Teach The Moment [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

As I watched the curtain of grasses sway I thought they’d make an excellent set piece for a production of The Tempest. Their movement was hypnotic. I had the good fortune to design a minimal-budget-production of The Tempest several years ago and used huge pieces of driftwood and a bamboo curtain. I loved it.

The Tempest was on my mind because earlier in the day while doing some research I bumbled across the question, “Why is The Tempest a banned book?” The answer is a very sad statement about our times, the reason our nation cannot seem to mature: “The Tempest,” one of the playwright’s classics, is among the books removed, as teachers were urged to stay away from any works where “race, ethnicity and oppression are central themes,” the website Salon reported.

In our nation race, ethnicity and oppression are the central themes of our history: “246 years of brutal enslavement; the rape of black women for the pleasure of white men and to produce more enslaved workers; the selling off of black children; the attempted genocide of Indigenous people, Indian removal acts, and reservations; indentured servitude, lynching and mob violence; sharecropping; Chinese exclusion laws; Japanese American internment; Jim Crow laws and mandatory segregation…” (Robin Diangelo, White Fragility)

You’d think we might want to encourage teaching The Tempest and other great works so we might consider and discuss the full scope of our history. So that we might learn about ourselves. So that we might become capable of addressing and putting to rest the ugly fear – rooted in race, ethnicity and oppression – exploited for gain by the Republican party, that gave birth to the MAGA movement. It’s the Confederacy by another name.

In a nation of immigrants, you’d think it might be a first principle to teach our children about race, ethnicity, and oppression so we might learn how to reach across – and put to rest – division rather than perpetually recreate it.

The AI overview provided another related and currently more salient reason to teach The Tempest: “The main message of Shakespeare’s The Tempest is that forgiveness and reconciliation are preferable to revenge and punishment, especially when it comes to the restoration of social order and personal peace.

If social order and personal peace are the goals, our current path of revenge and punishment will not take us there. In the play, Prospero chooses release from his island prison through the power of forgiveness and redemption rather than perpetuating his imprisonment by seeking revenge.

In this teachable moment Prospero’s choice is an analogy worth teaching: a path provided to us by a play written in 1610 by one of the greatest poets of the English language; a way out of our national-soul-imprisonment.

I suspect that is why The Tempest and other great works of literature dealing with themes-that-matter are being banned. In the minds of this administration, continued imprisonment, revenge and punishment seem to be the goals.

Angels At Our Side, 24″x48″, mixed media on board

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GRASSES

likesharesupportsubscribecomment…thankyou.

The Line [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I’ve decided that garden messages like “Be Kind” are actually sign posts marking the dividing line in these un-United States. There is – and always has been – a faction of the population that sincerely believes in equality. Kindness extends to everyone. Justice for all. There is – and always has been – a faction of the population that believes in racial superiority. Kindness is extended only to a select few. Justice for some.

The visibility of the dividing line has varied over our history depending on the faction in the power seat. When team equality-for-all is driving, the line fades. When team power-for-the-select-few is driving, the line blazes into visibility. Our short history is a tug-of-war with both sides trying to pull the other team over the line.

We are currently living in a time when the line is readily apparent, team white-male-superiority has the reins. Any mention of diversity is grounds for firing. DEI initiatives are being scrubbed from view. Segregation has been given a green light. Women’s rights are under attack. Tariffs are, of course, market manipulation to enrich the few while shifting of the tax burden onto the poorest citizens. Kindness is exclusively reserved for members of the country club.

It is, I suppose, one of the legacies of colonialism. Manifest Destiny. We are not alone in our tug-of-war but we are unique in wrapping it in ideals like “…with liberty and justice for all.” or “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” We are not alone in editing our full history but we are unique in our capacity to white-wash it as is currently the case. The Lost Cause narrative is alive and well.

This tug-of-war is the question at the heart of the experiment that is The United States of America. Can people of many races, ethnicities and religions, come together and form a society that protects the rights of all, equally, under the law? Can such a society be honest in telling of – and learning from – its full history? Can such a society extend kindness across difference to support a more perfect union? Can we actually strive for and achieve e plurbus unum?

