Hey! [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

From our station in the sunroom where we are attending to the needs of our ailing Dogga, we have a clear view to the potting bench and garden. Most of the herbs are gone. We’ve pulled the mint, parsley and cilantro. The jalapeno peppers are done. Yet, even though we are at the end of the growing season, the tomato plant is still producing like gangbusters. Multiple green tomato clusters populate the vine.

The squirrels could not be more excited. Each day we watch them scurry along the fence line, drop down to the bench, creep to the edge, make a carefully considered selection, and pluck a tomato. They hop to the deck rail with the newly picked tomato-prize and gnaw the top off right before our eyes.

Kerri delights in their scoundrel tomato raids. “Isn’t that cute!” she exclaims. I used to have visions of springing out the door, yelling a manly, “Hey!” In my fantasy the squirrel drops the tomato and flees but in reality, the one time I sprang out the door, the squirrel took a bite and held up the tomato as if saying, “Hey, neighbor!” They know I am all bark.

I am my father’s son. As a boy he grew up hunting squirrels, not for fun but out of necessity. As an older man who was no longer in poverty, he couldn’t bear to hurt a squirrel. When the varmints ate the peaches from his prized tree he live-trapped them and took them to a local park. He kept a BB gun in the garage to scare them away, never aiming to hit them. When his sight went bad he accidentally nicked one and his eyes were misty with regret for the rest of the day. That was the day he retired his BB gun. I know that if my manly yell caused the tomato-robbing-squirrel to fall and break a leg, I’d never forgive myself.

All of that is to say that I am secretly pleased that the squirrels see right through me. Now, as we sit with Dogga in the sunroom and watch the daily raid on the tomato plant, when Kerri delights in the squirrels’ successful raid and says, “Isn’t that cute,” I can honestly reply, “Yes. Yes it is.” When the squirrel holds up the spoils we exchange a quick man-nod as if to say, “Hey, neighbor!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about TOMATO SQUIRRELS

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Simple Gifts [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

And in the wink of an eye, the goblins, witches, pumpkins and piles of bagged candy disappeared from the store shelves. Twinkly lights, candy canes, jolly elves, gift wrap, bulbs and baubles of many colors have taken their place. It marks the happy return of the oddest of dessert collisions, the fruit cake.

I once knew a man who celebrated the Christmas holiday by giving a ritual gift of an orange and two walnuts. He grew up in poverty and the simple gifts were a reminder of a time when an orange was a precious treasured gift. He wanted to remind the people he loved that love was more important than the shape, size or cost of the gift.

I feel as if the results of the election are a ritual gift of a similar nature. The blue wave is a reminder: all the money in the world could not buy the power of our democracy. Even though 93% of the nation’s wealth is currently in the hands of the top 1%, the real power of the nation is with the people when united. Simple.

We exit the season of ghouls and dark spirits and enter a new season of light, generosity and joy. A simple ritual gift, an orange and two walnuts, can show us the way. Love is more powerful than money or division.

In this new season we help each other to stand, dust ourselves off, renew our dedication for generations to come to basics like decency, morality and human rights . We can help each other reclaim and redistribute the prosperity siphoned from the people by a generation of ill-intended Scrooges. With this blue wave, this ritual of renewal, we remind ourselves – and our descendants – of what we really value – and reaffirm that the American Dream is something we must continually create together.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SIMPLE GIFTS

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Let’s Get To It [David’s blog on KS Friday]

On our short drive to the post office I saw three homes with new blue porch lights. At the grocery store I noted an abundance of blue clothing. Today, blue is the color of change. Today, blue is the color of hope and I am seeing an ocean of blue.

As Heather Cox Richardson reminds us, the authoritarians and oligarchs will not go quietly into this blue wave. They are afraid. Accountability looms. Our vote was just the first step in defending our democracy. Now the real work begins.

Our hope requires our action. We’ve just seen what can happen when we-the-people come together and act. We cannot now return to our cubicles believing that the change is complete. It is not. The war still rages. The corruption has two full years of runway. The economy is sinking. The system as it currently exists will do everything in its power to stay in place; systems fight to the death to reinvent themselves.

Hope is empty without action. On Tuesday we chose a direction and now we must walk it together. Healthcare. Education. Civil Rights, Court reform, Election reform (can we please get rid of the Electoral College and get corporate money out of our politics!). The authoritarian wannabe and his cult have done an excellent job of demolition. The rebuild is up to us and it requires good architects and craftspeople and support teams. That is us.

