The Composition of a Life [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

I cut the post I wrote for today. The image of this Dianthus flower is too beautiful for the thoughts I paired with it. The color of this flower kills me. The composition of this photograph would make Georgia O’Keeffe smile.

I reminded myself to not miss the beauty-of-the-moment in the middle of the national horror story we currently experience.

Chris has been on a quest for 15 years to develop a play based on Viktor Frankel’s book, Man’s Search For Meaning. A few days ago he took another step forward. He’s knocking on the door of his dream. Viktor Frankel was a Holocaust survivor and the book is based on his experiences in the camp. He makes a distinction that is relevant for us today: we have the choice to either seek meaning from our experiences or to bring meaning to our experiences. Our chances of survival are better if we bring rather than seek meaning – especially in a time, like ours, when amorality and cruelty have the reins of power. It’s hard to find meaning in the wasteland.

It’s the reason I cut my post. I was seeking meaning from the rapid collapse of our democracy rather than bringing a greater meaning to this moment-in-time.

We put the air conditioner in the window because our old Dogga suffers in the heat. Last night he was laying in his now-usual-spot directly in front of the fan blowing cold air. I sat next to him and rubbed his ears. I cannot describe the enormity of what I felt in that moment. It was more necessary, more important than anything rolling across our screens.

As I write this a bird – a house finch – is scratching at the window just behind where I am sitting. It is literally six inches from my head. I can see into its eyes. And it is looking into mine.

The color of this Dianthus kills me.

I cannot stop the national slide into autocracy. I can control where I choose to place my focus and there’s so much around me that would be a shame to miss. It’s the composition of a life that would make Georgia O’Keeffe – and Viktor Frankel – nod with silent approval.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DIANTHUS

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An Unearthing [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” ~ T.S. Elliot, Little Gidding

It is not so simple to Be You.

I’ve yet to meet a person who knows without question, without doubt, who they are.

That is not a flaw. It is a given since we are not a piece of furniture, not a thing or an end result. We are so much more. An unearthing. A discovery.

We are human beings. Questioners. Questions.

We are both seeker and sought. We are both archeologist and vast hidden city.

Of course, that is not the meaning behind the message stitched on the rainbow hat. Be You is an affirmation of inner truth in the face of social pressure to Be Other than You.

There are other seekers – other people – who, in their fear of the unknown, attempt to define you. Confine you. They make rules, absolutes. They wish to stop the seeking.

Your difference is a disturbance in their rigid field of sameness.

They desire limited commerce and will only travel well-worn paths. They worship control – so controlling you, they believe, will keep them safe in their comfortable known. They would have you walk on their paved path. Color within the lines. Worship as they do.

Your difference shakes their cage. Your difference is a siren’s call to the scary edge of the unknown, to growth since growth is always in the direction of the unknown.

They quake. They fear your difference because they fear that they will disappear if they step toward the rim of learning: they fear what they will find in themselves – or have to admit to themselves – so they sail far away from the edges.

Be You? Just as others propel you forward in your discovery, just as resistance helps you discover the parameters and depths of your belief, your difference serves as a harbinger for others, a message in a bottle, calling them to the precipice of their greater archaeology.

What is over there? In there? Under there? Beyond? Me?

Is it an end? A beginning? And who will walk with me? Why?

As always, rather than a book of rules, a fistful of pat answers, is it not more useful – more honest – to ask and ask and ask a better question?

[Quinn called these The Big 3: Who am I? Where do I come from? What is mine to do? We never arrive at an absolute answer since we are a moving target, always growing in a relationship with the unknown. The point is not to nail down a forever-answer; the point is to be brave enough and open enough to continually ask the questions.]

GRACE on the album RIGHT NOW © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE YOU

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A Poet’s Revelation [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Some enlightened poet/scientist named this little flower Shooting Star. The flower evoked for the scientist streaks of light arcing across the night sky. The scientist must have had a profound experience one night, gazing into the stars when, suddenly, the stars seemed to go haywire, zipping across the sky.

My first ever meteor shower happened while I was a teenager. I was in the mountains. I lay in a meadow with my friends and watched the heavens dance. It made me understand how so many cultures on this earth believe that shooting stars are either souls returning to the earth to be reborn or the souls of the recently deceased leaping into the other world. Souls in transition leaving a brilliant, momentary trace of light behind them.

Still other cultures believe that shooting stars are messages from the gods. Affirmations.

