Tea With Alice Walker

Today, I have become a book reviewer.

I’m not sure that particular designation will fit on the back of my business card along with Author, Artist, and Activist but that is a problem for another day.

In case you’re wondering how such a transformation came to be on a chilly, gray Wednesday when there are countless loads of linens to be washed before my girls arrive, I will tell you.

A new book dropped, like manna from Heaven, into my awareness.

But before that, I discovered — via the oracle known as Amazon — that my teacher, Shiloh Sophia McCloud, once illustrated a book of poetry for none other than Alice Walker, herself!

The title was enough to insist that I needed this book and needed it as closely as possible to immediately.

HARD TIMES REQUIRE FURIOUS DANCING

How could I resist?

A bit of button pushing later, and a couple of days worth of camping on the mailbox, it arrived.

As I sipped tea and eagerly flipped pages, tasting words like really fine dark chocolate, I knew I had to tell you about it.

But, of course, the copyright page insists, as even those in my own books do…

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, or other — without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

No worries!

Well, just one.

Which “brief passage” would I choose?

As sometimes happens, the right passage chose me.

It’s from the poem, CALLING ALL GRAND MOTHERS, which begins on page 30.

Step forward

& assume

the role

for which

you were

created:

To lead humanity

to health, happiness,

& sanity.

I call on

all the

Grand Mothers

of Earth

& every person

who possesses

the Grand Mother

spirit

of respect for 

life

&

protection of 

the young

to rise

& lead.

My apologies to Miss Walker for not having the technical skills to make this look just like it does in her book. WordPress blogs are opinionated about such things.

Still I suspect you will recognize the amazing truth of these words as you read them. The book is full of such truthful words.

Enough so that, today, I became a book reviewer.

The art is fabulous, too!

For now, though, the Beasties are insisting that it is dinner time and then some.

Here’s the link in case you’d like one of your own:

HARD TIMES REQUIRE FURIOUS DANCING

 

Submit Your Rebel!

One of the most powerful things I learned in all my years of doing Developing Capable People classes for parents and teachers — or was it family therapy??? — was the notion that whether we are complying with an authority or rebelling against it, we are still not making our own choices.

The author, Steven Covey, talks about it a bit differently when he encourages people facing a dilemma to look for a third alternative, opening the way to real choice instead of picking A and rejecting B.

Recently I was advised by the amazing, talented Shiloh Sophia McCloud “submit my rebel” in the Intentional Creativity process.

I can almost hear you gasping! (I know I did.)

This was, frankly, not advice I was hoping for.

I rather like my rebel. Most of the time.

She’s a great buddy for shoe shopping.

Gifted at choosing quilt fabric.

She’s also a really good cook who doesn’t own a microwave.

There are times, though, when she’s not quite so helpful.

Sometimes she tries to get me to “rebel” against things, not just for the sake of rebelling, or because I have a better idea, but because I might do something that scares me. Or calls me out of my comfort zone.

As in, I don’t need to do all the steps in the process. I’ll just skip a few I don’t understand.

Apparently, it’s not just me. In fact, it seems lots of us may struggle with this.

I was a complier for my first 18 years. Then I rebelled the only way I knew how because I was scared. No, make that terrified.

Then I went back to mostly complying for a while. I complied with my knees and my back and the images people had of who I was and what I should be afraid of.

These days I’m working hard on making choices. Real choices. Some of the choices are scary, too.

Like submitting my rebel to the process in Intentional Creativity.

But only one step at a time! I get to keep on choosing along the way.

You might say I’m choosing to choose.

It sounds better that way!

 

 

 

 

2018 : My Year of Beginner’s Mind

Recently, some of my creative friends who hang out in the Planet SARK atmosphere got me thinking. What, they wondered, was my “word” for 2018?

If you’ve known me a while you won’t be too surprised to find out that my “word” is actually two words. But it’s only one idea so I decided it counts because it feels so true.

Beginner’s Mind. 

The first time I recall this notion knocking on my brain was at a Qigong retreat, five years or so ago. It was kind of a radical notion for me, that showing up not knowing could be a good thing.

I’ve done a lot of not knowing since then. Blogs, social media, electronic publishing, species appropriate food, and a rather more challenging than usual rescue dog.

My latest venture is, perhaps, the farthest afield for me.

