Look In The Mirror [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“…the Impressionists took seriously what we now often fear: that when life changes outwardly, culture must change inwardly.” ~ Jason Farago, How the Impressionists Became the World’s Favorite Painters, and the Most Misunderstood

If the word zion means “a holy place”, then Zion National Park is aptly named. Even overrun with tourists crammed in shuttles, it remains sacred. Beyond us. We are, after all, a mere blip in its history.

“Imagine how long it took to sculpt these canyons!” Charlie exclaimed. Eons. I overheard a woman on the path to the Narrows say, “It invites awe.” It is good to occasionally put our lives in proper perspective, to glimpse our smallness. Invite awe. That is one of the roles of the sacred.

While the world’s first democracy was being formed in the 5th century BCE in Athens, Greece, the grand walls of Zion were already much as they are today. Both were sacred: the new idea of “rule by the people” and the impossible grandeur of the ancient canyons.

In our present day democracy we are meant to be in service to something bigger than ourselves. The people across generations. That, too, is one of the meanings and roles of the “sacred”. To give us perspective relative to the higher ideal of our constitution as it matures in the future.

The maga-clan would have us flip the equation and dismantle the sacred. The outward changes are visible everywhere. Lies replace truth, self-service erodes the constitution, the higher ideal. The red candidate claims to have all the answers, fundamentally misunderstanding and undermining rule-by-the-people. We are, after all, a democratic republic not an authoritarian cesspool.

At one time in our history, being found liable for rape would have disqualified a candidate. Multiple felony convictions would have immediately ended a presidential campaign. Outlandish and persistent lies, inflicting real harm on people in the nation, would have horrified the electorate. A campaign driven by thuggery and grift would have burst into flames and disappeared from the public stage. An insurrectionist would once have been jailed and forgotten. And yet, here we are. Outward changes.

“…when life changes outwardly, culture must change inwardly.

Ethics, moral decency, service to a higher ideal are completely absent in the maga-canon and the Project 2025 playbook. That so many in our nation, despite all we know, are willing to vote for a rapist, a liar, a grifter, a felon, a misogynist, a racist, a fear-mongerer…gives us a mirror with which we might glimpse our inward changes. The loss of the sacred. To fifty percent of our nation (it seems by the polling) our system of governance has been reduced from a sacred ideal to a superficial transaction. There is an unholy price to pay for winning-at-all-cost.

We have a choice in November. We can continue to create and protect our Zion, our rule-by-the-people, or we can take it down, throw it away and give the reins of power, not to the people, but to an angry narcissist who threatens to seek retribution and eliminate his political rivals.

Luckily, the choice is not his. It is ours. Look in the mirror while there is still time. Take a good hard look. Help others to look in the mirror and then vote to sustain rather than scrap our sacred democracy.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ZION

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Take It Back [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Last evening, watching the sky transform from brilliant pink to deep purple and orange, we ate an entire bag of Lays Wavy potato chips. Kerri called it, “political angst eating”.

20 told us that he had to stop watching The Handmaid’s Tale because it was too close to the reality we currently face in the nation.

This morning two relevant-to-the-moment pieces of art rolled across our screens and collided. The first is Lighthouse, a new song by Stevie Nicks. In this mind-boggling time that women’s rights are under attack – that women are under attack – it is a call to action. “Is it a nightmare?” she asks. “It is unless you save it/ and that’s that/Unless you stand up/And take it back…”

The second, ROED, a short 10 minute documentary film by Dawn Lambing. It takes a page from Project 2025 and imagines what the nation will look like for women if the authoritarian maga get their wish. While watching it I realized that it is already the present reality for women in many red states. Watch it. This is no longer an exercise of “what if”. It’s here.

The Atlantic recently published an article, The Republican Freak Show: Like the man who leads it, the GOP is not just incidentally grotesque. It is grotesque at its core. In the article, Peter Wehner writes, “Since 2016 they have been at war with reality, delighting in their dime-store nihilism, creating “alternative facts” and tortured explanations to justify lawlessness and moral depravity and derangement of their leader…None of this is hidden…No one who supports the Republican party, who casts a vote for Trump and for his MAGA acolytes, can say they don’t know. They know.”

