Breathe Again [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

To say I sobbed is a bit of an overstatement. I’d been raking leaves all morning. It was clear and crisp. I’d just finished stuffing the last green bio-bag in the front yard and hauled it to the curb for pick-up. All that remained was to collect the bags from the backyard and move them to the curb. That’s when I heard her playing the piano. I couldn’t believe it! I slipped beneath her studio window and listened. This was no small moment.

She played after she fell and broke both her wrists. She couldn’t open a doorknob or button her shirt but, somehow, she found a way to play. She had to. The pandemic had already taken one of our jobs. Her bosses could not find the heart or moral compass to afford her time off to heal. One hand in a cast. One hand in a splint. Nine useful fingers and an immobilized thumb. She played. Nine months later, nearing complete healing, she fell again. A wet floor. No signs. This time, the injury was debilitating. The depression that followed was a deep dark crevasse. She stopped playing altogether. She sometimes stood at the door of her studio but rarely entered.

These past few years I can count on one hand – well, two fingers – the times she played. When Rob visited I asked her to play for him. She chose a few pieces. Rob was moved to tears. I could tell it hurt her. She was asked by an old friend to play for a transgender memorial service. With her brace she was able to play the two 15 minute sections.

Sitting beneath her studio window, listening, the pain and loss, the weight of the past few years flowed out of my eyes. A flood of relief. She was playing. For herself. For no other reason than to feel the muse. It was a step forward. A step toward. A step back into the light. A moment of possibility.

I felt as if I’d been holding my breath these many years. Now, perhaps, on this crisp fall day, it was time to breathe again.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LEAVES

like. share. support. comment. sit beneath the window, sigh and smile.

buymeacoffee is a moment of possibility, a sigh of relief at the continued creation of the artists you value.

Hope Is Like That [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

A project has me spending some quality time inside Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town. Grover’s Corners. Emily, after her death, takes the opportunity to revisit a day in her life. It’s not what she expects. Returning to her grave on the hillside she says of the living to Mother Gibbs, “They don’t understand, do they?”

“No, dear. They don’t understand.”

She learns, as another character in the graveyard, Simon Stimson, says, “Now you know! That’s what it was to be alive. To move about in a cloud of ignorance; to go up and down trampling on the feelings of those…of those about you. To spend and waste time as though you had a million years. To be always at the mercy of one self-centered passion, or another.”

I thought about Emily and Simon Stimson as we walked with Dogga along my favorite stretch of the DesPlaines River Trail. It’s an eight mile out-and-back section. Deer. Heron. Sandhill cranes. Hawks. It passes through meadow and grove, the river snaking close and moving away.

The day was brisk and clear. When we came to the small land bridge, Dogga’s delight filled me with delight. We always stop at the bridge to look for turtles and frogs. This late in the year it is unlikely to find them but we stop anyway. Hope is like that.

And, just for a moment, I stepped out of my cloud of ignorance. Kerri, holding Dogga’s leash, peering with great expectation into the trickling stream. “Do you see anything?” she asked. So overwhelmed at the beauty of it all, I could say nothing.

Had I been able to speak I would have said, “I can see everything.”

For a fleeting moment…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CREEK

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buymeacoffee is a moment in time begging you not to miss it. that’s all. that’s enough.

Find Out [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Google “iridescent tree bark” – or any question variation – and the top hits will be Marigold Carnival Tree Bark Glass. Second place on the list will be rainbow eucalyptus. Both are interesting but neither is helpful in our pursuit. This mystery tree is in a park on the shore of Lake Michigan. The bark on the east facing side is moist and shimmers with green, blue and purple. Why?

Google can be a very strict although paradoxical schoolmarm, often requiring exact language for inquiries yet always returning ranked probabilities. Web crawling in the blink of an eye. The art of the question meets a never ending popularity contest. It works most of the time. Sometimes it produces an amazing clown car of results. Today I learned a smidge about Marigold Carnival Tree Bark Glass. And who knew a eucalyptus tree could produce such vibrant color! I’ll be more mindful the next time I’m tempted to say, “That color does not occur in nature.” It turns out that all colors occur in nature. Even puce, the hands-down-winner for worst name of a color.

I gave up the search but Kerri is a dog-with-a-bone when she has a question. After lengthy sleuthing (“lengthy” in 2023 terms. In 1980, her search would have taken weeks but in 2023 she scored a find in less than 30 minutes) she found (drumroll…): blue-green crust fungus! Amaurodon (I’m tempted to insert crack social commentary into this scintillating post about the ease of information-finding in the age of dedicated information-denying but I’ll exercise extreme restraint and stay on my subject). Now, what exactly was my point?

More than once the glistening color has stopped our walks. We stand close and squint our eyes. We stand back and ponder. We take photographs and discuss outrageous possibilities for the surprising color shimmering on the lake side of the tree. We hold hands and I thank the stars for walking through life with someone who entertains as many unanswered questions as I do. I believe it is why we feel young even though our joints sometimes ache. Unbridled curiosity. Delight at running our fingers through paint. The utterance of a common phrase: I don’t know but let’s find out.

In case you’re wondering: I value the clown car of results almost as much as I do an instant-on-the-spot Google return. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in [my] philosophy” (Hamlet. Act 1, scene 5). It invites the second-most-common-curiosity-utterance in our household: now what the heck is this?

read Kerri’s blog post about AMAURODON

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buymeacoffee is an alien life form attempting to hypnotize you into the outrageous assertion that artists have an insatiable thirst for coffee and it is your life mission to quench their thirst.

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

I remember closing my eyes, face to the sky, to feel the joy in the snowflakes fall. On another day, separated by years, I walked out into the rain and with outstretched arms, I asked the sky to wash my grief away.

On yet another day, a younger version of me, bundled against the midnight cold, lay in a mountain field with friends and watched the stars shoot across the heavens. Oooo-ing and aahhh-ing. Then there was the winter day I stood with my back pressed against the brick wall and drank in the warming sun. My bones and the sun connected.

In answer to his puckered disbelief that I was yet a non-believer, I suggested he find a spot beyond the city lights, and on a clear night peer into the starry sky, and realize what he was seeing. Infinity knows no tribe.

“Clear blue sky always brings my thoughts to Colorado,” I said. “There’s nothing like the Colorado blue.”

One night, amid raging inner turmoil, I looked to the full moon and whispered, “Okay. I will follow where you lead me.”

It is a welcome common occurrence, she stops mid-stride and points, ” Do you see the duck!” or “Doesn’t that look like a crazy Mickey Mouse?” Cloud watchers. A festival of pareidolia ensues.

And who hasn’t looked to the sky and uttered, “Please…” The yearning heart reaches for a vast wordless sky.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SKY

share. like. comment. support. sky watch. we do and love all of it.

buymeacoffee is a call from the sky to support the continued work of the artists you appreciate.

Pile It On [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

We’re in agreement about “the news”. Nightmarish. We are in disagreement about the temperature. I go through the winter months adding layers of clothing and piling on the blankets. Kerri is constantly peeling off layers, tossing off blankets. I like the cool night air but draw the line at frostbite. She likes the cool night air but is willing to go all the way to icicles-on-eyelashes. At night we live in an episode of Life Below Zero.

On the bright side, eyes-frozen-shut eliminates any possibility of accidentally glimpsing the nightmarish news. Silver linings sometimes come in surprisingly cold packages.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COLD NIGHTS

like. share. support. comment. bundle up. it’s all good.

buymeacoffee is an uncanny hot flash of cold wind meant to open consideration of supporting the continued work of the artists that freeze your fingertips.

Mind The Deer [David’s blog on KS Friday]

We don’t always see them but we know they are present. The deer. We note their tracks and have learned where they usually cross the path. They follow careful pathways, game trails that are visible when we are walking slow enough to spot them.

As a symbol, they are heart-centered. They are associated with gentleness and it’s easy to understand why. They are gentle creatures. Even when bounding away, their leap is graceful and quiet, as if they are careful not to disturb the grasses and ground. They are mindful of their impact on the world.

We feel fortunate when we see them. It sometimes feels as if they show themselves to us. They seem to know when our hearts are hurting so reveal themselves, even for a moment, to help fill us with peace. It’s always true that we stop all movement, all thinking, all worry, all despair…when they show themselves. They are like magical makers of space, instantly turning tumult into vast acres of serenity. They look at us with large black eyes to make sure our spirits are calm, our hearts refreshed, and then they disappear as quickly as they appeared. “What were we talking about?”

“I can’t remember.”

The calm stays with us as we become like the deer, filled with their intentional spirit, quiet and innocent. Present, that special place beyond our future worries and past regrets.

watershed/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DEER

like. support. share. comment. or leave this screen and go find the deer. you won’t regret it.

buymeacoffee is…just that. though it’s not coffee that you buy. it’s support for continued work. and it is appreciated beyond measure.

Consider The Landscape [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“We are a landscape of all we have seen.” Isamu Noguchi

In my landscape of life, there is a mountaintop at sunrise. There is a nurse shark hiding in the coral. There is a boat with orca whales breaking on all sides. There is leap of faith after leap of faith after leap of faith. There are betrayals and loyalty. Lightning strikes and earthquakes. There are stages and audiences. Two times living under martial law. Revelations and reckonings. Leaves rustling. A white dog and a black dog with amber eyes. Fresh baked bread and hot coffee. Visits to the past. Fingers stinging with cold so near to frost bite. Shame and embarrassment. Triumph and encouragement. Near starvation and too-much-food. Friends suddenly appearing from nowhere and friends suddenly disappearing into the same nowhere. There is unbridled hope. There is a wasteland of despair. There is cursing the heavens and genuine thanksgiving. So many empty attempts at being clever. So much reinforcement of the fullness of my ordinary. There are so many yesterdays that blur and wash together, a raging river.

There is one today. A single now.

Certainly there is landscape enough to fill a thousand canvases with childlike play. There is enough to fill a million million pages with wonder. Cicadas and sunsets. The smell of fresh basil. To sculpt with words ideas that may or may not help others see the fullness of their unique landscape and how infinitely conjoined it is with mine.

pax, 24x24IN, mixed media on panel

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BOWL

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buymeacoffee is a landscape of opportunities to support the work of the artists you appreciate.

Follow The Marker [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

An ode to markers on the trail:

Popcorn is for a safe return. Remembrance. Home is this way.

Cairns are a gift to those who come next. Courtesy. This is the way through.

Blazes are systemic. Reassurance. You are on the correct path.

Signs are for sorting. Guidance. This is a crossroad of choices.

Companions are for amity. Togetherness. A living marker. The journey is best when shared.

“We’ve sorted a lot of life on this trail,” she said.

It’s a loop. We usually walk it twice around. Sometimes we’ll reverse direction and make a third pass. Loops are good for untangling knotty questions. We rarely come to certain conclusions, almost never leave with answers. We metaphorically set markers on our life trail so we know if we are in unknown territory or have been this way before. “Do you remember when…”

Remembrance. Courtesy. Reassurance. Guidance. Togetherness.

“What do you think we should do?”

“I don’t know. Let’s walk another loop.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about MARKERS

comment. if you want to. or share it. or like it. or not. support it. or not. all are appreciated. by us.

buymeacoffee is a like a marker on the trail, similar to a cairn, a sign to-left-to-you-left-by-us so we might both find our way through.

Snack And Be Lost [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Years ago I wrote to Rob and told him that I felt lost-in-the-woods. His advice to me was to be lost. To sit down in the woods and rest for awhile. Orientation would come with a clearer mind. It was sage advice.

Yesterday Rob wrote to me and told me that there was a hole in his life. My advice to him was to sit in the hole for awhile. Let go of attempts to fill it and experience the hole. Wholeness would come in time. It is grand to return sage advice to the very person that offered it to you.

Lostness. The hole. They are not fixed states. They are fluid. The same is true of wholeness and found-ness. They are never forever. Life rolls on and each new day brings surprises and change. Comfort and discomfort. Thank goodness.

Rob’s message to me was simple: I never resist the comfortable experience of knowing-where-I-am so why should I resist the uncomfortable experience of not-knowing-where-I-am. The discomfort comes from the resistance so stop resisting. Be lost.

The sun is setting early these days. Our shadows stretch long on the trail by 3:30. I’ve not adjusted and it throws me for a loop. Disoriented, I stop, turn and look at the orange ball low on the horizon, shining through the trees. The seed pod glows and reminds me of a crazy muppet in mid-howl. In an attempt to orient I ask, “What time is it?”

“Snack time,” she said.

Ah, yes. With a lifetime of sage advice swirling around my soul, to this latest disorientation, I willingly gave over and offered no resistance to her suggestion. The lesson I wish I knew when I was younger: disorientation, sitting in my lostness, is always easier done with snacks.

read Kerri’s blogpost on LOW SUN AND SEED POD

share. like. support. comment. and, for heaven’s sake, snack no matter what you decide to do.

buymeacoffee is a table for two set in the deep woods made available for anyone lost and willing to sit down and rest for a spell.

Live Your Words [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Language is among the most powerful yet rarely acknowledged and mostly discounted forces on earth. We name our experiences, we story our lives with words. Alter a single word this way or that and the story of a lifetime takes on a completely different cast. Success. Failure. Together. Alone.

Currently we are witness to an aspiring autocrat label fellow citizens as vermin and thugs. A well-worn page from the despot playbook. Dehumanization of others is the first step in approving, priming, unleashing, and then normalizing violence. If history teaches us anything it is that language is not only capable of creating unspeakable beauty, it is also capable of unleashing unimaginable horror. This is not playground rhetoric or locker room talk. This is laying the groundwork for brutality. White. Black. Supremacy. Equality. Community. Tribe. Division. Togetherness.

Language matters (education matters).

Consider this simple phrase chalked onto a park bench: I With. This phrase struck me as particularly potent yet unappreciated. I accompany you. I am with you. I walk with you through this life. I choose to stand with you. With. I.

No word is more dynamic and intoxicating than “I”. There is no more necessary or formidable preposition than “with”. I with love? I with hate? I with unity? I with division? I with open-heart? I with closed-mind? I fear. I embrace.

The great power in language is in the words we choose to live.

read Kerri’s blogpost about I WITH

like. support. share. comment. all words that are actions we appreciate.

buymeacoffee is a phrase formed of individual words meant to initiate a possible action of support for the continued work of artists you appreciate.