"Daughters," a poem by Jess Coffman

women dance on raining night

in hometown dreams 

we never thought we’d have

women dancing

unlike girls

with graying hair 

and wrinkles from smiles

playing songs 

that enter souls,

confirming pieces are

closer to whole

women loving 

in early eves

recalling memories

of wild yore

now calm and sweet

in our hearts to keep,

twinkling hearth

of beginnings

ready to start

women scorned,

and women of peace.

youthful insecurites

ready to cease 

forever

hands that stretch to reach 

our depths 

and mouths that speak

unbitter words.

and never will we be

in moments of now again,

but we’ll cherish with greatest hope

our nows until our end.

stairs that lead to nowhere

and everywhere unknown.

But a serenity shadows our belonging,

like a cloak in the storm.

Happy knowing,

of smallest and largest degree

persuading 

the purest part of me. 

Happy women,

with burning flame,

swinging in the year 

letting time slip through again. 

Decision looms,

in flowering ring

worn by beauty 

as we joyfully sing.

Commitments prove

loves deepest intention 

of two lives, 

divine invention.

women bloom in feline discourse

feeling no need 

for feminine remorse. 

We are, 

We be

no obligation to any 

We live by our seas

and wade in our waters,

the exhilarating ripples

the honor of daughters. 

JESS COFFMAN

I wrote "Daughters," on a night that I also slid down the stairs in the splits. 

I wasn't drunk, though Angie, Regan and I had enjoyed some healthy portions of red wine and sweet potato/kale/chicken tacos, that I had made for dinner. 

I was simply happy and silly as hell. We all were. We enjoyed the fuck out of being ladies, who were not in the presence of men. We talked about things that would have made most men feel uncomfortable. We ate and drank the amounts that we wanted. We played Jewel songs on guitar, and didn't worry if it was good or not. We danced in front of the Christmas tree and listened to Stevie Nicks wail, as the rain poured outside. And...I eventually did some sassy stair dancing that ended with me sliding down the stairs in the splits...backward. The whole night was an absolutely beautiful experience. 

When we finally started to wind down around 9:45pm, which we were completely aware was ridiculously early, I got very inspired to write about what I was feeling. Here we were, 1 engaged woman, 1 single woman, and a woman somewhere in between, who were celebrating our womanhood and friendship in a townhouse, across from the place where we all met, when we were 13. Almost 20 years later, we were celebrating Christmas together and each of our new beginnings. The night was perfectly surreal. It was one of those experiences where you pause for a moment and say to yourself, "Wow, I never saw this coming." And you smile to yourself, when you realize that that statement is meant truly in the best way possible. Thank-you my lovely women friends, for your open hearts, support, space, understanding, silliness, honestly, strength and love. I am honored by you. 

Sirens, Stevie and Santa,  

Your Jess 

"Rain Changes," a poem by Jess Coffman

last of nights

water seeps,

wine can ease,

when confusion creeps.

parsley waits,

in patient dish.

hearing every

wanted wish.

melodies sing

to divded hearts

calling voices 

in harmonic parts 

lone wolf lady 

perches still

she listens well

and pens her quill

gifts of plenty 

rest on backs 

ready for the 

fears of lack

youthful souls

unsew and unset 

preparing for the 

future unmet

arms that wrap 

round dreams and drought 

dancing in

the fears and doubt. 

abundant love 

that swirls and drops

pink champagne 

induces and pops 

Excited smiles

that produce a flame

of inner hope,

that reciprocates same

light hearts soar 

in hearth and home

ensuring no one 

is alone

Unknown measures 

that soon reveal 

All will survive

All will heal

Love is the fruit

of Spirit’s voice 

it conjurs within, 

a joyful noise.

Nothing of fear,

Everything abreast

Faith overcomes

Every life test.

Synthetic smiles

with nothing wrong,

hoping for 

the path belong.

Open chest 

of greenest cave

moments best

to embrace and save. 

Friendship glows

in darkest eve,

Friendship goes

and never leaves. 

