Life Spilling Out [David’s blog on KS Friday]

If this beautiful winter skeleton of Queen Anne’s Lace was a sculpture – my sculpture – it would be titled The Impossibility of Containment. Trying to hold on to the magic movement of life. It spills out in every direction.

I once had an espresso martini in Aspen, Colorado. It was the single best drink I’ve ever had. It was so good I did something I never do: I had two. I savored every sip. Occasionally since then, in other watering holes on earth that offer a drink by the same name, I’ve tried to replicate the past. To no avail. The bar in Aspen no longer exists so, like a good sand painting, my espresso martini revelry lives where it belongs, on the wind and in my yearning.

This week I completed another trip around the sun. I look in the mirror and am sometimes surprised by the face that stares back at me. My eyes remain consistent, yet what my eyes are capable of now seeing has changed dramatically. Although I occasionally yearn for my younger face, I would never exchange my current eyes for my former sight.

I see possibility spilling out in every direction. Simplicity. I see extraordinary friends all around. Each morning I open my eyes to the one face that fills my heart to bursting. I am, as Nietzsche suggests, loving my fate. Every pothole, every mountain-to-climb, every seeming obstacle, every frustration, a magic moment, a heart-seed leading to who-knows-where. Life spilling out in every direction.

I’m practicing the skill of opening wide my arms, welcoming the impossibility of containment.

Sweet Ballet/Released From The Heart © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about QA LACE

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buymeacoffee is a possibility cast onto the winds of time.

Chase A Ghost [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The question came in through our site from a man who was instrumental in Kerri’s decision to record her compositions. A voice from her past asking a good question.

There are many surface answers to his question. In our case, all would be applicable: to give voice to our thoughts, to build a community, to call attention to our work…This morning, as I ponder his question, I think the purpose of a blog, my blog, might be to chase ghosts.

I began blogging utterly convinced that I had very little of value to say. I’d never considered myself to be a writer. It was a challenge I set for myself. Actually, I had one thing to say and decided I would, every day, attempt to write about it until I ran out of gas. I calculated that the tank would run dry in less than seven days. I was chasing the elusive ghost known as voice. My voice.

The interesting thing about ghost-chasing is that it makes you pay attention to everything. Ghosts can come at you in an instant from any direction and disappear just as quickly. Sometimes you can’t see them at all but feel intensely their icy presence. That was the first thing I learned in my voice-ghost-pursuit: I was paying careful attention, inside and out. It was not intense, not a strain or a struggle. I didn’t have to try. It was natural.

Not surprisingly, paying attention gave me more and more to write about, more to reflect upon. More to offer. “Have you seen this? Do you understand it?”

Chasing ghosts is a great question stimulator. Ghosts are curious and require all manner of suspension of disbelief so they are also terrific curiosity-energizers. Among the first line of questioning is about your self: your perceptions, your beliefs, your ideas of who you are and who you are not. It’s nearly impossible to write about others without exposing your self. Voice chasing leads to an astounding realization: the self/other boundary is permeable. We come to know ourselves relative to how well we know others. We only know our voice because someone out-there is listening and, hopefully, giving voice in return. Contrast principle.

Our basement is unusual in that it has box-after-box of unsold CD’s – the hard evidence of the music industry making a quick pivot to streaming services. The stacks of my unsold paintings take up an entire room. Our filing cabinets are filled with ideas and manuscripts and songs-not-yet-recorded. There are folios of cartoons that didn’t quite make it to syndication, folios of ink gestures, watercolors, and sketches. Another kind of ghost: the work of years past. When we met and married, we began blogging together, originally to try and call attention to the voice-of-work-past-but-not-yet-sold. That ghost, a very sad ghost, quickly left us; the joy of writing together each day overcame the initial intention.

The joy of writing together. We no longer chase the ghost of voice. It was here all along (of course). Now-a-days, we pursue a much simpler spirit: the gift of paying attention, the pure surprise of what shows up when we dive into and write about our daily prompt. “You go first,” I say, since she is wiggling with excitement to read what she just wrote.

read Kerri’s blog about WHAT IS A BLOG?

