Light in the midst of the chaos…

Okay… I needed to squint a bit to find it. The tragic stuff feels like it’s demanding a whole lot of attention!

Today, though, I washed (most of) the paint off and put on actual shoes and went out into the big world.

In some ways, my destination was along the lines of a big church in downtown Atlanta.

In other ways, it was time travel.

The kind where you push the button for the way-back machine. And wind up – rather unexpectedly – in the place where the future is being born.

My calendar read CTS Alum Luncheon.

Translation… a whole bunch of “new” folks from the Seminary Bill and I call home serving lunch and offering those present a chance to invest in the future.

As so often happens, though, imagining the future involved a trip down memory lane.

Specifically to the late 1980’s in Columbia’s Village.

Translation – the part of campus with apartments, rather than dorm rooms, generally inhabited by families. Many of them families of International students.

I vividly remember the day, that first summer of Greek School, looking around my kitchen and realizing I was passing cookies out to my 7-year old and a handful of his new friends… in 5 different languages!

With a nod to L. Frank Baum, that was the moment I realized we were “not in Kansas anymore”! It was a good – and sometimes difficult – thing then, and it’s a huge part of who I have become.

And a very conscious filter through which I took in the rest of today’s event.

Dr. Victor Aloyo, the “new” president at Columbia, spoke of the challenges of doing new things in this world. And he looked intentionally (!) around the room and claimed his commitment to supporting the mental health and wellness of all the Columbia Community.

I’m fairly certain that many of Victor’s predecessors would have made that same statement, had they been living in the same context we are… and it was really good to hear it said out loud.

Then, some students spoke.

I laughed in recognition as one young woman told of realizing that life gets different when we live in a land of Yes… and!

What I think she meant by this was realizing that she was able to learn new things – perhaps from new people – without feeling the need to throw out the old things which are still working.

This reminded me of a phase my young teenager went through which Bill & I dubbed Yah-but! Now he’s the parent of two teenagers and knows more!

Then, another student spoke… of a round-about path through careers and nations. Of finding her way to Columbia with deep knowing that it was where she belonged, and a whole lot of questions about how to pull it all off with major funding and immigration issues.

There were parts of her story which felt very familiar to me. And now comes the plot twist…

It is highly likely that, sometime in 2024, she will become the first Jordanian Palestinian woman ordained to the Ministry of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church (USA).

So… what’s the punchline?

Walk the Way of Love.

ps… the photo at the top is from my recent trip to the Occitan region of France. We were in an ancient, tiny chapel near Alet-les-Bains when I noticed the note an unknown traveler had left in the rock wall. Reaching out matters. So does being there.

pps… may we all keep noticing and wondering and learning!

ppps… beat the holiday rush There are new, easy payment options at FierceArtWithHeart! There are also great coffee mugs and posters and other small gifts. And original artwork! Be sure to check the leggings! Choose 2 pair, any size range, and save with the magic code… Buy 2 – Save $8!

Perspective… the real deal in Grammy Land!

So, if you hang out on Facebook you may have seen me post this picture earlier this week. And it’s back for a big reason!

All the work that’s going on next door is driving me crazy. And helping me learn!

As I write these words on Sunday, it is quiet outside.

There is no banging and thumping. No horns. No booms.

The ground is not shaking. The dishes are not rattling in my cupboard.

Forty-eight hours ago, these things were not true. In fact, the opposite of all these things was true.

And I was a wreck.

In the land of neuro-linguistic programming, where we spend a whole lot of time talking about how human brains do what they do, I am a primary kinesthetic processor which translates into emotions and bodily movement/sensations being the first way I receive information.

My very strong backup pattern is auditory-digital which means sounds and words.

The photo is my attempt to both understand the visual input and invite those of you who are visual processors into this space.

Here’s why this matters…

If sitting in my favorite chair with my tea and weighted blanket, in my house, while people try to make the world better for my neighborhood, can bring me very close to full-blown anxiety attacks, what must Israel be like? What must the Middle East be like? What must Ukraine be like?

What must it be like for the children? For those too young to have language for trying to understand?

And how in the literal bloody hell do we stop raising our dear Littles in a world full of “leaders” shouting about why we need to hate all the people who aren’t us???

It has never worked. And it never will.

In fact, one of the things I’m working on, as I’m able, is research for something called a Land Acknowledgement. Homework, if you will, for the path toward being counted among the Guardians of the vision and practices known as Intentional Creativity®

And part of that is learning the tribal names and stories of the people who lived where we live now, before they were killed or re-located, that white folks might claim the land.

