But, they followed me home!

Somewhere in my family tree, on my dad’s side of the family, there was a guy named Steven. Or Stephen.

Maybe a first name. Maybe a last name.

There may have been lots of them. Like Stephens.

Sadly, there really isn’t anyone left to ask, though Gramma Elsie would have been the expert.

What I do know is that he/they had unusual feet.

“Steven’s/Stephen’s feet and ankles”, to be exact.

I could tell from an early age that possessing the infamous feet and ankles was not a particularly positive family trait.

Flat feet, apparently. And wobbly, kind of crooked ankles.

I think I won the prize.

Once, I told one of my nursing instructors, way back in the days of white shoe polish, that I was becoming a nurse because I could wear comfortable shoes.

It wasn’t long afterwards that I decided I had a definite preference for no shoes at all.

I never wear shoes in the house, despite the frequent bruises on the tops of my feet when the dogs stand on me.

I didn’t wear shoes in my office when I had one.

I got married in a boring pair of ivory colored pumps with 3/4 inch heels and took them off during the reception, which might have been a better look if I’d also given up panty hose at that point.

I’m just really not a shoe kind of person.

Except for the ones that call to me! (A tendency I may also have inherited from my dad!)

Today, a new pair called to me. Or, rather, a new pair followed me home.

You see, today, I scheduled my second post-graduation Intentional Creativity workshop!

Neither of them will be at my house, where I can get away with bare feet.

We’re talking hours of standing on concrete floors in something that is, first, comfortable. And second, something that will tolerate inevitable paint splatters.

(Shiloh, if you’re listening, please forgive me. My feet are just not the hot pink sequined cowgirl boot type!)

I had a plan.

Plain, neutral black running shoes of the same brand I already love. I figured the paint would just enhance them.

Of course, my favorite Big Peach store didn’t have them in black and my feet, apparently, don’t like the new and “improved” ones nearly as well as last year’s way better ones.

The young woman helping me was perplexed. I am clearly not a runner so why, I could hear her thinking, was I so picky about shoes.

Well, it’s not really me who’s picky. It’s my feet. And we made a deal, years ago, that my feet get to choose shoes.

You, however, are a clever reader, and we’ve talked about shoes before. And I do, indeed, have new shoes.

Art shoes.

Not at all plain. Also not likely to care about a paint splatter or two. Definitely feet-approved.

And quite likely to be granddaughter approved!

Plus, they go with my red thread bracelets. And, probably, my funky socks. Which is just as well, because it’s cold!

I have many things to be thankful for in this moment, including you!

And a suitcase to pack.

Wednesday, a special report from Grammy-land!

 

 

Where the Past Meets the Future

Do you remember Good Housekeeping magazine from when you were a kid?

We moved around a lot and my mom, who clearly missed her family and friends, was always delighted when it appeared in the mail.

My sister and I preferred McCall’s with its paper doll named Betsy, whom we added, on alternate months, to our collections.

It definitely hasn’t been a shiny magazine kind of year in my world!

“Housekeeping” consists of kitchens, bathrooms, and enough floor sweeping to minimize what you probably think of as dog hair but we fondly refer to as “texture” in the paintings.

Recipes are mainly variations on the bone broth theme with trips for sushi and chicken wings on rough days.

Though my 8-year-old granddaughter is apparently longing for gluten-free pecan pie for Thanksgiving!

Research was involved and the chosen solution is already winging its way, courtesy of Amazon. I figure baking with the girls counts even if my mom and granny are having apoplexy somewhere in the great beyond.

Kind of ironically, though, I got an email with my new Good Housekeeping-esque seal of approval today and, I have to admit, I’m thrilled!

Not as a sign of comparison. Of better or worse. Or right or wrong.

In my opinion, our world is way too full of labels like that.

Rather, I’m thrilled in the sense of being part of a group of gifted, dedicated women out to make the world a better place for us all.

Yesterday, in response to the tragic, deadly fires in California, the Intentional Creativity Guild re-posted a process for helping people process natural disasters. I shared it on my Facebook pages. (Respond to this post, below, if you’d like a PDF.)