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buymeacoffee is lending your voice in support of our voice so we can lend our voice to your voice. It’s a circle.

Stand At The Fork [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Once in a vision
I came on some woods
And stood at a fork in the road
My choices were clear
Yet I froze with the fear
Of not knowing which way to go
One road was simple
Acceptance of life
The other road offered sweet peace
When I made my decision
My vision became my release.

Nether Lands by Dan Fogelberg

It happened again. We were making dinner and, before she said it, I knew exactly what she was going to say. “I’ve been here before,” I thought. Deja vu. I understand these moments as affirmations of being on the right path. The first day we met was a festival of deja vu.

Most of my life I was terrified to sing. A professor in graduate school challenged us to walk into and explore one of our fears so I took a class: singing for the utterly petrified. That wasn’t really the title of the course. I can’t remember the title because I was in a heightened state of panic the whole semester. We had to choose a favorite song to sing. I chose Nether Lands by Dan Fogelberg because it was the first album I ever owned and I used to play it over and over and over. I knew the title track by heart. I figured I’d have a better chance of staying conscious if the song and lyrics were already beaten into my brain. The fact that I am writing this so many years later is proof positive that I survived.

When we met I told her, a consummate musician, “I don’t sing and I don’t pray.” Better to spill the beans upfront than to torture her ears down the road. Managing expectations, yada yada.

“That’s too bad, ” she said. A few short months later I was singing in her choir, band and ukulele band. So much for conviction! She told me that my problem wasn’t singing, it was hearing. I had to learn to hear. I loved the implication: walking into fear requires learning to hear. I’m still learning. Deja vu!

It happened again. Carefully opening the small step ladder between the piano and the cello to hang the lampshade in her studio. “I’ve been here before,” I thought, positioning the legs of the ladder. I knew she was going to tell me to make sure the feather clip was in front. I knew she was going to wrinkle her nose. I had no idea what would come next.

It’s what I love about a good deja vu – you’ve both been there before and have no idea where you are going. It stops you for a moment of appreciation. Affirmation. Always at a fork in the road: simple acceptance of life and sweet peace. I have a feeling that, no matter the choice, all roads eventually lead to the same place. Hanging a funky cool lampshade. A wrinkled nose. Learning to hear. A deja vu. An affirmation of being right where I am supposed to be.

recorded on an old iphone on a piano in need of tuning… A Shred of Hope © 2020 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAMPSHADE

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buymeacoffee is a path you’ve previously walked but only now remember.

Be Where You Are (David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday)

“Your soul knows the geography of your destiny.” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

A picture of Joseph Campbell floated across my stream. It included a quote, a reference to Nietzsche: “the love of your fate.” “It may look like a wreck, but go at it as though it were an opportunity, a challenge. If you bring love to that moment–not discouragement–you will find the strength is there.”

Love your fate. Bring love to the moment. You will find strength there.

When I was a teenager I was on a bus trip to camp. Imagine it. A bus filled with excited teens, bristling to hit the mountains for adventure and mischief. And then the bus broke down. A tsunami of disappointment was rolling through the bus until the counselor laughed at us. He challenged us to embrace this, our fate, part of the adventure. “This is it! Your adventure has already started.” he said, “Why resist it because it doesn’t fit your picture?”

Kerri and I are addicted to watching mountaineering documentaries. They boggle the mind of the average homebody because the conditions for the climb or the hike are often miserable yet there are smiles and laughter amidst the misery. In a recent film, a trek through extreme circumstances and conditions, one member of the team said, “You have to focus on the adventure and not the plan. If you fill yourself with expectations of good weather and an easy path you will be miserable.”

On the broken-down bus or the trail with the adventurer, the message is the same: get out of resistance of the reality of the moment. And, maybe, that is what it means to bring love to your fate. It’s great to have a plan. It’s necessary. But when the bus breaks down or the snowstorm blows in unexpectedly, when the job falls away, when the wrists break…As philosophers, poets, and sages across the ages have advised: be where you are.

We daily remind ourselves: the adventure has already started. Why resist it because it doesn’t fit the picture.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOVE YOUR FATE

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buymeacoffee is the place where fate meets support and support generates titanic appreciation.

