Art Journey – Page 65

Today, I Need Comfort!

Posted on March 11, 2020by sue boardman

You probably have days like this, too! And the details don’t really matter all that much. Huge concerns. The edge of tears. Loss. Anxiety. One rainstorm too many. (Hopefully) random sneezing. The letting go after a worried day.

The sky really isn’t falling, which doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like it is!

So, what helps?

Well, in my case, some time in Zoom-land with a tribe of curious women in touch with their dreams and happy to play with ways to make those dreams into reality.

Which inspired me to make some placement art out of a few of my favorite things. I started with a stockpot, which is considerably more photogenic than the bones thawing in the fridge.

A pitcher of stand-by roses, holding space for the real ones which will one day reappear in the garden.

A white near-candle, safe light in the realm of big, hairy dogs.

A magic paint brush.

My tiny hand-carved wild goose which, courtesy of my friends in Scotland, is a reminder of the presence of the Spirit, even on droopy days.

The beginnings of a new painting for the friend in the midst of some of this week’s worries. Safe and well. (Don’t worry… the colors will change!)

And, if you squint just a bit, my four year old sign of hope, standing tall among the arugula in the garden.

Yes, I’m still all in. Especially after today’s statement. It all boils down to just this… the greatest good for the most people.

Yesterday I did an interview about my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope.

The magic, like some of today’s, happened in Zoom-land with a new friend I’ll introduce you to soon.

Angela and I had a great conversation. And, as we chatted, people were voting.

According to the exit polls, more of them voted out of fear than of hope.

I understand the fear. More, perhaps, every day.

But part of my journey, my promise to my girls and myself, is to keep acting out of hope.

I’ll admit it’s been a bit of a challenge today. So, just in case I need more reminding, I’m off to make some prayer dots. Forty six of them, to be exact.

And, tomorrow?

Paint peeps. Meetings. Dots. Soup. Hope. And room for you.

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers Phoebe and Luther

The Opposite of Writer’s Block

Posted on March 8, 2020by sue boardman

An old preaching professor of mine was fond of saying that, if you couldn’t say it in 12 minutes, it was more than one sermon and you should save some for next week.

Personally, I used to run an average of about 17 or 18 minutes which, while longer than Wade might have liked, was pretty brief compared to lots of preachers.

Blog writing works in similar ways. And today, I suspect Wade would be turning purple. You see, I feel overwhelmed by things jumping up and down to be said. Or, to put it another way, I feel like I’ve been noticing at warp speed.

It seemed to start on Saturday with the dogs which, in my universe, is not all that surprising. Bill and I were headed off to calm my food variety cravings with some really excellent raw oysters. Well, for me, at least.

But first, the beasties needed a brief break out back, lest we return home to flood conditions.

I was on the deck, reveling in the sunshine and encouraging Phoebe to actually go down the steps. (Let’s just say she’ll be glad to see her dear friend the chiropractor on Tuesday!)

Just as she made it all the way down, I noticed the siren in the distance. Phoebe noticed, too. And started howling, as is her habit.

Explaining to her that Newfs are not known for howling has not, thus far, convinced her to stop. And just behind our yard is a very busy road that runs straight to the Perimeter which translates into lots of traffic.

As the ambulance came into view, my lips began to move in an old, old habit from my nursing days, “God go with you.”

Just then, Luther joined in. Head back, nose to the sky, ear-splitting bass howl in counterpoint to Phoebe’s soprano.

It was the first time I’d ever heard him howl! (He didn’t start barking until a few months ago.)

The therapist in me celebrates this wondrous being finding his voice after early years of huge abuse. The urban neighbor with very sensitive hearing in me wishes that voice was a bit less loud and harsh.

The mythical Hounds of the Baskervilles came to mind. And Kenzie’s wolf painting!

And then, much to my surprise, I was flooded with a torrent of all the things in our world that make me want to howl just like that.

And then, in the midst of the torrent, a memory of some words I read just this morning. Words from someone I’ve never met. A guy named Karl Moore, introduced as a guest in the part of my world known as Learning Strategies.

Karl was writing about stories. The kind of stories we tell about ourselves. And the punch line was that we are not our stories. He even went so far as to explain that when those stories hold us back, we can actually loosen our grip on them and let them go. (Stay tuned for more about my version of how!)

And, right on the heels of that thought, another. You see, I’ve signed up for a long distance pet healing session with my Qigong friends.

Some of you are probably laughing. And others of you, shaking your heads. I’m okay with that. You see, Phoebe’s hips are hurting. And I believe — in fact I know — that putting hopeful energy about healing into the world shifts some of the negative stuff that feels so overwhelming.

It’s a lot like making prayer dots. And Physics.

Which brings us to my current Legend painting, also known as Oracle & Ally. In, through, and under what is visible to the observer is a story of my own, almost as deep and powerful as Phoebe and Luther howling, which has needed quite a bit of processing. That part will have to wait for another day.

