Story | The Direction of Intention

As Old As Aesop [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on April 30, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Isn’t it funny,” she said, “that we trust what comes out of the government of Pakistan more than we trust what comes out of our own government.”

Habitual lying destroys credibility. It is the point of Aesop’s fable, The Boy Who Cried Wolf. It’s a story as old as, well, Aesop, who walked the earth and told stories in the 6th century BCE.

Our current unfolding fable begs the question, “What happens when the wolf and the lying boy are one and the same?” Like the fern in our garden the story is unfurling right before our eyes. What moral lesson might Aesop have spun into our developing fable? This lying boy/wolf is certainly feasting freely upon the sheep, all the while crying, “Wolf!” – as if he himself was under attack from every quarter. Has the point all along been to blunt the villagers’ response to genuine urgent warnings? To so completely break down communal trust that the people refuse to believe what they see with their own eyes?

Of course, Aesop has a caution, a moral reminder prepared for our rescue: abuse of trust always backfires. It’s a consequence as predictable and as old as, well, Aesop. The lying boy/gluttonous wolf will have his reckoning. Yet, the villagers will suffer the greater loss. No sheep. Broken trust. A fractured community wondering how to put the pieces back together again.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FERN

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

Filed under: DR Thursday, Identity, Metaphor, Story | Tagged: Aesop, Aesop's Fables, artistry, authoritarian, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, gaslighting, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lies, story, studio melange, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, the melange, trust, truth | 1 Comment »

It Takes Two [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on April 24, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

If you visit my About page you will find this quote by Reynolds Price: A need to tell and hear stories is essential to us – second in necessity after nourishment and before love and shelter.” Although I have updated my blog site several times over the years, I’ve not found a quote that better encapsulates what I believe.

I’ve read this quote hundreds of times. And, to my utter surprise, I recently learned that I’ve never fully understood it. I thought it was about story.

It’s funny how a brain works. Standing on the dock, staring into the harbor at sunset, Kerri snapped and then shared her photograph of a single boat moored in the harbor. In the frame the boat is alone – an image of loneliness – the synapse that fired in my noggin was the quote, “A need to tell and hear stories…”. A need to share. A need to be connected. A need to be a part of. Essential to us. Necessary. Story is what we share. The indispensable is that we connect through story; we create it together. The quote is about relationship.

Relationship, the need to tell and hear stories, need not be positive. For instance, we are witness to a propaganda machine that intentionally spins a tale to divide the nation. A hungry maga gobbles and regurgitates it. Make no mistake, maga needs woke because without an enemy, without something to fight, maga would have no identity. The straw man called “woke” is maga’s story glue; woke is the monster hiding under maga’s bed. Woke is a windmill erected so maga might have a reason to tilt.

A negative story can transform. It is the reason we came to be standing on the dock at sunset. A lifetime of running led to the necessity of stopping. Turning around meant facing the monster. Facing the monster meant returning to the dock. What was once lonely and broken became reconnected and whole. When faced, the monster shriveled to nothing. A destructive story is not destructive after all but a chapter in an inevitable march to well-being. That should give all of us hope. That is a worthy story to share.

It takes two at the very least to tell and to hear stories. It is essential.

Kerri’s music – at least the compositions that she has recorded – is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora. The vast majority of her music lives in her heart and in a notebook that rests on her piano.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE HARBOR

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

Filed under: KS Friday, Story | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, love, monsters, nourishment, relationship, Reynolds Price, story, studio melange, the melange, well being | 1 Comment »

Even To The Point [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on January 14, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I lay awake last night and listened to the chimes. They are a great source of comfort to me. There is something eternal in their sound which calms my busy mind. Guy gifted the chimes to us and I wonder if he knows what a enormous gift he gave to us: a soothing sound, a calm mind. In the warm months I sit close to them because I can feel the sound.

The earring stand belonged to Kerri’s mother. It stands on her dresser with a stuffed gingham heart at the base. Sometimes wandering through antique malls I am overwhelmed. The “things” have lost any connection to their storyteller, to the person who used them each day, and so are reduced to merely objects. Their value is no longer in their story but in their stuff-ness. The earring stand inspires a story, evokes a memory.

