Category: Art Journey

Once upon a time, according to the way-back machine, a baby boy was born. (Not that one!) It was just after midnight on January 1, 1958 in St. Paul, Minnesota.

As was the tradition in that particular place and time, the newspaper published the big event… you know, first baby of the New Year. Lots of applause…

This particular little guy was named Sputnik Eisenhower Jones. Really!

Now you may, quite reasonably, be wondering why I know this story and/or why I’m telling it now.

Glad you asked!

I know this story because my mom was obsessed with baby names, looking forward, as she was, to my own birth which was about 7 weeks into the future.

She was aghast that parents would saddle a defenseless little one with such a name.

She also used to tell me, when I was frustrated by people calling me Susie – which does not happen anymore!!! – that I should just be glad she hadn’t named me Sputnik Eisenhower Jones.

And I was.

Now, I know more! Specifically about the impact of context on our lives and choices.

Eisenhower was midway through his two-term presidency.

He signed the Civil Rights act of 1957 and sent Army troops to enforce federal court orders, integrating schools in Little Rock, Arkansas. And he promoted the establishment of strong science education via the National Defense Education Act.

Meanwhile, Russia launched the first artificial Earth satellite in October of 1957. It’s name was, indeed, Sputnik!

A huge scientific breakthrough with obvious questions for the future.

And there, on January 1, 1958… a baby boy with a serious handful of a name in a family, likely not far in generations from the sharecropping South, clearly invested in Civil Rights.

Somehow, all these years later, that little guy – whom I hope somebody had the sense to call Nick, at least during Junior High – is part of my story. Of my understanding of how we relate to the world.

If you’ve been hanging around a while, you’ve probably noticed that I like questions a lot, so, two questions, in this context-laden primary election season in the USA…

How will you use the context of this moment to understand your place in the world?

And how will you use that understanding to shape your choices?

Just in case you’re wondering… those questions work wherever you live! And they are even more urgent while school children are being shot. Again.

So, how will we ALL use that understanding to shape our choices?

I’m really hoping you’ll leave a comment, or email me, and let me know what you think. Or wonder… suesvoice@gmail.com

ps… in the irony abounds department, Eisenhower was a Republican!

pps… hunting inspiration? Field Trip! FierceArtWithHeart (able to choose tanks still at cost!) and lots of cool art, mugs, and things of wonder!

I’m guessing that Grandmother Moon is resting up after all the eclipse excitement because she actually convinced The Muse to let me sleep, clear ’til 7:00 this morning!

Don’t laugh! It beats the 4:30am thing.

Anyway, my first thought was, HATS.

This is not usually what we’re chatting about before tea!

My second thought was, SORTING HAT. As in, Harry Potter.

I could tell it was going to be an interesting day!

Now, I’m conversant in Hogwarts, but nowhere near the expert that my girls and my sister and the Legendary Husband are, so I was perplexed.

And then it dawned on me!

We were going to vote today. And there is, as you’ve no doubt noticed, a great deal of sorting involved in that peculiar adventure!

So, feet up, tea in hand, I began my go-to strategy of noticing and wondering about what The Muse might be up to.

The first thing that came to mind was the drive-by shooting just outside Atlanta last night. When I checked for news, I discovered another one, very early this morning. All of the targets, women.

The next thing that occurred to me was recent USA primary election results. Some encouraging. Some decidedly not.

Now, I have no idea whether Shonda Rhimes actually schedules the Grey’s Anatomy re-run parade based on national news but, given the local stuff, along with the tragedy in Buffalo, I wouldn’t be surprised.

During the tea and index card marathon that followed, my imaginary colleagues in Seattle dealt with a serial domestic partner predator, a ransom-hacker thing which took down all the hospital computers, and an utterly unarmed tween-aged boy shot and killed by police officers after he forgot his house key and tried to climb in a window after school, while being black.

By that point I was, as you’ve already guessed, creating my personal Sorting Hat.

Of course, I couldn’t actually wear it to vote. It was all about Intention. Along with the able to choose tank top I could wear!

And, while all of that was going on, there was something else tickling my consciousness.

Duh! as the girls would say.

On Saturday, my commissioned painting of Our Lady of Guadalupe went to her forever home with my dear friend. Here’s her picture, for the first time in public since she was finished. It was quite a journey!