They know. It is the answer to the question we ask each day after our daily horror-troll of the news: “How can they not know.” It’s time to ask a better question. It’s time to stop pretending that they are ignorant or continually justifying their unwavering support of their depraved candidate with generous excuses like,” They just don’t see it”. They do see it.

They know. It is what they want for our nation. Women stripped of their fundamental rights. Mass deportations. The suspension of the Constitution. Book bans. The gutting of Medicare and Social Security. The elimination of the Department of Education. It goes on and on. Dangerous stuff worthy of a dystopian novel. Yet here we are. If you believe the polls, nearly 50% of our nation think the freak show is the way to go.

They know.

It is what makes Kerri and me eat entire bags of Lays Wavy potato chips. It’s why 20 stopped watching The Handmaid’s Tale.

“Is it a nightmare?” Stevie Nicks asks. Yes. Yes it is. “And that’s that/Unless you stand up/And take it back…”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about PINK

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Ponder Pure Action [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” ~ Rumi

Although now it’s ubiquitous in the social media sphere, to be an “influencer” is a relatively new term of in the canon of aspirations. To affect, to sway, to direct, to shape, to guide… Someone recently suggested that Kerri and I should attempt to become influencers and we both cringed. For us, there’s something shallow about that word that makes us recoil. We write everyday because we enjoy writing and are very aware that our love of writing does not necessarily mean that we have anything new or of value to say. We like to write together. We like to share what we write.

I recently read a Taoist tenet: cease trying to influence others or to be influenced by others. It’s a notion meant to speak to the pursuit of happiness. Essentially it recommends stopping the pursuit. Happiness is not a thing to be caught. It is not something to be attained. The tenet is a suggestion to stand still, to act purely according to what presents itself in the moment. To act without thought or desire of any imagined gain. Happiness is bubbling in the present moment, expressed through pure action. Taoists – as I understand it – call this non-action (as opposed to inaction). Wu Wei.

Pure action. Effortless.

When Kamala Harris became the Democrat nominee, we wondered what we could do to help. Previous to her entrance into the race, the ugly-red-tide seemed impossible to stop. She brought light and new energy. We read – somewhere – that in order to help her, people should do what they already do, do what they do best. And so, in this present moment, we write. I cannot claim to be pure in my action since I hold the hope of influencing a few hearts and minds out there, somewhere in the nation, to fully understand the power of their vote and the need to know what they are voting for.

Yesterday on our walk we crossed paths and had a chat with a friend and, of course, talked about politics. As a professor, he said each day, regardless of the topic or the lesson, now more than ever, he is trying to teach his students critical thinking skills. “They no longer know what is fact and what is made-up. They have to learn to question,” he said, “They have to learn to think for themselves, beyond what they are hearing in social media.”

Pure action. I told him that the imperative to teach critical thinking places him on the frontlines. A thinking person could not – would not – vote for the maga-candidate. There is plenty of desire in the red-tide to remove critical thinking from higher education – from all forms of education. To narrow rather than expand minds.

After we went on our way I realized that Kerri and I are doing in our writing exactly what our professor friend is doing in his classroom: attempting to inspire critical thinking. Pointing the direction to questions and to discernment, challenging those swallowing whole-cloth the dangerous-maga-fox-misinformation to open their eyes, to pop the info-bubble.

“I tell my students that it’s easy to find the truth,” the professor said. “You just have to want to see it.”

Nurture Me 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 RAIN

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Right Before Our Eyes [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you are like me, this image took a moment to grok. All the elements are apparent yet, at first, my brain couldn’t pull the pieces together. Kerri, standing outside the front door, took the photo of Dogga on the inside staring out. What is reflection? What is image-through-the glass? It reminds me of those famous drawings that can be seen in completely different ways, the old crone and the young woman. One drawing, two possible images. An optical illusion.

After the image of Dogga-in-the-glass came into focus for me, Kerri exclaimed, “I can’t believe it took you so long to see it!”

