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Jesslyn Mueller

author ● sojourner ● mother artist

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The Reluctant Sojourner

JessicaJanuary 28, 2012

Excuse the dust. I’m setting up my tent, straightening the flaps, and learning the waysContinue reading

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jesslyn.mueller

Jessica Mueller
“There are more possible ways to play a game of “There are more possible ways to play a game of chess than the amount of atoms in the observable universe. So it gets very messy. And there is no right way to play; there are many ways. In chess, as in life, possibility is the basis of everything. Every hope, every dream, every regret, every moment of living.” - The Midnight Library When I read the first chapter of The Midnight Library I thought, ‘Is this going to be a depressing story?’ It turned out, no. But a very thoughtful and reflective story of life. It’s hard to talk about it without spoilers, but one thing I took home was how even when despair is great and everything seems at its end there are still possibilities. And since Thoreau is referenced numerous times, his quote “Live the life you imagined” is ringing differently. Not in the singsong rainbows and butterflies positivity I usually hear it, but in the voice of Mary Oliver’s “What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” An echo of what a minor character in My Oxford Year says, “You have to live with your decision. Make the decision you want.” I could wax poetically on how often and easy it is to make decisions on expectations (and then regrets) placed by self, family, friends, community, society, etc, but—you have to live with your decisions. Make decisions you want to live with. Live the life you—YOU—imagined, not everyone else. Nothing is final, not yet. The possibilities are endless and that’s not trite. #bookstagram #bookclubofinstagram #bookish #bookishlove #bookishlife #themidnightlibrary #whatshouldireadnext #amwriting #amreading #writerslife
Fall is usually my favorite season, not just the c Fall is usually my favorite season, not just the colors and the weather but the movement to a slower pace—to renewal preceded by death. But this year, it’s a strange season. I still feel this upheaval in my soul. The turning of so many tables. Some weights lifted, others still nagging. It’s that uncomfortable middle between seasons when you’re not quite sure what to wear, what to prepare for, whether it’s good or not that it got cold quickly and now it’s warm again. It’s fall asking you back, What do you want? And what are you going to do about it? That tension between seasons, between worlds (remember when I had that newsletter? ha.), between what was and what will be. Things are dying to new life. What we will be is not yet known. Random Ramblings—ready? •I spent most of yesterday organizing these shelves, getting rid of books, wishing I had more shelves, and finally putting pictures on the wall. It’s only been four years. • I’m listening to All Too Well (and Wildest Dreams) on repeat. Who else? • I read My Oxford Year by Julia Whelan (on audio) yesterday and it was near perfect. Oxford, books, found family, love, and poetry. • I’m not doing NaNoWriMo, but I am using this month to start outlining my next novel: The Haunting of Magnolia Woods. It’s been slow coming, but yesterday I made some small breakthroughs. • I’m ready for that red cup. ☕️ • I’ve done a good bit of sewing this week, but always slower than I’d like. • I’m going to be joining in #folktaleweek next week. I waffled a bit, but decided I have enough pictures saved and costumes to make it work. I’m excited about it. I’ll be sharing them on my @wakingwildflowers account. • We’re out of the house every afternoon Monday-Thursday for kids stuff and I didn’t realize how exhausting being a chauffeur is. • My husband is out of town so I’ve been catching up on my watchlist. So far I’ve watched On the Edge of Seventeen, The Last Letter to Your Lover, & catching up on Outlander. Still up Silver Skates, Crimson Peak, & A Little Chaos. Any suggestions? Alright, the coffee is getting cold and the costumes are calling. What’s the random going on in your life these days?
I wonder if, even as we give ourselves permission I wonder if, even as we give ourselves permission to rest, we allow ourselves to rest. When we take a break to rest do we inevitably see it as a means to production? •If I get more sleep, then I can wake up early to write. •If I read these books on creativity and absorb this poetry, then maybe it’ll pour over into my own work. • If I take a notebook with my warm drink, I’ll just jot down this idea or two or dozen that are stored inside of me. I wonder if we allow ourselves to rest in our rest. Or has rest become a means to an end? I get it. I feel like I’m bursting at the seams with ideas and potential, but more often than not I’m too mentally and emotionally exhausted to pour those ideas into paper or outline or any meaningful sequence. It’s muddled in the everyday worn-ness of life—child rearing, work, emotional & mental health, the necessities that must be done, and the expectations of others you can’t say no to. I look at the success and work of others and feel like I’ll never get there—too many obstacles. I can easily acknowledge the need for rest and then make it work double time. As if I’m constantly playing catch up to what I could be or might have been. That’s probably not foreign to you either. Maybe. Hopefully I’m not alone there. It’s the ritual conundrum of life: our time and energy are limited. We could beat ourselves up about reorganizing our priorities and suck down the drink of “If you really wanted it, you’d find the time,” but still find ourselves stretched and exhausted. So what am I saying? I don’t know. Maybe… • That rest is good. • Rest doesn’t have to be multitasked. • To keep making peace with yourself that for most of us artists living on this earth the finished product will take time. Slow, interrupted time. • The fast pass leads to exhaustion. • If we truly believe scarcity is not an issue when it comes to art, then we’ll be able to rest and work without guilt or at a frantic pace. So, dear writer, go—rest and work. Trust that you can take time with your work without fear, without sacrificing your well-being to produce.
