Simple Entanglements [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on October 16, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The leaves on a sweet potato vine are shaped like hearts. When barking at phantoms on the neighbor’s balcony, Dogga regularly gets tangled in the sweet potato vine that now stretches across our deck. It surprises him every time and his look of confusion gets tangled in my sweet potato heart.

I’m a believer in the small things. If, at the moment of death, life truly flashes before your eyes, my flash will include Dogga getting tangled in the vine, Kerri getting tangled in the vacuum cord and me getting tangled in the long orange extension cord. My life review will be full of entanglements, real and imagined.

Last week was our anniversary. Sitting at our small bistro table, enjoying our candlelight anniversary dinner of homemade pizza, I was overwhelmed with my good fortune and told Kerri that I loved being married to her. She asked, “Why?” I stammered because there were was no single answer. It’s hard to put tiny words on big-big feelings.

Were I to answer her question today I’d say, “Because of all the little things that will flash before my eyes the moment that my soul lifts off from my body.” There are more and more each day, every stop along the trail to photograph or take note of something beautiful. Midnight anticipation of morning coffee. Sun on our faces. Making marinara for the first time. Laughter with our friends. Standing still so as not to spook the deer.

Mine will be a very long life review, a long sweet potato vine with heart shaped memories. Simple entanglements. Barking at phantoms on the balcony. A spontaneous slow dance on the back patio. Yoga mats. A shock of vibrant green against a weathered deck.

YOU’RE THE WIND ©️ 2005 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s musical entanglements can be heard on iTunes or streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blog about THE VINE

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The Gateway [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on October 9, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

An unlikely heart. Or, a heart in an unlikely place. Or, a bit of bread crust that brings heart-to-mind.

Tomorrow is a very significant day. Eleven years ago, at exactly 11:11am, we stood before our friends and families, told our story, and said, “I do”.

1111 in numerology is “believed to mean that an energetic gateway has opened. Alignment. Amplification.”

Sometimes, for fun, we try and calculate the odds of our having met. Impossible. Impossible odds and yet, here we are. It is why we refuse to allow ourselves to take for granted our good fortune. It is why we refuse to relegate anything into the box of “impossible”.

Anything is possible. We are the proof. Every day.

Eleven years. 11:11. A celebration of the impossible. Unlikely hearts met in an unlikely place. In such a magic remembrance, even a bit of bread crust brings heart-to-mind. Each day, we mind our hearts, never taking for granted the impossible story that is us. Amplification of all that is good. Alignment as we walk this path together. The gateway opening anew each day.

Kerri’s life’s work is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART

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Love Is A Funny Thing [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 7, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Not only is his muzzle turning grey but in a surprise color change, the black of his mane is slowly becoming rich auburn. Our Aussie pup never ceases to amaze me. He is a tricolor pup after all.

We are staying close to home these days. He has good days and he has bad days. On a good day you’d swear he was a puppy. On a bad day we fear that the end is near. It’s not unusual for him to have a bad morning and an hour later to be in full vibrant-dog mode. The uncertainty is what keeps us close to home.

True love is a funny thing. It is certain. As his days become more uncertain, our love rises and it is unwavering. Much of what might have seemed important, much of what would have previously pulled us from home or taken space in our hearts and minds, no longer matters. He is the single measure of whether we stay or go. His needs are the unapologetic organizing principle of our days. Improvisation is our only plan.

On humid days he groans when he lays down. We groan when we stand up. “We know how you feel, Dogga!” we chirp in unison.

All his life he’s been a terrible walker. It’s been impossible to teach him to walk with us, to stay by our side. As an Aussie, he believes his job is to protect us or to clear the way for us. He is most comfortable and happy walking ten feet in front of us. We could comfortably take him on trails but walks in the neighborhood have been problematic. I call him “sled dog” since he pulls our arms out of the socket to fulfill his mission. Once he’s ten feet ahead of us, the pulling stops and the protecting begins. Lately, however, he’s become the perfect walker. He and I are growing older together and I’ve been surprised that as more auburn appears in his mane and grey in his muzzle, he wants to be by my side. His job has changed and so has mine. I am now his protector.

It occurred to me that he has cleared our path in more ways than one. He’s shown us the way through some fairly dark passages. Sometimes I think the only reason we made it through is because he was clearing our path, making us aware of our fears even before we knew we were afraid. Dogga can see storms coming. He runs to the bathroom, his safe spot. We’ve become expert at mitigating the gathering clouds in our inner landscape when Dogga heads to the bathroom. “Dogga’s in the bathroom. What’s up?” For two people who believe that they are self-aware, it’s been remarkable to have a dog capable of expanding our self-awareness.

