Play The Same Stuff [on Merely A Thought Monday]

string bass with frame copy“If you are a chef, not matter how good a chef you are, it’s not good cooking for yourself; the joy is in cooking for others – it’s the same with music.” ~will.i.am

I lived most of my life believing I didn’t have a musical bone in my body. I was convinced that I had a tin ear. I was afraid to sing. I carried a guitar (I named her Magnolia) with me for years – a gesture of hopefulness amidst my absolute commitment to my ineptitude – and finally gave it away to someone who could play it. An instrument needs to be played and I felt I was being selfish holding onto a guitar that I would never play. Oh, how I wish I had Magnolia today.

I didn’t just make up my fear of music. I had plenty of reinforcement, lots of shaming, before I committed to a story of I CAN’T. Over time, with more and more horror experiences, my story solidified into I WON’T. Ever. Close the door. Kill the desire.

When I met Kerri – a consummate musician – I told her this: “You have to know two things about me. I don’t sing & I don’t pray.” A few months later we were driving back roads in Georgia, windows rolled down, a James Taylor CD blaring, Kerri singing at the top of her lungs, I thought it was safe to sing along. She’d never hear me. But, she did. She burst into tears and pulled the car off the road. I shook like a leaf but we sang together and it was grand.

It took her about 15 minutes to identify my obstacle. I had to relearn how to hear. That’s it. It took a few months and a willingness to mightily miss notes and my scary story of CAN’T crumbled. I learned how to feel the sound. The music was there all along.

Here’s the magic for a beginner like me: when I am rehearsing with the ukulele band or singing in the choir, I am capable of so much more than when I am practicing by myself. Playing the same stuff elevates everyone. It’s as if we transcend ourselves. Actually, we do transcend ourselves. We sync up and the energy uplifts everyone. Even me. Especially me, a toddler in knowing that I CAN.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about PLAYING THE SAME STUFF

 

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See The Hands [on DR Thursday]

I just googled the phrase “helping hands.’ Depending upon your world view you may or may not be surprised by the extraordinary number of services that appear. People helping people. Food pantries, home caregivers, support for people with spinal cord injuries, disaster relief, charity donations, hunger relief…. It’s a lengthy list. For a moment, if you can imagine – or better yet, realize – the reality represented by the list, you might get a tiny view into that part of humanity that is not often reported. People helping people everyday. It’s everywhere, all year, everyday.

Feel good stories don’t generate the same size audience as the horror stories so they populate less space in the news cycle. It’s possible to see, if you look away from your many screens, that vastly more people are helping people than are people hurting people. It’s possible to see it.

In my town, there is a woman who feeds the hungry twice a day, winter-spring-summer-fall. She doesn’t stop feeding people after the giving season passes or when the cameras are gone. That is true of most of the people helping people on this earth. They help. There is no limelight. They help because they want to help. They help because they feel compelled to help. She is one of a legion of people in my community living life as helping hands. I am surrounded by givers and helpers. So are you.

Ann used to tell me to find a need and fill it. Sage advice. Deeply human. It is true that you will see what you decide to see. Where you place your focus does truly matter. Hands that help. Hands that hurt. Both are out there. One vastly out-populates the other. Can you see it? Do you want to see it?

 

 

read Kerri’s blog post on HELPING HANDS

 

 

hands website box copy

 

‘helping hands’ in all it’s forms ©️ 2018/2015 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Be Grateful [on KS Friday]

grateful song box copy

Grateful. The perfect word to carry into the season. Today, the perfect word has a soundtrack. Enjoy it with your family and leftovers.

