There’s Hope [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 11, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

25 years ago a friend called and told me to turn on my television. Like the rest of the nation, I sat in disbelief for hours, glued to the screen, watching the terror unfold in NYC, at the Pentagon, in a field in Pennsylvania. In many ways I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what I witnessed; people leaping into space, the towers collapsing.

I remember it like it was yesterday. This morning, the moment that haunts me, a moment that haunts me every September 11th, is the moment I turned off the television. The early morning existed in a “before”. I found myself standing in an “after” and I knew that this world, this “after” would be more devastating than I or we imagined. The lid had popped off of Pandora’s box.

There is a direct line from that day to this. Playing on our wound, the nation has now twice elected a xenophobe, a unapologetic racist and misogynist who wants us to see enemies everywhere, exploits the fear of “outsiders” while promoting a fanatical isolationism and stoking our ugliest impulses. He thrives on our division. He’s managed to turn our fear on each other. We need not fear foreign terrorists since we are passionately destroying ourselves. He – and his party – feed our anxiety so they might feed on our angst. They profit mightily from our discord.

They are no different than the men who flew airplanes into our twin towers. That is not hyperbole: they intend to bring down the nation. They work to make the tower of democracy collapse. They corrupt and dismantle our Constitution. They rob the poorest to profit the wealthiest. They spew misinformation and spin propaganda to keep us distracted while they destroy our system of checks and balances. They would have us become a an autocracy or worse, an extremist Christian theocracy.

My other memory from the initial days following 9/11 are of people coming together. A memorial spontaneously appeared at The Seattle Center. People checked in with their neighbors. People checked in with strangers on the street. For a moment we existed in a unified story. We came together. The assault on our nation brought forward our humanity. We cared for the well-being of others.

That is my pie-in-the-sky hope for what happens when the horror of this administration crumbles. We see each other again. We stop each other on the street and ask, “Are you okay?” We prosecute and hold accountable all those who assaulted our system, who betrayed their oath to the Constitution, who robbed from the poor and gave to the rich. We return to our humanity and our senses.

As the story goes, after all the ills were released on the world, only Hope remained in Pandora’s box. Hope: wanting something good to happen and – more than wanting – expecting that it will happen.

There will be an “after” to this era. Change is the only constant. Maybe, just maybe, the “after” that follows this “before” will be more restorative, more healing and constructive than we – or I – can imagine. Maybe a return to our senses will bring revival of our humanity, recovery of our moral compass, rejuvenation of our spirit of generosity.

More than want it, I expect that it will be so. There’s Hope.

(do yourself a favor on this 9/11 and give yourself 3 minutes to rest and breathe-in Kerri’s HOPE)

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

read Kerri’s blog post about THE FULL MOON

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A Shape In Nature [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 10, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Staring at the tree in silhouette against the sunset I was struck how much of our written language is pulled from shapes in nature. the runes and glyphs en route to alphabets. A sound associated with a mark on paper. Black ink on white fiber.

For some reason this silhouette brought me to ensō, the Japanese art of ink circles. An open or incomplete circle symbolizes impermanence, the beauty of imperfection. Wabi-sabi. The beauty found in life as it is, not as we want it to be.

Impermanence is a theme of our conversations this week. We walk through the park at sunset and talk about the transitory in ever widening circles of experience, beginning with our own lives, moving out to the government and reaching further to the climate. Nothing is fixed.

I have been playing with shape/symbol as if it was en route to becoming an alphabet or perhaps a long lost written language newly discovered. Like all language symbols, I am making it up. These symbols hold no deeper meaning other than I find them beautiful and making them is mind-freeing and fun.

Sometimes I “write” from left to right and sometimes the other way around. Sometimes I do not pay attention to the direction and break the line. It is easy to paint my “runes” from left to right because I’ve had a lifetime of patterning to read and write in that direction. It seems natural even though I know it has nothing to do with nature and everything to do with acculturation. I’m trying to forget all the rules and, rather than create something, I hope to discover a new promised land: an open mind.

