Follow The Hummingbird [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on May 14, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

If you want to understand the power of story – if you care to discover how every cultural story is both universal and deeply personal, take the time to read and reread and reread Martín Prechtel’s small book, The Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun. After telling the story, he peels back the layers of understanding, the story of the daughter’s disobedience is a roadmap to an intentional life. It is connective tissue to generational wisdom:

“…that though we as listeners have the illusion that we have jumped into the story, the story has actually jumped into us and uses our lives to tell out its story.”

Sitting in our backyard, the sun lowering in the sky, the hummingbird arrived. A hummingbird is featured prominently in the The Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun and this little visitor brought the story to my mind. Like all deep-story-roots, it is a tale as relevant to us as it is to the Indigenous people who live it – to keep the story alive.

“This is a commentary on the inevitable human problem of tribalism and the tragic results of ethnocentricity. It reminds us that a preoccupation with purity is a sign that a people have lost their real stories, lost their place in history, lost their land and relationship with nature and in an effort to be “someone” they engineer mythologies that are rationalist inventions to corroborate a pure ancestry. This same rationalism probably killed their stories and their Indigenous relationship with the land to begin with.”

Have you ever read anything that so accurately describes our struggle in these un-United States? As we witness the scrubbing of DEI initiatives, the blatant and brutal whitewashing of our nation’s history in order to engineer and perpetuate a mythology of white male purity, a made-up tale planted in the shallow barren soil of nationalist Christianity…we see the undeniable sign that we have lost our real story.

As is true of all great storytellers, Martín guides us toward hope and renewal:

“The story of their cultural loss should be their story, and from that grief they could grow a new culture. If you go back far enough, all people are mixed no matter what they say, and that is no disgrace.”

There is a path. It begins with grieving our loss. Together. And then, there is this:

“The story also says that a peoples’ attachment to their homeland and customs is necessary, wonderful, and life-giving, but should never be allowed to fuel a destructive chauvinism that excludes the rest of the world’s love for its own life and land.”

These are just a few of the lessons carried within an ancient Mayan tale. They are relevant to us today. We need only care enough to open our hearts and listen. And listen again. And then simmer in the slow opportunity that avails itself in the land beyond “problem-solving”.

The promise of our crossroads nation: to grow a new culture. Isn’t that the heart of our matter? Out of many, one.

There’s a hummingbird that can show us the way.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE HUMMINGBIRD

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This Storm [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on May 1, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

It seems our weather forecast is regularly filled with dire warnings. Violent thunderstorms. Hail. Tornadoes. We watch the radar as the angry colors move across the map, headed in our direction. So far we’ve been fortunate. In the final approach, the irate clouds veer to the north or break to the south. Sometimes they split and go around us. We catch the margins of the storm, the distant booms, the lesser winds.

After dinner we sat on the deck with 20. Earlier in the evening it was too cold to sit outside, the temperature by the lake was 10 degrees cooler than inland. When I stepped out the back door to cover the grill I was taken aback. It was warm and humid. We relocated outside and marveled at the odd shape and weird color of the clouds. We knew a storm was on the way, the warnings were apocalyptic, but our radar watch confirmed that, once again, it would mostly miss us. Kerri took photographs. 20 and I giggled, lapsing into middle-school-boy humor.

The weather forecast mirrors the augury of our nation. Climate change. Culture change. Waves of anger roll across the land in phallic-shaped storm clouds. We hunker down and monitor the radar. We watch the day’s news for the latest devastation, the senseless chaos, the mean-spirit that blows away our democracy.

Sitting on the deck, we acknowledged that we are collectively holding our breath. We know that there is no avoiding this retribution storm, this oligarchic money-grab. The fight that’s coming will not veer. The fight is already here. The fascist winds have arrived. We stock up as we do for any swelling tempest. We prepare our go-bag as we did during the recent riots. We reassure each other that sense and sensibility will ultimately win the day. Decency will return. And, in the meantime, the warning sirens blare. We do what we can to fight the rising autocracy. We do what artists do.

