Category: Grandmothers

Eight hundred years is a long time ago… and I feel like I’ve just been magically transported through that much time. Twice.

It’s been quite the trip!

I seem to be coughing more than sleeping. No fever. Covid tests negative. And allergies to most of the stuff you’d take if you were coughing.

Somehow, I’m making my way back to – well – normal. Or, perhaps, familiar would be a better word.

Except that it doesn’t feel that way.

Instead, it feels louder than usual.

MSNBC. Harp music. Chainsaws. Madam Secretary. And, of course, dreams.

(With a pause for a reminder that my very strong neuro-linguistic processing backup is auditory-digital!)

For clarification, the chainsaws are the aftermath of a recent storm.

The rest of it could all be lumped in the category of shifting filters.

It’s not necessarily an easy adventure.

It does feel a whole lot safer than it has in the past. You see, my map of reality has become clear and conscious.

Chosen, even. Intentionally.

And, the process is being helped along by externalizing it. By literally taking scraps of paper and a glue stick and a helpful question or two and creating a visual map of reality.

Which, in a world that often feels like Atlanta rush hour traffic, is really empowering!

Here’s the big news!

We don’t just get one map for all times and all challenges. We get to edit the map as we grow and learn and change!

And, no… this isn’t the way my 7th grade geography teacher explained it!

And, yes… it’s kind of scary.

What’s even scarier, at least for me, is the all too prevalent notion that there’s a right way to see everything and somebody gets to tell us what that is.

So, as the laundry machines spin on and I swig seeming gallons of hot ginger tea, I’m practicing my choosing.

Here’s a clue…

ps… are you ready to get intentional about choosing??? I can help! The first move is yours… take the risk of claiming your version of Buechner’s place where your deep joy and the world’s deep longing meet. Then, let the calendar elves hook you up with 45 minutes. My gift. Let’s cause some good trouble!

Let’s start with truth.

My body missed my chair while I was in France! It turns out that right angles and no chair arms are less optimal, orthopedically, than remote control footrests and all the angles just so.

Geographically, I’ve been home about five days… much of it spent coughing and trying to find ankles somewhere below my knees.

Mentally, emotionally, perspectively, I suspect I’ll never go back to what I used to think of as home again.

You see, home got a whole lot bigger while I was wandering, even though the view from my chair remains the same.

If you’re going to follow along – and I so hope you will! – the view from my chair looks like this:

There has been a lot of intentional curating going on with this view for the last couple of months.

The paintings which are teaching me the most in these days.

The courage to claim what they mean in my life.

Reminders of the path I’m choosing… one step at a time.

For this moment, let’s focus on the large bust on the blue bench. She’s been around for a while, now. Several months. Maybe a year.

She followed me home from the magical neighborhood place called Kudzu, where I often go to walk and wonder.

I wasn’t entirely sure why she insisted on being adopted. I just knew that she had a story to tell me.

(Time out for a reminder that art is both what is intended by the artist and what is received by the viewer… and – if the magic truly works – the message grows over time!)

She has a name now! It’s Minerva, in honor of the place my feet have just been called Minerve.

Also, in honor of my favorite Great Aunt, Emma Minerva. Just between us, she looks very much the way I remember Aunt Em which makes a whole lot of sense in the big picture!

Since she followed me home, she’s been mostly known as Courage. She has graciously received Courage essential oil on her forehead as part of many prayer requests.

Now, as the old saying goes… I know more! For I have walked the ground of Minerve. The place where many courageous Cathar people walked into the flames of crusaders rooting out the heresy of Love and Faith.

Part of the outcome of those tragic days was that nearly a thousand years worth of people grew up never knowing their stories.

I’m beyond grateful, though, that the stories live on, for those with ears to hear. And the perspective to listen!

And, you, dear friend, are already where this is heading… in a world where those who value power over Love are once again trying to hide the real stories of our human journey.

Which is, indeed, to say that YES, my filters are shifting even more!

And, while I’ve been resting up from my cosmic adventure with portals, I’ve also been planting seeds. Seeds of Intention. Of what is next. Of how to share.

A six-petal rose will certainly be involved. Quite probably ready to receive other learners. Pilgrims, even!

Obviously, there will be a lot more trust involved as the future unfolds. Everyday reminders that the story on the news isn’t the only story there is!

And, we do get to choose! May we teach our children well…

ps… I tried to hand Minerva the pen, as we often do with canvases, and she politely declined – with one eyebrow raised – and whispered that this story was mine to tell! More courage!

pps… if you’re reading along and haven’t joined the blog post list yet, now would be a great time! Deep breath… click annoying pop-up thingy and have an adventure! You are welcome here!!!

ppps… if you guessed that this whole story is ultimately about letting go of limiting beliefs – and suspect that you might be ready to lay down a few of your own, let’s talk! The calendar elves will set you up. 45 min. My gift. Real progress!

I am. At least I used to be.

I got so good at being afraid of them that I haven’t been anywhere near one since our Grad Night trip to Disney Word! And I have to add that taking that particular ride in the dark didn’t help change my mind one bit!

Thus far, this adventure in France feels a bit like a roller coaster. The actual world piece is hills. Rocky, uneven, winding hills – and gorgeous, terrifying, ancient stone steps, often without railings.

Then, though, there’s the other part. For simplicity’s sake we’ll call it the transformation part! The part that – at least for me – involves seeing new things with my eyes and hearing new stories with my ears, only to be absolutely certain that they have lived inside me for ages.

There are lots of ways to talk about such ah-hah’s. You can choose what works for you. For our purposes, here, I’m going with gnosis.

We are in Magdalene country. One of the things which fascinate me is the way the ancient and the eternal are holding hands!

Black Madonnas are a great example.

Many of them were statues to goddesses in places which were temples to goddesses back in the days before there were Christians. And they tend to appear in places with strong energy.

Yesterday, we visited a magnificent, ancient place filled with old rock walls and art and palpable energy and, yes, a Black Madonna. Notre Dame du Cros. (MInerve.)

The photo at the top was taken outside. At a Black Madonna spring. I decided to skip the slippery, wet rocks, in favor of a near-by perch where the moving water gurgled and sang. It was 96 F and pretty sunny. I had chill bumps the whole time.

After some stories by the water, we entered the chapel, where the figure of Our Lady waited for us.

Fair warning… this next bit may be a shock.

Your eyes are not lying to you! She has been white-washed.

Much of the story we heard was from a wise native of Provence. I wasn’t quite able to grasp the time in history when the magnificent image, like far too many of her sisters, was defaced.

I’ll bet my last nickel, though, that it had to do with someone wanting to reduce her power in our hearts. My heart aches.

And, frankly, I’m pissed.

The only thing I know to do is to stay on the path of claiming what is true for me. At this point in time, I’d condense that truth into 11 words:

Our world needs all the Divine Feminine energy it can get!

Not to the exclusion of Divine Masculine energy, but in partnership with it, for together they can help us be whole…

Then, today, my Inner Rebel was called into the game! It’s a long-ish tale which we’ll save for another time. She did have a question for you, though:

What do you need to walk the path you feel called to???

I really want to know!

You can leave a comment below, or email me… sueboardman@gmail.com

And, shortly, we’ll be able to talk the calendar elves out of some space to fix a cuppa and bust out the Red Thread. (There are more questions!)

ps… the leader of the amazing workshop in which my Inner Rebel appeared was a delightfully perceptive new sister from the UK, Eleanor O’Rourke. She likes questions, too! Can’t wait to check out her recent book, Flow Without the F*ckery – Wake up your killer creativity.