Pause! — Blog ’n‘ Stories

Today is the day, the day priorities will be set.
Not because I have to, but because I can.

Today is the day I say “THANK YOU” to those who have persecuted, criticized, loved and commented on my stories and poetry.

Thank you, dear readers who came here for this very reason: to read.
Thank you,  to my very best friends who have regularly supported me with their corrections, that helped me to improve.
Thank you, to all the lovely people who came here for me as a person: my family, friends, and colleagues.
Everyone who came here because they like me. Thank you!

There are two very big challenges coming up, and they need a lot of attention.

www.jjbuettner.com will be our platform today and in the future.
A place for painted and written art, from us, for you.
Furthermore, we will keep presenting new art-works on a regular basis.
As soon as our big projects reached a certain point, their “form”, new “blog ’n‘ stories will surely follow as well.
Remember, you can still find us on Instagram: @jj_buettner

For right now, there are just a few things left to say:
We move on, and it would be just wonderful if YOU would move with us.

See you soon on jjbuettner.com,

Your Jenny

My center

I am my center, my priority, and my anchor.
I say it loud because that’s what counts.
Spend with me every day, there is no break.

I see my face the mirror and have no choice. Everything
I’ll ever find there, that’s right, that’s me.
I can replace the mirror, I can clean it.
No matter what I do, as soon as I look in again, I see only one thing: me.

Get up every morning, grateful for the day that I know well, is not granted. I am always myself. No matter where I go, who I talk to. May surround me with ugly souls or with beautiful ones. My soul, this one, belongs to me.

Every night, I close my eyes, whatever the day brought me,
do not spend too much time on what the night holds for me.
Isn’t it true that in this universe there are more things that I cannot influence than those that fit my desires?

My focus, that’s me.
I am an egoist, believe me, but I am a nice one, too.  In the first place, it has to be me, there is no other possibility.
I can work on who I want to be and how my own rating turns out.
Only then, because that’s really early enough, I reach out to help those I love. To love. To sacrifice myself for those who belong to me.
I’m able to decide that, now strong enough, my own anchor, that’s me.



Can you see him, this happy man?
Life surely did him well, achieved everything he ever dreamed of.
That’s what you think because you only see the obvious.

This person at the top, the big superstar,
you would be envious, if that was not so terribly ugly.
That’s what you believe, not knowing any better, yet.

Take a few steps closer to the picture that society created of him.
Look closely, pay attention to details, to facets.
Move closer to him, the man who has no worries, because which problem should there be?
You’re convinced, it cannot be that bad because you aren’t able to feel it.

Carefully, reach for his hand, the golden man’s hand,
the star, do you feel how cold it is?
He smiles, trying everything to just keep that image for you, for all of us.
There are always reasons. They are endless, the benefits of others, those who have expectations.

His hand stays cold and even if he reciprocates your affection, the smile enchanting yet does not make its way up to his eyes.
Do you see him, this happy man?
One, without worries.
One, who’s got it all.
You really think so?

Love is that easy

Someone once told me, „Real love can be so easy“ and I thought ‘ if it’s easy, it’s not real’.
I did not understand what he meant when he said:
„True love is what’s  worth fighting for“,
but why to fight, if it’s so easy?

No matter how I turned it and turned it, it did not seem to fit together.
The dramatic love story, going to be easy?
A fight for something, that is so down-to-earth?
There was probably a difference between „true“ and „real” love, I thought.

„Love is easy, hate is hard,“ I read somewhere.
Truly, hate was exhausting and wild.
Not desirable. Simple love, on the other hand, or just love, was, what everyone wants.
I knew one thing for sure: I could not find it.
It had to find me for sure.

For a brief moment, I thought I was found. „Simple Love“, it was pleasant, like a cool
breeze, on a hot summer day. I wanted to keep it close.
Until I did not want it anymore, the friendship that was not Love at all.

On our day, the day of „true, real and simple love“,
I did not know what was waiting for me. Didn’t look for it.
My instincts, far from acceptable. I was unable to find anything, for sure.

But there he stood, my love. The truth.
The love worth fighting for.
Easy, because loving him, is easy as breathing.
A fight, so much bigger than myself, than us.
The certainty, that our love will always be greater.
A force. Simple, easy as breathing. Worth fighting.