JESS COFFMAN

I wrote "Rain Changes," on my final night in Sonoma, before coming down to L.A. to be with my family for Christmas. I had been invited to have dinner with Grant and Samantha who are roommates, and Alex, who is their really good friend. Samantha, who is an amazing private chef and owner of Sonoma From Scratch, made turkey meatballs and pesto pasta, which made my saucy Italian heart sing. 

After a delicious dinner, Grant, Samantha, Alex and I commiserated over our housing situations. Each of them were being put in positions to move within the next couple of months. My decision of where to move, had to be made within a couple of weeks, and one I had to make alone. Each of our lives were about to change pretty drastically, and we were all handling it in slightly different ways. Because I wasn't in the mix of potentially living with them, I began to observe their emotions, communication and behavior, and became inspired to write. It is fascinating to be in my early 30's, and have a life, with priorities that are so different from my friends who work in one location, are married, or have children. They have so many responsibilities that tether them, for better or for worse, to other people or to a particular place. Whereas, my career in entertainment has required me to be absolutely flexible with where I work, who I work with and where I live. 

Sometimes on Day 1 of rehearsal in our business, I have to entrust my entire livelihood to my dance partner. We may have never worked together before, and we may have never done the lift that we are being asked to do. But I have to jump into the air, and hope that he catches me. Most of the time he does, but sometimes he doesn't. We have to communicate really well, be sensitive to each other's needs, and I have to keep jumping until he catches me consistently. That is the kind of instantaneous trust and care, that I have to have with my co-workers, with each new job. It has been exhilarating mostly and exhausting at times. I am ultimately, incredibly grateful for the experiences that I have had. 

My friends or family who are too tethered in their lives, look at my life with longing, wishing they could have the flexibility and freedom that I have. And though I recognize, that I am incredibly privileged to even get to write this, sometimes having too much freedom, or being too untethered can be overwhelming, too. In the past two years, I have not lived in one state for more than 4 months, and I've lived in about 20 different places. For my friends on the road, this is nothing. But for most people, living out of a suitcase for 6 months which is what I have just done, would be wearying. I think not having one place to hang my beanie for too long, has been part of the reason why I have been in a major funk recently. But, I also think that reaching a fork on my path, with an endless number of tines, has been overwhelming too. I can't seem to make any decision at all. It feels like I have to make the "right," decision, for myself, and that feels like a massive amount of responsibility for my life.

So right now, I am simply making tiny "right," decisions for myself to help with the big ones. I am trying to strengthen my intuition, so I can free myself from overthinking and unnecessary time spent deliberating. On that note, I am going to take myself to a spaghetti and meatball dinner, with a glass of Pinot Noir from the Sonoma Coast. That is a "right" decision that needs no deliberation from this Italian lady. 

Peace, Pasta and Meatballs 

Your Jess

This is a photo of me, at intermission in my most recent production of "Joy To The World," with Transcendence Theatre Company. 

This photo is of me and Spumoni the Donkey in the Sonoma Square...

just two Italian asses excited for Christmas. 

"Climb On," a poem by Jess Coffman

Rushing river
speeding deep
inspired eyes
lacking sleep

hands touch cold
the water's hair
fingers bathe 
in river's dare

beating chest 
chest that knows
leading to 
the path that goes

The current swells
and rushes forth
adventure lends 
to inner north.

Nature follows 
Nature's course
teaching winter
God's resource

Death to all
that doesn't serve
inviting in
my faith's reserve

rushing forward
pressures gone

climb on seeker,

climb on 

soul is cracked 
feet are stuck
fire burning
feeling fucked

Tensions mount
when voices yell
keeping safe 
from craggy hell

grasping nothing, 
scrambling on
pushing fears
till fears are none

Division closes 
the crack is gone.
climb on seeker,
climb on.

swaying smooth
in hammock's breast
two souls share
a moment's best

gentle soul 
that is become
steady stay 
the peaceful hum

seek the path 
with leaden feet
the heart will lead 
with heavy beat.

aching soul
now quiet, calm
climb on seekers,
climb on. 

Unknown moments 
of lasting gift
loving presence
passion's shift

Bluest eye,
unfading light
pulling close 
in freezing night

Looping dreams 
in shifting wind
breeding lies 
to see and rescind.

