that they are being good sons. The ARE good sons.

That evenings spent with Smoekybeauty on my chest for a few minutes of communal love are very good. My old girl.

The music thing. I got a lot out of the music…my mind opened. I saw beautiful illustrations of my own making. Things unraveled and unfolded without prejudice or hesitation. Felt reunited with old feelings from childhood. Things adults call “hope” but are actually (within children/the lucky adults) just being connected genuinely to everything around you so much and so well that they naturally tie in to the Future.

I’ll update this with pictures once they arrive. (I did).

Oh, something interesting, at the beginning, kept seeing a baby, glowing with health and happy, young adult energy around it. That brought me to such Christmasy stuff/feels/colors/warmth/vitality. Snow and beautiful color. It makes me wonder if Andy, my brother is going to be a father again? Or a grandfather (omfg). I’ll let you know if anything comes of that…

The Christmas stuff was wonnnnnderful. This is what dreamstuff is made for. Memories that haven’t even happened but I know are and shall be beautiful, treasured memories. New stuff. Lots of newness…such a beautiful potential for Winter. Just…

There was an illustration of death being stopped and held by Winter. winter not being about death or nothingness at all (Fall is about Death I suppose, but in a nice way?). But a place where we sculpt our memories into beautiful meaningful stories, or a place to self-reflect on whatever and whoever and whenever we want. Winter is where ALL stories were honed by beautiful firelight. Where songs have always been perfected through love, attention, and repetition met with thoughtful refinement. There is no pressure from Winter. It is for us to sit and be quiet in, for just a few moments of (perhaps) some discomfort until the things just unfurl and, like a wing, stretch out for us. In Winter, there is plenty of space.

Tired. Time for some tea.

Wonderful visuals and musical accompaniment. Whelming.

Note to self: This is ‘Voice 005’.

My Soul, My Captain (Invictus)

Invictus  by William Ernest Henley (1849–1903)

Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul.

*******

I wrote something earlier (posted as a photo) and thought my last line sounded familiar. Wondered if I unconsciously nabbed it from somewhere. So, I googled it, and no, it’s mine (a note to self: “Focus and take control of the view/perception desired by your soul, your Captain.). Though the poem is similar, it isn’t exactly my meaning. However, I love the poem by Henley! What a find.

My point? Been thinking very much about “my soul, my captain”…Going in a direction of my own choice. Understanding and believing that maybe fulfillment lies solely inside my mind and life. I’ve dipped my toe into Forever and it has been a valuable lesson in the reality of this life of transiency and the pleasures available for the taking, the precious “opportunities” so easily left behind or abandoned. Less body, more mind, more handing things over to the wishes of my True Self, my baby soul, always wanting to be born into and held by the world. Always wishing for placement. All I have to do is relax, be silent, make steady and singular moves and voila, a life lived well as my True-Self-In-Body-Jen.

I’ve seen through everyone I know, absolutely everyone, that your reality is largely based on your beliefs and your plotting. Foolish, stupid, simple, innocent, internal plotting; self-pity, grief, anger, revenge – these, all the simple simple things – control us if we do not consciously corral and cage them, taming them in our spare time. All the while, keeping our own grounds safe for touring, the pathways clear for travel. It’s a conscious balancing act that is tremendously helped through RITUAL. A thing forever requiring maintenance (ritual).

RITUAL IS REALITY. The rituals are the training. The early-morning writing, the reinforcements. The yoga I am not doing. The paper and ink and paint and canvas laid out in a perpetual and pleasing mess that I can touch and smell from miles away at my desk…

Self-cultured. Being all-one with one’s self and not alone.

Attuning & Dreaming

To a forested world, where life is larger and more obvious. Where there is space to hide because the heights of other things loom large webs of shade over my face. When I look up I see companions in the sky and when I look down, I see crystals like diamonds and ice pushing up from black earth to give themselves to me. To go in my pockets like knives unsheathed, I care more for the thin walls of my jacket being pierced than I do for my skin because I have much practice and handling things where every protrusion and every projection is an edge. I know how to float these things inside my sky, how to take them out, how to keep them in. I know how to close my eyes and see the depths of briny pools and rolling, dark rivers. I can speak to birds but one word “greetings” and they know my meaning in joy, even as they flee. Where I’ve been I can never return to. That’s an art for no human. That is the world of birds and bears, of owls and head-bowed elk.

Advice To Take

I didn’t think I was liking this song, but then I was loving this song. And when he takes his glasses off at the end, and his smile. Beautifully creepy. His mouth. Face. Good. And I love the sidekick. Odd. Like real home-made art.

Oh! Something I now wish to do every time I am away and far from home. It made me feel secure in knowing I would soon be meeting up with my future safe in my own home, enjoying what I had done for myself. Anyway, I wrote a little note, one about each day on my trip, in a card I bought to send to myself at a lovely market in a small town:

I’ll reflect on it and enjoy it (and post my pic of it, for sure)this weekend when I open it. THe card I bought myself is lovely…<3
Notice how the different “J”s denote two different Jens (perhaps)? The me in Maine is a little more tucked up than the more-open and less-sheltered Jen at Home.

A strange full moon. Crazy behavior abounding. I know everybody says it about the full moon, but people were batshit yesterday. It’s too warm for Autumn and early nights, I suppose. God, people are monkeys.

Some Maine Photos 2019

Awww…sweetness.

Turn Away, and there will be Goodness

I feel that ice is slowly melting. It’s all right! 🙂

Strange I should think of a man who I haven’t thought of in years and see his wife, like, 10 feet away from me in a parking lot today. Me, going to somewhere I haven’t been in literally years. In a hottest-ever November day, a beautiful day…who would have thought the full-bright sun on my birthday would be fine with me and be enjoyed by me on my birthday? I’m full of surprises this entire week. Life, predictable, yet somehow this time it was like I had more substance of Self for which to really, really

I’ve never seen this Beatles video before. Wow, cool. Funny, and lovable.

I’ve got so much to process from my Maine trip. It was a long trip and travel too and from was difficult (mentally speaking…fatiguing, like mental work and physical confinement), yet totally doable and would do again (will do again).

I stayed the night in Detroit. I had the most wonderfully normal, yet utterly kind people helping me. I really believed at the time no one would guess I was someone walking gingerly through Hell, but now I wonder if I didn’ t look like a lady in distress. I hope I did not look distressed. But God, if only they knew how much I love them for being who they were in those moments. 🙂 It’s pretty cool.

The forest I walked in, next to a river, running dark and wild through the lushest, loamiest place I’ve been on this continent, but with that perfect sea-water whipped cold wind (but not too cold). Ahhhh my god. god. geed. gad. I sure did fucking love it. Could see myself learning how to fish and frying my own fish. Growing a garden of both flowers and vegetables. Living in a shrine to the past of a land and people I share no familiarity, yet I’m in love with it a little, so maybe it’s not a family thing and it’s a land-love thing. Horny for land, yes I am. Loamy, green, dark, shaded, low-grey cloud hanging-over-stahm’s-comin’ land.

This restoration of footage is incredible. Fun Beatles listening. My dad and Cam would be happy.

Yes, appropriately joyful:

More later. Goodnight/evening. Dark at 5pm. Love it.