A story for a “holiday” we shouldn’t need…

Trigger alert.

This is me, dear friends, about to say a bunch of things I absolutely wish didn’t need to be said. But, they do.

In the wee small hours of Monday morning, when Grandmother Moon‘s mini-me was enjoying her perch next to the “other” bed, and whispering in my ear, I began to dream a fairy tale of sorts in my head.

Well, maybe not so much a fairy tale as a teaching metaphor in language a learner might have space for in their story-mind.

We may, or may not, get to the actual story-telling bit in a few minutes. For now, the Duh! moment I discovered when I made it to the land of tea and magic chair a couple hours later.

It seems that today – September 28th – has been designated by the Women’s Global Network for Reproductive Rights as an international day of observance.

Originally, the day was created to observe the Law of Free Birth which was passed on September 28, 1871 and intended, by the Brazillian Parliament to provide freedom for children of enslaved people of Brazil.

In 2015, the day’s name was changed to International Safe Abortion Day. In the years since 2015, people in nations like Argentina, Malta, El Salvador, Chile, and Mexico have marched and rallied for abortion rights.

Today, in the USA, Conservative GOP candidates are framing overturning Roe – v – Wade, and even possible limiting of access to contraception, as an issue of faith. “Christian” faith.

More Progressive candidates are insisting that abortion and reproductive health care choices of all kinds are issues of civil and human rights. Of bodily sovereignty.

I am a Grandmother who hopes deeply that neither of my girls are ever facing an abortion decision.

I am also a former surgical nurse who has assisted in abortions for a variety of medical and personal reasons, the deliveries of dead fetuses to heartbroken mothers, and C-sections on terrified teenagers. Trust me when I tell you that none of those people were ready to be where they were. And none of it would have been better if criminal prosecution had been part of those traumas.

I’m tired, now, and sad, and angry so I’m going to take a break and see what tomorrow brings and what my fledgling fairy tale decides. I have told enough of my truth – I hope – to sleep.

And then there was darkness, and dreams. And light. So…

Strange Things About Fish & Politics

Once upon a time, there were two goldfish. Their names were Robby and Walter! Robby was orange with long wavy fins and Walter was black and had big, bulgy eyes.

Robby and Walter lived in a lovely aquarium. They swam – usually in circles – and watching  them was a bit like meditating for me.

Here’s the odd thing about goldfish. They can be many, many different sizes, but they only grow big enough to fit in the place where they live! So, a pet goldfish who lives in a small bowl will stay very small and cramped, while that fish’s cousin, who lives in a big aquarium – or even a koi pond – will grow bigger and more fully what they were created to be!

Here’s another story about a fish, with a much harder name to say… ICHTHYS.

Ichthys is a funny word which has meant different things to different people throughout history. Today, it is commonly used as a symbol for Jesus… like the little silver fish you may have seen on the backs of people’s cars.

If you think of each letter in the word as an initial for a Greek word, it can be understood as meaning Jesus Christ Son of God Savior. It used to be a bit like a secret code and is now often more used as a trademark… like, you know, an apple with a bite out of it. Or FOX.

Some people, trying to control the world like big scary sharks, want to tell the rest of us what to think and what we can choose. Often, these days, those people say that the things they want are the things Jesus wants.

Some of them are just confused. Many, many of the loudest of them are wrong!

What they’re really trying to do is to keep Jesus very small – like a goldfish in a tiny bowl – so that people won’t pay attention to what Jesus really said, which is, basically, that our Divine Parents created and love us all – like all the kinds of fish – and want us to have what we need. Because we all matter in this world.

Now, this story, like so many of its kind, needs a message at the end. A simple sort of message. One that’s easy to share. So here it is:

Beware listening to those who want to trap Jesus in their tiny fishbowl!

ps…instead of asking you to wander around FierceArtWithHeart and buy something empowering, I’m hoping you’ll donate whatever you can manage to candidates and causes, where you are, that support real civil and human rights. It’s going to take a lot of us!

Okay… this might sound a wee bit nutty!

Sometimes I sound a wee bit nutty to me, too!

Like an inner conversation from a couple of nights ago. We’ll get back to this!

First, an announcement… the Legendary Husband and I have survived our saga with the perils of quarantine and – you know – tests.

We were really lucky with our post-Dragon Con adventure. And I say that being hugely aware that millions upon millions of people and families in the global neighborhood were not.

