The Interim [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“You are in this time of the interim/ Where everything seems withheld./The path you took to get here has washed out;/ The way forward is still concealed from you.” John O’Donohue, Benedictus

Persephone has returned to the Underworld. Demeter, her mother, mourns and so the earth is cold. Nothing grows. It is the time of waiting. According to the bargain, after six months, Persephone will return to the upper world, Demeter will rejoice at the homecoming of her daughter, plants will flower, trees will bud, life will be restored.

It is not an accident that Persephone, the goddess who presides over death is also the goddess of fertility and new life. One complete cycle. It’s an archetype found in many cultures across our tiny planet.

This winter we’ve descended into a an especially dark season. With the firing of the military leadership, replaced by nincompoops loyal to a man rather than the constitution, the authoritarian takeover is nearly complete. Yesterday, by executive order, congress lost its power-of-the-purse. The last traces of democracy are being summarily scrubbed. The way forward?

History has taught us that these authoritarians are stuck in their adolescence. They have a bottomless hole where their hearts should be. They attempt to fill the the hole with sex or money or power or fame or alcohol or clothes or cars…It is a void that only maturity can satisfy. Maturity comes with the revelation that service to others rather than self-aggrandizement fills the hole. True to pattern, they will ultimately be consumed by the dark void in their chests, turning their power-lust on each other in a festival of self-destruction, perhaps taking our democracy with them.

And then Persephone will return.

We are in the interim. The path forward is unclear. Yet, it is still not too late to wrangle these child-minds into containment and return mature adults to the hill. Or, we can stay silent and let the children run the show. Lord of the Flies.

Either way, as order follows chaos, courage will reemerge. A new generation of leaders will find their moral center, value decency and join together, connected by service to the nation rather than self-interest. They will set about cleaning up the wreckage, sweeping up the mess. Persephone will return, Demeter will rejoice, life will bud, and perhaps our fragile democracy will be rekindled.

Connected 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 ICE

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Cartoon Possibilities [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Call it self-preservation. With the inspiration of MM, I am compiling a mountain of cartoon ideas borne of the laugh-or-cry idiocracy currently sweeping away the nation. There seems to be no bottom to the inanity of the red-hat cult and those that they’ve elevated to power.

The abundance of comic fodder spewing forth from overly sincere conservative faces has me meditating on what makes them both so horrific and so funny. It is this: they ignore – and expect us to ignore –Occam’s Razor. The Principle of Parsimony: It’s a good rule of thumb, if sanity is the goal, to seek the simplest explanation. It is usually the best. If insanity is the aim, seek conspiracy theories and complex machinations.

Take, for instance, the fires in California. Jewish Space Lasers meet unraked forests? Or, perhaps rising global temperatures and drought are to blame? The first requires a reliance on science-fiction and a multi-layer-cake of ill-intent, stupidity and bigotry. The second relies on science. And common sense.

Or, consider this snicker-worthy intrigue: Did the COVID-19 vaccine included microchips capable of tracking people? Or, was it protecting citizens from a raging pandemic? Again, the first requires a madcap sci-fi dystopian fantasy. Occum’s Razor would have us tip toward the reality of science responding to the pandemic. (note: if you use a cell phone or shop on line, there’s no need to vaccinate a chip into your body since you are infinitely locate-able. Google maps already knows where you are since getting you from point A to point B requires, well, knowing where you are…).

The red hats are awash in conspiracy theories. The fox revels in fueling the fantastic and muddling the minds of the easily led. In my comic-thought the actual red hats are lined with tin-foil to protect their brains from alien mind control. That, and better ham radio reception.

I suppose if human beings are capable of believing that the earth is flat, that climate change is a hoax, that the massacre of children at Sandy Hook Elementary was a scam, that Democrats are drinking baby’s blood beneath the streets of Washington D.C…they are also capable of believing in the big boogeyman, the Deep State. It’s the reason we’re been force-fed for the dismantling of our Democracy. Woke waste and fraud! George Soros secretly controlling the world’s economy! Lions and tigers and bears! Oh, my!

It is worthy of cartooning and lampooning. Or a good cry.

This just in from historian Heather Cox Richardson: “…the relative stability of American democracy in the late twentieth century allowed politicians to win office with the narrative that the government was stifling individualism, taking money from hardworking taxpayers to provide benefits to the undeserving…But the Trump administration’s massive and random cuts to the federal workforce are revealing that the narrative of government waste does not line up with reality.

