Learn The Dance [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on June 22, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

In a confluence of wonderment, local celebrations for Juneteenth, the summer solstice, and Chicago Pride all landed on the same day. And it was a gorgeous day, ideal for uplifting and honoring the most marginalized people in our society. This merging of revelry had an air of push back: as the powers-that-be might try to scrub the rich color from our history, our diversity runs deeper than skin color or sexual orientation, our desire for equality dwarfs their white supremacy. The people took to the streets to parade and sing and dance.

We took the train to Chicago to see our son perform at Pride. It was a mass of humanity, packing the streets, surrounding the stage, pulsing together to the beat. It was impossible to stand still.

In a moment I was struck with a thought: looking across the crowd, bodies of every shape, size, color and preference, rejoicing together. There was no judgement, no emphasis on difference. There was complete support for and acceptance of individuality and unique expression. People proud of their bodies and their choices. A community that has – and still has to – fight for every inch of equal rights and recognition. My thought? “This is what morality looks like.” All of those who pull verses from a bible and claim moral superiority are, in fact, interested exclusively in superiority. As we are witness to again and again, there is no morality on their pedestal.

The people dancing and sweating and reveling and making way for each other to BE WHO THEY ARE, as they are, in a world with love enough to hold an ideal called equality – and live it – they are the keepers of the promise and the light. They are a community, forged by hot prejudice, that cares for each other, protects and serves each other. They are the change, dancing together in their own little corner of the world, hoping someday those living in fear and judgment on the false safety of their pedestals, step down, join the party and learn the dance of humanity.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE THE CHANGE

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Just Right [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on March 27, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Melange Wardrobe Fun Facts:

#1. We don’t consider our jeans broken-in until they have holes.

#2. On the day we met we both chose to wear non-holey jeans. We didn’t want to scare the other person away. Everything else, the boots, the blacks sweater…it was as if we called each other to coordinate.

#3. We were married in jeans that had holes. We were beyond the appearance phase of our relationship. The truth – our truth – has holes-in-the-knees. In fact, much of our wedding prep involved a world-wide search to find the perfect pair of new holey jeans. Holy jeans.

#4. For reasons I can’t explain, a hole always forms in the right knee of my brand new non-holey jeans. Always the right knee. Kerri, on the other hand, rarely achieves naturally holey jeans so she has to search for her truth. Mine always finds me.

#5. An anecdote: An elderly man in a maga hat stopped Kerri in the grocery store. “You must have a cat?” he sneered.

She was polite. “I used to have a cat,” she said, playing along. “How can you tell?”

“You need new pants,” he crowed his punchline. She acted like his joke was funny and the holes in her jeans were a complete surprise. The old man, feeling clever, repeated his joke to other shoppers. “Look at her pants! She must have a cat!”

#6. A common question in our house as we prepare to go out: “Do you think it’s okay to wear these?” A common answer to a common question: “Of course. Why not?” A common response to a common answer to a common question: “I guess I should wear what I want to wear.” I suppose there are holes in the fabric of acceptance that must always be considered.

We enact this ritual almost every day and always arrive at the same conclusion. The holes are in self-acceptance. Memories of Quinn always fill the holes for me. I hear his good laughter: “There are 6 billion people on the planet and you’re the only one who cares what you think.”

Now there are over 8 billion people on the planet and I am eternally grateful that there is one other person on this earth who cares what I feel and think and wear. This grand old universe knows how to coordinate.

And the shirt above the jeans with holes? A black thermal. Always. Oversized for her. Just right for me.

Just right for me.

***

Happy Birthday, my love!

on the album AS SURE AS THE SUN © 2002 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about HOLES IN JEANS

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Choose Your Chosen [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on June 16, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

It might surprise you to learn that the adage, “Blood is thicker than water”, originally meant the exact opposite of what you assume. The full adage is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”. “The [word] “covenant” in this context often refers to agreements or commitments made through shared experiences, like in battle or through friendship.” ~ AI Overview

The meaning flipped when the phrase was condensed to eliminate the context.

I live in a mobile society and have rarely lived close to my family. The people who have shown up for me, served as my safety net, lifted me when I have fallen, reached out when I needed a hand, have been my friends, the people I share my day-to-day life-experiences with. I have done the same for them. We have a covenant.