 

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

 

read Kerri’s blog post about GRATEFUL

 

laughing website box copy

 

grateful/as it is ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

Give It [on DR Thursday]

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Enough said. Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 

read Kerri’s blog post about IT IS IN THE GIVING

 

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instrument of peace ©️ 2015 david robinson

Hear It [on KS Friday]

divine intervention song box copy

When I was sixteen years old, a new driver, I made a left hand turn in front of a delivery truck that I did not see. I’m not sure how it missed me. At the time I had the illusion that it went through me. I saw the grill, felt the rush, and watched as it skidded to a stop in the turn lane I’d just vacated.
After college I went to Europe with my pal, Roger. I was penniless (almost) when we flew back to the USA. We landed in a snowstorm. Roger’s connecting flight to California left without a hitch. I missed mine to Colorado. I was stranded and desperate, knowing I didn’t have the resources to get home. A man standing in line behind me heard my plight and told me of an announcement – a limited number of cheap fares. I raced across the terminal and bought the last ticket, flying the next morning. I had the EXACT amount of money in my pocket. I used my last penny. Literally.
I have thousands of these stories. As, I believe do all of us. I suspect they happen every day, though go largely unnoticed. A single moment this way or that…a stranger’s hand that pulls us back to the curb. A generosity. A gut feeling. An inspiration. A knowing. A calling. A touch. Sisu.
In a world with no compartments, no division between life or death, fall and winter, it’s all divine intervention, isn’t it? Life?  Helping hands are everywhere. There’s no need to believe in a god with a big G or small to appreciate the quiet magic of it all. The scope and mystery of being. The assistance from ‘beyond.’ That’s what Kerri captures in her Divine Intervention. It’s there if you can hear it.

DIVINE INTERVENTION from the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about DIVINE INTERVENTION

 

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divine intervention/released from the heart ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood

Recognize It [on Not-So-Flawed Wednesday]

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I love this text. It is from 93 year old Beaky to her daughter. The specific context is not important. What I love is the universality of this sentiment, a text  every mother across the ages might have written to their children. It is a text Kerri could write to Kirsten or Craig. What mother does not know more than they say, think more than they speak, notice much more than their underestimating children realize?

I’ve learned, as I watch Kerri not-say things to her children, letting them make their own mistakes and untangle their own webs, that the effort involved in not-speaking is herculean.

Sisu sometimes requires silence. When every impulse in a mother’s body is to reach, Sisu sometimes demands stillness.

As a child who routinely underestimates his mother, Beaky’s text gives sends chills up my spine. I’ve certainly made a mess of things and I can only imagine the fortitude (unrecognized by me) my mother displayed – and continues to display – by letting me fall down. Sisu. Sisu. Sisu.

Of course, the flip side of the coin is that the interruption-of-the-reach, the silence-in-the-midst-of-knowing, comes from a deeper mom-like-faith. Mothers know that the great trip-and-fall-down moments come with some necessary pain but will always end with a return to standing, a re-entry to the game.  It’s a cycle. It’s how moms everywhere awaken Sisu in their children. Like all good life cycles, it’s a paradox, to be sure.

The second thing I love about Beaky’s text? She signs her dope-slap to her daughter with ‘Mom.” This love-thing is tough!

 

read Kerri’s blog post about BEAKY’S TEXT

 

momma, d & k website box copy

 

Put It On A Post [on Not-So-Flawed Wednesday]

littlefreelibraryBOX copy

Paul often told the young actors he taught: never underestimate your power to influence or impact another person’s life. Stepping onto a stage comes with a responsibility. I loved his advice and thought it was much more universal and should be heeded everyday. What you do matters and it matters in ways you probably will never understand. We are always and in all ways participants in the butterfly effect.

In a short walk around our neighborhood you’ll discover several Little Free Libraries, an idea that came from Todd Bol as a tribute to his mother. She was a lover of books and his idea to honor her caught on like wildfire. In 2009 he built a little schoolhouse shaped box, put books in it, and stuck it on a post outside his house. He invited his neighbors to borrow them. He had no intention of creating a worldwide movement yet in the 9 years that have elapsed since he built his box, Little Free Libraries have popped up in over 80 countries. It became a movement. An entity with a mission. People borrow books. People share books and ideas. Neighbors stop and check out what might be new. The boxes themselves are often little pieces of art that Joseph Cornell might have assembled. Little Free Libraries are community connective tissue.

Todd Bol died last week. It seems only right on this Not-So-Flawed Wednesday to stop and take note of the very big ripple one small box on a post set into motion.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about Todd Bol

 

 

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