Triangulate [David’s blog on KS Friday]

It had to fall just right. What are the odds? When it snapped from the trunk, it fell into a perfect three-point cradle? Three points of contact.

Three-points-of-contact is the rule for safe climbing. It’s a shorthand phrase, like “turn-around-don’t drown,” the mantra meant to pop into your noggin at the moment you think it’s a good idea to drive through a flooded section of road. Three points of contact make it harder to fall.

A few years ago I collected conceptual models defined by three elements. Look around and you’ll find them everywhere, from brain processing to filmmaking, it seems that the three-points-of-contact rule provides stable footing for complex models of meaning making. Father-son-and-holy ghost. Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva.

Every story has a beginning, middle and an end. Though, no one tells us that the end is a new beginning in search of an unknown middle en route to an end. I’m currently working on a story and realized that I often tell myself to “triangulate.” Two plot points are a line, the third gives the story shape, depth, and movement.

The best visual compositions work on a model of thirds. Drawing a face is best learned by a rule of three. Many Renaissance paintings are built on a compositional triangle. Perspective works with three points even when we call it two-point-perspective.

Take heart. If you are lost, your rescuers will certainly triangulate to find your location.

As you walk through the day today, notice the patterns of three that are swirling all around you. Red light, yellow light, green. Like a limb falling from the sky, you might discover yourself cradled.

holding on/letting go on the album right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LIMB

like. share. support. comment. many thanks for reading what we write.

buy-me-a-coffee is an donation “tip jar” where you may support the artists whose work you value

Check Your Reaction [David’s blog on KS Friday]

I confess to being disconcerted. At lunch, Kerri asked me a question about my blog so I typed “the direction of intention” into Google. The top slots were a prayer, rather, a type of prayer originated by Saint Francis de Sales. “Oh, No!” I thought. I don’t want my blog to be associated in any way with any church or any religion. “I hope people know that I am not that,” I said, surprising myself with the vehemence of my sentiment.

We’d just finished reading and discussing a Washington Post opinion piece, I Left The Church And Now Long For ‘A Church For The Nones.’ “… I couldn’t ignore how the word Christian was becoming a synonym for rabidly pro-Trump White people who argued that his and their meanness and intolerance were somehow justified and in some ways required to defend our faith.” So Perry Bacon, Jr.’s very interesting opinion piece was fresh in my mind.

So, too, was a passage I’d read earlier in the day from Vāclav Havel‘s book, Disturbing The Peace. The interviewer asked him to define “absurd theatre” (Havel wrote absurdist plays). He responded that absurdist theatre “demonstrates humanity in a ‘state of crisis’…it shows man having lost his fundamental metaphysical certainty, the experience of the absolute, his relationship to eternity…, in other words, having lost the ground under his feet.” In my mind, he could not have written a more prophetic or accurate description of our times. We are untethered without a functioning moral compass. We are awash in a flood of content mostly bereft of shared context.

I attended a Catholic college. I am not Catholic. I have never identified as Christian or Buddhist or Hindu…Yet, I am not an atheist. One of my favorite memories of my college years are the many conversations I had with Father Lauren sitting on the stoop of the barracks, sipping tea, discussing his faith and my belief. We explored ideas. We compared and contrasted philosophies. We laughed. We asked questions. We considered and expanded each other’s point of view. We respected each other’s differences because we were both driven by a desire to do good for other people. We shared a common intention. A common direction of intention. We both believed in “something bigger” but did not share the same idea of what “something bigger” might be.

Suddenly, I yearned for that time of openness of thought and generosity of sharing opposing points of view. I imagined sitting again with Father Lauren. Eschewing any black-or-white opinion, attempting to practice what I preach – to practice what I believe – I clicked on a few of the links of Saint Francis de Sales. I read. I wanted to know rather than to judge.

I read that Saint Francis de Sales was noted for “…his deep faith and gentle approach to the religious divisions in his land…” We could use some gentle approaches to division in these rabidly discordant times…This also caught my attention: the direction of intention, the heart of Salesian spirituality, is a practice of prayer consciously directing to god what you are about to do… In other words, intending goodness of action.

My definition of the direction of intention: it’s not about what you get, it’s about what you bring. Saint Francis de Sales and I are not so far apart in our direction of intention. Other-focused. Purposive goodness. We both encourage consciousness of action in the world and awareness of the impact of our actions on others.

So, I amend my initial thought: I do not want to be associated with any church or religion, but there’s plenty of common ground to share when we’re driven – and united – by a conscious desire to do good for other people. 

grace/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART LEAF

like. support. share. comment. thank you.

Find Up [on KS Friday]

We almost turned around. From the path we could hear the large earth movers rolling up and down the beach. “They’re working,” she said. “Why are they working? It’s the weekend!” Beyond the beach, massive cranes plucked unthinkably large stones from barges and placed them onto the breakwater. We decided to take a look. Maybe we could find a quiet spot at the far end of the beach. The day was scorching. We needed to put our feet in the water.