Right now, the prevailing answer as articulated from the seat of power is “no”.

There is a different answer available on the streets.

In any case, it leaves me wondering what must happen for us as a nation to consider fully our history, to admit the truth of our tug-of-war in order to transcend it – so that we might fulfill the promise of our democracy that has the potential to enrich the lives of all the citizens, including citizens of the world.

Perhaps our current ugliness will crack open our denial and reveal the true nature of the discriminatory disease that continually ails us. Perhaps this is a step on the road to all-inclusive-kindness, power attained from giving rather than taking, serving rather than suppressing. In my idealism – and in my garden art – I can only hope so.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE KIND

likesharesupportcommentsubscribe…thankyou.

Upon What We Agree [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“Yes, I’m bein’ followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin’ and hoppin’ on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow”
Cat Stevens (Yusef), Moonshadow

All of my life I have been captivated by shadows. The ghost dancing grasses cast on the trail. The moving patterns of telephone poles and lines waving on the asphalt. The cloud shadows gliding over the hills. Kerri and I regularly stop and take photos of our shadows. “Look how long we stretch!” I adore the shadow puppets of Wayan Kulit. It is a ritual performance of universal stories meant to remind us that in this life we only see the shadows we cast upon the screen of our minds. What’s “real” is beyond our capacity.

“Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” ~ Niels Bohr. The quantum physicist and the Balinese puppet master – a priest – agree. Reality is a shadow.

Yesterday we attended a Hands-Off rally. The number one statement most often uttered by people in the crowd (according to my count): “I can’t believe this is happening!” It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t seem possible that our representatives have so easily rolled over rather than honor their oath to protect the Constitution. In their reality they play on team Republican. In our reality – we assumed in a crisis moment like this – that they would play on team United States.

Assume nothing. Reality is what we agree upon and at present there is no agreement.

Charlie is wise. Looking at the hundreds of people chanting and waving signs, he said, “When the rule of law collapses then there’s chaos. In chaos the people have no recourse but to take to the streets.”

The Constitution is the epicenter of our laws. It is the foundation stone upon which our democracy was and is constructed. When disregarded it is no more than a piece of parchment. A relic. “Everything that is real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” The Constitution has purpose and meaning only if we agree to honor it, to protect it – to adhere to the boundaries – the law – that it prescribes.

A woman in the crowd said, “It’s been less than 100 days and look at this.” The people have no recourse when our elected officials ignore their foundation stone. When they choose to serve a different reality.

About Moonshadow, Yusef wrote, “Whatever happens to you there’s always something good to look forward to.” Standing in the crowd, alive with concern and caring for the well-being of the nation, I thought, “This is good. There is hope. This is how a democracy survives.”

read Kerri’s blog about SHADOWS

likesharesupportcommentsubscribe…thankyou.

Barnacles And All [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” ~ Thomas Merton

If you visited our house you’d immediately notice that Kerri’s design style is “well-worn and well-loved.” Rather than mask the wear-and-tear of age, she revels in it. Our dining room is a wonder, made beautiful by the marks left when she removed wallpaper. Rather than paint over the marks she recognized their unique beauty and showcased them. A happy accident. I stopped in my tracks the first time I walked into the dining room, asking, “How did you do that?”

I love our backdoor. The pressure of our hands on the door has overtime peeled and revealed the white underlayer beneath the black paint. It’s the story of our comings-and-goings. It is the mark of our human hands pressing on an old door that swells with the humidity and shrinks with the cold. It is our personal hand-print-petroglyph.

The beauty of age. The patterns of rust. The celebration of the flaw. Most people would scramble to cover the cracks or repair the damage. I have occasionally earned her Irish ire by repairing something she thought was aesthetically interesting. I have learned to ask.

Standing on our deck, Columbus was concerned that the exposed unsealed wood was disintegrating. “You oughta’ stain this,” he said. “It needs protecting.” I told him of the time Kerri pressure washed the deck, removing the patina of age. Even though with time the rough hewn look returned, she has yet to forgive herself for her pressure-washing-indiscretion.