Coming Up For Air (sketch), mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about the STORM CLOUDS

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

Posted on April 28, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Pi (Greek letter “π”) is the symbol used in mathematics to represent a constant—the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter

One of Kerri’s nicknames is math-girl. She has a freakish capacity to do math in her head. No mad pencil scribbling on paper is necessary. No calculator required. She pretends to dislike adding the grocery bill faster than the store scanner or scrutinizing the taxes for minute errors but I know, deep inside, she gets a charge out of it. 20 and I regularly raise our eyebrows and ask, “How does she do that?” I’ve learned to never disagree with her when numbers are involved. I am wrong 100% of the time.

When she saw the Pi cloud in the sky she was ecstatic. It was like a visit from an old friend. An affirmation from this grand old universe.

She told me that she likes Pi because it represents a constant. A constant is something that stays the same, something that you can count on. It also refers to a quality of movement: ceaseless repetition, something that happens without pause. Or, my favorite definition of a constant: loyal or steadfast, as in a good friend.

Her comment about constants brought to my mind Yeats’ poem, The Second Coming:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...

It is a poem for our times. The cycles of history, the widening gyre, and the chaos that ensues when one epoch is ending and another is about to begin. Aren’t we now witness to a center that cannot hold? Things fall apart. Anarchy is loosed upon the world.

Here we are. Chaos is the constant. The world is flipped upside-down. A birthing pang? The caterpillar goes to mush before it reconstitutes into a new form; a butterfly.

Of course, this is me, searching for some sense to be made in the march of the oligarchs, the rape of the nation. The worship of the cruel, the elevation of the vapid. We can only hope that this is the natural progression to mush and that someday, somewhere out there, a butterfly will break from its cocoon, dry its wings, and step off the branch to restore decency, sense, and beauty to the world.

Pie-in-the-sky? Or the constant?

read Kerri’s blogpost about Pi

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Filed under: Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Ancient Oak Wisdom [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on April 25, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Oak may live for 1,000 years, although 600 may be more typical on many sites.”

It’s very possible that this oak tree is older than our nation. It stands in a field plowed and prepared for planting, visible from a trail that we recently explored. The trail passes through a stand of ancient oaks, gnarled and twisted with time.

There is wisdom in the oaks, something not found in our leaders who view the world exclusively through the lens of dollars and cents. Power people who play let’s-make-a-deal with the lives of others.

Even though we knew it was coming, even though it was a trumpeted intention in the fascist blueprint, Project 2025, the sale and privatization of our public lands for short-term profit has arrived like a surprise unwelcome visitor on our doorstep:

“Elon Musk is now effectively in charge of America’s public lands,” says Jennifer Rokala, executive director at the Center for Western Priorities. Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum just issued an order ceding oversight of the Department of the Interior to the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (which is not a government department at all)…”

The ruse is – of course – that our protected public lands, our national parks, are nothing more than waste, abuse and fraud. To the fundamentally greedy and terminally myopic, they are resources ripe and ready for exploitation. Destroying them, so the marketing spin goes, will not only save the nation money, it will make lots of money for the privileged few. And then there will be trickle down! (insert eye roll here).

Dollars. No sense.

“Project 2025 is a ‘wish list’ for the oil and gas and mining industries and private developers. It promotes opening up more of our federal land to energy development, rolling back protections on federal lands, and selling off more land to private developers.” ~ Heather Cox Richardson, Letters From An American, April 22, 2025

It is shortsighted hubris akin to the Taliban’s destruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan. Two monumental statues carved in the 6th century in the Bamiyan valley in Afghanistan, a holy site for Buddhists, a cultural treasure for the people of Afghanistan, a UNESCO World Heritage site, destroyed [by the Taliban] in 2001, “..so that no one can worship or respect them in the future” Fundamentalists. Nationalists. Ideologues.

Islamic or Christian, nationalist fundamentalism, rigid ideology, leads to the same end. Purblind action, senseless destruction for short-term gain. Violence enacted on people and culture. Suppression of the many so the few might profit.

Purblind (adjective): having impaired or defective vision. Slow or unable to understand. Dimwitted.

Like the Buddhas of Bamiyan, once destroyed, our public lands, our Grand Canyon and Arches and Bears Ears, our old growth forests, our Yosemite and Yellowstone and Glacier National Park and Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, our protected ocean shelf ecosystem…once mined and drilled and developed, will never come back. Our national inheritance, sacred sites, reduced to rubble for profit so that no one can worship or respect them in the future.

