Come Down To Earth [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Oh, NO!! You have the curse, too!” he laughed and shook his head. The curse is perceiving life from 30,000 feet, global thinking, looking down on the landscape-of-life, seeing possible connections where other people might not. Although life in the overview has its usefulness, I now understand to my core the dilemma of Cassandra: no one believes you when you tell them what you see.

I’ve also learned, through too many experiences to count, that looking down on the landscape distorts what is perceived. What seems to provide a clear overview also generates a warped vision; just as a tree looks very different from the ground than it does from above, so too does an organization or a nation or any form of relationship. It is very useful to come down to earth. “Gear down!” Kerri regularly says to me. She knows that I often have my head in the clouds.

I just cut the post I wrote for today. It was a Cassandra-rant. I wrote about billionaires like Peter Thiel, Curtis Yarvin, Elon Musk…men who’ve climbed to the tippy-top of the pyramid of democratic capitalism, and, once on top, somehow come to believe that capitalism is incompatible with democracy. Completely ignoring the fact of their own success, they espouse – and actively work for – the abolition of democracy so that a select few might determine the course of the nation and of humanity. Of course, no surprise, they believe that they themselves are the select few.

This belief is a step backward to feudalism. It’s a step toward fascism. Dictatorship.

The view from the tippy-top of the pyramid is not the same as the view from the ground. The reality at the tippy-top is not the same as the day-to-day reality from the ground. To the tech-bros who would be kings, who believe that capitalism is a form of governance, I’d like to suggest that they gear down. Come down to earth and hang with we-the-people. Attend a barbecue with folks in the park. Although it probably feels nice to cast yourself in the role of king, please consider that no one dreams of being a serf.

Besides, the world has been-there-done-that.

I’d also suggest that they read and consider the data in Steven Pinker’s book The Better Angels of Our Nature: although it might not feel like it, violence in the world has declined dramatically with the rise of democracy. Stability is a necessary ingredient for functional capitalism. It turns out that capitalism flourishes where the seeds of democracy are planted. Civil rights and the protections of individual rights are intertwined. Individual ownership is not contrary to governance by the people and the rule of law – they sprout from the same seed.

The American dream is built upon the vision of equality-for-all. Although the dream sometimes seems impossible, it is not pie-in-the-sky and is very easy to see from the ground, from the place where people work and collaborate and learn and communicate and recognize the value of debating differing opinions – of considering other points-of-view. It’s easy to see when values like honesty and humility are respected – and expected, especially from our leaders.

Here on the ground, we-the-people dreamed into existence a government – known as democracy. In the dream prosperity is within reach of everyone. In the dream basic human rights are not only valued but central to who we know ourselves to be. We protect them for everyone, citizen or not. We invite you, the morbidly wealthy, to take a break from the lofty heights of your Gatsby Party, come down to earth and sit for a spell. Put your feet on the ground. It’ll be good for you to remember that the very system that you are attempting to dismantle is the foundation of your pyramid. We are the pyramid.

*****

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE OVERVIEW

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

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

What does it mean to fall out of belonging?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about GLASS BLOCKS

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The Sadness Settles Back In [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“I wish that we could transport all Americans to stand in one of those bedrooms for just a few minutes. We’d be an entirely different America.” Steve Hartman, All The Empty Rooms

Rob wrote after the recent mass shooting in Stockton, CA. “We raised the girls just a few blocks away…It’s weird but, I’m sure very human, to feel a sense of relief that for a few minutes that was stronger than the sadness: Nobody I knew – whew! Then the sadness settles back in…”

The sadness settles back in.

And now, Brown University. Tomorrow? Next week? As of December 14th there have been approximately 389 mass shootings in the United States in 2025. More than one per day.

If you accept the premise that society’s primary role is to protect the next generation then we are a titanic failure. “The number one cause of death for children and adolescents (ages 1-19) in America is firearm-related injuries. This has been the leading cause of death for this age group since 2020 surpassing motor vehicle crashes, which had previously been the top cause for decades.”

The second amendment guarantees “the right of the people to keep and bear Arms”. It says nothing of the type of arms we have the right to bear. “A consistent majority of Americans (typically 56% to 60%) favor stricter gun laws in general, according to various recent polls.” The second amendment begins with the words, “A well-regulated Militia…” In the 21st century we enjoy a standing army (so no militia required) and a Constitution that protects our freedoms from the rogue use of the army by the government on its citizens. Yet, we are absent any meaningful regulation on the arms we bear.

