Category: Art Journey

For years now, I’ve been a fan of the notion that life is for learning.

This is handy because, in my experience, having a variety of teachers leads to knowing more things. For example, I didn’t learn much of anything about astronomy or astrology in nursing school or seminary. And yet it seems that the sky may be teaching us, now! So I headed for my favorite place to learn with awesome sisters, The Red Thread Cafe Classroom.

Once there, I asked for information or sources of information about the batch of eclipses and the solstice and such that seem to be happening just now. Wow, did I get help!

One sister told me about a site called Astrobutterfly where I actually understood a bit of what I read. We’ll return to that in a few minutes.

First a visit to another sister’s question. “Did I,” she wondered, “remember the song, The Age of Aquarius?” (I do!)

And then the suggestion to pay attention to the words.

This was not hard since, as you’ve probably realized, I tend to know all the words of such things. In case you’d like a reminder…

Deep in my inner filing system, along with the words, came two memories.

The first involved a school field trip somewhere around 1969. I was in 5th or 6th grade and there was a special show at the local planetarium. You guessed it… The Age of Aquarius!

This event was memorable for two reasons. The music, and the guy who held my hand during the bus ride on the way back to school.

The second memory came from just a bit after that. A Girl Scout camping trip on some private beach property. We sat around a campfire in the middle of a ring of pup tents, watching the amazing night sky and singing The Age of Aquarius.

And yes, I so totally hope this is real!

Before I began writing, though, a bit more research seemed in order, so I was off to Astrobutterfly.

Wow, is there lots of stuff to learn there, but I have a painting to work on so I tried to focus.

Apparently there is some ambiguity about when, exactly, the Age of Aquarius begins again. Here’s the part that jumped out for me:

As we are shifting from the Age of Pisces into the Age of Aquarius, we will learn that each individual is important – not as an amorphous mass easy to maneuver (Age of Pisces). 

Every single one of us is born for a reason, and we all can bring our own contribution to the development of society. Every single one of us can make the world a better place. 

I believe that each one of us can make the world a better place and, despite recent national evidence to the contrary, I believe it’s time to focus on the differences each of us can make.

In fact, that’s why we’re having another new event around here! Specifically, a webinar on Sunday, at 1:00 pm, with an art experience and some information on how to move closer and closer to your way of making the world a better place.

Maybe, just maybe, it is the time and we don’t want to miss a chance like that. The first step is easy! In fact, if you’re on the regular email list for this blog post, you’ve already done it.

If not, say if you clicked on this from Facebook or it was forwarded to you, just click the pop up thingie that’s probably been driving you nuts, you know, popping up, since you got here, and sign up for the email list.

That’s all it takes. Then, starting tomorrow, you and everybody already on the list will get all the information you need to join the webinar. You’ll want to hurry, though, since we’re keeping the group small so we can see the art and share the insights.

And, no, you don’t have to have any experience as an artist to fit right in. Honest! I’m so hoping you’ll join us. The world could use a big batch of better about now and I suspect it really is going to take all of us.

Oh, one more thing… this is my first one of these, and it’s a big milestone on my better world path, which is one more reason I hope you’ll join in!

ps… the glimpse of a painting, above, is from the winter solstice, 2018, inspired by the night sky viewed from our back deck. The peace sign is my prayer.

pps… If you have any trouble getting on the mailing list with the pop-up thingie, just email me! suesvoice@gmail.com Together, we shall be victorious!

Turns out Memory Lane feels, at least in this moment, unpaved, full of potholes, with steep hills, and slick with ice.

Okay, not literal ice, but memory lane is usually not an entirely literal place! Here’s how the trip started.

On Friday, a friend asked for help and I was catapulted, in my mind, back to just this time, in 1980.

I was a young, single mom, living in HUD housing and buying groceries with Food Stamps. I was also a full time nursing student and we were just finishing up a rotation in an extended care facility.

My little guy was 11 months old. I felt blessed that he didn’t know we were poor. His Christmas gift that year was a plastic steering wheel from the dollar store made to hook on his car seat. He was thrilled. I felt like Scrooge, especially when I disconnected the horn on his steering wheel!

Fast forward to now. We’re all good, though very sad about Covid and virtual holidays. I’m not sure what we’ll be sending the girls just yet, though a beeping steering wheel probably won’t make the list! (Much to my dismay, one of them is not that far from an interest in real steering wheels!)

In my email, there was a response to a message I’d sent out to a small list of folks interested in my art workshops. You know… Coming soon! Make Your Own Miracles! It was from my friend who needs help and was brave enough to reach out.

