jen lemen - Home

from Linzie Hunter’s fantastic collection at Thumbtack Press. I just received the print above in the mail this week.

Here’s a list of things I never get tired of, in no particular order:
1. good music
2. inspiration
3. spontaneous laughter
4. fresh baguettes right out of the bakery oven
5. butter
6. long hot baths
7. knock-knock jokes
8. the feeling I get when I open up a brand new bottle of ink
9. Dave’s crinkly-eyed smile
10. being freshly showered in a big fluffy white robe
11. room service
12. limes
13. talking to taxi drivers
14. going with my kids to the movies, even when the movies are silly or stupid
15. clean sheets and a freshly made bed
16. listening to people’s dreams (awake or asleep)
17. stories of life in faraway lands from friends I love with all my heart
18. the wide open blue sky
19. adventure
20. the color green (somewhere between a spring leaf and a ripe avocado)
21. honest tears
22. the way Madeleine’s face looks when she’s telling me her deepest, truest secrets
23. my toes in the ocean
24. the hot sun on my face
25. neighbors who feel like family

I really don’t want to put off my happy life in 2008. With any luck I’ll be sinking deeper into the magic right in front of me. How about you? Anything simple you never tire of? Any happiness you’ve decided to put off not one second longer?

I’m writing to you from under the covers of my yummy new bed. Yesterday, just as we were getting ready to pile into the car to see my parents and my sisters an hour away, I realized my stomach was not quite right. Since I get notoriously carsick under the simplest of circumstances, I decided to stay home, just in case. One hour later, I found myself peering over that porcelain throne, wishing I had had the good sense to pass on Christmas Eve dinner the night before.

It’s funny how things like this are supposed to ruin your Christmas. We’ve had plenty of moments this year to pretty much bury Christmas joy once and for all one season–one lone trek to buy a tree, rude children, sister drama, one quick flight back home after a 24 hour visit, lots of last minute shifts in schedule, misunderstandings, bits of suffering or stress gone unnoted, and a stomach flu making quick and violent rounds among my dear ones. All the perfect subject for a Dali painting instead of a coveted Rockwell. Not exactly anything you hope for in the Christmas spirit.

Still.

Tucked under these covers with Jimmy Stewart and It’s a Wonderful Life, I can see the magic, the progress in it all.
It’s not a perfect holiday, but holidays almost never are. In between the carols and lights and attempts at Christmas cheer there is also a deep grief best reserved for people who love each other very much. If there ever was a loaded season, where we collectively wish for peace and goodwill toward all men, most of all ourselves and our complicated, dysfunctional families, this is it.

I, for one, never crave magic as much as I do at Christmas. I want now in December more than any other time of year, the magic of childhood where you have no idea (if you’re lucky) that so many gaps exist, where tinsel and holly are all there is, along with one big happy family. I want everyone to rise to the occasion, and fake it, goddammit, if you need to, for the sake of the children as they say. But mostly for my own sake, because sadness well, makes me sad.

But this year, I had a few brief moments where I remembered what the Buddhists teach me. Or rather, what my personal Buddha Mark tells me. That no matter what’s happening there is still the magic of my own breath, rising and falling–this one moment where if I breathe into it, I can discover what’s really going down. And truth is always less horrific and more connected than I could have imagined.

Living next door to Nick (aka @1024) means you find out about great bands like this. I love the Royal Tenenbaum’s look & feel to the whole video and the sweet irony. Meet Noah and the Whale.

And if that doesn’t do it for you, try this one by Guggenheim Grotto–”Philosophia”–for anyone who’s ever wished to be a work of art.

I hope something good is happening under starry skies for you this wintery night. I’m pounding out freelance articles while Dave puts together nightstands for our bedroom by tree light. We’re giving each other the gift of real(ish) bedroom furniture this holiday, after years of kids in our bed and mattresses on the floor. If that doesn’t feel like Christmas, I don’t know what does.

No more all-nighters, no more crazy post office runs. The SoulSister Designs etsy shop closes at midnight tonight, so the real slothdom of the holidays can begin. Posters will continue to be available through the coolpeoplecare.org store because Sam and Stephen never sleep. Thank you all so much for supporting my work and seeding the Soulsisters Unite Kindness Fund so so many amazing things could happen this season. More stories later.

spend hours deciding which jersey to purchase from your amazing friend Myriam, story here

1. Go to the post office three times in one day to send off a hundred or so of these lovelies.
2. Lend out your pen to timid appropriately dressed, dignified housewife waiting in line.
3. Play this holiday card on repeat.
4. Talk on the phone to some cool guys who care.
5. Salivate over these kids, this art and these wallets.
6. Twitter away your discontent.
7. Have a good cry.
8. Plot a kindness revolution with this soulsister. And this one.
9. Pick up your wayward children from school.
10. Talk to your favorite superhero on the phone while she makes necklaces.

I hope you defy all sense of reason and stay in your pj’s all day today–whether you stay at home or wander far. Trust me, it’s more comfy that way.

another print I love almost as much as magic. from the etsy shop Studio M.

I am sitting in a destroyed living room, where people have clearly been living with wild abandon, enjoying my half-decorated tree and the company of Madeleine. True to her mother’s sterling example she’s busily sending email and carefully examining pictures of cute animals on the web, as if this is her life’s truest work. Some mothers wait for their daughters to cook with them or shop with them; in this house, we wait for our children to join us in our obsession of all things net related.