And, I’m painting. Tree of Consciousness. Here’s a sneak peek…

Nope! Probably doesn’t make much sense to you yet. For me, though, it is my deep knowing about where those people who lived before me lived and loved.

Admittedly, this is not what Audubon would have painted.

Instead, it’s both neurological self-soothing in the midst of the chaos, and perspective stretching on history and news and the deep, deep danger of those who don’t get it. And don’t want to.

It feels enormously huge and terrifying to me. So I am making dots. Peace dots. In this case, as the sky.

And remembering a very cool thing I just learned!

[Word junky moment, ahead…]

I saw a post on Facebook last night. I don’t remember the details and I don’t know who gets credit for this. And, still, I need to share the heart of it with you!

It was a word-y sort of post. Think dictionary. About two words. Anesthesia. And Aesthetic. (How could I not have known this???) This isn’t exactly what the post said. It’s what I found on my digital squeegie hunt.

Anesthetic leads to numbness. On the other hand, an aesthetic awareness is a door to wonderment.

I’m going with art and wonderment over the kind of numbness that makes nationalism appealing.

And holding on to Fierce Compassion! Even though the ground will shake again tomorrow…

ps… why do Peace dots help? They are whole brain/being Intentions!

pps… questions??? Leave a comment or email me at suesvoice@gmail.com

3 Gallons of Tears… 1/4 inch below the surface!

So, I’ve always hated multiple-choice tests! One answer is right. All the rest are wrong. 

Now is not like that! 

(No time is ever really like that!)

There are, however, thousands of years worth of things which could be a whole lot better!

First, a bit of context… Some of you were there, on Monday!

We were having a meeting! We, in this case, being the flock of Intentional Creativity® sisters engaged in the journey known as Origins.

We are a diverse, global group gathered to learn even more about teaching deep, deep tools for humanity in this world, now. And, yes, paint is involved!

One of the threads which runs through this complex journey is conscious acknowledgement that most, if not all, of us live on lands which once were home to Indigenous peoples who were killed or forcibly re-located by the over-culture.

One of our Sisters spoke of her experiences as a person living in Canada, with extensive Indigenous roots. As she shared her story, she mentioned her decision to wear an orange shirt to the gathering because the day we are beginning to think of as Indigenous Peoples’ Day used to be known as Orange Shirt Day… a reference to the tragedy of residential schools.

Part of our homework is to learn, intentionally, about the people on whose land each of us now lives and to do some writing about what we learn. And I will.

First, though, memories… of the inner Little’s scrap bag – collage sort!

I was born in Minnesota. We spent a lot of time there, despite our many moves. There were grandparents there. And really good fishing!

Somewhere in the family archives – and in my head – there is a photo of me the summer I was 3 years old. We were up in the Northern Minnesota lake country in some parking lot, someplace.

Native Peoples – probably Ojibwe – were having a celebration. There was drumming and circle dancing. At one point, all the children in the crowd were invited to join the dance.

I rushed to find a place in that circle. Much to the amazement/dismay of my family! (Rumor has it that I was the only “white” child who joined in.)

I, the tragically uncoordinated kid in the family, with absolutely no sense of rhythm.

That photo, wherever it actually is these days, showed a huge grin on my face. (And a little puff-legged sun suit which tied at my shoulders. Remember???)

Vivid, kinesthetic memories of that day, along with my family’s fondness for wild rice – which I totally share – all bubbled up for me during our meeting. Along with my growing genealogical knowledge of how diversely and deeply my heritage runs.

Clear back, in fact, to a couple of Jewish Great-grandfathers named Hezekiah from the time just before Yeshua. And the Great-grandmothers who were their partners, whose names I have not yet been able to discover.

Meanwhile… Israel, in this moment.

And gallons of tears.

And orange paint.

Drippy finger-print prayer dots. Lots and lots of them.

And hand prints. Witness. Power. Promise. Mine.

Because none of this is a multiple choice test! Unless, of course, choices a through d are peace, respect, support, and consequences, and the final choice – the right choice – is all of the above!

Which is pretty much what President Biden said yesterday!

