Archive for Love

Vibrate Higher

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2018 by JenJuice

Energy is how we are here. Simply physics. Every living organism is a form of energy. Emotions are energy in motion….Movement.

Music is vibration and if the music we are making popular is vibrating at a lower level of consciousness, we are manifesting low-level energies in our World. We must understand that art is the power that evolves us and we need to be very aware of the energy we are supporting to vibrate our World. Because we are all part of the perfection and manifestation of our reality. Vibrate higher. Manifest the highest love. Passion is self-love.
Jen pole

TWA Flight…805

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2018 by JenJuice

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. ❤

Texas Tornado – Presence.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2018 by JenJuice

If 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.

Flow…

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , on August 8, 2018 by JenJuice

It’s evolution of DNA – the synchronicity of patterns is omniscient to what is. Find the way through the ocean. Not the memory.

Silly fucks.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , on July 27, 2018 by JenJuice

These silly fucks…. I look at the game of life..the ‘Let’s get fucked up. Let’s fuck. Let’s fuck fuck fuck mind. And, to me…I ask..what is your meaning? Cuz fucking is grand, but can you rise the fuck up?

That’s the question.

Overdosed on Life….

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 24, 2018 by JenJuice

The reason humans do drugs to the point of no return, the highest peak, the stable blue, the red line, the morphine drip that won’t sink the heavy line –
the reason any of us escape our pain with an overdose – is pain, sure, but that specific pain stems from loneliness.

So, what does loneliness mean? It’s OK to be alone. It’s not OK to be lonely. When we think we are separate from one another is the only time we feel lonely and afraid.

Build on that Love, ask yourself, what does Love mean?

No Separating. Love is US. The energy which made us.

Jen Again….

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2018 by JenJuice

Again and again and I sit in a different space, a different latitude, a different country..yet, it all looks the same. And, I quite find that nowhere I go can I ever change the ways look until I change the way I see them.

I travel miles away to feel…to release….to be fucking vulnerable. To cry. To let go. And, it all looks the same. I found I could never escape me. And, no matter how far I go physically the same me follows me..and the lesson is one thing. Love me. Love myself. Self love is a practice and it’s not taught…fucking love yourself. Love yourself hard and soft. Be your fucking number one. All else will follow…

Gratitude for the waves that hugged me today, I love you. Your flow teaches me all. The current is key….

When She Speaks… Listen.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , on July 10, 2018 by JenJuice

Some days I’m so paralyzed in grief. The heavy fucking-hearted energy. Can’t breathe. My heart has a pain so profound I can’t even reach. Can barely move. Crying hysterically laughing and sobbing simultaneously. Write, I hear. Dance, I hear. So, I do.

Then I hear a YouTube commercial…”What you hongry fo….?”

My Universal voice is a black grandma, just like me.

Art refugee

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , on July 8, 2018 by JenJuice

Art is your eyes to see what will come.

Ties.

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , on December 14, 2017 by JenJuice

If it was never broken, how can it ever be fixed?

The you, I see

Can be on top

Of me

Loving

The inner peace

I find every day

Around 5 and before

You leave

Remember

Not to go

So fast.

Cuz, time doesn’t exist

And neither

Do I.

I live.

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