I have a long personal relationship with pneumonia and am grateful that, for us, with all the avoidance measures observed, this was way less a deal that that.

There were some things that were decidedly sub-optimal.

Food was one of those. The whole germ thing in overdrive…

Sleeping was another. Two rooms. Two beds. Not at all a welcome change.

The combined sick-sleepy bit with the not-sleeping-well-alone bit was, well, not good!

A couple of nights ago, I was feeling better enough to realize that part of the reason I wasn’t sleeping well had to do with some really un-helpful dreams.

Then it hit me!

I was the one sleeping in the other place and that meant that the enormous painting affectionately known as Grandmother Moon was not hanging on the wall beside me, whispering dreams of the helpful sort, as she almost always does.

I flirted with the notion of moving her but we’re talking a 48×60 inch canvas!

(Insert muttering and swearing here!)

I did a couple choruses of It’s really no big deal. Other people have much bigger challenges. Get over it! before I realized that I was discounting my feelings and needs, and we don’t believe in that.

Then, I realized that Grandmother Moon has a mini-me. A couple hundred of them, actually. So I picked my secret fave from the postcard box and leaned it up against the lamp beside the bed.

And, yes… it helped! A lot!!!

Not the postcard, itself, of course, but the intention behind placing it where I did.

The helpful dreams began again, along with actual sleeping between the dreams.

This was hugely handy because I’m deep into finishing the creation of my Red Thread Guide Portfolio which got a bit delayed by the whole viral not-thinking thing.

And that got me wondering about you!

What are YOU intending at this point on your journey???

And how might you externalize & represent that intention so that it can help inspire you along the way?

It’s a bit like getting a tattoo!

At least I suspect it is. I don’t have any of the usual kind. I have heavy metal toxicity, instead, and am not personally in favor of adding to those issues with ink.

And, still, I am – occasionally – tempted!

Enter my friends at Conscious Ink! Yep… temporary, non-toxic tats!

This is a timely thought for me as I’m also planning my self-initiation ritual for Red Thread graduation and I actually bought some Conscious Ink a while back. A bit of excavating produced this:

I’m thinking inside of my right wrist. The left is well upholstered in red thread!

A little reminder that we can is almost always a good thing! And I’m so hoping you’ll join me in a bit of intending and representing in whatever way feels right for you.

For this moment, I’m remembering victims and survivors of recent hurricanes in my prayers – and projected ones, too! – and holding intention for the healing of our planet… May the red thread tortoise bring wisdom, safety, healing, longevity, and protection, as her kind are held to do!

ps… if, as the season changes, you are having thoughts about new learning for new journeys and would like some company on the path, take a deep breath and click here… We’ve got this!

pps… Grandmother Moon is eager to welcome you to FierceArtWithHeart where there are all manner of goodies eager to help you externalize and represent YOUR intentions. Great gifts abound! If you need something a bit more personal, email me at suesvoice@gmail.com Commissioned painting and custom print requests are welcome!

Standing between the worlds…

Or, what happens when Grandmother Moon skips the news!

I woke as the sun rose with this blog post all hatched in my head.

During my first cup of tea, I wore out a couple of index cards with notes. Here’s a glimpse…

  • The Equinox… harvest/shorter days
  • 92 F this afternoon… but low of 55 F by Sat. am!
  • The West Wing… signs in our yard
  • Lurking germs
  • Legendary… Actual!
  • Mystical cauldrons… Soup!

I even hunted up one of my favorite recipes!

Then, I re-read my writing exercises from yesterday’s Legend videos. The Holy Wow’s are coming fast! The excitement bubbles and the tears are coming fast, too. And, as is so often the case, I am the work in progress! (Which is pretty hopeful when you get right down to it!)

Then, I checked the news.

And tossed my index cards into the recycling basket!

Then, I made some more tea and spent some time communing with my #wip painting who/which reminded me that I have some experience with the whole liminal space bit.

And fished my index cards back out!

Then, time for what MSNBC calls breaking news…

The Attorney General of the state of New York is suing an ex-President and 3 of his children in “a massive fraud lawsuit”.

And… “In a national address, Russian President Vladimir Putin raised threat of a nuclear response in the conflict in Ukraine and ordered reservists to mobilize in an escalation of the war” (The Wall Street Journal).

And… another time out for ranting and raving! And more tears. But my index cards hung in there!

So… a glimpse of my first Legend Painting, complete with her mystical cauldron.

And a reminder that there’s a Phoenix rising out of that mystical soup cauldron. Often, actual ones, too!

Thus, as you probably guessed… a recipe!

Vegan Soup Stock

Makes about 6 quarts.

Note: Wash hands well with soap and water, and avoid putting hands near eyes after handling chili pepper!

Into a 10 qt. stock pot, place:

8 quarts cold filtered water; 5 med. onions – preferably organic – quartered, peels on; and 5 heads garlic, halved, with paper; 2-4 c. frozen, chopped okra, which is very healing to the digestive system. (Or a great use for those last pods in your garden that got big and stringy!)

Bring just to a boil, over med-high heat. Skim any foam that rises to the surface. Add:

1 dry, hot-ish chili pepper, whole; 6 fresh or 3 dry bay leaves; 1 med. bundle thyme sprigs -preferably garden fresh – tied with a white cotton kitchen string.

Return to a gentle boil. Reduce heat to moderate simmer. Cook, adjusting temperature as needed to maintain simmer, for about 3 hours if you want a very mild flavored stock, and not more than 6 hours if you want deeper color and flavor. Taste occasionally for heat from pepper. When it reaches the stage you want, remove and discard pepper. When you’re happy with the stock, remove from heat and cool to a little warmer than room temperature. Scoop solids out and discard. They’ve given their all!

Strain stock through a fine mesh strainer. Reserve 1 or 2 quarts of stock if you want soup for dinner or tomorrow and proceed with desired recipes or refrigerate.

Add your family’s fav veg (raw or roasted) to the broth and simmer as needed to serve! (I won’t tell if a bit of left over roast chicken, or even shrimp, joins the mix… it will all be great!)

Refrigerate remainder. When quite cool, package for freezing in 1 pint and 1 quart containers, depending on your needs. Leave about an inch of head space as stock will expand while freezing. Label and date! Store stock in freezer for up to 6 months.


Place 1-2 c. freeze dried, mixed organic mushrooms into 1 qt. very hot water. Allow mushrooms to steep like tea for up to 2 hours. Strain carefully through cheesecloth lined fine mesh strainer. Or use a coffee filter in the strainer. (I keep unbleached ones just for this purpose.) Reserve mushrooms. Add liquid to simmering veg stock. Rinse mushrooms well under running water and save for soup or a rice and veg dish, etc.

If you have some, add a couple of corn cobs, corn removed, to the stock pot. I keep cobs in the summer when I cut corn off and store them in a zippee bag in the freezer. They add a subtle sweetness and a bit of texture to veg stock. Removing the corn simply is the best trick I’ve learned from Rachel Ray. Take a large bowl with a flat bottom and place it on or near your chopping board. Then take a smaller bowl, turn it upside down and place it securely in the bottom of the big bowl. (It’s worth experimenting a bit to find two bowls that make a stable pair!) Cut the flat end of the corn cob off straight and level with a sharp knife and place it on the inverted inner bowl. Hold the pointed end of the corn cob up and, using your sharp knife, cut the kernels from the cob in long strips, turning the cob, or the bowl, as needed until all the kernels are removed and waiting neatly in the large bowl. Fast, neat, and you don’t need to store extra gadgets!!! (slb, We Gather Together…holiday feasts with the family you have! )

ps… need a mythical cauldron with a phoenix rising out of it, or love someone who does??? ABRACADABRA! And shop around while you’re there! From now through Thursday, September 22 – the Autumnal Equinox – I’m sending 20% of ALL FierceArtWithHeart profits to make Georgia even blue-er! Get some inspiring art… from original canvases to mugs and hats for warming the season… and make a big difference at the same time! Commissions considered. Great way to shop for the holidays, too! (Stacey, Raphael, Hank, Lucy, Nikema, Marcus, Jen, and Bee will be thrilled!) Hurry!!!

Boxes… an owner’s manual!

One of our very early dogs was a black and white English Springer puppy whose AKC name was Wee Maude of McClellan. She joined the family when I was about 3 years old.

Being a bright sort, Maude quickly figured out that suitcases and packing boxes meant moving, which happened really often in those days.

By the time the moving van would arrive, poor Maudie was a nervous wreck.

I, being highly verbal by that stage, and a fairly observant sort, realized that the boxes and suitcases made Mom anxious, too. (Dad, as I recall, was often already off to the new land, and missed all the fun!)

