Become It [on KS Friday]

and now songbox copy

Kerri wrote AND NOW for us. For me. It is the piece of music that played as I walked down the aisle. I can’t hear it without being transported back to that moment. Then is now.

The only time I’ve been in the recording studio with her was when she laid down the tracks for AND NOW. It was magic. She was completely in her element, doing what she does naturally and best. I was utterly taken by her mastery, her ease. She recorded it the week prior to our wedding, when the to-do list was endless and the guests were literally knocking on the door. Needless to say the stress was palpable. And yet, she sat at the piano in the studio and played, she stood in front of the mic and sang, and the rest of the demands of the moment simply fell away. There was nothing between her and her composition. She became her music. She lived her song.

It’s what I thought about as I walked down the aisle that day. Eternal thanks. Wonder at a universe that connected the dots. And now? Nothing more or less than living the song in the same spirit in which it was written and recorded. Nothing between us and the music.

 

AND NOW is available on iTunesiTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about AND NOW

 

BootsWeddingBoots website box copy

 

andnowcopyright2015kerrisherwood

Paint A Surprise [on DR Thursday]

and now painting copy

This painting hangs in Kerri’s studio. I painted it in secret. It was my wedding present to her.

More than once she came down the stairs into my studio while I was working on it. It’s harder than you might think to surprise someone that you are with 24/7. I’d hear the door open at the top of the stairs and scramble to put a sham painting in front of it.

“How’s it going?” she’d ask.

“Fine,” I’d pant, feigning nonchalance and hoping she wouldn’t notice that the paint on my brush didn’t match the painting on the easel. I’d dab a little here and there to sell my diversion.

She’d stand back and examine the sham painting. “Tell me what you’ve done since the last time I saw it?” she asked, puzzled.

“It’s subtle,” I’d say. “You probably can’t see the changes yet.” She’d squint and purse her lips and continue into the laundry room. I’d sigh and “work” on the sham until she went back up the stairs.

I love this painting. I love how I painted it (it was fun making a secret gift!) and I love why I painted it. It is both simple and complex (like we are). It is alive with symbols that trace stories about us, about our life together, our origin. It is a painting that becomes more “true” with each passing year.

Today, four years ago, I successfully surprised her with this painting. Later in the day, we skipped out of the church, transformed.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about AND NOW [THE PAINTING]

 

wedding pic with website copy

 

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my bride at our reception! this picture captures exactly what i adore about her.

Pat The Hood [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

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{and now the unexpected something i wouldn’ t have expected to add a mere two weeks ago i hope to somehow someday have an actual cuppajava with my road trip companion not just tagging along but whose presence i now cherish and totally counts on this trip} ~ excerpt from THE ROADTRIP [Kerri and my play]

We’ve been on our roadtrip since a surprisingly-long-phone call in December 2012. When I met Kerri in person later in the spring of 2013, she picked me up from the airport in her little-baby-scion. I laughed at her little lunch box car because it suited her perfectly.

Since our ride from the airport we’ve been all over the country in the scion. Back and forth to Florida 9 times to see Beaky. To Colorado again and again. Kerri white-knuckled little baby scion over Independence Pass and we celebrated at experimental drink night in Minturn (we walked back to our hotel…well, we staggered back). We’ve tooled around Boston and Hilton Head and Savannah. We broke down once just outside of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. DogDog sat on my lap in the tow truck. We’ve outrun a tornado, crept through blizzards, and sat out downpours on the side of the road. We’ve napped in too many rest areas to count (yes, we were those people).

Almost every mile of our road trip together has been in the seats of the little-baby-scion.

4 years ago this week, I married my roadtrip partner. Best Day Ever. We drove from the church to our reception in that little lunchbox car. And then we drove it all the way to Breckenridge for our honeymoon. And all the way home. On this anniversary week at studio melange, it is only right that we pat the hood and say (as we do everyday), “You go, little baby scion!”

 

read Kerri’s blog post about THE ODOMETER

 

reflectioninxb website box copy

Affirm The Possible [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

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The day we brought DogDog home, Kerri was concerned that he and BabyCat would never get along. DogDog was a tiny puppy and BabyCat was (and still is) a formidable kitty. Would they hate each other? Would they fight? Would DogDog ever stand a chance against a mountainous cat?

We are a few years down the road. DogDog now outweighs BabyCat though the master of the house is the smaller of the two. And, although cartoons are rife with dogs chasing cats, felines and pooches engaged in mortal combat, it turns out that peace is possible. Cartoons are not always true! Who knew.

When lightning strikes and the world rumbles, they head for the same bed to crawl under. When we are gone they share the same rug while awaiting our return. They beg as a team, side-by-side.  In the morning, while we work, they nap together on the foot of the bed.