The message I received from my night in the mountain meadow watching the stars arc across the sky? I am infinitesimally small in this vast universe. And, I am intimately connected to everything. It’s a poet’s revelation.

The scientist who named the flower Shooting Star must have had the exact same realization.

[Bonus hope: A poet’s thought in a world of oppression in which we are connected to everything]

I Look At The World ~ Langston Hughes

I look at the world
From awakening eyes in a black face—
And this is what I see:
This fenced-off narrow space
Assigned to me.

I look then at the silly walls
Through dark eyes in a dark face—
And this is what I know:
That all these walls oppression builds
Will have to go!

I look at my own body
With eyes no longer blind—
And I see that my own hands can make
The world that’s in my mind.
Then let us hurry, comrades,
The road to find.

Blueprint For My Soul on the album The Best So Far © 1996/9 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums – borne of her poet’s revelation – are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about SHOOTING STARS

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Either Way [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

At this time of year, sleeping as we do with the window open, I have the impression that the birds sing the sun to rise. In the evening, they sing it to rest beneath the horizon. What happens between those two songs is always a surprise.

I recently read a quote by Aldous Huxley that struck a deep chord: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly, child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly, even though you’re feeling deeply…”

Dogga has been a great teacher. He is highly sensitive, keenly keyed into us. He feels everything I feel, we feel. If we start to take ourselves too seriously, he runs for his safe haven in the bathroom. At first his retreat to the safety of the bathroom brought us up short. It was like being slapped into consciousness. “We’re upsetting the dog.” We’d breathe, step back and change our tone. We’d lighten up. He’s become a barometer of whether or not we’re taking ourselves too seriously and we’ve learned to lighten up before he feels the need to retreat.

It’s possible: walking lightly through life can be learned.

“Look at the color of the sky!” she said, aiming her camera.

“It’s a Colorado sky,” I mused. The blue was intense against the new spring-green leaves.

We were slow-walking on one of our favorite trails, talking about the past decade, the seeming-forced peeling back of layers, the necessity of letting go of grievances and disappointments when she suddenly pulled her camera from her pocket. “Look at the color of the sky!” I smiled: evidence of not taking anything – especially ourselves – too seriously.

“So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly…”

It’s an ongoing life lesson. Feeling deeply need not be weighty. Especially now. There are, indeed, quicksands all around us, sucking at our feet. It’s always an option to disappear into the muck of fear and despair. As we have learned – and continue to learn – hopelessness is a heavy load. As is resentment. Regret is a guaranteed back-breaker. Denial is the heaviest bag of all. Our nation is currently learning this lesson.

The surprise between the birdsong? We can walk with the light astonishment of the new day or we can drag along yesterday’s heavy baggage. It’s our path, it’s our choice, either way.

[I just finished writing this post when Guitar Jim sent this gorgeous song by Darrell Scott. Serendipity, the song says it better than I ever will]:

read Kerri’s blogpost about TREES AND SKY

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Can You Imagine It? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I saw the photograph as a snippet of conversation. “You are beautiful,” he said.

“Stop,” she replied, turning away.

I can count on one hand the people that I’ve met in my life who understand that they are, by the good grace of being alive on this earth, beautiful. They need not deflect, deny or turn away. Beauty is embraced not as an attainment or a visual gift granted to the lucky few, not as a standard to be met or an image to be copied. It simply is. Tell them that they are beautiful and they will smile – their smile saying, “Back-at-you.”

When greeting someone in Bali – or in any Hindu culture – hands press together before the heart and “Namaste” is spoken. “Namaste”… is a word that is tied to the ultimate respect for another person that is based not upon who they are, and what they say or do, but their very presence in this life.”

Budi taught me that Namaste means, “The god in me recognizes the god in you.” Beauty. As a given.

Greeting the essence rather than the idea. Seeing beyond the superficial. Being seen beyond the magazine-model-expectation. Can you imagine it?

Stop. You are beautiful.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BEAUTY

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Keeping Vigil [David’s blog on KS Friday]

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.” ~ e.e. cummings

Our pals shared an adorable photo: their little granddaughter sits on a plastic chair waiting and watching for a single tulip to bloom. She is determined to hold her vigil until the flower opens.

It’s an adorable picture. Kerri sits on a plastic Adirondack chair waiting and watching to catch a photo of the black-capped chickadee emerge from the birdhouse. She is determined to hold her vigil until the tiny bird makes an appearance.

