Author: Pam Goode

Heraldic Purgatory

/ Pam Goode / 4 Comments

These days are not the days we chose —
and yet we live them day by day
by day
and more again —

hoping, gasping, grasping, choking —
wondering where the nearest axe
will fall — at his demand —
in worlds we didn’t choose, accept, nor certainly allow,
and yet we nonetheless accept and breathe,
accept and breathe … into
this death that takes
our precious days
and wastes them —
purely wastes them —
caring only for his cash and
pageantry,

while angels cry.

c. Pam Goode


Sometimes

Sometimes I need to feel life touch me hard before I can think clear. Even when what’s inside is cool and clean and library quiet, and the outside hangs heavy with heat and sticky wetness. The outside rubs me naked with life until I open wide. An arrogant mosquito kiss. The embrace of a web.…

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It’s Hot. You’ve probably noticed.

Yeah …Hotter than hot. Steaming hot.Sweltering hot.Blisteringly hot.Hot as Hell hot. Or maybe hotter than hell. Then again, is there anything hotter than hell?I don’t think so. All my friends are vacationing. Which is, I can’t lie — obviously the best way to spend a blisteringly hot summer. I keep seeing pictures of girls gadding…

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Today, I woke up with nothing to do. And I mean NOTHING.

UM … NOTHING??? This has never happened to me before. After looking around the house for awhile (still nothing), I spent some time finishing the few tiny pieces leftover from my last project … and then I looked around the room again. I tried moving some furniture here and there. Eh. I cleaned up those…

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Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

So love MORE, dance MORE, hug MORE, talk MORE, share MORE, protest MORE, think MORE, imagine MORE, create MORE

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Weightless

/ Pam Goode / 2 Comments

There are times of
too many —
too much —
too few —
never enough …

and the subject matter dances between the lines, depending —
voices
emotions
work
drink
sustenance
fear
sorrow
joy
surprise …

and sometimes what falls into “too much” on one day
falls into “never enough” on another,

and I struggle with this dance of
emotion
pain
joy
change

in equal amounts of
too much and
too little —
believing
that to live fully
is to know
it all intensely —
both hurt, and
solace.

But it is
never, ever
weightless.

c. Pamela Goode
Sent from somewhere on the globe

Morning Becomes Electric

/ Pam Goode / 8 Comments

This piece was made completely with mosaic glass in various shapes, colors, and sizes. The goal was to create my version of a Colorado Sunrise, including rocky land and tumbling stones.

Pam Goode, Artist

Thoughts on Monday

/ Pam Goode / 2 Comments

I’m sitting just inside the open door with a voluptuous breeze — working on a mosaic that I started ten years ago.

It’s like coming home.

Seriously.

And it’s raining. Better yet, it’s a long, long, long and glorious all-day rain. The windows are open, and I can hear the pitter-patter of multitudinous drops.

It’s hugely blissful.

The house is clean. Or clean-ish.

My husband is at the gym, my beautiful daughter is at home playing with her two children. My son and his beautiful wife and children are off skiing, and collectively, this means that I can do exactly whatever I want.

There’s food in the refrigerator.

Sure, there’s a downside that haunts me — isn’t there always? –but today I’m happy enough to focus on it less.

It’s a very, very good day.

Much love to all, and may your day be endlessly lovely.

The Days We Never Forget

/ Pam Goode / 12 Comments

“It’s not bad — we think you’ll be fine” and suddenly the words leap from “We’re just not sure why this isn’t working” to “I’m so very sorry, but this is all we can do,” and before we knew it, she was gone.

Today is the day my Mom died. It was 5:30, March 30th, 2006.

I remember every moment of that day, as do my sister and brother. Still. And Forever.

Death is so surreal — and often, so unexpected. Even when you know it’s coming, it jumps at you like a growling hyena, and you wonder if you’ll every understand.

If you’ll ever get past it.

My mother’s death was one of those “wait, WHAT HAPPENED??? sequences that spilled suddenly from “It’s not bad — we think you’ll be fine”, then morphed strangely to “Unfortunately we’re just not sure why this isn’t working” to tears and more tears right up to “I’m so very sorry, but this is all we can do.”

We stayed with her night and day, and still before we knew it, she was gone.

Mom was one of those women who could (and would) do everything. She loved us, fed us, had a fabulously and almost childish laugh, danced, taught us how to sew and create and curtsy, get along with Dad, AND be a bad ass??????

My sister, who gardens like a similar first-class badass in addition to raising sheep (LOTS of them) and growing food for the family, pretty much took on Mom’s role and keeps us together.

Three children — each forging their own path and as different as night and day. It didn’t matter a wink how different we were (and still are). I’m so deeply grateful that we’re all still together and helping each other along the path. Life isn’t always easy, and that’s an understatement, but we love each other.

Thank You Mom
Love Always

And I Like it This Way!

/ Pam Goode / 5 Comments

Yes, I’m a whirlwind. One of those girls who jumps into everything and never says no because, hey, life is short. And fun. And even when it isn’t fun, it’s hugely educational. We all need more (and more) of that.

