If you ever meet Pam Noble on the road, you are fortunate. I met her more than fifteen years ago, and she is now in her late sixties, although she seems younger. Her eyes speak of presence, and she moves as one familiar with her body and the outdoors.

When I met Pam, she was a practicing psychotherapist and a spiritual director. I was an emotional mess after a failed relationship, and I approached her for help. She invited me to join a spiritual direction group she was starting, and the group has supported me ever since. Pam’s expertise with small groups and her own faith life made this group an important part of my life.  

I soon discovered that Pam was also a poet. I attended a reception at a local gallery where Pam’s poems were framed beside copper foil monotypes. Later she published The Breath of One Heart as a collaborative project with bookmaker Sharon Sharp. The limited edition is a work of art.  

Then came the labyrinth. A steep hillside next to her house called her to make it a “mountain labyrinth.” She created winding paths with secure stepping stones zigzagging down to a large fire pit. Many women’s groups have found their way to sit on the stones that circle the pit to participate in sacred rituals.

When my granddaughter, Clara, came of age, friends and family walked down the labyrinth in silence to the cadence of a drum. We sat in circle as Clara’s elders and peers affirmed the new woman. Clara responded with appreciation for the wise company surrounding her. Pam invited her to pick a tree that became “the Clara tree” to which we tied colorful scarves.

The labyrinth completed, Pam began to build a small one-room hermitage beyond the fire pit. It became a work of monumental labor, as everything had to descend the steep incline. Habitable within a few months time, the hermitage has a kitchen with a sleeping loft above it, a half bath, and an outside shower. Lucky is the retreat attendee who sits in the rocking chair on the little porch overlooking the valley below.   

Soon thereafter, Pam convened four women for conversations on inner searching and spiritual paths, and I was invited to join them. We spent weekends sharing and asking what we had to offer. We called together a focus group of people we respected who listened to us and said, “Who you are is what you have to give.” These words were the motivation to found the Numina Program, a creative mentoring program for women. For four years, Pam facilitated, planned, recruited and developed the Numina Program. During this time she was also traveling to Shambhala Buddhist retreats, teaching courses at Sursum Corda, a spiritual formation program, plus taking adventure trips to New Zealand, Alaska and Baja.  

Pam’s present role in Numina is one of exploring and finding new additions to the core program. She recently founded WomanQuest, offering workshops with an emphasis on nature, such as vision quests, medicine walks, and a new undertaking called Numina and Nature.  

When life slows down, Pam turns to furniture making; weaving prayer shawls and rugs on her loom; or turning out Native American drums, rattles and whistles. In the growing season she is busy harvesting strawberries, blueberries, and asparagus from her terraced hillside.

I want to make it clear that Pam is no automaton, always in motion. She sits in meditation daily. Nor do I want to give the impression that she is serious at all times. When the Numina community has a party, she may appear in an outfit of circus origin: glitter, sparkle in hair, short skirt bottomed off with fishnet stockings, sky-high heels, and sassy hat. This outrageous side of her supports the Numina maxim, “You can only go as deep as you can laugh!”  

Pam’s personal mission is to provide safe space in which people can do their inner work. Not only does she build and provide the space, but she also enters into it fully. My hat goes off to her, a woman whose creativity goes on and on . . . .