Think About The Words [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on October 8, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain…”

~ Katharine Lee Bates, America The Beautiful (1893)

Have you read the poem or thought about the words in America The Beautiful? We learned them in school. We sing them or hear them sung in moments of national pride. Consider this stanza:

America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

They liberty in law. It is not a random phrase meant to fit a rhyming scheme. It is a celebration of our difference, the foundational guarantee that separated us from kings and opened the path to equality for all people, regardless of race or religion or gender or sexual orientation. Our liberty is a function of the law applied equally to all.

Think about what it meant when John Roberts, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, elevated the president above the law. It is not a mistake that we are now struggling to maintain our grip on our liberty. It is not an accident that our right to vote or the freedom of the press is under attack.

Liberty means “the quality or state of being free, including the freedom to live, act, and express oneself without unnecessary or oppressive control by an authority.” ~ Merriam Webster Dictionary

America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

This not a lyric celebrating mass deportation or the ruin of our alliances. It is not a rousing cry of division. It is the opposite. It is a prayer for innate good that inspires brotherhood – friendship, loyalty, support – as a defining characteristic of the diverse people and leaders of the land.

Think about the ugly divisive rhetoric pouring out of the White House and amplified by the fox. Then consider these famous words:

“A house divided against itself cannot stand” ~ Abraham Lincoln

We watched the maga dairy farmer weep. She is in danger of losing her farm. Her work crew has been deported or gone into hiding. She has no help and can’t afford to pay potential employees a living wage. I indulged in a predictable rant and Kerri was generous enough to listen throughout. Here’s the nutshell: She voted for it. She cheered and waved a sign that read “Mass Deportation”. Why is she surprised?

I’ll never understand why working people EVER vote for a republican. For the majority of my lifetime, the Grand Ole Party has exploited working people, demonized immigrants and the poor using vile stereotypes. It is a strategy meant to divide people in order to move the nation’s wealth to the upper 1%. It is not a mystery that the majority of Americans can no longer afford to live. Leo Tolstoy‘s words perfectly capture my belief about republicans:

“I sit on a man’s back choking him and making him carry me, and yet
assure myself and others that I am sorry for him and wish to lighten his
load by all means possible… except by getting off his back.”

America The Beautiful. It is penned with words – and beliefs – like Grace and Freedom and Nobleness and Brotherhood and Mercy, inspired from the moment a poet – a woman – stood atop Pikes Peak and glimpsed our nation’s potential. An aspirational poem for a diverse nation, written by a social reformer, and made into a song for all people – all people – to sing.

Think about the words – really think about the message carried by those words – and carry those words with you when you step into the voting booth next month.

(the largest voting block in the USA are people who do not vote. Please help people find their way to the polls. Help them to protect their rights, to ensure their liberty through law)

Earth Interrupted 1, 48″x53″, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about GLOWING PLUMES

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Love Is A Funny Thing [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 7, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Not only is his muzzle turning grey but in a surprise color change, the black of his mane is slowly becoming rich auburn. Our Aussie pup never ceases to amaze me. He is a tricolor pup after all.

We are staying close to home these days. He has good days and he has bad days. On a good day you’d swear he was a puppy. On a bad day we fear that the end is near. It’s not unusual for him to have a bad morning and an hour later to be in full vibrant-dog mode. The uncertainty is what keeps us close to home.

True love is a funny thing. It is certain. As his days become more uncertain, our love rises and it is unwavering. Much of what might have seemed important, much of what would have previously pulled us from home or taken space in our hearts and minds, no longer matters. He is the single measure of whether we stay or go. His needs are the unapologetic organizing principle of our days. Improvisation is our only plan.

On humid days he groans when he lays down. We groan when we stand up. “We know how you feel, Dogga!” we chirp in unison.

All his life he’s been a terrible walker. It’s been impossible to teach him to walk with us, to stay by our side. As an Aussie, he believes his job is to protect us or to clear the way for us. He is most comfortable and happy walking ten feet in front of us. We could comfortably take him on trails but walks in the neighborhood have been problematic. I call him “sled dog” since he pulls our arms out of the socket to fulfill his mission. Once he’s ten feet ahead of us, the pulling stops and the protecting begins. Lately, however, he’s become the perfect walker. He and I are growing older together and I’ve been surprised that as more auburn appears in his mane and grey in his muzzle, he wants to be by my side. His job has changed and so has mine. I am now his protector.

