(Relative) Reality Therapy

I woke, on Saturday morning, to noises coming from the other side of the house.

Plumbing noises.

The kind you don’t want to hear.

I rolled over and tried to ignore those noises. Then I realized that I needed to pee.

Turns out the noises weren’t just coming from the other side of the house. They issued forth from “my” bathroom, too.

Ominous, non-flushing kinds of noises.

So much for sleeping! Investigation was definitely in order.

The Legendary Husband, being less of a mystery novel fan than I, had no clues, despite the high tech portal to the universe in front of his face.

Button pushing was in order.

Rumors of a water main break nearby. No details about when it might be – you know – fixed.

Local tv “news” obsessed with weather and traffic. (On a sunny Saturday morning!) Reports on restaurants having inspection challenges. Something about early MardiGras nearby.

I was aggravated.

No. I take that back. I was pissed.

And, then, the elephant in the news room appeared.

Video of the needless death of Tyree Nichols at the hands of police officers.

Video I haven’t yet watched.

Not because I’m not devastated, but because I am. And I’m overloaded with that these days.

The Atlanta area protests are thus far non-violent. Blessedly.

And, the world is bigger than Atlanta.

The world is also bigger than my local plumbing problems, which are pretty privileged problems when viewed through a global lens.

That’s when the perspective shift happened!

With more than a bit of help from Joan Baez. (It works for me!)

A rendition of The President Sang Amazing Grace let my tears be more for the world than for myself.

And, a few minutes later, God is God.

Sound scary? I get it. And it’s not the only message for this moment, but it’s one that just might be helpful!

After that, I was ready to move on to a bit of coaching for a new artist.

Phoebe’s eye meds. Read that, an occasion for t-r-e-a-t-s. (Newfs really do have big vocabularies!)

And back to the new generation of Grandmother Moon in progress. My own Divine Feminine image. Portable!

A combination of process and perspective which help me go on.

I’m pretty sure the more of us there are on board, the better the grace works for everybody!

ps… why the Joan Baez vibe/obsession??? Assumed it was nostalgia for peace & justice summer camp days in the midst of our current context. Turns out, there’s more! Like the art! And something singer/activist Patti Smith said when presenting Joan with an Amnesty International Ambassador of Conscience award… “If the 16th century had Joan of Arc, we have Joan Baez.” May we have ears to hear!

pps… searching for some new tools for your medicine basket? I can help! Step one: ask the calendar elves to find you 45 minutes to chat. My gift. Red thread and a cuppa could be handy!

Mixed Metaphor Alert!!!

…Or, when shoulding on yourself quits working!

Which is a whole lot like time for the Medicine Basket!

Let’s start with the #work-still-in-progress painting, above. It may feel familiar.

It’s an opinionated project, so far! The working title is Laying it Down…

It as in beliefs which aren’t empowering. And, even in the only begun stage, it’s a great reminder which I’m really glad I had standing by for this last week!

Here’s the thing… we’re not just talking about head-beliefs!

Body and heart beliefs matter, too!

And a whole bunch of mine – all kinds – seem to have gotten riled up since my trip with Luther to the Rainbow Bridge.

As in: I should be able to handle this!

Yesterday’s trip to physical therapy was an intentional exercise in laying a whole bunch of those beliefs down.

We began with some adjustments and instructions for my new strength trainer… aka: rollator walker.

Gulp!!!

It’s not that the mobility thing is suddenly worse, though it’s been a challenge for a while.

Instead, I suddenly need it to be a whole lot better. Less scary. More reliable. (Details, eventually…)

And that kind of need involves a boatload of believing that it can change!

And that involves laying down whatever shoulda-coulda-woulda junk is taking up space where hope could live in my Medicine Basket.

So, a learner’s permit from my friend, the PT!

And, then, some time known as soothing.

Specifically, Craniosacral Therapy.

I can’t explain it… except that it shifts things. (And it’s pretty relaxing!)

Then, home to the place known as the real world.

Chair. Lunch. Really, really dark chocolate. Meetings. The adventurous kind.

You know… out of the box! Most of them having to do with what comes after the laying it down bit.

A good conversation with my kid… the birthday dude.

Then, the apparently misguided notion that I was ready to sleep.

I tried! In fact, I tried until about 2:30 am.

And then, the magic chair. Book. Weighted blanket. And, eventually, sleep.

Complete with dreams about cats! (Go ahead and be surprised… that really doesn’t happen much around here!)

Except that I discovered, while swinging from the branches of my family tree a couple of days ago, a new Great Aunt, many, many generations back. Another of the handful of related Saints nobody ever mentioned. Here’s my favorite photo:

Yep! The Patron Saint of Cats is my Aunt Gertrude! My sister is very excited!!!

