Stop To Witness [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Sephora is an arrowhead philodendron. She lives in our sunroom and is named for a line of beauty products. Her name is threaded to a heart story. It’s enough to know that we adore Sephora and the memories she evokes.

The other night 20 was indulging in a perfectly good rant when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence and pointed to the sunroom. A ray of setting sunlight shimmered one of Sephora’s yellowing leaves. We leapt to our feet to see what caught 20’s eye. For a brief moment the yellowing leaf was radiant. Otherworldly.

Such a small thing rendered us monosyllabic. “Wow,” Kerri said, reaching for her camera.

Stretching my vocabulary to the breaking point, I added. “Yeah. Wow.”

“Cool,” said 20 as the sun moved a millimeter and the leaf quickly lost its shimmer.

Kerri frowned, looking at her snaps. “I didn’t get it,” she sighed. She hates missing a good photograph.

We returned to the table. 20 picked up his rant where he left off.

Later that evening, looking at her photo, I remembered the brief moment of the shimmering leaf. I’d already forgotten. It was as if we caught a glimpse of an angel passing through. It was so remarkable that it made us jump up from our chairs and yet the extraordinary moment was swept downstream, completely washed out of mind.

I am convinced that these extraordinary moments happen all the time. I am certain that we are surrounded by them – we are participants in them – yet rarely do we have the eyes to see them or attention span to retain them. We are moving too fast.

I saw a meme the other day that struck a truth-chord in me. It rushed by in my social media stream. It went something like this: I asked the great universe to reveal my purpose. The universe replied, “You fulfill your purpose when you tie a child’s shoe. You fulfill it when you shovel snow for your elderly neighbor. You fulfill it when you sit quietly with a grieving friend. You cannot see your purpose because you confuse purpose with achievement.”

I laughed recognizing my folly.

I would add this to the meme: You fulfill your purpose when you jump up to witness a moment of passing beauty. You fulfill your purpose when you stop the rant long enough to witness an angel passing through, threading your extraordinary story through the yellowing leaf of an arrowhead philodendron named Sephora.

read Kerri’s blog post about SEPHORA

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Re-Right The Un-Real [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

She teased herself, saying, “Look how many posts I’ve written lately using the word “Real” in the title!” There were 3 in the past few weeks.

“Of course you have.” I said, “We’re living in a time that reality is just damn hard to believe.” For instance, our current president has his very own Wikipedia page listing the numerous accusations of sexual assault against him, dating back to the 1970’s. It’s a lengthy list. One of the women on the list was thirteen years old when she claims he raped her at one of Epstein’s parties. Of course, this page, these accusations, have been available for all to read for years. How unreal is it that he is being protected by the Department of Justice, the Supreme Court, those who call themselves Christian – all the while the red-red-party loudly proclaims moral authority and trumpets their mission of “protecting” our sons, daughters and wives against the evil Woke?

Un-real.

It is one of the reasons why we planted the sweet potato vine. First, I was awed by its color and luminescence. Seriously, I’ve never seen a plant glow or grow like this vine. Each day I step out back and stare at it, saying, “Unreal.” It’s more beautiful than I can believe. In an upside-down era it re-rights the world. It is real.

Recently, as if it intended to delight me to my core, a single caladium leaf emerged from the field of sweet-potato-vine-vibrant-green. “Look! An outlier!” I called to Kerri.

“Just like us,” she said, admiring the misfit. We poked around the plant to make sure this lone caladium leaf was really emerging from within the sweet potato vine. It really is. It, too, is real.

Real (adjective): 1. actually existing as a thing or occurring in fact; not imagined or supposed.

What’s real? Our current president is an adjudicated rapist, a convicted felon, a serial liar with a wiki-rap-sheet of sexual assault accusations that takes more than a single sitting to read. Those are facts, not imagined or supposed. Even so, his sycophants are doing back flips to keep we-the-people from seeing what is really in the Epstein files. They claim – as they have for over a decade – that what’s real is fake and what is fake is real. Apologists for the unforgivable. Apparently, accountability is nowhere in their party, nowhere in their plan, nowhere in their president, thus we are hit each day with a tsunami of conspiracy, chaos and blame, a festival of the fact-free, the supposed fantastic, the un-real.