Here’s the thing. The workshop works. But in works in its own way and time, deep inside us, before it busts out into the world, feeling like it’s always been true.

And, for some of us, there are some real challenges along the way.

Frankly, the rabid political ads on TV don’t feel all that helpful, though it won’t be a big surprise that I’m with the guys on the side of actual helping.

So, from the been there, done that crowd, I’ll be sending you a second email today with an option for how you might help my friend recover from surgery and an injury, avoid eviction, and get – literally – back on her feet, all while getting a gift for yourself, if you want to.

No pressure. Just an unexpected chance to fulfill whatever elf fantasies you might be harboring.

I will tell you that the original special email went out to a list of folks on the “first to know” list for upcoming opportunities to go miracle hunting with me. If you’d like to be on that list, please click on the handy link you’ll find in the email and you’ll be added! And I promise that the vast majority of emails won’t be requests like this one.

It’s just that I didn’t know how else to try to help my friend.

And please know that, in this season of hope and blessings, I’m giving thanks for you!

ps… the artwork is from my Codex painting, The Co-Creative Soul, reminding me that we are connected, by a legendary red thread, to those who will matter in our lives. More thanks for you!

One of those friends is a brilliant biblical scholar and theologian named Walter Brueggemann who wrote, among a whole bunch of other things, a book called Finally Comes the Poet. I can’t actually find the book right now as our library sorting system is in the midst of considerable revision.

Trust me, though, when I tell you that he was saying something very close to the truth of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes who said:

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

And the amazing writer, Anne Lamott, claims that we are chosen, safe, and loved. (Well, she was actually talking about Sunday School kids but I suspect she’d count us in!)

And I, much to my amazement, claimed yesterday, in a meeting with one of my teachers, that I am ready.

I didn’t get here on my own. Wise friends like these have helped immeasurably along the way. In fact, this feels a bit like the bibliography of my life.

Shiloh Sophia and Jonathan McCloud, along with all the Intentional Creativity® gang.

Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, aka SARK, who made space for me to learn and opened the door to what came next.

Julie Steelman and Sam Bennett. Veronica Guzzardi, possibly the most patient tech teacher I have ever known.

Robby and Les and Henry and Ron. Phil and Gary and David and Dana and an 8 year old boy in Hungary whose name I never learned to pronounce or spell.

Kathy and Peggy and Jean who put up with me when I was still a teenager.

And, in a round about way, Dave and Kelly and Kenzie and Taylor. And the Newf Rescue kids. All of them.

I am, I guess, a charter member of the Life is for Learning club.

I suspect that you suspected all that. You may, however, be wondering what it was that caused me to proclaim that I am ready.

Good question!

Well, I’m ready to be seen. In Zoom land, even. Growing edges and pandemic hair and all. Even encouraging others to try some of the things I’ve learned. It’s worth letting go of the camera phobia!

You see, there’s just no way for me to be me and not try to make a difference in the world because it is such a time. We need the poets, and artists, and musicians.

And I need a nap.

I seem to have spent today’s early hours sorting mental index cards. My Muse insisted. (It might really be time to think about getting her a room of her own!)

Then I cranked up the heat a smidge and sent an email that adds action to yesterday’s proclamation that I am ready. I’ll fill you in as we go along. Let’s just say that empowered images will surely be involved!

We also need the real science scientists, which is just going to have to be somebody else’s job.

We need those who know that imagination and the rule of law are both required for leadership and that they’re not interchangeable.

All of which is way more than I can fix on my own. So, while I’m writing postcards to Georgia voters, I’m also finalizing plans for two webinars and the workshops to follow. From materials lists, which I do understand, to prayer dots, which I depend on, to electronic carts, which I don’t understand in the least (but have friends who do!) I’m ready.

I so hope you’re ready, too!

And don’t forget to ask me what I learned from Meryl Streep Monday night…

ps… the artwork is a glimpse from my Legend-in-Progress painting. For those who are new around here, one of the best things I learned in seminary is that the same Hebrew word means both hand and power!

For a long time now, I’ve had challenges around answers in general and labels in particular. In fact, when we moved back to Atlanta in 1999, and I was beginning my work at the Atlanta Center for Counseling and Development, I needed a business card.

It was hard! My name was complex enough because it was still legally hyphenated in those days. (Talk about a pain!) Then, I needed a title. None of the choices seemed big enough.

Finally, with some help from a talented friend, I just listed a whole bunch of things I did, with variations in font and saturation to break things up. Oh, and a phone number!

One of the things in that list – in fact it may have been the first one – was Questions that make all the difference.

Here they are again! In fact, the one on my mind at the moment was borrowed from Stephen Colbert on Friday night, after a long day in virtual school.

