Earth School [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“It takes the brave to come here,” Shelly said, assuming our spirits come to this planet with the intention to learn and grow. We were discussing life-lessons. Earth school.

20 regularly reminds us that relative to many US citizens we are considered poor but relative to the majority of human beings on the planet, we are wealthy. We have sturdy homes. Heat. Clean water. Abundant access to food. “There’s a reason that so many people want to come here,” he says. Promise. Opportunity. A better life.

It’s all a matter of perspective and perhaps perspective is one of the most important things we learn in earth school. Without it gratitude is out of reach. Without it, empathy is null and void, self-righteousness runs amok.

When I was in my 20’s I worked on a concrete construction crew. It was very hard work. I worked alongside a Mexican man in his 50’s. We shoveled dirt. We hefted heavy equipment. We did not share a common language but early on he recognized I was working foolishly, too hard and too fast. He taught me to pace myself. He taught me to work smarter.

At night I went home to have a hot shower, eat my fill, and sleep in my own bed – while he went to a one bedroom apartment that he shared with 20 other people. He sent most of his wages home.

He was corralled in one of the immigration raids and sent back to Mexico. A few weeks later he was back shoveling by my side; a round trip journey of hundreds of miles, none of it in the comfort of an airplane or air conditioned car. He paid a coyote a king’s ransom to make the trip back to his job.

Can you imagine leaving your home, your family, your known world and with few resources, traveling to a place where you don’t speak the language, to a place where you are not wanted, to a place where you share an apartment with 20 other people – all so your family might eat and perhaps one day live a better life? He was typical. He was not a criminal. He was a father trying to feed his kids.

Earth school. I thought of that man when Shelly said, “It takes the brave to come here.” His lot was impossibly hard yet he whistled all day doing backbreaking work. He smiled. He considered himself fortunate. That man was brave. He was also kind. He was patient. He was living a onerous life that I cannot begin to imagine and doing it with a light heart because he knew that his labor might bring hope and opportunity to his family.

Earth school. I wonder how much courage it will take for us as a nation to one day look in the mirror, to come to grips with the distance between our espoused and lived values?

It takes no courage to exploit. To bully. To betray. To feign righteousness. To sit atop the pyramid while claiming victim-hood. Right now, our nation and its very weak and ill-intended leaders are a study in cowardice.

I suspect hard lessons, if not already here, are coming. Perhaps we will discover what it really means to be brave and, hopefully, we will remember what it is to work for the benefit of others rather than exploit them. Perhaps we will forge a light heart in our walk through fire. Perhaps gratitude and empathy will be in reach. Hopefully, we will remember what it is to be kind.*

*Gratitude, empathy, hope, care for others, inclusion…are all attributes of “woke”. I am woke and increasingly more and more proud of it. In this climate, it will take some courage to stand with the people and institutions being demonized, to speak truth to dedicated maga-sleep-walkers.

read Kerri’s blog about EARTH SCHOOL

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Ours Is Yours [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Nothing brings people together in these un-United States like a natural disaster. When the forest fires rage, when the hurricanes destroy, people – at least for a few days – forget their politics, reconnect with their essence, transcend their religious doctrine, forget their biases, and reach a hand to anyone in need. Anyone. People run into fires to help other people. The only other catalyst with the power to temporarily unify us is an attack on our nation*. September 11, 2001 made us remember that we are one, a community. People ran into tall buildings without a second thought to help other people.

It’s called community.

It’s easy to use a word. It’s far more difficult to fulfill the meaning of a word. To live it. Community.

Communities divide and dissolve when the attacks come from within. Currently, we are witness to the attempted dissolution of our nation, the power of misinformation at transforming neighbors into enemies. The demonization of the “other”. To date, it seems to be working.

I wonder when the devastation of the blazing fascist fire – currently consuming democracy – sweeps across the land, from sea to shining sea, burning all in its path – if it will bring us back together or drive us to total destruction? Will we run into the fire to help or turn our backs and say, “Not my problem.” I suppose we must first see through the lies and recognize that there’s an arsonist in the White House delighting in watching our democracy-house burn.