For today, my version of a treasure I’ve learned from many, many teachers through the years:

Moving toward that which we most desire is far more empowering than resisting that which we fear, for that which we resist persists.

Which, as I think of it, isn’t a bad motto for International Women’s Day! I was delighted to participate in a brunch hosted by Refuge Coffee Co. in near-by Clarkston, GA which exists to serve the global community. Fabulous art and food and new friends, along with an Intentional Creativity sister!

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

We Interrupt this Wednesday…

Posted on March 4, 2020by sue boardman

Yes, it’s Wednesday. Today, that means two things which are different from the usual around here.

One, it’s the Legendary Husband’s birthday!!! Steak for dinner. Favorite tiny chocolate cakes to follow. (The chocolate came yesterday… we still need some cream!)

Two, instead of our customary #WIP Wednesday, which stands for work in progress, I’m declaring this particular day to be world in progress Wednesday. And, yes, I’m still recovering from Super Tuesday!

Since the chilly rain is not conducive to easy movement around here today, I’ve spent a bit of time staring at the painting (above) and doing my prayer knitting thing. As 24 stitches divides by 3 as well as by 4, the prayer that showed up for today is inspired by Anne Lamott and the workshop called Holy Polka Dots which began yesterday.

Chosen. Safe. Loved….

Or, as one of my wise paint sisters posted just now:

These words feel, to me, like a reminder many, many of us could use about now. The rhythm isn’t quite right, though, for knitting and praying, so I’m sticking with

Chosen. Safe. Loved….

The painting, by the way, will be named, What the World Needs Now. This is one of the ones that was something else before, and something else before that, but has finally found her voice sharing love. And, yes, you are seeing lots and lots of prayer dots! (Her face and hair still need some work!)

Don’t get me wrong. I’m working hard for my guy. And I’m definitely going to vote even though I’ll have to vote early in order to be there for the 2nd part of Holy Polka Dots.

Prayer and voting are decidedly NOT mutually exclusive activities!

Especially if you think a notion like Chosen. Safe. Loved…. applies to everybody. And, yes, it took me about three attempts to get “everybody” into that sentence. My inner editor desperately wants to insert something along the lines of “almost”. And I’d let her if it was all about me.

It’s not.

In this moment, though, Phoebe is way more interested in the Canine Fine Dining event so I’ll go do that. It’s nice to be able to make something better right now in the midst of all the waiting for change.

And, no, the 4-footed kids wouldn’t turn you down if you wanted to come feed them, too!

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

If we’re not learning anything…

Posted on March 1, 2020by sue boardman

Tuesday will be day one of the 2020 version of an Intentional Creativity® workshop for Columbia Seminary students. Like last year, our experience will be called Holy Polka Dots.

We will, of course, be deep into the practice of prayer dots.

If it’s anything like last year, this will be a new adventure for some of the brave folks who show up.

It’s a new adventure for me, too. First, I’m in a different place than I was a year ago. I’ve had new experiences and found some new truths. I’ve also made A LOT more dots!!!

I, however, am not the only thing that will be different. There’s been a big change in time, and therefore structure. Instead of about 3 hours on a single day, our current plan is for just over an hour on three different days.

And, if that weren’t complicated enough, there’s no guarantee that the same folks will be there each day.

Hence the voice of my dear friend, Robby Carroll, muttering in my ear.

Robby, who happens to be a Columbia grad from a bit further back in the day, was my teacher and partner in a pastoral counseling practice for a great many wonderful years.

One of my favorite Robby-isms is the certainty, proclaimed with a bit more southern accent than usual, that, “If we’re not learning anything there’s no chance they are!”

I find this especially comforting just now as I am, indeed, learning a lot.

It’s one thing to plan an event around time for paint to dry. It’s another to figure out which very cool bits of philosophy and background and stories need to be left out in order to have time to paint at all!

Between us, I have just started on my here’s one version of where we might be heading canvas for the third time. And, yes, I’m writing while the paint dries!

It reminds me a lot of the days when Saturday nights meant sermon prep. Well, theoretically, Saturday nights were supposed to be sermon polishing but, since we’re being real, sometimes it was more like wrestling with the 17 reasons that what I had planned was not going to work, and coming up with something that might, preferably with the title already printed in the bulletin!

I have a plan. Again. And I’m grateful that prayer dots work just as well when they’re demo dots! My prayer at this moment is that, with abounding grace, this project will come elegantly together, in the sense that elegant means pared down to exactly that which is essential.

For now, the drips which come before the dots are dry and it is time for me to see what comes next.

Probably with some help from my Hallelujah mix on YouTube. (And more than a bit of imagining how I might explain all this for my girls!)

Check back for pictures from day one… Oh, and if you’re of a mind, whisper a prayer that the video fairies will be in a helpful mood!