With each new day, with each new mass shooting, the sadness settles in. It only takes a moment to consult a crap detector to spot the reason we remain unable to protect the next generation of children: we choose profit over the safety of our children, over the safety of our society. If our representatives represented us, there would already be commonsense limitations placed on the types of guns we might own, on the licensing, availabilility and use of guns, laws meant to protect the citizens – especially the children – in these divided United States.

As Rob noted, we act when it becomes personal. What does it take for us, so numbed by the sheer numbers of mass shootings, to transcend the very human first response: “Nobody I knew – whew.

Tom Hartman’s documentary, All The Empty Rooms, memorializing the bedrooms left behind by children killed in school shootings, is an apt place to start. In these rooms there is no glossing over our ultimate failure as a society. These empty rooms are our rooms. These murdered children are our children.

Our representatives are meant to represent us and not the gun lobby. If they can’t or won’t provide the basic protections for us and the next generation, we should fire them all and vote in people who take personally the sacred duty to protect the lives of our children.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ALL THE EMPTY ROOMS

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The Full Promise [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Our basement archeology has unearthed a bin of old world decorative plates dating back to the turn of the 20th century. All are hand painted. Some of the hands that did the painting are Kerri’s ancestors. We know this because the back of each plate sported a fading post-it note, written by Beaky, Kerri’s mom, tracing the lineage of the plate. For us, the notes are more precious than the plates.

“What do I do with these?” she asked. The notes are personal, immediate, while the plates are more complicated.

It is a poignant coincidence that while we are cleaning out our basement and discovering objects from the family tree, important messages from the past, the current leadership of the nation is tearing down the White House, otherwise known as soiling-the-symbol, while also disregarding the important notes from our ancestors, namely the lengthy note known as the Constitution. Our national legacy, our family tree, discarded.

It is hopeful to witness people like Mark Elias pull our legacy from the trash bin. It is heartening to see people take to the streets to protect their neighbors, to protect their rights, to demand respect for their inherent freedoms currently being dismissed; people actively protecting and stewarding their legacy.

The tug-of-war in our history is and always has been over who we mean when we say, “We the People.” Are “We the People” exclusive, white-male-Christian-landholders only? The wealthy few? Or, are “We the People” inclusive, all people equal under the law? Our post-it-note from the past, written by hand, more enduring than the building under assault, certainly more personal and directly connected to each of us, is very clear in the amendments we’ve made as the nation has matured. Our legacy is inclusive. Our laws apply equally to all or they are rendered meaningless.

Perhaps this current abomination of an administration is bringing to light the ugliness of exclusivity that has plagued our past and will once-and-for-all prompt us to clean our house of the scourge of white supremacy and male superiority. Perhaps we will have the courage to see and accept our history, all of it, the good, the bad and the ugly. Perhaps we will write into our sacred document, our post-it note from our ancestors, protections against The Epstein Class, the oligarchs who would (once again) attempt to place themselves above the law and rule like feudal kings.

Perhaps then we can write a note to our descendants, tracing our shared legacy, including a message about the battles we waged against our inner demons, finally purging ourselves of this schism, so that they might carry forward – without resistance – the full promise of democracy.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LEGACY

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Survival Tips [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

MM asked if we had any snow yet. He lives in California but entered the earth in Iowa so he knows snow. We swapped tales of cars sliding on ice and other seasonably appropriate tips for survival.

As I write this it’s in the single digits outside. We have more than our feet under a quilt. Consider “write while buried in blankets” a winter survival tip.

Our ice-damming issue is not yet resolved but it’s so cold outside that the water is not flowing. The heat of the house is no match for the polar freeze so nothing is melting. Here’s another survival tip: When there’s nothing to be done about the problem then it’s a good idea to do nothing. Get under the quilt and write. If writing is not your thing then just get under the quilt.

We are fans of Life Below Zero. All too often the people in the episodes ride their snowmobiles down frozen rivers or across the icy tundra when the temperatures are minus-fifty-degrees. It never fails, at the same moment we say, “I couldn’t do that.” Which, as it turns out, is another survival tip: know your limits.

