Live Another Day [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

It’s taken me some time to learn but I now know exactly what to do. Stay. Out. Of. The. Way.

The length of the trip does not matter. My man-brain defaults to simplicity and allows me to pack in a few minutes with minimal thought and no stress. That is not true for Kerri. For her, packing takes weeks. Weeks. She suffers. She angsts. She frets. She loses sleep. In fact, it is common for us to complete the trip, be home unpacking – and she will continue to roll doubt through her choices. “Oh, I should have taken…”

The worst thing I can do is try to help. The second worst thing I can do is to finish packing before she zips her bag. So, while she climbs this mountain, fords this river, bears this burden…I will remain unhelpful, purposefully scarce, eerily quiet and strategically unpacked, yet I will live to travel another day.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PACKING

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

like. share. support. subscribe. comment…thank you!

Live In The Lull [David’s blog on KS Friday]

We’ve written about the lull, the precious days with nothing-but-open-space on the calendar and our intention to not-fill-them-up. A moment to pause, to quiet our minds. And, as good fortune would have it, right smack-dab in the middle of the lull, the opportunity to go “up north” with friends to a cabin on a lake. Sweet serendipity.

On the first day of the lull Kerri’s computer died. We decided to let it be dead. Resuscitation, if possible, would have to wait. Then, on the drive up north, little-baby-scion struggled and almost didn’t make it. Hectic circumstances. It seemed like this great big universe was testing our resolve, tempting us to exit the lull or to fill it up with angst.

We decided to stay solidly in the lull. We decided to only make decisions that required immediacy, to cross the bridges as we came to them and not before. We certainly felt angst and frustration but opted not to inflate it or hang on to it or rage at it or weave it into a woe-full narrative.

We weren’t avoiding or denying the inevitable. We simply refused to magnify it. We honored our intention to keep the lull unencumbered – knowing we’d have clearer minds, more capable minds, when the time came to address the list.

We suspended the story.

After a consultation with our mechanic, after hatching a safety-net-plan with our friends, rather than fret, we stepped into the canoe and explored the lake.

The next morning there was barely a ripple of breeze on the water. It was like glass. We paddled gently, not wanting to interrupt the stillness. In the middle of the lake we stopped all movement, rested our paddles, and listened. Far away the loons called. We turned our faces to the sun, took a deep breath, and settled into the lull.

At that moment we realized (again) that we could make the same choice, the same decision, every single day, no matter the state of the calendar or the circumstance of the moment. We could choose to live in the lull.

Joy © 2005 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LULL

share. like. support. comment. subscribe…thank you.

Take The Back Road [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Even in our race to Milwaukee to meet a deadline, we decided to take the back roads. We’ve learned that the time difference between the freeway and the less-stressful-backroads is often only 15 minutes. I’m finding that getting-there-faster is generally an illusion that always produces heightened stress. We have enough stress as it is so we look for ways to feed-the-calm. To reinforce presence. 15 minutes seems like a fair trade for less angst. Even in a race.

We’re regularly passed on the road by a car-in-a-hurry. We inevitably catch them at the next light. All the aggression, all of the get-out-of-my-way, achieves a car length of advantage. I try and keep that in mind in our age of more/faster, a by-product of information inundation. Aggressive drivers have become something of a metaphor. It takes time to process information. It takes time to suss out relevance. Very little is actually gained by going faster to go faster. Except more stress. It is an un-win-able race.

On our back road drive to Milwaukee we marveled at the clarity of the storm cloud’s line of demarcation. It was as if a giant X-Acto knife cut the clouds exposing a swatch of blue-blue that extended to the horizon. We literally drove under the line. In a moment we moved from shadow to sun. In a moment, the gloom and weight of the stormy day transformed to warmth and rejuvenation. In a moment.

I wondered if the angry driver swerving through traffic, speeding toward a destination, even noticed the line. I wondered if the warmth and rejuvenation we experienced was available amidst the dedicated hurry-hurry. I wonder at the ubiquitous story of needing-to-get-there-faster, getting there first. What is actually gained? What is actually lost?

It takes time to suss out relevance. It takes time to notice the warmth and welcome rejuvenation when it becomes available. It takes time to actually see – to see – another human being on the road to somewhere. It takes time – and taking time, as it turns out, is nothing more or less than a choice, something as simple as taking the back road.

Holding Steadfast/Blueprint for My Soul © 1997 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes or streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LINE

like. share. support. comment. in any case, go slow.

buymeacoffee is a stop on the road to somewhere.

Peek Behind The Facade [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Two people sit at a bar, late in the afternoon, and order far too many appetizers. Then, when offered, they say “Yes” to a peek at the dessert menu. They split a second glass of wine. They seem as if they have not-a-care-in-the-world.

Things are rarely as they appear.

I often remind myself that I can never know the full story of another person’s life. My reminder comes in handy when I am judging or comparing. It is the thinnest image slice that invokes judgment. My comparison is made with a facade.

The day of our anniversary was so fraught that we couldn’t reach through the angst to touch a moment of celebration. We sabotaged the day. Lit it on fire and watched it burn.