Here’s what else I know about Aunt Gert so far… She was born in what is now Belgium, in 626 CE. Like other women in her prominent family, she chose – with her mother’s help – to escape an arranged marriage of the politically and financially beneficial sort, and establish a monastery for women dedicated to living their faith and helping people.

And that tells me that she was also a fan of laying down beliefs which were not empowering!

And it also suggests that some of my tendencies in the same direction just might come from a long line of women who found hope in choosing to fill their Medicine Baskets with tools for change.

At least, that’s what I heard when I woke!

ps… bizarre question! Would you help me with my soul homework??? If yes, please respond to the questions below in the comments or by email… suesvoice@gmail.com Sending huge thanks in advance!!!

Assuming that YOU are ready for some help with your big dreams – your soul homework – Which of these gift-steps feels LEAST terrifying to you??? (Extra thanks for a note about what feels best about your choice!)

  1. An ah-hah, now I know more-type quiz
  2. An on-demand video adventure in perspective shifting
  3. Something I can read, on my own time
  4. Staying stuck

Out of my closet…

Truth: I’m dragging a bit.

Being there for Luther as he made his transition last week was exhausting in the way that holding it together when you are needed so often is.

And, I’m grateful. For choices. And love. And blessed travelers along the way. And – frankly – sleep.

Morning comes, though, as morning does.

Wrapped in my paint-splattered flannel sheet with my favorite new cuppa beside me, I took a deep breath and dove into my email.

There, I discovered that today is the 50th anniversary of the original Roe v Wade decision, making abortion access legal in the USA.

The folks who wanted me to remember that were, blessedly, the kind who are hoping I’ll do some reminding of my own, as part of a huge effort to make it so, again.

If you’ve been reading along for more than a week or two, you already know what I think.

It was clearly time to liberate this fabulous new t-shirt from my closet, and start mattering.

Petitions, and emails, and prayers, oh my!

If, by chance, you’re new in these parts, here’s the best thing I know on the subject of abortion:

Abortion is a tragedy. It should be legal. It should be safe. It should be a whole lot rarer than it is.

– Matt Santos, candidate for President, The West Wing, season 7

Making abortion care illegal has never been, and will never be, the answer.

The practical steps to a whole lot rarer are obvious… and expensive. Here are a few from my list:

  • Help, for families who need it, with housing and nutrition
  • Universal healthcare
  • Affordable college
  • High quality day-care and universal Pre-K
  • Protection of voting rights and access
  • Real prosecution of rape, incest, and domestic violence offenders

Then there’s the hard part…

We need to claim – and live – the radical notion that all people matter. That all people have human rights. And one of those rights is to bodily sovereignty.

Or, to put it plainly, women are not livestock!

And I have, as you probably know, 2 very real granddaughters trying to grow up in this country!

So, a meeting, having to do with the Divine Feminine. A bit more painting. (Sirius, the dog star! And the Hebrew word for remember, which also means remind.)

And some more mattering.

Because, when you get right down to it, what else is there?

ps… looking for YOUR SuperPower Path (which probably leads to even more mattering!)? Click HERE for an adventure, as my gift to you!

pps… how about a Valentine’s Day gift for yourself??? I have fabulous suggestions, at special discounts. Stunning, warm, cozy, and unique! FierceArtWithHeart.

Witnessing…

Welcome back to work-in-progress Wednesday.

In this case, a bit more work than usual!

You see, this is one of those times when the Muse is in charge and I’m just holding the brush!

If you’ve been reading along, you may recognize the first layers of #Matrica which has been on my easel since just before the first of the year.

I had a plan.

She had another.

Which is probably just as well, since my world seems to have other plans, too.

Here’s the Readers’ Digest version…

I’m sorting a lot of things just now, needing to make a decision. It’s a decision I’ve needed to make before and it doesn’t get easier.

What is different is that I am.

I’ve learned new things. And walked new paths.

I’ve added some new (or, perhaps, old!) beliefs to my Medicine Basket.

And – surprise! – the context keeps changing, too!

So, I wasn’t all that surprised when a bear insisted on appearing on my canvas.

My dear friend/shima, Maria Yraceburu, told me, a year or so ago, that I am bear clan.

Like so many things in my current world, this is not something we covered in nursing school or seminary!

There’s a lot of info online about animal guides and such. Here’s some of what feels important to me just now:

On a spiritual level, the bear represents the courage to evolve and the ability to be open-minded. In addition, the bear reminds us to trust our instincts and to be protective of our faith…. they also carry the message of the need to retreat so we can recharge, and reminders to be gentle.

Painting the bear has been a whole other adventure!

The photo at the top is where we were shortly before I headed for bed last night. And, yes, she looked a bit like a cross between an otter and a small show dog!

This next pic is from this morning’s first step in editing, also known as the hard part!

The actual decision that some of what has appeared must disappear to make space for new-ness…

Then, a whole lot of experimenting. And squinting. And some phone calls. And some tears.