Last word

„I have the last word“,
„Do not always talk back to me“,
„Who laughs last, laughs best“.

The damn last word,
incomprehensible, which is why it is so special.
Nevertheless, I would like to have it. My statement counts, everything that comes afterward
is just sound and smoke. The last, very last word.

Talking back, not only an issue with kids.
At least they are still very unvarnished, honest.
When we grow older, it comes less like “out of a gun”, but
more „behind the back of the other, as soon as he left the room, we get our knife ready“.
No objection! Absolutely none at all!

The last laugh, this best, most beautiful laugh.
Beaming with joy, looking for revenge. Is this
but clearly the reason for our laughter: the one who fooled us first,
is the one being fooled in the end. So much fun! Simply the very best, last laugh.

How about first words then?
The first step in every conversation.
Not important, because it is the first and not the last word?

What to do if the talking back is: „but of course, I love you!“
The assurance to our beloved, that our feelings have not changed.
They are not going to change. No matter the crazy thoughts our partner has for a second.

How good would be the first and last laugh, if no one laughs about on another or that successful revenge? Wouldn’t that be a reason to laugh first, last and in between?

Acrylic on paper, 45×60 cms,©JJBUETTNER



It is liberating, forgiveness.
Who is able to forgive is great.
It makes us strong, able to stand up with our chin high.
As children, we learn that forgiveness is good.
Nobody wants to be resentful.
Apologize and you will be forgiven.

But what if not?
The acceptance of our apology denied,
the damage is too big, the pain too deep.

Where is the mediator, our impartial helper,
Mom, dad or big sister, who say
„Look, he did not mean to hurt you“?

What will happen if forgiveness does not make us free?
Will those, who have not been forgiven, be prisoners forever?
So often, we are unforgiving against ourselves.
Do not let go, refuse to accept the mistakes made by us.

We act like we are our own enemy, least helpful
Counselor, and for sure so happy, to be bathing in our guilt.
All this pain, we gained on our own.

Couldn’t we just be our own friend, and if not,
at least a fair consultant?
A brother, a sister.
Just for a second, someone that loves us with all their heart.

Human pain

They die, the birds, after their last trip to the south.
Some cannot make it. Too hard the flight.
The wind takes them with it. Where are they going, they already know the sky, so do they know heaven?

They fall, the leaves. Their lifetime so short, the blooming
vanished. They die, the leaves. The tree lets go off them.
The earth they fall upon is what will remain of them.

They don’t want to let go of people, these humans. You know, they will have no choice.
The thought of one’s own death, the healthy, the sick, all are tormented by that the same.
This last path, the young, the old, the rich and the poor, is what they are all concerned about.

They hope for a life after death, pray that this right here wasn’t all they can expect.
For sure, they don’t want to be done with life. Their existence becomes a nightmare, scourging themselves with the only question: “When?”

They complain when it hits their loved ones, they scream and rage. Almost never is there enough time. How could it be enough, as they want to love, be loved, even more? The human suffering, the end of their life, unimaginable and incomprehensible.
While they should not fill their lives with this, how can they do anything other than being scared of the one thing, they can never control?
They just have so much to lose. All while being so aware of exactly that.

Wild Waters

„Silent waters run deep“, often under the calm surface, there are abilities you’d not have thought would be there.
„Silence is golden“ before you say something inappropriate, it’s better not to say anything at all.

So far so good.

All my life, I was anything but, still water.
Always more „wild water rafting“ instead of „quiet paddling“. I was loud, I was present.
However, not so present that it could indicate insecurity.
Early on, I experienced that although the loud waters often drown out the silent, it does not just benefit you, when you are one of these wild waters.

From how the world sees this topic, I learned a lot:

There are times when you have to pump the breaks. My action is not always needed or wanted.

Also, that some still waters are for sure, not in need of any help. They are doing just fine.

That they can actually be very deep and surprisingly beautiful.

What I did not learn and never want to learn:

Silence is not always gold. Sometimes it’s just cowardly, carrying no pride at all.

