Focus [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Although it might not be immediately apparent, this is a photograph of a fork in the river. A junction of choice or perhaps, if caught in the current, a junction of chance.

Choice or chance?

We are witness to so many people selling their souls for fluffy stuff – like the retention of an elected seat. Or for fame. Or for money. People turning their backs on common decency and common sense and the common person. Their gain? More “likes” or followers or attention or control. 15 minutes of media focus. We are down the rabbit hole. The Mad Hatter, The Cheshire Cat and Tweedledum populate our current predicament.

We did not arrive here by chance.

In “Don’t Believe Him,” Ezra Klein’s brilliant encapsulation of the first two weeks of this train wreck presidency, he said, “Democracies need focus”. Chaos is the current administration’s strategy to keep us off balance and unfocused. It is an entertainment scheme, like a roller coaster or a horror movie or heroin.

We need not believe, become enthralled or distracted by a thing the Mad Hatter says or does. He is, after all, mad. Focus: this chaos masks (barely) a power grab by the executive branch.

Although he’s accumulated record-breaking wealth, The Cheshire Cat’s wisdom is sorely lacking. His agenda is personal gain. Public service is not in his purview. His agenda has nothing to do with you or with me. Focus: this is meant to neuter the legislative branch.

The Hatter and The Cat have surrounded themselves with a bevy of Tweedledums. Onomatopoeia. ‘Nuf said. Focus: no competence is necessary when demolition is the aim. The target of the demolition: our system of checks-and-balances.

As we will learn soon enough, the entertainment factor of mayhem will fade as the reality of the havoc knocks on our doors. As soon as the loss of income or benefits or services or protections or liberties becomes personal, some red-hats will no doubt rub their blurry eyes and ask, “What happened?” The rest of us will sigh and say, “You chose it.”

We will shake our heads and remind them that it was their choice to unleash the world’s richest man – at the behest of a billionaire despot – to close preschools, cut medicaid, reduce veteran services, etc., etc., etc.(it is a very lengthy list and quite deadly for many human beings here and around the world).

We did not arrive here by chance.

But that does not mean that we have no choice. The Mad Hatter squeaked the election with one of the lowest margins in our history. 90 million people – more people than voted for either candidate – chose to stay home. The pain we are experiencing – and are about to feel – is not red, blue or indifferent. Pain does not discriminate. It’s a great eye-opener. It is an even greater motivator for action and change.

We need not pretend that we are in a too-strong current getting swept into a fascist future. This is not happening by chance. We still have a choice because we have voices. Lots of voices. We are – for now – the power behind our representatives. We still have a vote. Let us hope we have the focus necessary to preserve it and use it.

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Step Into The Path [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“When living simply, most people’s problems were part of the breathing and functioning of The Big Picture of life, for which few humans, if any, had a large enough vision or imagination to comprehend.” ~ Martin Prechtel, Long Life Honey in the Heart

Our snake plant has easily tripled in size since we brought it home. It resides on the deep window sill in our living room and will soon outgrow its nook. We tease about cutting holes in the ceiling to accommodate its astounding reach. It is a constant source of inspiration; sometimes it seems like an alien being, sometimes kelp-like and belongs in the ocean, often the light-play on its leaves makes Kerri run for her camera.

“To the Tzutujil, people were not put into this world to have a good time; they were put here to be beautiful.” ~ Martin Prechtel

Following the recommendation of Horatio, I have been painting crap for weeks. To be clear, I haven’t been painting crap – that would be odd – rather, my work has been crap. Making messes. Rather than brushes I’ve been using rags and scraping tools. Wiping off, covering over, finger painting. It’s freeing.

My studio is a sanctuary where I can, for a little while, forget what is happening in-and-to our nation. Each day I read or receive an email with these questions: What is happening? What is going to happen? The first is easy to answer: our democracy is being systematically dismembered. The second is impossible to know.

I remembered a play titled The White Rose. It chronicles the arrest and ultimate execution of students from the University of Munich who protested against and resisted the Nazis. It prompted me to Google what the German people did to resist the rise of Hitler. It might surprise you to learn that the German people did not go quietly into the fascist dark night.

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” ~ Anne Frank

Do you remember the pro-Democracy protests in Tiananmen Square and the man who stood in front of a tank? Not all people have had freedom of speech, a free press, a society striving for social equality, the privilege of voting…they would die – and have died – for what we have taken so for granted that it is now, by popular vote, being stripped away.

The potential loss is too great to comprehend.

Did you learn about The Selma Marches* in school? Black Americans were being prevented from voting. Thousands of non-violent protesters marched and were met by violence. It was a seminal moment in the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. We have in our history great examples of courage in the face of thuggery. John Lewis. Martin Luther King. Rosa Parks and Liz Cheney are cut from the same cloth.

