Voices Of Clarity [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“A society must assume that it is stable, but the artist must know, and he must let us know, that there is nothing stable under heaven.” ~ James Baldwin (via The Marginalian)

We picked our window of time perfectly. We needed to walk, to get out of the house and breathe yet it had rained much of the morning. Antsy, we took a chance when there was a small break in the weather and headed for the trail.

We walked slowly. We kept an eye on the sky. We watched the next band of storm clouds roll in. It was beautiful. It was ominous. The rain came a few moments after we completed our loop, just as we were getting into the car. We laughed at our good fortune.

Some people take photographs to record events. Kerri, like all artists, takes photographs to feed her spirit. She sees beauty and the photo is way to connect or harmonize with the beauty. It is akin to a hummingbird drinking nectar. I watched her take photos of the coming storm. There was a fierceness in her posture. There was joy in the face of the tumultuous clouds. As I watched I remembered a conversation I had with Brad about the reason artists create. There is a precise moment for the child-artist that a spark lights a soul-fire. In my moment I desperately wanted to see clearly what was happening behind peoples’ eyes; behind my own eyes.

“Tyrants always fear art because tyrants want to mystify while art tends to clarify.”~ Iris Murdoch (via The Marginalia)

Later I looked at her photograph of the rolling storm and thought it a perfect image for our times. The storm is coming. Lydia wrote a comment musing about the surprise rise in prices the maga-faithful (and the rest of us) will experience when the people who pick our crops are deported. I responded darkly that the artists and intellectuals will pick the crops from their place at the corporate farm detention camp. Despots always have to eliminate voices of reason, voices of criticism and opposition. Voices of clarity.

Today, now, more than ever, I want to understand what-on-earth is happening behind peoples’ eyes. As I understand it, this is exactly the time, when chaos and deception rule the day, that artists get-crackin’ to clarify.

Icarus. 30.5″x59.5″, acrylic on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE COMING STORM

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The Necessity of Intolerance [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Life has a way of flipping you on your head. As a former facilitator of DEI workshops I have had innumerable conversations about intolerance and the necessity for standing in “the other’s shoes.” Tolerance is a step on the path to an open mind. Throughout the course of this election I have discovered within myself the necessity of intolerance. The absolute necessity.

There has to be a line. I cannot stand in the shoes of intentional indecency. I cannot afford an ounce of grace to the ugly racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, violent ambitions of maga or its dictator-wanna-be. In a democracy, there is no validity, nothing remotely defensible about their fascist aims. I cannot listen – even for a moment – to the rabid justification of a thought-less-babble-tower built of lies and grievance. It is less than sandy soil. It is a disaster in the making. A foul permission structure of deception and nonsense.

I have found my hard intolerance and I couldn’t be more proud to declare it. At first I feared it made me a hypocrite but lately I know better. There is a place for intolerance and it is this: Intolerance of injustice, intolerance of hatred, intolerance of fear-mongering, intolerance of misogyny… is the vanguard of an open-heart, the guardian of an open-mind.

There has to be a line.

I am learning that within my intolerance of this maga-hatred is the living-seed of common decency and respect of others. My intolerance of whipped-up division constructed by a pathological liar gives bright energy to my belief in truth and goodness. It points the way to the virtues I was taught, to the ethics that are my inheritance.

Our parents and grandparents fought against fascism. My imperfect and messy nation strives to fulfill the ideal that all people are created equal. As the stewards of democracy it is now our imperative – my imperative – to claim my utter intolerance of the authoritarian bilge poisoning our nation.

Every religion, spirituality and belief-system I’ve ever studied (and I’ve studied more than I can count) instructs that I am my brothers’ and sisters’ keeper – as they are also mine, to help others – especially those who are downtrodden. As Kerri says, “If it’s not about kindness then it’s not about anything.”

That seems pretty straight forward and absolutely unequivocal to me. Especially now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TATTERS

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The Most Loving Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

We are still recovering from covid. The progress is slow but certain. We’re finally -after a month – able to walk pieces of our usual trails. Each day we gauge what we can realistically do, we stop often, we turn around or cut short our regular loop when our bodies signal it’s time to stop. “My legs are shaking,” I say as we return to the car. We are not frustrated by our weakness, rather, we are inordinately grateful to be outside, in nature, marveling at the November sky. Especially now. In nature we find sanity in a nation that has lost its mind.

Within our information bubble there is an energetic discussion about self-care. There is encouragement to disconnect from the doom-scrolling and, instead, firmly focus on what brings joy, what invokes love. There is a concurrent ubiquitous conversation about feeling unsafe in a nation that put a rapist in the white house, a convicted felon and avowed fascist who daily promises violence to those who oppose him. Fully half of the nation opposes him so feelings of insecurity are warranted.

