Learn Mu [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?” ~ MIlan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

It’s too easy to boil life’s weighty decisions down into two easy choices. Go left or go right. Say it or don’t say it. Stop or go. It’s to imagine a kind of clarity that doesn’t really exist. Sink or swim.

I’ve been rolling the Japanese word, Mu, around in my head these past several months. Mu is a useful third choice, an escape from the imagined duality. It means, “Nothing.” Make no choice. When I berate myself, demanding an absolute answer to the question, “What do I do now?” I know to whisper, “Mu.” Decide not to decide. Stand still. Mu is a third way. The constant nest.

In Mu I’ve learned that frustration is a choice. And anger. When fear takes me by the throat, rather than choose to wrestle with it or attempt to control it (that which I cannot control), I ask myself to make a choice other than fight or flight. “Mu,” I whisper. Choose anything else.

I’ve learned that the weight of the burden is only a small part of what keeps a person’s feet on the ground. The greater part is how the burden is held – rather – when it is held. Future fear or past regret? Ah, there it is – another too easy choice, both crushingly heavy.

Mu. There is lightness in standing still, in choosing nothing. In nothing there is presence with what might seem a heavy burden. Instead of fearing what will be or grinding against what was, I am learning Mu. There is lightness of being in the midst of swirling turmoil, not unbearable, Mu, with feet both firmly planted on the ground, holding in my hands only what is…

[this is one of my favorite of Kerri’s compositions]

The Way Home/This Part of the Journey © 1997/2000 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE NEST

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Generous Blossom [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

We took a walk to clear our heads. There, on an embankment adjacent to the trail, were daffodils in full bloom. The yellow was shocking. They were so vibrant that they stopped us in our tracks.

They were so unexpected that they tossed us out of our dilemma-of-the-day and infused us with their quiet hope. We didn’t stay for long but we did take their inspiration home with us.

Such a small thing. Such a generous and timely blossom.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAFFODILS

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Proof That We Were [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Time keeps moving,” I wanted to say. “It eventually dumps all of us back into the ocean.” I hold my tongue. In my silence I wonder about the origin of this odd idiom, hold my tongue. It invites some hysterical images. It’s better, I suppose, than biting my tongue. Same thing, less damage.

We sort through the children’s clothes – our children’s clothes – from the time that they were toddlers. Kerri coos and tells me stories. I never knew them at that age but delight in imagining the very independent adults I know stumbling around, infant drunken sailors, clad in OshKosh b’gosh overalls. We giggle at her recollections. I marvel at the tiny shoes. I am grateful that she’s filling me in on their early years.

Every so often we wonder what it would have been like to have had babies together. On the drive to our honeymoon we were visited by our first imaginary child, Chicken Marsala. He was – and is – infinitely wiser than his parents. That simple truth, an imaginary yet wise child born in the minds of two aging artists, inspired us to write a comic strip. It was a great premise! It was also great fun to write and draw and Chicken knocked hard on the door of syndication. Alas, he grew up and left us as empty nesters. There are no cute clothes as proof of his existence but there are hundreds of drawings. Seeds for Smack-Dab.

The river runs. Time keeps moving. We have so many ideas! Most pop up and then roll downstream and join the ocean of possibilities. Some leave their marks behind. Toddler clothes that we capture and develop into mature creations. Those creations are what we leave behind, proof that we were once toddling to-and-fro on this gorgeous planet. OshKosh b’gosh!

chicken marsala © 2016, 2024 kerrianddavid.com

I Will Hold You/And Goodnight…a Lullaby Album © 2005

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

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buymeacoffee is like a footprint on the trail: evidence that you are out there and proof that we have reached you.

Look Closer-In [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Nicholas Wilton flipped back and forth between an image of his recent painting and one completed a decade ago. He wanted to show that the recent painting is, in many ways, a close-up view, a morsel of the ancestor painting. Look closer-in. The seeds of today’s work come from explorations of the past.

I’ve been thinking about color. A tour through my gallery site reveals a very narrow band of color. I’m filled with the impulse to break it open. One day soon, after the BIG HOUSE CLEAN moves out of my studio, I’m going to mess with color. Paint with my fingers. Fully explore the new tools that Master Miller has sent my way. They scrape and pull and smoosh. They are not recommended for nuance and that is exactly what the art-doctor ordered.

