Revelation

I have been contacting the spirit of Mary Magdalene lately and it has been extremely enlightening. I love Her Grace and knowing and I feel that all the negative grime from everyday living lifts off my spirit when conversing with Her. She has the most soothing voice, like a gentle hum but with a buzzing depth. I lost a lot of faith in Los Angeles. I lost faith in the entertainment industry, I lost faith in humanity, and most of all I lost faith in myself. I would pray throughout my journeys but I don’t feel like I was grounded enough to actually connect. Throwing myself to the wind and hoping the world would receive me was a great risk, and I took it… even though it terrified me. I learned that perfect dreams are hard to manifest in an imperfect world. If I want a perfect vision to be brought to light, I need to find my perfect circle.

Perfection is an ideal that we all have. Where did it come from? Who sets the standard for perfection? In a competitive economy we shift that ideal according to popular demand. What if perfection was innocence? What if reverence for life rather than exploitation of nature and resources was the means to perfection?

A couple of days ago my friend Joey P told me that it was the first time since I came home to NYC that I looked safe. I really appreciated that sentiment and observation. I am not perfect, but I am definitely feeling closer to the Goddess and Lord who hold such divine standards.

I remember praying to Jesus on my knees by my Precious Moments crucifix when I was 13. I wanted to be a nun when I was younger. It felt right to be one because it felt like a clear path to holiness. I was the outcast in school, and often would get attacked by an African American boy who made fun of the way I walked, the scar on my knee, and how smart I was. I remember getting one vote in my 8th grade class for being the prettiest in the class, and this particular boy yelled “What? Her? Really?” Looking back at it, I know that he could feel how I questioned myself and that was an opening for attack. I know now, we cannot give wicked people an opportunity to manipulate us. We must always be protected.

When I entered College I started to find my niche. I was experimental, brave, empowered, and a bit combative. My emotional wounds were healing and I was highly protective of them. People began to see me for who I was, and I started to realize my connection to Christianity paralleled the story of my suffering in many life times and the resurrection and new life I must create in this life time.

In 2011, I was writing a song called “Woman dressed by the Sun” and I had my first channeling experience. I had channeled the emotions of many beings before, but this story was very clear. It had to do with Mary Magdalene. I remember how deeply I wept when I wrote it. My heart started to open. Shortly after writing the song, I channeled a poem about the history of Mary’s name and the way it had fallen into the hands of wicked people. I had forgotten the connection between the story of Revelations in the Bible and the Woman Dressed by the Sun. However, they were deeply connected to Her message as She moved through me. I am very imperfect, but I am connected to a perfect being. In this, I am called to be a priestess in my music and my message. I am here to offer wisdom and increase the heart space of listeners through my music.

This is the poem I had channeled in 2011, I find it odd that an “Innocent” would disgrace the name of Mary. How ironic... He is not innocent and Mary is not who he coined her to be.


Mary Magdalene
She is the mystery
She is whatever you want her to be
Bitter men cursed her fruit
They called her a sinner and a prostitute
But Fellow sisters followed her
As did love born men
Who attest and confessed
The Kingdom lies within

Peter, the rock, was a chauvinist
who questioned her entrance
Without a male fist
But She never denied Him three times
With the touch of his hand
She'd understand
Oh, weight she'd carry
For the coming of man

The Holy Grail, She fled to  France
Hundreds in Her Wisdom advanced
Priestess and Pilgrim
Who's secrets were burned
Re-written hundreds of years
Away from Fearful
Innocent the Third

We cannot control
The kingdom
As it unveils to believers
The mind control will settle
No lonesome prayer
goes undelivered

A hand will move us
And shake the ground
The waters will feed us
Baptized and crowned
The symbol of a dove
In pentecostal flames
The word was a child
To a Virgin Queen
Who evolved a world
Of love, deplete
When the word died
He left his legacy
A seed to Sarah in silence 

Modern Day Explorer

   This morning I navigated across the Hudson on the Staten Island Ferry. I current the waters on that ship like a modern-day explorer. Except, instead of searching for a piece of mother nature to claim, I search for traces of connectivity within the human race- perhaps a strand of hope in the chaotic and yet fated, interactions of strangers.

 
   Inside the herd of bobbing heads crawling through the ferry gates, I spotted a bench against the cafeteria wall- sandwiched between two groups of business people. Within seconds of situating myself, two African Americans sat beside me. One was a man in his 50s, but seemingly in his early 30s, who carried a loud fuzzy speaker with pop dance music streaming through. His pregnant female crony looked about half his age, and sat bundled in her plush winter coat. Upon sitting down, the duo noticed a man Asian business suit stood up to leave the section.

   “That guy is racist.” The African American man mumbled.

    I looked him dead in the eye inquiring, “Are you sure? Maybe he just doesn’t like the music.”