We discovered our ice-damming issue in the middle of the night which meant I was climbing a ladder in the cold-dark-night with pitchers of boiling water to open the gutters and downspout and give the water a path that did not include the inside of the house. After a few hours the aluminum ladder was covered with ice (former boiling water that splashed); my gloves – also wet – were sticking to the ladder. Sometimes it is not enough to know your limits; you must act on what you know. Consider this an important survival tip.

If you know your limits and honor the limit you know, then your chances of living another day are greatly increased. Here is perhaps my best survival tip: when you find the limit but are tempted to cross it with delusions of grandeur or inflated feelings of importance, imagine a mug of hot coffee, pumpkin pie and warm quilts – the simplest joys of survival, the epicenter of thriving. When standing at the bottom of a frozen ladder at 2am with yet another pot of boiling water, it will help put things into perspective.

Having some perspective is, perhaps, the most awesome survival tip of all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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An Evolutionary Line [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Whenever men take the law into their own hands, the loser is the law. And when the law loses, freedom languishes.” Robert Kennedy (clearly not Jr.)

This handle is well worn. It comes from a time before electricity relieved muscle and hands of much of their day-to-day duties. As artists from-another-era, we are drawn to things worn smooth by human hands. I love my brushes precisely because they are well-worn; they fit my hand because my hand, unique in all the world, has worn-its-way into the handles. My brushes carry the record of my life’s work.

Because of a play that I’m writing I’ve been reading and rereading The Oresteia, a trilogy of plays by Aeschylus. “The trilogy explores the transition from personal vengeance to a more civilized, legal system of justice.(A-I) The cycle of plays is a celebration of human evolution, progressing from the chaos of revenge and retribution to a society with a system of laws that maintain order. Aeschylus wrote the Oresteia because a society based on law was a relatively new idea, an evolutionary line drawn in the sand marking the transition from animal to human nature, from impulse-driven to rationality guided by complex moral systems. The law is the foundation stone of democracy and of our freedoms.

Currently, we are witnessing an all-out assault on the law. From a justice department driven by the retribution-fantasy of a single man to a Supreme Court undermining the Constitution it is sworn to protect, those in power would rather us devolve, step back across the line into animal revenge. They are literally taking the law into their own hands. Their revenge-imperative threatens our moral order. Our freedoms are in peril.

This is not the first time our foundation stone has been under assault, it is not the first time a privileged few deluded themselves into believing that they-and-they-alone ought to rule. The path to autocracy always begins by undermining the law, by twisting it, weaponizing it to serve the opposite of its intention.

Our system of laws is like that well-worn handle. It is our heritage, our inheritance. It fits in our hands because our hands have left our imprint upon the law and the law has left its imprint on us. We’ve worked for it, fought for it, died for it. It’s why we take to the streets. It’s why we boycott businesses that bow to authoritarianism. It’s why we run from our homes to blow whistles and record the abuses of ICE. It gives me hope.

In the final play of the cycle, the goddess Athena – yes, a goddess – establishes law and order, a legal system – better than bloody revenge – to resolve conflicts. Her new system ends a dark curse that reached back generations, a curse that had been plaguing humanity. With her system of laws and courts, her invention of a jury by peers, she opened the door for humanity to progress from primitive retribution to civil society. She laid the foundation stone for a new idea – democracy – to replace the animal-revenge-mentality perpetuated by autocrats and kings.

LEGACY on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE HANDLE

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Step Into The Light [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The fear of speaking in public is consistently ranked number one above the fear of death. For the Epstein survivors, the two fears merge into one: for years they feared they would be harmed if they spoke out. Their fear is not unfounded. The most powerful men (people) in the world have conspired for decades to keep them silent. They still are. So, imagine the courage it has taken for them to stand in public and speak.

It is ironic that the entire Republican party, fearful of the light of truth, continue to believe that their silence-in-lock-step is strength. Although they feign support for the release of the Epstein files and pretend concern for the over-one-thousand victims, although they vomit words and words and more words… the noise they make is nothing more than cover for their complicity. It is loud silence. To misquote Shakespeare, Methinks thou doth protest too much.

Audre Lorde wrote, “Your silence will not protect you.” It is a truth that the Epstein survivors came to understand, a driving force behind their courage to step together into the public light and say, “This happened. It was wrong. It matters.” (Tarana Burke, Unbound)

Just as the survivors came to recognize that silence is not strength, we can only hope that the Republican party, the DOJ and the FBI soon arrive at the same conclusion: silence will not protect you. Obfuscating will not spare you. Silence, in this case, is nothing more or less than collusion with the perpetrators. Conspiracy inevitably arrives at a reckoning.