“He’s preparing us,” Kerri said, after his latest bad day. We both began to weep

“I know.” Clearing our path. Guiding us through this passage.

Love is a funny thing.

(Today we celebrate. 13 years ago today we drove onto a farm where a little fur ball puppy stole our hearts. He came home with us. He still holds our hearts captive and we couldn’t be more grateful.)

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA

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Have Reverence [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on August 4, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The complete life cycle of the sowthistle captured in a single image. It’s akin to a family photo with 4 generations; the new baby sits on great grandma’s lap.

“Each thing is of like form from everlasting and comes round again in its cycle.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

The Balinese believe that they are an ancestor reborn. In seven generations they will be reborn again. Consequently, they are more thoughtful of the world they create for future generations. They carefully consider the world they themselves will someday inhabit.

“The Buddha resides as comfortably in the circuits of a digital computer or the gears of a cycle transmission as he does at the top of a mountain.” ~ Robert Pirsig

Veneration is available when all things are understood as interconnected.

The current republican party is the Achilles’ Heel of The United States of America. Their primary driver is short-term gain. They view any form of regulation against their short-term gain as an infringement on their individual rights. There is no life-cycle in their calculation. There is no long view or regard for impact on the community. There is only exploitation for immediate personal gain. Future generations will deal with the mess. As Kerri has rightly identified, “They have no reverence.”

“Where reverence is lost, the soul becomes a barren desert.” Abraham Joshua Heschel

One could ask – one should ask- how did the soul of these men and women become a barren desert?

The infant on great grandma’s lap will one day be a mother and will treasure the photo of her ancestor. And, soon, she will be a grandmother and, if lucky, a great grandmother. She will adore the child on her lap, her descendant. In the child, she will see herself in the full cycle of life. She will have reverence for her life and the life of the child.

“A society without reverence for its past has no future.” ~ Confucius

read Kerri’s blogpost about SOW THISTLE LIFE CYCLE

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The Littlest of Little Things [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on May 8, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The woman at the cash register looked up from her scanner. Suddenly wide-eyed she asked, “Are you Kerri Sherwood?” Before Kerri could answer, the woman exclaimed, “I knew it! I knew it was you! My mother and I listen to your music all of the time!” She leaned in, adding, “Especially your Dandelion song. We just love that song.”

A Fistful of Dandelions. A song about motherhood. A song she wrote and recorded when our children were…children. I did not know them then – but I know them through Kerri’s stories. I know them through her music, her compositions, her heart-song. I know them through the nights we’ve sat up until dawn worrying about them, whispering about what to do. I know that when the phone rings and it is one of our children calling, the world stops, all other priorities fall off the list. I know them by the moments of struggle, when we choose to be silent, when our opinions or ideas or input are better left unsaid. I know them because there is nothing more important to know and nothing more unknowable; they are vast.

What is parenthood if not a full spectrum love song?

This is what I have learned from Kerri about motherhood: a fistful of dandelions is more precious than gold, her heart is good only if their hearts are good, there is nothing better than a surprise phone call that makes the rest of the world stop; it’s not the big things, it’s never the big things, but the littlest of little things that makes her mother-heart skip a beat, just as one day, long ago, the littlest of little things made her write a song.

FISTFUL OF DANDELIONS © 1999 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s music is available in iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about DANDELIONS

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Messages [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 22, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

“We forget that the soul has its own ancestors.” ~ James Hillman

A hard day driving, made three hours longer by traffic and incessant construction, we were bleary-eyed. There has never been a time that we needed respite more than at the end of this day. In the dark of night we almost missed the driveway into the farm. It was shielded from view by the fields of corn. At the back of the property we found the little cottage that we’d booked for the night. Upon first view, illuminated by the headlights of the truck, we released all expectation of comfort.

We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Entering the cottage was like walking into a loving embrace. It was beautiful, warm and cozy. Recently renovated, it literally sparkled. We wandered through its rooms saying, “Wow!” Baskets of snacks, thick plush towels, a bedroom that seemed made for a photo shoot for Grandin Road. The Andes candy on the pillow brought Kerri to tears. “These were my mom’s favorites,” she said, holding the small chocolate as if it was a precious letter, a message from Beaky. You could almost hear her whisper:

“Rest now. Everything is exactly as it should be.”

In fact, our entire journey seemed punctuated by visitations. Pa was there when, driving into a tropical storm, the rubber seal on our windshield failed. “Gorilla tape!” we heard the command from the ethers. There was a Home Depot at the next exit.

“I think your dad has our back,” I said as we taped the broken seal, a solution good enough to get us through our journey. The torrential rain was no match for Pa’s magic fix.

