Abracadabra!

My Ericksonian hypnotherapy buddies are fond of a magic trick called reframing.

It comes, like roses and chocolate, in several varieties.

We started, as I recall, by learning the pattern for a 12-step reframe, which, as you can probably imagine, required a couple of cheat sheets.

Then, we went on to the 6-step reframe, causing lots of us to wonder why we didn’t start there in the first place. Clearly, we weren’t ready until we were!

Then, the plot thickened even more. You guessed it… a 1-step reframe!

All those memories bring to mind the Harry Potter books in which wizarding school started with a trip to buy a wand.

These days, my wand is mostly a paint brush. Or a Sharpie marker. And I am totally still learning!

Today, though, many of the things I’ve learned through the years came together in an instant, including the meaning of abracadabra, which is something very close to I will create as I speak, leaving me simultaneously laughing and crying so hard that choking was not out of the question.

I was sitting in a Zoom meeting with a bunch of very cool creative women spending a chunk of our Saturday pondering the business of being artists. Our fearless leader was the comically wise Sam Bennett with her ever-so-capable side kick, Veronica.

In theory, we were wrapping up a journey we began sometime last fall. Wrapping up in the sense that finishing something so often means beginning new things.

Sam was sharing a list of 15 things she’s come to depend on in her journey. I was scribbling really fast with my magic hot pink Sharpie so what you’re about to read is what I heard, though not necessarily exactly what Sam said.

Experimenting with failure and not knowing IS the life of the scientist, explorer, artist and queen!

Que the 1-step reframe!

You see, one of the other things on my list today, after the private painting/dog petting session was finished, while the laundry machines were doing what laundry machines do, and the oven was making left-over frittata new again, was the eminent demise of a batch of GoDaddy domain names!

And no one home to help!

Dealing with such an event, as you’ve probably realized, has not historically been in my comfort zone. But, tonight I had a couple of sketch book pages covered in scribbles from the Zoom meeting and the one all highlighted in yellow was… yep…

Experimenting with failure and not knowing IS the life of the scientist, explorer, artist and queen!

I’m hoping Sam will understand if I add grandmother to the list. (Not so sure about the queen part. Must be learning for another day…)

So, re-framed, I just did it.

Loving names as I do, it was quite the project, and I did avail myself of the option to phone a friend for moral support! It feels like a bit of a miracle that, in this moment, I am left with a collection of things I intentionally chose a-new instead of a whole bunch of maybes from the past that were costing me money.

Yes, it was a little scary. And there is one question remaining for another day when I’ve collected a bit more information.

But, just in case you missed it… I did it!

There are no Oscars or Westminster trophies or Nobel prizes for such an accomplishment but, you know, I don’t need any.

That, by the way, is how you recognize that the 1-step reframe flew, instead of falling flat on the floor as sometimes happens.

And, just between us, magic events like this don’t really happen in one step. They happen, like the evolving lights in my studio, with a whole lot of noticing what doesn’t work and a big dose of imagining it might be different, followed by as much research as it takes, a handy friend, a couple of do-overs, and eventually light!

Some of you–maybe lots of you– are muttering about now, thinking the light is for others but not for you.

Take a deep breath and please hear me, in all truth, assuring you that even if you’re not a queen or a grandmother or a scientist, you are, in fact, an explorer. I know that because you’re still reading! And there is an artist lurking inside you, even if you haven’t made friends with her yet.

Take another deep breath and let it a…l…l… out gently. We’ll come back to this another day.

For now, though, a bit of attention for the laundry machines and time for me to paint.

Oh, and a gift for you, the explorer if you’re feeling even a tiny bit brave. It just might be the magic reframe you’re longing for. But you’ll have to click here to find out!

ps… That gift is, in an odd way, related to the photo of the flag that flies on our front porch every day. It seemed extra-important on this particular 3-day weekend!

 

Not Just Any Old Tuesday

It’s 8:28 pm on Tuesday, February 11.

Daniel, the Golden Retriever, just won the Sporting Group at my version of the Super Bowl and the Oscars, combined – The Westminster Kennel Club Show.

Several of my other favorites did really well, too.

The Working and Terrier groups are still to come. (Go, Newfie!!!) Some truly awesome Junior Handlers. Then, of course, Best in Show.

