The Wisdom of Pooh

The other day, I was chatting with an old friend about the challenges of our childhoods.

About the stories we learned from well-meaning parents in a world new to parenting manuals.

And about how ingrained those stories can become in young children who conclude, without benefit of abstract thought, that pleasing the tall people keeps them from starving and makes the sun come up in the morning.

And ultimately about how, 40 or 50 or 60 years later, some of those stories about self and life may not be working too well.

Somewhere during that conversation, a thought popped into my mind, rather like the missing piece of a puzzle.

Many of us were raised to survive, but not necessarily to thrive.

It makes sense, when you think about it.

We were raised by people who lived through or grew up in the aftermath of the Depression and World War II.

Surviving was a strategy they had to depend on.

And, because they loved us, they passed it on, often not as one possible strategy available to us but as the only strategy.

The difference between surviving and thriving is rather like the difference between living out of scarcity or living out of abundance.

I’m about to wander out to the center of the pond where the ice is thin and suggest that the struggle between the worldviews of surviving -vs- thriving, between scarcity -vs- abundance, may well be one of the biggest challenges in our society at this time.

If you’re still reading…and at all like me…you’re probably wondering how we raise our kids and grandkids and great grandkids and students and even ourselves in the inherent abundance of thriving.

Winnie the Pooh and I have some ideas about that!

Don’t just practice believing that you’re braver, stronger, smarter and loved more than you know… believe that they are, too!

Value them for who they are.

Believe passionately in their capability.

Don’t rescue them from opportunities to learn.

Encourage curiosity. (This means resisting the temptation to solve all their problems and tell them all the answers. All your answers.)

Model What might happen if… exploring.

Invest more in art supplies than “devices”.

Value process, and learning, over outcome.

And, insofar as possible, offer the same grace to yourself!

I hear you. None of these strategies are nearly as efficient as directing and expecting, but we’re talking about our beloveds. The dearest people in our world. Including ourselves!

So, if you’ll hang in there for one more thought, while we’re out in the middle of the pond where the ice is thin, and with apologies to all my clergy and therapist friends, let’s listen for a moment to some words from Carl Jung, via a brilliant author named Gregg Levoy,  which I am only beginning to comprehend…

 …people rarely integrate anything told to them by others…even those they pay dearly for their advice. “It is the things given them by their own unconscious that make a lasting impression.”

Now, on the off-chance that Uncle Carl was right, the way we move from surviving to thriving, from scarcity to abundance, is to engage experiences that counter our old, limiting beliefs, whether we’re six or sixty!

Look on the faces of the people with whom you share this world and experiment with believing this…29314237_1788187544820505_9185891725573357568_o

 

And, just in case you’re up for more… check out Gregg Levoy’s fabulous book, Callings… Finding and Following an Authentic Life.

Or maybe even my Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope !

Let me know how it goes!

 

 

 

 

 

A Day for Action

Yesterday a visiting friend requested a tour of the garden.

That’s kind of funny when you realize that there’s nothing much to see yet this year, at least to the casual observer.

The buds on the grape vines are still almost invisible. The fledgling greens in the raised beds are still to small to peer over the edges.

The asparagus is still working its way toward actual production.

I ate the dandelion leaves for dinner.

The plant that joined us as a gift from a friend, which I know as an Egyptian walking onion is, frankly, the only really assertive sign of edible life.

I know, though, that there’s some volunteer cilantro and parsley off in one corner.

There’s one small-ish rose amidst a huge hedge of bushes.

And, in a sure sign of spring, there are fiddleheads, standing there bravely on a day that’s still more than a bit chilly.

Standing for what will be but isn’t quite yet.

They remind me of the students standing up across America today. Walking out of class for 17 minutes in symbolic memory of the victims of the school shooting at Marjory Stonemason Douglas high school in Florida, one month ago today.

Standing up for effective gun safety regulation in the nation where far too many of them will not live to become adults.

Standing up in the nation where taking a stand, where speaking out, feels increasingly dangerous.