Wisdom is the province of the ancient oak, borne of an acorn of understanding that grows beyond knowledge, beyond information, and far beyond the accumulation of data. It cannot be attained through fundamentalism nor through righteous nationalism wrapped in greasy paper-thin religiosity. It cannot be bought or sold or legislated. Wisdom transcends passing ideology since it takes time and perspective. Wisdom is an open hand, not a tight fist.

It takes no time and requires little in the way of perspective to recognize that the destruction of the sacred in the name of private gain is nothing more or less than the avarice of the purblind, the action of the profoundly dimwitted.

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora (among others)

read Kerri’s blogpost about the OAK TREE

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Filed under: KS Friday, Metaphor, Perspective | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Just Look Around [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on April 23, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

If you seek levity, if you are in want of a giggle, may I suggest that you follow Kerri and me through the grocery store and politely eavesdrop on our commentary.

I’m aware that for most people grocery shopping is a chore, a routine obligation. For us it evokes our inner stand-up-comic. Grocery stores tickle our whimsy and unleash tsunamis of sarcasm or impromptu songs. There’s so much material to work with!

“Baby Bok Choy is fun to say,” I mention as Kerri scrutinizes the baby bok choy options. Never one to let an alliteration pass her by, she launches into a lyric, a pseudo-rap personifying the virtues and exploits of the leafy green cabbage. The aisle clears as other shoppers find spontaneous public art dangerous.

Later, using her big, outdoor voice, she reads aloud the list of ingredients on a jar, proclaiming, “Trans-fats! Uh-OH! Get ready! Those MAGA Republicans are going to pop-a-gasket over this one!” Reading on she asks the entire world, “Does anybody really know what butylated hydroxyanisole is, anyway! Who would eat this stuff?”

“What does it meant to be butylated?” I ask, using my quiet indoor voice to model appropriate volume control.

“Don’t be a hydroxy-ANISOL,” she says and smiles. And then: “Someone butylated the baby bok choy…” she declares in mock alarm, unaware that the aisle has once again emptied of shoppers.

I push the cart so I regularly discover that I am holding conversations with myself. When she doesn’t respond to my commentary I realize that some odd grocery item two aisles back caught her fancy. I navigate a u-turn and find her standing incredulous before a multi-layered pastel cake. “Did you seeeee this?!” she exclaims.

“No.” I say.

“Oh. My. God!”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever seen anything so hideous?” she looks at me, wide-eyed.

“What is it?”

“The thought of eating this makes my teeth hurt! Doesn’t it make your teeth hurt?”

“What is it?”

“Who would ever think this was a good idea?”

“What is it?”

“And they made it Easter colors so people would buy it? Do you think people actually buy this?”

“What is it?”

“No wonder this nation is in trouble. People will eat anything!”

“Oh, it’s fox news!” I blurt, “In a cake!” A revelation.

She looks at me as if I haven’t been listening, “It’s a cotton-candy-cake!” she says, a new alliteration rising.

“Yeah. That’s what I just said. Fox news.”

“Who eats this stuff,” she asks, wrinkling her face.

“Just look around.” I say. “Sad.”

It makes my teeth hurt.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COTTON CANDY CAKE

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Hit The Button [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on April 7, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

For an unrelated project research, I was reading an article about the tactics used by psychological abusers in a relationship; I found myself reading about the tactics employed by the current resident of the White House. Gaslighting, negging, emotional manipulation. Isolationism. And DARVO, a new acronym to me: Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender…a very common tactic, in which the aggressor uses different elements of reality to cast the victim in the role of abuser and position themselves as the victim. Of course, this is not a new revelation. Plenty of people are writing about it. Plenty of people have been writing about it since 2016.

I suppose the penny just dropped for me.

“The penny dropped”. It’s an adage that comes from a coin getting stuck in a slot machine and the user having to wait for – or jiggle the machine – to get the penny to drop.

The most chilling thing about the article – the jiggle that made my penny drop – was not something in the article. It was the two choices at the very bottom of the site: “Emergency Exit” and “Clear Browser History”. A quick escape just in case the reader is afraid to get caught by the abuser. They are on the site because they are scared and trying to find help. They are looking for a way out of the abuse.

I wondered what happened – what had to happen – for them to finally admit to themselves that the violence is not normal. Were they abused one too many times and the penny dropped? What made them finally admit that their abuser is not the victim? They are. What finally popped the illusion that their relationship is not normal? It is dangerous. The buttons at the bottom of the site served as a testament to the truth of the relationship.

