So Here It Is [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

Well, you’ve cracked the sky, scrapers fill the air
But will you keep on building higher
‘Til there’s no more room up there
Will you make us laugh, will you make us cry?
Will you tell us when to live, will you tell us when to die?

I know we’ve come a long way
We’re changing day to day
But tell me, where do the children play?

~ Cat Stevens, Where Do The Children Play

Kerri regularly tells me to “gear down.” She’s asking me to simplify my thoughts so they are more accessible. It’s the reason I nodded knowingly when I read this in Thom Hartmann’s newsletter:

“The reason we’re at a pivotal moment in America is because most people don’t know how to answer this question: “How do you know when you’re really no longer living in a democracy?”

He makes a great point. Even though we have tanks rolling down civilian streets, masked thugs plucking people without warrant or due process, concentration camps popping up in swamps, the collapse of checks-and-balances, the intentional scrubbing of our history, an all-out assault on diversity and civil rights, a Supreme Court regularly ruling against the Constitution in support of a single man consolidating power… “Up until the last few days, most Americans didn’t think we’d lost our freedoms or are about to.”

He continues: “But everybody knows Jimmy Kimmel. So the new understanding is: ‘You know you don’t live in a free country any more when comedians can no longer criticize the president.‘”

So, here it is. Geared down so all can understand. We don’t live in a free country anymore. We can either mumble our way into autocracy or we can open our mouths and regain our freedoms. As Stephen Colbert said, “We’re all Jimmy Kimmel now.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about FREE SPEECH

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

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Upon What We Agree [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“Yes, I’m bein’ followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin’ and hoppin’ on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow”
Cat Stevens (Yusef), Moonshadow

All of my life I have been captivated by shadows. The ghost dancing grasses cast on the trail. The moving patterns of telephone poles and lines waving on the asphalt. The cloud shadows gliding over the hills. Kerri and I regularly stop and take photos of our shadows. “Look how long we stretch!” I adore the shadow puppets of Wayan Kulit. It is a ritual performance of universal stories meant to remind us that in this life we only see the shadows we cast upon the screen of our minds. What’s “real” is beyond our capacity.

“Everything we call real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” ~ Niels Bohr. The quantum physicist and the Balinese puppet master – a priest – agree. Reality is a shadow.

Yesterday we attended a Hands-Off rally. The number one statement most often uttered by people in the crowd (according to my count): “I can’t believe this is happening!” It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t seem possible that our representatives have so easily rolled over rather than honor their oath to protect the Constitution. In their reality they play on team Republican. In our reality – we assumed in a crisis moment like this – that they would play on team United States.

Assume nothing. Reality is what we agree upon and at present there is no agreement.

Charlie is wise. Looking at the hundreds of people chanting and waving signs, he said, “When the rule of law collapses then there’s chaos. In chaos the people have no recourse but to take to the streets.”

The Constitution is the epicenter of our laws. It is the foundation stone upon which our democracy was and is constructed. When disregarded it is no more than a piece of parchment. A relic. “Everything that is real is made of things that cannot be regarded as real.” The Constitution has purpose and meaning only if we agree to honor it, to protect it – to adhere to the boundaries – the law – that it prescribes.

A woman in the crowd said, “It’s been less than 100 days and look at this.” The people have no recourse when our elected officials ignore their foundation stone. When they choose to serve a different reality.

About Moonshadow, Yusef wrote, “Whatever happens to you there’s always something good to look forward to.” Standing in the crowd, alive with concern and caring for the well-being of the nation, I thought, “This is good. There is hope. This is how a democracy survives.”

read Kerri’s blog about SHADOWS

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Wine Shadow [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

And with no warning, Cat Stevens was suddenly holding a concert in my head: Oh, I’m being followed by a wine-shadow, wine-shadow, wine-shadow. A leapin’ and hoppin’ on a wine-shadow, wine-shadow, wine-shadow…

Carl Jung wrote that “Everyone carries a shadow,…” I suspect Carl chose his verb carefully. Rather than being followed by it, everyone carries their shadow. The absolute weight of weightlessness. The next part of his thought goes like this: “…and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.” The moral of his story: get to know your shadow.

I had a long talk with a high priest in Bali. He explained that, according to their belief, they see no need to run from the dark as we do. They strive to make peace with the dark. Keep in mind that their construct is not built upon the hard rock of heaven-or-hell. For them, there is dark energy and light energy. The two dance and balance each other. They are necessary to each other. Our work, he suggested, is to walk between them, hold them both as meaningful and sacred. Getting to know the shadow is about having a relationship with the light.

“Don’t sit down!” she said, jumping up, camera in hand.

“What? What?” I asked looking around. She rarely jumps up like that. Only in the presence of bees.

She pointed enthusiastically at my chair. “Shadow! Shadow!” she whispered, as if her voice would scare the shadow away. She focused her camera on the weighty-weightless.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, just in case she was right. I’ve ruined a shot or two in the past by using my outdoor voice. I didn’t want to get “the look” if I caused the shadow to flee before she could snap the picture.

It was during her photoshoot that Cat Stevens popped in. And Carl Jung, not wanting to be out-sung, offered his quote.

“I look forward to getting to know this shadow,” I said.

“What?” she whispered, aiming and re-aiming.

“Never mind,” I smiled.

Did it take long to find me?
I asked the faithful light
Oh, did it take long to find me?
And are you gonna stay the night?
” [Moonshadow, Cat Stevens]

read Kerri’s blogpost about WINE SHADOW

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Ready The Wings [on KS Friday]

“Yes, I’m being followed by a moonshadow/Moonshadow, moonshadow/Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow/Moonshadow, moonshadow” ~ Cat Stevens, Moonshadow

An appreciation of life, no matter what comes. It is the meaning of this lyric, this song – or so I’ve read. It seems obvious. I’m having many, many conversations about loss these days. This has been an era of loss and, so the cliche’ goes, with loss new opportunity arrives. It’s true though one must move through the loss in order to arrive at the new. On the way, there is weeping and fear and anger and disorientation. Chrysalis. The trick, we are told, is about focus placement. One day we shift our eyes and see what we have instead of what we no longer possess. We move toward rather than look back.

Kerri has, for years, surrounded herself with symbols of peace. They are on our walls, on rings that she wears, on chains draped on the corner of our bathroom mirror. She draws them in the sand on the trail. A prayer for the world she desires to create. Inside and out. Since she fell, my solo-piano-playing wife has lost more than mobility in her wrists. Strange stuff is happening. Fingers that sometimes refuse to respond. Pain that shoots, seemingly from nowhere. After a photograph – a wish for the world, a peace sign in shadow – she said, “Come look at this. Look how much my finger is bending!” Strange stuff.

What is most remarkable about this shadow is, a year ago, it would have been cause for frustration. A reminder of loss. Full of fear. Today, it was a curiosity. She looks back, she looks forward. Each day she writes lyrics and poetry and wisdoms. She hums the music running through her mind and heart and, sometimes, she dances. Standing at the crossroads of what was and what is to become. Peace replaces pain. All in good time. Good time. Wings readying to unfurl.

[peace. this is one of my favorite pieces of Kerri’s]

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE

peace/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood