A Butterfly On A Pin [David’s blog on KS Friday]

When you say “green,” what exactly do you mean? Each morning I stand in my backyard and marvel at the symphony of greens. The licorice plant, the tomatoes, the sweet potato vine, the ferns, the grasses, the aspen leaves…each wear a unique shade of green. Each green changes with the light. The greens are different in the morning than they are at noon and wildly different during the pre-sunset golden hour. Well…they are not different but the light changes what I perceive. The change is in me.

The change is in me.

My first line of contact with the world is my senses. Everything I know is a product of everything I have experienced and my experiences begin with my eyes, ears, nose, skin and taste buds. And then I make sense of it or at least try to makes sense of it. I build stories like, “Each green changes with the light.” In other words, the greens change while I remain unchanged. I am the center. This is the exact opposite of what happens. It’s a trick of language. I story myself as normal (Kerri will laugh hysterically when she reads that assertion!). I story myself as “right” though I also have great capacity to story myself as worthless or stupid or wishing I had kept my mouth closed.

I story other people as good or bad – a harsh and narrow measurement to be sure.

In my current story I have discovered the depths of my intolerance. I can’t understand how farmers voted again for their own demise. Since we are all suffering the impact of their support of autocracy, I have little compassion for the loss of their farms. They voted for it.

I find my intolerance necessary. And sad. These farmers are suffering accountability for their actions – for their votes – while the people who showered them with false promises and drown them in propaganda are profiting from the farmer’s loss.

I am like all others: I seek and find people and information that bolster my point of view. It feels good to feel affirmed in what I believe. Yet, what I believe – my opinions – are meritless unless grounded in fact. I have worked hard in my life to question my point of view because I was taught, as an artist who could impact the lives of others, I had a responsibility to deal in truth.

Even in writing this mind-wander about the senses and perception, it all sounds schizophrenic: seek support for what you believe and then challenge it. It’s called learning. The senses open and expand, the mind narrows and refines. It is like the tides. Open to the experience, sift it for veracity. It is how we make sense from senses.

The farmers and red-hatted others who voted for fascism would have been well served to ask a few questions before they calcified their belief and cast ballots for their own destruction. The information was readily available. They simple needed to open their eyes and exercise their minds. They only needed to take a moment – for that is all it would have taken – to challenge the gaslight.

Do you see the current scrubbing of our history? The white-washing of our national sense-making, the assault on education and educators? It’s akin to reducing all greens to a single dull shade. Do you hear the fear of the question, the fear of being questioned? Are you aware of the publication of an enemies list? Those who are exercising their first amendment rights are being branded as hostile. Do you smell the corruption? The acrid burn of our constitution? Do you taste the bitterness at the gas pump, the bitter frustration at the grocery store? Are questioning?

There is sense to be made.

Of our nation and our fear of facing our history, James Baldwin wrote: “People who imagine that history flatters them (as it does, indeed, since they wrote it) are impaled on their history like a butterfly on a pin and become incapable of seeing or changing themselves, or the world.”

EVERY BREATH on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

TAKING STOCK on the album RIGHT NOW © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blog post about GREENS

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The Question Remains [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It’s hard not to sift everything through the lens of current events. I mean, we are alive in the time of an AI upheaval that is at least as revolutionary to society as Guternberg’s press, all the while white-knuckling it through an attempted autocratic takeover of our democracy that Timothy Snyder calls “superpower suicide”. And we mustn’t forget climate change. How could circumstance not shade almost every decision we make?

We are living in transformational times which means we are experiencing serious upheaval. The daily ups seem higher because the daily down is without bottom.

Through social media people are sharing the sounds made by newly built data processing centers. Isn’t it ironic that the infrastructure necessary to fuel this tsunami called AI, a technology that is meant to make our lives easier, roars and thrums and not only robs communities of their peace but requires them to pay the power company for their discomfort? The price of progress? Is this a down or an up or both?

Gutenberg’s press made books available to the masses and soon transformed an illiterate populace into a literate society. The Renaissance and the Reformation would not have been possible without the press making literature and education accessible to the masses.

In his book Technopoly, Neil Postman posited that our daily glut of information would ultimately make information a form of garbage: “Because it is severed from theory, meaning, or purpose, it is incapable of answering fundamental human questions or directing coherent solutions.”

In an act of irony I asked AI to describe Neil Postman’s warning about AI: “Neil Postman warned that making information effortlessly accessible severs it from human purpose and action. He famously argued that an overwhelming glut of data creates passivity, leaving us drowning in irrelevant “disinformation” while remaining hopelessly impotent to solve real-world problems.”

