MOTHERJANA IS MOVING!

While the MotherJana URL gets redirected, check out the latest post on Medium that encapsulates my new endeavor: Sex and the City of Love, Part One: My First Sex Toy Party

And the first draft of my new website, integrating coaching, education, writing, and philosophy about the merging of sacredness and sexuality, all in the City of Love:

Sex and the City of Love

Please add yourself to the mailing list on my new site so you can keep abreast of the developments during the transition. If you are a wordpress.com user and you follow this blog through WordPress, please subscribe with your email to the new site so that you can keep updated. (I’m moving on from WordPress. It kind of disappoints me, and I am so done with hanging out around people and situations that disappoint me, ya know?)

Bisous!

–MotherJana

 

Overturn 2000+ Years of Christian Shame and Repression with This Nifty Book, and Feed the Poor

Humility is the fear of the Lord; its wages are riches and honor and life. –Proverbs 22: 4

Don’t be afraid. Just believe.–SexyJesus, Mark 5:36

Two stories.

1.

One, about my ex-boyfriend. I really loved that guy.

I was in between jobs, you see, and facing divorce and the loss of my house and all that jazz, and I was feeling pretty insecure. But I had this nice guy in my life who took me out to restaurants and bought me nice jewelry and kissed me and hugged me a lot. It was awesome. And I was weighed down by the cares of my world, of course, but he made things better, that was for sure. And once, I met his sister, but when she asked me what I did for a living and I tried to explain having multiple jobs and not quite being settled yet, I sort of stuttered a bit. And later, while lying next to me, my boyfriend asked me why I did that, stuttered. Because he saw me as confident, and it’s what he liked so much about me.

And I said, “Well, you think I should have just one job and stuff….”

And he got annoyed and shook his head. “Who gives a fuck what I think!” he said. And I think he said something else after that which was supportive, but I can’t remember that part, because the first part got me so hot.

2.

I was at this start-up next generation thingie the other night in New York City. The room was full of very cute young men. Boy, were they cute! I mean, it’s hard to get that many cute boys in a room! And they were eating chocolates and strawberries and vegan chocolate chip cookies (of which I didn’t partake, because c’mon, vegan?) and drinking some wine. And I wrote a bunch of them love letters, which I had composed at a coffee shop an hour before. And I asked them all sorts of personal questions that brought about really beautiful answers. And I had a couple of them read poetry from Rupi Kaur. Do you know Rupi Kaur? If not, you should look her up, her poetry is minimalist and amazing.

So after this guy with all the worldly success talked for a while at the front of the room, I found my way next to this woman in the back row and started a conversation. I think her name was Shirley. And I told her all about my book, and about the MOST AMAZING DEAL THAT EVER WAS, which is $150,000 for the first copy and a trip to Paris and dinner at my place and all these other special amenities which is really generous, because as I was writing all that stuff up, I was like, Am I really going to give all of this away? Okay. I’ll be generous. 

And she looked at me like I was crazy. She said, “People wouldn’t even pay that much to see Tony Robbins or something. Why would someone pay that to you?” 

And I looked her right in the eye with a big smile and told her, “Because I’m a woman.”

And then she got really upset! She like, shook her head a bunch and grabbed her purse and her coat and started to stand up. And I had one love letter left in my hand, addressed to a person who loves secrets, and I said, “Well, did you want this last letter?”

And she was like, “No, no.” And she promptly walked away.

Do you think she thought I was crazy, or a kook or something? I don’t know.

So I gave the letter to this gorgeous woman named Kate who, I suspect, also wants to change the world and overturn 2000+ years of repressive Christianity in a really fun and interesting and unique way.

Because, honey? If you want to dig in and go straight to the root of the problems of the fabric of society, you know how you do it? I’ve been working at this for many months, and I figured it out.

You make women feel good in their bodies.

You make women feel divine.

And when women feel this way, and have this kind of confidence, you heal the world. I’m not kidding. I’m really not. Because when women are happy like this, men are abundantly happy, too! And when women trust each other, they start working together in a place of vitality instead of depression and they start making grand, beautiful plans of community and networking and grassroots beauty that changes everything.