One of the reasons I enjoy attending our son Craig’s EDM performances is that Kerri and I enter – and are welcomed into – his tight circle of friends. He enjoys an extraordinary family of friends. They are kind, playful, and generous. As gay men they’ve all experienced cultural persecution, rejection and marginalization – often from their family of origin – so they understand to their bones the necessity of support, the power of presence in their chosen family. They consciously and intentionally create community. Craig and his chosen family give me hope. They open their arms and welcome us into the vibrant dance of their community.

Our society demonizes our son and his LGBTQ+ community yet, it is within this circle that I experience what the rest of our troubled nation is lacking: acceptance, inclusion, open minds, open hearts, authentic community. A spirit of play. A genuine dedication to showing up for each other. Honesty. As a persecuted group in an increasingly homophobic society, their support of each other means safety. The threat they face each day is actual, not an abstraction.

At the epicenter of their communal support is a simple truism: they’ve each walked (and continue to walk) a hard road to self-acceptance so they are masterful teachers of acceptance of others and powerful advocates for inclusion. Their encouragement is simple: be yourself. Fully. Find safety, together. Chosen Family, Infinite Love.

At the beginning of June, the month of PRIDE, I was saddened by the many, many people posting images of the flag of the United States with the words, “This is my pride flag.” Mean-spirited statements of division. The fear of difference. Sad declarations of homophobia.

It is the very reason why the original adage is so powerful: the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. We have so much to learn from the LGBTQ+ community – and what we might learn could very well save our democracy from those who only admit straight, white, males to their country club blood covenant, their ruling class, those who would persecute their way into brutal authoritarianism: Chosen Family, Bottomless Hate.

The covenant of our nation? Equality. With liberty and justice for all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHOSEN FAMILY

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It Is All [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on March 24, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

“The ordinary days have a way of lulling us into believing there isn’t any urgency to them…” ~ John Pavlovitz

These days I am more likely to appreciate my moment. I’m no longer trying to get somewhere or be someone that I am not. I have finally traded the harried drive for self-improvement, the fool’s errand to save the world, the not-so-healthy-desire-to-be-other-than-I-am, for the warm embrace of self-acceptance. I’m now less interested in attempting to hide my brokenness than I am in fully valuing the life I have been fortunate enough to live – with all of its foibles and folly.

It’s the word “urgency” that caught me in the quote. It’s an interesting choice in a thought about presence to use a word that implies “hurry” or “haste”. The imperative in each moment to fully appreciate the gift of life. Now. Not tomorrow. Not when the race is won or the bank account is full. Now. Right now. Doing the dishes. Making the bed. The haste of slowing down.

The Buddhists call this “chop wood, carry water”. The awareness of the extraordinary in the ordinary, everyday tasks.

Dogga groans at night. His muzzle grows more grey with each passing month. Sometimes at night he struggles to stand. And, because we know beyond doubt that our time with him is limited, we linger with him. We fawn on him. We want to heap all the love in our hearts on him. There are no ordinary days. There are no throw-away moments.

Limits inspire appreciation. Rolling into sight of my looming limit is doing exactly what it is supposed to do. “Listen to the birds,” she just said. We stopped writing and drank in the birdsong.

The birdsong brought to mind a favorite quote from Shakespeare:

“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all.” [Hamlet, Act 5, scene 2]

A quote about fate. Acceptance. And what is the gift of readiness? It is to be wide awake. It is all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about URGENCY

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Let It Sit [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 25, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Over thirty five years ago, people I loved, people who loved me, bought me an easel. It was a gift for my very first solo show. All these years later, it is the only easel I’ve ever had, the only easel I use. The only easel I will use. If the canvas is too big, if I can’t put it on my easel, I tack it to the wall.

My easel is well traveled. It moved up and down the west coast. It moved into and out of studio spaces. It rode in the truck to the midwest. It has hosted hundreds of canvases. It has become the Velveteen Rabbit of easels. It is no longer shiny and new. It is covered with layers of acrylic drips and splashes, the support stabilizer is bowed, I must be vigilant to keep it square. It is, I recently realized, my mirror image, my double-walker: I, too, am covered with drips and splashes, my stabilizer is bowing, and I am constantly vigilant about keeping myself grounded and square.

