Grandmothers – Page 72

Context and Puzzle Pieces!

Posted on April 24, 2019by sue boardman

It’s been a week of big bruises and recliner chairs and a fair number of pain pills since my fall.

The good news is that I wasn’t hurt badly and am healing well.

The other good news is that I’ve had some extra time for pondering. This is especially helpful as there is a lot to ponder in my universe these days. Much of it has seemed like deja’ vu.

Back when I was doing full time pastoral counseling, retreats, staff development and other interesting things along those lines, I often felt like my job was to take a jigsaw puzzle with no edge pieces and no picture on the box and try to help folks fit them together in a way that felt true.

Turns out that those are handy skills for making my way through the lands of Intentional Creativity and the neighboring territory of Red Thread Circle Guides.

Time out for a footnote…

The Legend of the Red Thread is an ancient tale common to many indigenous cultures across the world. From Asia to ancient Greece (Think Ariadne’s thread and the labyrinth…) to native peoples from South America to Alaska and beyond, there are references to the red thread as that which holds us together in community and helps us support, and be supported by, those whom we were destined to know.

There are even biblical and sacred art references to the red thread.

There are lots of those stories running through my head these days.

Also lots of pondering about the Body of Work that so many of us are building in our lives, whether we’re aware of it or not which, according to Maestra Shiloh Sophia, has something to do with my CODEX paintings, though I haven’t quite gotten that far yet.

One of my favorite things about the Red Thread legend is that we each have our part to hold but we’re not responsible for everyone else’s part. I find that very comforting!

This week, The Legend of the Red Thread and the notion of a Body of Work smashed into each other in my head when I was chatting with my granddaughters on the phone.

My piece of the Red Thread is, to the best of my ability, to live as fierce compassion in the world. From my girls and our three Newfie rescue dogs and those I teach to the food I grow and the fact that I vote.

I imagine the Red Thread as this enormous spider’s web that connects us each to another, to another, to another. (I learned this at summer camp when I was about 12, with actual red thread. Back then, we were talking about the environment.)

And I can feel that call to fierce compassion woven all through my life and work ever since, though I didn’t really know it consciously until this week.

I still don’t have a complete picture of what the puzzle looks like but I know a lot more than I did. And I’m not, in this moment, entirely sure that there are supposed to be edge pieces!

I’d love to know what kind of wonderings these rather rambling thoughts are bringing up for you.

For now, though, a phone call with a woman trying to help heal the impact of child sexual abuse in our world. Which sounds a lot like fierce compassion to me.

Then, the canine fine dining experience and some more green hair for my current opinionated painting!

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

Some words from a wise friend and a demo painting…

Posted on April 17, 2019by sue boardman

Yesterday I led a workshop called Holy Polka Dots for some students at Columbia Theological Seminary. Our topic was an introduction to the practice known in Intentional Creativity land as praying in dots.

We began with this poem, from the book, Tea with the Midnight Muse from the very gifted artist and poet, Shiloh Sophia McCloud.

Just Dare

Dare to re-invent yourself
when you don’t know what that looks like yet.

Dare to dream bigger than
you feel comfortable dreaming.

Dare to love unreasonably,
even if you have been hurt.

Dare to practice radical self-love
even when you aren’t sure how.

Dare to practice big compassionate love
for others, even those you don’t know.

Dare to say yes to your own self
when family or friends don’t understand anymore.

Dare to not let fear get in your way,
and when it does, dare to keep moving.

Dare to be the most you that you can be
while accepting yourself right as you are.

Dare to discover what beautiful means,
to you and only you.

Dare to call yourself an artist, a poet,
a dreamer, a thinker, a revolutionary.

Dare to take passionate action
so that your fire will be lit within you.

Dare to take risks that make you feel hopeful
when you don’t know how it will all work.

Dare be a colorful being, and dance alone.
Dare to live. Dare to love. Dare to laugh.

Dare to not get it right. Dare to get back up.
Dare to live in amazing grace.

The group was so touched by the reading, and I with them, that I just had to share it with you, today.

I, literally, dared to get back up yesterday after a fall on the steps, re-loading the car after the workshop. I’m sore and bruised but, as far as I can tell, basically intact. (Nothing making creepy noises!)

The getting up was hard. And I’m grateful for two friends helping. The biggest thing I noticed, though, was that I had to figure out how to do it. And believe that I could, even though none of it made much sense. That felt like amazing grace. (Even though it hurt!) And something to share with our beloveds.

Here’s one more thing to share. shilohsophia.com

What will you dare???

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

Storm Warnings

Posted on April 14, 2019by sue boardman

The local weather folks are having one of those days they live for. Tornadoes, it seems, are likely. Any time now.

