A Time Of Water [David’s blog on KS Friday]

And just before the autumn equinox, the last day lily had her brilliant orange moment in the sun and then closed up shop for the winter. It was poignant. We watched her drink in the sun and then fold.

The nights grow longer than the day. The plumes on the grasses are radiant when they catch the evening light. The leaves on the pepper plant have yellowed. The sweet potato vine, once a vibrant uniform lime green, now displays a pattern of color, red-brown and crimson.

We’re emerging from a few weeks of sickness, a bad cold moved in and took much of the wind from our sails. Our limited energy allowed for a few shaky-leg slow walks by the lake. Slow walking allows for better seeing. I marvel at how unimportant most things become – how my perspective simplifies and clarifies when I have limited energy; when my body demands my attention. We sat in our adirondack chairs facing the sun. I felt like the day lily, drinking it in. The sun is good medicine.

Better seeing. Clarity.

I did not know that the word “winter” comes from an old Germanic word and means “time of water.” The snow, the ice, the freezing rain. We pull inside. We retreat to the root to recuperate and gather energy for renewal.

Each week Kerri chooses one of her compositions for our Friday posts. This week, in trying to decide between two pieces, she chose both: one piece from her first album, entitled In Transition, and one from her most recent album – her 15th – entitled Transience. I was moved when listening to the pieces side-by-side: the same theme separated by a decade and a half of life. Transitory life, cycles of production and retreat, generation and rest, exploring and recognizing.

Transitory life looks differently when you are older than it does when you are young.

We are having an extended conversation with our son about artistry. He is an EDM artist and is taking full possession of his gifts. It’s thrilling to watch him move from becoming to being. He is fully inhabiting a time of fire. He is running fast. Chasing.

We – Kerri and I – are fully in a time of water, from being to becoming. We are slow walking. Gathering energy. No longer trying to arrive in a life that is constantly moving. We are the dream we chase. Appreciating the transitory. Savoring our moment, this one glorious never-to-have-again day. We are like the last day lily drinking in the sun and storing that warm heart energy for the coming of spring.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DAY LILY

likesharesupportthankyou

Black and White [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Despair is a narcotic. It lulls the mind into indifference.” ~ Charlie Chaplin

It turns out that there are some things that are black or white. For instance, we either have free speech or we don’t. We either have the protections of due process and habeas corpus or we don’t. We either adhere to the Constitution or we don’t. We either have a free press or we don’t. We either champion the truth or we don’t.

We either have a democracy or we don’t.

Right now, in this moment, where all of the above are concerned, we don’t.

I’m still shaking my head at the 90 million voters who did not turn out to vote in the last election. Were they indifferent? There is certainly enough despair to go around given the sucking of wealth from the many into the hands of the few. We either exercise our power in democracy by voting or we don’t.

The system is either built for all of us or it is tilted toward the privileged few. And that seems to be the line of discord in our short history, the rope that we perpetually tug in our incessant internal war: who do we mean when we say, “We the people”? It either includes all of us in the promise or it doesn’t.

We either protect the dream or we don’t.

Lately, in a mass capitulation of courage by corporate America, the legal profession, universities…we’ve learned that despair is not the only narcotic that lulls the mind into indifference. Profit might be mightier than despair in producing indifference. We’re literally seeing our nation sell its soul. It’s become abundantly clear what is valued and what is not.

Democracy, for the morbidly wealthy, seems no match for private gain. It’s up to the rest of us to wake up, shake off indifference and loudly remind the gluttonous few that fascism has no place in a democratic republic, that our rights and protected freedoms are not for sale or to be used as leverage for the corporate merger.

We either protect the dream now or we lose it. We’re standing at the line. All of us. It makes no difference if you are on the blue team or the red. The orchestrated collapse of our democracy, the loss of protected freedoms, of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, the erasure of our nation of laws and not men…applies equally to all of us.

It turns out that somethings are not black or white, they are black and white.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost on BLACK AND WHITE

likesharesupportcommentsubscribethankyou

See Good Fortune [David’s blog on KS Friday]

One of the first things Kerri gave me was a small silver acorn. I carry it in a pocket of my wallet. For her family it is a symbol of abundance and good fortune. I have grown to love the acorn bump that now defines my wallet. It is a constant reminder: I carry good fortune with me wherever I go.

