At The Edge [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Standing at the edge of the lake, looking east, I know Michigan is out there somewhere. I’ve never seen it myself but I have it on good authority that if I paddled my kayak in a straight line I’d eventually bump into it. Standing at the edge I imagine the journey, and in my imagination, I survive storms and thirst and never-before-seen creatures. When I arrive in Michigan I tell the world what I have seen but the world does not believe me. No one has ever seen what I report to have seen – so I must be making it up. And, that’s always a possibility.

Standing at the edge of the lake it is also interesting to turn around, look west and gaze into the center of town. The community organizes itself, moving in synchronicity, but rarely recognizes it. Individuals move throughout their day, pushed this way and that by forces they cannot perceive or control, riding the currents believing that they are somehow separate and independent from the movement of the whole. Each and every moment they shape and are shaped, but believe themselves isolated and alone. Within them are never-before-seen dreams and desires. They do not dare to reveal them fearing they will engender cynicism. Dreams are tender things so they mute their imagining; blunting dreams is always a possibility.

I once taught that judgment is an alarm that sounds at the edge, an alert that the next step will be into the unknown. It is meant to make you aware of the awaiting kayak. It is the call to open your eyes to what-you-cannot-yet-see. It is there to alert you that the person standing before you is an undiscovered universe, different-than-you. They are unknown and vast. It is possible to run from the unknown. It is possible to step toward it.

Standing at the edge, the alarm sounding, debating whether to step or run away, only one thing is certain: this “other” IS one of the forces that moves you, shapes you, and might help you see what you cannot see from your safe center: that the isolation you experience is mostly self-imposed.

Also, to them, you are the scary unknown, the marker of difference, the vast unknown universe capable of changing them.

Sometimes standing at the edge, it is the best to stand still. To recognize the magnitude of all that you do not know. To weigh the enormous possibilities that await if you simply find the courage to take a step, to extend your hand, to say, “Hello.”

Pilgrimage, 14″x18″, mixed media on panel

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAKE

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

Furtherance [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“Perseverance is the foundation of all actions.” ~ Lao Tzu

Breck-the-aspen-tree is our backyard living monument to perseverance. She survived and now thrives despite a multitude of obstacles, least of which was…us.

We plucked Breck from a grocery story in Breckenridge, Colorado. She was an impulse buy and came in a little pot that barely fit in the back of our car. Breck’s branches had to bend a bit to make the journey. She survived the roadtrip home and struggled mightily after being replanted into an enormous clay pot. She lived on our deck for the first three years. We talked to her throughout the summer. We wrapped her pot with blankets to keep her roots from freezing during the winter months.

Each spring we watched for signs that she survived and each year she rewarded us with fragile buds and minimal growth. We knew we needed to plant her in a permanent spot and our first choice nearly killed her. Within weeks she dropped all of her leaves and turned a sad shade of grey. In desperation we dug her up and moved her into another more sunny spot and waited. With no signs of life for the rest of the summer season and throughout the fall, we were certain that we’d killed her. But, she persevered.

The next season she recovered, produced a host of oddly outsized leaves, and grew a foot. The next year she grew another foot and leafed like a normal aspen tree. The year after that she boomed.

Breck is now taller than the garage. She’s no longer a backseat traveler. Instead, she is hostess to the birds who frequent our yard. We stand at her base looking up and marvel at the new growth. She is nearly a foot taller today than she was a month ago. She is a masterful quaker, playing the breezes, and has no problem bending with the wind.

We regularly stare at her and utter, “I can’t believe it. Look at her.”

Here is the full quote by Lao Tzu: “Of all that is good, sublimity is supreme. Succeeding is the coming together of all that is beautiful. Furtherance is the agreement of all that is just. Perseverance is the foundation of all actions.”

I looked up the word “furtherance”. Lao Tzu uses it often. It seems central to his philosophy and I was taken by his definition, “Furtherance is the agreement of all that is just”. Furtherance: the act of helping something advance, develop, or succeed. Now, isn’t that a timely and profound sentiment? Helping something (or someone) advance, develop or succeed is a coming together (an agreement) of all that is fair, deserved, morally right (just).

Wouldn’t it be profound if we could look at each other and say of ourselves, our community and nation, that we have succeeded by bringing together all that is beautiful, that we persevered through a dark and ugly time, arriving at last at a dedicated furtherance, helping each other develop, advance and succeed?

