To Be Home [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Until I was 52 years old I did not know what the word “home” meant. I understood it abstractly, as an intellectual concept, as a hypothetical place of belonging…I just did not know what it felt like to be home. I was a wanderer.

I remember a moment, many years ago, when my pal Robert gave me some wise cautionary advice. I was footloose and flirting with a woman. He said, “Be careful. You don’t get involved with a woman like her unless you are ready to settle down.” I thought his caution was about the woman but later realized his wise words had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. My friend knew me. I was restless. A wanderer.

There is more to the word “home” than a pin in a map. Google can give me directions to a location but can never show me the way home.

Home is the way Kerri and I start each day. It is different than the way others start their day, recognizable only to us and Dogga. Home is the tiny generosities that we offer each other, unique to us, unlike the considerations others offer their significant other. Home is knowing what she is feeling before she does. Home is sensing where she is in the house or in the world even when I cannot see her.

Home is knowing that she reads my mind and not minding.

I knew I was home the moment we met. I knew I was home when home had nothing at all to do with settling. I knew I was home when my wandering had a clear direction, a daily destination, a vibrant space between us that only we are capable of creating, a space that Google Maps or AI is incapable of finding or replicating or pinning down.

I now know what it feels like to be home and that feeling travels where ever we decide to wander.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MAP

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Two Sacred Objects [David’s blog on KS Friday]

There are two sacred objects in the life of Dogga: snowman and candy cane. Both are cheap plastic squeaky toys that he carries from place to place, repositioning them throughout the day. His ultimate safe spot, the most sacred space for his most sacred objects, is in Kerri’s studio, either beneath or positioned close to her piano.

I believe her studio has become his sacred place because it is her sacred place. Her piano is her most sacred object. When she enters the room and plays he always joins her. He walks loops beneath the piano. The Dog Whisperer says that dogs are human-energy-readers and I think it is true. Kerri’s aura changes when she plays her piano. When she plays her energy brightens; it becomes pure. Dogga senses that. He sees it. Is it any wonder that he would bring his sacred objects into this sacred place?

Yesterday she sat down to play. I heard the clackety-clack of Dogga’s nails on the wooden floor as he scooped up his snowman and headed for the studio. I stopped what I was doing and literally absorbed the profound beauty of the moment. A pure moment. Two sacred objects, piano and snowman, brought together by the love shared between two sacred beings.

LEGACY 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 PIANO AND SNOWMAN

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The Source [David’s blog on KS Friday]

A meme flew by. It used the events of last Saturday to illuminate two different ideas of masculinity. The first as demonstrated by Alex Pretti, a man trying to help a woman who was just shoved to the ground. He stood between the woman and her attacker. The second model of masculinity was demonstrated by the ICE-men who tackled, beat and murdered Alex Pretti.

After the meme flew by I wished that I could amend it. For me it did not illuminate two models of masculinity, rather, it made a clear distinction between a man and a beast, between a healthy human being and a rabid animal. It highlighted the difference between a good intention and a toxic drive.

Most hearts in the nation are heavy. Witnessing yet another execution in the streets by agents of the government – and then defended by the leaders all the way up to and including the authoritarian wannabe in the White House – has left us aghast. John Pavlovitz suggested that our heavy hearts are necessary; they are a sure sign of our humanity. They are fuel for our outrage.

Alex Pretti’s heavy heart required him to step into the streets of his city and video the brutality enacted upon his neighbors. Renee Good’s heavy heart did the same. Service to others is often an action inspired by a heavy heart. It takes a great deal of courage to stand between a masked thug and his victim. It takes great strength to video the abuse as if to say, “We see you and you will not get away with this”.

I opened The Marginalian this morning and read this: “Here is the mathematical logic of the spirit: If love is the quality of attention we pay something other than ourselves and hate is the veil of not understanding ourselves, then loving the world more — the other word for which is kindness — is largely a matter of deepening our awareness and sharpening our attention on both sides of the skin that membranes the self.”

Love is the quality of attention we pay something other than ourselves. Hate is the veil of not understanding ourselves. Hate is self-focused. Love is other-focused.

Democracy is by definition other-focused. Authoritarianism is by definition self-focused.

Our heavy hearts are propelling us into the streets. It just might be that our heavy hearts will be the necessary ingredient that saves our democracy from the rabid authoritarians. It just might be that our heavy hearts will propel us to stand between the self-centered oligarchy currently shoving Lady Liberty to the ground. Our heavy hearts do not make us weak. They are the source of our outrage and fuel for our courage.

