The Feeling Of Normalcy [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.” ~ Lao Tzu

After a long week of travel and a few days delay due to nasty weather, we took advantage of the first bit of sun and returned to our trail. It was as if an entire season had passed in our brief absence. So much life happened in such a small amount of time.

In truth, on the road home we discussed how it felt as if we’d been away for years. We felt as if we’d stepped into an alternative universe. Like a science fiction movie, it seemed that our rocket ship returned to earth and although we’d only aged a few days, the earth had aged a few hundred years. The world we knew no longer existed. It was a strange feeling to walk a trail we knew so well and yet it felt unknown.

It was, perhaps, more unsettling because that is how I feel about these un-United States these days. I walk through my days in places that I recognize and yet it is made strange by a congress that is effectively dissolved, the rapid destruction of the symbol we call The White House, a president blatantly and gleefully bilking the nation while building a Marie Antoinette ballroom while democracy crumbles, people starving, people being plucked off the street and disappeared for no other reason than their skin is brown, and the highest court in the land, rather than protecting the Constitution, betraying it, shoveling more power to the autocrat. We are no longer headed for a fascist state, we have arrived.

And I go to the grocery store as I always have. I rake the leaves that fell while we were gone. We make dinner each night. When the sun peeks from behind the clouds, we return to our trail and walk so we might feel a bit of normalcy.

But the feeling of normalcy is now our enemy. Human beings are excellent at adapting and even more skilled at denying; making the atrocious acceptable. Normalizing the outrageous is now the force we must resist. We have already gone too far in normalizing the monstrous, in accepting the incessant lies and petulant abuse of power – and willing abdication of responsibility in The House, the cowing of the once-free-press. We cannot allow the loathsome to become our new normal. We cannot become accustomed to oppression.

We can, however, recover the impulse that gave our nation its birth: we know how to rebel against a bully king doing the bidding of the morbidly wealthy. We know how to join with our neighbors and speak truth to power-run-amok. We know how to say to corrupt tyrants, “This will not stand.” We know how to set course toward a more perfect union, a nation where all people are created equal, respected, and protected equally under the law.

[Happy Halloween! I just had a conversation about costumes and what I would wear to be the most scary. My answer: a republican. What kind of monster takes away food assistance from the most needy to give more money to the already morbidly wealthy? And then lies about it. Scary.]

MILNECK FALL on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL © 1997 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about AUTUMN TRAIL

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Metal Monster Box [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

In every great story there are trials to be faced, especially at the thresholds. A Sphynx with a riddle. An ogre with an attitude. St. Peter with a book. Boulders that smash. Forests that come alive. Guardians of the great beyond. I thought about the trials as we crawled for hours through traffic toward the George Washington Bridge. New York did not grant us easy passage home.

The riddle must be solved. The ogre defeated. A reckoning must be made. The trials on the journey provide valuable lessons and useful tools necessary to fulfill the hero or heroine’s destiny. She plucks a single hair from the breast of the Crescent Moon Bear. It is the secret ingredient necessary to cure her husband. He enters the Grail Castle for the second time, this time with no need to pretend. They are both transformed.

The two people who drove into the city, straight into winds and sheets of rain from a tropical storm, were not the same two people who left the city. They met this trial but the story is far from over. The destiny is not yet met.

Surrounded by giant metal monsters, trapped on all sides as we followed the asphalt trail, there was no escape. There was only one way and that was through it. Ours was a lesson in patience. Ours was a lesson in presence. We-are-here-so-enjoy-this-moment. The metal monster box reinforced tools that we already possessed but too often ignore.

Enjoy this day. Appreciate this moment. Faster forward movement cannot be forced. There’s nothing gained in the metal monster box of frustration. I know patience will come in handy in the next section of our journey.

The Balinese have a phrase I’ve long appreciated: Jom Karet: it will happen when it happens.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MONSTER TRUCKS! (TRUCK MONSTERS!)