Is it any wonder that each day we shake our heads and huff, “Really?” And then we head outside to check in with our sweet potato vine and outlier caladium leaf in an attempt to re-right our topsy-turvey world, affirming for ourselves what is actually real – and what is blatantly not.

read Kerri’s blog post about THE CALADIUM LEAF

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An Oasis of Comfort [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Don’t be surprised if you find us in the store, eyes closed, delighting in the scent of the Warmies – those cute cuddly stuffed animals filled with lavender. My favorite is the sloth. Kerri is fond of the bear. They provide a dose of instant calming. They are serenity found in an unlikely place, an oasis of comfort in aisle 9.

Tranquility is hard to come by these days. Each day, inundated as we are in the politics of hate, I search for tranquility in words and sometimes find it – momentarily – in a poem or the heart-touching-story of a fortuitous puppy adoption. I am buoyed by writers from Rumi to James Baldwin, keepers of our conscience, sirens to kindness.

But for lasting peace of mind it is necessary to break beyond words. Nothing beats the senses for a call into the immediate, the only place where contentment can be found: the smell of basil, the cooling evening breeze after a blistering hot day. The delightful chirp of a hummingbird as it zips overhead. The distant foghorn underscoring the cry of seagulls. The vibrant colors of the sky transitioning into night. Lavender. Rosemary. Onions and garlic sauteing. The first sip of bold red wine. The Warmies on the grocery store shelf.

I used to lead an exercise in which people would face a partner. Standing a few feet apart, the instruction was to be present-with-the-other. No words were allowed – so no fortress of distraction could be erected. Simply see and be seen. A few minutes would feel like an eternity as the impulse to hide and deflect and control slowly surrendered to the scary vulnerability of presence. The fortification, the hyper-management of image fell away. Only then could the beauty break through the mask. Unprotected, the partners would either weep or laugh or both. Seen. Seeing. In presence the tide turned. Serenity was discovered in a most unlikely place. An oasis of comfort found in the eyes of the other.

Only then could the real conversation begin.

a detail of a work in progress

read Kerri’s blogpost about LAVENDER

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Look Closely [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Look closely. The dill wilts under the heat dome. Unusually high temperatures and humidity leave it unprotected.

Look closely. Once upon a time we enjoyed an FCC policy called The Fairness Doctrine. It was also known as the “truth in media” regulation. It required broadcast media to present contrasting viewpoints on controversial issues. It was intended to promote public discourse while preventing biased media agendas. It was largely successful. Rupert Murdoch hated it. Ronald Reagan repealed it. “The demise of this FCC rule has been cited as a contributing factor in the rising level of party polarization in the United States.” The demise of The Fairness Doctrine stimulated the divisive info-bubbles that we now inhabit. It opened the door for the rise of the toxic Murdoch fox and his ultra-conservative copycats. It has left us unprotected.

Look closely. We did not arrive here by accident. Party polarization. Divisive echo chambers. Biased media agendas. The absence of civil public discourse. 24/7 commentary and opinion uprooted from reality and meant to foster outrage. It’s fertile ground for dark money purchasing politicians and supreme court justices.

Look closely: the celebration of media bias. The interruption – the dismantling – of public discourse. The unbridled magnification and normalization of lies. Polarization is great for profiteers but deadly to democracy.

Our media carries the story we tell ourselves about ourselves. Are we really hyper-biased, polarized liars so enraged that we’re incapable of public discourse? Is there truly no common ground?

Look closely. The regulation of traffic – the law – makes us capable of safe travel. The regulation does not inhibit us. It fosters necessary cooperation. Building codes are regulations ensuring that our dwellings and places of business are safely constructed. The regulations do not inhibit us – they protect us. They establish and maintain a high quality standard.

A regulation like The Fairness Doctrine was neither conservative nor progressive. It didn’t inhibit us. It ensured that we were not made victim to bad information. It established a standard for truth-in-media and engendered respect for differing perspectives.

We know how to exit our echo chambers. We know how to ensure that we are acting – and voting – on unbiased information. Healthy public discourse is the epicenter of our democracy. Healthy public discourse relies on truthful information and civil debate. We know how to foster a better field of discourse and it requires adequate regulation meant to prevent media exploitation and manipulation.

