What was I Scared of?

Recently, I celebrated my 51 st birthday

with that came the usual ways to celebrate

bubbles, balloons, swinging, playing with

and calls from friends,

the lake and paddling,

And this book by Dr. Seuss,

a gift from my brother!

One I used to be terrified of!

I remember being at my cousins and

although it was a part

of a collection of Seuss's best.

I would flip past that section quickly

with avoidance and trepidation!

Its about an empty pair of

friendly glow in the dark green pants

that today would have been

considered to be stalking pants!

Yes, really I was afraid of a story about

pants with no one inside of them!

Being sacred of something anything

is a funny thing,

it might come out of nowhere

or worse its been there all along and

you just begin to notice it

and ponder its root system

or something makes you sweat

and you wonder,

whats this all about?

Being pretty clear

and open about my general fears

like water, snakes, being surprised,

things that swim underwater,

mean people

dancing and speaking in public,

approaching a table

of people I want to meet,

opening presents in public,

things that swim underwater,

did I say that already?

Christians, (sorry) Republicans (sorry, again)

javelinas,

(they are surprisingly intimidating)

...and the list goes on and on.

Then there are the deeper more psychic

unmentionables like

being alone, getting in trouble,

having someone mad at me, rejection,

losing my dog!

In the book the spooky pants starts to cry

because it's afraid as well!

And of course they

become friends in the end

and greet one

another then on, with friendly waves.

(Ah, that Dr was so smart and clever!)

Full of metaphors and humor!

I tried my first reading on my dog

who was quivering over

an impending thunderstorm

Not sure it helped,

or she even heard it

from under the bed.

But I was enchanted

by the one story,

I had always feared!

(besides the Cat in the Hat,

still working on that one tho,

and there's 'Where the

Wild Things Are' too, not a fan!)

Coming face to face with one of

my most challenging times and year

I came face to face with

all of my scary 'empty pants'

all at the same time!

One of my birthday calls

came from a dear friend

whose support was immeasurable

during this time

and she graciously took the time to list

the things I had done in the last year

despite the

gravity of my situation!

"You danced on Main street,

you created the Bobble Bands

and learned to hula hoop.

Taught poetry workshops

and donated two paintings

for thousands of dollars

and learned how to paddle board.

You got around the country

without being able to drive.

You turned the grief of losing

a friend into a celebration

of bubbles and fun.

And don't forget you created

Paddles and Pinwheels,

an event in her honor.

And you wrote over a hundred blogs

documenting it all.

Look at what you have done!"

And I sort of did!

Feeling humbled and touched!

I wish everyone a friend

(or two) like this,

one who sees where you need to go,

believed you would,

is there to applaud your arrival

and reminds you of what you did!

Just in case you forgot!

So what was I scared of?

Before this year, I would have

had to say LIFE in general!

Terrified of what I couldn't

control or handle!

But it's all really...

just a silly pair of empty pants

with no one inside of them

determined to follow me around

until I simply, said, "hello!"

To quote a credit card commercial...

"What's in your pants?"

oh wait, thats "wallet!"

Pam Piper Rain

For these gifts, cheers to Scott and Mary.

Paddle The Moon

The water's blackish dark,

like molten ink

and it moves rapidly under my board.

Carried away from the parade,

the parade of glow sticks behind me

of friends and strangers,

our trying to illuminate ourselves,

our trying to stay together...not working!

Names called out...no answer!

Body shapes highlighted by the full moon,

whose shyness makes random,

sneak appearances.

Shapes unrecognizable

as we paddle together and seemingly?

Alone!

So much dark!

More than I expected

for this full moon tour down river,

eight miles past condo's, mansions

lit up like Christmas but 'summer style',

festive and fun voices carry across the water,

voices on shore surprised and thrilled to see

our unexpected parade of 'water walkers!'

Plugged personally into music,

I quietly, collect,

in my "poem catcher net"

the words I will use later

to describe this ...

the wavering ribbons of light

like rungless ladders to sky

framed shorelines,

in eerie, or is it mystical, magical...?

yes, mystical... I decide.

A float through time and space

here and everywhere else.

This river of dreams and memories.

Where all my water moments

gather and collect along the edges,

in applauding reverence

for the distance traveled?

Maybe!

The metaphoric distance traveled!

With friends, I can't find in the dark

and strangers I don't know in the light!

Anita? Anita? Is that you?

