Be Peace [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Coming over the pass, the first glimpse of the lake seemed a mirage. It beckoned.

I always travel with my sketchbook though I rarely take it out and draw. I am more of an “intuitive” artist – feeling my way forward – so the impulse to draw scenes from nature rarely occurs for me. Rather than capture images I more often write ideas or capture snippets of conversation. I capture interesting shapes. I draw images that come to mind. Like the lake, the images first appear as mirages, calling me closer.

Rooting around in my bag, my sketchbook fell open to the very first page. I was surprised by the notes I found there. I’d forgotten a conversation Kerri and I had months ago about the difference between being-at-peace and keeping-the-peace. This is a bit of my note: All my life I have tried to keep the peace – which means to keep silent – to NOT say – to not stir the pot – to be more concerned with how others feel than how I feel. Being at peace is different. It means being solidly in my center and giving voice to what’s vital for me; not swirling in circumstance like a ‘Peacekeeper’ does. And then I captured a quote from Kerri: “To be peaceful is not about keeping other people’s peace, it is keeping my own.”

Driving toward the lake I thought about what I’d written.

Peace-full means to take responsibility for how I walk and speak in the world, regardless of circumstance.

Peace is amorphous when looked at from afar; it is a mirage when it is an aspiration. In the heat of the moment, when lived, peace is a solid center, immovable like a mountain, as clear as the crystal waters of the lake.

A mantra I learned long ago rolled through my mind: Peace is not the absence of violence. It is what we do in the face of violence. It is Gandhi and MLK. It is a mass of people joining together and walking in peace toward violence, refusing to be silent, refusing to hide, refusing to become violent.

We are now living in a violent time. White supremacy is once again rearing its ugly head. The fascists have the reins. With a rapist in the white house, a cabinet unique in their lack of experience and rejection of the constitution, an oligarch dedicated to self-interest and to destroying democracy…misogyny, racism and hate are having a moment. This is no time to keep the peace. This is a time to be the peace: to join. To give voice and call out the lies. To root firmly in our shared belief in equality and tradition of the rule of law.

As JB Pritzker just wrote, “Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage.” It takes courage to be peace in the face of hate.

The Republicans having lost their spines, minds and their moral compass and the Democrats having lost their rudder and will-to-act, we find ourselves called to show the courage and commitment that believers in peace not-so-long-ago showed on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

Peace is a solid center, immovable like a mountain, as clear as the crystal waters of the lake. Our democracy demands that we link arms, be peace, and take responsibility for how we walk in the world and for our democracy before it swirls down the drain.

Peace on the album As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MIRAGE.

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A Joining With [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I had a minor revelation (again) while we were working on this cartoon. What’s the question we ask when we go to the dictionary to look up a word? We ask, “What does it mean?” The operative word is “it”.

English speakers are bound by the word “it.” “It” magically, unconsciously, turns everything into an object. A thing. A thing to be pursued, chased, grasped. Found. Possessed. Bought. Sold.

Hope. Happiness. Kindness. Aspiration. Desire. Yearning…Love.

And what if “it” can’t be found or bought? What if “it” can only be tended, nurtured, like a flame? What if “it” can only be shared. Felt. What if “it” wasn’t a “thing” – an object – at all? What if “it” isn’t a transaction?What if “it” is a warmth? What then?

Is it possible for me to give you hope? Or is it more likely that hope is how we experience the sunrise after a cold dark night? A dawning both inside and out. A joining with…

Regardless of what our language might lead us to believe, hope, like love, is a how, not a what.

I know this: if we could find “it” and wrap “it” and give “it”, we would. Our hope for this season? That “it” finds you.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUYING HOPE

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Heed The Stone [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Stones are markers.

When we wander the cemetery at the end of our street I sometimes see the headstones, not as location stones, but as boundaries-marked-in-time. Before. After. The leaping place of souls.

There are stones placed to indicate a borderline. I imagine the stone with the spray-painted message is one of those: beyond this point is the land of love. Who wouldn’t want to cross this border? Who wouldn’t want to step over this divide and wander in the frontier of love?

People stack stones to mark the way. To help others. To help themselves find the way home. Ease of passage.

