“I don’t know.”

This is a phrase heard fairly often in the dinner hour Jeopardy games at our house.

Ask me about a computer issue or whether the Braves won their latest game, and you’re likely to get the same answer.

Today, it popped up in a different context. I was hanging with my new friend, the physical therapist. That, alone, suggests that things aren’t going quite as well as might be optimal.

Just between us, I think this pain episode is part of my personal re-engagement with the world outside our house in the story of the pandemic still being written.

You see, I’ve spent the last year choosing to, basically, stay home. A decision that was right for me even though it also meant way less movement and less engagement with the kind folks who keep me – metaphorically – up and running.

So, today, when my concerned buddy asked me what I knew about why my neck hurts my honest answer was, “I don’t know. But I can tell you what I feel.”

This devolved into a fascinating chat about Neurolinguistic Programming and how we store and access information. (Also the fact that I’m not good with right and left.)

Eventually, we devised a plan for moving forward, all the while learning to speak each others’ languages.

Here’s why I’m telling you this story…

I think anybody who’s been paying attention is in the midst of a cosmic game of Tilt! as we go on making choices about the pandemic context we’ve been living in. And many, many of those choices will be made through lenses of belief.

Once upon a time, my hypnosis/NLP guru was waxing poetic about things we could change, based on changing our beliefs.

So far so good.

THEN we got to the part about, “There’s nothing you can’t do if you just believe you can.”

When I was in high school, girls weren’t allowed to go out for track. (My very athletic granddaughters don’t believe this story!) I desperately wanted to learn to pole vault.

(Feel free to laugh!)

So, 40-ish years later, when I was sitting in that hypnosis training, I was pretty sure that no amount of believing was going to get my bad knees, injured back, sore neck, etc. over the bar on the pole vault gizmo.

Let’s just say that physics were not in my favor.

Here’s what I’ve learned in the meantime… While it is undoubtedly wiser for me to pass on pole vaulting, I have learned a bunch of things in the last decade or so that I never believed I could.

Things, like painting, that required me to suspend my disbelief and actually pick up a brush. And I’m enormously glad I did!

So, I made a deal with the P.T.

With the exception of the giant bouncy ball (A story for a different day!) my response to, “Can you……………..?” is going to be, “I’m not sure. Let’s find out.”

And, just in case this touches something a bit teary inside you, you’re welcome to join me!

For now, I’m off to choose pizza for dinner tonight. Carry out. First time in more than a year.

Then it’s off to cheer on my teacher, Shiloh Sophia McCloud, at the opening of her new museum show. This one both virtual and actual! And a bit of learning from the ancestors after that. Probably while painting the background for my first poster… The Grandmothers’ Manifesta!

For now, blessings to you and yours!

ps… Luther and Phoebe say, “hi!” and they want you to know that a little guy named Wasabi just won the Westminster Kennel Club show, even though it was “supposed to be” at Valentine’s Day.

pss… There’s some big stuff coming around here. (I believe!!!) And I’d be honored if you wanted to share this post with a friend who might want to be here, too. So would my buddy, the owl, who’s come bearing prayer dots!

Time for Secret Decoder Rings!

The Canine Fine Dining Hour is complete. Luther is kindly washing Phoebe’s ears. And I have a story for you that snuck up and surprised me in the best possible way!

It started when Bill and I wandered off to our own little version of Cheers! known to the locals as The Corner Pub. It was lunch time and I needed some help thinking through a list of plans I’ll let you in on soon.

We had our pick of wisely spaced tables on the sidewalk/patio which was great because I got one of those black iron chairs with the spring in it so it rocks.

Fried okra and roasted broccoli ordered (me) and we were on to the magic list complete with arrows and faces. Then I heard it.

A baby. About 9 months old. Doing a fabulous rendition of the Ba-ba-ba song. Without even thinking, I turned to wave. Mom and Grandma waved back.

That’s when it hit me. I was waaaaaayyy out of practice at waving at babies!

Here’s where the ring comes in.

In my world, waving at babies translates into making peace. It has for several years now.

One of the things I’ve been missing, though, all nested away in our house during the pandemic, has been waving at babies.

Yep. Waving at babies. Pay attention, please. The world is counting on you!

