First let me say that the promised FAQ’s on the mysteries of Intentional Creativity® Coaching are, indeed, coming to a blog near you. Wednesday! It’s just that a few new things bubbled to the top of the timely list this weekend and we’re being flexible. (Well, mentally, at least!)
It started with Soul Bird, Shiloh Sophia McCloud’s newest medicine painting project. The livestream began Saturday at 11 am in California which translates to just after lunch in Atlanta.
I knew I couldn’t paint live as I had somewhere else to be a bit later but I always try to be there for the beginnings of a livestream so I can be part of the red thread circle, connecting so many amazing people together around the world.
In addition to red thread, there was a good bit of dancing on the part of our fearless leader. Much of it having to do with a bright yellow feather boa and relaxing into the sense of being held in a mother’s wings.
Leaving my clean, ready canvas and a box of brand new paint waiting in the studio, I moved on to the next right thing.
I was going to a Bar Mitzvah. My first. Via Zoom. The young man being called to the Torah was my neighbor and pre-Covid paint buddy.
Trust me when I tell you that learning to read Hebrew is hard. Never mind needing to sing it, too! Okay, chant. I can only imagine what a challenge it must be for a neuro-diverse 13 year old who is more than a bit familiar with social anxiety. In fact, I suspect the whole compassionate distancing thing might have been, at least in some ways, helpful.
A few days ahead of time, my participant’s package was left on the front porch. A note from my buddy, with very helpful directions. A kipah, should I wish to cover my head. A service bulletin. Some gummy-type candies for throwing sweetness at the new adult and a reminder that jaw-breakers were not an adequate substitute, especially in the current circumstances. And a package of wildflower seed for making the world a more beautiful place.
I’d been to the Temple of Atlanta’s largest Reformed congregation, originally organized in 1867, twice before. Once as a seminary student and once as a transitional object for an anxious counseling client.
The Covid-style updates were quite evident. My grasp of architectural vocabulary in Hebrew is non-existent so we’re going for big plastic screens around where leaders would stand to speak. A handful of family, masked and appropriately distanced in the pews. Two rabbis, clearly delighted to be celebrating this young man who had worked so hard to prepare for the day.
And me, in tears through the whole service.
Why? is a reasonable question. Well, my own granddaughter is just the same age. And 13 is hugely hard to believe! And I so deeply want to be able to hug her on her birthday. But that’s not an option just now.
This is my girl, on a recent, compassionately distanced, mountain top experience of a different sort.
And, it’s just possible that there were a couple of other things behind my tears.
The winged statue behind the rabbi as she spoke and chanted scripture looked like an eagle with ears and just may turn out to be a hint of Soul Bird things to come.
And, this is the first time I’ve “attended” a Jewish service since discovering, through the magic of DNA, that this particular Presbyterian minister may well have Jewish branches on her family tree.
Here’s what I do know…
Both of these young people, the one climbing Red Rocks and the one in the prayer shawl, are huge reasons for hope in the future. (And for voting!)
For now, I’m off to check winged creatures in Exodus 25:20 with thanks to my neighbor’s mom and (I suspect) the rabbi she has on speed dial.
But first, Phoebe’s treat time, also known as eye meds and munchies!
ps… my purple feathered boa arrives Tuesday. When in Rome and all that!
pps… tomorrow (Sept. 7) is the last day for the special promotion on my Etsy shop. I’m donating 25% of all profits to Giving Kitchen, to help food service and restaurant workers, and their families, climb mountains of financial challenges during the Covid crisis.
