Greetings from Jenny
I often try to remember the first time I visited an old fashioned country mercantile, but I can’t. It almost feels as if it must have been a past life familiarity. The old labels on jars of jams and jellies. Pickles in barrels with a scoop so you can dig one out and eat it on the spot. Old wooden floorboards in wide planks that echo from the sound of your heels as you make your way over to your favorite section. For me, it was always the books.
Books that were old with damaged spines or bent corners. They smelled of dust and old paper. The textures were all different. Some had fancy scroll work on their covers and actual watercolor paintings illustrating the pages. Some were just simply bound with a simple story or a poem. Essays that made you think or blank pages waiting for you to fill them up.
But oh, to find an outstanding adventure was always the luckiest thing! And that led me here, to Maudeline Plum Mercantile. I hope you find a favorite in the stories I’m creating for you. Within the mercantile, filled with all kinds of goodies and characters, there’s a book nook, a place to sit in front of the fire in one of the most comfortable wingback chairs, put your feet up, and open the pages to an adventure with your input. Your choices determine how the story goes. Will you make it through to the end? Well, that remains to be seen. You can return again and again to change course, should you want to try to discover ALL the paths that may be there for you to find.
From me to you, I want to share my love of the old mercantiles; the love of the bookstores; the love of old-fashioned goods wrapped up and bundled together with string. This site will grow over time. But for now, watch for an upcoming sneak peek into the adventures ahead..
On Desire…
Read my essay on desire. The reverence of the human experience in striving for enlightenment is not an original story, but this is her original take on the subject. Please enjoy.
It whispers to the heart, our relentless drum, calling us to move, to grow, to extend beyond the horizon of ourselves.
Preface: I wrote this three years ago. Before em dashes and series phrases made genius writing tools malignant. Such a shame. The conscious construction of scrupulous form to tell a story with its highest authenticity is priceless. But as many humans do, they spoil the nutritious options of language for the sake of junk-food judgment. Sigh.
Today, I was delighted to stumble upon it once more. I have so much writing like this. I love the thoughtful essay form and probably have several books worth already crafted, should I ever have the time to rediscover them all. One-off treasures, forgotten and dissolved, at least, until they’re tripped over like this. Welcome to one of my invisible-ink essays.
*****
100% original text. Generated video.
I had a thought the other day about desire. I've been stewing on it since, so I decided that to understand it, I'd write it down.
*****
Desire stirs in the core of every being, a silent nudging that refuses to rest. It whispers to the heart, our relentless drum, calling us to move, to grow, to extend beyond the horizon of ourselves. Why do we ache for more, even when we have enough? Is it shameful, this persistent wanting, or is it the nature of something divine?
Perhaps desire is the universe's way of pushing us. Like gas fueling an engine, it propels us forward, ensuring we don't sit idle. For what is life if not a journey of creation — a symphony of learning, failing, and trying again? The stars, it seems, do not rest in their orbits, nor do rivers cease their flow. In this, we are no different, but it's desire that moves us.
But the duality of desire shouldn't be ignored. It lifts some to breathtaking heights and binds others to unquenchable thirsts. The elite, dripping with wealth, often succumb to its darker side, their cravings insatiable despite having more than enough. Is their hunger born of emptiness — a crater where purpose might have lived?
There is beauty, though, in the seeking. I imagine a universe as a vast and growing library, each life a chapter, each choice a sentence. The cause and effect of poverty, privilege, love, loss, neglect, support, and so on — all recorded as a testament to existence itself. Perhaps every yearning, every act of reaching, enriches this cosmic collection, feeding not just ourselves but the fabric of all that is.
Still, the weight of desire can feel unbearable. Its whispers become shouts; its pull, a web. And yet, in moments of stillness, there is clarity: desire is not our enemy. It is the hand that draws us forward, asking only that we balance our striving with reflection, our ambition with gratitude.
Beyond this earth, I can see something more. Beings who may have once walked with bones now fly in realms unbound by gravity and tell stories that echo eternity. Could this formula of wanting be the spark that lights the path, not just here but beyond? Every ache, every longing, is a gift — a chance to learn, to create, to leave a mark forever.
And so, we live, driven by this paradoxical force. We desire — not because we are flawed, but because we are alive. Our pages, once empty, fill up with tales: nightmarish tales, poetic stories, and lessons learned. Perhaps, in the end, that is enough.
Please support Jenny’s creative work.
The tip jar is here for you to show your support and appreciation for the written word. Storytelling changes lives, takes us places, teaches us how to behave, and takes us away from the insanity of life, if even for a moment. Your support will help to bring about this beautiful world, lying in the depths of Jenny’s imagination.
Thank you.