For Every Little Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you came to our house over the holidays you’d find trees, trees, trees everywhere. Trees of all shapes and sizes. Some wrapped in lights. Some adorned by a single silver ornament. Some without adornment of any kind. The outside invited inside. Until recently, when we moved it to the back deck, a large tree-sized branch wrapped in happy lights dominated our living room, 24/7, 365 days a year.

It should not then come as a surprise that last year we moved the aging wooden glider from the deck into the living room. It now sports fuzzy white pillows. Dogga knows that when we say, “Let’s go to Minturn!” it means we are headed for the glider. He meets us there.

Our most recent outside-in addition is the chiminea. It was a wedding present and over the past decade we’ve loved it and used it often. Sitting on the deck one night this past summer, Kerri was eyeing the chiminea. “What?” I asked.

“In the fall, when the weather turns cold, I think we should move it inside,” she said.

And, so, we did. The chiminea now lives in our sun room with a plant sitting atop the chimney. Happy lights pop on within the burn chamber at sunset. Each evening at snack-time we sit at our bistro table and enjoy the warmth of the light glowing from within the natural clay.

20 recently said, ‘I hope you two appreciate each other.” We laughed and reassured him, we literally recounted for him, the many ways that we, each-and-every-day, express our appreciation for each other. She thanks me for making breakfast. I thank her for washing our clothes. We have, in our past lives, taken for granted the daily kindnesses that others offered us and that we offered to others. We’d somehow allowed the myriad tiny-generosities of our past relationships to lapse into the mundane. We learned from our mistake.

In this, life’s second chance, we take advantage of every opportunity to express our appreciation.

In fact, the idea behind our Minturn, the force that brought the chiminea inside, is the creation of opportunities for appreciation. They are spaces we create, places we stop so we can sit solidly in the moment, sharing a simple snack of bread and cheese, sipping a glass of wine, and feeling the full abundance of our lives. And, the greatest abundance of all is the conscious cultivation of appreciation for every-little-thing, especially cherishing the time we have together on this earth and the opportunity to fill each moment with appreciation for each other.

*****

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CHIMINEA

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Take A Peek [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“But the relationship of morality and power is a very subtle one. Because ultimately power without morality is no longer power.” ~ James Baldwin

At first glance, this birds-eye-view of our luminaria looks to me like a tear in the fabric of time. It seems a peek into another time so that the other-time is also capable of peeking into our time.

Historian Timothy Snyder defines freedom, not as the removal of a limit, rather freedom is something we continually create together. Our creation of freedom is an expression of shared values. Follow the thought, examine the history and we learn (over and over again) that no one can be free unless everyone is free, and freedom doesn’t just happen.

Isn’t freedom-and-justice-for-all a statement – an expression – of a shared value? I protect your freedom because your freedom is also mine. If your freedom is revoked, mine is revoked also. From a birds-eye view, from the rip in the fabric of time, it’s easy to see that we lost our freedom when the Supremes suspended due process. We tossed away our freedom when they somehow ruled that one man was above the law.

Have you noticed that ICE is less and less concerned about the citizenship of the people they snatch off the streets?

Authoritarians objectify segments of the population (woke, scum, snowflake, illegals…). They objectify in order to define them as “Other”, as less-than-human. It’s easier and more palatable to take freedom from an object than it is to strip it from a living, breathing human being, an equal. The problem is, the history is, that objectification-of-others spreads like an aggressive cancer. It takes over the body. It kills the body. It snuffs the freedom of all.

The misguided notion of freedom-and-justice-for-some becomes a prison for all. No one sleeps easily.

Our democracy is young. It tugs on the rope between freedom-for-all and freedom-for-the-select. Yet, we (currently objectifying each other as maga AND woke) tell ourselves over and over again the story of freedom-for-all winning against the brutal authoritarians, the believers in freedom-for-the-select-few.