In pursuit of my open mind I’ve made new rules to break the old rules. No brushes allowed (except to wet a surface). Try something new every day, scrapers or sandpaper or rags. Use more paint (I have a poverty mindset where paint is concerned. It’s expensive so I have developed a lifelong dedication/necessity to-make-the-paint-last rather than working freely. To help bust my poverty I’ve purchased cheap-cheap-cheap craft paint in bottles and am using up old house paint).

The most useful new rule is Don’t Think About It. Let it be beautiful as it is, not as I want it to be. Ensō. Wabi-sabi. The beauty of imperfection, a mark on paper or board, maybe or maybe not associated with a sound but certainly inspired by a silhouette or some other shape in nature.

www.davidrobinsoncreative.com

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE SILHOUETTE

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Beautiful Together [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 9, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The bouquet came with pink roses. We bought it for the daisies. We could find no bouquet of daisies-by-themselves so the pink roses came home, too. After being sorted out, the daisies went one way and the roses another, eventually landing on Kerri’s night stand.

It’s important to keep in mind that my sweet wife is not a pink-appreciating-girl. She’s a black-thermal-wearing, boot and blue jeans girl. She likes her daisies because they are simple. I believed the pink roses would go through their short life mostly unappreciated.

I was wrong. The next day I found her staring at the arrangement. “I really, really like those,” she said. In our house very few things get a double-really. I can’t remember anything in pink that has ever received a single-really. And, more surprising than her double-really was how much I liked them, too. A pop of pink. They evoked a smile every time I entered the room.

“Who knew!” I said, in a fit of reverse-eloquence, adding, “We should always have flowers on your nightstand.” I meant it, too. I’m particularly fond of anything that evokes happiness, especially in these dark days of idiocracy.

As you might imagine, the pink roses were subjected to several photo shoots. Even in their decline they were kind enough to pose for a picture. There is intense beauty in aging if one has the eyes to see it. I suspect the pink roses are teaching me to open my eyes to the beauty in my present age-and-stage. Rather than stare into the mirror and ask, “Good god, what happened to me?” I am now more capable of measuring myself against the moment I am in rather than comparing myself to the 30 year old I imagine myself to be.

I am not that. I am this.

Besides, I was not all-that when I was 30. Why compare myself to a delusion rather than appreciate fully the reality of the moment?

I kiss Kerri on the forehead, telling her, “You are beautiful.”

“I don’t look like I used to!” she deflects my compliment. I considered sending her immediately to the bedroom to have a chat with the waning pink rose but, instead chose another path.

“Neither do I,” I said. “Looks like we’re going to grow more beautiful together.”

read Kerri’s blog about PINK ROSES

www.kerrianddavid.com

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The Warp And Woof [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 8, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Among the most toxic false divisions currently being foisted upon us is the idea that we are either exclusively conservative or progressive. We love our traditions AND want a better life for our descendants. Both/And. We are all progressive and conservative. We are more alike than we realize.

No bird flies if it only has a single wing; it needs the balance of a right wing AND a left. That is the genius of our system as it was initially conceived. A government that thrives on the honest debate of opposing points of view. Compromise is key. Compromise is balance and balance affords flight.

We are coming apart at the seams, not because we have divided into liberal or conservative camps but because we’ve lost the capacity for honest debate. It is not opposing points of view that plague us; it is a disbelief in substance, a disqualification of fact. A loss of balance. We do not share common truth. This bird cannot fly.

You’d think our division would be fairly easy to transcend. Shared facts are not so hard to establish. Observed, measurable, testable. Lately, our leaders can’t agree that ice forms when temperatures drop beneath 32 degrees. We are awash in “alternative facts” and purposely irreconcilable narratives. A disqualification of fact is a dedication to lies.

After encouragement from the president, a mob storms the Capitol. Is it an insurrection or peaceful tourists? Both interpretations are out there. Only one is rooted in observable, measurable, testable fact.