We’re slowly going through our stuff. There are piles in the basement. Each item in every pile has a story. The stories requires us to move slowly, deliberately. Sometimes the story requires us to hold on. Sometimes the story requires us to move it out as soon as possible. Sometimes the story has run its course and it’s time for us to move on. We need to break the connection. Sometimes we find pieces that we know would be meaningful to others, connections to lost loved ones or to long-ago cherished places. We box and ship these surprises, facilitating a re-union.

When my dad passed I wanted a few of of his shot glasses. He kept a collection, a shot-glass record of his travels and of ours since we always brought home a new addition to add to his collection. They were on shelves all over the house. They lined the mantel. My few shot glasses are prized possessions. If we had to pare down our world to the bare minimum the shot glasses would make the cut. Someday they will likely end up in an antique mall. People will see them as stuff, mere objects, and I suppose that is okay. The connection, the story, will disappear with me when I go. It will be lost to others because the connection is within me, I carry it, not the shot glasses.

That micro-revelation is the gift of cleaning out the house: I am – we are – keepers of connection. We are story collectors. Story weavers. Our possessions ring through us like the wind through the chimes, making us resonate with all that we hold dear, memories that define us even to the point of needing to let them go.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE EARRING STAND

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Gratitude, Identity, Story | Tagged: artistry, cleaning out, collector, connection, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, letting go, memory, memory trigger, possessions, sacred objects, story, story weaver, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

Our Way Home [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on January 12, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I bought the chair in the early 1980’s in a mountain town. It was the very first piece of furniture I purchased. I don’t remember the details except how odd it was that I was buying a chair. I was more-or-less a gypsy and moving a chair to-and-fro was out of character. It was an antique, mission style with a cane back though the caning had an imperfection, a slight tear. Even though it made no sense I had to have it.

It became my studio rocking chair. It was a fixture in every studio I’ve occupied – and there have been many – positioned directly across from my easel. I’ve spent countless hours of my life rocking in that chair, staring at works-in-progress.

It was the only piece of furniture in the truck when we closed my studio in Seattle for the move to Wisconsin. Paintings. Clothes. My easel. The chair. I had another rocker in my Seattle studio but gave it to PaTan. Her studio was across the hall from mine.

In Kenosha, my studio is in the basement of our nearly 100 year old house. One night last year, in the middle of the night, a water pipe broke directly above my chair. My hardcover sketchbook was on the seat of my rocker. By the time we heard the waterfall in the basement, the next morning, the sketchbook was literally mush. The original straw stuffing in the seat, older than our house, was sodden and ruined. The force of the water blew out the caning in the back.

At first it felt like a gut punch. We salvaged the pieces, storing them in a corner so we could clean up the mess and decide what to do. The chair sat in the corner for a year before I knew it was time to let it go. Someone out there, with the right skills, could properly repair it and bring it back to life. They would love it back into existence. I would open space, let go of the old and welcome in a new era.

When we brought the pieces upstairs to photograph, Kerri found the stamp from the original maker. It stopped us in our tracks. The chair was was made in Wisconsin, just up the road from where we live. It had traveled with me all of my adult life from Colorado to California to Seattle and places in between. And, in the end I was startled to discover that I’d brought it home – just as now I believe – it brought me home.

It makes sense why that younger version of myself had to have it. That chair understood my destiny and somehow knew that sooner or later, together, we’d rock our way across the country and, someday, find our way home.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CHAIR

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

Filed under: Gratitude, Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor, Story | Tagged: antique, artistry, coming home, companion, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, destiny, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, kismet, revelation, rocking chair, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

So, Really? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on December 31, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

It’s the eve of the new year.

This is the season that holiday cards arrive in the mail. Often, the card is accompanied with a letter reviewing the senders’ events-of-the-past 365 days*. Those letters are necessarily reductions and always make me wonder what didn’t make the cut. What is the abundant story told between the lines? What is the story of abundance edited out for holiday-brevity?

