again & again

It seems to me that all these books
contain again & again
a single truth
a lesson never
ever complete—

each moment
each breath
an iteration
never-ending
until we breath our last
& then
unto the great unknown
we go

where we may realize it
in full.

We seek it
in each new thing:
a book
a taste
a lover
until one day we see
we held it all along.

Even the wisest among us
—so long as they draw breath—
are not yet done
not yet free
fated to repeat the lesson
over and over.

The only difference
between the enlightened &
you & I
is that the masters do not read doom
in each new lesson.

instead they welcome
with open arms the certainty
of loss & the uncertainty
of what is yet to come.

Where we see a curse they see
a blessing
& even in their weeping
they smile
with all the radiance of youth.

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when I talk to the trees

“this is so difficult,” I say.

No, it’s not

they say,

this is simple.

Stop

over-complicating

over-thinking–

this is simple

this is simple.

I go quiet again.

Still

yet

restless–

I feel

naked

before them–

every inch

of my soul

laid bare.

I hear:

You are afraid.

I say,

“Yes, I am.”

Don’t be,

they say,

You have nothing to fear.

This is simple

this is simple.

 

healing

Healing
(from anything)
requires humility.

It’s not about finding
the right friend, lover,
or therapist who perfectly
validates your story
of suffering—

It’s about finding people
who challenge you
and tell you things you
don’t want to hear because
they love you.

(Love sometimes requires
going against the grain
of comfort—)

Cognitive dissonance
is a guaranteed
prerequisite

as is the courage
to accept the flaws
in your thinking.

Have the utmost respect
and compassion for
yourself, yet
refuse to cast yourself
in a drama
in which you are
a victim
alone
unique
and misunderstood.

Above all, know that
no matter how hurt
you are, you have
a choice.

Your life
is in your
own hands.

There will always be
things beyond your control.

Your mind will always be
tempted to cast itself
in the perfect drama.

Stay rooted in the belief
that you can be well,
even if
(especially if)
you don’t feel like it now.

You must face
your greatest fear: accepting
your power to
become
who you truly are.

it was actually quite beautiful

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It was actually quite beautiful
around 6:30 in the morning, taking snow-covered trash bins out to the trailer
which overlooks a multitude of evergreens
bathed in the ruby and sapphire light
of early morning,
the sparkling sun just visible
between their snowy bows.


I’m doing this thing where I’m posting my non-poetry that sort of writes itself in a matter of seconds. As I said to my uncle (one of my only readers), I’m learning to be okay with pieces that don’t feel particularly profound, or polished, or dramatic.

My wish for you is an unexpected moment of beauty.

railroad tracks

I’ve always liked railroad tracks;

they’re kind of a bridge between worlds.

They’re romantic–nobody really uses them any more.

An anachronism.

Like how a rainbow is a bridge

between this world and the sky

but you almost never see where it begins and ends.

I live in New England which means everywhere I look I see trees

except for three places:

the miles and miles of cleared out space where the powerlines run,

the disappearing vertigo ends of the railroad tracks,

and the ocean.

Those are the only places

I really see the horizon.


 

Images and words © Jenna Pope 2018

 

write on

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How lucky we are to be literate! Alive on paper! Free to scrawl, scribble, ink, jot, scratch, type! Writing is freedom. Literacy is liberty. To invent, to let the mind wander, to explore the last human freedom. Does your blood flow in ink? Does your heart beat in keystrokes? Does your speech only barely do justice to the sprawling wonderland behind your eyes? Write on, fellow writer. Write on.


 

Found this short piece among some writing from a couple years ago. I thought it might resonate with other writers. It’s great to be part of an online community of people who understand how lucky we are to be able to write and freely post our thoughts online. Let’s do what we can to promote literacy worldwide, access to knowledge, and freedom on the internet. I recently donated to Wikipedia, though I know there’s more I can do. I need to research what we can do in the face of a no longer neutral internet.

What do you think about literacy, freedom of information, and the freedom to blog? Thoughts on ways to actively support these values?

Right on, write on!

Peace,

Jenna

Image courtesy free-photos, pixabay.com

an imperfect piece of writing

IMG_4890

I am alive
and sometimes, being alive sucks.
Being alive means painful feelings,
unhappy endings, stupid decisions,
and days where you just want to curl up in bed and call it quits.

But who ever said being alive felt good?
You know those times when people say
“I feel so alive?”
That’s the adrenaline talking.
And it’s only pumping in their veins
because they took a risk
and are two steps away from either falling flat on their face
or crowing in triumph.

Sometimes being alive means eating ice cream even though it’s bad for you,
or listening to someone because their story moves you
even though you’re exhausted and would much rather climb into bed.

It means days where you think “I can’t do this,”
but somehow you make it through the day
even though you doubted yourself the whole time.

It’s being with people who may drive you crazy
but who are there for you in a heartbeat.

It’s that moment when your heart is breaking
and it hurts to breathe but somehow
you look at the sun and you are broken but okay
that you know you are in the middle of a really good story.

——

I wrote this in five minutes while eating a scoop of ice cream that my rational self told me not to eat but my alive self said stop that car right now and get some ice cream and sit down and breathe.

So I did.

Thanks for reading.

Much love,

Jenna 🌟💞