The Balance between Sense and Sensibility
I’ve just finished watching the movie Jane Austen Wrecked My Life, and after crying my heart out for a bit, I am back on my computer at 10:01 am.
It’s strange how art imitates life, or perhaps life creates the art our Spirit needs to see. Two quotes from the movie hit a nerve so deep they vibrated through my bones.
The first was a line from a poem by Wordsworth: “On that best portion of a good man’s life; His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.”
I go through life trying to share love and light in these nameless ways—a compassionate smile, a shoulder to cry on, heartfelt words of praise, or a Soulful hug. Often, I wonder if I should be doing more, feeling as though my contributions are meaningless in the grand scheme. But this line reminded me that these unremembered acts are the "best portion" of a life. They are the mortar that holds the world together.
The second quote was about literature being the only remedy for the disorder of thoughts and feelings. Writing has always been the best medicine for my Spirit. It has been my alleviation during the intense episodes of my spiritual awakening. The movie inspired me to remember, cultivate, and nurture the writer in me—because intentional words are also how I make sense of the chaos.
The Feast and the Angels
New Year’s was a delightful reminder of the love that is present in my life. I spent the night with my best friend and her family... blessed with festive games, reflection, and delicious food. I even received a huge Jamón Serrano "Gran Reserva" as a gift, complete with a wooden stand and a fancy slicing knife!
In moments like that, I am so thankful. Even when I feel the loneliest, the universe reminds me that I am never alone. There are always angels watching over me—friends, family, Source—willing to bring love and light into my life if I just open up, let them in, and receive their blessings.
The Great Clearing
My only resolution this year is to be more myself: fully alive, courageous, and receptive. And fittingly, the first days of the year have been all about purging and preparing.
I have been cleaning like there is no tomorrow. Every year, I teach my daughter the importance of releasing what no longer serves her—toys, books, clothes—because "one man's trash is another man's treasure." We clear the space so the new blessings of the year have room to land.
This year, I took cleaning a step further. I went through the digital clutter in the notes app of my personal phone and found an old poem I never published.
The Me I'm Leaving Behind
Finding this poem felt like unearthing a time capsule. It is the voice of a past version of Jessi—the martyr in love. The woman who dragged herself through the mud, found her way out of darkness, and then fell through a platform without bracing into the ocean.
In that ocean, she encountered the rarest of fish. She got to swim with it and bask in its glow. It was magical. But the fish wasn't hers. It belonged to the sea, and she had to let it go. I am honoring her journey, her awakening, her evolution, and her unrelenting Spirit.
I am publishing this poem today to give her her "day in the sun." It is my way of coming full circle. I want to believe in a fairy tale ending yet to come. But today, I am focusing on the small wins—the nameless acts of kindness and the love that surrounds me.
Try as I might to move on, with all the resolve and strength in me… still, I cry. Still, I mourn. Still, I hope. But, by releasing this version of myself, I pray I will finally be able to stand in the light of the dawning day… and allow myself to bask in it!
Ode to Those Who Left
Ode to you, my love
Ode to you, the chase
Ode to you, without a trace
Ode to you, wrong time and place
Ode to you, in lives long past
Ode to you... we had a blast.
Deep recesses of my mind
Find their traces left behind
Glimmers and visions
Unanswered questions
Burrowed holes inside my Soul
Left gaping, took their toll.
In shock, my heart
Tied up in knots
Hopeless romance
Naïveté...
Really thought that he would stay
But off he went, "sashay away".
No one decides to stake a claim
On rough terrain, they cannot tame.
Who cares about the impressive breadth?
Prefer adventure at shallow depth.
The easier option, the safer bet.
Uncharted, they leave, and they forget.
I'm too far out, too far removed
Too deep a jungle, lost and doomed
Stay unexplored, vacant, and shelved...
Treasure awaits he who will weld.
© 2026 Jessica D.
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