2 25 p m
2 25 p m
I am not old….she said
I am rare
I am the standing ovation
At the end of the play
I am the retrospective
Of my life as Art
I am the hours
Connected like dots
Into good sense
I am the fullness
You think I am waiting to die
But I am waiting to be found
I am a treasure
I am a map
And these wrinkles are
Imprints of my journey
Ask me anything
Samantha Reynolds, poet..
I read these words and I cried at the beauty and the simplicity and the truth.
I thought of the women I know that have stories I would like to know
I wonder if they wish to be asked… To be found.. to be seen… To be known
As more than just “the old lady that sits on the far left pew”
Or the one that whispers to herself as she plants seeds of flowers
I wonder if those ladies I know wish I would ask them anything
I wonder if they would answer
Would I be surprised? Would they?
What about me? Would I tell stories and answer questions
If I was asked anything?
Or would I gaze away and say,
“you shouldn’t ask questions like that”
While thinking to myself of what I know
And who I am
Underneath it all
I am not getting old, not really
I am becoming my self
My body caresses my soul
My soul caresses my body
I find the treasures in the moments and the questions and the words of another woman
Jeanna’ Mead, poet, too
Wrote these words
But this woman
Like a slap in the face
A punch in the stomach
She knew the pain
All too well
She wrote her own words
Walking with the stars in the sky
On a beach late at night
Sharing deep thoughts
Not the shallow ones at all
that’s the way it was
For the another woman
👣💙 Jeanna’ Mead
9 40 a.m. April 28 2020
There’s an old tree
Given to me
Many years ago
Bought for one dollar in a pretty pot
That was worth more
I planted it with high hopes
Not knowing what it was to become
It grew and spread
It’s branches to the sky
The roots became the resting place
For some of our beloves
I took that dollar tree for granted
Till the days I noticed
It wasn’t sprouting any new leaves
The branches seemed to break with ease
As if it had lost all of it’s strength
For a fleeting moment
I thought of taking the old chainsaw and cutting it down
Until I sat outside, wrapped up in covers
Listening to the birds
Hearing the Spirit
Speak softly to me
Reminding me, tenderly
There’s beauty and purpose left in this tree
There’s always more that meets the eye
Look for the treasures
Find the light
Make something out of nothing
Just like you were taught
So I decided, right then and there
This old dollar tree was still alive
Branches reach up to the sky
Singing a song
“Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back into praise”
I saw the chance
Without the leaves
It became a place to hang
Things that made my soul dance within my body
Pieces that would be discarded or forgotten
Take on a new life
With beauty and purpose
A few bells to ring
A yellow tire swing
Heart made from a hanger
Baubles and beads that had been collecting dust
Found themselves hanging up, gracing the branches
This old dollar tree
Still has lessons for me
There’s beauty and purpose in everything
I can hear the voice
Of the woman that raised me
“Don’t you dare give up on anything, all it needs is love.”
Beauty and purpose
Is still alive
April 20 2020
7 12 a.m
CRY OUT IN YOUR WEAKNESS
A dragon was pulling a bear into its terrible mouth
A courageous man went and rescued the bear.
There are such helpers in the world, who rush to save
anyone who cries out. Like mercy itself,
they run toward the screaming.
And they can’t be bought off.
If you were to ask one of those, “Why did you come
so quickly?” he or she would say, “Because I heard your helplessness.”
Where lowland is,
that’s where water goes.
All medicine wants is pain to cure.
And don’t just ask for one mercy.
Let them flood in. Let the sky open under your feet.
Take the cotton out of your ears, the cotton
of consolations, so you can hear the sphere-music.
Push the hair out of your eyes.
Blow the phlegm from your nose,
and from your brain.
Let the wind breeze through.
Leave no residue in yourself from that bilious fever.
Take the cure for impotence,
that your manhood may shoot forth,
and a hundred new beings come of your coming.
Tear the binding from around the foot
of your soul, and let it race around the track
in front of the crowd.
Loosen the knot of greed
so tight on your neck.
Accept your new good luck.
Give your weakness
to one who helps.
Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.
Just a little beginning-whimper,
and she’s there.
God created the child, that is, your wanting,
so that it might cry out, so that milk might come.
Cry out! Don’t be stolid and silent
with your pain. Lament! And let the milk
of loving flow into you.
The hard rain and wind
are ways the cloud has
to take care of us.
Respond to every call
that excites your spirit.
Ignore those that make you fearful
and sad, that degrade you
back toward disease and death.
