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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Life Carpentry [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 24, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I teased Kerri that this morning that the first thing on my to-do list was to build the ark. It rained again last night. It’s raining now. I’m not talking about gentle downpours; this is an Alabama rain, tropical, an incessant dumping after yesterday’s dumping preceded by the dumping of rain the day before that. Kerri reminded me that my carpentry skills are lacking so, even if I built something that resembled a boat, no animal with good sense would get on it. I have to admit it, she’s right. I’d never set sail on a boat of my own construction.

A few days-that-feel-like-months ago, the sun came out. In the early evening we sat outside so Dogga could sniff the fence line and bark at random sounds. He’s an old dog now so it makes him feel good to bark into the universe. While he investigated the backyard and the greater galaxy, we sat in our Adirondack chairs and watched the clouds. They glowed, putting on quite a show for us. While the beauty of this world evokes a rowdy bark from Dogga, it does the opposite for us: it invites quiet appreciation. It was one of those rare moments when I knew to my bones -at least in that moment – that all was right in my world.

In that moment. Every spiritual tradition on the planet warns of the folly of trying to hang onto the feeling of a moment. The best we can do is savor and move on.

It is good practice to regularly step back from a canvas and from a distance look at the painting. It brings the whole composition back into focus. Stepping back exposes what is invisible when working close-in. “What’s next” becomes readily apparent when standing back. It’s route finding.

The same thing is true in life. It’s why people take vacations or go on retreats or simply take-a-break. To get some distance from our close-in lives and feel what we do not allow ourselves to fully feel, to re-consider, to open the door and invite in the dreams that have been waiting patiently in the lobby.

Sitting in the Adirondack chair, watching with awe the cloud-spectacular, I heard Joseph Campbell in my mind, saying, “No one lives the life they intended.” Had the younger version of me actually built the boat of my intentions and successfully sailed off toward the horizon, I would have missed this moment, Dogga bark-communing with the universe, Kerri and I reveling with the sun on our faces after days of rain, holding hands, shaking our heads at the impossible beauty of the glowing clouds. I thanked all the powers-that-be that my carpenter skills were-and-are lacking, that my life-ship sank in the bay and required me to step back, take a look and live a life of route finding. My path meandered to a place I never imagined, to a moment I did not think was possible. Simple awe. Had I been a better life-carpenter I would have missed it.

Canopy, 48″x48″, acrylic on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GLOW

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Rainbow Or Snake? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 23, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Can you see it?”

“No.” I squinted.

“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the cloud.

“I still don’t see it.”

“How can you not see it! It’s a rainbow!”

I took off my sunglasses. Nothing. “Nope.”

“It’s right there!” she repeated, pointing with increased vigor, her New York roots arising.

I stood up, walked behind her chair so I might look from her exact perspective. And there it was. A slice of rainbow. A few feet to the left or right and the colors were invisible. She was triumphant. “I told you there was a rainbow!”

I’m glad it was a rainbow and not a snake or a hole I might fall into. My doubt about what others perceive has bitten me more than once. “It’s beautiful,” I said, the pastel colors slowly fading. A few moments later and I wouldn’t have seen it. It would have vanished and I’d have teased her all day about imagining rainbows.

There are worse things to imagine.

I value her perspective so I give it credence even when I do not see what she sees. I try again and again to see the rainbow that she insists is right before my eyes because I trust her, because I am interested in seeing what she sees. Because we routinely call attention to the beautiful or interesting so we might share the tiny miracles that surround us. We try to open each other’s eyes.

We try.

I believe opening each other’s eyes to the tiny miracles, to help each other see what we might be missing, is what people are meant to do for each other. It’s a primary function of community. We need not agree.

Much to my surprise and dismay, each day that I write, I come to the same crossroad. I wonder how can I honestly write a post about valuing the perspective of others when there are so many perspectives in this nation that I fundamentally do not value? I have long ago given up trying to find access or manufacture excuses for perspectives that I find abhorrent. I no longer try because I do not trust. We are in a stand-off, “How can you not see it?” we hiss at each other.

We do not try. I do not try.

So, perhaps this is not a post about the virtue of standing in the other’s shoes but the recognition that there are some shoes I refuse to stand in. The bridge is burned. I cannot validate the ugliness by attempting to see or understand the other perspective. I have learned – we have learned – that when they point and say, “Look! A rainbow!” what they see is a snake. They would have me call it a rainbow.

A rainbow or a snake? A perspective or a delusion?

Trust is broken in our nation. My daily dilemma is our daily dilemma. Yet, in my deep belief, I hold true that once the snake has faded, once the delusion dissipates, we will have a short walk back to trust. We will have learned a hard lesson about snakes and that might be our first step back into common ground. On that day, we will ask in earnest, “Tell me what you see?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RAINBOW

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Shadow and Substance [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 22, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Even in the valley of the shadow of death, two and two do not make six.” ~ Leo Tolstoy

When I am stuck or empty of thought, when I do not know what to write about, I sometimes jump into quotes to get me moving. The quote is like a pebble that starts an avalanche. This quote assures me that there is sense to be made, that there are universal rules that apply to all. We are born. We all die. Gravity keeps our feet on the ground even though the ground is a ball spinning through space. Two and two make four, even if the current occupant of the White House insists that it is six.