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Break Bread [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Ah, bread. There are few sensual pleasures more fulfilling than the smell of freshly baked bread on an autumn morning. There are few taste combinations more delightful than warm bread and hot coffee. There are few visual pleasures more beautiful than racks of freshly baked bread.

There are few symbols more immediately meaningful than bread. Abundance. Breaking bread together is a gesture of friendship, a sign of peace. This world could use some more breaking-of-bread, some more willingness to meet in the middle and participate in that most human of activities: sharing a simple meal.

In the little village we wandered into the Copenhagen Bakery to grab a sandwich and found more than we anticipated. It was a thriving meeting place of the community, packed during all hours of the day, alive with conversation. Rather than grab our sandwich we decided to stay and soak it up – an unusual choice for two people who’ve grown to avoid crowded places. We had to work hard to find a place to sit. The BLT that we ordered was enormous. The remainder of the plate was piled with homemade chips and a chocolate chip cookie. It was an expression of generosity. During our brief stay in the village we went back to the bakery again and again; we needed the nurturing that this place of bread and intentional kindness offered. We needed the experience of a community gathering around warm bread to talk, laugh and share stories.

Intentional kindness. Generosity. Qualities that are magnetic. They create. They uplift. They pull people toward a common center.

In this era of intentional meanness and rampant greed, we are witness to these qualities that can only divide and destroy. They repel and discourage. Dis-courage: literally dis-hearten. Cut out the heart.

Sitting in the Copenhagen Bakery I whispered a wish that somehow, someway, these political parties and our communities, that are so unnecessarily divided, might find their way to this heart-filled bakery, that they might put down their whipped-up-discord long enough to sit for a spell in a space that exudes generosity of spirit and break bread together.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BREAD

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Moving Mountains [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

There are few artists that she admires more than Phil Vassar. He is one of the great singer-songwriters of his genre. Last week he played at the Genesse just down the road so we moved a few mountains to be there. He’s recovering from a heart attack and a stroke so he also moved a few mountains to be there. I’ve never witnessed more simple gratitude pour from a performer – for being alive, for being able to sing and play, for sharing his gifts.

The lyric went straight to her heart and she cried: dreams can grow wild born inside an American child. She cried for her own wild dreams.

She cried for the crumbling dream called The United States of America. This song, American Child, in a moment became the anthem for all that we are losing, all that her father, a WWII vet, a prisoner of war, who fought against fascists, who carried the deep psychological scars from his service through the rest of his life…all so that his children and grandchildren might live in a country where dreams can grow wild.

She cried.

Democracy is, itself, a wild dream careening toward a cliff. The White House is literally being torn apart by a man-who-would-be-king. The congress has all but abdicated its responsibility; it’s literally left-the-building. The Supreme Court regularly rules against the Constitution, literally elevating one man above the law.

Those who believe in the dream of democracy hit the streets on the day we saw Phil Vassar. It was the biggest protest in the history of our young nation. Thom Hartmann wrote: “The No Kings Day protests last weekend were breathtakingBut here’s the hard truth: that energy, that passion, that righteousness means very little if it doesn’t translate into structure and leadership. Movements that fail to coalesce around leaders and build institutions typically die in the glare of their own moral light or fail to produce results.

Wild dreams are the north star of action. The dreams of an artist become reality after hours and hours and years and years of practice and rehearsal. Specific action aimed at the manifestation of the dream; moving mountains.

Democracy is not defended by hashtags. It’s defended by hands, millions of them, building, voting, organizing, and refusing to quit when the cameras are gone.” ~ Thom Hartmann

Phil Vassar suffered a heart attack. And then a stroke. He is moving mountains because he nearly lost his dream. He’s not sitting at home fretting. He’s playing concerts. He’s writing new songs. He’s breathing new air into his almost-lost-dream.

Perhaps we will do the same.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILD DREAMS

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The Best Way [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It’s a common misconception that in order to succeed in life it is necessary to climb over the bodies of the competition. Dog-eat-dog is among the saddest philosophies in the human canon. Not only is it a poverty mentality (there’s not enough for everyone), it’s a lie all dressed up in gold-veneer. It assumes achievement (of any kind) happens in a vacuum. No support. No privilege. No mentors. No relationship at all with circumstance. To be clear: “Every man for himself!” is a cry issued from the bridge when the ship is going down. It is the mantra of the mentally vapid and morally vacant, the desperate, the drowning. It is antithetical to thriving.