The birdhouse has been empty for years. We thought of it more as a backyard decoration than an actual residence for birds. We couldn’t believe it when we saw a chickadee squeeze through the hole and disappear. Soon long strands of grass hung over the doorway. The chickadee spouse stands guard. It forages and drops food into the house.

It is no small feat to see the world through the eyes of a child. The wonder of a tulip blooming. The astonishment of a chickadee nesting. I watch her watching and waiting, holding her breath with anticipation and I am full, full, full of gratitude that she has not blunted herself to the utter awe of this life. Reverence is so easy for a child, awash in firsts. It is much more difficult when the miracles seem known, ordinary, well worn, when we wrap ourselves in a blanket of been-there-done-that.

Why would we opt to live each day believing that we’ve seen it all before?

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” ~ Thich Nhat Hahn

Grateful on the album As It Is © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BIRDHOUSE

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An Audacious Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

I love it when the parks department rakes the beach. It reminds me of a Zen garden. Yohaku-no-bi: “The beauty of blank space.” I read that Zen gardens are meant for contemplation rather than meditation. Intentional thought rather than quieting the mind. What could be a better topic of contemplation than the beauty of blank space?

I have given much of my life to sitting before a blank canvas contemplating possibilities. Raking the sand in my garden.

Today Dwight flies to Portugal where he will embark on a pilgrimage. I love what he wrote as he prepared for his adventure: “…what audacious thing might occur to me when I let my mind get quiet?” Embracing the opportunity and the unknown!”

I flipped his words for contemplation: When I let my mind get quiet what audacious thing might occur to me?” Following a sentiment attributed to Aristotle, if “nature abhors a vacuum”, then a quiet mind is an invitation to the audacious.

A blank canvas. A quiet mind. An audacious thing. An embrace of the unknown opportunity. Beauty.

I didn’t intend it but I just wrote a haiku, a send off for Dwight using his own words:

An audacious thing:

An embrace of the unknown.

Opportunity.

Walk in quiet beauty, my friend.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BEACH

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Follow The Cairns [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Cairns are trail markers. They show the way.

I want to stack a series of giant cairns for the red-hats who are lost in the land of foxy misinformation. They have lost their way. I’m reminded that in our Revolutionary War, the struggle for our independence, the forces of the crown were known as red coats. The patriots wore blue. History definitely repeats itself, at least in color identification. The red-hats are fighting for the reestablishment of the crown.

The red-hats vehemently support their wanna-be-king, a servant to the oligarchs. He intends to tax the poor to fill the coffers of the rich. His army of red-hats have not awakened to the reality that they are the targets of his taxation. They are the indentured servants of his dreams. They are the dupes in his plan.

Usury inevitably reveals itself and slaps awake even the most deluded follower (Rudy Giuliani not withstanding).

I can state this with absolute certainty: if hear one more bloated Republican bloviate that government has no meaningful role to play in our society I’m going to vomit. Think for a moment: they want the poor to carry the tax burden but be exempt themselves. While they bully universities into ignorance, annihilate public education, actively cut social services to the 90%, attack Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security…while simultaneously removing any regulation and/or oversight to their business plunder. Their north star is embarrassingly shallow: permanent tax cuts for the wealthy few. All of this, of course, requires a government to enact. It’s not the absence of government that the reds slobber for; it is a government dedicated to exploiting the many for the sake of the few. They are disingenuous at best. Sadistic is probably a more honest adjective.

It’s not government that they despise – it’s a government that serves ALL people that they wish to eradicate.

There are glimmers of hope. Our nation has a few vocal cairns emerging. Bernie Sanders and AOC are holding rallies that draw thousands: people wearing blue (metaphorically). People who believe in democracy. People who value learning above ignorance, truth above fox-fantasy. People who know that the chicken-little running around the barnyard screaming, “Socialism” or “DEI” is the puppet of wealthy elites attempting to scare the fox-hypnotized-gullible-maga-masses with scary straw men.

The blues aren’t buying a word of it. They’re following the cairns that lead to a healthy tradition of awakening the American spirit – the same spirit that gave us the Boston Tea Party, Paul Revere, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglass, Cesar Chavez…The Constitution, the Bill of Rights…and a democracy worth fighting for.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CAIRNS

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Return To The Most Human [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“Non-violence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction devised by the ingenuity of man” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

If you are like me you are seeing signs like this pop up everywhere. This version was posted in the elevator in a hospital. The first version I remember was posted at the drive-thru pharmacy. Evidently, we-the-people are angry and taking it out on each other. The collapse of civility. It’s not a surprise. Our elected leaders have always been a mirror of us just as we take on and mirror their attributes. It’s a bully feedback loop.

