"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. 

"oil and wine," a poem by Jess Coffman

Circles and stars,
A timeless sense of
being who we really are.
Waves of understanding,
that are ingested in each breath,
life-giving,
never evading death.
The inevitable ticks,
the swirls of want,
that heat and cool,
that ease and taunt.

Kiss me and I'm full.
draw on my heart,
pictures, of your love.
Let my colors invade your safe space,
Allow my hopes to disintegrate your walls.
Down the throat,
Wine of dreams,
that provides a drunkenness,
that does not wear off at day break.
Let's agree to break or prevail.
No more hesitation.
No more hearing bitter melodies of the past.
Let's pursue an "us" that
dies or lasts.
No luke warm sense of belonging.
But a song.
a Theme.
Harmonies that swell and let,
bind our individual melodies,
Unwritten rhythms,
A playful duet.

Observing the beauty of life,
seeing it from opposite sides.
Two...from a multitudes of possibilities.
The shade and light.
Two heart beats,
pounding for similar truths,
searching under trees,
traversing the paths of our lives.
Neither one more important
than the other.
Equal in loved.
Love as a brother.
Different, in intention.
Attempting to coexist
among the overwhelming,
and stunning possibilities
that could be missed.

"Having fun with what you can do
in the inbetween,
in the context of each color," he said.
And I loved him for it.
His imperfections that drove me nuts, and
wild.
Life, a complicated compilation of
known and not.
Love, a pure imperfection.
A puzzle.
Each of us, a piece,
to plug into the whole.
Peace being the goal.
Forging our way,
in the brush.
Feet, lead at times,
When the call in our hearts,
isn't loud enough.
Or we pretend not to hear it.

Inner tempo strong,
pulsing center,
locking into his.
Breath involuntary.
Sighs heavy with emotion.
Heavy with hope and despair.
Are you really there?
What can you see?
Do you see me in all of my
fullness and destruction?
Surrender,
the struggle,
and necessity.
Come to me.
Embrace the quiet,
outside of the influence.

It's a journey of extremes.
Not a race,
not a match for time.
A challenge of my dreams.
And I can't turn away,
I'm aware of the growth,
Aware of the lessons,
had, and to come.
In silent artistry,
we hold what we are.
A peaceful difference,
we embrace under oath.

JESS COFFMAN

I dedicate this to everyone who is seeking. Seeking love, seeking God, seeking purpose, seeking peace, seeking fulfillment, seeking your true path. 

We are together in this friends. 

I am there too, the person next to you sitting in traffic on the freeway. 

She might be in line with you at the grocery store, your hairdresser, the gas station attendant, your chiropractor, the single guy at the bar sitting next to you. She might be your yoga teacher, the fellow hiker in the woods, the guy you pass while running down the street, the child on the subway. 

Our challenge is to see, support and love one another without judgment, 

for the path that they are uniquely on.

Thank-you Grant for coloring mandalas alongside me, while I wrote this poem. 

Peace, Grace and Gratitude,

Your Jess

"Facing The Light," a poem by Jess Coffman

Shortened breath.
Bathed in green,
From sister trees,
and awakened heart.

Determined legs,
Crawl slow and steady,
Then leap ahead,
with childlike exuberance.

Fulfilled with visions,
of future adventures,
meeting my match,
And gifting our love.

With voices silent,
our ears transform,
hearing the ancient wisdom,
Unused in our bodies.

We're at our best here.
Explorers on mission,
burning and pressing,
into the soil untouched.

Our eyes expand,
Absorbing perspectives unknown.
As we climb and push,
past unclaimed beauty.

Suddenly, I'm stopped.
My feet sinking in mud.
I'm captivated,
Captured in Holy Light.

My chest expands.
My arms unlock,
Reaching as far apart
as their bodily limits.

With gratitude and surprise,
I'm calm and praying,
thanking my Creator,
Accepting my humanity.

my weakness.
my immense love.
my guarded heart.
my want.

I am renewed in this Light,
that calls to my soul,
commanding me to stop,
be silent,
be thankful.

"Be Love," it says.
"Struggle and Love.
All that matters is Hope.
Call for the Light."

He walks ahead.
I stay still with obedience.
Honoring myself,
my faith,
my path.

With full-body smile,
I'm connected
In truth.
In love,
In hope,
In respect,
In understanding.

Eyes open brightly,
illuminated in promise to
The Light through the trees.
The Life through the trees.