Regulation. The Constitution is a document of regulations. It is neither conservative nor progressive, it establishes simple rules for how we safeguard our values, how we live and thrive together. Breaching the boundaries, ignoring the law, like removing all traffic laws, serves to expedite our confusion and fiery demise.

Look closely. Granting presidential immunity from law is a breach. Eliminating due process and habeas corpus is a breach. Consolidating power in the executive branch is a breach. We are unprotected. ICE plucks innocent people from the streets. Congress intends to pass a bill – make a law – that impoverishes the many to enrich the few.

Integrity is the word that comes to mind. It has two relevant meanings. First, having strong moral principles. Moral principles are akin to regulations – they define shared values and provide the basis for society’s laws. They foster cooperation. The second meaning is unity. Wholeness is a result of a shared story based on common values and moral principles. The second meaning of Integrity – unity – is the blossom of the first. Division and discord are the blossoms of the collapse of shared values and breaches of communal moral principles.

It’s worth asking again: are we really hyper-biased, polarized liars so enraged that we’re incapable of public discourse? Do we really hold our democracy so lightly? Or have we been poisoned by the biased toxic fables we daily consume from the free-for-all media-stream? Are we intoxicated on the outrage daily pumped into our brains from a media the grows wealthy on our dysfunction?

Look closely. We are unprotected.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILTED DILL

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Our Dull Ho-Hum [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“In spite of indignation and anxiety over what has occurred, I cannot help wondering where we have failed. There was a time during the war when we enjoyed the trust and respect of little and big nations everywhere. What has happened to turn that, in some cases, into suspicion and disdain? We cannot blame our leaders, because we are a democracy. Somehow we the people have failed.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt, My Day, August 23, 1946

Our conversation was sparked by a post by John Pavlovitz: The people I’m struggling the most with right now are the polite people, the patient people, the people who are acting as though they are above those of us who have f*cking had it.

If our democracy fails – as it now seems is almost inevitable – we could blame the cowardly Republican congress, the unscrupulous executive or the corruption of the Supreme court. What of the responsibility that falls squarely on our shoulders?

We the people voted the corruption into place. For years we’ve tolerated the lies, the meanness of spirit, the grift. We tuned in to news that was more interested in ratings that in factual reporting. We allowed an insurrectionist, rapist, felon to run for the highest office in the land. We did not express outrage when the Supreme Court not only protected the felon, but granted him immunity from the law, elevating him to monarch status.

We’ve normalized the abhorrent. We’ve made the monstrous acceptable, ho-hum.

We have, for a decade, watched the real-time dismantling of democracy like we watch reality tv. We perform the daily doom scroll, seeking, grousing about and then forgetting the latest outrage. I return, again and again, to the forward Neil Postman wrote for his book, Amusing Ourselves to Death:

Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley’s vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity, and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.

We are allowing the whitewashing of history, the celebration of ignorance over education. Only an empty-headed society would tolerate the elevation of the most unqualified to positions of leadership. 90 million people yawned and rolled over rather than go to the polls when the very existence of democracy was on the ballot. Congress knowingly confirmed a kakistocracy that made no effort to hide its authoritarian agenda.

Last weekend 4 – 6 million people took to the streets to protest the ho-hum. It was the largest protest in the history of our nation. It had no visible impact on our elected leaders. Ho-hum. They pushed forward their Grossly-Gluttonous-Bill with language that prevents the courts from checking the overreach of the executive. They added language that would make it impossible for a citizen to seek redress from government abuse.

They no longer fear the vote of the people. They are counting on our passivity. They are counting on our dull-minded ho-hum. They are counting on our capacity to change the channel when we don’t like what we are watching.

“We seem to have forgotten to weigh our values and to realize that we have to pay for the things we want. The payment which can bring about friendly and peaceful solutions is infinitely less costly than the payments which will have to be made if we are going to be an enemy to all the world.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt, My Day, August 23, 1946

read Kerri’s blogpost about HO-HUM

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A Second Glance [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Look carefully and you will see the shadow that the dandelion cast upon the white petal.

