Category: Medicine Basket

(A bit of an old story in the beginning, and a whole new one at the end!)

Once upon a Sunday morning, quite some time ago, 11:00 arrived as it almost always does, and it was my turn to preach. There were a few challenges, that particular day.

It was a Sunday in October. A Sunday for which the Lectionary (complicated calendar of which scripture passages are “for” what day) was utterly unprepared!

You see, in addition to it being whatever Sunday in Ordinary Time, it was also Stewardship Sunday, on Pink Ribbon Sunday for breast cancer awareness, in National Domestic Violence Awareness month.

Yep! Money, sex (Well, some people think so!) and power, all cued up for Sunday morning.

The three things you learned – if you were raised right in the time and places I was – not to talk about!

But I did, because I couldn’t have lived with myself or faced the Creator of my understanding if I hadn’t. I mean, people dealing with all those challenges were sitting in our folding chairs, and not talking about it wasn’t going to help anyone!

This moment feels just like that, somewhere deep in my raised right heart which has learned a whole lot of new things.

One of those new things, since then, is Grammy-ness. Elder-ness.

I’ve also learned that flying our Real Me flags is the best thing for us as humans-in-progress.

And, that’s exactly what I want for my grandteens!!!

Actually, it’s what I want for all our Littles. I want it so much that I’m going to make a profession… I am officially beyond the whole raised right thing. As in done-done!

And this feels like a really good time to claim it. To notice that the Universe is in a place we’ve never been before… a portal, if you will. And it’s our job to join the team! (I’m liable to make a t-shirt!)

Money, sex, and power have always, always, always been huge issues. We get to re-frame them! Consciously. Intentionally. With honor to those who survived before us. And those who did not survive.

Here’s my attempt, much to the dismay of my inner editor who is convinced that she hasn’t had long enough to ponder…

Money is a tool. Not a matter of worth. We can use it for good, rather than simply for control.

Sex – or gender – is an expression of self… and we get to decide whether to love and uplift, or to dominate.

Power is always relative to something or someone. We get to choose to claim power for, rather than power over. Even though a whole lot of people, through a whole lot of time, have chosen over, rather than for.

Now is our time to choose… not just for ourselves, but for the future of the world. And, in this particular story, for those of us in the USA, now means 104 days.

I’m choosing a world in which all our Littles have choices. And voices. And sovereignty.

Many, many of my ancestors and family members did not have those options. The same is true for your family, whether you know their names and stories, or not.

Two of my great aunts – sisters named Mary and Alice – were hanged as witches in Salem. On the same day. Charges that often resulted in women being tried as witches were being in possession of, and able to read, a book other than the bible and having no living husband, father, brother, or son to control their money and property.

Those who did the accusing and judging, all those years ago, believed they held the only truth and were entitled to put women to death for those reasons.

Far too many of their descendants – genetic and political – believe that they hold the only truth and are entitled to similar powers in our time.

It’s time, and long past, to end the current expressions of such errant and tragic beliefs.

This is my heart-image of what that might look like…

Raise your hand. Gather your power-for. Claim your place in the circle. The time has come!

ps… this post is dedicated to my Grandmothers, Elsie and Elizabeth. Activists, both… in their ways and times.

pps… the painting in the middle is a #RedMadonna project, entitled Womb of Creation. May I – and all of us who choose to do so – create on!

I can still feel it… chills chasing up and down the back of my neck as Jean blew Taps on her bugle. The two of us walking the paths through one Florida state park or another, depending on the year, and making lights-out rounds of all the cabins.

The sound of giggling ‘tweens mixed with hooting owls, the occasional grumbling bobcat, and, one summer, the scream of a Florida panther on the shore of the lake.

It was a space somehow out of time. No physics or SAT tests. No TV sit-coms. And, with the exception of a lifeguard/bus driver or two, no men.

It was my very rustic, poison ivy covered, gnawed on by fire ants introduction to the Divine Feminine. Of course, I didn’t know that, consciously! I didn’t even know the words.