“A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun shines.” ~ Benjamin Franklin

I have a theory about maga republicans. They are false friends, keeping close to their dear-leader as long as the sun shines. Sundown is coming, if not already here. They are already fading. Some have stopped attending but they have already rendered themselves as substance-free, nothing more than shadow. The question becomes, “Will we believe them when they claim to be thought-full, 3 dimensional, independent, caring and well-intended representatives of their constituents?” I hope not. I hope we-the-people have more substance than that, a higher expectation of the people who are meant to represent us.

“There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires.” ~ Nelson Mandela


There is a dial called “If they gain, we lose,” that the wealthy twist every time this nation actually approaches equality. It’s a very old dial, installed at our nation’s inception. It has been extremely useful for protecting privilege when the greater rabble question the inequities in a nation purportedly based on the ideals of equality and freedom-and-justice-for-all. The current lot have been cranking the dial. Despite their fears and repeated efforts to divide us, to demolish democracy and enrich their holdings, the mountaintop of our desires remains. Perhaps this will be our last pass through the valley? Perhaps we will finally be willing and able to disconnect the dial, erase the concocted divisions and, together, reach the mountaintop?

“Beware that you do not lose the substance by grasping at the shadow.” ~ Aesop

Growing older, stacking experiences, is a great teacher of shadow versus substance. Our nation has just passed its 250th year though it seems locked in a cycle of shadow-grabbing. Separating substance from shadow is a skill that comes from an honest review of history. The good, the bad, and the ugly – all of it – is necessary for clarifying what matters and what does not. Is a ballroom essential while the people starve? Is a president profiteering from his office an official duty that betters the community and advances our society? It begs two related questions: How long are we will to pretend that shadow is substance? How long can we enable shadow-grasping before we lose our national substance, before we become nothing more than a shadow?

“When virtue is lost, benevolence appears, when benevolence is lost right conduct appears, when right conduct is lost, expedience appears. Expediency is the mere shadow of right and truth; it is the beginning of disorder.” ~ Lao Tzu

A pebble starts an avalanche.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SHADOW

www.kerrianddavid.com

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The Basic Action [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on September 21, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“In a democracy, dissent is an act of faith.” ~ J. William Fulbright

Are you as confused as I am that people in a democracy choose not to vote? How is it possible to believe that your vote does not matter? That is the equivalent of saying to yourself, “I have no voice.” Or, it is an embrace of root rot, to uphold the victim-belief that the democracy is already gone and the act of voting is a sham.

To this day I am gobsmacked that in our last election more people decided not to vote than those who voted for either candidate. In one of the closest presidential races in our history, a race that was by all accounts the most important in our lifetime, 90 million Americans stayed home. 90 million people chose voicelessness. 90 million people thought that their voice did not matter.

Surrounded by the wreckage of our system, demolished over the past two years by an authoritarian regime, I challenge anyone to convince me that their vote did not count, that their voice does not count. In this case, silence is not dissent. It was surrender. Going forward, silence is conformity.

And here we are again only this time – this time – is not only the most important vote of our lives, it may be the most important vote in the life of our democracy. We are voting to fight for the life of government of, by and for the people – or to pull the plug and let it die.

Each day I read appeals to get out the vote – essentially an appeal to convince people in a democracy under siege – that they have a voice, that their voice matters. Given the utter corruption, the selling-out of the people to enrich the privileged few, it confuses me.

Standing in the rubble – and the wave of devastation of social safety net still-to-come thanks to the Big Ugly Bill, another forever war, The Epstein Class cover-up…I wonder why anyone would need convincing to speak up.

A vote is either an act of approval or it is an act of dissent. It is the fundamental, the basic action defining our system: the people have the power to choose their path by voting to stay the course or to change it. It is an enormous power and with power comes responsibility. In our government, it is sometimes hard to remember that we have the power – by design. Our democracy can only collapse if we allow it to happen.

The ongoing all-out-assault on our right to vote, waged by the president and his feckless party, is meant to render us voiceless. It is a power grab. They would squeeze us into conformity and if they succeed, the 90 million will have proven themselves as authoritarian-first-adapters, selecting voicelessness en route to a rotten system, modeling itself on Putin’s Russia or Orbán’s Hungary, a system of control that relies on a complacent and silent citizenry.

We have the opportunity, perhaps our last, to dissent. To speak. To uphold our responsibility. To vote.

“Has there ever been a society which has died of dissent? Several have died of conformity in our lifetime.” ~ Jacob Brownoski


read Kerri’s blogpost about DISSENT

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