Then, because I deeply believe in the power of the process, I messaged it to a small group of friends, all of whom happen to be Presbyterian pastors in varying stages of retirement or planning.

I got a message back today from one of those friends who said they’d had three teen suicides in their community this year, one of them in the youth group, and he was wondering about adapting the process a bit for helping some of the kids and their families.

Assuring him that I would be honored to help, if needed, I gave thanks, again, for all the things I’ve learned and the ways we can shift the world for good even when it doesn’t look  like there’s a whole lot of good in the news.

All of which is to say that this symbol, the one above, is one I will feel blessed and proud to wear, as the old joke goes, on my forehead.

Tomorrow, housekeeping of the literal persuasion, laundry, dog food, and bowls of stardust soup for lunch.

(Well, technically brodo misto with rice and local sausage, but you get the drift.)

And, Friday, more paint! (Probably more laundry, too!)

Let’s all pick the labels we want!

 

How Things Get Better

I’m guessing you know the old saying, Put your money where your mouth is!

Well, today is one of those days for me. Actually, it’s been one of those weeks.

I’m really glad I know the wise old man at the top of the mountain because it’s been a week full of trip after trip up the mountain where there’s tea and a whole lot of we don’t know whether this is good news or bad news.

We had our online Graduation party from Intentional Creativity’s Color of Woman training which was lots of fun. And sad.

Not only for endings, which are often bittersweet, but because one of our sisters lost her house in the California wildfires.

She and her family are safe. What she owns, in this moment, is the contents of the suitcase she took with her on the in-person graduation adventure.

The print of one of my paintings, which I had ordered as kind of a test, arrived yesterday. It’s great. So much better than my previous print experience! Legend has a mini-me! Whole new possibilities are opening. (Stay tuned!)

My classmate lost all of her paintings in the fire, which tears at my heart.

I’m delighted to have three friends coming to paint with me this week.

And I’m working on a painting for a dear and gifted friend who is leaving Tuesday to move away. Some of the dots in that one are tears.

My Initiate Book arrived yesterday. I’m thrilled, even with the couple of things I’ll change as soon as I recover from the first edition!

Bill went helpfully off to a parking lot today to pick up dog food which, for reasons that still aren’t quite clear, won’t appear until Thursday. PLEASE don’t mention this to the beasties who get anxious when the groceries get low.

I feel totally blessed to be looking forward to Thanksgiving with our kids and — just between us — wishing I wasn’t going to be home alone this week doing all the getting ready things.

All of which is to say that there’s hard stuff even in the midst of all the joyous stuff and, because we are connectional beings, often Kleenex is involved.

I contemplated hatching up some cheerful, funny, poetic sort of story to tell you today but that’s not how we change things for the better.

We change things for the better by being real and standing together. I’m really glad you’re here!!!

 

 

 

 

Too Close to Call

Today, I do not want to be a reasonable, rational blogger. Today, I want to rant and rave and call names, but I do not believe in that. And I don’t want to model it for my girls.

And so, instead, I am making a gratitude list.

The Democrats have taken back the House, which is becoming more diverse in its membership, for which I am grateful.  Not a perfect situation, in my opinion, as many Democrats are, shall we say, far from perfect, but better than where we’ve been.

We’re still counting votes in Georgia. (Which is an issue for a whole other day.) A progressive, black, Democratic woman may still be elected  governor. I’d feel better about this if her opponent was not in charge of counting the votes. (Another of those issues for another day.)

I made a lot of new friends during this campaign, wandering around with my Stacey Abrams button and chatting with new and unlikely voters about things that matter. And waved at a whole lot of babies.

Students at Atlanta’s Morehouse College were waiting in line to vote at 11 pm, committed to being heard.

I kept my promise to my girls, who are growing up in this world.

Granted, the changes  I believe need to be made are going to take a while longer.

But, Bernie Sanders got re-elected in Vermont and who knows what that might mean.

I have gotten a great deal more willing to speak out about the things that matter in the face of the need for peace and justice and civil rights in this nation. It’s a grandmother thing.

