My heart goes out to teachers!

Okay, let’s get real. This is an especially hard time to be a teacher! Nothing works the way it used to which is a major example of something that isn’t good or bad. It just is.

And pretty much everybody is involved. Teachers. Students. Parents. Grandparents. Sports teams. The folks who sell beer for tailgate parties. Bus drivers.

You get the drift.

I’ve been looking at all this newness from the perspective of both a student and a teacher. This past weekend, I had the great privilege of being a student in a retreat affectionately known as The Bunny Slope.

It had been scheduled to be in-person back when organized people, like Sam Bennett plan things. Clearly that wasn’t going to work, especially with participants from several nations.

So Sam and her team of wizards figured out how to teach business concepts to creatives of many sorts, virtually.

Because I also teach, and am re-figuring a bunch of things I had planned, I feel safe in observing that, there on The Bunny Slope, the teachers were learning right along with the students. In my world, that’s a good thing!

It’s a lot like living with Luther, who graciously agreed to appear, above. In case you’re a new friend, Luther is our latest Newfoundland rescue dog. And one of my greatest teachers.

He came to us, about 3 1/2 years ago, severely traumatized, from a puppy mill in Michigan. (Insert rant of your choice, here.) It was about 14 months before I could leave him alone. Which, in retrospect, was probably good training for the pandemic and quite possibly the reason I’m hanging in there, now.

The social and emotional issues healed slowly and the huge-hearted guy inside began to appear. Unfortunately, his eye problems began to get worse. Despite all our efforts to help, he lost his vision entirely. Eventually, he began to have increasing pain from pressure in his eyes.

About a year and a half ago, we made the difficult decision to have his eyes surgically removed to relieve his pain. I kept thinking about a beloved Vet who once told me that, “When they’re in pain, they think they’ve been bad.”

Luther and I spent the first three post-op weeks literally tied to each other because he couldn’t tolerate a “cone of shame” and I couldn’t let him try to take out his own sutures.

Almost from the moment our current beloved Vet and I got the black silk sutures out of his Newfie face (Time out for major eye rolling on my part!) he started to get more sociable.

Fast forward to tonight and the photo, above. This big guy, whose favorite word is friend, found his own way from the kitchen, which is his usual hangout, to the den so he could bond during Chopped. He’s actually started, just recently, to decide where he wants to be and go there, instead of staying where he is until somebody tells him he needs to be somewhere else, even though it usually means bumping his nose a few times on the way.

It occurred to me, as I was taking his picture, that lots of the world feels like Luther’s world must, much of the time. And the dog-mom inside me, who is also a student and a teacher and a grammy, has hope.

Which doesn’t mean I’m not also pretty livid much of the time.

It just means that livid isn’t going to get me too far down the road to different. So, I’m going with determined. A lot like Luther. And that determined me is definitely going to vote.

And keep learning what I need to know. And helping others learn, too. And giving thanks for all the amazing teachers in my world. Even the ones who didn’t set out to be teachers.

ps… It’s me, Luther. (Sometimes I get to write, too!) Mom painted a picture with me in it. It’s called “Chosen, Safe, and Loved.” You see it if you click HERE!

What the heck is that???

It became official in July when my certificate came in the mail. Many of you wrote to offer congratulations, which I hugely appreciated in this time of compassionately distanced celebrations.

Some of you wrote to ask, with varying expletives, what on earth was Intentional Creativity® Coaching and what did it do, which I also hugely appreciated.

Questions, as I’ve long believed, make all the difference when it comes to learning new things. Also doing new things!

So, as the pandemic goes on and some of you are dealing with kids you didn’t expect to have home from college and parents you can’t visit and ways to make a living while supervising adventures like virtual algebra, here are a few of your questions, along with some answers.

If it’s called Intentional Creativity, do I have to be artistic? Nope! At least not any more so than we all are. (Yes, even you!) Which is to say, if you can take markers – or crayons, for that matter – and make marks on paper, you’ve got this. (Okay, larger sized, heavy paper like what you find in a 9×12 or larger mixed media sketch book is handy, but flexible are us!)