There were over 60 court challenges to the 2020 election, each was thrown out for lack of evidence. Yet, to this day we are still forced to swallow the narrative that the election was stolen even though all the evidence, all of the facts, substantiate that the election was free and fair.

A disqualification of fact. A dedication to lies.

A lie thrives on bluster and runs from proof whereas fact is quiet, independent of personal agenda or claim. Our capacity for honest debates is mired in personal agenda and drowning in a bucket of loud lies. We can only hope that someday soon integrity returns to our politics. We can only hope that proof and accountability find their way back in the executive office, the legislative chambers, and the judicial, the court Supremes.

Both Barney and the sweet potato vine he hosts are beautiful in their second chance. Barney was a rescue, a piano on the way to the scrap yard. The sweet potato vine was nearly dead, root-bound, when we intervened and gave it a bigger pot. Now it thrives.

Our nation is on the way to the scrap yard but it is not too late to intervene. It can be beautiful, a dynamic mix, a creative tension of old and new, progressive and conservative, a guardian of tradition that creates a better life for all of our descendants, a rich diverse nation that fulfills the promise upon which it was founded. We need not be lie-bound. We are nation of immigrants capable of creating a container big enough to hold a world of perspectives, strong enough to face the facts, sturdy enough to pursue the truth. We are made strong when we uphold our dedication to honest debate and compromise. Honest debate and the capacity to compromise is not the sole dominion of conservatives or progressives. It requires both.

That is our secret sauce.

A dynamic container capable of holding space for varied cultures and beliefs. A nation that offers a second chance to all newcomers. A energetic crossroads. Balanced weave of conservative and progressive, a nation unified by a deep embrace of a single fundamental truth: that all people are created equal.

read Kerri’s blog about SWEET POTATO BARNEY

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

Posted on September 7, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“[Teddy]Roosevelt had come to believe that a strong government must regulate business. “The absence of effective State, and, especially, national, restraint upon unfair money-getting has tended to create a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power,” he said.

After all, he said, “[t]he object of government is the welfare of the people.” ~ Milwaukee Independent

It reads like copy from today yet it’s from a speech Roosevelt gave in 1912. The times have changed but the tension remains the same. The question is as it was then: is the object of government the welfare of the people – all of the people – or is it to protect the prosperity of the few?

Theodore Roosevelt believed that the purpose of government was to prosper the people. In today’s parlance that would make him a Democratic Socialist. Government must be strong in order to regulate corporations. Government is the firewall that protects the people from corporate greed and exploitation.

The current occupant of the White House and the contemporary republican party believe the opposite: The purpose of government is deregulation and tax cuts for the wealthy few. It’s an agenda that serves a long debunked claim that wealth will trickle down. It doesn’t. It never has. It never will. It creates “…a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power.”

The purpose of DOGE was not to cut waste, fraud and abuse. The purpose of DOGE was to cut oversight and regulation of corporate activity. We are feeling the effects of a weakened government oversight in the grocery store, at the gas pump, in the gutting of healthcare and the social safety net.

“Over the past five decades, economic analyses indicate that roughly $50 trillion to $80 trillion in aggregate income and wealth has been redistributed upward or concentrated into the highest-earning brackets away from the bottom 90% of Americans.”

The cuts to healthcare, to Medicaid, to SNAP…to every program that served the welfare of the people pays for an enormous tax cut extended to the already morbidly wealthy. It is the centerpiece of the republicans’ One Big Beautiful Bill. It balloons our national debt. Much of the damage is yet to be felt since they courageously (I’m being facetious) planned for the majority of the cuts to take effect AFTER the midterms.

Today is Labor Day. It has a history and a purpose: “Workers formed unions and held rallies. On September 5, 1882, the first Labor Day parade was held in New York City when 10,000 workers marched for better pay and conditions.”

Although the cost of living has escalated, the last raise to the minimum wage was in 2009.

