It Is The Time [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Yesterday I painted the rail on the front porch. I sanded the small windows upstairs; they need repainting. One of the window sills in our bedroom has water damage. It is next on my list to fix before the snow returns.

I realized what I was doing; what we are doing. Since we cannot control or impact in any way the rapid destruction of our democracy – at the hands of those sworn to preserve it, no less – then I will do my best to attend to what I can control. I will be a good steward of our home. I will fix what I can.

She said, “We have to do something to pull our heads out of this madness. At least for a little while.” Yes. We bumped into them on our walk around the neighborhood, a couple who we admire. We shared our concerns and dismay. We have to do something to remind us of goodness, that people of good intention are all around, even when it feels hopeless. Our brief sidewalk chat gave us hope. We are not alone in our worry. We are not alone in our belief in goodness.

We harvested the last of the peppers. This summer our garden was prolific. The basil exploded. The tomato plant is still producing. The garden, the yard, the pond, the appearance of the frog…the exercise of intentionally coming into the moment, the place were common sense can be found when it is otherwise absent.

I had a revelation, the release of a judgment. David Neiwert told a story of the German people, living in villages just outside of the concentration camps, each morning sweeping the ash from their sidewalks and window sills. After the liberation the villagers claimed that they had no idea what was happening in the camps. How could they not know? Sweeping their steps, picking their peppers, painting the rail on their front porch…doing anything possible to pull their heads out of the madness.

This is not the time to look the other way. This is not the time to normalize the obscenity that is erasing our nation. People are already disappearing into camps. Due process and habeas corpus are gone. The Supremes ruled that racial profiling is lawful: it’s no different than sewing yellow stars on clothes. Now, we hear from the dictator wannabe that “the enemy is within”: the enemy is anyone who disagrees with the fascist fire raging across the nation. Anyone who protests or questions. My revelation? I do not want to someday sweep ash from my walk while telling myself that I have no idea what’s happening.

We know. So do the republicans.

This is not the time to normalize the obscenity. This is not the time to look the other way. It is the time for all people of goodness to join hands in the commons, to stand together, to call out the lies, to push our elected leaders to push back against this corruption, this out-of-control authoritarian regime.

It is the time, our time, to be good stewards of our nation-home.

BRIDGE 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 LAST PEPPERS

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Stumble Forward [on KS Friday]

I stared at the print in our Airbnb. It made me smile. A happy sloth sitting for a portrait. My children’s book-story-imagination ran amok with the possibilities. This sloth might be pals with Pooh.

The image is by Simon Te Tai. He’s a photographer and manipulates his images using other technologies. He alters the personality. He sometimes adds human characteristics.

I’m paying attention to the uproar in the art community over text-to-image software, like Dall-e. Type a simple phrase into the generator and it will produce an image. “It’s the end!” frightened artists cry!

It’s curious to me. A camera is a technology that, when first introduced, produced the same cry from artists. “It’s the end.” And then artists worked with it. The world would not have a Van Gogh or a Matisse without the camera. The camera freed artists from the necessities of realism. It opened paths to other vibrant explorations.

I remember the first time I saw Photoshop. “The end of truth as we know it,” I thought. A photograph was no longer proof that something happened. It was a shock. Disorienting. Now, I sit next to Kerri everyday as she manipulates our cartoons, produces our blog-boxes, and tweaks photos. It is common, everyday. Liberating.

There isn’t an art form that hasn’t been fundamentally altered by technology. Amplification of sound made it possible for us to attend a concert in a stadium of people. The swirling lights, the moving images playing behind Elton John were sophisticated and an integral part of the experience.

Our language is being altered by technology. The text. The tweet. The emoji. The pendulum is swinging back toward the image, the symbol, and away from the written word. Pictographs on screens rather than chipped into the walls of pyramids.

It’s a push-me-pull-you, this dance we do with technology. Something is rendered obsolete while something gained is not-quite-understood. Change is like that, especially the rapid changes introduced by technology. We stumble forward like a drunken sailor, never quite knowing where we’re going because we understand ourselves by where we’ve been.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SLOTH

bridge/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

Question It [on KS Friday]

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Mist covers the mountain and the mountain disappears.

I just learned a new term: astroturfing: “…the practice of masking the sponsors of a message or organization to make it appear as though it originates from and is supported by grassroots participants. It is a practice intended to give the statements or organizations credibility by withholding information about the source’s financial connection.” ~wikipedia

This morning I stumbled onto this term because someone we love has swallowed the bait and jumped enthusiastically into a conspiracy sink hole. It took us less than 30 seconds to research the organization and discover its connection to Russian bots. It’s a mirage meant to attract the lazy-minded and whip them into malcontents. Pull the curtain and Oz is revealed as nothing more than a 2nd rate magician who understands the power of slight of hand. Look over there.

I feel as though I could and should use this quote every day:

“There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that ‘my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.” ~ Isaac Asimov

The real problem of our nation in these times is a dedication to ignorance. It took us less than 30 seconds to pull the curtain on this cult-sham-of-angry-misinformation meant to influence our elections. Yet, we know that no amount of love or appeal matters. Our loved one is lost. It is the nature of cults to provide absolute answers to the fearful. The cult provides the appearance of comfort and community. “Welcome!” The organizing principle is always Us versus Them with the not-so-subtle doctrine that Us is superior to Them. It is the nature of cults to isolate their members, play on their low self-esteem, steel them against fact or reason or the appeals of loved ones to open their eyes. It is an aspect of cults that the adherents have no idea that they are in a cult.

There’s no use shouting, “Wait! Look! Open your eyes!” We have become the enemy, Them. We are inferior and data and fact are an an assault on the comfort, the easy answer, a threat to new-found absolute superiority. The tub of purple Koolaid has already been distributed and consumed by the faithful.

I remember teaching students to check their sources. It’s become even more important in the age of the internet and social media. Kerri and I hold ourselves to that standard. We check our media. We check the sources of our media checks. It is a simple basic: don’t believe everything you hear. Check it. It is the hard line separating ignorance from knowledge. We cannot have a debate of ideas and ideals without it. We cannot build a bridge to the center, to compromise and collaboration, if astro-turf  manipulation is so easily embraced as a grassroots movement, if dedicated ignorance is comparable to research, study and questioning.

30 seconds. It seems like such a small thing to ask, a simple kick of the tire. Check what your hear. Question what you are being sold. A question is never an assault on belief.

Yet, it seems too much to ask. We watch as the mist descends. The mountain disappears.

 

 

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes

 

read Kerri’s blog post about BRIDGE

 

 

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bridge/as it is ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood