Come See This! [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

The theme uniting this week’s Melange photo-prompts is light. My response to the prompts are surprisingly (to me) amalgamated: the illumination discovered through differing points of view. A birds-eye-view versus the view from the ground; inviting the outside furniture inside the house, and vice-versa. We have a chiminea in our sunroom and a piano in our backyard.

What opens our eyes to new possibilities? What opens our eyes to what is unseen and right in front of us?

“You have to come see this!” she exclaimed. We stood on the front porch in the bitter cold and watched the full roll-call of winter sunset colors, from vivid to pastel. Warm-cold.

A new year. A year gone by. What do I hope will happen? What did I learn from what just happened? What do I think I can control that I cannot? What can I control that I do not?

What is important now that Dogga is growing old? What is he helping me to see?

What is important now that I am aging? What do I fundamentally understand about importance that I did not understand even three years ago? Has importance changed or have I? The smallest things now seem the most profound. They call me to life, fill me with light. Not so long ago I overlooked the small things in pursuit of lofty dreams. What a waste!

Can I share what calls me to life? Beyond reporting or narrating? Can I be like the sunset, calling others out of their locked doors to marvel at the roll-call of life’s colors?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SUNSET

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Drop Into The Moment [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In the summer months the deer trails are difficult to spot. In the winter, the opposite is true. With the absence of foliage and a clean canvas of snow, while the deer remain elusive, their well-traveled pathways are easy to see.

In mythology, deer are often messengers or guides. They call us to kindness, presence and remind us to trust our instincts. I especially appreciate the call to presence since it is there that kindness and the purity of instinct can be found.

Retribution is about past grievance. Fear is a monster born of an imagined future. Both retribution and fear would have us turn our backs on the present moment. They would have us ignore the deer because they cannot survive in the present moment. The present is, after all, the only place that is actually real, substantial. It is in the realm-of-the-real that kindness abounds; it is the only place that the quiet voice of intuition can be heard.

It never fails. When we see a deer on the trail our laundry list of woes immediately evaporates. The deer calls us into the present. We stop all movement just as the deer has stopped. It models presence for us. We drop into the moment with it. We feel. We listen. We meet its eyes. It senses us and we sense it. There is no past grievance or future fear. There is nothing more important to do or a place more compelling to be. Time suspends. We fill ourselves with the awe of the relationship-of-the-moment.

And then, just as quickly, the deer leaps and is gone. It releases us. We reenter time. Refreshed. Giddy. Light of spirit. Reminded once again of the power of living in the present.

In the presence of the deer we are no longer lost in our minds. That is its message to us, its encouragement for how to best live our lives.

In the summer months we convince ourselves that they are rare, hard to spot. In the winter months, we are reminded by their tracks that, although we may not see them, these guides are all around us. Their message to us is always available. Always.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DEER

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A Fragile Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man’s brow.” ~ Ovid

I continue to replay in my mind the moment that the young man, the expectant father, told us that he intended to home school his child. He said that he didn’t want his child’s mind filled with the wild ideas peddled in public schools. He wanted his child to know-only-the-facts. Just the facts. I’ve previously written about this so it clearly continues to bother me.

I wanted to tell him that democracy is not a fact. It is an idea. It bothers me that I didn’t say what I was thinking. I wanted to tell him that he was being fooled by leaders who want to keep his child – and all people – ignorant. Learning – education – is about the pursuit of questions and active engagement with ideas. It is not about the-facts-in-isolation.

I wanted to tell him that the quickest way to numb a mind is to steep it in isolated facts. Solving difficult problems, facing complex challenges, is predicated upon the capacity to entertain ideas. It’s not so easy to gaslight a populace that regularly exercises their power to question. Gaslighting is a snap with people who’ve been schooled to rely on just-the-facts, especially when the “facts” are crafted by the wily fox. Facts-in-isolation permit folks to wield words like “socialism” like a weapon with no real understanding of the sword that they swing. It’s been a useful Republican scare-word since the 1950’s because very few who brandish the word understand what it actually represents. Understanding requires the ability to ask questions, to compare, to contrast, to consider. To doubt.

