An hour…well invested!

Not so long ago, I began experimenting with the notion of investing money, rather than spending it.

This shift turned out to be a pretty good example of what my hypnosis/NLP friends would call a one step reframe.

One step as in — boom! — new thought — new language — major new experience.

Then, as such reframes are known to do, it began to shift other things.

Before too long, I was experimenting with investing time as well as money.

Now, just between us, it usually only feels like one step. Generally, there’s a non-conscious lead-up to a reframe like this that works a bit like trick-or-treating.

We wander about our lives, collecting experiences and stories and comments in a non-conscious sort of way. Then, one day, the boom! happens.

And, if we look back, sometimes we can see hints of how it came to be.

One of those hints, in this case, was a conversation in my PRISM painting class about acting in integrity with our values.

There were, undoubtedly, other hints along the way. Use your imagination.

For today, let me tell you about investing an hour (and $79.00) this morning.

I went to the DeKalb International Farmers Market. Here’s what I came home with:

An hour of intentional walking. Complete with air-conditioning! And a bit of strength training.

Six bags of produce. Mostly leafy green things. Mainly for the 2-footed peeps.

Three bags of prizes for the raw-fed beasties. Including a major score of grass-fed beef hearts at $2.99 a pound!

One small basket of fabulous  organic black mission figs, which are one of those gifts from heaven sort of things that must be celebrated.

A plan for lunch. (Hint…figs!)

Some organic walnuts.

And, a wedge of raw milk Manchego, which is a sheep’s milk cheese imported from Spain, that goes by the name of Don Quixote’s horse. (How cool is that???)

Not to mention, several encounters of the peace-making variety.

Sign language conversations with the guy unloading avocados and the one stacking gorgeous rainbow carrots in a bin.

An actual verbal conversation, which also included a lot of bowing, with the man who weighed all the various poultry parts the dogs love. His name tag said he spoke French, English, Arabic, and another language that started with a “T” that I didn’t even recognize.

And, it was a great day for waving at babies!

Waving at babies is a major part of my plan for peace on Earth.

That, and eating real food.

And helping to employ the immigrant community nested around my neighborhood.

All of which turned out to be an amazing opportunity to act on a whole lot of my values in an hour flat, and come home with the grace of figs.

Should you happen to encounter some figs where you live, slice them in half the long way.

Drizzle with the best balsamic vinegar you have. (Preferably the syrup-y kind!)

Sprinkle with a combination of freshly ground red and black pepper and just a smidge of good sea salt.

They really go well with the Manchego.

And, they’re also delightful roasted, cut side down, in a cast iron skillet. Preferably one you’re cooking lamb chops in!

That’s a fantasy for another day.

For today, an hour. Really well invested!

 

Grammy does math class!

I spent a big chunk of today at the phone store. Not, just between us, my idea of fun but nothing has blown up yet so we’re claiming a win on that.

I spent much of the week thinking about math.

This, if you’d known me for 40 or 50 years, would be something of a surprise.

We moved around a lot when I was a kid and it seemed like every state we lived in had a different “new math” system. I was pretty confused.

The guidance counselors told my mom that, by the time I got to middle school, it would start to make more sense.

Not so much.

My math teacher in 7th grade was a nice guy who had long yellow finger nails, reeked of smoke, and responded, “Figure it out,” to just about every question.

In 8th grade, I took algebra I, ahead of schedule.

In 9th grade, I took it again. My teacher was the freshman football coach and the sponsor of the chess team. You guessed it! We drew football plays on the chalk board and played chess.

My 10th grade geometry teacher was a retired military pilot. We told war stories and made paper airplanes. I survived by drawing very neat proofs.

In 11th grade, something bizarre happened. My teacher wanted to do math! Sadly, she responded to every question with chapter and verse version from the Algebra one text, seemingly not realizing that I’d spent that year on football plays and chess.

By some major miracle, I survived enough Calculus and Statistics to wind up with a whole lot of alphabet soup after my name.

And, mostly, math in my day-to-day world has meant recipes and fabric yardage for quilts and the proper ratios for raw dog food.

All that changed this week!

Frankly, I’m not entirely sure whether what I was learning was math or science, wonders of the world or philosophy.

It did have numbers.

This week I learned the Fibonacci sequence!

And, suddenly, I’m a fan of math.

The cosmic pattern for nautilus shells and star galaxies and sunflowers and fiddlehead ferns and a whole lot of ancient buildings that are still standing, the photo above is my first attempt at a Fibonacci spiral.

I am, surprisingly, moved by this ancient wonder.

I am moved by the sensation of making the swirls over and over.

I am thrilled by my painting, rudimentary though it may be.

And covered over as it already is.

Some things just wonder me.

Here’s the best part…

The Fibonacci sequence has to do with building things on a secure base, be they buildings, or family relationships, or social structures.

We North Americans didn’t do so well with that when we built a world that essentially ignored the important base of the indigenous peoples who lived here already.

I’d even go so far as to say that we’re not doing such a good job of building on a solid base in these days.

I’m clinging, though, to the possibility that there’s still time to learn. To start again with the ancient truths of harmony and relationship.