Empowered people empower others. What is going to happen? What we allow to a happen.

Anne Frank wrote from her hiding place, “In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.” Kind and gentle spirits need not be passive or alone. They can join hands and march. Together they can face-down the corruption and indecency. They can harbor the persecuted. They can step into the path of an oncoming tank and with their courage touch the heart and shared humanity of the world.

*No matter what history the current administration attempts to erase, it is Black History Month and the history of the United States is rich with people of courage who faced incredible resistance to preserve and forward the ideals of democracy.

detail of a painting in progress: can you see her face?

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Work A Circle [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Kerri has gifted me with the practice of looking close-in. Because she notices and photographs detail, I have the great pleasure of seeing things I never would have noticed by myself. I walk through the world seeing connective tissue and pattern, the view from 30,000 feet. I am grateful to regularly have my mind pulled from the clouds to witness the miracle of the minute. In her photographs I see connective tissue and pattern. It’s all one amazing fractal.

This is the very first post I wrote on my new blog named The Direction of Intention. I wrote it in 2010 following a meaningful conversation in a DEI facilitation about the nature of power:

1. Truly powerful people are dedicated to inspiring true power in others.

It goes like this: empowered people empower others.

Think about it.

How powerful must you be to free yourself of the need to diminish others? No more reducing others to elevate your self. No more reducing yourself to fulfill the mistaken belief that, “you are not worthy.”

What if your worth was no longer in question? What if your value was no longer an issue? What would you do with all of that newfound time and energy that previously was dedicated to bullying your self or reducing others?

In later posts I wrote about the distinction between Control and Power. They are not the same thing, in fact, they are opposites. Control is an action taken by the fearful and, ultimately, weak. It is the path of the bully. It necessarily sucks the potency of others. Control is the action of a vampire. Taking.

Power, on the other hand, is the generative creation of many. Empowerment. Giving to a common center. We learn about power after natural disasters: people coming together to help other people.

Control is the preferred action of authoritarians. Empowerment is the ideal behind democracy. Together, we-the-people are capable of creating a more perfect union.

I’d forgotten this tiny detail, the reason why I started writing. I felt as if I had something to say about power and how it is often confused with control. I did not consider myself a writer. It was scary new territory in 2010.

I’ve now put in my ten thousand hours and I find in these past few weeks that I am once again writing about power. I recognize that my words about power sometimes sound like raging, Captain Dan tied to the mast screaming at the storm. This storm is called the abuse of power, an assault on the power of a free people by a malignant leadership enamored with control fantasies. Vampires, all. There is good reason to rage.

My first 498 posts began with this phrase: Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine. And so, I work a circle. I return to where I started, to this one tiny detail, the original thought: empowered people empower others. There has never been a time more vital to remember – and serve – this simple imperative.

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And Bok Choy [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

This week we made a miso pot-sticker soup (Japanese). 20 made for us a red curry noodle soup (Thai). We often make pasta dishes and will soon cook chicken marsala (Italian). Later this week we will make fajitas (Mexican). In one of our soups we used for the very first time bok choy (Chinese cabbage).

We drove on errands and passed Panda Express (Chinese), Pimmy’s (Thai), Masala House (Indian), Buono Beef (Italian), La Fogata (Mexican), La Caribeña (Columbian) Madame Pho’ (Vietnamese), Gyro Grill (Greek), Bisi (Ethiopian)…There are many more. A not-so-surprising statement of food diversity borne from a nation comprised of diverse people.

We passed a mosque, a Buddhist temple, a synagogue, churches of all shapes and stripes. A few miles north is a Sikh temple, a Hindu temple, an Amish community, and a Taoist Center to the west.

A quick look (less than a minute) at the labels on my clothes reveals items from Vietnam, China, Mexico, India and Bangladesh. I recently bought a pair of shoes from Columbia Sportswear Outlet store. They were made in China. My favorite Frye boots were also made in China. Frye is a company founded in Massachusetts. Massachusetts is an Algonquin word meaning “at the great hill.” Colorado is a Spanish word meaning “colored red”.

My name, David, comes from the Hebrew word “dod” which means “beloved”. It is a name that “has been adopted into languages all over the world, including Syriac, Greek, Latin, and Quranic. Quranic means “relating to or contained in the Koran.” Syriac is a literary language, Aramaic, used by several Eastern Christian churches. Kerri is named after a county in Ireland. Her parents cleverly exchanged the “Y” for an “I”. Kerry is a Gaelic word meaning, “Ciar’s people.” Ciar was a legendary warrior (This is new knowledge to me and explains a lot!)

