SoulCollage® Meets Grace Group at The Well

I went to The Well yesterday, knowing something delicious was going to happen because I saw a rainbow on the way there.

It was just The Beloved and me yesterday, and a space of quiet reflection as I made SoulCollage® cards celebrating some special women in my life.

I give all credit to Sondra Griner for taking this wonderful photo of Liz Parker. Liz is one of the priests at St. Timothy's, and she's also one of our leaders in Grace Group. I love this photo of Liz. I remember thinking the first time I saw it, "I bet she's listening to one of the kids chatter!"



It is such a gift to me to see Liz on the alter every Sunday--she and Andy rotate celebrating the Eucharist and preaching the Gospel, so I get to see her take every position possible, up there, in front of me every Sunday. Seeing her there completes my vision of God, neither male nor female, both male and female, more than either male or female.

As I worked yesterday, this picture of the little girl absolutely jumped out to me. A friend of mine would call her a "woman-in-training", and the tug was so strong, that I decided to make a card with her, too.



As I worked, I just "felt" that Liz was communicating with this little girl, who somehow lived inside of me. It was as if I could hear Mother God saying, "Yes, you can be anything you want to be!"

Then, last night at Grace Group, someone asked me "How do you see God waiting on you?" Now, most of the time, I envision God as "Energy" swirling in around and through, so how do you picture that??? Then all of a sudden, this picture came to me--it's as if Mother God gave me tools for life; then said, "Go, girl, make something and I'll watch!"



My primary dream as a very small girl was to "be a preacher" like my daddy, but that dream was extremely short lived because I was "a girl, and girls can't be preachers". So I lived for a long time trying to figure out what I could be that would please "the Father".

This morning as I put this all together, I can feel the nurturing love of Mother God saying, "YES!!!" Have you ever noticed how mother's tend to "give permission", and daddy's make the rules? At least that's the way it was in my house.

And over the last number of years, I have found God to be much more of a Permission Giver than a "nay-sayer". I can't remember the last time God told me "No."

Liz has a nurturing capacity as large as that sun behind her head. And she has nurtured the wounded child inside of me, as has every woman in Grace Group. I am very grateful.

Thank you Liz Parker. I love you!

Vision Board for 2012

On Saturday, January 14, a few of us met and The Well to make vision boards for this year. I finished mine this morning, and now I have my New Year's resolution: Assimilate, Create, Relate, Loose Weight.



There were some surprises on my board, one of which was the quote at the center, "the sum of her parts". One of the things art has given to me are the many "parts" of myself that have been hidden, some for as long as nearly 60 years.



I knew one of my "words" for this year was "assimilate". When you add a tea bag to boiling water and allow it to seep, you get tea. That's my picture of "assimilate"...it's time for me to "seep". It's also like "savasana" at the end of a yoga workout--the resting time when your body assimilates the work done into it's DNA so that it can change. The work becomes a part of you.


And always I must create--spending time with the Creator and the Muse do replenish my energy and care for my soul. It's life-giving work for me.

And it's time to bless and hopefully improve my relationships. I've been given so very much--so many friendships of all different kinds. Different communities that bless my different parts: my spirit, soul, heart, and body. Friendships that bless the grown up in me, and friendships that bless the kid in me. I am so grateful.


And "always we begin again". I have "battled" my weight for years, but this year feels different. I'm a human being. It's my "job" to begin again. So, here we go.

I hope you have a vision of what you and Spirit can do this year together. Share it.

Reflections on 2012

The end of another year, and tomorrow we begin a new one. All in all, this has been a really positive year for me. Seems I’ve come home—without ever really understanding how far I had run from home. I’ve come home to my insides. I’ve come home to my spirituality. I’ve come home to everything I’ve run from…

I just remembered this poem I wrote a number of years ago, almost exactly seven years ago:

The Marathon Runner
December 13, 2005

Running

running hard and fast
not with the joy of a marathon runner
who runs for the life of running
but with fear, I run the “run away” running,
running until I can run no more.

The unholy marathon began at 4
when I began running from TrueSelf.
I ran from the friendly universe
from joy and play
from being a “Mama’s girl”
And I ran from trust—
either God or my Self.

