Джена Мэлоун

jenamalone

Американская актриса.
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Waking in the canyon, with dreams as old as the sun. The young , unseen birds singing fluidity back into my quiet heart. Yes. Chapters end. Yes. Newness rises each morning out of the swell of the mist. Yes, I too, can have my image change , my body bend and my purpose lost a thousand time on everything but the mountains. For they have always held space for me and my reclaiming. Standing near me , mirroring our shared divine. —————- Speaking with the Santa Monica mountain range

But child There is a song In every egg you break

Today was a day for the heart records. The rock records. The earths memory. Today is a day I’d like to run back too , when I need to feel loved and full and free and like a wildly amazing mama. This day will be held and remembered. A day of feeling all of my many parts I play come together with glory and light. The soft woman , the loving mother , the honored daughter , the wild sagebrush mountain poet. Today was a great day.

Melting into my mama puddle. The oldest and most beautiful held space in my heart. I love you both so much. @debzen55 @grandmalamadingdong

It’s not just That I know I can It’s simply just That I am Musings on power/water/heat outages and being tender to my flock

You are that sliver of light That breaks between the curtains And wakes an army With warmth You gather your courage with ease Like a long skirt, by the fistful And dance your body between The concrete And what can’t be seen It’s beautiful What you create in this world. /// a poem to your future from your former

Here’s to another ten years of performing the best music of our lives for no one but the birds and maybe a voice memo. Love you @lemjayig

Heaven is a blue only found in a chemical equation

An ode to the mother I want to be as I lay on the kitchen floor dreaming of the child I had been ——— I know now why my mother woke at dawn She was curing the darkness With bacon and eggs Poured puffed grains And maple syrup A hot plate To fry the heat back into our hearts She was unwrapping the day for us The breaks in our bodies The fear of the future And our cowboy inclinations to remain hard She was preparing softness as a home Like the womb her body prepared for her To carry us Slicked fingers smoothing the static of our hair She moved thru the kitchen Waking up our wildness With berries and toast Settling our stomachs With soft demands To be human The sounds of breakfast And her hands wringing out The towels To allow A fresh start

When my breath leads me back to the astonishment of you.

Working with my art hero , @janetcardiff ,on a sound installation piece for the Walt Disney music hall. The piece is up now for the next five years. It’s an audio journey where you put headphones on and interact with the absurd beauty of the building and me as a cat. Enjoy this amazing piece. Might be my favorite role to date.

Just a silly divine moment between sisters that always reminds me to laugh at the complexity and invite in more joy continually. And more cuddles please. When my hair was shorter and their hair was not pink. I love you monk.

Come here spring I don’t want evening to fall And look like the face of regret For not having spent A thousand moments touching My lips to your neck

Now is the time to shake ————— My love your life is unraveling Like a garment That no longer holds its weight In covering your shame Or supporting your beauty Do not hold on to the threads Like some golden strands Of a child’s first hair cut Do not pause In considering what muscles would allow Your body to stand still And unseen You are getting free From the tangle Now my love Now is the time to shake

And again In the garden I’m reminded To love you more In all your rashness Of growth And need to spread Over the smaller More delicate blooms It’s my job And my job alone To allow you The space to flourish And when to say no more Not here This is where Something small And intricately Mine grows

Can I Be Your spring bloom That eternal color You wait for No matter the darkness No matter the dirt Can I be My own Inner noon That breaks The bleakest morning Into two Can we Be The patient Seed Holy small and awakening That life that we get to lead Despite the frost That covers Our lawn.

Can we Just stop And thank the universe For sending us Those that touch our deepest nerves They may not have brought flowers Or poems Or chocolate But they , being who they beautifully are Brought the lessons We couldn’t teach ourselves.

Careful what you pursue And what you call out to And the figures you shape with your mind What you read into And what you dream out loud to And what you will It will All these things They will Become you ——————————— Some words from my travels thru Myanmar. Happy to share these images again with the world. Excited to be a mama bear artist , swinging my tiny babe on my hip while I put the final touches on my photo show , opening today. Excited to follow the universe to my next adventure that strikes fear in my heart and wisdom down my spine. Just fucking feeling alive and full today. And also can I please get a tiny nap before this evening? Thanks ( info on show in my stories )

New work like soft kisses sending shivers down my spine. Any Seattle/Tacoma based gallery /space/ entity wanna help house my next art experiment? Slip into my dms. Let’s chat. Mamas got that creative fever again. (( finally!!))

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