Stuff I Used to Say

Never put a cap on lifetime adventures.

If there is a brand to be used, this would be my dad’s. My dad has done all the things. He’s still doing them, there’s no telling what he’s up to today. My dad has hunted in Africa, fished in Argentina, had food poisoning in the French Riviera, and negotiated oil contracts in the bowels of winter in Kazakhstan. Before that, he was a motorcycle mechanic-geology student by day, a fireman by night, and daddy the rest of the time.

My dad would tell you never to have a lifetime cap on adventure. When our close friend got his “deer of a lifetime,” I quickly corrected him. You are far too young for that deer to be the tippy-top.” Perhaps this is what brought me to this post. My husband, Justin, and I, along with our two youngest sons, Sam and Charlie, have lived on the island of Oahu for a few months now. We are on an adventure daily.

Please don’t be confused, I wasn’t raised in a mansion with servants. I didn’t cut my teeth on gold-embossed crib bars. My teeth were cut on wanderlust. I was raised in a home where nature and life were embraced and celebrated. And the more obscure and robust the challenge, the greater the adventure would be.

Fascinating, I lived in the desert in West Texas when I began to write. Like most things in Texas, the storm came out of nowhere without warning. And I wrote in the same fashion. A tornado is formed when the climate is ripe for a rumble. Seven or so years ago, I found my voice, and my voice met with the phenomenon of social media.

A perfect storm.

However, after the storm, there was the opportunity to clear the rubble and see what was left standing. I didn’t have a crash-and-burn on the cover of the Enquirer crisis. You probably have never even heard of me. However, I wrote my way out of a life of strife, heartbreak, terror, and brokenness, and I now live in joy and freedom – in Hawaii.

If I am, to be honest, which you’ll find I am, I knew I would live here long before I believed I would.

If you had to read that twice, good. Perhaps this means you are engaged? Firing on all cylinders, wondering how to believe in an idea, wish, or daydream when life is so real and so stinking hard?

I get it.

And I know I sound fancy. I am a published author and an artist. I am educated, well-fed, and married to a Magnum P.I. lookalike—less the crime-solving and Ferrari, of course. I am the girl who daydreamed of riding shotgun with Tom Selleck on the Pali Highway.

I do cruise the Pali in a sensible Mazda Crossover with Justin Amerine, the love of my life, keeper of my heart, and my best friend. Which is even better than I could have hoped for.

And I love to share my stories – but I want to share them for the greater good. That’s the hard part of being a writer, for me, anyway.

Everything else about writing is fun. The hard part is not knowing how my words might impact you, the reader. And while I am quick-witted and somewhat sharp-tongued, to my core, I want and seek only love.

Ask, seek, find.

I did ask, but I asked on paper. I wrote in prayer journals for years. In the years before I magically became an author, I wrote my grievances out in prayer-like form in beautifully decorated journals. Nothing was ever solved on those pages, just the loops and curls of my pen, lamenting earth, wishing it was heaven.

And then, I was ”forced” into blogging. I wrote from the depths of my authentic self, which was fantastic. Even more fantastic was the feedback. A chorus of affirmations in ”likes” and comment praises.

I stopped journaling when I started blogging. My posts resonated with so many women that I felt like I had a gaggle of girlfriends for the first time in my life.

Alas, true friendship—unconditional love—is not always possible in relationships built on the author’s metaphorical back. I feel I know many of my readers. But while some of those relationships have been fruitful, many turned sour upon finding out I am a real girl.

For almost two years, I have written almost exclusively for myself. What was downloaded to me, what I learned about myself, continues to be translated into books and studies.
Whether you go to them or not is not mine to barter. But if I could offer you anything – it would be a quick summary of what happened to me when I wrote a book. They became vibrational prayerful contracts, and I learned from them because of my investment in them.