Can you see the veining of the leaves? The watercourse way? The ridges in the petals serve the same life-giving purpose although by a subtly different, visibly beautiful design. Can you see it?

There is a small spot of purple. Can you find it? It pulls the eye. It provides the tension necessary for focus, inspiring movement of the eye.

Is the ant adventuring across the dandelion apparent at first glance? Like the spot of purple, it is there though probably not apparent at first glance.

At first glance. To the casual eye. On the face of it.

And then there is the purpose beyond the pretty. Do you see it? The petals of white, the yellow pistil attract pollinators in an attempt to perpetuate their species. The ant does not adventure for fun but for food.

Do you see the dried leaves supporting the green and white, the yellow and purple? Once green themselves, drinking the sun, they now provide sustenance to the next generation, warmth to the root.

It was the shadow of the dandelion cast that caught her attention.

It takes time to see the purpose beyond the pretty. It takes a longer second glance. Seeing – and understanding – interdependence takes more than a first glance. It requires some learning. Observation. Study.

My father used to tell me that I’d educated myself into stupidity. I did not take it personally as I knew that he was captive to the fox. He knew, as do I, that the fox is dedicated to the superficial. He was schooled by the fox to believe that looking beyond the superficial, a thing called “learning”, was a worthless thing. The fox preaches simple idiotic solutions. Build a wall. Deport without due process.

Critical thinkers and active questioners are less likely to eat the smorgasbord of drivel and easy conspiracy served up as sustenance by the fox. The fox relies on the superficial. The fox defends against a second glance. The fox talks fast, a carnival barker, enticing people into the tent with freak-show promises, bearded ladies and conjoined twins, performances guaranteed to shock the most hardy of viewer.

Every carnival barker knows that a longer second glance would shed some light on the subject. It would reveal the make-up, the spirit gummed whiskers, the hollow dumbbells of the strongman. A little study would reveal the purpose: outrage in exchange for your nickel.

The only way to keep the viewer in the tent is to escalate the outrage. Keep them solidly in their reptile brain. The only rule? Never ever provide a second glance. Prevent at all cost a deeper look. Stigmatize learning. Undermine fact. Distract. Gaslight. Blame. Assault education. Oh, and never ever pass up a chance to charge another nickel.

Look carefully and you will see the shadow…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SHADOW

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With Abandon [David’s blog on KS Friday]

It was my favorite paradox-quote of the week: “The discipline is free association,” he said. Horatio was describing his daily Wordle addiction and extended it to a metaphor for deeper art processes. Horatio is a poet, a writer, a painter, a filmmaker…Like all artists, he understands the necessity of left-brain discipline: technique and function. Color theory. Story structure. Yet, the ultimate discipline, the doorway to flow, is through the right-brain and requires the exercise of letting go of the left-brain-everything-you-think-you-know.

My teachers in theatre school often said on opening night, “Now, all you need do is let go and trust your work.” Let go of listening to yourself. Let go of your internal editor. Let go of self-judgement. Let go of your need to control. Open your heart. Dance the dance without inhibition. Dance the dance with abandon.

Leave your big ole brain behind.

The discipline of free association. It is a practice with layers. Like all life-practices it has no end; it has nothing at all to do with achievement. It’s a discipline like mindfulness is a discipline (a misnomer: mindfulness should be called sense-fullness). The practice becomes a way of living.

Approaching the park she stopped suddenly. I learned early in our life together that walks with Kerri are exercises in seeing. She sees a world that is mostly invisible to me because I am most often lost in my thoughts. She allows her eyes to roam without presupposition. Now, when she stops, before she shows me her photograph, I play the game of trying to see what grabbed her attention, what captured her eye. Inevitably, I am surprised by what she shows me. Her open focus is receptive. She doesn’t predict. She doesn’t seek. She responds. She sees composition beyond what she thinks-is-there. A tree. The lake. A strip of green.

She illuminates for me the extraordinary in the ordinary.

“How did you see that?” I ask.

She shrugs and says, “I don’t know. It was right there.”

