We Take A Breath [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on November 4, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

For a decade decency has been playing defense against cruelty and corruption. Last night decency reclaimed the ball and will soon go on the offensive. The people will now move toward the dream instead of pushing back against the nightmare.

There is plenty of wreckage. There is much work to do. But today, we take a breath.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BREATHING

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What You Believe [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 28, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“But what you believe about the future will change how you live in the present.” ~ Daniel Nayeri, Everything Sad Is Untrue*

I am a harsh critic of myself. When lost in thought and reviewing my past choices I rarely extend the grace to myself that I easily extend to others. I can’t catch a break. Who hired this guy? It’s just my luck to get assigned the one inner-editor without a sense of humor or a shred of humanity.

I was deep in my self-flaw-review when we rounded the bend and left the cool shade of the trees. “Whoa!” she said. In the fall, there is a dramatic difference in temperature from shade to sun. She stopped abruptly and turned back. On the left side of the trail was a single dandelion. “The last one!” she exclaimed, already framing her shot. A dandelion survivor. A brilliant pop of yellow against the green.

I adore these moments of spontaneous enthusiasm for the tiniest reason. This one served to completely lighten my inner discord. Like Daedalus with wings, her dandelion-eagerness was contagious and lifted me from my maze of dark reflection.

Yellow is joy. It is optimism. Even Van Gogh knew that the source of this vibrant yellow was courtesy of the sun. It dope-slapped my critic. Not a polite slap but a resounding, hard, “Whap!” Enough already. Drink the joy of this enthusiasm. Revel in this tiny gift from the sun.

I breathed a sigh of relief having just escaped the Minotaur of my own mind. In these moments of flight-to-the-present I know the dark memory maze is only a shadow-creation, barely more substantial than fantasy. Judgment from afar is only loosely rooted in actual events.

I am equally capable of filling the sad chronicle with sunny yellow. Most of my bad choices, in retrospect, turned out to be excellent decisions in the long run. I suppose it all depends upon where I decide to focus, where I think the story ends.

This memory, this moment, I focus on the sun, the warmth, and the gratitude for walking a path that brought me to unbridled enthusiasm for an autumn dandelion.

I learn again and again something that is also true: what you believe about your past will change how you live in the present.

***

*read this book. It is awesome.

also – vote.vote.vote.vote.vote.vote.vote.vote

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DANDELION

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The Jetty [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 21, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I am surrounded by so much beauty that I sometimes forget. I take it for granted. And then, walking the paths that hug the lake, I suddenly see again. I stop because I am overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, just as I was the very first time I walked these paths. “Look where we live!” I say.

“I know,” she replies.

Our loop takes us along the lake, through the marina and around the point to the channel, the jetty and red lighthouse. The jetty serves as a stalwart guardian at the mouth of the channel. When the lake is raging it absorbs the force of the waves. On any day it keeps silt from collecting and clogging the channel. On calm days it is an excellent spot for the seagulls to gather and confab. When the salmon are running the fishermen in their small boats gather at the mouth of the channel and take advantage of the jetty’s protection.

Kerri and I are a jetty for each other.

I’ve decided that everyone needs a jetty.

It’s one of the things we take for granted about our democracy – about the idea that is a democracy. It is meant to be a government made up of regular people who serve their neighbors. People protecting people from exploitation and persecution, striving for “a more perfect union”. At least that is the idea. Of, by and for the people. In a democracy, the law is the jetty.

I suppose autocracies are a jetty too, but serve a purpose that is the opposite of a democracy. It establishes a barrier that protects the privileged few from the majority who are exploited for private gain. In an autocracy, brute force is the jetty. ICE. The SS.

So, I must amend my thought: everyone needs a jetty and everyone needs to be a jetty for others.

I recently heard an interview with Maria Ressa, a Noble Peace Prize laureate. She said something that reminds me of the democracy-jetty that we’ve lost and need to rebuild: facts make truth and truth makes justice. Without equal application of the law, law that serves facts that illuminate truth, there is no justice. Where there is no justice there is no liberty.

