I often sit and ponder in awe at how I’m still alive. I say that with all due grace and respect. I took my first plane ride ever in 1996 to Germany. I stayed there for months. As I was returning back to Houston, I had a layover at JFK airport in NY. There were no cell phones or internet, but what I had is my intuition. I kept feeling something causing anxiety – not fear, but something big I couldn’t explain and I couldn’t find a way to verbalize it or even stop whatever this feeling was. So, I got on the plane heading back to Houston where I landed (after getting slapped in the nose with the pungent smell of mayonnaise and a man engulfing a mayonnaise and white bread sandwich). I walked out of the plane to meet my family (which were not the type to meet me at any coming home). I was like….”why are all of you so white? (I mean whiter than normal) and sobbing?” They said, “Jenny, you made it home. The flight next to you coming from Paris blew up killing all the passengers next your flight. It was TWA flight 800. And I was flight TWA 805. I made it home.” Home has always been my heart, the truest presence. Life is such a fucking gift and how long and how much does it take to believe that you have purpose to be here? This traumatic event led me to find and meet my birth father. And, for that, I am eternally grateful.
Much love, my dear souls. Enjoy your time and love. It’s special. ❤
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TWA Flight…805
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags flight, germany, inspiration, jenjuice, Love, music, new york, Poetry, self love, strength, travel, Truth, twa800 on August 11, 2018 by JenJuiceTexas Tornado – Presence.
Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags authentic, autobiography, Buddhism, childhood, energy, healing, inspiration, joy, Life, Love, meditation, parent child, selflove, tornado technique, Truth, wisdom, writing on August 10, 2018 by JenJuiceIf I had evidence of where I started, I may be able to have an anchor, but, thank God, I don’t. I don’t have any photographs before I was 3 years old..My mom claims my baby photos were lost in one of the floods we had as a baby…Houston are wetlands – floods happen. However, why was my brother’s baby photos preserved and not mine? I reckon my mother destroyed any evidence of a reminder of the time she was hurting out of control…like me, I remind her of my Dad..the representation of unconditional love and that’s us. And, one can only love another to the depth they love themselves.
I didn’t meet my birth father until I was 20…not cuz we didn’t want to meet, but because I was in the prison of my mother’s ego. The “use the child as a weapon’ mentality…that just is ego..fear-based quantitative supported by capitalism. It’s as if this ego-sense is a new term. And, the only question is, how do I respond? Because the only thing we have control we have is our responses to any action. How did I get this concept so young? I remember my mom was young (24 years old) and getting stoned and partying (as any 24 year old does) and I’m 3….the other kids were all in my brother’s room “behaving” the parents’ words. There a few older kids just sitting in my brother’s room, silent, obedient, no questions asked, just yes ma’am. And, me, Jen..3 years old seeing my mom happy and everyone smiling and having fun and my instinct..was they are probably hungry. So, 3-year-old Jen goes and gets Doritos and spreads them on a cookie sheet and adds American cheese as dressing and puts in the oven to heat to melt. As I recall this memory, I haven’t a clue how a 3-year-old has this instinctual behavior, but I’ve always been me..,..
I remember looking at the bong and hearing the bubbly water and wondered what made those bubbles occur just like their smiles. Cuz, I knew after the smiles would come the after party of the downer I have this little girl..and “fuck you, bitch!” she screams….and, I just believed her…cuz, mom knows all.
My mom’s not a bad lady…she would have been better if she knew how to love herself and that’s not something intuitive or even known for most….
So, what do you say to self-love?…that’s your truest superpower.
Self-love means pausing, sitting alone with yourself in your own presence and just being still in your space. My Dad always told me, “don’t ever let anyone steal your joy. In the good or the bad” Present energy is always love, the truest state..words are clumsy, so, hear beyond the words.