Category: Medicine Basket

Yes, perceptive reader… the game goes on!

The big green bookcase into the studio, ready for art supplies!

The rolling metal bookcase into our room. (It’s not really attractive but it’s handy and easy to move!)

The Noah-table beside the bed. At least for now. (It’s a long story…)

Lots of the kind of dusting that doesn’t happen except when big things get moved.

It’s not that we’re bored… just the opposite!

Instead – for me, at least – it’s a reflection of the Soul Yahtzee adventure going on inside me!

And it is, indeed, all happening in context.

When I’m doing the thing known as Filters, context gets symbolized as right angle brackets in the top left and bottom right of the drawing. (Hand signals work, too… in Zoom meetings!)

Most of Thursday and Friday turned into about a dozen pages of sketches and arrows and exclamation points, all having to do with setting the filters loose in the world. (Stay tuned…)

Then, Saturday morning, I fixed a cup of tea and flipped on the news to find myself in the midst of a flashback.

Charlottesville, Virginia. Six years ago. The tragic, deadly Unite the Right rally.

My kids are UVA grads. Charlottesville is among the homes in my heart.

One thing led, as it often does, to a whole lot of others. White supremacy. Politics. Madam Secretary. The Department of Justice. Human rights. Arranged marriages. Global warming. Fair elections. And, kind of surprisingly, poets, with the notion of the American Experiment.

Experiment!

(Time out for massive mental weaving… and many more pages of scribbling!)

Which brings us to the art you see, above… the bottom left bit of my recent painting, Revelation!

And the assumption that Walter Brueggemann will be okay with my including artists among his notion of poets!

If you squint a bit you’ll see the book, Finally Comes the Poet, there among the ones that have changed – and are changing, still – my view of the universe.

Here’s the punch line…

I want the experiment to work!

I want to live like all people were created equal. (They were!)

I want power for rather than power over.

And, while we’re at it, I’d really, really like a healing planet, too!

And, yes… I have 2 granddaughters growing up in this world, so I’m all in!

Since I have one vote and limited funds, that seems to mean proclaiming. Teaching. Sharing. Caring out loud in the best way I can.

And that means helping people just like you to do the same. Your way!

Fortunately, I’ve been filling up my medicine basket with a lifetime of good stuff and I have a new way to share the options coming just as soon as my inner poet and artist sign off. (Like, by Wednesday!)

If you’ve read this far, you have a bit of the puzzle, too. We’ll start with the questions… for YOU!

What inspires and empowers ME?

How do I most long to MATTER?

What do I need to be READY?

Wait! Go get something that makes marks and write these out with your very own hand. And leave space for the answers to come!

Then, take a deep breath. Listen to the poetry and art whispering to you. And show up again Wednesday!

ps… can’t wait??? The calendar elves will hook you up. 45 min. My gift. You bring your answers and a bit of red thread if it’s handy!

pps… the Hebrew word I added to the palm of the hand in the painting means here I am. I’m just sayin’!

ppps… if you haven’t read it already, my Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope is a really good intro! (It’s in the painting, too, but you need better eyes than mine!)

to be hit by an apple!” (Andrew Johnstone)

First, please hear me declare that I am not behind on my Legend painting journey. I am exactly where I need to be, even though others are considerably further along the way!

(Which could be a consciousness thing…)

Then, a bit of orientation for those of you who are not quite sure where this is heading!

Legend has been an annual Intentional Creativity® adventure for years. This is my fifth time on the wild ride that tends to call many things into question. (Possibly even gravity!)

Or, as our amazing leader, Shiloh Sophia McCloud, would say… It’s a place for hanging with catalysts and instigators! Like Shiloh, herself, and so many of our IC® ancestors, and this year’s bonus leader, artist and astronomer, Andrew Johnstone!

That hanging out place is why I keep showing up – investing time and money and energy – in a place where I’m actually choosing, metaphorically, to be hit on the head by an apple.

I have long loved questions more than answers!

Harry Potter, if you’ll recall, played riddle games. And – auditory/digital processor that I am – I can still hear with my teenaged ears, Gollum taunting Bilbo Baggins with questionssss… Then there were the stories about the Riddle of the Sphinx…

In this moment, though, it’s all about allowing ourselves to wonder and learn new things. Since we need a place to start, we’re wondering about creation and consciousness. Really!

Because embodied wondering is even more fun… we’re wondering with paint. And, in my case, Joan Baez!!!

So, going with heavy body paints for this adventure (Think toothpaste!) I squeezed some magic on my reused sushi container palette and pushed the buttons which reliably summon Ms. Baez into my space. Wow, was I in for a surprise!

Painting the beginning surrounded by the amazing percussion of Darling Corey was light years beyond my imagining. (Keep reading for now, if you would. The music video is, indeed, below!)

Here’s the thing…

I literally wound up dancing at my canvas.

Slinging paint and swinging hips. Tears on my cheeks and no pain in my knees. Or shoulders. Or awareness.

Really!!!

And then I heard another voice… startling at first. And, then… duh! The voice of C. S. Lewis’ Puddleglum, speaking to the Dark Queen…

“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

All of which leaves me with a few questions for you, if I may…

Think of something you’ve created… What does it feel like?

What do you long to create next?

What does the world need as it becomes more conscious?

Really! I want to know. (Leave a comment below, or email me! suesvoice@gmail.com )

Even if there’s a voice inside you, shouting that you are not creative… you are!