Ideas are dynamic. Facts are static. Minds are dynamic but can too easily be made static.

“Democracy’s a very fragile thing. You have to take care of democracy. As soon as you stop being responsible to it and allow it to turn into scare tactics, it’s no longer democracy, is it? It’s something else. It may be an inch away from totalitarianism.” ~ Sam Shepard

Relative to the history of the world, democracy is a new idea. Like a new-born, it is delicate and requires nurturing and constant attention. It requires the constant feeding and stimulus of a curious mind. Today, we find ourselves, the stewards of democracy, an inch away from totalitarianism. We are witness to the realization of a Republican dream: the dismantling of the Department of Education, a war against our colleges and universities waged to eliminate the pursuit of ideas in favor of the state-approved facts.

Democracy is a fragile thing. It’s a new idea and the new idea is delicate. Its genius is to question, to compare and debate. It renews itself through collaboration and compromise. It pursues a more perfect union knowing that it can never arrive there since it is an idea, not a place or achievement. Democracy, like all vital ideas, is a relationship that requires tending.

It haunts me, what I wanted to say to the new father but did not: it is no small choice to stifle a questioning mind in favor of a pre-approved fact. This might be a good time to question what you think.

read Kerri’s blog post about A FRAGILE THING

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Clepe Incredible [David’s blog on KS Friday]

This is the time of year that color in nature becomes shocking. It is the consequence of nature’s contrast principle: the greys and browns of oncoming winter meet the vibrant yellow, orange and red of the leaves-last-stand. Last week, while walking Dogga, I stood for several minutes beneath a tree made electric by the morning light. I felt as if I had entered another reality.

Contrast principle is really about how comparison shapes perception. I only know that I’m having a bad day because I believe that I’ve had good days. Last night I watched Anderson Cooper interview Tig Nataro for his series exploring grief. Tig Nataro recently lost her friend, poet Andrea Gibson. The love of life comes clear in the moment of the loss of life. The appreciation of life sharpens when the end rolls into view. Contrast principle.

I bumbled into an archaic word that is new to me: clepe. It means to give someone or something a specified name. To name. I was cleped David. As my end rolls into view I am more and more resisting the impulse to clepe my days. Why should my days be labeled either good or bad? On my last day, what will I be willing to give to have one more moment of this life? Why not clepe incredible each and every moment that I am fortunate enough to experience?

LAST I SAW YOU on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY © 1997 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s heart is available for sharing on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VIBRANT LEAVES

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This [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Emerging from the grocery store the sky literally stopped us in our tracks. We weren’t the only ones; harried shoppers racing their full carts to their cars were paralyzed by the beauty. Perfect strangers actually spoke to each other. “Can you believe it?”

“Unbelievable.”

We joined the sky paparazzi and snapped photos, ohhing and ahhing with every click. “You just can’t capture it.”

People joined in beauty. For a few precious moments, people dropped their hurry and their politics, their worries and their angst, and united in awe beneath the fiery performance in the sky. The abstractions dropped away. The performance pulled us together. Pure art.

The moment passed. We can only give so much time to awe. The spell was broken and we each jumped back into our busy lists and went our separate ways. I imagine – or it is my hope – that we left the parking lot knowing that it only takes a wee-bit-o-beauty to pull us from our harried, divided and lonely minds and remind us that – in truth – we walk this miracle earth together.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SKY

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

The first dusting of snow arrived overnight*. What is bracing for us is a boon for Dogga. He loves the cold and snow. Prancing out the back door in the early morning, he was overjoyed to discover the frosty stuff. Rather than scout the yard, sniff the perimeter, chase the squirrels or any other of his usual morning activities, he performed his joyful ritual of first-snowfall: a full 360 degree Aussie spin followed by an immediate lay down – with a sigh of satisfaction.

From his snowy bed he surveyed his vast territories. He was the picture of contentment.

