Re-Realize The Beauty [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 19, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I have thrown old journals into the fire. Letters from long lost friends have gone into the flames. Paintings, too. More than once, at a retreat, the facilitator asked us to write about fears or obstacles and ceremonially commit them to the flames. A statement of release. A marker in time: letting go.

When I was young I spent many nights in the mountains. The campfire was primal. Light and warmth against the cold dark of night. The fire was safety. In an experience that, to this day, makes me laugh and blush, camping with my brothers and dad, the fire having burned to soft embers, we climbed into our sleeping bags. Deep in the night a large animal crashed through the brush, sent us scared and scrambling to reignite the embers. We stoked a mighty roaring fire. The savage creature circled our camp for hours, snapping branches, staying just beyond the light. Running low on wood and still hours from dawn, we debated what to do. At the height of our anxiety, the peak of our fear, the imagined mountainous hungry bear moooooooo-ed. Our fire kept us safe from a wayward cow.

In our backyard we have a fire pit (a solo stove), a flame tower (propane), tiki torches of all sizes, and a chiminea. No matter the source, we light the flame and inevitably all conversation ceases. We stare, lost in thought, the flames having danced our monkey minds into quiet peace.

In the story, Prometheus steals the spark-of-life from Zeus. Fire. He wants to ignite the hearts of his creations, his humans, made from clay and sticks. He knows that Zeus will disapprove because he’s made his humans beautiful rather than the crude forms Zeus commanded him to make. That’s why he had to steal the fire. To ignite beautiful hearts, capable minds, generous souls. He was successful though Zeus, according to the story, has worked diligently to corrupt the beautiful humans and infuse them with ugliness, keeping them distant from their true nature.

Staring into the fire, with a quiet mind, it’s possible to hear Prometheus’ whisper. In the flame dances the possibility of safety, quiet mind, the capacity to let go the hurt, and for a moment, to re-realize the beauty, ignited by the spark, beating in the hearts of his humans.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FIRE

This is the first painting in a triptych I created for my performance of The Creatures Of Prometheus – with The Portland Chamber Orchestra. This is “Prometheus:Creation.” 48 x 96IN
“Prometheus: Garden” 48x96IN [sold]
“Prometheus: Resurrection” 48 x 96IN

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Expect The Meadow [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 13, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I was a doubter. Over the winter, heavy machinery eradicated invasive species – and seemingly everything else – from the forests and meadows of our beloved trail. It left a wasteland of splintered wood and debris. “It will take years to recover,” I mumbled, saddened.

I was wrong. With spring, new green shoots poked through the mud and detritus. The frog chorus returned with a vengeance to a marsh that just weeks prior had been little more than a scar. Slowly through the summer, the mayapple and coneflowers flourished.

And then there’s the meadow. In the waning weeks of August and the coming of September it has burst with yellows, purples and subtle blues. “Unbelievable,” I utter each time we pass through. Were I a plein air painter of landscapes, I’d spend many days seated on the trail, peering beyond my canvas, dabbing paint in an attempt to capture the riot of color.

The meadow is now my go-to metaphor for the power of renewal. In just a few short months, what seemed like utter devastation has revealed unstoppable regeneration. The wisdom of necessary disruption as seen in nature.

It gives me hope as we stand in the debris of our current wasteland. Just beneath the scorched earth of our circumstance, a vibrant meadow is preparing to burst forth. In a few short months, from this eradication, this intensive stripping of our invasive species, new color and life will bloom. And I will be most happy to utter, “Unbelievable,” in the face of my doubt and share with you the tale of our extraordinary rejuvenation.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MEADOW

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See Green [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 6, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

If we call someone “green”, we mean that they are inexperienced. Innocent or new. The term “green-on-green” implies a team that has little experience. Young pilots. Mixed doubles swatting at tennis balls. Newly minted detectives. New growth. Immature. Seedlings.

A green issue is environmental. Renewable energy. Wind power. Green is the color of nature.

In street slang, green has two possible meanings. Money. Green is the color of currency. Or, weed. Green is the color of marijuana. A surprising twist on green-on-green!

I can be green with envy. Or green with jealousy. Green is the color of illness. Apparently coveting makes us sick. “Do you feel okay? You’re looking green.” The Romans thought so. Shakespeare, too.