It is so brilliant and wonderful and the answers are all in this sweet little book.

I mean, sweet, little, and AMAZING, and the GREATEST BOOK EVER WRITTEN!

I am just so fortunate that it came through me. I can’t even take the credit, really. I just listened to the call of Jesus and flew to Paris to write it, and sat in cafes for a week, and channeled the motherfucking thing. And here it is, for your viewing pleasure.

I mean, after I meet the special people or person who pays $150,000 to release it, that is. And there are all these other doo-dads that I am so generous to offer, and sometimes I think I give too much away, but you know, it’s the right thing to do because when I use this money to build a foundation I’m going to funnel a ton of money to the poor.

What do you get for the first $150,000, MotherJana? (Because there may be multiple offers and donations to be worked out.)

*The first copy, signed, in print and digital format, with a two-hour personalized meet and greet WITH MOTHERJANA at a location you determine, to discuss the book before it is widely released 

*A round-trip flight to Paris WITH MOTHERJANA as your guide to visit all the cafes and locations highlighted in the book, spanning 5-days

*A four-course French meal PREPARED BY MOTHERJANA in her home (with or without video)

*A bouquet of roses

*A month of personalized, daily handwritten letters addressed to you and only you 

*A sneak peak of two other MOTHERJANA PUBLICATIONS due out within the next year, with a two-hour coffee discussion (with or without video)

*A personalized, 90-minute coaching session on intimacy and matters of the heart for just you, or for you and a person you love, or as a gift to a person or couple you think would benefit 

Oh, and there’s a secret! But only a couple of people know! I think, like, four women know the secret now.

Anyway, hugs. If you want to buy the first copy and get all that other hoopla, just get in touch!

janamarierose79@gmail.com / 610 304 9007

Bisous!

–MotherJana

The Most Beautiful Book Ever Written, and the Largest Bargain in the World

 

Soon, I will release the most beautiful book ever written, a book that is going to change the world.

This book uplifts people, awakens people, sets them free.

It provides a foundation for tremendous healing and hope.

It sets a path for a new generation of forward-thinking individuals who are tired of the status quo, individuals who are highly creative and motivated to create change.

This is a book for individuals who push boundaries, who ask important questions, who find the way.

It is a book for leaders who do not just talk empty words, but who live and breathe what they say.

And the cost for the first copy is the largest bargain you will ever see:

$150,000.

What do you get for $150,000?

*The first copy, signed, in print and digital format, with a two-hour personalized meet and greet at a location you determine, to discuss the book before it is widely released 

*A round-trip flight to Paris with MotherJana as your guide to visit all the cafes and locations highlighted in the book, spanning 5-days

*A four-course French meal prepared by MotherJana in her home (with or without video)

*A bouquet of roses

*A month of personalized, daily handwritten letters addressed to you and only you 

*A sneak peak of two other MotherJana publications due out within the next year, with a two-hour coffee discussion (with or without video)

*A personalized, 90-minute coaching session on intimacy and matters of the heart for just you, or for you and a person you love, or as a gift to a person or couple you think would benefit 

 

What else, MotherJana?

Well, this book also contains my biggest secret, which is my biggest dream, and a few other little doo-dads that will tickle your soul. AND YOU WILL BE THE FIRST PERSON TO FIND OUT. 

Have a taste. The book begins with these lines….

 

 

Montmartre, Paris, 1/26/2020

                                                                                                                       9:05 a.m.

                                                                                                            Café Le Ronsard

 

Ma Cherie,

You must come to Paris! Some things are classic for a reason. I arrived early this morning, and the first thing I did was come to the Basilique de Sacre Coeur to sip a cafe creme and eat a croissant. This is my favorite meal, you know. It’s so simple, buttery, filling. Makes me feel like a little girl.