This past week we’ve both had miserable colds. We do everything together. Except for our run-in with Covid last fall, it’s been years since either of us has been knocked out by any ailment, especially the common cold. Our timing is not ideal since the weather has been gorgeous. Fall has arrived, warm sun and cool shade are calling. Needing to get out of bed and out of the house, we drove to our loop trail. We walked slowly, moaning and groaning and laughing at our creaky progress – yet the warmth of the autumn sun penetrated all the way to our bones. Our walk was exhausting but it was good medicine.

As Kerri often does, she stopped abruptly, pulled out her camera, walked back a few steps and knelt on the trail. “What do you see?” I asked.

“An affirmation,” she said, showing me the photo of the acorn. “See? Good fortune.”

See good fortune. It’s been a recurring theme lately. See how we are supported. See the abundance of our lives.

It’s Viktor Frankel: bring rather than seek the meaning in your life. “I carry some serious good fortune in my wallet,” I said.

“I know,” she smiled. “And now look! We are finding some on our trail.”

PEACE 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 ACORN

likesharesupportsubscribethankyou

Greet The Messenger [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.” ~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Lately we’ve been walking an out-and-back that takes us south along the water. The turn around point is the Southport Beach House. It is a sacred place for us; ten years ago, on a beautiful October day, we held our wedding reception there.

Although not consciously intentional, there is something essential about our near-daily walks to the beach house. As we approach our tenth anniversary, we find that we are reaching back. In reminiscing, we make contact with our origin story. We are appreciating the distance we’ve traveled, the hardships we’ve endured, the support we’ve enjoyed, and the profound changes we’ve realized.

In our time together, life has taken a hard rock to our shell and we are better for it. We are more capable of standing in fire. Try as it might, circumstance cannot pull us from center. We know how to discern substance from nonsense. We are no longer in a hurry “to get there” and are more than content “to be where we are”.

A seagull stands watch on the light post. It’s greeted us each time we’ve take the steps down to the beach on the path circumnavigating the beach house. In symbol, a seagull represents “the spirit of exploration and boundless freedom”. I like what that bodes. I have come to expect to meet this messenger on our path and why not?

I’ve had plenty of experience focusing on the hardship and bemoaning the pain. Why not now expect to meet each day the spirit of exploration? Why not assume boundless freedom? Isn’t this the very realization that now pours forth, the understanding that was once imprisoned in the hard armor that our life-pain has opened?

Take Flight on the album This Part of the Journey © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SEAGULL

likesharesupportsubscribecommentthankyou

A Reminder [David’s blog on KS Friday]

A free-spirit seed!

Wind and fate or luck? Who cares!

Nature finds a way.

This concludes one of the weirdest weeks on record. A good week or a bad week? We’ve decided to be like the seed. Nature is finding a way.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about NATURE

likesharesupportthankyou

The Only Question [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Breck the aspen tree is no longer a sapling. Since May she has grown a few feet taller. Her trunk is now the sturdy stock of a mature tree. Her bark is taking on the whitish hue of mature aspens. We stand at her base, crane our necks looking up, and marvel. In a few short months we have watched her come-of-age.

In a contentious time, an age of the disappearance of justice and the rise of a criminal, Breck is a reminder for us of all that is good. When we need a dose of sanity, when we need a reminder that nature takes little notice of human folly, we sit with Breck. We allow ourselves to be soothed by the comforting shimmer of her quaking leaves.

Joseph Campbell wrote The Hero With A Thousand Faces in 1949. I almost spit my coffee this morning when I read, “The tyrant is proud and therein resides his doom. He is proud because he thinks of his strength as his own; thus, he is in the clown role, as a mistaker of shadow for substance; it is his destiny to be tricked.”

I know it is a mistake to conflate myth with biography, yet, have you ever read a more perfect description of our authoritarian wanna-be?

Myth meets the historical moment. The tyrant is a clown. He is a mistaker of shadow for substance. He thinks his strength is his own. His destiny is to be tricked. Campbell also wrote that, in the mythic cycle, the tyrant, “usurps to themselves the goods of their neighbors, arise, and are the cause of widespread misery. They have to be suppressed.”

Usurping to himself the goods of his neighbors? Check.

The cause of widespread misery? Check.

In mythology, the tyrant is the harbinger of the hero’s rise (note: the hero need not be a male). “The great figure of the moment (the tyrant) exists only to be broken…The ogre-tyrant is champion of the prodigious fact; the hero the champion of creative life.”