MC Escher made a career of creating optical illusions. Stairways to nowhere. Hands drawing hands. The mathematics of art and design. We are rarely aware that our brains assign rather than discover meaning, selecting and assembling pieces in order to sense-make. Like well-worn paths through the woods, our sense-making carves default channels: we see what we expect to see. We see it because we believe it, not the other way around. That is to say, we rarely see beyond what we think. Thinking paths-of-least-resistance render us blind.

The pursuit of truth is to see beyond our well-worn paths. Escher knew that. His images play with our expectations. His images, for a moment, shock us into seeing beyond our expectation.

Factors like age or cultural orientation create biases in the making of meaning, in the assembly of the illusion. For instance, in the drawing of the old/young woman, older people will more often see the old woman while younger people will almost always see the young woman. If you happen to come from a culture that is not inundated with images (there are a few remaining on the planet), it is likely that you would only see scribbles on a page. You would see neither the old or the young woman.

Your normal is not my normal. Your well-worn thought-paths are different than mine.

Given identical experiences, your sense-making will differ from mine. It is the genius behind our system of governance. That two opposing points of view might come together, discuss what they think-they-see and compromise on a best path forward, is the foundation-stone of our democratic system. The genius begins when allowing that one party sees an old woman while the other sees a woman who is young. Both can be valid. Both can exist on the same page.

Allowing for and valuing differences of perspective leads to common ground, shared action.

On the other hand, the same system collapses when what is immediately apparent to both parties is summarily denied by one side of the aisle. It’s another type of illusion altogether: the negation of the obvious. For instance, our last presidential election endured 65 challenges in court and all were summarily thrown out for lack of evidence. Both sides knew – and know – without doubt that the election was valid, free and fair yet the red-hat team continues to fearmonger, pounding the drum of corruption, wearing another kind of thought-path in the minds of their constituents, rendering them blind.

There is a clear distinction between sorting out differences and creating them to exploit fear.

Coming together, in an attempt to see beyond expectations, respecting differing perspectives, valuing the multiple perceptions of a diverse nation in order to stand on common ground is democracy at its best. Creating division, whipping up disunity, negating and devaluing the perspectives and values of others spells the end of democracy. It intentionally pulls the nation apart.

Democracies pursue truth. Autocracies thrive on falsehoods. The choice we face is abundantly clear and right before our eyes. As a nation, all we need do is step off our well-worn thought-paths and open our eyes.

read Kerri’s blog about ILLUSIONS

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A Simple Equation [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“…to the degree that each of us is dedicated to wanting there to be peace in the world, then we have to take responsibility when our own hearts and minds harden and close.” Pema Chödrön, Practicing Peace

Inside, I am wrestling. This political era is challenging everything I believe, everything I believe about humanity, everything I believe about myself. For instance, as someone who spent years facilitating DEI workshops, I have found the hard wall of intolerance; my intolerance.

My intolerance reduces difference to a simple equation. An example: My wife is a survivor of sexual assault. The harm inflicted on her by her rapist ravages her to this day. The maga candidate has been found liable for sexual abuse. He has been accused of sexual assault by dozens of women. For me, a vote for the maga candidate is no more or no less than a vote for a serial rapist. It’s a simple bottom line. Support of the rapist bespeaks acceptance of rape. Never mind the the incessant racism, the misogyny, the lies, the grift…

Another simple equation: A person who votes for the maga candidate is complicit.

For the first time in my life I am finding it impossible to stand in the other’s shoes. I can’t understand it and, more to the point, I am no longer willing to try. And so, the growth begins. I have found my edge.

I’m finding that there are very good reasons to be intolerant. There should be – there need to be – hard lines drawn in the sand. We have laws for a reason. We have separation of powers for a reason. There is a line between moral and immoral, between right and wrong – for a reason.