In our movies, the bad guys are always believers in freedom-for-the-select. The Emperor wants a slave class and unlimited power. Luke and Obi Wan are believers in freedom-for-all. Even though they are outgunned, they have virtue on their side – and the virtue they embody, the driver of their rebellion, is a belief in freedom-and-justice-for-all. We cheer when they win in the end. Frodo and company, against all odds, must return the corrupting ring of power to Mount Doom, ending once-and-for-all the authoritarian control of Sauron. Even though the task seems impossible, they have good on their side and they win. And what is their definition of good? To live peacefully according to their will. We cheer when the good King returns to power; he is good because he serves the people and not the other way around. David slays Goliath. Kilmar Abrego Garcia stands against a vindictive authoritarian administration. The Epstein survivors fight for decades, against all odds, to bring down the monstrous Epstein class of rich and powerful believers of freedom-for-the-select.

The story of freedom-for-all triumphant over freedom-for-the-select is our nation’s founding story. Rebels in the colonies, believers in rule-by-the-people-and-for-the-people, believers in the rule of law over the king’s rule, broke free of an authoritarian. Since then it has been our task to create and recreate freedom, to extend and protect the rights and freedoms we value, edging ever closer to freedom-for-all in our diverse nation.

Sometimes, people are blinded by power and are enticed to the dark side. They choose the wrong team. Darth Vader, in the end of the story, is confronted by the loss of his moral compass. Watching the grotesque Emperor torture of his son, he sees, maybe for the first time, the truth of the cancer he serves. He is confronted by his ultimate loss of freedom, the sacrifice of his son, Luke. Seeing the truth, Darth Vader intervenes, he saves his son. Sacrificing his own life, he throws the Emperor, the authoritarian, into the abyss. He redeems himself. He re-enters the good, the unifying force.

These stories are our metaphors. They are expressions of our values. They are the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.

From a birds-eye view, from the stories we continue to tell to each other, we are undeniably believers in freedom-for-all. A hundred years from now, through the rip in the fabric of time called history, we’ll know whether or not WE THE PEOPLE defeated the evil within our nation or fell into a corrupt regime, a cancerous state goosestepping to the whims of an immoral emperor who ruled over a universe of slaves.

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LUMINARIA

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On The Day of “How?” [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Thoughts from the trail on day number 2 of a new year:

In my distant past I led workshops and retreats. Attendees, after having a significant revelation, would inevitably ask, “How do I take what I now know back into my day-to-day life?” At the time I generally threw the question back at them. “How do you take it back?” There is no formula.

How do we integrate new wisdom into ancient patterns? How do we weave our dreams into our white-knuckle-grip on reality?

There are ubiquitous platitudes that offer not-very-helpful-advice: “Out with the old and in with the new.” “Just do it.” “Pull up your bootstraps.” “Put on your big-boy pants.” These bromides are built upon faulty notions that 1) change is a one-and-done achievement rather than an ongoing process, 2) change is a linear path, and 3) change is something done all-by-yourself in a vacuum.

We only know ourselves in relationship to others. There is no arrival platform in this ever-changing life. Although we would like it to be otherwise, learning (change) is cyclical – it is never linear – and has no end (well, there is one definitive hard-stop).

I could have responded to my attendees with a question like this: To what story are you married? What makes your new insight a threat to the old story? Can you relax, breathe and detach from parts of the old story? I might have suggested that the question “how” presumes needing to know before acting. Is it possible that knowing “how to do it” is something seen after the fact? What if the “how” of taking a revelation back into life can only be understood after it is experienced? And what if “how” is a series of discoveries that never end?

I worked with a man who preached that people only change when, “The pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of making the change.” There is some truth to his belief. Pain is a potent motivator. Not-knowing can be unpleasant and very few people willingly walk into discomfort. Discord is a prerequisite of concord. And, vice versa.

Yearning is painful. Holding a dream can be excruciating. Stepping toward a vision can be scary as well as exhilarating. Staying the course in the face of internal opposition is a choice that is made again and again with each new step. And, each new step reveals previously unseen possibilities.

Revelations create new images, updated visions. What if the only thing that matters is stepping toward the vision – especially knowing that each new step will inform and alter the vision? And, what if standing still or temporarily turning away is actually an action: moving toward rather than running from? There is grace in recognizing readiness.

