The Order Of Things [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

It had been over a month since we walked our loop trail. Walking a loop is good for processing life since no navigation is necessary. Keep walking and you will arrive back where you started.

We had a ton of life to process. It is remarkable what happens in a life in a month.

While processing life it is not uncommon for us to stop mid-sentence for a photo-treasure-op. A Downy Wood Mint paused our conversation. At the beginning of our relationship I found it jolting when I was in the middle of a full-blown-rant and Kerri broke off to snap a photograph. It was disorienting. I’d lose my rant-thread. “Now, what were you saying?” she’d ask after her photography deviation.

Now I understand and appreciate the order of things: beauty before rant. In fact, after I stopped being surprised by her spontaneous-photo-combustion, I understood that I was not being dis-oriented; rather I was being re-oriented. A good rant should never stand in the way of appreciation of the moment. Like most people on earth, I have missed a raft of the miraculous because I was too busy complaining about days-gone-by. I missed the greater by insisting on the lesser.

Our loop-walking has made me easier in the world. If I lose my rant-thread in a moment of nature-admiration, then it was probably not worth hanging onto in the first place. It is amazing how a pause for beauty or a moment of simple appreciation can lessen or even transform the forest fire burning in my brain.

“Now, what were you saying?”

“I honestly can’t remember.” A spontaneous pause on our loop to visit the tiny purple Downy Wood Mint cooled and soothed my mind.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOWNY WOOD MINT

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Somebody. Nobody. [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“The comparatively affluent can withstand the moral effect of being subsidized and supported by government; not so the poor.” ~John Kenneth Galbraith, The Culture of Contentment

It is among the greatest bait-and-switch tactics played on the American public: While the Reagan republicans and the generations that followed crowed that Welfare Queens were robbing the public, 50 trillion dollars moved from the lower 90% into the personal pockets of the 1%. The misuse and abuse of the system was not – and is not – the woman using food stamps to feed her child.

Do you remember the cry, “Waste, fraud, and abuse!” It is the same strawman/woman tactic used to sell The BIG UGLY BILL that is now stripping medicaid, healthcare and food assistance from millions of citizens – all to provide a tax cut for the morbidly wealthy. Consider this: Elon Musk’s personal wealth is built on billions and billions of dollars of government funding, subsidies and tax breaks. His DOGE bros successfully killed any and all government oversight over his business practices and use of tax dollars. His morbid wealth is accelerated by tax breaks and a tax code that shifts the tax burden of the nation onto the poorest citizens.

It is a corrupt band that only has one note in its repertoire: the same gross stereotype, variation on the Welfare Queen, is fueling the rampant misinformation that now leads to mass deportation of immigrants or, to be more specific, the deportation of black and brown immigrants, people who fled violence and came to this nation seeking a better life. The Welfare Queen tactic worked so well to shift wealth into the hands of the few that it is now being used to vilify immigrants. We hear that they are “soaking up tax dollars, afforded benefits that we are not, depleting resources meant for us…”

“Without fail, each Tax Day a prevalent myth resurfaces that conceals the truth about immigrants’ contributions to federal, state, and local taxes. Bolstered by social media and other outlets, it misleadingly asserts that immigrants, particularly those who are undocumented, evade taxes. The facts don’t back up these claims.”

The facts have never backed up these claims.

White nationalist elites are slobbering at the success of their modified Welfare Queen smear campaign, the rapid erection of concentration camps, the shameful support of their false-narrative by the court Supremes. All the while, the president and his men grift and rob us blind; his personal wealth has increased 4 billion dollars since inauguration day.

When fox news poisons the brains of their audience with a cry of “Socialism” or “Communism”, they are utilizing the same stereotype to fuel the same intention: create a fact-free-diversion by fueling fear, all the while moving the wealth of the nation – and the constitutional protections of the nation – into fewer and fewer hands.

When the current occupant of the White House and his Project 2025 co-conspirators cry that illegals are stealing our elections or that women are ruining our nation and should not have to right to vote or that people from Haiti are all rapists and riddled with AIDS…it is the same game, the same gross stereotype used to distract and deflect the public from the real rapists of our society.

It’s an age-old magician’s trick with a pickpocket intention: distract and steal.

