Lean Into The Lull [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“I’m trying to immerse in the lull,” Kerri said and smiled.

We find ourselves with a square or two on the calendar with nothing written in it. A wise friend suggested we embrace the lull and cultivate a bit of quiet mind. We have some big decisions looming but not yet pressing. Fortunately, we have a trip up north that meshes with our empty calendar. There’s a canoe calling our name.

“Nothing needs deciding today,” our wise friend suggested.

Krishnamurti wrote that no problem can truly be solved until the mind is still. Constantly chewing on the question rarely leads to anything but more problem creation. Panic. Or blindness to possibility.

Usually “letting go” for a day or two is a difficult task but we’re finding exhaustion is a great helper. “I don’t have a thought in my head!” I said this morning, staring into space.

“Good!” Kerri said. “That’s the whole point!”

Actions for leaning into the lull: Hug the exhaustion. Send the weighty decisions to sleep-away-camp. Keep the calendar space as empty as the mind. Paddle the canoe. Take a nap.

Peace will find us there.

Peace on the album As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

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Magic Is Found There [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Noah Lyles, in an interview after winning the gold medal in the 100m, asked a question meant to inspire all dreamers to ask of themselves, “Why not me?” He has worked hard to arrive at a place of confidence and self-belief.

I appreciate a sentiment shared by free-solo climber Alex Honnold when asked how he handles fear. He said that he never attempts to conquer fear, rather, he expands his comfort zone.

Expand your comfort zone. Ask, “Why not me?”

Like almost everyone I know, I have had my bouts with imposter syndrome. I’ve filled my cup with self-doubt. I’ve been certain of my unworthiness. I’ve run from the magic.

To ask, “Why not me?” is to let go of the comparison with others. It is to set down the never-win-self-measuring stick. It is to run your race, paint your painting, play your song…love your gift.

To expand your comfort zone rather than fight your fear is to shake hands with yourself. To stop the inner fight and work with your magic instead of running from it. It is to make a friend of fear, to understand its value, to retire the inner-foe so you might place it in the proper perspective. Fear dances in a made-up future. An ever-expanding comfort zone guarantees presence in the moment. Magic is found there. You are found there.

There have been many loud voices in my life (inside and outside my head) telling me that I can’t. They are the voices of mediocrity. The voices of fear. And then there are the few precious quiet voices that say, “Yes, you can,” or ask “Why not…?” Those voices, both inside and out, are the voices of magic. They are the voices of joy. Listen to those voices. Unlike the others, they will never lead you astray.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MAGIC

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Arrive Again [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Deadheading the day lilies, the afternoon sun pouring through the branches, I realized that I’ve walked a circle and arrived again at the starting point. After fourteen years, I’ve returned to the origin-thought of this blog.

I started writing the direction-of-intention after a conversation I co-facilitated. It was a day exploring and discussing diversity, equity, and inclusion. The group’s conversation veered into questions about power. That day I realized that I had an overabundance of thoughts and questions that I needed to study. My very first post was almost a thesis statement; it was an attempt to capture the essence of what I shared with the group: power-over others is not power at all. It is control. Power, real power, is something that is created with others. Control over. Power with.

I did not return to the beginning without help. The current political reality has drawn me like a moth to a flame back to the topic of power. Our two parties live on opposite sides of the line. The red hats are a case study in Control-Over. The Democrats operate on the principle of Power-With.

Control-Over is distinct in the necessity to blame. It is a victim’s game. It is an abdication of responsibility. It demands lock-step adherence and fears counter-point-perspectives. It evades giant swatches of its history. It pretends to hold all the answers and doesn’t tolerate questions.

Power-With is distinct in the necessity to choose. It seeks responsibility and participation. It thrives on counter-point-perspectives and demands collaboration and compromise. It needs to consider and reconcile with its full history, the good and the bad. It asks many questions and eschews the notion of a single answer.

Control-Over is essentially hierarchical. Caste. Fixed. Rule by one.

Power-With is essentially egalitarian. Relational. Fluid. Rule by the many.

It turns out there’s never been a better time to return to the root of my original inspiration. It is, I’ve learned the original root of our nation’s nearly 250 year conversation. The essence of the democratic ideal.