We generally write a few days ahead and lately it’s been almost impossible to stay in front of the abuse of our system. Each day there is another act of aggression. Violence enacted on the democratic system and the citizenry. By the time we publish, our thoughts are old news. Yet another blow has already been delivered and left a deep bruise on the face of the nation.

And, now, the abuser is spilling his aggression onto the world.

The Republican party is married to the abuser. Their silence during this daily beating is deafening. The Congress’ participation in the abuser’s aggression is disheartening since they were the original target of his violence. They are classic: filled with fear and whipped into compliance, they defend and enable their abuser. For them, the penny has dropped. Instead of seeking an exit to the abusive relationship they wear the smarmy sad mask of see-no-evil.

I wonder when they will acknowledge the choice at the bottom of the page: Emergency exit. They alone have the power to end the abuse. The Constitution is hanging on by its fingernails but it grants them the power to stop the bludgeoning of democracy. There’s still time.

There is a third button at the bottom of the site page: Contact Us. It takes courage to ask for help. It is possibly dangerous but certainly self-loving to exit an abusive relationship. It requires support. It necessitates protection. All the Republican congress need do is hit that button. They could stop the abuse today. Their relationship with the bully is toxic and they know it. It is not normal. And when it destroys our democracy it will take them – and us – with it.

It takes courage to hit the emergency exit button. Congress – all of them – need to remember that they are the button for We-The-People. It is the reason we have in our constitutional design three co-equal branches of government: protection against an authoritarian takeover. They are now the button for the rest of the civilized world, too. We are en masse pressing the button. We are wondering why they are not responding.

They should know that, were they to find the courage to hit the emergency exit button, to do what they know they need to do, we would be there to help. As citizens of the United States. As servants to democracy. We share a common abuser and it is not each other. It is the current resident of the White House, everyday casting himself as a victim while he does violence to others – to all of us.

It’s way past time to stop the abuse. This is not normal.

read Kerri’s blogpost about NOT NORMAL

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Filed under: Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments »

Naturally [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on March 21, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Before sleeping we usually watch thru-hikes, video journals of people walking the Pacific Crest Trail, The Continental Divide Trail, or The Appalachian Trail. The Hayduke. Early in their journey the hikers experience the unnatural aggression and excessive pace of regular life drop away and a more natural rhythm emerges.

They become different people as they begin to see other people differently. The steely individuality of their urban identity dissolves. The hikers realize that they need other people. They realize that they are dependent upon the kindness of strangers. In fact, they come to understand that without the support of others their trail-walk would be impossible to complete. They begin to rely on – to count on – kindness.

And they are rarely disappointed. The kindness that they hope for always appears. And, as they enter the reality – the necessity – of their interdependence, they more freely offer their support to strangers. They become the kindness others hope for.

Periodically the hikers come across trail angels; people who come to the trail with the sole intention of making life better for the hikers. The angels prepare food or snacks. They offer shade, a cool drink, a place to sit and rejuvenate. They give rides to town. Other angels make sure there is water available at caches across the desert. Others provide places to stay. Almost all of the trail angels were themselves hikers who were recipients of the extraordinary generosity of angels. So, they became angels for others. Naturally.

The hikers always speak fondly of the culture that exists on the trail. A culture of support. Most hikers, after they finish their months-long adventure, remark that their walk was made memorable, transformative, because of generous people they met along the way.

We watch thru-hikers because they give us hope. In a time of national darkness punctuated by ill-intention, self-serving oligarchs, the celebration of mean-spirits, cowardice…it is heartening to know that there is a community of people out there who’ve stepped into nature and out of the unnatural aggression of our nation, and what they find there – and find in themselves – is a natural reliance on others. A feedback loop of generosity. Kindness. People helping people, not for gain, but because they know the value of helping. It’s called humanity. They know that their walk in this life is made better – made more meaningful – by the dance of giving and receiving support, helping others and accepting a helping hand from others. Naturally.

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 TRAIL

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Bad Cowboys [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on March 18, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

When I was a wee-tot I was never without my cowboy hat and boots. I’m told by a reliable source (my mom) that I regularly attempted to sleep with my boots on. I can’t remember my dedicated cowboy fantasy but the few photos-of-proof make me smile. I grew out of my cowboy clothes but carried forward my cowboy ideal. An artist and a cowboy serve similar calls.