To free associate one needs first to be free of preconception. To step on the stage, having done all the work and still be able to say, “Let’s see what happens.”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE

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Cartoon Worthy? [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

It was unusual. The vine coiled around the tree like a boa constrictor. It seemed in no hurry to squeeze the life from its captive, content with the threat of imminent constriction. “Now, that’s a happy thought,” she said.

I’m bumping into a problem I’ve never before encountered. MM is prompting me with many great cartoon ideas borne of the daily outrage from the baggy blue suit and his clown car cabinet. My problem is twofold. First, they lampoon themselves so completely that every drawing seems like been-there-done-that. Since they are already dedicated made-for-tv-cartoon-characters, a kakistocracy (governance by the least competent), the challenge seems less about poking fun and more about cartooning cartoons. It’s dangerously redundant. How does one lampoon a president who posts pictures of himself as the Pope or a Jedi knight? He’s doing an excellent job of making a fool of himself. As is his cheering squad.

Second, their entire media strategy is meant to keep us outraged. Outrage is a very potent drug. Outraged people do not think clearly. They react. They hunker down in their reptile brain. I’m having an inner debate about my part in fueling the outrage. I’d love to draw cartoons that moved folks forward into their neocortex and engage their higher order thinking. Critical thinking is, after all, the enemy to MAGA, the fox, and this Republican administration. “Stop and think about it” is exactly what this administration and their propaganda machine does not want us to do. We might then see what is actually happening behind their comedy-chaos-curtain.

Stop. And think about it:

We have a Republican party whose characters strut like cowboys (even the cowgirls don bulletproof vests and pull their rhetorical pistols at the least sign of altercation) and yet, day after day we witness events like the vomit-inducing-sycophancy of the most recent cabinet meeting. Really. Stop and think about it: emasculation is the price Republicans pay for playing the role of cowboy for their leader. This lean, mean, destruction machine is all strut and no cajones.

Republican cowboys’ self-castration might be a worthy cartoon.

Hypodermic needles filled with outrage might be a worthy cartoon. A drug den of people screaming at each other while the dealer makes off with their wallets and purses.

Legislators who preach free markets but prohibit free thinking – that might be a a worthy cartoon.

The party that loudly promotes itself up as champions of limited government while imposing draconian limits on the rights of the many to give unlimited privilege to the few – that might be worthy. Imagine armored knights high atop war horses trampling unarmed peasant farmers while patting themselves on the back for their strength and courage.

Oops. I’ve worked a circle back to outrage. Outrageous.

One wonders when the red hats will move out of their reptilian brains and recognize that they are wrapped by a boa constrictor. They, too, strut like cowboys and do not see how they castrate themselves. Cartoon worthy? Or simply too sad to stop and think about?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VINE

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An Outrageous Fantasy [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

To fuel our escape fantasy of a thru-hike on the Pacific Crest Trail, we periodically wander around REI and fake-shop for backpacks and sleeping bags. We test shoes and ask questions about sun shirts. We scrutinize hiker stoves and sporks and water filtration options. We discuss the merits of tents. And, since we have no actual knowledge about any of it, we laugh at our made-up opinions. We delight in pretending.

I’m updating one of my favorite Horatio observations. He’s said (and I’ve oft-quoted) that the tension in these un-United States is between those who espouse an “every man for himself” philosophy and those who maintain that “I am my brother’s/sister’s keeper”. My update? The every-man-for himself crowd is actually, more accurately, believers that some-people-are-better-than-others. The tension as revealed in our present day is between those who believe in equality and those who do not. We are witness to the struggle between those who think government should work for everyone (brother’s/sister’s keeper) and those who believe government need work only for the superior few.

Consider the full-court-press now underway to demonize and eliminate DEI and the lifting of federal building bans on segregation. Consider the inundation of legislation aimed at inhibiting a woman’s right to vote. Witness the explicit dismantling of social programs and the social safety net in order to provide massive tax cuts to the wealthiest citizens. The whitewashing of history. The ugly and empty rhetoric about restoring “merit-based” hiring, implying that all people of color, all women, advance and have advanced not because of their skill or talent but because of their skin color or gender. In other words, an agenda firmly rooted in advancing the mythos of white male superiority.