Do you see the loop? Succeeding is the coming together of all that is beautiful. Furtherance is the act of helping each other and our planet succeed (the coming together of all that is beautiful). Perseverance leads to the sublime. Breck is our constant reminder of all that is possible if we just keep trying.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

A More Powerful Force [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Do you wonder, as I do, what has ever been achieved through war? Pick any war from the many, many, many that populate human history and ask, “What was gained?” Really? What was gained? How were we made better?

Certainly there have been useful technological advances. War has been a driver for innovation but I question whether we might have arrived at the same advances without the carnage. Could the advances in medicine been the result of goodwill? The desire to make lives better? And, have all of the technological advances really been advances? Wouldn’t our schools and our children be safer in a world without automatic weapons? Might we solve our differences as readily if war was not an option? Is cooperation and collaboration as potent a force in the world as conflict? Might they be more powerful?

I will be the first to admit that order inspires chaos and chaos necessitates order. It’s a cycle but I wonder if chaos really requires bloodletting?

Putin blames Ukraine for the aggression, Netanyahu blames the Palestinians for the aggression just as the current occupant of the White House blames Iran for the aggression. Hitler blamed the Jews and Pol Pot blamed the intellects. What has any of it achieved? Security? Certainly not. Prosperity? Well, weapons manufacturers are grateful for the business just as oil companies are applauding record profits from the ongoing closer of the Strait of Hormuz. Are we really that shallow? Is it really so impossible to share resources? Do we really need to learn again and again how interconnected our economies – our resources – our planet -our lives – really are?

Kerri took a photo of the storm clouds gathering in the sky. It is made beautiful by the safety of home. Home looks like a place but it is in actuality a wide web of supportive relationships. Home does not exist in isolation.

Elie Wiesel wrote that solidarity is essential for existence, “Alone we disappear.” Solidarity: unity, agreement, fellowship. Are these not also essential forces in the world? Martin Prechtel writes of community as “mutual indebtedness”. Is it not incumbent upon me to make sure you have food to eat, and you to ensure that I have fresh water to drink? If I poison the well will not I also suffer? Isn’t the imperative to bridge our loneliness – the necessity to reach across the void to each other – a more powerful force than war? Why else do we send probes into outer space? Rather than war, doesn’t it make more sense to reach across oceans to say, “We are here,” and ask, “How can we get to know you?”

Is it so hard to imagine?

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE © 2003 Kerri Sherwood

*This song was the first contact I had with a woman named Kerri Sherwood. I’d written a newsletter entitled, “You Make A Difference” and a few days after publishing my newsletter an email popped in my box with this song. She wrote that my words had touched her and she hoped that her song of the same title would touch me. Well…

Kerri’s music-that-can-change-your-life is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about POSSIBILITY

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

And Then What Happens? [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Once upon a time…

And then what happens?

It was sunny and bright at the beginning of our long drive. Little did we know that a few hours later we’d be stuck on the freeway, standing completely still in an endless construction delay, with tornado warnings blaring on our phone: “Get into the basement or a safe place now!” What do you do when there is no safe place? What happened next?

We have a good chuckle at the expense of Google Maps. It wants to be a soothsayer. It wants to tell us what’s coming, what’s in our future. “There are police ahead.” Or, “There’s road construction ahead.” Usually, GM tells us about the construction when we’re already in it. “There’s a lane closed ahead!” GM warns.

“No kidding,” we respond.

“It’s a 14 minute delay,” she chirps. An hour later, traffic at a standstill, Kerri says, “I don’t like the look of those clouds.” The sky darkens and bubbles. And then what happens?

In the little village we walked by the door of a psychic. The sign read, “Tarot Readings”. I admit that I was tempted to go in. I’m always tempted. Who doesn’t want to have some sense of what is about to happen?

On our long drive we talked about our careers. Artist’s careers are not like plumbers or lawyers. It is possible to be artistically successful and financially unsuccessful. The same cannot be said for accountants or electricians. When I was running theatre companies I regularly reminded hardworking-yet-disheartened actors that, according to the union that represented them, less than 2% of the membership actually made a living acting. The same cannot be said of the machinist’s union or the teamsters. Artistry is not a business, it’s more akin to a service-calling. It’s not for the weak of heart. It’s not for those who worship the idols of stability and consistency. “There’s a silver lining,” she said. “We’re probably better prepared than most people for dealing with uncertainty.”