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

“I would love to live like the river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.” ~ John O’Donohue

Day one. A mimosa. A special breakfast. A question: what will this year bring? In truth, it’s the umbrella question to the question we ask each morning. What will today bring?

Kerri keeps a calendar. Each day of the year she records special events, bills paid, meals made, important phone calls. She records the sacred and mundane. On the last night of the year or the first morning of the new year, we read her calendar. Each review is chock-a-block with surprises. “I forgot about that!” we exclaim.

And, with each calendar review, comes a ritual final summation: the year past was nothing like we anticipated. What was thought to be solid exploded. What was thought to be predictable was volatile. It was a rolling ball of surprises. It was defined by the unforeseeable.

It is always a rolling ball of surprises. Births and deaths. The losses leaving holes in our hearts yet making new space for love’s expansion. New trails discovered and old friends found. New friends, too. The obstacles that jumped in front of our path. The obstacles that suddenly and without warning disappeared. Old fears roaring to be heard. New fears sending us running in one particular direction: away. Then, the deep well of laughter that bubbles to the surface when we realize (as we always do) that our fears are mostly made-up. Tiny monsters. Shadow puppets.

As we read the calendar we are surprised by our courage in some moments and our cowardice in others. We are particularly amused – or not – when our cowardice appeared to be courage and vice-versa. There are days when the only notation in the calendar is an unhappy face, a dark day when together we completely lost our sense of humor. Gratefully, those days are few and far between.

The river flows with no regard of our notation. The trick, we learn again and again, is to welcome the surprise of its unfolding. Rather than try to swim upstream against the current-of-time in an always fruitless attempt to control, to reach for the imagined safety of the known, the lesson learned on every day-one is to give over to the mystery of the unfolding. To relax and choose to be in the flow. To welcome the surprises in all their iterations, the rapids, the rocks, the waterfalls and those rare and cherished stretches of calm.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOVE

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buymeacoffee is a chance to start the new year in a festival of appreciation for the continued blather of the artists you may or may not support.

Wish For It [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” ~ Paulo Coelho

And so we tie up another year according to the latest iteration of the Roman calendar. As is customary on the waning days of the year, we look back and review where we’ve been, who we’ve lost, and attempt to measure our progress toward any number of goal posts. We affix an adjective or two to the passing year; “It was a good year.” Or, “It was a bad year.” A rough year. A surprising year. It’s the time of experience-reduction and encapsulation. It’s the time of renewal as we step over the imaginary line with an imaginary clean slate.

We wish each other a happy new year. I’ve been wondering what the world would look like if the wish had some teeth. What would we do on the first day of the new year – and every day after – if it was more than a passing wish; if it was our imperative to make certain that each person in our community, in our lives, would have a happy year. Happiness as a shared responsibility. How might that change our choices? How might that fulfill the ubiquitous ideal to “lead by example”? To live by example.

I know. Another pie-in-the-sky post. But I would offer this thought from my personal year-in-review: I am surrounded by people who have made my well-being their personal concern. And, I haven’t the first idea how to reciprocate in a meaningful way except to pay it forward in any way possible. To live my life according to their example.

So, was it a hard year? Yes. Oh, god, yes. Was it an extraordinary year? Yes. Unbelievable. Am I moving forward with a clean slate? A fresh beginning? No. Not a chance. The baggage is coming with me.

Except there will be this: when I throw my confetti into the air and toot a horn of celebration, wearing my funny hat, I will step across the line in full knowledge and with a full heart, a new imperative beyond the sing-song wish of a Happy New Year. I will have an example to follow that completely transforms the once-yearly-ritual-wish into a daily-lived-action.

It’s not pie-in-the-sky, after all. It’s about time we create what we always wish for.

grateful/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 WISH

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buymeacoffee is a digital gratitude, an online tip-jar, that sails through time and space to support the continued creation and blather of the artists who consider pie-in-the-sky possible.

Incite Some Deviance [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I searched for it but couldn’t find it. A short clip of Carl Sagan placing life on our tiny planet into the perspective of the enormity of the universe. A little sun in a galaxy of suns in a universe of billions and billions of galaxies. Through this lens, it is mind-boggling, the hubris necessary to believe we are the center of it all.