Today we stand squarely at the crossroads:

One choice continues to follow the complex path of power-with.

The other is a hard right onto the powerless path of control-over, not a step back in time as it pretends.

It’s our choice. It is our direction-of-intention.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUN THROUGH TREES

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Don The Hazmat [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Last night while Kerri, 20 and I were playing a game of Rummikub, Rob texted. He asked, tongue firmly planted in his cheek, “Wow! You’re so close to the (RNC) convention, are you going to swing by?” I responded without thinking, “Only if I had a hazmat suit.”

Protection from toxic waste.

Before dinner and before playing the game, 20 told me that earlier in the day, while he was driving, he caught himself pondering what he would do to survive if the red tide sweeps in, stains the White House, and reconfigures Social Security and privatizes Medicare as is promised by their conservative blueprint for authoritarian rule, Project 2025. I asked, “Did you ever imagine in your lifetime that you’d be worried about the overthrow of democracy by a populist dictator?” His dad was a WWII veteran, as was Kerri’s father. My mom was a little girl living in Pearl Harbor on the day it was attacked because my grandfather provided services for the navy. In a single generation, the very threat our elders, our “greatest generation,” fought to eliminate, has overtaken the minds and hearts of the Grand Old Party. They’re currently holding a convention in Milwaukee to forward an agenda that would appall Abraham Lincoln but Adolph Hitler would applaud. “Did you ever think…?”

It’s too late for hazmat suits. The toxin is already racing through our system.

In this past week we’ve repeatedly heard the phrase, “We need to tone down the rhetoric on both sides.” It’s not the rhetoric we need to tone down, it’s the reality we need to face. We’re pretending that this an election like any other election, that it is “systems usual.” It is not. Our two party system is now a one party system attempting to fortify our young democracy against a dictatorial leader and his followers who are filled with fascist dreams. The dialed-up rhetoric of Democrats is akin to sounding an alarm warning of a system-annihilating storm. The rhetoric of the reds is the storm.

Unlike the ideal outlined by our founders, this is not a party of conservative values debating with a party of progressive values to find a compromise path forward: a system designed to achieve balance from opposing points of view. This is an ultranationalist aggression attempting to dismantle our system of governance and replace it with one that forcibly suppresses – and eliminates – any form of opposition.

The body dies when the toxin is ignored and allowed to attack the internal organs.

We play Rummikub with 20 to unplug from the worries of the day. Last night while we played, a terrific storm roared through the region, shaking the house with wind and buckets of rain. Dogga paced as lightning flashed. It was hard to concentrate on the game. I couldn’t help seeing the storm as a metaphor (of course…). With so much toxic waste spewing just up the road, and potentially washing away democracy’s foundation, it is no longer possible to unplug. It’s no longer wise to unplug. Not if we want our good house to survive the red storm.

an image from the archives: House On Fire, watercolor

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read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GAME

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Barnacle And Beauty [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Let me describe the present moment. It is morning. A gentle rain is falling outside, tap-tapping a steady rhythm on the gutters and pools in the driveway. The window is open just enough so the smell of new rain is carried on a slight cool breeze. We sit, feet beneath the quilt, writing. Dogga was asleep in his favorite spot at the doorway but must have sensed I was about to write about him. He stretched, yawned, groaned, and jumped up on the bed. He nestled in and is once again asleep. Oh, yes, and there is coffee.

I was compelled to write about the present moment because I just read to Kerri an article in the New York Times about the social side of artificial intelligence. AI companions. At first it begged the question, “What is real?” but then I caught my prejudice. Are the conversations I have in my head real? Are my perceptions of the world real? Why should the conversations people are having with their AI companions be any less real than the nonsense that daily runs through my noggin? There is, according to the report, an epidemic of loneliness in these un-United States and true companionship is, apparently, hard to come by. It smacks to me of another layer on the bubble: people create their AI companions and AI companions learn how to respond to their creators from their creators…

There was no filter used to capture this pink-purple sky. It’s one of the things I appreciate about Kerri’s urge to aim her camera. She rarely attempts to alter the image. To make it something else. She is drawn to photograph the present moment with all of its flaws and barnacles. And beauty and grace.