“Nonviolence is a way of life for courageous people” ~ Martin Luther King

Lately, I’ve been working on a new play. It explores the tug-of-war between our animal and human nature. What happens when consciousness meets impulse? What is possible when reason/thought grabs the shoulders of reactivity? We know what happens when conscious thought and concern for truth is nowhere to be found. We are living it. We are compelled to post signs in elevators in an attempt to reach through the animal to find the human. We attempt to legislate decency.

“An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

20 told us a joke from a recovering Catholic comedian. The joke builds a hierarchy of sin as articulated by the church. The worst sin, the very worst sin? Critical thinking. It is a punchline appropriate for the white-nationalist-christian-clan, the Project 2025 crew, currently spreading fear and creating scary boogeymen across the land. In the name of smaller government they poo-poo learning, ban books, outlaw all forms of critical thinking like DEI, critical race theory, the constitution, the rule of law, you know, things like checks-and-balances…

“Nonviolence seeks to defeat injustice or evil, not people” ~ Martin Luther King

In a recent podcast Ezra Klein said that, despite their bully-posturing, the current administration is weak. They know that they can’t move their agenda forward through congress so they are doing an end-run around congress. And, apparently, congress is too frightened to challenge the bully. Brute force – animal nature – is capable of dominating reason and heart for a little while. Right now, congress lacks courage. Courage comes from the Latin, “cor” which means “heart”. Our congressional leaders lack heart. Congress comes from the Latin “con” which means “together” and “gradi” which means “walk”.

It is something to hope for: Our elected leaders walking together. With heart. That’s the whole idea behind democracy. From the Greek, “dēmos”, meaning “the people” and “kratia” meaning “power” or “rule”. Rule by the people as represented by their elected officials. Not the oligarchs. Not a spray-tan-bully. Walking together. It takes courage.

“In its earliest form, “courage” meant “to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart”. ~ Brene Brown

In a single month, we have been witness to incredible violence inflicted by the current administration, both on our system of government, on our citizens and the citizens of the world. Jane Goodall tells the story of a little ape who learns that banging gasoline cans together, making violent noise, would scare the other apes, momentarily making the little ape appear to be alpha. In time, the illusion faded. The community caught-on, saw through the noise. They regained their courage and stopped the little-noise-maker.

We could learn a thing or two from Jane Goodall’s story.

Do you remember a time when we had no reason to post signs in hospitals, fast food joints, and other public spaces pleading with the public to act with common courtesy? It was not so long ago that we had courage. It was not so long ago that we lived from the heart, taught our children to respect others – to respect difference. It was not so long ago that our elected leaders, despite their policy differences, had courage and fiercely protected our democratic convictions.

If our leaders no longer have the will then we must have the courage to save our democratic conviction. Walking together. Rule by the people. Courage. Telling all one’s heart.

“Return to the most human, nothing less will teach the angry spirit, the bewildered heart; the torn mind, to accept the whole of its duress, and pierced with anguish… at last, act for love.” ~ John O’Donohue

read Kerri’s blogpost about AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR

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Everything There Is [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Sometimes she takes pictures when she is driving. “What are you doing?” I cry, my life flashing before my eyes.

“It looks like a feather!” she retorts.

“Oh, great” I say, reciting the last line of my obituary. “If only the cloud had not looked like a feather, he would be with us still.” She rolls her eyes. Apparently she survived the imaginary crash and went on to build an extensive catalogue of interesting cloud photographs. For all I know, having perished for a feather cloud, she gained world-wide fame for her interesting shots of condensed water vapor.

As I lay in bed last night, the window opened ever so slightly allowing the cold air to circulate above the warm-warm quilt where we lay pretzeled, Dogga sleeping at our feet, I had a single moment of presence. I know it because I was completely overwhelmed with intense gratitude. Falling out of the moment, I took a snapshot in my mind and heart so I would never forget how profound life is in each and every passing moment.

This was the thought that washed over me: Beyond the dance of giving and receiving, there is only this: being-with. That’s all there is. That’s everything there is.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the FEATHER CLOUD

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