Imagine the public good 50 trillion dollars could provide – could have provided – if it was actually dedicated to serving the public? The best healthcare for all. The best education in the world. Safe and secure bridges and roads. Stimulus for small business. World class research. A solvent social security and secure Medicare system. A stable and educated populace that would recognize when they were being fleeced.

Here’s the greater point. Terms like Welfare Queen are lobbed like bombs at us because they dehumanize people. They explode a victim fantasy in the minds of the easily distracted and render the target of their slander as less-than-somebody (“The welfare queen is taking your money!”). Sadly, in the process, we dehumanize ourselves, too. In “doing unto others,” we do the same onto ourselves. We become less than somebody, a disposable people who cannot afford housing or food or the gas in our cars. An easily controlled throw-away mass perpetually fighting each other, blind to the orange man and his tech-bro-party of urchins actively, gleefully, picking our pockets.

There is only one line remaining between our future as a class of nobodies or as a nation of somebodies, a government of, by and for the people, is to vote. Our vote in November will affirm that we are somebody – or it will deliver us into the hands of those who daily reduce us, strip us of our rights and believe we do not matter. Welfare Queen. Illegal. Antifa. Dumocrat. Loser.

Vote as if your life and our democracy depended on it – because it does.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SOMEBODY

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Embrace The List [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The rain was a visitor that stayed too long. In the evening we walked to the lake shore to wave goodbye and to make sure it was really going this time.

Earlier, when the rains came, we built a channel of towels to guide the river in the basement toward the drain. It’s protocol. The towels were stationed in their basket, freshly washed after their last call of duty. The fans were also ready for quick deployment. I was amused at our automatic response to the downpour. No words needed to be exchanged. We knew what had to be done.

A raccoon pulled back the roofing material on the sunroom roof and ate the tar. At least I think it was tar. It did not look appetizing to me but I am not a raccoon or an expert on raccoon dietary choices. I admit that a tar snack surprised me so I’m adding it to the ever-growing list of things-I-do-not-know. I did, however, know the storm was coming so we clamped the loose sheeting back in place. We need a sunny day or two and a YouTube lesson to make a full temporary repair. Our quick fix mostly worked. Mostly.

We live in an old house. In a few years we will celebrate its 100th birthday. When I first moved in I thought I should try and make everything perfect. I’d never owned a house before. Kerri was patient with my efforts-at-impossibility and finally convinced me to relax. “There’s always a list,” she said.

It turns out that it’s a great life philosophy, too. Relax. There’s always a list. Do what you can do when you can do it. It doesn’t hurt to have the towels and the fans ready. And, a few clamps and a few boards. They just might keep the rain out of the sunroom or the raccoon at bay. And then, enjoy the rain. Above all, remember to expect a sunny day.

Nap With Dog-Dog & BabyCat, 36″x48″ mixed media

read Kerri’s blog about RAIN

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Align With The Dream [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Even in its decline it is beautiful. A day lily rendered prematurely old by the storms that met its blossoming. Lately, much of what captivates me is the revelation of the support structure: the fibers that give shape to the petals and leaves. They are as aesthetically pleasing as they are functionally necessary.

If you are like me, you are both surprised and not-at-all surprised at the support structure that has become visible in our national decline. The racism, the misogyny, the xenophobia exposed by the current administration and their white-male-supremacy is not an anomaly; it is a norm. Unlike the day lily, this fibrous framework is ugly.

Currently there are several books hot off the presses and even more podcast pundits outlining a plan for what we must do to make sure this never happens again. I’ve yet to read them. I hope they are filled with good ideas and even better strategies for strengthening our democracy and eliminating once and for all the potential for authoritarian takeover by the monied elite who, let’s be frank, desire the return of indentured servitude and a slave class. Superiority needs inferiority. One need only look at the Epstein Class, read Project 2025, or listen for 10 minutes to fox news to see the machinery. Freedom and justice for all is nowhere to be found in their playbook.

Systems do what they are designed to do:

The fibers of the plant reach through the stems and uplift the petal to drink in the sun. The color attracts bees and insects to spread pollen, to spread life.

Our system, as we are seeing clearly, was designed to divide. Our founders, in their division design, unwittingly laid the groundwork for our demise – unless, of course, we are capable in this moment of full exposure to transcend our design. We must answer once and for all who we mean when we say, “We the people.” Do we mean everyone? Do we mean a select few?