I have been surrounded all my life by liberty and I have taken it for granted. Rights and freedoms. The sitting president just announced that the courts have no power over him, that he need not follow the law. The protective jetty has been breached and I am overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

Our vote in a few short weeks will not restore the jetty but will serve to slow its dismantling. It will take some time to rebuild our stalwart guardian jetty. That process will first necessitate a grounding in fact so we might be able to restore shared truth which will revivify the respect for the law.

I look forward to the day* – I hope for the day – that we can look at each other, recognize our hard-earned good fortune, the beauty of our democracy, a nation of equal justice under the law, honestly striving for a more perfect union, and once again say to each other, “Look at where we live!”

*(restoration begins now with your vote. Vote. Help your neighbors to vote)

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE JETTY

www.kerrianddavid.com

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More Fantastic [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 14, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I dreamed that there were grizzly bears swimming in my pool. I don’t have a pool. In the dream, the bears were friendly. I enjoyed their antics. They were showing off because they knew I was watching.

On our walk, the maples in the park are beginning to turn. I look forward to this time of year when the color of the leaves knocks my socks off. Isn’t that a funny image? My socks flying off my feet from the sheer force of color. It’s a dream image. Metaphors are like that.

They are pulling the boats out of the harbor. We watched as the rolling crane lifted an enormous yacht from the water – as if it was a toy – and then slowly rolled it into the boatyard for cleaning, shrink wrap and storage. A surreal experience.

These days I go outside with Dogga to keep an eye on him. He wakes us before dawn. I have been enjoying watching the moon wane. This morning it was a sliver. Orion was high in the sky. The only sound was a distant train engine idling. Dogga was suddenly at my feet. We sat on the cool stone of the patio and had a sweet pet.

Everything seems dreamlike to me in this era of mass disorientation. I don’t know about you but I’m having a much easier time believing that grizzly bears are swimming in my pool than I am that anyone still supports this pedophile president and his feckless republican party. Unlike the bears, he is not friendly and his followers are not a joy to behold.

Like me, do you dream of a time when truth is once again valued and integrity restored, when dreams are more fantastic than the daily tsunami of outrage and lies?

read Kerri’s blog about THE MAPLES

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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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Yes, Mum! [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 30, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The mum was meant to sit atop the stump that we saved from the old maple tree that fell earlier this the summer. Dan brought over his chainsaw and carved a wedge from the stump to create a flat surface, transforming the stump into a pedestal for the future mum. Now that the future has arrived, we found that the stump was no longer ideal for the mum. The tall grasses – if you can believe it – dwarfed the stump. The mum was invisible from its stump-perch. That’s how the mum ended up sitting on the back deck where we can appreciate it. The stump remains mum-less.

Kerri took a photograph at the store of me holding the mum. I pretended that I was stealing the mum so it’s a picture of me in frozen-running-pose. The photo was for Dan so he might see that we didn’t have him cut a wedge from the stump for nothing. I am fond of the photo of my mock-mum-thievery. I am especially fond of Dan’s response when we reported that the mum sits on the back deck. “No!!!” he wrote, “It looks better on the stump!” Kerri sent a photo of the mum-on-the-stump, invisible behind the grasses. It didn’t change Dan’s opinion. “Stump, stump, stump…” he text-chanted.

Every time I walk by the mum on the deck I whisper, “Yes, mum,” or “Mum’s the word!” My self-amusement bar is obviously low. Actually, I am working hard at having a lighter heart. And, isn’t that an oxymoron? In theory a light heart should require little to no effort. A heavy heart should require effort! I believe that we are all born with light hearts that get overburdened along the way. All I know is that pretending to steal a mum, a mum that I now talk to, is a terrific antidote to heavy-heart-ed-ness.

In fact, placing a mum on the back deck in the waning days of September is an antidote to all manner of heaviness. Inviting a bit of beauty and inner-plant-conversation this late in the season, intentionally locating a mum where I must pass-by it several times a day just so I might whisper, “Yes, mum,” over and over again, makes me smile at the utter inanity…and light floods into my heart.

“Stump, stump, stump…” I hear Dan chant. Actually, it is the mum that voices Dan’s chant. It’s the reason I whisper to the mum. The mum chants (in Dan’s voice) “Stump, stump, stump…” and I respond, “Yes, mum!” or, if Kerri is close-by I whisper, “Mum’s the word.” Either way, it brings a smile and lightens the load from my otherwise heavy heart.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MUM

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Rainbow Or Snake? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 23, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Can you see it?”

