Blessing Lesson Session

“To love someone is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be.”

                                                                                                                                 -Proverb 

I was devastated when I had to drop off my wardrobe at thrift shops around Jersey. My old clothes don’t fit like they once did, hanging like ghosts, of the people I’ve been. My modeling outfits, my multiple identities in one, all my beloved desires gone when I had to squeeze my life into my moms one bedroom apartment, post breakthrough. The green corduroy jacket I wore my first night doing standup comedy; my tye-dye vans shoes; my unique dresses from the Berlin Farmers Market; all so near and dear to my heart, now no more. Alas, as I slowly rebuild my wardrobe, with the assistance of my sugar momma, I just feel like a friendly snake shedding into a newer and better skinshape.

 I had been begging the universe for a fresh feel at the time of my household collapse. I felt over and done with the weekend visits, the gross housemate, the endless dead end jobs, and never meeting any prince charming to rescue me from it. Alas, I did in fact receive what I inquired for, in the form of the decision to cut ties with my partner. And as time reveals more magical deliveries for my desires, it appears to be the case that the Law of Attraction (what you seek is seeking you) is forefronting each and every beautiful day. 

The frequencies in the airwaves remove what doesn’t match. It’s exactly like if you’re on a rural farm searching for wifi connection, but can’t connect due to the lack of energy in the internet waves surrounding the area. Radios, phones, television, it’s all scientifically connected invisibly through the air. We as humans are the same way. Telepathy can be as strong as a dark room hearing streams of consciousness in a collaboration - trust me, I know. And it can be just a quick flirty vibe you get when I make eye contact with a man who is 6foot or above while twisting at my balloon stand. My point is that we are all wired to link. The Physics of Physicality is the name of my point.

When the links are a mismatch, the connection fails. That’s why I’m in a hideout from my past during this chapter of my life. There’s enough space on earth where we can all operate within a bubble which best suits our natural electrical setting. I wanna be respectful of those who I’ve caused metaphorical fires upon the electrical wiring. I understand this as mutual win- folks are free from my freakquency, while I live in my own attunement, beyond their burn upon me. My assertion for myself and others is that the smaller the circle is, the more authentic it can play out and thrive. Which is good news for me, who luckily was reborn in a square with partners who want my energy exactly as I am. Everyone must belong somewhere. And in order to get there, sparks fly.

I imagine my partner is busy taking care of everyone we know, still. And gosh darn in tarnation, I’m lucky to be kept out of it. I used to listen to his horror stories of what it was like being him in daily routines of working down south. I always felt safe, and that I was like a rescuer to him of sorts. Which is why I was shocked when we fought our way apart from one another, but I’ve grown to understand our falling out as just a step to embody our shared Authenticity. 

We were both trying to be flirty early in our exploration of each other, saying like, “Yeah, I’m a storyteller…” when I gave him a zine I wrote titled “SHARP” & he spun me with his words with a fairytale about a princess and a pauper. I always listened and responded for the sake of our whole story, which kept us united in a 5 year plan. Even amid a “plandemic” haha. I admit I struggled with his struggles, naturally as a true partner would, but always had my eyes on the prize - being Polyamorous, in all of its shapes and forms.

I don’t really belong keeping stories on the commune, starting the day Jetpack disbanded. My time there was done, and thank god, since being off the hook with the hippie community was the hugest relief lifted from my curvaceous shoulders. I was always in drag, performing poetry twisting balloons cleaning up the mess I made there, and of course being the maid, by choice, as a labor of love. It is[n’t] a cult; & my imagination just plays fun games. Thing is, I’ve been in my own mistakes… misremembering reality so much, it was due time to free my mind from me with them, in the name of health and wellness. Feeling at the finish line, it surfaced obvious who my tied mind was to - the partnership I’m in with me & yous.

These days, my lingering senses of being a superhero are within my spirit. Bipolar people have delusions that they are mightier than what may be average. Great! I have long been a bipolar wonderwoman, even when I was a girl, and she/they, and an artisan of my desired lifestyle. Nowadays I go by she/her since I'm a heroine, pronounced her-o-reen, to rhyme with my birthname. Jade isn’t my deadname; it’s my beloved nickname, my former preferred title, my artist persona, my bat mitzvah name, & an ideal fit for somebody I once was, and still am in essence. Yet, it’s important to honor your ancestors (family who wants to call you by their name for you), and live in reality from one dimension. I realize there’s Kristens and Christinas, but I’m just like Slim Shady - ” there’s a million of us just like me, who cuss like me, who just don’t give a fuck like me, who dress like me, walk, talk, and act like me, and just might be the next best thing, but not quite me 🙂”  

“To love someone is to attend a thousand births of who they are becoming.”

                                                                                                                                 -Proverb

Whether you like your aphorisms to be dark or light, it’s important to get the message - it’s both survival of the fittest and evolution. I’m into blending my black-and-white thinking patterns into one medium of balance. 

When I was a model, my stats were 5’11 120 lbs. One-twenty is the legal limit to have as your Body Mass Index in order to be considered healthy enough. Since I retired from freelance modeling as a lucrative hobby, today my resting rate is 5’11 130 lbs. I’ve been 30 pounds lighter and 30 pounds heavier, and according to the BMI calculator, with respect to my age, I’m in perfect shape. Most vital, I’m comfortable in my own flesh. I can still fit into my blue plaid skirt, as I couldn’t part ways with but one suitcase full of my treasured garments. But I don’t wear my high school swim hoodie, because that article didn’t make the cut for my team's clothing brand. I’ve outgrown much of my past incarnations, yet timelessly carry the photographic and spoken word memories from there. 

Detachment is a negative feeling of grief and loss, while unattachment is the positive sensation when you become connected to totality, and believe nothing owns you in return for owning nothing. I’ve passed my exam on this with flying colors. I don’t wear orange because I have an orange tattoo so I don’t wanna overdo it. I wear a lot of purple because it looks damn good on my aura. I wear somebody who is orange, not a spray tan but just in the emotionality. And that’s a frequency invisible, and visible too, within my bones. Hope to vibrate more later, Professor Rat. In the inbetween dreams time- stay golden, brighten up like a rainbow, dress to the nines, see and hear clear, and always attend funerals and birthrites of passages looking like you’re intelligently designed. 

<3, cOLEman, ole ole!