“Raised Right” is STILL not enough!

Yes, I’ve told a piece of this story before, because some stories are important enough to come around again and again… and they often bring different messages in different moments!

Once upon a Sunday morning, quite some time ago, 11:00 arrived as it almost always does, and it was my turn to preach. There were a few challenges, that particular day.

It was a Sunday in October. A Sunday for which the Lectionary (a complicated calendar of which scripture passages are “for” which day) was utterly unprepared!

You see, in addition to it being the whichever Sunday in Ordinary Time, it was also Stewardship Sunday in our congregation, on Pink Ribbon Sunday for breast cancer awareness, in National Domestic Violence Awareness month.

Yep! Money, sex (well some people think so) and power all cued up for Sunday morning.

Three things you learned, if you were raised right in the time and places I was, not to talk about!

But I did. Because I couldn’t have lived with myself or faced the Creator of my understanding if I hadn’t. I mean, real people – struggling with those things – were sitting in our pews and not talking about those things wasn’t going to help anything get different!

This time feels just like that, somewhere deep in my raised right heart, which has learned a whole lot of new things in the last few years.

One of those new things I’ve learned is just how much politics is tied up with things like breast cancer research and treatment. And with things like domestic violence laws and enforcement… or not.

And then there’s the whole issue of who is real-enough to have civil and human rights. Today. In America.

It’s a really, really big issue and we’re not going to get it solved here, just now.

Earlier today, though, I listened to a recording of one of my Sister/Mentor/Teachers talking about these issues as they impact women and girls. I was scribbling pretty fast but this the center of what I heard:

Sisters… it is not our job to prove our worthiness but to CLAIM it! (Elayne Kalila Doughty)

I would add that it’s our job to protect our worthiness – our status as intentionally created humans – for ourselves and our sisters and all those who will come after us.

And, yes, politics is another of those things many of us raised right folks were taught not to talk about.

I’m not sure it ever worked. It certainly isn’t working now!

There was another thing Elayne reminded me of today. In modern/post-modern times, it’s only been about 100 years that women could vote and have resources in their own names and run for office and make their voices heard. And fewer years than that, in many cases, for people of color.

And maybe – just maybe – all the current political chaos is a planned effort on the part of way too many rich, powerful men to take away those rights and powers in order to protect their own agendas.

So, here’s my idea… let’s learn some of the tales of women who were wise world leaders in the old days. Back when raised right meant defending their families and homes and beliefs. Back when raised right meant learning and teaching and participating in world-changing events. Back when raised right women named Garsinde and Joan and Jacquetta and Boudicca and Mathilda and many, many Marys claimed their worthiness and changed the world for all of us.

And, then… let us, too, claim our worth and speak and lead and heal. And so it is. Here’s a glimpse of what that claiming looks like on my easel. Squint for today… she’ll be clearer soon!

ps… the top painting is deep under-layers of what became, about a year later, Grandmother Moon! And, it volunteered to step up and become a mug, bringing the colors of pink and purple ribbons for hope and – if you squint just a bit – a rainbow! Grandmother Moon insisted on a special offer – just for you and those you love – during the month of October!

pps… wondering what YOUR piece of speaking and leading and healing looks like? Here’s a fast, free, fun way to get more clarity!

Coming home to ourselves…

Hurricane Ian has torn a ragged path through Florida. Through the part that still lives in the box in my head labeled Home!

I am hugely grateful that my dear ones are safe. Shaken. But safe.

So many are not.

There was a woman on the news, blaming herself for how scared she had been. The primary caregiver for her paralyzed husband, unable to leave, she recounted strapping him to his bed and cushioning him with pillows for protection.

Then, as she told the story, she sheltered – terrified – under a table, unable to both comfort him and protect herself, so that she could continue to care for him. She shamed and blamed herself on national TV. And they both survived.

I wondered, as I watched and wept, how many times we do that to ourselves, with or without prompting from a hurricane.

How do we come home to ourselves, with or without a literal hurricane, and pick up our lives with new visions?

Here’s the place I’m starting in the figurative, largely chosen, path of the storms of my own journey. The journey represented by a painting called Legend.