We’ve been watching past seasons of Alone. Our pals got us hooked on it and I am finding it helpful as I stand on my edge. People left alone in the wilderness quickly learn about their basic needs. They learn about themselves. Although adept survivalists, most nearly starve to death in a matter of weeks, yet it’s not the lack of food that defeats them. It’s the lack of human contact. As they move through their ordeal of aloneness, they become increasingly grateful for the people in their lives. They become humble. They weep. These rugged outdoors-types speak openly about what they fear. When stripped down to the basics, they meet themselves as if for the first time.

They become effusive in their gratitude because they become clear about what matters and what does not.

I feel that I am – we are- learning about ourselves as a nation. We are certainly in the process of being stripped down. The basics of our beliefs – beyond the rhetoric – are being excavated and revealed. And, as I discover the inflexibility of my intolerance, clear about what matters, I am also plumbing the depths of a deeper well of gratitude.

It is not an exaggeration to say that I am thankful for people who ask questions en route to the truth – people who desire to be informed beyond their own comfortable belief. I am thankful for courageous people who can no longer stomach the rot – who place country over personal gain. I am thankful for people who honor and fight to hold the line of decency and democracy.

I am grateful for meeting my intolerance.

I am grateful for people who still think sexual assault is a crime and anyone who sexually assaults should be imprisoned rather than rewarded with the highest office in our land. A bottom line. A line drawn in the sand. A simple equation.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GRATITUDE

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As Clear As The Pollen [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Although Dogga adamantly denies rooting around in the ragweed next to our neighbor’s fence, the evidence is as clear as the pollen on his face. Some things are just undeniable.

Of course, as we are experiencing, the overabundance of evidence, unassailable facts, do not stop deniers from denying, liars from lying. Crowd size comes to mind. Elections lost.

Against her better judgment Kerri responded to an acquaintance’s post. It was riddled with misinformation. She supplied a fact-check. “I can’t take it!” she sighed. And, as she experienced (again), present a denier with evidence and they will double-down. In this case, a tsunami of conspiracy theory rushed back her way. I counted layers of cultish nonsense.

“How is this possible?” she asked.

Cultish. Number one on the list of cultish characteristics is that the members exist in a bubble, cut off from verifiable reality. The cult serves as the only source of truth and community; an echo chamber of gibberish. Other cult characteristics include an Us-versus-Them mentality, gaslighting, apocalyptic thinking…thought control.

The cult provides a sense of belonging.

Facts and data are threatening to a cult. It threatens the fabricated-story inside the bubble. If the bubble pops then the members face untenable questions: To what do I actually belong? How could I not see it?

And so, as bubble-protection, every response to irrefutable facts must always be a conspiracy. It’s the pat answer for everything, the fortress for gobbledygook. Non-sense. Drivel. Bilge. No evidence required. Apocalyptic thinking is all that is necessary to keep the gaslight glowing and the fear-fury burning. The more outlandish the accusation – the more apocalyptic the hot air – the better. Erasing the boundaries of reason makes room for greater and greater rubbish.

Of course, I am not unique in making the observation that maga is a cult.

“What do we do?” Kerri asked, astounded at the rush of nonsense that came back her way when she contradicted the ridiculous with evidence and reason.

We vote. We get out the vote. We give up speaking sense or fact to hooey-worshippers. And then we prepare for another tsunami of lies and unnecessary violence unleashed when their sore-loser-leader cries “Foul” yet again. He’s already started. Just like the last time. And, just like last time, no amount of evidence will mollify the cult-faithful. No amount of fact or data will open their eyes. Nothing will penetrate their childlike devotion to their big daddy – yet another characteristic of a sad, dangerous cult. Who exactly is “the enemy within”?

The evidence is as clear as the pollen on Dogga’s face.

read Kerri’s blogpost about POLLEN NOSE

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Give Over [David’s blog on KS Friday]

In the pontoon boat I give over. I do not drive so I make no significant decisions. I sit in a sunny spot. I laugh with good friends or am quiet. There are snacks. I open myself to whatever comes my way. I give-over.

It seems so easy on the pontoon boat. To relax. To go with the flow. To forget the all-important-lists. To drop the illusion that I am more than I am. No need to achieve, to prove, to strive, to become. On the pontoon boat I am just this. I am with friends. We move slowly. We chase nothing. We circumnavigate the lake. On the pontoon boat I am enough – and I know because I do not think about it at all. I measure nothing. No need to measure up.