Google the meaning of green and you’ll find it symbolizes peace, hope, and harmony. Optimism.

In spiritual circles, green refers to fruitfulness and fertility. New leaves. New growth. And so, a full-circle return to the first meaning of green, only “new” need not imply ineptitude as much as promise. Hope. A weave of the many meanings of green!

I’m left pondering why I rarely use green in my paintings. Van Gogh did not shy away from green. He was bold enough to smear his green adjacent to vibrant reds and orange. Opposites on the color wheel. A bang to the eyes. Perhaps there is some green in my future.

On our hike today I can say with all honesty that I was completely taken with the many shades of green.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GREEN

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Clear Your Mind [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on September 4, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

There’s nothing like a walk in a garden to clear your mind. It was the end of the week – or was it the beginning? In any case, our brains were overloaded. We sought a garden.

So the story goes, Adam and Eve lost their spot in the garden. They ate from the tree of knowledge and started to think about things. They became self-aware, a by-product of apple-eating, they had to tell stories of where they’d come from. They had to tell aspirational stories of where they wanted to go. They made rules. Look back. Imagine forward. Neither direction is true in the absolute sense of the word. Memory and imagination are not fixed. They are fluid, changing, like a stream.

Listening to our stories it’s easy to conclude that this good earth couldn’t possibly manage without us. As global weirding progresses, it’s likely that we’ll learn the opposite of our control-story is the case: we can’t possibly manage without the good earth. We may have to adapt our narrative! We may have to consider that the garden and its many inhabitants didn’t really need names; we invented knowledge-management to suit our purposes. We might need to recognize that we invented all forms of management to suit our narrative.

We like to tell stories of being in control, of being at the top of the pyramid. We especially like narratives placing us at the center of the universe – and the micro level variety: being the chosen ones. Believing that it all spins around us is, well, comforting. Or hubris. Or both.

Of course, our story is pocked with kill-joys like Galileo. Though, to be fair, even though his telescope proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that humanity is NOT at the center, it’s had very little impact on our dedication to being all important. Above it all. We are a tenacious bunch when our story of primacy is threatened.

I was especially moved by the sign in the garden and wondered what it would take for us to turn the tables and imagine ourselves as part of the spinning universe rather than above-it-all. There are plenty of examples to draw from, humans in symbiotic relationship with their garden. Listening rather than instructing. Spinning with.

I think that is why, when our brains are overloaded, we head to the garden. A return to our senses. We breathe. We listen. We feel. We clear our minds and, even for a moment, re-enter a naturally healthy relationship.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS

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Be The Metaphor [David’s blog on KS Friday ]

Posted on September 1, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

There’s a scene in The Lost Boy that I especially love. In the play, Tom tells the story of finding his 90 year old aunt Buntie, on a very windy day, standing on the roof of the ranch house. He coaxes her down a rickety ladder and then chastises her, “Don’t go on the roof anymore! Call me if you need something!”

“Oh! You sound just like your uncle Sandy!” Buntie laughs. “He’s mad at me because I’m on the roof but I tell him I have to see that the shingles are still there. Dad put a fine roof on the house!”

When I see a bird on a wire, I think of Tom’s story. I’ve somehow associated a bird on a wire with Buntie on the roof.

Bird on a wire. It’s a perfect metaphor with many possible meanings. For Buntie, a true bird on the wire, the metaphor means to carefully consider your next step. You are in a potentially dangerous place. Wires carry electricity.

I remember sitting in Tom’s small living room at the ranch, late at night, when he began to reminisce. He delighted in telling stories of Buntie. I turned on my tape recorder. I asked a few questions but mostly listened. He was a great storyteller and needed no encouragement. He had become a bird on a wire. Like Buntie, he was reclusive in his old age, another possible meaning of the metaphor. He was sitting by himself on the metaphoric roof trying to keep the family stories from blowing away in time’s persistent wind.

We’re staying inside. Our area is under a “heat dome” for the next few days so the shades are drawn and our little window air conditioner is chanting, “I think I can! I think I can!” It’s taking the edge off the sizzle and for that we are grateful.

Somedays, like today, we feel like birds on a wire with our feet trapped in lime, preventing us from flying. It’s yet another possible meaning of the metaphor. Perhaps the oldest meaning of the metaphor. Caught in a sticky trap. Nothing is moving. No progress is being made. We sit on our wire, songbirds.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” she said, closing her laptop.

“Nope,” I agreed. “No. Where.”

“Good thing it’s really hot,” she smiled. “I don’t want to go anywhere anyway.” Lemonade from lemons.

“Yep.” I agreed, declaring, “It’s too hot. I want to sit right here. I don’t want to be anywhere else!”

“We’re lucky,” she smiled.

“Yep.” We are extraordinarily lucky. We may feel trapped but we’re still singing.

From somewhere out of time, Tom winked at me. Birds on a wire.

always with us/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora & iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about BIRDS ON A WIRE

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Be An Alien [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on August 29, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

“We are in an alien world…” he wrote, “and it is unraveling.” Somedays I wonder if I went to sleep and woke up in a tragicomedy. I wanted to reply that I feel more and more like an alien moving through an increasingly unrecognizable world. Well, truth be told, I’ve always felt like an alien. The rules of the game make no sense to me. For instance, if safe supportive society is what we seek, why are we arming ourselves to the teeth? I imagine I am not alone in my alien-feeling.

Walking the trail Kerri stopped and pointed. “Doesn’t that flower look like a spaceship?” Yellow petals stretched-like-wings in every direction. “Imagine the cool aliens!” she said, kneeling to take a photo.

The word “alien” brought to mind the recent congressional hearings on UFO’s (or UAPS: unidentified aerial phenomena). The hearings were a discussion about what we know. “No, really,” asked the panel, “What do we know?” It’s not known what we know or it’s known but concealed to the point of being unknown. The unknown is what makes an alien an alien, so, apparently, we’ll remain aliens to each other in the foreseeable future.

I had a jolting revelation yesterday. Kerri and I watch vlogs of PCT through-hikers. People who walk 2650 miles from Mexico to Canada. Thousands of people start the trail each year and only a small percentage actually finish. It seems a herculean task. They have tents, travel stoves, proper shoes, all-weather clothes, resupply stops, rest days and are well-funded. They speak lovingly of the kindness of strangers on the trail. In contrast, a hungry person leaving the Honduras walks approximately 2,558 miles, often with few or no resources, through dangerous and hostile environments, to reach the border of the mythical United States. Rather than celebrating their spirit, their fortitude and perseverance, qualities to be admired, qualities we celebrate as uniquely American, we vilify these people, calling them “aliens.” They do not tell stories of the kindness of strangers.

If you boil down the storyline of most apocalyptic-alien-invasion films, you’ll find the same inspiring moment. Humanity turns from its division and finally recognizes that ultimate survival necessitates combining forces, acting as one. Identifying as one. Transcending superficial differences and abstract lines on a map, redefining “us” to include “all human beings.”

He concluded his email with this: “I’m waiting for the crisis to finally arrive and further devastate us.  At least then we can get to the Awakening phase during which we will come together and reunite as humankind.”  He’s referring to the book The Fourth Turning. The cyclical pattern of chaos and order.

The question that identifies me more and more as an alien is this: why does it take a crisis? I know, I know…the rules of the game make no sense to me. And, after all, nature uses forest fires for renewal. I know, I know. Yet, why point a gun when extending a hand actually produces the safety and security we ultimately seek? Reaching creates kind humans; pointing a gun creates unkind humans. What am I missing? We always pull together in a crisis – it’s our natural impulse – so why wait for a crisis?

We are strange beings. Our stories are universally driven by conflict. Unknown to each other, we opt to be frightened of what we don’t understand (or refuse to consider). I’ve read that we are hardwired and dedicated to an Us-and-Them world.

I’ve also read that the purpose of our big-big brains is to transcend our animal nature so I’m confident that, one day, in the far distant future, our big-big brains will respond to the latest crisis and transcend our ancient hardwiring.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ALIEN FLOWER

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Check Your Reaction [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on August 25, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I confess to being disconcerted. At lunch, Kerri asked me a question about my blog so I typed “the direction of intention” into Google. The top slots were a prayer, rather, a type of prayer originated by Saint Francis de Sales. “Oh, No!” I thought. I don’t want my blog to be associated in any way with any church or any religion. “I hope people know that I am not that,” I said, surprising myself with the vehemence of my sentiment.