And, I’ve learned to make prayer dots.

A practice that does not hide from the world but, rather, faces the struggles and acts in hope.

I’ll be making a lot of dots today.

Along with a couple of pots of shrimp and crab broth. And a frittata with local, pasture raised eggs, left-over organic roasted veg and some over-the-moon local, artisanal duck and fig sausage.

I’ll keep voting with my wallet.

And with my faith in the future.

2020, here we come. Many of us with paintbrushes in hand!

 

Ready for New Experiences!

I’ve graduated from a lot of things in my life. I hold two Associate degrees and was, for many years, a registered nurse. More school and a truckload of student loans resulted in a whole bunch of alphabet soup which translates, in case you’re curious, into Bachelor of Arts,  Master of Divinity and  Doctor of Ministry degrees.

This week, I graduated from Color of Woman 2018. I am, officially, a teacher of Intentional Creativity.

I’m really excited!

And, there’s a party. Many of my paint sisters are in Hawaii. The rest of us will join in on Zoom. The directions include “dressing up”. I’m busting out the fancy velvet trappings from the last graduation… and a bit of bubbly. The studio angels have all rsvp’d and are resting up in anticipation, eager, I’m sure, for the promised treats.

Luther may not know it, but he’s been helping me get ready. He’s an excellent role model for what happens when one lets go and allows themselves to have a new experience. These days he actually enjoys meeting new people and being rubbed and petted, which is a miracle, given where he was when he arrived in our lives.

Luther’s new engagement in life didn’t come from him guilt-tripping himself. It didn’t come from me telling him how he ought to be.

Part of it came, I suspect, from experiencing his sisters be with people and be ok.

And a lot of it came from taking tiny new steps, one after the other.

If you’ve been hanging around for a while, you may have heard about a guy named Bill Harris who helped me understand that we pretty much have to have new experiences in order to shift our ways of being.

We’re all busy perceiving our universe through complicated sets of filters such as beliefs, values, language, and so forth. Most of the filtering in unconscious. When we have a new experience there’s an opportunity for new information to get through our filters and begin to shift our map of reality which, in turn, creates the possibility of new responses to life and new choices for the future.

Or, if you prefer, it’s kind of a right brain-left brain thing.

Some of you have been sitting on my couch or in my rocking chairs, sipping tea and looking for change for years. While you were learning, I was learning, too.

Our filters are so strong that talking ourselves into having a new experience is often very hard. We have to actually DO something different. Preferably something that engages us at many levels of awareness.

Pick up a paintbrush. Write a poem. Start a journal. Learn to build furniture. Become a quilter. Plant a garden. Compose music. Make a pot of soup. Find an intentional way to take what’s useful from old stories and manifest them into something you can see or feel or hear and want in your life.

Suddenly, many new things become possible!

I’m all ready for next. And, for those of you in the US, just in case you haven’t yet, please stop on your way to the art store or the journal store or the kitchen or even to the basement to find your fabric stash, and vote. Intentionally.

Never Give Up!!!

A couple of days ago, I saw a Facebook post that read: “Do you trust [insert the name of the current occupant of the oval office here]?

I was instantly reminded of the first time I saw the movie, Steel Magnolias, as I nearly choked to death, simultaneously laughing hysterically and sobbing.

Then I was reminded of my years of training in Ericksonian hypnotherapy. Two things stood out.

One was a video lecture by a woman whose name I sadly don’t remember, talking about trust. I learned a lot. The gist of it was that we could trust the people in our lives to be who they are.

Bill, the Legendary Husband, provided a perfect example. Bill and I live with very different notions of time which results in my frequently perceiving him as being “late”.

When I was traveling a lot for the Office of the General Assembly, PC(USA), Bill was often “late” in meeting my flights home.

I will confess that it irritated me a lot.

Then, on my way home from hypnosis training after the weekend I watched the video, I realized I could totally trust that he would, in fact, come to get me.

Which reminded me that some of my issues about his being “late” at the airport had to do with a childhood trauma around being left in a huge hardware store by my family, but that’s a story for a different day.