Neil Postman was prophetic. His warning accurately describes our current challenge. We are drowning in irrelevance and misinformation. I cite the ballroom. We seem hopelessly impotent to solve our real-world problems but infinitely capable of creating tax breaks for the ultra-wealthy. We have lost our free press and any attachment to fact or truth. I cite the current resident of the White House, the incessant gaslighting, the party that enables him and the propaganda mechanism that stuffs his lies with credence. We are easy marks since we seek information that confirms our bias rather than accurate information that might challenge our opinions and expand our knowledge.

We are told that what goes up must come down and vice versa. The question remains: Can we survive it?

read Kerri’s blogpost about IT WILL COME BACK

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Send It Packing [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

There’s lots of silverware sets in the antique stores. The felt cases are deteriorating, the silver tarnished. They come from another era, dare I suggest, another mindset. We moderns are more interested in the latest-new. Unlike our ancestors, we’ve grown up in a world of planned obsolescence. We do not expect our appliances to last. Our children – like us – are not interested in grandma’s good china or in the fine silver. There is no place for it to go so it inevitably lands in the antique mall.

We have a different relationship with time than did our ancestors. We have a different relationship with the stuff of our lives. We need not make things last or make things that are intended to last. Central to our day-to-day functionality is technology and it rapidly changes, it is out-of-date the moment it arrives on the scene. If we are to keep up, if we are to be relevant in our world, we need to be more fluid than our predecessors. Making stuff that lasts, durability, is no longer high on the priority list. Changeability is the necessity.

I hear these questions a lot lately: How is it possible that I didn’t know that? How is it possible that I do not know the full history of this nation? It’s a question I ask myself almost daily. Oligarchs aligning with fascists to erase democracy is not new to our era. White nationalism is a river that runs through all the pages of our history book. Sadly, our present turmoil is not new. We’ve been here before. My hope is that we see it for what it is and treat it like an old silverware set. My hope is that this is the last cycle, that we are the generation that sends it packing to the antique mall. We’re not interested in passing it down or enabling another go-round. We’d like our children to have a future free of the rotting relic of racism.

Changeability is the necessity. A democracy free of the ugly hubris of the morbidly wealthy, a democracy that thrives on equality, is necessarily fluid, ever growing and adapting with the diverse nation it upholds. There is no useful place in our nation-home for the tarnished mindset of maga-white-nationalism. It is a relic. Its case is deteriorating. It needs to go.

Notion, 33″x 60″, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GOOD SILVER

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Ready To Drop [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

When Albert was discouraged about the state of humanity he’d say, “Just drop the bomb.” Although I haven’t seen him in years I heard myself whisper his discouragement-phrase this morning. How is it possible in a democracy that one of the major parties, after their gerrymander scheme backfired, would actually legislate to make it impossibly hard for citizens to vote? The news aptly reported, “It’s a solution looking for a problem.” Voter fraud is literally nonexistent in the USA. On the other hand fearmongering is alive and well. Lying has been elevated to an art form.

“They’ve lost the plot,” I murmured. “Just drop the bomb.”

That we are witnessing our government protect an international ring of pedophiles, bomb a nation to smithereens (kill people) without a reason, assault the once-free-press because they dare to report the news, isolate itself in a global economy (otherwise known as commit economic suicide), mountain-ize our national debt to give the morbidly-wealthy more wealth while simultaneously eliminating services and erecting obstacles for the citizenry, assault the very epicenter: our right to vote in a free and fair election…it begs the question: Did they ever really believed in government by, for, and of the people? This depth of depravity did not spring fully formed from the thigh of Zeus; it took decades of dedicated decomposition to achieve this degree of stink.

Last week, before the blizzard, before the power outage, before the impossibly bent power mast, the shattered roof shingles, the driving rain that found its way into the sun room, we sat in chairs on the patio and faced the setting sun. A rare day of warmth. We knew the storms were coming so we put off our work and banked some vitamin-D. The sun dropped behind the garage. It remained pleasant. In the waning light we ate dinner on the deck.

Those moments in the sun, the decision to delay work and take advantage of the precious warmth, gave us ample fuel to weather the cold and violent storm. It refilled our hope.

Albert’s famous phrase had an attachment. He’d follow “Just drop the bomb,” with, “We don’t deserve it.” When I asked him what he meant by “it”, he’d gesture, sweeping his arms in a wide arc. “All of it.” The beauty and majesty of life. The gift of each other.