Thoughts to myself from the trail on day number 2 of a new year. It is the day that the fog of holiday celebrations clear and we begin to doubt our resolutions and question the strength of our revelations. It is the day we ask, “How?”

BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BRANCH

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A Symbol of Hope [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

There is no more appropriate symbol on the first day of the new year than the pine cone. It is an ancient symbol that reaches across cultures and religions. Spiritual awakening, inner vision, new growth, enduring spirit.

When we were married, Joan gave us a box of pine cones. We’ve followed her suggestion and each year commit a cone to fire to release the seeds. New life. The symbology also includes resilience because fire is often required to free the seeds. Fire transforms.

2025 was like a forest fire in these un-United States. It is my hope, our hope, that the hot authoritarian fire of 2025 released the seeds of democracy’s renewal, that we awaken – reawaken – to the enduring spirit of our diverse nation and the promise of equality under the law, the expectation of liberty and justice for all. It is the epicenter, the aspiration-seed planted by our founders and protected by our Constitution.

On this, the first day of this new year, 2026, there is no more appropriate symbol of hope for our future than the pine cone.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PINECONE

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So, Really? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

It’s the eve of the new year.

This is the season that holiday cards arrive in the mail. Often, the card is accompanied with a letter reviewing the senders’ events-of-the-past 365 days*. Those letters are necessarily reductions and always make me wonder what didn’t make the cut. What is the abundant story told between the lines? What is the story of abundance edited out for holiday-brevity?

For instance, if I tried to share our experiences from yesterday – the life events of a single day – it would be a novel. My holiday card would be tucked into page 392 of my account of a single day of life. Would you like to know that we took a walk? Is it relevant to know that on our walk we discussed the many people we lost this year? There have been many. We told stories of the-last-time-we-saw-them. Our stories of loss evoked a deep appreciation of life. We shared dreams of the future. There are many dreams. Yearnings, in fact. In a single minute we laughed hysterically at the antics of our grown children, during a recent brief visit, racing through the house opening closet doors to find both forgotten treasures and fodder to torture their mother – and then we fell into silence wondering when we would see them again. Human stuff. Longing bouncing against laughter. We do that a lot: bounce joy off of sadness, pull awe out of desolation. She stopped suddenly and knelt in the snow, the beauty-tug of the sprig of pine needles against the ice-cold-blue-blue was too much to pass by. The many, many moments of heart-tug would feature prominently in our novel-length-holiday-letter-recounting-of-a-single-average-day.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate knowing that Junior made the soccer team or that in April the family got new iPhones. Achievements and advancements are nice to know. In that spirit, did you know that we have new gutters? The gutters were my gift this year to Kerri. She got me a new fuel pump for the truck. The real story, however, the interesting part of the life-tale, is the reason we needed new gutters in the middle of December. And what is the wild story behind the fuel pump?

Necessity always makes for a great story. So does the collision of yearning and obstacle. I wonder what inner-imperative drove Junior to soccer?

Everyone wants to put a good face on their passage. We do too. I’m more than willing to redact my days and paint a smile on my life-message. Yet, every time I read a holiday message printed on holly-decorated-paper, I wish that I could have a single hour with the holiday letter writer. We’d brew a cup of coffee, sit together in the sun and I’d ask, “So, really, what gets you up in the morning?”

*read historian Heather Cox Richardson’s review of the events of 2025

read Kerri’s blogpost about PINE ON SNOW

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Drop Into The Moment [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In the summer months the deer trails are difficult to spot. In the winter, the opposite is true. With the absence of foliage and a clean canvas of snow, while the deer remain elusive, their well-traveled pathways are easy to see.

In mythology, deer are often messengers or guides. They call us to kindness, presence and remind us to trust our instincts. I especially appreciate the call to presence since it is there that kindness and the purity of instinct can be found.

Retribution is about past grievance. Fear is a monster born of an imagined future. Both retribution and fear would have us turn our backs on the present moment. They would have us ignore the deer because they cannot survive in the present moment. The present is, after all, the only place that is actually real, substantial. It is in the realm-of-the-real that kindness abounds; it is the only place that the quiet voice of intuition can be heard.