They occasionally steal each other’s food. BabyCat makes a face while chewing dog kibble that has dropped me to my knees with laughter. Their favorite game (dog-puts-cat’s-head-in-his-mouth-and-pulls-cat-around-the-hardwood-floor) looks more like murder than fun. Dog-mops-floor-with-cat. That took some getting used to. Now, we barely notice when they play the mop game.

This is the sweet blowback from our initial concern: when the world looks bleak and overly contentious, as it does so often in these times, it is the dog and the cat, the stereotypical foes, that bring us back to some semblance of center. They reaffirm what is possible, what is good, what opposites are capable of creating together.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about DOGDOG & BABYCAT

 

all of us on island website box copy

 

 

Learn The DogDog Way [on Merely A Thought Monday

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DogDog is an Aussie and takes the job of herding his people very seriously. We are a tough bunch. Two artists (one A.D.D. and the other O.C.D) and a BIG cat are not easily collected or moved in a consistent or singular direction. It is not an understatement to say that DogDog was not given an easy task in this lifetime.

On top of the endless challenge of gathering the un-gatherable, he is a hyper sensitive boy; he knows what we are feeling before we do. He runs all of our emotions through his filters. The Dog Whisperer says that dogs are masters at reading energy and DogDog must have graduated at the top of his pooch class. Anticipating our every move is made more complex by his innate skill in surfing our full palette of turbulent and uninhibited feelings. Were he human, he’d be a nervous wreck.

His days are full, chaotic, and active. And so, at the end of the day, when we at last settle, when the perimeter is safe and we are secure, he collapses. It is almost as if someone disconnected the cable to his battery. He hits the floor. His sleep is immediate and sound (unless, of course, we move).

I realized, in watching his deep and peaceful sleep, the kind of sleep that I rarely experience, that he is teaching me to love the impossible task. In fact, he simply loves the task before him with no regard to its achievement. He engages the impossible with joy and a hearty wag-a-wag. He participates. He delights. He loves. He, therefore, has no need for either the possible or the impossible. Those are abstractions and he deals with the reality of the moment.

Neither does he resent the turbulence we toss in his path. He takes no ownership for how we feel and, so, is not compelled to control what we feel. He simple reads the color of our mood and loves accordingly. He does not deflect or dodge or manipulate. He does not ignore or pretend or deny. He stands without judgment in the daily bedlam of his humans as if there was no better place to be on earth.

I desire the peaceful sleep he experiences. He shows me the way everyday. Admittedly, I am a slow study but he is a patient and generous teacher. “Tomorrow,” I tell myself, “I will love the impossible task.” Or, perhaps, if I really learn the DogDog way, I will give up the notion of possible or impossible altogether and simply attend with joy to the task at hand.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about DogDog Sleeping

 

doggadeck website box copy

Persevere [on KS Friday]

holdingsteadfast songbox copy

To me, the album cover is like a time capsule. The woman who would become my wife looking through a camera lens into a future unimaginable.  Over twenty years later, I look back, peeking through that triangular keyhole, the impish woman, the near smirk. Does she know the path she will walk, the mountains she will climb? The falls she will take? The sturdy resilient woman she will become?

The impishness remains intact. The brat with the wicked laugh I adore even when – especially when – I am the object of her rascal-nature. The kind of perseverance developed over a lifetime. Clinging to the cliff, against all odds, holding steadfast through the storm. This mettle must have already existed in her blueprint! And, look what life built from that blueprint! A ferocious and very kind soul. An artist.

 

HOLDING STEADFAST from the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about HOLDING STEADFAST

 

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holding steadfast/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

 

Make A Small Gesture [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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We’ve built our towering life together on the small gesture. Coffee in bed. A note stashed in a suitcase to be found when far away from home. We hold hands everywhere we go. When getting ready for bed, the first one in the bathroom always puts toothpaste on both brushes. Little kindnesses. The smallest of signals and courtesies that say nothing more and nothing less than, “You matter most of all.”

Looking for the grand plan that will change the world or, better, trying to be the grand plan, often blinds us to the real necessity of the moment. We look for the mountain that needs to be moved and miss the hand that needs to be held.

My younger, revolutionary self screams, “WHAT?! WE NEED TO PUSH BACK! WE NEED TO FIGHT THE SYSTEM!! WE NEED TO CHANGE THE WORLD!!! THIS SMALL-MOMENT STUFF IS THE CRAP-THINKING OF AN OLD PERSON! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!!!!

I’ve been more changed by a smile from across the room than by all the agitation that I’ve engendered across the span of my life. I have initiated more change by holding my tongue than by wagging it. Listening, I’ve learned, is a most powerful small gesture.

If I am old (I don’t feel old), if I have learned anything, then I have learned that real love is not noisy or flashy or grand. It is quiet. It steps behind you when you are frightened, puts its hand on your back and whispers, “I’ve made you a toothbrush.”

 

read Kerri’s blog post about SMALL GESTURES

 

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