The Little Big Souls

Back when the words were plentiful,
(which was pretty much all my life.)
I would go on a walk (my meditation)
and if I went without paper,
I could be seen running back home
like something was chasing me....
but really?
I WAS chasing something, the words,
I had to catch  them before they went on
to someone else who was more available.
(This is NOT unique to me, many people
of words describe something similar.)

It is true if you do not write it down the
words are gone and lost to you.

Today, as I made my mental list of things
to do on my walk, mail this, finish the floor,
fix that sprinkler, start lesson plans... blah blah.
The faces of the Sandy Hook Children
came to me with a force, I couldn't ignore!
The faces I had been posting
on Facebook daily.
(With great heartbreak and
 an often 'challenged' level of commitment.)
The ones I now know by name and all the
things they loved to do and wanted to be.

These beautiful innocent children
have made such an impact on our nation,
our history, hopefully the course of future laws,
their  little lives, a more powerful voice than
any who knew them would have imagined for them.

Today, someone private messaged me asking,
"Why, was I doing the posts daily?
Had she missed something?"
It was a good question.
But the answer was not simple. 
It had started out as one thing
and then became another, 
something I hadn't expected.

So I ran home,
through the wash, my pouty dog behind me, 
her walk cut short,
I forgot my list and wrote this down.

The news of the shootings, crippled me,
wore heavy on my days,
(like a lot of us)
And as a new teacher, it flattened me, 
while lifting me to the height 
of an imagined 'mother bear'
with equal the strength.
Knowing, I would stand in front of any one
of them, if the unthinkable occurred.
They belonged to me. They are mine, 
which, I have to say was a delightful surprise to me.
And almost immediately
my teaching philosophy and attitude changed.
These are little people with wise, funny, spirits
hungry to be seen, adored and successful.
My style suddenly relaxed
and I began to fall in love instead!
Fall in love with their innocence rather than
their "good results" or 
"why are you doing THAT?" behavior.

I often suffer from loneliness and depression.

The balance between a social persona
and the creative fire that requires a solitary existence, 

is a constant battle and source of frustration.

The Holidays, of course, the most daunting challenge.

Truth told, I am not a fan 

and I could just as well do without them.

Facebook provides me with a window onto the world 

and connects me from my own office/studio, 
in between creative adventures.
However virtual my friends are, 
I am grateful!

There is much that can be said about Facebook,

both negative and positive. 
Drawbacks and enhancements!

But social media has a large role 
in our technology based society, 

like it or not. Like anything in life, 

we must ask ourselves, 
"How will I use this for good?
What is my intention?"

Early on, I decided to have guidelines.

My personal standards being only post 

to inspire, promote or entertain!

Often with cryptic form of poetry 
or a short storytelling language.

(Trying my best to adhere to that, 

admittedly, I fell short on occasion. Sigh!)

It was a playground, an audience for my words, 

and since I wasn't writing anything else, 

it was a manageable format. 

The weekend after the shootings.

I had watched nothing about it, 
but was weighted by it, 
like the rest of the world!

A friend's post suggested to dedicate one day, 

for each person with some act of kindness,

I loved the idea! Seemed like

a way to take action in a helpless "just stand by 

and watch and grieve" situation.

A local Zumba teacher, a woman of great inspiration, 

and followers, joined me in this collaborate task. 

And we committed to doing it, daily together.
She did better than I.

Because with the first post of Charlotte Bacon,

I realized I didn't want to do this, 
I couldn't do this!

It was too much a vacuum of grief, 
to start everyday with,

researching their stories, 

see their shining faces in photos, 

weeping over the words written about them. 

And WHAT was my intention after all? 

Being my nature is about mostly living 
in kindness anyways,

I REALLY, didn't want to report 
on that publicly or daily!

And mostly I did NOT want to draw 
any attention towards myself 

on the wake of a tragedy,
 I didn't 'personally' belong to.

So that first day, I dropped the ball.  

But a promise is a promise!

My intention cleared and I decided 
to get to know them,

by telling their story, one for each day. 