My friend, the one we call Bio Nic (Bionic)

my hero, who is pure competitive muscle!

and usually tries

to beat me (and everyone else) to the finish!

No answer!

I am alone, sort of!

The moon plays peek a boo

from behind dappled clouds,

a dotted trail of glow sticks

follow at a distance

some voices, muted, playful,

calling out also!

At home on this dark fluid path

with only fiberglass under foot

unworried that I might slip off

with a minimal splash

and someone might say

Pam? Is that You? Pam?

Well, I AM wearing a life jacket

due to the insistence of my very caring friends

that sounded something like this,

"geez, if ANYONE should wear one

it should be YOU!"

Hmm? Thanks!

(tho it is unlikely there would be

"minimal splashing"

as I tend to make quite a scene

when I end up in the water,

unexpectedly.)

But I was safe

and more importantly...

at home on the water.

When did the lake,

the river become my life?

My way of being,

this large scary swallowing blue element...?

(tonight, blackish)

Feared life long, even in dreams

always drowning, never floating,

never sure footed,

or capable of keeping my head

above the surface

Never knowing how to make peace with her!

When indeed?

The "you'll swim" off the dock education,

the forced expectation

of "come on, it's fun",

I couldn't embrace,

not at six, not at ten, not at twenty.

Unusual, as I am pretty sure,

it is a requirement

when you grow up in the land

of Ten Thousand Lakes.

Yet, my recollections were terror based,

near drownings, (my sister, maybe me?)

Leeches and suck rings left on skin,

a lot of other things that floated and swam

and shouldn't have been allowed to!

Gallons of unpleasantly inhaled water,

due to a tumble or face plant,

always the panic when reaching toes

couldn't find the bottom.

All this while learning to reluctantly,

canoe, ski, sail and kayak,

cause that's what you do when you

grow up in a place that has more water

than ground, to travel on!

But honestly,

and I hate to admit it...

I never learned to swim, to tread,

never learned to float...

not metaphorically or literarily.

When I moved to Arizona in my thirties,

that concern was over!

No more big creepy lakes

with bottomless bottoms

leeches or loons

(the latter, I missed...

I really liked those loons!)

It was all about pools now!

And pools had edges and ledges

to hold on to.

And chlorine that did not welcome

any floating things

that didn't belong!

But there was one week end in Havasu

(the lake famed desert town,

that would one day be 'home')

on the back of a jet ski,

holding on to a reckless friend,

who found fun in a three sixty whip,

that sent me into the air and then water.

Coming up gasping, I remembered,...

"oh thats right, I am not a water person",

My unresolved water issues?

Yes, they had followed me to Arizona!

Seems, I had just ignored them!

It is has taken ten years,

for this great body of blue,

to become my ever consistent lover

and playmate,

the one who calls my name,

every morning with the birds,

"come, join me,"

and most the time I do!

Happiest when I am on her,

not so much IN,

but cruising the surface,

on anything that floats.

Since then, I have paddled oceans,

raced outrigger canoes,

gone unexpectedly upside down

and sputtering,

to be challenged beyond

my imagined abilities,

and nearly drowning a time or three,

(well...according to me.)

Last summer, I learned to float!

because metaphorically?

I had to!

Discovering what it meant to belong

to the river,

to go along with the flow,

to not fight or struggle

against the current.

It was a surprise to me,

muffled and womb like,

the nearest thing to flight

I had ever known!

And tonight?

I was a stand up paddle boarder

on a river in moonlight,

alone and not!

Safe somehow and at home

on a drifting platform

carried along a inky current,

under an ashen moon,

chasing poems downstream,

knowing friends follow...

from behind

and...my peace has been made!

This is where the journey began.

This is where the journey ends!

Pam Piper Rain

Thanks to John Burns

Watch for the next tour

of moonlight paddle.

http://supkulture.com/

My Skin, My Storyboard

Went to sleep without it...

and woke up with it!

An odd design

scratched on my forearm!

Ooookaaay? This is weird!

Slept sober and alone

Soooo...?

Where did this mark come from

...one of three cats'...dog?

Bookshelf corner...

taking out the trash, while

sleep walking...an alien visit...?

Hmmm?

As the days pass, its clear

its not a scratch but a claw mark...

a shredded-edged shape of a capital E!

Really?

Yes, really!

When my friend, Mandy saw it

or tried to ignore seeing it...

she finally asked,

"is that a capital E on your arm?"

