“Raised Right” is STILL not enough!

Yes, I’ve told a piece of this story before, because some stories are important enough to come around again and again… and they often bring different messages in different moments!

Once upon a Sunday morning, quite some time ago, 11:00 arrived as it almost always does, and it was my turn to preach. There were a few challenges, that particular day.

It was a Sunday in October. A Sunday for which the Lectionary (a complicated calendar of which scripture passages are “for” which day) was utterly unprepared!

You see, in addition to it being the whichever Sunday in Ordinary Time, it was also Stewardship Sunday in our congregation, on Pink Ribbon Sunday for breast cancer awareness, in National Domestic Violence Awareness month.

Yep! Money, sex (well some people think so) and power all cued up for Sunday morning.

Three things you learned, if you were raised right in the time and places I was, not to talk about!

But I did. Because I couldn’t have lived with myself or faced the Creator of my understanding if I hadn’t. I mean, real people – struggling with those things – were sitting in our pews and not talking about those things wasn’t going to help anything get different!

This time feels just like that, somewhere deep in my raised right heart, which has learned a whole lot of new things in the last few years.

One of those new things I’ve learned is just how much politics is tied up with things like breast cancer research and treatment. And with things like domestic violence laws and enforcement… or not.

And then there’s the whole issue of who is real-enough to have civil and human rights. Today. In America.

It’s a really, really big issue and we’re not going to get it solved here, just now.

Earlier today, though, I listened to a recording of one of my Sister/Mentor/Teachers talking about these issues as they impact women and girls. I was scribbling pretty fast but this the center of what I heard:

Sisters… it is not our job to prove our worthiness but to CLAIM it! (Elayne Kalila Doughty)

I would add that it’s our job to protect our worthiness – our status as intentionally created humans – for ourselves and our sisters and all those who will come after us.

And, yes, politics is another of those things many of us raised right folks were taught not to talk about.

I’m not sure it ever worked. It certainly isn’t working now!

There was another thing Elayne reminded me of today. In modern/post-modern times, it’s only been about 100 years that women could vote and have resources in their own names and run for office and make their voices heard. And fewer years than that, in many cases, for people of color.

And maybe – just maybe – all the current political chaos is a planned effort on the part of way too many rich, powerful men to take away those rights and powers in order to protect their own agendas.

So, here’s my idea… let’s learn some of the tales of women who were wise world leaders in the old days. Back when raised right meant defending their families and homes and beliefs. Back when raised right meant learning and teaching and participating in world-changing events. Back when raised right women named Garsinde and Joan and Jacquetta and Boudicca and Mathilda and many, many Marys claimed their worthiness and changed the world for all of us.

And, then… let us, too, claim our worth and speak and lead and heal. And so it is. Here’s a glimpse of what that claiming looks like on my easel. Squint for today… she’ll be clearer soon!

ps… the top painting is deep under-layers of what became, about a year later, Grandmother Moon! And, it volunteered to step up and become a mug, bringing the colors of pink and purple ribbons for hope and – if you squint just a bit – a rainbow! Grandmother Moon insisted on a special offer – just for you and those you love – during the month of October!

pps… wondering what YOUR piece of speaking and leading and healing looks like? Here’s a fast, free, fun way to get more clarity!

Coming home to ourselves…

Hurricane Ian has torn a ragged path through Florida. Through the part that still lives in the box in my head labeled Home!

I am hugely grateful that my dear ones are safe. Shaken. But safe.

So many are not.

There was a woman on the news, blaming herself for how scared she had been. The primary caregiver for her paralyzed husband, unable to leave, she recounted strapping him to his bed and cushioning him with pillows for protection.

Then, as she told the story, she sheltered – terrified – under a table, unable to both comfort him and protect herself, so that she could continue to care for him. She shamed and blamed herself on national TV. And they both survived.

I wondered, as I watched and wept, how many times we do that to ourselves, with or without prompting from a hurricane.

How do we come home to ourselves, with or without a literal hurricane, and pick up our lives with new visions?

Here’s the place I’m starting in the figurative, largely chosen, path of the storms of my own journey. The journey represented by a painting called Legend.

No matter how many stories I’ve collected, how many diplomas I’ve earned, how many books I’ve read – and written – I can’t actually carry a Medicine Basket with everything in it. It’s time for some sorting and releasing.

And that’s okay. In fact, it’s a blessing. It’s a lot like packing for a trip and choosing to take along what works now. For YOU.