WATERSHED 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 HEART

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Holding On. Letting Go. [David’s blog on KS Friday]

The story of the BabyCat chair is the story of the tides of human emotional life. Holding on. Letting go. Holding on. Letting go.

After a titanic struggle with all that it represents to us, we let it go. We took it to the curb where it sat for a few days with no takers. We discussed chopping it up but couldn’t bring ourselves to do it so decided to wait. We decided to not-know what to do with it. We placed it in a spot beside the garage, like a memorial bench on a trail, it seemed an inviting place to sit and ponder the driveway.

And then the birds found the chair. We hadn’t considered the chair’s proximity to the bird feeder when we placed it by the garage so we were delighted when we looked out the window and discovered a score of birds enjoying the BabyCat chair. They were chattering, hopping armrest to armrest as if testing the comfort of their new chair.

“I guess the B-Cat chair has found a new life,” she said. “Perfect spot.” Keep in mind, we have a piano in our backyard so a chair in the driveway is not completely out of character.

The birds scattered when the workmen came up the driveway following the cable lines to the pole behind the garage. They had to move the chair to gain access to the pole. They were clearly puzzled by the chair since it was so obviously placed – rather than dumped – in that spot. They looked around before carefully moving the furniture-in-the-driveway.

With the snows, we’ve discovered that critters other than the birds have enjoyed a respite along their way. We’ve seen squirrels occupy the chair and found evidence of raccoons napping or at least pausing in their daily maraud.

Holding on. Letting go. Holding on.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CHAIR

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The Evidence of Love [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

The evidence of love is all around us. Sometimes it’s easy to recognize. For instance, Dogga’s toys are scattered around the house. We track the movement as he daily re-positions his toys according to imperatives that only he understands. I imagine he practices his own version of sacred geometry or perhaps his toys are akin to chess pieces he adjusts in a game he plays with himself.

Sometimes, to the outside eye, love looks like poverty or an accident waiting to happen, furniture on the verge of collapse. This is the case with the BabyCat chair. BabyCat mostly ignored any other version of scratch post or scratch pad that we offered; he adored this chair. So we adore this chair.

In recent weeks we’ve entered a new phase in our epic house-purge-of-stuff. After BabyCat died Kerri moved the chair into her studio. I found her staring at the BabyCat chair. She said, “I think it’s time to let go of the BabyCat chair. I don’t need it anymore to remind me of BabyCat,” she said, pointing at her heart, adding, “He’s right here.”

After breakfast each morning, Dogga and BabyCat would retreat to the kitchen and nap together. It was their ritual. Although BabyCat has been gone for five years, Dogga continues to retreat to the kitchen after breakfast and settles into the same spot. We say to each other, “There he goes. He is communing with the BabyCat.”

The evidence of love is all around us. Sometimes it is easy to see. Sometimes it looks to others like a ruined wicker chair. Sometimes it looks like a dog sleeping in the middle of the kitchen floor.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BABYCAT CHAIR

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A Simple Thing [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

In our defense, we didn’t buy the cupcake. Our dear Jen heaped a dizzying array of treats upon us before we hit the road. Also, she knows us. I imagine she predicted that, at the end of ten hours of driving, a bit of snack-decadence with wine would warm our hearts and make us feel at home.

Everyone on earth should have a Jen: a friend who is dedicated to making your life better and easier.

Everyone on earth should be a Jen: a person who is dedicated to making the lives of the people in their circle better and easier. And, since the circles we populate are not fixed or exclusive, the intentional kindness would overlap, ripple, and literally connect us – each to one another in a dedication of support – making the world a better place.

The first time I met Kerri, climbing into the car at the airport, I found a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee waiting for me. She thought I might be hungry after traveling so far. It was such a simple thing, a generosity. It reinforced what I already knew about her, what I already loved about her.

Making the world a better place. It doesn’t seem that difficult but it does require asking a question that seems radical in a dog-eat-dog culture: what can I do to make your life better and easier? It’s really a question of responsibility, isn’t it? The Butterfly Effect.

Yes, I am fully aware of the impossibility of my idealism. Yet, how fortunate am I to have a friend like Jen? How utterly impossible is it that I met and married a woman like Kerri?

read Kerri’s blogpost about CUPCAKES AND WINE

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The Marvel [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

The first dusting of snow arrived overnight*. What is bracing for us is a boon for Dogga. He loves the cold and snow. Prancing out the back door in the early morning, he was overjoyed to discover the frosty stuff. Rather than scout the yard, sniff the perimeter, chase the squirrels or any other of his usual morning activities, he performed his joyful ritual of first-snowfall: a full 360 degree Aussie spin followed by an immediate lay down – with a sigh of satisfaction.

