Share and Renew [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

As additions-to-traditions go, the bauble-on-the-tree is a relatively recent inclusion. People have decorated their dwellings with pine boughs, a symbol of renewal and rebirth (of the light), for many, many centuries. Placing ornaments-on-trees only began in the 1800’s.

We decided this year – for reasons that reach beyond words – to bring out Beaky and Pa’s ornaments. We are minimalists mostly so in the decade of my Wisconsin life these ornaments have lived in a box in the basement. We look at them every year but have never – until now - hung them on a tree. They are glass and fragile so we worked slowly, placing them with care.

Having them with us this season has been more powerful than I imagined. Having them with us this morning is more meaningful than I thought possible. Family is with us. And, isn’t that, after all is said and done, the point of it all? Given family and chosen family. To feast our long line of belonging and celebrate our brief time on this earth together. To honor that we are, as Jean Houston wrote, “…the burning point of the ancestral ship.” To gather, adding to the rich bank of shared memory. We reach back in time with gratitude. We live forward through our children and their children and their children…

This morning we sit quietly, sipping our coffee, sharing stories, hanging out with Beaky and Pa, in our recognition and deep appreciation of this time of life’s Renewal.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BAUBLES

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Incite Some Deviance [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I searched for it but couldn’t find it. A short clip of Carl Sagan placing life on our tiny planet into the perspective of the enormity of the universe. A little sun in a galaxy of suns in a universe of billions and billions of galaxies. Through this lens, it is mind-boggling, the hubris necessary to believe we are the center of it all.

Initially this morning, I wrote a post about grace but cut it. I asked a question about the collision of values: loyalty-to-a-group smacking down telling-the-truth. It’s a uniquely human dilemma. The insistence upon tribe, Us-and-Them, spins some very dark necessities. I tossed it because grace was overshadowed by gloomy.

This is what I intended to write: on this tiny blue ball there is a group of Us defined as “All Humans”. Loyalty to this group is understood as idealistic. How can we possibly reach across so many imagined boundaries? What would we do with a definition of Us that was all inclusive? We would invite grace. Float all boats.

Each year, everywhere I wander, I am steeped in songs-of-the-season that appeal to the best of our nature. Peace on earth. Goodwill. Love one another. Perhaps we should listen to the lyrics of these songs. They are written by us for us as an appeal to our idealism, a sentiment central during this season of light’s return. Peace. Peace. Peace. We should “take it to heart.”

Let’s face it, loving one another is deviant if it is all inclusive.

It’s a reach, I know, but it’s really not so hard to imagine Us in the context of this vast universe, on this tiny ball spinning and spinning around our minuscule sun, one of billions and billions and billions. In such a context, the boundaries-in-our-minds dissolve and invite a different set of questions to arise: How can we better share this blue dot together? Conflict makes money yet collaboration creates possibility.

Pouring a little light into so much dedicated tribalism is deviant. It requires a touch of dignity. Pouring light into darkness is called Grace. Grace, in the face of so much division, is deviant.

When I cut my initial post I wondered what it would take to breach the code of tribe, reach beyond the singing platitudes, and incite some deviant behavior like peace-on-earth and all-inclusive love-of-one-another.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DEVIANT BEHAVIOR

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Listen To The Sing-Song [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The sound, rhythm and pattern of language. Listen to the sing-song of a mother talking to her infant child. Exaggerated prosody. Love carried through time and space on a warm carpet of sweetly over-elaborated sound waves. The words carry less meaning than the prosody. The shape of the sound, exaggerated to invoke a giggle. A bright face. A smile.

In our house, the exaggerated prosody is reserved for Dogga. “It’s time for sleepy-night-night!” Kerri sings to a tired-faced-Dogga. There is a distinct rhythm to “sleepy-night-night” that has become a comforting ritual chant. Our day would not be complete without it. He wags his tail and lopes toward the bedroom. Or, “We’re going to the living room!” she says in response to his constant anticipation of our next move. The words “living room” elongated and embued with excitement. He dashes to beat us there and, in my mind, to convince us that he’s been waiting all along.

When Unka John arrives, his ritual Dogga sing-song goes like this: “Hey! Hey! Give me that bone!” The game is explicit, the sound of the words as exacting as a line from Sondheim. After Unka John pretends to eat Dogga’s bone and returns it to the awaiting Dogga mouth, signaling the end of the arrival game, he chants two consecutive times, “Do you want a treat!” with the hard accent and lift on the word “treat.” It sets-off a full body wag and race to the treat jar. “Gentle! Gentle!” is the incantation that signals Dogga to sit and tenderly accept the treat. Of course, the whole sequence of Unka-John love-fest is ignited when we say to Dogga, “Guess who’s coming?” in a melodic line that we know will provoke a bouncing-dog-rush to the front door as we await the imminent arrival.

The meaning is not carried in the words, rather, it’s in the poetry of the tones. The generosity of the sound.