We stepped around the “Stay Out! Under Construction” sign. Considering who we’d call if arrested, we climbed the hill through the brush and tall grasses before emerging onto the beach. We stopped and laughed at what we saw. The far end of the beach was packed with people. A party boat was anchored just off shore. Jet skis parked at the shoreline. A family hauled in a barbeque. A man threw balls into the surf for his Goldens to retrieve.

“I guess we won’t be alone in the jail.” Our rogue fantasy blushed and vanished.

After wading in the water we spread our towels in a shady spot just beneath the weathered trees. We watched the massive machines construct the breakwaters, a tug boat deftly spun a rock laden barge into the queue. I wondered how the tiny boat could possibly move the massive barge.

Kerri lay back and shot photos of the clouds. She captured our sentinel tree in a few shots. One shot immediately brought to mind an early Georgia O’Keeffee painting. The Lawerence Tree. Georgia stayed at DH Lawerence’s ranch on a visit to New Mexico. At night she’d lay back on a bench beneath a huge pine tree. She painted what she saw. Google the painting and you’ll learn that there’s some confusion: what is the top of the painting? I prefer the trunk of the tree coming from “the top,” just as in Kerri’s photograph.

In the archive I have a few of those confusions. One painting in particular, Earth Interrupted VI, Kerri suggests that I painted it upside-down. “Green at the bottom. Blue at the top.” It’s not a unique problem. Many great masterworks spent decades on their heads before someone noticed and flipped them.

“It’s nice,” I said of her photograph. It perfectly captured the theme of the day. Upside-down. Expect solitude and find a crowd – yet in the shade we found sweet solitude. Believe you are going rogue only to discover you are merely one of the pack. The plan for the day fell apart and led us to the beach and this moment of rolling upside-down surprises. “I’m glad we did this,” I smiled, laying back to see what she saw, to wonder if I have ever really known which way is up.

each new day/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available in iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE & SKY

like. share. comment. support. thank you.

See A Gull [on KS Friday]

A Haiku

a scavenger bird.

opportunistic, seeker.

see! a gull am I!

The gulls congregate in the Kohls parking lot. We’re not sure why. It seems an unlikely spot for gulls to hang out. Hot pavement. No snacks. Cars coming and going. They camp en masse. Later in the day they exit in full voice and return to the marina. Make sense of that, I dare you!

Susan asked when caring-for-others left the building. I launched into a pedantic monologue that, even to me, sounded like the screech of a gull. Lots of noise, little helpful substance. Or, my diatribe mimicked the adults in a Charlie Brown special. Wah-wah, wah-wah. The sound of a preacher who thinks the path to deeper spirituality is through a map or a dry history lesson. A rule book. A witless shepherd caught lecturing the sheep. (baaaahhhhh)

I wondered what or who I might become if I dedicated myself to knowing nothing. What if I understood to my root that my opinion is just that…an opinion. Not a fact or a truth or blue-ribbon winner at the world-thought-fair. What if life needed no explanation?

What if there is no higher meaning to be found or greater mystery to be solved in the daily seagull pilgrimage to Kohls? What if, rather than seek a rationalization, I gave myself over to the wonder-of-it? What if Joseph Campbell had it right:

“People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive…”

take flight/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about SEAGULLS

share. like. support. comment. or all. thanks either way.

Lead With The Heart [on KS Friday]

Do you remember The Little Prince? “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; that which is essential is invisible to the eye.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

What about this one: “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched – they must be felt with the heart.” ~ Helen Keller

Two extraordinary people sharing the same sentiment.

One more from Mary Oliver: “Every morning I walk around this pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close I am as good as dead.”

What is this business with the heart? Seeing the essential. Feeling the best and most beautiful. Vital life an open door of the heart.

It is a simple message that reaches back through Aeschylus and Confucius, it reaches beyond the invention of the written word. You’ll find it scratched in glyphs. It’s a message older than any religion or spiritual tradition yet weaves its way through all of them. Lead with your heart.

I am a student of metaphor and pattern and can say this with absolute certainty: beneath the hoohah of our angry times is a simple enduring pattern, an appeal from wise voices ringing across the ages and cutting across cultures. A single metaphor: seeing rightly has nothing to do with our eyes. To be human is to lead with our hearts. Closing our hearts to one another might seem righteous but leaves us as good as dead.

[Now that I’m finished moralizing for the day, I think I’ll take a slow walk around our tiny pond, close my eyes, feel the sun, and revel in this day of being alive.]

slow dance/as sure as the sun © 2002 kerri sherwood

…and a bonus!

same sweet love/as sure as the sun © 2002 kerri sherwood

Close your eyes and you’ll see that these tracks have nothing to do with Jazz. Open your eyes and you’ll note that Rumblefish has absolutely no ownership right or copyright to these songs though they somehow possess a ridiculous capacity to misrepresent Kerri and her music.

