On The Day of “How?” [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Thoughts from the trail on day number 2 of a new year:

In my distant past I led workshops and retreats. Attendees, after having a significant revelation, would inevitably ask, “How do I take what I now know back into my day-to-day life?” At the time I generally threw the question back at them. “How do you take it back?” There is no formula.

How do we integrate new wisdom into ancient patterns? How do we weave our dreams into our white-knuckle-grip on reality?

There are ubiquitous platitudes that offer not-very-helpful-advice: “Out with the old and in with the new.” “Just do it.” “Pull up your bootstraps.” “Put on your big-boy pants.” These bromides are built upon faulty notions that 1) change is a one-and-done achievement rather than an ongoing process, 2) change is a linear path, and 3) change is something done all-by-yourself in a vacuum.

We only know ourselves in relationship to others. There is no arrival platform in this ever-changing life. Although we would like it to be otherwise, learning (change) is cyclical – it is never linear – and has no end (well, there is one definitive hard-stop).

I could have responded to my attendees with a question like this: To what story are you married? What makes your new insight a threat to the old story? Can you relax, breathe and detach from parts of the old story? I might have suggested that the question “how” presumes needing to know before acting. Is it possible that knowing “how to do it” is something seen after the fact? What if the “how” of taking a revelation back into life can only be understood after it is experienced? And what if “how” is a series of discoveries that never end?

I worked with a man who preached that people only change when, “The pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of making the change.” There is some truth to his belief. Pain is a potent motivator. Not-knowing can be unpleasant and very few people willingly walk into discomfort. Discord is a prerequisite of concord. And, vice versa.

Yearning is painful. Holding a dream can be excruciating. Stepping toward a vision can be scary as well as exhilarating. Staying the course in the face of internal opposition is a choice that is made again and again with each new step. And, each new step reveals previously unseen possibilities.

Revelations create new images, updated visions. What if the only thing that matters is stepping toward the vision – especially knowing that each new step will inform and alter the vision? And, what if standing still or temporarily turning away is actually an action: moving toward rather than running from? There is grace in recognizing readiness.

Thoughts to myself from the trail on day number 2 of a new year. It is the day that the fog of holiday celebrations clear and we begin to doubt our resolutions and question the strength of our revelations. It is the day we ask, “How?”

BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BRANCH

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A Symbol of Hope [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

There is no more appropriate symbol on the first day of the new year than the pine cone. It is an ancient symbol that reaches across cultures and religions. Spiritual awakening, inner vision, new growth, enduring spirit.

When we were married, Joan gave us a box of pine cones. We’ve followed her suggestion and each year commit a cone to fire to release the seeds. New life. The symbology also includes resilience because fire is often required to free the seeds. Fire transforms.

2025 was like a forest fire in these un-United States. It is my hope, our hope, that the hot authoritarian fire of 2025 released the seeds of democracy’s renewal, that we awaken – reawaken – to the enduring spirit of our diverse nation and the promise of equality under the law, the expectation of liberty and justice for all. It is the epicenter, the aspiration-seed planted by our founders and protected by our Constitution.

On this, the first day of this new year, 2026, there is no more appropriate symbol of hope for our future than the pine cone.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PINECONE

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Hear The Gentle Tapping [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“May peace gently find you and fall upon your heart.” ~ Anonymous

It seems like a tall order, doesn’t it? Especially now in our era of conflict, chaos, division, turmoil…I suppose that is the point of a wish or blessing. There would be no need to pray for peace falling upon our hearts if our hearts were peaceful.

I imagine Peace looking for us. We can’t be that hard to find.

The children’s book version of Peace’s search for humankind would not be about a search for humankind but a vigil at the doorway of the heart of humankind. Peace has already found us. It knows where we are. Peace surrounds us and is quietly tapping on our heart’s door.

We must be afraid to let it in. What else?

