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This has bought to light a lot of things that I’ve wondered about.

Clarity in the chaos.

I’ve lived in this house for 20 years now… and I’ve never had the time to dedicate days to organizing and cleaning my attic and garage.

I’m doing this now… Climbing up into the dark corners and finding my son’s favorite baseball shirt, the Mexican doll furniture that my daddy bought me when I was a child, the Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes that my Mema made, letters from my Mom written during her battle with cancer, favorite toys and books.

I’ve ground things that reminded me of who we used to be- guitar amps, golf clubs, rodeo equipment, and things that reminded me of people that used to be in my life.
A handwritten card, a faded hat, a note inside a book.
I’ve taken the time as I’ve gone through things, not rushing like usual to just grab the Christmas ornaments or the sleeping bags or the water guns and inner tubes.
I’m remembering. I’m pausing. I’m being present and in awe.
I’m being grateful.

#RockwallStrong2020 #jeannasoul #loveyourjourney #myownwords #writingmyheartout

God is everywhere…in every book, in every woods, in every river, in every embrace, in every soul….
Reflect on what.unites us…and less on.what.bb separates us…more on what is beautiful and meaningful….this.is not a religion, it’s a belief….
The more I live and learn and love,.the more sure I am of that…..my crown Chakra is strong.

Jeanna’ Mead

He must have been

One hell of a man

Such an imagination

Profound wisdom

I think I would have liked

To sit beside him

And listen to him

Tell stories

Maybe, just maybe

He would have made sure

That I could understand

I feel like his words

Sink into my skin

Much like those of another great man,

Paulo Coelho,

With his great imagination

Profound wisdom

Way of playing with words

In such a way that I can’t help

But fall a little bit of the ragged edge

In love with two men

That write in such a way

My heart feels so

Known and loved.

Jeanna’ Mead

5 13a.m

March9, 2020

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Jeanna’ Mead

After a sleepless October night battling nightmares, I sent a text with just a simple statement.

“Answer some questions. Has it been twenty years?”

The answer came back,

“Since 2000, so, yes, and he’s up for parole”

I had known

My intuition had been so hardwired. The nightmares had came back with intensity… I fought and I always said, “I will win. Let me fight. Let me fight”

Greg knew after years and years not to try to wake me when I was battling. It made it worse. It made me upset.

He let me fight and I fought hard

I always won.

At least in my dreams

This week, someone else sent me a text

“He gets out in April.”

I’m prepared

I started training in January.

I am ready

I will win.

In real life

Not just my dreams

Jeanna’ Mead

She’s made it through

Another sleepless night

Fighting dangers

That try to steal

Her peace of mind

She tossed and turned

Whispered the words

“I will win”

“Let me fight, I will win”

In her dreams

She found ways

Strongholds

Little things

That made the difference

Gave her the chance

To escape

She won

Every single time

In her dreams

Because in them

She was a witchy woman

Restless spirit on a endless flight

With raven hair and ruby lips

Sparks flying from her fingertips

And she couldn’t be contained

And couldn’t be trapped

And she always escaped

Because she whispered

The magic words

“I will win”

Until she believed

And she did.

Jeanna’ Mead

5 59 a.m. 2.28.20

http://www.jeannasoul.com

For quite some time, I’ve thought about the conspiracy of love, the relationships we form with people that sometimes,often times,make sense only to us.
I have,over the years,gotten to know and to care deeply for people that have scars on their bodies, which can be seen and felt,just like my own scars but, the real wounds,the real scars are the ones carved on the soul,hidden from all but the most trusted few.

Sometimes, though,those scars become chains,snares,gilded circles of barbed wire wrapped tightly because of a decision to hold on to the pain, to yield the rope of unforgiveness, to create such a web that tangles everyone that even comes close.

There’s something tragic about seeing people afraid to step outside the confines,to dance with someone,to enjoy company;a cup of coffee, an long conversation because they have been unforgiven, and sometimes, it’s that they haven’t forgiven themselves but far,far more often,it’s because love hasn’t.

And it is a crying shame

(I wrote this in 2015… And this morning. I read it again and knew I needed to write more about this. But since I don’t have time this morning .. I’ll place it here so I can return…. In hours)