The republicans under the current occupant of the White House have convinced many people at the bottom of the economic ladder that government is the problem. It’s not corporate greed. It’s not corporate influence in Washington D.C., it’s not that business driven policy and purchased-politicians that weaken the role of government… The MAGA cult famously votes – and continues to vote – for its own exploitation. They cheer the wreckage of the firewall built to protect them.

It’s Labor Day. It’s time for us to remember the reason why we gather this day and place our focus and intention on the workers. It’s time for us to remember that “the object of government is the welfare of the people.”

It is time for the people to reclaim their government from the small class of enormously wealthy people who exploit the people at every turn. And, more to the point, it is time for this nation to exit the question: is the object of government the welfare of the people – all of the people – or is it to protect the prosperity of the few? This nation has always prospered when the welfare of the people are the object of policy. It teeters when our government is hijacked and used to protect the wealth of the few.

We are a government of, by, and for the people. A government for the people. It’s in our founding documents. It is the reason why we vote, why we have the right to vote. It is the reason the republicans and this president are assaulting our right to vote from every direction.

It’s Labor Day. It’s time to remember that working people had to fight for their rights. They are not a given. They are tenuous. It’s time for us to realize how hard this administration is working to strip us of our rights, to gut the government whose purpose is to protect the welfare of the people while it is working overtime to protect “a small class of enormously wealthy people, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power.”

What will you do now and in November to protect your rights, especially your right to vote in free and fair election, given that this might be our last Labor Day celebrated by people governed by a system rooted in the belief that the people should choose their leaders – and not the other way around?

read Kerri’s blog post about LABOR DAY

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Go To The River [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 4, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Siddhartha finds illumination sitting by the river. He realizes that it never stops moving. No two moments are the same. Just like life.

Narcissus and Goldmund seek the same thing. Illumination. One studies from the confines of a monastery. The other goes into the world and makes a mess of things. Which one do you suppose finds what he seeks?

I did not grow up around great bodies of water. I know the mountains so they do not intimidate me. The-lake-that-looks-like-an-ocean, on the other hand, is daunting. Alien. Each day we walk the path by the lake and I am taken by the mystery. I admire the sailors who seem so at home, so at peace and in their element, sailing on the mystery-water. I wonder if the power of the mountain seems unforgiving to them.

My dear Endless Enigma texted. His daughter is getting married. His son has already married but I could tell from his note that, for a dad, this passage is different. A father does not give his son away. Why is that? In our tradition, a father walks his daughter down the aisle to join her hands with her soon-to-be-husband. It is a ritual. He gives her away. For the father, the marriage of a daughter is a letting go. Has it always been this way with sons and daughters?

This water runs deep.

I cannot help but ask questions of tradition. For me, questioning tradition seems to be a tradition. It is perhaps why in my past life I needed to stir the pot. I needed to run at the edges and jump.

Time keeps moving.

Sometimes I wonder: did really I have a plan for my life? How did the path I walked compare with the clean-penciled-plan I once scribbled in the notebook? Have I at long last let go of my plan or am I making it up as I go?

I have at the very least learned that I control almost nothing. The river is so much bigger than I am.

I now see that I spent an inordinate amount of time swimming against the river. That was exhausting. I have discovered that it is so much better to give over and let the river carry me. Saul-the-Tai-Chi-master used to say, “Let the energy move you.” Kerri says, “Gear down”.

I do not really understand Narcissus and a life of study in a monastery. Goldmund, on the other hand, I know like the back of my hand. One can study the river from a book or one can go to the river.

ADRIFT on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SAILBOAT

www.kerrianddavid.com

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About Icky [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 3, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I knew something was up when she emailed the photo to me. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye when I clicked on the file to open the photo. That’s never a good sign. Then, she was just a smidge too intense, one step away from a giggle, when she asked, “Do you notice anything odd about this photo?”

Some dads nickname their daughters “Peanut” or “Princess”. Kerri’s father nicknamed her “Brat”. I take some small comfort knowing that her tendency for mischief was known and acknowledged early in her life. I imagine – check that…I know her brat-hood has only grown more sophisticated over time.