Timothy Snyder wrote, “Freedom is not an absence but a presence, a life in which we choose multiple commitments and realize combinations of them in the world. Virtues are real, as real as the starry heavens…”

Peace is like Timothy Snyder’s freedom. It is a presence. It doesn’t go away in the face of war. It waits patiently for us to open our heart’s door. To choose it.

It is not made of ethereal stuff. It is real. It is tangible, as substantial as is conflict. Like virtues, Peace is real as the starry heavens. To borrow phrasing from Timothy Snyder, Peace “is a life in which we choose multiple commitments and realize combinations of it in the world.”

A wish for the new year: May we hear the gentle tapping at our heart’s door and open it to Peace. May we choose it. May we allow it to enter and gently fall upon and open our closed hearts.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE

May peace fall softly upon your world and stay in your heart forever. ~~ Kahlil Gibran

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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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Hold Space [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“We are not the sum total of the tiny constituent parts that compose us — we are only ever-shifting and regenerating parts operating under the illusion of a sum we call a self.” Maria Popova, The Marginalian, November 26, 2025

We moved the big tree-sized branch from our living room to the deck outside. It had been a fixture in our house, covered with lights all year – with decorations added during the holidays, since 2021. It is now affixed to the deck and is once again wrapped in lights, set to a timer to pop on at sunset. The branch comes from the tree out front, the tree our children climbed when they were kids. It was snapped off the tree by the giant backhoe ripping up our yard to fix the water main when it burst. Kerri ran into the devastation and rescued the branch from certain destruction, keeping safe this small memory thread to the past.

Over the years the branch grew brittle as the memory thread strengthened and grew secure inside of Kerri. It was time to open up the space in our house and allow “the new” to enter.

I smiled when, after moving the tree-sized-branch onto the deck, she found and brought in a small pine branch. “Doesn’t it remind you of Ditch?” she asked? Ditch was a tiny pine-tree-sprout that we rescued and brought home from Colorado. Ditch traveled in a little cup and lasted a single season in the house but did not survive the transplanting into our backyard. It came from a significant trail, a place of profound experiences and life-changing conversations, that we hike when in Colorado: the Ditch Trail. Ditch, like the big branch, was a memory thread.

The little branch stands tall in a glass vase, sitting on the cafe table in our sun room. We sit there everyday, usually at sunset. It’s the place where we pause and review the happenings of each day. We are in a period of time that the Wander Women aptly named, “a wait-and-see” phase. Things are changing while we are still. We are like the newly opened space in the living room, we are inviting “the new” to enter. Even though we have no idea what that means, what it looks like, or even what we want to fill the available space, we know enough to make the space and to sit in it.

This little branch is also a thread to the future. It’s the invitation, the reminder of a recognition we once had on the Ditch Trail. Do not race through this moment, no matter how nebulous it seems. It’s like being lost in the woods and, rather than panic, sit down and enjoy the experience of being lost, knowing that it will pass. Hold space for what is precious, right here and now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the BRANCH

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Reach For The Wind [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“And we can love and respect the extraordinary quality of stillness that even a candle can express, of how the chaos of fire is not in contradiction with the understanding of the flame.” Peter Brook, The Quality of Mercy, Reflections on Shakespeare

We walked the trail on a very breezy day. As she crouched to snap a photograph of the open seedpod I watched the tiny feather-sails flutter and strain, responding to the siren call of the wind. Two weeks ago the seedpod seemed so contained, all was in order. Held. Now it had burst. Its purpose was revealed. Success was totally reliant upon the chaotic wind to carry the seeds into the unknown future. The next generation completely dependent upon the fickle swirl of the wind.

The dance of order and chaos.

It occurs to me that we are not so different from the seedpod in our dance with order and chaos, in our attempts at trying to predict and keep-in-order our destiny. Our belief that we can somehow contain or control our future. How little we understand the forces of circumstance in shaping our path and reaffirming our need for the perception of order. It was a seeming collapse of my world, a hurricane of circumstance, that blew away what I knew as stability yet opened a pathway to a new life with Kerri.