Maiden, Mother, Crone 🌘🌕🌒The three moons Maiden, Mother, Crone 🌘🌕🌒The three moons of a women's life...waxing, full, waning. As a woman goes through life, each transformation--from girl to maiden, maiden to mother, mother to old woman--is prized, but simultaneously considered foolish and disregarded by others. Held in high regard while being told they're deficient. Often leading to confusion, frustration, bitterness, and jealousy of their past selves. But like the moon, they are all the same woman...just in different phases. Transformation can be scary, a step into the unknown, a loss of the comfort of what was. To be a woman is to be looking for your place in the world, your place within yourself. MAIDEN 🌘 Age of Attraction: "...her primary task: she must separate from her parents and home. [...] She leaves one home only to find or found another." MATRON 🌕 Age of Attachment: "Her toughened self looks back in grief at the self-protective ignorance she has lost. She wonders that her pass innocence, but wonders more at her present strength." CRONE 🌒 Age of the Spirit "My spirit peels away from my body, not without pain and loss, but as it separates and grows stronger in proportion to the bodies weakness my order for the worldly spectacle increases. I have become peripheral to my family rather than central. I’m no longer useful to the world in any obvious way—not attractive, either, since I’m no longer meant to attract— which means I am free to ask the single question worth asking: how can I go on living once I realize I am going to die?" -Joan Gould, Spinnning Straw Into Gold: What fairytales reveal about the transformations in a woman’s life What darkness does a woman see in each season? What transformation and knowing will she bring forth into the next? What parts of her past self will she shed to fully be her own? . . . #dancingdark #dancingwiththedark #fairytale #fairytalesandfolklore #maidenmothercrone #sheisnotlost #wanderingtales #doortomywonderland #writerslife #womenwhowrite #writinginspiration #writinginspo #
"I once thought this place would break me. Always "I once thought this place would break me. Always covered in night. But I have learned fear is something you hold within yourself. It grows when you refuse to release it, contaminating light and shadows. [...spoilers...] I once feared every hidden thing, scared of what I could not see, what I did not know. I am no longer afraid of my own shadow, my reflection. I know who I am, what I am." - From my ongoing short story project The Haunting of Magnolia Woods I've long thought of the short stories as a primer for a novel, but lately I've been feeling it's time to start writing (or at least plotting) this winding tale. Swipe ⏩⏩ for a few more of my favorite words on darkness. Dancing with the Dark //OCTOBER 28 · Words Share a favorite quote, poem, or passage relating to the dark. . . . . . #dancingdark #dancingwiththedark #thedarkisnotdark #amwriting #writingcommunity #writersinspiration #preptober #nanowrimo #amwritingfantasy #gothicfiction #magicrealism #fairytaleretelling #mythsandlegends #forestfolk #quietthyme #sheisnotlost #doortomywonderland #mysecretmagicaltale #wanderingtales #folkandstory #whimsicalwonderfulwild #ofwhimsicalmoments #folkloreandfairytales #mymagicalmoments
DANCING WITH THE DARK • The Journey How'd you fi DANCING WITH THE DARK • The Journey How'd you find the dark? What does the dark mean to you? // The shadows flitted on the outskirts of her vision. They were always there, wisps of darkness she couldn't quite catch. At first she wondered if it was just her imagination, but she caught their tailends so often she knew it wasn't her mind playing tricks. Then she wondered if it was her sight. If there was something wrong with her retina and the way she saw light. But a visit to the optometrist ruled out any eye disease. But still the shadows persisted. Following, just beyond reach, like a capricious friend. She decided, instead of being frustrated and afraid of the darkness, to befriend it. To see where it led. She didn't know then how the darkness would settle in her bones. How the shadows persisted not just in her peripheral, but between worlds, in and out of seasons. How they would become a comfort when the light was mercurial. She did not mind the darkness. She found it knew and welcomed her in ways the light never would. // DANCING WITH THE DARK :: If you feel some kinship to the dark, then join me for Dancing with the Dark—7 days of prompts exploring our fascination with the macabre, otherworldly, and delightfully creepy. Interpret the prompts however fits you—as a writer, creator, or lover of all things bright and strange—for each day or what works with your schedule. . . . #dancingdark #writinginspiration #writingcommunity #amwriting #myeverydaymagic #sheisnotlost #doortomywonderland #mysecretmagicaltale #wanderingtales #whimsicalwonderfulwild #ofwhimsicalmoments #myseasonalstory #mymagicalmoments #quietinthewild #forestfolk