And, under all of this, my intention to grow my world until I remember, all the time, that it must be our world.

ps… this is my Intentional view from the magic chair in this moment. If you squint, you can see a Hebrew word in the painting on the easel. It’s one of the words for Hope! (And how I go on hoping.)

pps… curious??? Great! That’s our best state for learning new things!!! So, 45 min. My gift. You bring your notion of the place where you are called. Of your mission, if you will, in this moment. And a bit of red thread if it’s handy. Just click and the calendar elves will hook you up!

I never imagined…

Well, a whole lot of things! And, frankly, a bunch of them are bumping into each other in my head just now.

Blame it on the news… or perhaps my over-consumption of the news… if you like. And the memories bubbling up inside me in the context of the news!

Back in the mid-80’s, when I was a young single mom, I began my second job as an RN.

Surgery! And, as you may recall, I got really tired of being told I didn’t get paid to think! So, I got busy thinking about what I was going to learn next.

Mind you… having a 4 year-old and student loans and a rather socially limited perspective of the world meant that the options felt limited.

The first hurdle was accepting my sense that my childhood dream of becoming a veterinarian didn’t seem likely to happen for me just then. It was hard. I’d fought for that dream for years.

And, I let it go because my world had gotten more complex.

Feel free to laugh at this next bit!

Two of the paths I considered were becoming an accountant or an attorney! Blessedly, I paid attention to the very vivid nightmares I was having and decided my first intention needed to be a Bachelors Degree.

Six years later, I was graduating from Seminary!

The world – and my living in it – have changed a good bit since then!!!

It is, however, Sunday morning, and I do have things to say! Bits and pieces of what’s bringing me comfort and hope in this moment…

Mental quilting, if you will.

Mostly with paint!

You see, what I discovered this weekend, as three paintings clamored for attention and energy and space, was that I am claiming my truth in liquid acrylics!

Yes, there are external plans and intentions. Fabulous guidance from all my chosen art-mamas. Like more context!

And there’s also my growing awareness that my heart – my dreams – my history and my hopes – are guiding my brush. (And my fingers!)

I’m experimenting!

And comforted by the deep knowing that I can learn new things. I can change my mind. I can be me.

Not simply on canvas, but in my being!!!

And, it’s still Sunday morning. So, conscious of the context of the news, garbed in my favorite red thread paint shirt, and barefoot (Gasp!), a message which feels helpful and empowering and eternal from my heart (and one of Kathleen McGowan’s books) to yours…

…this is all so simple. It’s about love and faith and community. And that’s it… The only piece of spiritual wisdom that really matters… It’s this: you can throw away the entire Bible if you just keep what Jesus tells us in Matthew 22: 37 – 40. Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law of the prophets. Done. Finito. That’s all you need to know… we can make Bible study courses three minutes long, because that’s the entire teaching right there. Everything else just gets in the way and obscures the message.

May it be so! Preferably, NOW!!! And, as another of my teachers – Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes – would say… A-men, a-men, a-men… and a little woman!

ps… the quote is from The Book of Love. The character speaking is Fr. Peter Healy. Thanks, Kathleen!

pps… just in case you suspect you hear Filters at work here… You’re right! Want to know more??? Check it out! (The elves are, indeed, at work!)

ppps… looking for an amazing paint adventure??? Have I got an invitation for you! It’s the next part of the journey we Intentional Creativity® folks refer to as Red Madonna. Specifically, a call to explore the Divine Mother and the Tree of Life through Painting, Community, and Sisterhood!!! Just CLICK HERE (Soon!!!) for all the details… The charming glimpse of a hopeful being, above, is a peek from our current exploration…

Of red ink and other curious things…

I’ve spent a whole lot of time flinging red ink around the world.

It’s often called editing and, back in the dark ages, when I began doing that sort of thing, we really did use red ink.

It all began with yearbook staff when I was in high school. I got named head of the grammar police!

I don’t know why I’m good at it. I just am. And that may be helped along by the fact that my brain hears what my eyes read!

So, I’ve needed a good bit of virtual red ink this week. Here’s what happened…

A week or so ago I had a conversation with a paint sister. One thing led to another, as things often do, and I ended up agreeing to shake an idea out of my head and into a form that could be shared. With more people.

Gulp!!!

That meant fluffing some not-quite-current things here on the website. Which meant adding a recent book title and replacing a couple of photos, and the kinds of really tech-y things for which I need – and am blessed to have – serious help.

And, while all that was going on, I was wrestling with a painting. Flow Nouveau!

I spent much of my weekend flow-ing. And it was fun. Except for the part where the next right thing totally didn’t work for me! A couple of times!!!

