Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

You Don’t Need a Valentine

Love is for everyone, everyday! But what if you don’t have a mate?

I’ve found that even if you do have a one-and-only, it doesn’t mean that you are always in full alignment with the truest love – the love with yourself.

I did a lot of healing with my own heart before I finally met the Bohemian. But even after finding my soul mate I still had pockets within that were less than loving towards myself.

At the end of 2016 I was so tired of living with the self-critical voices in my head, I locked myself in a room of steam, surrendered to sweat, and earnestly requested the Powers that Be to help me. I longed for release from the weight of all of my self-directed negativity. I wanted to feel that unwavering love in my heart again.

The surprisingly clear message I received in that hazy heat was to begin by changing what I was feeding my cells. It was time to raise the vibration. I flashed on a friend and that thing she’d posted on Facebook. Some kind of cleanse with superfoods that made her feel a whole lot better.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone about the way I’d been feeling. I didn’t want to enroll in any program. But I had asked for guidance in that steam room and if this was the directive I’d been given, I’d comply. I stepped beyond what was comfortable and I humbly reached out to her to learn more.

What transpired in the short 10 days after beginning to put those superfoods into my body has changed my life forever. Yes, I shed 8 pounds in 10 days by healthily nourishing my body. But that was only a byproduct of something even deeper. What happened to my mind, my heart, and my spirit was even more profound. I was raised to the next level, no longer wallowing in that familiar stagnant pool of negativity and doubt. The berating thoughts dissipated and what replaced them was more patience, more appreciation, more gentleness with myself. I was home again. I felt the love!

It’s hard to be this candid on such a public forum, but if my sharing here helps anyone to reach out of their own funk into the radiance that they truly are, then these words are worthwhile.

There are tools to help us, and they come in the form of plants! Contact me and I can help you learn about these tools for yourself.

I give thanks to Tangled Roots for this incredible song that was part of the soundtrack during the 10 Day program of my heart opening.

To all the Lovers of the world: Love is for everyone and it’s in our own hearts every moment…just waiting to open up and flow!

It IS so good!

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Research & Write

~the following is part of “Prompted Prose,” a series of posts from the prompts I’m working with during my Spring 2016 online writing course

PROMPT INSTRUCTIONS: Do some research relevant to your topic, then apply it to a section of your prose that felt insubstantial or thin.

Feedback on previous pieces, has requested more background on what is not working between Rex and I. By going back into my journals I found concrete details and then created a hybrid of them as a journal entry below.

 
JOURNAL ENTRY

September 30, 2003

I’m here on the bed, while Rex is in the other room, babying his acoustic guitar. I can see him winding the fresh, new strings, plucking each one to vibrational perfection. But I feel no harmony.

He’s mad, and has turned to his instrument, polishing the curves of its wooden body, with rapt attention. I’m jealous of a guitar. My burgeoning belly begs for just a simple touch. The Mama Massage Oil we were gifted hasn’t even had the seal broken. I want to scream, then sob. But I cannot risk to feel the loneliness of this pregnancy. I, too, am stringing a symphony – our mutual composition – of neuro-pathways, fingernails and a nervous system. I want this being to sense only welcome, not one trace of sadness in my veins. Yet tonight is just another night, watching the hunch of Rex’s shoulders, him facing anything but me. And I’m here with my body, beautifully transforming, in our house thick with tension as he strums.

I’m trying to take responsibility for my part of all this upset. Rex says I need to meditate. I’m sure it would be beneficial. But it’s hard to take that advice from a man whose meditation nook is covered in dust and dried gecko poop. Which is the source of tonight’s upheaval. Apparently, in my attempt to dust the myriad of saintly photos collecting spores galore, I accidentally bent Meher Baba’s picture. So as the Indian-style font beams out from beneath his holy beard, “Love Alone Prevails,” Rex is reprimanding me like a child, scolding me for carelessness.

This outburst leads to his more favored form of meditation these days, a cigarette break outside. It’s supposed to keep the second-hand smoke at bay, but smokers never realize the clouds they create. Their sooty exhalations are far-reaching, impervious puffs that slink in sideways, heavy, invisible but stinking.

courtesy of Daniel Costal
courtesy of Daniel Costal
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Behind the Moon

Gone are the days, sixteen years ago, when I was with Jeb’s dad (no Jeb yet). I had a couple hundred dollars in the bank, living in a school bus up on blocks, wondering how far beyond 300,000 miles my Subaru would go.

Now I’m 42 in a Prius (color, “Pure White”). My husband (not Jeb’s dad) and I bought it used, but it looks brand new. It hovers low to the ground, a suburban vehicle, not built for off-road, barely skirting speed bumps.

In the back seat is a twelve-year-old and a Labrador. My pre-teen vies for use of ear buds with his smart phone, but I’ve established a no-headset rule in the car.

I am grateful for a reliable, gas-efficient automobile, a healthy, insightful son, and a sweet-natured, four-legged companion. Each of these is a wish, made realized. But maneuvering us all in the driver’s seat of this scene, I feel as though I’ve been cast in a movie. Given props and a costume for a role I’ve yet to fully embody. Who is this middle-aged lady in the station wagon, with a budding teen, and a dog?

What happened to Jeb’s booster seat, and me, passing back pieces of organic rice cakes, while we both sang, enthusiastically, to the music I loved, and he liked too? When Matt Costa’s “Behind the Moon,” was Jeb’s all-time favorite, and we could crank it over cruddy speakers on the short car ride to pre-school.

Now here I come
To dance around the sun
I’ve been oh so blue
Stuck behind the moon
Now let me in
Back where we begin
And let me hold you like the way
I used to do

Now it’s requests for bad pop music on the radio, or desired ear bud solitude, blocking the chance for conversation.

“Mom, I can still hear you with them in, I just like listening to my music.”

Now let me hold you like the way…

I used to do
I used to do

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