We had to pick up a few things at Kohl’s. The tagline printed on the shopping bag stopped us in our tracks. “Your community is our community.” There couldn’t be a more potent message – a more powerful wish – for our rapidly disintegrating nation.

Yours is ours. Ours is yours. It’s called community.

“I’m keeping the bag where I can see it,” she said.

*I wrote this post before the Peep and Vice Peep, in a festival of embarrassment, ambushed Volodymyr Zelensky in the White House. Their blatant alignment with Putin is an attack on this nation and I am heartened to witness so many of us come together in support of Ukraine – which is to come together in support of our democracy and all that we value. Theirs is Ours. Ours is Theirs.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COMMUNITY

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Return To The Most Human [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“Non-violence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction devised by the ingenuity of man” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

If you are like me you are seeing signs like this pop up everywhere. This version was posted in the elevator in a hospital. The first version I remember was posted at the drive-thru pharmacy. Evidently, we-the-people are angry and taking it out on each other. The collapse of civility. It’s not a surprise. Our elected leaders have always been a mirror of us just as we take on and mirror their attributes. It’s a bully feedback loop.

“Nonviolence is a way of life for courageous people” ~ Martin Luther King

Lately, I’ve been working on a new play. It explores the tug-of-war between our animal and human nature. What happens when consciousness meets impulse? What is possible when reason/thought grabs the shoulders of reactivity? We know what happens when conscious thought and concern for truth is nowhere to be found. We are living it. We are compelled to post signs in elevators in an attempt to reach through the animal to find the human. We attempt to legislate decency.

“An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

20 told us a joke from a recovering Catholic comedian. The joke builds a hierarchy of sin as articulated by the church. The worst sin, the very worst sin? Critical thinking. It is a punchline appropriate for the white-nationalist-christian-clan, the Project 2025 crew, currently spreading fear and creating scary boogeymen across the land. In the name of smaller government they poo-poo learning, ban books, outlaw all forms of critical thinking like DEI, critical race theory, the constitution, the rule of law, you know, things like checks-and-balances…

“Nonviolence seeks to defeat injustice or evil, not people” ~ Martin Luther King

In a recent podcast Ezra Klein said that, despite their bully-posturing, the current administration is weak. They know that they can’t move their agenda forward through congress so they are doing an end-run around congress. And, apparently, congress is too frightened to challenge the bully. Brute force – animal nature – is capable of dominating reason and heart for a little while. Right now, congress lacks courage. Courage comes from the Latin, “cor” which means “heart”. Our congressional leaders lack heart. Congress comes from the Latin “con” which means “together” and “gradi” which means “walk”.

It is something to hope for: Our elected leaders walking together. With heart. That’s the whole idea behind democracy. From the Greek, “dēmos”, meaning “the people” and “kratia” meaning “power” or “rule”. Rule by the people as represented by their elected officials. Not the oligarchs. Not a spray-tan-bully. Walking together. It takes courage.

“In its earliest form, “courage” meant “to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart”. ~ Brene Brown

In a single month, we have been witness to incredible violence inflicted by the current administration, both on our system of government, on our citizens and the citizens of the world. Jane Goodall tells the story of a little ape who learns that banging gasoline cans together, making violent noise, would scare the other apes, momentarily making the little ape appear to be alpha. In time, the illusion faded. The community caught-on, saw through the noise. They regained their courage and stopped the little-noise-maker.

We could learn a thing or two from Jane Goodall’s story.

Do you remember a time when we had no reason to post signs in hospitals, fast food joints, and other public spaces pleading with the public to act with common courtesy? It was not so long ago that we had courage. It was not so long ago that we lived from the heart, taught our children to respect others – to respect difference. It was not so long ago that our elected leaders, despite their policy differences, had courage and fiercely protected our democratic convictions.

If our leaders no longer have the will then we must have the courage to save our democratic conviction. Walking together. Rule by the people. Courage. Telling all one’s heart.

“Return to the most human, nothing less will teach the angry spirit, the bewildered heart; the torn mind, to accept the whole of its duress, and pierced with anguish… at last, act for love.” ~ John O’Donohue

read Kerri’s blogpost about AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOR

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Whisper A Prayer [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It takes a lot these days to clear my mind and heart of the malfeasance and how it already impacts our daily life.