So be it. Amen.

 

 

Help from all manner of sources…

Dearest friends,

The last few days have been a bit of a blur.

A welcome, if unexpected, visit from my sister who found herself stranded in the Atlanta airport with all her worldly goods on the way to Louisiana while she was trying to get to Indiana. (A story which I suspect will get funnier over time!)

This on top of a visit to the eye doctor to get my glasses prescription tuned up a bit. The new glasses are indeed in the works. And the need for another appointment as, in this moment, it seems likely that I have glaucoma in my left eye.

Between calendar issues and insurance issues, this is a development that’s eating up more time than I have!

Progress on some fronts.

Backsliding on others.

More than the usual amount of free-floating anxiety about some not-quite-resolved shifting career issues in our family and the sudden realization of how much I, who have never considered myself a very visual person, really value my vision.

Both the intuitive, alchemical kind and the eyesight kind!

Help has appeared from all manner of sources.

Dinner out at The Corner Pub which is our little version of Cheers! where everybody does know our names. They’re also graciously willing to accommodate my tendency to revise their menu! (If you’re in the neighborhood, the new roasted broccoli is fabulous.) And they do the dishes.

The presence of Red Thread sisters in my life who are “hugging and tugging” for me even now.

The stack of what Bill refers to as my “thumb-sucking books” which, in this case, has me back in the midst of the magnificent UNTIE THE STRONG WOMAN  by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes. (Which is, in my experience, sustenance for pretty much everything.)

And some new input in my process.

As I mentioned recently, I’ve become part of a Facebook group created to help send rosaries to refugees on the US/Mexican border and, as the group has evolved, to praying novenas for the families living through the tragedy of separation and for drastic changes in US immigration policies.

Now, before I go on, let me say two pretty important things.

Prayer beads were decidedly not a part of my education in a Presbyterian seminary. I learned lots of wondrous and useful things there. Rosaries were not among them. “Always being Reformed” was, however, among them and this is me, doing that.

And, you are welcome and valued here, whatever faith tradition/s you may identify with, even if that’s none at all. Whatever our varied beliefs and chosen myths, whatever our metaphors and practices, we’re all really just trying to help move the world closer to a place of kindness and justice. A place of fierce compassion. (Well, most of us!)

So, with all that rumbling in my head, and with thanks to lots of teachers along the way, the Anglican Rosary pictured above appeared in my mailbox on Saturday. Amazon, eBay, and Etsy are all sources for similar items.

Then came the issue of what to do with it. There are lots of suggestions and directions out there if you google something like Praying the Rosary.

All of that, combined with Dr. Estes’ Prayer for Traveling the Mother Road, in UNTIE THE STRONG WOMAN, brought “my” version of words to pray in bringing my beads to life.

IMG_3300

If it fits for you, I’m thrilled to share. (And you can share this post as well, even if getting it here was a major tech-y challenge for me!)

If it inspires you, in any way that feels true… to pray, meditate, help your kids and grandkids learn, work, vote, or whatever you do, toward that place of kindness and justice, I’m honored.

And if you need more information, just click on any of the pretty colored links, above, for some good starts. Or, reply below, message me on Facebook… Sue Boardman Author, email me, etc. and I’ll come as close as I’m able to shining some light.

For now, I hear a big canvas and a lot of orange paint calling my name. There’s a lot of hope in that, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[https://www.facebook.com/groups/2143874129190005/] Rosary group

Oddly Quiet

Lightning bugs flicker in the gathering dusk while the big dogs amble in from the yard.

It’s an oddly quiet moment in the urban jungle.

It’s been an oddly quiet day, as well.

A day for settling in. For changes to take hold.

Bill, just back from a week in Seattle, is doing the time zone thing and trying to catch up on some much-needed rest.

The fur kids are re-adjusting to a two human household with about three times the moving around to keep track of.

We had a bit more furniture to move.

Fine-tuning huge progress over the last few weeks.

I have three paintings rolling around in my head (and dreams!) and much new learning to find space for.

And, somewhere deep inside me, an inner voice is chanting an old Quaker saying I may have mentioned about 42 times lately:

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

Perhaps it’s the news.

Or my most recent encounters with Quantum physics.

Or even a shift in the dogs’ energy levels.

Heat?

Better Feng shui?

Or just getting used to this world rather than the ones from which they came?

I don’t know. It might be a shift in me.

I’m clearer about what I’m trying to accomplish, which helps a whole lot in trying to explain it to them!

I can feel my perspective getting bigger.

A willingness, as my new friend, Jonathan McCloud, would say, to allow for more possibilities.

New language for my experience and my questions. For my hopes and my dreams.

Soon, there will be some new language around here. Not different so much as bigger. Clearer, I hope. More current.

And some reflections on how it’s all happening.

Kind of like spots for next season’s TV!

I hope you’ll stay tuned and invite your friends along. We’ve got some growing to do.

For tonight, there is more processing to do.

More being willing to be changed.

Not to mention dog food to thaw and dishes to do.

And lightning bugs to watch.

Don’t they just wonder you?

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