Art Journey Contemplations Food Grandmothers

Traditions, Old & New

Posted on February 26, 2020by sue boardman

Today is, for many of us, Ash Wednesday. Depending on your particular tradition, it might mean anything from the day to recover from Mardi Gras, to a day of fasting (Possibly following Shrove Tuesday pancakes last night!) to solemn church services, marked with something I wouldn’t personally have named imposition of ashes on the first day of the Lenten season.

Frankly, these were not traditions I was raised with in what used to be the old Southern Presbyterian Church. And, for many years, now, Ash Wednesday has reminded me of sugar bowls.

I can see the question marks sprouting over your head! It happened like this.

There I was, in the first church I served, in a tiny southern town, when Ash Wednesday rolled around for the first time. My immediate question had to do with where the ashes came from. Historically, the answer is that they come from the palm fronds from the prior year’s Palm Sunday service which were carefully saved, dried, and burned to make, well, ashes.

All interesting in theory, but what if your current church hadn’t observed Palm Sunday last year???

Answer: a sandwich bag full of ashes from the fireplace of my colleague in ministry who served the “big” church up town.

Next problem: What to put the ashes in for the service?

For this I turned to the source of all liturgical answers, the Cokesbury catalog. There the answer was something called an ash pyx which they were oh, so happy to sell me and deliver.

You guessed it. Lots of money! And a glimmer of inspiration. You see, the ash pyx in the catalog looked surprisingly like the silver plated sugar bowl in a tea set I won once upon a time at a dog show.

Problem solved! Somehow, we made it through the service and all the “Why?” questions that went with it.

Frankly, I still have a few “Why?” questions about the season of Lent which involves the weeks prior to Easter.

The oldest traditions are all about sacrifice and denial. Put most simply, one gives something up during Lent as a remembrance of the sacrifice Jesus made.

Lately, though, I’ve come to think of Lent as a time to add something to life. Something that allows us to live more fully in love and joy, which is, I suspect, more what Jesus had in mind.

One of my favorite examples came to me in the words of the wildly wondrous artist and author, Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, known to many, many of us as SARK, who talks about radical self care.

The details of such a spirit of care would, undoubtedly, be different for each of us. I began today with a bunch of fasting (!) lab work and a curious procedure known as a ginger compress designed to encourage my adrenal glands to do their jobs a bit better.

And, no, they didn’t cover that when I was in nursing school!

Depending on your tradition and how you learned to count such things, there are 39 more days of Lent, plus Sundays, which are designated Feast Days.

My plan, as you probably guessed, is, indeed, radical self care. (Thanks, Susan!)

More attention to rest. A firm intention to paint every day. Really! Even knowing that some of those days will probably be 3 prayer dots. Creating. And healing food.

Some of it really good chocolate. And the chicken, sustainably raised on local pastures, who followed me home from Pine Street Market.

This coming Friday has been designated roast chicken night at our house. (I’ll admit to designs on a big pot of broth to follow!)

And, just in case radical self care sounds like a plan to you, I’d love to hear how it goes. For starters, click here for my perfect roast chicken recipe. (It’s kind of got a Lent thing going for it!)

Enjoy! (More about the photo as my workshop, Holy Polka Dots, comes to life. Teaser… Anne Lamott will be involved!)

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

Don’t Try This At Home!

Posted on February 23, 2020by sue boardman

You, being both brilliant and compassionate, would never let your 4-footed friend do this! In addition to being tons of fun for dogs, it’s dangerous. (Feel free to email me if you need more information.)

For now, though, just let yourself concentrate on what this might feel like. It’s always reminded me of my very limited experience riding a roller coaster. Exhilarating, to be sure. Also pretty much guaranteed to remind you of a whole lot coming at you, very quickly.

I used to feel just like my canine buddy when I was sitting in a seminary classroom with the amazingly intense biblical scholar, Walter Brueggemann, on a roll. One specific day I remember feeling exactly like this was during a class on Imagination. Ears – well, hair – flying everywhere. Huge grin on my face. And tears in my eyes.

For now, though, let’s go with learning a whole lot of great stuff, at what feels like at least 65 miles an hour. That’s kind of where I am at the moment.

It’s not so much the new perspectives I’m immersed in, though they’re huge.

Instead, it’s more the sensation of the new connections going on inside my heart-brain.

My Legend painting is in a bit of an awkward phase just now and declined to pose for this post. She did give me permission to tell you that, after considerable pondering, she has chosen a title. Tending the Hearth of the World. I’m supposed to say that this will be clearer after a few more days of painting. Probably by Wednesday!

Then there’s the whole notion of something called MetaCognitive Drawing as a tool for massive growth and change work.

The simplest explanation is thinking about thinking while moving a pen. The color is up to you! And you can count on more stories about the magical outcome of such drawings in the weeks to come…

For the moment, though, let’s talk about bridges.