The third conversation strand is quieter, a question filled with inordinate sadness. It is the question of whether or not to disconnect from people – family and friends – who knowingly voted for fascism, who support the coming violence. These relationships, personal and familial, no longer feel safe. It’s a matter of trust – of being able to trust someone who either lacks a moral center or who is so enraged that they see themselves mirrored in the despot-elect. It’s impossible to trust people so completely unplugged from reality and so willing to justify thuggery.

It is confusing to love but not to trust. It is bewildering to feel threatened by those you love. It’s a question of vulnerability. It’s a question of honesty, “Do I pretend…” It is made more untenable when taking-a-break or disconnecting is understood as not-loving.

I understand the choice – either way – to be self-loving. We must now protect ourselves.

Also, there is this: a loving parent will not let their child run into the busy street. It is a loving act to shout, “You cannot do this!” It is not without love that we look at our maga-voting family and friends and say, “I cannot pretend that this is election was like all others; I cannot pretend that we are merely having a difference of opinion. We are not. Your vote was for an amoral grotesque who openly promises violence as an authoritarian dictator. Our difference runs much deeper than mere opinion.”

The most loving thing we can do for ourselves is nurture and attend to relationships with those we trust. The most loving thing we can do for our friends and family now hurtling toward the dangerous fascist road is to shout, with voice or with silence, “You cannot do this.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about NOVEMBER SKY

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

This weekend while I was busy elevating Neil Postman to prophet status I realized I was also putting to rest a debate that began with my business partner during the dawn of social media. Her contention was that meaningful relationships were possible over social media. I held – and still hold – now more than ever – the opposite view. Our latest election is all the proof I needed.

Meaningful relationships are complex. They require time. They require presence – slowing down and paying attention. Listening. They are expansive as well as intricate. They are investments in the other.

The medium is the message. Social media is reductive. It is immediate. It does not slow down, rather, it speeds us up. It affords only simplistic exchanges. It’s great for memes, for sharing photos, for updates. It is self-centered. It is limited in characters and increasingly relies on emojis. It is a great medium for the superficial, the tit-for-tat. Jabs. Clever comebacks. And, if you don’t like what you are hearing, a touch of a button unfriends the annoyance. No investment required.

Social media has become our public square.

Our ease of unfriending creates information eddies, impenetrable echo chambers. We sort to bubbles of agreement with nary a nod to fact or uncomfortable truth. We do not have to listen to each other since insulting and negating each other is within the reduction-capacity of the medium while listening, questioning, discussing and debating is not.

Our medium inhibits complicated in-depth conversations or layered debate of ideas which, in-turn, inhibits fact-based conversation while promoting gossip, conspiracy, accusation and misinformation. I am haunted by a piece Kerri included in her Smack-Dab post on Saturday:

“…Catherine Rampell and Youyou Zhou of the Washington Post showed before the election that voters overwhelmingly preferred Harris’s policies to Trump’s if they didn’t know which candidate proposed them.  An Ipsos/Reuters poll from October showed that voters who were misinformed about immigration, crime, and the economy tended to vote Republican, while those who knew the facts preferred Democrats. Many Americans turn for information to social media or to friends and family who traffic in conspiracy theories. As Angelo Carusone of Media Matters put it: “We have a country that is pickled in right-wing misinformation and rage.”  (heather cox richardson – american historian, professor of history – boston college, previously MIT, university of massachusetts amherst )

The info-bubbles generated by our social-media-public-square are fortresses. Inside the walls we are capable of demonizing the other, ramping up our rage, but are incapable of promoting or encouraging the sharing of policy ideas, a comprehensive discussion of competing visions for the nation’s future, the character of the candidates, the possible impact to other nations and the ramifications of our choice…

The info-river is fast-moving and keeps flowing with little or no regard to the worth or truth of the information it carries. Not only are we pickled in misinformation and easily distracted, we are also incapable of tracking the tsunami of information that washes over us each day. We scroll and forget. Our attention span is a long as what rolls through our screen.

The voters of this nation have forgotten the train wreck of the despot-elect’s first time in office. “Trump’s own staffers, subordinates, and allies frequently characterized Trump as infantile…The number and scale of Trump’s statements in public speeches, remarks, and tweets identified as false by scholars, fact-checkers, and commentators were characterized as unprecedented for an American president, and even unprecedented in U.S. politics.”

“In the 2018 presidential rankings by the Siena College Research Institute, Trump ranked as the third-worst president in history. C-SPAN’s 2021 President Historians Survey ranked Trump as the fourth-worst president overall and the worst in the leadership characteristics of Moral Authority and Administrative Skills.”