I’m learning to paint! More specifically, I’m learning the process of intentional creativity which is both ancient and really new to me.

First, in case you’re new around here, let me be clear. I am not “the artistic” kid. A maternal pronouncement which I grew up believing must have been carved on the flip side of the 10 Commandments.

The process of following a call to actually pick up a paintbrush and create something more artistic than really great wood work was a huge deal for me. And it’s happening!

One of the things I’m working on at the moment is a Tree of Life painting. It’s all very primal and mythical in the most true kind of way.

Well, in theory. In actuality, it’s a couple of really rough sketches and several layers of background work.

But, I know where I’m going.

Sort of.

The first thing my tree decided, after the initial background layers, was that she prefered a landscape orientation to the portrait one that seemed more tree-like to me.

In the midst of not knowing, I went back to my source and watched the next video step of the process, even though I wasn’t quite there yet.

That’s when I learned a major miracle for fixing things that aren’t working! (Thank you, Shiloh Sophia McCloud!!!) It has a lot to do with using the negative space, which I wouldn’t have thought of but changes many things.

Then the dream arrived. An actual dream.

Tree of Life. Tree of Knowledge. Banyan trees. Many trunks and roots.

Philosophy. Quantum physics. Community. The things that connect us, one to the other.

A whole new world, rather like the one through the back of the wardrobe C. S. Lewis made famous.

And a realization. Not new, so much as deeper.

It’s all energy.

From the clean, sustainable broth simmering on my stove that warms me even hours before dinner will be ready, to the message of the Tree of Life, it’s all energy.

Energy which cannot be created or destroyed, but which can only be transformed.

Transformed, in our world, through intention.

Intention, I hope, in this New Year, for good.

Good for me and mine. Good for you and yours. Good for us, in the sense that there are no others.

Which sounds a lot like fixing things in the negative space!

And may be an even bigger story…

 

 

Come to the Table

Have you ever noticed how certain stories keep reappearing in your life?

Tales of experiences that changed you and change you still?

This is one of those stories for me. It was first written almost 20 years ago and it still has a lot of energy. In fact, it’s been whispering in my head for the last few weeks! Read on, and I’ll tell you why at the end…

Some folks collect coins or stamps or baseballs or shoes. I’ve got a thing for tables.

I painted a table not long ago. It has wild colors and quotes from many of my favorite folks all over it. It sits in the room where I write and pray and ponder. The coffee table in our living room is an antique claw-footed bathtub with a quilt draped in it and a piece of glass on top. 

My very favorite table, though, is one I don’t own. In fact, this “table” is actually a huge hunk of granite that sits deep in the catacombs of a Catholic church in Hungary. 

I “met” this table in the late ’80’s, just before the Berlin Wall fell. I was traveling with a group from Columbia Seminary. An English-speaking priest gave us a tour, taking us down flight after flight of steep stone stairs. It was cold, dark, and unfamiliar.

Finally, we gathered in a tiny room where the priest explained that the Eucharist had been celebrated there, on that table, every day for 1,500 years. Every day! It didn’t matter who occupied Hungary at the time, or what they called that nation. It didn’t matter whether religion was illegal or merely ignored. Still folks came to claim power beyond that which seemed to rule their world.

I just had to touch that table. It should have been rough and cold, but, instead, it was warm and polished by all the countless hands that had lifted bread from it and poured wine over it. Every day. For 1,500 years.

   by Sue Boardman,  Monday Morning, March 8, 1999

I suspect the reason this table has been whispering to me in these days is that I’ve just been invited to a new table.

Wisdom’s Table. 

It’s a two-year long program in which women will gather from many cultures and faith traditions to explore Wisdom and the Divine Feminine.

Frankly, I have no idea what will happen!

I do know that the notion of Intentional Creativity, as I am just beginning to experience it, has sparked new questions and new understanding within me.

Part of the invitation to Wisdom’s Table reads:

Prayer. Painting. Poetry. An experience using our Ancestors’ Stories and the mystical teaching of the Tree of Life to explore our relationship with the feminine mysteries.

We start January 1, 2018 and there’s still time to learn more…

I’m excited about this new table in my life and those who will gather around it.

For now, though, there’s a pot of soup to make and a painting of a very special tree, which found me in Key West, to begin.