One of Mom’s coping strategies seemed to involve lots of tape and magic markers. All our worldly goods, sealed up tight and labeled in huge letters, complete with information like Kids’ Room or Kitchen.

I, too, have become something of an expert at the moving bit, complete with tape and markers. And they really do make things easier.

Eventually, though, when I was a second year Seminary Student, I realized that the boxes stored in my head might work differently than the ones in the physical world.

It happened, as I’ve probably mentioned, after a student trip to Hungary in 1989.

I learned a lot beyond a very kinesthetic lesson on freezing feet!

The only metaphor I knew for what had changed in me on that journey to a very different world was the notion of boxes. In my brain.

They all fell apart.

After a while, I began to feel like I had the boxes mostly sorted and re-packed with some new labels.

Life went on. Marriage. Moves. Churches. A kid venturing from elementary school onward toward college.

Polity. Politics. Several doses of not from around here.

And I kept patching up the boxes.

More recently, though, that strategy has worked less well for me. Slowly, I realized that I was tossing some of the boxes, altogether. Re-labeling a bunch of them. And adding some entirely new ones.

Kind of like editing my mental library. Becoming a grandmother was a huge catalyst!

The pace picked up even more in the last few years, as I began to paint.

Neurologically, it no doubt had to do with processing history and events and ideas with more of my awareness. Rather like upgrading a hard drive!

Even more recently, the editing has become more and more about making choices, in the face of the world around us.

Some of the remnants from those old, old boxes weren’t working anymore.

Like the ones about who’s in and who’s out. About who gets to decide who gets to decide.

About love and healthcare and the relationship between faith and law.

There’s more… as you no doubt imagine.

Liminal spaces are like that!

For this moment… I get to sort and pitch and label the boxes in my head. To choose new things to add.

And so do you!

It’s likely that the world will keep moving and more boxes will be useful. And I have lots of ideas about how to put this metaphor to work.

And more cool tools to stash in my Medicine Basket!

For this moment, though, my new Legend painting is calling my name, complete with her chosen intention, which I can feel clear to my toes.

And that, dear friends, feels really good! (So does having my fingers in heavy body paint!!!)

ps… if you relate to the between-ness of life in this world and could use some help in the between spaces, let’s talk! I’m making room for three new individual clients. Curious??? CLICK HERE to find a time! (45 minutes as my gift. You bring dreams, questions, and a bit of red thread if it’s handy!)

pps… that new Legend painting has already gone to meddlin’ and you can help!!! From now through Thursday, September 22 – the Autumnal Equinox – I’ll send 20% of ALL FierceArtWithHeart profits to make Georgia even blue-er! Get some inspiring art… from original canvases to mugs and hats for warming the season… and make a big difference at the same time! Great way to shop for the holidays, too! (Stacey, Raphael, Hank, Lucy, Nikema, Marcus, Jen, and Bee will be thrilled!)

Editing with Red Thread…

I’m guessing you remember, as I do, the old days when people (like me) edited things with red ink and those quaint old conventions known as proof-readers’ marks.

One that’s probably still familiar is this one – # – which we now refer to as hashtag. It used to mean space.

And a personal favorite of mine – the ^ – which used to mean insert [whatever] here.

I was less fond of the actual red ink, implying that something was wrong, rather than an inspiration for making it even better. (A concept my son’s first grade teacher never grasped, no matter how hard I tried!)

In fact, I actively avoided red for quite a while.

Then, I wandered into the land of Intentional Creativity® and a whole new relationship to the color red was born.

Today, I am hearth tending in The Red Thread Cafe, on work-in-progress Wednesday. I love hearth tending!

Sisters from all across the globe posting their own work. To get acquainted. To be witnessed. Sometimes to ask questions.

(Once, when I was very new at all this, I actually got brave enough to ask for advice on washing paintbrushes and was met with a gracious fountain of wisdom!)

I like hearth tending even better when I bring along my red thread. The actual/virtual/legendary connection between willing people across place and time and lives.

Often, red thread comes with questions… an inquiry, if you will. The one I shared this day was about what we’re noticing and wondering as we work on our works-in-progress… and they on us.

I started my own day with dots. Dots of prayer and intention. (Surprise!)

And, between virtual excursions to the Cafe, I watched, with much of the world, as countless people gathered to pay their respects to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her last journey in this world.

