i cough.
and breathe and
cough
again
and wash
and walk and
run
and run and run and
run …
and still you stick
in me.
© Pam Goode
Personal Growth
Little Moments
To be honest, I have very little recall of most Fourth of July festivities. I don’t dislike the day — I’m just ambivalent. Actually, wait . . . . . . . okay, maybe I’m not ambivalent at all.
The best thing I remember about the fourth of July is children. I love seeing their bright faces, watching to see which balloon figurine they’ll choose and then stand in eye-popping awe as a masterfully (and surely exhausted) moustachioed man (or woman) twists and turns and blows and wiggles his way into the skinny balloons until THWACK! And suddenly the child is magically holding a pretty darn good replica of a dog/spaceship/tuba/baby girl/….. And mind you, this is all AFTER we’ve stood in the forever-line for tiny-tot-face-painting.
The saving grace, of course, is the look in their eyes and the glee lighting the entire night sky.
So yeah … I LOVE the Fourth. Don’t you?
Women’s International Mosaic Project
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!
Touch of Fire
Sam has a touch of fire.
When we got to be almost friends he would put his hand
on my shoulder
when it was time to leaves the parties we both went to
and he said goodbye.
He would come up behind me
and there would be the hand,
and I would know it was Sam without even turning
because his touch was fire.
One night I went to a party and I wore a sundress
with no back.
When it was time I thought
he won’t touch me now.
not tonight.
But then we were leaving and there was the hand again,
On my bare shoulder this time
and it was fire.
Night after night always the same,
and when the hand came without stopping
I was hard pressed
to look him full-on when I said goodnight,
knowing the eyes would be there,
And I couldn’t tell yet what they were saying.
So I mumbled low at the floor,
not wanting to leave until I knew,
but needing the cool night air and the dark ride home
to keep his touch from showing plain.
Excerpt from Touch of Fire by Pam Goode
Paramour:
When he called to say he’d be home early, an hour away at most,
she hurriedly grabbed the signs of her weekend with passion:
the voluptuously hot-colored glass,
(a spontaneous deviation from her usual blues),
the achingly sharp tools …
the milky white adhesives,
the markers (you are MINE!),
the ubiquitous remnants of joy
left strewn across the table,
the chairs,
the floors,
her clothes…
the Tears for Fears,
the Prince,
the Elton.
Closet closed now,
the sweep of the vacuum,
the stash of memories
now buttoned up,
but only a wisp away
from tomorrow’s
studio time.
It Was A Dark and Stormy Night
Last night, and in fact smack in the middle of what’s often called Premium Sleep Time, a tree fell on our house.
First of all, yes, we’re okay. Secondly, while my husband leapt out of bed and examined every iota of the house inside and out until he knew we were safe for the night — I slept through it. While the occasional deep sleep is understandable if you’re, say, missing breakfast, but it’s more than disconcerting if your house has been ravaged by tree limbs during your slumber. It’s just not something we tend to prepare for, and the concept of sleeping through a major episode makes all my wires short out.
And yes, it was indeed a dark and stormy night. Lots of wind and lots of rain, but not so different from most nights … until the crash. And it’s probably no surprise that 1) it rattled me big time, and two, I can’t shake it.
Once we’d enlisted chainsaw and climbing help via my husband’s (seriously) knowledge of everything on the planet, I slipped away to the studio to work on a project. I calmed down a (tiny) bit after 20 minutes or so, and then there was a knock on the door of my studio/sanctuary.
“I just wanted to let you know that there’s a large gas leak and they’ve asked everyone to leave the building.” Okay, I’m sure there’s a silver lining in there somewhere, but it wasn’t meant for today.
All in all, the tree was about 60 feet tall, and we were lucky (really, really lucky) that it snapped instead of falling full force in all its glory across several backyards. We think it was one of those “surprise” miniature tornadoes. I hope it’s my last.
What’s that Tiny Bright Light in the Sky?
I’m guessing you’re all atwitter about hearing my Eclipse story, right?
