Word Play [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Do you know what these are called?” she asked.

The homeowner, smiling that someone was appreciating his garden, replied, “I don’t know but they’ve been there since I was a kid.”

She whispered to me, “I know what they’re called but I can’t remember.” And then, as we continued down the road, she abruptly stopped, arms thrust high as if she’d just kicked the winning goal, “Snowdrops! They’re snowdrops!” The celebration of a thought retrieved from a long lost corner of the mind. “Snowdrops,” she smiled and strutted.

Beyond the strut-and-dance of word retrieval, there’s a great opportunity in this time of lost words. I adore the words we invent to replace a missing word. We stray far beyond the boundary of thing-a-ma-gig. Whos-e-what-see is child’s play compared to the sounds that come out of our mouths. They sometimes sound like remedial German: Schodenhammer. They sometimes sound like dinosaurs: Velocimapper. Shakespeare, the greatest of word inventors, reminds us that language is not a fixed thing. I think he’d be delighted by our spontaneous additions to the English language. “Make it rhyme!” he’d cheer!

And then, when a word goes missing and spontaneous-word-invention fails, there are the delicious descriptions. “Dough with things stuffed inside. You know! You cook them!” Ravioli? Pot Sticker? Gyoza? “That thing you fold and put in your pocket. It has money in it. Sometimes. And credit cards.” Oh, yes, even the most mundane word can hide for a while. The green thing with a big pit inside. Poor lost avocado.

Where do these words go? Vacation? I loved the homeowner’s response: I don’t know but they’ve been there since I was a kid.

read Kerri’s blog about SNOWDROPS

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buymeacoffee is a word…well, three words smashed together to make a clever title for a donation site.

Go Curly [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Left to its natural state, Kerri’s hair is as curly as curly-ribbon or the curling leaves of this winter grass. It’s gorgeous though someone, somewhere, convinced her that her curls were passé. Her mom and I waged a not-so-secret campaign to stop-the-straightening but we had little to no impact. Every so often Kerri lets loose her curls and always receives raves but they somehow bounce off the image-shield of straight hair.

I have an image of myself. Lately, when I look in the mirror, I see something other than the image that I expect. It’s something to play with! I appreciated the early days of acting school because it demanded a constant change of image. More than once I had to cut off all my hair for a role. There is a power in studying character, realizing that who we are is not a noun but a process. Character – personality – is how-you-do-what-you-do and not “who” you present to the world.

Also, as a teenager I had an image of who I would become. I am surprised to report that I’m not the cross between Leonardo da Vinci and Joseph Campbell that I intended. No amount of straightening the road could alter my wandering (curly) path. I realized, none-too-soon, that to achieve my image I would have had to betray my nature. I am – and always have been – the steward of a “beginner’s mind.”

Kerri has a theory that people do not change, they become more of who they really are. The layers of imagined-self drop off. The core is revealed over a life-time of shedding images. Self-discovery a la paring down.

I grew my hair (again) after moving to Wisconsin. When I met Kerri I was still sporting the short-short hair that my clients expected of me. For some reason, my clogs were acceptable as an outsider invited into the hallowed walls of the corporate arena but long hair was too much. Long hair was a bridge too far. So I cut it. Now, the longer it gets, the more Kerri (and 20) tell me that I look more myself. I’m not sure what that means to them but I agree. It fits my image of me. I always use the opportunity to tell Kerri that when she allows her hair to go curly, she looks more herself, too. After all, her mom and I have not given up our campaign. Although Beaky is on the other side of the veil, I feel her poke me. That’s my cue to lobby Kerri to shed the image-of-straight, to become more of who she really is, and sport those gorgeous naturally curly locks.

(The title track of Kerri’s very popular X-Mas album, The Lights. She’s inserting into her post so I wanted to also drop it into mine. Happy Holidays!)

the lights/the lights © 1996 kerri sherwood

The Lights is available on iTunes

stream The Lights on iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about CURLS

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buymeacoffee is an internal image of wildly curly hair meant to bring you at long last to your true nature.

Take A Leap [David’s blog on KS Friday]

According to the myth, ancient Hawaiians believed that the souls of the dead leapt into the next plane of existence at Ka’ena Point.