JESS COFFMAN

If you look closely, you can see me all the way on the other side of that fallen tree, in a pose of exuberant accomplishment. I was on a hike with the "he" in this poem, and we walked past this fallen tree, that was about 30 feet off of the ground, above a steady stream. The trunk was covered in moss and slightly wet, but I carefully crab walked all the way across, and "he" captured this moment of victory. I was much braver on the way back across, walking on all fours, so steadily, feeling my animal instincts kick in, to keep me safe and prevent me from falling. 

In the end it was a Thanksgiving afternoon to remember. We hiked all the way to the top of Gunsight Point, where this picture was taken, atop Mount Hood. 

The rocks we were on were a little under 3,000 feet high. 

It was a beautiful challenge, a opportunity to dream, an opportunity to be grateful for our humanity. 

Peace, Light and Adventure,

Your Jess

"SOHO Singing" a poem by Jess Coffman

SOHO in the summer is
electric.
It's hectic.
It's epic.

The heavy summer midnight
is tossled with hot sticky
winds.

The trees smile as it moves through them, and
I smile at their youthful giddy
delight.

The wind greets me, with
luggage at my hip and
an IPA in hand.

It tickles under my
chin and kisses me softly
on the lips.

I write by single candle
light in this tiny SOHO bar.
It's dark, hiding the flaws
both illuminating and hiding
us all.

My shoulders respond involuntarily
to beats that flood my ears.
There's a gypsy excitement in my
bones.

Everything in my eyeline,
the feel of the air coming
through the windowless bar,
the hip hop music,
everything,
so radically different from
blonde hills, abundant
and fruitful natural
creation, beautiful small
town.

It makes me question who I am.

Is it possible that I am
equally satisfied in small town
simplicity and radical
city life?

But the truth is...yes, I
believe in this moment,
I could never have an
imbalance of one or the
other forever.

I need both.

I need the unpredictability
of the metropolis and
the constancy of utopia.

I thrive in paradox,
embracing it all.
Expanding to open my
arms to all.

A flexible and uprooted
flower growing and
resilient in contrasting
environments.

But am I ever producing
larger fruit? Could I be
more abundant, lead
others better, expand in
my own skin more
gracefully if I was not
constantly uprooting myself?

I'm still vibrant, I'm
still reverent to the sun,
but I can't commit to
just one soil.

What if I die completely
spending too much time
in one place or the other?

I died once,
never to plant
myself anywhere since.

But a single seed could grow,
to feed thousands.

Oh colorful little me, but
what abundance could I
achieve and share with
the world, if I could
grow to my full potential?

How big could I get?

How quickly would I
die?

In one place, I rest.
In one place, I fucking
fight.

The question is how
do I want to live, and
how do I plan to wither
and die?

The problem is...
we can never know how we'll die.

And we come into this world alone,
and we leave this world alone.
Hopefully with blue angels and
an abundance of light in our eyes.

JESS COFFMAN

I am currently here again in Sonoma, CA, posting a poem that I wrote about a month ago, right after I had left these "blonde hills, abundant and fruitful natural creation, beautiful small town."
I was stunned, as I realized that for me, there is equal and opposite abundance in New York City. I was waiting happily at a bar in SOHO, around midnight, right after landing at La Guardia, to meet and stay with two of my favorite people on this earth, Elise Sievert and her delightful husband Kevin Bhushan. These people are two of the most kind, understanding, loving, fun, hard-working and supportive people in my life. I am blessed beyond my imagination with their friendship. Elise has been, and continues to be a super hero in my life. She has made it possible for me to make incredible and risky moves, and through her love I am so honored. She recently saved me from a shady situation while in NYC. In a moment of rest on the E train, after we had laboriously carried all of my most important possessions with us on and off trains in NYC, and up and down stairs, I looked at her with the purest gratitude. All of the sounds, smells and visual distractions melted into soft focus, and all I could see was God in her face. I told her at the time, and we both shed a few tears. Now more than ever now, as I begin to plant myself in a new place, I long for her love, friendship and devotion. Thank-you for loving me so much, and so well. 

This photo was taken inside of a bar called Navy, 

that I sat in while I wrote this poem by candlelight. 

I immediately felt the balmy excitement of a New York City weeknight. 

With an IPA in one hand and my suitcases in the other, 

I looked upon these traffic barriers, so charmed. 

They looked to me, as if they were a street choir, singing the summer song of a SOHO midnight, 

welcoming me back to New York City. 

Peace, Singing and Abundance,

Your Jess