It occurred to me that he has cleared our path in more ways than one. He’s shown us the way through some fairly dark passages. Sometimes I think the only reason we made it through is because he was clearing our path, making us aware of our fears even before we knew we were afraid. Dogga can see storms coming. He runs to the bathroom, his safe spot. We’ve become expert at mitigating the gathering clouds in our inner landscape when Dogga heads to the bathroom. “Dogga’s in the bathroom. What’s up?” For two people who believe that they are self-aware, it’s been remarkable to have a dog capable of expanding our self-awareness.

“He’s preparing us,” Kerri said, after his latest bad day. We both began to weep

“I know.” Clearing our path. Guiding us through this passage.

Love is a funny thing.

(Today we celebrate. 13 years ago today we drove onto a farm where a little fur ball puppy stole our hearts. He came home with us. He still holds our hearts captive and we couldn’t be more grateful.)

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA

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Dollars and Nonsense [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on October 6, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

This is a story about a walk through the marina on a sunny Saturday evening. Octoberfest was in full swing. Bands were playing outside the big tent. Far down the channel another band was performing on an outdoor stage at the yacht club. Children were drawing with chalk on the open square. People gathered on the seawall to take photographs of the Harvest moon rising. The huge planters lining the road adjacent to the Public and Civil War Museums were exploding with color. It was impossible to pass without stopping and admiring them. A man on a bike cruised by bobbing his head to his tunes. There was so much vibrant life on such a short walk around our neighborhood.

Children drawing. Musicians playing. A Public Museum. A Civil War Museum. Gorgeous flowers in giant pots, a city’s dedication to beauty. History. Music. Art. Social gathering.

This is a story about a walk through everything that makes a society cohesive and whole.

Have you heard the news? The Department of Education will soon cease to offer student aid to young people who want to pursue the arts or social work or history or philosophy or theology or…education. If a degree path does not lead to money making then the dull minds at the Department of Ed will not support it. The message: if it doesn’t make money then is has no value. If it can’t pay for itself then it is worth-less.

Do we now throw away the churches? The performing arts centers? Public schools are not generators of cash. Neither are libraries. Museums? Not a chance. The fire department is not known to be a cash cow, should we pull the plug, cut off funding? Public servants are dependent upon public dollars so, according to this administration, they are a drain on society. Politicians, when not corrupt, are meant to be public servants. Should we no longer fund political science as a valid life path? Roads and bridges are not moneymakers, why not dump engineering from the curriculum?

A penny wise and pound foolish.

A body with no soul.

Others have said this better than I ever will. Here is my personal favorite:

“At its best, schooling can be about how to make a life, which is quite different from how to make a living.” ~ Neil Postman, The End of Education

“Public education does not serve a public. It creates a public… the question is, what kind of public does it create?” ~ Neil Postman, The End of Education

“Thomas Jefferson. . . knew what schools were for–to ensure that citizens would know when and how to protect their liberty. . . It would not have come easily to the mind of such a man, as it does to political leaders today, that the young should be taught to read exclusively for the purpose of increasing their economic productivity.” ~ Neil Postman, The End of Education

Who will tell the story of this nation once the historians and artists and social workers and philosophers disappear into the vast wasteland of moneymaking? Who would want to walk in such a barren soulless place? Isn’t it way past time we stop reducing ourselves to dollars and nonsense?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FLOWERS

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Oh, NOOOOOO! [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on October 5, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Kerri thinks this Dogga-fuzz looks like the “Oh, No!” emoji: 😮 “That’s what my face looks like every day while I read the news,” I said. Making the oh-no-face I groaned, “Oh, NOOOOOOOO!!”

Do you remember Mr. Bill from SNL? He is quintessential humor. He’s like Wylie Coyote. We laugh because we know Mr. Bill or Wylie Coyote are about to get creamed.

Comedy is often based on the pain of others: the man slipping on a banana peel is funny. The National Institute of Health tells us that, “Comedy and pain are closely linked because humor serves as a psychological shield, a physiological pain reliever, and a way to process trauma.” This definition makes me wonder why the entire nation is not howling with laughter. There’s a ton of pain in these un-United States. Of course, it’s not funny if you are the man slipping on the banana peel; there is no comedy when the pain is yours. We call that “tragedy”.

Mr. Bill cries, “OH, NOOOO!” as he suddenly recognizes of what’s coming the moment before he’s flattened.