We’d just finished reading and discussing a Washington Post opinion piece, I Left The Church And Now Long For ‘A Church For The Nones.’ “… I couldn’t ignore how the word Christian was becoming a synonym for rabidly pro-Trump White people who argued that his and their meanness and intolerance were somehow justified and in some ways required to defend our faith.” So Perry Bacon, Jr.’s very interesting opinion piece was fresh in my mind.

So, too, was a passage I’d read earlier in the day from Vāclav Havel‘s book, Disturbing The Peace. The interviewer asked him to define “absurd theatre” (Havel wrote absurdist plays). He responded that absurdist theatre “demonstrates humanity in a ‘state of crisis’…it shows man having lost his fundamental metaphysical certainty, the experience of the absolute, his relationship to eternity…, in other words, having lost the ground under his feet.” In my mind, he could not have written a more prophetic or accurate description of our times. We are untethered without a functioning moral compass. We are awash in a flood of content mostly bereft of shared context.

I attended a Catholic college. I am not Catholic. I have never identified as Christian or Buddhist or Hindu…Yet, I am not an atheist. One of my favorite memories of my college years are the many conversations I had with Father Lauren sitting on the stoop of the barracks, sipping tea, discussing his faith and my belief. We explored ideas. We compared and contrasted philosophies. We laughed. We asked questions. We considered and expanded each other’s point of view. We respected each other’s differences because we were both driven by a desire to do good for other people. We shared a common intention. A common direction of intention. We both believed in “something bigger” but did not share the same idea of what “something bigger” might be.

Suddenly, I yearned for that time of openness of thought and generosity of sharing opposing points of view. I imagined sitting again with Father Lauren. Eschewing any black-or-white opinion, attempting to practice what I preach – to practice what I believe – I clicked on a few of the links of Saint Francis de Sales. I read. I wanted to know rather than to judge.

I read that Saint Francis de Sales was noted for “…his deep faith and gentle approach to the religious divisions in his land…” We could use some gentle approaches to division in these rabidly discordant times…This also caught my attention: the direction of intention, the heart of Salesian spirituality, is a practice of prayer consciously directing to god what you are about to do… In other words, intending goodness of action.

My definition of the direction of intention: it’s not about what you get, it’s about what you bring. Saint Francis de Sales and I are not so far apart in our direction of intention. Other-focused. Purposive goodness. We both encourage consciousness of action in the world and awareness of the impact of our actions on others.

So, I amend my initial thought: I do not want to be associated with any church or religion, but there’s plenty of common ground to share when we’re driven – and united – by a conscious desire to do good for other people. 

grace/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART LEAF

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Arrive At Wisdom [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 24, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

The meeting of sand and surf. In the children’s-book-of-my-mind, at the beginning of the story, sand and surf have completely different points of view. They have radically different understandings of each other and opposing orientations to ebb-and-flow, to the movement of the earth and their place in it. They insist that they are in conflict.

And yet, they meet. Every day. In the story of sand and surf they eventually learn that they can focus on their differences or they can focus on what they have in common. They are surprised to learn that one could not know itself without the other. They are gobsmacked by the knowledge that one would have no purpose without the other! In fact, they would have no identity without the other!

With their new understanding, sand and surf begin to ask a different question: who do they want to be together.

At the end of the story, the climax of this children’s tale, they come to understand that their reason-for-being is each other. They are not, in fact, separate. They are symbiotic. They transform each other in their mutual dance. Thus, they arrive at wisdom.

Sand and surf. Harmony, in the children’s-book-of-my-mind. Nothing really changes other than their choice of where to focus. And then, of course, everything changes.

my favorite illustration from Lucy And The Waterfox

Peri Winkle Rabbit Is Lost. A book I wrote and illustrated for a hurricane Katrina relief project. The organizers asked for an original story to help children understand and cope with loss. Original illustrations, no copies. I loved making this little book and i hope some child, somewhere, now an adult, loves it, too.