If I can’t come see you, how does this work? Great question! I have an “office” in the land called Zoom. We find a time, I send you a link, and we get together for a while and do what I like best about ICC which is unsticking stuck stuff. I’ll light the electric candle. (No real ones with Newfoundland rescue dogs wandering through, especially when one of them is blind!) Please bring your own tea and Kleenex.

Okay… what exactly is this good for? If you’ve known me a while, or been reading along, we’ve probably talked about strategies. In an ICC session, we use a strategy called Metacognitive Drawing to find new ways for you to get from where you are to where you’d rather be. Think for a minute about someone you know who might be feeling stuck about a certain issue. She uses a familiar strategy like eating a pound of p-nut M&M’s or yelling at her cat or binge watching Hallmark movies. (There’s no judgment here… just the observation that these are often not choices which actually get us to a new place.) Metacognitive Drawing, also known as thinking about thinking while moving a pen, puts us into a different relationship with our thoughts and that makes new options not only possible, but kind of obvious!

But you’re a grandmother! And a pastor! This all sounds fringy. Or new-agey. What’s up with that? You’re right. I’ve been working to help people for more than 30 years now. I’m a pastoral counselor with mastery level training in Ericksonian hypnotherapy/NLP. I know a whole lot about Enneagram personality types and where you store your past by how you move your eyes, though that gets tricky because I can’t tell my right from my left . And I am, in fact, a grandmother. Those two girls, growing up in this world, are a big part of the reason I do this, because me just knowing a lot doesn’t help them make the changes they want and now I have more ways to do that, even when I can’t be there.

Say more… Okay. I had two amazing grandmothers whom we’ll refer to as the story Gramma and the picture Granny. Once upon a time, I was a seminary student getting ready to preach for the first time in the church where I grew up. I realized, while I was preparing, that I felt much closer to the story Gramma than I did the photo Granny, though I loved them both. (Break for whole lots of right brain/left brain learning and time for a bit of perspective to sneak in.) ICC makes a place, like Rumi’s field, where the story brain and the picture brain can work together to create new possibilities. Really!

But, what if you don’t know the answer to my questions? Or my problems? No worries! I know some questions that make all the difference and how to create sacred space for the journey. YOU know what you need and ICC helps you find the answers inside you.

What are your clients saying about their experience? Ahhh… we’re getting serious! Here are some actual comments…

“The MetaCognitive thing helps my brain stop being obsessive compulsive about the problem or emotion or whatever, and allows me to see myself, and my issues, from all angles.”

“It’s different every time! I’m not good at memorizing Bible verses or mantras or whatever. The visualizing really helps. I can remember the pictures and carry them with me!”

“It helps me re-frame dilemmas about taking care of others and realize that it’s actually about taking care of me so I can be in relationship to them.”

How do I start? email me at suesvoice@gmail.com We’ll find a time to get on the phone and see if working together feels like a good match, then we’ll make a plan that starts where you are. We’ll also sort out the time and investment issues of this journey which work a bit differently than you may be used to.

What else? Another note from a client: “Participating in an IC coaching session was a new way to explore and express my feelings. It was very helpful to be able to share back & forth on Zoom. I really liked being able to draw some of the things I was feeling, instead of always having to verbalize my feelings. I’ll definitely do it again!”

And one from me… You – yes you – were born with great gifts. Gifts the world needs now. Set yourself free to live in hope by taking a chance on you and what can be if you’ll let it! I’d be honored to help.

ps… Once upon a time, I spent about an hour and a half with a brilliant wizard woman named Julie Steelman doing an impromptu ICC session. By the time we were done, I had recognized my biggest, hairiest lurking fear and realized that, while it was very deep and old, it wasn’t me now. And the fear disappeared. How do I know it’s still gone? Because I posted this today!

pss… Yes! Should you happen to know others having a challenge getting their cats to march in a parade, you’re welcome to share this 😉

To everything…

A miracle happened this morning!

I opened the door to the deck to let the beasties out for their stroll around the back forty. (This is not the miracle part. Well, kinda, but that’s a physical therapy story!)

