Jennifer Brookins

Author of Tharon Ann, Living Under the Weavers Hut, and India with Backpack and a Prayer

About Jen

Author and poet Jennifer Brookins is a former Broadway and television actress living in Princeton, New Jersey with her husband, musician Doug Brookins. They frequently travel to India, and based upon their experiences, she wrote India with Backpack and a Prayer - the sequel to her first book Tharon Ann. She is also the author of Living Under the Weaver's Hut - an illustrated book of poetry.

A Memoir


A beautiful story of bravery, tragedy, independence

Tharon Ann, by author Jennifer Brookins is a wonderful read! A young woman begins her journey to chase her dreams from the Deep South to Hollywood, enduring a number of difficulties and overcoming the hardships of single motherhood to a wonderful ending and to the lovely woman known to us today. She teaches us to reach for our dreams, and though life sometimes seems senseless, in the long run good things do come. I highly recommend this book to anyone that loves biographies or for just a delightful read. Check this out!” 

-C.C. Cole

Click here to read more reviews of Tharon Ann

An Illustrated Book of Poetry



“Lyrical and deeply moving. These poems speak of the soul’s journey back to its Source. Love, longing, loneliness, joy. These are things we all share throughout our journeys through this life and beyond.”

Ginny Byham

Click here to read more reviews of Living Under the Weaver’s Hut

A Spiritual Journey

India with Backpack and a Prayer

A deeply affecting travelog of a spiritual life

“I loved this book, the intimacy, the sense of the spiritual world close by, the interiority of the poetry, and most of all, the mystery of her four adept friends. Highly recommended.”


Click here to read more reviews of India with Backpack and a Prayer

And Other Short Stories


An Extraordinary Collection

‘Molly is a living, breathing spunky little girl and I wouldn’t mind betting there is more than a soupçon of young Jennifer in this story. I can see a movie made of this.’

—Pat Mackay

Click here to read more reviews of Molly’s War


doubters only believe what they see … you know the type dark sunglasses at night for a better view. Oh Weaver, guard my arrested heart

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I bow to you winter moon mosaicthat all starsin heavenly darkness lay their heads to restanother rising sunwraps her dreamy arms around our landfrom ho-hum

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walk with me this afternoonno particular plan just fresh mountain airwild roses gone wild; nest where mockingbirds had babieswhen breathless we stop and watch clouds

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sometimes I face the sunother times the amber glow of dawnseeding earth with prayer in the chill of early dayI wrap your essence around my

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I hear winter rain falling as wild mountain roses it’s you hiding behind the moon if you stay away my heart will turn into shards

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I got up early this morning when darkness still covered the land; just had a feeling the stars would still be shining. Not good to

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Jennifer Brookins, author page

18 hours 16 minutes ago

Jennifer Brookins, author page

18 hours 17 minutes ago

I had almost forgotten you
my spring beloved last
caught up as I am in this secret rebirth
repeating itself this time each year
my possessive heart would wrap
you in my head scarf
make you every bit as finite
as those very thing I wish safe passé from
Oh Weaver
be generous for I am so foolish
hold me captive in your moon pocket
how long the distance
between a bud and a flowering rose
I retrace my footsteps same as swallows
exhaust themselves winging back
to Capistrano each year
again and again I turn my face to you
your darshan weaves feelings in me
that moves my heart
to prayer

Jennifer Brookins, author page

4 days 17 hours ago

Oh Weaver,
Early this morning I walked to the lake and listened to earth singing the morning song dragonfly flutters rustle of leaves water at peace with herself; slow hum of contentment until a domestic duck limped from wooded area to water, flapped her glorious wings yellow as lemon meringue and threw back her head and held still for longest time then opened her quacker wide ...invited sunshine to heal her webbed foot wounded from a dog bite. O Lord of small creatures is it possible a little ducks faith might shower her gifts of imagination to fly with eagles?

Jennifer Brookins, author page

1 week 1 day ago

Jennifer Brookins, author page

1 week 2 days ago

This evening, Baba Ji told us a story about the rainbird* to illustrate a point he was trying to make.

"It will not drink from other sources except the swati drop. When thirsty, it prays to God for rain. Rainbird quenches its thirst by drinking the rare swati drop. If a jackal drinks the same swati drop it becomes mad. The same drop falling into a banana’s young folded leaf is transformed into camphor. When it falls into a shell on the seashore, it becomes a pearl. The swati raindrop is one. If it falls into different hearts it has different effects. In the same way the teachings of Saints, like the swati drop, create deep impact on a few, little effect on others, and no effect at all on some. The Mystics teach us not to waste our lives by considering it to be so cheap. Man is like the deer who doesn't realize musk is in its naval. "

An excerpt from "India with Backpack and a Prayer"

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