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

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

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

The dance of order and chaos.

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

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

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

read Kerri’s blog about THE SEEDPOD


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The Marvel [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

The first dusting of snow arrived overnight*. What is bracing for us is a boon for Dogga. He loves the cold and snow. Prancing out the back door in the early morning, he was overjoyed to discover the frosty stuff. Rather than scout the yard, sniff the perimeter, chase the squirrels or any other of his usual morning activities, he performed his joyful ritual of first-snowfall: a full 360 degree Aussie spin followed by an immediate lay down – with a sigh of satisfaction.

From his snowy bed he surveyed his vast territories. He was the picture of contentment.

Hans-the-realtor once told me that, “Everyone has their heaven.” While I hastily closed the door and retreated into the warmth of the house to make breakfast, I left Dogga to enjoy his perfect slice of paradise.

We bipeds wield words like “mindfulness” or “presence” and pursue them as if they were achievements to be grabbed. This morning Dogga taught me – again – that there is nothing complicated about fully inhabiting and enjoying your moment; all you need do is stop the chase and lay down in the marvel called “snow”.

*We awoke this morning – the day after the dusting – to over a foot of snow. Dogga was in his glory plowing chest deep, cutting Aussie trails, through his favorite marvel: snow.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TRAIL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about BREAD

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The Origin [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“Fire is the origin of stone. By working the stone with heat, I am returning it to its source.” ~ Andy Goldsworthy

We journeyed to her place of origin. Circumstance rather than intention took her home.

We retraced the steps she took as a child. We sat at the spot in the harbor where she once wrote poetry and lyrics for songs. We retraced the streets and avenues where she once drove in her ’71 VW Beetle. We ate baked clams. We visited the beach that lives on as one of her sacred places. She told me stories of her life. Before.

After walking the beach, after gathering rocks and shells, we sat on a weathered bench and listened. We felt the power of the place. The tide was coming in. The gulls flew high and dropped clams, attempting to crack them open. The warmth of the fall day was tempered by the cool wind off the sound.

My job was to hold the silence.

She was communing – not only with this sacred place – the origin – but with the young girl who rode her bike to this beach half a century ago. She walked to the water’s edge looking for that girl. She reached back in time and held out her hand. The young girl, unsure of what the future might hold, cautiously opened her hand and accepted the offer.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BENCH

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Jump! [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you look closely at this grasshopper you’ll see a miracle of pattern and color. It was particularly easy to marvel at this wonder of nature because this grasshopper was HUGE. It was almost worthy of a saddle.

Grasshoppers can only move forward so they are symbolic of jumping over whatever life throws at you, jumping over big obstacles with great grasshopper-gusto and courage.

I’ve heard again and again that courage is not the absence of fear, it is what we do in the face of fear. Now is the time for all of us believers in goodness and the rule of law to evoke our inner grasshopper, to saddle up our jumpers since life has thrown in our path an abundance of masked and unmasked fearmongers.

There’s no going back, there’s no running away. Grasshopper-gusto is our only choice in the face of this fear.

Let’s call each grasshopper-ride a leap of faith – another positive aspect of grasshopper symbolism – trusting that we have the wisdom (and each other) to overcome this – or any – challenge that stands between us and the fulfillment of our great promise and our dreams.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the GRASSHOPPER

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Feed The Marvels [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Last year Carl Blanchet walked all 2650 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail in less than 90 days, a feat that would have killed most of us. This year he’s walking the PCT again, not to break his previous personal record, but to do the opposite. This time Carl is taking his time. He’s moving slowly. He’s watching sunsets. He’s smelling flowers. He’s making new friends along the way.

Carl’s gratitude is magnetic. His enthusiasm for small things is contagious. He finds magic in a tiny swimming hole. He exudes appreciation and simple kindness. He giggles at the colors of the sunset. He can’t wait to walk another mile and share it with his audience.

He has become one of our favorite bright lights in this dark time. Each night we look forward to his next installment, to spending a few moments with someone who intentionally immerses himself in the love of life.

He is a stark counterpoint to those immersing themselves in hate. He reminds me of what is possible. He reminds me of the power of the cliché: where you place your focus grows. Carl’s enthusiasm for life comes from a decision; it is an intention.