One of the newer 4-footed kids, the Lagotto Romagnolo, is an adorably scruffy looking dude with short dreads whose main job it is to hunt for truffles in Italy. And perhaps soon in Georgia! He went home sad tonight. Truffle fan that I have become, I was sad, too.

In addition to intriguing facts like that, and thanks to the miracles of modern science, I can also tell you that Bernie Sanders is leading as the early returns come in from New Hampshire.

I started showing in the breed ring about a year before I was able to start voting. As you may have suspected, I have some pretty passionate opinions about candidates as well as dogs.

Here’s the hard part…

Tomorrow, Daniel will still have won the Sporting Group. A couple more awesome dogs will have won their groups, too. And the Shetland Sheepdog and the Havaneese and the Whippet will all have won their respective groups on Monday night.

And, tomorrow, we in the USA will still have a very long, hard road to November. A road that is almost guaranteed to be filled with both disappointment and hope, and — compared to Westminster — regrettably short on sports”man”ship.

The Legendary Husband wandered through a few minutes ago and observed that our Luther is an agility dog. He’s totally right, in that Luther’s favorite place to snooze is on the kitchen floor and we get more agile climbing over all 145 pounds of him. (And sometimes more sore!)

As for me, I spent quite a bit of today working on my Legend painting. (And consulting on the latest plumbing project!)

Legend is all about our journeys through life. About where we find our truth and how we move beyond the things that may have held us back and “who” inspires us along the way.

It’s kind of an intense process, complete with drips and tears, and I have more to do tomorrow.

When you get right down to it, all of us who are paying attention and living in hope, even on the hard days, have more to do tomorrow, tears or not.

Part of my list includes an Experiment. Say tuned…

ps… Phoebe made me promise to tell you that the Newfoundland was, indeed, gorgeous. And, in case you’re up for a bit more hope in the midst of reality, check this out. Would Phoebe steer you wrong?

pps… Just in cased you missed it, a totally stunning black standard Poodle named Siba took Best in Show last night. Not the breed of my heart, but when she gaited around the ring she looked like she was wearing winged sneakers! I’d have put her up, too. Which suggests, I suspect, that the good guys are alike in more ways than they’re different. I’m just sayin’!

 

As Promised, Really Excellent Chocolate!

In the land of Intentional Creativity®, where I spend much of my time lately, we show up for transformation and community and fun.

We are sustained by roses and almonds and chocolate. So much so that planning a workshop experience means hunting ideal sources for food, as well as for paints and canvases. For a serious real-food foodie like me, it’s just that much more fun!

Here, with thanks to Danette May, who got me off to a great start, is the recipe for my latest creation:

Grammy’s Chocolate Almond Bark

Ingredients:

  • 1 c. organic roasted almonds with sea salt, coarsely chopped if desired
  • 1 Tbsp. + 1/2 tsp. coconut oil, measured while solid
  • 1 tsp. pure vanilla extract
  • 1/2 c. finely chopped excellent dark chocolate, like Greene & Black’s 85% cacao (about 2/3 of a 3.17 oz. bar) or dark chocolate chips
  • 1 scoop Cacao Bliss or a slightly rounded Tbsp. of organic raw cacao powder
  • 1 good pinch Anthony’s espresso baking powder, if desired (or instant espresso granules)
  • 1 tsp. Maldon flaked sea salt for garnish if using unsalted almonds

Recipe doubles easily!

Line a sheet tray with unbleached parchment paper.

In a heavy saucepan (or double boiler) combine chocolate, coconut oil, and vanilla extract. Stir over low heat until completely melted. Add Cacao powder and espresso powder and stir thoroughly. Add almonds and mix until covered.

Pour chocolate mixture onto tray with parchment paper, spreading evenly with a rubber spatula to a thin layer.

If you used salted almonds, you’re done. If you used unsalted nuts, sprinkle evenly with sea salt flakes, or omit if you prefer.

Refrigerate for an hour or until well set. Break into bite sized pieces and store, tightly covered, in fridge or freezer. Allow to warm a few minutes to cool room temp before serving, preferably with roses on the table!

Technically, I suppose, you could call it candy. I call it sustenance. Body. Mind. Spirit.

Or, in the eternal words of Charles M. Schulz…

All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt. 

Stay tuned for workshops coming soon!

8th Grade Is Teaching Me, Still!

Let’s start by remembering that middle school is pretty lousy for most everybody. It surely was for me.