It may have been my hand on the paintbrush as she was coming to form, but it was her story and her wisdom as I learned it in the context of the US withdrawal from Afghanistan, early in the days of the painting.

You see, we didn’t cover Black Madonnas in nursing school or seminary and I had some research to do.

There were two big surprises along the way.

First, the late Congressman John Lewis, D (GA-05), insisted on lending his face and energy to the figure at the bottom of the canvas which, according to tradition, represents an intermediary god who comes to bring newness in changing times.

Then, Our Lady’s hair. Really!

You see, she declined to have her hair covered. Instead, she made her own choice, despite all the years of “tradition” denying her the power.

So, with 2 granddaughters growing up in this world, pictures of Our Lady and the Intentional sorting hat in my phone, and my tank top peeking from a favorite paint-spattered denim shirt, I voted.

ps… while I was reviewing the various sorting options for the hat at Hogwarts, I was reminded that the Slytherin students were described as, “those cunning folks [who] use any means to achieve their ends”. I, on the other hand, voted for the candidates from tribes more inclined to be “brave at heart,” “loyal, patient, true”, and “with ready minds, brave & learning.” Just sayin’!

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At 4:30 on Friday morning, I was dragged from sleep by a whispering chorus composed of The Muse and Grandmother Moon and, well, my bladder.

You can probably guess which voice won!

Then, back in the bed, I tried to convince the rest of the team that the world would, in fact, go on while I slept at least a bit more.

No luck.

Grandmother Moon, it seems, has taken up chanting.

We were born for such a time as this…

Well, yes! And I, at least, am more useful when I sleep!

We were born for such a time as this…

And so on and so forth.

Until my curiosity won out and, tea in hand, I went hunting for the quote.

It didn’t take long to get close.

Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes!

And, suddenly, I was back to the era known in my personal calendar as the knee surgery years.

Huge pain and mobility challenges. Massive medication allergies. A whole lot of camping in the magic chair during the wee hours, listening to the Dangerous Old Woman (!) cd’s and waiting for better.

The author/editor who lurks inside me, though, was not quite convinced. So, button pushing!

Allowing for linguistic diversity and translation challenges, I encountered what I suspect are the roots of all this whispering in the Hebrew scriptures.

It took quite a bit of hunting, for the book of Esther was not, in my day, a popular choice for the Bible Content Exam…

If you’re curious, check it out. Especially Esther 4:14… I’ve read a bunch of versions in the last 24 hours and, since I’ve got this particular “pen in my hand,” I chose this one:

Perhaps this is the moment for which you were created.

Do you feel that?

I do! I feel it in the sudden flash of tears in my eyes and in the chills along my arms and legs.

We used to call those chills goose bumps, which is kind of ironic if you also claim the Celtic spirituality tradition that wild geese are symbols of the Holy Spirit!

And what if – just maybe – it’s true?

That we, you and I, and all of us who are paying attention, were created – or intended, perhaps – for this moment…

What might that mean in your world???

I’ll give you just a glimpse, for now, of what it means in mine.

A whole new vision of working with people just like you to make your answer real.

There are lots more details on the way. For now, if you hear that question, deep in your heart, if your arms are covered in goose bumps, let’s talk, soon! 30 minutes, on me!

This is one of those five people things for me. We all need them, especially our littles, and it’s going to take a lot of us!

Not sure about the five people thing? Ask me!

For tonight, though, the actual words Dr. E. wrote in a blog post kind of like this, just a few years ago…

My friends, do not lose heart. We were made for these times!

And, so we were.

I can help!

ps… you can still get an able to choose tank top at cost. Lots of sizes and colors! Click here and choose yours! The elves will automatically give you the best deal ever!

pps… this little painting is an intentional prayer for health and abundance. Kind of a Feng shui activation for a special corner in our library. And, yes… there’s a goose! Wonders never cease!!!

Yesterday was the 32nd anniversary of the day the Legendary Husband and I said I do.

It was rather unusual, as these events go. A Thursday evening… just before my seminary graduation on Sunday.

All the family was in town. We had invited the entire Columbia community, along with the congregations of 4 churches. And, we had no money. It was, to put it mildly, a whole lot of church and very little fluff!

What with my rather fumbling attempts to learn Greek and Hebrew, along with way more polity than I remember, I had not, at that point in my journey, become an actual quilter.