Six summers. Summers which included my first Moon time, swimming with Manatees, learning Macrame’, passing Red Thread, sitting with the homesick ones, and telling stories. Stories of how we were all related. Even the fire ants!

Fifty years, more or less, before I encountered the notion of Medicine Basket, I was filling my own.

Then came decades of learning several versions of the way we’ve always done it.

I started to be conscious of that dynamic in nursing school when I realized that my instructors, who were 30 or 40 years older than the students, were teaching us what they’d learned from their teachers, who did much of their learning during the Korean War.

While I was finishing my BA at Eckerd college, I learned one of my all-time favorite quotes… wisdom from the Quaker tradition:

In order to learn, we must be willing to be changed.

I knew, with every cell in my body, the huge truth of those words.

Then, when I was in Seminary, I encountered more than a few folks who seemed to wish those particular words weren’t true! Fortunately, those weren’t the only voices!

There were also folks trying to find new ways of telling old stories in a world never imagined by the first people to speak them… likely filled with fears of both silence and speaking. (Though that could be projection on my part!)

Somehow, though, I am here, today… sharing these words with you, in a time when silence feels far more terrifying than speaking.

And I have a new language now! Images!!!

What fascinates me the most is that, when I allow myself to learn new things about the process of putting paint on canvas, I am also learning new things about me. About my fears and my dreams. About being seen. About showing up… all of me!

It’s not all this world needs, but it is choosing to put one foot in front of the other, on the way.

The Way of Love. Which just might have been what Jean was hoping we’d learn, all those years ago!

For this moment, a bowl of my very own bone broth. With lots of veggies. And gratitude!

And, an offer… 30 minutes. My gift. You show up willing to claim the place you long to be. We’ll start making the map! Just click here and the calendar elves will gladly hook you up!

ps… no explaining the art, this day. You tell me what you see and hear! Really!!! Leave me a comment, if you like. Or email me. suesvoice@gmail.com

pps… I’m waving my magic brush-hammer again, and declaring that all original art and archival prints at FierceArtWithHeart – including those in the guest artist collection – are 20% off the current listed price, ONLY through July 22nd, at 11:59pm EDT. Just enter the code The Tower when you check out… (And, if you have your heart set on something major, there’s an option to spread out the payments!)

ppps… if Jean were here now, she’d say what I’m saying… never tRump!

Caution! Mixed metaphors ahead!!!

It’s been more than a bit of a week in my world. Probably in yours, too. Certainly in THE world! And, yes… as you may have noticed, I’ve been dreaming. Mountains.

I’ve also been painting mountains. I need them for the book I’m writing. Actually, the writing is done. It’s the images that are still unfolding.

Trust me when I tell you it’s an adventure!

See if you relate to this….

I know what I want! It’s just that getting it out of my heart/head and onto canvas means seeing things… making them concrete when they’ve mostly been word-symbols inside me.

You know how some of the old, old stories speak of creation as coming out of chaos. That’s where I am! And, frankly, the external chaos isn’t helping. (I’m guessing you hear me…)

So, I spent yesterday’s 15 minutes dedicated to doing-something-that-matters-to-me in a small group of others doing things that matter to them, sipping my cacao/collagen potion and staring at this…

There was, as you’ve probably guessed, more time needed for doing stuff that matters to me. My next right thing was hunting for the photo at the top!

An early quilt project. A gift for my son and his beloved. One I had no idea how to pull off until I got started!

I wanted mountains. What I had was a huge box of fabric scraps. And some ideas about colors, which was complicated since Dave tends in the direction of color blind! Then there was the bit about figuring out the zig-zag look.

That same kind of reverse engineering is going on with these painted mountains! I started with a photo a friend sent of some mountains here in Georgia, hoping to make my painting look something like that. It turns out there’s lots of stuff behind the mountains that needed to happen first. So now I’m going back and doing first stuff first so I can, eventually, get to last stuff!

I’m trying to stay curious about the flood of stuff that’s been bottled up a long time, coming forth as I work, in the context of the news in this moment.

