More Dots and a Pot of Broth

A guy called Bill Harris, whose name probably means nothing to most of you, passed a couple of weeks ago from this world, where cancer exists, to the next, where it doesn’t.

I spent a weekend, years ago, in a workshop he was leading. I didn’t know him well. I might, at least back in the day, have been ok with that.

All of that aside, Bill Harris changed my life. And, just maybe, the lives of some of you who’ve known me a while.

You see, Bill Harris is the guy who taught me about filters and maps of reality and the ways people change.

He taught me some other stuff, too, but this, for me, is where it all comes together.

Bill made this chart that basically explained human perception — at least as much as we understand about it — and its relationship to the results we get in our lives.

I used to give my clients copies of the chart, with none of the words written in, and walk them through it so they could fill it in for themselves.

It has a lot to do with neurophysiology and quantum physics.

Here’s the link to Bill’s latest book, Thresholds of the Mind. It’s way worth the reading. The chart is in there and he explains it better than I do!

This is the short version.

There are 2 or 3 billion bits of information coming at us at all times.

On a good day, our brain can handle a couple of hundred in any given moment.

The way we survive is to establish a complex set of (mostly) unconsious filters to block out all the stuff we can’t manage.

What gets through the filters is, largely, what matches the map of reality we all have.

Which is a lot like seeing only what we expect to see.

That, combined with the choices we make and the context in which we exist, determines our experience of the world. The results we get in our lives.

And everybody we know is doing the same thing, all the time, and most of us have no idea it’s even happening.

This weekend is a good example of how it all works.

Ten lives were lost in a school shooting in Texas on Friday. Countless more were impacted in ways we can’t begin to know.

There’s been a wedding going on across the wee pond. A wedding that is, in many ways, groundbreaking.

The American political primary season is in full swing and many of us are wondering not only which candidates to support but what the odds are that our votes will be counted accurately and fairly.

And which of those things are getting through to us have a whole lot to do with our filters and our map of reality.

There’s no judgement here. Just hope.

I didn’t get up at 5 am to watch the wedding. I know a lot about weddings. And I was up late the night before making prayer dots on paintings for the victims in Texas, and for a very sick baby and his grandmother whom I adore.

Today, more dots and an enormous pot of turkey broth that will feed lots of people I care about and quite a few I don’t even know.

All the while hoping that the big wedding across the wee pond will somehow bring more tolerance and peace to a world that could use a whole lot more of both.

And a reminder that when we get conscious of some of those filters, and the fact that our maps of reality are maps and not concrete reality (Whatever that is!), things can, indeed, get different.

Bill Harris drew the chart.

The work is up to us.

 

 

The Way We’ve Always Done It…part 67

Yesterday, as you may have heard, Sarah went for her summer spa day.

She came home hungry, tired, and looking like a very large puppy.

The voices in my head were squabbling.

I, who showed dogs for many years, seem to still have a case of the way we’ve always done it.

I say this knowing that there are an awful lot of other folks with different versions of the way we’ve always done it who think they’re just as right as I think I am.

Take, for example, Poodle people. Their always and Newfoundland people’s always look pretty different!

And there’s part of me that still hates having Sarah clipped short.

IMG_2986It’s also true that Sarah has allergies and an odd, wooly coat that mats about half an hour after you quit brushing her, which she doesn’t enjoy much anyway.

And so we clip.

And she looks like something Dr. Seuss dreamed up!

The voices in my head squabbled louder, though, when it came to deciding what to do for Phoebe on her spa day, today.

She’s really lovely and has a gorgeous coat. In the winter.

Right now, she itches. A lot.

And she’s blowing so much coat she could be an entire ad for a vacuum cleaner.

I asked my Newf buddies and got lots of good advice.

I still felt a lot like I did when Dave got his first “big boy” haircut and the ringlets went the way of history.

Then I remembered something I count on. (You may have those kinds of things, too.)

It’s all in what you’re trying to accomplish!

And, oddly, the Poodle people and the Newf people are trying to accomplish the same thing, at least historically. Protecting dogs from cold water!