So it’s not unusual to find me flitting here and there and working my toes off simply because. Or so I may say. The actual truth is that I love learning, traveling, creating, teaching, considering, supposing, wandering, delighting, cuddling, loving, and jumping into something new. In fact, I can only think of one thing I don’t do much of, and that’s talking. I was never a talker as a child, and I’m not much more of one now. But have no doubt — I’ve been a rampant traveler and loved every single minute imaginable.

And so I write. I’ve toned it down a bit now simply because there are just so many things left to do, but still I jump in gleefully, swivel my head in every direction, and drink it all in, every minute.

Menerbes, France

Isn’t she gorgeous???

IRELAND! The MOST Beautiful Country on the Planet

/ Pam Goode / 12 Comments 
I'm headed to Fabulous Ireland in a few months, and you know what? It's like I've come home. I'm not even there yet, but I already feel Ireland everywhere around me, and it feels So Good. Getting back to Ireland soothes me, excites me, influences me and changes me in every way, and I'm not the only one -- I pretty much hear the same words from everyone I pass. Honestly, I don't think I've ever known anyone who doesn't love Ireland. Are there any? I don't think so. 

And the best news is that Laura and I have two spaces open for May, and a plethora of opportunities to fall in love with Ireland's Magic. We'd love to have you join us the week of May 9 - May 16. Trust me -- you won't want to leave. And hey, that's okay too.

If that sounds good to you but you need a few lessons in getting your engine started, Laura and I are here to help.

We'll be staying in the gorgeous Springfield Castle shown below, and we have two spaces available. Better grab 'em!


NOTE: EVERYTHING IS INCLUDED IN THIS PRICE (All Meals, Excursions, Entertainment) EXCEPT your flight to and from Ireland, alcoholic beverages, 2 lunches, and any private outings you arrange.

AGAIN, WE HAVE ONLY TWO SPACES AVAILABLE FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO SPEND A GLORIOUS WEEK IN A GLORIOUS CASTLE AND EXPLORE THE BEAUTY AND WONDER OF IRELAND!

And just in case you’re wondering why I keep going back to Ireland at every opportunity, well, maybe you can guess…. Because I love it? Yes. Because it feeds me? Yes. Because it changes me? Yes.

Getting back to Ireland soothes me, excites me, influences me and changes me in every way, and I’m not the only one — I pretty much hear the same words from everyone I pass. Honestly, I’ve never known anyone who doesn’t love Ireland. Are there any? I don’t think so.

If that sounds good to you but you need a few lessons in getting your engine started, Laura and I are here to help.

Holding Firm

/ Pam Goode / 8 Comments

I saw a house in England —
stones enjoined by mortar
braided into artistry
like kings and queens,

and made my way to study her —
to touch and ape this gorgeousness up close
and OH!

I saw not braids nor fancy icing cake —
designs made plush for those
with fancy fortunes to expend,

but saw instead a simple cache
of rounded river stones, quite niblet-sized —
embedded piece by piece
and skin to skin.

and laughed to see a castle built
so much like me —

pebble by pebble,
and holding firm.

Pam Goode

Castle

/ Pam Goode / 4 Comments

Built a castle; knocked it down —
too old, too young, and just begun …
another circle on the run.
I’ll let it be and let it grow —
(perhaps it had it’s place, you know),
and who am I? Yes who am I? And back around we go, we go.

And when I fell I bellowed loudly,
screamed my soul quite inside-out;
They sent the healers; did my best
and dutifully swept the scrap.

And when I fully stood again,
I kicked quite cleanly every stone
from this, my soul-destroying home —
without the tears this time.

I had a castle quite devouring —
almost got the ALL of me —
and kicked that castle — kicked it clean
and walked, at last, away.

I walked, at last, away.

Pam Goode

The Merry Days

/ Pam Goode / 6 Comments

So far I’ve made it through hauling Christmas regalia out of the attic, hanging stockings, and standing by with a ready hand while my husband lifted and settled the tree. We have dinner plans — scratch that — we had dinner plans, but then the bottom fell loose and now I have no idea what the rest of the day holds. And I’m okay with that. Really. When you see your brother once a year, you smile, hug, and take what you can get.

And what’s change really? Life is never set in stone. N E V E R. I learned that lesson at the age of four.

So I pulled out my attic stash, rounded up the pink twinkle lights that keep me happy and sane, and dove in. And yeah, it took hours, even with our small four and a half foot tree. Because, well, you know. We all know, and it just ain’t easy. One side of the living room window is a bit smashed across the glass, and once I limb the ladder, I can’t really lean in far enough to extend the lights from one end to another. I’ve been doing this for years and always took the time to make it perfect. Now I’m just happy to see the lights at all. “I grow old, I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled ….” Oops, sorry to run off course.

When I was growing up, we always kept Christmas a secret. I was in my early twenties, my sister 3 years younger, and my brother quite a bit younger when the three of us walked into the living room together — my sister and I in tights and a top and my brother — ever the creator — walked in fully dressed in his own handmade Santa suit. Yes, I said Handmade Santa Suit.

I’ll never forget the awe of it, and I’ll never forget how much we can accomplish if we take a bit of time to drop the everyday and and add a bit of creativity. .

P.S. Apparently Jingle Bells was never intended to be a Christmas song, but hey, it sure worked.

Happy Holidays to all!

Pam Goode