It’s the poetry of everyday life. The ritual sounds we use to shape our day, to create our comfort-home. To fill our hearts with gratitude. To clearly say, “I love you” in sound and tone when our words are merely, “Do you want some lunch?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about EXAGGERATED PROSODY

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buymeacoffee is a sing-song of generosity offered to the ongoing work of the artists and travelers that support you journey.

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

Controlled burn. A fire set intentionally to maintain the health of the forest. It’s an interesting concept. A useful metaphor: what does a controlled burn look like when you are the forest? What are the invasive species growing uncontrollably in your mind? Your body? Your spirit? What overgrowth is choking out the light?

“Organizations are like people,” the younger version of me was fond of saying. “The path to health for an organization is the same as it is for you and me.” My business partner and I were hired for many reasons: leadership questions, change processes, diversity…but beneath the surface reason was always a deeper question: the health of the organization was awry. There was a dis-ease that looked like leadership issues or my personal favorite organizational illness indicator: change management initiatives.

What is balanced activity? A good diet (eating bad information is akin to gobbling bad food)? What is the value of laughter (holding it all lightly)? Above all, the single magic pill capable of healing every ill: attend to the relationships. Process (kindness) should never take a backseat to productivity. People are not widgets or replaceable bulbs. There will be plenty for all if the essentials are respected.

The hard part, especially when there’s pain, is to admit that the only way forward is to stop, turn around, and take a good honest look at what you are doing and why you are doing it. Politics and profit are great creators of darkness, fabulous justifiers of abuse. An alcoholic has to admit their problem before they can address it. The same is true for an organization (or a nation).

Taking an honest look is akin to starting a controlled burn. Opening space. Welcoming light. The destruction of an illusion is a literal eye-opener.

It’s not so very hard. What is true for individuals is true for organizations is true for nations. It’s simple to talk about. It’s hard to do. I learned this too: no one willingly stops and turns to take a good honest look until the darkness becomes…too dark. Until the only path forward is to pop the illusion. Often that begins by stopping to light a fire – first to see and assess the darkness – and then controlling the burn.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CONTROLLED BURNS

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

I remember closing my eyes, face to the sky, to feel the joy in the snowflakes fall. On another day, separated by years, I walked out into the rain and with outstretched arms, I asked the sky to wash my grief away.

On yet another day, a younger version of me, bundled against the midnight cold, lay in a mountain field with friends and watched the stars shoot across the heavens. Oooo-ing and aahhh-ing. Then there was the winter day I stood with my back pressed against the brick wall and drank in the warming sun. My bones and the sun connected.

In answer to his puckered disbelief that I was yet a non-believer, I suggested he find a spot beyond the city lights, and on a clear night peer into the starry sky, and realize what he was seeing. Infinity knows no tribe.

“Clear blue sky always brings my thoughts to Colorado,” I said. “There’s nothing like the Colorado blue.”

One night, amid raging inner turmoil, I looked to the full moon and whispered, “Okay. I will follow where you lead me.”

It is a welcome common occurrence, she stops mid-stride and points, ” Do you see the duck!” or “Doesn’t that look like a crazy Mickey Mouse?” Cloud watchers. A festival of pareidolia ensues.

And who hasn’t looked to the sky and uttered, “Please…” The yearning heart reaches for a vast wordless sky.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SKY

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buymeacoffee is a call from the sky to support the continued work of the artists you appreciate.

Live Your Words [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Language is among the most powerful yet rarely acknowledged and mostly discounted forces on earth. We name our experiences, we story our lives with words. Alter a single word this way or that and the story of a lifetime takes on a completely different cast. Success. Failure. Together. Alone.

Currently we are witness to an aspiring autocrat label fellow citizens as vermin and thugs. A well-worn page from the despot playbook. Dehumanization of others is the first step in approving, priming, unleashing, and then normalizing violence. If history teaches us anything it is that language is not only capable of creating unspeakable beauty, it is also capable of unleashing unimaginable horror. This is not playground rhetoric or locker room talk. This is laying the groundwork for brutality. White. Black. Supremacy. Equality. Community. Tribe. Division. Togetherness.

Language matters (education matters).

Consider this simple phrase chalked onto a park bench: I With. This phrase struck me as particularly potent yet unappreciated. I accompany you. I am with you. I walk with you through this life. I choose to stand with you. With. I.

No word is more dynamic and intoxicating than “I”. There is no more necessary or formidable preposition than “with”. I with love? I with hate? I with unity? I with division? I with open-heart? I with closed-mind? I fear. I embrace.

The great power in language is in the words we choose to live.

read Kerri’s blogpost about I WITH

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buymeacoffee is a phrase formed of individual words meant to initiate a possible action of support for the continued work of artists you appreciate.