There were some bright spots, though. One of the brightest was my 8th grade English teacher. She was young, and progressive before that word meant what it means today, and committed to treating her students like humans, capable of experiencing new things. We read poetry. Edgy stuff. We did a winter holiday program designed to be more inclusive than what was usual in those days. (To take part, I learned to sing in Hebrew!) And we read the play, 1776, complete with an actual album of musical numbers from the Broadway show.

I still know all the words to all the songs, along with most of the dialogue, by heart.

That turns out to be one of those good-but-hard things on this day, when it seems that all but one of the the GOP senators voted on the side of self interest rather than their sworn duty.

Through it all I could literally hear, in my mind and heart, the roll call from 1776 on the question of ratifying the Declaration of Independence.

The dangers of voting for independence, close to 250 years ago, were different. An aye vote meant committing treason against the British crown for which the penalty was death by hanging.

Today, a vote to uphold the impeachment charges meant the likelihood of political retribution. The possibility of not being re-elected. The potential loss of big money donors making huge contributions in return for vacations on private islands. The decidedly likely wrath of a man who behaves as though he believes he is above the law and basic civility.

We stand, most of you, and I, to this day, like dwarves upon giants, on the shoulders of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin and a statesman of whom you may have never heard, named Caesar Rodney, who came, literally from his death bed, to stand in favor of Independence.

I write these words with tears in my eyes and voices whispering in my ear that my fabulous new chocolate recipe might be a much wiser choice for this post.

It might!

And yet, I, like Mitt Romney, am going to be able to tell my kids and, most especially, my granddaughters, that I kept my promise today.

His promise was a vow before the God of his understanding to uphold his oath as a senator and a juror even if it meant crossing the aisle, and standing with the Democratic minority who were also, I sincerely hope, keeping their vows.

Mine is to nurture fierce compassion in the world through stories and images and experiences that have the power to create hope.

Check back soon for really a really excellent chocolate recipe. (Chocolate counts, too!)

But first, my paintbrush is calling me. I’m busy making something new out of something that wasn’t working. When I figure out what it wants to be, I’ll let you know.

For now, may you and yours be blessed on the road.

 

 

 

If you need a reminder, too…

One of the good things about being a writer is that many of us are “afflicted” with the habit of writing down wise things our teachers have said through the years.

Then, when the world feels like somebody just yelled, “Tilt!”, we have someplace to start hunting for words that just might sustain us. Rather like the tagline on this blog.

…situational angst and stardust soup

I don’t know about you, but the news over the last couple of days sent me rooting through my mental and electronic attics for some words like that. Whether it’s a surprise for you or something already settled into one of your mental boxes, this ancient Sufi teaching story is the best I’ve got in this moment. (This is how I learned it, in a training group for hypnotherapists, 12 or 15 years ago.)

The Wise Old Man at the Top of the Mountain

Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, there was a farmer. The farmer lived in a small village in a far-away land, near a mountain.

One morning the farmer got up and went out to care for his animals. As he went about his chores, the farmer, who was very poor, noticed that his cow was missing. “Oh, no!” cried the farmer. “Whatever will we do?” The farmer was very upset and he had no idea what to do next. As the day went on, the farmer became even more unhappy. Finally he decided that he had to do something. There was only one thing he could think of to do.

He walked sadly down the little road until it started to lead up the mountain. The farmer climbed and climbed up the mountain. His feet hurt and it was beginning to get cold, but still the farmer climbed. When he got to the top of the mountain, he found a cave where there lived a wise old man.

“Farmer!” called the wise old man, for he was used to having visitors like this. “Come in. Sit by the fire. Have a cup of tea. And tell me what brings you here today.”

The farmer bowed to the wise old man and accepted his cup of tea. And then, with a shaking voice and a tiny tear in his eye, the farmer told the wise old man that his cow was gone. Disappeared.

“How will my family live?” the farmer asked. “We need the cow for milk and to plow our fields. Without her, we will starve.”

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands, as he looked deep into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

The farmer leaped up, dropping his tea on the floor. This man wasn’t wise! Clearly losing their cow was terrible news. And off the farmer went, stomping down the mountain and muttering to himself about the crazy old man.

Several days went by. The farmer spent a lot of time telling his neighbors about his trip up the mountain and how strange it was that the old man just said, “We don’t know if this is good news or bad news.”

