Archive for Truth

PB and……

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , on September 12, 2018 by JenJuice

I used to live in Brentwood, CA…a block away from the OJ scene. In essence, with energy attracts energy. Brentwood must have encapsulated some intense energy..I lived in this small complex and had an older lady, no boundary-havin landlord. A smaller wrinkly, cladded woman with white hair disheveled like her breath. robed in white hospital gowns…meandering the windows and screaming relentlessly for anyone that would listen on her way to her son’s room a couple down from me…I remember one day I rolled home, a bit stoned and see the tenants standing outside my place. I asked what was up…They asked if I heard..I said.. “no, and don’t tell me right now, I’m stoned and will follow-up the next day.” So, I did..turns out…Sandy, the manager, choked on peanut butter and crashed on my porch…she passed.
I really don’t have anything to make of this story, but it rides to the surreal nature of my life for the most part…

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 is 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 joy, 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.

Presence (ball matters)

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , on August 1, 2018 by JenJuice

Sitting in a hot spring with about 10 older Bulgarian-ish men amidst an open space in a town in Bulgaria. It wasn’t an all male hot spring…it was just that I was the only woman (often, I find myself in similar scenarios). The gentleman sitting next to me had a golden color with a thick Irish-Bulgarian-ish accent..he’s probably gearing 60 at least…but…muscles..and tan and in a quasi speedo…but, you know, held the old man balls in
check.
I sat there feeling the steam on my body and breathing in the presence of this immaculate
setting..mid-concrete…center of a hot spring in some place Bulgaria – I believe it was Varna..but,
it could be some place near there. What I do recall is the steam, and the man that had been in
prison for, like …something that I don’t remember but, it seemed absurd and probably a bit of untruth.
Nevertheless..the sulfur smell finally got to me and I realized I was soaking in dick soup and
decided to exit.
(Photo taken in 2016)
IMG_20180801_140429_038

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.

High Vibrations

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , on July 2, 2018 by JenJuice

If you ever find yourself moving faster than most, yet even still…then, you find your-self in the high life.