“No.” I squinted.

“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the cloud.

“I still don’t see it.”

“How can you not see it! It’s a rainbow!”

I took off my sunglasses. Nothing. “Nope.”

“It’s right there!” she repeated, pointing with increased vigor, her New York roots arising.

I stood up, walked behind her chair so I might look from her exact perspective. And there it was. A slice of rainbow. A few feet to the left or right and the colors were invisible. She was triumphant. “I told you there was a rainbow!”

I’m glad it was a rainbow and not a snake or a hole I might fall into. My doubt about what others perceive has bitten me more than once. “It’s beautiful,” I said, the pastel colors slowly fading. A few moments later and I wouldn’t have seen it. It would have vanished and I’d have teased her all day about imagining rainbows.

There are worse things to imagine.

I value her perspective so I give it credence even when I do not see what she sees. I try again and again to see the rainbow that she insists is right before my eyes because I trust her, because I am interested in seeing what she sees. Because we routinely call attention to the beautiful or interesting so we might share the tiny miracles that surround us. We try to open each other’s eyes.

We try.

I believe opening each other’s eyes to the tiny miracles, to help each other see what we might be missing, is what people are meant to do for each other. It’s a primary function of community. We need not agree.

Much to my surprise and dismay, each day that I write, I come to the same crossroad. I wonder how can I honestly write a post about valuing the perspective of others when there are so many perspectives in this nation that I fundamentally do not value? I have long ago given up trying to find access or manufacture excuses for perspectives that I find abhorrent. I no longer try because I do not trust. We are in a stand-off, “How can you not see it?” we hiss at each other.

We do not try. I do not try.

So, perhaps this is not a post about the virtue of standing in the other’s shoes but the recognition that there are some shoes I refuse to stand in. The bridge is burned. I cannot validate the ugliness by attempting to see or understand the other perspective. I have learned – we have learned – that when they point and say, “Look! A rainbow!” what they see is a snake. They would have me call it a rainbow.

A rainbow or a snake? A perspective or a delusion?

Trust is broken in our nation. My daily dilemma is our daily dilemma. Yet, in my deep belief, I hold true that once the snake has faded, once the delusion dissipates, we will have a short walk back to trust. We will have learned a hard lesson about snakes and that might be our first step back into common ground. On that day, we will ask in earnest, “Tell me what you see?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RAINBOW

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Full Stop [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 16, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“All colors are friends of their neighbors and lovers of their opposites.” ~ Marc Chagall

I was awake last night. As I stared at the ceiling I wondered if, after a lifetime of painting, I knew the first thing about color. Or brushes. Or surfaces. I wondered if I am shedding knowledge or never really gained it in the first place. I supposed that it probably does not matter either way as long as my eyes are open and I appreciate what I see.

Whether or not any knowledge sticks misses the point. Staring into the dark I managed to parse the difference between curiosity and information-gathering. I am and always have been a teflon-studier, a miserable retainer of detail. I like to roll up my sleeves and “see what happens”. I suppose I’ve made it a practice to regularly challenge what I think I know…

Staring into the dark I managed to laugh at the river of dross that regularly runs through my mind. It’s a wonder I can sleep at all.

The coneflowers nearly knocked me over. The orange with red against the green was so vibrant I almost had to look away. I like going to the garden center. Flowers are great teachers of color. So are walks in the woods. The garden center is a festival of color saturation while the woods are more of a quiet prayer.

I keep close at hand a National Geographic article about the color of human skin. We do ourselves a disservice to reduce each other to black-and-white. We are a full spectrum of color, glorious in the range of tint-to-shade. We could learn much from Marc Chagall’s observation of the color wheel. Rather than use our skin color to divide-and-conquer, to caste ourselves, to foment blather like eugenics and supremacy, we might open our eyes and see: “All colors are friends of their neighbors and lovers of their opposites.”

Together we are glorious. Separate we are without reference; flat and bland.