And I’ve been dying to write to you for many weeks, to tell you about my adventures, to tell you all the lessons I’ve learned in life. I just knew Paris was the best place to do it. There is something about France, ma Cherie, something not quite expressible. There is an open energy, an open air. An attitude of laissez faire, of surrender, of let’s sit and wait and see. And that’s my kind of culture. I don’t operate so well in the American one, which is all about “do, do, do.” I can do, certainly. I can function there. But it’s not innate to me. I am more a thinker, a ponderer, a contemplative. I like to smell the women’s French perfume and see bicycles pass by and sit outside and watch people and smoke cigarettes. Yes, when I’m in France, I smoke cigarettes! Here and only here. (And a little in Italy, too, if I’m to be honest.) Cigarette-smoking is kind of like a meditation, see, and I’ll share more on that later. I am not advocating it as a lifestyle choice. But when you travel, you should adopt some practices of the culture, at least while you’re traveling. You don’t have to, certainly. But you might as well try, and see how it feels.

(And then kick the habit when you get home, because American cigarettes are just not as good, you know.)

But the thing I was wanting to tell you while I was on the train, and the thing I was thinking about, is the way I am always in love with a man. It’s kind of wild, the way my mind wanders from one man to the other. And sometimes it’s a couple of men I’m considering. This does not mean I am in relationships with these men, or that I’m physical with them. But I do think of them often, and daydream. It’s hard not to have at least one man on your mind, one man you hope will impress you and sweep you off your feet….

If you are interested in purchasing the first copy of this groundbreaking book, and finding out MotherJana’s biggest, most secret and personal dream before anyone else, please contact me to make your purchase. The deadline is March 1, 2020.

Janamarierose79@gmail.com

610 304 9007

I am MotherJana.

Bisous!

 

Eiffel Tower Image here.

Finding a Hero

Suppose you have a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say, “Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have no food to offer him.” And suppose the one inside answers, “Don’t bother me. The door is already locked, and my children and I are in bed. I can’t get up and give you anything.” I tell you, even though he will not get up and give you the bread because of friendship, yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need. –Luke 11: 5 – 8

On Wednesday nights I sit in a convent with Catholics and talk about the Bible. It is deliciously fun. I’m kidding. It is not delicious. It is kind of serious and very warm in there, and people bow their heads pretty intensely, because Catholics have been taught that when you talk about God or think about God, you are supposed to bow your head.

But they are all very nice and sweet people.

I was in Sacre Coeur last summer praying on the morning of Bastille Day, and I made a conscious decision that day while wearing a tank top that I was not going to cover up my shoulders, as the churches in Europe try to make you do. (Bogus. Just bogus.) While I sat in the pew I opened my arms and hands in a kind of goddess posture, because that is what I felt led to do (I know, aren’t you glad you weren’t there? My son’s head would have exploded, I think I would have had to mop him off the floor), and the women kept coming up to me, very nicely, and telling me what I was doing wrong. One nun in a white habit and garb told me I had to cover my shoulders and I told her I loved her but that my shoulders are beautiful and I’m not covering them. She didn’t know what to say to that one, so she went on her way. Another woman came up to me when the nuns’ singing was over and showed me her hands in prayer, palms touching. I didn’t speak French but I knew she was telling me that my hands were in the wrong position. So I pointed up at the ceiling, at the picture of Jesus, whose hands and arms were wide open to the entire church, so that she could see that we were supposed to mimic him and go through life with open hands. She also thought I was pretty weird.

All of this is happening because I’m done with this stupid message, Woman, bow your head, your body is wrong, you are inferior, be some sort of mole in the ground before God. 

Cause, um, just no. That’s not true. I know what’s true, and that is not it. And I care more about the truth than the church’s tradition of petty rules.

And I have plans. Big, bold, beautiful ones. Oh, just wait until you see.

The thing I wanted to tell you about when I woke up this morning was who my hero is, who is the one who inspires me, the one who heals and has healed me, and who is simply full of this potency called “shameless audacity,” from which we can all learn.

It is my daughter, my five-year-old.