Malfeasance, (noun): wrongdoing; especially by a public official. Or many public officials.

We had to change concourses to catch our connecting flight. Kerri put on her mask before entering the crowded train. A man approached her and mock-coughed on her. He thought he was being funny.

Malevolent (adjective): having or showing a wish to do evil to others. From the Latin, a root meaning “violent wishing”.

“Can you believe he did that?” she asked as we exited the train.

“I think we better get used to it.” I said, “The a**holes have been given a green light.”

Our dear friends drove us over a snowy pass to the shores of Lake Tahoe. Kerri had always wanted to see it. As she does whenever she sees beauty, she cried. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered again and again. She feels the beauty.

We stopped at a beach to take photos. A cool day, I stood in the sun, warming myself, a gentle breeze rippled the surface of the lake. Quiet mind. Open heart. There’s nothing like standing on the shores of a miracle of nature. Crystal clear water reflecting snow capped mountains. It’s an instant perspective giver:

We will come and go. This era of human folly will come and go. The beauty will remain no matter the wishes we make, evil or otherwise, vicious or virtuous. Relative to the life of the lake, we are a blip, barely a blink of the eye.

Within our blip I wonder at the mind and heart that finds humor in hurting others when they have the option to help. I wonder at the heart that fills itself with hostility rather than drinks from the well of kindness.

To hurt or to help? To persecute or to assist? They seem to be the questions of our nation, of our time.

Standing on the shore in my blip of time I was eternally grateful to have my heart and mind, and not to live inside the sad angry brain of the coughing man. For him – for me – and for all of us – I whispered the Buddhist prayer: May you dwell in your heart. May you be free from suffering. May you be healed. May you be at peace.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAKE

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OY! [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

In an act of divine intervention, we removed the fallen “J” from the message on the ledge high above our kitchen sink. It now reads “OY”. It delights me each time I look up. I am in search of a matching exclamation point. The kitchen-statement-of-our-times won’t be complete without it.

Oy: an interjection to express exasperation or dismay. As in, “Oy, what a mess!”

Oy: the contraction of “OY VEY!”

Oy (noun): a type of harsh, aggressive punk music popular in the 1970’s and 80’s. “OY! OY! OY! BANG, BANG! CRASH! OY! The music of dismay.

A few months ago I told Kerri that to keep my sanity I might have to resort to draw cartoons of the news of the day. Making fun of the obviously-ridiculous is low hanging fruit but making myself laugh is a high priority these days. In keeping-with-the-wisdom-of-the-kitchen I will call my cartoon: OY! As in, “Oy, what a mess!” or “Oy, this ignorance is killing me!” Master Marsh tells me that he has a box-full-of-dumpster-fire-cartoon-ideas! OY! OY! OY! BANG, BANG! CRASH! OY!

I’m pestering Kerri to channel her discord-at-our-times into a new music of dismay. So far she’s rejecting my pester outright. I’ll keep at it. This world needs a good heart standing strong and singing into the storm. I hope one day to report the moment she shares her new music with me and asks, “What do you think?”

It will put the “J” back into my “Oy.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about OY

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Where, Oh Where [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Set to the tune of Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone:

read Kerri’s blogpost about THEN AND NOW

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Spell-Words [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Wow. Siri so easily sent to us something that Kerri and I are struggling to send: good vibes. Warm little boosts of joy and confidence.

A few months ago I started writing a picture-book featuring Chicken Marsala, our imaginary child who pops in at inopportune moments. The struggle to send warm-boosts-of-joy in the midst of a national dumpster fire brought this Chicken-snippet to mind:

I confess. I am sometimes hard on myself. On a day that I was feeling particularly hopeless, Chicken appeared behind me, mimicking my gloomy face and sad posture. His arrival startled me. I was about to shout at him not to scare me like that, but then I recognized myself in his sullen rendition. It made me laugh. “I don’t look like that!” I protested. He giggled and I have to say, as a side note, that his giggle always kills me. He giggles like a chipmunk. At least that’s what it sounds like to me. “Adorable!” as K-Dot says.