Here’s where we are, now…

The phase that feels like hope, despite the hours of changes and layers of paint and a chorus or two of, what was I thinking?

Those same hours held some tears and some hard conversations – mostly the internal kind.

And, frankly, nothing has gotten easier!

Except a reminder of the belief that’s under all the other beliefs that hang out in my medicine basket, amidst the brushes and glazes and dreams and a six petaled rose.

There’s more work to do, though she looks a whole lot more like a bear now, and there is wise kindness in her eyes.

I’m hoping we’ll sleep.

ps… need a bit of sorting and stocking help with your medicine basket? Even if you’re not the painting type… I can help! Just let the calendar elves hook you up with 45 minutes, as my gift to you, and we’ll see what next step appears!

pps… she’s going to need a name! Ideas???

When Sunday comes on Friday!

This has never happened before, dear hearts, but it’s time!

Wearing my able to choose tank top, along with some more winter-ish layers, I am officially doing Sunday’s blog post today and – gasp! – taking Sunday off!

It has a lot to do with irony.

For many of us, this day – known as Epiphany – marks the day the weary Magi arrived at the stable where Mary and Joseph were sheltering with the new-born baby Jesus because, as the old story goes, there was no room for them at the inn. (Which, if you’ll recall, had a lot to do with politics…)

Thus, as I learned it, there were also angels and shepherds, a donkey, and some sheep and cattle, milling about, along with – at least at our house – a sheep herding dog called a Puli who came from Hungary. (Little black fuzzy guy in the photo!)

Much of that story has to do with being led by light.

Today is also the Orthodox Christmas Eve in Ukraine, where I can only imagine some more light would be welcome.

And, in what feels like really bad management by somebody’s calendar elves, it is the second anniversary of the January 6 insurrection in America.

The irony doesn’t end there, though, for the US House of Representatives is still in the midst of the seemingly endless attempt to elect a Speaker of the House.

Add to that, a flare on the personal orthopedic pain front, and I’ve needed some dots. Well, lots of dots.

And yes, my #Matrica painting volunteered again.

As the blatant jockeying for power and votes went on, I began again with dots for hope.

Then, justice.

And, then, another shift, on CNN and inside me.

You see, we took a break from the so-called election to “attend” a White House ceremony in which 14 people were awarded Presidential Citizens Awards on the 1/6 anniversary.

Several of those awards were given posthumously and accepted by tearful family members. Others were given to current and former officers involved in defending the US Capitol. Still others went to folks like election workers in several states, involved in upholding actual voting results. (Yay, Georgia!)

Here’s the thing I noticed most. Amidst all the pomp and ceremony, there were tears and hugs and even jokes. And, in the middle of all the very human feelings, was a guy known as POTUS… Joe Biden.

And, somewhere along the line, in the midst of the blatantly ironic contrast between all the then and now news, my prayer dots shifted again.

Love…………………………….

As you know I have a thing for questions, so you won’t be real surprised that, about that time, I realized that all of the traditions and news and dots and prayers were about questions.

On the surface, those things are What? and How? questions.

What happens, though, if we shift the question, and ask, Why?

For me, the answer – loud and clear – is Love.

And, yes, that raises a whole flock of other questions… the hardest of them, I suspect, being Whom?

Now, I’m a whole long way from being good at this – yet – but I’m going to stay on the road of living as though the answer to Whom? is All of us!

It’s not easy, but I’ve got an epically good teacher! And a couple of really good reasons!

That’s why I’m declaring this weekend to be time for nurturing my Spirit!

You could join me…

ps… curious about the triangles and dots? A favorite liberated version of an old quilt pattern called flying geese. Mine are Wild Flying Geese with intentional Celtic overtones of the Holy Spirit!

pps… questions about your path? I can help! Just click and the calendar elves will hook you up with 45 minutes as my gift. (It’s going to take a lot of us!)

Dreams of feet (!) for the New Year…

Really!!!

The Legendary Husband and I hung in there for the whole ball-dropping & fireworks bit – read that Luther’s last trip out – last night and then headed to bed.

I laughed when I noticed that my feet were splattered in paint (Ultramarine Blue, for the curious!) after an awesome impromptu painting adventure in Zoom-land. (Thank you, Natalie & Gina!!!) All in all, a great wrap-up for 2022!

Then, with a touch of Vision oil on my third eye, I tucked myself in and put Grandmother Moon in charge.

Wow, was she ready for an adventure!

And, yes, I really did dream about feet! (Go ahead and giggle, CTS buddies… there’s more!)

In fact, the first thing I remember, in my dream, is parking a borrowed car on the curved drive in front of Columbia Theological Seminary in November of 1986. It was cold and raining and I had no idea where to go once I had arrived for the prospective student weekend. I cracked the door open, reaching for an umbrella, and put my left foot on the parking lot.