So, to the increasingly spine-free members, the sad remnants of the once Grand Old Party, we hope some among you address the elephant in the room, break the silence and find the courage to demand full disclosure of the files. Step into the light with the survivors. No matter how emphatic the noise you make, no matter how excessive the denial or empty declarations of concern you bellow, it might be prudent to arrive at the same conclusion as did the Epstein survivors: silence will no longer protect you.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SILENCE AND VOICE

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Shine The Light [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Impressions in the moment:

It’s a miserable day with freezing rain so bitter that Dogga does not want to go outside. He would leap with glee into a blizzard so it’s a potent statement that he, our snow-dog, chooses to stay warm and dry inside.

We are writing this post in the space between the press conference with the Epstein survivors and the House vote. By the time you read this the vote will have been taken. If I was a better writer, I’d narrate this story of this limbo moment, or perhaps the liminal space in our nation’s history, in which it became crystal clear how hard the patriarchy, the powerful male elite, will fight to maintain their privilege, their protected position above the law. This vote will pass the House. What comes next will reveal whether we are we witness to a tipping point or yet another act of avoidance facilitated by a system that grants immunity to the male gentry at the exclusion of the rights of women. What new obstacle will arise to prevent the release of the files and fail to expose the rot in the halls of power? What information will be scrubbed?

I watched the Epstein survivors holding photographs of themselves, taken at the age of their abuse. Children. I saw a picture of Kerri taken at the age when she was sexually assaulted. She looked barely a teenager. I couldn’t speak for several moments after looking at the photograph.

In Seattle I was summoned to jury duty. My pool of 50 citizens was called into voir dire, jury selection, for a case about sexual assault. It was unusual because we were the third group of 50 called before the judge. In the courtroom, the judge made a simple request: Raise your hands if you have been the victim of sexual abuse or if you know anyone who has been sexually abused? Every person in the pool raised their hands. The judge sighed, exasperated. He said, “I’ve now asked this question of three groups. That’s 150 people. Every single person has raised their hands. I believe I could go on like this all day and not find 12 people to seat a jury who have not been impacted by sexual abuse. What’s going on here?”

Indeed. What’s going on here.

She knelt on the trail to get a picture of the dandelion. The sun, low in the sky, made it luminous, gorgeous. This dandelion was scrappy, still hanging on even in the November cold. “I wouldn’t have seen it at all if the light hadn’t been just right,” she said, showing me the photo. “It’s amazing what you see, what emerges, when something finds its way into the light.”

66 & 19, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DANDELION AND LIGHT

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One Brief Moment [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“But time has many dimensions and in the end, time opens to timelessness.” ~ Peter Brook, The Quality of Mercy

One day I realized that I was like a sand painting: a bit of unique beauty created in the moment and meant to blow away with the winds. That is not a despairing thought. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

Late at night we watched a short documentary about the scale of time. It was eye-opening. The filmmaker was so overcome with realization of time that his model revealed that be broke down and cried. We are but a blip, a blink of the eye. The enormity of life. The impossibility of life.

Those who wish to have monuments erected for themselves are missing the point entirely.

Barney, the piano in our backyard, is slowly, over time, returning to dust. That is also true of Kerri’s Yamaha piano in her studio, only a fraction slower. Breck the aspen tree that came home with us from Colorado in the back seat of our car is now taller than our garage. If typical, Breck will live approximately 200 years. Twice as long as me, though the measure of time, the comparison, is arbitrary at best.

Breck and I each have our one brief moment in the sun.

GRATEFUL on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK AND BARNEY

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It Speaks Volumes [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

We’re hearing a lot about SNAP during these days of government shutdown. SNAP is the acronym for the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program. As the current administration attempts to eliminate this critical life support for 42 million citizens, I am plagued with a question. How is it possible in the richest country on earth that 12% of our citizens are living on the thinnest of margins? But that’s not my question. This is: How is it possible that the government of the richest country in the history of the world, a government of the people, would refuse to throw a life ring to its people who will starve without it?

Asked another way: Who would stand on the dock, holding a life ring, and not throw it to a drowning person?

It’s worse: Who would stand on the dock and actively prevent others – rescuers – from throwing a life ring to a drowning person? To a community of drowning people?

It speaks volumes.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LIFE RING

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