Does not line up with reality. Occum’s Razor. It’s the simplest explanation for how we find ourselves in an era dominated by lies and lunacy. It’s a rich (and increasingly sad) field of cartooning possibilities.

read Kerri’s blogpost on THE CLOUD

an oldie from the archives at Flawed Cartoon International

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Be Peace [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Coming over the pass, the first glimpse of the lake seemed a mirage. It beckoned.

I always travel with my sketchbook though I rarely take it out and draw. I am more of an “intuitive” artist – feeling my way forward – so the impulse to draw scenes from nature rarely occurs for me. Rather than capture images I more often write ideas or capture snippets of conversation. I capture interesting shapes. I draw images that come to mind. Like the lake, the images first appear as mirages, calling me closer.

Rooting around in my bag, my sketchbook fell open to the very first page. I was surprised by the notes I found there. I’d forgotten a conversation Kerri and I had months ago about the difference between being-at-peace and keeping-the-peace. This is a bit of my note: All my life I have tried to keep the peace – which means to keep silent – to NOT say – to not stir the pot – to be more concerned with how others feel than how I feel. Being at peace is different. It means being solidly in my center and giving voice to what’s vital for me; not swirling in circumstance like a ‘Peacekeeper’ does. And then I captured a quote from Kerri: “To be peaceful is not about keeping other people’s peace, it is keeping my own.”

Driving toward the lake I thought about what I’d written.

Peace-full means to take responsibility for how I walk and speak in the world, regardless of circumstance.

Peace is amorphous when looked at from afar; it is a mirage when it is an aspiration. In the heat of the moment, when lived, peace is a solid center, immovable like a mountain, as clear as the crystal waters of the lake.

A mantra I learned long ago rolled through my mind: Peace is not the absence of violence. It is what we do in the face of violence. It is Gandhi and MLK. It is a mass of people joining together and walking in peace toward violence, refusing to be silent, refusing to hide, refusing to become violent.

We are now living in a violent time. White supremacy is once again rearing its ugly head. The fascists have the reins. With a rapist in the white house, a cabinet unique in their lack of experience and rejection of the constitution, an oligarch dedicated to self-interest and to destroying democracy…misogyny, racism and hate are having a moment. This is no time to keep the peace. This is a time to be the peace: to join. To give voice and call out the lies. To root firmly in our shared belief in equality and tradition of the rule of law.

As JB Pritzker just wrote, “Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage.” It takes courage to be peace in the face of hate.

The Republicans having lost their spines, minds and their moral compass and the Democrats having lost their rudder and will-to-act, we find ourselves called to show the courage and commitment that believers in peace not-so-long-ago showed on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

Peace is a solid center, immovable like a mountain, as clear as the crystal waters of the lake. Our democracy demands that we link arms, be peace, and take responsibility for how we walk in the world and for our democracy before it swirls down the drain.

Peace 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 MIRAGE.

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What Of Kindness? [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Kindness is not difficult to share within a friend-group or inner-circle. Kindness is easy with the people that you know. It’s the reason I’ve never met a person that did not consider themself kind. It’s the reason I consider myself kind. I can point to examples.

But what of kindness to those outside of the circle-of-the-known?

Lately I wonder if we can consider ourselves kind when our kindness is reserved; selective; picky.

This morning I read of a farmer who voted for the despot. He is astonished. With the sudden loss of USAID, the elimination of his market, he is losing his family farm. My first thought was not compassionate. My first thought was not kind. “You’re the only one who’s surprised,” I spat. “Idiot”.

What of kindness?

The farmer has been the recipient of government subsidies. He has had FEMA support after natural disasters. He is a veteran with benefits. His parents are on social security and Medicare. He has friends receiving Medicaid. Now, he fears the loss of these programs. Before the election he wore his red hat, pumped his fist and voted for the end of government handouts. He saw no reason to support childcare for single mothers so they might go to work. He did not see himself as a receiver-of-help.

He didn’t want his taxes benefiting those who do not look like him. Those outside of his circle.

For years the farmer has been misled by the fox. And yet, I can’t help but acknowledge that he has participated in his ignorance. He could have asked a question. He could have changed the channel. The despot made no attempt to hide his plan. He was not a stealth candidate. Did the farmer not understand the word “tariff”? Did he not read Project 2025 and the cuts it promised? He lives in the age of readily available and easily accessed information.