“Kerri likes it this way,” I replied. “She doesn’t like the way it looks when it’s neat and stained.”

“Well I guess that’s the way it’s gotta be!” he smiled, knowingly.

Our house is an ever evolving work of art. A perfect home for two artists. Nothing matches yet everything goes together. It’s filled with visual and repurposed surprises. It is warm, sometimes a cocoon where we shut out the world and sometimes a place for our community to gather. It is the sanctuary where we have come to discover and appreciate ourselves, barnacles and all, while steadily growing into something we could never have imaged.

(I love this piece by Kerri)

Nurture Me 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 RUST

likesharesupportsubscribecomment…thankyou.

Follow The Cairns [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Cairns are trail markers. They show the way.

I want to stack a series of giant cairns for the red-hats who are lost in the land of foxy misinformation. They have lost their way. I’m reminded that in our Revolutionary War, the struggle for our independence, the forces of the crown were known as red coats. The patriots wore blue. History definitely repeats itself, at least in color identification. The red-hats are fighting for the reestablishment of the crown.

The red-hats vehemently support their wanna-be-king, a servant to the oligarchs. He intends to tax the poor to fill the coffers of the rich. His army of red-hats have not awakened to the reality that they are the targets of his taxation. They are the indentured servants of his dreams. They are the dupes in his plan.

Usury inevitably reveals itself and slaps awake even the most deluded follower (Rudy Giuliani not withstanding).

I can state this with absolute certainty: if hear one more bloated Republican bloviate that government has no meaningful role to play in our society I’m going to vomit. Think for a moment: they want the poor to carry the tax burden but be exempt themselves. While they bully universities into ignorance, annihilate public education, actively cut social services to the 90%, attack Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security…while simultaneously removing any regulation and/or oversight to their business plunder. Their north star is embarrassingly shallow: permanent tax cuts for the wealthy few. All of this, of course, requires a government to enact. It’s not the absence of government that the reds slobber for; it is a government dedicated to exploiting the many for the sake of the few. They are disingenuous at best. Sadistic is probably a more honest adjective.

It’s not government that they despise – it’s a government that serves ALL people that they wish to eradicate.

There are glimmers of hope. Our nation has a few vocal cairns emerging. Bernie Sanders and AOC are holding rallies that draw thousands: people wearing blue (metaphorically). People who believe in democracy. People who value learning above ignorance, truth above fox-fantasy. People who know that the chicken-little running around the barnyard screaming, “Socialism” or “DEI” is the puppet of wealthy elites attempting to scare the fox-hypnotized-gullible-maga-masses with scary straw men.

The blues aren’t buying a word of it. They’re following the cairns that lead to a healthy tradition of awakening the American spirit – the same spirit that gave us the Boston Tea Party, Paul Revere, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglass, Cesar Chavez…The Constitution, the Bill of Rights…and a democracy worth fighting for.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CAIRNS

likesharesupportcommentsubscribefollowthecairns…thankyou

Diversity Defines Us [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

We called this photograph the “Irish Rothko”. Mark Rothko was one of the great American painters of the 20th century. His paintings are in museums all over the country and around the world. It’s important in our times to recognize that he was born in Latvia. The great American painter was an immigrant.

We heard the channel to the marina was dyed green for St. Patrick’s Day so we bundled up and scurried to take advantage of a clear photo opportunity. While Kerri snapped pictures I pondered the potato famine. The marina was dyed green on this day in 2025 in the USA because 180 years ago over 2 million Irish people fled starvation to find hope in a new land. Immigrants. St. Patricks’s Day is a celebration of the promise of The United States. I’m fairly certain that the vast majority of people all over the nation drinking green beer, sporting shamrock pins and wearing Leprechaun hats were not themselves Irish. Americans of Italian, German, Scandinavian, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican, Nigerian, Egyptian, Indian, Turkish, Indonesian…descent, hoisted frosty green beverages. Americans, all.

We are a diverse people. Our diversity is what defines us. We regularly celebrate each other and our diversity whether we realize it our not. We are a strong weave from many origins, many races, many religions. We are weakened when we pretend that one fiber is better than another.