The rest of the world should be laughing at us, given that we are the person slipping on the banana peel, except the pain is ubiquitous. It is worldwide. We – all of humanity – with the exception of the maga-few – know that we are being flattened. This banana peel has all of humanity tumbling. “OH, NOOOO!” we cry! The maga-few laugh but we know they are being crushed, too, and have yet to realize it.

I suspect they know…but are too invested to show it. Their laughter is a psychological shield. A psychological fortress.

Someday historians will write tomes of this era. They will chuckle in disbelief at the mess we made. Their research will have them snickering as they ask, “How could they not see that coming?”

It seems we’ve elected a party of Mr. Bills and Wylie Coyotes, smug in their red hats, riding their ACME rockets all the way to the bottom. Poof. It makes me wonder if or when they will realize they are orchestrating their own demise? Will they allow themselves to see the rapidly approaching canyon floor? Through their laughter can they hear the nation – and the world – crying, “Oh, NOOOOO!”?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FUZZ

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In My Latent Maturity [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on October 2, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut

When I grow up I want to be Kurt Vonnegut. I used to want to be Leonardo da Vinci or perhaps Joseph Campbell but now I’m all in for the master of satire and dark humor. I could use some time taking myself less seriously and Kurt is a great model to follow. Laughing at the dark would be a refreshing character trait. I imagine Kurt cracked himself up all the time. Or rolled his eyes. Making myself laugh more would be good!

If you’ve noticed – or if you haven’t – I’ve almost made it through a week of posts without a rant about the politics-of-the-day. I swore off indignance last Sunday. At least for a week. I needed a break. It’s Friday and I will honor my swearing-off but have to mention politics to explain how I arrived at Kurt Vonnegut for my model of maturity. During this week of exile from righteous anger I’ve pondered a more healthy response to the cancer raging in the national body. My conclusion? Satire may be my savior. The times are dark so the humor must meet the occasion. I’d have gone with Mark Twain but wanted to shoot for someone whose lifespan crossed mine. So, Kurt Vonnegut it is! Plus, he knows what the arts are about. Soul growth. Making life more bearable. Shining light into dark places.

The sun poured through the blinds this morning. That might not sound miraculous but it has been a rare occurrence this summer. The shadow made stripes on the grasses. Kerri cooed and reached for her camera. That’s what soul growth looks like. Can you imagine being so moved by the sun-pattern cast upon the grasses in the tall basket that you coo and begin to compose? It’s a glorious thing to behold.

“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Soul growth is its own why. So is making life more bearable for people. All people. The previous two sentences are not political. They are a very human way to live if we so choose. I do. So does Kerri. The artist’s way. It’s why I believe to my core that all people – at their core – are artists. If only more people would listen to their cores!

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut

I mean, seriously! Who better to aspire to become in my latent maturity than Kurt Vonnegut?

AS IT IS on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums make life more bearable. Find our for yourself on iTunes or get in the Pandora stream.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUN AND GRASSES

“The arts are not a way to make a living.” HAHAHAHAHAHA! Likesharesupportandso-on!

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For The Sake Of Beauty [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on October 1, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“It is quite probable that the most original problem solving activity students engage in school is related to the invention of systems for beating the system.”~ Neil Postman, Teaching as a Subversive Activity

This just crossed my screen: rebellion is when you turn off the television and start thinking for yourself.

I was on a text thread with two friends, both life-long educators in the public schools. Both are brilliant teachers. One is retired. The other is nearing retirement and currently teaching math at an elementary school. He is struggling because, after a lifetime in the classroom, he’s not allowed to teach. His classroom “coach” demands that he be more concise, more regimented, that he transition on time…

It’s possible to turn off the television and not be allowed to think for yourself.

When I was a consultant my number one hidden agenda was to surface hidden agendas. How’s that for confessing hypocrisy! My favorite hidden-agenda-to-surface was a teacher’s: in contemporary education, control is much higher in import than learning. Don’t get me wrong, the teachers were always shocked-into-silence when their agenda was surfaced. They didn’t know. Their rebellion began the day they realized that they’d been duped into believing education was akin to force-feeding, that their job was to stuff context-free-answers into young minds according to a rigid schedule. To control. Note: the living, breathing, curious being, sometimes known as “the student” is nowhere in the equation. The living, breathing, caring, curious being, sometimes known as “the teacher” is also nowhere in the equation.

It’s possible to turn off the television and be afraid to think for yourself. In our current paradigm students and teachers face the same obstacle.