The big dogs have been out and are safely back in, jockeying for prime real estate on the bathroom floors after an uncomfortably warm night in which our air conditioner decided to take a break.

The first rumbles of thunder are muttering in the background. The wind is picking up.

I have hot water in a stainless thermos, lest we run out of tea.

It is another storm, though, that occupies my mind for yesterday I took my Black Madonna painting to the amazing digital arts studio for her turn to be scanned so that giclee images on paper can be made.

She was painted in a storm, that one. While my dear friend was in the hospital, hurricane Irma raged on and I couldn’t get to Florida. And so, I made dots.

Prayed, literally, in dots.

I do mine with the handle end of the brush. You’ve heard the routine before. Dip. Dot. Dot. Dot. Dot. Dip. Repeat. Lots.

And with each dot a prayer. A word. An intention. In this case, names. Friend. Daughter. Mom. Irma (for all the folks in the path of the storm.)

Friend. Daughter. Mom. Irma. Hours at a time.

And now, as we wait and watch, I am preparing to set my first ever painting, the Black Madonna, free into the world where, maybe – just maybe – she will help others through their storms.

It was actually a pretty big trip to see my friends at digital arts studio yesterday, for we were picking up as well as dropping off! I have, right on my desk, the first few museum quality prints of my work!

With lots of help from Barry and Bill, the paperwork is close to done and my online gallery should be open this coming week. (Watch for more information!)

In the meantime, I’m contemplating entering my first juried show. The timeline is pretty tight and there’s some potential overlap with dropping off and picking up and Luther’s upcoming eye surgery. There’s part of me that just wants to paint, which sounds like a Muse thing but may actually be whispering from the inner Critic. I’m sorting.

Yesterday, though, we did a bit of celebrating progress and stopped at Ponce City Market for lunch. I’ll bet you can guess what I ate. (The Muse was very happy!)

For now, more tea, and a painting who wants green hair! A few dots for my kids who are skiing out West and quite a few more dots of thanks.

We made it through the storms with a bit of water in the basement and no trees on the roof. May it be so for all.

Contemplations Grandmothers

Grammy’s Manicure

Posted on April 10, 2019by sue boardman

My nails, in this moment, are ragged and ridged and spattered in paint. Mostly purple, just now.

Along with some fabulous help from the kid next door, who is one of my painting buddies, we spent the day doing intentionally imperfect, texture-y backgrounds for a workshop called Holy Polka Dots which is coming up on Tuesday at Columbia Theological Seminary. The theology and physiology of a practice known as praying in dots. (No painting experience required!!!)

Depending on the weather the next few days, my hands will also be stained with organic garden dirt, for I have seeds to plant.

Today I was invited to a Passover Seder at my neighbors’. A rather large gathering of 30-40 people.

My first reaction was, What can I bring?

My second was, Do I need a manicure?

The answer to the first question is still in conversation. Wine seems to be the answer. I’m also going to volunteer for chicken broth, assuming matzo ball soup, but I’ve never been to a Seder before so I’m not sure where that will lead!

As for the manicure, no.

I am an artist.

And a gardener.

A pretty talented home chef of the local, sustainably raised, food persuasion. (Which creates a truckload of dishes!)

And “mom” to three rescue Newfoundlands who eat raw food which means I spend a fair amount of time up to my elbows in beef hearts and other grungy things.

I haven’t had a manicure since my kids got married. Both times.

It’s not that I’m against manicures. Especially the massage part. It’s just that I mess them up way too fast to make it a wise investment of time or money.

And, I’m pretty sure G-d doesn’t care what my nails look like. (Though they may well be covered in India Ink and spatters of gold paint!)

What I’m excited about is joining together with our different (and not so different) traditions.

My granddaughters are Jewish.

I can do part of the prayers in Hebrew, which would be a huge surprise to my Hebrew grammar professor. I was prouder of that C- than all the A’s through all the degrees, and there have been lots of them!

On Thursday, the 18th, I will break the bread and dip it in the wine and remember Jesus, gathered in the upper room with his closest followers and friends.

On Friday, the 19th, I will gather with the Legendary Husband and my neighbors, including my paint buddy, and a whole host of people I don’t know and eat the bitter herbs and listen to the stories and do my best to make the world a more united place.

The people of G-d have been on a journey for a very long time. There are candles to light and questions to ask and chicken soup to make (I think!). And when we do it together, I’m convinced G-d will celebrate.

Even if I did almost flunk Hebrew!

And, then, on Saturday, I will paint some more. Because art and chicken soup are ways to help change the world.

P.S. Thanks to the good folks at the Ace Hardware on Scott Blvd. for their generous discount on the paint! Eleven more canvases to go! Be sure to check back here for photos of our finished paintings!