I suppose it’s possible to attempt to scrub any mention of DEI. It does not change the reality of the nation. It does not alter the driving imperative of the nation: amidst such a diverse populace to forge an equal, conscious and considerate society. We’ve managed to make buildings wheelchair accessible, begin addressing the disparity of pay for women, with civil rights laws we walk into the hot fire of inequality…all aspects of diversity, equity and inclusion. People with disabilities should not have barriers to workplaces. Women should not be paid less than men for equal work. People of color should not be excluded from opportunities because of the color of their skin. Gay men and women should have the same rights as heterosexual men and women.

Striving for equality makes us strong. It is the necessary ongoing conversation of our nation.Forced inequality makes us immoral, corrosive, and weak. Trying to end the conversation is spineless.

The work of equality takes courage and perseverance. As we are seeing, it is possible to issue an executive order to end the efforts of a diverse nation to forge an equitable society, it’s possible to brand those efforts as “illegal”. It is, however, impossible to stop it. Unity fashioned from rich diversity is the center of our national ideal and is the basic reality of our society. After all, it is the nation’s motto: E pluribus unum. Out of many, one.

It’s definitely possible to suppress people. It is possible to bully and terrorize people. It is possible to legislate a delusion. It is possible to manufacture enemies. It is possible to pretend that the people at the top of the hierarchy are somehow being victimized and blame efforts at equality as the culprit. All of that is possible. It does not change the self-deception, the corruption and lies necessary to do it.

It is the height of cowardice to scrub white the identity of this diverse nation – as this administration is attempting to do. And, if not cowardice, it is pure malfeasance. To obtain the goal of white supremacy the despot-wanna-be must make our democracy disappear – as this administration is attempting to do. The demonization of DEI is the epicenter of their ruse: Those poor old rich white guys have been so completely abused by laws protecting equality for all. Those sad despairing right-wing Christians who cannot display their nativities on government property have suffered tremendous religious persecution. Apparently, the separation of church and state should apply to everyone but them! It’s discrimination of the first order! And DEI is to blame! (It would be laughable, really, if it were not now so dangerous).

In nature, diversity is strength. In the USA, as in nature, our diversity is our strength.

Mono-cultures are vulnerable and readily eliminated. The Irish potato famine is an example of what happens when a people rely too heavily on a single crop. When it fails – as a mono-culture inevitably does – many, many people die.

We have never been a mono-culture. We will never be one. Pretending to be a white-male-mono-culture will echo nature and lead to culture collapse. No amount of legislating lies or embellishing white-victim-fantasies can – or will – change it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about IRISH ROTHKO

likesharecommentsupportsubscribe…thankyou

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

“The ordinary days have a way of lulling us into believing there isn’t any urgency to them…” ~ John Pavlovitz

These days I am more likely to appreciate my moment. I’m no longer trying to get somewhere or be someone that I am not. I have finally traded the harried drive for self-improvement, the fool’s errand to save the world, the not-so-healthy-desire-to-be-other-than-I-am, for the warm embrace of self-acceptance. I’m now less interested in attempting to hide my brokenness than I am in fully valuing the life I have been fortunate enough to live – with all of its foibles and folly.

It’s the word “urgency” that caught me in the quote. It’s an interesting choice in a thought about presence to use a word that implies “hurry” or “haste”. The imperative in each moment to fully appreciate the gift of life. Now. Not tomorrow. Not when the race is won or the bank account is full. Now. Right now. Doing the dishes. Making the bed. The haste of slowing down.

The Buddhists call this “chop wood, carry water”. The awareness of the extraordinary in the ordinary, everyday tasks.

Dogga groans at night. His muzzle grows more grey with each passing month. Sometimes at night he struggles to stand. And, because we know beyond doubt that our time with him is limited, we linger with him. We fawn on him. We want to heap all the love in our hearts on him. There are no ordinary days. There are no throw-away moments.

