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

I Believe...

I believe in super heros

and never being too old

to put on a batman cape.

I believe in red radio flyers

down a grassy hill

and swinging still,

toes to the sky.

I believe in the smell of crayons

and the wisdom of childrens books.

I believe in the hearts

ability to break open

and return to itself...

super sized and broken open.

I believe in good good friends

for playful gatherings,

with great hilarity...

and good food,

faces that grow older beside me

ones that say I see you,

and love you always...

I believe in flowers that grow

despite chewing bunnies,

skies that never end

and moons that are always full.

Rivers that teach

and oceans that pull,

drums that beat

my heart out loud,

beauty that takes my breath

all this,

for a life lived large and loud,

bold and breathless,

sweet and still.

I believe in still being ten!

And You?

What do you believe?

Pam Piper Rain

Ode To Seuss

Of course, artists need a studio ...

but they also need an office!

for me, one place for painting with colors,

the other for painting with words...

(and yuck, paper work)

My office with computer screen,

a mini studio

for the graphic creative side,

The hallway between them

worn and trampled.

An office is not a happy word, it seems!

So mine had to be a playful

and inspirational space.

Being a long time fan of Dr Seuss and

all children's books...

it already looked like a Children's Library.

Remember how the Librarians

would stand books

upright and put a correlating prop, toy

or stuffed animal next to it?

I had loved that!

My office came with a wall

of shelves to do just that.

Next to Harold's Purple Crayon

is a box of crayolas,

Stellluna's stuffed self

hangs next to the book,

and Winnie the Pooh sits next to his

color edition.

Cat in the Hat is well represented,

with an antique version of him,

and my own tall red and white striped hat

(tho still not my favorite character,

I am still reviewing why that is so.)

A limited edition print of the

Lorax 'speaking for the trees.'

(my most beloved Seuss figure.)

and a Sam I Am quote about not liking,

Green eggs and Ham.

A few summers back,

someone whose love for the same

found her way to the desert and me.

Her collection of Children's books

unparalleled to mine or anyone else.

Evenings were spent reading them

out loud and wondering over the illustrations.

And there was 'Ping'

the little Chinese duck that

misses the Chinese boat.

I was surprised when,

I nearly wept,

having it in my hands again.

Not much a story, really

but I hadn't seen it since I was six

when I evidently knew every image

and page by heart!

(If there was ever a time

I was tempted to indefinitely

borrow something?

...it was that book!

But I didn't and am glad for

the continued opportunity

to look at it when visiting!)

Don't we all have a book like that?

Or three or four?

The lessons and images, timeless.

When was the last time you read

Horton out loud, not to your child

or grandchild but to yourself,

or a friend for her fiftieth birthday

or to a sleeping feline?

It's rhythm and rhyme magic!

So in operation revamp my home

the Seuss theme expanded into

a red striped wall

(for you know who,

who I still don't really like)

and a painting completes the wall

that I call Ode to Seuss

or Sing, Cindi Lou Who, sing!

Influences of Suess show up everywhere

I am certainly not his only fan!

I know someone who reads Green Eggs and Ham

annually, to inspire her sales people.

And recently on 'Grey's Anatomy'

(a brilliantly written series...

and I only watch those that are.)

A young Dr. hears Meredith complaining

about what she wants and is not getting

in life,

he reminds her of Cindi Lou Who singing

around the empty Christmas tree

after the Grinch took everything, still happy.

He smiles slyly and says to her,

"SING, Cindi Lou... just Sing."

Pam Piper Rain

Just Say Yes!

Months ago,

I gave a little boy a hula hoop,

tonight, I drove four hours

to see him perform with it...

and was amazed!

My paddle board friend and I,

send texts back and forth

in the a.m.

Paddling? The P word

no one can resist,

when, where, who?

Then one that's states

she's bummed to be missing

Caden's (her grandson)

talent contest that night!

Hmmm?

A tug, a pull

having been the one to give

this cute little guy

the hoop in the first place.

This is a no brainer.

Well, actually it was

a gift to his mom

for the hospitality

of a May stay at their

lovely accommodating home,

while doing a show.

But when Caden got a hold of it,

and created his own moves

without instruction or help,

he was a natural,

I was enchanted.

We smiled a lot at each other

over that week end

for our mutual "hoop fascination."

(And the last time I had

something in common with

a eight year old boy?

...I was probably,

the same age and trying

to beat him up a tree...)

So, yes, enchanted!

Later that month, he decided to

hoop for his 3rd grade talent contest

but "mom" was concerned...

(like most moms would be)

Was it just for girls...?

(well, it was when we

were growing up)

Would he get teased?

All valid and common concerns,

according to my hoop instructor!

So I looked around

and found the coolest male hooper,

who hoop dances blind fold...

now there 's an idea!

Secretly, I was cheering Caden on.

I wanted him to perform

and was certain

he would show the school

hooping is cool for boys too!

He's that kind of little guy!

That was the last I heard

of it until this morning's text!

My immediate response was

"I don't want to miss it either,

Road trip? Let's go!"

Hours later, we are on the way

to Henderson (two hours away)

to a third grade talent contest,

My new friend,

(his grandmother,) and I,

(okay...so when, did this happen?

That my friends now have the

title "grandma"

attached to their names?)

Tho, its a lifeless trek across

the hot landscape

we manage to jabber

every mile away,

with colorful, insightful

and unending subject matter...

a perfect adventure...

Caden doesn't know we are coming

...and it's his mom's birthday!

Even Better!

Now, it's been sometime since

I have been to any kind

of third grade event,

let alone, elementary anything.

What a surprise...

the presentation was cute, hip!!

Not the stuff I remember ours being,

with yawn worthy dance numbers

and dusty old songs!

This was cool kids doing

cool dances

and singing cool songs

(okay, I have overused the word, cool)

Lady Gaga, a big favorite.

The teachers doing a

fantastic job making sure every kid

got a chance to shine.

We don't see Caden

until he's on stage,

No one has seen his routine yet,

...not even mom,

all his own idea!

We sit in nervous anticipation.

His dance is to a popular

country western song,

with cowboy hat and the hoop

whipping lasso like around his waist,

there's even a couple linedance moves,

and his cowboy hat waving in circles,

rodeo style.

It is so COOL!

(promise, thats the

last time...well maybe not)

and the crowd thinks so too...

cheering uproariously.

I have to turn away

cause, geeeeez,

my eyes are watering.

(What a Baby.)

But so proud to be a part of this!

The best part is his face when

he sees his Grandma Lou Lou

afterwards,

so lit up and pleased!

Makes me think of the

10,000 Maniacs song

These are the Days.

these are days,

you'll remember,

never before,

and never since,

I promise,

will the whole world...

be as warm as this.

And as you feel it,

you'll know its true,

that you are blessed,

and lucky,

its true that you

are touched

by something

that will grow and bloom!

We had to pull out

our reserve stories

for the return trip

back across the desert,

its late and staying awake

a challenge

but for fairly new friends

there's still so much to say

while agreeing over and over

how glad we were

that we went,

how important it is to

at times to say, lets go!,

to give into things that pull,

make it an adventure!

If I hadn't...

If we hadn't...

we would have missed out

on something

that made us both cry and beam

this young man's shiny moment

on taking a chance,

doing something

so cool,

other boys will want to do it too.

( I am hoping so anyways)

So if you get a chance

to go across the desert late at night

for something out of the ordinary,

attend something elementary,

or try something unconventional

feeling a tug...?

just say YES!!!

Cause these are

the days to remember.

Pam Piper Rain