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

Big Dogs Snoring and Tony Bourdain!

Posted on April 7, 2019by sue boardman

If I knew anything at all about digital music or how such a miracle comes to be, I think I could create the world’s greatest meditation recording.

It’s playing now, in the live version, as I write.

Yes, you guessed it! A trio of big dogs snoring gently in a unique chorus of peace.

(If you had a digital version, you might not still be freaked out from the big event of the evening in which the bass member of the trio urped his dinner all over the blessed rubber mat on the floor in the place formerly known as the breakfast room and the resulting yuck involved in solving that problem!)

Please keep reading… it will get better, soon!

After all was clean again, I repaired to the magical chair, always willing to adjust to whatever my knees and back desire in the moment, and, deciding on a brief vacation after a major meeting with my new friend Barry at digital arts printing, summoned Netflix where I encountered Parts Unknown and the late Anthony Bourdain, mid-episode, in the Republic of Georgia.

I was intrigued.

Let me admit, before I go on, that my grasp of contemporary world geography is nowhere near adequate and I missed all of the 1980’s as a single mom earning four college degrees. Then, I spent the 1990’s enmeshed in church politics so it’s safe to say that I am in need of a bit more learning on many of these matters.

Tony, as was so often true, was glad to oblige.

Beyond quite the soliloquy on homemade hootch and something to do with chicken baked in a pumpkin, much of the conversation had to do with Georgia’s precarious geographical position, essentially between Europe and the former Soviet Union. Here’s the sentence that hooked me.

We wake up every morning and find out where we live.

This I understood, for I heard the same stories when I was in Hungary, just before the former eastern bloc fell. I was, naively, I suppose, mind boggled by the notion of waking up to find out who had taken control of your country overnight.

Now, if you’ll pretend for a moment that it’s time for a commercial break, I will take you with me to the land of Shiloh Sophia and Intentional Creativity where we are painting about consciousness. We’re pretty much always painting about consciousness but it’s been particularly intense for me, having two CODEX paintings in process at once.

Basically, that means we’re painting about thinking about thinking. And, in the moment, we are allowing any of the things that may have been non-conscious historically, to become conscious if that is safe and helpful at this time.

We’re not really talking about consciousness in the sense of above or below but, if you want to paint it you have to have some way to represent the whole thing visually. The picture above, which you’ve seen other bits of before, is essentially an image of those things that are safe and helpful (though sometimes a bit unsettling) “rising” into awareness.

Now, let us return from our commercial break to Tony and the Republic of Georgia.

First, the big flash for me. (It’s ok if you’re ahead of me here. We all learn when we’re ready.)

You don’t have to live in the former Soviet bloc, or in a tiny country between Europe and Russia and parts of the Middle East to wonder who will be in charge when you wake up in the morning.

It’s just as true in the United States of America.

The thing that really blew my mind was the hopefulness of my new TV friends in the Republic of Georgia.

We’re hopeful, I heard most of them say. What else can we be if we want a better future?

And, somehow, because of the place where inviting new consciousness meets embodied memories of eating and drinking and dancing with old friends in Hungary, I suspect I will be more hopeful, as well.

And busy making prayer dots. Wearing, I might add, my Fiercely Compassionate Grandmother tee-shirt! My girls are growing up in this country!

For now, warming a bowl of really good soup and wondering where Tony is headed next.

PS… Just in case you’re curious, where Tony went next was Senegal, where a native leader said: This world is going to be a better place when more cultures are actually given a chance to be put at the table. And, after a few bites of lamb, Tony responded, Democracy, as it happens, requires regular maintenance, diligence, and a willingness to stand up. RIP, Tony.

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

WIP Wednesday… this week!

Posted on April 3, 2019by sue boardman

In the land of Intentional Creativity, Wednesdays are Work-in-Progress days. A time to reflect on where we are and, often, to share a glimpse with the community.

In the land of Sue, Wednesdays are also blog days.

I have this apparently bizarre notion that I will leave space in my calendar so that getting a blog done doesn’t wind up feeling rushed or exhausting.

Sometimes it works!

Sometimes, though, Wednesdays come after rather intense Tuesdays.

Yesterday’s Tuesday was great in the sense of good friends and lots of painting. And hours of leaping the studio angels! I got pretty tired in a good way, but tired all the same.

This morning, when I noticed all three dogs laying in the hallway, I decided to wander through the studio to the kitchen in search of one of my favorite sunny yellow mugs with lemon and hot water.

(I hate to admit it, but I’m sleeping lots better since I’ve backed way off the tea again!)