Trump ranked last in both the 2018 and 2024 surveys of the American Political Science Association Presidents and Executive Politics section, with self-identified Republican historians ranking Trump in their bottom five presidents.

And so, we willingly walk behind the mule for a second time. There is nothing new to be learned except perhaps how damaging or fatal a second kick will be. Maybe, just maybe, if our democracy survives, we will have learned to stop tweeting at each other and step into a real public square for our most important conversations. I know, I know. I’m an idealist.

I have a suggestion for our new national meme: “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SECOND KICK

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In Our DNA [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Often, if you pay attention, the smallest pattern of action is a fractal revealing the bigger picture.

For instance, a small pattern of action: when Kamala Harris first became the Democratic nominee for president, many of our neighbors had to display their yard signs from inside their houses; if left outside their signs disappeared.

Bigger picture: the maga-candidate and his supporters promise to erase all voices of opposition. It is their pledge, their vow, the entirety of their platform.

Our democracy is a two-party system founded on the principle of healthy debate. In other words, opposition, the active engagement with opposing points of view is the magic ingredient of our form of governance . Our vote is the sacred epicenter of the ongoing, healthy debate. Our vote is literally our voice in the debate. It is how we sustain and perpetuate the gift of democracy.

Democracy is never finished. It is not a place of arrival. It is not a noun. It is an ongoing, living process, imperfect and messy, that generation to generation strives toward a more perfect union. It is an action, a verb. We are what we do. Today -and every day – we are the stewards of this high ideal: government of the people, by the people, for the people.

Today, unlike any other vote of our lives or our parents’ or grandparents’ lives, our great-grandparents’ lives – democracy in on the ballot. Kamala Harris has been clear: she will ensure that voices of opposition have a seat at the table. That is the way of democracy.

The maga-candidate has been clear: he intends to arrest and silence all voices of opposition. He will, if necessary, use the military to do it. He’s labeled voices of opposition as “the enemy within”. That is the way of fascism.

Removing opposition silences the debate and smothers the breath of democracy.

Small pattern: over time, more and more Harris/Walz signs showed up in yards, moving from inside the house to the outside where they belong.

Big picture: the voice of opposition grows stronger, louder, more vibrant, when tyrants attempt to repress it. That, too, is an American tradition. It’s in our dna, our national character. We don’t like it when we are stripped of our freedoms. As Kamala Harris reminded us, our nation was established when a petty tyrant tried to suppress our voices and restrict our rights; when the petty tyrant tried to eliminate our freedoms he unleashed an uncontrollable voice of opposition. We the people.

248 years later, another petty tyrant promises, if elected (ironically) to remove all voices of opposition. Opposition stands in the way of his lust for absolute power. He vows to abolish the magic ingredient. He is committed to the eradication of democracy, the birth of fascism. He’s already begun his erasure of opposition by once again claiming without evidence that our elections are corrupt.

And so, today, our choice could not be clearer. Today, we exercise our right of voice. We will either carry forward our inheritance of healthy opposition or we will fall into the petty divide and end it.

Today we weigh in on the debate. Democracy or fascism? We vote.

read Kerri’s blogpost about VOTE

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A Moral Center [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I was grateful for the meme. It gave me simple language, a shorthand, for something I was wrestling to articulate: We are not having a difference of opinion. We are having a difference of morality.

I wonder that it took a meme to open my eyes. This in not about information bubbles or dueling points-of-view or fact-checked-information.

We are on the eve of an election. This election is unlike any other in our lives. The choice before us eclipses policy differences. On the ballot is democracy or not-democracy. A constitutional republic or an autocracy.

The maga-candidate sows division, darkness and grievance. He is a pathological liar. He is obsessed with retribution. He vows to use the military to silence “the enemy within”. He promises to arrest his opponents. Last week he suggested a firing squad for Liz Cheney. In a multicultural nation, a nation of immigrants, he promises mass deportations.

This is not empty rhetoric. As we’ve learned from his overthrow of Roe, he will do what he says. He has a Heritage Foundation plan called Project 2025 to dismantle our democracy. He disavowed it when public knowledge of his embrace of this extreme fascist blueprint hurt his chances for election. It is his milksop pattern: by pretending he has no knowledge he abdicates responsibility for his words and actions. It is a damning statement of his lack of character. It is a characteristic of an authoritarian narcissist.

What is also a damning statement of character is to vote for such a man. To turn a blind eye to all that he has said, all that he has done, all the lies that he has told, is a statement of our character.

Presidential historian Jon Meacham recently reminded us that within the spirit of the Constitution lives the character of our leaders – and also the character of the led. Our national character. “Out of many, one” is more than a quaint Latin phrase printed on our currency.

