Parachute Shopping

leap2

Sure  I’ll take a leap…

After I’ve comparison shopped online for months

For the parachute that got the best reviews on Amazon.

I’m bold, I’m brave…

I’m just still in the planning stages.

I’m building the foundation.

If I leap, I need something to leap from right?

next year I’ll step off into my dreams,

But this year I’m building, and next year…

I’m laying tile. And buying furniture.

Installing closet organizers….

I need someplace to hang my parachute.

Wait, did you hear? They just came out with a new parachute.

Way better than the one I bought.

It’s got these rivets, and different stitching….

No, I’m not really sure what for, but I’m sure it’s better.

You need certain things to leap, right?

I’ll need to work at least six more months to save enough money for this one.

Plus, the tile is peeling from my foundation, and I’m thinking hardwood.

…The neighbors have hardwood.

Sure, I’ll take a leap. I’m just not ready yet.

Leaping is part of my ten year plan though, I swear.

———–

Almostopenbook.Com is the blog of Jennifer Monet’, writer, wild-eyed-wild-haired adventurer, and lover of life. She offers travel coaching, mobility solutions, and resources to earn a living while turning your passion for adventure into a reality at LifeCREATIVE.org.

Advertisements

Soul Selfie

Your new profile picture is flattering,
Really.
You have a lovely shell,
I like what you’ve done with it.

Your molecules are arranged nicely-
It’s a pleasant view.
New week. New photo. New self.
Well done on the camera angle.
Good choice on the lighting.

…But you are not an object.
Bone structure, teeth, skin, inconsequential.

I want to see a selfie of your SOUL.
…That I would ‘like’ the shit out of

.10933902_10102505175909400_5831798718377935829_n

——-

Almostopenbook.Com is the blog of Jennifer Monet’, writer, wild-eyed-wild-haired adventurer, and lover of life. She offers travel coaching, mobility solutions, and resources to earn a living while turning your passion for adventure into a reality at LifeCREATIVE.org.

The Gods of Not Knowing

Star Trails

Order and chaos,

Destruction and creation,

Points of light in a sea of dark matter
The end of one body,
Birth of a million new ones.

It needs nothing.

It goes on.

So when the physicist said,
“There is so much we still need to explain”.
I laughed.
Need? Why? I think you mean want.

…things you want to explain.
What if not making sense… makes sense.
His god is knowing.
But my god is the nothing I know,
And everyone who knows nothing,
God and goddess.

And my god IS the physicist, the biologist, the astronomer,
Scrambling to find order in the ineffable.
My god is also the writer, the artist, the musician,
Yearning to express on the outside,
Swirling motion inside their body

That will always defy explanation.

My god is the healer, the helper, the caretaker,
Each holding impossible space,
For human anxiety in the face of infinite unknowns
Maybe my god is the scared one hurting,
The drug pusher, the thief,
The drunk driver who hit my car and sped away.

Gods who hold up the world,
And gods who shake it violently.
Gods who make love, gods who make fear.
Gods who are wise and crazy and confused
Curious and beautiful and alive.

Who is god?

What is god?

Today, my god is the millisecond after the question,
the space between asking and answering,
When I love all that I can’t know.

.Star Trails

Almostopenbook.Com is the blog of Jennifer Monet’, writer, wild-eyed-wild-haired adventurer, and lover of life. She offers travel coaching, mobility solutions, and resources to earn a living while turning your passion for adventure into a reality at LifeCREATIVE.org.

Laughing at Myself and Trusting the Universe

Ah the joy of laughing at oneself…. This morning it started with reading my last journal entry before the new year, in preparation to write my first blog post of 2015.

December 31st The experiences of this year have been perfect, because they’ve brought me to my growing edge again and again, a place where I have to be fine not being in control and trust things will always go as they should. That all I ever need is to trust the universe in all its divine intelligence, and to let go.

I laughed, because yesterday after making my New Year’s resolution to trust things to unfold as they should, I sat down and balled my eyes out, because even after writing that, I was still stuck on the fact that I’m setting aside my plan of moving back to Asia to teach English and the trip to India I’d dreamed of for years, to stay help take care of my family. “But I knew what I was doing, I had a plan,” I told my friend, “now what am I supposed to do?”

I laughed when I read it, because just two days ago I knew that the only thing I’m really, really supposed to do is trust the universe enough to recognize the opportunities that exist right here, and be present, even if that means throwing out the 2015 I had meticulously crafted for myself, and just saying, “Alright universe, I get it. I’m not in charge of everything.” I’m supposed to trust, even if it means giving up the certainty I had that this was the perfect plan, and stepping into the big open space no longer having it leaves. I laughed because it didn’t even take me two days to forget what I knew, and get in my head, and totally panic at the idea that I don’t have a plan, or a clue, or a map. I laughed, and I smiled, because the universe was kind of enough to nudge me to write that down, so I could come back to it when I  forget.

I laughed because I just had a poem published where I talked about how I don’t live in my head anymore, and I realize I definitely, definitely hang out there a lot more often than I’m willing to admit. I laughed, because part of trusting the universe is trusting that I’m also exactly who I’m supposed to be right now, even if that is a person who forgets what she knows almost daily, and who really, really wants to live from a heart space, and be a person who deeply knows that all the plans that go awry are a part of some bigger plan, but who has a loud monkey mind that gets in the way.