The face in the painting pictured above was basically the last thing I saw last night and the first thing I saw this morning. Fortunately, the light was good for getting some photos just then.

I often see something new when I look at my work through the eye of my camera.

This time, I realized that I had been dreaming about her.

Some of you will recognize her as my Codex painting, moon 7-9. For the rest of you, she’s almost 7 moons finished in a 13 moon journey with a world-wide group of artists. The tricky part???

We have no idea what comes next or where the paint journey is going. (Though I suspect the inner journey won’t actually end!)

Here’s what I can tell you. The face you see represents the inner Observer we all have but aren’t necessarily well acquainted with. Her job is to give us a place outside our old stories and immediate experience from which to watch what’s unfolding. Rather, as I’ve always imagined, like an owl in a tree. To notice and wonder and, perhaps, to learn new and helpful things for understanding where we are and envisioning where we want to be.

From the unknown consciousness where myth and imagination live, through what we were taught to be, often in order to exist, in whatever enmeshed systems we encountered, to the personas we became, to the crafted, or curated, beings still developing from our experiences and intentional choices, our Observer helps us to see more clearly and choose according to our deepest, and ever-shifting, awareness.

I met my Observer 20 or so years ago in my hypnosis and neuro-linguistic programming journey.

Now, with the brilliant help of Shiloh Sophia, Jonathan McCloud, and the Intentional Creativity community, it feels as though she has moved from high in the tree to deep inside me. It’s amazing!

Last night, she surprised me yet again with her insistence on the bright yellow drips of paint that surround her.

What do they mean? I’m not totally sure yet but it feels like it has something to do with busting out of the box! (And something this Grammy needs to spend some time contemplating!)

For this moment, while my friends, imaginary and real, are hopping up and down to join the conversation, Sarah would like you to know that she was very, very cooperative for her chiropractic treatment today and that Luther made it back into the library to hang with Maren, our new dog Auntie. Phoebe, of course, showed up too, hoping for treats even though she didn’t have to twist and pop.

I, on the other hand, had the odd sense while we were working that a portion of my Observer’s wisdom lives in these three dogs. (This is not official teaching… just truth.)

For now, we all took a vote and decided that a nap was in order. Sarah’s taking hers in the bathtub!

Art Journey Contemplations Grandmothers

Digging into the Past and the Future

Posted on March 31, 2019by sue boardman

Dearest all,

This is one of those posts that is both literal and metaphorical. On the surface, it is about painting. Beneath (or above) that, it is about… well, you decide!

The “stunning” artwork pictured above is my beloved practice canvas. It started out very early in my Intentional Creativity journey as a small painting of something I couldn’t make work. It made me feel frustrated and inadequate and in way over my head.

And then, somewhere, one of my paint sisters posted in one of our Facebook groups about her practice – or compost – canvas. A place where she went to doodle and plant seeds and see what would happen if…

I was so new that I hadn’t begun to sort out names or initials or who belonged where or to whom.

All I knew was that the frustrated, shaming, blaming embodiment of what felt like failure was redeemed!

That 18×24″ level 2 canvas became my compost heap. (This from a gardener who does a lot of composting!)

I tried out colors and brushes and glazes. How to write in Greek (with a toothpick) or Hebrew (with a stiff liner brush). How to make dots, and collage (which I’m still working on) and what different brushes will do.

No shame. No blame. Just layers and layers of learning.

Pretty soon there will be so many layers that it will seem to be a level 3 canvas!

Contemporary astrological glyphs. (Who knew???)

The dry, scrubby brush things that bring streaks of light – and life – to whatever you’re painting.

More dots. More glazes.

And all of it, layer by layer, teeming with new life out of old stuff that might not have worked or has given it’s obvious gifts.

It works for writing, too.

And soup, in a different, way less germ-y sort of way.

It also works for trying new things, bringing me face to face with proof that I’ve been building this life all my life.

This is what I wish for my girls. And our world.

And for you, new COW and Muse sisters, and all of you just finding your way into the magical realms of Intentional Creativity or quilting or apple pie or music or quantum physics.

If, perhaps, you are a painter, get yourself a practice canvas. Possibly one that you have that just has never clicked. Or maybe a new one. (Michael’s is having a big sale!) Pick a size that feels friendly. Even one like mine that you can hold like a sketchbook if you need to.

Paint an intention on it, for it is a real part of your journey. And then just play with a couple of layers of color and glaze. Make friends with it.

And when your garden, of whatever sort, needs a bit of a boost, turn to it for energy.

It will help you bloom!!!

ps…. if you’re intrigued but not sure you’re a painter, check out https://events.intentionalcreativityfoundation.org/red-thread-guide/ for information on becoming a Red Thread Circle guide… class starting really soon!!!