Jen Violi
Born and raised in Pittsburgh, PA, Jen Violi has since made her home in such places as Dayton, OH, Goodyear, AZ, New Orleans, LA, and Takoma Park, MD. Jen has currently staked her claim in Portland, Oregon, where the greenery is plentiful, the creative spirit palpable, and the fresh coffee available every few feet -- just how she likes it. At the University of Dayton, Jen completed both a BA in English and Theatre and an MA in Theological Studies and worked for seven years in campus ministry, ultimately as Director of Retreats and Faith Development. During her time at UD, she wrote and directed over fourteen spiritual dramas and facilitated numerous retreat experiences on campus and elsewhere. In 2004, she journeyed to the University of New Orleans, where she gained an MFA in Creative Writing, an appetite for spicy food, and a love for Earth religions. Via Portland, Jen continues to serve as adjunct faculty for the Applied Healing Arts master's degree program at Tai Sophia Institute in Laurel, MD. Currently, she's also launching her own business, offering services such as creative writing coaching; workshop, retreat, and ritual facilitating; and officiating wedding ceremonies. Jen's fiction has been published in The Baltimore Review, and she's hard at work on her second novel. Through her being and doing, she seeks to honor the sacred in all of its forms and the profound healing power of stories.
“My heart broke when he died, split in half and fell down into my stomach or somewhere deep and muddy, and I'm still not sure where it is now. I hear it beating sometimes in my ears, or feel its fast pulse in my neck, like I do now; but in my chest, where it should be, it mostly just feels empty.”
“I decide that I like the idea of Liz as a dragon. One of my favorite storybooks was about goodluck dragons, how their arrival always means something wonderful lies ahead. If that's true, then, as far as I'm concerned, Liz can spit as much fire as she wants. And if I stand near enough to it, maybe I'll glow a little, too.”
“Your hair is ridiculous,' I say. 'And I love you.' I'm surprised how easily the words come out.'My hair is ridiculous.' Charlie smiles even wider and says, just as easily, 'And I love you too.”
“Once I learned how to make pot holders out of multi-colored pieces of panty hose, but that doesn't seem quite on par.”
“So here I am, the one-and-only Amazing Donna, superhero of freaked-out insomnia, and proud owner of a team of unruly stallions. I should totally get a cape.”
“The tone of his voice tells me I may have found something Tim's not cool with-this conversation.”
“Deceased's request as stated in last will and testament: 'I want to be made up to look undead, like the fucking sexiest vampire chick you can imagine, for an open-casket viewing.”
“Dumbest thing someone says trying to be comforting, which in this case turns out of be true: 'There is no need for you to be afraid. I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here, for he is risen, as he said he would.'-Angel of the Lord, post-descending from heaven and violent earthquakes, sitting calmly on tombstone he rolled away, and scaring the crap out of Jesus' lady friends.”
“It's not all or nothing, honey. It's usually everything and something else.”
“Mr. Troutman ends the class by saying our role is a sacred one. 'We do what others can't,' he says, 'so that others can grieve in the way they need to.”
“Everything is art,' Tim says, a far-off look suddenly clouding those hazel eyes. 'Death is art. Life is art. Pain is art.”