I won’t bore you with the leaving behind bit. Let’s just say that, for me at least, it’s lots of other people’s rules for other times and contexts. Also, lots of meetings about the way things ought to be.

Instead, along with my SuperPowers, I’m filling my Medicine Basket and calendar with space! Space for creating. For discovering. For helping others – just like you – along their journeys. For Love.

There are a couple of new vocabulary words in the basket. And a bunch of new symbols. And some ancestors who feel like they’re walking with me. They’re mostly in charge of helping to carry the courage, for I hear John Denver singing in my ear….

Coming home to a place I’ve never been before…

And, frankly, I have no idea what’s around the next curve! What I do know is that my calling is to put one foot in front of the other – in my own way – noticing and wondering and learning as I go. And being okay with the mystery!

My Medicine Basket is ready. And so am I!!!

ps… relating to the mystery bit? I hear you! And sometimes different questions – ones you haven’t encountered in just the same way and time – can help! HERE ARE SOME, JUST FOR YOU!

pps… Daphne has signed on for the journey, too! Bears are very good at the kind of courage which replenishes us with power. She’s slipped some energy for healing wounds and making travelers whole again into the Medicine Basket!

A story for a “holiday” we shouldn’t need…

Trigger alert.

This is me, dear friends, about to say a bunch of things I absolutely wish didn’t need to be said. But, they do.

In the wee small hours of Monday morning, when Grandmother Moon‘s mini-me was enjoying her perch next to the “other” bed, and whispering in my ear, I began to dream a fairy tale of sorts in my head.

Well, maybe not so much a fairy tale as a teaching metaphor in language a learner might have space for in their story-mind.

We may, or may not, get to the actual story-telling bit in a few minutes. For now, the Duh! moment I discovered when I made it to the land of tea and magic chair a couple hours later.

It seems that today – September 28th – has been designated by the Women’s Global Network for Reproductive Rights as an international day of observance.

Originally, the day was created to observe the Law of Free Birth which was passed on September 28, 1871 and intended, by the Brazillian Parliament to provide freedom for children of enslaved people of Brazil.

In 2015, the day’s name was changed to International Safe Abortion Day. In the years since 2015, people in nations like Argentina, Malta, El Salvador, Chile, and Mexico have marched and rallied for abortion rights.

Today, in the USA, Conservative GOP candidates are framing overturning Roe – v – Wade, and even possible limiting of access to contraception, as an issue of faith. “Christian” faith.

More Progressive candidates are insisting that abortion and reproductive health care choices of all kinds are issues of civil and human rights. Of bodily sovereignty.

I am a Grandmother who hopes deeply that neither of my girls are ever facing an abortion decision.

I am also a former surgical nurse who has assisted in abortions for a variety of medical and personal reasons, the deliveries of dead fetuses to heartbroken mothers, and C-sections on terrified teenagers. Trust me when I tell you that none of those people were ready to be where they were. And none of it would have been better if criminal prosecution had been part of those traumas.

I’m tired, now, and sad, and angry so I’m going to take a break and see what tomorrow brings and what my fledgling fairy tale decides. I have told enough of my truth – I hope – to sleep.

And then there was darkness, and dreams. And light. So…

Strange Things About Fish & Politics

Once upon a time, there were two goldfish. Their names were Robby and Walter! Robby was orange with long wavy fins and Walter was black and had big, bulgy eyes.

Robby and Walter lived in a lovely aquarium. They swam – usually in circles – and watching  them was a bit like meditating for me.

Here’s the odd thing about goldfish. They can be many, many different sizes, but they only grow big enough to fit in the place where they live! So, a pet goldfish who lives in a small bowl will stay very small and cramped, while that fish’s cousin, who lives in a big aquarium – or even a koi pond – will grow bigger and more fully what they were created to be!

Here’s another story about a fish, with a much harder name to say… ICHTHYS.

Ichthys is a funny word which has meant different things to different people throughout history. Today, it is commonly used as a symbol for Jesus… like the little silver fish you may have seen on the backs of people’s cars.

If you think of each letter in the word as an initial for a Greek word, it can be understood as meaning Jesus Christ Son of God Savior. It used to be a bit like a secret code and is now often more used as a trademark… like, you know, an apple with a bite out of it. Or FOX.