From his snowy bed he surveyed his vast territories. He was the picture of contentment.

Hans-the-realtor once told me that, “Everyone has their heaven.” While I hastily closed the door and retreated into the warmth of the house to make breakfast, I left Dogga to enjoy his perfect slice of paradise.

We bipeds wield words like “mindfulness” or “presence” and pursue them as if they were achievements to be grabbed. This morning Dogga taught me – again – that there is nothing complicated about fully inhabiting and enjoying your moment; all you need do is stop the chase and lay down in the marvel called “snow”.

*We awoke this morning – the day after the dusting – to over a foot of snow. Dogga was in his glory plowing chest deep, cutting Aussie trails, through his favorite marvel: snow.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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See The Sacred [David’s blog on KS Friday]

I’ve decided that one of the many problems we face as a culture and as a nation is that we do not recognize our sacred moments. We generally miss the extraordinary because they often come dressed in ordinary clothes; we look for grand gestures, tablets from the mountaintop, or confuse the sacred with something more entertaining. We miss the moment when we participate in the sacred, moments like voting, moments like speaking freely. There are moments like helping a neighbor, working at a food bank, volunteering at a school. Making someone’s life better is sacred.

Sacred moments are often gritty or mundane. They are not always like watching the sunrise over the lake on an anniversary.

Sometimes sacred moments are spontaneous. In the wake of the storm we wandered down to the park adjacent to the harbor. She wanted me to see the gazebo where the bands play. It’s an intentional place, a beautiful structure meant to be a center where the community gathers. Climbing the steps to the rain-soaked deck, I saw the idea pop into her mind. She pulled out her phone, brought up a piece of music that is sacred to us, If Ever You Were Mine by Cherish The Ladies. We waltzed as we did ten years ago. Our dear Linda taught us to waltz to this piece of music, our first dance at our wedding reception. Sacred.

We danced. Kerri led – just as at our wedding – and we laughed and laughed. I do not hear the beat as well as my musician wife. For us – for me – dancing badly with her is sacred.

The people in the park taking a rainy night constitutional gave us a wide berth. They must have thought the couple waltzing in the gazebo must be crazy or a menace to the public. We waltzed and because once was not enough, we waltzed again.

That’s the misunderstood characteristic of the sacred: it need not be reserved for rare occasions; the sacred can be courted, woven into the the everyday, the ordinary: the sound of the chimes that Guy gifted to us, the song of the cardinal or the hummingbird at the feeder. Raking the leaves on a crisp autumn day. The smell of freshly ground coffee. Holding hands as we descend the steps of the gazebo, splashing in puddles, shaking the rain from our hair.

Sacred.

SLOW DANCE on the album AS SURE AS THE SUN © 2002 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GAZEBO

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Two Are One [David’s blog on KS Friday]

You might not believe it but it’s true. On the day we met – moments after we met – we spontaneously held hands and skipped – yes, skipped – out of O’Hare International airport, all the way to littlebabyscion in the parking garage. Our souls knew what our brains could not understand.

Little Miles calls us KERRIANDDAVID as if our names were one word. Through his child eyes he sees what our souls knew the day we skipped out of the airport. Two names, one word.

Ten years ago today we once again spontaneously held hands – and skipped out of the church. Our bodies finally caught up to what our souls already knew. Two are one. Naturally.

Holding hands, skipping. In all ways for always.

Our song. Kerri composed and recorded this for our wedding. AND NOW © 2015 Kerri Sherwood

read Kerri’s blog about TEN YEARS

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Moon Chat [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Years ago, very late at night, I sat by a pool and had a conversation with the full moon. Essentially, I was letting go of my grip on safety and security. I was about to blindly step into the current. I vowed to the full moon that I would go wherever the flow would take me, I would love wherever it would lead me.

I’d completely forgotten about that long-ago-moon-chat until last weekend when, after setting the hose in the cool of the evening, I turned and was startled by the moonrise. The moon was enormous. It seemed to be staring at me, smiling. “Well?” it asked, “Do you love it? Was it worth all the tossing around in the tide?”

“Oh, yes,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Unfettered, 48″x48″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOON

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