“When I look at this photo, it makes me feel icky; motion sick,” she said, staring at me. That’s called blow back. Since meeting Kerri I’ve only driven the car a handful of times. She suffers from extreme motion sickness; riding in the passenger seat strikes terror in her heart. Sitting in the backseat of a car is more than she can bear. Driving the car is her only option. I have become an excellent passenger. Also, since I never drive, I’ve taken no responsibility for knowing where I am; I’ve lived in this town for 13 years and rarely know how to get from point A to point B. It’s been a zen-lesson in giving over. The photo was upside-down which stirred her motion sickness – but I pretended not to grok it.

Side note: It is too tempting to draw a parallel between Kerri’s marina-flip and the state of the nation. So I won’t do it other than to ask, “Do you notice anything odd about the government of this country?” It definitely makes me feel icky. Democracy upside-down is fascism and that can’t feel good to anyone with a soul.

Brat studied me as I studied the photograph. “Does it make you feel icky?” she asked, a bit too enthusiastically. Schadenfreude.

“No!” I replied. I’ve learned that the best defense against a brat-moment is to feign nonchalance. “It’s odd but it doesn’t make me feel icky.”

“It’s flipped over!” she cried! “It’s upside down. The reflection is at the top! How can that not make you feel icky?” She cried, indignant. “Didn’t you notice?” she frowned.

“Oh, wow!” I pretended to notice for the first time. “That’s cool. Why does that make you feel icky?” I asked.

“Because it’s upside-down!” she declared, outraged. Disappointed.

I should have confessed that the photo made me feel off-balance because, the top of the list in Kerri’s Brat Book of Rules is this: “If at first you don’t succeed, escalate.” Now I have to watch my back.

Side note: Oy! It is way-too tempting to draw a parallel between rule #1 in Kerri’s Brat Book of Rules and the state of the rogue government as we roll into the midterms. So far they haven’t succeeded in rigging the election so they are escalating. If we want our democracy to emerge intact, right-side-up, we have no choice but to watch our backs.

It all makes me feel icky.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MARINA FLIP

www.kerrianddavid.com

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A Great Paradox [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 2, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.” ~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

It’s a great paradox, is it not? We have the capacity and desire to send telescopes into deep space. The James Webb telescope captures miracle images, exploring the origins of the universe while also searching for other inhabited planets. At the same moment, we have the capacity to pour so much carbon into our atmosphere that we endanger life on our own planet.

Humanity.

Just so, we are capable of curing diseases that have plagued humankind for eons while also ignoring the gains of medical science and allowing deadly viruses to run rampant throughout our community.

Reality.

I suppose the reality-disparity depends upon which story we choose to embrace since we are, after all, a storytelling mammal. The daily flood of “information” contains wildly conflicting points of view, conspiracy theories, propaganda, AI videos and images…It’s enough to make a story-brain want to retreat to a simpler time of firelight and paintings in a cave.

Progress.

Out of the fire light of the cave came stories of our beginning. We emerged into the light from all manner of darkness. We’ve since storied ourselves with an abundance of spiritual teachers who deliver surprisingly similar messages though their respective followers can’t seem to get along. Love is the message though it seems who delivers the message is a point of contention.

Power.

We are certainly capable of telling stories of division and threat. We are also capable of telling stories of service and sacrifice. And what is the point of progress if not to improve lives? All lives. We serially confuse two concepts that appear to be related but are actually opposites: Power and Control.

Power is a group sport. It is relational and created between people. Power is given. It is shared. Powerful people empower others.

Control is the opposite. It is the dream of the individual. Control is taken from the many. It is hoarded. Controllers disempower others.

Democracy is progress. It is based on a fundamental belief in empowering people. Government of, by and for the people.

Authoritarianism is a throwback. Feudal. It is deeply-rooted in the need to control. Control rests with one person or a small elite. Government of concentrated control demanding blind obedience from a powerless people.