This brilliant Canna Lily brings David Hockney to mind. It’s a color found in many of his paintings. He was not afraid of color. He was a brilliant artist, an explorer. He once said, “The moment you cheat for the sake of beauty, you know you’re an artist.”

I believe that all kids are artists until the day that they are strapped into a desk and made to learn that control is more important that questioning and exploring and experiencing and expressing. The lucky ones keep the pilot light burning through the force-feeding until one day, they create beauty and it feels like cheating. And they know they will do it again and again and again. It’s a moment of rebellion, the moment when they unstrap themselves from the desk and the answers, turn off the television, and question…and wonder…and listen…and reach…and challenge…and discard…and willingly step into unknown territory. They begin learning.

“There is no learning if thought originates from conclusions.” ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

“One way of looking at the history of the human group is that it has been a continuing struggle against the veneration of “crap.” ~ Neil Postman, Teaching as a Subversive Activity

Untitled, 18″x24″ mixed media on panel

read Kerri’s blogpost about VIBRANT COLOR

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Yes, Mum! [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 30, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The mum was meant to sit atop the stump that we saved from the old maple tree that fell earlier this the summer. Dan brought over his chainsaw and carved a wedge from the stump to create a flat surface, transforming the stump into a pedestal for the future mum. Now that the future has arrived, we found that the stump was no longer ideal for the mum. The tall grasses – if you can believe it – dwarfed the stump. The mum was invisible from its stump-perch. That’s how the mum ended up sitting on the back deck where we can appreciate it. The stump remains mum-less.

Kerri took a photograph at the store of me holding the mum. I pretended that I was stealing the mum so it’s a picture of me in frozen-running-pose. The photo was for Dan so he might see that we didn’t have him cut a wedge from the stump for nothing. I am fond of the photo of my mock-mum-thievery. I am especially fond of Dan’s response when we reported that the mum sits on the back deck. “No!!!” he wrote, “It looks better on the stump!” Kerri sent a photo of the mum-on-the-stump, invisible behind the grasses. It didn’t change Dan’s opinion. “Stump, stump, stump…” he text-chanted.

Every time I walk by the mum on the deck I whisper, “Yes, mum,” or “Mum’s the word!” My self-amusement bar is obviously low. Actually, I am working hard at having a lighter heart. And, isn’t that an oxymoron? In theory a light heart should require little to no effort. A heavy heart should require effort! I believe that we are all born with light hearts that get overburdened along the way. All I know is that pretending to steal a mum, a mum that I now talk to, is a terrific antidote to heavy-heart-ed-ness.

In fact, placing a mum on the back deck in the waning days of September is an antidote to all manner of heaviness. Inviting a bit of beauty and inner-plant-conversation this late in the season, intentionally locating a mum where I must pass-by it several times a day just so I might whisper, “Yes, mum,” over and over again, makes me smile at the utter inanity…and light floods into my heart.

“Stump, stump, stump…” I hear Dan chant. Actually, it is the mum that voices Dan’s chant. It’s the reason I whisper to the mum. The mum chants (in Dan’s voice) “Stump, stump, stump…” and I respond, “Yes, mum!” or, if Kerri is close-by I whisper, “Mum’s the word.” Either way, it brings a smile and lightens the load from my otherwise heavy heart.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MUM

www.kerrianddavid.com

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An Ancient Map [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 29, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

What if I told you that this was a fragment of an ancient map. A river and its tributaries. The color coding of the map, the brown and green, explains the river and its tributaries – or perhaps its distributaries; the streams running away from the main river, deltas reaching into and quenching the thirst of parched brown landscape? No matter. This fragment of map is gorgeous and leaf-like.

We explain the relationship between the brown and green by defining the direction of the water flow. Does it run toward or away from the central river? Do the tributaries flow into the stem and then into the branch that connects to the trunk and runs deep into the root? Or the other way around? Is the green a flourishing of what was once brown or is the brown the retreat of what was once green?

Inhale or exhale?

Perhaps it is not a fragment of map after all but a leaf dropped from a tree, laying as we found it, all alone on the concrete, staring up at what used to be. It’s time has come.

The green of the leaves that line our street are in slow retreat. Cooler temperatures and incessant rain have turned the tides. The flow of life has changed direction and instead of sun now seeks the root. The season of underground rejuvenation is upon us. Rest. Recuperation.