We have bumbled along through history attempting to have it both ways. We have repeated this cycle over and over again. If, when we say, “We the people,” we mean everyone, then an entirely new and bold structure is called for, as divergent from our current framework as an the skeletal structure of an adult differs from that of a child. A bone structure that develops into maturity.

We are, in this analogy, as is evident in the current administration, a Peter Pan nation, resistant to reality and afraid of growing up.

The cross-purpose was baked into our nation’s foundation, declaring all men are created equal while simultaneously legislating that black Americans were only 3/5ths human, that voting is a privilege extended to white-male-landholders while proudly declaring “freedom and justice for all”. It is a polarization structure that guarantees the continued algae bloom cycle of attempted autocratic takeover. It’s predictable. It is structural. It is schizophrenic.

It’s not enough to vote blue in the midterms. It’s way past time that we looked in the mirror of our history and dealt honestly with the dysfunctional structure that produces division, exactly as it was designed to produce. Superiority for the few requires a structure that guarantees inequality for the majority; inferiority-by-design. Equality demands a structure that fosters equality.

No system can endure when serving cross-purposes.

Equality is built on an entirely different armature, as beautiful as it is functionally necessary. We know how to do it. It remains to be seen if we – as a diverse community – have the will to align with the dream of equality, the dream of democracy for all that we espouse.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DAY LILY

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Simple And Innate [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Dogga is a master digger. Mostly he digs to produce cool dirt to lay on; a heavy black coat in the heat of the summer months requires cooling ingenuity.

Originally, we tried to stop his innate digging abilities. Then we realized that he’d already worn several serious velodrome paths in the yard from his enthusiastic circle-running, so what possible damage could an unsightly hole or two do to our backyard aesthetic? Besides, his efforts have a delightful side benefit: they create the perfect bird-dirt-bath dirt. Everyday the neighborhood birds flock to the Dogga-dirt-spot like Romans to the baths.

Lately, since he is grown wobbly in his old age, I periodically fill-in the canyons-he-creates so he doesn’t accidentally swing wide in his circle-running and trip in a hole-of-his-own-making. Besides, it gives him more cool dirt to excavate.

It’s the pure joy he experiences in a hole-well-dug that makes us smile with every new crater. Dirt flies, he occupies his new cool dirt mat, and revels in deep Dogga-Dogga satisfaction.

Sometimes I am astounded at what actually fills me with love and appreciation for life. It’s not complicated. It’s simple – and innate – as Dogga digging a hole.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA-HOLES

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There Is This [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Trees breathe. In the daylight hours they “inhale” carbon dioxide and release oxygen into the atmosphere. At night, they breathe in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. “…trees absorb vastly more carbon dioxide over their lifecycles than they emit.” (AI)

The leaves of our aspen tree, Breck, pull water up from the root and release it as vapor through her leaves. Transpiration.

It is everything that climate change deniers do not understand. The rain is not separate from the tree or the soil or the sun. It is a single dynamic breathing cycle of life. Human beings, no matter their opinions or hard-held-belief, are part of and not separate from this cycle.

Interconnectivity is a reality that we seem unwilling or unable to comprehend. Our resistance to this interplay, this relationship, this inhale and exhale, is recursive, a fractal that runs through and through our identity. It is our Achilles Heel, our greatest vulnerability. We story ourselves as superior, separate, above it all.

This morning I read this from Jame Baldwin: “It is so simple a fact and one that is, apparently, so hard to grasp: Whoever debases others is debasing himself.” What we do to others, what we do to our environment, we do to ourselves. Do we not see this simple fact demonstrated on our political stage and in our public discourse each and every day? We are witness to a debasement cycle that seems to have no bottom.

And, as I write, I realize it is also true, perhaps more obvious but somehow not as visible, that we are witness to a community coming together, working hard to upright itself, a community reaching to fulfill its ideals, even in the midst of the authoritarian ugliness, a community forged (again) in the fire set by those who desire to melt down our democracy.

There is this, perhaps the central promise of democracy: “If one cannot risk oneself, then one is simply incapable of giving. And, after all, one can give freedom only by setting someone free.” (Jame Baldwin, The Fire Next Time)

Isn’t it beautiful, this promise of democracy? We can be free only when we set others free. We can only prosper when we prosper others. This earth supports us when we support this earth. Is this simple truth capable of opening our eyes?