I laughed at myself the hardest though, when I spent a solid hour meticulously composing the first version of my blog this morning, on how we have to embrace that despite our plans, the universe often has other ones, and then my computer crashed and did not save a single word of it. Because, after an hour of reflecting on adaptability, my immediate thought when I got that dreaded blue screen was still, “Oh great, now I have to start over. That thing I just wrote was really good, and now I have nothing.”

Ohhhh. Good one universe, message received. And then after a fit of uncontrollable laughter, I sat back down, and I started over. All was not lost, it never is, the end result just different than anticipated. I lost an hour of words, but I suppose that was exactly what was supposed to happen, because I wrote what you are reading instead.  And I suppose that’s always the way it goes- we make static plans, we forget that we live in a dynamic world. And, when the universe reminds us, we can either struggle or we trust the journey.

Here’s to knowing that I’ll probably do a little bit of both in 2015, because I’m a human, and being totally okay with it, and to knowing that every time I miss the mark, the universe gently guides me back.  All love, Jen

——-

Almostopenbook.Com is the blog of Jennifer Monet’, writer, wild-eyed-wild-haired adventurer, and lover of life. She offers travel coaching, mobility solutions, and resources to earn a living while turning your passion for adventure into a reality at LifeCREATIVE.org.

I Am This.

 

The silence was beautiful and wild,

I knew nothing of the next moment.

I was in love with the open spaces

This canyon had created in my soul.

Just two days here-

The swirl of words in my mind stopped

Long enough for me to listen

To the wind.

 

The coyotes danced behind my tent.

Unafraid, I listened to them

Make love to the sky.

Each one shouting praise over the other.

This is ours! We are this!

coyote

 

I only leave the canyon,

To buy fresh vegetables and rice.

But as I drive up the gravel road,

Back into the land of wires and words.

My phone rings.

I’d willingly forgotten the sound.

The steady buzz,

Someone always needing something.

I answered, and a voice I’d left behind speaks,

“What you have-

This isn’t beauty, this is nothing.

Having nothing is failure.

You can’t need nothing.”

 

How dare you be happy,

And act like you did it yourself,

Say you need nothing.

He shouts,

You need me.

 

I love my nothing

Because my nothing belongs to me, I want to say.

I found my heart again, I want to say.

But he’s talking over me already.

Come home. Do the things.

Be the person,

I need you to be the person.

I. Need. You.

 

He pours concrete into the spaces of my soul

And I let him.

Fill me with words- doubt, should, must, do.

I can’t hear the coyotes anymore.

I can’t find the silence.

My mind fills, and I leave my canyon.

I say no goodbye though.  I will return.

To howl at the sky-

This is mine! I am this!

 

Letting Buddha Go

Yesterday I lost my antique Buddha amulet from Chiang Mai, that I’ve worn everyday for almost two years. The clasp broke while I was out running errands. I didn’t notice until I found the chain tangled around my purse strap, amulet long gone.

What I realized as I furiously searched my car, totally bummed to have lost this item that held so much personal sentiment, was that somewhere down the line, I’d become absurdly attached to a copper trinket, molded into Buddha… the figurehead of non-attachment.

photo 1

Even in this recognition, the cognitive understanding that there was a lesson to be learned, part of me still wanted… no, needed,  to find it. It was a beautifully solid copper, heavy, intricately carved, I could feel centuries of history when I touched it. It was also the item I reached to when I needed to feel centered, the reminder of an experience, of a time in my life when I felt at peace as I spent afternoons in quiet contemplation in the shadows of crumbling temples. I understood there was something meaningful about letting go of it, but still… I felt naked without it.

As I felt around under the car seat, feeling foolish, but still shaking out my jacket and scarf, digging through the change in my purse, I looked down. I have this tattoo on my wrist….

photo 3

Let go.

It too just a symbol, yet all that it represents a part of my experience. But one that brings me back to myself. So I did, reluctantly at first, but I let go. I stopped needing to find the Buddha and I stopped looking. I acknowledged that it was probably gone, laying in the snow and slush in some parking lot, and that I could be okay with that.

Today, as if the universe saw that I had learned what I needed to, as I stepped out the door for the first morning without my amulet around my neck, I looked down. Square in the middle of the rug that sits outside my front door, a place I’d already looked over several times, was my amulet. I still can’t figure out how it got there, but I suppose like many things, it’s not for me to know.

photo 2

————————————————————————————————–

 

On a personal note- It’s been an odd few months, really the whole last year a time in my life that has asked me over and over, are you letting go? REALLY letting go? Or are you holding to tightly- to plans, to people, to expectations of what life should look like? Each time I think I’ve begun to understand, to really internalize impermanence, the universe shakes things up again, and asks me to let go just a little bit more. Just when I’m sure if I let go of anything else the ground beneath me will disappear… life begs of me. Give it all away. Need nothing. Cling to nothing. 

 Maybe we are never fully free in the human experience, always clinging to something, if even attaching to the need to feel unattached, even our existence as a physical body mattering as we filter our experience through our senses.   Maybe if we didn’t learn letting go in stages, if we let go of everything at once, we wouldn’t experience the achingly beautiful experience that is learning to become lighter. If we never knew suffering, would we know what it felt like to not suffer?  

Know that every word I write here is me giving it away, or letting go.  I don’t want to hold onto these moments, but I do honor them enough to share them. So thank you- for reading, and for giving me the opportunity to share, connect, and set my heart free. 

 All love, Jen