And I continued running.
At 9 I began running from sexuality
at 10, from Christmas and the holidays
at 17 from my own choices
from adventure
from creating and “being” an artist.
At 19 I began running from marriage and commitment
At 35 I began running from this New Age,
this paradigm shift I’m destined to be a part of.

Then, at 40, something remarkable happened.
I began to slow down
and I made a turn,
albeit a small turn,
still I slowed down
and made a turn

and I began the long, hard journey home
home to God and home to my Self
home to my childhood
home to joy and play
home to the friendly universe
and home to being a “Mama’s girl”.

Am I there yet?
Am I here?

At 56, if I’m not home
at least I’m no longer running away.
I’m not even jogging anymore
I had slowed down and was walking
just walking
until I decided to hitch a ride
on an elephant.
I have climbed up on the elephant
of all my fearful running,
and now I am riding all the way home.

I wrote that when I was 56; I’m now 62. It’s been a number of years since I read that poem, but it is the story of my life, my fears, and my running. And yes, looking back at that poem, it seems I have come home this year. I have settled it within myself. I am a Christian, albeit it, a very different Christian than I was when I was 40. I don’t know quite as much anymore about everyone else. I’ve discovered that for me, the spirituality of Christianity has called me to attempt to follow Jesus more, not just to worship him. And it’s called for everything about me to change—every single cell, every microfiber. All my values and beliefs have been challenged. What’s left is mine, not what someone else taught me. I’ve learned to accept doubts (both mine and the doubts of others) as part of the equation, not to fear them or condemn them. I’ve learned to be curious, and questions are good. And I just might not ever have the answers, especially for someone else. I’ve learned more about the “wisdom tradition”, and developed more of a “panentheistic” (God IN everything) spirituality. I embrace evolutionary science, as well as evolutionary spirituality. And I know there are many, many paths home.

Finding my ground has been one of the best things about my “coming home”. The ground seems to have finally quit shaking and it seems I have found solid ground once more. My old wineskin broke, but I have a new container, and it seems flexible enough to hold all kinds of new thoughts, questions, ideas, theologies, etc. The Christianity I’ve discovered over the past few years is wide, open, big and glorious. Much thanks to my many, many teachers who’ve broadened and expanded my point of view.

Another good gift of coming home is that I didn’t have to run from the holidays this year. Something happened when my sisters in Grace Group prayed for me back in October, and the Ghost of Christmas past was set free. This has been a miraculous holiday season, with a deep sense of gratitude for all I have and all I’ve experienced. I know that might not seem as big as regaining my stable ground, but it’s huge for me.

As I look over this poem, and the past few years since I’ve written it, I am so grateful for my life, for my husband, my mother and children, for my friends, for my different communities (St. Timothy’s, 3rd Act and the Art League, my “love” ladies, Grace Group, Family Fitness, shoot, even Facebook!). Each one has added such a wonderful dimension to my life. Life is good, and every single part of it belongs.

Ceridwen, the Archetype

I love the old goddess myths and stories, especially the myths of the crone godesses. In Christian spirituality, she's the Black Madonna. In Celtic spirituality, she's Ceridwen.

I've been drawn to the Black Madonna for years, ever since I was introduced to her by Sue Monk Kidd, in her book Dance of the Dissident Daughter (gosh, has it really been 10 years???). I see her in the Christian Scriptures often; Shekinah, Sophia, and the maiden in The Song of Solomon in the Hebrew Scripture, as well as represented by Mary Magdalene in the New Testament. The Song's maiden and I have been intimately acquainted for nearly 20 years, and Mary Magdalene and I have walked together now for at least the last eight or so years.

Each of these women have an archetypal energy--and archetypal energies seek us out. We don't go looking for them, but they seek us and guide us and have a great affect on our lives.

And it seems that Ceridwen, pronounced Ker-RID-Wen, the Celtic Lady of the Lake is also a prominent archetypal energy in my life.

I discovered a wall sculpture of her a couple of years back and bought it simply because I was drawn to it. She was black and strong, her strong arms and legs encircling a great cauldron, and she was stirring the pot. Something inside of me moved when I first saw her, and I've learned to pay attention to those feelings inside.