I wonder why I reserve this kind of living to time on the pontoon boat.

Yesterday was an exceedingly hard day. I filled my cup with discord and self-loathing. I was a wasteland.

The boat is not magic. The peace I feel is not given to me by the boat. I give it to myself. My friends are with me whether we ride the boat or not. The reasons for my discord existed only in my mind. A very dark cloud. In my mind I did not measure up. I withheld peace and chose inner-enmity. Why?

You would think the grace I afford myself when riding in the pontoon boat would be available when riding on the earth as we circle and circle the sun. Why is my ride on this earth any different than my ride on the pontoon boat? Why would I choose anything other than grace?

When not on the pontoon boat am I not capable of opening myself to whatever comes my way? What – other than myself – prevents me from giving-over?

I measure illusions against illusions to fully achieve my misery.

The illusions and incessant measurement are what I drop when climbing onto the pontoon boat. They are what I easily-give-over when taking my seat in the sun with friends. How much more important is it to give-over the illusions with the same ease while inhabiting this seat as I circle and circle the sun?

Time Together on the album This Part of the Journey © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

The music Kerri has recorded is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the PONTOON BOAT

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Simply Say, “Enough.” [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

She snapped. I watched it happen, the moment when there was no more room for tolerance, no more space for grace. Had she spoken she simply would have said, “Enough”.

You can’t make up this stuff.

A hot mic on the Access Hollywood bus should have ended it.

Being found liable for sexual assault (rape) by a jury of his peers should have ended it.

Being accused of sexual assault and misconduct by 25 women should have ended it.

His recent repost of repugnant tweets about Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris should end it. But it won’t. As a survivor of sexual abuse she’d had enough. She snapped.

Misogyny in the United States is not only alive and well, it is being celebrated by at least half of the voting population. The man-who-would-be-king has no bottom to his baseness. How is it possible that so many are so willing to follow him into the pigswill? How is it possible that this miscreant* is the person the red hats have chosen to emulate, to support, to uphold as an example for their children, as the standard bearer to lead them into the future?

In a recent interview James Carville warned that this miscreant “under-polls” meaning that the people who support him are ashamed to admit that they support him and his reprehensible views. So they hide their support. They mask their truth. I suppose being so ashamed of your beliefs that you lie to conceal them implies at least some small shred of self-awareness. A gutted morality. Or perhaps it is plain cowardice.

Misogyny: the hatred of, contempt for, or prejudice against women or girls. It is a form of sexism that can keep women at a lower social status than men, thus maintaining the social roles of patriarchy.

Running a campaign on hatred. Contempt. Amplifying prejudice and sexism. In other words, the miscreant and his hate-party are empty of vision and ethics. This paucity of heart and thought leaves them with no recourse but to demean others – as it seems their single goal is to maintain at-all-cost the rusty social roles of a collapsing patriarchy.

Strumming the strings of those who fear equality, whipping up a crowd terrified that they will come up short on an even playing field.

This is what I wanted to tell her when she snapped: drowning men push all others underwater to elevate themselves.

Those who support the miscreant, like the miscreant himself, are drowning. It’s easy to see: working to restrict voters, gerrymandering maps, desperate to change voter laws and procedures so they can tilt the outcome in their favor no matter the result of the election. The miscreant has proclaimed that, once in office, he will “fix things” so we need never vote again. It’s the statement of a sad little man and his party swallowing water, afraid to compete, afraid to say, “This is what we believe.” (see Project 2025 and the lengths they now go to disavow it). It betrays a fundamental disregard – and disdain – for the system they proclaim to protect. If they truly believed in our system of governance, if they truly believed in the values they purport to conserve, they’d not fear an even playing field. They’d defend it. They’d welcome it. They’d arrive at the table with a fierce dedication to protect the right of all citizens to freely vote. They would not tolerate so crude and base a man as their leader.

If his party will not hold him accountable or at least condemn him, if the law -as it seems – is incapable of holding him accountable, then the voters must. We need to end it.