Was he too lazy to care? Was he truly blinded by a campaign of foxy-lies? He’s certainly been steeped in an ugly boogeyman of US and THEM. He’s been choked on fear-tales, encouraged to paint himself as a victim of diversity-equity-inclusion. Might he have challenged what he was being force-fed? Yes. But he didn’t. He agreed with it.

Now, he will pay the piper for his choice. We all will. He voted for it. He chose it. Now he will experience it.

What of kindness?

As he discovers his folly, as he meets the stark truth of his choice, does he really deserve to lose his family farm?

What of taking responsibility for the consequences of his choices and actions? He voted for hatred. He voted for indecency and amorality. He voted for misogyny and bigotry. It was not hidden from him. He posted signs on his fence proclaiming his proud allegiance to the despot.

Now, he and his family must rely on the social safety net that he has demonized as socialist. He voted for the safety net to be removed. Now that he needs it he has changed his tune. Soon, he fears, there will be nothing to break his fall.

Hopefully, he will learn – as will we all – that THEM is US. Before we are conservative or progressive, we are citizens of this nation. Together. WE. And we are a diverse community.

Friendly. Generous. Considerate. Descriptors of kindness. Perhaps, through his revelation, when he understands he is – and has been – the recipient of kindness, when helping hands (again) reach and assist him to stand, to survive, he will be more willing and able to extend kindness to others, to people who do not look like him.

Perhaps he will understand that a government is capable of helping all people to rise just as it is now crippling the majority for the sake of a few.

Perhaps in the future he will vote for kindness and equity that extends beyond his inner-circle. Kindness, he will learn, is a crop that is planted and cultivated. To reap the harvest, to experience it, one must first vote for it. One must first choose it. And then pass it on.

read Kerri’s blogpost about KINDNESS

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Whisper A Prayer [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It takes a lot these days to clear my mind and heart of the malfeasance and how it already impacts our daily life.

Malfeasance, (noun): wrongdoing; especially by a public official. Or many public officials.

We had to change concourses to catch our connecting flight. Kerri put on her mask before entering the crowded train. A man approached her and mock-coughed on her. He thought he was being funny.

Malevolent (adjective): having or showing a wish to do evil to others. From the Latin, a root meaning “violent wishing”.

“Can you believe he did that?” she asked as we exited the train.

“I think we better get used to it.” I said, “The a**holes have been given a green light.”

Our dear friends drove us over a snowy pass to the shores of Lake Tahoe. Kerri had always wanted to see it. As she does whenever she sees beauty, she cried. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered again and again. She feels the beauty.

We stopped at a beach to take photos. A cool day, I stood in the sun, warming myself, a gentle breeze rippled the surface of the lake. Quiet mind. Open heart. There’s nothing like standing on the shores of a miracle of nature. Crystal clear water reflecting snow capped mountains. It’s an instant perspective giver:

We will come and go. This era of human folly will come and go. The beauty will remain no matter the wishes we make, evil or otherwise, vicious or virtuous. Relative to the life of the lake, we are a blip, barely a blink of the eye.

Within our blip I wonder at the mind and heart that finds humor in hurting others when they have the option to help. I wonder at the heart that fills itself with hostility rather than drinks from the well of kindness.

To hurt or to help? To persecute or to assist? They seem to be the questions of our nation, of our time.

Standing on the shore in my blip of time I was eternally grateful to have my heart and mind, and not to live inside the sad angry brain of the coughing man. For him – for me – and for all of us – I whispered the Buddhist prayer: May you dwell in your heart. May you be free from suffering. May you be healed. May you be at peace.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAKE

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A Curious Silver Lining [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

She opened the back door and instead of the door pushing back the snow as it always does, the snow folded. It was like origami or an archivist gently turning the page of a book. To say our weather has been unusual would be an understatement – as is true everywhere. Folding snow is a curious silver lining to the fluxing cold necessary to produce it.