A character check: compare the maga-candidate’s daily mantra, “I have no knowledge” with the sign Harry S. Truman proudly displayed on the resolute desk: The buck stops here.

A vote for the maga-candidate is literally a vote to suspend the Constitution (his words). It is a vote to suspend our national character. It is a vote absent of a moral center.

We choose our leaders as a reflection of ourselves. It is why this election is unlike any other in our lives. The image the maga-candidate reflects back to us is at best repugnant. It is empty of character. It is the opposite of our nation’s identity.

If you see yourself in this man, a misogynist, xenophobe, racist, filled with rage and retribution…we are having something much more profound, much more serious than a difference of opinion.

We have a difference of morality.

Decency matters. Conduct matters. Language matters. Character matters. Principles matter. Intentions matter. Discerning the difference between right and wrong, between good and bad behavior, matters.

It’s the spirit living in our Constitution. It’s the character our leaders ought to reflect back to us because it’s the character we should demand from our leaders.

And so we vote.

Democracy or not-democracy.

Will we live and act from a moral center, striving to fulfill the promise of a more perfect union, or will we throw it away and spiral into a fascist void?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE ELECTION OF OUR LIVES

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How To Harmonize [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Nature, in the intimate and in the vast, is not designed. It is designing. Our own nature confirms it.” ~ N.J. Berrill, You and the Universe (via The Marginalian)

 In one of our famous conversations, Horatio suggested I read Ernest Becker’s Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Denial of Death. So, I did. Horatio has never led me astray. Boiled down to an essence, as a unifying principle for religion and science, it unpacks the human dilemma of being a finite animal with an unlimited imagination. We are unique among creatures because we know we will die yet we have the capacity to imagine ourselves infinite. And so, to live beyond the veil, we think we must leave a mark, to serve a greater purpose. We must seek or give meaning to our limited time. No other animal carries so great a burden, this split-dance of separation and unity.

It is an understatement to suggest that it has set me to thinking. It is the ultimate in creative tension.

For ages, artists have painted the Danse Macabre. Some are a painting a warning: it’s coming so be ready! Some are painting an appeal: it’s precious so live every moment of it!

And this is what Horatio’s recommendation has me thinking: It’s a cycle of movement, like the tides or the cycle of the seasons, the movement of the earth, spinning around the sun…It is movement. Life is movement.

I was hired at the software start-up, not because I know anything about technology or coding, but because I see movement. Dynamic whole systems. In my brief foray into the start-up, I learned that, in order to be successful, software has no end. It is never finished. It must constantly iterate. It must never assume a completion. It is, in that way, like a human being, constantly becoming, cycling through periods of stability and periods of chaos, through lostness and found-ness, each generation supporting the cycle of the next generation.

We confuse ourselves by seeking an answer to our end, as if the design is finished. As if we are complete. That is a statement of our denial. We are movement. Relationship. Cycle. Never complete.

She knelt to take a photograph of the daisies, each at various points in their life cycle. A perfect visual for the single question-with-no-answer at the core of our short season on earth:

“…how to harmonize our cosmic smallness with the immensity of our creaturely experience…” ~ N.J. Berrill

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAISIES

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On The Morning Breeze [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

The first hint of fall was in the air this morning. Is it a scent or something I feel riding on the breeze? I’m not sure. Maybe both. I stood at the door and breathed it in. It is like the return of a favorite friend.

I’ve been waiting for this moment. The plumes on the grasses changed color a few weeks ago – a sure sign of autumn approaching. The vine coiling around the rocks by the pond has already passed through crimson and yellow to brittle brown, a transformation that usually happens later in September. Breck-the-aspen-tree, stressed by all the rain we’ve recently experienced, is not yet changing. She must wonder if she’s been transplanted to a rainforest. I imagine she refuses to put on her fall color until she’s had a chance to wear her finest summer wardrobe. The bees are out in force and a little aggressive, a sign of summer’s end.

I’ve been meditating on my conversation with Judy. We talked about life’s changes. The hot fire that tests us and transforms us when we finally understand that we must let go of who we think we are. “Either I die or this dies and I’m not going to die!” she said, laughing the laugh of someone who has been forged in fire, someone who has let go of seasons past and moved with nature into the surprising new.

Standing at the backdoor, feeling autumn to my bones, I felt the ash of the fire all the way to my core.

Beyond the dictionary definition, I am learning about resilience. Resilience is not a rigid bulwark. It is an open hand. Breck-the-aspen-tree bending with the wind. New sprouts arising through the ashes after the forest fire. It is autumn announcing its arrival on the morning breeze.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PLUMES

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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

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE

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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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