It never fails. When we see a deer on the trail our laundry list of woes immediately evaporates. The deer calls us into the present. We stop all movement just as the deer has stopped. It models presence for us. We drop into the moment with it. We feel. We listen. We meet its eyes. It senses us and we sense it. There is no past grievance or future fear. There is nothing more important to do or a place more compelling to be. Time suspends. We fill ourselves with the awe of the relationship-of-the-moment.

And then, just as quickly, the deer leaps and is gone. It releases us. We reenter time. Refreshed. Giddy. Light of spirit. Reminded once again of the power of living in the present.

In the presence of the deer we are no longer lost in our minds. That is its message to us, its encouragement for how to best live our lives.

In the summer months we convince ourselves that they are rare, hard to spot. In the winter months, we are reminded by their tracks that, although we may not see them, these guides are all around us. Their message to us is always available. Always.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DEER

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Hear The Gentle Tapping [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“May peace gently find you and fall upon your heart.” ~ Anonymous

It seems like a tall order, doesn’t it? Especially now in our era of conflict, chaos, division, turmoil…I suppose that is the point of a wish or blessing. There would be no need to pray for peace falling upon our hearts if our hearts were peaceful.

I imagine Peace looking for us. We can’t be that hard to find.

The children’s book version of Peace’s search for humankind would not be about a search for humankind but a vigil at the doorway of the heart of humankind. Peace has already found us. It knows where we are. Peace surrounds us and is quietly tapping on our heart’s door.

We must be afraid to let it in. What else?

Timothy Snyder wrote, “Freedom is not an absence but a presence, a life in which we choose multiple commitments and realize combinations of them in the world. Virtues are real, as real as the starry heavens…”

Peace is like Timothy Snyder’s freedom. It is a presence. It doesn’t go away in the face of war. It waits patiently for us to open our heart’s door. To choose it.

It is not made of ethereal stuff. It is real. It is tangible, as substantial as is conflict. Like virtues, Peace is real as the starry heavens. To borrow phrasing from Timothy Snyder, Peace “is a life in which we choose multiple commitments and realize combinations of it in the world.”

A wish for the new year: May we hear the gentle tapping at our heart’s door and open it to Peace. May we choose it. May we allow it to enter and gently fall upon and open our closed hearts.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE

May peace fall softly upon your world and stay in your heart forever. ~~ Kahlil Gibran

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Fall Into Togetherness [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“We have fallen out of belonging. Consequently, when we stand before crucial thresholds in our lives, we have no rituals to protect, encourage, and guide us as we cross over into the unknown.” ~ John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

What does it mean to fall out of belonging?

This season brings us Christmas and Hanukkah and Rajab. Since they are rituals of identity they are cycles of renewal. They affirm these are my people and with them I know who I am and what I value. Each year, through our rituals, we reaffirm who we are and what we believe. It is one way – perhaps the most important way – of understanding the return of the light.

To fall out of belonging means that the rituals are enacted but their purpose has collapsed. They are no longer the glue that binds but have dissipated to become merely economic. To fall out of belonging is to be alone together. It is to be valueless since value is an aspect of relationship-with-the-whole. To fall out of belonging means there is no whole – and no way personally or communally to be whole.

That seems like an apt description of this nation once again at war with itself, dismantling every value, trying to sort out whether belonging is inclusive or exclusive. Are we equal under the law or unequal members in an ever uglier caste system? Who are we and where are we headed?

The glass blocks on the stairway seemed an appropriate metaphor for this threshold we are about to cross into the new year. The image is murky at best.

I used to be certain that I did not belong until an unlikely voice challenged my certainty. “Belonging is not an issue,” she said. I realized how wedded I’d become to my story of not-belonging. Not belonging was central to my identity as an artist. My culture defines artists as deviant. I laughed aloud when I realized that my place on the margin was my role in the society, it was how I belonged.

I also realized that It was not so much that I didn’t belong to my society but that I did not want to belong to it. It frightened me, this community that regularly conflates money with morality. This society that fears facing the totality of its history.