The guest was a guy named Common, of whom I had never heard, probably because they introduced him as a rapper. The conversation with Colbert wandered a bit through a variety of intriguing experiences and awards.

Finally, my new friend was telling a story from his own journey when he asked all of us who were watching about the first song that touched our souls.

I had two immediate answers. Let me say, first, that I know there were other songs in my world before these two, but these are the ones that leaped at the question…

From the time I was 4 or 5, hanging out in a sort of pre-school program in a land without public kindergarten… Puff, the Magic Dragon. Really!

I vividly remember sitting in a circle in a basement-like room with all the lights off while our teacher played a 45 on one of those record players that looked like a typewriter case.

Wow, do I feel old!

We all sang along and I still know all the words!

The second one came from about a year later in an old-fashioned Sunday School assembly, where everybody sang together before going off to individual classes. We were visiting in that church and I didn’t know anybody and had been utterly convinced that I couldn’t/shouldn’t sing.

Then it started. All Things Bright and Beautiful. I sang. And cried. And cried. And sang. And, yes, I still know all the words.

Those songs still touch my soul. And I’d love to know your answers, too!

The surprise in this story, though, is not the songs or my singing. It’s the question, itself.

You see, I’ve been planning a workshop which will start in just a few weeks. And a big part of the process is a similar question about what matters to our souls. And what difference it makes to know. To claim it.

It will be, of course, a virtual workshop that anybody could do from anywhere and you can do from where you are. And there are lots of details to follow.

Soon!

For today, let’s all ponder a dragon named Puff, and open our hearts to the radical notion that our souls are already whispering about what touches them.

We just need to listen! And having some folks to listen with often helps!

Who knows? A dragon just might appear in my Legend painting!

ps… The lovely lady gazing at you today is a bit of What the World Needs Now. And, yes, she’s there for a reason!

pps… If you’d like to be on the first-to-know list for the upcoming workshop and for a whole lot of others jumping up and down in my head, just click on the big photo at the top of the blog and scroll down to leave a comment. Or email me: suesvoice@gmail.com

My sister teaches middle school social studies. Mostly American History. Just between us, she doesn’t sound too sure that it works the same virtually, but she’s doing her part!

The two million year old wise woman who was very busy knitting my dreams together last night seems to be quite comfortable with the whole virtual learning thing. We’ve been doing a lot of that lately! The multitude of emails waiting for me this morning proved that.

You’re about to miss Black Friday at __________________! Fill in the purveyor of whatever of your choice. About 17 of them should give you a start. And one of them was mine!

Now double those emails in number and you’ve got a good grasp on the political stack for the day. Many, many of them things I already handled yesterday! (I live in Georgia!)

Then the heart tuggers. Save the bees. Send food to… Somebody stole my car out of my driveway. Our dog is lost. And the one that never fails to blow my mind: Urgent! Urgent! Four hours ago there was a coyote near the traffic light at…

Meanwhile, my paint sisters are immersed in a conversation about curation. Curating museum shows. (Really!) Curating images. Curating consciousness. That last one is my favorite. My consciousness and – as odd as it sounds – the world’s consciousness. (Well, helping!)

If we get right down to it, curating my consciousness is a better description of what the two million year old wise woman was up to while I was dreaming.

She had a LOT of things to work with! And I spent some time before I “woke” in an odd realm where I was both conscious of the curating going on and sleeping.

Eventually, the outer world summoned me. A chilly house. A very large dog more than suggesting that it was time to go out, partially because he’s realized it’s even chillier out there than it was in here and his “people” are from Newfoundland.

Once I had opened the door, fixed tea, and weeded the email, I could feel bits of a quote rattling around in my head. After a minute or two, I got the quote, itself. Finding the source took a bit of button pushing. And there it was.

The words of author, Kathleen McGowan, placed in the mouth of a main character teaching History to adult college students.

History is not what happened, but what is written down.

Let that sink in for a minute. Think with me, please, about all the things happening in this world right now. And about all the voices clammoring to decide what gets written down.

I mean, think about it! Long, long ago, when the vast majority of literate humans were wealthy men, it was fairly easy to control what got written down. And who got access to it.

Our world is different. You and I have the technology to participate in what gets written down. And, as the Mystic Legend painting coming to life on my easel would remind us, what images get brought to form. (Believe me, they matter at least as much!)

So, in this moment, with my curator’s hat on, I can’t help but ask… What are you bringing to view? What are you writing down? What are you curating in your consciousness?

We are the artists, the authors, the curators of the moment. And those who will come after are counting on us!

ps… Voting is curating, too!