Aren’t we currently living through an era of chaos that is blasting our nation to bits? An ugly white supremacist subterranean order has once again been unearthed and brought into the light. The seedpod of democracy has burst. The seeds of our future are ready for the launch. Aren’t we the swirling wind that will carry those seeds into the unknown future?

I encourage you to take 20 minutes and listen to an interview with Maryland’s new senate candidate, Bobby LaPin. Listen all the way through; it is the hopeful sound of democracy’s seedpod bursting, the seeds of our future reaching for the wind.

read Kerri’s blog about THE SEEDPOD


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Golden Hour [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” ~ Plato

We’ve planted tall grasses in both our front and back yards. This is our favorite time of year to watch the magic dance of the grasses. They put on their suits of warm autumn colors, yellow, orange and purple, and during golden hour, they literally glow while swaying in the breeze. It is sometimes shocking how beautiful they become in the golden hour.

I just learned that there are two meanings to the phrase “the golden hour.” The first refers to the quality of diffused warm light in the period shortly before sunset or just after sunrise. The second is new to me: “The term also has a separate, critical meaning in emergency medicine, referring to the first 60 minutes after a traumatic injury during which time is of the essence for surgical intervention.” (Wikipedia) The chances of survival are greater if treatment begins within the golden hour.

It was the phrase “willful ignorance” that stopped my scroll, landed me on Plato’s quote. It made me laugh. It is a phrase that, for me, now encapsulates the republican party, maga, and anyone who daily consumes fox news. It is one thing to be ignorant. It is another to choose ignorance. We are witness to the path of destruction wrought on our nation by people who are willfully ignorant, people who fear the light.

The results of the recent election read like both definitions of the golden hour. The injury to our nation has been substantial but our chances of survival just increased with a just-in-time intervention. And, what felt like a rapid descent into darkness just entered a golden hour. Time will tell if this period of warm, diffused light is a sunset or a new beginning: sunrise. My hope is for the latter, a new day guided by people who are not afraid and who welcome the light.

HOLDING ON/LETTING GO on the album RIGHT NOW © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GRASSES

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A Cautionary Tale [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us.” ~ John O’Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace

Looking for a headboard for a bed, we combed antique stores seeking hidden – and cheap – treasures. It’s rare for us to pass through the collected quirk of other people’s discards and not find something that we appreciate. We always find but rarely buy the unique sumpin-sumpin that appears. For us, combing the antique shops is like catch-and-release-fishing; the fun is found in the hunt. But, on this day-of-the-headboard, as we left our favorite haunts, Kerri said, “I didn’t see a single thing that called out to me, forget a headboard, I didn’t see anything else, not one thing.”

We launched our headboard hunt because we’re in the process of transitioning one of our kid’s bedrooms into a guestroom. After we moved the old spray painted desk out we needed something to take its place. Although it had only been a few days since we’d made the rounds of the antique shops, went out again, this time mostly to get ideas, to stir our imaginations, to open our eyes to possibilities.

Nothing had changed in the shops, yet we were overwhelmed by the number of cool pieces that we found. Everything had changed in our seeing. Gaping at a gorgeous relic with peeling paint (we are shabby chic with emphasis on the shabby) Kerri asked, “Was this here the other day?” The clerk told us it had been there for months. “How did we not see this?” she turned to me and asked.

It’s one of my lifelong fascinations: seeing and not seeing. We saw the treasure because we stepped into the world with open minds seeking possibilities. We did not see the treasure on the previous day because we stepped into the world with a narrow focus seeking a headboard. We didn’t see the treasure that was right in front of our faces because, well, it wasn’t a headboard.

We see what we expect to see – which is another way of saying that we often miss the beauty of the world because we seek headboards instead of awe. We narrow our vision to the point of exclusion. It’s not a mystery that on the day that we set out to find possibilities that we found too many.

