Category: Grandmothers

Here’s a blast from the past… a Facebook memory from three years ago when I had just finished a project called the 30 day WriteYourselfAlive challenge. (Though history would suggest many things are just beginning.) This has been the third time through for me. As in the past, I wrote consistently, at least for me. I followed some of the prompts. I also chased some rabbits. And I listened to the voices of virtual friends who were essentially actual strangers. Except they weren’t.

I noticed something new this time. So many people struggling with the feeling of being “not enough.” It seems like mostly women but that’s a loose theory at best.

Where did we learn that?

Seriously, where did we learn to believe that we are not enough?

Was it family? Or teachers? Churches? TV? History?

More importantly, how do we un-believe it? And how do we help our little ones not to fall into the same trap?

If you’ve been reading my stuff for a while, you might have noticed that I’ve spent a lot of time in school. Somewhere along the line I met the theory that there are two primary motivations for all human behavior. One is fear. The other is love, passion, enthusiasm, or some variation on that theme. (Which pretty much works if you allow for the notion that anger is secondary to fear.)

I wonder if we made more choices out of our love, our passion, our enthusiasm, we might be less prone to not- enough- believing. (Let’s be clear….this is just me pondering.)

It feels true, somehow.

Not enough is a fear thing.

Let’s don’t do that so much! Let’s do love and passion and enthusiasm instead!!! Enthusiasm, by the way, is Greek for filled with g/God, which is pretty cool in whatever way you understand it.

I suspect I’ve been pondering all this for more than 30 days. And, I’m probably not done, hanging, as I do, with a system or two that, historically, might rather I feel not enough.

Today, though, I got out my invisible ink pen and wrote(!) on the inside of my left hand, where I can check it as often as I need to: love, passion, enthusiasm! My invisible ink pen writes in purple, for transformation. You can have one, too. I have lots!

As my Qigong guru would say, “Believe it; it works. Don’t believe it; it works!”

Here’s a link to one of my current endeavors to act out of love, passion, and enthusiasm. To be more enough…

https://fineartamerica.com/artists/sue+boardman

Scroll down a bit and send me a comment on some of yours! Together we encourage each other, and our kids!

It seems to be the question for my day.

How are you?

Bill. The server at lunch. The guy behind the counter at our favorite local butcher shop. Friends on the phone and online. My sister.

(I’m guessing this sounds familiar to you, too!)

And the honest answer is, I don’t know.

I’m tired, after a long and rather stressful week.

I’m thrilled to have received a check in the mail for my first Intentional Creativity partnership workshop.

I’m grateful for having had much of yesterday to paint what moved me in the moment. Including big, free circles in both directions.

I’m sad and frustrated and utterly blown away by the news.

I’m blessed with food in my belly and in my freezer.

I’m deeply, deeply sad for the friend who lost a beloved dog.

I’m glad that Sarah is feeling well enough to go chasing some varmint around the back yard in the dark and pissed that, given her tendency to stubbornness, I had to go get her.

I’m hopeful and anxious about new things beginning in my world.

I’m sad that my kids feel far away.

And I’m blown away by a crazy new idea I’m just about going to have to make happen if I can talk the relevant folks into agreeing.

Well, you get the drift…

I learned one time in school that some famous therapist type said we could only feel one thing at a time.

I beg to differ.

Instead, I suspect that life is much more complicated than that and the assumption that we feel this way OR that adds, somehow, to the angst of paying attention.

(I also suspect that being tired complicates all the rest!)

So, what do we do?

Well, there’s soup on the menu for lunch tomorrow. Bird broth and lots of veg and a bit of local smoked chicken sausage.

A sprinkle of stardust certainly wouldn’t hurt!

A few things to cross off the list. The kind that just up the stress when they feel avoided.

And time for creating.

Quite possibly a nap.

Frittata for supper. Yummy and complete with leftovers. And maybe time to hatch up a plan for Valentine’s Day.

It won’t solve all the problems in the world. Or even for the people I love. And so I will add, along with my rather more traditional Presbyterian sorts of prayers, my personal version of the metta, or Prayer for Loving-Kindness:

May I, and all beings, be safe, healthy, happy, free from pain, and at ease. May we be filled with loving-kindness and at peace. 

It’s probably going to take a while longer. And it is, if we’re being honest, rather a lot to live in to. And yet, for me at least, it shifts a bit of my focus from how I feel — which may have a lot to do with weather fronts and weird dreams — and reminds me of what I intend.

That seems like a pretty good place to start.

You’re welcome to join me. I think we’re going to need all the folks we can get!

Years ago I learned an old Yiddish proverb: “We plan. God laughs.” A bit of early morning rooting around on the internet suggests that, somewhere along the way, Woody Allen learned it, too.

This week has kind of been one of those weeks.

You see, I made a plan.

In the midst of the painting and the dog grooming and some fascinating conversations about getting my art out into the world, I’ve also, as you may remember, been making a liturgical stole for a seminary alumna being honored with an award for “Pioneering in Ministry.”

The timing was, shall we say, a bit short. But, I had a plan.

I started by choosing a quilt block I’m familiar with. Not too fussy. More fun, really, in its almost folk-art style. Deep, jewel tone colors. What I refer to as Liberated Wild Geese blocks, which means we’re not too worried about precise measurements and identical triangles. In fact, as wild geese are symbols, in some Celtic traditions, for the Holy Spirit, I think Liberated is just how they should be.

God probably started giggling about the time the fancy computerized sewing machine quit when I was just starting to sew.

The new one works great, in a very minimalist sort of sense, which may be what I needed, though I lost about 18 hours while Amazon did their thing.

Then, yesterday, the printer blew a gasket.

My Gramma Elsie, who was a quilter, did not have a printer. She didn’t know that you could print text onto fabric and add it to a quilt.

These days, you can, and it’s really cool, but it pretty much depends on a printer that works.

I had already tried new ink, which didn’t work, even after I waited yet another day for it to arrive. Everything was striped. I like stripes but I want them where I want them and this wasn’t it.

I suspect God had reached full on chuckling by this point.

Bless the Legendary husband who fetched a new printer and figured out the magic involved in actually getting it to print.

The fabric is still drying, but the colors are great and I think we’re going to be good to go.

Then, very, very early this morning (read that last night) I had made enough progress on assembling everything to come to the conclusion that my design had wandered past liberated and into the realm of chaotic. Considerable seam ripping was involved.

Not to worry, though. I have a plan! At least this time, God and I are both laughing!

Am ready to start the re-assembly part which, fortunately, really isn’t hard. It just took a bit of listening to the truth my eyes were telling me. And, I still have about 48 hours, though that includes air drying time and it’s supposed to be cloudy and damp. (Not really so funny!)

And I have to cross my fingers and hope with all my heart that a woman I’ve never met will relate to what I’ve made.

The colors. The symbolism. Even a bit of red thread.

It’s kind of scary. And, yet, it’s also my whole heart. And the work of my hands. I’m hopeful.

A bit of trimming. Some more piecing. Or, rather, re-piecing. Quilting and binding. (Still!) Lots of dots, already included. Prayers for transformation.

Am clutching my magic wands and praying that the rest of the machines hang in there. This is not the time for more mechanical breakdowns.

Sadly, we don’t often get to pick the time.

We do get to show up. To take up the challenge, even when it’s a pretty big challenge.

We do get to pick the time to hug the folks doing big work. And to open ourselves to what comes next.

I can’t wait to find out!

God, I suspect, will be chuckling then, too.