Yesterday I called up a bit of folklore in Rumpelstiltskin, an imp that weaves straw into gold. An illustration of the imp called to my mind Hungry Ghosts. In the canon of folkloric creations, Hungry Ghosts are currently among my favorite because I see them everywhere – especially now – in everyday life. “Desire, greed, anger and ignorance are all factors in causing a soul to be reborn as a hungry ghost because they are motives for people to perform evil deeds. The biggest factor is greed as hungry ghosts are ever discontent and anguished because they are unable to satisfy their feelings of greed.” Wikipedia

It helps me to think of the current batch of oligarchs and soul-less-politicians as Hungry Ghosts. It helps me to think that they are in anguish, unable to satisfy their feelings of greed. I see – we see – their vast ignorance, the insatiable greed that drives their inhumanity. If not now, soon they will pass on and discover that they are Hungry Ghosts. They will discover that they’ve arrived at the lowest of the low, the very rock bottom of the karmic inferno (forgive my mash-up of Buddhism and Dante). They’ve already arrived at the rock bottom of humanity (as revealed by their inhumanity), “…beings who are driven by intense emotional needs in an animalistic way.” No greater consciousness.

Folding snow. Hungry Ghosts. A curious silver lining, to be sure. We are surrounded by – or living through – a cautionary tale reminding us to keep intact our compassion, to hold the line of truth amidst a roaring forest fire of lies, to believe in the goodness of human spirits that understand service to others is the very thing that cultivates our greater humanity – keeping us from becoming Hungry Ghosts – and is the epicenter of a healthy community, nation, and world.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOLDING SNOW

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Focus [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Although it might not be immediately apparent, this is a photograph of a fork in the river. A junction of choice or perhaps, if caught in the current, a junction of chance.

Choice or chance?

We are witness to so many people selling their souls for fluffy stuff – like the retention of an elected seat. Or for fame. Or for money. People turning their backs on common decency and common sense and the common person. Their gain? More “likes” or followers or attention or control. 15 minutes of media focus. We are down the rabbit hole. The Mad Hatter, The Cheshire Cat and Tweedledum populate our current predicament.

We did not arrive here by chance.

In “Don’t Believe Him,” Ezra Klein’s brilliant encapsulation of the first two weeks of this train wreck presidency, he said, “Democracies need focus”. Chaos is the current administration’s strategy to keep us off balance and unfocused. It is an entertainment scheme, like a roller coaster or a horror movie or heroin.

We need not believe, become enthralled or distracted by a thing the Mad Hatter says or does. He is, after all, mad. Focus: this chaos masks (barely) a power grab by the executive branch.

Although he’s accumulated record-breaking wealth, The Cheshire Cat’s wisdom is sorely lacking. His agenda is personal gain. Public service is not in his purview. His agenda has nothing to do with you or with me. Focus: this is meant to neuter the legislative branch.

The Hatter and The Cat have surrounded themselves with a bevy of Tweedledums. Onomatopoeia. ‘Nuf said. Focus: no competence is necessary when demolition is the aim. The target of the demolition: our system of checks-and-balances.

As we will learn soon enough, the entertainment factor of mayhem will fade as the reality of the havoc knocks on our doors. As soon as the loss of income or benefits or services or protections or liberties becomes personal, some red-hats will no doubt rub their blurry eyes and ask, “What happened?” The rest of us will sigh and say, “You chose it.”

We will shake our heads and remind them that it was their choice to unleash the world’s richest man – at the behest of a billionaire despot – to close preschools, cut medicaid, reduce veteran services, etc., etc., etc.(it is a very lengthy list and quite deadly for many human beings here and around the world).

We did not arrive here by chance.

But that does not mean that we have no choice. The Mad Hatter squeaked the election with one of the lowest margins in our history. 90 million people – more people than voted for either candidate – chose to stay home. The pain we are experiencing – and are about to feel – is not red, blue or indifferent. Pain does not discriminate. It’s a great eye-opener. It is an even greater motivator for action and change.

We need not pretend that we are in a too-strong current getting swept into a fascist future. This is not happening by chance. We still have a choice because we have voices. Lots of voices. We are – for now – the power behind our representatives. We still have a vote. Let us hope we have the focus necessary to preserve it and use it.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RIVER

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And Bok Choy [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

This week we made a miso pot-sticker soup (Japanese). 20 made for us a red curry noodle soup (Thai). We often make pasta dishes and will soon cook chicken marsala (Italian). Later this week we will make fajitas (Mexican). In one of our soups we used for the very first time bok choy (Chinese cabbage).

