Living the Dream?

In a smoke shop for the evening,

the music is old and great,

the sing along kind...

the songs, you can instinctually

retrieve the words to,

and remind you of back seat

high school romances

long forgotten.

The air hazy with smoke,

people conversing

with a glass of wine

in one hand

and a cigar in the other

An unlikely place for me,

I suppose (according to

some of the friends

surrounding me.)

Something about cigars

I sort of like.

It reminds me

of smoking sticks in

the Minnesota woods.

Musty, earthy, rich!

Which is all I ever really did.

My lungs fairly pristine

and okay with an evening

or two like this.

There are many I know and greet,

and it seems this place

is a place smart people gather

to speak of important things...

(and some not so important things

like...whether to get cable

or not for Shark Week...

which was one, such conversation.)

A day of frustration and heat

gives cause for an attitude of

whining and sweaty

complaints accompanied

by a dismal

questionable outlook on my

continued life as an artist/writer.

A day where there is more

creative energy going out

than resources coming in.

A day where paintings

are taken down from a space

that was intended

to be a portal for dreams.

Studio Seven!

A space, in which I watched poets,

realize they were poets and cry.

A space for an idea that took

on energy and life

where people learned to dance

and hoop and breathe and bend.

But all that's ending now

and the wall of mirrors,

reflects the fading moments,

the empty space?

Smells like a 'memory',

moving on to wherever

these things move on to.

Bittersweet and wondering...

does the end of one dream

precipitate the opened door

for the next?

We hoped so and discuss this

(and the power of gratitude...)

over wine and cigars.

Four friends and a stranger.

He flies helicopters for a living

has loved it from early on,

his destiny,

his dream, he says,

Would let NOTHING...

get in the way of it!!

What do I do?

Artist and poet, I respond

rather grimly.

(Remember, its 121 outside,

with bills mounting....and

it seems I had already forgot

the conversation about

being grateful.)

"How long?"

"21 years!"

"Wow, that's wonderful!"

"I guess"

(but whoopeeee, I think)

"Its hard waking up wondering

who am I today...

poet or artist, which hat to wear?

Work 14 hour days

and schlep stuff

around the west coast,

setting up a portable shop

every weekend,

I drive hours, worry about weather,

spend money on show fees...and I..."

(Oh shut up...surprised,

at the blah I am extending,

really, THIS is a problem?)

Gratefully, it invites this....

The pilots says,

"Aren't you living the dream?

Doing what your

most passionate about,

and meant to do?

Using the gift you were awarded!

And you get to spend every day

following that,

what does it matter how

the universe responds

tho I imagine it has many ways

of encouraging you in

your path of passion?"

I am quieted,

this is true!

Recalling the morning dog walks,

when I need to race home

because the words are coming

around the corner,

and too fast.

The 'freedom' of will I paint

or write today? Or both!

The many e mails that arrive

from someone saying, thank you

for being courageous enough

to write that down,

for making me smile

with that silly drawing

about turning fifty!

I get to sell my thoughts and

silly doodles...

to receive compensation

however modest,

for being creative and...

I get to occupy an office

surrounded by Dr. Seuss books

and a chalkboard

for scribbled ideas,

and if I want I can hoop

in the middle of a boring project

...have lunch whenever I want,

dance clothes-less

on my patio and

take a morning to paddle the island

or rebuild a stone temple...

I am surrounded by beauty

in every moment, which is my home

(also humble and modest.)

Only cleaning or sweeping

what I want, when I want.

I may be the head

of every department

and its only employee but....

my animals get to sit next to

me all day long!

(not so pleasant when it is hot)

Hmmm...I AM living my dream,

it seems!

I do what I love...

How did I forget to be

YAAY about this?

Thanks to a helicopter pilot

in a smoky room,

some smart people

discussing smart things

(except for that Shark Week

conversation,

which was hilarious)

When I woke up...

I was excited to be both

writer and artist

and to write this...

again running home

to catch the words

as they came...

Marlo, of Studio Seven?

She's still the pint sized gal

with gallon sized dreams,

with great success around the corner

and new ideas for future

collaborations.

John? Flying overhead,

I imagine,

being the sky?

Me?

I will spend long hours

marrying the illustrations

and poetry

of a nine year dream on my

computer screen,

heart pounding with excitement

as they take shape in book form!

Not caring that

a panting cat needs

to lay on my lap the entire time

or that for lunch...

it's saltines and peanut butter!

Cause Living the Dream?

is just that simple, sweaty, salty,

maybe even smoky...

when nothing else matters

but doing "your job,"

living the gift you were given...

and running to follow it

wherever it leads.

This is my pleasure, my job,

my humble blessing, my dream...

I don't have a choice!

And I, don't GET to quit!

And what about you, my friend?

Pam Piper Rain

The Invitation

When I began to embrace the fact

that my house...

although silly and old (like me)

was of curiousness to fans and friends

and that they actually wanted

to come in...????

(I used to meet them outside.)

I looked around

and thought, what the hell,

and began to be more creative

with my space.

