Jana Marie Rose
I wish it wasn't so hard for us all to just be ourselves. https://linktr.ee/madamerosearts
The Road to California
The road to California is paved with white stones. They fall under our tires as we roll. There are pink skies, and blue skies,
I was slipping into a dream one night when I saw Judy’s face behind my eyes. Judy, my former coworker, who was only 25 when she left the company. It was Judy who encouraged me to try the Indian restaurant around the corner from our office. I rarely ate Indian food from a buffet. “You’ll love it,” Judy said in her deep confident voice. She was right. I did.
The Hole and the Thread
I don’t know the first time I did it. I just started doing it. And then I kind of couldn’t stop. I still can’t. I had already been getting up early in the morning, lighting candles, making some coffee and writing. Every morning, I wrote something bold, and perhaps even damaging to my professional reputation, because it was raw and vulnerable. I wasn’t doing it because I cared about what other people thought—what I cared about was truth. I cared about being free. I needed to cleanse and share things that had been stuffed inside me for a long, long time, and the way I did that was through writing.
Summer Magic Box of Goodies
Jessica Glareheart did a weird thing one Saturday afternoon in June. Jessica Glareheart did weird things all the time. She didn’t tell anyone about them. Nobody needed to know, except for the people she decided would need to know.
The Accounting of Mothers
The letter from The Board came in Saturday’s mail. YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED, the letter said. YOU ARE REQUIRED TO APPEAR BEFORE THE BOARD.
Love the Questions Themselves
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.” –Rainer Marie Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, 1929
I Make Wild Open Spaces
I create space. I can’t help it. That’s how things in my life keep moving along. For so long, I felt hemmed in. Claustrophobic. I couldn’t breathe, and I thought that was a necessary feeling. The right feeling. It was the modus operandi of the people around me, the town I grew up in. You can’t breathe, you feel constricted? Good, honey. That means you are doing your part in the system. You are measuring up. You are working hard. This is how we live, child, in order to get through life.
Reflections on "A Marriage Story"
The other day, I sat at the dinner table with my kids and did something I rarely do -- I told them about a movie I'd watched three times, called A Marriage Story (directed by Noah Baumbach), about a couple who gets divorced and ends up moving to Los Angeles.