We drove on errands and passed Panda Express (Chinese), Pimmy’s (Thai), Masala House (Indian), Buono Beef (Italian), La Fogata (Mexican), La Caribeña (Columbian) Madame Pho’ (Vietnamese), Gyro Grill (Greek), Bisi (Ethiopian)…There are many more. A not-so-surprising statement of food diversity borne from a nation comprised of diverse people.

We passed a mosque, a Buddhist temple, a synagogue, churches of all shapes and stripes. A few miles north is a Sikh temple, a Hindu temple, an Amish community, and a Taoist Center to the west.

A quick look (less than a minute) at the labels on my clothes reveals items from Vietnam, China, Mexico, India and Bangladesh. I recently bought a pair of shoes from Columbia Sportswear Outlet store. They were made in China. My favorite Frye boots were also made in China. Frye is a company founded in Massachusetts. Massachusetts is an Algonquin word meaning “at the great hill.” Colorado is a Spanish word meaning “colored red”.

My name, David, comes from the Hebrew word “dod” which means “beloved”. It is a name that “has been adopted into languages all over the world, including Syriac, Greek, Latin, and Quranic. Quranic means “relating to or contained in the Koran.” Syriac is a literary language, Aramaic, used by several Eastern Christian churches. Kerri is named after a county in Ireland. Her parents cleverly exchanged the “Y” for an “I”. Kerry is a Gaelic word meaning, “Ciar’s people.” Ciar was a legendary warrior (This is new knowledge to me and explains a lot!)

In our history we find the word “settlement.” English, Dutch, French, Spanish. Another word, “migration”, shows up later in reference to the arrival of the Irish, Italians, Germans. “Immigration’ is a word that includes the arrival of the Chinese, Japanese, Mexicans and many people from Central America. Of course, we cannot forget the word “slavery” which was the path of Africans to this land, and “displacement” which is the sanitized word referring to the fate of the native peoples. “Attitudes towards new immigrants have fluctuated from favorable to hostile since the 1790s.”

This morning I read this from Heather Cox Richardson (Letters From An American, Feb. 1, 2025): Trump’s loyalists overlap with the MAGA crew that embraces Project 2025, a plan that mirrors the one used by Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán to overthrow democracy in Hungary. Operating from the position that modern democracy destroys a country by treating everyone equally before the law and welcoming immigrants, it calls for discrimination against women and gender, racial, and religious minorities; rejection of immigrants; and the imposition of religious laws to restore a white Christian patriarchy.

Given the reality of what is all around us, of what actually populates our lives, can you possibly grasp the magnitude of delusion and utter amorality in the minds (there are no hearts) of the current republican administration?

read Kerri’s brilliant blogpost (though she regularly disparages everything she writes)

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Where, Oh Where [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Set to the tune of Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone:

read Kerri’s blogpost about THEN AND NOW

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Become The Raft [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

It was during Covid that we started calling it “The Raft”. Our warm bed. With two broken wrists, all jobs lost and no work to be found, the heat turned down to save a penny, we felt like we were hanging on for dear life, afloat in the turbulent waters of the spinning universe on our tiny refuge. With Dogga asleep at our feet, we searched the horizon for hope, we launched our messages-in-a-bottle.

Our raft. It was one of the few places we felt safe and warm. Comforted. It was, during those scary and chaotic times, with the world in isolation, a haven where we might approach making sense of the senselessness. And, we survived.

I feel as if we are now back on the raft. The adults have left the capitol and the feckless man, the same nincompoop who suggested that we ingest bleach as a cure for Covid is now shoving Project 2025 down our throats – the ultimate aim is a Christian Nationalist Authoritarian State, a fate for our democracy that is far worse than swallowing bleach. He has returned with his clown car of bad clowns. Incompetents all, picked for their dull loyalty rather than their knowledge, experience or expertise. They know nothing of governing, or of creating or of problem-solving; they are solely capable of destroying.

Afloat on the raft we know that this time there is no refuge. There is no bubble thick enough to protect us from the virus that now infects our nation. There is no vaccine capable of minimizing the damage. There is no shot of courage available to legislators who have lost their moral compass and abandoned their spines along with their oath to protect the Constitution.

The isolation that helped saved us from Covid will now harm us. Of course, we necessarily practice social distancing from those contaminated by maga and made stupid by the fox but for the rest of us, the vast majority of the nation, we will eventually need to step outside, find each other, lock arms and become the raft for one another.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE QUILT

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