The ancient Greeks believed the souls of the dead gathered at a specific spot on the shore of the river Styx and awaited the boatman to ferry them across to the underworld. The leap to the next plane of existence.

And then there are the leaping places for the living. The next phase of existence. Sometimes it is a move to a new city. Sometimes it is a career change. Sometimes it looks like an opportunity. Sometimes it looks like a loss. Sometimes it looks like a crossroads with no good choices. Or, too many good choices. Sometimes it looks like a dream come true. Destiny. And all that is required is a leap.

“Leap” is another way of saying, “Let go.”

Today, of necessity we cleaned out most of our society6 storefronts. We populated these stores when we began our Melange. It was an attempt to monetize our art work. Paintings, cartoons, graphic designs, music compositions. Despite a titanic effort, our designs, art prints and products never flew off the shelf. Over the years our store sites have remained mostly inert, so much so that we simply stopped promoting them. Society6 recently changed their business model and we were forced to face the reality of a foregone conclusion: it didn’t work.

The cutting down and clearing out was surprisingly disheartening.

Over the years our Melange transformed from a business idea into a place for Kerri and me to write. To write purely. We love it. It feeds our souls and keeps us grounded. So, I was taken aback by how much hope I still harbored that our artistry might someday, some way – in this way – financially support us.

And so, a letting go. An unexpected step onto the platform. Another leap. Cuts made matter-of-factly. The creation of space.

In a long-ago-disheartened moment, a younger me asked an older-and-wiser-artist, Doug, when the leaping stopped. His answer: It never stops. You just become better and better at leaping.

adrift/blueprint for my soul © 1996 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about LEAPING.

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buymeacoffee is….

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

Her delight in finding the stack of Nancy Drew novels, her girlhood favorites, sparked a question. She asked, “What did you read as a kid?” Instantly, I was a deer in the headlights. I muttered something incomprehensible and changed the subject in order to dodge the question.

It’s not that I didn’t remember. The truth is that I wasn’t a reader until I was in my mid 20’s. It’s as if someone threw a switch and I was instantly transformed from dullard to a voracious reader. I generally have two or three books going at the same time, making up for lost reading time.

A few years ago it occurred to me that I was reading like a starving man at a smorgasbord. I was gobbling words without breathing or tasting. So I decided to try an experiment. Read books like they are poetry. Savor a few pages at a time. Consider for a full day what I have read in my few pages. Re-read it if I am unclear. Re-read it if it is gorgeously written.

My experiment is going well. I’m living in the books rather than blowing through them. I delight in the phrases, the way words are put together to invoke images and sounds and tastes. Sometimes a phrase is so beautifully written it makes my eyes water. I feel as if I’ve pulled off the freeway, stepped out of the car, and am walking through a meadow. I see more. I appreciate more.

I credit the age of information with my new reading practice. I’ve been studying how people engage with their screens, how I have been engaging with my screen. We skim. We jump. We tab hop. There’s so much information demanding our attention, stuffing the nooks and crannies of our minds. Emails, texts, slacks, social streams…

I’m finding my peace, out of the stream and off the info-super-highway, turning paper pages with intention, paying full attention to what is written there, no more than a few pages at a time.

read Kerri’s blog about NANCY DREW

like. share. support. comment. savor. sample. contemplate. replicate. all things we appreciate.

buymeacoffee is an online fictional book repository where you can lose your ever-loving-mind and fall into strange lands where you find yourself supporting the work of artists you appreciate. Ridiculous!

See A Gull [on KS Friday]

A Haiku

a scavenger bird.

opportunistic, seeker.

see! a gull am I!

The gulls congregate in the Kohls parking lot. We’re not sure why. It seems an unlikely spot for gulls to hang out. Hot pavement. No snacks. Cars coming and going. They camp en masse. Later in the day they exit in full voice and return to the marina. Make sense of that, I dare you!