In our history we find the word “settlement.” English, Dutch, French, Spanish. Another word, “migration”, shows up later in reference to the arrival of the Irish, Italians, Germans. “Immigration’ is a word that includes the arrival of the Chinese, Japanese, Mexicans and many people from Central America. Of course, we cannot forget the word “slavery” which was the path of Africans to this land, and “displacement” which is the sanitized word referring to the fate of the native peoples. “Attitudes towards new immigrants have fluctuated from favorable to hostile since the 1790s.”

This morning I read this from Heather Cox Richardson (Letters From An American, Feb. 1, 2025): Trump’s loyalists overlap with the MAGA crew that embraces Project 2025, a plan that mirrors the one used by Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán to overthrow democracy in Hungary. Operating from the position that modern democracy destroys a country by treating everyone equally before the law and welcoming immigrants, it calls for discrimination against women and gender, racial, and religious minorities; rejection of immigrants; and the imposition of religious laws to restore a white Christian patriarchy.

Given the reality of what is all around us, of what actually populates our lives, can you possibly grasp the magnitude of delusion and utter amorality in the minds (there are no hearts) of the current republican administration?

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Where, Oh Where [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Set to the tune of Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone:

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DEI is U.S. [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

“…Hitler then promulgated a special decree titled “Destructive Measures on Reich Territory.” Otherwise remembered as the “Scorched Earth Decree” or “Nero Decree,” for the brutal Roman Emperor Nero (ruled 54-68 C.E.), the order mandated the destruction of Germany’s infrastructure.” Sealing The Third Reich’s Downfall: Adolf HItler’s “Nero Decree”

Of course, at the very heart of the U.S. American experiment is diversity. We have many catch phrases celebrating our common bond: A nation of immigrants. When I was young we were taught that our nation was a melting pot. More recently we celebrate our multiculturalism. In any case, the very center of our ideal is printed on our currency: out of many, one. E Pluribus Unum. In fact, it is our nation’s official motto.

In the past few weeks, with an all-out assault on DEI, Critical Race Theory, LGBTQ rights, restrictions of conversations about race and gender in classrooms, demonization of immigrants, the free press…we are witness to the current Republican administration’s version of a Nero Decree. An all-out-assault on our infrastructure. A scorched earth policy meant to pull down our democracy and replace it with an ugly White Christian Nationalism, the exact opposite of our founders’ intention. A flip of our national motto.

How far into the current Nero Decree do we need to go before our elected leaders remember their oath is to The Constitution and not to their party or the whim of an authoritarian? At what point will they recall the the purpose and absolute necessity of checks-and-balances? How much more indecency will we witness before they act or before we-the-people wake up and remember that the power is with the people? People of many races, genders, ethnicities…a richly diverse, formidable people when united.

(Bonus: A cautionary phrase from the National Center for Constitutional Studies: “Toynbee observed that 19 of the world’s 21 significant civilizations disappeared from the face of the earth – not from assault by outside forces, but from deterioration within the society.”)

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Basking [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Just now, even as I write this sentence, the sun cleared the neighbor’s roof, streaming through our window onto the exact spot where I am sitting. On a cold winter day there are few simple pleasures more satisfying than turning your face to the warming sun. I am basking.

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, we took a walk, our usual loop south through the neighborhood, turning east to follow the lake north. It has been bitter cold these past weeks so it’s been awhile since we strolled at sunset. The rocks along the lake were coated in ice. They looked like bad bakery rolls covered in gooey thick frosting. The sky was electric blue, orange and purple. “Sometimes I forget,” she said, “Look where we live!”

Rob asked us to read his play. He entered it into a 10-minute-play-contest. He is a prolific playwright and I marvel at his output. It takes me many many months to complete a draft that he could produce in a weekend. His play is a husband and wife reminiscing about their life. We learn in the final moments of the play that it is their last moments on earth. An asteroid? A nuclear explosion? They know that it is coming. The wife looks out the window. The husband tries to find ways to keep her distracted and buoy her spirits. It invited a conversation as I’m sure Rob meant for it to do. In our last moments, what might we do? What would be the heart of our reminiscence?

I recently read – I can’t remember where – that love is paying attention. Giving attention. To give.

I thought of that sentiment-of-love while we chopped sweet potatoes and onions, sipping wine, preparing for dinner. We talked of the day. We gave treats to the dog. There was nowhere else I’d rather be. It was like the winter sun streaming through the window. Basking.

