Turn And See [on KS Friday]

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Gratitude is a word easily tossed about in this season. It is often a nod to something that ought to be more present. It can be momentary, skipping a stone over the water. A commandment for how we should feel. Be Grateful.

Gratitude finds roots and deep resonance the day you turn around and realize beyond the abstract that this life is limited. These moments are limited. No longer an easy sentimental phrase on a Thanksgiving card, gratitude looks at what and who is present and loses all interest in what may-or-may-not-be missing. A sunset, each sunset, becomes a unique once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Last night, late, 20 came over. We sat at the table, told stories. Drank wine. Chocolate and raspberries. Heather and Brian Facetimed with Kerri. Her laughter in the next room, the enthusiasm of their conversation, made 20 and I smile. A long lost friend tossed a cryptic note into our ocean. We puzzled it deep into the night.

There has never been another evening like it. There will never be another.

Kerri’s GRATEFUL is not a Hallmark card. It is not a commandment or a should-feel. It’s not flowers and feel-good honey bees. It flows with the urgency, the power, and the recognition of that day when you at last turn and see an end to yourself. It is a love note to being alive, a meditation on the everyday priceless moments, a call to awaken to the unparalleled now.

 

GRATEFUL on the album AS IT IS is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about GRATEFUL

 

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grateful/as it is ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

Sip [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Unlike wine, I am not getting better with age. The cliche’ would have me growing wiser with my years but the closer I walk to my end the farther away wisdom seems. I know less and less the more I live.

Yesterday, Kerri told a young man – a budding preacher – that he’d reach and impact more people through vulnerability than through knowledge. To be vulnerable is to open to life’s experiences. Knowledge is too often a protection against experience. A younger me used knowledge as a sword – just like this young man. I am only now finding gratitude for the day my sword shattered.

Perhaps standing at the edge of the mystery and acknowledging that I know nothing useful marks the beginning of wisdom. Quinn told me that wisdom had nothing to do with the stuff that you think you know.  I am catching glimpses of what he meant. Isn’t it true that the real stuff, the stuff of deep value, always leads to silence? To quiet? To listening? To sitting comfortably in the space between and enjoying the moment just because?

These are the reasons I enjoy wine more and more. I drink it with friends. I sit on the back porch and sip it as I watch the sunset. As my agendas fall away, I find more open space for simple appreciation, utter appreciation, for this single sip of life.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about WINE

 

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Help Yourself See [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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In a particularly dismal period of time in my Seattle years, I decided I needed to focus on the good stuff. I made a game of writing on small bits of paper things in my life for which  I was grateful. And then I left my small gratitude notes around the city as I moved about my day. I left them at bus stops. I rolled some and tucked them in crosswalk signs. A few were tucked into menus or left on coffeehouse tables.

My gratitude notes had an interesting blow-back. They inspired me to seek things that I was grateful for so I might write a note about it. Not only that, but they made me pay attention to the infinite acts of kindness that I saw everyday. People were helping people everywhere! I was blind to it until I started paying attention; until I got out of my misery-head and opened my eyes.

I was struck by the vast difference between the story I was being told about humanity and the story I was witnessing on my daily walks across the city. I could count the acts of aggression. I lost track of the acts of kindness and generosity because there were too many to capture.

When you stop and think about it, isn’t it always the case that the the good stuff, the potential-pool-of-gratitude-possibilities is vast yet the gunk gets all the focus. What is it in us that hyper-focuses on the flaw, sorts to the wound, while the river of beauty roars by unnoticed?

Kerri designed these cards for another project and they made me remember my notes. Encouragement of gratitude. Give it a try. Download the blanks. Scribble a note or two of thanks-giving and leave them behind somewhere. Be prepared for some eye opening blow-back.

 

gratitude blanks PDF copy

 

read Kerri’s blog post about GRATITUDE

 

 

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Love Your List [on KS Friday]

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I lost track of Dwight. For years. He  was dear to me and his loss was profound.

And then, after moving to a new city, on a very foggy Easter morning, just after sunrise,  driving a bread truck to work my way through school, I almost hit a man who appeared out of the mist. He was running across the road. I slammed on the brakes, bread flew everywhere. Standing directly in front of my bumper was Dwight. I got out of the truck. In the middle of the road our friendship was restored.

After more than a decade I lost him again. 5 years passed. And then, one day, the phone rang. He was coming to Chicago. The circle returned as I hoped it would. Our friendship is renewed. His presence in my life is a deep generous river.