The first thing I noticed was overflowing tradition! All the talking heads attempting to explain the locations and uniforms and characters and ways we’ve always done it in the touching drama as it continues to unfold.

Then I realized that I was noticing as an outsider, surely, but also as an insider on many levels.

Outsider in that I’m not, as we say in the South, from around there.

Insider in that a great many of my genetic ancestors were, indeed, from around there. Names I know and names I don’t. (Names you would know, too!) And, better than the names, the stories!

Insider in that my first granddaughter was born in Scotland. (I was there!)

Insider in that I, too, have lost loved ones and planned funerals, trying to respect their wishes in a complicated, changing world.

Insider in that I, too, am a clergy person, counted upon to carry the traditions and the hope of faith in the midst of loss.

And, if you’ve known me more than about 10 minutes, you already know that I cried as I watched. And made finger knots in my ball of red thread as I began to see – through the CNN lenses and my OWN filters – new connections.

First, let’s recognize, together, that my filters are my own and I’ve been practicing editing them for a while. You, if you’ve been watching, no doubt saw different things and made different meanings. That’s the way it’s supposed to work!

Here’s just a smidge of what I saw…

I worried, during the processional through the streets of London, about the new King Charles and his knees. I saw orthopedic pain in his gait, along with emotional pain in his face. And I made some dots for him. And for all those who mourn.

I saw almost no face masks in the vast crowds and I made dots for the health of all the people. And the world.

And, when the choirs sang in Westminster Hall (which is emphatically not where the dog show happens) I saw a brown-skinned man with a head turban in the adult choir and Black and Asian boys among the children’s choir. And I made dots of hope for the world.

And, underneath the images, the news ticker ran on and told of Ukrainians taking back a large area of their country from invading Russians. And I made dots of peace for all people.

There was more… much more. The particular details don’t matter as much as the noticing and wondering, for that involves seeing more than we expected to see and being open to newness.

For this moment, a reminder of something you may have heard me say before…

Nothing that’s ever been written, in the whole history of the world, has been written without vested interest… and my words are no exception.

I will, however, own my vested interest…

I have two granddaughters growing up in this world!

I write these words which were, in some sense, given to me and which, in other senses, I’ve spent my life learning, in the hope that we might all notice and wonder. That we might see new things and be curious rather than terrified or hostile. That we might edit our filters with the red thread of our common humanity.

May Elizabeth II rest in peace. May the world grow in hope and love and peace, even as it changes, for it must. May you and yours be safe and well. And may abounding grace go with us all.

ps… the quilt at the top insisted on appearing today. It’s my Liberated Wild Geese quilt, named for the place where a traditional American block, known as Flying Geese, meets the Celtic tradition of Wild Geese as symbols of the Holy Spirit, pieced in the liberated style of the great Gwen Marston… which somehow makes huge sense for the Holy Spirit!

pps… I’ll be back soon with some more ideas about the whole filter thing. For now, let’s just say that if I had only one tool, it would be this one!

ppps… huge thanks to Shiloh Sophia McCloud and Jonathan McCloud for their courageous conversation, The Heart of Man, which is so deeply related to this conversation.

When the Inner Critic used to be a scrub nurse…

Well, it happened. The Legendary Husband had a marvelous time at Dragon Con… and came home a pandemic statistic.

He’s doing well, all things considered. I’m symptom free… so far. We are grateful.

My Inner Critic, not so much!

She, you see, believes that it’s her job to keep me safe by making sure that I basically just do things I’ve lived through already. (And, yes, you have one, too!)

Thus, my usual hand washing fetish is in overdrive! I got really good at it when I worked in surgery! And, to one degree or another, it did, indeed, help keep me and my patients alive!

One might also say that I have a highly developed sense of clean – vs – everything else.

The Legendary Husband, however, has no such previous experience.

So, while he’s wearing a mask and eating alone and swallowing what his doc told him to swallow (with a bit of interpretation from me) I’m going through hand soap and counter cleaner and masks at a rapid pace.

The big wooden chopping block in the kitchen is utterly off limits to anybody but me.

Blessedly, the dishwasher is working again, after a recent neurological challenge associated with a power outage. (Thanks, Greg!) It’s set on what we refer to as boil & bake!

Many of you have, of course, already been through this particular initiation.

