Beethoven

I so understand how

Beethoven felt

When others acclaimed

Of the shepherd singing

In a field

While he heard nothing

Not a sound

But looked to see

If he could catch a glimpse

That would make it seem real

I can so relate

To Beethoven

His desire to have

Mutual exchange of thought

A gathering in which

He was really a part

Instead of on the outside

Looking in

Present in the body

Taking up space

Absent in the spirit

Trying so hard to pretend

To understand

who was speaking when about what

Just like Beethoven

I walk away

Isolate myself

Amongst the trees

Dance to the symphony

That I alone can hear

Feel the vibrations from my soul

Making it my own

I know how it is

To wonder what I’ve missed

To put together

Bits and pieces

In hopes to understand

Creating an imaginary story line

To fill in all the gaps

Just like I’m sure

Beethoven did

I wonder what he would think

Of all the things I have now

Unlike Beethoven

I can read the lyrics of the songs that others sing

The words that people speak

Technology has created

Such marvelous things

But none compares

Or will be remembered as well

As Symphony Number 9

Beethoven’s masterpiece

That he never heard

But surely felt

❤👣Jeanna’ Mead

8 10 a.m 4-17-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

For Rob..for sending me the letter Beethoven wrote. Thank you for including me and for singing so that I may feel and know. I am grateful to know you at this point of our journey.

Giving Eleven Minutes

Early morning

wrapped in blankets underlining words.in Eleven Minutes

Finding truth and courage for my soul

strength for my body

wisdom and faith for

my passion and future.

It never ceases to amaze me how beautiful life is

and something I just read struck a chord.
“give a gift”-that doesn’t mean, necessarily, going to buy something and wrapping it….(although those are nice too)…what it means is giving a gift from your heart, perhaps something that was yours, or that reminds you of that person or something special….give something tangible-a book,a card, a pen, a keepsake that says “this is for you”.
You’ll be surprised at what a gift can mean….and what the right words can mean too.
Give. Receive.

Limbo

She stood
On that ragged edge
Over the rushing waters
Of the river Limbo

Should she go
Should she stay

Should she dance
Should she wait

Should she hold on
Should she let go

Was she enough or not

She knew good and well
She only got to live once

That was what pushed her
Right over the edge

Leaping over
River Limbo

Taking every chance
Dancing every dance
Sipping each drink
Kissing each face

Writing her heart out
Speaking her truth

She had to live
So that at the end of her life

She would have no regrets
Left on that ragged edge
Of the River Limbo

👣❤Jeanna’ Mead
5 33 a.m 4-10-19
Www.jeannasoul.com

Dancing Without Fear

It’s not fear

That held her captive

That filled her dance card

It was expectations

Of other people

She didn’t want

Her heart to stop beating

And find out

That she had not

Lived and loved

Hard enough

Fearlessly

Passionately

She wanted to be

Remembered

Long after her heart

Had stopped beating

As a woman

Who did things

Even when she was afraid

Even when the odds

Were stacked high against her

Even when it would have been easier

To just stay the course

She couldn’t live with herself

Unless she took the risk

And became more

Than anyone else had ever expected her to be

Fear, she decided,

Was a cotton picking liar

A stealer of dreams

Good-for-nothing thief

That she refused to dance with

She put fear in it’s place

Right behind regrets

And disappointments

Made it perfectly clear

That it had absolutely no place

In her life anymore

She had replaced it

With other dance partners

Courage, Strength, Passion and Peace

Which took her spiraling

Spinning around

With exhilaration

Close to the edge

Where she could catch the eye

Of Fear,Regret,and Disappointment

And wink as if to say

“Watch me…just watch me..I’m dancing my heart out and I’m not with you”

👣❤Jeanna’ Mead

7 37 a.m 4-7-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

Fingerprints

“Values are like fingerprints. Nobody’s are the same, but you leave ’em all over everything you do…” – Elvis Presley

She didn’t quite trust

Her own fingerprints

She wouldn’t use them

To keep her secrets locked in

For fear they would lock her out instead

She felt like her fingerprints had changed

With pressure and time

As she touched other people

Over and over

Over and over,again

Rubbing in love

Rubbing out pain

Leaving parts of her skin

Bits of her soul

In each stroke

No wonder she didn’t quite trust

Her own fingerprints

It seemed like she had

Too much of others carved into her skin

Just like the way she became

Just a little,tiny bit different

With every one she knew

Just enough to make a difference

She became who and what

Was needed at any given moment

Giving parts of her heart

Holding back parts of her body

She felt as if she was covered with the fingerprints of others

Just as surely as she had left her own

Invisible on the skin

Penetrated deep within

Down into the bones

Stained on the soul

Fingerprints

That couldn’t quite be trusted

To hold up in a court of law

But they could be trusted to hold on

To the secrets she kept

intertwined

Overlapped

Buried deep

Burned into

Her very own fingerprints

That she didn’t trust

To look the same

Over and over

Over and over,again

👣❤Jeanna’ Mead

6 46 a.m 4-7-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

My cell phone and my bank account offer the option of a fingerprint identification. I tried using it..only to get myself locked out.