In retrospect, that ceremony was a wondrous quilt of our journeys and our hopes, and all manner of things we couldn’t have imagined at the time.

Along the way, inspired by memories of my Gramma Elsie and a brilliant woman named Gwen Marston, I did become a quilter, of the liberated persuasion.

And, like most of my kind, I developed a bit of a fabric fetish!

I used to string bits of this and fat quarters of that along the back of the couch when I was hatching a design. And I’d sit, sometimes for weeks, staring at the bits until they told me what they wanted to be.

The last couple of weeks have felt a great deal like that, though I’m quilting dreams and words, just now, instead of fabric.

I’m getting close. A few that just didn’t play well have volunteered to wait for another project.

Some old favorites, like precious scraps of Kaffe Fassett designs, have insisted on being welcomed into the mix.

I’ll have more to share, soon.

Until then, I’m wondering about what you are “quilting” in your heart. Leave a comment, here, please, or email me… suesvoice@gmail.com

And, in case you’re wondering why I’m pondering quilts just now, that’s easy!

Quilts are about love and warmth and belonging. They’re about choosing what we’ll do with the bits of our lives… the stunningly gorgeous ones and the faded, scrappy ones, too.

In the end, quilts, like anniversaries, are about hope. And this world can use all of that we can make!

Which seems worth noticing… after I did the math earlier today and realized that the Legendary Husband and I have been married for half my life which feels like a miracle, given some of my early journey!

And, just in case you didn’t know… in the Jewish tradition, when a couple becomes engaged, they gather with friends and family and drink l’chaim… to life!

I’m for that! Now, more than ever!!!

ps… the beginnings of Kenzie’s big-girl quilt, hanging out on the couch, @2011.

everything. It’s the only thing.”

I used to think so, too.

These days, I know more.

And, yes, The Muse has been busy!

On Tuesday I had an appointment with my doc. The usual.

Plus, a discussion about a training he’s planning for young-ish docs and nurses tending in the wholistic direction, and the possibility of my contributing.

We agreed on the first question which needs answering… all together now:

What are we trying to accomplish?

While we ponder that a bit longer, there are plenty of other things going on.

Progress on my Forest of Grandmothers painting.

Progress on explaining – at least to myself – what it is that I most long to do.

The beginning of a 5-week Intentional Creativity® adventure known as Temple. Very exciting… and a wee bit scary!

And, an introduction, Friday, to an adventure with an essential oil known as Truth. Which, as I’m beginning to understand, is a very timely voice/throat chakra sort of thing.

So, very early this morning – The Muse, having had time to ponder, was ready to get to work.

I woke with great options for helping with Mark’s workshop demanding ink & paper. The Muse is fond of lists!

Then, some fine tuning on the What do I do? project.

Then, a seemingly random urge to play Furniture Yahtzee!

This is not an uncommon activity at our house.

The Legendary Husband is not a huge fan. And it’s logistically hard for me.

I began with a sketch pad and my favorite tape measure.

After a bit, I noticed that I was feeling anxious.

The Inner Critic had joined the conversation! She’s an expert at ways to keep me from actually doing new things (Read that scary things!) by distracting me with endless what-if’s.

Perhaps you’ve met!

Before too long, though, The Muse parked my butt in the magic chair with a cup of tea and dangled sexy paper and markers in front of me, while whispering that questions might be more helpful than imaginary safe answers.

1. What did I feel?
2. What was I trying to accomplish?
3. What felt IMPORTANT? (vs. the sense of URGENT Furniture Yahtzee!)

And so, I pondered. And scribbled. And circled. And crossed out. Then it happened.

If you’ve been hanging around a while, you won’t be too surprised.

I reached for the widest, boldest marker in my basket and put big right angled brackets in the top left and bottom right corners of the page.

Psych shorthand for context.

Which is, of course, the vital piece missing from the notion that perspective is the only thing!

About then, I noticed the calm spreading through me, and realized that rearranging all the furniture was not actually the answer to feeling anxious about new things.

Then, I noticed that my Forest of Grandmothers painting, standing on its head across the room, was volunteering for this blog post, complete with the unexpected image of a whole flock of supportive Grammy-ancestors gathered, perhaps, to sing, where once there was a Phoenix!

Then, after I had gone on to routine things, like feeding the Studio Angels, I noticed a fabulous question in a Facebook group where I hang out.