For instance, if I tried to share our experiences from yesterday – the life events of a single day – it would be a novel. My holiday card would be tucked into page 392 of my account of a single day of life. Would you like to know that we took a walk? Is it relevant to know that on our walk we discussed the many people we lost this year? There have been many. We told stories of the-last-time-we-saw-them. Our stories of loss evoked a deep appreciation of life. We shared dreams of the future. There are many dreams. Yearnings, in fact. In a single minute we laughed hysterically at the antics of our grown children, during a recent brief visit, racing through the house opening closet doors to find both forgotten treasures and fodder to torture their mother – and then we fell into silence wondering when we would see them again. Human stuff. Longing bouncing against laughter. We do that a lot: bounce joy off of sadness, pull awe out of desolation. She stopped suddenly and knelt in the snow, the beauty-tug of the sprig of pine needles against the ice-cold-blue-blue was too much to pass by. The many, many moments of heart-tug would feature prominently in our novel-length-holiday-letter-recounting-of-a-single-average-day.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate knowing that Junior made the soccer team or that in April the family got new iPhones. Achievements and advancements are nice to know. In that spirit, did you know that we have new gutters? The gutters were my gift this year to Kerri. She got me a new fuel pump for the truck. The real story, however, the interesting part of the life-tale, is the reason we needed new gutters in the middle of December. And what is the wild story behind the fuel pump?

Necessity always makes for a great story. So does the collision of yearning and obstacle. I wonder what inner-imperative drove Junior to soccer?

Everyone wants to put a good face on their passage. We do too. I’m more than willing to redact my days and paint a smile on my life-message. Yet, every time I read a holiday message printed on holly-decorated-paper, I wish that I could have a single hour with the holiday letter writer. We’d brew a cup of coffee, sit together in the sun and I’d ask, “So, really, what gets you up in the morning?”

*read historian Heather Cox Richardson’s review of the events of 2025

read Kerri’s blogpost about PINE ON SNOW

likesharecommentsupportthankyou

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Story | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, holiday cards, holiday letters, holiday message, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, objectify, Reduction, review, story, studio melange, the melange, year's end, yearning | 1 Comment »

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

Posted on December 2, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

“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

likesharesupportthankyou

Filed under: Possibility, Story, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, future, here and now, hold space, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, memory, presence, story, studio melange, the melange, The Wander Women, wait and see | 1 Comment »

Great And Immeasurable [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 16, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

It was so long between sightings of the frog that I began to think I’d imagined it. The first sighting, so late in the year, long after we’d stopped looking for a frog in the pond, seemed miraculous. And then the frog seemingly vanished.

Days passed. Weeks. We thought that it was a traveler and had simply stopped in our tiny pond for an overnight. Or, maybe, it was pond shopping and considered ours to be lacking.

And then, a few days ago, we tip-toed to the water’s edge, and found our frog enjoying the shallows. It is without doubt the smallest frog we’ve ever had in residence and so we named it Little. Surprisingly, Little tolerated Kerri’s photo shoot without a single complaint or sudden disappearance into the murky deep. We were giddy with excitement.

At a time of historical chaos and national antipathy, we experience surprising moments of affirmation that the center – that our center – is solid: that we were giddy with excitement at the appearance of a little frog in our tiny pond was just such a moment.

“If you will stay close to nature, to its simplicity, to the small things hardly noticeable, those things can unexpectedly become great and immeasurable.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

read Kerri’s blogpost about LITTLE

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

Filed under: Story, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: affirmation, artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, frog, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, Letters To A Young Poet, Little, love, nature, Rainier Maria Rilke, simplicity, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

Hummingbird Hope [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 14, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Hummingbirds bring to mind my great aunt Dorothy. Outside the door of her tiny mountain home, precariously perched – and tilting slightly – on the hill above the Central City Opera House, she maintained a festival of brightly colored hummingbird feeders. She was a no-nonsense woman who cooked her meals on a cast iron wood burning stove. She loved her hummingbirds.

I felt Dorothy hanging out with me when I planted the cardinal flower in the huge rusty-ancient-fire-pit that we placed near the hummingbird feeder to help attract more hummingbirds. Kerri loves her hummingbirds.