Susan asked when caring-for-others left the building. I launched into a pedantic monologue that, even to me, sounded like the screech of a gull. Lots of noise, little helpful substance. Or, my diatribe mimicked the adults in a Charlie Brown special. Wah-wah, wah-wah. The sound of a preacher who thinks the path to deeper spirituality is through a map or a dry history lesson. A rule book. A witless shepherd caught lecturing the sheep. (baaaahhhhh)

I wondered what or who I might become if I dedicated myself to knowing nothing. What if I understood to my root that my opinion is just that…an opinion. Not a fact or a truth or blue-ribbon winner at the world-thought-fair. What if life needed no explanation?

What if there is no higher meaning to be found or greater mystery to be solved in the daily seagull pilgrimage to Kohls? What if, rather than seek a rationalization, I gave myself over to the wonder-of-it? What if Joseph Campbell had it right:

“People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive…”

take flight/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about SEAGULLS

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Take Another Look [on Merely A Thought Monday]

I am surprised that our favorite go-to trail is the yellow route at Des Plaines. The first time we tried it, years ago, we were swarmed by mosquitoes from beginning to end. We ran-walked, swatting the air the entire way. Kerri stopped to take a photograph and I lost site of her in a mosquito cloud. It was a scene straight from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. We swore we’d never go back.

I have no memory of why we gave it a second try. How long was it after the first very-bad-no-good-mosquito-fest? I can’t remember. I only know that I’m grateful that we challenged our first impression and gave it a second chance. It has become our solace, our reset on a bad day. It is the place where we walk away our troubles and talk through our tribulations.

Over time we’ve learned it. We know its rhythms. We know when and where we are most likely to see deer. We know when the cranes will pass through. We know when the turtles will emerge. And, we now know when to avoid it. It has become a significant part of our story.

As we walked it yesterday, in the hour before the mosquitoes come out, I pondered how many opportunities and rich experiences I’ve missed because of a bad first impression. A useful mantra popped into my head from my days facilitating DEI workshops: have your first thought and work on your second. In other words, doubt what you think. First thoughts, first impressions, are often sandy soil.

A single experience is a very small test sample. Give the trail another hike. Go at dawn or dusk. What’s true in spring is different in fall. The same is true with people. I’m an introvert and generally make a lousy first impression. How fortunate am I that others decided to give me a second chance?

Of course, the fly in the ointment of this thought-train is mosquitoes. I have no need to give them another look!

read Kerri’s blogpost about MOSQUITOS

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Play With Life [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

On my list of things to think about: raindrops are water held together by surface tension. The elements of air and water at play. And then, as if that were not enough, there’s refraction!

Now you know why I’m such a bore at parties. While everyone else discusses recipes or the antics of their children, I’m captured by the drip of water on the houseplant. Talk to me at your own risk.

It’s a question of attractions. Water molecules like hanging out with other water molecules more than they like hanging out with air molecules. Like seeks like. The liquid contracts. An inward force of attraction creates a surface tension at the crossroads with air. Don’t worry. Beyond the metaphor I don’t really understand it, either.

In my next life I’m going to be either a gospel singer or a physicist. If a physicist, I’ll still be an outrageous bore at parties but at least I’ll understand the forces behind what I’m seeing. If a gospel singer, I’ll be great fun at parties and I won’t for a moment think of the forces at play. I’ll sing with the power of unquestioned faith.

Our backyard is a sanctuary. The birds love it. The chipmunks race along the fence line. The bunnies eat the grass and lead Dogga on wild-bunny-chases. The pond gurgles. The plants thrive. All are interfaces of forces. Water and air. Life playing with life.

It gives me plenty of fodder to think about. And, plenty to love.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HOSTA

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Appreciate The Glee [on KS Friday]

My “word-of-the-day” is bedight. Adorned. It seems most appropriate that this adverb popped in my box on this day of Forsythia. The trail was bedight in Forsythia. A sudden explosion of vibrant yellow.

I always look forward to the first Forsythia sighting. It’s the day Kerri dances in delight, chanting, “They’re back! They’re back!” Her relationship with Forsythia reaches into her childhood and has deep love-roots. My association is more recent: it’s the flower that makes Kerri dance. She runs to the vibrant petals to take a close-up. I stand back and appreciate the glee.

Dogga acts as if we are Forsythia. When we return home from errands – even if we’ve only been gone a few minutes – he jumps vertically at the backdoor, so excited is he to see us. Sometimes I like to go on errands just so I can come home to such a glorious welcome. Who doesn’t want to be greeted with out-of-control enthusiasm!