Green turns red en route to brown. Falling leaves feed the soil, returning life to the root. The leaf does not separate from the life of the tree, it falls to rejoin it.

Life feeds life. It’s why, after taking the photograph of this leaf, this fragment of ancient map, she gently lifted it and moved it from the concrete to the grass where it might fulfill its mission-cycle.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LEAF

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Every Ounce [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on September 28, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I have known a very few people who came into this world with enough natural confidence and inner strength to meet any chaotic circumstance with calm. Most of us do not have that innate skill. We must gain it through life-experience.

Horatio made me laugh when he told me that confidence was a fake-it-until-you-make-it affair. Confidence, he explained, is never a matter of knowing what you are doing; it is knowing that you have the capacity to figure things out – no matter what. The faking-it-part is more than a performance. It is muscle building. It is exercising and strengthening belief in the capacity-to-figure-things-out. For most of us mortals that workout never ends.

Sail toward the horizon. Take a chance. Do anything else. Try it. Try it again. Step into it. It will all work out in the end. You can do it.

My mentors, brilliant men and women who wrestled with their own unique doubts and fears, taught me that confidence was not something gained; it is what happens when a moment is fully occupied. To be fully in the present with what-is and not lost in a sea of what-should-be; presence is the muscle to develop. Confidence, like happiness, follows. It’s a paradox as all truths are paradoxes: you cannot control the circumstances but you can control how you are within the circumstances. So, be in the circumstances. The image that comes to mind is from Forrest Gump: Captain Dan lashes himself the a mast in the roaring storm and roars back-at-it, “Bring it on!” The inner storm meets the outer storm.

On a rainy Saturday afternoon we watched The Art Of Racing In the Rain, narrated by Enzo the dog. Enzo is in his last days and reviews his life because he believes that, if he can integrate life’s lessons in the short bit of time remaining to him, he will come back as a human We sobbed and laughed at Enzo’s life review. With our aging Dogga asleep at our feet, it struck a nerve.

“Dogga is preparing us,” Kerri said, her eyes filling with tears. I nodded. He is a magic dog and has been our teacher all along.

“We’ll be okay,” I say, not knowing what to say, wondering how we will be able to get through it.

And then I remember…the journey to “okay” will hurt, yet we will step into what-is-to-come as we did so long ago when we saw a sign that said, “Aussie pups,” and stopped “just to take a look”, not knowing that life was throwing us into a curve. We stepped into it fully, all the chaos and joy and love that came with the Aussie pup that stole our hearts and made us a family.

Staring down at Dogga, asleep at our feet, I have no confidence that I will be graceful in the hurt-that-is-to-come. I am confident that we will hold hands and feel it. All of it. All the gratitude, all the grief. Every moment. Every last ounce of the enormity.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COURAGE

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Keeping Vigil [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 25, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve read that mourning doves are “strongly monogamous and often mate for life.” I’ve also read that, when one of the pair dies, “The survivor often sits in a nearby tree or roof and coos repeatedly, calling for a partner that will not answer.”

Lately, each afternoon, the mourning dove arrives to hold its vigil. It sits on the same wire in the same spot. Each day we watch for it and when it arrives, we hold vigil with it. We watch. We know that its partner will not appear. We wait for it to know. It is silent.

“It’s so sad,” Kerri whispers. I nod.

This dove reminds me of the last time I saw my great-aunt Dorothy. Del had died suddenly and she was heartbroken. It was the first and only time I saw this powerful mountain woman wearing a dress. Emerald green. I almost did not recognize her. As a boy I’d followed her up mountains, unable to keep up. In her grief she was barely standing. She passed a few months later; a broken heart.

I had my annual physical yesterday. The doctor asked me if I had a will. Then, she asked if there was someone who knew my wishes. I thought of Kerri waiting for me in the reception area. I answered easily, “Yes.” For a moment I was overcome with gratitude; I have not always been able to answer, “Yes,” so I repeated my answer, “Yes.”

Yes.

Sitting on the examination table, I shifted my weight, the paper crinkled. I thought of the mourning dove, the weight of grief sitting on the wire. Dorothy. Loneliness. Heart break. Gratitude. Kerri waiting for me. The paper crinkled. The doctor listened to my heart.

Today, the mourning dove did not return. We held our vigil for it none-the-less.

WRITTEN IN YOUR LIFE on the album AS SURE AS THE SUN © 2002 Kerri Sherwood

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOURNING DOVE

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