Taking Stock on the album Right Now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

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Get Your Snowman [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

From his position on the raft he can look out the bedroom window and see the Dachshunds in the yard next door. He knows he’s not supposed to bark so he moans and twirls, groans and suffers, stifling his natural impulse, until a single bark escapes from his muzzle. That’s our cue to feign shock and to say with mock disapproval, “Get your snowman!” Dogga dutifully jumps from the bed and returns moments later with his snowman in his mouth.

The theory goes, with snowman in his mouth, he’s incapable of barking. It mostly works. Well, until recently, it worked like a charm. And then, our too-smart-dog discovered a technical work-around. He retrieved snowman on cue, as usual, but when he returned, he stopped just shy of the raft to show us that he’d done as he was told. Then, he dropped snowman on the floor, leaped onto the raft, and barked with abandon.

Game. Set. Match. Dogga outsmarts us. Again. Were he a sarcastic teenager we’d hide our laughter but as a gray bearded Aussie who’s spent his entire life studying our every move, we’re certain there’s no hiding anything from him. He often knows we are upset before we do. We laugh and laugh as he barks and barks at the marauding Dachshunds.

We’re not alone in being outwitted by our pooch. 20 is Dogga’s favorite human. Dogga has thoroughly trained him to drop snacks on demand from the dinner table. When Dogga begs, 20 employs a stern voice, telling Dogga to “Lay down!” and then, as if he is suddenly hypnotized by Dogga’s compliance, 20 slips a bite of dinner into Dogga’s open awaiting mouth. When we laugh at Dogga’s command over him, 20 grabs his chest, suffering mock heart-palpitations and asks, “Why do I come here?”

Rituals of laughter. Expressions of love.

Now more than ever, it’s important to remind myself each day, beyond the chaos and ill-intention swirling in the e-stream, that these are the real moments, the stuff-of-life that actually matters. The daily rite of the plastic snowman. Dogga manipulations. The tangible everyday moments to be savored and shared that make our life rich beyond measure.

(this post is my version of stuffing snowman in my mouth so I stop barking about the horror-story unfolding in our nation. Rest assured knowing that I am groaning and twirling and suffering as I stifle my natural impulse to bark – but I figured we could all use a break;-)

early work: In Dreams She Rides Wild Horses

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Become The Raft [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

It was during Covid that we started calling it “The Raft”. Our warm bed. With two broken wrists, all jobs lost and no work to be found, the heat turned down to save a penny, we felt like we were hanging on for dear life, afloat in the turbulent waters of the spinning universe on our tiny refuge. With Dogga asleep at our feet, we searched the horizon for hope, we launched our messages-in-a-bottle.

Our raft. It was one of the few places we felt safe and warm. Comforted. It was, during those scary and chaotic times, with the world in isolation, a haven where we might approach making sense of the senselessness. And, we survived.

I feel as if we are now back on the raft. The adults have left the capitol and the feckless man, the same nincompoop who suggested that we ingest bleach as a cure for Covid is now shoving Project 2025 down our throats – the ultimate aim is a Christian Nationalist Authoritarian State, a fate for our democracy that is far worse than swallowing bleach. He has returned with his clown car of bad clowns. Incompetents all, picked for their dull loyalty rather than their knowledge, experience or expertise. They know nothing of governing, or of creating or of problem-solving; they are solely capable of destroying.

Afloat on the raft we know that this time there is no refuge. There is no bubble thick enough to protect us from the virus that now infects our nation. There is no vaccine capable of minimizing the damage. There is no shot of courage available to legislators who have lost their moral compass and abandoned their spines along with their oath to protect the Constitution.

The isolation that helped saved us from Covid will now harm us. Of course, we necessarily practice social distancing from those contaminated by maga and made stupid by the fox but for the rest of us, the vast majority of the nation, we will eventually need to step outside, find each other, lock arms and become the raft for one another.

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Everything There Is [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Sometimes she takes pictures when she is driving. “What are you doing?” I cry, my life flashing before my eyes.

“It looks like a feather!” she retorts.

“Oh, great” I say, reciting the last line of my obituary. “If only the cloud had not looked like a feather, he would be with us still.” She rolls her eyes. Apparently she survived the imaginary crash and went on to build an extensive catalogue of interesting cloud photographs. For all I know, having perished for a feather cloud, she gained world-wide fame for her interesting shots of condensed water vapor.

As I lay in bed last night, the window opened ever so slightly allowing the cold air to circulate above the warm-warm quilt where we lay pretzeled, Dogga sleeping at our feet, I had a single moment of presence. I know it because I was completely overwhelmed with intense gratitude. Falling out of the moment, I took a snapshot in my mind and heart so I would never forget how profound life is in each and every passing moment.

This was the thought that washed over me: Beyond the dance of giving and receiving, there is only this: being-with. That’s all there is. That’s everything there is.

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