Some people, trying to control the world like big scary sharks, want to tell the rest of us what to think and what we can choose. Often, these days, those people say that the things they want are the things Jesus wants.

Some of them are just confused. Many, many of the loudest of them are wrong!

What they’re really trying to do is to keep Jesus very small – like a goldfish in a tiny bowl – so that people won’t pay attention to what Jesus really said, which is, basically, that our Divine Parents created and love us all – like all the kinds of fish – and want us to have what we need. Because we all matter in this world.

Now, this story, like so many of its kind, needs a message at the end. A simple sort of message. One that’s easy to share. So here it is:

Beware listening to those who want to trap Jesus in their tiny fishbowl!

ps…instead of asking you to wander around FierceArtWithHeart and buy something empowering, I’m hoping you’ll donate whatever you can manage to candidates and causes, where you are, that support real civil and human rights. It’s going to take a lot of us!

Okay… this might sound a wee bit nutty!

Sometimes I sound a wee bit nutty to me, too!

Like an inner conversation from a couple of nights ago. We’ll get back to this!

First, an announcement… the Legendary Husband and I have survived our saga with the perils of quarantine and – you know – tests.

We were really lucky with our post-Dragon Con adventure. And I say that being hugely aware that millions upon millions of people and families in the global neighborhood were not.

I have a long personal relationship with pneumonia and am grateful that, for us, with all the avoidance measures observed, this was way less a deal that that.

There were some things that were decidedly sub-optimal.

Food was one of those. The whole germ thing in overdrive…

Sleeping was another. Two rooms. Two beds. Not at all a welcome change.

The combined sick-sleepy bit with the not-sleeping-well-alone bit was, well, not good!

A couple of nights ago, I was feeling better enough to realize that part of the reason I wasn’t sleeping well had to do with some really un-helpful dreams.

Then it hit me!

I was the one sleeping in the other place and that meant that the enormous painting affectionately known as Grandmother Moon was not hanging on the wall beside me, whispering dreams of the helpful sort, as she almost always does.

I flirted with the notion of moving her but we’re talking a 48×60 inch canvas!

(Insert muttering and swearing here!)

I did a couple choruses of It’s really no big deal. Other people have much bigger challenges. Get over it! before I realized that I was discounting my feelings and needs, and we don’t believe in that.

Then, I realized that Grandmother Moon has a mini-me. A couple hundred of them, actually. So I picked my secret fave from the postcard box and leaned it up against the lamp beside the bed.

And, yes… it helped! A lot!!!

Not the postcard, itself, of course, but the intention behind placing it where I did.

The helpful dreams began again, along with actual sleeping between the dreams.

This was hugely handy because I’m deep into finishing the creation of my Red Thread Guide Portfolio which got a bit delayed by the whole viral not-thinking thing.

And that got me wondering about you!

What are YOU intending at this point on your journey???

And how might you externalize & represent that intention so that it can help inspire you along the way?

It’s a bit like getting a tattoo!

At least I suspect it is. I don’t have any of the usual kind. I have heavy metal toxicity, instead, and am not personally in favor of adding to those issues with ink.

And, still, I am – occasionally – tempted!

Enter my friends at Conscious Ink! Yep… temporary, non-toxic tats!

This is a timely thought for me as I’m also planning my self-initiation ritual for Red Thread graduation and I actually bought some Conscious Ink a while back. A bit of excavating produced this:

I’m thinking inside of my right wrist. The left is well upholstered in red thread!

A little reminder that we can is almost always a good thing! And I’m so hoping you’ll join me in a bit of intending and representing in whatever way feels right for you.

For this moment, I’m remembering victims and survivors of recent hurricanes in my prayers – and projected ones, too! – and holding intention for the healing of our planet… May the red thread tortoise bring wisdom, safety, healing, longevity, and protection, as her kind are held to do!

ps… if, as the season changes, you are having thoughts about new learning for new journeys and would like some company on the path, take a deep breath and click here… We’ve got this!

pps… Grandmother Moon is eager to welcome you to FierceArtWithHeart where there are all manner of goodies eager to help you externalize and represent YOUR intentions. Great gifts abound! If you need something a bit more personal, email me at suesvoice@gmail.com Commissioned painting and custom print requests are welcome!

Standing between the worlds…

Or, what happens when Grandmother Moon skips the news!

I woke as the sun rose with this blog post all hatched in my head.