Last night, during our 3am banana-and-trail-fest, we bumbled into a series of videos: people who have decided to live off the grid yet are documenting and sharing their homesteading process on YouTube. We’ve been following Martijn Doolaard for a few years and delight in the travels of Foresty Forest and his dog Rocko. Alternate lives. Old world craftsmen-and-women using-but-not-lost-in the wonders of new world technology. Sense-making.

My 3am revelation? I’m drawn to these people because of the balance they seek to establish: hands and feet firmly rooted in the traditions of dirt and toil and presence, while at the same time appreciating and using technology to capture their present moment. To share. To create. To suggest to us 3am sleep-deprived watchers that there is, indeed, a balance to be struck. No need to get lost. Barnacles and beauty available during this time of intense change.

meander/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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

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Why Bother? [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Here’s the hazard:

“I know what will happen.” “Same old same old.” “It’s always been this way.” “Why bother?” “Nothing ever changes.” “Who cares anyway.” “Tomorrow will be the same as today.” “It doesn’t matter.” “It’s just an idea.”

Pattern thought. Repetition’s repetition. Dulled life.

Looking up, the tree line cut a diagonal across the sky. The sun peeked from behind evergreen. I could have thought, “I’ve seen it a thousand times.” And, truth be told, had that been my thought, I probably would have reduced it to something without words. A yawn. Or worse, it would have gone unnoticed as a lost moment in a mind full of complaints.

As it was, I’d never before been on this particular turn of the earth or looked at the sky at that precise moment. What, exactly, “caught my eye?”

I do not know what will happen. Nothing is ever the same. Ever. It is impossible to have been this way before because no one has ever lived this moment until now. That’s the response to “why bother.” It always changes. And I care. Tomorrow can’t possibly be the same as today so it matters.

Every idea reaches beyond the confines of “just.” Ideas are expansive. Just is reductive.

People are expansive unless they choose otherwise.

Why just live in the reductive?

Good Moments/This Part of the Journey © 1997, 2000 Kerri Sherwood

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

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On The Cusp [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The phrase “On the cusp” can be misleading. There is rarely a single point, a moment of before-and-after in the passage from this-to-that. I smiled when she named this photograph “winterspring.” Yes. both/and. Not-this-and-not-that.

No passage is immediate. Caterpillars do not become butterflies in a snap. Teenagers do not become adults overnight. Transitions take time. Becoming is less a journey with an arrival than a discovery that “I am no longer that.”

Artistry is like that, too. Passions change. Not overnight but over time. What was vital to explore ten years ago seems distant, passé. The body of an artist’s work serves as a roadmap for their becoming, for their dedication to essence. Flip through the work of Matisse or Chagall. They grew simpler at the end of their lives as if pulled into a center. Michelangelo is another. At the end of his life, he broke form, entirely. It took the world 500 years to understand what he was chasing at the end.

We have been on the cusp for quite some time. Not-this-and-not-that.

Yesterday we walked the trail during the eclipse. The glasses were sold out everywhere so we didn’t see it. But we felt it in the light. We felt it when the light returned. The deer seemed to feel it too. Usually skittish, they held a quiet vigil. They allowed us to pass within a few feet. We reveled in the magic we experienced during the moon’s passage between the earth and the sun. We listened to news reports of people cheering. We talked of the intensity of the color.

“Someday we will look back on this time.” I said. “And, this is what we will remember.”

Three Graces, 32″ x 56″, acrylic on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CUSP

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Edge Of Time [David’s blog on KS Friday]

It was here for a moment. The snow on the wall. The tall grasses bowing beneath the weight. Today the grass is standing. Time moves on. Circumstances flow and change.

Yesterday we sat at a counter in the Public Market and ate gumbo. Kerri and the server, a young woman, talked about the oddities of aging. It was Kerri’s 65th birthday so the topic was vital and current. Both women laughed at how out-of-sync they feel relative to the number of their spins around the sun. “What is this supposed to feel like?” they asked in unison. The old man sitting next to us almost spit out his salmon.

We arrived at the art museum an hour before closing. She said, for her birthday, she wanted to visit her boys: Richard Diebenkorn. Ellsworth Kelly, and Mark Rothko. We sat in front of the Rothko for several minutes and I swear, like a good wine, the painting opened. The longer we sat with it the more it beckoned. The richer the color became. “I wish there was a bench in front of Richard,” she said. She loves her other boys but Diebenkorn is her favorite.