All of which made it kind of a miracle that I got any sleep at all.

Then, Grandmother Moon showed up early this morning, to help. (And, yes… I was getting nervous!)

Along with the usual whispering in my ear, she left a story under my pillow. And, oddly for me, a glimpse of an image in my head. A glimpse of the next right thing for my painting.

Story first!

My son is mostly colorblind, which I didn’t know until he was about eight!

The new eye doc with the fancy kiddie-cartoon tools figured it out and a whole lot of things made more sense.

One of those things has kind of taken up residence in my head. It has to do with Dave’s first grade teacher. You see, Dave made lots of marks in the way the world refers to as backwards.

Math was a struggle. I asked for a meeting with his teacher.

I tried really hard to explain that when he made numbers backwards it didn’t mean his answer to the math problem was wrong!

I begged her to use a color other than red to re-draw the number in the more usual left-to-right fashion.

And, yes… it was about two years later before I learned he was colorblind. Which gave both of us more information for learning!

I even tried editing my work in other colors for a while, but my brain understands “fix stuff in red” so I mark my paper stuff up that way. Still! Also, some of the professional projects I help with. Book drafts and such.

I did a bunch of red ink stuff this morning and things are way better. So much so that I pushed the button and sent the thing and set up a meeting. (I’ll keep you posted!!!)

Then, I took advantage of that rare inner glimpse of an image

And I spent a bunch of my day helping my painting make its way back much closer to where it was when I fell in love with it. It wasn’t that I did it wrong. I just didn’t know where I was headed!

There’s more to do… fixing the fixing, if you will. And then a few finishing steps I didn’t quite make it through, before. Kind of like the undo button!

It FEELS so much better, already

If you squint a bit, you may notice that the paint – much of it red – is still wet.

And I have huge hope!

ps… these days I think of red ink – and red paint – as symbols for the red yarn which connects us with all those who will be important in our lives, if we’re willing!

pps… there’s one more thing I’m done editing! It’s the first thing you’ll find when you click here and it’s really, really cool!!! Go for it…………………… (The other stuff is really cool, too!)

In the Flow (Nouveau)!

It is a journey of Hope and Intention.

People from 12 global nations… gathered in the mostly-virtual land of Intentional Creativity® for the adventure.

We began, at the Equinox, by honoring our ancestors. If you’ve been reading along for a bit, you know that I have a pretty big collection of those folks and I know their names. I think the thing we sometimes lose track of is that we ALL have very big collections of those folks!

(I’m way better at names and stories but the math is mind boggling! You can look it up if you’re curious…)

We also recognized that, for almost all of us, the land on which we were standing, paint brushes at hand, was once the home of other peoples. In my case, they were the people of the United Cherokee AniYunWiYa Nation.

Much of our intentionally inclusive medicine painting adventure was about learning trust with ourselves, so that whatever limiting parts of our perceptions or habits or beliefs which are ready to be moved can be! In an embodied way!!!

Medicine Painting is all about allowing our deep identity to speak as we paint. It is permission to be who we are. Not external permission, so much – though that is there – but an experiment with internal permission!

If you’re like me, this may be a relatively new concept for your Inner Child!

My personal Inner Child learned that she was the smart kid. The good kid. The big sister in charge of keeping the little sister out of trouble.

(This – mind you – is not an assumption that my parents meant me to learn these things. It’s just what I learned!)

So… it was at about this point in the journey that things got complicated for me. I wanted to rebel! Really!!!

You see, I was totally in love with what had happened on my canvas and I was NOT a fan of the next right thing, commonly known as big, scary glaze!

And, yes… this was a familiar feeling! So, while the rest of the painters glazed, I stared at my canvas. I tended in the chat, which was part of my team contribution to the adventure. (I love tending!) I even confessed my stuck-ness in public!

Then, it came to me! I would wait until good daylight, the next morning, and take a really great photo. Then, I would glaze – and spatter! – before it was time to begin again with the group. (And, yes… it’s the photo you see at the top!)

And so, I did.

Day 2 was quite the adventure!

Kind of ironically, it had a whole lot to do with what I refer to as Filters! Turns out you can paint them, too. Or, paint what they mean!

Here’s a peek… we can choose filters different than those we grew up with when we are longing for different outcomes! Even if others – shall we say – aren’t quite on board!