And I’d love to help!

So, hang for a few with Joan and the gang. And then, if you’re even hoping you’re ready, consider letting the calendar elves hook you up with 45 minutes. My gift. Lots of possibilities.

ps… yes! You might actually have squinted just right and noticed a 6-petal rose in the middle of my painting! More to come about that!

pps… if you’re on the blog list, watch for an email on Friday with big news from FierceArtWithHeart! Those elves have been busy, too! (If you’re not on the list yet, or you haven’t been getting emails lately, now would be great!)

Eight hundred years is a long time ago… and I feel like I’ve just been magically transported through that much time. Twice.

It’s been quite the trip!

I seem to be coughing more than sleeping. No fever. Covid tests negative. And allergies to most of the stuff you’d take if you were coughing.

Somehow, I’m making my way back to – well – normal. Or, perhaps, familiar would be a better word.

Except that it doesn’t feel that way.

Instead, it feels louder than usual.

MSNBC. Harp music. Chainsaws. Madam Secretary. And, of course, dreams.

(With a pause for a reminder that my very strong neuro-linguistic processing backup is auditory-digital!)

For clarification, the chainsaws are the aftermath of a recent storm.

The rest of it could all be lumped in the category of shifting filters.

It’s not necessarily an easy adventure.

It does feel a whole lot safer than it has in the past. You see, my map of reality has become clear and conscious.

Chosen, even. Intentionally.

And, the process is being helped along by externalizing it. By literally taking scraps of paper and a glue stick and a helpful question or two and creating a visual map of reality.

Which, in a world that often feels like Atlanta rush hour traffic, is really empowering!

Here’s the big news!

We don’t just get one map for all times and all challenges. We get to edit the map as we grow and learn and change!

And, no… this isn’t the way my 7th grade geography teacher explained it!

And, yes… it’s kind of scary.

What’s even scarier, at least for me, is the all too prevalent notion that there’s a right way to see everything and somebody gets to tell us what that is.

So, as the laundry machines spin on and I swig seeming gallons of hot ginger tea, I’m practicing my choosing.

Here’s a clue…

ps… are you ready to get intentional about choosing??? I can help! The first move is yours… take the risk of claiming your version of Buechner’s place where your deep joy and the world’s deep longing meet. Then, let the calendar elves hook you up with 45 minutes. My gift. Let’s cause some good trouble!

Let’s start with truth.

My body missed my chair while I was in France! It turns out that right angles and no chair arms are less optimal, orthopedically, than remote control footrests and all the angles just so.

Geographically, I’ve been home about five days… much of it spent coughing and trying to find ankles somewhere below my knees.

Mentally, emotionally, perspectively, I suspect I’ll never go back to what I used to think of as home again.

You see, home got a whole lot bigger while I was wandering, even though the view from my chair remains the same.

If you’re going to follow along – and I so hope you will! – the view from my chair looks like this:

There has been a lot of intentional curating going on with this view for the last couple of months.

The paintings which are teaching me the most in these days.

The courage to claim what they mean in my life.

Reminders of the path I’m choosing… one step at a time.

For this moment, let’s focus on the large bust on the blue bench. She’s been around for a while, now. Several months. Maybe a year.

She followed me home from the magical neighborhood place called Kudzu, where I often go to walk and wonder.

I wasn’t entirely sure why she insisted on being adopted. I just knew that she had a story to tell me.

(Time out for a reminder that art is both what is intended by the artist and what is received by the viewer… and – if the magic truly works – the message grows over time!)

She has a name now! It’s Minerva, in honor of the place my feet have just been called Minerve.

Also, in honor of my favorite Great Aunt, Emma Minerva. Just between us, she looks very much the way I remember Aunt Em which makes a whole lot of sense in the big picture!

Since she followed me home, she’s been mostly known as Courage. She has graciously received Courage essential oil on her forehead as part of many prayer requests.

Now, as the old saying goes… I know more! For I have walked the ground of Minerve. The place where many courageous Cathar people walked into the flames of crusaders rooting out the heresy of Love and Faith.

Part of the outcome of those tragic days was that nearly a thousand years worth of people grew up never knowing their stories.

I’m beyond grateful, though, that the stories live on, for those with ears to hear. And the perspective to listen!

And, you, dear friend, are already where this is heading… in a world where those who value power over Love are once again trying to hide the real stories of our human journey.

Which is, indeed, to say that YES, my filters are shifting even more!

And, while I’ve been resting up from my cosmic adventure with portals, I’ve also been planting seeds. Seeds of Intention. Of what is next. Of how to share.

A six-petal rose will certainly be involved. Quite probably ready to receive other learners. Pilgrims, even!

Obviously, there will be a lot more trust involved as the future unfolds. Everyday reminders that the story on the news isn’t the only story there is!

And, we do get to choose! May we teach our children well…

ps… I tried to hand Minerva the pen, as we often do with canvases, and she politely declined – with one eyebrow raised – and whispered that this story was mine to tell! More courage!

pps… if you’re reading along and haven’t joined the blog post list yet, now would be a great time! Deep breath… click annoying pop-up thingy and have an adventure! You are welcome here!!!

ppps… if you guessed that this whole story is ultimately about letting go of limiting beliefs – and suspect that you might be ready to lay down a few of your own, let’s talk! The calendar elves will set you up. 45 min. My gift. Real progress!