I’m trying to accomplish comfortable, relatively easy care dogs who think of grooming as a good thing instead of torture. (Luther, too!)

It would also, if we’re being honest,  be ok if I didn’t contribute quite so much money and energy to the Swiffer thing!

So, we’re letting go of the way we’ve always done it.

Also, I guess, we’ve never done it that way before.

I’m going with what I’m trying to accomplish.

I imagine it will be interesting!

As God is watering the garden today, I’m going to get really brave and start the next layer on my painting which is, when I think about it, another of those things I’ve never done that way before.

At least I’ll have less hair to pick out of the canvas!

IMG_2997Phoebe, as it turns out, is just right for her.

Sarah is a bit skeptical.

And Luther made it three whole steps into the new family room to find out what all the fuss was about.

Sometimes I guess right twice in the same day!

 

 

 

How will I know?

I watch a fair amount of HGTV.

I like the fix up a house for a family kind of shows rather than the flip options or the chain sawing through Alaska sagas.

We’ve been, as you may have suspected, playing HGTV at our house lately.

We’re making progress. Quite a bit, actually.

There’s room to paint and quilt and write.

A big chunk of our kitchen is rearranged according to the way we actually eat these days.

There’s even a table for gathering our beloveds around art and food, games and stories.

Somebody asked me, the other day, how I would know when we were done.

There are two answers to that.

The first is that we probably won’t be done. It really isn’t in me. Life keeps changing.

The second is that when I can sit in my fabulous new red chair with my feet up and a cup of tea, not feeling like I need to leap up and fix something, we’ll be pretty close for now.

When Luther gets up the nerve to hang out in the new family room, we’ll be right on target.

For the moment, Container Store loves me. Amazon is enthusiastic as well.

Shelves. Little plastic drawers in every size and shape. Rug pads. A shower curtain, even.

Better yet, though, is Kudzu.

Our local vintage and collectible place. Two book cases and an awesome library cart have followed me home recently, all from the budget department.

There’s even room around here in case a miracle happens and I buy another book or two.

It being Mothers’ Day, I can’t help but wonder what my mom would think.

Horrified comes to mind.

We don’t have “living room” furniture. Or “dining room” furniture, the way I grew up.

Nothing matches.

We have drapes but I’m going to have them cut off to the same length as the bottom of the windows.

The rugs, and pads, are to make the dogs comfy. (It takes up less room than a zillion dog beds!)

Vacuuming is a whole other issue!

And yet, with a lot of help, we are getting closer and closer to what we need.

The sheets are clean.

The towels are folded into the linen closet. (Which way needs a paint job!)

Tomorrow I’ll start paint-sketching the Talisman canvas.

There’s really good left-over soup in the fridge.

And parsley to plant in the morning.

Lots of this would seem weird to Mom.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, I think she might get it.

I hope so.

For now, though, a new pair of walking shoes. It’s a paint thing!

Blessings for moms of all sorts who remember and are remembered on this day, and Happy Birthday, dear Kelly!

 

Practice What You Preach!

Well, it’s one of those days.

Bill is running late.

Dinner is still cooking.

Sarah has a hotspot.

(Let’s don’t mention the do-nut thing!)

The “Do Not Disturb” signs on the doors have, shall we say, not worked too well today.

The paintings have been more than a bit chatty.

And the portions of my person that my beloved physical therapist refers to as quads are not in a good mood.

If you were to call me up and tell me your version of this story, I’d gently suggest that you take a deep breath or two, fix a cup of tea, and let it go.

Tomorrow will come.

It will still be Spring…at least where most of you are.

We won’t have starved.

Well, if you’re reading this, probably not. We’ll keep working on the rest tomorrow.

I’m squirting the dog with the colloidal silver stuff.

The bones from tonight’s chicken will turn into more food for tomorrow.

I’m making bigger signs for the doors.

And sleeping.

I hope.

Some days all we can do is practice what we preach.

This has been one of those.

There are, in all of our lives, days when those little Monopoly cards come in handy. This is one.