What I learned then is more true now: belonging is not the issue. The issue is to what kind of society do we want to belong. It’s the relevant question – the only relevant question – we need to ask ourselves as we stand on this threshold, preparing the ritual parties and fireworks, as we decide where we will be and what we will do at midnight of the 31st, as we make resolutions that will carry us into the new year and into who we want to become.

Belonging is not passive. It is not a given but requires our participation and commitment to renewal of what we value.

To what kind of society do we want to belong? The answer to that question will determine the society that we will create. It is up to us to determine which unknown we will cross into, whether we will continue to fall out of belonging and further into the dark divide – or whether we will choose to fall into togetherness, as our rituals of renewal, when truly valued, have always aspired: out of many, one.

TIME TOGETHER on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about GLASS BLOCKS

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If We So Choose [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

We had a debate about the painting on my easel that was so passionate, so intense, that Dogga thought we were having an argument and fled to the his safe-spot in the bathroom. We were startled out of our vehemence, laughed at ourselves and loved on him, reassuring him that all was right in the world.

We celebrate the return of the light. Depending upon the tradition, the celebration-of-light’s-return takes many forms and expresses through beautiful and unique rituals and symbols. The lighting of candles. The exchange of gifts. The sharing of a meal. If you think about it, each of these rituals, across all of the various traditions, are meant to bring us together. Light’s return is a symbol of hope, an annual call to the possibility of unity. Many paths, one mountain.

It is the time of year that we are for a moment capable of acknowledging the impact of our vehemence and actions upon others. It is the time of year that we at least pretend to desire peace on earth; it is the time that we sing songs of goodwill toward others. We ask it of our gods but know deep down that it is a wish that only we can grant if we so choose.

We first must choose it.

Our choices on this day? We will walk a snowy trail and revel in the quiet. We will come home, laugh at ourselves, share a meal and love on our Dogga, his unconditional love reassures us each-and-every-day that all is right in the world. Grateful, we will light our happy-lights, and crawl under a blanket.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLANKETS AND SOCKS

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The Ever-Green [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

As we sat down to write, she said, “Who knows what will happen in a week.” It sparked a minor revelation for me. We are writing this post a full week ahead of publishing, which is unusual for us. We generally write a day or two ahead but rarely in our Melange writing have given ourselves this much of a head start. In fact, we’ve maintained our seven day lead for the past two weeks. My minor revelation: In these divisive times, when we write a day or two before posting, we are more likely to focus on the latest outrage. We are reactive. When we write several days ahead, we are more likely to focus on something generative, positive. We are intentional.

Standing in the present we are often overwhelmed by the brutality of the current regime. We wonder at the people who voted for and continue to support such mean-spirited-immorality.

Staring into the future we see and believe in the inherent goodness of people. We are often taken by the beauty and generosity that surround us.

It hasn’t always been this way. This time-related-split-focus is unique to this age of attempted authoritarian takeover of our nation. Prior to this monstrous administration we generally focused on the goodness, the people and places that inspired us – whether we were writing a single day or a week ahead.

Kerri and I are not religious (well, she comes from a Lutheran tradition and I must have been a mashup between a Druid and Buddhist in a past life) so the two symbols that populate our home during the holidays are trees and lights. Trees with lights. There are little trees popping up everywhere. There is a tiny tree in my studio and one on her piano.

Last night, staring at the tiny tree that sits on the bistro table in our sunroom, I thought it a perfect symbol for our times. The evergreen is an ancient symbol, associated with the solstice, the return of the light. The tree and its boughs represent – and have always represented – the end of the dark times. It once represented the healing of the ailing sun and its return to health. It proffers a promise of good times ahead.

The little tree on our table helped me grok my minor revelation. Metaphorically – and literally – we are currently standing in darkness. It is immediate and necessary to write about the monsters that plague us. It is heartbreaking to watch the rapid decline of our ailing nation.

Yet, moving through the solstice in its various forms of celebration, when we look into the future we hold out hope for the inevitable return of the light. It beckons, like the little trees, and promises the return of kindness and the restoration of health to the hearts of the people and to the nation. And, when that day arrives, we will no doubt retire our split focus, leave the darkness and dark days behind, and re-establish a singular focus on the generative, the light, the ever-green.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE

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