A few days ago, during a studio clean, I decided it was time to do a bit of easel excavation and repair. The build up of acrylic paint on the bottom canvas holder is…prodigious. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to experience. As I peeled back the layers of acrylic, I unearthed the layers of my creative life. The layers of my life. I could literally associate the colors of the acrylic strata with specific paintings, with specific eras, with foibles and triumphs, despair and new hope. There were many many layers. It was like reading a diary, a life review in spatter.

Tom McKenzie taught me that in order to invite in new energy it is sometimes necessary to close the shop. Lock the door and let it sit. Make space. Time and patience will loosen the grip of old ideas, stale patterns – and open pathways to fresh possibilities. I’ve followed his sage advice twice before. Once I stopped painting for a full year. I not only closed the building but I burned the paintings. In both cases, locking the door was followed by a renaissance, a surge of new and surprising work.

I saw the story of my twice-artistic rebirth as I slowly peeled the history from my easel.

And, as I stripped back the layers of my life, the full understanding of what I was doing settled in. I am cleaning my easel in preparation for my third closing of the building. I am cleaning it so it will be ready for that day-in-the-future when I unlock the door. Spacious and rejuvenated. I have been fighting it. I have been angry about it because I feared it – I always fear that the muse will leave and never come back even though I know in my bones that the muse is the wise-voice asking me to breathe, to make space. Now, as is always the case after a few years of fighting a losing battle, I am accepting it. It’s time to lock the door. Empty the glass. Let it sit.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SPACE

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Out Of The Many [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on August 8, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Among other things, Wade Davis is an ethnobotanist, studying how people – cultures – use plants for food, medicines, dyes…in hunting and in ceremonies. The study of plants as living symbols. In a different life, in another path, I would have followed him around attempting to know-what-he-knows. Mythology beyond the abstraction.

For us, this week has become about the coneflower. Earlier in the week I wrote about its symbolism: strength, vitality, healing energy… The color of the coneflower accents different attributes. Orange evokes vitality and enthusiasm. Purple accents strength. Yellow, acceptance and perseverance.

I thought of Wade Davis because his study has taken him to indigenous cultures who live their symbology, their mythology is visceral, a deep-seated guide for how to conduct their lives. For them, the attributes of the plant are not curious abstractions, something to be found in a Wiki or a book or a religious tome. It is ancestral. Lived everyday. He writes beautifully about what he has experienced.

I wanted to know what a coneflower represents so I looked it up. It is not integrated into my being, pervasive to my clan and has not been passed to me by my elders. I want to identify with it so I write myself into the story. I write us into its meaning. It is, for us, new. We will give it roots, make it conscious by planting it in our symbolic garden.

As a society, many of our symbols are unconscious. It is a happy and fortuitous accident that the Olympic Games are happening in the midst of the ugly divisive rhetoric coming from the right in our political campaign. Each day I look at the athletes from the United States and I see a beautiful living symbol of our nation as it really is: diversity, a celebration of ethnicity – united under a single flag. It is, I believe, what our flag – our symbol – represents. Out of many, one.

This flag is one of our few conscious symbols. E pluribus unum is our tradition. It is our intention, written into our founding. It is our ancestry and inheritance. We are the many, united as one. It is what we strive to achieve. Our athletes represent us; they represent who we are beyond the abstraction.

The red hats and their authoritarian leader would have us understand our symbol differently. You can hear it in their language, placing the accent on racial division. Their obsession with degradation, their glee at name-calling, their unwavering commitment to a victim narrative…exposes a dedication to subverting the humanity of those that do not look or think like them. They would have the flag symbolize white nationalism, a radical uprooting of its meaning. Their notion of “one” rejects the many. It is, quite literally, flipping the symbol upside-down (as was proudly flown over the house of Justice Samual Alito).

They are not hiding their intention. They are counting on us to misconstrue or willingly discard the meaning of our sacred symbol.

Look at the athletes representing the USA. Take a walk in the park on the 4th of July and look at the people sharing the celebration in the commons. They are US. Rich in diversity. United.

Acceptance. Perseverance. Strength. Borne of the many, striving to be one.

Instrument of Peace, 48″x 91″, mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blog about CONEFLOWERS

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Very, Very [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on June 27, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Last night, sitting on the deck enjoying the waning light, I had a great idea for this post. I didn’t write it down so, of course, I have no idea what my great idea was. All morning I have tried to retrace my mental footsteps but alas, they, too, are lost in the mist.