The next morning the very worried farmer got up and went out to begin his work. There, much to his surprise, was his cow. And not only his cow, but a big, strong bull as well. The farmer was so surprised and so happy that he dropped his tools and went, as fast as he could go, back up the mountain to see the wise old man.

“Come in,” the wise old man greeted him. “Sit down. Have a cup of tea.”

The farmer was so excited he was nearly bursting with his news.

“Tell me what brings you here today,” said the wise old man.

“Well!” said the farmer. “I got up this morning and there was my cow. She came home! And not only that, but there was a beautiful, strong bull in the yard as well! Our family is saved! We’ll be rich!”

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands as he looked into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

The farmer had never heard anything so silly in his life! Of course this was good news! And off the farmer went, stomping down the mountain and muttering to himself about the crazy old man.

Some more time passed.

One day, the farmer’s son, who was just learning to use the plow to dig up the earth for planting, hitched the big, strong bull to the plow and began to work. It was a nice, sunny day and the farmer’s son was thinking about many things. Suddenly, a very large bee flew up and stung the bull right on his nose.

Well! The bull bellowed really loudly, as bulls are known to do, and began to run. The farmer’s son wasn’t strong enough to hold on to the plow. He fell over right in the field and heard a loud sound coming from his leg. Suddenly his leg began to hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. All he could do was sit in the dirt and watch as the bull dug up the earth and ran, as fast as he could go, right through the fence and away down the road.

The farmer, who loved his son, heard him crying and went running to see what was wrong. There was his dear son on the ground. The field was destroyed where it was all dug up. The bull had clearly crashed through the fence and run away. The farmer did not know what he and his family would do so he did the first right thing. He went and got the village doctor who came and cared for his son.

The boy’s leg was broken. The doctor tied tree branches to each side of it, as they used to do long ago, and wrapped it tight with some old pieces of cloth. The farmer and the doctor carried the boy to a small porch on the front of their tiny home. The doctor said the boy would have to stay there for many weeks and would not be able to walk.

The farmer was more and more upset. In fact, he was more upset than he’d ever been. Finally, because he didn’t know what else to do, he went and climbed slowly up the mountain.

“Come in,” the wise old man greeted him. “Sit down. Have a cup of tea. Tell me what brings you here today.”

The farmer was so upset he could barely talk. Finally he managed to explain what had happened. His field was ruined. The bull was gone, and with him the plow. And his dear son’s leg was broken and would not heal for many weeks.

The wise old man set his tea down and he began to pull on his long skinny beard with one of his hands, as he looked deep into the farmer’s eyes. “We don’t know,” said the wise old man, “whether this is good news or bad news.”

With that, the farmer flung his tea cup to the ground and went stomping down off the mountain, threatening to tell everyone he knew that the wise old man was not wise at all, but mean and just plain crazy.

The farmer was so angry he could barely do his work. A few days passed as he cared for his son without crutches or wheelchairs or any of the things we might use in our time.

Then, one morning, the farmer woke to all kinds of noise in the village. There were soldiers from far away on the road, with wagons, capturing all the young men of the village to go and fight in a war. People were crying and begging that their sons not be taken.

The farmer’s son couldn’t go, because of his broken leg.

When the soldiers had left the village, the farmer went and fixed tea for his son and himself. And he pulled a bit at his long, skinny beard and said, with a light of understanding in his eye, “We really don’t know, do we? 

(Boardman, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope )

It feels a lot like that around here. And I’m really glad I know this story!

So, lacking the knees to climb our local mountain, I made myself a cup of tea and collaged some of this story to my almost finished painting, The Wisdom of Trees & Grandmothers. Then, I started thawing things headed for  my very biggest stock pot. It’s time to boil bones!

Which is likely to be a good thing, even in the midst of a world full of things we only think we know about.

p.s………. Great day making art with awesome women. Watch for next workshop info, coming soon!

When the 30 second dance party involves paint…

Yep. It’s #WIP Wednesday again. And there’s lots of stuff in progress around here!

It’s also catch-up day for one of my projects. Never mind for a moment that catch-up month might be more useful, I’m closer than I was before. (Except for the tonnage of emails that showed up while I was painting!)

The next right thing, however, is feeding the Studio Angels who seem to be of the opinion that they’ve worked hard and earned their supper.