She stepped into the graveyard. There’d be no to She stepped into the graveyard. There’d be no tombstone. Not for her. There’d been no body to bury. And even if there was, she doubted they would have even taken the time to mark her final resting place. As if she ever rested. She rubbed the well-worn linen of her shift. The fabric wearing thin after years of toil. Her hands grazed the stones, following the path she knew by heart. She had not come here often. Not in the beginning, but once she did she could not help herself. She remembered the old stories her Gran whispered when her mother’s back was turned. The veil between realms thinned on All Hallows’ Eve and if you were graced with enough faerie blood and ears to hear and eyes to see, then if you were lucky—and Gran would only ever whisper this part in her ear. Even now she could feel her wet breath on her earlobe—you might greet the souls who lingered at the gates. She thought of that now, looking to the yellow moon. She had seen a soul once or twice but never the one she was looking for. She wasn’t even sure if this was the right place, or time. She’s seen his name on a headstone. Knew he was gone and dead. His spirit wasn’t one to linger. But the other name? She bowed, tracing a name on the tombstone. This was the year, but the name… It wasn’t her. How long would she have to wait? How long could she keep to the shadows of the graveyard hoping and waiting for one name. And if she found it, what would it be worth? A fleeting look, perhaps a faint recognition or curiosity? What words could be said between the dead and the immortal? She reached the edge of the graveyard. At least these souls had found some kind of peace. She nestled against the cool marble of the crypt. She would keep her watch. And maybe one day, she’d see the name. And after that? What would she wait for? Her head fell to her knees and she allowed the tears she kept bottles to flow. #flashfictionmagic // Prompt: The Graveyard Keeper with @embarnettauthor
⁠ “You think I'm happy because I don't know an ⁠ “You think I'm happy because I don't know any better?"⁠ ⁠ "I don't know."⁠ ⁠ “Dude—I'm not happy because it comes easily to me. I bite and scratch and claw my way toward happiness every day.”⁠ ⁠ Duncan squinted at me, like that almost made sense.⁠ ⁠ “It's a choice," I went on, feeling like I needed to make him see. “A choice to value the good things that matter. A choice to rise above⁠ everything that could pull you down. A choice to look misery right in the eyes ... and then give it the finger."⁠ ⁠ "So it's a hostile kind of joy."⁠ ⁠ He was mocking me. “Sometimes," I said defiantly.⁠ ⁠ “Is that a real thing though?”⁠ ⁠ “It's a deliberate kind of joy. It's a conscious kind of joy. It's joy on purpose.”⁠ ⁠ Duncan squinted like he really wasn't sold. “In clown socks and a tutu.”⁠ ⁠ “I'm telling you. I know all about darkness. That's why I am so hell-bent, every damn day, on looking for the light.”⁠ ⁠ //⁠ ⁠ ⁠ Katherine Center is one of my go to comfort reads. I fell in love with her work with Everyone Is Beautiful. What You Wish For has fun loving vibes with a little romance, but also hits some deeper topics—grieving, PTSD, unseen illnesses, and belonging.⁠ ⁠ Also, did you hear Happiness for Beginners is being made into a movie? That’s one of my favorites. Ellie Kemper (Erin from The Office/The Unbreakable Kimmie Schmidt) is set to lead as Helen. I’m not so sure how I feel about that.⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ ⁠ #bookstagram #bookish #booklove #whatshouldIreadnext #bookishlife #readmorebooks #readerlife #bookishlove #bookhoarder #currentlyreading #bibliophile #themagicofbookstagram
Random Ramblings...it's been awhile. Here's to pic Random Ramblings...it's been awhile. Here's to picture perfect sun rays. · Fall finally showed up today. 🙌🏽 High of 68° and lows in the 40s for the next week. It's glorious. · I realized earlier this week I need three ingredients to flourish and thrive: words, adventure, and rest. Mix it together and you get a happy Jess. · It's really weird to hike among perfect fall color and it be 80°. · Friday was Infant Loss Remembrance and a friend hosted a night to remember our lost babies. It was a bittersweet, but good to gather with other mother's who you don't have to explain the complexities of grief, the pain, anger, bitterness, and even beauty that's mixed in. 1 in 4 women experience infant loss. For me, it was times three. · I've basically had Roo Panes music on repeat this whole year. No regrets. If you haven't listened, definitely look him up. Hope, wonder, perseverance. · I don't know what I'm doing about Magnolia. I've got some world building holes I still haven't figured out. I'm not quite sure how...yet. · Also planning to use the short stories as a rough draft/backdrop for at least two other novel ideas, so this world building blocks feels like a hindrance. I've got to figure out a little bit of history, a little bit of Native/family and herb lore with my own magic. It just hasn't quite untangled for me. It has me thinking about method writing (is that even a thing? ha.) Maybe I need to go spend a solo night in the woods. · The evil eye bracelet I bought outside a 12th century Byzantine church in Greece finally broke yesterday. · I'm reading Drums of Autumn (book 4 of Outlander) and watching as I read. I probably should space it out, because so many things are changed and it makes me not enjoy it as much. 🍂Alright, what's going on in your world? What's the random in your life you're enjoying?
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