Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, quotes

Sacred Rhythm

A new daily exercise.

Earlier today I was thinking of intellectual honesty. A concept that keeps tugging at me. We can either labor a short time and build a sand castle or we can drink our time slowly, and build a shelter of many rooms to harbor lost souls.

The book I intend, to finally set sail, shall be such a vessel. A book that wanders through corridors and opens windows. As well as shut doors that once secretly invited in desperation, futility, and deceit. I realize I fight not against a fleshly foe but a spirit of confusion. The deadliest condition of man.

Note: I noticed I was missing this space. Yet find a greater need to go away. A push and pull. A tug and tightening encapsulates my heart. If anyone is feeling the same Id be grateful to connect and explore this dynamic.

Thank you for the earlier well wishes. I hope you all are doing well. Shalom. Jeanne

Solitude, isolation, are painful things and beyond human endurance. Jules Verne

It’s an interesting combination: Having a great fear of being alone, and having a desperate need for solitude and the solitary experience. That’s always been a tug of war for me. Jodie Foster

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, quotes

Week in Review: B&W

October 18, 2020 Evening (edited)

Good morning. Yes, it is morning where I am. Most likely afternoon and heading towards evening near you. May the days and nights for you be blessed and encouraging going forward this new week. And evermore.

At the moment, my creative life is a bit dulled. Im listening to books on tape to fill my mind with imaginative feasting. I chanced upon Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956 while reading a June 2018 article written in First Things.

Two hours into the book and several poems popped out at me. I love to listen 🎧 and take notes 📝. It helps greatly with my concentration and my comprehension. The takeaway from the first two chapters? Nefarious ideas in the wrong hands are dangerous. Every heart bleeds dark.

How to tell the truth.

the pottery, thrown from the cupboard
lay in pieces, a heap
to bury laughter of the past

they hurry you
to frighten you

their names
slip into insanity
forever vanished from blue sky
broken branches of a dying tree

shaking
dumping
the crunch of littered leaves under foot

notice the still orange flower
silent repression
without the freedom to rise
caught in light rays
turning future seeds into prisons

the passing of past into future
without a map
now becomes silent paths in the gardener’s hands

“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Posted in Photography, Poetry, quotes, Soul Journal

My Promise Garden

There exists a place
where grace imparts
a smile on every face.

Where flowers bloom
and chicks do roam
and honeybees buzz about.

The woods they speak
of you and me
we set a spot of tea.

The wild creatures
come and romp
dance so gaily.

And in the end
our heads will root
between the dappled sun.

I am always grateful the days depression departs my soul. Today I feel free… How are you? 🙏🏼💙🌊

Posted in Art, Poetry, quotes

Iron Sharpens Iron

timid soul sparks light
a feeble space to wonder
sharpen iron words

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Posted in music, Music Video, Poetry, quotes

VDay Songs

Send your favorites. Here is one of mine…🔗❤️🥰

Do you wanna be an angel
Do you wanna be a star
Do you wanna play some magic on my guitar
Do you wanna be a poet
Do you wanna be my string
You could be anything

Do you wanna be the lover of another
Undercover you could even be the man on the moon

Do you wanna be the player
Do you wanna be the string
Let me tell you something
It just don’t mean a thing

You see it really doesn’t matter
When you’re buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes
Though your flesh has crystallised

Still… you turn me on
Still… you turn me on
Mmmm… you turn me on

Do you wanna be the pillow where I lay my head
Do you wanna be the feathers lying in my bed
Do you wanna be the cover of a magazine
Create a scene

Every day a little sadder
A little madder
Someone get me a ladder

Do you wanna be the singer
Do you wanna be the song
Let me tell you something
You just couldn’t be more wrong

You see I really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense
From my experience
It just doesn’t seem to make sense

Still… you turn me on
Mmmm… you turn me on, yeah
Mmmm… you turn me on.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry, quotes

My Morning Mind

I am scribbling away, trying to keep up with my thoughts.

The coffee was brewing and the aroma had me thinking this morning. Again. Stuck in a corner with piled papers around my feet. Shuffling through them, I came across a Steinbeck quote. Lessons on love and hate.

My mind wanders as I watch the clouds prepare a bath of snowflakes. “What constitutes hate? And does an ideal love overcome our failure to understand others? Is there a moral love?”

There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had. -Steinbeck

Why am I bogged down with such heaviness? What relief exists? The heavens resemble our hearts and yet clouds obscure the view. The heart is buried. The soul is grieved. Is it I, we, or you?

I have danced secretly in ugly love. I being the selfish person begging for comfort. I have lived in that grave. Today I dream. I long to release myself from the grip of fear. To taste the sweet water of grace. And gift you the same power of hope.

—–

Mind you, not every day is clobbered with words. I am learning to laugh. Tell me a joke. I listen well enough.

Happy writing ✍🏼 J🖤🤍📬

Posted in Poetry, prose, quotes

Disappear

I am.

I have not left home. Not yet. Not until tomorrow morning. I hope the coming days in Florida prove restful.

To be stuck in between dreams, for years, leaves me wanting to disappear while I finish off old memories and crave new ideas. To remain in limbo leaves me off kilter.

In Jane Austen’s Persuasion, proper manners, community, and romance fills the pages. But also spirit. I could easily fit into Jane’s 19th century.

I am. I am trying. Bending. Breaking. Falling. Obsessing over miles. The years span as eagle’s wings.

Praying. Mumbling. Beseeching spirits to know more! Craving what I cannot drink today. Reaching for the chalice far away.

This is a great start. I can persuade myself to step out and discover. To be my own heroine and find my future.

I am. Leaving, I disappear.

I am not. Now gone. I sail away on Calypso.

Posted in Art, Musings, Poetry, quotes

What if?

Facebook image

Life is a tragedy until you make it a comedy. –Me

I love storytelling and dance and the creativeness of being. There is purpose in art. There is a reason we have an imagination.

But ever more, I feel squeamish at the way we are being manipulated in our thoughts by the shimmer of fame and the fortune of a few. I cry because there is a huge disconnect in Hollywood and the fortress built. I fear community adrift in a stranger’s dreams.

Perhaps we lack courage to live. Perhaps our obsession to be entertained leaves us morally weak. Fame abandons. When their story ends, what is left? Lights out and doors shut. We are left wandering and wondering what the purpose of Hollywood is all about. Hollywood feels so empty.

I say this having always wanting to be a dancer. It is in my soul to create. There is exhilaration being on a stage. Being loved for the love you create. Oh, but fleeting love.

I agree with Shakespeare that all of life is a stage. Perhaps we should admire our neighbor. Listen to their stories and be mesmerized by their dance. What if we do? What if we too share our dreams and hopes and make art?

One of the many reasons I love online blogging. We can participate in one of life’s magic elixirs, words! Cheers! J🌱

Posted in Music Video, Poetry, quotes

Security

Life-wrenching
mind-sucking
dream-crushing
world of good intentions
void of convictions

deeply wounded
resting in Grace’s chair

God molding me
the potter and mending clay,

faith muscles
stretch to forgive

home bound -secure
traveling towards space.

(An older poem from a different mindset. Hopefully not too mind-crushing or numbing for the second day of 2020! Keep positive✨🕯! Life has a way of changing course.)

And that’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Love? Love’s about making it last, making it stick, making it count – even when it hurts, when times are hard, when people change, when life changes them. If you love someone, then you have to want to love them, whoever they are.” –Rowan Coleman We Are All Made of Stars