The next day we took a very long hike. We sorted through the ashes of our angst. We laughed at ourselves. After our hike we decided to have a glass of wine. We did what we almost never do: we spent money on ourselves. Two people at the bar. We decided to order appetizers and, since it was a make-up day for our anniversary, we ordered anything and everything we wanted. Pressure release. We were like kids in a candy store, our eyes a’ poppin’ when the food arrived. We clapped our hands. We giggled. We savored each delicious bite.

Our plates and glasses were empty. So full we could barely move. As a courtesy the bartender asked us if we wanted to see the dessert menu. He was as surprised as I was when Kerri said, “Yes.” And then she ordered another glass of wine for us to split. And then, a slice of flourless chocolate torte.

This was a first. In our decade of life together, frugality has been our necessity. A first taste of excess, a moment of generosity to ourselves, was a healing balm. An anniversary celebration.

We laughed at the story the bartender must have told of this care-free couple. Of their excess. He could not have known.

“For one person to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of our tasks…” wrote Rainier Maria Rilke. “Loving…is a tremendous responsibility.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about DESSERT

like. support. share. comment. order too much. love through the ashes. appreciate it. yes. we do.

buymeacoffee is like a “tip jar” where you can support the artistic waitstaff that refreshes your wounded soul.

See Hope [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

The sun had set. The pond lights aglow. The night was quiet with occasional bursts of the cicada chorus. We were exhausted from the day. I saw its silhouette when Dogga ran his usual circuit by the pond. It leapt across the light and plopped into the water. A frog.

“What are you doing?” Kerri asked as I jumped from my chair.

“But it’s late September!” I said. She narrowed her eyes, my reply too random for synapse connection. “I just saw a frog!” I announced and she was instantly by my side. We stayed by the water for several minutes, searching, but saw no further sign. “I didn’t imagine it,” I whispered. “I saw it. We have a frog.”

“I know.”

I’d like to say that we didn’t need some sign of hope, some whisper of encouragement, but it would be a lie. This unlikely frog, coming so late in the season, seemed like a sign or at least we decided to make it so. “Things are going to change for the better,” she said. I nodded. I was so tired I wanted to blubber with giddy-frog-inspired-relief.

“I’ll take my hope anyway I can get it,” I said.

“That’s what we should name it!” she replied. “Hope.”

Yes. Hope. A silhouette flashing across the light on an otherwise quiet dark night. A leap. A glimpse. And suddenly, anything is possible.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FROG

comment? share? like? support? many thanks for any and all.

buymeacoffee is an online “tip jar” where you can support the continued work of the artists you value.

Create Ease [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Reading The Marginalian this morning I was taken by these two quotes:

“The whole process of nature is an integrated process of immense complexity, and it’s really impossible to tell whether anything that happens in it is good or bad.” (Alan Watts)

“…learning not to think in terms of gain or loss.” ~ The Marginalian, August 16, 2023.

It came at the right moment. There was a river of anxiety running through our house. I opened the newsletter because the title was Seneca on the Antidote to Anxiety. I needed an antidote. Actually, I needed to be reminded of what I already know.

Most of our monsters are invented. Most of our stresses are made-up. What we fear rarely happens. Such is the power of the human imagination. We are capable of making ourselves sick with make-believe, ill with assumptions, fearful by assigning meaning to an experience before it actually happens.

We fret. We worry. We brood. We lose sleep. We get worked up. We torture ourselves with our untethered thoughts and wild-imaginings. It’s the heart of my argument to all people who’ve labeled themselves as “not creative”. We are so abundantly creative that it hurts. Check your inner monologue. It is a riot of creativity! A stampede of wild-horses!

We are capable of imagining ease rather than angst. We are capable of creating love rather than hate. It’s true, but creating ease, creating love, first requires a complete surrender of black-and-white thinking. Good or bad, gain or loss, better or worse…control fantasies, all. Creating ease is borne of an understanding that every experience – every single experience – has many possible interpretations. And, fully comprehending that you are the creator of the meaning you make. And, most of all, recognizing that making meaning of an experience is best done after it happens, somewhere down the road. I guarantee, no matter the meaning made today, it will change again and again over time. Creating ease.

Side note: compassion for self and others lives on this non-binary road.

Reminders of what I already know.

I loved the sunflowers when we placed them on the table. They were a gift and were fresh from the farmer’s market. I thought I might like to paint them, which is unusual for me. A few days later, the sunflowers bowed their heads and I found them more compelling. They seemed like gentle beings in a posture of reverence (how’s that for imagination!). Both Kerri and I raced for our cameras.

Were they more beautiful or less? And, isn’t that the exact wrong question to ask?

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUNFLOWER BOW

share. support. like. comment. thank you!

Detach and Dream [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Here’s the truth. I hardly ever have trouble sleeping. Where sleep is concerned, I am easily detached. Thought-less. When I awake in the morning, I pass through a phase that I lovingly call, “The Garbage Layer:” all the thoughts and worries and lists and…stuff-of-the-day. It’s the stuff I left behind when slipping into sleep. I’ve come to realize that the garbage will be waiting for me in the morning so there’s no need to carry it with me to the world of my dreams. I suppose that’s a guy-thing though 20 assures me that he rarely sleeps through the night.

If I’m awake at night it’s because Kerri has poked my shoulder, asking, “Are you up?” My thoughtless and detached male response is always, “Yes. Are you?”

read Kerri’s SMACK-DAB thoughts.

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com