Never mind the impeachments, the felony convictions, the dozens of indictments awaiting trial, the evidence-free claims and incessant whining of an election he lost, the violent attempt to stop the transfer of power…with the once-stiff spine of the republican party now a swampy puddle on the floor, it’s time for this nation to snap and say “Enough.”

His repulsive rhetoric is not locker room talk. His party’s “boys will be boys” excuse needs once-and-for-all to be swept into the dustbin of history with the miscreant and his privileged-hate-speak.

There is no excuse for misogyny. It’s way past time for the old boys to man up and learn to play on an even and equal playing field. American woman are not stupid. And that’s exactly what the old boys are afraid of.

*miscreant (noun): a person who behaves badly or in a way that breaks the law.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MISOGYNY

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Sacred Voice [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

My niece said it perfectly: for the first time in eight years I can vote FOR someone rather than against someone. The direction of intention. Moving toward the light instead of reacting against the darkness. And now, with Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, there is at long last a brilliant sunrise.

Beneath every action is a reason. A purpose or desire.

A vote is an action. It is the single action at the epicenter of every democracy. If there is a sacred action in the idea of democracy, voting is it. It is how we-the-people choose our path forward. It is how we participate (take responsibility) in our development. It is how we give voice to our intentions. To date, the people in the United States have one of the lowest voter turnouts in the world. Only 62%.

Choosing not to vote is…a choice. An inaction.

Over and over again in my career I heard people decry their voice-less-ness. Sunk in the quicksand-belief that their actions did not matter, their voice did not matter, they simply ceased trying. “No matter what I do, nothing changes.” Somehow, the connection between action and impact is snapped. And, the space between the broken pieces fills with the anger of helplessness.

As my former business partner responded to a woman who claimed voicelessness, “If you had a voice, what would you say?”

You have a voice. It’s called a vote. If you choose to use it, what will you say? Will you speak with dark fear or proclaim joy-filled-light? Will you declare possibility or mean-spirited-pout?

Our actions in the next few months, our vote this November, is our voice. I choose the light. My vote, my voice, will speak to a world that serves and shines on the whole community, that reaches for the central ideal: the creation of a nation built on the notion Out-Of-Many–One. Service to all. It is the reason we have a sacred vote, a voice of We-The-People.

There’s never been a better time, a more necessary time, to stand up and speak loud and clear. There’s never been a more important time to help others who have become complacent to claim – to reclaim – their sacred voice.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ACTION

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Our Better Natures [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

MM read somewhere that the use of periods in texting is considered “aggressive” and ellipses are “confusing”… He puzzled over the abundant and mysterious abbreviations. The lack of punctuation. He asked, “Is it any wonder folks are having trouble understanding each other these days?”

Miscommunication. Misunderstanding. Thought abbreviation. Misinformation. It seems that human beings are a hot mess of babble-confusion.

If, like me, you seek experiences that restore your faith in humanity, my best suggestion is to go find a butterfly house. Pass through the protective curtain into the butterfly sanctuary and all the layers of discord, reduction, ill-will, eyes-to-screens…drop off in a nanosecond. The butterflies have the power of bringing us back to our selves, to our essence. Pass through the curtain and all eyes look up. Pass through the curtain and courtesy is restored. Generosity is immediate. Social armor falls away; people – complete strangers – easily talk with each other. Smiles grace the faces of young and old alike.

In the butterfly house, standing still is valued. There is no hurry. There is nowhere-else-to-be. Watching where you step a necessity. Making space for others a given. Giggles, cooing and quiet excitement are the norm. No deciphering required.

In the butterfly house, no one has any trouble understanding each other. No one has any trouble helping others; the focus is outward to “something bigger”, the butterflies.

Susan told me that the butterfly wings are actually scales. “They’re literally dragons!” she smiled as a zebra stripped dragon circled her, looking for a place to land.

More than once I heard someone say, “They are magic!”

The magic, I thought but did not say, is how quickly the butterflies bring forth our better natures.

read Kerri’s blog about BUTTERFLIES

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