No one thrives in isolation.

The people I admire most are those who rose in life because they helped others rise. They invested in the betterment of their community because they understood that they lived in community. They understood that prosperity is something that is best created when it is created for all. My mentors understood that to suppress, undermine, exploit or demonize members of their community might bring momentary success but it inevitably fractured the foundation: all houses crumble. The best route to thriving is to make certain that the ship is solid and the course is beneficial for all on board. Taking care of others is the best way of taking care of yourself. Work hard. Be kind. Thrive.

As I write this, people across the nation are assembling for the No Kings protests. They know, as do I, that in order for a community – for a nation – to thrive it must protect the rights and values of all people, not only of its citizens. It’s a philosophy called democracy. Of the people, by the people, for the people. They are taking to the streets to push back against the authoritarian assault on our democracy by those who adhere to the dog-eat-dog philosophy otherwise known as fascism.

It’s been less than a year since the authoritarians took the reins of power and we’re already seeing the nation’s foundation crumble. When we suspend the rights of due process to immigrants, we suspend due process for all of us. When we suspend the rule of law for one man, we suspend the rule of law for all of us.

We are at the crossroads. It does my heart good to see millions and millions of people take to the streets as a peaceful community – in service to their community – to protest the outrages we now witness each day – and attempt to protect the rights of all people – all people – before they are lost, before this listing ship starts to sink, before the oligarchs, crooks and cowards on the bridge crow with delight, “Every man for himself!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE KIND

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Jump! [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you look closely at this grasshopper you’ll see a miracle of pattern and color. It was particularly easy to marvel at this wonder of nature because this grasshopper was HUGE. It was almost worthy of a saddle.

Grasshoppers can only move forward so they are symbolic of jumping over whatever life throws at you, jumping over big obstacles with great grasshopper-gusto and courage.

I’ve heard again and again that courage is not the absence of fear, it is what we do in the face of fear. Now is the time for all of us believers in goodness and the rule of law to evoke our inner grasshopper, to saddle up our jumpers since life has thrown in our path an abundance of masked and unmasked fearmongers.

There’s no going back, there’s no running away. Grasshopper-gusto is our only choice in the face of this fear.

Let’s call each grasshopper-ride a leap of faith – another positive aspect of grasshopper symbolism – trusting that we have the wisdom (and each other) to overcome this – or any – challenge that stands between us and the fulfillment of our great promise and our dreams.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the GRASSHOPPER

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Share Your Pie [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

This one is from Roger. If you live in a world of limited pie than you’ll no doubt hoard or try to take someone else’s piece (it is also appropriate to insert the homophone, “peace”). If you live in a world of unlimited pie, a world of plenty of pie for everyone, then you’ll share your pie. You’ll share your peace/piece.

The only thing that’s different in those two pie-world-views is the belief in pie, and, as we know, belief is rarely a good reflection of reality but is an excellent creator of limitations.

There is no limit to the good vibes we can spread. Share your pie.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GOOD VIBES

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It Is The Time [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Yesterday I painted the rail on the front porch. I sanded the small windows upstairs; they need repainting. One of the window sills in our bedroom has water damage. It is next on my list to fix before the snow returns.

I realized what I was doing; what we are doing. Since we cannot control or impact in any way the rapid destruction of our democracy – at the hands of those sworn to preserve it, no less – then I will do my best to attend to what I can control. I will be a good steward of our home. I will fix what I can.

She said, “We have to do something to pull our heads out of this madness. At least for a little while.” Yes. We bumped into them on our walk around the neighborhood, a couple who we admire. We shared our concerns and dismay. We have to do something to remind us of goodness, that people of good intention are all around, even when it feels hopeless. Our brief sidewalk chat gave us hope. We are not alone in our worry. We are not alone in our belief in goodness.