There are still waters, which are also very shallow. Even treacherous, sometimes.   You may believe you can look down to the ground, but the rusty nail you step on is right there. You just refused to see it for what it really was.

The risk of drowning is not measured by the silence of the water but is more about whether you are given a life-jacket or not.

„Self-esteem is equal to arrogance,“ is the song that I’m more than sick of hearing, and when they play it, I go aboard, knowing that neither storm or doldrums that may await me, can scare me not to jump.

To deal with the devil

Dealing with the devil is the worst trade. The subject for sale: our soul. Just that very immortal „breeze“ that’s inside of our bodies.
But what’s the worth of a soul though?
While the usual sales platforms are not very helpful in research, we are aware that the purer the soul, the higher the sales price is to be achieved. More money, more recognition, more power. Simply more of everything. That’s the deal.
This brings up another question, that will certainly not be the last:
When and where can we submit our offer?
Here we are, alone in our bed, in complete darkness.
As miserable as we are, we call him, the devil, the evil, the most feared between heaven and hell. Whether we are religious or not, we know that the dark side is not just a fairytale. So, we hope further, a demon may appear to us and judge our offer, giving us a good deal:

„Not bad this soul you are having here, the additional Ferrari will not happen, though. What you have to offer isn’t good enough for that „, growls the beast, while I’m disappointed and a little defiant, too.
„Yes OK. Then I’ll can go down a bit. Leave the Ferrari out. That will be fine with me.
The five million in my account, the villa, and the power I still receive?“, I ask, feeling like an ingenious master of haggling.
„Hm, a bit of provincial power is already in it sure, will not be as much as you may imagine. Like globally. No, no. This soul is more than ok but not excellent. You should have taken better care of it. Do you know what I mean? After all, you do not buy a good, used car, to resell it, looking like garbage, for the same price you got it. A good price can only be achieved with good maintenance and seriously, what I’m willing to pay you is a really fair trade. “

As we smile to ourselves, we think if this is how a deal with the devil might look like.
Why the hell it is then, that nobody ever shows up, if you want to make an offer?
Are these the nights, that do not let us sleep? Those who let us see the truth:
There is no agreement. Not at all.
No artistically and religiously staged pact with the devil. No contract, no pact, and certainly no one who rewards us for promising him our immortal soul.
As if a promise were necessary for that!

What’s the sad truth is, that we deal with the devil on a daily basis. Constantly.
Every day of our lives, in almost every moment, we can and even must decide. Most possibly, the devil does not come along as that dark mythical creature with horns, but he is still there. An evil energy, just waiting for us to reach for it. Every day. Right around the corner.

We do not need a book, a preacher or a teacher, to know what is right and wrong. Our soul, on the other hand, we should pay attention to, because who knows what we may need it for. Every day, for the rest of our existence.

30 years

It must have been on my fourth birthday when family and friends sat with us around our large dining room table. The cake right in front of me. All eyes on me, the birthday girl. Just like Dad’s camera: „Jenny, look here, hello,“ he wanted to get my attention.
I didn’t want cake. I did not want a birthday or guests. Also, I would have given up the gifts, if there was no other way.
I ran to my room crying. That stupid birthday! I figured it is something I don’t want because someone had told me, the more birthdays I would have, the sooner my parents would go forever. They would die!
My little heart could not stand this thought. My big heart, still cannot. The birthday was continued after, I was convinced, that, had nothing to do with my birthdays!

Today, I know that there are children for whom there is no birthday-party at all. Nor do they fear of losing their parents then, because they have lost them long ago. They never knew how salty a piece of birthday cake tastes, after hours of tears.
There was never cake for them either. Adults for whom that piece of cake, when the time for their most beloved people came, tastes just as salty.

30 years are not enough. I have the best, you.
Even if 30 more years have passed, I will always want more. Grab that piece of time, all I can carry, as if it were only for me alone. Knowing that none of us has unlimited time, but we all have that moment when our time is up.

I had 30 years.
I had love.
I had home.
I had courage.
I had difficulties.
I had respect.
I had strength.
I had fun.
I had tears.
I had role models.
I had discussions.
I had my opinion.

I have you.

For my dear parents: I will never get enough.
Perfection is an illusion. But if it was real, you would be very close to it.