Kerri’s albums can be found on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART LEAF

share. like. support. comment. all are appreciated.

Feed The Ammals [on KS Friday]

Cris wrote that a bunny comes to their back door each day and Brenda feeds it by hand. “I want to feed a bunny by hand!” Kerri pouts and looks at me with the look, which means I am supposed to do something about it. My head fills with images of unsuccessful bunny wrangling, ridiculous bunny coercion techniques, failed bunny temptation – and then I race to write down my mad imaginings since they’d make fine smack-dab cartoons.

This is the year of the bunny in our backyard. We’ve never had rabbits-in-residence until this summer. As we wrote earlier in the year, we discovered a bunny nest in the tall grasses beneath Breck-the-aspen-tree. Dogga has been on constant sniff-patrol and is consistently outsmarted by the bunnies. My favorite was the day he stared intently at the last-known-bunny-location while the bunny circled around and sat behind him, watching Dogga watch.

The bird feeder is an attraction for all kinds of ammals (animals in Jaxon-speak). Chipmunks and squirrels are regular raiders. The wrens and finches and cardinals toss seed to the ground so there’s plenty for everyone. The bunnies are regulars, too. It’s a well-ordered united nations under the feeder. I am of the opinion that diplomats could learn a thing or two from this happy gathering of critters. The pie is not limited in the ammal-kingdom (I know, I know. Idealist…)

We have a suspicion that the mother bunny – or another mother bunny – is rebuilding the nest. Kerri quietly checks the tall grasses a few times every day. “Maybe you should sit there with snacks at the ready,” I suggest. “If you’re the first thing the baby bunnies see in the world they might take snacks out of your hand.” She wrinkles her brow, completely rejecting my bright idea. “Just a thought,” I say. “Hey, I’d bring you wine. And a blanket!” Her eyes narrow, a sign of imminent peril if I persist.

I race to the notebook to record another fantastic-true-to-life-smack-dab idea.

and goodnight/and goodnight © 2005 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUNNIES

like. share. support. comment. thank you.

Appreciate The Caper [on KS Friday]

Kerri’s photos serve as our writing prompts. Sometimes I know exactly what I want to write about. I lead. Sometimes, like today, I stare and follow the first thought that comes to mind, whether or not it makes sense. I let the thought lead me.

Sometimes I follow. Sometimes I lead. Inevitably, during the writing, the process flips. The follower takes charge and leads. The leader gives over and listens. It’s a nice description of a creative process, a tennis match between the intuitive and intentional.

Today’s first thought? It’s perfect design. A still shot masks the truth that this flower is designed for motion. Time-lapse photography reveals the pulse of life, opening and closing. Petals and sepals, pistils and stamen, folding and unfolding with the delicate movement of the planet spinning around the sun. And those tiny hairs on the stem and sepal? Trichome – absorbing life, protecting the dance.

It occurs to me that the word “design” implies a designer and there we go again bumbling into the morass of the godhead. How to explain such perfection? This miracle of life, utter interdependence, as seen in a purple coneflower.

Perhaps it’s enough to acknowledge that my mind is way too limited to grasp the enormity of the concert. I dabble in the power of imagination but will never grasp the infinite, contain the uncontainable, neither in word or way.

Perhaps my desire to affix a definition to the undefinable, to understand the boundless, is no different than staring at a writing prompt. Sometimes I know exactly what I want to write. Sometimes I have no idea. Sometimes I lead. Sometimes I follow. Intuition dances with intention yet neither are capable of explaining the boundless, of measuring the immeasurable, describing the indescribable.

It is enough to perform my part and fully appreciate the caper.

silent days/blueprint for my soul © 1997 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about CONEFLOWERS

like it. share it. support it. comment on it. we appreciate it all.

See The Angels [on KS Friday]

Like most people I have had some dark nights of the soul. Fortunately, I also have a life rich in beacons, special people that shine bright and light the way in my darkest hours. Best-of-all, my beacons are visible on sunny days, too. Some of my beacons have been around for the long haul. Some show up in a moment and disappear as fast as they appeared.

It’s hard not to believe in guidance when surrounded by so many living lighthouses.

Once, on a snowy day in a local store called PeaceTree, the man behind the counter told Kerri that she was surrounded by good angels. It was a comfort and gave her courage to head out into the storm.