   “I don’t know, it’s not like I was playing rap. Everyone likes this music,” he retorted.

   “You never know,” my words playfully dancing around his… “some people are plain weird and just don’t care for  music. I personally don’t understand those people, being a musician obsessed with sound, but unfortunately such people exist” and smugly I concluded, “I doubt that guy’s racist.”

   “Well, Okay, maybe he isn’t. But hear me out, here! I was in Western Beef and a woman behind the counter looks at me as if I shouldn’t be there. When I requested an Egg Clair, the woman said ‘we don’t make those.’  I told her last year the other owner used to make them for me. Then, guess what she said!? She said ‘Well, us white people have to stick together,’ and she went and made me one!”

   “Why would she say that? Some people are stupid and make irrelevant hurtful “us vs. them” commentary! The world sucks, my friend. Hey…” then I lowered my voice to a whisper as if telling him a huge dark secret, “being a woman, I used to be super sensitive to sexist commentary. But then I realized how angry I was all the time, you know?” Then a bit louder with passion and a scrunched up nose, “Assuming no one likes me? When in actuality that was wrong!  Moreover, think of this. This is important. Think about the beauty of us all. People don’t realize it, but the Creator is an artist! How boring would it be if there was only one super race? “

   “That’s so true! That’s interesting. I never thought of it like that,” he said with widened eyes and a big genuine smile. 

   His female crony who had just finished the meal she held in her lap interrupted briefly to ask him for his hot dog.

  “Yeah, I’m not going to eat it. You can have it. Ever since you got pregnant, your eating is out of control!”

   As she graciously took the tin foil covered hot dog, we all laughed.

  “I wish you could be a woman and experience being pregnant” she replied.

  “I do already,” he barked,  “Men experience it too by helping ya’ll.”

   I giggled to myself. I really adore the honesty, vulnerability and innocence of perceptions that differ from mine.

   For the rest of the Ferry ride we engaged in long discussions about the pains of being an artist, how important community is, and how wonderfully rude and ironically delightful New Yorkers can be.

Stephanie's Jacket

I knew that when I came back to New York, the coldness of the winter would numb me. I craved numbness as a physicality, to export me from the worries in my head and into a space of longing for my body. With the majority of LA's weather being dry heat, I had no need for armor. Yet, somehow my arms longed for dressing.
I had been as steadfast and vulnerable as possible in California, jumping over hurdles and taking on endless challenges - keeping my head above water was not easy in a new unknown land. California itself has been a sore spot for my family ever since my cousin Stephanie passed away in San Francisco a few years ago. Although I did not know her on the level I desired given the large age gap between us, she was filled with desirable qualities and an intriguing nature. Stephanie was a decade older than me when it happened. She was with her husband and friends heading out on a ski trip. She didn't want to go on that trip. Every little fiber of her being screamed to her not to be there. She didn’t listen to her whim, and when the bus hit their car, she was the only passenger who would pass away. In California I would come to feel that same feeling reverberating in the air; that whisper that said, "leave.” As each situation unfolded in the labyrinth of pretentious faces, rehearsed actors, and hungry con-artists, I felt my heart break a little each day. I knew what my heart wanted to do. It needed to leave. I also needed to listen to my body. I remember how cold it was in California when I left. It wasn't the type of coldness that numbs you. It was the type of coldness that makes you feel unnerved, teasing you with moments of dry heat and then chilling winds. When I first stepped back into my mother's house in Staten Island, I couldn't help but shed some tears. I felt the weight on my shoulders lift, a huge sigh of relief, and an impenetrable feeling of safety. My aunt, who lives nearby, was moving and she was finally ready to pass along some of my cousin's clothing. Amongst many of the articles was a long black peacoat with big shoulder pads and brass buttons. When I put the jacket on I felt a closeness to Stephanie, as if a piece of her heart lay within it. I learned from Stephanie there is no greater compass than the heart, and it's our job to protect it. Being cradled in her coat melted me in the frost-tipped gales. She was such a sweet soul; a sister soul to my own, who unfortunately never made it home.
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"As sCaRed, as sillY, as joyous, as shameless, as VIBRANT, as DARK, as YOU can BE! Let it pour through you RESPECTFULLY, in the name of PEACE. We uphold TRUTH! To life a life as COLORFUL as you!" - Jaclyn Shaw ("Live Your Art" Movement)

Are you LiSteNinG??  Jaclyn Shaw's Music

A Piece of Us

I just finished watching a dramatic three hour long movie called "War and Peace." I enjoyed it thorougly (not only because Audrey Hepburn played a leading role, but...) because it hit home with me. The character of the poor man, shot in the heart for resting admidst the marching tides of falling men, resonated with me most. He said "where there are laws, there is injustice." He optimistically prayed throughout the movie, though his aparent fate fell to a scared soldier of the short but overpowering dictator Napolean. The poor man smiled and praised his murder lovingly, as if his own will called for it. His last words implored the soldier why he was so scared to fire his gun.