What superpower would you most like to have?

I didn’t even have to ponder!

The power to help others claim THEIR superpowers!!!

Which is, of course, exactly my notion of what it means to be The Fiercely Compassionate Grandmother in this moment.

And then The Muse hugged me and whispered that moving furniture – while not a bad idea – could probably wait for another day!

The Inner Critic, it seems, has wandered off again, leaving me to send hugs and huge love of whatever sort you would welcome on this Mothers Day, along with a magnificent glimpse of what that Truth oil might be all about!

ps… thanks, Sam Bennett, for the superpower question and Mary Ann Matthys for sharing this video.

pps… just in case your particular perspectives and superpowers could use a bit of sorting – especially in this context – let’s chat!

This, in case you’re curious, is a true story. And, perhaps, a bit too much information.

The Muse, however, insists…

I had knee surgery 6 times in 9 years. Along the way, there have been several significant falls and more than a few lower back hissy fits.

Thus, running really isn’t my thing. There are days when walking is not so much my thing.

Frankly, my muscles are extremely well trained in the fine art of holding still. It feels safer.

Except that it isn’t.

In fact, staying still creates all manner of problems of its own.

It’s tempting nonetheless.

Thus, a bit of a Netflix binge, where there are no political ads. Grace and Frankie.

I haven’t made it to the new episode yet. I’ve been wandering along memory lane.

And making notes on a new project.

Anyway… somewhere late in season 5, there are several episodes featuring Robert’s adventures with local theatre and The Man of La Mancha.

Robert, for the uninitiated, is played by my old friend, Martin Sheen, aka Jed Bartlet on The West Wing.

I’ve loved The Man of La Mancha since sometime in the early 70’s when a dear friend played Dulcinea in a local theatre production. And, yes, I do still know all the words to The Impossible Dream.

Now you, dear reader, are perhaps wondering what it is about this story that feels like it needs sharing just now.

Yep. The news.

Specifically an apparently active movement brewing in the US Supreme Court to overturn Roe v Wade, the legislation that made abortion a legal choice, about the same time that I was learning the words to The Impossible Dream.

I found myself scribbling down names as I watched.

Stacey. Raphael. Hank. Nikema. Ted. Lucy. Marcus. Jen. Bee…

Then I realized I was humming as I scribbled.

Humming the tune that goes with the lyrics, to run where the brave dare not go.

There are more names, of course. These are our local team, here in my Atlanta ‘hood.

Plus, me.

Because, even though I don’t run, or march, and I don’t necessarily feel brave, I am choosing fierce.

This Guide Grammy is choosing fierce compassion.

Out loud.

So, once again for the home team, my favorite quote from The West Wing:

Abortion is a tragedy. It should be legal. It should be safe. It should be a whole lot rarer than it is.

– Matt Santos, Democrat for President, season 7

I agree. Absolutely. I even have a plan.

A plan which doesn’t involve power hungry insurrectionists and fascist wannabes opposed to masks and vote counting who think they’ve been appointed by their version of “the almighty” to choose what women can do with their bodies.

This is my plan:

Raise the minimum wage to a living wage. Make college affordable. Increase food, shelter, and healthcare assistance to struggling families. Support high quality daycare, universal pre-K, and family leave. Get serious about prosecuting rapists and domestic abusers.

There’s more, but you see where this is going.

I am – historically – a registered nurse. I have assisted with abortions and with c-sections on teen-aged girls nowhere near ready to be mothers. They all felt tragic.

I am an ordained teaching elder in the Presbyterian Church (USA) who learned, in the first church I served, that if I’m going to stand in the pulpit and say, Nothing can separate us from the love of God which is ours in Christ Jesus, I must also be able to say it to a sobbing young woman facing an abortion decision.

I have 2 granddaughters growing up in this world and I vote.

So, while I’ll skip the marching and the running, I won’t be silent, despite all the reasons so many of us were taught to do just that.

And, if you’re still reading, I hope you’ll run with me, where the brave dare not go.

And use your voice. You matter.

ps… these days I get lots of my news from Stephen Colbert. Last night he brought it, with a lot of help from Jose Andres and Ron Howard and with Jose’s groundbreaking project, World Central Kitchen, and the movie Ron is making to tell the story. Here’s the punch line… “We need full tables more than walls!” wck.org

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