Manifestation

Women’s International Mosaic Project

/ Pam Goode / 6 Comments

Don’t ask me why, but something popped into my head rather suddenly over the past month. And because our time on earth gets shorter by the day, I jumped on it. I’d love for you to jump in too.

I chose the name above because I want it to encompass the world. It won’t, of course, but that can still be my goal.

P.S. You do not need to be a woman to support women.

Details: My plan is to bring women of all ages, sizes, ethnicities and dreamers together. It seems to me that our lives as women are changing daily, and certainly our options are changing already. I won’t fixate on politics because I’ve never been that girl — though I’m beginning to realize that maybe I should be. We definitely have power, but can we control what’s going on now? — or what’s ahead?

What I do know is that we can always stand for peace and right.

Toward that end I hope to share these messages across the globe. And guess what — after one email blast and a couple of days, we already have women signed up from sea to sea in the the US, as well as multiple countries beyond. We need to use our strength. We need to be the women we are without keeping quiet. But most of all, we need to support and learn from each other. Nobody’s going to do this for us — especially now.

So far I’m mostly self-funding this women’s project because that’s my option, and that’s how much I want to bring us together. But as women, we’re inevitably strong, and our fierceness will get us farther into the future than we know.

So here’s what we need: Contact with each other; Appreciation for each other; Sharing with each other; Understanding and supporting each other as much as we can. And then movement: Saying yes, laughing together, brainstorming together, supporting each other. And yes, changing the world, even when it seems like what we do is the tiniest offering. We’re so much stronger than we know.

A Plan: We ALL need a plan, and so far we’re amazingly in sync. I’m good with a plan — I can do that — BUT I can also learn even more if I’m talking and brainstorming with others. Through this project, that’s exactly what we’re doing, no matter how closely or far apart we live, no matter our ethnicities, our shyness, or our uncertainties, we’re already doing it. It’s a pretty good start, and the most exciting part is that 99% of these women volunteered on the own.

Help We Can Use: Cutting templates from fiberglass mesh (perfect for you if you love cutting perfect 6-inch circles); mailing fiberglass mesh templates, talking up the project.

Mailing Templets: The cost to mail three 6″ circular fiberglass templates is variable but quite small across the US. Beyond the US, we’re currently working with women from Australia, Ireland, France, Italy, and Puerto Rico. I’d like to be able to help with the cost of mailing overseas.

Taking Part: If you’re interested, text me. We’ll be delighted to have you involved!

And Suddenly it’s Almost Summer,

/ Pam Goode

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Gotta Write

/ Pam Goode / 1 Comment



Dear Self: I started this blog in 2007.

Sixteen years ago.

Is that long? Not so long, considering that I’ve taken plenty of breaks. I don’t remember why, but I doubt it was for a lack of words. More likely it was simply business — family, jobs, travel, the basic what-we-do that seems to determine every morsel of our daily dailies.

But even from the start, there was such a beauty to the practice of writing. I wrote much, much more than I blogged, keeping most of it private until I found my comfort zone, which primarily means that I simply stopped worrying about what other people thought.

Boring? Often, no doubt. Redundant? Oh yeah. We all have our passions, and they’re not a one-and-done deal. Self-centered? Sure, but … as writers, we pull from within ourselves. That’s not a bad thing — we all need to pay more attention to what we have to offer instead of just sitting on it for no good reason.

My major focus has always been watching, listening, and working to understand life — the joys, generosity, foibles, kindness, hatred, simplicity, and so much more. I’m drawn again and again to grasp the tiny moments — the ones we often don’t notice or think we’re too busy to for.

And that’s not true. So not true.

The image at the top of my blog is me — my mind, my joy — grabbing moments and jotting them down as quickly and legibly as I can, particularly on walks — a phone in one hand and a scrappy piece of paper full of scribbles in the other. Like everyone else on the planet, I usually think I’m “too busy” with this or that, which sometimes includes staring into space and letting my mind follow its will without judgment.

What I’ve learned:

Listen more than you talk.

Be free with support for others.

Share when asked.

Write without worrying if it’s good or bad. The more you write, the better it gets.

Say Yes when it’s a healthy response.

And most importantly, Let That Shit Go.

Really.

Inspired by a month-long artist residency graciously provided by Olive Stack Gallery, Listowel, Ireland, Day 14

The Summer We Waited

/ Pam Goode / 2 Comments

Waiting, c. Pamela Goode

Between the idea / And the reality / Between the motion / And the act / Falls the Shadow ~ T.S. Eliot

Am I going to fail my Zen test because I can’t love the shadow? I’m trying, really I am. I know good things will come, that fruition takes time, but . . . .  Good things come to he who waits is, I’m sorry, crap. Sitting around waiting never got anyone anywhere.  Good things come to those who DO.  But . . . do what? Where do you go when there’s nowhere to go?

I hate waiting. Of course this is a pointless comment — does anyone like waiting? Waiting eats our time, our patience, our resolve, our certainty, our energy. Waiting sucks, quite literally, and I am sucked out.

