Archive for writing

Dark Matter and Mind-filled Meanderings….

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

The galaxy is mostly dark matter – mind-filled darkness. The beauty of the space in-between and out of bounds is the ambiance of the quotient of life matter(s).

As is a viable source to get to know….I’ve found if I found any lesson with working in a funeral home my high school years – the number of deaths I’ve seen…I can report back to you that energy does not die, so what are so many humans afraid of – is the question.dark matter

Surrender to flow…

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

It’s OK to not have the words to say, it’s OK to not understand fully of what one is going through especially with grief as grief is a profound experience. Yet, the power of communication gives us insight into what others are experiencing. I find the more I stick with love when addressing people that are mourning is the best sentiment I can give. Love has one meaning and in that meaning, there is space for us to be where we are. And, simply, it’s what we need to hear. Especially when losing someone you love in the physical realm. Where does that love go? Has it disappeared? Or is it a feeling and now what to do with the love on a physical level?

Love is an energy – the purest and truest energy and that does not die. That does not disappear. Energy transforms forms – it never dies.

Grief is simply an attachment to a memory. Simply…

The relative space of love is a good place to begin letting go and going with the flow. Non-resistance is where it’s at. It’s where we find freedom. 

Pain is pain.

Emotions often arrive in the form of physical pain in the body. It’s kind of the shit no one really tells us – how painful grief is. I now am on a solid diet of pole dancing, yoga, aloe, and meditation to keep my physical pain settled and flowing. I found while I’m hurting emotionally that the thickness of the grief is like mud sifting through my veins. And, it hurt.

Here is the thing… we can actually rise through and out of that pain. The pain in your body is just an elevated wake-up to your being to listen to the emotional pain that needs to be addressed.

We tend to act faster when we are in physical pain, not so much to emotional pangs. But, you can’t have one without the other. Pain is pain any way you look at it. Listen gently to these identifiers when they knock, when they whisper, when they call, when they scream, listen to what they have to say. Time and time again it’s the roundabout bottom line – to listen….non-resistance is key.

It’s as if we are the moon – we are the sea of fish…..We are the ocean.

I found the meaning of flow the day I scuba-dove in Thailand.

While underwater and just flowing…going with the current. If I held my breath, my body would retract. If I moved out of the flow, the school of fish eradication would occur. If I swam against the current I would not have the strength to go very far. So, I found..the meaning of surrender….in flow. It was that simple when I stopped fighting.14590123_10208338673159334_5698636977334885447_o

Light enters…

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , on September 25, 2018 by JenJuice

Dad was in Vegas…Russian roulette he’d play that night. Sobbing on his knees and giving up…gun to head. Finger to trigger….Click.
Head’s up.
Light entered.
Angel spoke to him, he said.
“Go home and find …Jenny…
She needs you.” – the angel spoke.

My Dad listened.

to be continued….

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…

Why are we?

Posted in Jencerpts.. with tags , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2018 by JenJuice

I have tried to implicate my life as a social introvert…when in reality, I’m an introvert trying on an extroverted perception for some time….but, words are clumsy, so…
I’ll just be me.

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.

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 c.apitalism. 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.

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)
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