During my first cup of tea, I wore out a couple of index cards with notes. Here’s a glimpse…

  • The Equinox… harvest/shorter days
  • 92 F this afternoon… but low of 55 F by Sat. am!
  • The West Wing… signs in our yard
  • Lurking germs
  • Legendary… Actual!
  • Mystical cauldrons… Soup!

I even hunted up one of my favorite recipes!

Then, I re-read my writing exercises from yesterday’s Legend videos. The Holy Wow’s are coming fast! The excitement bubbles and the tears are coming fast, too. And, as is so often the case, I am the work in progress! (Which is pretty hopeful when you get right down to it!)

Then, I checked the news.

And tossed my index cards into the recycling basket!

Then, I made some more tea and spent some time communing with my #wip painting who/which reminded me that I have some experience with the whole liminal space bit.

And fished my index cards back out!

Then, time for what MSNBC calls breaking news…

The Attorney General of the state of New York is suing an ex-President and 3 of his children in “a massive fraud lawsuit”.

And… “In a national address, Russian President Vladimir Putin raised threat of a nuclear response in the conflict in Ukraine and ordered reservists to mobilize in an escalation of the war” (The Wall Street Journal).

And… another time out for ranting and raving! And more tears. But my index cards hung in there!

So… a glimpse of my first Legend Painting, complete with her mystical cauldron.

And a reminder that there’s a Phoenix rising out of that mystical soup cauldron. Often, actual ones, too!

Thus, as you probably guessed… a recipe!

Vegan Soup Stock

Makes about 6 quarts.

Note: Wash hands well with soap and water, and avoid putting hands near eyes after handling chili pepper!

Into a 10 qt. stock pot, place:

8 quarts cold filtered water; 5 med. onions – preferably organic – quartered, peels on; and 5 heads garlic, halved, with paper; 2-4 c. frozen, chopped okra, which is very healing to the digestive system. (Or a great use for those last pods in your garden that got big and stringy!)

Bring just to a boil, over med-high heat. Skim any foam that rises to the surface. Add:

1 dry, hot-ish chili pepper, whole; 6 fresh or 3 dry bay leaves; 1 med. bundle thyme sprigs -preferably garden fresh – tied with a white cotton kitchen string.

Return to a gentle boil. Reduce heat to moderate simmer. Cook, adjusting temperature as needed to maintain simmer, for about 3 hours if you want a very mild flavored stock, and not more than 6 hours if you want deeper color and flavor. Taste occasionally for heat from pepper. When it reaches the stage you want, remove and discard pepper. When you’re happy with the stock, remove from heat and cool to a little warmer than room temperature. Scoop solids out and discard. They’ve given their all!

Strain stock through a fine mesh strainer. Reserve 1 or 2 quarts of stock if you want soup for dinner or tomorrow and proceed with desired recipes or refrigerate.

Add your family’s fav veg (raw or roasted) to the broth and simmer as needed to serve! (I won’t tell if a bit of left over roast chicken, or even shrimp, joins the mix… it will all be great!)

Refrigerate remainder. When quite cool, package for freezing in 1 pint and 1 quart containers, depending on your needs. Leave about an inch of head space as stock will expand while freezing. Label and date! Store stock in freezer for up to 6 months.

Variations:

Place 1-2 c. freeze dried, mixed organic mushrooms into 1 qt. very hot water. Allow mushrooms to steep like tea for up to 2 hours. Strain carefully through cheesecloth lined fine mesh strainer. Or use a coffee filter in the strainer. (I keep unbleached ones just for this purpose.) Reserve mushrooms. Add liquid to simmering veg stock. Rinse mushrooms well under running water and save for soup or a rice and veg dish, etc.

If you have some, add a couple of corn cobs, corn removed, to the stock pot. I keep cobs in the summer when I cut corn off and store them in a zippee bag in the freezer. They add a subtle sweetness and a bit of texture to veg stock. Removing the corn simply is the best trick I’ve learned from Rachel Ray. Take a large bowl with a flat bottom and place it on or near your chopping board. Then take a smaller bowl, turn it upside down and place it securely in the bottom of the big bowl. (It’s worth experimenting a bit to find two bowls that make a stable pair!) Cut the flat end of the corn cob off straight and level with a sharp knife and place it on the inverted inner bowl. Hold the pointed end of the corn cob up and, using your sharp knife, cut the kernels from the cob in long strips, turning the cob, or the bowl, as needed until all the kernels are removed and waiting neatly in the large bowl. Fast, neat, and you don’t need to store extra gadgets!!! (slb, We Gather Together…holiday feasts with the family you have! )