The spring seemed (was) rife with possibilities. I worked to schedule my time to accommodate them all, made lists and guides and proposals, gathered supplies and references, made contacts  and pursued leads. And then I moved on to take care of everything else — all the things that don’t wait while we’re waiting.

And it was good, but then . . . nothing.

Patience, patience, all good things take time. Deadlines pass. Excuses made. New deadlines created that will then pass and more waiting, more setting aside new chunks of more focused time to complete what you offered to committed to wanted to complete even though the game keeps changing. And the waiting gets a little less enchanting, a little less hopeful, a little less patient.

I fully believe that for change to occur, we must make the space for it. We must empty ourselves of pre-conceived ideas, old habits, tired ways, and the blindness born of always seeing things in the same fashion. But even being open to change isn’t enough — we have to empty the closets if we want change to stay for a while. But how long do you wait? How long to you wait and believe, with that damn shadow pulling out every sneaky trick in the book to become your new best friend? At what point will I morph from the being-who-welcomes-my-full-destiny to the-lady-with-so-much-time-that-she’s-making-macaroni-mosaics?

Too-abundant and so-rarely-productive surplus of time, I hate you. I want to love you, but I don’t. I want what I’ve worked for, and I want it now. Or even tomorrow, but I’ve had it up to here with this flapping in the breeze.

It’s a funny thing about waiting. Funny in that f***you sort of way. Because in the interim, time does what times does best: it changes us. Not the change we planned for hoped for made space for welcomed, but in some Other way, a way that’s a bit harder to pinpoint, speaking with a softer voice and holding out a very blurry map, but helping herself to my closet space nonetheless.

*This is not the post I meant to write, but this is the post that came out. I meant to point you toward my two newest blogs (that’s what too much time will get you): Wild Hair Adventures, a compilation of my travel essays and photographs (toddler stage), and Ormolulu, a blog to celebrate junking excursions (still quite an infant). Hope you like.

The Power of Thought

/ Pam Goode / 5 Comments

I was sitting on the Duke quad quite a few years ago when a guy in a black trench coat walked up and sat down beside me. I recognized him from my Philosophy class, but we had never spoken and I didn’t know his name. He asked me out. Continue reading →

Be Still

/ Pam Goode / 7 Comments

Stillness is not my forte. Unusually still and silent as a child, I’ve been wiggling my way through life since adulthood. But travel is a mind shift for me, and after days of battering by sea and air, my thoughts are quieting to something like stillness, and not a little bit of awe. Continue reading →

Ha!

/ Pam Goode / 1 Comment


It took me a day, but I found the doggie twin  🙂  My brother’s doggie Coco struck the identical pose this afternoon. The twofer continues.

A Very Unusual Day

/ Pam Goode / 8 Comments

Okay, so it’s Tuesday, and clearly a twofer is indicated. But I ask you, where does it end?

Last night my brother and I sat on the porch looking at stars. I was thrilled to pick out my first red star, Antares, which we easily identified with a handy app on his IPad. Way cool. Making my way around some rocking chairs to approach the railing, both feet caught on a large — very large — wooden door stop attached at an angle on the porch floor. Over I keeled, creating a perfect arc and landing on my face. Banged, scraped, egg-knotted, and bleeding lightly, I clamored up over a rocker and continued the star search, then crawled into bed and emailed Vernon about my starry night.

This morning I happened upon Emma Biggs’ fabulous blog . . . detailing a nearly identical fall, sadly with a great deal more damage than mine (heal quickly Emma!). Then an email from Vernon, startled that the very next communication in his morning queue after my star tale is a slideshow on stars and the Hubble telescope. I then check Facebook. Within my first eight status updates, two mention heading out to the garden, and two more mention picking up a car from the repair shop. Okay, this is getting fun. More fun for me than for Vernon, who is headed off for TWO dental appointments.

I take a long walk on the beach, mulling over whether to turn my eyes upward or toward the sand, composing a few humorous lines about jellyfish carcasses vs the danger of overhead seagulls.

On my way to the farm stand before lunch, I wonder about the tradition of intuitive naming in Native American and Buddhist traditions — at that moment the radio announcer utters the word “Buddhism.”

Back on the beach, I’m getting excited about my thoughts manifesting, and settle back in my chair with closed eyes to follow where my mind leads. I feel a heavy drop of “rain” splash on my right shoulder, and open my eyes to see that the “rain” is white. Okay, 55 years, and I’ve never once been shit on by a seagull, or any bird for that matter, and suddenly it happens less than an hour after I think it?

Now of course I’m wondering why I can’t manifest an art sale or commission . . . when my cell phone rings. It’s a writer out of Minnesota, and she wants to interview me for an article on artists in the SouthEast . . . .

I’m excited about tomorrow.

Oh, and by the way, the dog above is a freebie. I saw him on my beach walk and liked the way he sat on his private island in the sun. I haven’t found the other half of his story yet, but it won’t surprise me.