I didn't know much about her then, and I still don't know much about her, except that her name and her story showed up on the Eve of Winter's Solstice this year--and that too caught my attention. Here's a little info I found on the internet:

* she, too, is a cauldron, which symbolizes wisdom, transformation, new birth, and creative inspiration.

* she is wise, powerful, resourceful, and she's a crone, associated with the moon, science, prophecy and poetry.

* she's past child-bearing years (a crone).

* it seems her one great weakness is interfering in her children's lives??? (o yeah???, me?, never!).

* and it seems she is the mother of Bards, Singers, Healers and Poets, in fact, one of the most honored Bards of the Middle Ages.

Since she showed up this year on the Eve of Winter's Solstice, I decided to honor her energy in my life and paint her.

It's sad that crone have been labeled "witches" and so dishonored. It's given all of us older women no place to go as we watch our lives be transformed. I'm grateful to Jung, Kidd, Bolen, Bourgeault, and so many others along the way who have taught me to welcome the crone energy, especially with it's shadow side. Their stories have taught me not to be afraid of darkness, to not be afraid of the inner journey (the journey into the abyss or the underworld), and to rest in the knowing that life changes, and to welcome those changes.

So, here's to Ceridwen, another "dark mother", who has helped me on my journey.

Blessed be.

Ash Witness Exhibit - My Lenten Blessing

The consolation, the dignity, the joy of life are that discouragements and lapses, depressions and darknesses, come to one only as one stands without -- I mean without the luminous paradise of art. As soon as I really re-enter it -- cross the loved threshold -- stand in the high chamber, and the gardens divine -- the whole realm widens out again before me and around me -- the air of life fills my lungs -- the light of achievement flushes over all the place, and I believe, I see, I do.

Quote from - Henry James (compliments of Rod McIver)


I love this quote. It was posted by a dear friend this morning Facebook. It perfectly expresses what painting and poetry do for me when I'm in a low place. Lent is kind of sorta that for most of us Christians--it's the depression, darkness, and discouragement before the Dawn breaks. We remember--we remember not having done it well. We remember those we've lost during the last year--especially as we remember what's said when our foreheads are marked: you came from dust; you're going back to dust. Most of us don't want to think of death. There's acutally not much appreciation for it here in the west. But as one of my favorite teachers once said, "You can't be born again without dying first." Truth.

Anyway, a lot of folks don't particularly like Lent, especially because it is our darkess before dawn, our death before resurrection period.

But this year, our pastor Liz Parker caught wind of the Spirit and heard an invitation to the parishoners of St. Timothy's to meditate on our ashes and write or draw or express in some other way what the ashes mean to us. This last Ash Wednesday was one of the most moving I've ever to, and the project of a few of us turning this vast array of photos, paintings and drawings, poetry and prose into an exhibit became one of the most intense Lenten Blessings I can imagine having.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Liz for asking me to help. And a debt of gratitude to the parishioners of St. Timothy's for participating. The Exhibit is YOURS.

Photos of the exhibit may be viewed here: St. Timothy's Ash Witness Exhibit

Seeing NORA

Anyone who knows me very well, knows I don't usually attempt landscapes. But it's the Arizona thing, you know? And the Evolutionary Christianity series of conversations with Michael Dowd. Michael and his wife Connie call this continent of ours, "NORA". And they talk a lot about being in love with NORA and loving her more each day. They've traveled over the continent of North America for 9 years now, and their love for NORA seems to grow by leaps and bounds.

I think it's naming the land that seems to have done it for me. Realizing that this awesome planet is alive and constantly changing, that it's part of a system that's been evolving over billions of years--vastly beyond my comprehension--but the personal naming of the Earth delights me and helps me see with fresh eyes her beauty.

This particular scene was near Tombstone, Arizona. So different from the snow-laden pine trees of the Tonto National Forest where I had "homed" for a week, and still different again from the incredible red rocks of Sedona, this little patch of NORA filled me with such peace as I drove, and a sense of deep humility. Of course this little painting will never capture the softness of the landscape, the gentle rolling of the hills between Sonoita and Tombstone, but it can remind me that NORA loved me well that day. And she still does. Earth is my home. I can't believe how long it's taken me to begin to really, really see her all around me and to be so grateful for giving us birth and loving us well. I am a child of NORA. She is my Mother, as surely as Millie is my mother. She is holy and sacred. May we treat her with care and dignity in her old age.