TRANSIENCE on the album RIGHT NOW © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LEAF

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Close-In [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

I am not good at minutia. Too much detail makes my brain hurt and forces my synapses to stop all action. I experience it as static, fuzzy noise where thought should be. It’s why I nearly flunked physics in high school. It’s why writing grants – a necessary activity for freelance artists – was akin to a near-death experience. On the upside, I’ve developed an uncanny capacity to stare into space for freakishly long amounts of time. Synapse recovery on the inside, deer-in-the-headlights on the outside.

Kerri took me for a walk. I was staring into space and she has learned that movement expedites my return to the land of the living. I was updating software in an attempt to fix a bug in my computer system. It was akin to delicate brain surgery and I had to dive into the weeds to understand what to do. I was well on my way through the procedure when it happened: white noise where coherent thought once trod. “Let’s stroll,” she suggested. I managed a head nod. I may or may not have remembered my shoes.

I am learning to discern between minutia of information and the expansive beauty of the world close-in. In my life I have avoided taking a closer look, reveling in my view from “30,000 feet”. I claimed to be a global thinker, which was true, but was also self-protection against having to write yet another torturous grant or swimming through pages and pages of budget numbers. I am learning to see the universe in a peony petal. E.O. Wilson introduced me to the miracle of ants. Kerri teaches me to see close-in. “Lookit!” she says, her photo a raindrop on a leaf, the fibers of our fallen tree, tiny seeds bursting from a pod. The secret geometry revealed, the pattern in the chaos.

Often, looking close-in is just like gazing into the night sky, marveling at the infinite wonder of The Milky Way.

or…flipped sister pieces: Full Moon and Eclipse (2 panels, 36″x24″) mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about CLOSE-IN

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Hand It To Chance [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Mark the mark on purpose, hand it to chance, and see what comes back.” ~ Nicholas Wilton

Quinn always said, “Cultivate your serendipity.” Allow luck to greet your ability. Or, as I am learning again (and again and again…), to grow, ability needs to let go of control.

The final lesson learned by a performer, perhaps the hardest lesson of all, is to let go of the work. All of the rehearsal, all of the study, all of the repetition, the preparation, the quest for perfection…needs one final action to fulfill itself: the performer has to get out of the way. Hand the good work to chance. Let it go.

After weeks and weeks of research, she chose the peony that she wanted to plant. The root arrived with specific instructions. She chose the best spot in the garden and the right day in the right season and planted the root at the right depth facing the right direction. And then she waited for spring. She fretted the prescribed amount, no more, no less.

The little green stem broke through the earth and seemed to stall. She studied appropriate amounts of water, she studied angles of the sun and questioned her planting placement. We put up a tiny fence to protect the tender shoot from critters and our Dogga who digs. I believe, although I do not know this for a fact, I believe she offered daily prayers to the peony-powers-of-the-universe. Her little stem, like the little engine that could, struggled and produced one tiny blossom.

She studied when and how much to cut back her peony, what to do over the winter months – namely, nothing – but sometimes arriving at nothing requires copious amounts of study. At some point, feeling as if there was nothing left to be done, nothing left to investigate, somewhere between the dark of winter and the return of the light, she surrendered. She gave over. The little peony was on its own.

Ability met luck. A wet spring with warmer than usual days had peonies a-poppin’! The little stem returned with some serious chutzpah, producing not one but many vibrant beautiful blossoms. It now stands in our canon as the single most photographed peony plant in our entire peony history. “I can’t stop taking photographs,” she said, “It’s so amazing!”

And, so it is. A performer’s lesson as played in the garden. And just look what came back!

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PEONY

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One Of A Kind [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“When great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker down in tall grasses, and even elephants lumber after safety…” ~ Maya Angelou

The house shook. “What the hell was that?” she asked. Later, I noticed bits of plaster on the black couch, fine white dust on the hardwood floor, shaken loose from the ceiling. Our great old maple tree split and fell.

“Great souls die and our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us…”

It was the first blast of wind, the leading edge of a storm that lasted no more than a few minutes. It was enough. “My children climbed in that tree,” she told the crew boss sent to clear the mighty limbs from the road. The crew cut a piece for her to save. These burly men were kind.