He reminds me to look for the light, to feed the positive, to not let a single sunset go by unnoticed and without celebration. It’s not so difficult to beat back the darkness when our dedication is to see – to focus on – and feed in each other – the abundant marvels readily available in this life.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SKY

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A Resurgence [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In a surprise move, the mint-gone-fallow has made a resurgence – just in time for the latest batch of sun tea. It is a sign of the season that Kerri had to chase the sun, moving the tea jug a few times from the fast approaching shadows.

I wrote a post yesterday and tried to stay away from current events. I was mostly successful though I felt remiss all day. It was as though I was ignoring the most important thing. And, I was. A few years ago a car caught fire in our elderly neighbor’s driveway. Even though I was in the middle of a zoom work call, I ran downstairs and across the street and pounded on her door. She didn’t want to leave her house until I explained the fire was near the gas line to her home. My post yesterday felt like I was turning my back on the driveway fire.

A few times I’ve heard others say, “There’s nothing we can do.”

I’ve asked the same question more than a few times myself: but, what can we do?

The corporate news seems hellbent on normalizing the monstrous. I wonder why some reporter hasn’t asked Mike Johnson why he’s being derelict in his duty to impeach a president who’s regularly declaring war on the cities of this country, who is using the justice department to prosecute people he doesn’t like. The unhinged speech at the UN would have been enough to evoke the 25th amendment for any past president. Are you seeing footage of the protests happening all around this nation? Neither am I.

Someone asked Mark Elias if we were crossing the river into authoritarianism and he responded that we crossed that river a long time ago. “Our shoes are already dry,” he said.

The fire is raging near the gas line of the national house. The very least we could do is care enough to bang on doors to wake our neighbors. Democracy is not dead – not yet. If we act, if we wake up a few neighbors, who knows, there might still be a resurgence.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MINT

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It’s Only Natural [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

This is a photograph of diversity: thriving tomato plants, basil, rosemary, cilantro, parsley, peppers, and autumn clematis. Look closer and you will spot bees, caterpillars and garden spiders. The chipmunk trail runs directly behind the bench. It is a tale of interconnectivity. Biodiversity is nature’s secret of success. Symbiotic relationships make the garden flourish.

Monoculture, on the other hand, all but guarantees a system’s collapse. It is true in nature. It is true of us as well; as human beings have learned again and again when soiling the nest, we are not separate from nature. We are not above it all. We are one thin ozone away from annihilation.

The word “symbiotic” comes from the Greek word for “living together.” Our democratic experiment is a test of human cultural symbiosis. For those of us who value actual history over made-up dross, it is undeniable that innovation has always thrived at the crossroads of cultures and the USA is an intentional crossroads.

White supremacy has been an ugly thorn in our democratic saddle since the nation’s inception but thankfully, until now, has never held the reins of power. As we watch the ICE horror story of racial profiling – astonishingly permitted by the Supreme Court, the assault on DEI, the erasure of people of color from our history, the vilification of Democrats (the party of diversity), we are witness to the insane attempt to force a monoculture into existence. And, as the insane – and inane – attempt at whitewashing our very colorful nation progresses, we step ever closer to our system’s collapse.

White fragility is at the epicenter of white supremacy. It claims to be a master race but fundamentally fears looking at its face in the mirror. It flees criticism. It touts being atop a pyramid built upon the labor and innovation of everyone else. It purports to represent the average citizen while embracing the economics of oligarchy (neoliberalism) and the politics of division. It knows how to pillage and rape and rig the game but understands almost nothing of building true strength, power, community and unity. It doesn’t have the first idea of the reality of symbiosis; it swirls in the fantasy-strut of mythical cowboy independence.

It is not a mystery that our democratic garden is in danger of dying. Perhaps, if we survive this race to destruction, we will at last be able to look in the mirror, see-embrace-and-deal with our full history. We will insist on building our home on the truth. All of it. Perhaps we will rise from the ashes without the idiotic idea that any race is superior to any other and truly, fully embrace the beating heart of our democratic union: that all people are created equal, that all people are protected equally under the law, that it is our experiment in diversity that makes – and has made – this nation great all along.

Symbiosis. Diversity. The same relationships that make our garden thrive will make our nation thrive. It’s only natural.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GARDEN BENCH

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

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

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