The privileged few pushing down the many in order to elevate themselves. It’s Ayn Randian nonsense. Pushing others down is the first action of a drowning man. It’s an arrogant fantasy, laughable, like trickle-down-economics, shackling the majority to uplift the make-believe-white-superiority of the corrupt few. My long-ago colleague, Ana, called it “vampiring”.

It’s white fragility.

At REI we inevitably wander over to the section beneath the corrugated sign, “EAT”. We discuss eating dehydrated meals. Eventually we conclude that on the trail we’ll require a chef to drone in our meals each day. A basket will arrive in the morning with baked goods, scrambled eggs, and hot coffee. There will also be a sack lunch in the morning delivery. It would be too much to ask the chef to make three deliveries a day. At night, a hot meal arrives – with wine, of course – since the chef can accurately track our location.

We laugh at our outrageous fantasy since we know it is an outrageous fantasy.

We wonder why the red-hat crowd remains blind to their outrageous maga-fantasy. They’re laughing as their heads are being systemically – and obviously – pushed beneath the water by an oligarch and a weak flim-flam-man. Vampires, both. How long before the red-hat-crowd realize that they are being sucked dry, that their outrageous fantasy is not laughable, that the not-so-funny joke is on them, too?

read Kerri’s blogpost about EAT

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

Tom was concerned with what would become of the ranch after he was gone. His concern was not the land so much as the family legacy. He felt as if he was the last, the keeper of the history. Who might carry the story forward? Who will re-member the steps walked by his ancestors?

I was moved to tears when the Balinese explained to me that, according to their belief, every child born was an ancestor returned. After seven generations, the ancestor comes back wearing the funny new face of the infant descendant. The important point is this: A community makes fundamentally different choices when they understand that the earth they leave behind is the earth that they will also inherit. The ancestor attends to the descendant because the descendant is the ancestor.

Through a translator, the Chinese master-acupuncturist explained to the students that the challenge he perceived in them was that they were rootless. The U.S. culture too easily plows under the sacred to erect a mall. We have very little connection to, understanding of, or respect for the past. He explained that eyes blinded by the shiny-new or obsessed with the algorithm will never access the ancient art of healing a human being. The whole being. With so little concern for what came before there is little awareness or care of the tracks made by marching forward. How is it possible to help balance the health of others when the healer is rootless and unaware of the impact of their actions?

“But what do we do?” It is the ubiquitous question asked by those who reject the malice and indecency that recently swept into power in the USA. The question thrust me back into the single challenge I faced as a DEI consultant: my clients were protected against the very thing that might help them. They wanted a solution – a fix – and saw no value in attending to relationships. The gods of efficiency and effectiveness had no time to waste. Eyes would roll when we suggested that they cease trying to fix problems. They’d panic when we proffered that a to-do list would never create the better culture they envisioned. In fact, it would prevent it. Cultivating “the space between,” paying attention to the quality of the relationships, would bring about the transformation they desired: a culture of mutual support grown from a history of ugly division.

This morning I was struggling to articulate my thought and Kerri stopped my mind-wander with this encapsulation: “What you are trying to say is that It’s not solution-based. It’s process-based.” Yes. Exactly.

“Solution-based” focuses exclusively on what-we-do. It is transactional and, after all, isn’t that the epicenter of what ails us as a nation? If the prevailing philosophy is the-ends-are-worth-the-means, then lying, cheating, grifting, demeaning, debasing, bullying are acceptable behaviors. We are currently witness to the amorality of attainment-of-power-by-any-means. It doesn’t matter who gets hurt or why. No one in power cares about the legacy, the traces left behind. Rootless. Unethical. Out of balance.

“Process-based” is concerned with who-we-are. Together. The opposite of transactional is transformational. Mutual support. Reinforcing connection. Paying attention to the growth of the whole as a means of attending to the growth of the individual. It’s a radically different philosophy in which the ends-are-the-means. Actions matter. Words matter. Choices matter. Roots matter. The legacy, the tracks we leave behind, matters.

And so we ask the question, “But what do we do?” We speak out. We use our voices for good. We begin by looking to the legacy of hope those who came before us left for us to follow. Perhaps we begin by linking arms, focusing on the space between, and continuing a legacy of hope and courage for future generations to follow.

from the archives: Doves

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read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TRACES WE LEAVE

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