Considering, I scar so easily,

I know it's with me for life!

And, I am less than thrilled!

So...when something surprising,

without explanation...

shows up on your body

it's a cause for pause...

don't you think?

And a blog?

I started off writing this in jest

but the words took me

somewhere else!

In a raw revealing account

about my skin!

Being part poet, part philosopher,

(and secretly and devotedly

curious of the "mystic" ways of things.)

Everything has to have a meaning

It's where I go!

It's where I have to go.

My skin!

Sigh!

Such issues,

such a life long history

of trauma and drama,

of scratching myself raw,

of trying to hide it

and not hiding it at all!

The skin,

(metaphorically and literally)

is that which holds it "all together,"

sheathing the soul and the spirit,

keeper of the cells and blood,

protector of organs.

Our skin, our presentation,

our persona, our layout,

it never lies tho we wish it to,

it is our canvas, our book cover.

That which we abuse

and value equally,

our vanity, our looks...

and to most of us?

(me included,)... Our identity!

When it sags and wrinkles

we are surprised, shocked

and sort of sad.

With desperation,

some of us, try to recover it,

renew it.

Breathe life and youth, back into it,

at whatever costly way it takes!

Cause WE know for certain

WE CAN NOT let it express

it's natural change or the journey

of our passing years!

We just can't!

I think of this a bit!

More so, lately, as the lines start

to show in places, I just now notice.

As the fifty mark is passed

and it turns into fifty plus one.

Right behind it...fifty plus two!

Lines of time,

I don't readily embrace either!

But for me there, is something else!

The multi speckled worm like

patch work along both arms,

from wrist to elbow,

the scars that turn zombie blue

in the winter's chill

and ghost white in the summer sun!

Either way, I can't hide them!

The shame of my skins' story is told!

The years of self destruction?

Is evident and full of truth!

Embarrassed,

by the many times

the naively impolite

and intrusive questioner,

has asked,

"what happened to your skin?"

There is no ONE answer!

Yet, I like to think of them as

the "warriors tattoos"

of my life's' walk?

Why not!

My skin, is my road map,

the story board...

telling the tales of me as

a bad skinned teen,

who learned how

to look at the world thru her hair

a master at 'no eye contact'

to keep me, "falsely" safe!

A cutter, with razor bladed words,

carved into left and right wrists...

again and again,

which thankfully do not show up

(in white OR blue letters!)

Then there was the' reckless

young borderline'

woman who thought

punching glass windows and tables,

was an effective appropriate way

to release rage

and make people see

how much you FELT!!!

(...This didn't work on any level.

But I didn't know that until

so much later.)

All these things left me with

a patchwork tapestry of scars!

My surface, spotted like a snow leopard.

Tan and soft, but damaged.

Patterned!

Like a connect the dot game!

Wondering what image

would be revealed

if a line was drawn from dot to dot?

In winter as one color,

in summer as another!

In the same conversation,

Mandy suggested maybe

we could find the big dipper

on my arms?

Having embraced her moles as the

little dipper on her face, she happily

claims herself, to be "a star child" now)

Ah...perspective!

Now, it appears,

in addition to my spots,

I have an awkward looking E

with a creative top heavy slant.

One I am sure I gave myself

in my sleep,

In an attempt to

"get out, of my skin...mid dream!

So would that be E for eerie?

E for eek?

E for "easy going"...ha, NOT likely

(tho I wish!)

E for emotional, maybe error

or empty or extreme

and exhausting!

Branded by angels

in the middle of the night?

Marked with an E...

To be reminded I 'might BE...'

engaging, expanding, eloquent,

E for enlightened, enjoyable,

entertaining, enthusiastic, evolved,

expressive,

maybe even E for extraordinary

or excellent!

Why not?

(like the story of Charlotte's Web

and Wilbur.)

Because the way my skin heals

and doesn't,

I'll have a scar either way

and it needs a meaning...

and I want it to mean, 'Excellent"

(in blue and in white...!)

Cause I would rather

believe in the "mystic"

of being divinely marked

then my old unconscious habit of

trying to scrape me free...of me!!

So Thank you brand marking angels

but no more...please

this, one more scar

in my dot to dot map

of the warriors' snow lepoard journey

...is enough!

Although, an E is a very good letter,

indeed!?

But what if it's really a Y...

Y for yikes or yuck?

Hmm, either way,

I am keeping my nails

super short from now on!

Pam Piper Rain