I placed my finger precisely as instructed,over and over again, and it would not accept my fingerprint the second time around.

Maybe all the years of rubbing others,of burning my fingers on hot stones, cast iron pans, boiling water and this,that and another has changed my fingerprints.

I know that I have changed….I have taken all my experiences and those of the people I’ve touched and it has made me a different woman..I’m passionate..compassionate, forgiving and fiercely protective because I’ve been broken, buried,burned and blossomed into who I ask now and I wouldn’t change any of it..just like my fingerprints…these life experiences have made me who and what I was meant to be.

Dreams Come True

DREAMS COMING TRUE

Everyone’s got a dream inside of them that they want to live out. Though the main excuse for massage is musculo-skeletal pain, often it is the pain of dreams unlived.

It is not our job to identify people’s dreams, interpret them, or to make them come true. But every tension you relieve from the body, frees people up to use their energy for higher purposes. And, who knows, with this systematic and caring relief of old and new tensions, what dreams may come true?

Believe in yourself and in your clients’ right to dream and in our ability to realize our dreams.

– David Lauterstein

Deep Massage Society

Touch me and feel me

Make my dreams come true

Hold my body in such a way

That my heart can feel brave

Trace my face, my eyes,my lips

With your fingertips

Know every curve and every scar

Memorize each part

So you will recognize me

Even in the dark

Place your hands into my hair

Cup my head and take me where

My dreams can come true.

❤👣Jeanna’ Mead

6 04 a.m 4-7-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

Black Dog

It’s so funny, she thought

The signs that make her believe

That things are meant to be

She walked up the steps

On the ragged edge

Of certainty and doubt

To leap or to stay

From old to new

Known to unknown

But when she rounded the corner

Saw the picture on the wall

In a heartbeat she knew

Exactly what she would do

There was a black dog

That stole her heart

A long time ago

He left a mark

The life of Riley

Lived and loved so well

She had never found another

Just let sleeping dogs lay

She knew good and well,though, that if she needed him

The spirit of her big,black dog

Would show her the way

The only thing that felt like it could have been placed there by her

Was the picture she saw hanging on the wall when she rounded the corner

“Black Dog Brewing”

Was what the words said

But in that instant

In her mind’s eye

It clearly said

“This is meant to be”

Like that night so long ago

Driving down a dark road

When a little boy yelled out

“STOP! There’s a black dog out there!”

As she rounded the corner

And in a heartbeat

When she opened the door

Black dog jumped in

As if he had always known

He was meant to be

Living the life of Riley

That’s how she knew

What she would do

One picture

A thousand words

Spirit of a black dog

Stars aligned

Dark turned to light

It became so very clear

It’s such a funny thing

But that’s how she knew.

❤👣 Jeanna’ Mead

7 51 a.m 4-6-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

Riley was my big, beautiful, black boy that I almost ran over when I turned into Blackland Road on a pitch black night. My youngest son, Hunter, was with me and he yelled at me to stop.

I pulled over and he opened the door and this scared puppy jumped in.

The next day,I texted the animal control officer and described the black dog, telling him that I would keep him until the owners were found. Two days later, I texted him again and said, “I’m not giving him up, Riley is mine,now.”

Riley was over protective of me, even guarding me from my own children. He was a slobbering mess ,a gigantic lap dog and a constant source of pure love.

I had seven wonderful years with him before he died of cancer on November 27,2012.

He was mine and I was his, in a house full of other dogs and other people, it was perfectly clear who we belonged to.

I have not had a dog of my own since Riley had to go.

I had two opportunities presented to me,two choices to make- to stay at the little house on Fannin where I had started my massage business six years ago or to go with Cari to the Cade House on Goliad that she was purchasing.

I knew in my heart that it was time to leave and expand my business but I was also a little nervous about the leap,about the change,about the steps and the unknown.

I went into the house the first time with my close friend, Jim, that had found my first place on Fannin and while he talked with the real estate agent, I walked around and when I saw the picture of the black dog,I just knew it was meant to be.

Everything else in the house was very elegant,traditional, and just a bit too formal for my taste but this one picture was something that I would have chosen in a heartbeat for myself.

Black dogs and good beer.

It’s that simple.

My Riley is still protecting me and still showing me what to do.

Open up the door,jump on in- it’s meant to be.