Action is fueled by hope and today we – together – have plenty of fuel. Let’s take a breath. Celebrate. And then let’s get to it.

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read Kerri’s blogpost on BLUE

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Two Haiku [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

A Haiku:

A powerful force

Roars in, deep blue and mighty,

Inevitable change.

Another Haiku

Certain to happen,

Impossible to avoid,

The gull dreams of flight.

read Kerri’s haiku Thursday

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We Take A Breath [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

For a decade decency has been playing defense against cruelty and corruption. Last night decency reclaimed the ball and will soon go on the offensive. The people will now move toward the dream instead of pushing back against the nightmare.

There is plenty of wreckage. There is much work to do. But today, we take a breath.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BREATHING

The Choice [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

This yard sign in our neighborhood is not hyperbole. The choice in this election could not be more clear. The power in a democracy is with the people. The power in a dictatorship is with the dictator. The choice is ours to make. Vote today if you have not already voted. Use your power. Make your choice. Democracy or dictator?

read Kerri’s blogpost on THE CHOICE

We Vote [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“Because we are imperfect souls, our knowledge is imperfect. The history of learning is an adventure in overcoming our errors. There is no sin in being wrong. The sin is in our unwillingness to examine our own beliefs, and in believing that our authorities cannot be wrong.” ~ Neil Postman, The End of Education: Redefining the Value of School

As others have said, this is the most consequential election in modern times. Although the three words on this shirt might seem relatively straightforward, they are anything but. They mark the line that divides us. They are the simple actions that will either save our democracy or doom us to dictatorship. Read. Think. Vote.

There is nothing more dangerous in these times than a “low-information” voter. In our last election over 70 million people entered the voting booth with belief-that-was-divorced-from-fact-or-basic-information. No Reading. Even less thinking. We -all of us -are now experiencing the consequences of this mistake. The consequences grow more dire with each passing day.

The last time I defended the terminally Fox-misguided-crowd by suggesting that they were living in a propaganda bubble, Kerri quickly shut me down. “They have a device in their hands that enables them to fact check every lie they are being sold,” she said. “There is no longer any excuse. They can read. They can think. They must like this cruelty. They are cheering for this corruption. They want to believe what they are being told.”

If the polls are to be trusted there are many people out there who made this mistake, who voted for this ugliness, who are now examining their belief. They are learning, which is to say that their belief is finally – finally – meeting the facts. They are facing the reality of what they voted for. They are thinking. Lately, we have heard over and over again, “But I didn’t vote for this.”

And so, we vote. We – all of us together – have a chance to overcome this error. We will then have the chance to examine our beliefs, to ask how so many with so much access to information refused to access it. But first, we read, think and then vote.

read Kerri’s blog about READ, THINK, VOTE

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Gathering Vanishing Days [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Many of us have made our world so familiar that we do not see it anymore. An interesting question to ask yourself at night is, What did I really see this day?” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

This week our world is a big as our sunroom. The Dogga is ill and we are with him constantly. I pet him and he sleeps. While he sleeps I look out the window. Breck the aspen tree quakes. Finches alight in the small branch outside the window. They look in, visitors to the people zoo. I look back and am amused at what they see. The autumn light in the backyard is startling.

I realize that in many ways the world has stopped – or at the very least time has slowed. This is unfamiliar territory. Even the room is novel, rearranged, piled with soft rugs and gated for Dogga containment. It has become a cradle of sorts. All of our life patterns are altered. We are making it up as we go. In this unexplored landscape I can see again. Every breath. Every leaf that drops.

I am not trying to be anywhere else. I am exactly where I want to be, doing the most important thing I can imagine doing. I am not bored or feeling trapped. Quite the opposite. I wonder how often this has been true in my life?

John O’Donohue sits by my side. He tells me, “Your soul is the priestess of memory, selecting, sifting, and ultimately gathering your vanishing days toward presence.”

Dwight recently asked a question, “What is the wake I am leaving as I navigate work, my family, uh.. the airport, etc.?” I rearrange the image within his question: what is the ripple I send from my pebble-center that will all too soon disappear, a disturbance in the water returning to mirror calm?

A haiku: Dogga lifts his head. His tail wags a single wag. My heart knows itself.

WHEN THE FOG LIFTS on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FOG

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The Same But Different [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Walking toward the channel we passed two women engaged in an intense conversation. “It’s this unexplained exhaustion!” one said to the other. Kerri leaned in and whispered to me, “There’s nothing unexplained about it, living each day in this political nightmare. We’re all exhausted!” Amen.