I can still feel the zingy energy that buzzed through my body in that moment, all those years ago.

And then, suddenly, Scotland. 2007. More chilly and damp. And, at the bottom of the steps from the plane, that same foot on the tarmac at the Glasgow airport.

And the same zingy energy.

Then, Grandmother Moon being a rather eccentric Weaver Dreamer, was on to boots. Red leather ones.

And, yes, I’ve been shopping in my imagination.

Eventually I woke, in 2023, and went feeling around on the table for my glasses which, predictably, were perched on the book I’d been reading.

The dreams came flooding back. And it all made sense.

The dreams which were, on one level, past and future.

And the deep voice of a beloved teacher/colleague/friend, complete with a southern accent, echoing in my head…

Three words: Stick with you!

Hang in there… we’ll get back to this!

First, time out for a cuppa, and my all-time favorite dream question.

Why is this dreamer dreaming this dream at this time?

The answer came, complete with the predictable, Duh!

The parking lot/zingy foot adventures were past, assuredly.

The red boots have to do with a big dream for this summer.

And the reminder to stick with me…

Well, it feels a whole lot like a new awareness that it’s all going on now. All part of the path that is the story I am writing – if I choose to be aware of the pen in my hand – with my life.

And, frankly, telling you about this dream feels like a whole lot of showing up!

For now, it reminds me of the stack of seed catalogs in Saturday’s mail.

Reminders of things I know more about now than I did when they were first happening.

Dreams for the future.

The beginnings of a path, not to done, but to growing.

I do have 2 granddaughters growing up in this world…

And, with apologies to the garden guy, no Lantana!

Which is garden code for sticking with me, because no matter how easy it is to grow here, I’m still allergic and I get to choose!

For this moment, thank you for being on the road with me!

My gift for you, as the new year begins, will – hopefully – feel elegant in the way which also means simple.

One question…

What might sticking with you look like???

Huge blessings for 2023!!!

ps… the painting is from my #Matrica work-in-progress, which turns out to be an outstanding fit for this story!

pss… feet might not be such an odd metaphor, afterall!

So many calendars…

Once upon a time, a long time ago, this time of year seemed easier.

A new velvet dress for Christmas pictures. Made by Mom. I had to argue for the one I remember best. Given the choice of red or green, I chose purple… and I loved it!

Left-over Christmas cookies. A new Barbie doll. And a book!

A week or so before school started again.

In my family, Christmas was the big deal. Nobody paid much attention to New Years Eve except for the football fans.

Nobody I knew noticed – or mentioned – the Solstice. Or Epiphany. Or Hanukkah. Or Kwanzaa.

There was no Google Calendar to fill and color code with all the things wrestling for space in the New Year.

This year feels different.

Not simply because of all the What?

It feels different because of the Why?

(Which is no particular surprise if you’ve been reading along for a while!)

It’s clearer, though, just now.

Not simply because there’s so much more getting in, though there is.

It’s clearer because one of my filters has gotten a whole lot clearer.

Or, more specifically, a belief which acts as a filter.

You probably know that I have a thing for hope.

The surprise – for me – is how much that thing for hope has been growing in the last few weeks.

In fact, I woke up this morning with a bit of pre-dawn note taking on the inside of my left hand.

Not invisible ink, this time, but red. (Like red thread.)

Hope… of hope!

Which feels a whole lot like where I am called to live.

Hope, admittedly, for power and internet. (Which is blessedly back on!) And hope for so much more.

Justice. The planet. Peace. Sanity. Love.

I haven’t just hatched all this up myself. In fact, it’s connected to my current bed-time reading!

I’m not going to tell the whole story here. I so hope you’ll read the book, yourself! And, I suspect it will mean different things in your spirit if you do.

In fact, I suspect it was meant to!

The big ah-hah! for me came in three little words, which feel both familiar from my distant past and huge for my future…

Purpose and perseverance.

My purpose is, clearly, hope. For all of us.

My calendar is filling, already, with perseverance.

And behind all this noticing and wondering is the realization that we are able to choose.

We just need to claim that truth.

It won’t solve all the challenges. It will show us the next steps. The next right things, if you will.

And, as it happens, my medicine basket is full of new ways to make those next steps!

Intrigued??? Looking for a bit of help in the purpose & perseverance department? Let’s talk! My multi-holy-day gift to you. Just CLICK HERE and the calendar elves will hook you up!

For now, it’s time for feeding the big beasties. And fluffing the studio a bit. Matrica is Friday, and there’s still time for you to join, too!!!

Then, tonight, I’m attending a dear cousin’s (virtual) wedding… in Hawaii!

ps… need a book? Here are two! One I wrote: Grandmothers Are In Charge Of Hope and one that has me writing on my hand in the wee, small hours: The Boleyn Heresy, by Kathleen McGowan.