October's Journal Pages

You know, sometimes we get too busy or too distracted to plug into our creative side on a regular basis, so it really helps to have an incentive. Our 3rd Act crones are working on collabrative journals over the course of a year, so each month I have an extra "push" available. This month, I was given 4 white pages to be creative on--it's usually only two, so this was really cool. And I had so much fun.

What's really neat about these journals is there's no plan when we begin. All of us have talked about how special it is that the Muse shows up and something wonderful happens with each journal. This month, it seems Spirit was speaking: "Wake up, and stay awake!" It's good to be reminded.

Signature Pages for My "It's A New Day Cook Book"

And these are my "sign-in" pages. Hopefully all my wonderful 3rd Act sisters will put there photos here and sign in. So, the only thing left now, is to work on the cover! Who knows??? At least I have the title. :) So much fun!

MAGIC BEANS...

This is what my son has called my "magic beans" page. He's written a song called "Magic Beans" about all the fairy tales we believed to be true as we grew up--and we get to mid-life and discover:

Well nothin' ever sprouted
From the spot where momma threw them on the ground.
No singing harps, no golden eggs,
No giant's feasts could ever be found.
Now the banks foreclosed the farm,
Momma's sick, and Jack ain't ever around.

....Magic Beans don't sprout...

So, perhaps this IS my protest of what I expected out of life at one time. It WAS the model presented to me of "a good life". These "magic beans" haven't sprouted for me, but what I have instead is EVER SO MUCH MORE!

The Grandmothers

Remember the black canvas with a history (see post below). This is what's happening. I'm having so much fun honoring my grandmothers and my mother--but meantime, other things are happening, too.

This canvas has a huge history--LOTS of energy! My brother rescued it from a burned out studio in Austin (he's in renovation construction, redoing burned out homes and buildings). There was a fire in a group of art studio several years ago, and he got this canvas and a couple of others for me. This one in particular has a story, has suffered death, and is now being reborn--I really DO believe in resurrection. I love the whole history of this thing, and I love watching to see what comes up. Too much personal stuff to share here, but every time I work on this piece of art, something happens--prayer.

This morning, I'll show you the whole thing, which is in process. Tomorrow I'll show you a little piece of it, and share the story.

For today, suffice to say, the labyrinth has a story of it's on. Maybe later I'll have time to share some of it, but for now, I'm off to TAEHS and my last art afternoon with my grandkids! Life is so short, and there's so much to do!

This was a big day for me. Through a synchronistic scenario of events, I knew it was time to dedicate my art and my studio to the Creator, who has given both to me as gifts. It was a precious time. Liz came as my priest, and Nancy and my mom came as "witnesses". Nancy gave me the beautiful cross, that had, too, been changed in the fire.

Liz did a beautiful ritual of blessing, including this prayer:

O God, in the beginning your Word created the heavens and the earth, and when your Word became flesh, he worked with his hands in the carpenter shop in Nazareth: Be present, we pray, with Sheila who works and creates in this place, that laboring as an artist together with you, she may share the joy of your creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

I responded by giving back to God the basket of "first fruits", the tools of my art and my prayer, then read this poem that I wrote back in October:

The Good Land

(Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances. Robert Hass)

Having lived as a wandering Aramean in foreign lands
and not belonging
feeling alienated
stranger
non-fit
for the most part voice silenced
the value of personhood denied
and gifts counted as useless and unnecessary--

at least that’s the way it’s sometimes seemed.

Until now.

Divine Love has delivered
and set me in this good land.
Like the missing piece of a jig-saw puzzle
it seems “home” has found me.

And I have been brought here.

In all the stumbling and missteps
the blocked doorways and blind allies
Love has worked quietly unseen guiding each step
to this good dwelling place.

I didn’t know

I wasn’t ready

Until now.

How good it feels to be home.

(wandering Aramean, Deut.26.1-11)

I am so blessed to have this space, and these frinds, and the grace of my God. Blessed be.