The word “prodigious” in this sentence = unnatural, grotesque.

Locked in a shadowy lie-about-the-past with a monstrous clown? Or, progressing forward toward actual possibilities? We are a nation quaking to come-of age.

The tyrant exists only to be broken – and it makes sense in mythology and in the patterns of history. Breck can only grow in one direction. The same is true of us. The only question is how much damage will the tyrant do before we-the-people, the actual hero in our tale, awaken, open our eyes and rise?

WATERSHED on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

watershed,(noun): an event or period marking a turning point in a course of action or state of affairs.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK

likesharesupportcommentsubscribethankyou

Popcorn Trail [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Late at night, standing on the platform awaiting the train to take us home, the moon and clouds gave us a spectacular show. I knew that the moon was a waxing gibbous and realized that, although I’d known and used the word since I was young, I had no idea what the word “gibbous” actually meant. It sounds like something related to gibbons, small apes that swing through trees. Is the moon gibbous because it swings through the sky? No! The moon is gibbous because it is greater than a semi-circle yet less than a circle. Gibbous describes the shape! Bulbous. Convex. Protruding.

Yesterday I unrolled many small canvases and pinned them to the wall in my studio. They are like a small flame I’ve kept for alive for over 35 years. They refer back to a large odd shaped canvas I stapled to the deck of my apartment on a sunny day, overlooking Hollywood. I had a very limited paint supply, a few cans of paint used for animation (computer animation was not yet possible so artists painted images on cells with acrylic paints), grey, blue, and white. I had a small jar of cadmium red. I taped a few housepainting brushes to long sticks and made myself a promise to “have fun and not think too much.” And I did. I had fun. I didn’t think too much. I played. In those few short hours, I painted the single piece that would influence my work for the rest of my life. I knew it was special. It was pure. It sold before I could adequately document it (remember the age before the ease of digital cameras?). It sold before I had the opportunity to install it in a gallery and show it.

I call the many small canvases my “narrative paintings”. They are a popcorn trail that I dropped as I wandered into the forest of my artistry. Some of the pieces are studied and lifeless. Some are playful and shallow. Some are raw and heart-full. I tacked them all to the wall to guide me back to the original impulse, that moment of artistic purity.

I am gibbous though, at this age, I am no longer waxing. I am greater than a semi-circle but have not yet completed my full life circle. In my time on earth I have been what Kerri calls a “strider”, someone trying-too-hard to climb the ladder of success. I have pursued my artistry like it was a wild animal, setting traps to capture what I could not easily understand. I have finally learned, or have lived long enough to realize, that I am and have always been what I chase. No traps necessary.

I follow the popcorn trail back to what I experienced that day in Los Angeles: the simple joy of being alive. A conscious moment enthusiastically expressed through a little grey, blue and white paint, punctuated with some surprise cadmium red.

IN THE NIGHT on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOON AND CLOUDS

likesharesupportsubscribethankyou

Happy Harbinger [David’s blog on KS Friday]

The space between our garage and the neighbors fence is a narrow passageway. It is out-of-sight-out-of-mind. As the original debris field of the house, there are mounds of earth that I long ago learned I’d never be able to dig out. A shovel cannot penetrate the bits of brick and wood, old cement and wire, that have long since petrified and are covered by a thin layer of dirt. Gnarly weeds grow in abundance, some taller than I am.

The passage is a neighborhood animal trail for the fox and opossum so we occasionally toss old broccoli or carrots gone rubbery for the critters to eat. Tossing critter snacks is the only time I ever visit the passageway. On a recent snack-toss-expedition I was astounded to see a mighty sunflower rising high above the weeds! A sunflower towering above the debris field. It felt auspicious. An affirmation. A positive sign of good things to come.

I looked at the sunflower in utter disbelief. It looked at me with amusement. I ran into the house to grab Kerri so she could marvel at our happy harbinger.

There are few things on this earth that human beings have so thoroughly endowed with positive symbolic meanings as the sunflower. Happiness. Health and longevity. Good luck. Abundance. Loyalty. There is no dark undertone, no shadow symbology with sunflowers. It is the Shirley Temple of symbols.

From the outside, our life together this past decade probably appears to most like a debris field. Our career implosion left bits and pieces of us scattered all over the tarmac. And yet, you would be hard pressed to find two happier people, two more intentionally grateful human beings.