My gallery site

read Kerri’s blog post about SAND AND SURF

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Create Ease [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on August 23, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Reading The Marginalian this morning I was taken by these two quotes:

“The whole process of nature is an integrated process of immense complexity, and it’s really impossible to tell whether anything that happens in it is good or bad.” (Alan Watts)

“…learning not to think in terms of gain or loss.” ~ The Marginalian, August 16, 2023.

It came at the right moment. There was a river of anxiety running through our house. I opened the newsletter because the title was Seneca on the Antidote to Anxiety. I needed an antidote. Actually, I needed to be reminded of what I already know.

Most of our monsters are invented. Most of our stresses are made-up. What we fear rarely happens. Such is the power of the human imagination. We are capable of making ourselves sick with make-believe, ill with assumptions, fearful by assigning meaning to an experience before it actually happens.

We fret. We worry. We brood. We lose sleep. We get worked up. We torture ourselves with our untethered thoughts and wild-imaginings. It’s the heart of my argument to all people who’ve labeled themselves as “not creative”. We are so abundantly creative that it hurts. Check your inner monologue. It is a riot of creativity! A stampede of wild-horses!

We are capable of imagining ease rather than angst. We are capable of creating love rather than hate. It’s true, but creating ease, creating love, first requires a complete surrender of black-and-white thinking. Good or bad, gain or loss, better or worse…control fantasies, all. Creating ease is borne of an understanding that every experience – every single experience – has many possible interpretations. And, fully comprehending that you are the creator of the meaning you make. And, most of all, recognizing that making meaning of an experience is best done after it happens, somewhere down the road. I guarantee, no matter the meaning made today, it will change again and again over time. Creating ease.

Side note: compassion for self and others lives on this non-binary road.

Reminders of what I already know.

I loved the sunflowers when we placed them on the table. They were a gift and were fresh from the farmer’s market. I thought I might like to paint them, which is unusual for me. A few days later, the sunflowers bowed their heads and I found them more compelling. They seemed like gentle beings in a posture of reverence (how’s that for imagination!). Both Kerri and I raced for our cameras.

Were they more beautiful or less? And, isn’t that the exact wrong question to ask?

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUNFLOWER BOW

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Be The Rain [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on August 22, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

If you want to see me cry, play Lowen and Navarro’s song, If I Was The Rain. There are two versions that kill me. The version released on their album, All The Time In The World. And, the Youtube of Eric Lowen’s last concert. In the hard grip of ALS, he spoke the words of the song from his wheelchair. It is, without a doubt, a triumph of the human spirit. I blubber every time I watch it.

“If I was the rain/ I’d polish every outbound train/ I’d wash the teardrops from your eyes/ so you could kiss the blues good-bye.”

We simply could not believe it. Standing in the sunroom we watched a torrent of water stream down the windows. The gutters were overwhelmed. Sheets of water enveloped the house. It was as if we were standing behind a raging waterfall. It was, at the same time, glorious and terrifying. Beautiful and petrifying.

“If I was the rain/ I’d answer all the farmer’s prayers/ till green was growing everywhere/ If I was the rain.”

We’d just emerged from the basement. Trying to channel the incoming water to the floor drains, we laid towels, we positioned fans. We quickly moved boxes and bags, anything in the water’s path. We laughed and looked at each other wide-eyed. What else could we do?

“If I was the rain/ I’d choose forever to remain/ I’d add a sparkle to the night/ and marvel at the morning bright.“

It’s a new day. The rain has finally stopped. The sun is attempting to break through the clouds. The basement is dry at last. Our towel-river-bank is in the washer, getting cleaned and ready for the next emergency. We looked at photos on the web of the local flooding. We shook at heads at the volume of water that fell. It came so fast.

If I was the rain/ I’d bless each blossom to unfold/ and I’d turn each one of them into gold/ if I was the rain…

The world as seen through a waterfall. Roaring off our roof, cascading down the walls and windows, distorting the reality as we know it. Altering the arc of the day. Neighbors texting neighbors, “Are you okay?” People, knee-deep in water, helping other people because they need it. The best of humanity showing its face, even for a brief moment.

“If I was the rain…”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RAIN

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