Bridges between a perceived present state and a desired future state. Or, to boil it down, between what feels hard in the moment and what would be better in the future if it didn’t feel hard anymore.

It’s as if some very wise part of us already knows that, if we can find the bridge, we can make the journey to a more spacious sense of life.

I’ve been drawing bridges lately. But, rather like my Legend painting, they’re feeling a bit new and tender for being published just yet.

For today, I have a bridge photo.

That’s me. And that’s Shiloh Sophia McCloud, next to me, on the very first day I met her in person, on my very first day in Italy. In retrospect, that bridge we’re standing on feels prophetic to me because Shiloh is, among a great many other magical things, “coincidentally” the leader of the MetaCognitive Drawing band.

And, not so very far away from that bridge is the courtyard in which Michelangelo carved his magnificent David. I am utterly awed by his work.

I’m even more awed by a quote attributed to the sculptor…

I am still learning.

Even when our ears are blowing in the wind and our eyes are filled with tears. Or, perhaps, especially!

And one of the things I’m learning is that drawing can be a powerful bridge between the present and our desired future.

So be it for me and for you and, at least to the extent that I get to choose, for all the world. We’ll play, soon!

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

My Piece of…

Posted on February 19, 2020by sue boardman

One of the true things for today is that, when you can’t quite tell if the stuff on your nails is paint or chocolate, it’s been a pretty good day!

Hint… if it washes off the first time, it’s chocolate. If it takes a bit more effort, it’s likely to be paint from something like my Work-in-Progress Legend painting. Here’s part of what’s happening…

And, yes, the former surgical nurse still lives inside me, so you can bet that I’ve washed those hands about 20 times!

Which reminds me of another good thing. An online seminar from my friend, Paul Scheele at Learning Strategies, about – wait for it – helping people learn HOW to learn. Imagine that! Today was only day one. I suspect there will be more to share.

For now, here’s another thing that’s true.

Even when it’s been a day with lots of good things going on, life can feel a bit snarly and knotted up.

One of the times that happens for me, especially lately, is when I get really, really brave and open my email.

Yes, there are things in there that I want and need to know about or deal with.

There are also about a zillion things I don’t need or want to know about. There are even occasionally some things in my junk mail that the Committee on Ministry would probably prefer I didn’t know about!

I’ve gotten really proficient at deleting and unsubscribing. Also just plain old ignoring. I’ll bet you have, too.

The problem occurs when there are things I care deeply about but can’t change all by myself. This moment in history seems to be even more full of those than usual.

Requests to sign petitions and contact legislators on issues with the power to change the future for many, many people.

Voting polls.

Pleas for donations.

Even very enticing offers for things that require tough choices… I don’t think any of us can have or do them all! (Okay, at least I can’t!)

Every now and then I’m tempted to just not engage, as in not even opening the email. It’s not a great strategy, though, for any sense of doing some good in the world.

A sorting strategy of some type is essential. Mine goes a bit like this:

Is this a personal message from someone I know?
Is it an Intentional Creativity® thing?
Is it information I’ve requested, like details on some new shoes that might just make it easier to teach on concrete floors for 5 or 6 hours at a time?
Is it from Newf Rescue?
Is it from Bernie Sanders?
Is it about one of my top 3 human issues?

You get the drift. Sadly, there are lots of days when even that kind of sorting strategy leaves me with more than I can deal with. That’s when I pick up the yarn!

Specifically, the red yarn. If you’ve been hanging around for a while, or noticed the photo, you probably suspect that the Red Thread Legend is nearby!

Indeed, it’s always nearby for me. Not only the part about the mythical red thread that connects us, one to the other, with people we know and people we don’t know and people who are likely to be important in our lives, but the part that reminds us that we are only called to hold our piece of the red thread.

I think that’s because, since the time women first started telling stories, we’ve known that none of us can do it all alone. And the gift of accepting that reality is that we are then free to do what we can.

Maybe you remember, like I do, coming home from school, or perhaps Girl Scouts, with a snarly, knotted wad of yarn and directions to return it to school all untangled and neatly rolled into a ball for some project or other.

Just between us, it was usually my mom who wound up making the magic that seemed so hard for my little fingers and age-appropriately short attention span.

These days I make a lot of that kind of magic. The girls and I made some together at Christmas. It’s important if you have prayer scarves or shawls to knit. Or hats or socks or baby blankets. It’s really hard to make things out of snarly, knotted wads of anything.

The bonus is that, once it’s unknotted, we actually can find and claim our own pieces.

And, yes, it works for email. Even snail mail. And politics. And relationships. Especially when we’re all doing it together.

What feels like your piece of the red thread? I’d love to hear!

ps. Here’s a bonus #WIP. She’s headed to Wild Oats & Billy Goats. Having a blast with the edges!!!