Gratitude. Hope. Happy New Year.

We end the last year with gratitude…
Gratitude for our time together,
For memories,
For support,
And for kindness.

We begin the New Year with restored hope…
Hope that kindness will continue to prevail,
That love will fill our hearts,
That our voices will be used for good,
And that together, we will make a difference for all creatures.

Happy New Year. Thank you for an amazing 2018. I can’t wait to see what beauty lies ahead.

NamasBRAY. I love y’all. -Jess

A Quick Bit About My Book (On Sale Now!)

My children’s book, Tink the Bravest Donkey, is on sale now here! 100% of the proceeds are going to the non-profit, Peaceful Valley Donkey Rescue, which were the folks responsible for bringing Tink into our lives in the first place.

 


May you always feel as brave as a donkey. NamasBRAY.

Dawn, My Dear

It’s early; the kind of early where the light is still too blue and too dull to form stripes on the walls of the bedroom in which I’m waking and instead just casts an eerie glow that only really exists for this moment of the day. I don’t have to see to know that outside, everything is covered in a film of delicate dew which reflects the sleepy, blue light in the curves of its drops. Dawn, my dear, on days like this, you are most welcome.

I sit up and swing my feet out from under the covers, the room a blurry blue. Where are my glasses? Beside the bed is hand-painted a foot stool that spent decades in the living room of our family’s house growing up. The chipped and worn text reads,

“Our home we’ll share
With friends we meet
So pull up a chair
And rest your feet.”

I smile. I haven’t seen this foot stool since I’d moved out of my parents house in college. That’s the funny thing about visiting your siblings: the small Easter eggs that you’ve divied up from your childhood to furnish and decorate your own places are always fun surprises to find.

I’m in Austin, TX visiting my younger brother who recently moved back down here and I’m so thrilled he’s within reasonable driving distance again. Him and his wife are still sleeping after a long and exciting night of incredible showmanship. The two of them are in a highly successful folk band called The Oh Hellos and I had the privilege of being able to watch them pour their hearts out onstage from the front row. What an incredible treat. I haven’t found the words yet to describe how proud I am of my brother. It’s profound.

Ah, my glasses. I’d left them perched atop my backpack that I’ve been travelling with for a few days. I’ve been on a little jaunt around north and central Texas where I’ve visited with like-minded donkey lovers who are also involved with the Peaceful Valley Donkey Rescue. It’s trips like this which reaffirm my theory that donkey people are the best people. The people who volunteer their time, properties, and hearts to PVDR donkeys are the people who also see the worlds swirling within donkey’s eyes. They sense the calm. They are humbled by the complexity. And I love every single one of them.

I stretch, reach for my glasses, and finally begin to see white stripes forming on the walls from the waking sun which peeks curiously through the blinds.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: red, puffy eyes. It’s unsurprising to me because I cried several times last night just in utter awe of my kid-brother’s raw talent and the (no exaggeration) 30,000 fans that piled in the field before him and his band. My sweet, empathetic, friend-of-all brother is a bona fide rock star and they just don’t teach you how to handle that kind of pride.

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My kid brother, Joey (center) and my cousin Clint (left) and me (right) before the concert last night.

 

Also yesterday, I was featured in the latest episode of Donkey Rescue TV where I got to sit down with PVDR’s Executive Director, Mark Meyers, to talk all about donkeys and how it takes all of us working together to make change for these amazing creatures. That’s enough to get my water works going but the kicker is this…

Y’all. I wrote a children’s book about our boy Tink called “Tink the Bravest Donkey” and it’s being published later this year. My children’s book is coming out. It’s happening. And better yet? Proceeds go to saving donkeys like Tink.

I’d love if you checked out this short episode for more information on all of that here: It Takes a Village 

I rub my red eyes and wipe away tears that decided to wait until now to escape. My brother will be up soon (I think) and we’ll go to breakfast where I can stare at him curiously across the table wondering how in the world such a sweet, little boy turned into such a handsome and successful man. We’ll say a sad goodbye and then I’ll then hop in the car bound for the open road home and think about Tink and how much I miss him, how much he meant to us, and how ecstatic I am that his memory gets to live on in the form of a children’s book about love for one another.

But for now, as I wait for my brother and his wife to wake up, I’ll sit in company of the white light that bouncing off of everything. This day is so excited to get started that she can hardly hold still. I feel the same way.