Initially this morning, I wrote a post about grace but cut it. I asked a question about the collision of values: loyalty-to-a-group smacking down telling-the-truth. It’s a uniquely human dilemma. The insistence upon tribe, Us-and-Them, spins some very dark necessities. I tossed it because grace was overshadowed by gloomy.

This is what I intended to write: on this tiny blue ball there is a group of Us defined as “All Humans”. Loyalty to this group is understood as idealistic. How can we possibly reach across so many imagined boundaries? What would we do with a definition of Us that was all inclusive? We would invite grace. Float all boats.

Each year, everywhere I wander, I am steeped in songs-of-the-season that appeal to the best of our nature. Peace on earth. Goodwill. Love one another. Perhaps we should listen to the lyrics of these songs. They are written by us for us as an appeal to our idealism, a sentiment central during this season of light’s return. Peace. Peace. Peace. We should “take it to heart.”

Let’s face it, loving one another is deviant if it is all inclusive.

It’s a reach, I know, but it’s really not so hard to imagine Us in the context of this vast universe, on this tiny ball spinning and spinning around our minuscule sun, one of billions and billions and billions. In such a context, the boundaries-in-our-minds dissolve and invite a different set of questions to arise: How can we better share this blue dot together? Conflict makes money yet collaboration creates possibility.

Pouring a little light into so much dedicated tribalism is deviant. It requires a touch of dignity. Pouring light into darkness is called Grace. Grace, in the face of so much division, is deviant.

When I cut my initial post I wondered what it would take to breach the code of tribe, reach beyond the singing platitudes, and incite some deviant behavior like peace-on-earth and all-inclusive love-of-one-another.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DEVIANT BEHAVIOR

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Answer The Call [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

As is always true, the color calls me and I stop. You’d think I’d get used to the pop of red vine against the winter grass. You’d think that I’d expect it and, therefore, no longer see it. But that hasn’t happened yet. Or maybe I’m refusing to let it happen. The color calls. I answer.

Sometimes I feel as if it is a requirement to move slow enough in the world to actually absorb it. Move too fast and the extraordinary bounces off. Moving too fast makes us Teflon. Non-stick living. I want to soak it up. I want to feel it, the whole spectrum.

It’s a consumer mind that thinks, “I’ve seen it,” and races fast “to get there,” forever on the freeway gobbling miles and eschewing the backroads. Gobbling achievement while missing the experience. Checking life off the list. I am not the same as I was yesterday. When the red vine calls I might be open to a wholly new conversation. The red vine certainly is not the same as yesterday. I can see it because I “took the time” to see.

Like the red vine, the phrase “take time” called so I answered. I Googled it and, no surprise, most of the synonyms were negative. Culture betrays itself. Dawdle. Dally. Waste time. Fritter away. Goof off. Lolly gag. And, the cherry on the top of the Puritan heap: lose time.

It’s a regular deathbed revelation for people to wish they had not raced through their lives to hang yet another plaque on their wall of respect. If there is a strategy for losing-the-time-of-your-life it is to race-through-to get-to-the-end. Goal achieved. There’s another way. Walk slow enough to hear when the red vine calls. Then, take the time to stop and answer.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED VINE

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See More. Know Less [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“(What makes his world so hard to see clearly is not its strangeness but its usualness). Familiarity can blind you too.” Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Red and green. Oppositional on the color wheel yet understood as compliments. They set each other alight.

I am certain the longer I walk this life the less I know. How much time did I spend trying to get-there-fast? How much life did I give to my attempt to attain the mountaintop before I realized that there wasn’t one? How much hubris did I exude believing “my” work might change the world before I was humbled sufficiently to see that the world was changing me? Is there such a thing as “my” work? I have lived a life rich in collaboration. Who hasn’t?

And, how fortunate am I that life has routinely tossed me out of my “comfort” zone? Don’t get me wrong, I would appreciate a bit of smooth sailing with ample provisions but the ongoing absence of “normal” makes eyes-wide-open a necessity. There is no missing how interdependent we are, how utterly interconnected, when here-and-now is the only place we can clearly see.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED AND GREEN

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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

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