ps… need a mythical cauldron with a phoenix rising out of it, or love someone who does??? ABRACADABRA! And shop around while you’re there! From now through Thursday, September 22 – the Autumnal Equinox – I’m sending 20% of ALL FierceArtWithHeart profits to make Georgia even blue-er! Get some inspiring art… from original canvases to mugs and hats for warming the season… and make a big difference at the same time! Commissions considered. Great way to shop for the holidays, too! (Stacey, Raphael, Hank, Lucy, Nikema, Marcus, Jen, and Bee will be thrilled!) Hurry!!!

Boxes… an owner’s manual!

One of our very early dogs was a black and white English Springer puppy whose AKC name was Wee Maude of McClellan. She joined the family when I was about 3 years old.

Being a bright sort, Maude quickly figured out that suitcases and packing boxes meant moving, which happened really often in those days.

By the time the moving van would arrive, poor Maudie was a nervous wreck.

I, being highly verbal by that stage, and a fairly observant sort, realized that the boxes and suitcases made Mom anxious, too. (Dad, as I recall, was often already off to the new land, and missed all the fun!)

One of Mom’s coping strategies seemed to involve lots of tape and magic markers. All our worldly goods, sealed up tight and labeled in huge letters, complete with information like Kids’ Room or Kitchen.

I, too, have become something of an expert at the moving bit, complete with tape and markers. And they really do make things easier.

Eventually, though, when I was a second year Seminary Student, I realized that the boxes stored in my head might work differently than the ones in the physical world.

It happened, as I’ve probably mentioned, after a student trip to Hungary in 1989.

I learned a lot beyond a very kinesthetic lesson on freezing feet!

The only metaphor I knew for what had changed in me on that journey to a very different world was the notion of boxes. In my brain.

They all fell apart.

After a while, I began to feel like I had the boxes mostly sorted and re-packed with some new labels.

Life went on. Marriage. Moves. Churches. A kid venturing from elementary school onward toward college.

Polity. Politics. Several doses of not from around here.

And I kept patching up the boxes.

More recently, though, that strategy has worked less well for me. Slowly, I realized that I was tossing some of the boxes, altogether. Re-labeling a bunch of them. And adding some entirely new ones.

Kind of like editing my mental library. Becoming a grandmother was a huge catalyst!

The pace picked up even more in the last few years, as I began to paint.

Neurologically, it no doubt had to do with processing history and events and ideas with more of my awareness. Rather like upgrading a hard drive!

Even more recently, the editing has become more and more about making choices, in the face of the world around us.

Some of the remnants from those old, old boxes weren’t working anymore.

Like the ones about who’s in and who’s out. About who gets to decide who gets to decide.

About love and healthcare and the relationship between faith and law.

There’s more… as you no doubt imagine.

Liminal spaces are like that!

For this moment… I get to sort and pitch and label the boxes in my head. To choose new things to add.

And so do you!

It’s likely that the world will keep moving and more boxes will be useful. And I have lots of ideas about how to put this metaphor to work.

And more cool tools to stash in my Medicine Basket!

For this moment, though, my new Legend painting is calling my name, complete with her chosen intention, which I can feel clear to my toes.

And that, dear friends, feels really good! (So does having my fingers in heavy body paint!!!)

ps… if you relate to the between-ness of life in this world and could use some help in the between spaces, let’s talk! I’m making room for three new individual clients. Curious??? CLICK HERE to find a time! (45 minutes as my gift. You bring dreams, questions, and a bit of red thread if it’s handy!)

pps… that new Legend painting has already gone to meddlin’ and you can help!!! From now through Thursday, September 22 – the Autumnal Equinox – I’ll send 20% of ALL FierceArtWithHeart profits to make Georgia even blue-er! Get some inspiring art… from original canvases to mugs and hats for warming the season… and make a big difference at the same time! Great way to shop for the holidays, too! (Stacey, Raphael, Hank, Lucy, Nikema, Marcus, Jen, and Bee will be thrilled!)

Editing with Red Thread…

I’m guessing you remember, as I do, the old days when people (like me) edited things with red ink and those quaint old conventions known as proof-readers’ marks.

One that’s probably still familiar is this one – # – which we now refer to as hashtag. It used to mean space.