What I noticed was that, having become more conscious about what was going on, I was considerably less irritated about time and grateful that I knew I could trust him to show up.

So what, you’re probably wondering, does that have to do with a Facebook post about trusting the politician-in-chief?

Power.

But first, another very helpful thing I learned in hypnosis land.

There are two kinds of power in our world. Power over others which means that in order for someone to have more, everyone else must have less.

And power in order to matter. To make change for the good. The kind of em-power-ment in which we can all have more together.

In the current political climate in the US, I can trust approximately 1/2 of the politicians to be doing a really good job of working for power over all manner of “others” and the other 1/2 to be, while admittedly fallible humans, at least standing up for power in order to matter. For em-power-ment.

(You can do the math.)

So, on the same day I saw the infamous Facebook post, I was busily hunting and gathering in my favorite hardware store when an older gentleman who works there, obviously noticing the opinions pinned to my magical denim vest, asked if he might ask me a question.

Curious, I assured him that he might.

“You voted,” he began. “How do you decide?”

I was a bit startled. Mostly because he seemed really sincere. So I explained what I’ve just shared with you about my view of power and two kinds of politicians.

Then I said what you’ve heard me say before: that I have granddaughters growing up in this world and that guides the way I vote.

Em-power-ment – vs – power over. Every time.

Then my new friend in the red vest asked another question.

“What else do you know?”

Well, that was a bit of a puzzle.

A deep breath bought me a bit of thinking time and, miraculously, an answer.

Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

—  George Santayana  ( 2oth Century Spanish-American philosopher)

Today, proofreading and prayer dots. For the victims of the Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh and for hope that we might, indeed, learn from history.

So be it.

Pacing in the Waiting Room!

I wasn’t too good at being pregnant.

Part of that was, no doubt, context. Newly single. Stressed. Scared. No real idea of what the future held. The only thing I knew for sure is that I loved and fiercely adored the wee being growing inside me.

Another part of that was, by all accounts, genetic. There’s a long history, on my Mom’s side of the family, of what we used to call Toxemia, but now refer to as pre-eclampsia.

High blood pressure. Major food restrictions. And really, really, really fat ankles.

Timing Braxton-Hicks contractions every night for a week before I finally went into active labor.

Then, I rang the big red bell and had grand mal seizures in labor. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say that Dave and I made it and I feel hugely blessed.

I’m kind of back in that place just now, pregnant with a book and a new way of being in the world.

My ankles are better this time!

I’m reminded, though, of the Braxton-Hicks experience, in these days.

My Initiate Book, or graduation project, for Color of Woman is out of my control, in this moment, off in the land of electronic formatting.

Soon, it will be time for editing, which is when the next part of my labor will begin.

Well, not begin, so much, as actually result in a birth.

Until then, I am practicing the fine arts of asking for help and releasing the need for control.

For now, I am waiting. Waiting on a wise and talented friend to make her magic, even in the midst of several life complications of her own. Aided by a bit of pimento cheese!

Today, I have coped by binge watching Grey’s Anatomy and plotting Intentional Creativity workshop dates in my calendar. I’m also having occasional fantasies about video workshops, which seem, for now, to be shouted down by my inner critic reminding me that it hasn’t been a good week for me in tech land.

It’s been chilly and rainy, which makes the floors wet and the big dogs happy.

A couple of domestic projects have been crossed off the list.

I have a plan hatching for the first few weeks in November. Bookkeeping and connection building will be involved. And an exploration of the Colorful Scars painting workshop. And rest. And lots of bone broth. Somehow, the freezer is bare!

In this moment, my phone is feeling seriously empowered by my checking every 5 or 6 minutes for messages.

Tonight, some marathon dog grooming. And an Italy flashback, complete with local, artisanal Coppa, a very fine Italian Asiago raw milk cheese, and some Georgia organic sourdough crackers.

Next on my list… learning how to slipcover a wing back chair which I might just need to know shortly. There is a granddaughter involved!

For now, pacing in the waiting room!

Life is complicated. Making a difference is good.

 

 

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