This stone quietly standing along the bike trail does not call attention to itself. In fact, we’ve passed it many times and only just saw its message. Like a pictograph left by the ancients, someone-in-time felt compelled to leave a message on the path for others to see. A boundary in time? A borderline? A passage marker? An aspiration for travelers along this route?

Good choices, all.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the LOVE STONE

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See More. Know Less [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“(What makes his world so hard to see clearly is not its strangeness but its usualness). Familiarity can blind you too.” Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Red and green. Oppositional on the color wheel yet understood as compliments. They set each other alight.

I am certain the longer I walk this life the less I know. How much time did I spend trying to get-there-fast? How much life did I give to my attempt to attain the mountaintop before I realized that there wasn’t one? How much hubris did I exude believing “my” work might change the world before I was humbled sufficiently to see that the world was changing me? Is there such a thing as “my” work? I have lived a life rich in collaboration. Who hasn’t?

And, how fortunate am I that life has routinely tossed me out of my “comfort” zone? Don’t get me wrong, I would appreciate a bit of smooth sailing with ample provisions but the ongoing absence of “normal” makes eyes-wide-open a necessity. There is no missing how interdependent we are, how utterly interconnected, when here-and-now is the only place we can clearly see.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED AND GREEN

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Add A Stone [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

southport cairn copy

I am fond of a labyrinth tucked into the woods at The Whidbey Institute. I’ve spent many a sunrise and sunset walking the meditation path to its center and back again. After each trip into the labyrinth, I’d add a small stone to the cairn that stood adjacent to the entry point. A ritual to mark my passage. A location stone.

I hadn’t thought of the labyrinth for years.

Last week, on a stormy day, we took a long walk through our neighborhood and emerged on to the beach at Southport.  We were stopped in our tracks by what we found there. A field of cairns. Someone – or many someones – had created dozens of stacked stones. Each unique. Some playful. Some sorrowful giants. Markers of the way home? Funeral stones? Sculpture merely? The intention didn’t really matter. They brought us peace.

We approached silently just as I used to approach the labyrinth at Whidbey. We entered the field with a reverence that surprised me. We wandered through them, spent time with them. Some were massive, towering over us. Some very small, a few stones stacked at our feet.

Pebble and red brick trails ran like crazy lines connecting the cairns, a mixed up maze that begged us to follow, to make sense of the impossible. This labyrinth had no center. This meditation maze led nowhere specific, looping back, a dead end here, a path to the water, and over there, a line that stopped at a heart made of rock, a spiral. A wish. A message. An inspiration.

I could imagine no better monument to this pandemic. A shattered labyrinth. Burial monuments. A field of markers standing ready for the day when we might find our way out. A quiet reverent place where we are called to add a stone, a simple gesture to remember our passage through.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about CAIRNS

 

 

cairns website box copy

 

 

Hope [on KS Friday]

hope (spring) copy

Chris wrote, “So this is what a pandemic feels like.” He is a brilliant actor, the artistic force behind Sea Dog Theater, living with his wife and two children in New York City. I was worried about him and his family. “Overall, we are okay and grateful. It’s scary. And when we aren’t thinking of just our family, we are trying to help artists who’ve lost everything; creative gigs and day job wise.” Artists generally live on a thinner margin than most people.

It is what I most love about the people who populate my world: they think of the needs of others. They seek meaningful ways to help, to support their community. It is, when all is reduced to the essence, what makes an artist an artist. It is what makes a human being a human being.

We were on the raft choosing the images and music for this week’s melange. Kerri asked, “What about HOPE?” I laughed at the double entendre. Yes. What is most needed in these times of pandemic?

Kerri’s HOPE – like the yearning it reflects – enters the world quietly. It is a sturdy force that warms the heart but does not call attention to itself.  It will lift your eyes beyond the scary and refocus them on possibilities. Ways to help. Hope.

Chris added, “We are healthy and together, which is most important.”

From our seclusion, healthy and together, to yours, Kerri offers her HOPE.

 

HOPE from the album THIS SEASON is available in iTunes

 

read Kerri’s blog post about HOPE

 

 

tpacwebsitebox copy

 

hope/this season ©️ 2005 kerri sherwood