She told me stories over the buzz-roar of many saws as we peered out the window, witness to the quick dismantling of her guardian. Heartbroken. The crew was methodical, efficient. The storm had taken more than a few of the old guard trees and they needed to beat the next wave of incoming storms. To them our great tree was one of many. To us, it was precious, one of a kind.

It is serendipitous. Maya Angelou wrote her poem, When A Great Tree Falls, to process the loss of her mentor and friend, James Baldwin. On the day our tree fell I was reading The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin; a book about our nation’s inability to deal with its history. He was a mighty voice, a giant tree. On the morning our tree fell, I read his prophetic words: “The subtle and deadly change of heart that might occur in you would be involved with the realization that a civilization is not destroyed by wicked people; it is not necessary that people be wicked but only that they be spineless.”

The end of an era. A methodical and efficient dismantling of our great nation made possible by the spineless. To them our great nation-tree is one of many, easily disassembled. To us, it is precious, one of a kind. Democracy.

Our tree shook the earth. “What the hell was that?” Plaster fell like snow from the ceiling.

“Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed.” ~ Maya Angelou

“We can be. Be and be better.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GREAT TREE

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A Butterfly On A Pin [David’s blog on KS Friday]

When you say “green,” what exactly do you mean? Each morning I stand in my backyard and marvel at the symphony of greens. The licorice plant, the tomatoes, the sweet potato vine, the ferns, the grasses, the aspen leaves…each wear a unique shade of green. Each green changes with the light. The greens are different in the morning than they are at noon and wildly different during the pre-sunset golden hour. Well…they are not different but the light changes what I perceive. The change is in me.

The change is in me.

My first line of contact with the world is my senses. Everything I know is a product of everything I have experienced and my experiences begin with my eyes, ears, nose, skin and taste buds. And then I make sense of it or at least try to makes sense of it. I build stories like, “Each green changes with the light.” In other words, the greens change while I remain unchanged. I am the center. This is the exact opposite of what happens. It’s a trick of language. I story myself as normal (Kerri will laugh hysterically when she reads that assertion!). I story myself as “right” though I also have great capacity to story myself as worthless or stupid or wishing I had kept my mouth closed.

I story other people as good or bad – a harsh and narrow measurement to be sure.

In my current story I have discovered the depths of my intolerance. I can’t understand how farmers voted again for their own demise. Since we are all suffering the impact of their support of autocracy, I have little compassion for the loss of their farms. They voted for it.

I find my intolerance necessary. And sad. These farmers are suffering accountability for their actions – for their votes – while the people who showered them with false promises and drown them in propaganda are profiting from the farmer’s loss.

I am like all others: I seek and find people and information that bolster my point of view. It feels good to feel affirmed in what I believe. Yet, what I believe – my opinions – are meritless unless grounded in fact. I have worked hard in my life to question my point of view because I was taught, as an artist who could impact the lives of others, I had a responsibility to deal in truth.

Even in writing this mind-wander about the senses and perception, it all sounds schizophrenic: seek support for what you believe and then challenge it. It’s called learning. The senses open and expand, the mind narrows and refines. It is like the tides. Open to the experience, sift it for veracity. It is how we make sense from senses.

The farmers and red-hatted others who voted for fascism would have been well served to ask a few questions before they calcified their belief and cast ballots for their own destruction. The information was readily available. They simple needed to open their eyes and exercise their minds. They only needed to take a moment – for that is all it would have taken – to challenge the gaslight.

Do you see the current scrubbing of our history? The white-washing of our national sense-making, the assault on education and educators? It’s akin to reducing all greens to a single dull shade. Do you hear the fear of the question, the fear of being questioned? Are you aware of the publication of an enemies list? Those who are exercising their first amendment rights are being branded as hostile. Do you smell the corruption? The acrid burn of our constitution? Do you taste the bitterness at the gas pump, the bitter frustration at the grocery store? Are questioning?

There is sense to be made.

Of our nation and our fear of facing our history, James Baldwin wrote: “People who imagine that history flatters them (as it does, indeed, since they wrote it) are impaled on their history like a butterfly on a pin and become incapable of seeing or changing themselves, or the world.”

EVERY BREATH on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

TAKING STOCK on the album RIGHT NOW © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blog post about GREENS

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