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

Of course, the problem with leaving well enough alone is that the phrase only pops up when things are not well enough. When change is on the horizon, when a hidden truth is about to breach the crusty surface, when the globe spins and a new insight dawns, it is a sure bet that the keepers of the conservative will bellow, “Leave well enough alone!”

Call it creative tension. The space between progress and conservation is a taut rubber band. Both poles serving a necessary purpose, neither is trustworthy when absent the other pole. So, phrases like, “Leave well enough alone” are signal flags, signs that the tension on the band is high and the snap forward is inevitable. Pulling back always signals an impending forward step. Always.

I’m particularly fond of this image. A tomato slice demanding inaction. And won’t this crabby tomato be surprised in a day or two to see the icky green results of inactivity! Better to invite the bacon, lettuce and toasty bread to the plate, a bit of salt and pepper, and get on with the business of yummy sustenance. Progress by any other name.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE

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buymeacoffee is a progressive impulse meeting a conservative over-reaction causing deep distress that can only be cured by an action in the direction of intention to make a better world for the tomatoes that envision it.

Bring On The Comfort [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Last Tuesday evening we sat on the deck until late. We were in short sleeved shirts. Kerri wore summer shorts. It was an anomaly for late October in Wisconsin. The warm breezes set the chime symphony in motion. It was an evening of low talk and high peace. The Dogga slept on the deck. Hope-the-frog meditated by the pond.

Since then the temperatures have headed south. We are wearing layers, warm socks, and replacing the cotton sheets on the bed for flannel. The quilt has made an appearance. Slippers and Uggs stand at the ready.

And, just like that, it’s soup weather. The return of comfort food. In our cupboard, patiently waiting for this day, is a humungous can of peeled tomatoes. We’ll launch the good boat Comfort with a vat of Joan’s tomato soup. It’s simple and delicious. We’ll bake bread for dipping or to tear and toss like croutons into the soup. It never fails: once the soup is ladled into the bowls, all coherent conversation stops. This soup is that good.

No worries, 20 will help us eat it. With a vat this big, there will be plenty of leftovers (for days).

Comfort: 1) physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint. 2) easing or alleviation of a person’s feelings of grief or distress.

This is some seriously powerful soup. Bring on the comfort!

read Kerri’s blogpost about SOUP!

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buymeacoffee is a “tip-jar” where you can provide comfort soup and croutons in support of the continued creativity of the artists you appreciate.

Start There [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The rest of her quote went like this: “And not everyone has had that chance.”

A simple gratitude too often missed.

For years I’ve made it my practice to list my gratitudes at the end of each day. It became my practice because I was – in my original orientation to time on this planet – hyper-focused on what was wrong with me and the world. Obstacle focused. Conflict obsessed. Judgmental of my every move. Refocusing my eye on the abundant generosity of this ride was – at least initially – an act of survival. I’ve come to realize that is was the most self-loving choice I’ve ever made. I’ve found that I am now counting gratitudes in real-time, as they happen.

See the glimmers. Note the kindness. Do not miss the sun on your face. Appreciate the smile. My nightly gratitudes rarely recount monumental happenings. The first sip of coffee. A message from a friend. The Dogga made us laugh. We wrote together. Warm bread and camembert cheese. Kerri held my hand.

I had a full day of life. Let’s start there.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHANCE

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buymeacoffee is a monetary gratitude offered in support of the continued creation of the artists you value.

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

Her delight in finding the stack of Nancy Drew novels, her girlhood favorites, sparked a question. She asked, “What did you read as a kid?” Instantly, I was a deer in the headlights. I muttered something incomprehensible and changed the subject in order to dodge the question.

It’s not that I didn’t remember. The truth is that I wasn’t a reader until I was in my mid 20’s. It’s as if someone threw a switch and I was instantly transformed from dullard to a voracious reader. I generally have two or three books going at the same time, making up for lost reading time.

A few years ago it occurred to me that I was reading like a starving man at a smorgasbord. I was gobbling words without breathing or tasting. So I decided to try an experiment. Read books like they are poetry. Savor a few pages at a time. Consider for a full day what I have read in my few pages. Re-read it if I am unclear. Re-read it if it is gorgeously written.

My experiment is going well. I’m living in the books rather than blowing through them. I delight in the phrases, the way words are put together to invoke images and sounds and tastes. Sometimes a phrase is so beautifully written it makes my eyes water. I feel as if I’ve pulled off the freeway, stepped out of the car, and am walking through a meadow. I see more. I appreciate more.

I credit the age of information with my new reading practice. I’ve been studying how people engage with their screens, how I have been engaging with my screen. We skim. We jump. We tab hop. There’s so much information demanding our attention, stuffing the nooks and crannies of our minds. Emails, texts, slacks, social streams…

I’m finding my peace, out of the stream and off the info-super-highway, turning paper pages with intention, paying full attention to what is written there, no more than a few pages at a time.

read Kerri’s blog about NANCY DREW

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