Kind of like a brief commercial break! I’ll be back…

So, if you’re conversant with Grey’s Anatomy or creator, Shonda Rhimes’ book Year of Yes, you’re probably checked off on 30 second dance parties. So is Shiloh Sophia McCloud, though hers generally take longer than 30 seconds and are part of the creative journey.

One was called for today. It’s big fun! Also, potentially kind of messy.

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Intentional Creativity® dance parties are more about integrating what’s becoming conscious during the creative process than they are about a break state after something stressful, though both are often helpful.

Today’s was all about claiming our paths to this point in our journey and putting all the stuff – easy and very hard – into the work. It’s really freeing and totally NOT about staying in the lines!

Here are a couple glimpses of what’s under all that integrating paint. At least what’s under the paint on my canvas. I was just doing what the Muses were whispering in my ears.

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The very pink photo, way up at the top, is a glimpse of another #WIP, which seems to want to be about trees and growth rings and grandmothers.

There is much more work to be done.

After I get a dry brined chuck roast tucked safely into the InstantPot so that we, like the Studio Angels, can have a fine dining experience.

There’s Pine Street Market pimento cheese tucked into the fridge for Sunday’s workshop.

And a new recipe for Dark Chocolate Almond Bark. We’re liable to need a “test” batch before Sunday!

Transformation can be hungry work. Good chocolate and almonds are part of the ritual!

 

What does it mean to see?

I’ve been thinking about my son even more often than usual. He just had one of those big birthdays. The kind with a zero that seems like a big deal for moms, too.

I’ve also been thinking about vision a lot, possibly because I learned a lot about vision from Dave.

He was five months old the first time I took him to the eye doctor because he wasn’t growing out of the wandering eyed baby thing.

Then there was surgery at about 17 months to deal with an eye muscle attachment condition. He upchucked his post-op Gator-ade all down my back and we headed home, tired and smelly and on the road to a whole new world. He immediately began to walk more steadily, feed himself more easily, and enjoy all the little doors and windows and pop-up gizmos on his vast collection of Fisher Price wonders.

Things began to get more complicated again when he started kindergarten. His teacher kept fussing at him for making purple trees. I assured him that his purple trees were awesome and that, at home, he could make any color trees he chose.

Then I tried to explain that his teacher wanted him to learn to follow directions, as well as draw trees, and so – while he was at school – it would probably be best to humor her and make the trees green.

You guessed it!

It was two more years before his eye doctor realized he was color blind.

He also had peripheral vision and depth perception challenges.

There was another eye surgery along the way, and quite the conversation when it came time for him to want to drive.

A new eye doctor checked his vision for about two hours and then assured me that, if Dave were his son, he would, indeed, let him drive.

Blessedly, Dave did great, after he figured out the relationship between where he was sitting and where the wheels were on the car.

I guess these adventures weren’t too big a surprise. I’ve been decidedly nearsighted since I was a child. One of my clearest early memories is leaving the eye doctor’s office with my first pair of glasses perched on my nose and being amazed to discover that I could see – that anyone could see – individual leaves on trees!

Then there’s Dave’s 4-footed brother, Luther. This big guy had limited vision when he came to us and, eventually, as far as his eye doctor could determine, lost all his sight. Because of a degenerative condition that was causing him pain, we made the decision to have his eyes surgically removed last May.

The biggest challenge was keeping him from rubbing his face while his suture lines were healing.

I’m grateful that, as he became pain free, he began to find his own spirit more and more, after his traumatic past. Today, he and Phoebe are official Studio Angels, always ready to greet friends and help paint. (That’s Phoebe on duty in the photo.)

I’ll admit to clinging a bit to what I’ve learned along the way from beloved beings like Dave and Luther while I’m flipping on lights all over the house and adding glaucoma eye drops to my bedtime routine.

My fix-it wizard friend, Greg, arrived today to install lots more lights in the studio. It’s an LED miracle!

A miracle that reminds me of inner vision, as well.

And that reminds me, in these days, of a mythical guy named Toby Ziegler, Director of Communications on The West Wing.

Way back in the first season (episode 12 for you Netflix and YouTube folks) Toby was working on the second State of the Union address and he convinced President Bartlet to take the risk of standing up in front of the nation and proclaiming that, “Government can be a place where nobody gets left behind.”

That, and, “Babies come with hats!” are probably Toby’s two greatest lines.

I’m for seeing like that!

 

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