With Hope on Mothers Day!

As many of you know, it’s been quite the week in post-op puppy nurse land!

Luther is healing well which is great because I’m pretty close to wiped out. I’m thinking of having my mail forwarded to the magic chair where I’m pretty much living at the moment.

In an effort, perhaps, to channel my early years, there has been a lot of Grey’s Anatomy going on.

One episode in particular hit home for me just now.

An explosion, thought to be a bomb, happens at a shopping mall. Many people, including a number of children, are injured.

One of the ER docs, a young woman who is pregnant, reacts with tremendous fear and wonders over and over how to bring a baby into a world where such a thing is possible.

Her mother-in-law, a woman more given to snapping orders than to extending comfort, offers a surprisingly profound response:

Raise your babies well. This is how the world changes. 

The obvious question, especially as the American Mothers Day holiday dawns, is “How?”

Allowing that we must each find our own answers, I’d like to offer a framework that has been hugely helpful in my journey. It comes from the late Dr. H. Stephen Glenn, whose work, Developing Capable People, I first encountered when my own baby was four years old.

According to Steve, much of parenting (and grandparenting) comes from helping kids to believe three things:

I am capable.

I contribute in meaningful ways and I am genuinely needed.

I can influence what happens to me. 

Raising Self-Reliant Children In A Self-Indulgent World, p. 49

I believe!

In fact, I know. And it isn’t easy. It involves ditching our societal obsession with success and claiming the amazing possibility that there’s no such thing as failure. Only experience to be learned from. 

Kind of like acrylic paint!

Here’s the catch.

In order for our kids to learn these amazing truths, we have to at least experiment with believing them ourselves.

It doesn’t make a great Hallmark card. It does help us to raise kind, confident children, even in this world.

Steve walked on some years ago and the book is a bit dated in terms of language and examples but it still lives in my study on a shelf I always know how to find, no matter how much we rearrange the furniture. And it lives on in my own book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope.

With my whole heart, and with hope for my own girls, I invite you to check it out. It’s never too late to start! We need all the capable, significant, influential kids we can get.

This is how the world changes.

Many blessings to all of you who are mom-ing and grammy-ing anybody, anywhere and teaching these truths in whatever way works for you. This day and every day. Amen.

 

 

 

Reading Week

When I was a seminary student, we had a rather old-fashioned tradition known as Reading Week. The week before exams, it was time to catch up on the couple (!) of things that might not have gotten done during the semester.

I loved Reading Week and I’ve missed it during all the years since graduation.

This week, Reading Week showed up again!

IMG_5281Luther, our Newf Rescue who is healing from eye surgery, has needed constant supervision. Sarah’s on floor duty. I’ve spent most of the time camped in my magic chair with a stack of books beside me.

Some of them are old friends. Some are intriguing new adventures.

A bit of comfort. A touch of challenge. A surprise or two along the way.

And gratitude to the talented writers who created reality from language in the writing.

One more week of sutures… And a quick break for prayer dots!

 

 

I get by with some help from the Muses!

It’s been a bit of a week!

On Thursday, Luther had his eye surgery. It was a very long day, made do-able by major assistance from our crew of gracious and supportive Dog Aunties. 

The procedure went well, for which I am very grateful to the ophthalmology team and support staff at the Blue Pearl specialty vets on Howell Mill Road.

My very large, fuzzy buddy and I are now on our third day, camped in our new family room/library space.

Sarah and Phoebe have been helping with the healing by enjoying a Camp and Spa break. They’ll be home Monday which means that today we’re working on “normalizing” our routine a bit. Cutting back on pain meds. Spending a few more minutes outside, bonding with Dad. Moving around the house a bit more.

Luther has done the vast majority of the sleeping.

I’ve been channeling the long ago nurse that still lives inside me. Meds. Soft food. Watching the swelling. Listening to him breathe.

Blessedly, the Muses have been keeping me company.

First, the one pictured above, from my Color of Woman Muse painting.

Her face is marked with the Greek words for optical seeing, visionary seeing, and knowing, which reminds me that there are many ways of seeing, even when the optical kind doesn’t work.

Also the Muse many of you know as the writer, Anne Lamott. Especially these five words.

Dog love is god love.

This is one of those sentences that works kind of like a mathematical equation. If you replace the is with an it can be read, at least for me, in either direction.

It’s no secret that I love our herd of Newfoundland rescue dogs. And this week, I have ached with Luther as he moves through the pain of his surgery and healing. I know that, hopefully soon, this process will relieve the pain he had before and prevent more in the future.

He doesn’t know that. He just knows that somebody yelled tilt and nothing feels normal right now.

I’ve cried when he cried and rejoiced when he wagged his tail, and I believe that the Creator of my understanding weeps and celebrates with us, as well.

I also believe that our Creator loves us like Luther and Sarah and Phoebe love us, even when we don’t get it all right.

All of which has helped through the days and long, dark nights when my piece of the red thread has been a bright blue long lead running between Luther and me.

And, there’s a bit more dog love in our family these days. We have a new granddog!

Hazel is a black Lab rescue who appears from the picture to already be busy loving my girls. I can’t wait to meet her!

To see more of my art in museum quality reproductions visit fineartmarketplace.com

An Interesting Question…

I got an email this week from a dear writer buddy of mine who said she was “confused about my blog.”

I get it.

She went on to say that she, “originally thought you were interested in uniting and empowering elders as a dynamic power… also things like it’s difficult to mature in our culture, which is why we should treasure the brave and courageous people who do mature and become powerful wise elders…”

Because I know her, I can hear the gifts of her academic and activist filters which I so treasure in her question.

If you’ve been reading along for a while, you may have wondered, too.

My blog isn’t the same these days as it started out, nor is it the same as my book, Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope.

I still believe and want all the things my friend mentioned in her email and all the things I wrote about in my book, which is, by the way, pretty handy!

The thing is, that I, in my personal grandmother-ness, am still learning. I have grown and discovered new ways of actually doing those things I believe in. Many of those ways have to do with art and creativity.

You see, as I get more empowered and in touch with the inherent creativity in each of us and with ways to share that in the world, there’s more for everybody! And there’s way more for my girls, for we do these things together, as often as possible.

The work of Intentional Creativity is often about paint, for sure. But it’s also about putting hopeful, empowering images into a world that desperately needs them. Especially feminine images.

And, for many of us, it’s also about teaching others to put that same energy into their families and communities and the world.

Many of the people I learn with and teach are grandmothers. A whole movement of us acting in love and peace and diversity around the globe.

And it’s also about some very cool things like accessing right and left brain processes and more of our own consciousness so that we can all live our gifts in the world.

I want my girls to grow up thinking that’s the way things are supposed to be. I want them to claim their gifts and put them to work creating a world that works for all of us.

And the best way I know to do that is to share what’s changing in my life with grandmothers and grandkids and seminary students and yoga students and friends dear to my heart.

Come. Hang out. Read the stories and check out the images. Ask questions.

Roll around in fierce compassion alive in the world. Roll around in paint, too, if you’d like! Or soup. Or words. Or quilts.

Create, because it’s a huge part of being human.

Risk learning new things. (How cool a model is that for your kids???)

Grow some asparagus in your front yard.

And vote, if you live in a place where you can. Preferably for fierce compassion.

 

Context and Puzzle Pieces!

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!

 

Some words from a wise friend and a demo painting…

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.

shilohmccloud-fafvmntgfimkcjpmussgmsyphpevkkwi-v2

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???

Storm Warnings

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.

black-madonna-boardmanShe 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.