What is the point of progress? Power or control? I suppose it depends upon which story we choose. Adherents of power-stories send telescopes into deep space for the betterment of humankind. Adherents of control-stories pour carbon into the atmosphere for personal gain.

Power created together leads to expansive love, inclusion. Control generates reductive hate, exclusion.

Which story will win the day? It’s a choice. It’s a great paradox, is it not?

read Kerri’s blogpost about DIVERGENT PATHS

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Standing At The Intersection [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 1, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

It never fails when we pass this point on our walk, I am taken by the meeting of the compass and the call of the horizon. The history of western civilization might be written at the intersection of horizon and compass.

We are the children of explorers. Our ancestors sailed into the unknown, developing a relationship with the stars so they might locate themselves in their travels. So they might someday find their way home. They evolved tools of measurement and directionality. For the western mind, the horizon necessitated the creation of the compass.

It seems to me that we explore so we might know who we are. We map so we might better locate ourselves.

People come to the compass-at-the-lake to stand at the rail and stare at the horizon. They lose themselves in their memories or in their imaginings. They feel safe behind the rail yet pulled to reach beyond it. It’s rife with paradox. It’s a good place to feel the breezes from the lake while sorting personal truth or getting lost in the questions.

They also come to the compass to take a selfie. To locate themselves in a picture-moment and share it with their friends. “Right now, I am here.” Explorers all, in a constant state of asking, “Where am I?”

And the greatest paradox of them all: if we happen to answer the question, if we happen to locate ourselves with any sense of permanence, we will grow restless and immediately look to the horizon and ask, “I wonder what’s over there?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE COMPASS AND THE HORIZON

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Walk In Dolly’s Shadow [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on August 31, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

This morning it occurred to me that, since the sitting president likes to slap his name on everything, we ought to lean into his need and help him out. Trump Cyclospora. Trump Measles. Trump SNAP Elimination. Trump Healthcare Calamity. Trump Food Chain Collapse, Trump Housing Crisis. Trump Un-Affordability Campaign. Trump D.C. Defilement, Trump Superpower Suicide, Trump Military Misuse…There are so many! More and more every day. Trump Global Humiliation.

I learned in kindergarten that it was appropriate to give credit where credit is due.

Walking the path that connects the marina to the channel, the rocks of the seawall are periodically painted with slogans and messages. I saw, “NO KINGS!” “Be Happy!” and “Be Kind.” All messages were the same color so I’m assuming they came from the same graffiti writer. The NO KINGS rock was directly related to the Be Kind and Be Happy rocks.

To be (verb): to exist, to have a specific identity or quality, or to occupy a place. “To be” is a verb. It is an action. We are what we do. To be kind is to do acts of kindness. Same-same.

Kindness is a choice.

Viktor Frankl wrote that happiness follows: chasing happiness is folly since it is the blossom of acts of kindness or generosity. Happiness arises when we focus on something outside ourselves, like helping another person, or committing action to a greater purpose (service to others). To be kind is a doorway to being happy.

If you have not read Heather Delaney Reese’s post (8.26.26) comparing the 80 years of actions, the 80 years of choices, made by Dolly Parton with the 80 years of actions and choices of Donald Trump, it’s worth a read. Dolly’s being was kind and happy because her actions were considerate and generous. The other guy, the sitting president, accumulates stuff while stamping his name on everything. His being is mean-spirited and selfish. He can’t seem to find the happiness he’s looking for.

It’s a comparison that illuminates the gap between our nation’s rhetoric and our current actions. It is a comparison that begs the question who we’d rather model, whose example we’d rather follow?

“If one speaks or acts with a pure mind, happiness follows like a shadow.” The Dhammapada

Happiness followed Dolly like a shadow. The other guy? Well…

I don’t know about you but I’d rather walk in Dolly’s shadow.

read Kerri’s blogpost about KINDNESS

www.kerrianddavid.com

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