We managed to get off the freeway before the storm hit. Sitting in the parking lot of a gas station we wondered what to do. We were still hours from our destination. The rain started gently but soon became a downpour, driven by gusts. Buckets of rain with attitude. The truck jolted with each blast. “Well?” she asked, “What now?

“Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out…” Lyric from STAND, sung by Rascal Flatts

read Kerri’s blogpost about UNCERTAINTY

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

Reach For Artemis [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“According to Kinderfeste tradition, a wish would come true if a child blew out all the candles in one breath – and kept the wish secret.” ~ Tricia Devets, Harry & David, The Table, January 2025 edition

I don’t know what she wished before she blew out her candle. I didn’t ask. Whatever her wish might be, I want it to come true.

I just learned that the tradition of the birthday candle reaches all the way back to the Greeks. “As a way to honor the birthday of Artemis, the goddess of the moon, the Greeks baked moon-shaped cakes and decorated them with candles to make them glow like the moon in the night sky…” Alysa Leven, Cake: A Slice of History

I wonder if her wish, like every child’s wish, reaches for Artemis? A birthday wish: a secret shared only with the goddess of the moon. Haven’t you wondered every year, as I have, who listens for birthday wishes, who has the power to grant secret birthday desires? Now I know: Artemis, goddess of the moon.

I wonder if Artemis, the wish-granter, stops granting wishes once the-wisher is no longer a child? Or, does the wish-granting stop because the-wisher no longer believes in secret wishes or Artemis? Perhaps they come to believe that Artemis has turned a deaf ear or give up on wishing?

In years-on-earth Kerri is not a child but she is most definitely a youth-full-spirit. We almost never go out but for this birthday we boldly sought a tapas treat. Knowing it was her birthday the staff surprised her and brought warm churros with chocolate dipping sauce on the side. Our server sang a bashful Happy Birthday and we laughed and applauded.

She is a believer. She closed her eyes and carefully selected her wish before she blew out the candle. Artemis was listening, I’m sure of it.

***

Here’s to the save travels of the astronauts on Artemis II. May they take their wishes to the goddess of the moon and return safely home.

LONGING 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 a BIRTHDAY CANDLE

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

After All, Capable [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Like many of the seemingly random pieces in our home, this wood garland carries a story. It is imbued with specific memories that invoke hope and belonging. This garland lifts our spirits.

A few nights ago, when sleep evaded me, having recently exhausted all of the hikers we follow, I stumbled upon someone new. I thought I was about to watch a documentary about a hiker’s journey on a long trail. Instead, I found the story of a man who perseveres. Twenty years ago he was diagnosed with an aggressive terminal cancer and given only a short time to live. His story is an unintentional wake-up call. He reminded me to check my attachments to the transitory.

Recognizing how uplifted I felt after watching the documentary was also a wake-up call, a lesson I learn again and again. I regularly fill myself up with the news of the day and it is, as you know, toxic. It’s like eating too much candy. There’s no spirit-nutritional-value and it always comes with a downer-crash. I decided I need a more balanced diet if I expected myself to be mentally, emotionally, and spiritually healthy.

During the power outage I revived a practice from my boyhood. I thought it would disappear after the lights and heat came back but I’ve continued it because it makes me feel good. I am drawing pictures from books. I sit at the little table beneath the hanging wood garland with my sketchbook and a large coffee table tome from The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Thirty Centuries of the Art of Mexico. Right now my sketches are pre-Columbian. Funerary figures and stone reliefs. It is not an accident that I sit beneath the garland. Occasionally I put down my pencils and examine the curious pieces of driftwood stacked and strung together. It reminds me, just as the art in the book, that people are dedicated to making beauty. People are dedicated to connecting to life-beyond-boundaries and they do it as they have always done it by carving figures imbued with magical powers meant to guard the passage of their loved ones through death – or by stringing together bits of driftwood found on a special beach.

People are more capable of invoking hope and belonging than hatred and division. We are not only capable, it is a necessity, an essential, like food and shelter. We can live without hatred but we cannot live without hope.

We are, after all, capable of supporting each other, of recognizing how impossible and precious are these few moments of life we share together. We are capable in dark times of standing in beauty and instilling hope, we are capable of simple-daily-generosity intended to lift each others’ spirits.

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

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GARLAND

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

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

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

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

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

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

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

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

likesharesupportthankyou