WORD RANT MONDAY
Angels, Cleaning Closets & Catching the Dream~
The first book out by Mango Jane is Angel Lessons. Don’t think Doreen Virtue here or overly religious, but more of a book to inspire the soul with Angelical based Bible scripture throughout the lessons.
I’m in a funky mood today. I’ve been cleaning my closets. I found a journal excerpt, photos of my parents, letters from my high school graduation & some of my first modeling pictures from the 1980s.
What I want to know is how did these items make it this far? What are they doing existing 35 years later? I love keeping greeting cards. I have stacks of them in little boxes from friends and loves ones in countless cupboards and closets from different decades.
I found shoes that are mixed matched, and bags of clothes that have been waiting neatly in the garage for donation time. I found a photo of random strangers standing in Houhlihan’s restaurant from San Francisco in 1990, where I was a hostess down on the Pier near the San Francisco Wharf.
I found a photo of myself at Seaworld (early 90s?) petting a stingray in a shallow man-made pool. I found a number to a model friend of mine in 1990 from the concrete days of San Francisco. Her name Donna, from NYC.
We were roommates in a tiny model’s apartment in Pacific Heights near Divisidero street and Pine. My memory is sketching out those long days of my younger 19 years old self, alone in a beautiful city. You could say that was the best foundation laid for the rest of my life.
From being selected from the Look of the Year John Casablanca’s Contest to advertising bras for Jones Store in Kansas City, and booking other jobs like for Hallmark, and working with numerous photographers in Northern California, my world at my exact my son is now.
One booking led to another and eventually, I found my way standing under the Hollywood sign just near the Hollywood lake I used to run around (3.5 miles only) and pass Madonna by Lakeside running with her dreadlocks with her bodyguard running next to her; yes this was from the time vault of Immaculate Collection had been released a few years. I kid you not when I say I was listening to that tape cassette (years ago peeps!) when she would run past me. This became almost a weekly occurrence.
And, if you know anything about L.A., I wasn’t phased, because you figure out actors are just like you and Rock Stars are too, except they are famous and you are more normal than them.
I’ve ventured off from cleaning the closets. This is Word Rant Monday and I am sharing freely as I go. You must know that someday I will have to write about all of the fun, scrupulous times under the palm trees that lined the stars in Hollywood. I will tell you my stories there someday…just not yet. For now, it’s Angels flying off a cliff and an inspirational voice that pulled me to write about that for now.
I have always had a mystical side that believed in the unseen to believing in
supernatural moments that can occur at any moment. I loved Billy Graham’s book that I read when I was living in Los Angeles, which is where I thought I had my own angel encounter. Billy Graham says you can ‘t see them, but you can meet an angel if they take on the form of a human being.
I felt like an occurrence just like that happened to me at the Jeri’s Deli in West Hollywood. If I could pinpoint the shift away from the stars on Hollywood Blvd to now cleaning closets in a beach town next to a 22 acre park where I loved to walk my dogs, I could say it was that night at Jeri’s Deli when I met an angel.
Don’t think Gothic big armored, blustery wings expanding fiercely in the wind while the dusk glows upon the breast of the angel. Don’t think big fat chubby little beating wings that look like a Hallmark card or poorly framed cheap prints of angels dangling mid-air without even a proper back drop to give them flair. Do think normal looking darker skinned man with deep blues eyes carrying a Gideon Bible with a miraculous medal. Do imagine to twenty-something gals bee-bopping around LA at one a.m., leaving Jeri’s Deli after eating zucchini sticks and ranch dressing. Do include that matzo ball soup.
Do imagine this man approaching us in the parking lot there, giving me the red little Bible marking scripture Psalms 37 to read, then handing me a metal that had a woman on it with lighting beams coming out of her hands.
The summer before Donna Lewis sang, I love you, always forever. It was the summer I moved into my little guesthouse in Studio City just on the other side of sunset off of Laurel Canyon and Moorpark Street. That was the summer when I met my breathing teacher, too. That summer shifted the sands of time before me without me even knowing it.