Then I noticed. It was like a breath on my arm. The first breath of fall. (In Atlanta, this is, indeed, a miracle!)

Soft. Ever so slightly cool. A bit damp in the not-totally-humid way. And the light was different, too.

Phoebe and Luther felt it. They actually stayed a while, wandering. And then they bounded up the stairs for their treats and water.

Bounding, by the way, is also a miracle for two huge dogs, one of whom sees with his heart and one just joining the little old lady syndrome crowd.

As for me, I’ve been humming. If you’ve been hanging around for a while, it’s probably obvious.

It really does feel like some new seasons are beginning.

My Unified Archetype painting, aka The Critic & The Muse, has been quite chatty. Insistent, really. I’ve actually figured out – or drawn my way to – how all this works for me.

This, as you probably suspect, is a shift that makes room for so many other things to shift… and heal. The magic is still in my head. But, stay tuned! There’s a whole lot of new to share on the way.

My Artifact painting is still mulling. And looking forward to gathering for salon time. I’m, kind of oddly, feeling very settled about where we are at the moment.

Also on my list for the afternoon is an online thing with a politician. He and his not-remotely-esteemed opponent are doing an awesome job of reminding me that language isn’t the only thing which creates reality.

Images create reality, too.

And I, in my reality, am hoping and praying for huge amounts of newness, come November. (Also, helping… my action for the day!)

Which is to say, I guess, that I do believe in times to every purpose under Heaven. And I’m counting on the possibility that those times may come even in the midst of chaos. They seem to, for me.

ps… it rained just a bit and then I went hunting in the garden for more signs of impending fall. The grapes have doubled in size and are almost ready to turn!

Everything… and the kitchen stove!

It’s been a bit of an adventure around here, lately. In fact, I was chatting with someone on the phone the other day and he asked me what I do.

I laughed! Then I replied that my current business cards say, just after my name, Author – Artist – Activist – Grandmother

All of that is true. And I really like the cards! Which I why I had some new ones made recently. Certified Intentional Creativity® Coach

I finally realized that, while a 36×48 inch canvas is huge fun, it doesn’t make a great business card and I could have more than one kind!

I’ve also been promoted to Phoebe’s physical therapist. Phoebe is one of our Newfie rescue dogs and she has the very beginnings of what her chiropractor refers to as little old lady syndrome. (She may not be the only one!)

Her favorite exercise goes like this:

Phoebe, come. Sit. (Treat)

Then I back up a few steps and we repeat. Four or five reps. Quickly. Three times a day. If you’ve met Phoebe, you’ve already guessed that it’s the treat part she enjoys! (We won’t talk about the other exercise!)

Just between us, the backing up bit is not my hip’s favorite part!

I’ve been thinking a lot, though, about the future. Part of that, I suspect, comes with the amazing artist and summer intern who’s hanging out with me and teaching me at least as much as she’s learning. If you want to learn new things, try answering questions! The really good, deep kind that come from a person whose journey and perspectives (not to mention, age!) are different from your own.

Grandchildren are great for this! Asking helps everybody learn, too!

One of the urgent questions in my world just now is what I’d like to be asked in an interview about my work tomorrow. Thankfully, some of my friends have come to the rescue with great hints. The laundry is done. (Well, what needed to be done for tomorrow. Or most of it. Writing this reminds me that there’s more of that.)

And the new oven, whom you’ve met before, is pre-heating. It’s roast chicken night, thanks to a great deal of help from Bill who’s in charge of bending over to baste tonight.

Actually, it’s not just a new oven. It’s a whole new dual-fuel range from Fisher and Paykel. The matchmaker in this relationship was a great guy named Greg at SRAppliances, here in Atlanta.

I love the stovetop part, especially the way the heat adjusts perfectly to whatever I’m trying to accomplish. And there are five burners!!! The oven racks are the coolest ones I’ve ever seen. They’re so easy to slide in and out. The little challenge with the oven light is all fixed with help from a nice guy named Eric who arrived with shoe covers and a mask, and actually liked the dogs, who were very calm about spending a bit of time in their box while we had a visitor.