Later I thanked him for helping me lift the dark cloud on my brain. “Everyone should have a Chicken that arrives just in the nick of time to the break the dark spell!” I said.

“What’s a spell?” he asked, not at all interested in my gratitude.

“Well, it’s a kind of magic,” I said.

Magic?” he asked, alarmed and confused. “Magic made you feel bad?”

 “A spell is magic made of words,” I tried to explain. “And sometimes words make people feel bad.”

“Who made spell-words on you?” he asked, alarmed.

I admitted, “I guess I did.”

There’s a distinction between the spell-words we cast on ourselves and the spell-words cast upon us by others. By media. How else do we explain maga-mind other than as a spell cast on otherwise good people by a pathological liar, magnified by a malicious fox? How else do we make sense of those who voted for the nation’s suicide all the while proclaiming themselves as the saviors of democracy?

I would love to send you warm little boosts of joy and confidence. Maybe someday. In the meantime, I will continue to ask my angry fearful brothers and sisters across this land to consider the question Chicken asked me: “Who made spell-words on you?”

Like Chicken, I am alarmed.

“Everyone should have a Chicken that arrives just in the nick of time to the break the dark spell!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about SIRI

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Two Idioms [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.” ~ The Declaration of Independence of The United States of America, Congress, July 4, 1776

Today in the Rotunda, the symbolic center of our nation’s capitol, we bear witness to our nation willingly and publicly soiling itself. Our founding documents rendered little more than toilet tissue by a career-criminal swearing an oath to the Constitution that he has no intention of keeping. The oath administered by a Supreme Court judge who violated his oath to the Constitution by ruling the tyrant was immune from justice and, therefore, a king.

The tyrant did not arrive to the dais unassisted. A corrupted justice system, the complete moral collapse of the once grand old party, a gullible and/or apathetic* citizenry unwilling or incapable of discerning fact from fox-fantasy.

As we soil ourselves, we soil the world.

“Every man for himself!” is an idiom used in two distinct circumstances: 1) the moment when the ship is going down and no hope remains, and 2) when the rot of self-interest corrupts the heart of a community. “Every man for himself!” is the battle cry of giddy robber-barons plundering the public. Today, with the elevation of the tyrant, with the election of the oligarchy, we bear witness to both uses of the idiom. The ship of public service founders in a hog trough of personal gain.

It is no small irony that today we also celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., champion of The Civil Rights Movement, the voice of the nation’s conscience, protesting the racial discrimination written into our laws. An eloquent moral compass. A man with a dream guided by another idiom, “I am my brother’s and sister’s keeper.”

The line of division in our nation is now crystal clear, made symbolic by the two idioms colliding on our public calendar. Today there is no middle ground; we necessarily choose sides.

I believe more of us identify with, follow and uphold the example set by MLK. Today we can choose to celebrate the best of us. Today we can choose to be keepers of the dream.

Or, we can choose to applaud the worst of us. The man is unfit. He knows it. We the people know it. We need not resign ourselves to jump aboard an already stinking ship of thieves declaring loyalty to a character-less man with no greater vision than that of public plunder. Every man for himself. The idiomatic killer of the dream.

Today we can choose to be our brother’s and sister’s keeper. We. The People. Keepers of the dream.

Our sacred documents were written to prevent this moment of public debasement. It is astonishing on this day to see our founding documents, our highest ideals, so easily and with great ceremony flushed by the very people sworn to protect them.

*Approximately 90 million eligible voters did not vote in 2024, 36% of the electorate simply did not show up. Since DJT won the election with 77 million votes, slightly less than 50% of votes cast, he ascends the dais with less than 32% of the electorate. Less people voted for the despot than those who couldn’t be bothered to vote and stayed home. A sad and cautionary tale.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WE THE PEOPLE

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A Successful Ripple [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

In 1890 Eugene Schieffelin released 60 starlings in Central Park. A year later he released another 40. Starlings are not native to the United States and Schieffelin “…hoped to bring all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s plays to North America…” It is estimated that 100 million flocks descended from his original 100 starlings. One of the 100 million took respite in our neighbors tree and their sheer number stopped us in our tracks. Beautiful individually, beautiful en masse.