I read this because my teacher, David, posted it on our Deep Massage Society page,
This opened the door for my own words to flow.
She didn’t feel the need
To say much of anything
To anyone at all
She didn’t cry out
But instead she stood
With her hands wide open
Just like her heart
She breathed in and exhaled
Let every thought go wherever it would be received
Maybe someone needed the words she had written
Maybe someone would read between the lines
Maybe she would be able to give what another cried out for
She believed anyway
What she knew for absolute certainty
Was that The Creator knew her soul well, so well
Knew what she needed
What she wanted, too
Knew the treasures she was seeking
And how they would be found
As long as she continued
To stand with her hands open wide
Ready to receive
Whatever her heart believed
She had no need to cry out loud
Because the Universe could hear
The whispers of her soul
The itch of her fingers
To fill the voids
The way she stood
Beckoning with her hands
For things to fill in
Capture her imagination and fill up her heart
It was so simple
When she responded to every call that excited her spirit
By simply standing there
With the door to her heart wide open
And her hands ready to receive and to give
Just as freely
As her soul cried out for.
👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead
4.15.20. 10 07a.m
Two weeks ago, I had a new client finally come in to see me.
We had interacted on social media for months and I knew he was following me on my posts on Facebook and Instagram.
This is how it is with First Responders and Veterans. They take their time, learning about who I am and what I do before they come into my place and receive bodywork.
It takes time. It takes trust. It doesn’t happen overnight. It can’t be rushed.
I know this and I just let it come when it does. I open the door to communicate and I let them gaze at the door as long as it takes before they walk across the threshold and into my space.
And I’m ready when they do.
Most of the time.
I’m not always prepared, though, for everything that happens.
You see, while I have the door open so I can gain their trust, something else happens.
I become known. I become seen. I become vulnerable. I get touched in all kinds of ways.
And sometimes it reminds me of who I was and who I need to be.
Days after his session, my client sends me this video with the comment,”The girl on the right reminds me of you.”
I clicked it.
I was transfixed.
It was like looking in the mirror, seeing myself again.
The girl I was. The woman I am.
Tears ran down my face.
I watched it again and again.
I got home and walked into my closet.
I have a dress almost exactly like that, still.
I turned on the music, really, really loud.
I begin to dance.
I caught my reflection in the mirror.
I was smiling.
The big, real, genuine Jack O’Lantern smile that Mema always said gave me away.
“Gave me away.”
That’s what it is… Some things just give you away, give away your passions, your pleasures, your so-called “buttons” that only people that take the time to watch and see, listen and learn, find out about you.
It’s a romance in many ways.
I know that it’s a give and take, to give fully, one must be willing to receive fully, too.
An open door goes both ways.. One can come in and one can go out.
One can see inside and one can be seen from outside.
I know my client doesn’t realize the gift he gave me when he sent the video.
It is a gift, though, in a very beautiful way.
He reminded me of what one of my heart desires is, of something I had pushed way back and let go of.
I needed this reminder so very much.
It made me stop and think and write down what I wanted and needed in my life.
To be known and loved.
To know and love.
To dance on the edge.
To dance again.
To open doors.
To come back.
To go forward.
Bad romances and all.
To be the woman in the dress, dancing my heart out.
👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead
938 a.m. 11.26.19
When it is time
To step inside
Shut the door
Do what must be done
I won’t bite my tongue
Clench my fist
Hold tight for what might happen
Keep the door cracked
Just a little
Every little thing
Is gonna be alright
Hard to explain
How the past
Tries to break in
Cause some trouble
Raise some hell
Bring me back down
Where I don’t ever want to go again
When I think it’s all over
Locked safely away
It comes out
Tries to shatter my peace
But not now
I will whisper
The safe words
That have been engraved
Upon my heart
Etched into my skin
Worn upon my arm
Placed all over my walls
The words that keep me
Strong and fierce
Full of joy
Living my life
Falling in love
Dancing in the dark
Riding the waves
Feeling with both hands
Reading chapter and verse
Making big plans
Leaps of faith
In secret places
Now when I step inside
I’ll close the door
Delight in all I see
Do what I came for
Linger just a little longer
In this safe place
With all the words
When I decided to make the move to the Cade house, it was because of several signs that made me know it was meant to be.
One thing set me off, though, and my mind went straight down a path I didn’t want to go.