Limits inspire appreciation. Rolling into sight of my looming limit is doing exactly what it is supposed to do. “Listen to the birds,” she just said. We stopped writing and drank in the birdsong.

The birdsong brought to mind a favorite quote from Shakespeare:

“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all.” [Hamlet, Act 5, scene 2]

A quote about fate. Acceptance. And what is the gift of readiness? It is to be wide awake. It is all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about URGENCY

likesharesupportcommentsubscribe…thankyou

Naturally [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Before sleeping we usually watch thru-hikes, video journals of people walking the Pacific Crest Trail, The Continental Divide Trail, or The Appalachian Trail. The Hayduke. Early in their journey the hikers experience the unnatural aggression and excessive pace of regular life drop away and a more natural rhythm emerges.

They become different people as they begin to see other people differently. The steely individuality of their urban identity dissolves. The hikers realize that they need other people. They realize that they are dependent upon the kindness of strangers. In fact, they come to understand that without the support of others their trail-walk would be impossible to complete. They begin to rely on – to count on – kindness.

And they are rarely disappointed. The kindness that they hope for always appears. And, as they enter the reality – the necessity – of their interdependence, they more freely offer their support to strangers. They become the kindness others hope for.

Periodically the hikers come across trail angels; people who come to the trail with the sole intention of making life better for the hikers. The angels prepare food or snacks. They offer shade, a cool drink, a place to sit and rejuvenate. They give rides to town. Other angels make sure there is water available at caches across the desert. Others provide places to stay. Almost all of the trail angels were themselves hikers who were recipients of the extraordinary generosity of angels. So, they became angels for others. Naturally.

The hikers always speak fondly of the culture that exists on the trail. A culture of support. Most hikers, after they finish their months-long adventure, remark that their walk was made memorable, transformative, because of generous people they met along the way.

We watch thru-hikers because they give us hope. In a time of national darkness punctuated by ill-intention, self-serving oligarchs, the celebration of mean-spirits, cowardice…it is heartening to know that there is a community of people out there who’ve stepped into nature and out of the unnatural aggression of our nation, and what they find there – and find in themselves – is a natural reliance on others. A feedback loop of generosity. Kindness. People helping people, not for gain, but because they know the value of helping. It’s called humanity. They know that their walk in this life is made better – made more meaningful – by the dance of giving and receiving support, helping others and accepting a helping hand from others. Naturally.

Bridge on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TRAIL

likesharesupportcommentsubscribe…thankyou

Or Will We? [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

“When government fears the people, there is liberty. When the people fear the government, there is tyranny.” ~ Thomas Jefferson

And suddenly the winds arrive. The forecast warned us to expect powerful winds early this morning so I was taken aback when I opened the door to an eerie stillness. Dogga trotted outside into a world with nary a whisper of breeze. Three hours later, as we sat down to write, as if someone threw a magic switch, the first burst of wind rattled the windows. The trees moaned.

I was struck by this quote from Martin Prechtel:

“I knew that no worthy ritual was done for the experience of the ritual but was carried out to maintain a regular life of work and harvest, raising children and struggle.”

Rituals, like Easter or The Hajj or Diwali are appeals, acts of sacred orientation. They are acknowledgement of our smallness in the face of the vast mystery of this universe. They are meant to renew our connection to the immense, to life. Ultimately, they are the recognition that our actions, each and every day, no matter how small…matter; that we are active participants in the well-being, restoration and continuance of life. We are active creators of our relationship with the mystery.

Rituals are meant to affirm that we are not the overlords but are responsible for the care and feeding of “something bigger than myself.” We are a part of the whole. Nothing more.

Rituals are meant to remind us that we are not passive witnesses to the health of the community or the planet, but that we are stewards, active participants in our own and the community’s well-being: physically, mentally, spiritually. How we walk through life, how we treat each other, how we care for our environment, matters.

The aim is not the performance of the ritual. The aim is how the performance of the ritual intentionally orients us to daily life and to each other.

When the performance of the ritual becomes the point of the ritual it is a sure sign that the greater mythology is dying. Or already dead. And, mythology – a shared story – is the glue that holds a community together. Without it a community fractures.