(For now, time out for PT so I can keep painting!)

Then a bit of a song appeared in the auditory/digital processing center of my brain… I look to the mountains, from whence comes my aid! And, yes… the language might long for a bit of an update. Still, it helps!

Maybe realizing that our brains are full of mixed metaphors would be a good strategy for venturing out into this world!

It’s possible, though, that you might want to wrap yourself in a mountain quilt and make a bit more space for dreaming into what’s really really calling to you, first!

ps… here’s where the mountains and I are at the moment…

pps… I’m waving Sunday’s magic brush-hammer again, and declaring that all original art and archival prints at FierceArtWithHeart – including those in the guest artist collection – are 20% off the current listed price, through July 22nd, at 11:59pm EDT. Just enter the code The Tower when you check out… (And, if you have your heart set on something major, there’s an option to spread out the payments!)

You know I like symbols! This one felt like a big gift when it appeared on the shower wall. And I’m delighted to share it with you… just in case you could use a bit of hope, too!

When we bought our early 1960’s house it was really dark inside, which does not work for me. Tube skylights to the rescue! Easy to install. (Well, have installed!) Lots of light, and faceted prism-like panels that contribute to the rainbows. Twenty-five years later… one of my favorite handy-homeowner adventures yet!

That gift was also a gift for a series of paintings I’m working on! Creation needs a rainbow!

Turns out, though, that I put it in the wrong painting! (Feel free to laugh!)

I’ve only made one children’s picture book before. That one involved paste and a small mixed media journal and pictures of really big dogs. Its intention was introducing my then 2 year old granddaughter to the notion of Newfoundland dogs. Especially the one we’d just rescued!

My Little was good with their cat. A dog, conservatively eight times her size, was a whole different matter. So I pasted and printed and explained some of that big guy’s backstory so they could get to know each other. And they did!

I’m making another picture book now! The kind that gets published. The words were easy. (Details to follow…)

And, a lot of the art already exists. Finished paintings. Photos of drippy under-layers, which disappeared along the way. Then there’s the stuff that is only beginning to appear!

First, a confession. Figuring out the layout of this book is a whole lot more challenging than with the kind that are almost all words. Black on white. The occasional chapter title. Let’s just say it’s a learning experience! And, I created myself an opportunity to learn even more!

I was having whole lot of fun and things were really working out well, except for the bit where part of a painting was supposed to be on another page!

Enter the Scan Camp wizard… Barry’s going to take the part inside the very handy painters’ tape, in the upper left, and turn it into a whole separate image. Then, I’ll go back to the original canvas and paint some stuff out and add some new stuff in. (There’s an owl begging for a job!)

And, yes… it’s a very good bet that more dots will be involved!

Here’s the big news, though… this art – this book – is flowing straight from my inspired heart and my hope for our world. It’s part of the reason I’m here.

It feels a whole lot like planting seeds. And tending them. And it’s all happening in the context of the journey known as #animystica. A journey which has a lot to do with our place in Creation’s miraculous web, instead of over it.

And, yes… I’m channeling my summer camp days. I could – but won’t – bust into several verses of Kumbaya!

Somehow, I’m more in the mood for, If I Had a Hammer. Just in case it’s slipped your mind, that old favorite ends this way…

Well, I got a hammer
And I got a bell
And I got a song to sing
All over this land.
It’s the hammer of justice.
It’s the bell of freedom.
It’s the song about love between
My brothers and my sisters,
All over this land…

– Trini Lopez

Maybe I do have a hammer and it just looks like a paintbrush!

For now, a peek at the beginning of the next right thing! Mountains are fun… and hard on my shoulder!

ps… where might rainbows be waiting for you??? Really!!! Leave a comment below, or email me!

pps… I’m waving my magic brush-hammer and declaring that all original art and archival prints at FierceArtWithHeart – including those in the guest artist collection – are 20% off the current listed price, through July 22nd, at 11:59pm EDT. Just enter the code The Tower when you check out… (And, if you have your heart set on something major, there’s an option to spread out the payments!)

ppps… questions about the art? email me! suesvoice@gmail.com

Remember when I shared the recent news that I’m pregnant… with two books? It turns out there was another wee one hiding in there!!!

