Inner Warrior

When I was little,

I found a piece

of scrap fake leopard fur

in a ditch

slightly visible under

a layer of melting spring ice

and thought

it was a warriors vest

sent to me from

the African gods

to give me strength.

I wore it everywhere

despite my mothers embarrassment

and coaxing

to please, not wear it in public!

It had magic and

in becoming "lion-hearted"

I rode imaginary zebras

and ran as fast as the cheetahs

to the power lines

which I called South Africa.

That was the beginning

of my inner native,

my African self

oddly, I knew everything

about the continent early on

the names and location

of each country and its capital

and what animals lived where

so in my blood

and heart

that African music

or just the word Africa

spoken out loud

makes me weepy.

What is it about a place

never actually visited that pulls

and calls our name?

Reincarnation, unspoken spirits?

Some unforgotten ancestral guidance?

A couple years ago,

I got my spots,

a tattoo on my ankle

my warriors' mark

and when I need a vest of strength

I pull out something with

animal print on it

for my warrior wear

and I walk with lions again!

Pam Piper Rain

Artwork by Pam Reinke

Letting go

And there it is...

tried but

couldn't

out run it

...never can.

Been feeling it for days

knew it would arrive

this fluid pain...

that which was 'last year'

stunningly altered,

changed.

And although the lessons?

in dancing in joy

and humor

and in being and breathing,

so abundant,

moments my feet knew

only clouds

and play and starlight

it is not...

without its opposite.

The rain.

In my most difficult chapter

from 'The Heart of a Wild Woman'...

written and rewritten,

Princess Piper tries

to tell the woman

her heart is a book,

a story to tell.

Edited so many times

I thought it would

never come to me...

and yesterday it did!

With the story in hand,

Princess Piper said, goodbye

“wait, its not finished,”

the woman said with a cry

“it never really is,” Piper said,

“the story continues on,

it’s a snapshot in time,

a prayer, a poem, a song!”

Their meeting was brief,

but she had come at the right time,

giving her an encounter

of divine... rhythm and rhyme.

People come in and out

like smoke

like air

a passing fragrance

a whisper

and I understand

now

that we don't lose them

we learn to let them go,

and that distant hum

is a gift

...of hallelujah.

Pam Piper Rain

Illustration and excerpt from

Heart of a Wild Woman

Forever Farrah

Today's blog is about my hair

Yes...

my hair!

It seems it is highly misunderstood...

first of all

let me state the facts

it IS naturally blond

(and hmmm...admittedly gray)

but not naturally curly

I pay for that.

I have had the same hairdo

for twenty years

and I don't care

yes I suppose it is kind of BIG

(but not National Lampoon

or Farrah big, I don't think)

preferring to think its wild

and messy like my illustrations

sort of a trademark look

and people who know me well...

know I use it to hide behind

it is my shield, my veil, my net

and finally

Velcro and my hair don't get along

at all!

(Oh and branches also

got tangled in a tree once!)

So when in a conversation

with my paddling mates

the other day

I noticed there were

far too many questions about my hair

along with

relayed comments about

their own Farrah days...hmm???

And...the mention of "big" hair...

one too many times

(all words

I have a bit of an aversion to...)

and there is the ongoing banter

of 'who likes pink and who doesn't?'

between Anita and I!

Pink is the only color

I can honestly say I hate

probably due to the many

childhood moments

spent next to a pepto bismol bottle

(its a sad story, don't ask)

(tho now, it makes me think

of my late friend Jen who loved

everything pink)

So when someone said

"Would have thought you'd love pink

because of your girlie girl hair"

"What??

I am so offended"

I stormed laughing

and outraged, truly!

Never having seen myself as

a 'girlie girl'

never even been called that???

So what kind of misconception

is occurring

because I have big messy Farrah like hair

that Velcro and branches are attracted to?

And do I really care?

...nah...

as long as no one gets me

anything pink to wear in it!

Its going to be

Farrah forever!

Pam Piper Rain

Holy Crap...it's Tucson

Last show of the year is always in Tucson.
It is traditional to attend for
myself and my two wild artist friends
(who I affectionately call

Sister Mary Janet)
This year when I said,
"I think I will pass,"
they said, "Oh No, you won't."

Rich in adventures and the hilarious
oddity that is downtown Tucson!
It is always a parade of the bizarre!
And we have a collection of stories

told and retold
to anyone who will listen!

Janet's rendition of the intoxicated girl,
who was listening and weaving

to 'far away 'music while
holding up her bike
and trying to apply chap stick
around and around,

ultimately... on her whole face,

continues to entertain me
every time I hear it!