I am of the opinion that I am rich beyond measure. In my world there is Master Marsh and Horatio, Brad and Jen, Master Miller and Dwight, Arnie, 20 and the up north gang, Judy, Skip, Linda and Jim, John and Michele… Old friends (and new). They stir my thinking, they challenge me to be a better person, they feed my body and my soul. They show up for me when I call. And, I am always grateful when they call on me – that’s how I know we are friends. We want to participate in each other’s lives.

I am now long-lived enough to know that this life is not about the things I do, the achievements, it is about the people I do it with.

 

OLD FRIENDS on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about OLD FRIENDS

 

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old friends/released from the heart ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood

Eat The Marshmallows [on Merely A Thought Monday]

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I know it’s confusing. In my life there is H, also called Horatio. And then there is H, not Horatio at all, but a 93 year old man who is one of the few elders in my life that did not grow angry with age. H grew sweeter with time, and, therefore, wiser. He is my master teacher in how to age with joy.

I sit next to H in choir. He loves to sing. He has been singing his entire life and, so, he is easy in his voice. Ease of voice. I suspect that’s one of the main reasons he has such ready access to his humor. He isn’t trying to keep his voice down. He’s not editing himself or otherwise tying off his expression. He’s paid attention to keeping his creative channels open and free flowing. He wheels in with his walker, drops his coat, and teeters to-and-fro before dropping into his chair with a giggle. Even sitting down has become an oddity and rather than grouse about it, he smiles. “Made it!” he announces after hitting the chair with a thud.

‘Yes,’ I think to myself, ‘You made it.’ We should all make it like H.

I know H has had tragedy in his life. I know he had and continues to have a hard road. He sings in a church choir but I accuse him of being a secret Buddhist, so joyfully is he participating in the sorrows of the world.

Picasso famously said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.” H has made of his life a great painting that even Picasso would enjoy. He has circled back to the child, the innocent appreciation of the great gift of living.

There are no lines of import in H’s coloring book and he inspires me to take out my great big Jethro Bodine bowl and fill it full with Lucky Charms. Pour the milk! Why wait.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about H

 

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Become It [on KS Friday]

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Kerri wrote AND NOW for us. For me. It is the piece of music that played as I walked down the aisle. I can’t hear it without being transported back to that moment. Then is now.

The only time I’ve been in the recording studio with her was when she laid down the tracks for AND NOW. It was magic. She was completely in her element, doing what she does naturally and best. I was utterly taken by her mastery, her ease. She recorded it the week prior to our wedding, when the to-do list was endless and the guests were literally knocking on the door. Needless to say the stress was palpable. And yet, she sat at the piano in the studio and played, she stood in front of the mic and sang, and the rest of the demands of the moment simply fell away. There was nothing between her and her composition. She became her music. She lived her song.

It’s what I thought about as I walked down the aisle that day. Eternal thanks. Wonder at a universe that connected the dots. And now? Nothing more or less than living the song in the same spirit in which it was written and recorded. Nothing between us and the music.

 

AND NOW is available on iTunesiTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about AND NOW

 

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andnowcopyright2015kerrisherwood

Pat The Hood [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

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{and now the unexpected something i wouldn’ t have expected to add a mere two weeks ago i hope to somehow someday have an actual cuppajava with my road trip companion not just tagging along but whose presence i now cherish and totally counts on this trip} ~ excerpt from THE ROADTRIP [Kerri and my play]

We’ve been on our roadtrip since a surprisingly-long-phone call in December 2012. When I met Kerri in person later in the spring of 2013, she picked me up from the airport in her little-baby-scion. I laughed at her little lunch box car because it suited her perfectly.

Since our ride from the airport we’ve been all over the country in the scion. Back and forth to Florida 9 times to see Beaky. To Colorado again and again. Kerri white-knuckled little baby scion over Independence Pass and we celebrated at experimental drink night in Minturn (we walked back to our hotel…well, we staggered back). We’ve tooled around Boston and Hilton Head and Savannah. We broke down once just outside of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. DogDog sat on my lap in the tow truck. We’ve outrun a tornado, crept through blizzards, and sat out downpours on the side of the road. We’ve napped in too many rest areas to count (yes, we were those people).

Almost every mile of our road trip together has been in the seats of the little-baby-scion.

4 years ago this week, I married my roadtrip partner. Best Day Ever. We drove from the church to our reception in that little lunchbox car. And then we drove it all the way to Breckenridge for our honeymoon. And all the way home. On this anniversary week at studio melange, it is only right that we pat the hood and say (as we do everyday), “You go, little baby scion!”

 

read Kerri’s blog post about THE ODOMETER

 

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