In grateful rest
in spirit's dawn
no hesitation
climb on.

naked truth
bare to lake
prayers of bliss
in ripple's wake

easing arms 
round pastel sky
love expands
to lover's high

treetops point
and roots do stretch
ideas abound 
to coax and catch

cold creeps in,
from fading day
hearts are calm 
hearts that stay

water streaks
with worry gone
climb on seeker,
climb on. 

JESS COFFMAN

"Climb On," was written after a beautiful 24 hour adventure camping and hiking in the Sierras. Grant and I discovered a trail, were enamored by the rushing Consumes River and then rock climbed right next to it, on the crags of the Consumes River Gorge. It was an epic day. Inspiration and emotion ran through me, like the healing and intense river waters. After our day of climbing, Grant strung up a hammock between two trees, so we could rest and enjoy the sound of the water and dipping sunlight on the landscape. It was definitely one of my favorite moments with him. 

As the sun began to descend further, Grant began to pack up and I received a glorious 40 minutes or so of an expanded mind and heart, and inspired writing time. In those periods of time, I HAVE to write, no matter what. This why I always carry a notebook, for the unknown moments when inspiration creeps in, and surprises me. I never want to find myself un-penned, or unprepared. There have been times when my phone has died and I was without my notebook, when inspiration knocked on my soul. I have written on napkins and receipts, to keep an idea from escaping me. But, there have been a few devastating times when I was unable to write down the inspirations gifted to me, and they escaped me, forever. If you know me at all, you know that my long-term memory is non-existent. This is why I write, to capture the smallest details of vision and emotion, because otherwise I WILL completely forget my life. I also write mainly, with the intention and hope, that my words will be the words that someone else has been struggling to collect and convey. My greatest joy is when someone tells me, that my words have inspired them, or that I wrote something that made them feel understood, in community, or less alone in their emotions or thoughts. I am honored when that happens. 

Back to our epic day...as the sun is further setting, Grant recommends that we hike back to the car before it gets too dark. Right as I get up from our hammock paradise, inspiration hits me hard, and I start voraciously writing a poem in my notebook. My attention is now divided between the ground and rocks I was hiking over, and my pen on the page. There was also no trail, I might add. I'm not sure how I didn't fall at any point, being that I was writing the entire time, I was also climbing over huge rocks. I finished it silently in the car, while Grant drove us, most likely listening to "Thievery Corporation" radio on Pandora. He is always supportive, when I need to simultaneously "check out" in order to write, but also take it in absolutely everything around me. 

I could say that the day started with me "going down to the river to pray"naked, and that the day ended with him winning a Cribbage game in a towny bar...both may or may not be true. But what is true, is that I learned a valuable lesson about myself while climbing that day. I was climbing "Struggler Cliff," and I knew that Grant had me safely because he was belaying me from below. I could have fallen or chosen to stop and he would have caught or held me. I also knew that I was physically strong enough to get myself to the top of the crag safely. But, I had a few stressful moments, when I couldn't move, and I was stuck. I couldn't see where I was going. I couldn't "see" myself to safety. I felt around with slight panic, searching for a place to hold onto, to ascend higher. I went side to side, trying to find a new place to put my hands and feet. The sound of the rushing river, and my height at that point, made it too difficult to hear Grant's suggestions, so all I could hear were my inner thoughts and my pounding heart. 

I was fearful. I was ashamed. I was safe, but I hesitated. I was trying, but nothing seemed to work. I was getting physically tired. I was over it. 

But, I discovered a forgotten place in my mind and body, where there was no option to fail. I was not going to stop or fall. This powerful, primal energy from my pelvis, propelled me upward. I reached as high as I could, both hands on one small rock hold, with nothing for my feet to stand on. Through gritted teeth, a guttural sound came out of me, and I pulled myself up with my arm muscles. My unsteady feet followed, scrambling up the rock, completely challenging gravity. And then...I climbed up the rest of that rock, with the same tenacity and confidence that I later wrote "Climb On." That moment is exactly what inspired the poem. 

