Exceptional lives evolve continually. I believe this. Choose to Live Life LARGE and exceptionally…Today. Don’t you agree that it makes no matter, our age, whether 20, 40, 60..or more? Catherine R. Cady just turned 75 on Saturday and she is even more awesome now than she was in her 50’s..even though her life has evolved. Carolyn Turi Gallant Short just celebrated her 70th yesterday and she is SURROUNDED by beloveds. Two fabulous ladies that mean the world to me. Exceptional needs and wants change yearly, sometimes, monthly. Sometimes daily. Hourly. It is being AWARE that counts! To define and set priorities. Then focus. Then make things HAPPEN! Exceptional goals never remain static, aspirations continue to build, dreams ever-expanding, like a tapestry in your mind.. Never fear treading this unbeaten path. Be authentic in what is important to YOU!! Make no excuses to yourself or anyone else for that matter. Apologize to no soul for your fearlessness. Be tenacious. Be assumptive. Hold back nothing of yourself. For if you do, it is only YOU holding you back from this exceptional life.. Trust me. If you are thinking it, it is in you. It costs NOTHING to be exceptional…It is FREE! Dig […]
“Mayday” Today- I shall embrace it for what it is. For life offers you no more than what you ask of it. Sometimes it takes– Sometimes it gives. But, in the end it becomes exactly what you seek…… So I say to myself as I do each morning, now that i realize miracles are made to be made– “Carpe Diem, Pamela.. Your dreams will become reality ONLY if you never let them go”… Pamela -2013
When I was little I was full of excited anticipation, All the time, breathless for the future.. My mind was full of visions of a life far beyond the small family farm we were fortunate to be raised and nurtured on.. My dear, precious mother would look in my eyes..and talk to me –without moving her lips– She told me to be.. -Unafraid…of becoming whatever I dreamed of–in each stage of my eternity -Unrestrained..in sharing my love and beliefs–spreading my word and the bits of knowledge and experience I gathered over my lifetime.. And -Unapologetic if I stepped beyond boundaries and over thresholds others thought a woman of my station should ever imagine. What a gift she gave me… Thank you, my Guardian Angel. My precious Mother. For being there–as you are even today… Always THERE..
MORNING, y’all!! A wee giftie for the readers in my circle. A poem about books for you this lovely mid-month Sunday. “Priceless….. Awww yes.. Books… Our saving grace when we are in despair. And need solace….. Our teachers. Our comedians when we need to laugh. Our heat’s desire when we need to imagine great love and passion. Our roadmaps to motivate and inspire us. Our Angels when we feel to give up.. We all NEED books.. They are our companions in life.. And once read and taken into our soul, a thing that NO ONE can steal from us… For we OWN the words then.. Forever and ever.”””” ~~~~ Pamela–
It is amazing how being a creative soul–is an entity unto itself.. Makes no matter, what genre we speak, it affects us. You could be a creator of, say, design, in all that broad spectrum. Or you could be an ”idea man/gal’ and create concepts or business plans or strategies It may be in the arts–again in all that broad spectrum.. The point?? Creativity, passionate, tenacious creativity DOES take courage. It can add to your persona in the broad strokes..or detract.. How? Here’s an example. I was recently speaking to a fellow writer out of Texas and he was saying how so many writers avoid relationships for ”normal’ people cannot possibly understand that writing –is not a choice….a light-switch…a punch-the-clock kind of lifestyle.. (sound familiar, Creators?) Even two WRITERS cohabiting can fall into jealousies and questions about commitment and such.. Bottom line- Most think we creatives (and there are a lottt of you in my circle –a LOT!) are gifted and lucky..Perhaps in most ways we are…but in other ways———hmm. A wondrous curse? Onwards.. @BoomerNovel
“Incredulously” Who could have known? Who could have guessed? Who could ever think that the most important soul to us ALL would be taken in violent murder in five days, those many years ago? 1978! Self-same day as the |Jonestown Massacre. Who could believe, if someone said it was coming, that the one who we all assume will be there for us ’til our own end will, instead, be stolen? Wouldn’t we all pooh-pooh it if we thought that Gramma would never again bake her famous cookies for your kids.. spoil them rotten with her devoted love of them? Who could imagine she would never again gladly provide an ear, a non-judgemental ear for you in the middle of the night when you just ..needed her? I couldn’t.. But it happened.. Pamela.. 13/11/15 post script–My precious Momma was 49..I had just turned 29, 12 days before her death.
In Remembrance Collateral Damage on the shores of the Halifax Harbour They felt safe from the war, here at home on the shores of Halifax Harbour. Mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers, teachers and preachers; left behind when the boys of Nova Scotia crossed over the pond from Pier 21. As did the sons from other harbours. From Musquodoboit to Sydney. Lunenburg to Digby. They came. Boys. Vital, virile young men. Not yet sculpting the life they were destined to make for their eternity. Some hadn’t spilled blood shaving. They spilled it instead on Flanders Fields. With troops ships anchored row upon row, down harbour in the Bedford Basin, awaiting their next load of “My Soldier” men, and long snaking trains bringing sons and brothers from across the land, the unthinkable happened one day in December to thousands upon thousands of those mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, teachers and preachers of the boys of Nova Scotia, who thought they were safe at home on the shores of Halifax Harbour. They watched from their windows, not knowing the danger, in awe of the scene. They watched from the Mi’kmaq village in Tufts Cove, All to be lost. A tsunami. […]
I REALIZE YOU CAN’T like THIS POEM- PER SAY– But I MADE A PROMISE TO MYSELF AND TO HER TO HONOUR MY MOTHER every November 1st —AND HER LIFE AND UNTIMELY DEATH when she was only 49–me 29–IN words–as a writer and poet…. I know my siblings feel the same.. ALL I CAN ADD IS THIS.. WE DON’T Always get along with our moms..but— we must never take the lady who birthed us for granted.. or disregard her– or fail to love and cherish her.. For we never know how or when she will leave our lives forever… ~~~November –The Trickster Oh, November. You are back. The month of oxymoron and counterfeit happiness. Oh, yes I well remember the giddiness of it all when I was a kid; all pig-tailed, naive excitement. Childish dreams painted pictures in my fertile mind then, those decades ago. Dreams of the MOST fabulous gift ever in THIS birthday.. for FABULOUS was my word of the month when I was, say nine on this day. November 1st. My middle-brother and I share this month, birthday-wise. But he was and is such a giving soul That he always let me be singular in my cake selection. […]
It hurts WHEN I CAN’T WRITE!!!! I feel bereft. Like I am missing something vital to me. Like I feel when I am not in love. So my sad heart is soothed today for I can.. In normal circumstances it has been my habit each day to be aware– To listen– To read– To observe– To focus and then pick words out of the air–like fireflies, that sparkle all around me. I collect words—sound-bites to my soul. —–and then put them to page. So today–I write……. Because I can. Pamela