And, I must admit, one of the things I love most is the way this fabulous new appliance has such presence in the kitchen I worked so hard to design. All of which is great as we’re eating at home all the time!

In about an hour and a half, the kitchen will smell fabulous and that chicken will be crispy and golden and comforting.

For this moment, though, something that appeared in my mind during the painting process called Artifact. Part of the journey involves four or five statements to complete the prompt: I am one who………………………

The response that feels most important to me just now goes like this:

I am one who carries multi-colored genetics in a cooling sack of stars which appears white.

It’s okay if it doesn’t quite make sense to you. It’s possible you had to be there. The point, I think, is the question more than whatever specific answers might come. I’d love to hear some of yours!

ps… if you’d like to cause a perfectly roasted chicken to appear in your kitchen, click here for the recipe.

pps… watch for a link to the interview, as soon as the techno magic happens. We’ll have more questions to play with!

The challenge of our time…

Today, I changed my little picture on Facebook – you know, the one that tells you it’s me – to put back the banner thing that says, “Staying home, saving lives”.

I did it after I read an email from Congressman Hank Johnson (D, GA-04) urging people – people in metro Atlanta – to make sanity instead of riots. Well, that’s not exactly what Hank said. This is:

“If you are reading this message, please understand that peaceful protests don’t take place at night. So if you believe in peace, and you stand for truth, righteousness and order, then stay home this evening.”

Yes, I’m staying home to stay well in the pandemic, and to help protect others as well. The pandemic, as you may not have heard, is still a huge and life-threatening issue in Georgia even though some of us think “back in business” is the answer to everything.

The riots, in the face of recent human lives taken by police officers, are a huge and life-threatening issue as well.

And, yes, I have an opinion. It’s simply this: Life matters.

They’re complicated issues, to be sure. I’m happy for my local business friends who are able to begin doing what they do again, even in different ways.

I’m really happy that The Corner Pub has wings for take-out, especially since the recent stove event at our house. And I’m grateful for all my buddies at Pine Street Market and my farmer friends for working so hard to keep many, many of us in clean, safe food during the pandemic. And to the awesome guy who helps with our garden.

And I’m grateful for all of those in Atlanta and across the U.S. with the wisdom to know that racism – while it exists – doesn’t have to determine — or undermine — our humanity.

Life really does matter. Perhaps that’s why so many of my teachers have been talking, in these days, about fear and not letting it rule our lives.

I’ve been paying particular attention because I’m a grandmother who harbors a preacher deep inside.

I can’t help but remember that it has been the times when I said the things that lived most deeply inside me – the biggest, most real things – that I felt most misunderstood.

When I spoke of peace instead of needless, futile war or of ordaining those whom God calls to ministry or of living with those who appear different as sisters and brothers, I seemed somehow to turn up trouble when I meant to build bridges.

It’s true. And it’s hard. But grandmothers are known to do hard things. I want my girls to grow up in a world where they live out of love, passion, and enthusiasm, instead of fear. And I want everybody else’s kids to learn that, too!

There are only two things I know about how to help that happen.

Show them what it looks like. And keep on speaking out.

Blogs, books, paintings… even the occasional poem or pot of soup… they’re all visions of a future where life matters and humanity means everybody who wants to participate.

Oddly enough, my biggest teachers on that last bit are the Newfoundland rescue dogs in our family who have been harshly neglected and abused and yet, somehow, love everybody. Even the guys tromping around on the roof, cutting down trees.

So, mask on, paintbrush in hand, and my girls to inspire me, I’m going to get up tomorrow and do it some more. Are you with me?

ps… Voting counts, too. (You knew that was coming, didn’t you?) It really does.

Progress is messy…

Yep, it’s Wednesday again. Just between us, there’s part of me that’s tempted to skip the whole #Work-in-Progress thing this week. I’ve had just about enough stuff screaming for progress!

Six guys crawling around on the house. Saws. BIG thumps. Rain. Confused dogs who know there are new friends around and can’t figure out why they don’t get to meet them. Did I mention rain?

