As we drove across the country I read headlines to Kerri. “It’s all so unbelievably stupid!” we say in unison as the miles tick by. I see vast farms with sign-after-sign declaring anger with government interference though the farmers seem okay with the interference when it comes as a subsidy. A manipulated market. A paved road. A public school.
Ignorant. Dense. Brainless. Foolish. Mindless. Synonyms of stupid. “Maybe we’ve always been this stupid,” I offer as we pass an abandoned Stuckey’s. “Maybe,” she says.
One day, when I lived in LA, I opened my studio to find the space filled with pigeons. I closed the door and called the landlord. The next day, after hearing all was clear, I returned to find my studio filled with dead pigeons. I closed the door and called the landlord. “Oops,” he said.
It haunted me that the pigeons died, their bodies forming a perfect circle. They knew in death something that we can only imagine.
We walked downtown and saw pudgy pigeon in a doorway. He’d eaten himself into a conundrum. Too heavy to fly. Alone. All he could do was sit and glut and remember what it felt like to soar.
“Oops,” I said. “No landlord necessary,” I mused, darkly.
“What?” she wrinkled her brow.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“So sad,” Kerri replied, looking at the flightless bird.
A metaphor, I thought. No circle. Solitary. Just stupid.
Posted on October 5, 2021 by davidrobinsoncreative
“There’s a trailhead,” Loida said, “It’s just up the road.” She could see that we needed some quiet time. Some space. Some nature. We dropped our other plans. All errands went out the window. More importantly, all obligations, made-up and otherwise, fell to the wayside. Or, said another way, we honored ourselves, our needs. We ran to the hills like thirsty people running for an oasis.
“Why is that so hard?” Kerri asked. “Why should I feel guilty for taking a few moments for myself?” Later, deep in the night, we’d express intense – not an overstatement – gratitude for having given ourselves a short hike into the foothills. The sun. The deer. The hawk. The cyclist who cried, “Snake!” There were signs warning of rattlesnakes so we walked with caution. We laughed at our imagined-snake-paranoia.
Those few moments allowed us to be present with family when we needed to be present with family. Our short hike refilled our people-gas-tank. Kerri’s question was spot-on. Why is it so hard to do the thing you most need to do? Why is it so hard to put your needs above the demands of others – especially when attending to your needs is the single action that ultimately enables you to attend to the needs of others. To be present with and for others.
We are both introverts. Quiet, not cacophony, recharges the battery.
Kerri gasped, “Look at this!” she knelt and carefully took a photograph of the autumn blossom beside the trail. “This is exactly what I needed,” she sighed. Face to the sun. Awash with an awe-some blossom discovery, we took a moment, a necessary moment, to drink in the beauty and the sage mountain air.
Posted on October 4, 2021 by davidrobinsoncreative
Mike and I exchanged text messages. His mother recently passed and his clan interred her ashes a few days ago. We held services for my dad last week. Columbus’ ashes will find their final resting place in the spring.
Mike is heading for the ocean. Before leaving Colorado, I had to stand in the mountains. Both are places of infinity. Stand in our smallness. Realize the ‘bigness’ of life.
What do we do after…After.
John Irving wrote that we lose people, not all at once, but in pieces. I think we find them in pieces, too. There is so much to discover in the After. Stories are told. Quiet is necessary. An anchor goes missing and then, bit by bit, is rediscovered. Inside.
Posted on October 2, 2021 by davidrobinsoncreative
The inaugural Twizzler competition revealed to me the full depth and breadth of Kerri’s competitive spirit. I can only add that, to this day, I am win-less. Yet, oddly, her victory celebrations never decrease in intensity. You’d think after 200 straight wins her victory-lap-fun would fade. But, no! Even though I am pathetic competition, she relishes each victory as if it was the first.
Of course, you’d also be justified in thinking that, after 200 straight losses, my enthusiasm for the game would wane. But, no! I’m determined to someday claim the Twizzler Cup. I can taste it. Victory will be mine and, oh, what a sweet rowdy roadtripping celebration I have planned!
Posted on October 1, 2021 by davidrobinsoncreative
“If you truly love Nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh
When Kerri took this photograph I thought Van Gogh would have loved to paint it. I read that most of his 860 paintings date from the last two years of his life. The romantic in me wants to believe that he knew his time was short and he let all of that imperative spill out onto canvas. He died never knowing success or imagining that his work would in any way impact the world. I doubt he cared. His frenzy was not driven by success or status. He painted because he had to.
Waning time brings retirement to some. To others it brings fire and fuel. The need to bring what is inside to the outside. To compose, to write, to dance, to paint, to build, to design. Michelangelo was driven by his waning time. Some of his final sculpture was 500 years ahead of its time. At the end of his life, his work would have shown well with Picasso.
There simply isn’t enough time to say it all, explore it all. Last night, sitting in a circle with my family, multiple conversations resonating throughout the activity hall, my conversation pod began talking about regrets. When we were younger, we made vows to live lives without regret and now, at this end of the road, we see how foolish was our vow. Life is a series of choices and choices always leave unexplored paths. We laughed at our folly and relished the beauty of a life full of regrets. Paths not taken seed gratitude for the paths we ultimately chose. There is intense beauty in regret.
The morning dawned cold. Autumn has arrived in Colorado. The energy abandons the leaves and goes to the root. Columbus’ passing has brought energy to the root. He would be pleased. There are members of my family that I have not seen for years. In gathering, we bring together our separate stories and for a few days remember that we are also a single story.
A single story. The beauty of regret. The gift in loss. The waning of one season affirms the promise of the new.
All of Kerr’s albums are available on iTunes & streaming on Pandora