It would be just like me to write about perception. This is a curtain separating the backstage V.I.P. area from the raucous dancing audience. Kerri tried to take a photo through the curtain. Cameras and purple permeable curtains might serve as metaphors for all manner of my blah-blah. Focus placement, assumptions, obstacles, yada-yada! But, none of that well-worn blather was my great idea.

I’m rarely in V.I.P areas since I am rarely a V.I.P. In fact, this particular V.I.P. area was my first and I have to admit I liked it. I didn’t get crushed in the crowd. I wandered freely. There were drinks had I wanted one. And chairs. Security didn’t blink when I walked up and stood at the apron of the stage. I adored watching the dancing furries and acrobats prepare to take the stage. To me, backstage is magic precisely because it’s behind the curtain: the furries take off their furry heads and sip drinks through straws; the acrobats smoke a joint, laugh and talk politics. Now, backstage magic might be a fun post but it wasn’t my great idea.

I did ponder the designation (of course). It wasn’t just an I.P, important person section, it was a very important person section. Wow. Very. More important than important. Since Craig was performing and we are his parents, I suppose we earned the adverb. Kerri did for sure. I didn’t give birth to Craig (thank goodness! I’ve heard stories…). She did so is most certainly a very. I’ve only moved his stuff a few dozen times but was happy to don the extra designation.

That we were fortunate enough – from a place of privilege – to watch our son perform on a BIG stage, and perform well, – also was not my big idea. He wanted us there and made it happen. There’s nothing better on earth than having a son who wants to share his artistry and successes with his parents. The V.I.P. was icing on the cake, an experience everyone should have once in their life.

That was big but it wasn’t my great idea.

I suppose half the fun of losing a great idea is the search-and-rescue effort to find it. I know it’s in there somewhere. As I grid my recent past in search of some great abstract idea, I couldn’t be happier to have found so much actual-beyond-greatness. Heart experiences. New experiences that resurface all the stages and backstages of my past. A son in his bliss. A mother in her bliss. A crowd of adoring people sharing their bliss.

Maybe writing about bliss was my big idea! If it wasn’t, it should have been. People who I love in their bliss. Nothing better. Very. Very, very.

Face the Sun, 18″ x 24″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CURTAIN

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Only With The Heart [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on June 12, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

I just re-read The Little Prince. Our imaginary child, Chicken Marsala, made me do it. He’s lodged an idea into my heart and suggested I revisit some classics. Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet is on Chicken’s short list of recommendations.

“One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.” Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince.

I suppose it might seem odd that our imaginary child makes book recommendations but before you leap into full-blown judgment, I would ask you to ponder this: why might you consider anything borne of imagination as odd? This device that I am typing upon was once a figment of someone’s imagination. Consider this: there is power in imagining kindness. Peace will come first to the world through our capacity to imagine it as possible.

This past weekend we were at Pride-Milwaukee watching our amazing son perform on large stages and small. I loved being in a celebratory mob that embraced difference, that celebrated the divergent, that held an all-inclusive understanding of love. There was not a hint of body shaming, in fact, there was the opposite. Can you imagine that? “One sees clearly only with the heart.”

I had a minor epiphany standing behind the stage at the street fair. Watching the revelers, strangers dancing with strangers, people fearless in their acceptance, reaching one-to-the-other – these people unashamedly promoting acceptance-and-love-of-others are regularly branded as deviant. Our world is upside-down. Or perhaps it simply lacks imagination.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART LEAF

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Go Curly [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on December 19, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Left to its natural state, Kerri’s hair is as curly as curly-ribbon or the curling leaves of this winter grass. It’s gorgeous though someone, somewhere, convinced her that her curls were passé. Her mom and I waged a not-so-secret campaign to stop-the-straightening but we had little to no impact. Every so often Kerri lets loose her curls and always receives raves but they somehow bounce off the image-shield of straight hair.

I have an image of myself. Lately, when I look in the mirror, I see something other than the image that I expect. It’s something to play with! I appreciated the early days of acting school because it demanded a constant change of image. More than once I had to cut off all my hair for a role. There is a power in studying character, realizing that who we are is not a noun but a process. Character – personality – is how-you-do-what-you-do and not “who” you present to the world.

