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.


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.


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



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:


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.


610 304 9007

I am MotherJana.



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

FirstDay Sermon: Your Faith Makes You Worthy

Let’s just establish this: you don’t have to call yourself Christian to follow SexyJesus, or know that he’s worth his salt. SexyJesus is real, the kingpin guru yoga leader, and he downloaded and lived in what was true about life and the world, and his message was to spread that truth as widely as possible, and following him or believing in him or asking him for help has nothing to do with institutional religion.

So let’s talk about faith and worthiness.

First, do you have faith?

Second, do you believe yourself to be worthy?

Some people assign scaling systems to these kinds of questions, and if I was a statistician, or something, I would ask you to rate yourself on a scale of 1 – 10 regarding these questions, or some bullshit like that. But I am not a statistician and neither is God.

Because there are no scales and rating systems for being a human being, and that’s the whole point of SexyJesus’s message. The church has done this really mind-warped thing that tries to convince people they are bad and broken and awful, and not deserving of anything, and they pretend God is some sort of abusive parent standing over a vulnerable child screaming, You suck! You ruined everything by being born! I hate you. God is love and all and blah blah blah, but I hate you! So get on your knees and be grateful for the breadcrumbs you have and don’t ask for anything else, you broken piece of shit!

Right? I mean, I’m totally right.

But when you start investigating yourself, you see that SexyJesus, the True Leader, never said anyone wasn’t worthy. He just never said it. People may have said that to him. People came up to him feeling humbled in his presence and feeling stupid and sucky, and they asked him for help and he healed them, but he never said, Yeah, you’re not really worthy, so no. (Except this one time, with a Canaanite woman, and that is a whole other post because that situation got me really confused but I think I understand it now.) Instead, he’s like, Ping, you’re healed. Ping, your faith has healed you. Boom Pow, you too, brother.

And so faith is your humility before God, it is your vulnerability, it is your surrender. Faith is surrender. It is saying, Look, I can’t do this. Can you take over? Because I’m just getting in the way and fucking things up. And then you’re handing the situation over to the One who knows better and can put better opportunities into play. That does not mean you get what you want overnight. It just means you become open to receiving what’s already in front of you, what’s already operating, and you know messages or light or understandings will develop.

You do not have to be rich to have faith, or pretty, or have a good, solid job. You do not have to be physically fit or healthy. You do not have to have a certain color skin. You just have to ask God for something, and surrender to God. Note: this does not mean, Ask in one moment, and then scramble to fix everything in the next because you really don’t believe God is listening or cares or will give it to you. It is more like, I am feeling broken and beaten-down, and recognizing how little I know, or that the things I am doing are not helping me. I am at my wit’s end, and I don’t know where to turn. So God, can you take this burden from me? Can you fix this situation? Can you give me the tools I need that will help me live better in the world? Because I am screwing up left and right. 

And then you empty all that confusion and heartache out on the floor, sometimes with tears (which, I think, is prayer at its best), and you’re cleansed and baptized and more open to receiving the glory that is right in front of you which you weren’t seeing because you were trying to do it all on your own. Probably, there’s a person already in your life or who just walked in who delivers the answer, and maybe she’s short and quirky and has pink hair or something, but she tells you the thing you need to hear to set you right, and now you’re finally open enough to receive the message. Or you go back home and realize the thing you were looking for and wanting so bad was kind of stupid, because look at all you already have, at how fortunate you are, and that thing doesn’t even matter anymore. (And then it comes when it comes.) Or you recognize you’ve been operating with your head up your ass and you need to make some changes and have some patience before you could even possibly be ready for the thing you want so much in the world.

The Catholic church has this line in their liturgy when calling upon Jesus before Eucharist, the part where everybody stands in line to eat the wafer/bread thingie: “We are not worthy to receive you.”

And honey, that is just bullshit, I’m going to tell you. Did I offend you? I’m sorry, but I’m only telling you because this statement offends God. God did not make you and say, There, I made you! You suck! Now worship me because I am an egomaniacal bitch and I just like watching you scramble and stuff, and I want to see you suffer and toil because being human is about suffering and toiling. 

You were given this life as a tremendous gift, a tremendous awakening and opening and opportunity for growth and awe and splendor and depth and beauty. It’s just hard to understand all that when you’re operating according to the rules of the man-made world. And this world we live in? It is very man-made. And so it takes some work and some practice and a lot of open-mindedness and willingness to grow so you can learn how best to live in your body and know your soul. And when you do that and get there, you help everybody else. You experience the kingdom because you’ve found it inside you, and you know what is what, and you know beauty and love and what a tremendous gift it is to be alive even though being alive requires so much letting go, and then you share that with other people and anyone who listens becomes part of it, and you’re all dancing and sharing under the moon in a glorious garden. That’s the kingdom of heaven. It is not some place you to go when you die.

So what I’m telling you is that yeah, maybe you did some stupid stuff, or maybe you feel like shit a lot of the time, and maybe you don’t feel worthy. Maybe you feel like you’re not good enough. (And if you have been an asshole, you do need to atone and speak up and fix things.) God does not believe all that bad stuff about you, or you wouldn’t be here, sweetcheeks. All God wants is your faith. And when you have faith, and surrender, and you start asking for help in that attitude of surrender, of offering up, of asking God to carry it because you are confused, and you’re genuinely willing to grow, and you’re genuinely open to whatever experience unfolds before you, and you’re humble and recognizing all you can’t do and aware of all you can do, or are, God will just gobble you up and give to you and show you how it really is, which is to heal you in whatever way you need to be healed.