My favorite place for waving at babies is the big, International Farmers Market where we live. There are lots of babies there! Babies whose families come from parts of the world my 7th grade geography teacher never told me about. Babies balanced on top of cartloads of food I’d have no idea how to prepare.

Wave at babies. Smile, too, of course. Tell them they have cool shoes. Become less other. Less different. More same. Wave at babies at traffic lights and in restaurants. Most of them are serious flirts.

This is my plan for world peace.

It’s probably going to take a while, this plan of mine. Less, though, if we get all the grandmothers signed up. Your kids will see how you wave and they’ll start, too. And then the people with the babies will notice and just possibly smile. Pretty soon you’ve got a cart full of crazy looking produce, a nice pastured chicken, a decent bottle of wine, and some actual fresh bay leaves. And, if it’s been a good waving day, a couple of dozen fewer strangers in the world. All of which, one way or another, is a good thing for your kids to learn.

Boardman, 66

So, having waved and ba-ba-ba’ed, and realized how much I’ve been missing this, I fished one of my art cards – the one with the big heart full of prayer dots and a red thread – out of a pocket in my miraculous denim vest (Which I also didn’t realize how much I’d been missing!) and stopped by my new friends’ table as we were leaving.

Fortunately, it was easy to stay 6 feet away, while laying the card on the table and explaining that I’m an artist and lead groups for grandmothers.

(This, by the way, is how you know how serious I am about the Grandmother business… this talking to recent strangers, thing!)

I have no idea what will happen or whether I’ll ever encounter them again but I got back in the baby waving business today and I’m excited!

You, by the way, are welcome to join me. You don’t even have to graduate from Developing Capable People to get your membership card! (I’m in charge, these days!)

And there’s a whole bunch more good stuff waiting in the wings.

For today, thanks for reading. (Feel free to share!) And thanks for being you!!!

ps… the lovely lady who dropped by to wave at you is from my third Legend painting. The Dangerous Old Woman. Go ahead and wave back. She’ll know!

pss… If you’re interested in more about my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge of Hope you can snag one on Amazon or, in about a week, in my new Shopify store! Honorary Grammies and very brave Grampies are welcome, too!

When the time is right…

First, the embarrassing part. Today has not gone at all as I planned. Zoom glitches, meetings moving, the aforementioned cranky SI joint. And, since we’re being real… I forgot it was Wednesday!

Lovely lady above to the rescue! You see, she was my first SuperPower SelfPortrait, back before I even had a name for what I was doing. A teaching painting for a workshop at Columbia Theological Seminary, she’s one of Shiloh Sophia McCloud’s famous face demos. Complete, because she’s also mine, with lots of drips and dots.

I love drips and dots.

The dots, of course, I love for the prayers that they make visual and kinesthetic.

Drips, on the other hand, having minds of their own, keep the artist from over-managing the work and allow it to become what it wants to be.

The super power part came to be the first time I did this with my girls, and we added a bit to the journey.

All this floated to the top of my pretty big pond of stuff that needs doing on Monday when I was chatting with an artist/Grammy buddy. Or, in this case, an artist/Bubbe buddy.

She was pondering a project to do with a couple of her girls and I told her about SuperPower SelfPortraits, or SP2 for short.

As you’ve no doubt guessed, one of the super powers my purple friend brings is bailing me out when there’s no blog post! This is a good thing!

It’s also a reminder that, before too long, there will be videos of the whole SP2 process available so you can have fun with your littles. Fun fun and self-confidence fun!

For tonight, though, my new Shopify store is ALMOST ready for the grand opening! Watch here for details. And, in the meantime, think about giving your super powers space to play!

ps… If you haven’t subscribed to this blog yet, now would be great! Just fill in the annoying pop-up thingie and you’re in. Subscribers will get a special discount for the grand opening event!

pps… Phoebe and Luther want you to know that they did, indeed, get fed, even with me wandering in the creative space known as newness!

You might have to squint!

If your world is at all like mine, you might spend some of your time taking your glasses off and putting them back on, trying to find out whether the image is clearer, “One or two,” as the doc would say.

Even if things aren’t quite as complex at your house, you may need to squint a bit at the photo, above, to find the beginnings of a face.

This was the very, very early days of what became my third Legend painting. And Legend paintings are, by a huge majority, self portraits of a sort.