After I heard myself utter, “Just drop the bomb,” I caught myself. “We do deserve it.” We deserve decency and honesty in our leaders. We not only deserve it but should expect it. We deserve media that does not whip up straw-men to intentionally divide us. We deserve a government that serves us rather than exploits us. They have, indeed, lost the plot.

Perhaps, as history suggests, we will survive this chapter when we recognize – when our government recognizes – that the people they are meant to serve ARE the bomb. They are in our sights and we are ready to drop.

We deserve better.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SETTING SUN

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Do What You Say [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

A note to the right-wing podcast ecosystem (as inspired by the fence-sitting-squirrel, a silhouette, an image obscured by a screen):

Dear Joe Rogan and Co.: With this latest betrayal – a war declared by your America-First president – it is probably occurring to you (at long last) that you have been deceived. I understand there was already a tiny crack in your unwavering belief since you’ve recently realized that, despite his full-throated campaign promise to expose the Epstein Files, he is actually implicated in them, and will go to great lengths, even going to war, to keep them concealed. He lied to you about the Files. He lied to you about America First. He lied to you about being a champion of the little guy. I hope it is not lost on you that the Epstein Class of billionaires are enjoying their massive tax break while the rest of us are finding day-to-day life less and less affordable.

He lies. Until now, you’ve either swallowed, justified or explained away his lies. It is my hope that you are finally opening your eyes and seeing the extent and pervasiveness of his lies. He has no intention of cleaning the swamp because he is the swamp. To that end I hope you are also now growing savvy to his endless claim-without-evidence that the 2020 election was rigged. It was not. That, too, is a lie. It’s more important now than ever that you awaken to this particular lie because he is claiming that all of our elections – especially the upcoming midterms – are rigged against him.

Do you see the pattern? While he lies to you he simultaneously strips you of your rights. Due process is a right that is already violated; it either applies to all or to none-at-all. A free and fair election is also your right. Despite what he proclaims we have always enjoyed honest, safe and fair elections – until now. Mail in ballots are safe. They always have been. You can check it out if you don’t believe me. “Illegals” are not pouring over the border to vote. That’s a straw man, an intentional misrepresentation meant to deceive you and keep you angry. His latest SAVE act would block millions of voters from exercising their right to vote.

Because of the success of his incessant lies our democracy now teeters on the edge of authoritarianism. The only chance we have is to come together, guard and secure our next election. We may not agree on much but I am assuming that we can all agree that our right to vote is worth protecting. Our vote is, after all, the epicenter of our republic and the liar is moving to take that right away. To do it, to be successful, he needs you to continue to believe his lies. He needs you to forget the Epstein Files lie. He needs you to believe every lie he tells about our latest war with Iran, Venezuela and Equador. He needs you to embrace every single lie he tells about voter fraud. Most of all, he needs you to promote and spread his lies.

He needs you to consider me and those like me, progressives, as the enemy. That, too, is a lie. We have the same goal: a healthy democracy – and deserve a government that serves us and not the Epstein Class. We deserve a government that honestly debates the best path forward which requires it to deal in truth and not hide behind lies.

You have a voice, a platform. I – we- can only ask that you take an honest look at the yawning gap between what you’ve been told, what you’ve been led to believe – and what has actually transpired. We are now at war. The president is actively covering up the Epstein Files. There is no truth or proof to his claims of voter fraud.

If you desire free and fair elections this fall, we, the nation, need you to challenge the lies and speak to what you now see. We-the-people need you use your platform to protect the veracity of our elections. Literally put America first – rather than assist the liar in his authoritarian takeover – do what you say you believe and lend your voice – give your voice – to the protection our democracy.

Weeping Man, 36″x48″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SCREEN

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Making Meaning Meaning Making [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

As I was filing my latest painting into the stacks I was suddenly overwhelmed with intense gratitude at having lived an artist’s life. My appreciation was not so much about the growing rolls and stacks of paintings but at the inner imperatives that made me throw caution to the economic wind and chase a my deeper calling. And the truth is that I never felt like I had a choice. Twice I tried to jump off the path and do something more reasonable-and-secure and both times it nearly gutted me.

Horatio reminded me of Ernest Becker’s definition of the work of an artist in his book, The Denial of Death: “The artist takes in the world, but instead of being oppressed by it, he reworks it in his own personality and recreates it in the work of art”.