And I fell in love with one after another. 

Thought about them throughout the day, 

carried their smiles in my mental pockets!

Careful and creative about the words 

I could best use to honor their lives.

Without realizing it, I was writing again, 
just short stories, about what I knew 
of these "little lightworkers"

and their heroic teachers,

'my words' returned in the course of this promise.

And THEY really are magic makers, 
change creators, little big souls.

These "Indigo Children" have done much already,
across the country.

They reminded me how important our stories are 

(the obvious shortness of life)
and that as a writer, it was my job, 

NO, it's my privilege to pass it along!

(Minus any applause 
or appreciation for my actions.)

Like a ripple or a flame, 
it is a vibration that has the power

to create a planetary shift and redefine the tragedy.
Sometimes that is ALL we can do!

Yesterday, when I stood with a friend,

in front the current People magazine, 

I pointed to each one of them on the cover,
Chase, Jesse, Daniel, Grace, Anne Marie,
Josephine, James, Olivia, Catherine.... 

and told her what I knew about them.

They weren't just faces to me anymore,

they belonged to me, 

they were 'my children', I had been touched 

and honored by their shiny, charming, wondrous 
bright spirits. 

These children, these teachers, belong to all of us!

Thank you, for following me in this tribute and 

as we head into a new year 
of great possibility, 
please remember them and 
watch for the miracles 

they will most certainly make happen...
not because they... died 
but because they 'lived'!

Pam Reinke -Piper Rain. 

To Begin Again

It's been almost a year
since I have typed a single word on this page.
Having circled it again and again,
unable to even read my former posts.
Wishing tho, I had completed part two,
of 'The School Of Seuss',
(it contained some pretty witty stuff.)

Because this time last year,
a different life was in motion.
Dreams realized and beginning,
creatively on fire, every door 
in my house, papered to capture the flow,
great fame and fortune attracted and promised.
And one point, I knew had it all,
even said it outloud
I was being paid to illustrate a children's book,
And? I was in love!
Life couldn't have been any richer.

But what followed was a year of great grief and
occurrences that broke me in ways
I have never known or could have anticipated.

Creativity had always been my souls language,
the written word the air I breathe,
constant and without cease, the flow endless.
Even as a kid with band aid covered knees,
to the insecure teenager with a blemished face,
the natural desire to write in prose,
guided me through any dark night
that threatened to yank me
from my spiritual self.
It was the Voice that called my name,
infused me with wisdom and purpose.
My trust in it was without question...
my relationship consistent and loyal,
 I had never known a time without it,
...ever!

But this ability suddenly left me.
With the arrival of an email, 
one day last May.
An email that cancelled out nine months of labor,
a contracted storybook of rhymes.
Suddenly, the pink poetic rabbit gone,
the book unfinished, contract breached,
a public promotional campaign
ceased embarrassingly and without conclusion
and the unresolved absence 
of the one 'someone' loved.
All whipped away at once,
in a dark gray summer wind.
With them, went all my words as well.
A kind of debilitating fever
of anxiety prevailed.
And I was financially, emotionally, spiritually
and creatively bankrupt.

That was six months ago,
I am less so.

Journeys' have surprises, twists and turns
we don't even see coming.
The loss of one thing becomes the birth of another,
and as human spirits we learn to begin
and begin and begin.
We trust and trust some more,
despite the contradicting evidence.
Cause that one path traveled may morph into a
a yellow brick road that has a destination
you never considered exploring,
a place you can't remember even wanting to go,
complete with little 'munchins' to lead the way
and a band of fellow travelers
to cheer you along.

Don't get me wrong,
I haven't exactly found my way to OZ
or back home yet....
but this is a beginning and I need to begin.
So why not here?
Cause I have a story to tell
and in the past?
My words couldn't resist being apart
 of a good story!

Granted, it doesn't feel like the "old" magic 
has returned yet,
the words still stiff and formal from their slumber
but we are getting reacquainted again
and trying to figure out WHO,
really, abandoned who?

Pam Reinke -Piper Rain