I’m quite a bit farther along with my (overly optimistic) attempts to paint something portrait-like of Congressman John Lewis and yet the big truth of Intentional Creativity (and, according to a different legend, Michelangelo) holds true.

I am still learning.

Some days that learning feels like the old Peter Paul & Mary song about a lemon tree. (Feel free to sing along!)

A sadder [one], but wiser now, I sing these words to you…

Much of the time I’m not quite sure what I feel or where I am on my path. Not because I’m no place, for which I’m quite grateful, but because I’m many places.

And how, when you think about it, could we not be?

Here’s what I do know:

I am a Grandmother…

A Dangerous Old Woman.

Dangerous in the sense that Dr. Estes means when she talks about standing in the danger – or protection – of a wise old tree.

My Red Madonna Psalms painting is turning into a tree.

And, about now, you might be wondering where all this is heading. Frankly, I’m right there with you!

Here’s what I do know. It is my path in this moment. I think it’s a safe bet that the world could use quite a few dangerous old women. (Old, being of course, an empowering thing!)

I can feel some invitations threading themselves together for the future. The near future. I’ll keep you posted!

For now, though, words, and glue, and John Lewis. And a big pan of shrimp and rainbow chard with enough leftovers for soup.

ps… One last chance to help Gloria before her deposits are due. If you haven’t checked it out yet, please do. She’s nowhere near old yet, but she’s got a head start on the dangerous thing! Just click here!

36 Generations!

Well, I’ve been swinging through the branches of the family tree again. One branch in particular. Elsie, also known as my Farm Gramma and my Story Gramma, came from quite the tribe!

She came, as far as I know, from a family of 12 kids, seven of them girls. As the story goes, my Great-Grandfather, Jonathan Royce, built an outhouse with 5 seats so the girls could work instead of standing in line! (This is not a legacy I care to repeat!)

More of the family myth holds that Jonathan promised each of his daughters a string of gold beads if they graduated from high school. My Aunt Em loved to tell this story as she had beads and Elsie didn’t.

Elsie, it seems, quit high school to marry Frank who, according to their engagement announcement in the local paper, “was, of all things, a Democrat!”

One thing led to another and, about 25 years later, my Dad came along, the last of six kids and, if the rumors are true, a bit of a surprise.

It was Frank’s family who arrived in New England on a little boat known as the Mayflower. There were also a significant number of preachers in the crowd, many of them in/famous, depending on your perspective!

I’ve been curious about Elsie’s crowd. And I’ll tell you now that I haven’t found the beginning of that story yet.

I am, as of last night, 36 generations of direct Grammas and Grampas back into the story which is also my story. That is, if you’re curious, somewhere into the early 900’s CE.

Along the way I’ve met some British nobles of various sorts and degrees of fame. That squared with some of the stories I don’t remember hearing but have always, somehow, known. And there’s more sorting there to do. Especially on the side branches.

I was still hunting, though, because the CRI Genetics DNA test I did said that I had ancestors from places variously known as Iberia and France and Italy.

That was a mystery! A mystery that turns out to have a fair number of names and places to go with it.

Lots of Elsie’s folks, it seems, were from Tuscany. That explains the energy jolt and buckets of tears I experienced when I first got off a plane in Florence, Italy a little more than three years ago.

It’s a feeling I’ve only had twice before. The first time was when I got out of my car in the pouring rain on a cold day in November and put my feet on the circular parking drive in front of Columbia Theological Seminary.

The second was when I struggled with cranky knees to get down the steps from a plane to solid ground in Glasgow, Scotland.

It seems that Tuscany and Glasgow were part of my from story and Columbia, at that point, was part of my to story.

Here’s the thing, though. The from-s and the to-s seem to be bumping into each other a lot lately.

I spend a lot of time wondering what will be created out of my particular versions of from and to. And, kind of surprisingly, the more complex all of it gets, the more right it feels, possibly because I’m busy learning new things.

I also wonder about what all these stories might mean to my girls one of these days.

For today, though, I’m listening to a millennia of those who went before me and wondering what they learned in their times. Their times which included plagues and famines. Corrupt leaders. Little notion of rights unless you held a title. Women’s rights only among a few religious groups still surrounded by the mists of limited literacy and voice.