We harvested the last of the peppers. This summer our garden was prolific. The basil exploded. The tomato plant is still producing. The garden, the yard, the pond, the appearance of the frog…the exercise of intentionally coming into the moment, the place were common sense can be found when it is otherwise absent.

I had a revelation, the release of a judgment. David Neiwert told a story of the German people, living in villages just outside of the concentration camps, each morning sweeping the ash from their sidewalks and window sills. After the liberation the villagers claimed that they had no idea what was happening in the camps. How could they not know? Sweeping their steps, picking their peppers, painting the rail on their front porch…doing anything possible to pull their heads out of the madness.

This is not the time to look the other way. This is not the time to normalize the obscenity that is erasing our nation. People are already disappearing into camps. Due process and habeas corpus are gone. The Supremes ruled that racial profiling is lawful: it’s no different than sewing yellow stars on clothes. Now, we hear from the dictator wannabe that “the enemy is within”: the enemy is anyone who disagrees with the fascist fire raging across the nation. Anyone who protests or questions. My revelation? I do not want to someday sweep ash from my walk while telling myself that I have no idea what’s happening.

We know. So do the republicans.

This is not the time to normalize the obscenity. This is not the time to look the other way. It is the time for all people of goodness to join hands in the commons, to stand together, to call out the lies, to push our elected leaders to push back against this corruption, this out-of-control authoritarian regime.

It is the time, our time, to be good stewards of our nation-home.

BRIDGE on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAST PEPPERS

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The Right Season [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The color of petals at the end of the season. An earthier shade of yellow made more vibrant relative to the purple-black. A kind of beauty that’s possible only in the right season.

I’ve been noodling on a composition-idea for years. Drawings of the theme pock my sketchbooks. I’ve started and erased canvases dozens of times. I don’t know why I’ve been so fixated on it for so long, though now it seems like it was prophetic. The time was not right until now. Polynices and Eteocles. The sons of Oedipus. As the story goes, after Oedipus abdicates his throne, his sons go to war for control of the kingdom. In their lust for power, they kill each other. Both lose. All lose.

How did we get here? Democrats and Republicans. Brothers, forgetting that they are servants of the people, go to war for power over the republic. Both lose. All lose.

It’s the right time to paint this painting. A kind of beauty, if you can call it that, possible only in the right season.

read Kerri’s blogpost about AUTUMN YELLOW

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A Resurgence [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In a surprise move, the mint-gone-fallow has made a resurgence – just in time for the latest batch of sun tea. It is a sign of the season that Kerri had to chase the sun, moving the tea jug a few times from the fast approaching shadows.

I wrote a post yesterday and tried to stay away from current events. I was mostly successful though I felt remiss all day. It was as though I was ignoring the most important thing. And, I was. A few years ago a car caught fire in our elderly neighbor’s driveway. Even though I was in the middle of a zoom work call, I ran downstairs and across the street and pounded on her door. She didn’t want to leave her house until I explained the fire was near the gas line to her home. My post yesterday felt like I was turning my back on the driveway fire.

A few times I’ve heard others say, “There’s nothing we can do.”

I’ve asked the same question more than a few times myself: but, what can we do?

The corporate news seems hellbent on normalizing the monstrous. I wonder why some reporter hasn’t asked Mike Johnson why he’s being derelict in his duty to impeach a president who’s regularly declaring war on the cities of this country, who is using the justice department to prosecute people he doesn’t like. The unhinged speech at the UN would have been enough to evoke the 25th amendment for any past president. Are you seeing footage of the protests happening all around this nation? Neither am I.

Someone asked Mark Elias if we were crossing the river into authoritarianism and he responded that we crossed that river a long time ago. “Our shoes are already dry,” he said.

The fire is raging near the gas line of the national house. The very least we could do is care enough to bang on doors to wake our neighbors. Democracy is not dead – not yet. If we act, if we wake up a few neighbors, who knows, there might still be a resurgence.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MINT

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