I wondered- if I were the one to enforce laws and inspire armies of men to advance in my name, where would I draw the line between war and peace? Napolean had so many choice points to create peace but at each turn he pushed for war, and in the end ... although he usurped Moscow, the scarce population of which he reigned didn't satisfy Napolean.

I know deep in my soul that I am a soldier in many ways. Perhaps it's related to energy I hold from past lifes. Though we fight with loyalty for what we love - family, land, nation, governing prinicipals- When is it a good time to fight to the death? Is it ever?

Historically the way rulers have dealt with standstill controversy is war. I think the dying poor man in the movie died richer than most -knowing no one died by his hand. In many cases on this warring planet, faith in the ideal of absolute love is the only weapon our hearts may need to find peace.

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"As sCaRed, as sillY, as joyous, as shameless, as VIBRANT, as DARK, as YOU can BE! Let it pour through you RESPECTFULLY, in the name of PEACE. We uphold TRUTH! To life a life as COLORFUL as you!" - Jaclyn Shaw ("Live Your Art" Movement)

Are you LiSteNinG??  Jaclyn Shaw's Music

Imitation Artists

So I've been in LA for a little bit over a year now, and I've got a good sense of the scene.
There's so many different types of people. You have your leather jacket rockers with greasy black hair. You have your pumped up surfer DJs, rappers who take selfies and rock G's , model singers who hire songwriters to write for them, ect...

I tried to see where I would stand exactly amongst all of them, & I couldn't fit myself into any one box. There's been many instances where people have wanted me to write with them, and instead of using creative chords and unique progressions, they wanted to stick to the three chord formula. Nothing depresses me more than being forced to use a formula. If I chose to use the formula because I felt that I should... Then my feeling would dictate my use of the formula and I would be okay with that.

I don't feel like Music is feeling based anymore... It's become too logical. I feel that if people would communicate their feelings (a feeling is worth a thousand thoughts), higher communication would still be up and running. There's something pure about not fitting the mold.

They have not grown to know their inner self yet either. But it takes a child to grow up and learn herself/ himself to truly know that they are individual and that they have an individual self to celebrate.

A lot of people wake up and say I'm going to nurture my inner child. There is a whole stream of people who are doing it. I called them the New Agers. These people are extremely cautious about loving themselves. I get it. However, children don't know who they are yet! They just are. This is the beauty of children, they don't have to premeditate, they don't have to plan. When people want to ignite their inner child and allow them to play, they try to remember their aspirations as a child. But is that completely wise?

Most children don't know who they are yet and may wake up and say,  "I want to be so and so on TV." They want to live in the illusion and the glam of what they see,  but their awareness has not developed to see beyond the rose colored glasses.

So with that said, I think there are a lot of men-children and woman-children who don't know who they are yet- running around the streets pretending they are something else.


Whole genres and subcultures create an energy force field around people to feel safe. The symbols that are associated with that energy blow my mind. Perhaps the symbols resonate with some individuals rather than others. Let's analyze the rock genre for a second.

Leather coats with studs on them and dark hair, the color black, an entourage of  nympho maniacs and a lot of angst. Yes, it's a scene, a safe space, something familiar that fuels the ego to feel safe enough to create anything from a look, to a relationship, to a riff on the guitar with the rock marketing identity to umbrella them. Who am I to judge? I'm just observing...

There were moments in time where I felt like I needed to play with rockers to be accepted by them. I worked with rock musicians, and experimented with that genre. However, it seemed to stress me out! Some people just fit right into ROCK like a glove on hand. Me, maybe it would take time for me to explore my inner rock goddess... hahaha!

So, I was putting my own stuff on hold for a while. But not until recently did I play a gig where I was so perfectly in tune with myself, and played my best as myself... That I realized how much my acceptance and expression of my individuality resonated with people. Perhaps I needed to learn that lesson before I committed completely to my art.


Creating is still in working progress
 ♡♡♡ Much love to you. Thanks for listening, friends ♡♡♡

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"As sCaRed, as sillY, as joyous, as shameless, as VIBRANT, as DARK, as YOU can BE! Let it pour through you RESPECTFULLY, in the name of PEACE. We uphold TRUTH! To life a life as COLORFUL as you!" - Jaclyn Shaw ("Live Your Art" Movement)

Are you LiSteNinG??  Jaclyn Shaw's Music

Straight Out of Compton

I was in a movie filmed last August 2014, yet to be released in August 2015, called  "Straight Out of Compton." I was the token white girl in the crowd singing along with a climactic scene anthem: " Fuck the Police" ...  