And a personal favorite of mine – the ^ – which used to mean insert [whatever] here.

I was less fond of the actual red ink, implying that something was wrong, rather than an inspiration for making it even better. (A concept my son’s first grade teacher never grasped, no matter how hard I tried!)

In fact, I actively avoided red for quite a while.

Then, I wandered into the land of Intentional Creativity® and a whole new relationship to the color red was born.

Today, I am hearth tending in The Red Thread Cafe, on work-in-progress Wednesday. I love hearth tending!

Sisters from all across the globe posting their own work. To get acquainted. To be witnessed. Sometimes to ask questions.

(Once, when I was very new at all this, I actually got brave enough to ask for advice on washing paintbrushes and was met with a gracious fountain of wisdom!)

I like hearth tending even better when I bring along my red thread. The actual/virtual/legendary connection between willing people across place and time and lives.

Often, red thread comes with questions… an inquiry, if you will. The one I shared this day was about what we’re noticing and wondering as we work on our works-in-progress… and they on us.

I started my own day with dots. Dots of prayer and intention. (Surprise!)

And, between virtual excursions to the Cafe, I watched, with much of the world, as countless people gathered to pay their respects to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her last journey in this world.

The first thing I noticed was overflowing tradition! All the talking heads attempting to explain the locations and uniforms and characters and ways we’ve always done it in the touching drama as it continues to unfold.

Then I realized that I was noticing as an outsider, surely, but also as an insider on many levels.

Outsider in that I’m not, as we say in the South, from around there.

Insider in that a great many of my genetic ancestors were, indeed, from around there. Names I know and names I don’t. (Names you would know, too!) And, better than the names, the stories!

Insider in that my first granddaughter was born in Scotland. (I was there!)

Insider in that I, too, have lost loved ones and planned funerals, trying to respect their wishes in a complicated, changing world.

Insider in that I, too, am a clergy person, counted upon to carry the traditions and the hope of faith in the midst of loss.

And, if you’ve known me more than about 10 minutes, you already know that I cried as I watched. And made finger knots in my ball of red thread as I began to see – through the CNN lenses and my OWN filters – new connections.

First, let’s recognize, together, that my filters are my own and I’ve been practicing editing them for a while. You, if you’ve been watching, no doubt saw different things and made different meanings. That’s the way it’s supposed to work!

Here’s just a smidge of what I saw…

I worried, during the processional through the streets of London, about the new King Charles and his knees. I saw orthopedic pain in his gait, along with emotional pain in his face. And I made some dots for him. And for all those who mourn.

I saw almost no face masks in the vast crowds and I made dots for the health of all the people. And the world.

And, when the choirs sang in Westminster Hall (which is emphatically not where the dog show happens) I saw a brown-skinned man with a head turban in the adult choir and Black and Asian boys among the children’s choir. And I made dots of hope for the world.

And, underneath the images, the news ticker ran on and told of Ukrainians taking back a large area of their country from invading Russians. And I made dots of peace for all people.

There was more… much more. The particular details don’t matter as much as the noticing and wondering, for that involves seeing more than we expected to see and being open to newness.

For this moment, a reminder of something you may have heard me say before…

Nothing that’s ever been written, in the whole history of the world, has been written without vested interest… and my words are no exception.

I will, however, own my vested interest…

I have two granddaughters growing up in this world!

I write these words which were, in some sense, given to me and which, in other senses, I’ve spent my life learning, in the hope that we might all notice and wonder. That we might see new things and be curious rather than terrified or hostile. That we might edit our filters with the red thread of our common humanity.

May Elizabeth II rest in peace. May the world grow in hope and love and peace, even as it changes, for it must. May you and yours be safe and well. And may abounding grace go with us all.

ps… the quilt at the top insisted on appearing today. It’s my Liberated Wild Geese quilt, named for the place where a traditional American block, known as Flying Geese, meets the Celtic tradition of Wild Geese as symbols of the Holy Spirit, pieced in the liberated style of the great Gwen Marston… which somehow makes huge sense for the Holy Spirit!

pps… I’ll be back soon with some more ideas about the whole filter thing. For now, let’s just say that if I had only one tool, it would be this one!

ppps… huge thanks to Shiloh Sophia McCloud and Jonathan McCloud for their courageous conversation, The Heart of Man, which is so deeply related to this conversation.

Sue Boardman, Certified Intentional Creativity®
Color of Woman Teacher & Coach