Stolen Jesus: there is no “but” in a perfect “I love you.” Grace upon grace is mine.
Sacred Ground, Sticky Floors: my children are wholly a part of me and wholly apart from me. I am one with the Universe, as are each of them. And:

The energetic being, known as “Western Evangelical Christian Culture,” will continually lose its power by its own hand. Because love is not divided. It is multiplied. That is the essence of human maternity. The belief that a mother must choose man’s ghosts over the innate yearning of her being to love unconditionally will continue to win over homophobia, duplicity, and eventually hate. When an organization asks mothers to choose man’s god over their children – the citizens will google stuff, and then they’ll start noticing stuff, and then they’ll wake up. There is a simple order I’ve experienced since I got past, “but…” No buts. Just love. Love in our conversations and actions with an easy lightheartedness that seeps into every aspect of life, with laughter, thoughtful, inspired conversations, giving because it feels so good, and receiving in the same fashion and a lot of long walks. So, very simple. Now if I had to teach my children all over again, I know there would be a lot less memorization, pomp, and circumstance, and I would live and breathe this: “There is no right or wrong outside of you. I cannot make you feel what I feel or know what I know. And although I feel I know you to my depths, I cannot make you be anything other than who you are… I am not going to let you behave like a rabid dog. I will protect you, guide you, and I will always be brutally honest with you. Your choices and consequences, failures and wins, will not change who I am. Nor will mine change who you are. I will not intrude on that covenant. You can trust that I do not know what it is like to be you.  I will never claim that I do. And I hope to demonstrate this to you in this lifetime: We are not bodies seeking god. We are one with God. Nothing, no one, can take that from you. Ever.

And anyone who tells you otherwise is a predator. Run, baby. I am here.”

***If I am not here – I am probably just at Target and I will be back eventually.

Well, Girl: we are not bodies seeking god. We are perfect spirits, one with God. There are no rules for the body, only hindrances created by the body on the spirit… to the detriment of the soul. Because the soul only seeks to be in alignment with truth, freedom, joy, peace, and abundance. On earth as it is in heaven. That perfect spirit knows what the body needs. Live to hear it, and you will never go hungry again. Also, you can have some cake… Oh, and a shame-free, lose-your-shoes sex life.

Rest, Girl: What if Wow! Change your mind, change everything. This is freedom food. You only get more free.  Not from without… from within.

90 Days Stress-Free: Renovating the House that Worry Built: I am an artist. My life is my creation. I must constantly ask myself: Am I thinking? Creating? Or receiving? Those quality questions will always serve me.

Five Minutes on Charles Street: (my first fiction novel) No great story can go uncreated. The idea is pure energy. And I am its conduit.

The Digital Peace Pact: There are only two choices dictating any behavior, love or fear. When the mind is clear – when it recognizes the choice; my home is scream-free. We are not victims of technology.  We are creators of love and life abundant.

In Lieu of Eating: Oh… friend. I love this book. This is my second fiction novel, and I have learned so much about myself, my humor, and my hauntings. It is a wild ride.

Imagine what you might encounter when you write and journal FOR YOURSELF. Of course, I want my books to be read. But as a human, a woman? I want humanity to wake up, grounded firmly in the power of who each of us is.

That said, I only began this journey as a writer seven years ago. And maybe some of the stuff I used to say was important, but I would rather say those things again now, as I am now than continue to be questioned about who I was then. Maybe that is the drawback of realness. However,  I choose to see it only as a blessing.

There is no cap on the greatness of our abilities or the abundance that blooms from our gifts. Our children are as unique and fantastic as we believe they are. And there is no greater power than truly believing in that totality – which is love.

It has no cap. No beginning, no end.

This space might be a bit different now.  But remember, it is not a real place.  My words are housed here, but I am off doing something else. My opinions only effect you if they cause a friction in your physical body.  If they do, stop and ask yourself why.  Resolve it for you by writing it out.  It is important in our digital world to recognize this.  Once we start really noticing what is going on, we can take thoughts captive and assign appropriate feelings and actions to situations.

Also, I do not want to continue looking back, trying to explain myself to the internet. This is not church.  It’s just a girl’s recorded thoughts.  You needn’t follow me or pledge any allegiances.  Frankly, our little angel baby heart-heads have our allegiance receptors so crisscrossed, the last thing I would ask of you is to commit to more than “Hey, Sis.”

What’s up? I’m so glad you stopped by.

If you’d like to stick around, feel free.  I gotta get in the ocean.

Aloha and Jesus will be all over you! Love, J