In that moment of "climbing on," there was no deliberation. There was almost no choice, I just fucking went for it. I decided that I was not going to fall, or give up, and I chose to stop hesitating. It is a beautiful experience and metaphor, for these periods of time in my life when I'm not actually on "Struggler Cliff," but it sure feels like it. I'm in one right now, in fact. I'm currently going side to side, searching for the perfect, stable holds for my hands and feet, and I can't "see" where I'm going. But the truth is, I have to utilize that strength that waits in the root chakra, like a sleeping bear. I have to awaken it, let it rush through me, pull myself up with my strong and loving arms, and let my feet scramble upward after me. That is the only way up. And I am going to fucking nail this climb today, and rest of the days, until I am am unstuck. But, I'm also going to choose to let the fight sink in, and choose to feel grateful for the struggle and intensity that I feel. I will choose humility and compassion in the presence of others seekers on my climb, and I will encourage them too. At the top, I know there is a hammock in a hot pink sky, suspended between two radically green trees, over an unyielding river. And I will rest, with peace, love, pride, gratitude, humility and inspiration in my heart. 
And so will you.

climb on seekers,
climb on. 

Your Jess

"Heart Spins," a poem by Jess Coffman

Fall leaves resting
on shallow lake.
Floating still,
in silent wake.

Redwoods sway
in upright sleep.
Heartbeat quickens,
From earthly deep. 

Tiny ripples
from unseen life,
peeking up,
swimming strife. 

Greenest leaves
and easy death,
calming center,
shallow breath.

water falling,
reflected sun,
reminding me
who's "the one."

In peaceable waters,
a space appears,
a wheel of compassion
with wetted gears.

Moving abundance within
and without.
revivifying connection,
removing doubt.

Hands cover heart,
spinning wheel,
colors reveal,
The road to heal.

Green turns to champagne,
to violet to white.
Clearing out madness,
heeding the light.

Another day learning,
fighting unrest.
Another day yearning
to master the test.

vulnerable soul
in flux and shape,
calls on the eve,
gifts of leafy escape.

Honored, I turn,
to find my way home,
And a wave whispers sweetly,
"You're Never Alone."

JESS COFFMAN

Heart Spins and Carving Light,

Your Jess

"Crackling Comfort," a poem by Jess Coffman

Side by Side,
chop and stir.
Each evening together
A Beautiful Blur.

Soft, soothed awes.
Pasta water bubbles.
Beats permeate our bones,
Removing any sense of troubles.

Pooches sit with patient eyes,
near crackling comforting fire.
Love is thick in Joyful Home,
Fulfilled, familial desire.

Hearts are calm,
With steady Knowing,
Sweetest Groove,
Moments slowing.

Drinking Presence.
Digesting Peace.
Never lost,
Hope Increased.

JESS COFFMAN

I am so grateful to Brooke Tansley and Scott Herrmann, for opening up their life and home to me yesterday. Brooke spent most of her day, taking me all around the adorable and kooky town of Guerneville. I was definitely charmed by their pooches, their tree home surrounded by 17 immense Redwoods and cozy neighborhood nuzzled up to a beautiful river. Brooke and I snuck up on an otter and a blue heron, when we walked down to the beach by their house, and were thrilled at our discovery. With the sun pouring over the water, making it twinkle and sparkle, I felt as though I was in gay/hippie/redneck heaven. 

But my favorite part of the day, was getting to see Brooke and Scott interact in their home together. The romantic wood-burning fire, was nothing compared to the immensely warm and gorgeous love that Brooke and Scott exuded for one another. As we listened to Herbie Hancock on the record player, and smiled by candlelight, I felt incredibly inspired to write about their love, while watching them chop green peppers and mushrooms side by side. As they served Grant and I with wine, food and friendship, I wrote this poem, completely in love with their love. They are thoughtful, thankful playful and absolutely lovely to one another. Thank-you, Brooke and Scott for blessing me with inspiration, dreams for my future and words of love to write.

Peace, Pasta and Abundance,

Your Jess

These gorgeous murals were within a housing community in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn. 

I photographed them after volunteering with a 

food rescue and redistribution organization, called City Harvest. 

I loved the warm blues, peace, connectedness, 

sense of community and love between the individuals depicted. 

I thought that Brooke and Scott would really enjoy them too.