The commode closet is 4 feet wide by 4.5 feet deep with 10 feet ceilings. With white walls and white door, it was cold and inviting but more than that, it made me feel trapped. I had visions of someone turning off the lights, since the switch was outside the door, and placing a chair against the door knob so I couldn’t get out.
I shared this with a few people and they all laughed and assured me that no one would do that.
I was not convinced.
Every time I had to use the restroom,I would lock the door to the big room and leave the commode closet door open.
I couldn’t ease my mind.
Maybe it was irrational but it was my way of fighting my demons.
Then Tuesday my aunt Judy, and her daughter, Brandi and Brandi’s daughter, Mandana came into my new massage studio, carried bags and bags of treasures up the stairs and created a beautiful, sacred and safe place that bought me to squeals of pure joy and tears of happiness.
They spent the entire day and evening arranging and placing things perfectly, taking my gifts from clients and friends and putting them where I can see them and feel the love. They found paintings and pictures, pillows and silk scarves, baskets and wooden bowls, books and rocks and mixed the old with new.
Thift store finds mingled with handcrafted pieces from Europe.
Mexican shakers nestled in a bird cage.
Mirrors reflected pictures that had been painted of me that had been taken on days that I always remember as days that I felt known and loved.
A beautiful cut rock was placed next to a pitcher. They had no idea that the pitcher was a gift from a woman when I first opened my 203 Fannin location. Every time I look at that pitcher, I’m reminded of her gracious spirit.
Up on the fireplace ledge, was a little jade bird… It reminded me immediately of the song my Mema loved to sing.
“One, two, three like a bird I sing
Cause you’ve given me
The most beautiful set of wings”
It also reminded me that God has placed each person in my life for reasons and that there I am to love and live like an uncaged bird.
All these things, all the details in my massage room and even my closet meant so much but the biggest surprise was what they did to the commode closet.
They had blindfolded me… Something that took a level of trust in itself. Being unable to hear and unable to see is a step of faith for me.
They sat me down on the white throne and took off the blindfold and, just like that, my demon was slayed by the words and the art and the pictures that covered that 4 feet by 4.5 feet by 10 foot high commode closet.
Words of strength.
Words of faith.
Words that made me laugh.
Paintings by friends.
Pictures from my original studio.
Treasures from stores.
I could sit there and feel safe.
Known and loved.
They thought they were only decorating my place for me.
They did that, too.
But they really gave me the most beautiful set of wings.
They made this place safe and sacred.
They gave me what my soul needed, what I longed for, what I tried so hard to trust my Intuition for.
They took the words I had spoken and believed it mattered.
This is a gift beyond measure.
Known and loved.
I can fly.
She’s been kissed by angels
That’s what she had been told
About the stains across her beautiful face
She’s been given wisdom
Way beyond her years
A fierce spirit
That rises up
She’s claimed her place
In my heart
I see the beauty of her soul
The courage she has
Brimming right below
She’s been kissed by angels
Since the day she was born
On the same day
Years and years apart
From another one
That holds a special place deep within my heart
She’s got so much strength
That I wish others could see
When they first notice
All the angel kisses
Across her face
These run more than
Only skin deep
Kisses like these
Change the way she sees
Makes her believe
Creates a unique perspective
Point of view
Take on life
That most people never quite understand
So I placed my own lips
On the top of her head
Kissed her with love
That she always knows she has
She’s set apart
Standing out from the crowd
Kisses from angels
Aren’t just tossed around
Given to just anyone
God knows good and well
That when an angel leaves stains
A warrior is made
When one thing is taken away
Other things rise up
Stronger than in others
An indomitable spirit
A rare and unusual beauty
Kissed by angels
Living with grace
Exactly what she’s made of
Making me feel
As if I’ve been
Kissed by angels,too
6 58 a.m 6.7.19.
My Caroline Grace….received her first massage from me yesterday as her 15th birthday gift. The way she was so comfortable in her skin,in her beauty,in her body made my heart dance.
I love this girl after my heart.
She found herself
Laying on the bathroom floor
For how long
She had no idea
But it couldn’t have been
That long at all
There are bruises on her knee
That tell how hard she fell
A tender spot as well
It was enough to make her think twice
The current state of things
Would have to change
She couldn’t go on
Like this anymore
Finding herself laying
On a bathroom floor
Made her so glad no-one else had pushed through the door
And only she knew
The hard,cold truth
Of the why and how
That she wound up there
9 02 a.m 3-10-19
When I was 16 years old, I had a boyfriend, David, with an incredible mom that made a lifelong impact on me.