Big Red, our truck with Gorilla tape on the seal, was my dad’s. His truck came to us when he could no longer drive. We’ve always thought of Big Red as his truck, not ours. After he passed, Big Red was a notorious prankster, breaking down in the middle of Kansas, stopping without reason in rush hour traffic and then starting again only when the tow truck was on the way. Once, after prepping for a trip, an oil change, new belts, and service checks, we loaded up Big Red, jumped in – and it simply refused to start. “Columbus is playing with us,” she said as we transferred the suitcases and cooler to LittleBabyScion.

“Again,” I said.

As Kerri placed the gull feather and rocks from Crab Meadow Beach in the cab of the truck she turned to me and said, “I think Columbus is finally giving us Big Red. I think Big Red is ours now.”

I felt it, too. Columbus was laughing the laugh he saved for squirt gun surprises, his famous midnight raids when I was a boy. “You’ve got this,” he smiled, “And, don’t forget to have a little fun.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about ANDES CANDY

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Show Up! [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on June 27, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

They young reveler looked at me and shouted over the music, “It’s great seeing you here!” He offered a fist bump and guided me through the secret handshake that followed the bump. We laughed.

At first I was puzzled. I didn’t know him at all yet he was genuinely delighted to see me. And then it occurred to me. In his eyes I am old. My beard is gray. He was happily surprised to find an old guy dancing in the raucous sweaty crowd at Chicago PRIDE.

Kerri leaned forward and told him – well, shouted over the throbbing thunderous music – that the performer on the stage was our son. The young reveler looked like she just slapped him. “WHAT?!” he exclaimed. He turned and told his friends. They looked at us as if hell had just frozen over – a remarkable metaphor since it was 105 degrees at 7:30 pm. Parents at PRIDE! Parents celebrating and supporting their son! Impossible! Unimaginable! Fist bumps, high-fives! The young reveler shook my hand enthusiastically saying, “No Way!! No Way!!”

Their dancing resumed, more enthusiastic, more joyful, in a world made new with wondrous possibility. The word spread. Proud parents were at PRIDE, dancing! Hunky boys fanned Kerri to keep her cool. She stood on the curb so she could take pictures of the stage above the festive crowd. “You’re Craig’s Mom!” I heard declared again and again. More hugs and introductions.

Later, exhausted, on the train ride home, Kerri said, “I think it was really important that we showed up.” I knew what she meant. We unintentionally showed up for more than Craig’s performance.

I thought of something the MC said to crowd after Craig’s set, “Are you going to take care of your trans brothers and sisters? Are you going to take care of each other?” he asked. The crowd cheered and he added, “Remember, if one of us is marginalized, all of us are marginalized.” Words of caution made more relevant – and poignant – by the manufactured hatred of our times. The demonization of “the other” marginalizes all of us.

Now, more than ever, it matters that we show up for each other. I was heartened by the No Kings protests. I am heartened each time a community shines a light on masked ICE agents and shames them away from brutalizing yet another human being. Our presence – our witness – in this moment matters more than we will ever understand.

CONNECTED on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about PRIDE

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Choose Your Chosen [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on June 16, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

It might surprise you to learn that the adage, “Blood is thicker than water”, originally meant the exact opposite of what you assume. The full adage is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”. “The [word] “covenant” in this context often refers to agreements or commitments made through shared experiences, like in battle or through friendship.” ~ AI Overview

The meaning flipped when the phrase was condensed to eliminate the context.

I live in a mobile society and have rarely lived close to my family. The people who have shown up for me, served as my safety net, lifted me when I have fallen, reached out when I needed a hand, have been my friends, the people I share my day-to-day life-experiences with. I have done the same for them. We have a covenant.

One of the reasons I enjoy attending our son Craig’s EDM performances is that Kerri and I enter – and are welcomed into – his tight circle of friends. He enjoys an extraordinary family of friends. They are kind, playful, and generous. As gay men they’ve all experienced cultural persecution, rejection and marginalization – often from their family of origin – so they understand to their bones the necessity of support, the power of presence in their chosen family. They consciously and intentionally create community. Craig and his chosen family give me hope. They open their arms and welcome us into the vibrant dance of their community.

Our society demonizes our son and his LGBTQ+ community yet, it is within this circle that I experience what the rest of our troubled nation is lacking: acceptance, inclusion, open minds, open hearts, authentic community. A spirit of play. A genuine dedication to showing up for each other. Honesty. As a persecuted group in an increasingly homophobic society, their support of each other means safety. The threat they face each day is actual, not an abstraction.