It’s a cautionary tale in a nation that has made an industry out of division and exclusion. We see what we expect to see. The power of the latest election might be that it has opened our eyes and minds to possibility.

read Kerri’s blogpost about AUTUMN LEAVES

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Cultivate Spaciousness [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“In Africa there is a saying: ‘To be too serious is not very serious.'” ~ Peter Brook, The Quality of Mercy

Spaciousness begets spaciousness. It is one of the main reasons why we walk our trails as often as we can. When the news of the day – in combination with our current circumstances – begins to suck the air and light from our hearts and minds, we stop what we are doing, strap on our boots, and head outdoors. We remain healthy because we cultivate spaciousness.

Open mindedness begets open mindedness. The opposite is also true. Sometimes I am alarmed by the absence in our nation of the capacity to question. I have a theory: the capacity to question is the single quality that elevates us in consciousness above lemmings. It takes no thought at all to follow. It takes no thought to destroy. Reactivity is by definition question-free. Propaganda is only effective on people who eagerly swallow the mental swill without question. The Republican Party and its mouthpiece, Fox news, manufacture anger because they understand that an audience of vexed-reactive-victims will fill their cups to the brim with blame so there will be no room for asking questions, never mind the obvious questions like, “I wonder if this is true?” Closed minds beget closed minds. In our era, mental suffocation wears a red cap.

Curiosity steps toward the horizon, not to find an answer but to see what is beyond, to open a greater possibility and step toward a wholly new set of questions. Open-mindedness is the boon of an ever questioning mind.

Quinn used to say, “Cultivate your serendipity.” If you make it a practice of stepping toward the unknown – living in the question – you have better odds of experiencing a happy accident, a fortuitous meeting, the doorway to what you’d never before imagined possible. Cultivating your serendipity begins with asking a question. It takes courage to open your mind, to eschew the delusional “I know.”

The moment that Kerri and I constrict ourselves into thinking that “we know” automatically sounds an alarm telling us that it’s time to hit the trail. It’s time to step into the air, to feel the sun and walk without a goal; it’s time to open our eyes to the impossibility of this magic beautiful existence, to ask, “Do you see this!” It’s time to cultivate spaciousness.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TRAIL

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Break Bread [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Ah, bread. There are few sensual pleasures more fulfilling than the smell of freshly baked bread on an autumn morning. There are few taste combinations more delightful than warm bread and hot coffee. There are few visual pleasures more beautiful than racks of freshly baked bread.

There are few symbols more immediately meaningful than bread. Abundance. Breaking bread together is a gesture of friendship, a sign of peace. This world could use some more breaking-of-bread, some more willingness to meet in the middle and participate in that most human of activities: sharing a simple meal.

In the little village we wandered into the Copenhagen Bakery to grab a sandwich and found more than we anticipated. It was a thriving meeting place of the community, packed during all hours of the day, alive with conversation. Rather than grab our sandwich we decided to stay and soak it up – an unusual choice for two people who’ve grown to avoid crowded places. We had to work hard to find a place to sit. The BLT that we ordered was enormous. The remainder of the plate was piled with homemade chips and a chocolate chip cookie. It was an expression of generosity. During our brief stay in the village we went back to the bakery again and again; we needed the nurturing that this place of bread and intentional kindness offered. We needed the experience of a community gathering around warm bread to talk, laugh and share stories.

Intentional kindness. Generosity. Qualities that are magnetic. They create. They uplift. They pull people toward a common center.

In this era of intentional meanness and rampant greed, we are witness to these qualities that can only divide and destroy. They repel and discourage. Dis-courage: literally dis-hearten. Cut out the heart.

Sitting in the Copenhagen Bakery I whispered a wish that somehow, someway, these political parties and our communities, that are so unnecessarily divided, might find their way to this heart-filled bakery, that they might put down their whipped-up-discord long enough to sit for a spell in a space that exudes generosity of spirit and break bread together.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BREAD

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