This week has been so busy I can still hardly breathe from it all. Yesterday, I went with two of my sisters, my wickedly talented friend Claire and another dear friend who shall remain nameless to a craft fair where we sat behind little tables, selling our respective wares. This is an odd setting for me, it turns out. For starters, my life here in Silver Spring is all dear souls from far flung places and a handful of neighbors and friends who would trust me with their firstborn. I hardly ever leave the two mile radius for the “real” world where it is inappropriate to be completely and totally yourself with strangers, wait staff or people you have just met. I noted no hardy waving, hugging or loud voices. I felt slightly strange and contained.

Still, there were little pockets of recognition. African-American hippy chicks who totally dug the Joy-full Girl and knew just what to do with an altar kit. The stray young mother with the long braid and sling who asked her mother to buy a poster for the baby because God knows every baby in America needs to hear those things & see those wild colors her whole life through. The very crunchy-cool PR mama with lovely shoes and a big heart who stocked up for every soulful person on her list. I medicated by wandering around the room, passing out squares of chocolate.

I said to my friend over and over again, “This should be a non-profit, so these things can show up like magic when you need them most. For those moments when you know exactly that your soul is in need of some inspiration or hope.” She totally understood. And then she told me a story about a woman in her town who was experiencing the onset of postpartum depression much earlier this time around. The midwife called my friend in the middle of a birthday dinner for someone, the same way people call her when it’s time for a birth. “Can you go? Can you take something?” she asked. And so, of course, my friend excused herself and slipped out, the way midwives do. She showed up on this crying woman’s front porch thirty minutes later with a candle and a kit and the just right words. The woman could hardly contain herself, she was so relieved.

It’s easy to think of this kind of thing as someone just being nice. But I think that minimizes the importance of this work. There are moments when you absolutely need someone to show up like magic, not because you need something nice, but because you need your world view transformed. You need some hope to be born in you. You need to know in one moment that someone believes in you. You need a kindness midwife to hold the space so you can show up like magic for someone else the next time around.

I love the way my friend thinks up ideas like being a kindness midwife and that her bag of goodies contains not herbs or hot compresses, but a colorful collection of all my stuff. I want to make things for that bag my whole life through.

I hope you can show up like magic for someone today, even if the craziness of Christmas demands that someone is you. The tiniest thing will make a difference, I promise. I think the Universe is calling for me to make a very specific bread and chocolate run today. How about you??

I found out too late today that the link to the poster is broken on Etsy (yikes!), so I re-listed it in all its glory–this time with shipping options for the United Kingdom, Australia & New Zealand. Thanks for letting me know!

At one point in the poster production, I asked Nick if he would mind adjusting the colors one more time before we sent it to print. Looking at me in disbelief since this was only our twentieth tweak to color, he asked me if I could possibly be serious. “I know, I know.” I said. “I KNOW it’s mental illness at this point, but humor me.” He shook his head, laughing; I went into the kitchen to rummage around for some good rum to pour in his drink, returning seconds later.

“That’s PERFECT.” I told him. “Don’t do another thing.”

“Jen. I haven’t touched it.”

At that very moment, I realized the poster was indeed finished. How do you know when it’s time to let go??

If you’re looking for pure inspiration while I recover from all this madness, go visit my soulsister Claire Herne, my good ole buddy Jud or the ever clever Magpie-Girl (who has kept me warm & fabulous in one of her fantastic vintage coats all fall long.)gossip movie girlhardcore free movieshellraiser moviesmasks movie horrorsex i love moviesmovies jjjlesbian orgy moviesmovies lestailoli moviesposter yard movie longest

The holidays are traditionally hard for me. I don’t even like to type that sentence because it sounds like more of prediction than a historically true statement. As my friend Claire says words are powerful. With them we create perspectives that can either free us or box us in tight. So let me start again by saying, I want something new for Christmas this year. Something that sounds more like celebration and hope and magic and space to relax and be myself. Something that does NOT include rushing, strife, ridiculous expectations or persecution of my dear ones.

I would like for one year to not say through clenched teeth, “Get in a good mood, goddammit! It’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake!” or something lovely along those lines.

I would like to do what I really want to do and not feel completely oppressed by obligation.

I would like to drink more, eat less and lay around on the couch looking at the tree.

I would like to take at least one nap and read an entire novel for the Christmas season. Which right now sounds completely scandalous.

Surfing the web today, I stumbled on this project: Twenty-five Days to Make a Difference. Laura remembers what a difference her grandpa made in her life and wants to honor that memory by actively looking to make a difference in someone else’s life this season. I love this. Mostly, because doing something for someone else (or for the good of the world in general!) always makes me feel better. Horribly selfish, but true.

Like yesterday. The Salvation Army guy was outside Safeway ringing the bell and singing, “He Touched Me”–and old gospel song I know from my childhood. It made me so happy he was doing that, I stood and sang the chorus with him in two part harmony. Totally ludicrous, I know, to sing outside of Safeway with a stranger, but it made my day and his. What if I did something like that on purpose for twenty-five days? What state of bliss might I (and the others around me) be in?? What holiday-induced mental illness might I avoid as a result??

But what makes this idea even more compelling is that the author Laura Stockman is TEN YEARS OLD. If I wasn’t already on board for my own selfish reasons, now I’m totally into because I totally and completely want to encourage this kind of inspiration and activism in a kid! Maybe I can even inspire my own kids to get on board.

You can read the scoop here. It’s nothing we need to blog about, you can just do it. But if you want to report on your adventures, Laura would love to know. She’s giving away a $25 dollar donation to a favorite charity to the kid who makes the most inspiring difference. I’m writing her now to see if she’ll let me donate a Today is a New Day Poster to the winner, too.

Wanna do this challenge with me? At a minimum, we’ll feel better and at most, there’s a chance we can make a big difference in a great kid’s life by signing on to her brilliant idea.