This year there are kids
with hugs for sale,
"regular ones and deluxe"
hmmm, curious about the
deluxe version but not that curious...
a lot of three legged dogs
which made us wonder...whats going
on down here?
And whats up with all the facial hair
on these women?

Don't they have friends who will tell them

"honey, pluck!

There are the usual sights

like people dressed up

as stuffed animals or carrying exotic ones
but our new favorite is
"creepy stick man"
he would slink through the crowd,

white faced, arms and legs
banded with sticks,

clicking and clacking like old bones,
(even saw a woman scream
when he startled her...)
To us, its just.... Tucson!

This year we started a journal
for our commentaries
and observances...
taking turns passing it back in forth
between our booths
which were side by side in a row of three
this made it easier to say,
"Holy crap, Did you see that?"
like when Cleopatra came sailing down
the sidewalk in her array of gold lamete'.

(Wait, that might have been last year!)

We eat at the same place for every meal,
(the second reason why we come here)
a fun little restaurant that everyone
who has 'good taste' is seen dining in.
Black bean burgers for every dinner and
homemade biscuits with honey and butter
in the morning...
Janet and I decide these
are a sticky golden piece of heaven

for people who are really good!

The third reason is to make sales

(of course)
but that's not what we ever really remember
its the stories, the moments,
the experiences
that we gather along the way
the ones that make our faces hurt
from smiling
too much and too long
creating permanent lines of happy,

that we wear proudly

through the rest of the year!.

On the way back to Phoenix.
I suggest, "next year
we should show up with something
funny to wear all week end..."
"yeah, like a tiara, or a fake nose
maybe even some sticks?"
Mary adds in agreement.

Hey, when in Rome...!"


Pam Piper Rain

alias Sparkly Pants

or was it Piper Jo?

Birds and pants

Its dusk on Mill Avenue in Dec.
in Tempe, Arizona and it is cold
I am helping Mary tarp off
the three booths her and Janet share.
there are a multitude of birds

flying overhead,
to the trees lining the sidewalks,
they come in flocks

to roost for the evening
with a high pitch chirp chatter
deafening and yes...

there is pooping!

Trying to duck out of range
is a challenge and some artists.

aren't as lucky
We are tired...

so tired up since 3:00 am

and cold
bone achingly cold!

"Why do they poop while flying?"
Mary asks me,
"It's not like we poop while running."
"Well, because we wear pants," I answer,
she looks at me, "What????"
"Well, you know, if all we had was a tail
and our feet were tucked behind us..."
We start laughing at the visual
our usual 'we're too tired

to make sense
tangent' about to begin.

In the car, it continues,
the senseless commentary of the day
and somehow I earn

the nickname "sparky pants"
for the weekend
always there is a nickname.

Art festivals...
is this odd lifestyle
of smirk and snipe,
funny and cranky,
while exhausted...
long prior studio hours,
making stuff....
lots of driving,

packing up stuff and setting up stuff,
up too early, up too late,
put more stuff together
too hot, too cold complaints,
we have happy money moments
or sad say nothing results...
but always there is humor

and stories to tell
and retell

these, 'our standout moments!'

For some reason I lose my mind

when I am with, Mary and Janet
I lose my mind...

and everything else it seems!

Last year in the spring show,

thought I lost my keys
and returned to Starbucks
in search of them
"did you find my keys?"
"No, but we have a purse!"
"Hmmm, no thanks,

looking for a set of keys"

Three hours later
having found my keys,
Starbucks calls
to tell me they have my purse
oh!

Mary and Janet love this story
telling it again and again.

So this past weekend
it was no surprise

when I showed up without my keys

to my truck and trailer

left over Thanksgiving,
and had to call a locksmith.
They were patient as usual
but the next night when
I relayed my discovery

of a missing box of prints

(left possibly at my last show location)
the teasing was relentless.
"Call Starbucks,
they probably have them!"

But I wasn't listening,
more important things

were on my mind...

like birds' wearing pants

...and hmmm...where's my purse???

Pam Piper Rain

alias "Sparky pants" ??

In Memory of a Muse

Had the pleasure to have a muse
for awhile...
one that inspired in me
a language
that was deeper and richer
than I had yet known.
During that time
volumes of poetry were produced
in a desperate attempt to record
moments that were merely on loan,
it seemed.


Tho the muse is no more,
this body of work
stands as "hands down"
my best and most prolific work
as if someone else had written it.
Thinking it a shame to let it hide
in a digital file
one I don't have the courage
to open most times
but when I do
it takes my breath away
and I believe in something
more than myself...


This is one!