At the moment I’m just crossing my fingers that the whole chicken in the Instant Pot thing works!

I’ll keep you posted.

 

Uncle Epictetus

You know how most families have an eccentric aunt or uncle who is the keeper of the oral traditions?

Even the ones that everyone else would argue never happened?

In my family, it was my Aunt Em. She was my Gramma Elsie’s older sister.

(How much older is a matter of considerable debate!)

Aunt Em was full of stories. Many of them Elsie wished she wouldn’t tell, though we heard them pretty often growing up.

Today, though, I want to tell you about Great, great, great, great…Uncle Epictetus, even though you may have heard about him before.

He’s one of those uncles that you adopted because your family needed him, even though nobody you know ever met him.

Uncle Epictetus lived a long time ago. In fact, he passed on in about 135 C.E.

Born a slave, he grew up to become a Greek philosopher.

(As I mentioned recently, in my opinion Philosophy is a pretty hard thing to wrap your head around!)

If you look him up on-line, you’ll find that there are stone carvings of him, complete with curly hair and a beard.

I’d be kind of surprised if Hallmark has an Epictetus holiday, but if they did, in our house it would be this weekend.

You see, we’ve been pretty caught up in the, “do what you have to do” part of Uncle Epictetus’ saying, which was, ironically, one of my first painting projects, quite a while ago.

More stuff to sort and furniture to move and wires to hook up, all so I can come closer to being the artist and teacher I long to be.

I’ve dreamed and sketched and pondered but, in my world, I have to feel these things, so Bill and I have to shove this here and pull that there and wait until the sun goes down to figure out where I’m going to need more lights.

We’re making progress.

The dogs are having panic attacks.

I keep trying to explain that furniture moves but dogs stay. Treats help.

It’s all going to be ok.

Right now, most of my house looks like a combination of an antique store and a library that exploded.

And, in the midst of the sorting and toting, I keep stopping to check on a couple of friends who are having weekends no mammas/grammas should have.

Then I sit and feel the space and check the reach to my journals and the recycling basket.

We’re making progress.

I haven’t had a nap today.

Or painted even a drop. (Except in my head.)

There are lots of things that would be easier than this.

But I have said to myself what I would be and it’s time to do what I have to do.

I wish Uncle Epictetus were here to tell my girls that story.

I guess it’s my job now.

It might be your job, too.

 

I Forgot It Was Wednesday!

A friend asked me yesterday, over tea and Kleenex, how it was that I’m always so together.

At the time I was happily decked out in my painting clothes, sans makeup of any sort except the white spatters on my face, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a fashion question.

It wasn’t a home dec question either. We’re in the midst of a huge project and this is not the stylish part.

I fell asleep last night during a video for our new Talisman painting. The one with the guided imagery adventure, which is actually pretty typical for me and a huge compliment because I just get so relaxed I wander off into a mythical place where insomnia does not seem to exist.

The dogs woke me early this morning. In the midst of Atlanta’s pea green pollen season, they spend a lot of time sneezing and licking their feet.

My Muse painting, who was finished last night, was no longer finished this morning, which sent me hunting through my Greek dictionary again. (Actually, you can look all that stuff up on-line these days which — just between us — would have made Baby Greek a whole lot easier 30 years ago! )

The FedEx guy showed up before my second cup of tea with 90 pounds of frozen dog food that had to be wrestled into the freezer which has moved recently, requiring a bit of logistical imagination to accomplish.

Did I mention we’re rearranging everything in the house?

I took down all the art in the room formerly known as the living room and spackled all the holes.

You guessed it. Everything is going somewhere else.

(Have you tried the stuff that looks pink in the container but turns white when it’s dry? Very cool!)

I fell asleep pondering how to get all the books moved which doesn’t require spackle but weighs a lot more.

Then, I woke to the unmistakable sound of a dog throwing up.

On the rug.

The only rug that hasn’t been replaced by rubber matting.

The next right thing was obvious. I’ll spare you the details.