At the epicenter of their communal support is a simple truism: they’ve each walked (and continue to walk) a hard road to self-acceptance so they are masterful teachers of acceptance of others and powerful advocates for inclusion. Their encouragement is simple: be yourself. Fully. Find safety, together. Chosen Family, Infinite Love.

At the beginning of June, the month of PRIDE, I was saddened by the many, many people posting images of the flag of the United States with the words, “This is my pride flag.” Mean-spirited statements of division. The fear of difference. Sad declarations of homophobia.

It is the very reason why the original adage is so powerful: the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. We have so much to learn from the LGBTQ+ community – and what we might learn could very well save our democracy from those who only admit straight, white, males to their country club blood covenant, their ruling class, those who would persecute their way into brutal authoritarianism: Chosen Family, Bottomless Hate.

The covenant of our nation? Equality. With liberty and justice for all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHOSEN FAMILY

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Hearts In The Sky [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on April 29, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Today we light a candle for Beaky. Today marks ten years since she passed. When looking for the right photo for this observance day in the Melange, Kerri thought this one was perfect. A heart in the sky. Since Kerri and I met late in life, I only knew Beaky for 18 months though I feel as if I knew her for years. She was a warm, bright light. On more than one occasion, even while in great pain, I watched her uplift the spirits of her caregivers. The patient healing the healers.

She gave me essential lessons in being human. She could have taught our present world a thing or two about kindness, about what really matters; about creating a better world.

Although I never met him, I sometimes have conversations with Kerri’s dad. He was quite the handyman. I am not. When faced with a home repair that seems out of my league I regularly say, “Okay, Pa. Give me a clue.” To date he has never failed me. I’ve fixed the washing machine, the stove, the refrigerator, broken chairs and a table; I’ve plugged a hole in the wall, stopping a flood in the basement. Mostly, his clues are cautions to slow down. He reminds me that I can do anything if I take my time and do not rush. I do, however, have one small gripe with Pa’s advice-giving: when I am in the doghouse with Kerri and in desperate need of a repair, when slowing down seems dangerous, he is noticeably silent. I imagine him laughing, his silence saying, “I’m staying out of this one.”

We spent the past few days cutting back the grasses, raking the leaves, cleaning up the yard, replanting the front garden, repairing and filling the pond. Not only were we taking care of our sanctuary-home but I felt as if we were preparing for this day of remembrance. Cleaning out the old. Opening space for the new.

The work brought to mind a sweet memory: in college, my work-study sent me to the rose garden to help Brother Patrick tend the gardens. He was a quiet man, a gentle soul in the twilight of his years. The day was New Mexico bright and warm. I followed along behind him, digging a hole when he needed one dug, gathering the leaves and branches from his pruning. There was no rush, no thought of “getting it done”. He worked to enjoy the work and when I fell into his ethic, when I let go of the idea of working for achievement, he looked at me with bright eyes, as if there was nothing better on earth to be doing at that moment, and said, “This is good for the heart and good for the soul.”

Lighting a candle for Beaky. Communing with Pa. A moment of appreciation for Brother Patrick. I am filled with gratitude for the life lessons that continue to come from my very wise elders. Hearts in the sky.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART IN THE SKY.

www.kerrianddavid.com

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It Is Something [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on April 21, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Dogga yawned, stretched and rolled accidentally off the bed. He landed on his back and we knew he was hurt. All the news of the day, the stresses of our life, our list of to-do’s…flew out the window. Nothing else mattered but to care for our aging, crazy Aussie pup.

20 needs to have a surgery that requires a lengthy recovery. We are his support team. When we found out, everything on the calendar was instantly less important and was easily erased. Nothing else mattered.

This summer Craig will headline both Milwaukee and Chicago Pride. Nothing on earth will stop us from being in the audience. Kerri and I have both performed – we are artists, performers – we know to our bones the power of family support. We also know the hole created by the absence of family support.

Priority. It is instantly recognizable when necessity pierces foggy self-importance. Love is the light that instantly dissipates the fog. A truly undefinable word. Love. But isn’t it immediately recognizable? Beyond debate?

I marvel at how much of my time on this earth has been consumed by the pursuit of what I might achieve. Somewhere out there. While, all along, the only thing I’ve ever actually needed was – and is – immediately recognizable, always here, when circumstance shakes me from my hazy focus, when necessity peels back the superficial and exposes the essential.

I can bring nothing more potent than my presence. My love. My attention. And, presence, love – I am learning – is not something I attain or get. It is not a pursuit. It is something I offer. A helping hand. A hug when there is hurt. A cheering witness to courage (as all true artistry is frighteningly vulnerable).

It is something that has always been there, something that will just be there. Always.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SKY

www.kerrianddavid.com

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