I long to sit in circle with all those generations of Grammas, each of us holding our piece of the red thread and reminding ourselves that Grandmothers Are In Charge of Hope.

This certainly seems like a good time for that! But first, I’m going to do hope and ask again, in case you haven’t seen this, if you might be able to help a young woman from India to share her amazing gifts and perspective with the world. Any gift is both welcome and hugely appreciated. This is one of those things most of us can’t do ourselves, but, like the red thread, many of us together can! Go Fund Me

ps… the photo above? A modern copy of the way they kept tax records in Elsie’s time! Art truly finds its ways…

Meet the bears!

You know how sometimes things are intense and exhausting and really helpful, all at the same time? Well, that’s how my week began!

Two days of the kind of teaching that makes part of me go, “OMG! I’m going to have to change some things!”

Another part chimes in with, “Yay! Finally!”

And another part is grateful for the bears.

That’s Lodebar on the left. World’s best neck roll!

Lodebar’s been around since I was deep in struggling through Hebrew grammar. By struggling, I mean an F at midterms. An event I had no box for in my head.

His name is a word I learned that semester. In Hebrew, it means nothing, or no place which, I’ll freely admit doesn’t sound too cozy out of context. In context, it meant that there is nothing or no place where G-d is not. (Including Hebrew grammar!)

Then there’s Henry, beside him. Henry used to hang at my office and help folks tell the really, really deep, hard stories they’d been carrying around for ages. Lately, he hangs out with my girls when they’re here. (He’s not big on the whole Zoom thing just yet!)

And, yes, that’s my Work-in-Progress for this Wednesday, keeping them company. (AKA the late Congressman John Lewis.)

John and I are making progress and I now know what comes next. Read that next, after my SI joint calms down.

Henry has suggested, gently, that you might be wondering what John Lewis is doing hanging out with the bears.

That’s easy. Congressman Lewis wanted – and probably still wants – all of us to have the civil rights so many of us take for granted. And all of us to be able to vote. To, literally, have our voices heard.

I find that comforting right now. Hopeful. And motivating in the same way as my adventures from the last couple of days. It’s about claiming that change is possible, even though it’s probably always going to take some work.

John and Lodebar and Henry and I are in. And there are a whole bunch more prayer dots to make! (In this case, cherry blossoms!)

If you’re in, too, please take a look at the GoFundMe request for our very talented friend, Gloria, who painted this amazing image of Vashti, and needs some help. Every gift really does help, and the deadline is getting close!

ps… Lodebar and Henry say they’re taking prayer dot requests. You can leave a message for me and I’ll pass it on!

Quite the Adventure!

At the risk of sounding like one of my many-great grandmothers regailing you with stories of a long boat ride to America, Bill and I went out to dinner!

The occasion was our 30th and 31st anniversaries. Last year was way too scary and this year was somewhat less scary due to our being fully vaccinated.

I would be less than truthful if I didn’t tell you that I was a bit anxious. Nonetheless, off we set for The Iberian Pig, one of our absolute favs on the square in Decatur. This after ascertaining that we could make reservations for an outdoor table.

I had to dust my shoes before we left!

The pockets of my trusty denim vest were filled with the usual artistically covered phone, business cards, art cards and lip gloss. Also stuffed in there, a “dressy” mask and my favorite bottle of hand sanitizer.

It was, blessedly, less scary in practice than in theory.

The food was, as ever, fabulous! Especially the pork cheek tacos!!!

The servers were considerate and careful.

And I missed our kids!

Both girls adore the famous green things known in our family as owl-wivs. They would eat nothing else for dinner if we’d let them and at this point, I’d probably let them. (Shhhhh….)

It’s been a weekend for big things that feel new.

Gloria graduated with a Master of Arts in Theological Studies and a pretty fancy award to go with it. All of which makes helping her with the funding for her PhD work feel even more important. The world needs her voice!

If you’d like to help, you can read more, here… https://gofund.me/8417ad9b All gifts are hugely appreciated!

It feels to me a lot like living in the Village at Columbia did, in the late ’80’s. We watched each others kids, fed our neighbors, and did our homework together.

Tonight, though, it’s homework time at my house, for I am learning new things. Again. And sending blessings to you and yours!

ps… the lovely lady at the top is Gloria’s painting of Rahab who saved her family with a red thread!