About that time, my life was feeling way more random than the aforementioned together.

Then I remembered that it was Wednesday which means blog day.

Then I remembered a recent exercise from the painting I’m working on called Apothecary. A talented woman with a thought process I greatly admire has been posting little “nudge” exercises to help us along on the journey. One day recently we received an invitation to visit a  random object generator which, amazingly, is just what it sounds like.

Who knew???

Anyway, the task was to make space in our painting for the “objects” generated for us. Or, as our fearless leader pointed out, to look for the order in the seemingly random. (Which seems to be a theme for me these days!)

The link is below. It’s free, fast, fun, and interesting if you’re in a reflective sort of mood.

http://www.springhole.net/writing_roleplaying_randomators/randomobjects.htm

In case you’re wondering what I got, check the photo above.

And may your rugs remain barf free!

 

“Rooting Through The Freezer” Soup

 

I had a professor in seminary who was prone to profound proclamations, made in a thundering sort of voice. This was one of my favorites:

Our God is a God who makes order out of chaos!!!

I believe. With all due respect, though, to Walter Brueggemann, not so much yesterday. I won’t bore you with the details except to say that there is a difference between a pair of pliers and a socket wrench and it’s likely to be another couple of weeks before the Muse is thrilled with the outcome of her plan.

Instead, let me tell you about my first real experiment with the new Instant Pot.

We’ve been doing great with boiled eggs and the pot roast adventure turned out pretty well, though a major change in seasoning is in order.

This week, though, I needed soup. Bill was in Seattle and the Farmer’s Market seemed farther away that it usually does.

(I’m new at this. Please read the directions that come with your particular electric pressure cooker! You could also do this in a slow cooker or stock pot, adjusting accordingly for time.)

I started with inventory.

I had a quart of homemade beef broth. (You could use chicken, turkey, or pork!) The usual complement of aromatics and herbs. A couple of cups of tiny Yukon Gold potatoes. About a pound of green beans. Four tiny turnips from the garden with the attached greens. A bag of frozen okra. And a major prize. Three pounds of local, sustainably raised smoked ham hocks, hiding under a batch of turkey bones. Oh, and a bottle of hard apple cider.

Inspiration!

Thursday, I thawed the ham hocks and then made the broth, placing beef broth, hocks, one yellow onion, halved with the skin on, a whole bulb of garlic, sliced in half, paper on, a bundle of fresh thyme, 3 fresh bay leaves, about a tsp. of freshly ground mixed peppercorns and the 12 ounces of hard cider in the inner pot for my 8 quart duo model.

I pushed enough buttons to set it on pressure cooking for 1 hour at the soup and broth setting, with the vent sealed.

If you’ve done this before, you realize it takes a while to come up to pressure and a while longer to release…about 2 hours, all told.

Then I pulled all the ham hocks out with tongs and picked out the meat, which I saved separately from the broth. After the broth cooled about an hour, I put it in the fridge with the handy silicone lid.

Expecting guests for lunch, it was time to work on the veg Friday morning. I started by placing the inner pot of broth back in the magic machine and setting it to slow cook on the medium setting for a couple of hours, while I went back to sorting bookcases.

I thawed the frozen okra in a small colander.

Then, I washed the potatoes, turnips and green beans and let them all dry a bit on a clean kitchen towel. I cut the potatoes and turnips in half, leaving the skins on and reserving the turnip greens, wrapped in a damp paper towel. I trimmed the green beans and cut them into bite sized pieces.

Now for the miracle!

I added all the veg, along with the reserved meat, to the warmed broth and changed the setting to pressure cook on high for 5 minutes, with the vent sealed.

It worked!!!

Again, allowing for getting the pressure up and back down, I actually had fabulous soup with perfectly tender veg in less than 20 minutes.

Deep. Rich. Smokey, yet oddly green as well.

I shredded the reserved turnip greens for garnish.

I believe that God creates order out of chaos.

It doesn’t feel like it happens at my house every day.

But this week, comfort happened.

Next week, I devoutly hope, a bit more order.

And some left over soup!