I’m thinking about loss this morning. I’m thinking about what life was like after my mother left. There is very little difference in that grief than that of a death. I think it may have been harder because it was her choice to live without us. Without me. It was a choice she made everyday.
Grief is nothing. And the nothing never stops. It is relentless in it’s nothingness. The void stays there, empty.
One of my first full time jobs was as a receptionist for a shady insurance company. They were perpetually hiring new sales people. They knew who they wanted to hire. It was an average white male. If it was anyone else that came to the interview, they would “blow” that person out. That meant they would make the job sound so unappealing, that the person would usually walk away and never return. They would tell them the hours were from 9 am to midnight. That it was straight commission. That it would be months before they would see their first paycheck. I learned a lot about the art of the verbal push.
People are generally kind when they want to draw someone to them. And conversely, are unlikable when they want to push someone away. The problem with the latter is that the person on the receiving end of this treatment will be confused and humiliated. But perhaps that doesn’t matter to the one doing the pushing. I’m betting not.
The addendum to this post is that it is not my job to judge why someone speaks the way he does. It’s my job to dispense love. That is my mission.
Namaste, my friends.
Love,
Pamela
I am winding the semester down. I have two tests in psych to take, one a makeup. I’m somewhat concerned about them, however, I am resigned to the idea I will recieve a B in the class. My other classes are all but done; just wrapping up and tidying loose ends. All except my final project in Video Art. I have yet to shoot and edit the thing. I have been resistant because I’m starring in it as it is a music video for my song, “Love Me.” Like most work I take seriously, it’s difficult to have fun with it. I think I’m remembering my street performances of last summer. They were difficult. People did a lot of staring. My analysis of this is that they stared in a lack of recognition of the songs (they are original), and they were surprised to see someone singing there, and maybe I don’t look like a typical street performer? I really don’t know. But I felt like the stranger in a small town. And it was not fun. I need to shake all of that off. My daughter will be with me and I think that will make it fun.
I have to trust my experience and take this as far as I can run! And run I shall!
I got my website back up. Just one page for now. PamelaDevine.com
Namaste, my friends,
Love,
Pamela
A couple of instances have come up for people lately that lead me to think they were illuminated so I can see them for myself. It’s this:
Life is happening now.
While you’re waiting for the dream to come to fruition, while you’re getting the education to get the dream job, while you hunt for a better job, while you’re hoping the hot guy asks you out, while you hope for a financial wind fall…
Life is happening now.
We get one shot at this thing. It is short. How fast has 2015 gone for you? I have blinked and it’s almost May. So honor now. It’s yours wholly. You can count on it. That’s all you can count on. So try this.
Daily:
Today’s the day.
Namaste, my friends.
Love,
Pamela
I’m not 100%. How can anyone be 100%?
It’s odd, it seems my choices these days are being formed far more by what is no longer tolerable than by what I definitively want. What do I want?
I need to analyze this fairly thoroughly. One absolutely cannot make plans for the unknown.
I think I want simplicity. I want to make love. I want to frolic in the ocean. I want to feel free. I don’t want to spend quite so much time alone. I want less stuff. I want to travel. I want to study a language and retain what I’ve been studying. I want to be smart. Wickedly smart. I want to paint the most imaginative portraits. I don’t want to miss painting. I want to share my life with someone. I’m not sure I care how I make a living.
This has always been my dilemma.
Namaste, my friends.
Love,
Pamela
It’s late. I can’t sleep. Ruminating over plans for the next three weeks.
I think fear is getting the best of me. I just don’t want to dream chase without others to do it with.
The spiritual path, the dream chasing, it’s lonely business. For a long time I was ok with that. This year, I’m not ok with that. I hope this is a good sign. Me, being open. Me, having a generous heart. I’m getting there.
In a few short days, I’ll be shooting my music video in Memphis. It’s going to be a blast. And really scary. I’m trying not to think about the scary part.
Namaste, my friends.
Love,
Pamela
I often explain my religion in this space, partly for clarification purposes and to redefine it for myself.
Love is my religion.
And it is a practice. I have to continually turn toward it. One doesn’t necessarily think of love while studying for a psych test, standing in line at the DMV, or driving in traffic. In fact, at these times, it’s often the last thing I turn toward. However it is my goal to do this for everyone who comes into my path and to consciously choose it every minute of my life.
Yesterday, I was studying at my local neighborhood McDonald’s and a man stared at me fairly continuously while he was there. He came to the trash can nearest me and made a lot of noise. It’s rather astonishing how loud one can be while throwing away trash. I could not find any love for this man. He was grotesque in appearance. I almost rarely say such a thing: being a portrait artist, I find beauty in most faces. I was offended by his intrusion. It seemed selfish to me. At some point, I asked myself what the issue was and I had to honestly admit, had he been physically attractive, I would not have been so offended. Perhaps not at all. Then I concluded, he and I were both equal parts shallow. He was staring at me based on my appearance, he wanted my attention. I was ignoring him based on his.
A woman can not go through her life without men intruding, sometimes quite aggressively, into her field of vision, into her auditory space, sometimes blocking her path to proceed. And one day while she’s studying at a McDonald’s, a poor fool thinks he can hit on her by passively aggressively staring at her and he gets a shot of the disgust reserved for all those fools before him.
Hell, for all I know this is how he met his last girlfriend.
Poor guy. He just wanted my attention and I was not practicing love.
I have so much work to do.
Namaste, my friends.
Love,
Pamela
It’s bad design. It’s uncreative design. It doesn’t mean anything. It isn’t beautiful. It isn’t clever. It doesn’t inspire. It’s ridiculously phallic. There is no softness to it. There is nothing feminine about it. This design shows me Hillary’s first name starts with an H, but it says nothing about her. An arrow to the right? It means nothing. An arrow up would have been better.
Designers, we need to create a better mark for her.
Namaste, my friends.
Love,
Pamela
Pamela Devine 