A package that I really, really needed to get to Texas but, apparently, has not, yet.

Massive confusion with the Vote-by-Mail ballot I received yesterday and some (unresolved) feelings about the people who mailed it. (I’ll get back to you on this one. The system-guys in question aren’t available for comment.)

In short… I want something done. Preferably right. (Or, perhaps, left.)

Let’s just say it’s been a day for deep breaths. And, not really so oddly, tears.

One of the things I learned from my hypnosis guru is that laughing and crying both relieve physiological stress. As the theory goes, it takes twice as much crying as laughing to relieve the same amount of stress. (Who figures out how to measure that???)

Still, it’s a good thing to remember when your eyes are leaking and somewhere inside a voice, clearly belonging to someone else, is whispering, “What do you have to cry about?”

The answer is, “Whatever!”

Another thing I learned along the way came from my dear friend, Steve Glenn, of Developing Capable People fame. (You’ve heard this one before.)

There’s no such thing as failure. Only experience to be learned from.

Last year, at just about this time, was one of those experience times, when Luther was recovering from his eye surgery and I was stressed and not sleeping. I learned that coloring helps in times like that. Not surprisingly, Shiloh Sophia McCloud was one of my best teachers. And I scored a copy of her first book, the Color of Woman coloring book, from a used book listing on Amazon.

Today, as you no doubt expected, I got out my coloring book. The photo, above, is now Fiercely Compassionate Grandmother. (At least to me.)

In the photo, below, meet some of my newer teachers, making progress.

Note the wires they, blessedly, didn’t cut!!!

As for me, I have just enough time to feed the beasties and, maybe-just-maybe, catch a fast nap before the next Zoom meeting. (My new teachers get up really early!)

Tomorrow, more fierce compassion is likely to be required.

New Perspectives

I spend a lot of time pondering vision. Optical. Mythical. Mystical. It’s hard not to at our house where we’re constantly adapting for the very large Studio Angel who, literally, has no eyes, except in his heart. Living with Luther causes us to see differently. To see more.

The two most vital “obedience” commands at our house have become door and step. And, just between us, that feels a bit prophetic these days.

What, I wonder, are the doors in this moment which we may not see?

And what will it take for us to step through them?

Your answers are probably different than mine. One of the things, though, that helps me step through some of the doors in my world is the legend you’ve heard me share about Red Thread.

In the same way that Luther needs to be connected to a strong but stretchy lead to venture outside the world he can navigate alone, I find it comforting to be connected by this story that, as someone once said, is both true and may actually have happened.

Women connected through time and space, to those who will matter in their lives, by a red thread. I suspect it started when somebody noticed the red thread nature of an umbilical cord and spread through indigenous cultures and biblical times and, these days, in Zoom circles of daughters and sisters and mothers and grandmothers and friends without number.

In my world, it makes stepping through doors into places I can only imagine considerably more possible.

Today, I am Hearth Tending in the Red Thread Cafe Classroom which is the big group gathering place for Intentional Creativity® types like me. It’s kind of ironic for me right now.

I’ve spent much of the last week getting my contemporary hearth functional again and I may actually get there tomorrow when the new stove is delivered. Well, Friday, maybe. Somehow it’s going to have to be magically transported from a big box on the carport into the actual kitchen!

The gas line situation is almost under control. The hunk of scrap metal formerly known as the stove has been spoken for, having been properly thanked for its service.

I’m reminded, as I celebrate Works-in-Progress with my sisters, that virtually everything is in progress, even the things we think are done, or haven’t begun. It’s one of those perspective things!

Gardening is a great way to remind yourself that there is, indeed, a season for everything. And somewhere between predicted rain storms and gas lines and Zoom meetings and a visit from our dear friend and dog Auntie, the vet, I’ll be out picking the first salad greens of the season.

Not all creativity needs paint! (Though I’m planning time for that, too!)

Peace-out!!!

Sue Boardman, Certified Intentional Creativity®
Color of Woman Teacher & Coach