More than once I’ve recounted this story: early in our relationship I told Kerri that, “I don’t sing and I don’t pray.” The other day, because of this story, I had a good hearty laugh at myself. In our reorganization of the basement I was moving my paintings so, I had a good look at every single painting. By far, the theme in the majority of my paintings? People praying. People in moments of touching something bigger. Or trying to. I howled at my unconsciousness. I may not pray but my paintings do.

Look closer-in. I started my life as an artist by drawing eyes. Hours and hours of drawing eyes. I was not attempting to draw realistic eyes; I was attempting to get behind them. Through the eyes, the mirror of the soul.

Perhaps I found my way in. Perhaps not. This I know: color is pulling me just as the eye used to pull me -either further inside or perhaps it beckons me to come out, to return to the place where I started. This time, instead of #2 pencils and typing paper – my seeds – I have scrapers and pullers and paint and old canvas. I look forward to what I might find there.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SEEDS

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buymeacoffee is either an opportunity to begin again or a natural progression to the next.

Find Hope [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

To say our weather has been weird is an understatement. It is February in Wisconsin and I’ve not yet used my snow shovel. I know that a mile or so inland there has been some substantial snow – some – but here, by the lake, not so much. We’re having rain and fog. Seattle in Wisconsin. The world just recorded the warmest January on record.

We just finished watching a three-part National Geographic series, Arctic Ascent with Alex Honnold. A scientific expedition across remote Greenland with two objectives: to gather data on climate change from arctic glaciers, and for Alex and his climbing team to make a first ascent of Ingmikortilaq, a wall 1000ft taller than El Capitan in Yosemite. Beautiful, extreme, unimaginable. Breathtaking. The lead scientist on the team, Heidi Sevestre, much to her surprise, finds hope in her research. Although the glaciers all around are melting at an rapid rate, the Daurgaard-Jensen glacier remains stable. “This glacier is holding on,” she said.

Holding on. Across time, human being have been brilliant at spoiling their nests. Societies disappear when they either pollute or exhaust their resources. Historically, we’ve rarely demonstrated the wisdom to change our behavior before losing it all. We are on track for a repeat performance, this time on a global scale, so it was curious that this single glacier, to date, was somehow impervious. Hopeful. “All is not lost,” Heidi Sevestre suggested.

Resilience. Tom used to tell me that he was often stunned by the resilience of some children. They were capable of transcending unimaginable odds, emerging from their fire with humor and balance and wisdom. “They give me hope for all of us,” he said.

Alex Honnold and Hazel Findlay, against all odds, climb an impossible wall. Heidi Sevestre finds impossible hope in the movement of a single glacier. “These are the people I want to emulate,” I tell Kerri. They are upbeat. Positive. Generous with each other. Generous because of each other. “These are the people who give me hope.”

read Kerri’s blogpost on FOG

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buymeacoffee is a bit of hope in a steep upward climb.

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

The closet in Kerri’s studio is just like my grandma’s purse. Anything and everything can be found there. It is a clown car of surprises. Need a snack? A kitchen sink? A wrench? A pile of napkins? An idea? Simply reach in the magic closet and what you seek will be found.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“The stuff I had hanging on the previous refrigerator.” She smiled, reading my mind, “Did you really keep the stuff that was hanging on the old fridge? Oh, yes I did!”

“Of course you did.” I confess, I was surprised. She reached into the magic closet and in a nanosecond pulled a shoebox from the void.

Opening the box, she rooted through the contents. “I can’t find it.” She frowned.

“What?”

“The Huggy-Huggy sticker. It used to be on the fridge!” Now the search was getting serious. When she gets that tone, I know she will not rest until she’s unearthed what she’s looking for.

“What’s a Huggy-Huggy sticker?” Her look tells me that my question is inane. I knew better than to ask “Why are you looking for a Huggy-Huggy sticker?” Her reasons are her own and the question might have inspired ire.

She rattles around inside the box. “Oh,” she whispers. “This might work,” she says, handing me the small piece of paper. “I think my mom sent this.” On the backside there are two coupons – one for a fuel injection cleaning. The other for auto-air-conditioner-inspection. On the frontside is a coupon for free hugs. Redeemable from any participating human being.

“This week is Valentines Day,” she says by way of explaining her reach into the void to find a Huggy-Huggy sticker that once stuck to the fridge.

“Oh,” I say, thinking of Albert, the last time I saw him, in Los Angeles, standing outside a conference room with a cardboard sign that said Free Hugs. He was a good sport, a good friend, and was doing me a favor. I was about to co-lead a training in the room and wanted to stir people as they came in. To my surprise, although intimidating, Albert received several Free Hugs from several participating human beings. It opened people’s hearts. We had a good session with so many open minds following the example of their hearts.

“It’s from the 90’s,” she said, bringing me back to now. “A simpler time.”

“Yes,” said. “Not so long ago.” I re-read the coupon. My favorite phrase: it expires the day after eternity. Open hearts opening minds. No real expiration date.

“This week is Valentines Day,” she repeated. “Don’t you think it will be a good thing to write about?”

Yes. Yes, I do.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FREE HUGS

when we were babies…

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buymeacoffee is a hug; not quite free but the impact is just as powerful

Choose Your Metaphor [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

It was demo day in the forest. Even though I intellectually understand habitat restoration initiatives, witnessing the actual process is disturbing. Large rolling-tractor-mulching-mouths pushing down trees and grinding them to pieces nearly as easily as I mow my front lawn. Kerri said, “I can hear the trees screaming.” In a matter of a few minutes, large swaths of the dense forest – trees and all that grow and live beneath them, reduced to “a layer of material.”

A forest fire could not have done a better job though a natural process would not have seemed so brutal.

The sun came out for the first time in many days. We went to our trail to catch our breath and clear our minds. The rapid eradication of the invasive species – and anything else that went into the mechanical mouth – took my breath and filled my mind with questions. I pondered the ubiquitous necessity “to do things fast.” Plow through.

Kerri has lately been cautioning me to go slow. We could – and by all rights should – be running around the farmyard like Chicken Little. The sky isn’t falling but sometimes seems that way. Panic is good for elevating the step count and lowering insurance costs but generally not a good strategy for dealing with…anything. Rather than cluck, react and put out fires, we are sitting steadfast in our fire. We are making choices. One step, one day at a time. One step on the trail. And another. Presence.

It was when we looped away from the machinery and screaming trees that I realized – beyond the obvious – why I found this destruction so disturbing. It was a mirror of our lives. A metaphor that cut too close to home. And, it was happening in the place where we always go to sort our challenges and restore our peace-of-mind.

And so, we walked the loop again. This time, in addition to the decimation, I saw space. I could see through what was previously a dense thicket. Had we chosen to do so we could have walked into areas that last week were impenetrable. Another metaphor, more palatable. Devastation is not an end. It is a step on the trail, a moment in time. A color on the palette of life (I could go on but I won’t). I decided that I was spacious enough to hold and appreciate two metaphors. Hope. Clear seeing. New perspective. and, the shock of rapid erasure of the woods – of life – as we knew it.

Through the creak of machinery, the buzz of chainsaws, the screaming of trees and shouting of work crews, I glimpsed some distant hope. The area of the forest eradicated last year for habitat restoration is now showing signs of renewal. The same must be true for us.

Kerri gasped. A juvenile eagle perched high in the branches of a native white oak. A stalwart and steady witness to the sudden ravages. “Beautiful,” we whispered simultaneously.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TREADS

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buymeacoffee is a hardy sprout bursting through the crusty soil and reaching for the energy and life of the sun.

Stand In A Word [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Poets and philosophers have been trying to define beauty for eons. What is beautiful? It’s an impossible task since beauty is not a “thing.” It’s an experience, meaning that it is a relationship – so it is not possible to squeeze it into a fixed word definition. Like all rivers and relationships, beauty is fluid. The best we can do it recognize and appreciate being part of the relationship. We can approach it through language but will never capture it.

The English language is hard. It turns everything into a noun, a thing. I just wrote “being part of the relationship.” Even if I’d written, “being a participant in the relationship,” I’d still be stuck in the noun-trap. Participant (a thing) in another thing called “relationship”. It’s no wonder we have such difficulty wrapping our small-noun-minds around huge-global-relationships like climate change. Through language we can easily compartmentalize the most intimate of interrelationships; as a dedicated thing, climate, has nothing to do with me, also a thing. Two things rather than one relationship. Where’s a verb when you need it?

It’s always there. Our language prejudices us against our interconnectivity.

If Kerri and I have a cathedral, a place of worship, it is nature. Our trails. We go there to get quiet. To clear our busy minds. We go there when we have questions too big to merely solve. We go there when we are overwhelmed and need to ground ourselves. We go there to fill up on inspiration. We go there for the same reason we each go to our studios – to enter a conscious relationship with something bigger than our little selves. To experience that which cannot be defined. We go there to release the noun-mind, the problem-solver, and enter the relationship with beauty. To stand in another word that, like beauty, is a flowing river, impossible to contain: possibility.