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A screenshot from the latest episode of DRTV where my upcoming children’s book is announced! Watch the whole episode here: http://www.donkeyrescue.tv

P.S. In case you missed the announcement on my Facebook page, one of my essays has been selected for publication with Texas’s Emerging Writers: An Anthology of Nonfiction and pre-order sales are available! You can grab your copy here: Pre-Sale!

Meet the Horizon

It’s just after 7AM and I’m driving due east into a pink sunrise. On the passenger seat next to me is a black and red briefcase which I had to dust off last night having not used it since my corporate days. Within my briefcase are two notepads, three pens, freshly printed business cards, my laptop and a granola bar.

I love that briefcase. My grandfather gave it to me as a graduation gift when I earned my degree in English from the University of Houston years ago and just remembering him and how much he believed in me briefly calms my firing-wire nerves this morning. I’m headed towards the waking sun that will lead me to a small town north of Dallas to attend my first ever Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) conference.

It’s a long, sprawling drive across north Texas and I’m having twelve conversations in my head about how nervous I am to be attending a conference with professionals in the industry all on my own. I’ve not met one person who is attending this conference and as one of my favorite bands, Mandolin Orange, plays through the stereo of my car, I can’t help but feel like that lonesome whistle calling from down the railroad tracks. [that track here. I can listen to this song forty times in a row.]

“Be brave,” I tell myself over and over again. “Be brave. Don’t ramble nervously like you always do. Don’t drink too much coffee. Check your teeth after you eat lunch. But just be brave. Be brave.”

“…I should’ve gotten a haircut.”

“…Why did I decide to wear purple and black. I look like a bruise.”

Sweaty palms, racing heart.

I’ve attended many conferences in my life but never a writer’s conference. I’ve attended oil and gas conferences, yoga conferences, international trade conferences, small business conferences and, wow, just thinking about how many others, I’m losing track. Never, ever have I attended a writer’s conference and I’m terrified. I am not a writer by profession, I am a writer by hobby. I love to write. It’s one of my favorite things up there with donkeys and yoga and King Ranch and Little Foot. It’s so important to me and when time goes by that I can’t or don’t write, I end up like an A/C filter that’s not been changed for too long: mucky, dusty, annoying, and useless.

Several times on this drive, I think about turning around. Maybe I’ll try again next year. I’ll say I got sick or something.

But on I drive, on towards the rising sun because I think I’m finally ready to try and do something more with my writing than leaving my stories closed up in dark folders. I just have no idea what “do something” looks like and maybe I can start to gain a semblance of an understanding by connecting with and learning from others who do and who have “done something” successfully. And I’m nervous about it—the idea of putting my writing out there terrifies me. It feels like carving out a chunk of my heart and putting it out on display to be examined, critiqued, poked and prodded.

It’s now three days later and I’m still digesting the events and feeling the warm, buzzing effects of the NTX SCBWI conference. I’ve pulled out stories that have been sitting in the dark for ages, blown the dust off the top of them, and am actually seeing them as new, tiny works of art. I want to edit absolutely everything I’ve ever written—give each story a good bath and haircut and maybe manicure while I’m at it. I want to do these things because as nervous as I was going into the conference last Saturday, I left feeling freaking pumped.

I’ll not go into detail of what I learned or who I met that day. Instead, I’ll say how grateful I am for the opportunity to have met so many eager, kind, and talented people. I’m grateful for the admins, faculty, and volunteers that made the conference possible and brought us all together—for getting me out of my own head and allowing me to realize that in my nerves, my passion, my fears and my curiosity, I’m not alone. I’m grateful for the inspiration I drove away with that day that’s still burning like red-hot embers in the belly of a fire pit. Turns out that when you’re surrounded by others whose craft means just as much to them as yours means to you, there’s no brutal carving of heart pieces…instead, there’s gentle and kind examination and encouragement to be better.

I’m excited for what’s to come. Indeed, there is change rising on the horizon like that neon-glowing sun that guided me on Saturday morning. There are always surprises and treasures waiting to be discovered beyond our comfort zones. There is strength in community and much to gain by being kind, open, and a little bit brave. And no one cares if you needed a haircut—in fact, you might just bond with someone over big hair…I did.

For more information on SCBWI, check them out here: https://www.scbwi.org/

In many ways, I still feel like that lonesome whistle and I suspect I always will. But I’m travelling. I’m trying. I’m calling.

“So hear that lonesome whistle blowing, hear that engine call from line.
See those black sails meet horizon, that old black bird knows its time.”

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