We’re counting down the days to the election though we’re not naive enough to believe a blue wave will end the crazy times. Initially, if what we read is true, it will open the floodgates to the mayhem. Authoritarians do not go down easily since accountability for their corruption will come with the loss of power. We’re fastening our seat belts.

It had been months since we walked the southern segment of the trail. It’s been flooded much of the summer. Or too hot. And, with all the water, we feared the legions of mosquitos would carry us away. After several cool nights and a series of clear fall days, the trail called to us, “Give it a try!” Dogga was having a good day so during his afternoon nap we took the window of opportunity, strapped on our sandals, and drove to the trailhead.

It felt like years since we’d walked this path. It was like strolling the halls of elementary school after graduating college. Known but weirdly altered. The path was the same – but somehow different.

We reminisced. “Do your remember! This is where we saw the bobcat.” And, “Remember when this was underwater and we walked through it anyway.” After several memories I realized what we were doing: touching back to stable times. We were revisiting the time before the devastation of our democracy, before the ICE terror, before the kakistocracy destabilized our nation and the world.

We’ve always walked these paths when we needed to sort through difficult questions or to reclaim our center when we felt off balance. This time was different. With the reminiscence came some angst. And some grief. And some anger. This walk was not about regaining our calm or finding a simple solution, it was about taking a breath before stepping back into the turmoil.

We surprised a grey heron. It was enormous and flew just far enough away to feel safe. A turtle sat on a branch above the water sunning itself. It plopped into the the pond when we walked by. We stopped in a well-known stretch of trail lined by tall reeds. It always inspires a photo or two. The autumn sun was intense, “We should have worn our hats!”

We were silent as we returned to the trailhead and the car.

There is a before and there is an after. The trail we sought lives in the before. The trail we walked this day was solidly in the after, the same but different. And, we realized, it’s not the trail that has changed – it is us. We are more wary now. Less trusting. Disconnected from some family members. Shocked at the ugly underbelly of the nation. Knowing that there is no way to repair what is broken but certain that, if the democracy survives, there could be a new and better chapter though it will take decades to achieve.

We’d caught our breath. We’d glimpsed a distant hope. We felt the exhaustion in our bones. We began a new relationship with our old friend, the trail-going-south, the same but now remarkably different.

Red Goat, Orange Bunny, iPad image

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE REEDS

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What You Believe [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“But what you believe about the future will change how you live in the present.” ~ Daniel Nayeri, Everything Sad Is Untrue*

I am a harsh critic of myself. When lost in thought and reviewing my past choices I rarely extend the grace to myself that I easily extend to others. I can’t catch a break. Who hired this guy? It’s just my luck to get assigned the one inner-editor without a sense of humor or a shred of humanity.

I was deep in my self-flaw-review when we rounded the bend and left the cool shade of the trees. “Whoa!” she said. In the fall, there is a dramatic difference in temperature from shade to sun. She stopped abruptly and turned back. On the left side of the trail was a single dandelion. “The last one!” she exclaimed, already framing her shot. A dandelion survivor. A brilliant pop of yellow against the green.

I adore these moments of spontaneous enthusiasm for the tiniest reason. This one served to completely lighten my inner discord. Like Daedalus with wings, her dandelion-eagerness was contagious and lifted me from my maze of dark reflection.

Yellow is joy. It is optimism. Even Van Gogh knew that the source of this vibrant yellow was courtesy of the sun. It dope-slapped my critic. Not a polite slap but a resounding, hard, “Whap!” Enough already. Drink the joy of this enthusiasm. Revel in this tiny gift from the sun.

I breathed a sigh of relief having just escaped the Minotaur of my own mind. In these moments of flight-to-the-present I know the dark memory maze is only a shadow-creation, barely more substantial than fantasy. Judgment from afar is only loosely rooted in actual events.

I am equally capable of filling the sad chronicle with sunny yellow. Most of my bad choices, in retrospect, turned out to be excellent decisions in the long run. I suppose it all depends upon where I decide to focus, where I think the story ends.

This memory, this moment, I focus on the sun, the warmth, and the gratitude for walking a path that brought me to unbridled enthusiasm for an autumn dandelion.

I learn again and again something that is also true: what you believe about your past will change how you live in the present.

***

*read this book. It is awesome.

also – vote.vote.vote.vote.vote.vote.vote.vote

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DANDELION

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