Also, as a teenager I had an image of who I would become. I am surprised to report that I’m not the cross between Leonardo da Vinci and Joseph Campbell that I intended. No amount of straightening the road could alter my wandering (curly) path. I realized, none-too-soon, that to achieve my image I would have had to betray my nature. I am – and always have been – the steward of a “beginner’s mind.”

Kerri has a theory that people do not change, they become more of who they really are. The layers of imagined-self drop off. The core is revealed over a life-time of shedding images. Self-discovery a la paring down.

I grew my hair (again) after moving to Wisconsin. When I met Kerri I was still sporting the short-short hair that my clients expected of me. For some reason, my clogs were acceptable as an outsider invited into the hallowed walls of the corporate arena but long hair was too much. Long hair was a bridge too far. So I cut it. Now, the longer it gets, the more Kerri (and 20) tell me that I look more myself. I’m not sure what that means to them but I agree. It fits my image of me. I always use the opportunity to tell Kerri that when she allows her hair to go curly, she looks more herself, too. After all, her mom and I have not given up our campaign. Although Beaky is on the other side of the veil, I feel her poke me. That’s my cue to lobby Kerri to shed the image-of-straight, to become more of who she really is, and sport those gorgeous naturally curly locks.

(The title track of Kerri’s very popular X-Mas album, The Lights. She’s inserting into her post so I wanted to also drop it into mine. Happy Holidays!)

the lights/the lights © 1996 kerri sherwood

The Lights is available on iTunes

stream The Lights on iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about CURLS

like. share. support. comment. curl. find your nature. or not. it’s all good.

buymeacoffee is an internal image of wildly curly hair meant to bring you at long last to your true nature.

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Learn A New Word [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on August 21, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I learned a new word today. Actually given the divisive climate in our current epoch, I’m surprised that I did not come across it sooner.

The word: Agnotology: the study of deliberate culturally induced ignorance or doubt, typically to sell a product, influence an opinion, or win favor, particularly through the publication of inaccurate or misleading scientific data.

Speak these words slowly so you might taste the sounds: deliberate culturally induced ignorance…Once you’ve tasted the sounds, think about the ramifications. Deliberate ignorance. Head in the sand. Deliberate ignorance is, of course, a necessity on the road to hate. And, not just any form of hate. Hate as a product. Hate meant to influence opinions. Hate that thrives on misleading information.

Deliberate ignorance eschews knowledge and refuses to ask questions. Non-curious, hard-edged-belief that refuses to check reality. Hard-edged-belief borne of purposeful misinformation. Hate is learned. Acquired.

My new word came across my path when a stream of transgender hate crossed my screen. A post on Facebook.

I’ll call them Sam. Sam was my student when I taught at an independent learning center. My appointments with Sam were scheduled after hours. Sam fled the main campus. Sam was transgender and Sam’s parents feared for their child’s life. Sam feared for their life, too.

Transgender (adjective): a person whose gender identity does not correspond to the sex registered to them at birth.

Start with the word “person”. A person. Now, roll around your mouth and mind the word “identity”. Speak the words slowly so you might taste the sounds.

I remember being a teenager. Do you? It was mostly a festival of confusion and an intense desire to fit in. To be accepted. About 5% of young adults are transgender. Sam, like all teenagers, was awash in a festival of confusion and wanted what every other student wanted: to fit in. To be accepted. And, the acceptance Sam sought most was… from Sam. Just like you and me.

Sam’s mountain-to-climb was significantly steeper than most. Sam’s walk toward wholeness demanded deep questioning, knowledge seeking, personal reflection, assumption challenges, fact checking, and a dedication of self-love that most of the populace, approximately 95%, can’t begin to imagine. I taught Sam geometry and world lit but I learned from Sam the great expanse of the human soul.

We vilify what we don’t understand, or more accurately, what we refuse to understand. Lemmings learn to hate en route to the ledge.

Lemming (noun): a person who follows the will of others, especially in a mass movement, and heads straight into a situation or circumstance that is dangerous, stupid, or destructive.

Lemming. Speak the word slowly so you can taste it…Now, think of the ramifications.

The path to love and understanding always begins with a step toward: Asking a question. Challenging a belief. Bursting the misinformation bubble. Fact-checking the information and especially checking the agenda of the source.

Love is a very old word yet it’s never too late to learn it anew.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOVE

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