No matter how many stories I’ve collected, how many diplomas I’ve earned, how many books I’ve read – and written – I can’t actually carry a Medicine Basket with everything in it. It’s time for some sorting and releasing.

And that’s okay. In fact, it’s a blessing. It’s a lot like packing for a trip and choosing to take along what works now. For YOU.

I won’t bore you with the leaving behind bit. Let’s just say that, for me at least, it’s lots of other people’s rules for other times and contexts. Also, lots of meetings about the way things ought to be.

Instead, along with my SuperPowers, I’m filling my Medicine Basket and calendar with space! Space for creating. For discovering. For helping others – just like you – along their journeys. For Love.

There are a couple of new vocabulary words in the basket. And a bunch of new symbols. And some ancestors who feel like they’re walking with me. They’re mostly in charge of helping to carry the courage, for I hear John Denver singing in my ear….

Coming home to a place I’ve never been before…

And, frankly, I have no idea what’s around the next curve! What I do know is that my calling is to put one foot in front of the other – in my own way – noticing and wondering and learning as I go. And being okay with the mystery!

My Medicine Basket is ready. And so am I!!!

ps… relating to the mystery bit? I hear you! And sometimes different questions – ones you haven’t encountered in just the same way and time – can help! HERE ARE SOME, JUST FOR YOU!

pps… Daphne has signed on for the journey, too! Bears are very good at the kind of courage which replenishes us with power. She’s slipped some energy for healing wounds and making travelers whole again into the Medicine Basket!

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.

Variations:

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!!!

First… now… next!

It’s been an interesting weekend!

Painting. Appliance repairs. A slumber party. Stories… mostly of change!

Five years ago, I was engaged in a journey called The Black Madonna Pilgrimage. My FIRST Intentional Creativity® adventure. My first painting.

(Well, except for walls with rollers!)

In the midst of that enormous learning experience, my friend, from the first day of 7th grade, was having surgery for a brain aneurism in the midst of hurricane season.

I made prayer dots, layers and layers of them, until the weather cleared enough that I could go help.

My first hint at how much my life was changing was how much I missed my canvas – my Black Madonna becoming manifest – and my dots!

My friend is doing well now. Blessed be! And we had an old fashioned slumber party to celebrate and catch up. Life has been a bit hectic for both of us!

We told stories. Not the cool kid stories so popular in middle school slumber parties where everyone is trying desperately to fit in.

The real, deep, authentic, questioning journeys of both our lives, now. Surrounded by all the paintings on my walls. And by dreams.

The photo at the top of this post begged to be included.

A giclee’ print of The Fiercely Compassionate Grandmother, aka my Black Madonna Pilgrimage painting. And, yes, the original hangs in my friend’s home which is as it was meant to be.

Then, my current w-i-p… Insight. She’s still choosing her forever name, even as she’s becoming. And teaching me soooooo….. much!

And, what looks like a white background, but is actually my next Legend painting. That starts tomorrow, after my recent beginning found a new home!

All of this memory/vision energy sent me on a hunt through photo land… and I found what was calling me!

The intention. The very first layer of that very first painting.

It came from an old quote in the Quaker tradition…

In order to learn, we must be willing to be changed.

I first encountered that notion at Eckerd College, while I was filling out seminary applications.

I was both resistant and intrigued.

After a whole lot of struggle to be me, through the terrifying single mom initiation, and the what will I do with my life questions, I wasn’t so sure about letting something change me.

Those words took root, nonetheless, deep within me.

They are, in many ways, blooming now.

And, yes, it has a lot to do with the whole bit about input and filters and maps.

Though the map has recently become a basket. A medicine basket!

Among the essential things in that medicine basket… perceptual tools, mark making supplies, and a big ball of Red Thread!

And, just in case you’re in a place that feels like a mysteriously important journey, I can help!

THE FIRST STEP is an adventure in Zoom Land. You. Me. Less than an hour. Red Thread. And some help from the calendar elves! It’s my gift to you!

Or… if that sounds too big, CLICK HERE for some guiding questions you can ponder deep inside!

ps… Legend the next has decided that willing to be changed is an empowering intention for now, too! That means we’re already on the way! Who knows? Another slumber party may be involved!

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