Yesterday we discovered chunks of tar on the back patio. Looking up we saw that part of the roof over our sunroom had peeled back, probably from the recent wind storms. As I prepared myself to panic, Kerri smiled and said, “I am going to choose to be grateful that we found this before it really became a problem.” My panic hissed out of me like air from a balloon. No panic necessary. No need to get lost in the problem. Just gratitude with an eye toward solutions. I clamped the layers down until the roofing guy could come.

From the top of the ladder I could see the sunflower. It looked like it was watching over us. I remembered the lesson of one of Aesop’s Fables: what looks like a tragedy is often a gift. What looks like a boon sometimes brings a curse. And, in time, the curse will eventually open the way to a blessing.

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing?” I quipped with the sunflower. It simply smiled in reply.

RIVERSTONE on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s music is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SUNFLOWER

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

Expect Awe [David’s blog on KS Friday]

I can’t remember what we were searching to find. What I know is that we forgot what we were doing because we bumbled into a James Taylor concert recorded by the BBC in 1970. He was 22. An old soul. His performance in 1970 buoyed our spirits on a humid stormy morning in 2025.

While there was a break in the rain we ran outside to check the rapid growth of the sweet potato. Last week we discovered a sweet potato in the stair-well potato basket that seemingly overnight had become an alien. Hot pink tentacles reached from the basket like so many periscopes. We pondered what to do and decided to experiment and planted it. If you are a farmer or otherwise schooled in the art of growing things, please feel free to roll your eyes. Since we are not farmers and total novices at growing things, the explosion of leaves from the once-hot-pink-tentacles seems to us like a miracle. I hope this awe never dissolves into the ordinary. I like running outside with the express expectation of being amazed.

Yesterday we scrolled through some pictures taken in the fall of 2021. Following my father’s funeral we drove into the Colorado mountains to walk a piece of land by a lake, the place where he most loved to go to fish. The place where he found his peace. We lit a candle. We walked around the lake. We marveled at the color of the leaves, vibrant yellow, hot red and orange. We grieved and told stories. Looking through the photographs filled me with gratitude: at the time we knew we had to go to the mountain to celebrate his life and so we did. Four years later that inner-place of loss is full-full-full of gratitude for a simple soul who lived a simple life. The photos of that day at the lake served as a two-way-door, one way to a moment-gone-by and the other opened to this moment, teeming with appreciation.

I know without doubt that this ride is limited. Why wouldn’t I expect awe?

“It won’t be long before another day/ We gonna have a good time/ And no one’s gonna take that time away/ You can stay as long as you like./ So close your eyes. You can close your eyes, it’s alright/ I don’t know no love songs/ And I can’t sing the blues anymore/ But I can sing this song/ And you can sing this song when I’m gone.” James Taylor, Close Your Eyes

GRATEFUL 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 SWEET POTATO

likesharesupportthankyou

Follow The Dream [David’s blog on KS Friday]

As if the world was not topsy-turvy enough, last evening, just as the sun was setting, I opened the back door and was met with a wall of rising heat. The sun was going down and the temperature was going up!

We are in the land of Lewis Carroll. Logic spins like a wheel of fortune. Alice awoke from her Wonderland dream when she stood up to the Queen of Hearts. She awoke when she’d had enough of chaos and challenged the madness. It was a threshold moment, marking the passage into adulthood. Everything we need to know is in the story.

Do you remember Field of Dreams? “If you build it, he will come.” It’s a story of the power of following a dream no matter how irrational. Lately I’ve thought that our democracy is like the baseball field built in the middle of a cornfield. How irrational is it to imagine and then create a single nation, a field, that attracts and is home to people from all over the world! A nation where a wildly diverse populace governs itself. By the people, for the people, of the people. Build it and they will come.

Redemption is one of the themes of the movie. As is true in life, redemption for the characters comes after reconciling with their past. All of it: the good, the bad, the ugly. Redemption is a door that opens when a person or community – or nation – is brave enough to honestly look at and deal with the full scope of their history. There’s a good reason that Honesty is the first step in the twelve steps of addiction recovery. An honest reckoning opens the door to the pathway that leads to a second chance. It clears the vision, clarifies the dream.

Challenge the madness.

Say, “Enough!”

Get honest.

I took some small comfort when I read these words this morning: “…it’s never too late to reconcile with the past and find peace.” Follow the dream “…even when it seems impossible or irrational.”

“Go the distance.”

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE © 2003 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CORN

likesharesupportcomment…thankyou!