One Saturday

a 10 year olds'
map of forgotten places,
precedes a 12 year olds'
life story...
hauntingly read at twilight,
a picnic of buses and
story telling walks
heels to desert dust,
a dance of wind playing
“rock a bye puppy”
and strings tethered
to colored air,
when scarey Santa goes bye bye,
her 15 year old
misplaced voice
is found
against a sky
of blue and pink ribbons,
adult dream weavers
read and listen to
the treasure of old words
of a brave teenager
& runaway pony moments...
are understood,
one Saturday...
the unreinable wild one
and the moon eyed flower child
find themselves wondering over
themselves and one another
as grown women admittedly lucky
to know this and that...
and the surprise
of finding a “kindred child”
far from the fern forests
of the midwest,
in a place where skies dazzle
and the earth
knows how to create
gardens of heart shaped stones.


Pam Piper Rain

Wildly OZ

Okay, this could be my favorite piece ever!

Never a fan of Wizard of Oz

(the flying monkeys sacred me as a kid)

until last year,

I was enchanted.

And was inspired to do this

for a local performance of the play!

It will be raffled off to

help a young woman, Megan Hall

give back to her drama teacher,

Grace Ann in a foundation

called Kids Cool Wish.

Honored to help make this happen!

Isn't Toto the cutest little stick dog ever?

Prints will be available on my website!

Lets see who else

can I turn into Wild stick figures?

Pam Piper Rain

Remember

Remember

how strong you are,

the disappointments

...in life?

It never stops...

and all you can do

is remember...

how strong you are

sometimes thats all you got

all you got sometimes

and it just

has to be enough!

Pam Piper Rain

Perspective

Walking in the wash

the desert is wetted

with passing rain,

thick beds of mud

like mocha chocolate,

heavy and sticky,

sludge on shoes

want to take a stick and

write something in it

nothing comes to me...

but "chocolate or mud?"

a perspective thing

good or bad?

grief or celebration?

And without tasting it...?

could be either...!

Pam Piper Rain

My friend, Kinipela

Because it was this time of year

I will tell this story here...

an anniversary thank you

to the woman I met on a Thanksgiving night

five years ago...

Around my neck, I wear two pendants

one is a paddle and one reads

Kinipela,

(the other side of that, "sixasone")

they are my most prized possessions

and I am seldom seen without them!

On a beautiful patio belonging

to my favorite people,

we are gathered with collected food,

to talk and drink...

and give thanks

it's a long table of sixteen,

overlooking the darkened

and illuminated lake,

most of us, are artists and a few neighbors,

and some others I don't know...

it's a time of transisiton for me

having lost access to my partner

and kids,

I am just glad to be somewhere...

anywhere with smart, witty, clever people.

Coming at me in long strides

is a woman over dressed for the occassion

(not to mention Havasu)

she's tall and blonde gorgeous,

in all black,

with a thick "foo foo" waist slinging

kind of belt,

fur something around her shoulders,

more "foo foo" hanging from her ears...

and around her neck...

(okay, lets face it, she was "foo foo" everything)

stunning, really,

but I admit, I judged

and thought, "Who is this bimbo?"

Little, did I know then,

this bimbo?

was destined to be my dearest friend!

Jennifer sat across from me

with her husband, it was their anniversary!

And was the sweetest, most engaging

creature I had ever met!

I was instantly crazy about her!

We had just started paddling and were newly

excited about the sport,

she expressed an interest,

promising to come the next day

I doubted it..."SHE, wasn't the type"

Judging again!

Yet, there she was on the beach

and every morning after that,

for the next three years.

Then there were four others

and we became "Sixasone"

falling in love with one another

and the sport,

we won medals and were inseparable,

Jennifer, the wonder glue

we came together for her,

as an assignment, a predetermined destiny...

an agreement

because she was going to NEED us...

because... she had cancer...!

In that short time,

she gave me, US,

the friendship of a lifetime

our happy golden retriever type

she was my confidante and inspiration,

so unbelievably brave...

I would have walked to the ends

of the planet for her and back...

The last time I saw her

it was a "sixasone moment"

all together, last January

helping her take down the

Christmas decorations

in her house, she was weak...

it had an ominous sentiment of

finality to it...

but I was in denial,

had to be...we all were!

That day we felt like "us" again,

funny, together playful

Sixasone, she said...

"until I look in the mirror and remember"

she concluded!

The bracelets that we wore with

our theme song of U2s, "Its a beautiful day"

inscribed on it, didn't feel right to her

with her frail wrists

so we traded, mine for hers, hers for mine,

and I had to choke back the emotion..

it was significant,

and it was...

I never saw her again.

Now I also wear her paddle

and her name in Hawaiian

...Kinipela.

What I wouldn't give to be able to call

her as I always did...

and hear her say "hi, my friend!

Happy friendship anniversary, Jen!

I miss you more everyday!

Pam Piper Rain