Always With Us/As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about CATHEDRALS

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buymeacoffee is an action, a verb, that has positive impact on the pronoun in the phrase.

Stand Out [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Yesterday, in our basement reorganization shuffle, I moved my paintings. It is not a small task to move the remains of a life’s work. At this point, I’ve moved them hundreds of times: between studios, into and out of shows, within a studio space to make more space. Paintings take up a lot of space. Besides my clothes, my unsold paintings have been the extent of my possessions most of my adult life. During this latest painting-location-change I realized what an oddity I must sometimes seem. It sparked some random recall and minor revelation.

It’s not always easy to be a sore thumb, the one one that sticks out; the one doing life a bit differently than the expected norm. The lone tree in a vast field.

I read this quote this morning from Robert Pirsig‘s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: “Schools teach you to imitate. If you don’t imitate what the teacher wants you get a bad grade…Originality on the other hand could get you anything – from A to F. The whole grading system cautioned against it.”

One of my favorite activities to do with teachers comes straight out of Augusto Boal and the Theatre of the Oppressed. Each teacher “reenacts” for their peers the simple ritual of preparation they do each morning for the upcoming day. The revelation was always the same. “I’m preparing to control my students,” a wide-eyed teacher gasped when the penny dropped, “It’s the opposite of what I want to do.”

We live in the church of the individual yet the message we actually preach is conformity.

I had the opportunity to create a school-within-a-school and I followed the popcorn path suggested by Neil Postman. He wrote that “learning” in our system conditions students to suss-out what teacher wants and regurgitate it. It was possible to kickstart their original impulse toward curiosity but it would require a bloody battle of about six weeks. Hold the line. Don’t fill in the blank for them. And one day, in a fit of anger and defiance, one student would take the brave step and say, “This is what I want to learn!” Support the step of the defiant one and the rest of the students would follow. They would dare to speak their truth and follow their passion. Postman was right! The battle was bloody. It took exactly six weeks.

This is the ubiquitous misunderstanding about originality: it requires the removal of boundaries, the absence of control. A free-for-all. The opposite is true. The most disciplined people I’ve ever known are artists. Their discipline is internal, not imposed. It was the seed of the question I’d ask the teachers after their uncomfortable revelation: “What would it look like if each day you prepared to unleash the student’s curiosity? What, then, would you have to control?” It was an uncomfortable question. It would require them, probably in anger and defiance, to take a brave step. To stand out. To do something different. To expect their students, through the pursuit of their burning questions, to control themselves.

Everyone has a unique star to follow. Sometimes they simply need help to see it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LONE TREE

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buymeacoffee is sustenance for the journey.

Ding! [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Inspiration rarely looks like we think it ought to look. It rarely comes from the direction we expect. This little bell throws Kerri into advanced fantasies about her “store.” Her imagination is unbridled; her internal space is large enough to hold more than one store. For instance, she has visions of a food truck called And Sauce. Hungry people come to the window and order her special pasta sauce on a variety of delivery options. There are many variations of craft and clothing shops, art stores, there is a series of online products that follow The Little Pillow world-wide explosion. This composer, singer-songwriter has a heart for retail. It’s why she owns her own label and mourns the onset of the age of streaming: selling CD’s was too much fun.

The little bell also makes an appearance (in her mind) each time she sells something unearthed from the basement. “Ding!” she sings with excitement, when the folding screen or the bag of books find a new home. Sometimes, as we sort through the next layer of stuff in the basement, I hear her sing, “Ding!” Another sale made in her mind.

To be clear, we do not own the bell. We saw it one day in an antique store. “I have to take a picture!” she said. “To remember.” It’s among the many lovely quirks that she developed through her life as an artist. Wanting does not necessarily mean possessing. When we first met, showing me a magazine of women’s clothing, she explained, “If I stare at the picture long enough I don’t need to have it.” The yearning is satisfied by the yearning, not the having.

And, the yearning inspires new ideas, clever combinations of what’s already in her closet. This little bell works on the same principle. Retail mania in many configurations rolls out of her yearning for the bell. You’d be amazed at all the clever combinations on the menu of And Sauce. You’d be be delighted – as I am – with the joy-feels that ripple across the house every time the sing-song imaginary bell rings. “Ding!”

Another sale.

Unfolding/As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BELL

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buymeacoffee is whatever you imagine it to be.