Yesterday, Jonathan’s passing had us talking about good angels. He was certainly an angel for us. It made me realize (again-and-again) that the good angels that surround us are not ethereal unseen spirits. They are visible. Humans. Folk. Peeps. 20. Brad and Jen. The Up-North-Gang. Horatio. They are the friends that show up to help, Arnie and Dwight. The people that call out-of-the-blue to check-in. They are the world’s best mechanic that fixes our car and then delivers it to our driveway. The notes from Judy or Jim. The texts of encouragement from Rob or Mike or David. The “likes” from Alex and Buffalo Bob that revitalize us everyday to keep writing, keep creating. Brenda and Cris reaching out to us when they hear one of Kerri”s compositions streaming and share how much her music means to them. The bright lights that we just know are out there. Guy and Charles.

We are, indeed, surrounded by good angels, more than I can name or count. We would not be here were it not for the people who catch us when we were falling, the voices of encouragement that cheer when we consider stopping, the many, many people who stand with us in the storm and whisper, “How can I help?”

Beacons. Warming fires on the hill. They are all around us – all the time – and we are more than grateful for their bright light, infusing us with courage as we sail into the next unknown.

Adrift/Blueprint For My Soul © 1997 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LIGHTHOUSE

like. share. support. comment. Thanks.

Define It [on KS Friday]

“Dangerously soft-hearted. Derogatory. Informal.” Thus, the great book of words begins its definition of Bleeding heart. It’s no wonder we’re value-confused. Poke around the word “compassionate” and you’ll find a string of synonyms that are soft-hearted without the informal-derogatory in the mix: sympathetic, pitying, caring, understanding, empathetic…

Qualities to be admired.

If I care for you, if I feel your pain, if I consider your feelings, if I make space for your grief, if I feel sadness for your suffering…am I dangerously-soft-hearted or caring? The associated verb that pops up again and again is “to feel”. The portal to standing in another person’s shoes is through feeling.

We caution our little tykes not to let their emotions cloud their judgments. It’s good advice when understood that emotion…feelings…are necessary to arrive at sound judgement. Mind and heart are indivisible dance partners. Separating the two is a recipe for psychosis. And meanness.

Does compassion cloud or clarify? In the Christian tradition a bleeding heart, the bleeding heart, is the spirit that nourishes. “The salvation of humanity.”

Empathy is an epicenter of artistry. Love is a word of the heart, soft or otherwise.

It’s quite a mix of meanings! I suppose that’s why the wise advice found in all wisdom traditions is to find the middle way. “Balance” as a Buddhist might recommend. “Get neutral” as divemaster Terry instructed. Parcival; pierce the veil with the arrow aimed straight through the middle. There, the grail is found.

A bleeding heart is a plant, too. Beautiful and it always evokes a sweet sigh from Kerri. Life giving. Instant presence. Now, isn’t that an apt example of a spirit that nourishes? Try to find that in a dictionary!

kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

FREEFALLIN’ IN LOVE © 2002 kerri sherwood, sisu music productions inc. (Note: this is not jazz, nor does rumblefish own any copyright or publishing rights to this song).

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLEEDING HEARTS

take a bow. lend a hand. like the post. share with a friend. send us a thought. support what we do. all are good. it’s all up to you.

Act For The Benefit [on KS Friday]

We are hunkering down today. The smoke from the Canadian fires has arrived and the air-quality-index reads “Poor” to “Dangerous.” My head hurts. I feel as if I can’t catch my breath. A glaring example of interconnectivity. Airspace knows no nation. Not really. All for one and one for all.

I Googled the phrase “All for one and one for all” wondering if it was yet another clever Shakespearean quote. It is but the good poet didn’t originate it. He borrowed it from the Latin or from Aesop. I read that now-a-days it is the unofficial motto of Switzerland. “Each individual should act for the benefit of the group, and the group should act for the benefit of the individual.”

Aesop was born circa 620 BCE so the idea that we should – and could – act for the benefit of all is not a new idea. It may be the most basic of human survival necessities. Aesop popped it into a fable since storytelling is the original-and-best form of adult learning theory. On a side note, someone who composes and/or tells fables is called a “fabulist.” Had I known sooner I’d have spattered that on every business card, used it at every social gathering: “What do you do for a living, Mr. Robinson?”

(humble chuckle) “Oh, you know, I’m a fabulist. Here’s my card…”

Kerri snapped this photo of Meadow Hawkweed. It’s important to our story of Canadian smoke in American airspace because its healing properties include the treatment of asthma and other respiratory ailments. All for one and one for all includes the world of flora and fauna, too. The whole knows no parts just as the airspace knows no nation.

In my dystopian fantasy, when we warm the globe sufficiently enough that systems collapse and smoky air is the new norm, I’ll corner the market on Hawkweed. Just-kidding. I’ll share what I know with whomever needs help breathing. And, while waiting for the healing to kick-in, I’ll tell some stories of people helping people. Like Aesop, I’ll try and plant the seed for a better world. Once a fabulist, always a fabulist.

in a split second/as sure as the sun © 2002 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost on HAWKWEED

Like it? Like it. Or share it. Or comment. Or buyusacoffee. All are greatly appreciated.