Have you ever met someone, where just being in her presence is healing? Like, this person doesn’t even need to say a thing or do a thing, but she radiates a certain kind of energy, and you just want to bask in it and soak it up?

My daughter is like that, and she has been that way from the moment she came out of the womb.

I don’t want to seem like I have favorites, because my two other children are pretty amazing, too. But we all step back in wonderment at this little one who has no fear (except when it comes to pooping), who is just pure beauty and joy, who says what she wants and assumes it will just materialize because of her cuteness and conviction.

You kind of can’t deny a girl like that. You just can’t. It is pure power.

So while I am a sucker for pretty much nobody, and I suppose I take pride in that, that I don’t gobble up anybody’s words without discerning whether they are true and checking out the situation, I am a sucker for this girl. Whatever she says she wants, she pretty much gets, although I am getting better at saying no. I can’t even yell at her, because when I do, I soften into laughter and have to turn my back so she can’t see that she almost always has me where she wants me. (I mean, you should see the ridiculousness of her bedroom I can’t get her to clean.) And she’ll meet my eyes when I get mad at her and try to tell her what to do, because she knows that in meeting my eyes I won’t be able to stay angry, and so there have been some battles raging in our eyes where I have to get real serious so she knows who is boss, but that only happens rarely, and I don’t know how I’ve been able to hold my shit together in those moments but I kind of have.

And she is just the sweetest, cutest thing you ever saw, and very cuddly, too, and now she is learning to read and write, and the other day she arranged all the accoutrements around my altar and wrote “I love you” on a post-it for me, and lately she just keeps telling me how much she loves me, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that because it’s fairly new, and my other children are kind and sweet but very sedate and kind of Catholic, and this one is like me with her oozing-lovingness, and it’s a little bit of an adjustment to get used to but I’m soaking it up.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because this is the stuff that matters. This is the stuff that life is about. It is not about cowering in fear and hunching your shoulders forward and thinking you’re shit, and thinking that the cowering and the bowing is the way to know life and to know God. Knowing God, and being fully alive, is about being around love and being in love and letting love move through you. It is about embodying shameless audacity, and letting children be our teachers, because damn, children know things. It is only the more they get used to us fogies that they lose something great, because they think they need to conform to the ways of the world, and we need to help them be wise but keep them young. I am telling you this because if you have someone in your life who lifts you up and takes you out of your cares and worries simply by looking at them, or by having a simple conversation, or by watching them be fully themselves, you should acknowledge that person is your hero, and it doesn’t matter how old she or he is.

 

Also, I wrote a book and I am publishing it on Amazon later this week. Dear God.

 

Photo by Chris Karidis on Unsplash

Do You Have True Power?

Have you ever met a powerful person, and what was it that defined their power?

Most of us think power is fame and fortune. We think it is being widely known, having money to do whatever you want.

But when you look at celebrities, for instance, who get to pursue their art and have big houses and any lover they desire, do they seem happy or joyful? Or do they just seem fake?

So look at the following passage, and let’s talk about true power.

**

In the time of SexyJesus, there was a tax collector named Zacchaeus. What a name, right? What kind of parent chooses such a name? Zacchaeus felt it was a curse from an early age, but he couldn’t escape it, so he just had his friends—which were few—call him Master Z.

Master Z had a lot of money and held these big parties and everybody came to him for loans, because he was good at making business deals and loaning money and he was also good at collecting money when it was due. But damn, Master Z was lonely. He was busy, certainly, and he was collecting all this money and putting it under his mattress, and he was spending nights with fine wine and lots of food, and people were always in his living room in fancy clothes. He had enough money that he could feed the world. He had a glorious house with large hallways and servants to make his breakfast and dinner. But he did not have a special person, and he was confused about what mattered, since everybody seemed to admire him but he felt lost inside. Even his friends were wary of him, threatened by his wealth, and other people he occasionally invited over just hung around him in the hope of getting some of the savory crumbs from his plate.

Master Z felt like his life had no there there. It was hollow. It was empty. He kept coming back to this same feeling, no matter how much money he collected and stuffed in his mattress. Each day was the same. There was no spark, no juice to make it all feel alive and connected and whole.