When waiting on the long extra line for the film, a group of black men kept pushing into me on line, telling me to "get the fuck out of the way" cause I didn't belong ... "You skinny white bitch shouldn't be here"... One physically assaulted me pushing me into a small corner by the entrance door. They were tired or waiting on line and had mistaken my soft demeanor as a way in.  When I tried to reason with them, and  let them know how irrational they were being, they would curse and try to intimidate me by standing really close to me, yelling in my face . I remember feeling so disappointed and disheartened that these people wouldn't let me be. They didn't have spiritual eyes, so how could they see me? They didn't know my mind, recognize how I feel about black culture, count my closest friends and see how dark they are... 

They didn't know I had recently undergone past life regression therapy to witness myself in another age- a black slave abused in every way possible... They didn't know the strength of my soul or my secrets- but yet, felt entitled to hurt me. I reported them to the director's helper, who had his pants practically down to his knees (a prison identity fashion) and he was just as rude to me as the group of blank men. A black police officer comforted me and apologized for the gang  (us-and-them) mentality that exists in the black community. He told the man who pushed me  and a couple of men from the group to leave the premises. 

Mom always knows when something is wrong..even though I live in Los Angeles and she lives in New York. Just when I snuck into the restroom of the crew holding area, with tears submerging my vision,  overwhelmed by the chaos, mommy called frantically asking me if I was okay. Mom always knows how to comfort me. She said she felt something was off and needed to call. Mom's voice lulled me to that inner peace I know so well. She's my human angel.

Being bullied is not easy. Perhaps I was triggered because my bully in elementary school was a black boy. Or maybe my soul is confused about it's identity. Or even more so, maybe the world is confused, because of it's cyclical pain and victim-mentality overload. 

When I was ready to come out of the bathroom a beautiful model-like black woman asked me if I was okay. I told her what happened. A group of black and Hispanic women circled  me in the bathroom and started to comfort me with words, expressing that they don't know why people are so mean- practicing the very racism that they feel victimized by. When we were in the concert area some girls who heard about the story would randomly come by and rub my back and tell me how strong I am. 

One guy who lingered on set from the group of bullies, moved by the amount of love I got from fellow actors, came over to me and apologized for his friend's behavior. 

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"As sCaRed, as sillY, as joyous, as shameless, as VIBRANT, as DARK, as YOU can BE! Let it pour through you RESPECTFULLY, in the name of PEACE. We uphold TRUTH! To life a life as COLORFUL as you!" - Jaclyn Shaw ("Live Your Art" Movement)

Are you LiSteNinG??  Jaclyn Shaw's Music

Kicked in the face

Lately I've had such an adrenaline rush. Trusting in the kindness of strangers on the road has left me a a bit burned... But it feeds the fire within me to rage through it. I've been slaving in the restaurant business, and they won't graduate me from the hostess position just yet because I seem to bring a lot of heads into the place. I went from being a psychologist making good money to being a restaurant slave. It is what it is. It's a lot of push for the money makers, and all they care about is my statistics. Got into a car crash, the guy who rear ended me at a yield sign called up my insurance company claiming he was my husband to cancel the tow truck. It's been one trip after another... From poison, to stalker, to weird musician masterbating in the room while I slept, to escaping Watts and then returning... It's been a trip of survival flavored by the bitter sexualized projection of lonely dark fellows. And each inch of it strips me a bit, smooths my once ego in a turbulent scheme so that what was once soft patches on my skin is consistantly hard and smooth. I was just staying on a drug counselor's couch. He was sweet at first but was resistant to connecting on a deeper level and it left me feeling lonely and thirsty... So apparently all of the situations in my life (a life I so freely flung myself into) have left me hungry for substance, truth, consistency, and love. This guy was super blissed out but ironically quite harsh when it came to me talking about pain. He started flashing new agey books at me like the "secret." Man, I've been through that magic, I know all about it... But I feel it tends to blame the victim, and he said I brought all the pain of the journey onto myself and I told him that the free will choices of bastards have created unbalance. It's realism rather than fantasy that brings me into the force. I didn't dream this realm up... It's a collaborative effort and yes earth has much darkness. I won't ignore it... It's reality... And somehow it effects me in a divine way... ----MUSIC... May my medicine bring the demons forward and may they forever be twisted upon the sound of sweet harmony propelling it; implosively expelling it each step of the way.

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"As sCaRed, as sillY, as joyous, as shameless, as VIBRANT, as DARK, as YOU can BE! Let it pour through you RESPECTFULLY, in the name of PEACE. We uphold TRUTH! To life a life as COLORFUL as you!" - Jaclyn Shaw ("Live Your Art" Movement)

Are you LiSteNinG??  Jaclyn Shaw's Music