On our way out we stopped by the enormous Anselm Kiefer painting, Midgard. The mythical serpent doing battle at the end of the world. It’s a metaphor in darkness: cycles of renewal amidst constant destruction. A crucible. I always visit Anselm as he is a favorite of my friend David. I sent him a photo of the painting and realized that it has been almost eight years since I have seen him.

Catching a glimpse of my image in the window and not fully recognizing the man that looked back, I said, “This time thing is crazy.” She squeezed my hand.

“Tell me about it,” she said. And then asked, “So, what’s the next part of our adventure?”

Boundaries/Right Now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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Pull The Thorns [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Matthew and Rumi agree: “You hypocrite! First take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

 The Buddha is purported to have said: “The faults of others are easier to see than one’s own.”

The message is ubiquitous. The teaching is universal. If you wish to wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart. And, like all simple truths, it’s easier said than done.

History is riddled with the greatest persecutors loudly proclaiming themselves victims. It’s a pattern. Sometimes the odor of hypocrisy is faint. Sometimes it stinks to high heaven. Currently, we are watching this age old drama play out on our political stage. No-self-awareness. Not-an-iota-of-personal-responsibility.

It’s worthy of Aeschylus. It’s a theme that runs through the greatest works of Shakespeare. Othello. Hamlet. MacBeth. Lear. Tortured thorny hearts with split intentions. It’s ever-present because it’s a bear-topic that every human has wrangled. Psychologists call it “projection.”

There is no path to inner peace that does not begin with dedicated self-reflection, self-revelation, and a subsequent healthy course of eye-beam-removal. A good honest look at the thorns carried within the heart before the plucking. What’s true of an individual is also true of a community.

And, if we are lucky and brave and honest, “…at length, truth will out.” A good test of truth is the flood of peace that ensues. A wander through the fields of flowers.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PULLING THORNS

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Grok The Rule [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“A good poem looks life straight in the face, unflinching, sincere, equal to revelation through loss or gain.” ~ David Whyte

A good rule of thumb in the visual arts: areas of high contrast, in color-or-value, come forward while areas of low contrast retreat. Landscape painters use this rule to create the illusion of foreground and distance. Abstract painters use this rule to move the eye around a composition.

Storytellers and poets use the same rule. High contrast creates interest. It grabs attention. Low contrast sets the environment, the mood. “Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing/ kept flickering in with the tide/ and looking around./ Black as a fisherman’s boot, with a white belly…” Dogfish by Mary Oliver.

Misused, it’s the rule-behind-the-reason that most of our news is “Breaking News!” False contrast. Hype. It’s the reason our national portrait is continually painted as divisive. High contrast pulls focus. The money follows the ratings so attention-grabbing is highly prized. Low contrast – like agreement, collaboration, sameness, community…truth – doesn’t generate the same level of interest or income.

Like all rules, there are worthy reasons to wield them. In the arts, the contrast principle is used to illuminate unity. To break an individual through to the experience of something bigger. To open questions. In our news-of-the-day, the rule is used to whistle a song-and-dance of discord and distraction. To separate into tribes. To manufacture the illusion of depth while sitting in shallow water.

The reasons to wield the rule are diametrically opposed.

It was a sad day when the young man, standing in our living room, told me that he would educate his child at home. His reason? He didn’t want his son to be stuffed with ideas. “Just the facts,” he said. “Just the facts.”

“Poor souls,” I thought of this man and his young child. How will they ever stare into the fiery face of democracy – an ongoing idea born of high contrast and wild ideas – the artistic kind, meant to bring people together in one nation under every possible god – like a poem. They won’t recognize democracy’s death when without question it slips like ashes through the fact of their fingers.

As for me, I’ll stick with the high and low contrast of Rumi, MLK, Shakespeare, Kahlil Gibran, Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou…

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~ Rumi

[another worthy rule of thumb: never read the headlines prior to writing a post. All the icky-mush rushes to the foreground and permeates my brain]

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOG

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buymeacoffee is a counterintuitive, highly appreciated, offering of support amidst a high contrast environment that keeps the artists among us hopping and hoping.