Hans-the-realtor once told me that, “Everyone has their heaven.” While I hastily closed the door and retreated into the warmth of the house to make breakfast, I left Dogga to enjoy his perfect slice of paradise.

We bipeds wield words like “mindfulness” or “presence” and pursue them as if they were achievements to be grabbed. This morning Dogga taught me – again – that there is nothing complicated about fully inhabiting and enjoying your moment; all you need do is stop the chase and lay down in the marvel called “snow”.

*We awoke this morning – the day after the dusting – to over a foot of snow. Dogga was in his glory plowing chest deep, cutting Aussie trails, through his favorite marvel: snow.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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Now We Must Ask [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

“The more you know yourself, the more clarity there is. Self-knowledge has no end – you don’t achieve, you don’t come to a conclusion. It is an endless river.” ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

In these times it is difficult not to write about the ubiquitous inanity and daily horror show produced by the current administration. We are writing a few days ahead, so it has become our practice to acknowledge that we might have to dump our initial posts if the latest outrage, the intentional starving of citizens, the kidnapping of people off the streets, the dissolution of congress to protect pedophiles…is too much to ignore. In truth, it’s all too much to ignore and it’s too toxic to focus on all of the time. We look away to remind ourselves that the goodness in people far outweighs the malicious spirit that currently claims the national narrative.

To that end I have this paradoxical reflection to offer: to all of you out there who voted for this but now daily proclaim that this is not what you voted for, I want to 1) roll my eyes and shout, “While you were cheering and waving Mass Deportation signs, did you not read your sign?” Did you think this was a sitcom? Project 2025 explicitly articulated this horror show in minute detail; you have no excuse – other than laziness – to now claim that this is not what you voted for. Yet, 2) it is never too late to wake up. It is never too late to realize that you’ve been duped. Saying, “I made a mistake,” is a step on the path of self-knowledge.

In waking up ever so slightly, there are two questions to ask: 1) “How was I so easily duped?” And, 2) “What will I do with my new awareness?” Knowing that this is not what you voted for does not absolve you from responsibility. You opened the cage and let loose the monster. It is not enough to divest yourself of culpability. People in fishing boats are being murdered, people with brown skin are being beaten and disappeared, millions are losing their healthcare and it is estimated that 50,000 people will die each year because of this loss…Saying, “It’s not my fault,” is akin to sticking your head back into the sand. Saying, “I made a mistake,” needs to be followed with a second step: corrective action. Self-knowledge is a bit of a misnomer; self-knowledge is inert until activated when it becomes dynamic: responsibility.

This ugly white supremacy has been a part of our national identity since our inception. A few days ago I told Kerri that it is my belief that our national mask is slipping. This terror-face is not new, it is merely revealing itself (again). We are seeing this part of our national identity with renewed clarity. Past generations, having seen this part of our national face, have been successful at restoring the mask, suppressing but not eliminating the ugliness.

Now we see it. And the two questions to ask ourselves are akin to those who claim that this is not what they voted for. We see it. What will we do with our new awareness? We claim to be a democracy yet we are currently witness to our rabid inability to reconcile ourselves with our history of slavery, of the genocide of native peoples…We continue to entertain a political party that actively – and perpetually – suppresses the vote of people of color and of women. It is unmasked. It is in full view. It is fascism and has no place in a multi-cultural democracy. It is no longer enough to say, “We see it.” If we stop there the cycle will once again repeat itself. The ugly face will be driven underground until if pops up as the reincarnation of The Confederacy or Jim Crow or MAGA.

We see it. Now we must ask ourselves how we translate our seeing, our self-knowledge, into responsible action. We claim to be a democracy: how do we close the gap between our rhetoric – who we claim to be – and our lived actions as translated into policy and daily practice – and into history?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RIVER

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Cultivate Spaciousness [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“In Africa there is a saying: ‘To be too serious is not very serious.'” ~ Peter Brook, The Quality of Mercy

Spaciousness begets spaciousness. It is one of the main reasons why we walk our trails as often as we can. When the news of the day – in combination with our current circumstances – begins to suck the air and light from our hearts and minds, we stop what we are doing, strap on our boots, and head outdoors. We remain healthy because we cultivate spaciousness.