For weeks the cardinal flower was flowerless. It did a fine Jack-and-the-Beanstalk imitation, growing tall, reaching for the sky. “Where are the blossoms?” she asked. I shrugged. This was my first cardinal flower so I was clueless. I was, however, mightily impressed that it had grown taller than me.

Hummingbirds, like us, are not fans of very hot and incessantly humid weather so they abandoned our region and sought fairer climes. Their absence has been palpable. There were so many zipping about earlier in the summer that their disappearance is magnified.

Unusually, because of the heat-smoke-and-humidity-combo-platter, we’ve mostly been inside, staying close to “the cold box”. We’ve abandoned our usual outdoor living and make only quick forays into the yard to water plants, pull weeds, and harvest basil or jalapeño peppers. As the weeks passed we’d mostly forgotten about the flowerless cardinal plant. We stopped refreshing the hummingbird feeder.

The first pop of color nearly knocked us over. The red was electric against the viridian ivy slowly covering our neighbor’s garage. Within a few days, despite the persistent heat and humidity, a single hardy hummingbird visited and drank deeply from the blossoms. Kerri quickly whipped up a new batch of sugar water and refilled the feeder.

We’ve not yet seen another. I imagine the lone hummingbird was a scout for the hummingbird clan and reported that although it found a brilliant cardinal plant and a fresh batch of sugar water, the conditions remained unfavorable. The smokey heavy air was not ideal for flight.

And so we wait.

Dorothy used to stand at her kitchen door, watching the hummingbird feeders in her tiny mountain yard. “They give me hope,” she’d say.

We watch our feeder and towering cardinal plant from the kitchen window. “Do you think they’ll come back?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say. “We can only hope.”

Spoons and Sandcastles 28″x57.5″, acrylic

read Kerri’s blog about THE CARDINAL PLANT

likesharesupportsubscribethankyou

Filed under: DR Thursday, Heroes, Story | Tagged: artistry, cardinal flower, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, hope, hummingbirds, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

What I Remember [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on August 13, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Memory is a funny thing. It’s almost never accurate. Over time we revisit and restory our life experiences, scrambling the order of events, forgetting essential details while hanging on with white knuckles to specific moments that we understand as truth.* This happened. It matters. I remember it.

I re-member it.

Joseph Campbell introduced me to a phrase, an aspect that is present in all creation myths: the paradox of dual focus. “…so now, at this critical juncture, where the One breaks into the many, destiny “happens,”but at the same time is “brought about.”

Kerri and I have an ongoing conversation about the paradox of dual focus. For instance, our coming-together-story seems fated, as if it was part of the grand-plan all along. “It was meant to be!” we exclaim. And, at the same time, we ask, “What are the odds?” Our meeting was a happy accident in a vast chaotic universe.

Both/And.

It just happened. And, it was meant to be. It depends upon how we re-member it. It depends upon how we want to story it.

A Balinese man told me that, in Bali, when two people crash their cars into each other, their first thought is “I am supposed to meet this person.” Insurance claims and blame are not priorities. Fate orchestrated a fender bender. The strangers emerge from their cars and greet each other as if fortune had just smiled upon them; they are two pieces of a greater puzzle come together.

Supposed to happen. Accident.

The greater puzzle. The essence beyond the fragments. The One that breaks into the many. Focusing on the small stone does not negate the truth of the mountain. The single blossom is an expression of the plant, which is nourished by the soil and rain and seasons and critters…

Memory is like that. It is both stone and mountain. Blossom and ecosystem. The order of things is less revealing than the essence, the relationship to the whole. We grow and change and so that what might have at one time seemed a hardship now seems a course correction, a blessing. Kismet.

It happened. It matters. That’s what I remember.

*(It is a sign of our times that I feel it necessary to distinguish my thoughts on individual memory from the facts of history. We live in a time when those in power are actively editing, scrubbing and rewriting history. They concoct a narrative that has little to do with the actual history of our nation. This is not dual focus. This is white supremacist fantasy-creation.)

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLOSSOMS

likesharesupportcommentthankyou

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Identity, Story | Tagged: accident, artistry, chaos, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, dual focus, essence, fate, focus, happy accident, Joseph Campbell, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, kismet, memory, one, plan, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

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

Posted on August 5, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

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