Making meaning, meaning making through color, sound, movement and word.

There’s so much in this world – in this nation at the moment – that is oppressive and cruel. None of the mean-spirited incompetence or the incessant lies or the blatant exploitation makes sense to me. Why would an entire political party participate in the cover-up of an international pedophile ring, stand solidly behind a convicted felon, a man found liable for sexual assault, an insurrectionist opening grifting the nation and bullying the world? Standing in front of an easel, working on a play or writing a daily blog – is the only way I know of making sense of it all, translating my disgust into something more useful and meaningful.

I have grown enamored of the winter reeds and grasses. On a section of a favorite trail there is an area of distressed drainage. In the summer it is a gathering place for turtles. In the winter the water freezes and the amber grasses sway on a field of blue ice and snow. It never fails to capture our attention. It never fails to bring us back to a quiet center, in touch with an enduring truth. I listen to the whisper-song of the grasses as Kerri photographs the play of colors. Standing in the mud and the cold we marvel at our good fortune.

“People create the reality they need in order to discover themselves.” ~ Ernest Becker

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GRASSES

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Our Moment [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Last night we heard a pundit say, “As Minnesota goes, so goes the rest of the nation.” It’s true. If the ICE gestapo brutalizes Minnesota into authoritarian submission without consequence, it will only be a matter of time before this ruthless regime wages war on the rest of the nation. Minnesota is our Ukraine.

As Minnesota goes, so goes the rest of the nation. In the face of this masked brutality, the best impulse of humanity is rising. The community is coalescing. People are showing up to serve and to protect their neighbors. The leaders of the state are encouraging peaceful protest. The leaders of the state are calling out the blatant lies of a sadistic administration run amok. The people are meeting the ICE gestapo in the streets demanding the return to the rule of law in the face of the government’s institutionalized lawlessness.

Jacob Frey, the mayor of Minneapolis said, “This is our moment…to meet a whole lot of hate with a whole lot of love.”

Love need not be soft. Love sometimes looks like a person unwilling to sit quietly as injustice invades their neighborhood. Love stands before a masked and armed thug and blows a whistle. Love bears witness, holding high their camera, to record a government-paid-rabble piling onto an unarmed person, pulling frightened people from their cars, gassing families in their minivans, hauling undressed elders from their home into the frigid morning. Love conceals and drives people to work. Love delivers food to people afraid to leave their houses. Love refuses to surrender personal and communal sovereignty to the assault on freedom. Love rejects the manufactured divisions of the hatemongers and race-baiters currently leading the nation and justifying cruelty.

This is our moment. Either love or hate will rule the day. As Minnesota goes, so goes the rest of the nation and Minnesota gives me hope. A whole lot of love is rising to meet the masked purveyors of hate.

*****

I wrote this post days before the masked thugs of the United States executed Alex Pretti on a street in Minneapolis for exercising his first amendment right – and then attempted to brand him as the terrorist in the story because he was exercising his second amendment right. Their message to us is clear: fear your government. Be quiet. Their message is hate-full. For Alex Pretti, for Renee Good, and all of those who, in the face of this fear, continue exercising their rights, know that there is now no greater act of love than standing up for our neighbors, for our rights. The people in Minneapolis are our neighbors. The rights under assault are our rights. There can be no greater act of love than standing up for them and with them. The time for meeting hate with love is urgent. We are out of time.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOVE

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Step Into The Light [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The fear of speaking in public is consistently ranked number one above the fear of death. For the Epstein survivors, the two fears merge into one: for years they feared they would be harmed if they spoke out. Their fear is not unfounded. The most powerful men (people) in the world have conspired for decades to keep them silent. They still are. So, imagine the courage it has taken for them to stand in public and speak.

It is ironic that the entire Republican party, fearful of the light of truth, continue to believe that their silence-in-lock-step is strength. Although they feign support for the release of the Epstein files and pretend concern for the over-one-thousand victims, although they vomit words and words and more words… the noise they make is nothing more than cover for their complicity. It is loud silence. To misquote Shakespeare, Methinks thou doth protest too much.

Audre Lorde wrote, “Your silence will not protect you.” It is a truth that the Epstein survivors came to understand, a driving force behind their courage to step together into the public light and say, “This happened. It was wrong. It matters.” (Tarana Burke, Unbound)

Just as the survivors came to recognize that silence is not strength, we can only hope that the Republican party, the DOJ and the FBI soon arrive at the same conclusion: silence will not protect you. Obfuscating will not spare you. Silence, in this case, is nothing more or less than collusion with the perpetrators. Conspiracy inevitably arrives at a reckoning.