Yesterday, after a particularly arduous slog through the day, Kerri sat on my lap and declared, “We are successful at nothing!” We burst into laughter. Zero. Nil. Nada. Zip. Bupkis. Nought. Naught. And Zilch. And, into that vast nothing, we pour our good laughter and heart until our nada-cup runneth over.

She did not say that we are unsuccessful. Our particular form of success, apparently, is no-thing. Like Glee. Or enthusiasm. Or music. Or beauty. They are hard to wrap your fingers around. They are even harder to assign concrete monetary value. What is our work worth? What – exactly – is our work? Beyond no-thing?

Yesterday I asked Arnie the to ponder the same question I’ve asked many of my wise-eyes pals: why would people support us? Financially? Beyond caring for us or liking us (trust me, we are wildly abundant in love and friendship), why would someone – anyone who doesn’t know us – support our work? What do we bring of value to the community? For us it’s confusing. Approximately 1,500,000 people listen to Kerri’s music every year through streaming services and she receives nearly-nada. Our blogs and cartoon have reached people in over 80 countries. We love to write together. We love to share what we create. Is there concrete value to what we offer? No-thing? If so, what is it called? What could it be? What shape is graspable? We are sitting on the mountain so we cannot see it. What are we missing?

Mostly, we hope to bedight the life-trail – yours and ours – with the vibrant yellow that lives beyond words and evokes spontaneous dancing. Mostly, if it doesn’t make you dance, we hope it helps you stand back and, like me, appreciate the glee.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about FORSYTHIA

the way home/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

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Ask A Better Question [on Merely A Thought Monday]

I just erased the post I’d written for today. We often write a few days ahead so we have time to reflect on or edit what we’ve written. We’ve learned that it’s a good practice to consider what you are about to spill into the world.

It’s a good practice because it affords us the opportunity to ask, “Is this what I mean to say? Is this what I really want to say?” The post that I’d initially written was bothering me. A lot. Sipping coffee, I confessed my discomfort to my chief editor and life-collaborator (Kerri) and we followed the trail until we found the source of my chagrin.

There is a question, a much more important question, behind and beyond clarifying what I really want to say. It is this: “Is this who I want to be?” My post was making me uncomfortable because it was the opposite of what I profess to be. It was the opposite of who I understand myself to be. Of who I want to be.

I’ve often written and taught about “the spaces between.” Relationship. Intuition. Heart. Facts and data require interpretation and live on the spectrum at the farthest point away from wisdom. Focus on the spaces between, the movement rather than the noun, and an entirely different life opens. Wisdom is more like water than stone.

Most cliches touch a truth-root and today that is the case for me: We teach what we most need to learn. Thank goodness my editor was around to gently slap open my eyes and help me ask myself a better question.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SPACES

Refill [on KS Friday]

I confess to being a bit blue. Blue. That’s a metaphor for low-in-spirit.

And, isn’t it odd that we locate our spirits as either high or low? Where, exactly, is your spirit? Today, mine is low. Apparently, I think spirits are spatial.

That means my spirit is either laying down, taking a nap, dancing the limbo, or that its flame is minimal. My spirit isn’t burning much fuel. Don’t try and read a book by the light of my spirit! Not today, anyway.

Last night we had dinner with 20. After he left I told Kerri that I was grateful because he “lifted our spirits.” Spirits are impressionable. 20’s spirit breathed some air into my balloon. Balloon. That’s another metaphor. Expansive-spirit. Receptive of the light-hearts brought by others. Apparently, I think spirits are fickle, malleable. Or connected.

The sunset stopped us in our tracks. We knew the ranger would be waiting in the parking lot. Tapping his foot. He can’t go home until the parking lot is clear and people are supposed to be leaving at sunset. He previously threatened a citation. A citation is not a deterrent when a sunset is filling your spirit. I hoped the ranger was standing outside of his truck (and his role) and, like us drinking it in. Refilling.

Apparently I think spirits can be refilled. Refilled. That’s a metaphor. What’s the full capacity of my spirit?

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUNSET

in transition/released from the heart © 1995 kerri sherwood