And then he heard about this guy going around town called SexyJesus. This guy, who, when you were near him, gave you an electric shock right up your spine. This guy who had this amazing smile that warmed the world. Whose voice was soft and yet commanded attention. And the other thing was, this SexyJesus guy had no money. He just wandered. He was a nomad with an entourage, and if he needed something, he could just make it appear. Master Z wanted to get a look at this guy. He wanted to know if all the rumors were true.

So when SexyJesus came to town, and all the people gathered around to listen, Master Z climbed up a tree so he could get a good look, because he was short and was always frustrated at concerts and stuff when he couldn’t see the music makers.

And man, did SexyJesus light up when he spoke. That healer was like this walking orb of light, and Master Z knew then and there that all the rumors were true.

So when SexyJesus wrapped up his lesson and looked up for a minute and saw Master Z dangling from a branch of a tree, he smiled at him, and told him, “Master Z, I hear you have good food and wine and some extra rooms. I’m going to stay in your house tonight.”

And Master Z was so overcome with honor, his whole body blushed. He climbed down and walked to SexyJesus and held out his hands in the hopes that SJ would hold them for a minute.

“SJ, SJ, I am so inspired by you I don’t even know what to do.” He got on his knees in front of the savior, and for the first time since he was a young boy, he began to cry. SJ stroked his hair, and a depth of calm entered Z’s body, a healing he had never known. He stood up with a jolt. “SexyJesus, I am going to give half my possessions to the poor in honor of you. I am going to pay back anyone I treated poorly with four times the amount. The amount of money I have is ridiculous when there are people in this world suffering.” Master Z stood up and felt so free, he started jumping for joy, skipping, smacking the heels of his feet together as he ran in circles and leaped. “And I do it all in honor of you, my Lord! You’re so inspiring to me!”

SexyJesus laughed. He was looking forward to a nice dinner. He was glad Master Z was healed. “Well, praise me,” he said, and gathered his people, and they all followed Master Z to his house. “I want some dancing, too,” SexyJesus said.

Master Z’s eyes lit up and became even wider and more round. “Of course. Anything you want. I am humbled to even be near you.”

**

Last fall I was talking to my college students about money and fame and wealth and all that jazz. Because the people they admired were people who had a lot, people who made videos with guns and stuff, or football players who took a stand about something, but I kept wondering aloud why these famous people were not giving away more money. Taylor Swift, for instance, who is fucking brilliant and whose music I love. When I saw she made upwards of 40 million dollars a year, I was like, Ew, gross. I mean, isn’t this gross? The same goes for football players and Childish Gambino. I talked about hoarding. I told them about something I read from Thich Nhat Hanh once where he asked, Why do we think someone who has a lot of pets is weird, but someone who has a ton of money is normal, is someone we’d like to be? And I really don’t want a ton of pets, because that makes me feel all icky, because I’m not even good at watering plants. But I did get his point. Because when you have enough money sitting in the bank and in investment accounts that you could feed all of Africa, but you’re just like, buying big houses and sitting on all that capital when people are starving, I mean, no wonder you’d be waking up in the middle of the night wracked with all this pain and confusion. That’s your conscience grabbing at you, honey dear. Give your money away, because you know you’ll make more. But please, Taylor, also keep singing because I love to dance.

And so, this special scene between SexyJesus and Master Z shows you an example of True Power, which comes from within, and does not come from around you and outside of you. Master Z, you see, is hollow and empty. He has a shit ton of money, but that does not bring him happiness. SexyJesus on the other hand, just picks where he wants to sleep each night, and is bound and confined by nothing. His power is within him. It radiates out. He has root, he has substance, he has flow. He was probably not constipated a day in his life. And when you have that much presence inside of you, and knowing inside you, and it radiates out, and you can go into any situation and know what matters and leave with what you want, because what you want is the right thing, well, I can’t imagine there is any more powerful thing in the whole world.

 

 

Photo by Grant Ritchie on Unsplash