So, to the increasingly spine-free members, the sad remnants of the once Grand Old Party, we hope some among you address the elephant in the room, break the silence and find the courage to demand full disclosure of the files. Step into the light with the survivors. No matter how emphatic the noise you make, no matter how excessive the denial or empty declarations of concern you bellow, it might be prudent to arrive at the same conclusion as did the Epstein survivors: silence will no longer protect you.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SILENCE AND VOICE

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Shine The Light [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Impressions in the moment:

It’s a miserable day with freezing rain so bitter that Dogga does not want to go outside. He would leap with glee into a blizzard so it’s a potent statement that he, our snow-dog, chooses to stay warm and dry inside.

We are writing this post in the space between the press conference with the Epstein survivors and the House vote. By the time you read this the vote will have been taken. If I was a better writer, I’d narrate this story of this limbo moment, or perhaps the liminal space in our nation’s history, in which it became crystal clear how hard the patriarchy, the powerful male elite, will fight to maintain their privilege, their protected position above the law. This vote will pass the House. What comes next will reveal whether we are we witness to a tipping point or yet another act of avoidance facilitated by a system that grants immunity to the male gentry at the exclusion of the rights of women. What new obstacle will arise to prevent the release of the files and fail to expose the rot in the halls of power? What information will be scrubbed?

I watched the Epstein survivors holding photographs of themselves, taken at the age of their abuse. Children. I saw a picture of Kerri taken at the age when she was sexually assaulted. She looked barely a teenager. I couldn’t speak for several moments after looking at the photograph.

In Seattle I was summoned to jury duty. My pool of 50 citizens was called into voir dire, jury selection, for a case about sexual assault. It was unusual because we were the third group of 50 called before the judge. In the courtroom, the judge made a simple request: Raise your hands if you have been the victim of sexual abuse or if you know anyone who has been sexually abused? Every person in the pool raised their hands. The judge sighed, exasperated. He said, “I’ve now asked this question of three groups. That’s 150 people. Every single person has raised their hands. I believe I could go on like this all day and not find 12 people to seat a jury who have not been impacted by sexual abuse. What’s going on here?”

Indeed. What’s going on here.

She knelt on the trail to get a picture of the dandelion. The sun, low in the sky, made it luminous, gorgeous. This dandelion was scrappy, still hanging on even in the November cold. “I wouldn’t have seen it at all if the light hadn’t been just right,” she said, showing me the photo. “It’s amazing what you see, what emerges, when something finds its way into the light.”

66 & 19, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DANDELION AND LIGHT

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Open Space [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

We awoke this morning to a foot of snow and a mountain of disappointment as 8 Democratic senators betrayed their party and their constituents, joining the Republicans to end the shutdown and any hope of affordable healthcare in the foreseeable future.

And so we sink ever deeper into the insanity of our times.

Insanity (noun): extreme foolishness or irrationality.

We are transforming rooms in our house, repainting rooms, cleaning out cabinets and repurposing old shelves. It is a balm for the insanity. It is to exercise a modicum of control in the only place we can: our home.

Heather Cox Richardson suggests that the same thing is happening in our nation. We are witnessing a changing of the guard. A cleaning out. A new generation of ideas and leaders are emerging as the old guard – on both sides – seems more and more inept. Hers is a message of hope.

Here’s how hope sounds: I urge you to take 20 minutes and listen to Bryan Tyler Cohen’s interview with Michigan senate candidate Dr. Abdul El-Sayed. It is the most coherent, clear-eyed conversation about healthcare that I’ve yet heard. It is the sound of a new generation of leaders. Dr. El-Sayed is one of many well-intentioned believers in democracy, capable of debate, willing to fight for the good of the people of the nation, eschewing corporate money so those leaders are not beholden to the corrupt take-over of our government.

During COVID we transformed rooms of our house into sanctuaries, spaces of intentional peace. Our isolation became a retreat. Now, we are opening space, creating spaciousness. Spaciousness is our response to the airless insanity, the utter cowardice and incompetence at the helm of the nation.

And, to our expanding spaciousness we welcome the quiet that the snow brings. Rather than dwell in the disappointment of betrayal/capitulation, we’ll turn our eyes to the vast hope that open space and a new generation of bright lights promise to bring.

Greet The Day, 48″x48″, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blog post about SNOW

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