Open mindedness begets open mindedness. The opposite is also true. Sometimes I am alarmed by the absence in our nation of the capacity to question. I have a theory: the capacity to question is the single quality that elevates us in consciousness above lemmings. It takes no thought at all to follow. It takes no thought to destroy. Reactivity is by definition question-free. Propaganda is only effective on people who eagerly swallow the mental swill without question. The Republican Party and its mouthpiece, Fox news, manufacture anger because they understand that an audience of vexed-reactive-victims will fill their cups to the brim with blame so there will be no room for asking questions, never mind the obvious questions like, “I wonder if this is true?” Closed minds beget closed minds. In our era, mental suffocation wears a red cap.

Curiosity steps toward the horizon, not to find an answer but to see what is beyond, to open a greater possibility and step toward a wholly new set of questions. Open-mindedness is the boon of an ever questioning mind.

Quinn used to say, “Cultivate your serendipity.” If you make it a practice of stepping toward the unknown – living in the question – you have better odds of experiencing a happy accident, a fortuitous meeting, the doorway to what you’d never before imagined possible. Cultivating your serendipity begins with asking a question. It takes courage to open your mind, to eschew the delusional “I know.”

The moment that Kerri and I constrict ourselves into thinking that “we know” automatically sounds an alarm telling us that it’s time to hit the trail. It’s time to step into the air, to feel the sun and walk without a goal; it’s time to open our eyes to the impossibility of this magic beautiful existence, to ask, “Do you see this!” It’s time to cultivate spaciousness.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TRAIL

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But If I Had [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I’ve never taught visual art but if I had, I’d have sent my students outside to look at color in nature. I wouldn’t spend a moment having them study an abstract color wheel or match paint swatches indoors. Together we’d look at light, the angle of the sun. We’d play with shadows and discover the changing hue of shadows; they are more full of color than we want to admit.

We’d bring-to-light, uncover, unearth…we’d learn to see, a skill much more valuable to the artist than merely looking. We’d walk through the world as if for the first time. We’d share our color notes. We’d tease and be teased by a full range of morphing value as the sun played with our perception.

We’d remind ourselves that our window on this life is only open for a short while. We’d saturate ourselves in the infinity of shapes and textures, the marvel of pattern and interconnection; the riches of diversity. We’d immerse-in-the-immensity and not pretend that we were in any way separate or better-than.

We’d stave off a world insistent that we live within the narrow strictures of black and white, bland cubicles of dulled minds. I’d have sent my students outside to wander into their thicket of questions and step boldly into a world without answers but alive in rich, vibrant color.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LEAF

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Feed The Marvels [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Last year Carl Blanchet walked all 2650 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail in less than 90 days, a feat that would have killed most of us. This year he’s walking the PCT again, not to break his previous personal record, but to do the opposite. This time Carl is taking his time. He’s moving slowly. He’s watching sunsets. He’s smelling flowers. He’s making new friends along the way.

Carl’s gratitude is magnetic. His enthusiasm for small things is contagious. He finds magic in a tiny swimming hole. He exudes appreciation and simple kindness. He giggles at the colors of the sunset. He can’t wait to walk another mile and share it with his audience.

He has become one of our favorite bright lights in this dark time. Each night we look forward to his next installment, to spending a few moments with someone who intentionally immerses himself in the love of life.

He is a stark counterpoint to those immersing themselves in hate. He reminds me of what is possible. He reminds me of the power of the cliché: where you place your focus grows. Carl’s enthusiasm for life comes from a decision; it is an intention.

He reminds me to look for the light, to feed the positive, to not let a single sunset go by unnoticed and without celebration. It’s not so difficult to beat back the darkness when our dedication is to see – to focus on – and feed in each other – the abundant marvels readily available in this life.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SKY

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