After meeting the angel/regular nice man (whichever he was), I went on a spiritual quest of my own reading everything from James Allen, The Prophet by Gahlil Gibran and The Course in Miracles (which no, I didn’t read each and every word but big excerpts at a time until my mind felt utterly drained by detaching, attaching and becoming dialed in to my own inner frequency). That book intrigued me so much, I bought a biography on the author Helen Schulman (sp). I became a bit concerned with my spiritual quest when I noticed the last line I had in an essay had the identical lasts sentence as the biography book on the author of The Course in Miracles. What? My spiritual quest came to a halt. That synchronicity added too much coincidence for my brain to handle. I really loved Jesus and the angels, but I don’t have to share this publicly, do I?
Can you imagine a 25 year old model/actress studying comedy, living in a cabin/guesthouse feeling a bit overwhelmed on a hot summer day in the Valley in Los Angeles?( Oh, I forgot to mention George Strait lover that loved CMT, back when Mindy McCready RIP, loved her voice was singing about angels and dating Dean Cain.) Back when I could call a message from the Power of Positive Thinking center and hear Dr. Norman Vincent Peale’s voice recording whenever my life felt overwhelmed. Back when my little world enjoyed the journey of mysterious jaunts around L.A. that loved auditioning for series, booking commercials, practicing comedy and listening to Donna Lewis love me forever one summer later.
That was one of those magical times in my life where I found the fork in the road and ran so fast down the new path, it took me awhile to figure out I had switched gears to a new world without even knowing it.
What world is that?
I didn’t the lake bit, but I did hit the ocean view off on the horizon of my neighborhood…ooh, but my parents did retire on Spirit Lake and it’s one of my favorite places in the world.
I wish I could take you back in a time capsule to see these little guest cabin homes I lived in. They looked like Goldilocks & the Three Bears: small, medium and large sized cabins secluded behind a tall brown fence with a bricked in courtyard, cute shrubs and a few overgrown pine trees behind a larger house in front facing the street. I can touch that time in my mind as if it was almost yesterday. I can see my running shoes waiting for Lake Hollywood jaunts…and I loved Madonna, but just not her dreadlocks.
The year I left LA to move to San Diego, I would become pregnant with my son (who is now 19 years old and staying with my parents, next to my that dreamy lake in Iowa.) He is now paving his own future with his wishes and dreams, while I am still making mine, too.
Honestly, life is like a myth, a story or a fairy tale. This journey is all of those things you read, but the story is yours. There are countless chapters with new dramatic setting and friends.
The greeting cards take on different names of those that have loved you and the memories become like too many stored items in the garage that end up donated along with bags of clothes, because ‘What we leave behind, remains with us’ theory is only part true.
At some point in time, there is a moment when you know, that it’s okay to just let it all go. It’s okay to become the person you were supposed to be back in 1995, but afraid of a coincidental line that hung on your wall and you had read about in a book. You realize you are no longer afraid of being viewed a bit weird for being a mystic at heart.
You are settled down years later. Become a dreamcatcher, rescue dogs…maybe two, and decide it’s time to write about angels…finally…the Doreen Virtue type…but the kind you read about it the flashcards by Hay House.
You’re ready to tell the TALE…but wait, that’s a Gabriel Marquis memoir and Doreen now only accepts Biblical angels and denounced her new age Angel Cards. Darn. I loved those cards. (I respect her new take though. My book, Angel Lessons is also Biblically based on Angelical scripture.)
However, I’m that gal on the fence that still loves the new age group and reads the Bible. I don’t think I am going to be casting stones at anyone. I am here to uplift, be real, find a more time to visit the Lake in Iowa, love my husband and my dogs, my sister, my brother, my mom and dad and my son and those tall rows of corn he is smaller than (Jackson is 6’5!), standing on the most fertile land in the world.
I can hear Donna Lewis singing, I love you, always forever…
Angels are real. I had an angel experience that changed me in 1995. I writing here to you today because I had the courage to take another fork in the path, inspired by that angel moment. It’s ok to switch up things, even midstream.
52 minutes Monday- word count- 1995. August 5th-2019,
Word count 2039 (after update).
P.S. 20 years ago, today I had my miracle of all take place when I became pregnant with my son through Invitro. My doctor had said, ‘Discard those embryos, not viable by science.’ I didn’t. I have a son. I had my miracle. I had always wanted to find my life next to the stars in Hollywood. I am so glad I had the courage to take the path that led me to a moonlit evening standing under the stars at French restaurant encamped by eucalyptus trees where I met Robin. The funny thing is, I had visited this French restaurant the year before 1995, just like a foreshadow in a novel.