Full stop.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CONEFLOWERS

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Beautiful Together [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 9, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

The bouquet came with pink roses. We bought it for the daisies. We could find no bouquet of daisies-by-themselves so the pink roses came home, too. After being sorted out, the daisies went one way and the roses another, eventually landing on Kerri’s night stand.

It’s important to keep in mind that my sweet wife is not a pink-appreciating-girl. She’s a black-thermal-wearing, boot and blue jeans girl. She likes her daisies because they are simple. I believed the pink roses would go through their short life mostly unappreciated.

I was wrong. The next day I found her staring at the arrangement. “I really, really like those,” she said. In our house very few things get a double-really. I can’t remember anything in pink that has ever received a single-really. And, more surprising than her double-really was how much I liked them, too. A pop of pink. They evoked a smile every time I entered the room.

“Who knew!” I said, in a fit of reverse-eloquence, adding, “We should always have flowers on your nightstand.” I meant it, too. I’m particularly fond of anything that evokes happiness, especially in these dark days of idiocracy.

As you might imagine, the pink roses were subjected to several photo shoots. Even in their decline they were kind enough to pose for a picture. There is intense beauty in aging if one has the eyes to see it. I suspect the pink roses are teaching me to open my eyes to the beauty in my present age-and-stage. Rather than stare into the mirror and ask, “Good god, what happened to me?” I am now more capable of measuring myself against the moment I am in rather than comparing myself to the 30 year old I imagine myself to be.

I am not that. I am this.

Besides, I was not all-that when I was 30. Why compare myself to a delusion rather than appreciate fully the reality of the moment?

I kiss Kerri on the forehead, telling her, “You are beautiful.”

“I don’t look like I used to!” she deflects my compliment. I considered sending her immediately to the bedroom to have a chat with the waning pink rose but, instead chose another path.

“Neither do I,” I said. “Looks like we’re going to grow more beautiful together.”

read Kerri’s blog about PINK ROSES

www.kerrianddavid.com

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A Great Paradox [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 2, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.” ~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

It’s a great paradox, is it not? We have the capacity and desire to send telescopes into deep space. The James Webb telescope captures miracle images, exploring the origins of the universe while also searching for other inhabited planets. At the same moment, we have the capacity to pour so much carbon into our atmosphere that we endanger life on our own planet.

Humanity.

Just so, we are capable of curing diseases that have plagued humankind for eons while also ignoring the gains of medical science and allowing deadly viruses to run rampant throughout our community.

Reality.

I suppose the reality-disparity depends upon which story we choose to embrace since we are, after all, a storytelling mammal. The daily flood of “information” contains wildly conflicting points of view, conspiracy theories, propaganda, AI videos and images…It’s enough to make a story-brain want to retreat to a simpler time of firelight and paintings in a cave.

Progress.

Out of the fire light of the cave came stories of our beginning. We emerged into the light from all manner of darkness. We’ve since storied ourselves with an abundance of spiritual teachers who deliver surprisingly similar messages though their respective followers can’t seem to get along. Love is the message though it seems who delivers the message is a point of contention.

Power.

We are certainly capable of telling stories of division and threat. We are also capable of telling stories of service and sacrifice. And what is the point of progress if not to improve lives? All lives. We serially confuse two concepts that appear to be related but are actually opposites: Power and Control.

Power is a group sport. It is relational and created between people. Power is given. It is shared. Powerful people empower others.

Control is the opposite. It is the dream of the individual. Control is taken from the many. It is hoarded. Controllers disempower others.

Democracy is progress. It is based on a fundamental belief in empowering people. Government of, by and for the people.

Authoritarianism is a throwback. Feudal. It is deeply-rooted in the need to control. Control rests with one person or a small elite. Government of concentrated control demanding blind obedience from a powerless people.

What is the point of progress? Power or control? I suppose it depends upon which story we choose. Adherents of power-stories send telescopes into deep space for the betterment of humankind. Adherents of control-stories pour carbon into the atmosphere for personal gain.

Power created together leads to expansive love, inclusion. Control generates reductive hate, exclusion.

Which story will win the day? It’s a choice. It’s a great paradox, is it not?

read Kerri’s blogpost about DIVERGENT PATHS

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