And the new kid has already claimed the honor of being born first!

This is becoming quite a trip!

Now, if you’ve known me a while, you may have heard that, when I was actually pregnant, things were pretty chaotic. Context-wise, for sure. Also medically. Months of pre-eclampsia. Cases of salt-free canned soup. (So many things I’ve learned, since then!) Huge ankles. High blood pressure. Lots of practice fainting. The whole nine yards! And, contrary to medical opinion, back in the day, it was something of a tradition in my family.

Then, I rang the big red seizures-in-labor bell!

Deciding not to do that again was an obvious choice for a young single mom. My kid needed me!

Feel free to follow that rabbit wherever it leads you in this day and time!

For now, back to book-babies. There were three of those in the first generation, too. Word-kids. Then I spent a lot of years learning cool things like Ericksonian Hypnotherapy and Intentional Creativity® They’re both big fun. And, I suspect, the painting needed to come after my travels with Uncle Milton!

This new generation is insisting on art! Lots and lots and lots of it. Some, blessedly, already painted. And a lot more in the #work-in-progress phase! I needed a map!!! Here’s a peek…

I am creating with all the parts of me.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, Grandmother Moon was whispering in my dreams, as she so often does. When I woke, it was with this massive new claim in my heart:

In partnership with the Divine, I create. And walk the Way of Love.

And, not just a claim… an Intention. And a Promise.

These new book-babies are being born out of that Promise. And, frankly, it’s a little scary! (Maybe a lot!)

In 8 days — okay, I’m slow! — an old, old story has claimed a voice for our time.

Poetic rhythm. Illustrations chosen to evoke imagination… and belonging.

Tears of love and wonder mixed with paint.

And hope. Huge hope. That more of our dear Littles will find themselves in a new generation of a story as old as time. Here’s a peek…

And, yes… you see prayer dots. The finger kind I love. Many, many, many of them!

For Choice. And Voice. And Sovereignty.

So be it for me. And for you. And for all our Littles.

For now, the canvas is calling…

Sometimes, as you may have noticed, there’s just too much news! When that happens, around here, it’s library time. All the very favorites, exactly where they belong. And, today was one of those days! (You do the math!)

Matilda, as you may recall, is my new externalized source of strategies for overcoming obstacles. (aka #Apothecary 5.0) One of her radical ideas is the notion that wisdom which has helped before just might come in handy again, even when the context gets different!

I suspect that’s why I was dreaming about her rooting around in the bookshelves!

And, yes… the stack she came up with probably looks familiar. And, they’re all connected to stories!

Let’s start with…

Dr. Walter Brueggemann preaching in chapel at Columbia Theological Seminary, back in the day. After acknowledging that it was, perhaps, a bit outside the Reformed theology world view in which we were being “raised,” Walter said this:

The Saints are all those who believe for us on days when we can’t quite believe for ourselves.

Leaping a bit, but actually not so very far, we come to one of my personal Saints, a guy named Puddleglum.

For the for the uninitiated, Puddleglum is a Marsh Wiggle, who, with the Prince and some children, is being held by the Witch, who is busy explaining why their journey to Narnia is juvenile and futile. Puddleglum isn’t having it. Let’s listen in…

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things — trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.”

C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair, The Chronicles of Narnia

Now, I’ve loved this story for ages, but in this moment I’m reclaiming the realization that part of the power is in Puddleglum choosing and speaking and acting, even though anybody with half an ounce of sense knows it’s scary!

For now, may you feel your Saints believing for you, and believe for someone else when they can’t quite believe for themselves. Maybe even for me! This photo is very nearly finished art for my first children’s book which is almost ready to be born! (And, yes… Matilda approves!)

ps… the little white book in the top photo, kind of leaning against the others, is my Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope! Click here to get your copy!