I’ve spent much of today praying and wondering what else I could do to help.

The first thing that I thought of was the fact that I can vote. And I do.

I can also speak out. Even though somebody, somewhere will read this and decide they don’t want to hang out here anymore.

The third thing that I remembered is, perhaps, even more important.

I can be one of those five people and help others to learn to do that as well.

If you’re a more recent friend in this conversation you may be wondering exactly which five people.

Years and years ago I listened to a brilliant psychologist named H. Stephen Glenn explain to an auditorium full of people who cared about kids that if a teenaged child has five adults who will listen to them, take them seriously, and not shame or blame them for their questions, that child is practically immune from ever attempting suicide.

I decided, then and there, that I wanted to be one of those five people.

It seemed like a pretty big job back then.

It seems even bigger now, especially since I have granddaughters growing up in this world.

And, while this is certainly a matter of perspective, the world feels even more complicated than it did back then.

I suspect, if he was still with us in this world, Steve would agree that having those five people is also a good start toward minimizing bullying and aggression in children who mostly just want to matter.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that all their behavior is acceptable.

It just means that the child and the behavior are separate and we can love the one while not tolerating the other.

And so, we listen to our kids. Take them seriously. Remind ourselves, as many times as it takes, that questioning everything is how they learn.

We model, and reinforce, kindness and confidence.

Some of us didn’t get enough of that ourselves and we may be wondering what it feels like and how to do that with others. You can read more about it in my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope.

And you can ponder the words of songwriter, Jim Morgan, who climbed up a mountain in North Carolina with a bunch of us one week and taught us a song called Alright By Me. 

The chorus, imagined in the voice of God, goes like this:

Ooo, child don’t you walk away telling me its nothing at all when I can see those tears swimming in your eyes, sayin’ your self-confidence has had a great fall. It’s just natural to want to hide when you’re feelin’ that you just don’t belong. Why don’t you crawl up here and sit by my side ’cause when you’re sad I want to sing you this song. ‘Cause you’re alright, you’re alright, you’re alright, you’re just as fine as you can be. And you can stay right here as long as you like ’cause you’re alright by me.

Maybe Jim knew Steve, too!

Now you know them both. And maybe you’ll join all those brave kids, their parents and teachers, the fiddleheads, and me, standing up for what will be but isn’t quite yet.

It’s time to call together circles of those who will speak.

 

 

 

 

 

A Research Morning

My eyes tell me that it’s a dreary Sunday morning in Atlanta.

The big dogs, having dripped all over the floor, are curled in their beds, snoring gently, perhaps missing that hour of lost sleep.

I, personally, am missing more than one hour of lost sleep!

Once again, my painting dragged me from my cozy nest of flannel sheets and colorful quilts, insisting that we solve the latest batch of challenges at the easel.

As my brain doesn’t generate visual images so much as it recognizes them when I stumble over them externally, it’s been a research morning for me.

Complete with a mug of hot water with lemon and the comforting scent of bone broth bubbling on the stove.

In the midst of my research, I stumbled over the TED talk video you’ll find below and I just had to share it with you.

Many of you won’t watch. That’s ok.

Some of you will. Perhaps you who are open to newness!

(Due to some techy mystery I cannot solve, just click the pretty colored word “Video” below and you will be magically transported!)

My eyes tell me that it’s a dreary Sunday morning in Atlanta.

My heart tells me that it’s a hopeful morning for a world that needs the re-creation of water.

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Video

And, just in case you know a few other folks who might relate to the video, please scatter it like seeds in a damp and hungry garden. You can just share the blog post…

 

There’s a cardinal shaking rain from his wings in my garden just now!

For more information on the featured TED speaker, click here!

Cinnamon Toast & Soft-boiled Eggs

Yes. You guessed it.

I’m coming down with what appears to be a nasty cold.

Of the many things on my list for today, this was not one!