Rituals need not be religious to be sacred. In the USA, our legal system and how it works is rooted in a ritual dedication to our national communal glue: the law. The Constitution is the sacred document at the center of our legal ritual and is built upon a sacred ideal: no man is above the law.

In America, the rule of law is king...For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King; and there ought to be no other. But lest any ill use should afterwards arise, let the crown at the conclusion of the ceremony be demolished, and scattered among the people whose right it is.” Thomas Paine, Common Sense

Historians will someday write of the collapse of our ritual of law. They will point to the Immunity decision written by Chief Justice John Roberts, someone who swore an oath to protect our Constitution, yet somehow granted a president immunity from the rule of law. He put the whims of a man above the law. The center collapsed.

Today, we witness the dissolution of ours law. A judge ruled and was ignored by a White House that knows the executive branch is immune from law and can, therefore, be law-less.

Last week we saw that congress – our makers of law – had no will to uphold their sacred duty of checks-and-balance to the executive. They signed away their power and with it, our freedoms as protected by their adherence to the Constitution. They meet now for no other reason than to meet – having abdicated their function in the ritual of democracy, having lost their purpose, they now function without meaning. They forgot their role in the ritual renewal of democracy. They now merely pretend that their actions matter.

The ritual collapses. The glue dissolves. It remains to be seen if the people, the ordinary everyday people, the people who, in a democracy, are meant to hold the power, will come together and reclaim our ritual of law from tyranny. Or will we, like the congress and the courts, fear the new king, abdicate our responsibility, remain silent and watch our freedoms circle the drain?

read Kerri’s blog on FLAWED WEDNESDAY

likesharecommentsubscribesupport…thankyou.

Bad Cowboys [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

When I was a wee-tot I was never without my cowboy hat and boots. I’m told by a reliable source (my mom) that I regularly attempted to sleep with my boots on. I can’t remember my dedicated cowboy fantasy but the few photos-of-proof make me smile. I grew out of my cowboy clothes but carried forward my cowboy ideal. An artist and a cowboy serve similar calls.

The cowboy is a foundational myth of these United States. The rugged individualist. Self-reliant. According to the movie-ideal, the good cowboy is a guardian of the herd, a protector of what is right. The cowboy archetype is a servant to a higher ideal.

The bad cowboy steals. The bad cowboy is needy and self-serving. The bad cowboy isn’t really a cowboy at all. He’s a criminal.

Black-and-white foundational myths afford no shades of grey. Bad cowboys are bandits. They rustle cattle. They hurt people. Good cowboys safeguard while driving the herd to market. Their dedicated individualism is lived as an act of service. They mostly do not own the cattle. They are never paid well. Their reward is honoring the call to a life of relative freedom.

The archetype begs the question for all the republicans out there claiming the cowboy mythos as their guide-star: are they a servant to a higher ideal or self-serving? Are they currently pitting their oath to the Constitution against their desire for personal gain? Good cowboy or bad? My questions are, of course, rhetorical.

The cowboy is the remake of an archetype that reaches back to Achilles, running through the knights of The Round Table, stretching forward to modern tales: Strider and Hans Solo. A servant to a calling, pulled by a force into a life that makes little sense because it is driven by an inner imperative.

“A person who is truly gripped by a calling, a dedication, by a belief, by a zeal, will sacrifice his security, will sacrifice even his life, will sacrifice personal relationships, will sacrifice prestige, and will think nothing of personal development; he will give himself entirely to his myth.” ~ Joseph Campbell, Pathways to Bliss

The good cowboy is gripped by a calling. Again, a servant of a higher ideal. A Jedi knight.

A bad cowboy is gripped by greed. A servant to nothing greater than personal gain at any cost. A swindler. A liar. A robber. A villain.

My inference, of course, is obvious. Our communal cattle are being rustled. We are currently overrun with criminals and cowards pretending to be cowboys.

My hope is also obvious. Against all odds, in the movies at least, the good cowboys have a way of arriving on the scene just in-the-knick-of-time.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COWBOYS

likesharesupportcommentsubscribe…thankyou