The cowboy is a foundational myth of these United States. The rugged individualist. Self-reliant. According to the movie-ideal, the good cowboy is a guardian of the herd, a protector of what is right. The cowboy archetype is a servant to a higher ideal.

The bad cowboy steals. The bad cowboy is needy and self-serving. The bad cowboy isn’t really a cowboy at all. He’s a criminal.

Black-and-white foundational myths afford no shades of grey. Bad cowboys are bandits. They rustle cattle. They hurt people. Good cowboys safeguard while driving the herd to market. Their dedicated individualism is lived as an act of service. They mostly do not own the cattle. They are never paid well. Their reward is honoring the call to a life of relative freedom.

The archetype begs the question for all the republicans out there claiming the cowboy mythos as their guide-star: are they a servant to a higher ideal or self-serving? Are they currently pitting their oath to the Constitution against their desire for personal gain? Good cowboy or bad? My questions are, of course, rhetorical.

The cowboy is the remake of an archetype that reaches back to Achilles, running through the knights of The Round Table, stretching forward to modern tales: Strider and Hans Solo. A servant to a calling, pulled by a force into a life that makes little sense because it is driven by an inner imperative.

“A person who is truly gripped by a calling, a dedication, by a belief, by a zeal, will sacrifice his security, will sacrifice even his life, will sacrifice personal relationships, will sacrifice prestige, and will think nothing of personal development; he will give himself entirely to his myth.” ~ Joseph Campbell, Pathways to Bliss

The good cowboy is gripped by a calling. Again, a servant of a higher ideal. A Jedi knight.

A bad cowboy is gripped by greed. A servant to nothing greater than personal gain at any cost. A swindler. A liar. A robber. A villain.

My inference, of course, is obvious. Our communal cattle are being rustled. We are currently overrun with criminals and cowards pretending to be cowboys.

My hope is also obvious. Against all odds, in the movies at least, the good cowboys have a way of arriving on the scene just in-the-knick-of-time.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COWBOYS

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Filed under: Identity, Metaphor, Two Artists Tuesday | 1 Comment »

Opossum Is Asking [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on March 13, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

It was the second time we saw the baby opossum. The first time it was with its mother. The moment they saw us they beat a hasty retreat to their den . It was a cold day and no one had walked the trail since the polar freeze. We surprised them.

This time we rounded the bend and the baby was perfectly still, standing in the middle of the trail. It was as if it was waiting for us. We stopped and returned its stare. After a moment or two it slowly waddled into the safety of the tall grass.

Later, at home, I looked up the symbolism of an opossum crossing your path.

“…in essence, Opossum is beckoning you to use your brain, your sense of drama, a surprise to leap over some barrier to your progress.” (Medicine Cards) Survival. Resourcefulness. Opossums are adapters and thrive in challenging and changing environments.

It’s considered a very good omen and right now, in our rapidly changing and challenging environment, we could use a good omen. And, the message within the symbol matched our concerns of late: how do we become more resourceful in order to survive the havoc being wreaked on our nation? It’s an open question for us, an ongoing conversation.

Last night I had a rare text exchange with my younger brother. “The near future looks bleak but we need to focus on what we really care about and can influence,” he wrote. “I have a wife, daughters, dogs, and a community of friends. I’m still blessed in challenging times.” Our exchange reminded me of the aspect of the opossum that resonated most with me: adapt to thrive in a challenging and changing environment.

To thrive we need to focus on what we care about and can influence.

Bernie Sanders came through town this weekend and thousands of people attended his rally. I was heartened by the energy and the overwhelming turnout. What we need to do to influence the current course of this criminally-stupid-administration: show up, speak out and call out the hypocrisy. Or all of the above. En masse. Non-stop.

When we come together to protect what we care about we thrive. It seems opossum is asking us to use our brains, unleash our sense of drama, so we might surprise the authoritarian and leap over the barriers he/they erect to our progress. There is power in a collective focus. There is unstoppable energy in the collective action of the people. That power and energy is the beating heart of a democracy.

In Dreams She Rides Wild Horses (in process), 42″x42″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about the OPOSSUM

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

Posted on March 3, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

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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