It’s actually one of the truly bizarre incidents of my life, and I have absolutely no idea how it happened. Granted, the little quarter moon in my area was lovely, if lacking a bit of actual excitement. More than the excitement of a slow afternoon, and a whole lot less than the excitement of actually seeing the full eclipse. But lovely it was, and it put a great big smile on my face and that lasted the rest of the day.
My son, of course, went waaaaaaay more than the whole nine yards, and I admire him for it bigtime, especially with a 10 year old. Both, I have to say, were high-spirited for the many, many miles of driving, waiting, driving, waiting, driving AND more waiting. But they got the whole deal and it was amazing. And oh yes, they’re already made plans for Australia and New Zealand in 2028.
But back to THE STORY. Due to regularly unscheduled issues with my car, I fuss about it a good bit. The days running up to the show were no different, but hey, at least I had that beautiful eclipse experience to lighten my many sighs. And then work is over, the eclipse has cleansed me, and I climb happily (enough) into my car.
And guess what! MUSIC streams out of the car with a lovely tune …. not MY music of course, but music, and I think my troubles are over because the eclipse wiped all those hiccups away just for me, or maybe for everyone, but I can’t really speak for that many. And though I have no idea where the sudden mystical music came from, it sang for me heartily the rest of the way home. And of course I’m thinking the eclipse, indeed, has super powers.
When I woke up the next morning, the music was nowhere to be found. Haven’t heard a peep from it since. Clearly, the Eclipse has left the room.
Life and How We Live It
I may have mentioned a few or fifty-seven times that I’ve spent almost 100% of my time for the past five or six or seven weeks cleaning. And I don’t mean sweeping and dusting obsessively — that will never be my goal.
What I mean is that I’ve been digging deeper and deeper into the “I can pick them up and carry them around” bits of my life — memories from across the decades, moments of loss and moments of euphoria, talismans that helped me through various decades depending on my spiritual quest at the time, aches that I’ll carry forever because they were a critical part of my growth, and aches as well that scarred me deeply and took up residence in my soul for far too long.
And yet all in all, it’s been, and continues to be, one of the most healing times of my life, taking me from emotion to emotion as I try to place each into the part of me that will keep me moving forward with wonder and sharing and joy day by day.
Love to All!
A Day in Provence
It’s a bit dreary today (not to mention several other days across the last few weeks), so how about a handful of Sunny Provence?!
I took these photos during a glorious week in Menerbes. Now, I’m one of those girls who LOVES traveling countrysides, frankly they just flat out amaze me. Have a look, and let me know what you think!
And no, I did not visit with Peter Mayle, but I did pass his delightfully charming house!
P.S. During our walk along the gorgeously ancient cobblestones, we passed an enticing church that was closed. Not to be deterred, I snapped a bit of the interior through the keyhole.
When *S*****T* Happens
Well then.
Sometimes it feels like the world is caving in a bit, and maybe it is; or maybe it isn’t and it’s all just coming from me.
For the second time, I’ve had my credit card stolen at a place that I frequent regularly — a place filled with kind, quiet, people who spend a couple of hours working on their computers in a pleasant environment. The first time it happened, I felt like it must have somehow been my fault. Of course it wasn’t.
Now that it’s happened a second time, I’m livid and … something else that I haven’t yet identified. The difference is that this time I told everyone nearby immediately and then pretty much everyone I know when I got home. Why? Because I don’t want it to happen to anyone else. Yes, I’m savvy enough to know that these things happen all around us far too often, but loving enough to believe that I won’t be robbed because I’m a good and kind person. Yes, well … I guess that’s naive to a “T” isn’t it?
And it leaves me wondering about life in so many ways.
One of the problems for me is that I really, really don’t want to have to beware every time I leave the house. I really, really don’t want to believe that any passerby and his mother is out to steal from me and who knows who else. And I really, really don’t want to spend the rest of my life watching my back. I’d like to say that I refuse to live that way, but the truth is that I won’t be able to let it go — I’ll be watching my back pretty much forever now. I suppose you could say that’s a good thing, but it doesn’t feel good to me.
Yes, it’s a huge wake-up call that hopefully melds okay-ish with my life, but there will always be a part of me that hates it.
Pam Goode Writes 