Here’s what strikes me…

  • Our tremendous privilege and blessings. We can isolate. And get medical help. And all the cleaning stuff. And masks. And, we are well-ish enough to handle it.
  • There’s healthy comfort food in the freezer.
  • We can work at home… and have all the required toys.
  • The Inner Critic isn’t the only voice in my head!

The Muse is helping, too!

Unlike the Inner Critic, she’s less hung up on the ways we’ve survived the past.

Instead, she’s excited about space in the calendar, and whispering things like… Cool! Reschedule ortho guy and the hair appointment. Convocation will happen again. More time to paint… which often means more hand washing!

And, yes! That last bit qualifies as a very effective one step re-frame! Complete with the big gold bow!

It’s not that I don’t know it could get worse. It’s just that it hasn’t, yet, and we are okay!

Then, there’s the context bit. (No surprise there!)

Queen Elizabeth II has passed into her future. Not that I was likely to get invited to the Palace, but she was a cousin, in a complicated sort of way… as are her family, mourning and beginning to go on, as they must.

It’s never an easy time. I can’t imagine walking through it on CNN!

It also feels like a scary time, given the dynamics of world politics and power these days.

And the anniversary of 9/11.

There are two things I know to do…

  • Live, model, and vote grace and peace and respect and decency.
  • Whenever possible, give the Muse at least as much voice as the Inner Critic.

Oh! And one more… in honor of the Queen, and our mutual many-greats grandmother, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, click to download a pdf gift copy of my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope! It’s going to take a lot of us!

ps… don’t know how I missed it, but the Universe brought me a gift today in the form of a Joan Baez video called Mischief Makers 2. This is the day… whether it’s new for you, too, or an old friend. Grab a cuppa and about an hour for your soul and the soul of the world! PLEASE!!!

pps… I was right! It IS going to take a lot of us! Thanks for being you!!!

It’s a Birthday Party!

Today, the adorable wee one in the photo is turning fifteen!

And I’m having a birthday, too. A Grammy-birthday!

She’d already been teaching me for about 7 months before she appeared in far-away Scotland. Things about perspective. And mattering. And becoming me.

To say that I am grateful is the understatement of my lifetime.

As I write this, there’s a good chance she’s at field hockey practice. Really!

She’s kind, and bright, and talented. And she’s brave, even when things feel hard.

She marched on Washington in 2016. She is dedicated to civil rights and bodily sovereignty.

(Ironically, I was just her age when the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Roe.)

She helps me gently with my homework.

She’s a big-hearted sister and friend and animal lover.

She makes me a more determined citizen and Guide Grammy every day.

And I can’t wait ’til Thanksgiving when I get to hug her again.

For today, though, I’m pondering all the ways she and her amazing sister continue to change – and refine – my filters.

Those perceptual gateways that literally/metaphorically decide which bits of the astounding amount of information bombarding us at every moment actually make it into our awareness.

Think of it like this…

Today I participated in a Zoom meeting. A Forest of Grandmothers circle. A room of paint sisters nearing the close of a year-long journey.

And while I looked and listened and contributed, with the birthday girl in my heart, I saw and heard and shared things I likely wouldn’t have, without the awareness of her part in my journey.

And, while all that was happening, the working title for the book I’m hatching changed.

Just one different word.

And now it’s ready to become real! (Stay tuned…)

Also, one of my paintings is about to have a book where her hair might otherwise have been!

All this shifting will take a bit. There are other things on the list. But the ah-ha‘s have happened.

So, after the meeting concluded, and the big dogs – who are still sleeping off Camp! – had their supper, I started weeding email.

And the things I took action on were all inspired by a vision of the world my girls – and all our Littles – are going to inherit.

I can’t fix it all. None of us can.

But, I can put a vision out there. I can support leaders who believe, like my new 15 year-old does, in civil rights and bodily sovereignty. (Also, actual education and access to sports for all kids!)

And, no… I can’t keep them safe from all of life’s challenges.

I CAN, as I learned from my old teacher/friend, Steve Glenn…

Listen to them… take them seriously… and not shame them or blame them for their questions.

And, I can help YOU clarify and name your SuperPower Path. It’s going to take a lot of us and your journey matters, too! CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT RIGHT THING!

For now, may the birthday girl dance like her painting! And may we explore the possibilities, too!

ps… Ask me about the Filter thing! The calendar elves will happily set you up… bring Red Thread if you have some handy! (It’s my gift to you!)

Sue Boardman, Certified Intentional Creativity®
Color of Woman Teacher & Coach