Then, this poem by Shel Silverstein

inspired me to write my own entry

way greeting...

If you are a dreamer, come in,

if you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar

a hoper, a prayer, a magic bean buyer...

If you are a pretender, come sit by my fire

for we have some flax-golden tales to spin

Come in!

come in!

Shel Silverstein

Invitation

If you are a believer...come in!

Want to have fun and be ten?

Do you believe in poetry on walls,

hula hoops, drums and african dolls

Want to pretend and play,

come in, for a magical stay?

Just ring the heart shaped doorbell

(unless your here with something to sell)

Oh-my house is silly and old,

a little bit like me, I suppose?

Its Alice in wonderland meets Dr. Suess,

Van Gogh and the Safari Circus let loose

Come in and see that stone people exist,

and so much more to being an artist.

Its an unruly jungle in the desert

with pinwheels, fountains and dirt.

A labyrinth walk and torches of light.

Fat cats and a dog who doesn't bite

If you still want to ride a swing

an adventure awaits, with a ring!

Welcome all pretenders who believe!

we have stories to tell and weave!

Pam Reinke

But why does Shel say so much

in just a few words and it takes

me so many to say the same???

Hmmm!

What's would your

invitation to come in say?

Pam Piper Rain

Happy Birthday Letter

We lose people we love,

a take for granted fact of life,

we grieve and hopefully,

learn to live better

because of it...

In honor of my best friend's Jennifers birthday

I am wearing my candy necklace,

adding pinwheels to my garden

and reposting this letter

from February 2009.

Dear Jennifer,

I started this journey with you

promising myself

to trust and believe in miracles

to raise you up

and make you most important

someone in my life!

To hold on to the most insignificant

moments like shiney silver treasures,

to be strong and the most

necessary kind of friend,

a guarantee there

would be no doubt you were

absolutely loved!

Yet, I write this knowing you

won’t ever see it...

and I am weighted with wishes

I didn’t even know I would have

such a surprise collection

of raw regrets

I had tried to avoid...and didn't

so I say this...

Dear Jennifer,

I wish I would have kissed

your face more

and held your hands in random affection

I wish I had a 100 things

with your handwriting on it,

I wish the obvious like

finishing the cancer coloring book

and that you could have seen

Dashing Deliah in print.

I wish when you asked me

to tell you what I wanted of yours,

I would have boldly handed you a list...

ONLY, so you would have been touched by the

silly things I valued as parts of you!

I wish I had hours of you recorded

telling me what you wanted and

dreamed of and were afraid of.

I wish every time we had talked

I would have been courageous

enough to ask

“what frightens you today?”

or tell me something important...!

I wish I would have stayed

with you in Chicago that winter,

when you were so lonely and scared.

I wish I didn’t think it was enough

just to take your calls at any hour or

make you a CD of songs

so you would stop

watching the DVD

or that sending you a warm jacket

could remotely make up

for my not being there!

I wish I would have payed attention

more to the moments and the days,

slipping away.

I wish I could have heard

what you were telling me

when you said you didn’t

want a calendar this year.

To have seen it more fleeting

and in a brave way

than the “optimistically denial” way.

I wish, I didn’t think you would

beat this and there’d always

be more time, another day

another phone call, another race.

I wish I hadn’t made so many excuses

for not stopping by

and just pushed past them,

(maybe even knocking him down

in the process.)

I wish when you called that last saturday

I would have kept you talking

as long as you could,

and had known

how important that was.

I wish I had remembered

your chenile robe request earlier and said

I am coming even tho you said don’t.

Wish I had known the last time

I hugged you was the 'last time'

...but we never really do do we?

What I don’t have to wish for

is more pictures of you,

gratefully, we have thousands.

Don’t need to wish I had a

handwritten card that

said you loved me

I have that,

or some symbol of you I can wear

I have that as well.

I don’t have to wish for more memories

because three years of

your friendship gave that.

I don’t have to wish I said

I love you more, cause I did...

every chance I got.

Don’t have to wish

I knew how you felt about life and stuff

cause I do I really do!

Or that you were

surrounded by love and laughter

because you were, beyond so!

I don’t have to wish I knew

someone like you...

cause I did.

Dear Jennifer,

I wish you could have stayed longer

and paddled more oceans of turtles with us

and drank a vineyard of wine

(tho we came close)

and lie awake all night, giggling

until we couldn’t breathe

and nothing else matters

but that moment

of such hialrious joy

we were unable to name it

or remember it the next day.

Jen, you were my boat and my anchor

my safe place to land, my voice of reason

my "get over yourself" voice

my crush, my counsel and my confidant,

my best friend!

Dear Jennifer

I wish you a heaven full of stars

each one being someone your

life flashed on with your fiesty brightness

the ones who probably heard you say

this is just the way it is...

next! mmmHMM!

I wish you a giant swing in the sky

with the biggest “wheees” possible.

Dear Jennifer, Happy Birthday!

know I still miss you every day!

Do you have a best friend you adore?

For me, for Jennifer...tell them,

and don't delay...

"tomorrows" just a fleeting illusion!

Pam Piper Rain