A lot of the rest had to do with who we choose to be. I’ve been working on that one for quite a while. And it has, indeed, meant claiming a lot of things that used to get me in trouble.

Like any notion at all of fierce. Or, worse yet, rebel! And yet, in certain contexts, with my interpretations, those notions are a huge part of who I am.

The Fiercely Compassionate Rebel Grandmother!

For a brief time, complete with wet paint, my adventure looked like this:

It still does, in my heart. And, with some fixing, it will be back, pretty close to this, with the addition of some roses and a bit of coding. (Learning is not always straightforward!)

For now, I’m tired. And there’s one thing more my painting needs me to share.

My wild child wants me to know that I have found my Way of Love.

And a big part of that is helping people like you find and claim their own paths! That’s why the Filters pre-sale offer is good for a few more days! (It’s a really good deal… and we’re really close to launching!) Just click HERE for all the details!!!

ps… huge thanks to Shiloh Sophia McCloud, Jonathan McCloud, and all the Intentional Creativity® team for Flow Nouveau and Origins and all the other utterly amazing things coming up! Questions??? Ask me!

Who decides???

True confession… my head feels, in this moment, like someone has taken my neatly sorted plastic boxes of quilt scraps and dumped them in the road and run over them a few times!

All the bits which made sense among their color or pattern or designer friends are now in chaos.

And yes, I’ve been watching the news.

We’re going to call that context for the story I want to share…

Fair warning… a bit of time travel will be involved!

In July of this year I was in France. Not just in the contemporary nation of acres of blooming sunflowers and fabulous food and art, but in the places where my ancestors stood in the Middle Ages. In the places where some of them lost their lives for their spiritual beliefs.

In January of 1989 I was in Hungary with a group of students from Columbia Theological Seminary. I passed through customs into – and out of – a communist country. I sat in worship with women on one side of the sanctuary and men on the other. Church was permitted. Christian Education was not.

I visited a Jewish Rabbinical Seminary – the only one in Eastern Europe to survive World War II – where students removed their shoes before entering the library… a place which had not been permitted to acquire any new writings since before the war began.

There was a lot of conversation on that journey about the Protestant Reformation.

The simplistic explanation for that time in history would be the break of Lutherans and Calvinists from the Roman Catholic Church.

I’ve recently learned that The Reformation was considerably more complicated than I once understood. And I had relatives involved in that, too. Many of them European women with enough resources to be able to read and write and support the education of girls.

Lately, l’ve taken to watching Madam Secretary on Netflix. For the uninitiated, Secretary of State, Elizabeth McCord, is married to a religious ethics scholar named Henry. In one episode, Henry explains that the Reformation happened because of the printing press… because scripture could be printed in the language of real people who could then read for themselves instead of only hearing what priests chose to share, in Latin.

Which brings us back to the news. Here’s what I heard…

The battles over the Department of Justice, and the national budget, and election fraud, and having enough personnel to run the military, and civil rights, and the education our children will receive all boils down to who gets to decide who gets to decide.

And, in my opinion, in this place at this time, the answer still needs to be we, the people.

Which, clearly, isn’t easy.

It means that we, the people need to show up. Even when it’s hard.

And, yes, I took a break today for painting and energy healing!

Then, I went back to the thing I call Filters, and my process for getting it out into the world.

It’s coming! Soon!!! (The videos are done…)

And, it’s my best way of being the printing press in the face of all the AI stuff in our world.

For now, though… one more story from Hungary. A group of us were speaking with a young Hungarian seminary student. He told us that he and his friends were raised with the need to wake up every morning and find out who was in charge and where they lived.

I was horrified, then.

I’m way too close to relating, now.

If you’re still reading, I’ll bet you already get it, but please, please, please… ask the hard questions. Get involved. And check your voter registration! Your voice matters… now more than ever before in your life.

And, yes…

I have 2 granddaughters trying very hard to grow up in this world!

The Rev Dr Susan L Boardman, Gnostic Judeo-Christian Mystic Medicine Woman, walking the Way of Love (aka: The Fiercely Compassionate Rebel Grandmother, For Rent!)

ps… the special pre-sale offer for the Filters journey is still available, but not for much longer! Get all the goodies at a considerable savings by acting now. Just click here!

pps… the photo at the top is underlayers of a painting which became known as SuperPowers and you could have leggings like this! (Really!!!) Wearable Art! And, if you see more pairs you’d like, use the special code at checkout… Buy 2 – Save $8