So recognize you don’t have to prepare in order to receive God. You don’t have to do everything right to get an amazing opportunity. God does not run a meritocratic country, baby. God is just, like, oozing with goodness and love and plentifulness and gorgeousness. It is your mind, your own limited worldview, your old damaging patterns, that prevent you from seeing it and knowing it and living into it.

So crack yourself wide open. Get cracked. It’s an amazing fucking thing.


Photo by Marco Secchi on Unsplash

Meet Fear with Curiosity

Oh my goodness, doesn’t this sound so deep and wise? Meet fear with curiosity.

I heard that from this hot woman I met in Paris last summer. I was at this holistic healing cafe near the Louvre that was quite beautiful, and people ate and drank coffee on the bottom floor, and there was a lavender-scented yoga studio on the top, and the chef there made me a latte of some sort that had something really natural and organic in it, and it was perhaps the most wholesome latte I ever drank. And I sat outside under the bright yellow awning and all these people with beautiful dogs kept coming into the cafe, and I kept getting to pet them. And I painted my nails at the table with nail polish I’d just bought and this young woman who was a yoga teacher ended up sitting next to me, and she was friends with the chef, and I learned the chef’s name was MJ—just like the hottie in Spiderman!—and her gorgeous dog was named Athena. So that day I decided that when I got home I was going to have a dog named Athena at some point, and I really don’t care what sex that dog is.

Anyway, these women were young and brilliant because they were in their 20s, and so many women in their 20s are brilliant without even knowing it, and later at a different yoga studio where I met up with them, I was going on and on about something like I always do, and MJ just sat on the couch of the yoga room’s foyer and folded her legs behind her and said, “I try to meet fear with curiosity.”

And I was like “Damn, yeah, that’s a good one. That sounds really good. I’m going to try to do that too.”

But isn’t being human such a pain in the ass? Like, no matter how much you try to be God and figure things out, which I’m always trying to do, you just can’t. Like there is no way to figure everything out. There is only breathing, and letting go. And it is so easy to tell someone else to let go and breathe, but really hard to do it yourself. Have you ever done that, when someone is freaking out in front of you? Told them, Breathe. And how well do they do, my dear? How quickly do they just start breathing and sinking down and relaxing and saying, Yeah, all good now, thanks. 

Shit, when you follow God, you are promised no reward. I want you to think about that for a minute, because it’s the opposite of what Christian leaders will tell you. What they want to say is, “Accept this and this and this and believe in it and you get this! Eternal life!”

And to that, I point you to the words of Rust Cohle from True Detective, which was a good show on HBO from several years ago that fell away but I always remembered it because of this line: “If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward, then brother, that person is a piece of shit.”

I have read a lot of books, and I’ve gone to a lot of healers, and I talk to a lot of people about all kinds of topics. And it’s all enlightening and beautiful, and those things can set us free in little ways all the time. But life is life, and life is your greatest teacher. Here and now. What are you feeling? What is in front of you in this moment? Can you calm down your mind and breathe? Can you own your words and your history? Can you accept and love all of you? Can you keep the faith?

Can you keep trusting even when things don’t turn out the way you wanted them to? Even when you’re beaten down again and again? Even when things happen that boggle your mind? Even when it feels like you’re right back in the same situation you were in months ago, or a year, or several years, and you thought you were climbing a mountain but the mountain has no peak, or it has several peaks, and now your feet are tired and your back is sore and you have no idea where you are going?

Yeah. Uh-huh. That’s faith, motherfucker. It’s not about the end result. It’s about the being, the learning, the experience.

I always look for metaphor. I can’t help it, I’m a writer. I try to use words to make sense of things and to teach. Call it pathological or something. But God is not metaphor. And life is not metaphor. God is God. Life is life. I am me. You are you. No matter how much you try to change it, these things are these things. They are not like anything else. There is no dancing around reality. There is only, perhaps, new modes of understanding.

And lordy, what am I even doing here, writing to you at 5 in the morning? Why do I get up every day and do this? What is the reason? What is motivating me? Is it a healthy use of my time? Does it make sense?

I don’t know the answer to any of that, other than that I started writing this blog last summer after I left a job, and writing this way has grounded me, and I established it as a habit and it gave me fire and life and light, and on days when I’m confused about things, I turn back to these words and they help me. Because the thing I was always looking for in this life, the thing I was always seeking, was someone like me. It was a woman like me who would come in and stroke my shoulders and my hair and tell me what to do, how to live. It was a woman I could look up to, someone to give me inspiration and drive, so that in my darker moments, I could look up to her and point and say, “I want to be that. That is where I am going.”

And “that” wasn’t anyone I had seen on a TV screen, or in a movie, or in a book. All of those women were great, too, and my head is filled with all types of characters who have inspired me. But I was never looking to be anybody other than the person I am. My problem is just that I didn’t feel like I fully knew that person, because she felt so buried under rubble. I didn’t know how to get her out of there and help her shine. And I saw all of her flaws, and I was held back by all of her stories, and I didn’t know if I believed in her enough to help her rise, because maybe, underneath it all, I didn’t believe she was worthy.

But damn, that younger version of me, that little child within me, she just doesn’t stop searching. She is as open-minded as they come. She heard all those doubts and those fears and the way I tried to keep her in dark corners, but over and over again, she kept finding it in her to stand up and search the dark corners of the room for a window. She just never gave up on the fact that there had to be a window. She just stayed so determined inside, even though there were so many moments where she thought she was going to lose her shit. She just kept getting up each day, looking for the window, no matter what happened. And I really love her for it. Because when I’m the woman, the crone-like woman who stands back in her wisdom, often biting her nails as she watches things unfold, it’s the fearless little girl inside me that inspires me and lifts me up.


Photo by Laurent Perren on Unsplash