That’s quite a successful ripple. It reminded me of Paul who taught me never to underestimate my power to influence the lives of others. We never know the reach of our actions, the power of our words. The ripples we launch.

A lover of metaphor, I am given to researching symbolism, the genesis of every story. I was unusually moved by the starlings, by the unity of their movement in flight, so, imagining that they were messengers, I wondered what might their message be:

“When the Starling Spirit Animal comes into your life, it suggests careful consideration as to with whom you spend time and how much they influence your thoughts and behavior. It’s great being part of a sizable group, but not every single member has a positive impact on you. You need friends. That’s normal. But always take care with whom you let into your inner circle. Stay with folks who support your growth and positive thinking.”

I laughed when I read it. Could there be a more pertinent message for our divisive times? “Take care with whom you let into your inner circle.” We’re in the process of circling our wagons. We’re recently very particular about the information we plug into, the conversations we entertain, and with whom.

And then there was this relative to starlings as symbol:

“Don’t be afraid to put your truth forward. It takes a little practice, but relationships require clarity.”

As I’ve written, these troubled times have provoked quite the ongoing debate within Kerri’s and my Melange. What are the boundaries of what we write? “Put your truth forward…relationships require clarity.”

I was also amused to read this:

“Starling Spirit Animal offers insight on how you can remain assertive, but not overbearing.”

Ask Kerri. I could definitely use some insight in not being overbearing and the starlings are no doubt great masters and a worthy place to start.

And so, 135 years ago, Eugene Schieffelin let fly a starling ripple and his messengers recently landed in my neighbor’s tree which prompted me to ponder these very worthy missives:

“Put your truth forward.

“…remain assertive, but not overbearing.”

“…take care with whom you let into your inner circle.

read Kerri’s blogpost about STARLINGS

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A Pendulum With What? [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“Along the way, we have unlearned how to live wide-eyed with wonder at what Hermann Hesse called “the little joys” — those unpurchasable, unstorable emblems of aliveness that abound the moment we look up from our ledger of lack.” ~ Maria Popova, The Marginalian, January 28, 2025

I am aware that reading my recent posts, my letters to the world, are like riding a wild pendulum.

Side note: instead of using the word “pendulum” I was going to use “Newton’s Cradle” only I couldn’t remember what the device was called. I was having trouble Googling it because I couldn’t figure out how to ask the question necessary to produce the result. Kerri pulled up “Newton’s Cradle” in a nanosecond. “How did you do that?” I asked, “What words did you use to get it so quickly?”

“A pendulum with balls,” she said. I burst out laughing. “What?!” she protested, “That’s what it is!” I’m still laughing.

And so, a pendulum with balls. Newton’s Cradle. Lately, reading what I write is like riding that – whatever that is. One day my post rages at the coming storm. The next day my inner Buddha grabs the keyboard and espouses the virtues of presence. Kerri is also writing like a ride on Newton’s Cradle but she’s a better writer than I am, more conversational and heart-full, so her posts are less whiplashy than my raging.

Riding the pendulum is a hot topic of conversation here at the international headquarters of kerrianddavid.com. It’s relatively new to our experience, this bouncing between awe at the little wonders of the day and utter disgust at the titanic horror of our historical moment. Do we honestly give voice to what we are thinking/seeing all the time or only half the time? How much is too much? Who do we want to be in this Brave New World? What is the purpose of writing anything?

When does an artist become trite?

I am reminded of the many, many, many times in my life that I’ve stood in front of school boards, boards of directors, faculty boards, boards, boards, boards, and reminded them that the arts actually serve a purpose in a society beyond entertainment. In fact, neutering the artists is among the first acts of every dictator. No autocrat wants a mirror of truth held up so society might see their reflection.

And so, as we ride the pendulum with balls, we walk through our days with no answers to our questions. We know our job is to see and reflect the full spectrum of our experience, the little joys and the worst nightmares. The sweet cardinal that came to our window, the message scratched in the snow on the side of the trail, all the while ringing the alarm that an arsonist has the keys to the national house. Both/And. Holding on for dear life riding Newton’s Cradle.

read Kerri’s blogpost on Merely A Thought Monday

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