One afternoon I was invited to a cookout at the backyard of their house in Dallas, and David’s dad was there as well.
I had never seen a divorced couple on good terms in my life. Here they were, ex-husband and wife, acting respectful and considerate, even laughing and joking around with each other and their sons.
I watched and listened, half expecting it to fall apart and things to get ugly and for David’s parents to start acting like all the other divorced people I knew.
Every other divorced couple I knew held such anger, such disrespect, such intolerance for each other.
I was used to divorced couples that couldn’t even be in the same building without all hell breaking loose much less the same house.
They would hurl accusations and talk about each other in such a way that I couldn’t imagine how they had ever once loved and lived together.
My Mema’s friends would sit at the kitchen table, giving a play-by-play of every wrong ever committed by the ex-husband. I would hear stories that made me almost swear I would never trust love.
There was just so much hated-pure and simple- and vengeance between every divorced couple I knew of.
Until I knew David and his mom,Ann.
After the cookout was over, I told David that I was really surprised at how everything went with his parents. He smiled and said, “You should tell my mom this.”
I walked over to Ann and asked her how it was that they got along so well after the divorce and exactly what made them different from everyone else.
She sat me down at the picnic table, looked straight at me and said, “I made a choice. We made a choice.”
Her words became engraved into my heart that day. Simple,profound, beautiful words.
“I made a choice.”
Ann then explained,talking to me as if I was a woman and not just some silly, nosey 16 year old girl.
“We fell in love years ago, we got married and we had two children together. We chose each other back then. We saw good things in each other and we wanted to be with each other.”
I nodded my head, listening to her, reading her lips, fully aware that this wasn’t an ordinary conversation.
“If I choose to talk bad about David’s dad, then I’m also talking bad about myself….because I chose him. I fell in love with him, married him, had children with him….what does that say about me?”
I’m so stunned by this revelation, by the way she’s talking to me in a gentle,firm voice that I just sit there, giving her my full attention.
“Another thing, these boys are half of me, half of him…if we talk bad about each other..then we are also talking bad about our sons. We chose to have these two sons, and now we need to continue to choose to see the good in each other and in our sons.”
Choosing. Choices. Continue.
“It hasn’t always been easy and we are not perfect by any means but the important thing is that everyday we make the best choices we can and that includes choosing to see the good and the love we once shared and still have for our sons instead of the differences and what went wrong in our marriage.”
Imperfect but important.
Good outweighs bad.
Love can change.
I decided then and there that if I ever decided to get married and if I got divorced, that I would follow Ann’s example and choose to live after a divorce the way she did instead of how I had seen others live.
It just made so much sense to me as a naive 16 year old girl.
Over the years, as my friends married and divorced, I would tell them the story of Ann and encourage them to make choices that showed love and compassion, understanding and respect for what once was and what could now be.
My friends would chide me and say, “Well,that’s easy for you to say when you haven’t been in this situation..it’s different when it’s your choice.”
They had a point. We never really know how we will handle things until we have to walk the line.
Ann’s words hit particularly hard in 2015 when my own marriage began to fall apart. I had to dig deep to make the choice to continue to love, to see the good and be willing to let go with grace and accept changes if it was meant to be.
Choose. Love. Change. Continue.
During those dark days while we danced on the ragged edge of reconciliation and separation, we talked about choosing to still be good to each other for the sake of our children and because it was the right choice to make.
Our marriage survived and that time gave me a greater understanding of the depths of how much Ann had gone through as a woman and a mother to wrestle with her own emotions to use good sense and knowledge to make the best choices for the long run.
Several weeks ago, another friend sent me a text.
“I got served divorce papers this morning.”
When he came by to see me, I told him to about Ann’s choices and he said, “I hope we can do that..I think I can, I would like to anyway.”
Hope. Desire. Choose.
In the midst of pain, in the chaos of change, in the sweet by and by, in each and every moment, we make choices.
We can choose to remember the good, let go of the bad and watch how love changes.
We can choose to sit across from a 16 year old girl and share with her wisdom that she’ll spend a lifetime pondering.
We can choose to reach across the table,across the barriers, across the ragged edge and find a way to bridge the differences, connect on another level and love in different ways.
We can choose to give and to receive compassion, understanding,forgiveness, and grace. We can choose to laugh again.
That was Ann’s choice. It is my choice. It can be yours.
8 33 a.m. 11-4-18
👣💗 With much gratitude to
Ann Carns, David’s mom.
Her choices and her words have shaped my life.