I stayed curled under my favorite quilts, soaking up the morning sun streaming through my window for as long as the dogs could be cajoled into the bizarre notion of quiet time.

Then, having herded everybody out back, I went on to my morning ritual of hot water with lemon.

Complicated by the fact that the water pressure was oddly low.

A moment for email later, I was in the know.

There’s been a large water main break in our county and it seems that “low” water pressure is the best we can hope for until further notice.

This resulted in a whole lot of gathering bottled water from all the places I stash it lest the water actually go out and I have to explain to the beasties that their bowl is, indeed, empty.

Consulting my calendar, I’ve made appropriate adjustments, delighted that none of my online events for today involve video calls!

The dog food is thawing which will be a relief to all concerned.

Clad in my favorite sick/paint clothes, I’ve started my ritual of wholistic plague avoidance techniques and am curled in my chair, red-nosed and snuffly, with a thermos of just boiled water and my tea cup at my side.

I’m kind of surprised to realize that I’m longing for cinnamon toast and a soft-boiled egg. My mother’s version of make-it-better food.

We have no bread. Or, for that matter, sugar.

And boiling eggs is more complicated than usual today.

Fortunately, there is soup in the fridge, which will actually make things better, sooner. Especially if I add a bit more garlic and onions!

Fortunately, Bill bought tissues last week!

For now, I’m reminding myself that, as global water problems go, this is a very minor one.

I’m about ready for prayer dots on my current painting in progress. Seems like a good day to remember the Earth and all those who struggle without clean water. We could probably also use a few (ok-many!) dots for wisdom and a perspective of world community.

Comfort and blessings to you and yours,

Sue, Sarah, Phoebe, and Luther

PS – I could make egg drop soup!

 

 

 

 

 

Birthday Feasts!

Today is Bill’s birthday. He decided to skip celebrations involving dessert until the girls are here for Spring Break.

They are excellent bakers!

The choice for this day… pork products.

For brunch, a spring time tradition at our house.

Fresh roasted asparagus, local sustainably raised eggs, and “paleo” bacon, new from our friends at Pine Street Market.

Paleo bacon is pork belly cured with salt and pepper, without sugar.

An excellent thing for many reasons!

We oven roast it in a cast iron skillet (just like traditional bacon) at 400 F. for about 25 minutes, adjusting a bit as desired for crispiness.

The asparagus, tossed with olive oil and S&P, also roasts at 400 F. We like it rare… about 8 minutes.

Fry your lovely eggs in the bacon skillet.

A smidge of grated lemon rind is a delightful addition.

For dinner, one of his favorites. Sausage and peppers.

We’ll brown a rosemary scented sausage (Thanks, again, Pine Street!) in an iron skillet and finish it in the oven.

Served with organic sautéed orange bell peppers and onions, over a bed of baby arugula, it’s an easy celebration feast.

And it all supports clean local food and the friends who bring it to our table.

It doesn’t get much better than that.

In the meantime, the asparagus is taking hold in our garden.

I saw the first bee of the season yesterday.

My baby basil plant has recovered from a bit of a chill night before last and is looking forward to hanging on the deck in the sun for at least a couple of days until it gets too chilly again.

I’m plotting my next vat of bone broth. To go with our theme, probably pork.

Not for the faint of heart chef, it’s my go-to choice for so many soups we love.

Though we did get some calves’ feet in the delivery from White Oak Pastures last week which make beef broth even better…

Bone broth is, perhaps, a rather strange creative outlet but it makes me happy.

With the right ingredients, it’s over the top healthy as well as good for the budget, the local economy, and the planet.

For this moment, though, Bill’s birthday.

And time to start cleaning up the basement.

Spring break comes soon!

 

 

Tending the Drips

Have you ever noticed that when you become involved in a new group, a new world view, even a new family, there’s a whole lot of new insider language to learn?

One of my favorite examples comes from my own family.

My dad used to get dressed in his oddly colored terry cloth shorts and his sandals and pick up his car keys to head out on some mysterious weekend mission.

Experience had led my mother to ask questions.

We’re talking about a man who famously headed to the garden center to buy grass seed one day and came home with a new car!

After a few years of practice, they had their routine down pat. Daddy would pick up the car keys. Mom would raise one eyebrow in that ominous way I’ve never quite been able to accomplish.

Daddy would calmly comment, “Out. Later. Nothing.”

Even now that they’ve gone on, we’re still known to do the “Out. Later. Nothing.” routine upon occasion and we all understand perfectly!

Today, I learned a new one.

I was watching the last videos for my Legend class in Intentional Creativity. We were working on the final few layers of glaze.

(If there is such a thing as “final” layers of glaze…)

Demonstrating a technique that involves a big brush, a thin layer of paint, and a squirt bottle full of water, our fearless leader soon had a downpour of reddish drips cascading onto the face of a very large cat near the top of her painting.

Not to worry!

Just grab the nearest ancient t-shirt and, tend the drips.

It was really amazing to watch.

Tilting. Patting. Wiping.

Allowing the drips to be where they worked.

Discouraging them where they didn’t.

It went on for quite a while.

Long enough for me to realize that a lot of life is tending the drips.

Tiny acts, over and over again, all designed to bring things closer to the way we hope they will be.

Or, perhaps, closer to the way they hope they will be!

This is a powerful metaphor for someone who lives with three Newfoundland dogs!

Sarah is what’s known to insiders as “dry mouthed.”

Phoebe and Luther are not!

Hence the spit rags strategically placed near doors and chairs.

Along with lessons for guests.

Because sometimes we have more drips than we need. (Ok. Often!)

We also have towels all over the floors on wet, muddy days like today.

Luther hasn’t quite gotten on board with the more traditional paw drying rub down method. And so, we tend the drips.

If you don’t relate to huge, slobbery dogs, think of teething infants.

Or, in some senses, skimming soup pots.

Painting offers a lot of new things for the previously uninitiated to learn.

Keeping the glow. Scrubby brushes. 

How to buy paint.

Assembling easels.

I’m reasonably certain there are about to be a whole lot more things to learn.

It’s a challenge!

Today, though, I found one I understood.

Tending the drips.

As a life skill, it really kind of works when you give it a minute.

 

 

Just one word.

I’ve been in a bit of a reflective mood lately.

Mostly writing and art projects.

Missing wandering kids.

Oh, and maybe Henry’s new glasses!

One of my writing friends posted a prompt inquiring about the “soundtracks” of our lives.

It’s kind of a timely question for me as I find myself fishing through stashes of old CD’s for atmosphere and inspiration while I paint.

I seem to be leaning in the direction of ’60’s folk music of the summer camp sort.

Along with some soft rock classics.

A fair number of instrumental, meditative selections.

And a smattering of chant music. Mostly Chinese/Tibetan and Gregorian.

I wouldn’t blame you if you were wondering where the common thread might be.

I wondered a while, myself.

And then it came to me. Intention. 

I’m listening to what I want people see or hear or taste when they look at my art or read my words or eat my soup.

Love. Peace. Hope.

And yes, I sing along.

Some of you who know me really well will suspect that it might be better if I didn’t.

Occasionally the dogs might agree!

There’s a fancy neurological explanation for why singing is such a powerful experience. Simplistically, it has to do with building connections between our right and left brains and even altering our emotional states.

Also, according to my hypnosis guru, it can actually help us get un-stuck from some of our old, ineffective stories, especially if we are moving as we sing. Marching in circles is the classic option.

Dancing works.

Making big, loopy swirls with paint seems to work, too. If you’re up for a real adventure, try both hands at once! (Brushes optional.)

I am continually awed by the complexity of being human. And the opportunities!

Come join the party!

Here are a few of my “current” favorites. Pull up a chair and sit a spell.

https://youtu.be/uZAsfB1Np-8

https://youtu.be/cTBx-hHf4BE

https://youtu.be/QhnPVP23rzo